by Peggy Jaeger
While he outlined how he wanted the evening’s challenge filmed, she was never far from the front of his mind, though.
Chapter Fifteen
“I want to do a walk-through of the restaurant and kitchen with the production and film teams,” Nikko said as they rode the elevator. “Make sure they’re all there. No one is excused.”
Stacy was in the process of inputting all the individual room numbers of the crew and cast into her notebook when she realized he was speaking to her. It was the most he’d let cross his lips in the past forty-eight hours. Ever since THE KISS. For now and the rest of her life she was going to refer to it just like that, in capital letters, the emphasis clear, meaningful, and memorable.
She’d had a hard time thinking of anything else but THE KISS for the past two days.
A quick glance at her watch and she asked, “Fifteen, twenty minutes okay?”
“Fine.”
He didn’t look at her, hadn’t since that awkward moment when his leg had gone out on him.
And what a look it had been. She could still feel the power behind it, heating her insides to the temperature of slow-flowing lava. There had been so much meaning, so much intention, so much…possibility behind that potent stare.
Only now it appeared he was back to thinking of her as the lowliest of the low again, not worth more than a few cursory words, never mind any smoldering glances.
“I suppose you’ll want me to, like, disappear down to the pool while you’re working?” Melora asked, breaking the silence in the rapidly rising elevator. With a nonchalant glance at her fingernails, she sighed and added, “So I can be out of sight, out of mind?”
Stacy had to stifle a smile from the ultra-bored tone in the teen’s voice and the look of utter weariness crossing through her rolling eyes and in her pursed lips. Stacy knew that tone and expression well, and what they were meant to convey. She’d used them many times herself when she was Melora’s age. By giving the impression she really didn’t want to go to the pool, she hoped Nikko would suddenly think what a good idea it was for her to be occupied while he was busy with the production, and make sure she did just that.
Unfortunately, as her own father had with her, Nikko saw right through his daughter’s ploy.
“You can unpack and order us up some snacks from room service to keep in the room. We’ll go down to the pool later and check it out together.”
The huff of disgruntled air that filled the elevator was hot enough to scorch.
“Fine,” Melora said, mimicking her father’s tone.
When the elevator stopped at their designated floor, the trio alighted, Stacy turning to her left, the Stamps to the right.
Before she followed behind her father, Melora slipped something into Stacy’s hand.
Once inside her room, Stacy tossed her overnight bag on the bed, perched on its edge, and unfolded the note Melora had surreptitiously given her.
Yoga in the morning? When had she written it? In the plane? Or on the van ride from the airport to the hotel?
It didn’t matter. What did was that Stacy had promised to teach her how to meditate and the opportunity hadn’t presented itself for very much instruction yet. With the three days they’d be staying on location, Stacy was determined to give the girl some definitive one-on-one guidance.
She wished she had a few spare moments right now to sit and just calm her mind. But she didn’t. Nikko, ever punctual, would be waiting down in the restaurant. She shot off a group text to the production and film crews citing Nikko’s command, took a second to splash some cold water on her face and, before taking the elevator down to the lobby, dug out the sheet of paper she’d had Teddy Davis sign and read it again, needing the reminder.
* * * *
Two hours later and seated in Nikko’s luxurious suite, the beginnings of a headache tapped at her temples. She took a large chug of the bottled water she’d made sure everyone seated had, herself included, before they’d begun the actual meat-and-potatoes part of the production meeting.
Melora had been granted a respite from the adults and given access to the pool while the meeting took place. Stacy’d heard Nikko tell his daughter to keep her cell phone active so he could contact her when he was done. He’d given her a laundry list of dos and don’ts as well, and when the teen sauntered past Stacy on her way out the hotel-room door, she’d winked, her lips barely able to contain a grin.
As she was coming to expect of him, Nikko barked orders at the crew chiefs, demanded some changes to the filming sequences after getting a close-up look at the limited space they’d have to maneuver about in the kitchens, and generally looked much as she pictured Atlas did after a long day of carrying the weight of the world’s problems over his head.
Filming in the restaurant’s kitchen was going to be a nightmare for the camera crew and a tight squeeze for the chefs, who hadn’t been involved in the walk-through.
Stacy rubbed two fingers along the side of her temple as she listened and took notes on all the salient points Nikko wanted addressed. A few times when she happened to glance up from her tablet, his gaze was trained on her while he spoke. The moment their eyes connected, though, he looked at someone else.
Was it her imagination—or just really wishful thinking—that he’d been staring at her with something more than just his usual irritation?
THE KISS was never far from her mind as she listened to him speak, his voice firm, authoritative, and filled with enough gravely rasp to light little fires along her nerve endings. In the shockingly few relationships she’d had, Stacy could never remember being kissed with such total dedication and possession before. If it were possible, Nikko’s mouth had been hand forged by the Gods above as an instrument devoted to sheer pleasure.
Hers.
Stacy wasn’t one given to fanciful thoughts or adolescent musings. She was cut from a pragmatic, logical cloth that rendered her the girl everyone wanted to be their friend and never the source of male fantasies. She knew this about herself and accepted it.
But in Nikko’s arms, his mouth pulling every hot, sexy fantasy from the back of her mind, he’d made her feel like a desired woman.
She hadn’t realized she’d been lost in her thoughts until he’d said her name twice.
Mortified, she bolted upright in the chair and found every eye at the table trained on her.
“Sorry.” She shook her head. “What?”
Nikko’s nostrils flared as he stared across at her and she braced herself for the verbal scolding to come.
“I asked,” Nikko said, the sharp edge in his tone letting her know he didn’t like repeating himself, “if Jimmy Rodgers was made aware of the filming schedule and when we’d need him on-site.”
“Yes, he was.” She tapped her device, brought up the email she’d received from him that morning, and read it aloud. “He’s all set.”
When Nikko nodded and went on to the next point on his list, Stacy felt as if she’d dodged a bullet. What did it mean that he hadn’t chastised her for daydreaming? Just a few days ago he would have verbally flayed her.
Now he simply went on to another topic.
A few minutes later he ended the meeting. As everyone began filing from the room, Nikko motioned for her to wait.
When they were alone, he sat back down opposite her. Once again, she braced herself for a lashing, thinking he’d kept her behind to reprimand her for zoning out.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Stunned was way too tame a word for what shot through her system.
“Um…yeah. Why?”
He stood, crossed to the bar, and took out two new bottles of water from the refrigerator. Offering one to her, he took his own and leaned a hip on the table. “You zoned out for a few minutes.” He shrugged. “I just wondered if…something was bothering you.”
How could she tell him he was the re
ason for her daydreaming? Or more specifically, the kiss they’d shared, that had her mind wandering?
The answer was she couldn’t. Telling him he’d made it almost impossible to stop thinking about him wasn’t the right thing to say. Not if she wanted to keep the subtle truce between them alive and flourishing.
“Sorry about that. I’ve got a lot going on and I was trying to categorize and prioritize everything. The schedule for the next few days is jam-packed. Honestly, I wish we could have an extra day here, just so we could catch up.” She cupped the back of her neck, shrugging her shoulders to work out the kink. “And then we’ve got to film immediately when we get back to the ranch, so I’ve been texting the crew we left behind to ensure all the produce and everything else we need has been ordered and gets delivered on time. It’s a lot to remember. Not that I can’t remember it all, but, well... Having a lot on my mind is no excuse for not paying attention during a meeting, though, so I’m sorry.”
She stopped, aware she’d not only started babbling again, but he hadn’t said a word or tried to interrupt her the entire time.
His expression, when she glanced over at him, was inscrutable.
What made her more nervous? When she could read what he was thinking across his scowling brow and narrowed eyes, or when she couldn’t figure out what was going on inside his mind?
An answer wouldn’t come.
“Well.” She stood. “I’d better go check on the chefs, make sure they’re all behaving. A little freedom can make for a great deal of trouble with this bunch.”
“You have producers for that, Stacy. Let them handle it.”
He pushed off from the table and came to stand in front of her.
She nodded. “Normally I would, but some of these chefs can be bullies. Big babies and bullies. That’s a terrible combination. I’ve already had to deal with some personal issues, reassign a few producers.”
When the deep corrugation welled between his eyes, she knew she should have kept her mouth shut. This—this expression—she had no difficulty interpreting.
“I wasn’t made aware of any personality conflicts.”
“No. No, you weren’t.” Nervous now, she silently screamed at herself for being an idiot and divulging something she should have known would irritate him. But she had, so she might as well finish it.
“Again, I’m sorry,” she said. “But that’s my job, remember? Deal with the annoying minutia so you can deal with the whole shebang? Not be bothered by stuff that will take you away from running the show effectively, but deal with it before it becomes a problem?”
She tilted her head back a little so she could maintain eye contact. If she’d take a step back, she’d be able to see him more clearly, more comfortably. But Stacy knew doing that looked liked she was stepping back in retreat, and she didn’t think that was the best way to deal with his anger.
“So that’s what I’ve been doing. It’s fine. Really,” she told him. “It’s all good. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried about the behavior of a group of self-absorbed, egotistical chefs.”
“Oh? Well, good. Good, then.”
Her stomach did a little jig when his hand came out and tucked a few wayward strands of her hair behind her ear. When his finger trailed a lazy line down her temple and cheek to settle on the tip of her jaw, the jig turned to a full-out clogging step dance, complete with jumps and leaps.
She swallowed, her gaze locked onto his. She wasn’t sure, wouldn’t have been able to say for certain if a gun was held to her head, but she thought—hoped—the deep, thoughtful gleam in his eyes wasn’t anger, but something more along the lines of arousal.
Just when the thought hit her it very well might be, the sound of the Black Eyed Peas shattered the air.
Nikko blinked hard a few times, dropped his hand from her face, and then reached into his pocket for his cell phone.
“Melora?”
The girl’s exaggerated sigh was loud enough for Stacy to hear through the speaker. “Is your meeting, like, over yet? A pack of annoying toddlers just arrived and they’re, like, screaming, at the top of their little overinflated, underdeveloped lungs. So rude. What’s with parents? Can I come back up now?”
A smile instantly bloomed on her face. When Nikko closed his eyes and shook his head, a sudden flash of her father doing the same thing many years ago came to her.
Teenaged daughters truly were the bane of a father’s existence.
“Yeah, come on up,” Nikko told her and disconnected the call, his eyes never wavering from her face.
“I’ll let you two have some privacy,” she said, her lips still pulled up. “It’s almost dinnertime and I’m sure you’ve got plans.”
“I wish you’d do that more often,” he said, his hand circling her upper arm as he turned her, slowly, back to face him.
“What? Leave?”
He stared at her a beat, the line between his brows deepening. “Smile.”
Flabbergasted, she stood, rooted.
“More specifically,” he added, “smile at me. You do at everyone else. From Dixon to his son; the crew. Even Melora. Everyone, but me.”
“I—”
His grip tightened a little as he pulled her in closer, their torsos almost touching.
“Why? Why can you show everyone else that little piece of yourself, but not me?”
“I—I don’t know how to answer that,” she said. “I know I was thrust on you without you wanting me here. I know you don’t like me. I—”
“That’s not true. I didn’t want to like you,” he admitted. “There’s a difference. You’re a producer. A bottom-line watcher. An annoying necessity. Liking you goes against the grain.”
At that she did smile, because she knew it was true.
“See now,” he said, as he slid his other hand up her arm to settle on the back of her neck, fingers curling up into her hair to hold on. “When you do that? When you smile at me like that, so openly, so…freely? I can’t think about anything else.”
A gentle tug and he had her head pillowed in his spread palms as he bent his own down to hers.
Through her glasses she watched the fine whiskey in his eyes blend with the ink of his pupils as they dilated.
“I haven’t been able to think clearly about anything for the past few days.” His mouth was a whisper from hers. His gaze skimmed from her eyes to her mouth and back again in one slow string of heat. “Except for this.”
She thought she’d be prepared for the feel of his lips on hers again. After all, she’d done little else but reminisce about their texture and taste for days. But she was wrong.
So wrong.
Nothing could have ever prepared her for the way the slight pressure he placed on the back of her neck as he brought her closer sent a shiver of such carnal delight down her spine she almost hummed. Or the way his breath, warm and full, felt as it washed over her cheeks. And she certainly wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of emotions he released within her when he quite expertly parted her lips and deepened the kiss, pulling at her very soul.
No, nothing in her life had equipped her with how to deal with Nikko Stamp’s kiss.
So she simply let go of all thought, fear, and concern, and surrendered to it.
Nikko snaked his hands down her back to settle just below her waist, while she sighed, felt her entire body relax into him, and wound her own hands up around his shoulders. She twined her fingers together at the back of his head, the spiky hairs on his neck jutting above his collar and pricking her fingertips as she rubbed them across his skin. She shifted, turned her head more to the side so she could fall even deeper into the kiss, and when the just-starting scratch of his jaw stubble chafed against her cheek, a solid ball of full-fledged lust dropped straight to her groin, making her wet, inside and out.
The full punch of his own mounting arous
al hit her square in the midsection when he cupped her butt and ground her body against his.
As she had in her room at the ranch, Stacy lost the battle to keep from moaning aloud. Completely unabashed, she clung to him, her mouth becoming insistent and arrogant as she gave herself up to what had to be the best kiss she’d ever gotten—even better than the one they’d shared before.
Every suck and nip of his tongue sent little sparks of desire popping off inside her mouth.
Greedily, as if he needed to bring her even closer, he pushed the back of her neck with his widened hand. Their teeth scraped against swollen lips. She sighed, long and deep and heard him moan in response.
Good Lord. She could come just from that sound.
When his hand dawdled up from her butt and slid over one breast, cupping it and then rubbing his thumb along the rapidly hardening nipple poking through her bra and blouse, Stacy knew she was as close as she’d ever come to losing her mind. She arched her back, pushing her breast further into his hand, letting him know how much she liked what he was doing.
Understanding, Nikko tugged her blouse from her slacks and let his hands skim over the skin at her waist and lower back.
A warning bell went off in the back of her mind when his hand came dangerously close to her bra strap. As the thought to pull away, stop this now before it got completely out of control shot through her, it was Nikko who jerked back when the sound of the electronic door locks rang out.
“Melora. She’s back.”
Stacy’s desire-drenched mind cleared in an instant. She pulled out of his arms, turned, and quickly righted her shirt.
She knew she was flushed, could feel the heat steeping her cheeks. Her one hope was Melora wouldn’t notice.
They heard the teen before they saw her enter the room.
