Twisted By Love, Reincarnation Tales, Book 1

by Jasmine Haynes

  Livie didn’t have the heart to say that he could have called Toni’s cell to find out where she was, or that after a relationship that had lasted less than a month, he most likely wasn’t prostrate with anything but relief. She chided herself for the bitchy thought.

  Leaving for work this morning had saved her from yet another hour of Toni’s ponderings. Two sisters trying to get ready in one bathroom was, in a word, hell. The only thing she’d been grateful for was that Toni hadn’t asked why, for the second day in a row, Livie was wearing a dress instead of a suit.

  On the drive in, Livie reached a few conclusions of her own.

  She wouldn’t ignore what had happened with Burn in the garage last night. She wanted to learn more about him. She wanted that drink after work. And she needed to thank him for paying the homeless man and allowing her to escape the awkward situation. Between her ten o’clock and her ten-thirty meetings, she checked the Internet, found the contact number for Daniels Associates, and called. He wasn’t in, but she’d been forwarded to his voice mail. Mooning like a schoolgirl over the sound of his voice, she almost missed the beep to start her message. Name, rank, and serial number, call me. Short, sweet, and to the point, yet her heart was beating ridiculously fast by the time she hung up, and her palms were sweaty.

  When he called back, she’d apologize for her bizarre behavior, then she’d accept his invitation for a drink.

  Unfortunately, he didn’t call back before her ten-thirty meeting.

  There was still no message when she returned from lunch. Not a big deal. The whole afternoon lay ahead, and she wouldn’t overdramatize. She was not like her sister.

  * * * * *

  She’d worked up her nerve, yet after all the interest he’d shown, Burn didn’t call back. He. Didn’t. Call. Back. What did it mean? Was he angry? Maybe he’d decided she was a whacko, and he didn’t want to get involved. But he was the one doing all the following. Why didn’t he call back?

  Livie went down to the garage at four, having left some important paperwork in the car. Or at least she assumed it must have fallen out of her poorly clasped briefcase—like the pamphlet she’d dropped last night—but no, it wasn’t there.

  Down in the garage, she happened to notice that Burn’s black Lexus was in the same parking spot as before. Back in her office, she found that pesky memo she’d been looking for right on the corner of her desk.

  Five o’clock rolled around, and she hadn’t finished approving the month-end credit memos. Also, it was Friday and traffic was a bitch on Fridays so staying a bit later would only lessen her commute time.

  And if Burn did have an all-day meeting, he could still call, and they could still nip over to the bar across the street for that drink.

  To leave or not to leave.

  Six o’clock, Julia stopped in before going home. “Shopping, Sunday, don’t forget.”

  They’d met in new employee orientation and had been friends ever since. Ten years. Julia worked in website design, was easy to be around, and not prone to melodrama even if she did run her life according to her horoscope and had recently developed a fascination with reading tea leaves. She also maxed out her credit cards once a year at the Nordstrom’s anniversary sale, buying bright colors that didn’t clash with her red hair and spiked heels that brought her to the mighty height of five feet four. Julia favored tight clothing that emphasized her hourglass figure.

  “I’ll be there.” Livie smiled broadly.

  “Can’t wait.”

  Livie pursed her lips, then decided to go for it. “I’ve got a deep question for you.”

  Julia loved deep questions as much as she loved examining tea leaves, even if she wasn’t particularly good at it yet. Her pretty violet eyes sparkled with a go-ahead.

  “If a man doesn’t call you back after you’ve left a message, how long should you wait before calling him again?”

  “How many messages?”

  “One.”

  “A woman should wait a day.”

  “Thanks, Julia.” Gee, that was easy. At least her friend hadn’t asked if she was fifteen years old instead of thirty-five.

  “Don’t work too late. Oh, and we’ll do a late lunch at that little place in San Mateo. They use tea leaves, and I’ll give you a reading.”

  Livie groaned.

  “I haven’t done a reading for you yet.” Julia was practically begging now. “Please. Pretty please with sugar on top?”

  The Julia-twinkle got to Livie. “All right. But if you see anything bad, I don’t want to hear about it.”

  “Hmm, maybe we’ll see something about Mr. Man-who-hasn’t-returned-your-call. Sunday. Be there or be square,” she said as she left, then turned back for one last edict. “And wear tennies.”

  That’s what she liked about Julia. She didn’t ask for too many intimate details and always remembered important essentials like footwear.

  Half an hour later, the credit memos done, Livie popped her head out of her office. She was the last one. Friday night was not a late night around Cumberland’s headquarters, even on the last day of the quarter, and she had no further reason to stick around. Burn had turned out to be Mr. Man-who-wasn’t-going-to-call. So be it. She wouldn’t have a Toni-style hissy fit. He’d call on Monday. Or he wouldn’t. She’d call him again. Or she wouldn’t. She packed up her briefcase, shut down her computer, and punched off the desk lamp.

  Toni had texted after lunch to say she was hitting the town with her friends. Livie could finally have that long soak in the tub. She’d use the time to read The Fountainhead since she’d gone to the expense of a hardback copy.

  Punching off the lights, she keyed in the alarm code, and opened the front door.

  Burn Daniels stood across the hall by the elevators. “I knocked, but I guess you didn’t hear.”

  The sight of him in a navy-blue suit and striped tie curled her toes. “No, I didn’t hear.”

  “I got your message, but I wasn’t able to call back. I thought you would have left already, but then I saw your car down in the garage.”

  He’d seen her car and come all the way back up. That was nice. She didn’t want to be a woman who read a myriad of meanings into everything a man said or did. That was Toni’s shtick. But returning to look for her, that had to mean real interest.

  Behind her, the alarm screeched. “Damn. I didn’t shut the door.” There was a thirty-second delay. She rushed back and punched in her code to stop the awful wailing.

  Burn followed, the door closing with a snick behind him. The quiet of the empty office fell over them.

  They were alone. The security lights bathed his face in a soft glow. She wasn’t afraid. Jittery and excited and breathless, but not afraid.

  “I thought we should start over. I’m Burn Daniels.” He stuck out his hand.

  She set her briefcase down. “Livie Scott.” She shook his hand, his grip firm and warm, sending a shiver up her arm.

  “Livie. That’s short for...?”

  “Olivia. But everyone calls me Livie.”

  “I like it, both variations.”

  Silence again. The clock ticked loudly on the wall. Burn didn’t back off, though he did let go of her hand. He smelled of fresh fall air and an indefinable male something. His eyes pulled at her, demanded something from her. Jade was such a soft color, yet his gaze was compelling.

  “We got off on the wrong foot,” he went on. “I want to apologize again for last night in the garage.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  “I want to be perfectly honest. I noticed you a couple of weeks ago, and I haven’t stopped looking at you since. I find you very attractive, and I’d liked to know you better.”

  Livie took a deep breath. She’d intended to clear the air of everything. “You found me attractive so you followed me on my walk the other day?”

  His eyes seemed to glitter in the dim security lighting. “Yes.” She was taken aback that he admitted it so easily. He went on. “But I figure that you’re feeling s
ome of the same attraction or you would have thrown me out by now.”

  She sighed. “That’s true. When I’m not wondering if you’re some sadistic night stalker targeting lone women in empty underground parking garages.”

  He didn’t smile, probably because she hadn’t. “Sadistic night stalker, no, but I did feel a certain overwhelming need to find out your name.”

  “Maybe you should have simply introduced yourself.”

  “Yeah.” This time he smiled slightly. “That would have been a good idea.”

  “I should have thanked you for helping me out the other day by giving that guy twenty bucks. I should probably pay it back to you.”

  “Not necessary.” He moved his jaw from side to side, obviously considering his next words. “I have to admit that I thought about looking your company up online after I saw that flyer. Just in case you were on the website.”

  She should have found the idea scary. But she’d never truly been frightened of him, not even before he’d mentioned visiting his mom twice a month. “And what did you find out?”

  “Nothing. I didn’t actually do it.”

  Interesting. “Why not?”

  He shrugged. “Sense of right and wrong.”

  “At least you have that. Some men don’t.”

  He tipped his head, as if he were assessing the expression on her face. “Forgive me for being an ass?”

  The silence stretched. Finally she broke it. “Only if you brought a picture of your sister’s dog. I want to make sure you weren’t lying.”

  “Damn. I forgot.” He held up his hands in surrender just as he had the night before, and she suddenly realized the space between them had shrunk. He could easily touch her, cup her face. Or her breasts. Or lift her skirt the way he had in her fantasies last night. She lost herself in his gaze, just as she’d known she would.

  A whisper lay unspoken on her lips. Take me. Burn me up. Please.

  It was suddenly difficult to breathe, and she could hear her own heart beating in her ears. “Then I guess you better have your mother call me to vouch for you.”

  “Right now?”

  She nodded. “Right now.”

  Chapter Five

  If Bern had checked his messages earlier in the day, they’d have been far beyond this awkward stage, but taking the bull by the horns and calling him was the last thing he’d expected his mystery woman to do. He’d gone from one meeting to another and hadn’t listened to his voice mail until after six. Ten of the fifteen messages had been from Antonia.

  Of course Livie’s last name brought to mind Antonia. Related? Nah. It couldn’t be. There was coincidence, and then things entered the realm of a cosmic joke. Any higher power up there couldn’t be that cruel.

  He’d ignored Antonia’s increasingly irate messages in favor of searching the building for Livie.

  Now he’d found her.

  Her chest rose and fell, and the pulse point at her throat throbbed visibly. They were close enough that his arm brushed her breast as he pulled his suit jacket aside to retrieve his cell phone from the inside pocket. Her nipple was hard beneath the silky fabric of her dress. She didn’t withdraw, and her eyes deepened to the color of rich coffee.

  He hadn’t told her the whole truth—that he was completely obsessed with her—but he’d copped to the important stuff—such as following her that day on the street and that he’d thought about looking her company up on the Internet—and hopefully eased that particular tension between them. In the process, however, he’d ratcheted up another. His mind ran through several scenarios to push the sexual tension even higher, but he didn’t want to scare her by moving too quickly.

  He started to punch in his mother’s speed dial.

  Livie rolled her eyes and stayed his hand. The brief touch was electric. “I was kidding about calling your mother.”

  He would have done it. Whatever he had to do for Livie. He wanted her at ease, even as his heart beat double time. “Are you sure? I could call one of my brothers. Or my sister.” He reminded her of his family-oriented upbringing. “Or the dog.”

  She smiled, as he’d wanted her to. “Your sister’s dog talks?”

  “He knows thirteen words, but he can’t actually say anything. I’m sure she could get him to whoof into the phone.”

  She laughed, a beautiful, musical sound. “I think we can skip the doggie conference.”

  Each smile he coaxed from her brought him closer to her. He held up his cell. “If you’re sure...”

  ”I’m sure.”

  Ah, exactly what he wanted her to feel. Sure about him. He dropped his cell phone back into his pocket.

  “Maybe you should get a dog yourself,” she said.

  He shook his head. “I’m gone too much. But I enjoy taking Roark for a hike when I can.” Then, with a slight shuffle of his feet, he was damn near chest-to-chest with her. Any closer, she’d feel the effect she had on him. Her lips beckoned, lightly colored yet plump and luscious. But the timing wasn’t right. A few more moments, but not yet.

  “So, we’ve introduced ourselves, you’re not making me call my mom, and I’d still like to buy you that drink. Do you consider me safe enough to accompany me to a bar close by?”

  He knew exactly when she breathed him in, her nostrils flaring imperceptibly, her lids drooping as if his scent were a drug flooding her system. Heat flowed over her body, reaching out to him. He could scent arousal on her like a lion sniffing out his mate.

  Another moment, another word, another shared breath, and she’d be his.

  “I...” She stopped, took a deep breath as if he’d muddled her brain, then started again. “A drink. I’d like that.”

  What else would she like? A long, slow kiss, but if he took it without asking, she might run scared again. So he asked. “I feel this overwhelming need to kiss you first. Then a drink.” A long drink, of her, her body.

  Her eyes widened, darkened. She looked at his mouth, and he knew she wanted the kiss as badly as he did.

  “Just one,” he whispered. One wouldn’t be enough for her any more than it would be for him.

  She licked her lips, her gaze still on his mouth. “Just one,” she agreed

  Ahh. His. Finally.

  The moment Bern touched his lips to hers, Livie went up on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck. He circled her waist and lifted her higher. This was no testing, teasing, exploratory kiss. She opened her mouth to him, and he took her. The delicate flower morphed into a Venus Fly Trap and devoured him in equal parts. Sliding his hands down her back, he cupped her bottom and hauled her against him, letting her feel how much he wanted her. She groaned into his mouth with animal need. He’d lit the match and started a conflagration in both of them. He wanted her now, naked beneath him, his body buried inside her.

  He let her glide sinuously down his body until her feet once again touched the carpet, then took her face in his hands and held her still for a kiss that staked his claim.

  His body throbbed, his need almost to the point of pain. He wanted to indulge in her taste, wallow in her moans, watch as she reached her peak, then bury himself deep in her heat and never let her go.

  He slid his fingers from her face to the tender flesh of her throat, then to the bead of her nipples begging for his attention. He wanted nothing between them, not silk or lace, just his tongue and lips on her sweet, delectable fruits. Tunneling beneath her hair, he dragged down the zipper of her dress until he could slide his hands inside the fabric and touch the smooth, warm skin of her back. And still it wasn’t enough.

  Her voice penetrated the fog in his brain.

  “Wait. Wait.” She shook his arms when he started to push the fabric off her shoulders. “Stop.”

  Her eyes were pinpricks of light. His groin ached. His head swam as if she were a drug, an aphrodisiac, a fix he needed right now. Stop? He couldn’t. Not now that he’d tasted her.

  He shook his head, suddenly aware of their surroundings, the lobby of her office suite. Anyone could
have walked in. He’d been about to drag her to the floor and fill her with everything he had to give, and he didn’t even know if the suite was empty for the night.

  Bern marshaled his wits. He’d moved too damn fast again, gotten carried away. “Livie, I’m sorry. I needed to touch you, and I lost it.” The intensity of her effect on him was astonishing.

  She put a finger over his lips. “Don’t apologize. I got carried away, too.”

  As she reached back to pull up her zipper, her dress rose high on her thighs. His mind stumbled over all the things he needed to say or do to carry her away again.

  “This is how badly I wanted you in the elevator the other day when I touched your waist. It was all I could do not to throw everyone else out of there and do so much more to you.”

  Now he could see her breasts through the fabric of her dress, not just feel them close to him. Her nipples riveted his attention, the peaks growing even as he watched. Her scent filled the air, the sweet perfume of feminine arousal.

  “Is that what you felt?” He had to know.

  Her throat moved as she swallowed. A pulse throbbed in her neck.

  “Tell me what you felt.” If he could get her to talk about it, the sensations, the need, not just some mere abstract concept of attraction.

  “I...” She swallowed again, her gaze flitting from his eyes to his mouth, as if remembering his lips on hers. “I wanted more. I wanted to turn around and touch you. Everywhere.” Her words were so low that if he hadn’t been watching her lips, he might have missed them.

  “Let me touch you now.” He willed her to look at him, his eyes, not his chest. “I’ll show you how good it can be.” Then he made a bold move, taking her hand and opening her palm flat against his erection. He knew everything would be all right when she caressed him, then slid down to cup him, squeezing.

  “Let me show you,” he whispered.

  “Yes.”