“Don’t we though?” She laughed up at him.
* * * *
There is something incongruous about grocery bags sticking out of an open Ferrari,
thought Micki suddenly while she lifted the bags off the seat. A small smile curving her lips, she closed the car door with a quick sideways thrust of her hip.
Wolf, waiting at the open kitchen door of the large beachfront rancher, relieved her of her burden with a terse, “Where the hell have you been all this time? Your father and Regina and my mother and the rest of the clan will be here in less than two hours.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” Micki apologized, dropping her glasses, keys, and purse onto a chair. “The store was packed,” she explained, beginning to empty the bags he’d placed on the table. “And the checkout lines didn’t seem to move.” She sighed. “And then I ran into Mrs. Jenkins and she talked and talked and—
“Somewhat like you’re doing right now?” Wolf asked dryly.
“Oh, Wolf—” Micki began, then broke off, alarm-filled eyes flying to his at a loud wail from the interior of the house. “Is something wrong with Cub?” she asked anxiously.
“No, of cour—”Another wail reached them.
Dropping the box of snack crackers she was holding, Micki started for the doorway, only to be brought up short by Wolf’s hand grasping her wrist.
“Cub is fine,” he said firmly. “Tammy is giving him his bath.” He grinned. “And you know how much he loves that.”
Micki sighed with relief, then gave a gasped “oh” when Wolf, with a quick tug at her wrist, pulled her against him.
Holding her loosely in his arms, he complained, “Cub is fine, but I’m feeling neglected.” Bending his head, he caught her lips in a light kiss that very quickly turned into a hungry demand.
Bemused, lost in the scorching wonder of Wolf’s mouth, Micki was raising her arms to circle his neck when another irritated wail brought her to her senses. Sliding her mouth from his, she scolded, “Wolf, stop it. What if your mother should walk in right now?”
“She’d understand perfectly,” Wolf replied blandly. “And say I was a true Renninger,” he teased. “Mother’s been over that mountain.”
Feeling her cheeks go pink, Micki made a move to break free of his arms. All she accomplished was to find herself held more tightly against him.
“You look tired,” he murmured. “I think you should go lie down for a half hour or so. If you like, I’ll come with you, rub your back.” His eyes gleamed wickedly. “And your front.”
While he was speaking, his right hand was moving. Under her sweater, up her side and, on his last word, over her breasts. Even through the lacy material of her bra the hardening tip his fingers found, caressed, proclaimed the effect he was having on her.
Stepping away from her suddenly, he clasped her hand and strode through the room, taking her with him.
“Wolf, the groceries!” Micki yelped, practically running to keep up with him.
Without breaking stride, he growled softly, “That’s what I pay a housekeeper for.”
When he reached the master bedroom with its wide, sliding glass doors facing the ocean, he swung her inside, slammed the door, and said softly, “We have two hours before the horde descends on us for the birthday party for the Wolf’s cub.” His eyes caressed her, inflaming her senses. Without conscious thought her fingers went to the zipper on her skirt. Silvery eyes followed her hands and his voice went husky. “I’ve been waiting for you all afternoon, planning a party of our own.”
Watching him yank his navy polo over his head, desire flared inside Micki, sweeping all thoughts from her mind but one.
Within seconds the floor was littered with their clothing and they were on the large bed, mouth to mouth, flesh to flesh, together.
Her soft throaty moans inflaming him, Wolf husked, “Oh, God, I love you, baby. I love you.”
Later, wrapped in Wolf’s arms and the afterglow of their lovemaking, Micki sighed in contentment
“After the way you celebrated your cub’s birthday,” she teased softly, her hand stroking over his hip. “I can hardly wait to see what you have planned for our anniversary.”
Fleetingly the memory of their wedding night invaded her mind and her hand paused in its caressing movement
Wolf’s soft laughter dissolved the memory. His hand covered hers, urging it onward on its journey down his long, taut thigh.
“Maybe I should put you in charge of planning that party,” he murmured against her hair.
Tilting her head back, she looked up into his wickedly gleaming eyes.
“You’re getting pretty inventive in that department.” Dipping his head, he covered her invitingly parted lips with his own, his hand leaving hers to spread possessively, protectively over her still flat belly. When he lifted his head, his eyes traveled down her body to his hand.
“When are you going to make your announcement?”
“Oh, not until after Wolfgang has been duly honored,” she grinned. “Do you think I should tell them I’m already positive this one’s a girl? Wolf, what?”
Sitting up suddenly, Wolf had replaced his hand with his lips.
“I love you, my daughter,” his warm breath fluttered across her skin, exciting her, warming her. “And I love your mama.”
Micki felt tears sting her eyes even as her body moved sensuously under his mouth as he trailed his lips up to her throat.
“And I love her daddy,” she whispered huskily, some long moments later.
With many millions of her romances in print, Joan Hohl is an author romance readers can't seem to get enough of. She has received numerous awards for her work, including the Romance Writers of America Golden Medallion...the equivalency of the current Romance Writers of America Rita award.
When Joan sold her first book her editor asked her for a penname. It didn't take long for her to come up with Amii Lorin. Some years later, Joan began writing under her own name, but she has always preferred Amii Lorin. And now, through Belgrave House, Joan's preference is realized.
Joan lives in South East Pennsylvania with her husband of 57 years. She has two beautiful daughters, Lori and Amy...which explains her attachment to the name. There are two wonderful grandchildren and two adorable young great grandsons. She dotes on them all.
Copyright © 1981 by Amii Lorin
Originally published by Dell Candlelight Ecstacy (ISBN 0440108179)
Electronically published in 2011 by Belgrave House
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228
http://www.BelgraveHouse.com
Electronic sales: [email protected]
This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.