by Joanne Rock
The garbled sound he made marked the first and only time she’d rendered this smooth-talking man incoherent. Encouraged, she treated him with long, lingering swipes of her tongue, savoring the taste and texture. Humming in approval, she took him in her mouth, mimicking the squeeze of feminine muscles all around him. The animal growl in his throat was positively feral, thrilling her to her toes.
She liked this.
Too soon, he gripped her shoulders, dragging her to her feet. Dazed and ready for him, she pulled off her camisole and unfastened her bra while he worked on the fastening for her pants. His clever hands had her naked on the bottom half while she was still struggling with the lingerie straps, but he freed her of those, too, murmuring encouraging things in her ear as he walked her back toward the living-room couch.
She wanted to tell him she’d like to try new things, to take him to the pinnacle of desire with nothing more than her mouth. But words escaped her and she realized her whole body was trembling. Her skin felt as if electricity sizzled over every inch of her. Whatever she and Keith shared, it was powerful stuff.
Mute with hunger for him, she waited while he found a condom and sheathed his sex. A pity, since she’d been so ready to get more intimately acquainted with him. But then he sat on the couch and drew her down on top of him, straddling him, and she forgot all about anything else she wanted.
When he entered her, the sense of completion rattled her to her core. It was a homecoming worthy of a drum solo and a parade, yet they’d been together this way less than twenty-four hours earlier. Every time they touched, the pleasure magnified and multiplied, until there was nothing else in her thoughts but him.
Winding her legs tight around him, she held him close. She never wanted to let him go.
Her body wept for him, all around him, making each thrust more lush and sweet than the last. She plunged her fingers into his hair and held him fast, kissing him thoroughly. All the while he steadied her and steered her, guiding her hips to where she needed to be. She was so glad someone had control, because she’d lost hers. Her brain spun somewhere in the stratosphere while her body blissed out on pleasure unlike anything she’d ever suspected she could feel….
The release catapulted her higher, launching a chain reaction of long, sweet spasms. She sank her nails into his shoulders, desperate for an anchor in a world gone hot and liquid. Keening cries startled her until she realized they came from her own throat. As the waves of pleasure slowed, he held her closer, burying himself deep inside her. She could tell he was nearing his own release, so she leaned back on his knees, increasing the contact and taking him deeper still.
The fierceness of his shout was every bit as primal as hers had been, the low bass a vibration she felt against her chest.
As they gazed into each other’s eyes afterward, Josie knew it was obvious to both of them that they’d crossed a boundary. They’d taken refuge in work to avoid their messy relationships—hers with her parents, his with a woman who’d let him down. But they couldn’t hide from this, an attraction that had spiraled out of control.
“It’s going to work out,” Keith whispered in her ear as he wrapped her in his arms and drew her down to lie beside him on the couch. “You’ll see.”
12
“SO YOU’RE DATING Keith Murphy?” Marlena asked the next day as they sat across the studio’s work island from each other, ostensibly brainstorming design possibilities for Chase Freeman’s sailboat.
Josie’s assistant had arrived at work before Keith left in the morning. If Marlena hadn’t taken her increased responsibilities at the firm so seriously in Josie’s absence, she probably wouldn’t have come in so darn early, and Josie wouldn’t be facing these uncomfortable questions. But as luck would have it, Keith hadn’t quite made it out of the building. Their goodbye kiss near the elevator had been long and lingering, and they’d both been thinking about the next time they’d see each other, when the doors had opened and Marlena had emerged.
Hello, awkward.
During a hurried goodbye, Josie had agreed to go to his place tonight, as eager to check out his home as he’d been to see hers. Now, she debated how much to tell Marlena. While she trusted her assistant and good friend implicitly, Josie was still savoring the knowledge that she had an honest-to-goodness boyfriend. Apparently she’d reverted to middle school, excited about the fact that a guy actually liked her. But she wasn’t ready to click the In a Relationship button on Facebook. Not with so much potential for controversy.
“Yes. But that’s just between you and me.” She flipped through a boating magazine for inspiration, then realized how it sounded to keep her relationship secret. “It’s not like he’s got another girlfriend or he’s married or anything, though,” she clarified.
Although after the scandal of three years ago, she would have understood if Marlena was concerned.
“I know he’s not married,” her friend groaned, her blue eyes alight with mischief. Two piercings lifted as she raised her left eyebrow. “He’s one of the city’s most eligible bachelors, so they seem to keep track of his dating status in the local society column. Actually, the gossip columnist keeps tabs on all the Murphy men. Did you know the oldest is getting married next spring?”
“Don’t tell me you pay attention to the tabloid news.” Josie flipped the pages of her magazine faster, not really seeing the boat interiors as her gut clenched in foreboding.
“I thought we agreed it was good for business to know who’s who in this town?” Marlena frowned as she sorted through a box of ribbon trim on their work-table.
A shred violinist played in the background, some heavy metal performer that made Marlena swoon.
“We did.” Josie sighed, distracted and worried all over again. “I’m just a little uneasy dating someone with that kind of prominent profile.”
“Well, he’s hotness personified. You should worry less about the consequences and more about enjoying yourself.” Marlena reached into one of the cubbies under the table and shoved a handful of trim samples into her jacket pocket, preparing for her trip down to Chatham to look over the sailboat and begin working.
“That’s the plan.” Josie paused at an advertisement for her old design house’s clothing line from last winter—a preppy-themed collection of resort wear. “Oh, this is perfect.” She turned the magazine toward Marlena to show her the picture. “We should do Chase’s boat in plaid and white—very sixties’ country club.”
“You know him better than I do. That picture makes me think of Mr. Howell from Gilligan’s Island.”
“That’s him! Only thirty years younger.” Properly inspired, she went to her swatch wall and started pulling out samples. “I still can’t believe he signed that contract without a second thought.”
“You’re a fantastic designer,” Marlena argued. “He would have been thickheaded not to.”
“I think Chase would be perfect for Keith’s ex-girlfriend,” Josie mused, thinking how nice it would be to kill two birds with one stone—keep Chase out of her hair while she decorated, and keep Brooke well away from Keith.
“Brooke Blaylock?” Marlena filled a briefcase with drawing supplies, her laptop and several product catalogs.
“Yes. You really do keep up to date on the society news, don’t you?” She’d been so busy hiding from her own detestable brand of notoriety that she hadn’t really considered how well known the Murphy name was around Boston.
Interest in Josie’s romance with Keith would be high if it was discovered. And the consequences would affect more than Keith and his Green Principles business. How would it impact Murphy Resorts? Or Keith’s soon-to-be sister-in-law who was trying to plan a spring wedding? A scandal could overshadow those happy plans.
Trepidation cooled some of the feel-good vibes that had fueled Josie’s morning after a quickie in the shower with Keith. She could grow addicted to his touch.
“Possibly I take an interest in the local gossip for reasons beyond the professional.” Marlena winked at her, the long, nav
y blue glue-on lashes fluttering over her cheekbone. “And as a tabloid fan from way back, I can tell you that the inevitable reprise of your congressman scandal is not going to hurt the company. If anything, we’ll field a lot of calls from readers who want to meet you in person. But I predict that a lot of those curious callers will clamor for the right to say you designed their house.”
Trepidation turned to all-out hives as Josie began to itch at the thought. “But I don’t want to get business because of some dumb scandal.” She scrunched up a handful of madras and tossed it across the table. “I want clients to come to me because of my work.”
“Even if they hear about you through the tabloids, that doesn’t mean they’d settle for inferior design results. No matter your reputation, you’re only going to secure contracts through the merit of your decorating.” Marlena retrieved the madras and smoothed the folds. “But if you’re determined to hide a great guy from the world and smuggle him in and out of your office like a leper, that’s your business.”
Strapping her purple leather case closed, she whipped out her PDA and began clicking buttons.
“I’m not sure that’s fair,” Josie argued, hoping she hadn’t made Keith feel like a fugitive this morning. “We agreed that—”
“Oh, crap.” Marlena sank onto a bar stool next to the fabric table, her face pale as she stared at the screen of her BlackBerry.
“What?” Josie stilled, trying to read her friend. “Is everything okay?”
Marlena shook her head. “Have you turned on your phone yet?”
“No!” She jumped to her feet, hating that she’d forgotten, since her cell served as her business line. She hadn’t even bothered to get a landline, for the sake of keeping costs down. “Sorry about that. Did we miss an important call?”
Retrieving her touch-screen device from the kitchen, where it had remained in her purse all night, Josie waited for the features to load.
“Not exactly.” Marlena’s voice hit a thin note and she had to clear her throat as she passed her own phone over to Josie.
The blog that filled the screen wasn’t a missed call. But the headline in bold font proclaimed Manhattan Man-eater Targets Local Quarry. The headline came from a blog called Dishing It Up with Gloria, and the story featured an old picture from Josie’s fashion-designing days next to a publicity photo of the congressman whose career had gone up in flames thanks to their scandalous kiss. Scrolling through text she only partly scanned, Josie found another picture—a grainy affair that must have been taken with a cell phone, but that showed her clearly enough. Sandwiched between Keith and Danny Murphy, Josie held her hand out to Dan as he kissed her knuckles. Behind her, Keith appeared ready to spit nails while Josie peered back at him.
To the casual observer, she looked as if she was deliberately baiting one guy with the other. The truth was her eyes had found Keith’s because…he was important to her. She cared about him. A lot.
But only Josie knew that. To the rest of the world, she appeared every inch the simpering diva. And only one person could have captured the scene from this angle, from the Murphy house.
Brooke.
“Josie?” Marlena stood close to her, draping a comforting arm over her shoulder. “Are you okay?
“Maybe no one reads Dishing It Up with Gloria,” she murmured, mindlessly handing back Marlena’s phone and retrieving her own. Her fingers were unsteady as she worked the buttons, trying to review her messages for herself.
“I’ve got at least twenty tweets in the past ten minutes,” Marlena said. BlackBerry back in hand, she scrolled through her digital world while the shred violin music continued to blast through the studio. “The Facebook messages are clogging my inbox and I’m getting texts every minute.”
Shaking from the inside out, Josie scanned her email and found at least a hundred new messages in the past hour. From friends, strangers, clients… Questions like “Is it true?” and “Why did you change your name?” accounted for a lot of the headers, while furious rants about the evils of home wrecking accounted for more than a few. Several appeared to beseech her not to go near any of the Murphy men, bachelors who were apparently too good for her.
She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, barely absorbing the tumult of words shaping her life, before she became aware of Marlena’s voice beside her.
“Looks like the story originated on Gloria’s blog an hour ago and it’s already been picked up on East Coast Fashion, Boston Design Time, Getting Juicy with Jillian—”
“Oh, my God.” Josie’s knees didn’t feel if they could hold her up, and she clutched the table for support before she sank gracelessly onto a stool at the island work space. “We only just got back into town yesterday.” Her heart beat wildly, nerves making her twitchy. “The whole world knows I’m dating Keith.”
Worse, they were all rooting for him to dump her sorry butt, since she was a notorious party girl who ran with a wild crowd and spent her inheritance faster than she could hold her hand out for more. It didn’t matter that the story bore no resemblance to her or her life. As Keith had predicted, the myth was more interesting than the fact.
Keith.
Did he know yet? He had to. She scanned through her messages and didn’t see any from him. The thought of him being caught up in this kind of low-class gossip and cheesy scandal made her chest ache. She’d never meant to bring her past to his door. Damn it, she’d tried hard to avoid it.
But he’d been so persuasive, drawing her into his world and making her remember there was more to life than hard work and professional achievement.
Had he cut and run now that he’d seen what it was like to be at the center of sordid speculation and rumor? Frankly, she wouldn’t blame him. Still, she double-checked the list of incoming messages, making sure she hadn’t missed one from Keith. Hard to believe he wouldn’t phone her after everything they’d shared.
Her phone rang constantly until she turned the volume off, not recognizing any of the names and numbers that came up on caller ID. None of them were Keith.
With her heart feeling more hollow by the moment, Josie finally switched the phone off altogether. She couldn’t think with the distraction of all those messages, when she wasn’t even sure what she wanted to do yet. And the one man she needed to speak to hadn’t bothered to call. Or text. Or contact her any other way. She was sure she understood why. That didn’t make it any easier to accept, however, that there was a very real chance she could be on her own to ride out this storm. And unlike the last one, there was no safe harbor in sight.
KEITH’S OFFICE WAS a madhouse when he arrived. He’d discovered the exposé while he was in the cab on the way into work, at Green Principles headquarters in downtown Boston. He’d immediately tried to phone Josie, but the call had gone straight to voice mail. After a couple more tries, he’d put his efforts into damage control, knowing he’d need a good spin on the incident to salvage any chance of courting Wholesome Branding.
Damn it, he’d really wanted to expand his business overseas with them. But he’d be shocked if that could happen now. He wanted to ensure he didn’t lose any existing clients over this new image of himself in the media. Because no matter what he’d told Josie, no guy wanted to be perceived as a boy toy for a spoiled socialite. And he had no illusions about the role he filled in this particular story line. He was the boy toy.
Now, locked behind his office doors with his marketing team, Keith tried Josie again. This time, his call went to voice mail faster than ever. Suggesting she’d turned the phone off? He certainly understood if she’d been trying to limit her calls, but how would he get in touch with her now? He’d have to find an email address for her and come up with a plan to handle this.
“Keith?” Rick, the public relations manager, was talking to him. Stylus gripped tight in one hand, he made notes on a laptop screen. “We’d like to issue a statement that you’re not involved with this woman and that your acquaintance was brief and meaningless. We’ll emphasize that you’re the one
who ended it—”
“No.” Keith shook his head, sorry he hadn’t interrupted the guy sooner. He’d worked with the same marketing group since the inception of Green Principles and they’d been dead-on plenty of times. But right now, they were way off. “Josie and I are dating and will continue to see each other. I don’t need help lying to the press. I need help promoting my version of the story.”
The PR manager—who had a real feel for the growing green market—appeared flummoxed. His yellow-and-blue-striped tie was already loose around his collar and it wasn’t even noon. His sandy eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“Date all you want.” Rick threw open his arms expansively, as if to suggest Keith could hit on women far and wide for all he cared. “But we need to deny this relationship until we lock up the Wholesome Branding account.”
“We need to?”
“It’s our professional opinion—”
“Your professional opinion doesn’t belong in my personal life. End of story.” Frustration simmered, but the conversation made Keith appreciate that this situation might be trickier to navigate than what he’d originally guessed. “Josie Passano—and I want you to be consistent in calling her by that name only—is a very special woman in my life, and no manufactured tales about her are going to keep me away from someone I care about.”
The room went quiet. Five guys and two women on the team stared back at him in silence from their seats around a small conference table. Behind them, a view of Boston Harbor filled the windows of their perch high above the city’s financial district.
“Even if it costs you a substantial amount of business?”
One of the women posed the question or he might have thought the voice emanated from the depths of his subconscious, it so perfectly mirrored his self-serving ego—the ambitious part of him that had propelled his small business to this height.
Was he willing to give up the success that had bought him a Beacon Hill address before the age of thirty? Could he afford this kind of hit on a rapidly expanding business that not only improved the global environment, but had also won him some measure of acceptance from a notoriously difficult to impress father?
