Ready or Not

by Melissa Brayden

  “Seven thirty,” Ashton said. “We’re playing the reigning champs from last season, who we totally hate, so I obviously plan to slaughter them.”

  “We’ll be there,” Brooklyn said, referencing Jessica and herself. “You guys want to come?”

  Once Samantha and Hunter eagerly accepted the invitation, all eyes were on her. “Actually,” Mallory said cautiously, “I have a lot of work to catch up on tonight.”

  “You work more than anyone on the planet,” Hunter pointed out. “Do you want to be a workaholic? You need some downtime. You’re coming.”

  “Yep,” Samantha said, turning back to her desk. “We’ll be at your door at six forty-five.”

  “Listen, you guys, I’d love to. I would. And I plan to catch one of your games really soon, Ashton, but it can’t be tonight.”

  “Why? You have a hot date?” Brooklyn asked in teasing mode, then went super serious as she regarded Mallory. “Oh my God, you do.”

  “She does?” Sam asked, whirling back around.

  Mallory held up a hand to stop the calamity. “I told you guys we’re going to do some work for Showplace, and I’m simply meeting with Hope to talk over some details.”

  “You mean the details of her clothes and how you plan to get them off?” Hunter asked slyly with a twinkle in her eyes.

  Mallory’s mouth fell open. “I cannot believe you just said that.”

  Hunter held her hands palms up. “Hey, I just call them as I see them. A rare nighttime client meeting with a woman you have a habit of locking lips with is highly suspect.”

  Brooklyn nodded. “It is. It paints quite a picture.”

  “Let’s give her the benefit of the doubt, you guys,” Sam said. “Mallory, where are you guys meeting?”

  “My apartment.” Mallory sighed. She totally deserved the instant laughter that followed.

  *

  In the elevator to Mallory’s apartment that night, Hope did what she could to put herself in some kind of order. She’d taken the night off but had already worked a good eight hours at Showplace to make sure everything ran smoothly in her absence—which hadn’t exactly left time to prep for…what was this exactly? Another non-date under the guise of a business meeting with the undertones of possible sex playing prominently beneath the surface? She shook her head at the combination. One thing was for sure; no one could ever accuse Mallory Spencer of simplicity.

  She took a deep breath before knocking, gave her hair the smallest tousle for good measure, and then shook her head at herself for the effort. In just a few seconds, the door opened and Mallory smiled at her in greeting.

  Only it wasn’t the Mallory she was used to.

  At all.

  This Mallory had on what looked to be soft, worn-in jeans, a baby-blue T-shirt, and no shoes, as in barefoot. Hope had seen Mallory in high-powered business attire with the heels and the suit. She liked that look a lot. She’d also seen her out with her friends for the night in a flashy-casual ensemble, which was another favorite. But this Mallory, the at-home version, was a sight she wasn’t at all prepared for, and it had a definite effect on her.

  “Hey, you,” Mallory said, stepping back and holding the door open. “Come in.” Except Hope didn’t move because her brain hadn’t yet transitioned from the unexpected and kinda hot visual. Mallory inclined her head to the side. “You all right?”

  Hope gave herself an internal shake. “Yes. Yeah. I’m fine. Completely. Why do you ask?”

  Mallory paused and studied her. “Because you’re still in my hallway.”

  Oh, right. That. “Coming in now,” Hope said and made her way into Mallory’s apartment, which turned out to be just as put together as she was. The high ceilings with industrial beams across the top made the open living room / kitchen combination appear much larger than it already was. On top of that, the loft looked like it had stepped out of one of those design shows on television. Long, straight lavender curtains that seemed to go on for days hung from the two picture windows at the back of the loft. A wall-mounted television surrounded by soft, gray furniture held court in the center of the room. She took in the couch with its high, sculpted back.

  “What?” Mallory asked, as Hope walked around it.

  “This sofa is very…you,” she said, settling on a word.

  The description seemed to intrigue Mallory, who slid onto one of the barstools along the kitchen counter, one bare foot on its footrest. “You think so, huh? In what way?”

  “The sculpted back and arms communicate a regal quality. You do that too.”

  “Okay. I can accept that.”

  “And the gray is conservative, also like you.”

  “You think I’m conservative?” Mallory asked, dubious.

  “I know you’re conservative,” Hope countered with a grin. Mallory shrugged in halfhearted acceptance. “That bothers you?”

  “It doesn’t bother me. I am conservative and should probably own that. I’m just not sure it’s something I love about myself.” Mallory rounded the island and opened the oven door. While Hope wanted to continue that line of conversation because her interest was piqued, Mallory’s actions had just sent the most wonderful aroma wafting through the apartment. “I didn’t know if you’d be hungry,” Mallory said over her shoulder. “But I made nachos just in case.”

  “I’m sorry. You made nachos?” Hope asked, slipping onto a barstool across the island from Mallory. “You realize that’s completely contrary to what I would imagine you’d cook for a client.”

  Mallory straightened and eyed her, enjoying the exchange. “And what would you imagine I’d make?”

  “Chateaubriand?”

  Mallory tossed the pot holder at her, pulling a laugh from Hope. “I’m beginning to think I’m some sort of cartoon character to you. Straitlaced and uptight.”

  “You’re saying you don’t sleep with your briefcase on the pillow next to you?” The innocent look Hope passed Mallory only earned her the second pot holder.

  “Surprisingly, I do not,” Mallory said proudly. “And I happen to love nachos with lots and lots of cheese. Which means apparently you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

  “I want to though.” At the comment, the smile faded from Mallory’s face and their eyes locked for a moment.

  “I should rescue the nachos,” she said absently and pulled her eyes away. For whatever reason, the exchange sent Mallory into action as she busied herself securing plates, napkins, and forks for them. Hope watched her, entranced by the way Mallory’s thick, dark hair swished across her back as she moved, how those jeans seemed to hug her subtle curves, and the fact that the V of her neckline showed a touch of olive skin, but not nearly enough. While Hope wasn’t someone who’d bedded a million women, she had been around the block in her younger days. But God, this woman got to her with an intensity she wasn’t at all used to.

  “For our dining pleasure,” Mallory said and placed a tray on the island full of hot tortilla chips covered in gooey cheese, diced tomatoes, and topped with a touch of sour cream.

  Hope stared at the plate of amazing food and her stomach growled on cue. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’d like to thank the universe and dairy farmers everywhere.”

  Mallory’s mouth fell open. “You can start by thanking me, the big-hearted person who made them for you. My friends call them Nacho-Porn.”

  “Because they’re sinful?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Mallory,” Hope said sincerely.

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you for my Nacho-Porn,” Hope said, smiling.

  Mallory laughed and shook her head. “You’re welcome.” She poured two glasses of white wine and then paused. “Wait. You do like wine, don’t you? I should have checked.”

  “It would be kind of criminal not to.”

  Mallory nodded. “I’m glad you get that, but I also suspect it’s not your drink of choice. You don’t strike me as a wine girl.”

  “You
’re analyzing me right now, aren’t you?”

  “A little bit,” Mallory said, setting a glass of wine in front of Hope and taking a sip of the one in her hand. “Now answer the question.”

  “Wine is sexy and relaxing, and I love it on that level. But for me, it’s hard to beat a good Scotch. However, if we’re talking frequency of consumption, I like to mix it up, pardon the pun. Try different drinks each night. Lately, I’ve been on a bit of a sidecar kick. If you can get the syrup just right, those things are like candy. I have to be careful, especially when I’m working.”

  Mallory grabbed a stool and pulled it around the island so she sat across from Hope, who snagged a nacho. “You’re really knowledgeable about drinks, you know that?”

  Hope lifted a shoulder, seemingly amused. “I do know that. But it happens to be my job.”

  “It’s still impressive.”

  “You know what’s impressive? This cheese. It’s amazing,” she managed, sinking into its wonder. They served nachos at Showplace, but they were nothing like this. Really, no nachos were.

  “It’s because of the secret mixture.”

  Oh, now Hope was intrigued. “You have a secret mixture of nacho cheese?”

  “I do,” Mallory said proudly. “It’s one of my bigger accomplishments in life.”

  Hope sipped her wine and studied Mallory over her glass. “And are you willing to share this secret?”

  Mallory shrugged. “Depends on what you’re willing to give me in return.” Hope raised an eyebrow and Mallory laughed. “I meant a cocktail recipe.”

  “If you say so. And of course. I’ll make you the best drink of your life and then show you how. Now, put out.”

  Mallory nodded. “You have a deal. It’s a mixture of sharp cheddar, Monterey jack, and here’s the kicker. Are you ready? It’s kind of major that I’m sharing this. It doesn’t happen often.”

  “Hit me.”

  “Fontina. Boom.” Mallory made a firework gesture with her hand and sat back as if her work there was done.

  Hope laughed because it was adorable. “I should write that down. And you should do that firework thing again sometime. It could be your signature move.”

  “Pshhhh. I have better moves than that.”

  Hope raised a playful eyebrow and Mallory held her gaze knowingly, sending a series of hard-core flip-flops to Hope’s stomach. Mallory seemed different tonight, more open to her somehow, to her flirtation. It was energizing, and the banter was fun. Easy. Hope stole a chip, deciding to just enjoy whatever it was that was growing between them.

  In the snack department, Mallory was right there with her, pulling her own chip from the pile as the cheese clung and pulled apart in lavish strands. Hope watched her closely, as the play-out was too good to look away from. The delicate way she tried to make sure the cheese made it into her mouth, coupled with the look of sheer enjoyment once it did, was an awesome combination. “You and your nachos are cute,” Hope said.

  Mallory paused, chip in midair. “We are?”

  “You are. You love them.”

  “I do love them, but no one’s ever called me cute before.”

  Hope gestured at Mallory with a chip. “That’s because you’re always trying to be in charge. And you’re kinda good at it, so I’m going to imagine fewer people see the cute in the midst of the respect they have for you. But it’s there, the cute is. Trust me.”

  “I guess I’ll have to,” Mallory said in amusement. And that’s when Hope noticed what Mallory did not. The tiny dot of sour cream on Mallory’s lower lip.

  “Do you know what else makes you cute?” Hope asked. Mallory shook her head. Unable to help herself, Hope reached across the island and gently ran her thumb across Mallory’s lower lip, then placed her own thumb in her own mouth, tasting the sour cream.

  Mallory stared at her, seemingly struck. She’d been caught off guard by the contact, that much was clear, but the gaze they shared now had the temperature in the room climbing.

  “Shall we get to work?” Hope asked quietly, her eyes never leaving Mallory’s.

  “Hmmm? Oh. Yeah. Let me grab my—” As she stood to retrieve whatever it was she was after, Hope stepped out of the way to allow her to pass, just as Mallory attempted to sidestep Hope in the same direction, leaving them once again face-to-face. “Sorry,” Mallory said.

  Hope shook her head. “My fault.” A sideways step in the opposite direction produced a similar result, and Hope caught Mallory by the shoulders as she stepped forward, colliding into her. “Whoa.”

  Mallory raised her eyes to Hope’s. They were ridiculously close now, and Hope could smell the vanilla that, to her, was becoming so very Mallory. She was also now hyperawar of the fact that all she wanted to do was slide her hands into that dark hair, grip gently, pull Mallory in, and explore the rest of her.

  “I’ll grab my proposal,” Mallory said and slid effectively from her grasp. Hope blinked and gave her head a little shake in an attempt to pull herself out of it. Work. Right. That’s what they were here for. She could totally work, just as soon as her body stopped humming and she erased images of Mallory hot and ready to go.

  Mallory retrieved a leather-bound portfolio from her attaché in the corner and took a seat on the couch. “Before I walk you through the proposals, do you have anything major scheduled at Showplace on Thursday?”

  Hope joined her on the couch. “Just regular traffic, why?”

  “I’d like to bring in a potential client for drinks. The owners of Big Top Theatres.”

  Hope’s interest was piqued. “The movie place?”

  “Exactly. And I was wondering if you could do something special for them. Maybe a special drink for us all to try—all on me, of course. Maybe pull out something that could wow them and make them remember Showplace down the line. The thing is, these guys are the hot ticket in town right now and really influential. They would make a great ally if they happened to like the place.”

  Hope’s mind was already on the move, thinking of all the cocktail possibilities she could go with. She had an entire journal full of options to choose from. “Tell me about them.”

  “Think successful, energetic males with a high preoccupation with movies and having a good time.”

  Hope nodded. “My kind of guys. You’re on. I’ll see what I can put together.”

  “Perfect. Now look over these proposals and see what you think.”

  Mallory watched as Hope perused the outline of services she’d handed her. As the look of concentration crossed her face, Mallory sat back and studied her until she finally couldn’t take it anymore. Quite simply, she found herself captivated. “You bite your lip when you’re thoughtful.”

  “No, I don’t,” Hope said, releasing her lip without taking her eyes off the page.

  “Okay. But you just did, so there’s that.”

  That earned a smile and Hope turned her focus to Mallory. “And you go barefoot when you’re at home alone.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “It’s kind of sexy is all,” Hope said with a shrug.

  “You think that’s sexy?” Mallory asked, feeling a series of tingles move through her at the compliment. She wasn’t sure what it was about Hope that flipped her switch, but it happened every damn time they were together.

  “Yeah.” Hope said, nodding. “You without shoes is killer. There’s something laid-back and relaxed about it that I love on you.” And then she returned to the contemplative examination of the proposal and damn it if Mallory didn’t regret ever handing it to her.

  “Hope?” she said, deciding to take control of what she wanted.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “I’m not sure how you’re feeling, but I’m not feeling much like working.” Nope. No, she wasn’t.

  “Is that so?” Hope asked, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “What do you feel like doing?”

  “Other…things,” Mallory said, as her gaze dropped decidedly to Hope’s mouth. It’s not like she could have hel
ped it. And really, what was the point of hiding that? Because ever since Hope had graced the doorway of her apartment, she found herself moving steadily from the want to the need column, and it was probably time she spoke up about that. They were both consenting adults, after all.

  Hope set the portfolio on the coffee table. “Maybe you should show me.”

  Accepting the invitation, Mallory pushed herself up on her arms, across the small space between them on the couch, and hovered just short of Hope’s mouth, enjoying the anticipation, because God, it was good. This vibration of electricity between them was off the charts. But Hope didn’t seem up for the wait and pulled Mallory’s face to hers and sank into a kiss that, to Mallory, felt like water to her thirst. In reaction to the warmth and wonder of Hope’s very talented mouth, her whole body ignited. She wrapped her arms around Hope’s neck as they eased backward onto the couch, Mallory on top, a position she rather liked.

  “God, you feel so good,” Hope managed as they shifted into each other. Her hands moved down the sides of Mallory’s body as they continued to kiss with an abandon Mallory had never quite experienced before. Something about Hope made her completely let go.

  And Hope could really kiss.

  Mallory couldn’t remember another human kissing her as thoroughly as Hope did, and it made her wonder how thoroughly she did other things. The thought alone had her hot and pressing her breasts into Hope’s, who responded by cupping her ass, pulling her in firmly, eliciting a gasp from Mallory.

  She closed her eyes and let the sensations tumble over her, acutely aware now that this wasn’t nearly enough. As if reading her mind, Hope eased Mallory onto her side so they lay face-to-face in a tangle of lips and tongues. And then Hope’s hands were under Mallory’s shirt, and the warm touch moved up her stomach, her ribs, to her breasts. God. With both hands, Hope palmed them through her bra, pulling a moan from Mallory that she couldn’t hold back. A jolt of something potent shot lower, between her legs, as Hope massaged, fondled, and played with her breasts. Their hips moved in a subtle rhythm now, and she trailed kisses down Hope’s chin to her neck where she licked, kissed, and sucked. But then Hope pushed up her bra and proceeded to explore her breasts further, free of barriers. Her breasts had always been incredibly sensitive, and this kind of attention sent her into overdrive.