Simply The Best

by Denyse M. Bridger

  Chapter 2

  The following week passed by in a blur of motion and business for Kaylee. She found her mind wandering back to the meeting with Max Richmonte much too often in those hectic days, too. Each time, her anger grew deeper. She'd made a total ass of herself bolting from his office. She was convinced he thought so, as well.

  She looked at the computer screen and the words that filled it. All the thoughts and forbidden fantasies she'd had about the man since she'd first spotted him walking along the beach a few months earlier. She'd been close enough to see the darkness of his eyes, and the casual mischief that frequently radiated from his smile. She'd been captivated in a heartbeat.

  It hadn't taken long to find out who he was and that he owned the unique bar on the beach. That had made it so very easy to watch him, and indulge her imagination. Max Richmonte had been just what her soul needed, and now it had all been ruined by meeting him. By feeling the intensity of his presence in a way that would no longer permit her to separate herself from him on an emotional level.

  She needed to stay away from him. To regain what she'd lost by being face to face with him. By talking to him. By discovering he was so many of the things she'd pretended he would be.

  "Damn!!!” she snarled in impotent fury. She blanked the screen and rose, stalking away from the computer.

  * * * *

  "She's not here again this week."

  Max glanced at Kevin when he leaned on the bartop and grinned.

  "Who?"

  "The girl with the notebook,” Kevin continued to smile, enjoying Max's annoyance. “Kaylee."

  "Kaylee?” Max repeated. Tommy had to have told him her name, Max hadn't.

  "What's she like?"

  "Johnston, don't you have a life?” Max asked with a wry grimace that was supposed to pass for a smile.

  "Hey,” Kevin managed to look appropriately affronted, then his grin slid back into place. “I'm just making polite conversation."

  "Well, make it somewhere else,” Max advised softly. The last thing he wanted Kevin to know was that he'd been wondering about Kaylee Masterson himself tonight, unconsciously watching the door to see if she'd turn up.

  By midnight, he knew she wouldn't be putting in an appearance. He was disappointed, and surprised by the reaction.

  * * * *

  Two more weeks passed before Kaylee gave in to the need to be in the same room with him again. She approached the Silver Dollar with something akin to dread creating ice in her veins. Amid the tremors of apprehension was a stronger surge of excitement, a growing thrill of anticipation. It died quickly when she was inside the busy bar and Max Richmonte was nowhere to be seen. She sat at a table the instant it was vacant, and her eyes wandered, drinking in the familiar atmosphere, faintly amused that she could actually pinpoint a few of the regulars.

  "Long time, no see."

  Startled, she looked up into a pair of smiling blue eyes. Her gaze flitted over the stranger, and she couldn't resist a smile when he sat down and grinned at her. Soft, curling dark hair framed a pleasantly attractive face. He was slight in build, but she sensed a sharp, alert mind that missed very little. His accent was pure New York, and his charm endearing. Her surprise rose further when a soft Southern drawl announced the arrival of Tommy, the man who'd found her notebook. This time, thankfully, she'd decided to make her notes mentally and get things on paper later, when she was safely in the privacy of her home.

  "Johnston, are you botherin’ the lady? She's barely had time to sit down."

  "He's not,” Kaylee interjected immediately, laughing at the sardonic looks that passed between the two men. In spite of the surface antagonism, she sensed trust, and warmth. “Would you like to join us? It's Tommy, isn't it?” she asked, only a tiny trace of question in her voice.

  "Yes, ma'am,” he answered, “and thank you.” He sat down and within a few minutes a waitress was at their table.

  * * * *

  Kaylee had begun the evening uneasy and jittery, as it wore on, she forgot almost entirely about her reason for coming to the bar. Kevin and Tommy kept her entertained, often deliberately, occasionally unintentionally. She was enamored of both men, in different ways, when the night waned.

  The Silver Dollar was closed late into the night, and she was still enjoying her companions’ banter when the door to the bar opened and Max walked in. Her smile froze, the reaction beyond her control. Tommy glanced over his shoulder and nodded briefly.

  "Hi, Boss! How was your date?"

  Max tossed him a sour look and continued around the bar. He selected a beer, opened it, then leaned on the counter.

  "Nice to see you again, Ms. Masterson,” he observed softly.

  "Thank you,” she replied, tone cooler than she'd meant. It was impossible not to notice the amused surprise that passed between Kevin and Tommy, though. She finished the Club Soda she'd been drinking and turned to the two men she'd been laughing with most of the night. “Thanks for a terrific evening,” she said, genuine warmth in her voice now, a direct contrast to when she spoke to Max. “I had a great time."

  "Can I take you home?” Kevin asked, winking.

  "Another time, maybe,” she answered with a grin and impulsively leaned over to kiss his cheek. She did the same to Tommy and waved to Max as she exited the bar at a near run.

  "That's one hell of an effect you have on the lady,” Tommy noted quietly when the door had banged solidly into place again.

  "I've noticed,” Max retorted dryly. His mood had darkened considerably in the few minutes he'd been back, and he took his beer then headed for his office.

  "Twice in one night,” Kevin quipped softly. “No wonder he's in a bad mood."

  Under other circumstances, Tommy might have made some scathing remark in response to the unnecessary observation; tonight, he merely nodded his agreement and they closed up the bar shortly after. Max didn't come out of his office again while they were there.

  * * * *

  In spite of the growing need to see Max Richmonte, Kaylee stayed away from the Silver Dollar, for a number of weeks. She worked, dreamed of him far too often, and fumed to herself over every possible stupidity she could assign to her behavior the last night she'd seen him. It wasn't hard, she had a fertile imagination when it came to her own short-comings. Her one consolation was her work, and she threw herself into it with a vengeance. And succeeded in completing her latest project weeks ahead of schedule, which would delight the client she was working for.

  As a reward to herself, she decided to relax for the night. Soft music flooded her rented beach house, there was a low fire crackling in the fireplace, and the place was lit with candles and incense. She wanted nothing more than to simply relax and recharge.

  After a long, luxuriating bath, she slid a sheer, pure silk gown over her head and returned to the soothing atmosphere of the living room. She hadn't had time to sit when there was a knock at her door. Frowning, she resisted a string of profanities and went to answer the persistent tapping. She opened the door a moment later and her heart missed a beat. Looking up into Max Richmonte's dark gaze was the last thing she needed in her quest for comfort.

  "What are you doing here?” She winced as soon as the shaken words escaped her lips. “I'm sorry, Mr. Richmonte,” she apologized softly. “I wasn't expecting you."

  His gaze traveled over her, discreetly, but missing nothing.

  "Am I interrupting something, Ms. Masterson?” he wondered, his look darting into the softly lit room behind her.

  "No,” she replied honestly, the response automatic. Her wrap hadn't been belted, and she'd forgotten for a moment that her nightgown was almost transparent in texture. She took a moment to tie the belt, then looked up at him again. “Would you like to come in?” She held the door and he walked past her. She stared for a moment, then slammed the door and followed him into the room. She turned on the overheard lights as she entered the area, and the illusion of seductive intimacy vanished.

  "This is a lovely place,
” he noted.

  "I was in charge of the renovations,” she explained, “then Roger Gilmore, the owner, had to go to Europe as they were being finished, and told me to stay here for the summer if I wanted to enjoy the place."

  "You're an architect?"

  "Sometimes,” she smiled. “Most of what I tend to do is a combination of architectural design and interior design. What do you think?” she asked, sincerely interested in his answer.

  The beach house looked more like a log cabin now than it did a modern beach house, and most of the rooms opened into the spacious living room. There were almost no walls to speak of anymore, simply decorative brass railings to separate the rooms into distinct areas apart from the central room. The lighting was recessed and when it wasn't in use, the fixtures retracted into the ceiling. Light maple and pine tones were the dominant theme in all the areas, making the overall appearance one of rich, warm wooden splendor.

  Max loved the look and feel of the place.

  "It's great,” he stated with real appreciation. “Makes me wonder what your home looks like,” he noted with a grin.

  "Similar to this,” she confessed around a low laugh. “I have a two-story house, designed somewhat like this. The top level extends halfway over the main one, and the floor is mirrored from the ground level, and see-through in the upper bedroom. As long as you don't suffer from vertigo or acrophobia, it's a really neat concept."

  Max's eyebrow rose and he laughed with her.

  "What are you here for, Mr...” she hesitated when he tossed her a pointed look, then she relented. “Why are you here, Max? I doubt it was to discuss architecture or house design."

  He wasn't totally certain himself why he'd sought her company. He'd told himself numerous times that it was sexual curiosity, that he wanted to sleep with her, nothing more. But Max wasn't a man to lie, especially to himself, and he knew there was something about Kaylee Masterson that had gotten under his skin. He wanted her, yes, but it was more than that. He simply hadn't discovered yet what it was he hoped to find in her. When he'd decided, on impulse, to come over to her house, he sure as hell hadn't expected to find her draped in gauzy silk and standing in surroundings that made him think even more seriously about seducing her.

  "I was going to ask if you'd like to give me a hand with my book-keeping,” he said, grabbing at the first remotely plausible thing that came into his mind.

  She peered intently at him, measuring the truth in his words and finding none. Her nerves were screaming at her to get him out of the house before he really knew how deeply attracted to him she was. He suspected, she could feel that much, but he had no way of knowing how much of her time was preoccupied with every aspect of him. She didn't want him to know.

  "How did you find me, Mr. Richmonte?"

  There it was again, Max thought, that smooth shift back to formality any time he made the slightest gesture of interest.

  "Tommy remembered seeing your address in the notebook,” he offered, dodging the question without thinking. It was possible enough to be the truth, though, and she accepted it as such.

  What else had Tommy seen in the book? She wondered, agitation becoming a tangible kind of panicked pain within her.

  "I'm not really an accountant,” she offered with a weak smile. “Maybe you'd better consult someone who does know what they're doing."

  He nodded, his gaze still wandering over the house, and the woman who occupied it.

  "I don't mean to be rude, Mr. Richmonte,” she began quietly. “But, if that's all you wanted, I would like to be alone tonight."

  "Would you have dinner with me tomorrow night?” he asked, curious about her reaction more than her response. There it was, the near terror in her pale eyes as she considered his invitation, and her desire to accept it. The light grey of her gaze clouded, then the set of her jaw gave him his answer a moment before she politely declined, for the second time.

  "What are you afraid of, Kaylee?” he questioned, refusing to be put off this time.

  "Nothing,” she returned firmly. “I simply don't want to see you socially, Max."

  "Because you're afraid you might actually like me?” He grinned, and one eyebrow rose. “Or is it something a little more basic that's scaring you?"

  "There's that word again,” she stated, voice little more than a whisper between them. “I am not afraid of you, Max Richmonte,” she asserted. “If you require some kind of proof, feel free to stay for awhile."

  "Thanks,” he grinned. “I'd like to."

  She groaned inwardly, but pasted a smile on her face and showed him fully into the living room. He dropped his tall, lean frame into a comfortable chair and looked up at her, that devastating smile coming into full play over his stunning features.

  "How about a movie?"

  She shook her head. “Do you like old radio shows?"

  Max's surprise brought a rush of sweet, feminine giggles from her and he watched her cross the room and switch the sound system over to tapes. She popped in a cassette, handed him a huge bowl of popcorn, and poured two glasses of red wine. She handed one to him, then dimmed the lighting again before settling on the couch adjacent to his seat in the armchair.

  Max gave the old audio program half his attention, the other half was focused on the woman sitting a couple of feet away. She'd set aside the wine glass and was listening, her eyes closed. Her wrap had fallen open and he was drinking in the view of her breasts encased in the filmy silk and lace bodice of her gown. Her nipples were a dark shadow, and he watched them harden as he stared at her, as though her body was in perfect synch with his desire to touch her.

  He left his chair, silent and graceful, and reseated himself next to her on the sofa. Her eyes opened and she looked at him, her breath a soft rush of air between them. Max leaned into her, his lips finding hers as he pulled her close to him. His tongue slipped into the wine-tainted warmth of her mouth, drawing her into the kiss, deepening it to something exquisitely erotic as he tasted and teased her. One hand held her head, the other glided over her until his fingers found the softness of her breast, and he began to stroke and caress, his fingers circling the taut nipple continuously.

  Kaylee moaned softly when he began to squeeze her breast, and the sound mutated into a gasp of pleasure when he ended their kiss and both his hands caressed her, and tugged at her sensitive nipples. Max slid the wrap off her shoulders and slowly peeled away the clingy material that covered her skin. When her breasts were bared, he touched her again, shuddering at the intense hunger the feel of her soft tits in his hands was creating. He caught one of her dark buds in his teeth and nibbled, making her tremble and whisper his name. He licked at her nipples repeatedly, first one then the other, sucking intently, then hardly touching her. She was breathing so fast after a few minutes that he wondered if she was going to faint.

  "Kaylee? Are you all right, honey?"

  She nodded, and her passion bright eyes locked with his. “Why are you here, Max?"

  "I want you, baby, isn't that obvious?” His voice was rough with need, but gentle, too.

  "You could have any woman you wanted,” she murmured. “You're amazing. Why do you want me?"

  Max laughed softly at her perplexity in her tone. “When was the last time you really looked at yourself, Kaylee? Jesus, baby! You're the kind of beautiful most men lust after."

  "Don't be ridiculous."

  His smile was indulgent. “Ridiculous? I've been called a helluva lot of things, but that one's a first in this situation."

  "And what, precisely, do you think this situation is?"

  "Well.” He smiled, one eyebrow quirked in teasing humor. “I'm hoping this situation is about to evolve into you ... me ... and all kinds of wonderful..."

  To make his point, one hand disappeared under her gown and she tensed slightly, eyes wide with combined anticipation and a shade of uncertainty.

  "I don't think I want this to happen like this, Max."

  Max's other hand slid behind her back and he eased
her toward him. He lifted her and turned, settling into the sofa cushions as he put her astride his hips. Her fingers curled over his shoulders and she looked down at herself, the reaction unconscious. She bit her bottom lip at the sight; her naked breasts dangling before him, his hands barely visible beneath the sheer silk of her gown. He was stroking her thighs now, his caress slow and seductive.

  "Tell me what you want, honey."

  She shook her head and he bent to take a nipple between his lips. He opened his mouth wider and she gasped loudly when he began to suck the entire peak of her breast, his tongue flicking furiously at the pebble hard point. Her body convulsed a moment later when the sensation of his mouth on her was overshadowed by the dizzying pleasure of his fingers buried in the tight channel between her legs.

  "Tell me what you want, Max,” she repeated his words, and he saw the surge of power and challenge in her eyes when he lifted his head and locked his gaze with hers.

  "What I want?” His voice was a textured, gravelly purr of sensuous hunger. “What I want, Kaylee Masterson, is to fuck you until you can't walk without thinking about what it felt like to have my cock so far inside you that you want to scream.” Passion lit in her eyes and he could see how turned on she was by his words. He let them keep coming. “I want to shove my dick into your dripping little pussy, over and over again, baby.” He was punctuating every syllable with his hand, his fingers moving in and out of her tight heat, the sounds slick and wet, so exciting he wondered if he'd be able to exert any real control over his lust.

  "What then?” She was fucking his fingers now, her hips meeting him thrust for thrust. He knew she was close to an amazing, intense orgasm. He also knew that she didn't give a damn what he said, as long as he kept on talking, probably telling her things no man had ever uttered to her.

  "Then,” he let his fingers slip free of her, and began to stroke her wet slit, his thumb slowly caressing her pulsing clit. “I want you to suck me, Kaylee. I want my cock in your mouth, honey, and your finger up my ass. Do you think you can do that for me, baby? Make me so crazy I lose control."