SNOWFIRES

by Caroline Clemmons

  Taking him into her mouth, she suckled and he moaned his pleasure. She cupped him with one hand and stroked with the other.

  “Princess, you’re driving me crazy. Ah, Ahhhhhh.” Gasping, he grabbed her hands and pulled away. “Not yet. I want to woo you more.”

  Gently he pushed her back on the pillow. Scooping a handful of the rose petals, he massaged them into her shoulder and down her arm. As he moved his hand across her, he followed with a trail of nipping kisses. When he reached her hand, he suckled each finger, then moved to the other shoulder and romanced his way down her arm.

  She pulled her finger from his mouth. “Trent, you’re making me insane. I want you inside me.”

  “That’s the idea, Princess. Be patient.” He dragged rose petals across her collarbone and once again followed the trail with his lips. He let the petals fall from his fingers and cradled her breasts. “My beauties, let me taste you.”

  He couldn’t have missed a quarter inch of her globes with his tongue. He teased one nipple with his fingers while he suckled the other.

  She grabbed his shoulders and pressed him to her. “Trent?” Good heavens, he had her whimpering.

  He raised his head long enough to reassure her. “Not yet, Princess.” His hands caressed as his mouth left a trail across her stomach. He delved his tongue into her navel and moved lower.

  Any second she’d explode. Suddenly her desire overwhelmed her. She grasped his shoulders. “All right, sailor, I need you inside me.” She snagged a foil packet and opened it. “Let me?”

  He lay back and gave her access to him. “Happy to oblige, ma’am, but I’m no longer a sailor.”

  She put the condom in her mouth and used her tongue to plant the protection on his tip. Using her fingers to assist her, she rolled the film with her tongue until it covered his rigid manhood.

  “Then you can be a cowboy and I’ll be a cowgirl.”

  Unable to control herself any longer, she rolled on top of him and guided him into her folds.

  He laughed and grabbed her hips. “Ride ‘em, cowgirl.”

  They moved together, breath accelerating, ecstasy building. All conscious thought flew from her mind. Nothing existed for her except him and this room.

  He pulled her forward to give him access to her breast and he suckled while she rode him. No experience had matched this nirvana. Her driving need climbed until fireworks exploded in her head and she floated back to earth. She hovered over him, panting, and he smiled up at her.

  “You’re quite the accomplished rider, Princess. Glad you don’t use spurs.”

  She collapsed onto his chest. “I took riding lessons years ago, but my instructor failed to mention this benefit.”

  Later as they lay cuddled, Holly kissed his shoulder. His hands caressed her back. Scents of roses and vanilla swirled with the potent aroma of sex. They drifted on a cloud of sated passion.

  She recalled the hateful comments Laura had made last night at dinner and Gordon’s sneer yesterday in the conference room. “Trent, don’t you think we should keep this part of our lives separate from work?”

  His hands stilled. “You mean secret? Why?”

  She wanted to protect him. Shield him from hurtful gossip. “People can be so vicious. I don’t think it’s any of their business what we do away from the office.”

  He sat up. “You don’t want your old friends and coworkers knowing you’ve been slumming?”

  “Trent! How can you think that?” She wished she’d never tried to talk about this. She reached for him, but he stood and picked up his clothes.

  He dressed with rapid, jerking movements. “I get it, Princess. Don’t want people to know you’ve slept with the hired help? I suppose you have some guy from the country club you’d like to keep from finding out about this, too.”

  She’d never seen him so angry and she knew most of it came from pain she’d caused him. It still hit her wrong. “As if you’re the hired help? You own more of the company than I do.” Crawling from bed, she quickly donned her clothes. “And if there was any ‘guy at the country club,’ you can be darn sure I wouldn’t be here.”

  He dressed first and stalked toward the door. “When you’re ready to leave, I’ll walk you to your car.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Trent flopped on his lousy damned stinking couch and picked up the damned sonofabitchen TV remote. He should have known this was too good to be true.

  “Perfect evening my ass,” He mumbled as he surfed through channels, and didn’t look up when she came in carrying her shoes and stockings. Refusing to acknowledge her, he watched her from the corner of his eye.

  She sat beside him and swiveled to face him. “Trent, please understand. I only wanted to prevent people saying more of the things like, like I’d already heard.”

  He still refused to look at her and changed to another channel. “Like what? Poor Holly is so charitable she let Macleod nail her?”

  “No, you know that isn’t it.” She stuffed her stockings into her purse and slid on her shoes onto bare feet. “If you must know, I didn’t want people saying you were only interested in me because of Marvel.”

  “What?” Sonofabitch, he should have seen that one coming.

  She took a deep breath. “Someone already warned me you might, well, you might pretend you’re attracted to me so you could solidify your position at Marvel. And things like that.”

  “Pretend?” The clatter of the remote as it hit the floor startled him and he realized he’d dropped it. He picked it up and flipped off the TV. “Have you looked into a mirror? Who is stupid enough to think a man would give a damn about anything but you—even if there wasn’t a hell of a lot more to you than meets the eye?” He touched her shoulder, wanted to pull her to him, but he needed to get this settled first.

  He shouldn’t be surprised a new rumor had already found a start. “Do you think I only wanted you because of some damn contract or to set myself up better at Marvel?”

  Holly shook her head. “No, that’s not how you work. But I didn’t want people saying things like that about you. Especially while you’re still getting used to the company and worrying about this thing with Amberfield and, well, it just didn’t seem fair.”

  “And someone already mentioned this to you?” He figured it was Geneva, curse her black, wanton soul.

  “Yes, last night at dinner, um, a friend mentioned it. Then there were the snide looks Gordon gave us at the staff meeting. And Lila already knew about us someway.”

  “I told you Lila knows everything.” So it wasn’t Geneva. He wondered who had put the wind in Holly’s sails? Maybe Holly wasn’t used to being the brunt of rumors. “And this bothers you?”

  “Not really, at least not for myself.” She met his gaze. “You must have an idea of the gossip I’ve had to fight all my life because of my father’s constant shenanigans.”

  “You care what they say about me?” He couldn’t believe it. She was worried about him. Sonofabitch, that had to be a first. Except for John Swenson, no one had ever given a damn about him. “Then there’s no problem, Princess.”

  She took his hand. “I know you’re hoping to make this a home”—she looked around—“well not this a home, but somewhere in Dallas where you can put down roots. I hate to think of gossip spoiling it for you."

  He leaned over and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Princess, I have already learned that people will believe the worst in spite of any evidence to the contrary. As long as it doesn’t hurt you, then let them say what they want about us being together.”

  “Trent, we’re not ‘together’ together. This isn’t a relationship exactly. It’s an affair. We’re having sex. Really great sex, but that’s all.” She examined her hands in detail. “That’s not something I’m proud of but I can’t seem to resist you.” She raised her chin and offered a sad smile. “I guess you’ve noticed.”

  He hoped he hid the burning need to have her belong with him. Hell, she did belong with him; she just didn’t know it
yet. “Then why not make it a lasting relationship?” He brushed his fingers through the silky, silvery-gold strands of her hair.

  She shook her head, dislodging his hand. “No, I’ve told you how I feel about gambling. Sex is all there can ever be between us, except a sort of uneasy friendship. Try to understand. I can’t let myself care deeply about another gambler. It hurts too much when you lose.”

  He’d convince her. For now he’d let her think she’d won. “Okay, if sex and friendship are all you’re offering, so be it. I’ll take what I can get of your time and body.”

  He thought the blunt statement might snap her to her senses. But no, she nodded as if she actually approved.

  She took a deep breath and met his gaze. “Then, would you like to escort me to the Winter Wonderland Ball tomorrow night at the country club?”

  “Tomorrow?” Now where the hell was he supposed to come up with a tux and decent transportation on short notice? Damned if he wouldn't find a way. “Are you sure you want me to be your date?”

  She nodded. “I hadn’t planned to attend, but I will if you’ll come with me.” She put a hand on his arm. “This doesn’t mean I’ve changed my mind about anything, Trent. Just an evening out between two coworkers. But it’ll give you a chance to make new friends—and some good business contacts.” She flashed her mischievous smile and held up her hands as he had in her office. “No strings and you might have fun. I can practically guarantee you’ll get lucky after the dance.”

  He wanted lucky with strings. Hell, it shocked him to admit even it to himself, but he wanted a damned rope, a chain, and a roll of duct tape binding himself to this woman. Another thing he hadn’t seen coming, but he’d take what she offered and hope it built into more.

  “Princess, if I’m with you, I’ll enjoy myself.”

  His mind raced ahead to preparations. He almost laughed. Trent Macleod, the unwanted boy from nowhere, the bad old pirate raider, at the swankiest country club around with the prettiest woman in Texas.

  Now how the hell was he supposed to pull that off?

  ***

  Trent adjusted the cuff of the tux he’d borrowed from clothes Joe Bob left at Holly’s home. Hell, these duds probably cost as much as Trent’s car had. He’d tried renting an appropriate tuxedo and shirt, but he hadn’t had enough notice. The pants were large in the waist, but the suspenders provided enough insurance and everything fit otherwise.

  Parking in front of Holly’s house, he couldn’t believe he knew anyone who lived in a palace as resplendent as any he’d seen in his travels.

  Not that his travels had been remarkable. These last few years he seldom had the opportunity to venture inland to sightsee. Mostly he checked bills of lading, oversaw loading and unloading, and acquired supplies for the next leg of the trip. Now he was set to become one of those he’d always envied most—the men with roots, men who lived in a city they loved where people knew them and called them friend. If only he didn’t screw it up.

  He rang the bell.

  Holly opened the door. “My, don’t you look handsome?”

  She wore a silver dress that hugged her body. The lower part of her body. Nothing touched most of the top. Shiny material flowed around her and reminded him of the dresses a star might wear in an old black and white movie from the twenties or thirties. Yeah, Carole Lombard could have worn this dress. But Holly was sexier and in Technicolor.

  He swallowed against the cotton that suddenly lined his mouth. “Holy sh—cow. You take my breath away. Without a doubt, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He stepped in and walked around her. “Sonofagun. That is some costume you’re almost wearing.”

  No way was there a bra under that top. And there was no back to it. It clung to her like quicksilver, catching the light with her movement. He wondered about panties and shoved that thought away before he embarrassed himself.

  She laughed and he loved the sound of her. “Thanks. It’s what Grandma bought me for my birthday last month. Not at all practical, but seems it’s come in handy after all.”

  He shook his head. “No kidding? Your grandmother knows you plan to be seen in public in that? It’s, um, very revealing.” Damn, he couldn’t see regal and sedate Ila Mae picking that dress out, especially for her own granddaughter.

  She laughed again and swirled a full-length black velvet cape around her. “If you think this halter dress exposes too much, you’re in for a big surprise when you see some of the other fashions in a little while.”

  When they stepped outside, she spotted the rented Caddy in the drive. “Wow, Popeye, nice wheels.”

  Damn, why’d he make that stupid comment last night? “Got me, Princess.” He shrugged. “I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of your friends.”

  She stopped. “Trent? Do you think I’m that shallow? I would never be embarrassed by anything like that. I only suggested we go in my car last night to tease you.”

  “Truth is, I didn’t want to come off like a jerk. Okay?” He opened the door of the spotless rental for her.

  At the club, they left the car to valet parking and joined the crush of people flooding into the ballroom.

  Trent straightened his tie. “Thanks for suggesting I wear Joe Bob’s tux instead of a rented one. From the looks of the others here, nothing less than Armani or Versace is allowed in the building.”

  Holly introduced him to politicians, diplomats, CEO’s, professionals—too many people to remember. One of the few whose name stuck in his mind was because of the bad vibes the guy gave off. A smarmy guy named Larry Hassle from the Dallas Daily Chronicle, the newspaper wannabe that tried to compete with the successful Dallas Morning News. Trent wondered how that guy got in because he damn sure wasn’t a club member and didn’t seem to be with anyone.

  Trent warmed to Bruce Jacobs, new CEO of Veritex Communications. After he and his date left, Holly nudged him. “Bruce used to be Marvel’s Executive VP. You might want to connect with him. He could give you a lot of information about the company and help you transition.”

  Trent watched the man work the room. “Yeah? Maybe, but my style is more to do research and figure things through on my own.” In fact, he made it a point to depend on no one but himself. No disappointments. No let downs. No betrayals.

  A brunette waved and dragged her escort their way. For a fraction, Holly tensed, but then she smiled as the couple joined them.

  “Holly, you came after all. We saved you seats just in case.” The newcomer pointed with her beaded evening bag. “We’re over there by the columns.

  “Laura, Rob, this is Trent Macleod. Trent, this is my best friend, Laura Evans, and her escort, Rob Vincent.”

  Trent made the appropriate noises, but his mind whirred. He’d bet this was the friend who’d put the hateful idea in Holly’s head that he was after her money and position. If so, he’d like to wring Laura’s pretty neck.

  “Good heavens!” Holly clutched his arm in a death grip.

  Trent followed the direction of Holly’s stare before she caught herself and looked elsewhere. Damn. Geneva hung on Carl Winston, the investment banker who’d introduced him to Joe Bob. That poor sap Winston must be thirty years older than Geneva, but the man appeared besotted by her obvious flirting. Geneva’s dress made Holly’s look like Pilgrim garb.

  “Ohmygod, the color of that dress makes it appear...um, it looks totally...it looks almost transparent.” Laura’s awe changed to a smug smile directed toward Holly. “See, I told you she’d be here to pick out hubby number two.”

  Holly hissed. “She needn’t hang on him when Daddy’s only been dead three months. Even she should show some decorum. And Carl is a family friend old enough to be her father and then some.”

  Laura nodded. “Mmmhmmm, but he’s not acting like her father, is he?”

  Rob laughed. “More like a sugar daddy.”

  “She’s definitely going for money and security, that’s for sure.” Laura leaned toward Holly. “Who better than the keeper of the c
ash?”

  Rob raised his eyebrows. “Looks like they need to leave and get a room.” He gave an “Oof” when Laura elbowed him.

  “Come on, Princess. Let’s dance.” Trent pulled her onto the floor to distract her. And to hold her. Especially to hold her.

  She felt better than he’d imagined. Even a so-so dancer like him couldn’t go wrong with her in his arms. He praised the orchestra for choosing a slow number so he could pull her close. Gradually she relaxed against him.

  After several dances, Holly asked to sit down. They found the round table Laura had indicated and took seats. People came by to say hello and finagle an introduction. Some stared down their noses, others appeared to welcome him.

  In a minute of solitude, Trent scanned the ballroom. “Looks like we’ve attracted attention. You okay with that?”

  She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. He suspected the grin was for the crowd more than for him. He signaled a waiter who stopped and let them snare two flutes of champagne.

  “I hate gossip, Trent, even when people might be saying perfectly harmless things. You see them looking from you to me, speculating on our relationship.”

  “And my motives?” He hated the snobs who snickered behind their whispers.

  This time the smile sparkled from her eyes. “Oh, they know your motive, sailor. To get me in the sack.”

  He raised his glass in a mock toast. “I am, after all, a sane, red-blooded man with a beautiful woman. And I have to admit my intentions are not entirely pure.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.” She returned his toast.

  “Holly.” Two voices spoke simultaneously.

  Ah, the half-sisters. They dressed more modestly than their mother, but Trent couldn’t mistake their resemblance to Geneva, especially in the one he assumed was Jenny. He rose until they sat down on the other side of Holly.

  The youngest leaned forward. “Hi. I’m Angie. You’re Trent Macleod. I remember seeing your photo in a magazine.” Angie’s hair was more blonde than her sister’s and her features softer. She wore a dark blue dress that matched her eyes and reminded him of Holly’s.