“I don’t know...” she said. Most of the staff had already gone home, and everyone—herself included—needed a good night’s rest.
“It’s not that late,” Jake countered before she could come up with an excuse.
She sighed, feeling her body caving to the temptation. “Well, it is helping me unwind, I have to admit. What goes into one of those things anyway?”
“Why don’t I bring you another one? I’ll tell you all the ingredients.” And before she could say Long Island Iced Tea three times fast, Jake dashed off and soon returned to the reception desk with a fresh glassful. “Here you go, babe. Drink up. It’ll relax you.”
“Mmm, thanks.” She took a few swigs. Remarkable really. The nervousness she’d been feeling for weeks started slowly seeping out of her. She leaned against the counter and let the negative energy and apprehension drift away.
So what if Bram was a hotshot, multimillionaire type who could have any woman he wanted in the Western Hemisphere by simply snapping his fingers twice? He said in his last e-mail that he couldn’t wait to get back to her. He liked her.
Who cared how little they had in common or how lonely she’d been before meeting him? After having phone sex two dozen times, their differences melted away into ancient history. She didn’t have to be tied to the past.
And why worry about risks and loss and all that other depressing stuff? She could chart her own course. She knew she’d be okay no matter what happened next—she had a job, friends, resources. From the deliciously hazy view through her tall cocktail glass, it all seemed so clear…
Jake caressed her shoulder with brotherly affection. “Good stuff, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. We may need to make this a pre-holiday-weekend ritual.”
Jake laughed, soft and low. He lowered his hand to the middle of her back and massaged her there. “Fine by me.” He paused. “It’s nice to see you so calm like this, Shannon. I can tell you’ve been under a lot of stress lately.”
She looked into Jake’s kind eyes. Something different registered in them. He wasn’t being his usual flirtatious self, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what had changed, or why. Plus, her mind was starting to float away…into fantasies featuring Bram. He was at the inn with her. In the Astaire Suite. Completely naked. She heard herself moan.
Jake’s fingers slid lower still. “Yeah, I feel a knot of tension right here.” He rubbed deeper, more intensely.
Shannon put down her nearly empty glass, a slight glimmer of dread settling on her shoulders like a weight. This situation didn’t feel quite right. What was Jake up to?
She turned to face him, his fingers refusing to break away from her body, just as the front door of Holiday Quinn swung open. Was it the tap-dance guy returning? One of the maids who’d forgotten her keys, perhaps?
With Jake’s hand still planted firmly around her waist, she glanced over at the door.
“Hello, Shannon,” the formidable Bram Hartwick said, his jaw clenched. “Am I interrupting something?”
***
Bram strode over to the counter where Shannon and Jake the Prick stood.
“Bram!” she cried, her expression and her voice indicating delight. It sounded genuine. He desperately hoped it was. She leaped away from Jake and threw her arms around him. “You got here early!”
Not early enough, apparently.
He held Shannon for a long moment, then he kissed her hard on the mouth, tasting alcohol.
With a lethal look in Jake’s direction, Bram reached for Shannon’s glass, sniffed the remaining inch of liquid at the bottom and said, “Mind if I have a taste? It’s been a long drive.”
“Sure,” she said, grinning up at him. “Jake made it, but I’ve had more than enough already.”
Bram took a tentative swallow. Long Island Iced Tea. With a mix of seven different kinds of liquor, those things were damn potent, but its strength was disguised by the kind of flavorful fruitiness women loved… Something every remotely intelligent man on the planet knew. Only dishonorable men exploited that knowledge, though.
He gazed into the defiant green eyes of Jake Marcolis, loathed him with every fiber of his being and knew with absolute certainty that he was going to beat the bloody crap out of the bastard. And soon.
Shannon, for all her luscious curves, was still a lightweight when it came to booze, and she seemed to be getting a little unsteady on her feet. How many of those drinks had she had?
“You hungry, sweetheart? I wasn’t in the mood for fast food on the way here, so I’d planned to fix myself a little something when I got up to the room. Join me?”
“Of course,” she said, laughing. “I made sure the kitchenette in the Astaire Suite was fully stocked.” She paused. “Good thing, too. I never got around to eating dinner. I’m starving.”
Bram shot another glare at Jake. From the guilty look in his eyes, the assistant had known about this, too. Jake would be sorry. Bram would deal with him later.
“Well, goodnight Jake,” Shannon said cheerfully. “Drive home safe, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, Jake,” Bram said. “Drive home safe.” Or not.
The assistant stood to his full height, five-foot-ten, maybe—Bram was taller so it didn’t matter—and waved a farewell to Shannon. “Goodnight, babe,” he told her.
Babe?
That guy was so dead.
To him, Jake continued to raise his hand, but he subtly lowered the thumb, index finger, ring finger and pinky of that hand as he turned toward him, so Jake’s “wave” goodnight was a whole lot like a flip off. Bram suspected this was entirely intentional.
As far as he was concerned, the gauntlet hadn’t been thrown down—it’d been hurled to the floor with a smack. And Bram was not one to let a challenge like that go unacknowledged, either in business or in his personal life.
Jake the Prick had better watch his back.
“Let me take you upstairs,” he whispered in Shannon’s ear once the assistant had finally left the building. “I’ve got a lot to show you, and you know I’m an impatient man.”
She shivered in his arms then hugged him tighter. “I’d been worried, you know,” she admitted, “about how it would feel when we were face-to-face again. It’s been such a long time.” She pulled him by his necktie down to her and planted a long, wet kiss on his lips. “I’m not worried anymore.”
He led her to the stairway, aware of her slight stumbling and unusually relaxed posture as they wound their way to the suite. “I’m glad you’re not worried. You have nothing to fear from me.” Except the untimely demise of your assistant. “I was looking forward to seeing you so much, I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to get here.”
She grinned at him as she fumbled with the door key. “Bram, I think I’m a little drunk.”
He eased the key gently from her fingers. “I know you are, sweetheart. But, like I said, you don’t have anything to fear from me. I’ll take care of you until you’re thinking clearly again. Okay?”
“Okay.” She paused as they entered the suite, watching him as he tossed his bag on the chair and kicked off his dress shoes. He felt her eyes scanning him. “Then what’ll you do? Once I’m thinking clearly again, I mean?”
He smiled at her, enjoying her warm and open expression, her waterfall of auburn waves, her intelligent and imaginative way of just being, and he said, “Then we’ll have wild and raunchy sex until you shriek. Sound good?”
She threw her head back and laughed. “Well, yeah.”
***
Shannon awoke sometime after two a.m., her body curled up against Bram’s slumbering form in the Astaire Suite.
It wasn’t as though she didn’t remember what had happened, only that the memories seemed yellowish and blurry, like the sepia snapshots her grandfather had kept in an old family photo album.
She recalled Bram’s early arrival, how excited she’d been to see him and how surprisingly unafraid.
How she’d been drinking those big Long
Island Iced Teas on an empty stomach—stupid, she knew—but how they’d kept the panic at bay.
How Bram and Jake had glared at each other downstairs, but then Jake left and Bram took her to the suite for ham and cheese sandwiches, fruit salad and pretzels. Hmm, and something else… What was it?
Oh, yes, the pudding. Chocolate pudding. And he kissed her and fed the dessert to her with a little teaspoon, as if she were a child. Then he made her drink some water, and he tucked her in bed.
She watched him now, watched his chest rise and fall and rise again, and she reached out to put her arm around him and snuggle closer. He was so firm and his body heat radiated onto her despite the room’s cool air.
“So, did you sleep off the effects of your assistant’s poison?” he whispered, his voice raspy and tired.
“The drinks? Yep. But I think I’m getting a little tipsy again just from being around you.”
He laughed. “Oh, you’re a sweet talker, Ms. Quinn, but I need to make sure you’re really sober.” He heaved himself onto his knees and lifted her to a sitting position. “Feeling dizzy? A little unsteady?”
“Nope.” She hugged herself and realized she was wearing her short-sleeved work shirt but no slacks. He’d undressed her down to her pink panties, but he hadn’t done more than kiss her tonight. So far. The man had real self-control…and her deep appreciation.
“Can you stand up? Walk around?”
She slipped out of the bed and moved in a circuit around the nearby coffee table and two chairs. “Seems so. When does the ‘wild and raunchy sex until I shriek’ part start?”
His grin shown bright even in the darkness. “Oh, so you remember that, do you?”
“My memory is excellent,” she informed him, pulling off her shirt until she was clad in only her bra and panties. “And a promise from you is especially memorable.”
He looked deep into her eyes, his expression as intense as she’d ever seen it. Not a hint of tiredness remained. “You’re sure you’re okay, Shannon?”
She marched over where he sat at the edge of the bed, nestled herself between his legs and waited until his arms encircled her waist before nodding. “I am. But Bram? I could be better.”
He groaned and buried his face against her far-from-firm tummy muscles. He didn’t seem to care about her not having abs of steel, though. With one swift and obviously well-practice movement, he unclasped her pink bra and whipped it across the room. He dragged down the matching panties and tossed them in a different direction before finally letting her tug off his t-shirt and boxers.
When they stood face-to-face again, both of them were naked. And though, in her mind’s eye, she’d imagined this scene a few thousand times, the reality proved far superior.
He pushed her onto the bed, his mouth devouring hers with commanding kisses, his legs trapping hers to the mattress.
“That time when I was in Brussels,” he said, pulling back a few inches, “I groaned so loudly imagining us like this—in this exact position—that the businessman staying in the room next door glared at me in the hall in the morning.”
He laughed at the memory and, for a second, she laughed with him. He moved his kisses to her neck.
“I think Jake may have overheard my side of the conversation, too,” she whispered. “He was in the hallway when I left the suite.”
Bram pulled back again, further this time. The corners of his lips jerked downward and he stopped laughing. “What was he doing? Lurking? Loitering? Stalking you? Why was he out there?”
“Don’t be silly, it was nothing like that. He just had some inventory work to do.” She rubbed his shoulders. “Look, Bram, I realize you two aren’t particularly fond of each other, but Jake’s a reliable staff member, and we’ve been good friends for two years.”
“Just friends?” he asked, still frowning.
“Yes. Definitely just friends.”
And that was completely true, not that she’d tell Bram about some of the silly conversations she’d had with her assistant or the times Jake would proposition her in jest. At least, until tonight, she’d thought it was in jest. But, surely, alerting Bram to her suspicions wouldn’t help relations between the two men. And, anyway, it was irrelevant.
She decided a change of subject would be the best idea under the circumstances.
“I’m not shrieking yet,” she informed him. “And these kisses, they’re nice and all, but there’s nothing raunchy about them.” She feigned a bored yawn. “Maybe I should just go back to sleep.”
Bram’s eyes widened in astonishment.
“Why, you little—” His exhalations turned into chuckles, and he shot back from her like a lightning bolt. A moment later, she found herself in a rather inelegant position over his knees, bottoms up.
“Um—” she began.
“You have a naughty streak,” he said. “You look all nice, sweet and professional on the outside and, okay, sexy as hell, but on the inside—” He smacked her bottom once, which almost made her laugh and ruin his game. “You’re a bad girl.” He smacked her two more times, the last one stinging a bit. “Clearly, spanking is too good for you.” He paused to kiss her shoulders and rub her bottom. “But I’m going to do it anyway.”
Another few light smacks followed. She figured she ought to at least attempt to get away, so she kicked her legs a bit and put up the pretense of a struggle until Bram laughed aloud.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” he asked.
She wriggled a little more for effect. “I have a well-hidden naughty streak?”
“Damn right you do,” he said, but she could hear the smile in his voice.
He smacked her bottom twice more, both times surprisingly hard, before dumping her back on the bed and lording over her with a look of triumph.
She grinned at him. “You’re funny, Bram Hartwick.”
“I’m funny?” He put his fists on his hips, his erection jutting out to greet her, which made her stop grinning. She wanted to touch him, make him take her. Right that very second. “You’re, you’re—” He shook his head. “Hell, I can’t even begin to describe you. When did that prim little Irish lady I met on Valentine’s Day turn into such a firecracker? Are you ever this brash out of bed, too?”
She considered his last question, even though she doubted he expected an answer. “No,” she admitted as her hand reached up to grasp his firm cock and massage it with her palm. “I’m not.”
He sank down to the mattress and conveniently positioned himself between her legs. “Then I guess I’m lucky I get to see both sides of you,” he said softly.
Their eyes met and, for a full ten seconds, neither spoke. Shannon felt her whole body blazing with desire for this powerful, yet indisputably affectionate man.
“Got any plastic eggs on hand?” she asked, knowing he’d have no trouble deciphering her meaning.
He raised a dark brow and pulled a purple plastic egg out of the bedside drawer. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
Her jaw dropped. “You still have the purple egg? I hadn’t expected you to take me so literally.”
“Glad to know I have a surprise or two up my sleeve for you, sweetheart.” He broke open the egg and pulled out a condom. “I’ll admit to liking the Easter egg carrying case better than the boring old box these originally came in.” He sheathed himself and tossed the egg back in the drawer. “Now, let’s see about getting to that shrieking part.”
By now, Shannon knew Bram Hartwick was nothing if not a man who kept his word. His kisses ignited a flame of passion so combustible that she was convinced her limbs would burn up before he could plunge inside of her.
She didn’t, but it was a close call.
After weeks of only pretending that he’d thrust deep into her, the reality was a delicious shock to her system.
“Oh, God, Bram.”
He pumped hard, deep, wild. His hands gripped the backs of her thighs so tight, it felt as though all of her were being compressed by him. Into him. Parts of him se
emed to touch her everywhere.
Finally, when all of her felt wet and slick to the touch, he angled his hips just a bit differently, pushing against a new boundary, thrusting into uncharted territory.
And, yes, it was as if every barrier then came tumbling down around them, and they shrieked.
Loudly.
Together.
***
Shannon wobbled down the stairs, fifteen minutes later than usual, but still earlier than most of the staff. Not, however, earlier than Jake.
“Morning,” he said, looking up from a stack of invoices he appeared to be organizing.
“Good morning.” She smiled at him but knew she’d better sit down before her legs gave out on her. Four times with Bram before dawn…it was a wonder she could walk at all. She slipped into her office and sunk into her chair.
Jake appeared at the door not twenty seconds later.
He cleared his throat. “Hey, um, I’ve been thinking.” He coughed into his fist. “Last night with the drinks—I, uh, guess I got excited that you liked it, so I figured if one glass was good, two would be better.” He laughed a little. “I’m sorry, though. I’d forgotten you hadn’t eaten much. I wasn’t trying to actually get you drunk or anything.” He sighed. “I really didn’t think the liquor would seep into your system so quickly.”
She heard him out and nodded. Maybe he was telling the truth, maybe not. Either way, it didn’t matter.
“That’s okay, Jake. You didn’t force it down my throat. I really liked it.” She grinned at him. “You make one wicked Long Island Iced Tea, though. Sometime, when I’m prepared, I’d love another. Though, just one.”
He smiled, but it was soft, not one of his smirky expressions. “Just say the word, babe, and I’ll make you whatever you want.” He shot a nervous glance behind him. “Are things okay with that Hartwick guy? He still sleeping?”
Shannon felt the heat rush to her face and put her palms up to cool her cheeks. “Well, um, he, uh—”
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