If you like this online read you'll enjoy Isabel Sharpe's books!

Surprise Me...
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Chapter 8

Elizabeth screamed as the door to the secret room slid shut behind them. Being trapped in a tiny pitch-dark room with Rock, the most desirable man on the planet, was...was...well, actually, it had definite possibilities.

But first she had to trust him completely, make sure he wasn't just after a quick roll on the dusty planks. She was tired of having her heart trashed by macho jerks, and he could trash it like no one had ever tr ?

"Aidan." Rock had jumped to his feet and judging by the booming sounds, was pounding on the door into the library that had just slid shut. "This isn't funny. Open the damn door."

"Not until you guys quit fighting and make up." Aidan's voice came faintly through the door, muffled, but unmistakably amused. "I'll give you two hours."

"For God's sake, Aidan, what are we going to do in here for ?" There was a long pause. "Okay, see you in two."

He came back along the passage toward her; she stepped away, nervous and excited, until her back touched cool plaster.

"Elizabeth." He drew out the syllables, the way he said her name when he was pretending to be Aidan. The way that got her juices...juicing. "Where are you?"

"I'm..." She cleared her throat. "I'm here."

His firm step sounded as though it was coming toward her, making one plank creak, another groan. "This is perfect."

"Why?" Her voice came out breathless and shivery.

"Because you can't see me. Because you can't judge me by anything but what I say...." He took another step. "And how you feel."

"Oh." More breathlessness. More shivers.

"How do you feel?"

She stopped breathing, started shaking in earnest. Could she summon the nerve to tell him? He was, after all, the gentle man in the wheelchair with whom she had had so many fabulous discussions, and who had so touched her heart; he was also the brilliant author whose words she'd admired for so many years; and he was the strong, sexy guy who made it hard for her to see or think straight. Putting the parts of the puzzle together made him the perfect combination of everything she'd always wanted.

"Elizabeth?"

There it was again, Eliiizzzabeth. Even without the sexy voice he affected her more deeply than any man ever had. But she couldn't quite bring herself to trust that this wasn't all about her body. That buried in that fine mind opposite her might be merely the primal male urge to make it with anything sporting a D-cup.

So she had a simple choice. Either she could protect herself by staying on the sidelines, or risk heartbreak by jumping in, as she'd done too many times in her naive youth. Possibly this time she could find real joy. Possibly this time she could find real love. But...

"I'm sorry about the deception, Elizabeth, about not coming clean that I was disguised as Aidan. But you responded so much better to him." His voice came out low and husky in the darkness; he cleared his throat. "I hated being around you as myself and feeling like the loser."

She took a deep breath. Honesty was a good place to start. "I didn't make it easy for you. I didn't even give you a chance until I discovered who you were underneath the pickup lines and the attitude. That's why I was so attracted to Aidan ? at least until the twitching started."

He chuckled and came closer so she could sense his warmth in the darkness, hear his breath, steady but fast. She tensed, waited for his hands to be all over her.

Instead he kissed her on the mouth without putting his hands on her, over and over, gentle soft kisses that gradually increased in intensity and pressure until she was clinging to him, weak and gasping, overcome by desire so strong she felt she could reasonably die of it.

He broke away over her murmur of protest and she sensed he'd knelt in front of her. "Rock?"

"I'm spreading the quilt."

She stood in the darkness, trembling. He was taking it for granted they'd make love. Was that what she wanted? Her body certainly did. But her mind? Her heart? Could she take this kind of risk?

"There."

She cocked her head in the darkness. A shuffling sound now, as if he were still on his knees and ?

Strong arms clasped her waist, brought her gently down to the floor to lie with him on the colonial quilt. He slid his warm hands under her shirt, unhooked her bra and stroked her back, stroked up and over her shoulders, then down to her breasts. "Oh, Elizabeth..."

She stiffened, as much as she told herself not to. But this was when men, even the most honorable, well-intentioned ones, lost their minds and used words like "fabulous hooters."

"I love you."

She gasped, a joyous surprised sound, and then she melted. Absolutely melted. Melted against him, melted out of her clothes, melted out of her mind. All she knew was that he loved her, and his hands on her body were making her feel not like an exhibit at Ripley's Believe It or Not, but powerful and glorious and invincibly female.

Then he was naked, too, rolling on top of her and they joined in an unbearable agony of pleasure, moving together to make the darkness seem like their own version of heaven. With a rush of emotion and sensation like nothing she'd ever felt, she climaxed and said his name at the same time he whispered hers. And when it was over and they came down together, she knew he'd been making love to her, not just to her body, and she almost exploded with the joy of it.

"I love you, too, Rock."

He rolled to one side and pulled her against him, kissed her with passion and tenderness, then drew a gentle finger across her lips. "Let me treat you to England, Elizabeth. I'm renting a flat in London for August. I'll show you everything. We can live Shakespeare together."

Elizabeth bit her lip, her sudden rush of euphoria just as suddenly deflated under a picture of reality. He was the fabulously successful author and scholar; she was a struggling teacher with a mom to care for. He loved her, yes, but wanted to take her to England, pay her plane ticket, her rent, her meals ? and all her giving would take place in the bedroom.

She squeezed her eyes shut against tears of frustration. If only the family heirlooms had amounted to more than a joke, she wouldn't have to feel so...kept. Maybe it was just her Montclair pride, maybe lingering paranoia, but she needed to feel more equal. "Rock, thank you. But ? I wouldn't feel right having you pay my way. And I can't leave my mom."

"I can arrange care for her. She wouldn't want you to stay home on her account. And money is totally meaningless."

"Except when you don't have any." She found his face in the darkness and sadly traced the firm line of his jaw. "I'm sorry, Rock. I'd love to go to England with you someday, but it would have to be on my own ?"

A sudden pounding jolted her.

"Time's up. What's the verdict?" Aidan's voice came through the wall in the library.

Rock got up and pulled his shirt out from under her body. "We're coming."

"Oh, sorry. I'll wait until you're done."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, sat up, rehooked her bra and fumbled around for her jeans and panties, feeling elated and despondent all at once. The man of her dreams loved her. She had every right to be floating on air. But the facts of their relationship wouldn't leave her alone. Those damn jewels were supposed to be her salvation.

"Let me know when you're ready," Rock whispered.

She found her clothes and pulled them on, though she wasn't entirely sure everything had gone on quite right. "Okay."

"We're ready," Rock called. She heard his footsteps going toward the door, then a bang and a crunch, a curse, and a funny scattering sound, like pebbles being dropped on a hard floor. At the same time the door swung open, light poured into the room and made Elizabeth blink.

"What was that noise?" She squinted down at the floor. The Ayre loom with the diamond pattern on it lay broken on the floor from the pressure of Rock's weight. And scattered around it in a glistening array, were ?

"Diamonds." Elizabeth gasped the word out, barely able to comprehend what had happened. Her mom's medical care. Her family honor. Her trip to England. Rock. "Oh my god, diamonds."

Rock whistled, crouched down, and held up a pear-cut stone the size of a prune. "Would you look at this?"

"The Andias." She knelt next to him and stared in awe at the sheer size of the stone.

Rock picked up her left hand and balanced the huge diamond on her fourth finger. "What do you think, would it catch on things?"

A heady charge of electricity swept over her. Was he ? Did he mean ? "Rock?"

"It certainly is." He grinned, then his eyes grew serious, tender, and slightly vulnerable. "Would you like to marry me in England next summer, Elizabeth? Would you like to use some of the trip next month to plan the wedding, now that you have your diamond heirlooms?"

"Oh. Yes. Yes." Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She did have her heirlooms ? and something much more important. "'For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart/Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel.'" She sniffed. "Sonnet number ?"

"One hundred thirty-one." He drew her to him and kissed her hard and long with increasing passion, pressing her body close against his obviously rearoused one. "Mmm. Want to go back into hiding, Mrs. Shakespeare?"

She laughed and pulled back to send him a teasing glare. "I thought you loved me for my mind."

He smiled, his eyes promising the happy ever after she'd never quite been able to stop believing in. "I love you for you, Elizabeth. Just for you."

"Now that ?" she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him, unable to believe how much happiness had come into her life in such a short time and how sure she was it would last "? is sheer poetry."

The End