by Laura Simcox
Stopping at the sofa, she smoothed the quilt folded over the back and touched his coat, running her finger across the soft leather. It smelled like him—woodsy and intoxicating. Sharp longing coursed through her, and she wanted more than anything to go back in the kitchen, turn him around, and press her face against his chest. What came after that, she wouldn’t try to control. She just wanted him.
Turning on her heel, she stepped back into the kitchen and leaned against the wall, folding her arms. “Marcus. Believe me, I didn’t start the meeting intending to malign you,” she said in a quiet voice. “But you got up there and started talking about bringing four hundred jobs to town, and it made me mad. So I…freaked. I’m sorry.”
He turned around. “It’s okay.”
Ivy frowned. “Just like that?”
“It’s okay,” Marcus repeated in a whisper. He walked across the linoleum floor and stopped in front of her to grasp her arms. Gently, he pried them apart and guided her hands to his hips. Then his lips curved slowly into that killer grin she was beginning to love.
Ivy swallowed. “Why?”
“Because you meant it.” His hands slid from hers and trailed back up her arms to rest on her shoulders.
She stared into his eyes and admitted the truth to herself: somewhere over the past couple of weeks her pure lust for him had developed a scary layer of affection.
“Uh, I meant…why are you touching me?” She blinked and willed her hands to let go of his hips, but they seemed fused there of their own accord. So she squeezed instead.
“Why not? The invitation is still open, isn’t it?”
Ivy sighed and leaned forward until her breasts almost brushed his chest. It would be so easy to scream “Yes” and guide him straight to the sofa. But that would be like guiding her heart into hell, and the fear of it burning up and turning to ash held her back. She couldn’t do it.
She shook her head. “I never said that.”
“You implied it.”
Marcus’s lips brushed her temple, as she closed her eyes. “I realize that.”
He kissed her cheekbone and then her jaw. Turning her head, she parted her lips and waited in welcome for the warmth of his mouth. But it didn’t come. She opened her eyes to find him gazing at her.
“I’m sorry, too, you know,” he said.
“I know.” She slid her hands from his hips around and up to his chest. “Kiss me.”
“If I do, I won’t stop.”
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Seconds went by as she stared at him.
He kissed her cheek again, lingering near her ear. “I don’t want there to be any doubt between us when we take each other,” he whispered.
And then he stepped around her, grabbed his coat from the sofa and left.
…
On Friday morning, Ivy ripped off a piece of Scotch tape and carefully folded it into a tiny tube. She reached for the loose “B” on the computer keyboard and stuck the tape under it, pushing it back into place. She took a swallow of cold coffee and grimaced, glancing up at the row of silent men seated in front her desk. This was going to be a fun downtown-property-owners meeting. Not.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” she said with a smile.
From left to right, the men were arranged from tallest to shortest. Marcus, executive-perfect in a swiveling office chair; Ronald, sprawled in her dad’s old recliner; Preston, stiff as a board in a straight-backed chair; and finally Herman, who perched on the edge of the lumpy sofa and glared at her suspiciously. What a motley crew.
She bit back a nervous laugh and turned her gaze to Marcus. Even though he leaned back with an ankle crossed over a knee, he drummed his fingers on the arms of the chair and stared straight ahead. Wound tighter than a snare drum, as her dad would say.
“Before we begin, I’m going to ask that we stay on topic. Which is the leasing of your property, not anything having to do with Megamart.” She cleared her throat. “So what do we have, gentlemen?” she asked.
Preston flicked open a folder and sniffed. “Thanks to my careful ad placements, we’ve had quite a nice response. I’ve received forty-seven e-mails, thirteen phone calls, and several comments on Celebration’s Facebook page. Out of those—”
“Aw, who cares about that, Parliament?” Ronald grinned, his double chin wagging. “Ivy, your idea is taking off faster than I expected. I’ve got three leases signed and Herman’s got one.”
Ivy gasped. “Four new tenants? All this morning?”
Ronald chuckled. “Word travels fast when people hear about free rent. You know the south corner of Main and Independence?”
Ivy nodded.
“Well, Ms. Gaines is going to reopen her flower shop there. Makes sense. Display cases and such are still sitting there. And then two doors down, I’ve got a man from over in Ithaca who’s opening a convenience store.” Ronald clapped his beefy hands and struggled out of the recliner to stand. He turned to Herman and crowed, “Best of all? A doughnut shop! That’s gonna be in the MacNamara’s old drug store down the street a-ways. Now we don’t have to drive out to the 7-Eleven two exits down the highway for a doughnut fix.”
Ivy groaned. “Doughnuts. Just what I don’t need. But, still, excellent. Good for you, Ronald.”
“I got the short end of the stick,” spat Herman. “Nobody ’round here is interested in getting one of them tacky tattoos. Guy who owns it looks like a damned Hell’s Angel. That store of mine he rented out won’t last a month.”
Preston leaned forward and grinned at Ivy. “Oh, but they’ll have at least one customer, right?”
Ivy gritted her teeth in another smile and grasped her computer monitor to wrench it around. “Yep. I’ve narrowed it down to three choices. I’m getting the tattoo on my left ankle. Take a look.”
Chairs clattered as the four men stood and gathered around her desk. Preston snorted. “Cute. Ivy leaves. That’s original.”
“What did you expect? Barbed wire around my neck?” Ivy laughed.
“A collar with a leash would be better,” muttered Preston.
Before Ivy could even suck in an indignant breath, Preston was pushed against the wall next to the desk, Marcus’s hands gripping his thin shoulders.
“Damn, man!” said Ronald.
Ivy shot out of her seat and grabbed at Marcus’s arm. “Stop it.”
“What did you say about her?” ground out Marcus.
Preston’s eyes darted around the room, and he fumbled in his pants pocket. “I’m calling the cops,” he said in a thick voice.
“What’s going on in there?” shouted a high-pitched voice from the outer office.
Ivy sighed, snatched the phone from Preston’s grasp, and cracked the door open. “Nothing, Sherry. Preston just tripped over the cords taped to the carpet. Any word on when we’re getting wireless installed?”
“Monday, supposed to be. But not if it snows thirty inches like Channel Six is predicting. You want some more coffee, hon?”
“No, thanks.” Ivy shot a quick smile at her and shut the door. “Marcus, let him go, for God’s sake. This is an office, not a cage-match arena.”
Marcus turned flashing eyes on her and slowly lifted his arm from Preston’s chest. “Fine. But his comment was unacceptable.”
Ivy tossed Preston his phone. “Have a seat, gentlemen.” She caught Marcus’s arm and pulled him close. “Don’t stoop to his level.”
Herman cackled. “Stoop? Toothpick don’t have far to go. Least didn’t used to.” He whipped a limp handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped it across his leathery lips.
Ivy scowled at the old man and tightened her grip on Marcus’s steely biceps. “Don’t stoop to his either. Just hold it together for another five minutes, and I’ll get rid of him,” she whispered in Marcus’s ear.
But she might have to make it one minute because the dark look on Marcus’s face didn’t bode well. Dammit. Her first meeting of the day and she had to break up a fight in her office.
“Wh
o’s Toothpick?” croaked Preston. He massaged his throat as if Marcus had choked him.
Herman hitched up his baggy pants and sat down. “Damn boy, pay attention. Toothpick is my high-and-mighty nephew.”
Preston adjusted his tie and rolled his head from side to side. He let out a weak cough and his hand fluttered to his throat. “Excuse me for being a little distracted. I was just attacked.” He sniffed and then coughed again, shooting a pointed look at Marcus. “I’m having trouble breathing. My larynx burns.”
“Oh suck it up, sissy. The man didn’t touch your neck. You asked for what you got, anyway,” commented Ronald.
Herman chortled. “And that’s the damn truth right there. Toothpick always did have a temper, though.”
Marcus ignored him and sat down, flicking imaginary lint from the crease of his suit pants leg. “Ivy, if you’ll get the leases from Sherry, I’ll be happy to countersign.”
Herman grinned, but kept his mouth shut.
Good. The old man had at least an ounce of common sense. Ivy knew that given the provocation, Marcus would pin that little badger to the wall, too. The only person in the room who seemed neutral was Ronald. She turned to him.
“I trust you’re going to do as much as you can to make those tenants comfortable?”
Ronald swept a hand across his comb-over. “Be my pleasure. And also, just so you know, I’m planning on donating half the rent I collect to the town’s festival budget. Wouldn’t feel right just taking money from another man.” He glanced at Marcus. “Plus I’d rather do it myself than have a Megamart doing it for me.”
Marcus didn’t comment.
“That’s…nice,” said Ivy. “A donation will certainly help with the New Year’s Day parade.” She folded her arms and shot a glance at Herman. “How about you?”
“I only got one store rented,” he whined.
“You’ll have more,” she countered.
Ronald laughed. “Herman’s a tightwad, but he’ll donate. I’ll make sure of it.” He lumbered across the carpet and hauled Herman to his feet. “Come on, old fart. Let’s go hire someone to clean those buildings up. ’Cause you and I both know we’re not gonna lift a finger.”
Ivy opened her office door and tried to keep the relief from her face as Ronald pushed Herman through the doorway. When they were gone, she raised an eyebrow at Preston. “Anything else for today? Speak now.”
Preston massaged his throat and coughed loudly. “I’m sure there’s something, but it’s hard to think.”
She stepped behind him and pushed on his back. “I’ll take that as a no, then. Why don’t you go back to your office and drink some hot tea or whatever? If you get any more takers on the downtown challenge, just e-mail me. Don’t call.”
“But I—”
“Don’t call. I’m busy.” Ivy pushed him out the door and closed it. What a ridiculous morning. How had her dad dealt with shit like this day in and day out? She stole a glance at Marcus. He was still as a statue, staring at the wall, his face impassive.
Ivy closed the door, then sat down in her desk chair and picked up the phone. “Sherry? Could you bring those lease agreements in, please?” She paused. “Sure, I’ll hold.” She leaned back until the chair bumped against the wall and gazed across the room to the window. Snow swirled outside, and the sky was leaden gray. She’d give anything to be back at her house in front of the fire watching a stupid reality show on TV. Except the cable hadn’t been hooked up yet. Today sucked.
Ivy frowned and sat back up. “Sherry? Slow down. Wait, let me get this straight. Joe said that John said that the snowplow has two flats? Well, where are the spare tires?” She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Why are they stored at Benson’s car lot?” She paused. “Oh. They’re at the Benson’s house? Why are they—Never mind. Just tell Joe to go to Mr. Benson’s house and ask his wife for the keys to the storage shed out back. Sherry, I know it’s snowing harder. Mmmhmm. I’ll hold.”
Marcus’s steely expression cracked into a small smile, and Ivy covered the mouthpiece of the phone. She looked at him ruefully. “At least I’m not yelling. My dad would have been yelling by now,” she said, lifting the phone back to her ear.
He nodded in agreement and stood, looking out the window. “Let’s go.” He turned and looked at her. From across the room, his eyes were serious, but the anxiety she’d seen earlier had been replaced with something else. Something a lot more unsettling. It was pure hunger.
Ivy stared back, not breathing.
Dimly, she realized that Sherry was talking again. “Um, could you repeat that, Sherry? Dave the school superintendent? Uh, yep. Put him on.”
She tore her gaze away from Marcus and blinked down at the coffee rings on her desk blotter.
“Hi, Dave.” She paused. “You’re shutting down early, then. Okay. Sure. That’s all I needed to know. Thanks.”
On unsteady legs, she stood to open the door. “Sherry? As soon as Marcus signs those lease agreements let’s make the announcement that city hall is shutting down due to inclement weather. Schools are already out.”
Sherry let out a whoop and then appeared in the doorway, a sheaf of papers in hand. “Here you go.”
Marcus walked across the room and took them, giving her a half smile as he picked up a pen and spread the documents in front of him.
Sherry paused on her way out the door. “Anything else?”
Ivy couldn’t think of anything else. She couldn’t think, period. “Nope. Uh, except tell Joe to pick you up before he gets the plow fixed. I want you to get back to your house safely.”
“You too. Don’t hang around worrying about voice mails and spreadsheets. I know how you are.” Sherry grinned and shut the door on her way out.
As it closed with a soft click, Ivy’s heart sped up. She knew how she was, too. Always trying to get everything in order before she made her next move. But with Marcus, she just simply didn’t want to wait anymore. There was every chance in the world that nothing would be in order with her world where he was concerned. And it didn’t stop her from desperately wanting him.
She glanced at him, standing in front of her desk, his lips tight and eyes focused as he signed the leases. She looked at his strong profile, his jawline. His sharp blue eyes and his sharp blue suit. No, she had no intention of waiting around here, and she knew exactly where she wanted to be. With him. And for now, that’s all she wanted to think about it.
Marcus signed the last document and turned to her, a question in his eyes.
She walked over to him. “Yes,” she said before he could open his sexy mouth.
Wordlessly, he curved his hands around her face and kissed her.
His lips were demanding, and as he plunged his tongue into her mouth, she let her head fall back with a moan. He slid his hands from her face to her shoulders and then down her spine, while she wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss.
She swirled her tongue around his and buried her fingers in his hair to pull him closer. Oh God, she was so happy to give in to herself for once. She needed this. She needed him.
Too soon, he dragged his mouth away. “Your house. Now,” he said hoarsely.
She laced her fingers through his and led him from her office.
Chapter Fourteen
Ivy waded through the snow piled up on her steps and unlocked the front door with fumbling fingers. “We’re going to get snowed in.”
“I hope so,” Marcus said, his breath hot on her neck as he pushed her inside and licked the skin behind her ear. “For at least a week.” He kicked the door shut, and slid his hands up to cradle her breasts. “Mmm.”
Oh. My. God.
Ivy dropped her phone on the welcome mat and watched it bounce across the hardwood floor, disappearing under the sofa.
“Oh shit. I hope it’s not broken,” she breathed, reaching up to still his hands. Her eyelids closed.
“It’ll be fine,” Marcus said as he turned her in his arms and fastened his mouth to hers with a growl.
She reached for his shirt and tugged it out of his wool pants, her breasts pushing against his torso and nestling under his rib cage. Her tongue invaded his mouth as she ran her hands along his sides and around his back.
Marcus jumped and tore his mouth away, laughing. “Your hands are freezing.”
Ivy groaned when he buried his face in her neck and held her fingers away from the heat of his back. “Mmm. Sorry.”
“No, you’re not,” he said in a muffled voice. He took a couple of steps forward, backing her up and using his hips to trap her against the low back of the sofa. “I’d light the fire, but I don’t want to stop touching you.”
Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she dug her fingers into the solid planes of his back. “You’ve already lit it,” Ivy whispered, shuddering as his hands burned a fiery path down her chest. Her eyes snapped open. When had her blouse come unbuttoned? She leaned back and looked down at her exposed bra, his hand sneaking inside.
Marcus raised his head from her neck and followed her gaze. “Oops.” He pulled his hand out and brushed his fingers over the tops of her breasts. “Amazing,” he murmured. With a slow flick of his hand, the front clasp of the lace bra unlatched and the cups sprang loose, exposing her completely.
“I want to touch you everywhere,” he said. His palms hovered above her breasts, and the heat of his hands beckoned to her sensitive nipples. All it would take would be to arch her back.
“I want to touch you, too,” she replied, staring at his hands. She arched her back just slightly.
“But?” Marcus dropped his hands to her hips and squeezed gently.
She gripped the back of the sofa on either side of his hands and let out a shuddering groan. “What are you talking about? There are no buts.”
Marcus pushed his fingers between her hips and the sofa and lifted. In less than a second, he was between her thighs, his rock-hard erection pressing firmly against the part of her body that had been relentlessly begging for him for so long. And now the begging rocketed into full-blown demanding.
