She edged closer, eyeing the spray, then his clinging briefs. "You'll get me wet."
A tight chuckle rasped in his throat. "Ohhh, sweetheart, that's what I'm hoping."
She flushed. "I didn't mean—"
"Come on." He grabbed her arm and pulled her into the shower, not even trying to keep her out of the water. She yelped, but didn't pull away, so he wrapped an arm around her waist, tucking her beneath his chin. The sweet fruit scent of her hair tickled in his nostrils.
She gave a little sigh and melted into him. Her palm slid across his bare stomach, fingers plucking at his waistband. "You're not wearing wet underwear home. You might as well strip."
Whoa! So much for the bashful Mia.
He waited a few seconds before he spoke into her hair. "Is that a good idea—freeing the monster? He has his own agenda."
"The monster?" She snickered. "Guess what? I've never been afraid of monsters." She pulled back, dropping a skeptical glance at the fullness in his shorts. "Especially ones with agendas."
He hooked his thumbs in the waistband and slid it past his navel, then paused. "I thought you weren't interested."
Mia forced her eyes back up to his. "I'm not. It's just that nudity is nothing out of the ordinary around here. I deal with it all the time. You're only another body to me." She shrugged. "I doubt if even the monster can make me—" her hand waved through the rising steam "—make me, um, blink."
"Oh yeah? Is that a dare?"
She looked at her fluttery fingers, then frowned and crossed her arms. "Nope. It's a fact."
Julian spread his feet and rested his hands on his hip bones. His erection swelled, pushing against the wet cotton. Good boy. The bigger, the better.
Mia's confidence wavered. She reversed one step, putting her backside into the shower spray without noticing. He grinned to himself. Any way you looked at it, she'd backed herself into a tight situation.
Her chin jutted, daring him. "What's wrong? Are you shy?"
"Not that I've noticed."
"Then…" She twirled a finger, pointing from his shorts to his ankles. "I want you washed, dressed and out of here. So take 'em off."
"Soon enough," he said. "I thought I'd do this first."
He was on her before she could process his intent. He slipped his hands under the hem of her shirt and held her by the hips, bringing his mouth down to capture hers in a deep, abrupt kiss.
She made a sound in her throat, halfway between a protest and approval. He used his tongue to open her mouth wider, seeking the hot, slick interior. The first intimate surrender of many.
She wrenched away, panting. "Hey! I told you to get naked, not to kiss me."
"I don't follow orders well." He spread his fingers, squeezing the flesh of her tempting bottom. "Besides, I didn't want to leave here with any regrets. Not kissing you would have qualified."
Her eyes narrowed, but again she didn't retreat. She pushed even closer. Defiant. He felt a tug as she gripped the front of his shorts. "You don't follow orders at all."
Suddenly she jerked the clinging fabric downward so his hard cock popped out. Her face remained tilted upward, eyes locked on his as she bent a little at the waist to reach farther, shoving the wet shorts down his thighs until they'd puddled around his ankles.
"Don't look," he said. Taunting.
Contrary as she was, she looked. Her pupils shrunk to pinpoints.
Every nerve in his body seemed to be sending messages straight to his swaying erection. Commands to get harder, to seep moisture, to seek relief. And damn if he didn't have to stand still as she stared, feeling himself pulsing, throbbing, the sensitive foreskin stretched taut to the point of pain.
His fingers itched to touch Mia and find the sweet succor hidden beneath her scarlet thong. Instead he clenched his fists and spoke through gritted teeth. "Don't blink. You said you wouldn't blink."
She clamped her lower tip between her teeth. Not blinking. After a few moments, she let go and pouted, her lip dented like a bruised fruit. "Nothing I haven't seen before. Just an ordinary monster."
Her breathlessness nullified the flip intent.
"You blinked," he accused.
"No, I didn't."
"Yes, you did." He kicked the sodden briefs away. The shower spray beat past Mia's body, spattering across their legs. Rivulets of multicolored paint stained the water washing toward the drain.
"I had to blink," she said. "It's a natural physiological response."
"So's this." He touched his thumb to her lip.
She winced.
"Did that kiss hurt you?" He brought his face next to hers, dropping his voice down low. "You're all swollen. And soft."
"You're all swollen, too."
"But not soft."
"No-o-o-o," she groaned as he pushed against her, his erection a rigid bar against her belly. "You're not soft."
"I can be." He held her face in his hands and kissed her, flicking a soft tongue between her lips. Their wet mouths made small smacking sounds as they kissed, once, twice, ten times—quick suckling kisses as sweet and juicy as an orange split into sections.
One more, he thought. And then one more. He couldn't stop tasting her.
Her hair hung in damp ringlets against her cheeks. Her eyelids quivered. "What are you doing to me, Julian?" She pressed her hands over his. "We have to stop. This isn't—isn't—"
"Don't be that way," he said, as she forced his hands down. He put them back on her hips. Her skin was so wet that when she squirmed his hands slipped over the flexing muscle to the tempting cheeks, cushy as pillows. He traced the line of her thong between them, then slid a finger under the wet satin strap, brushing a darkly exciting caress over her intimate parts, parting the plump folds—
She gasped and pushed him away. "This is not professional."
He had to shake his head to break up the sexual haze dulling it, blinking away the flying water drops. "I'm never professional when I'm naked."
"But I am."
Mia whipped her shirt down to cover her ass, then made a swooping leap to grab his underwear and escape the shower. "I'll run down to the laundry room and get these dry. Back in ten minutes."
Julian let out a groan and slapped his hands on the mosaic tiles, bracing himself under the spray. He'd almost had her.
He lowered his head and gritted his teeth. The ache in his balls was so fierce it was nearly debilitating, but what really consumed him was the soft kisses they'd shared and, for a few moments, the promise in Mia's eyes.
She'd wanted him. Even more, she'd liked him.
Something to build on.
He'd looked up into the spray and was reaching for his erection when the hot water abruptly turned cold, sending him to the far corner of the shower stall, leaping and swearing.
"Mia," he growled. She'd probably turned on the kitchen faucet, for spite.
Icy droplets ricocheted around the enclosure, making him tingle. He was still hot. And ready. No cold shower could cure that.
Nikki refused the executive assistant's offer of a seat. Her feet were killing her, but everyone knew that you had to suffer for fashion. Her skintight pencil skirt was already a mass of wrinkles after a cross-town cab ride; sitting would make it worse.
She tugged the skirt down, smoothing it over her hip bones. Determined to look like a professional, she'd dressed conservatively for the meeting with the managing editor of Hard Candy. Four-inch stiletto heels qualified, didn't they? They were black.
A frosty blonde with a perfectly made-up face walked into the editor's reception area with a manila folder, aiming to drop it onto the desk. Her gaze flew over the guest with disinterest, until she reached Nikki's face.
Then she smiled. "Nikki Silk?"
"Yesss…"
"What are you doing here?" The blonde veered in for a double-cheek air kiss, bringing back memories of stilted family holidays with female relatives who never took off their head-to-toe Chanel and pearls. Up close, Nikki saw that threads of lipstick had se
eped into the nearly invisible lines around the woman's lips.
"Is Julian with you?" the blonde asked. There was a shift in the depths of her crystalline eyes.
Nikki made a face. "Hell no. Absolutely not. And please don't mention this to him either, Ms…?"
The smile became a light laugh. "Petra Lombardi. We met at one of those benefits your family is always hosting, for some disease I can't remember. It was at the St. Regis, and you were in a beaded red gown that was too old for you. I was Julian's date."
"I'm sorry, I don't remember."
"Ancient news." Petra shrugged prettily. "So many parties, so many introductions." She arched her brows at Nikki. "So very many men. Who can keep track?"
"I know Julian can't."
Petra's smile dropped away. "Mmm … Julian? Her tips puckered as she threw a hard glance at the editor's assistant, who was watching them from behind the desk while murmuring into her headset.
Petra regathered herself, nostrils flaring. "So, Nikki, what brings you to Hard Candy?" She gave a just-us-girlfriends chuckle. "And why is it a secret?"
"Only a secret from Julian—for now. He doesn't want me employed here."
Petra's eyes narrowed. "You're coming to work at Hard Candy?"
"Not yet. But we'll see." Butterflies danced in Nikki's hollow stomach as she fingered the strap of her purse. "I'm going in to pitch an article to the editor."
"Oh, how sweet. But I can't imagine Julian objecting to that. Writing should be a pleasant, harmless sideline for you."
Sideline? Nikki winced at the accurate barb. Why shouldn't the entire world assume she was a dilettante? She'd given them plenty of reason. Only Mia Kerrigan had treated her like a halfway competent person, and that was probably because she didn't give a flying fig about how many times Nikki's name was mentioned in the gossip columns. Or Julian's, for that matter.
"I want to surprise him," she said. "Surprise all of my family, in fact." She held a finger over her lips, not trusting Petra, but guessing that the woman would suck up to anyone named Silk. "So shhh."
"As you wish."
"Ms. Silk?" the assistant said. "Mr. Morrisey will see you now."
"Thanks," Nikki said, flipping her hair to make herself believe that she wouldn't crumple if she was laughed out of the office. If she was really lucky, she'd find a way to charm the editor into keeping quiet around Julian, at least until the article was accepted for publication. "See you around, Petra."
Petra's smile was cool and careful. "Looking forward to it, Nikki."
* * *
6
"Speak of the devil," Mia said into her cell phone as she trod along the sidewalk to her home sweet tenement. She'd put in a full day finishing the Gormans' ballroom, then lugged her toolbox with her on the subway and another three blocks from her stop. Her muscles were like rubber, her hair was limp and falling out of its clip, heir deodorant had given out hours ago and her clothes were crusty with paint spatters.
And waiting on her stoop was Julian Silk, looking as handsome as the devil. In this case, the devil had dressed down from Prada to jeans, sneakers and layered T-shirts, with attractive beard stubble and a big bag of Chinese takeout. But he was still the devil.
There to tempt her with his goodies.
And the food, too.
"Not Julian," Nikki shrieked into Mia's ear. The girl was so dramatic she could star on Broadway. "He never leaves work before six."
Mia lurked behind a beefy man delivering cartons of tomatoes to the Tibetan restaurant down the block. Did they have tomatoes in Tibet? She thought they only had yak milk. "He did today. He's sitting out front of my building."
"Sitting out front," Nikki repeated like a psychiatrist on cruise control.
"My building. With Chinese food. I recognize the Garden of the Floating Lotus Blossom logo. I'm going to have to invite him up, aren't I? I mean, there's no way out of it. Unless I double back and go to Cress's place instead." Mia's ankles wobbled at the thought.
"This is strange," Nikki mused. "Julian usually takes his new girlfriends out to a fine restaurant, the sort of place where you hand over a credit card without looking at the bill. He gives them the full show—wine, lobster, compliments, paparazzi…"
The delivery guy wheeled away, and Mia darted behind a mound of garbage bags. The stench was horrible. She put down her toolbox and squeezed her nose shut. "Whad does id mean?"
There was silence on Nikki's end. Julian's sister had secured interest in a potential article from the editor of Hard Candy and had called Mia to set up another interview, this time intending to concentrate on the sexier angle of her body-painting sideline. They'd lapsed into harmless girl talk before going on to the ever-fascinating subject of how they should proceed with Julian. Though they'd shared a giggle over Mia's telling of his fish-out-of-water episode at the plaid test shoot, she hadn't mentioned how she'd just about had a meltdown when she'd stripped him in the shower. Some things a sister didn't need to know, and the effect the sight of her naked brother had on a supposedly with-it woman was one of them.
When Mia had returned from the laundry room with his dry shorts and a semblance of control, he'd already been dressed and ready to go. She'd melted again at the thought of him free-balling beneath the proper business suit. Julian had departed with a wink and no promise, not the only one left dangling.
She'd had a few regrets of her own. But now here he was, unannounced. Planning what?
"Maybe he thinks of you as a buddy?" Nikki suggested, but then they both said, "Naaah."
There was movement in one of the ripped garbage bags. "I gotta go," Mia said, and snapped shut her phone. A whiskery nose appeared from behind the shredded plastic. She grabbed her kit and bolted onto the sidewalk. She had love and compassion for all of God's living creatures, but rats were one neighborhood denizen she avoided under any circumstance.
Even when that meant putting her in temptation's path. She squared her sore shoulders and called, "Hello, Julian."
He waved. "Why were you hiding behind the trash?"
Cripes. "Thought I saw an interesting cast-off, but it was only a broken picture frame. Street salvage is one of my hobbies." That should put him off.
He met her at the bottom of the cement stairs and took the heavy toolbox. "Can I go with you sometime?"
"Why would you want to? Don't Silks buy everything they need on Madison Avenue?"
"Not friends."
"I'm sure Barneys was having a special sale on them, too."
"That was girlfriends." Julian laughed, but there was a trace of sarcastic truth in his words.
Mia climbed the steps, digging her keys out from the bottom of her shoulder bag. "So now you want to be friends, huh?"
"For a start."
She hesitated. Why not? After she showed him the day-to-day truth of her lifestyle—which did not include facials, tailors, limos and gilded invitations—he'd be too dumbstruck to even think of having sex with her.
"Great. We can begin right away." Except that her thigh muscles were whimpering and her head felt too heavy for her neck. All the way home, she'd been looking forward to climbing into bed with her other BOB—the TV clicker. "After I have a shower. I smell like a monkey."
Julian sniffed. "I don't mind, especially if we both end up reeking of hot jungle love."
"Friends don't let friends have meaningless sex. Besides, I had onions for lunch and my breath must stink." She was sounding like quite the prize. Why wasn't he giving up?
"The garlic shrimp will take care of that."
"I'm allergic to shellfish." Especially lobster masquerading as a seduction.
"I meant for me."
"Don't get your hopes up. I kiss friends only on the cheek." She pushed the door open to the lobby with a dingy linoleum tile floor.
Immediately a security chain jingled and an elderly lady in a terry cloth turban and a floral housecoat poked her head out into the hallway from apartment 1A
. "Mia, is that you?
&nb
sp; "Yes, Miss Delaney."
"Did you finish the ballroom like you'd hoped?"
"I sure did. It looks incredible. I'm going back next week to take photos for my portfolio."
"You must remember to show me."
"Sure. I'm going up now, Miss Delaney."
"Do I smell Chinese food?"
"Oh, yes. I almost forgot." Mia took the takeout bag from Julian. "We ordered too much. You know how my eyes are always bigger than my stomach. I was hoping you wouldn't mind taking a few of the dishes off my hands—"
She approached Miss Delaney's door, rummaging inside the bag. "We have soup and pea pods with water chestnuts and Mongolian beef. This one appears to be some kind of lo mein—"
"I don't care for the pea pods—it's like chewing on a leaf. What kind of soup?"
"Shark fin," Julian said.
Miss Delaney peered at him through the upper half of her bifocals. "A new young man?" she stage-whispered to Mia.
"Just a friend," Mia stage-whispered back. "Like Edmund Flax."
Miss Delaney cackled. "I'll take the soup and the lo mein. If you have spring rolls, that would be a meal and I could invite Edmund down for dinner…"
"How about garlic shrimp?"
"That will do. You're a dear. Stop by on your way up and extend my invitation to Edmund, will you?"
Mia repacked the cartons. "Sure thing."
"I must go take my curlers out. Have a nice evening." Miss Delaney's door clunked shut.
"I meant to introduce you," Mia said, rolling down the top of the paper bag. "That was Miss Delaney. Alberta. She taught school on the East Side for fifty-two years. Then a gang-banger cracked her in the skull with a lead pipe and the school board forced her to retire."
"Addled?"
"Not a bit. But she uses a walker now, so I do a lot of her grocery shopping. I hope you don't mind about the food…"
"I'm happy to share."
Mia gave him a quick smile. She reached for her shoulder bag, but he said, "Let me," and her sore muscles were so grateful they wanted to grab and cling and kiss him.
TASTE ME Page 7
