Piper watched his face, waiting to see if he’d be irritated, or just redouble his efforts. Maybe Red would try to force her to capitulate—and that would make this easier. It would give Piper something tangible to fight against, instead of just this flailing around with the amorphous feeling that she should be stronger. Different. More exciting, somehow.
If she wasn’t a disappointment, then maybe he wouldn’t dick around with her feelings.
Red’s face was hard to read, though. There was concern, certainly, but also something else that was harder to define.
He said, “Piper, you aren’t in danger from me. You understand that, right? I know I’m overbearing, but you’re the one in charge here. Okay? You say stop, we stop. You don’t feel comfortable seeing me when you come to New York? That’s fine, too.”
Oddly, she believed him. Piper bit her lip, the decision whether to pursue this made harder by his refusal to force the issue.
Red looked away, giving her some emotional space. He picked up his coffee and took a sip. When his intense eyes finally returned to snare hers, he even smiled, trying to reassure her.
“I know it’s weird, me staying here like this so soon. I promised myself I wouldn’t take advantage.” He didn’t add that it was her own fault he was here, since she’d been the dumbass who’d invited him in the first place.
“Maybe I have, though. Should I be apologizing? Did I take things too far?”
“No, I’m the one who should apologize.” Piper tried to salvage things in her usual haphazard way, “I know I’m all over the map right now. I’m sorry. I’m confused, and when that happens, I say the wrong things. I ask too many questions, and then I still can’t make up my mind.”
“You do ask…unusual…questions.” His eyes were soft, not accusatory.
“It’s just that you have this carefully-crafted persona that’s grown up around you—this mythology that everyone knows, and it grows and evolves with every interview you give and every story that’s written about you. Obviously, I’m into you, but I’m curious about the real person who lives inside all that. I can’t help looking for hints about who you really are—” Piper gestured erratically, “—in there. It’s hard to know what to do, when I’m not positive who I’m dealing with right now. I’m completely baffled about what Red MacLellan could possibly see in someone like me. It’s…it’s wigging me out.”
“Ah.” Red sank back in his chair, tilting his head to study her. “I’m not sure what to say. Here I thought we had something pretty hot and sweet going on, and you were busily doing a character study on me. Or whatever that was.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. We’ve been having a great time together. But the real Red is definitely hunkering down behind some solid fortifications.” Piper tried to smile to lessen the sting, which was sort of hilarious given the glass house she was sitting in.
Red was silent so long, she thought he might not respond. Finally, though, he relaxed slightly and said, “That obvious, huh?”
“Glaringly.”
Now Red leveled his own devasting smile on her. “And yet, you are the only woman in the last ten years who’s noticed it. Didn’t take you very long, either, Piper Mae.”
“I’d put that down to indelicacy, more than any particular insight on my part.”
He picked up her hand and circled her wrist easily with his thumb and index finger. “On the contrary, I think you’re very delicate.” He stared down at the sight, moving his hand so that her palm rested on top of his, emphasizing the difference in sizes.
Piper huffed, “That’s because you’re huge.”
His eyes flicked up and held her gaze. Oh. Look who was making an appearance.
“I suspect you are insightful, in addition to being delicate,” he murmured, setting aside the flash of sexual challenge and studying her anew. “What else you got? Hit me hard, Piper. I can take it. Why are you so worried about seeing me again?”
Red’s face was so utterly sincere, so open and curious, that Piper said the words she never would’ve expected she’d admit.
“Honestly? I don’t think I have a casual fling in me right now. I mean, I’m over the guy I was with a few years ago, but now…I don’t want a relationship that’s not headed anywhere. You know?”
“I understand.”
“That’s not to put pressure on you or anything. I like you a lot. But you’re hardly the settling-down type.”
“And you know this how?”
“Everyone knows it.”
“Yeah, I must have missed that memo. Besides, didn’t we just have the conversation that the whole Padraig MacLellan mythology might not bear much of a resemblance to the actual human being that inspires it?”
Oh God, he was so right. She’d really gone and done it now. Piper was so busy trying to slink away from her own stupid insecurities, that she hadn’t even realized she was trying to do it by making everything his fault.
She groaned, dropping her head into her hands. Red chuckled.
“Sorry,” she muttered, but it was muffled.
He laughed harder. “What do you say we agree to take this one step at a time? I’ll try not to push too hard or too fast, and you try not to make assumptions about what I might or might not want from you.”
Piper peeked up at him.
“Deal?” he asked, raising his brows at her.
She didn’t deserve him, but man did she want him. “Deal.”
SHE MIGHT HAVE known Red would be the mighty overlord of BigTalker.com. After he’d left, Piper hadn’t heard from the jerk in four freaking days. No jet to fly her to the moon. No phone calls. Not even a single texted emoticon, despite all his protests that he wanted to see where their relationship would lead.
Well, she wasn’t going to go panting after him. Red could trip into the sewer for all she cared.
But, as luck would have it, Red’s driver dropped him at the curb just as Piper was hoofing it up the block to the Trident building on Thursday morning. He stepped from the car looking fresh and pressed and ready for world domination.
Piper was running too late to care. She kept her head down and marched right past him. She should have expected he wouldn’t let her get far.
“Good Morning, Piper Mae,” he drawled, quickening his step to keep up with her. What was he doing in Midtown anyway? Shouldn’t he be behind his desk at PKM by now, conquering minions and counting his assets?
Maybe Red had only meant to tease her with her full name. But when Piper didn’t acknowledge him—when she didn’t stop to fall at his stupidly good-looking feet—his irritation broke through.
“Piper Mae,” he barked, like a scolding schoolmarm. Why had her parents named her that, anyway? On his lips, it sounded like a cartoon character, for crying out loud.
She shook off her pique, and muttered, “Morning.”
Piper even offered Red a half-hearted wave, but otherwise saw no need to break stride. Screw him and his love-em-and-leave-em ways.
While she wended through the glass revolving door, she caught sight of him on the sidewalk, gaping at her as she was swallowed up by the office building.
Oh, poor baby. The little woman hadn’t stopped in her tracks to talk to him, huh? Her face hadn’t lit up when she gazed upon his magnificence? Tough. Red could rot out there on the pavement like the inconsequential gnat that he was. Piper had a meeting to get to.
Once inside, she turned her attention to the lobby. It had been redecorated in the last week, and now sported spare, ultra-modern décor. It looked rich, as she’d expect from PKM, but it felt cold now. Antiseptic. Piper decided she was not impressed.
Red barreled in, catching up with her a few feet in front of the guard station.
“I thought you’d at least let me know when you got to town,” he growled.
“And I thought I’d actually hear from you sometime in the past four days.”
Maybe the rest of the employees had already arrived, but for such a large lobby, it was disconcertingly empty
. Red only had to jerk his chin at the curious guard, who rose without a word and slipped into the office behind his station, and they were alone.
Then Red grabbed Piper’s arm and hustled her into the open janitor closet off to the side, slamming the door closed behind them. It was dark, but at least there probably wasn’t a security camera—and no audience for when the boss man lost his shit.
Piper sighed and groped along the wall next to the door, searching for a light switch, but his hand clamped onto her wrist and held her firm. When she whacked him in the arm with her other hand, he grabbed that one, too.
Of course, he did. Freaking apex predator. He probably got a charge out of it.
“Damn it, Red. What are you doing?” she hissed, furious.
Infinitely slowly, the infernal man crowded her back against the wall and pinned her hands beside her. His nose tickled the sensitive skin beneath her ear, breathing deep, and Piper was suddenly thankful she’d remembered to wear a little perfume that morning.
Then Red tilted his head and took her mouth.
Her upright intentions—as they always seemed to do around to him—took a hike. Rather than allowing him a grudging buss on the lips, Piper’s kiss devolved into something hot and deep. Something desperate and feral.
It went on for a long while. Too long for comfort.
When they broke apart she was breathing as hard as a racehorse. Red sounded casual, like they’d just met over a brunch buffet. “Good Morning, Ms. Fulham,” he murmured.
This time, she was ready for her cue. “Good Morning, Mr. MacLellan,” she replied politely. At least, as politely as she could manage, while trapped by a hulking piece of testosterone in a broom closet. He was lucky his tongue knew its way around hers—otherwise, Piper might’ve bitten it clean off.
“Why didn’t you call?” he wondered, only a bit less friendly.
“And look pathetic?” she inquired starchily. “I think not.”
“How on earth does that make you pathetic? If anyone looks pathetic here, it’s me.”
“Might I point out that you didn’t call first? Or email. Or text. Or anything at all. Asshole.”
“I called every day and went straight to voicemail. Then I texted you. Twelve damn times. Check your goddamn phone, Piper.”
Next to her head, his breath sawed in and out in a somewhat normal rhythm. Hers, however, felt ragged in her lungs. Her chest rose and fell too fast, brushing against the front of his pristine suit each time. Piper pressed back against the wall but couldn’t escape the way Red pushed every one of her buttons without even trying.
Why did he have to smell so good, anyway? Why couldn’t he be a total washout in the sack? He wasn’t, though. Red felt and tasted so utterly perfect that she transformed into a pea-brained fangirl whenever he got close.
When Piper could manage to speak again, she didn’t mention the texts, or the lack thereof. Her voice sounded too husky in the little room.
“I think we need to hash out how soon we can sleep together again.”
“Oh?” Bastard managed to sound cool as a cucumber, but every muscle in his body had tensed. She knew—she could feel them all. Hell, Piper could picture them all.
“And why is that?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe because you have me pinned against the wall of a dark janitor closet at eight in the morning. In an office building. Making me even later than I already was to begin with.”
He contemplated that piece of information in silence for a few moments but didn’t release her quite yet.
“It’s been nearly a week with no word from you,” Red finally complained. “If you’d made me wait much longer, who knows what could’ve happened? I might’ve combusted.”
“It was barely four days. Don’t be dramatic.”
“They were very long days.”
“Point taken,” she conceded.
Red nuzzled her hair in the dark, and his voice went softer. “Does Wayne know where you’re staying?”
“Yes.” Piper had enthused about her prior hotel just enough, that Wayne had booked her at the same place again.
“Then I’ll pick you up for dinner tonight at seven. Be ready, little dove.”
With that edict delivered, Red released her wrists, hit the light switch, and let himself out of the closet. He squared his shoulders and strode across the lobby toward the elevators at the back. Piper could almost hear his thoughts: Handled the hell out of that.
What a knucklehead. Mr. Red “Too Big For His Britches” MacLellan was going to drive her insane with his antics.
Who did he think he was? For days, she’d heroically fought back every slavering impulse she’d had—to not call him at all hours, to not whine about him ignoring her, to not simply show up on his doorstep begging for another one of the thermonuclear assaults he called kisses.
And he had the nerve to be pissed that she hadn’t called? She knew what century it was, thank you very much. Red should have at least thanked her for putting him up last weekend. For fawning over him like houseguest royalty.
Piper slipped into the lobby and waited for him to disappear inside one of the elevators, then stomped over to hit the button for another one. Inside the next car, she jabbed at the button for the design floor.
Then she slipped her cell from her purse and eyed the screen dubiously. Red hadn’t really called and texted all those times, had he? It was one thing to jockey for position with him, bossy as he was, but she never would’ve been so rude as to ignore that many attempts to contact her.
Piper considered the dark screen. She was getting close to the time she was supposed to upgrade, and her phone had been acting sort of temperamental lately. And, come to think of it, other people had also mentioned texts she’d never received.
She’d assumed they were fudging to cover their own asses, but what if they weren’t? Swallowing hard, she held down the power button, shut the phone down, and tucked it back into her purse.
Once she was settled at a conference table in the design department, a hot cup of coffee and several pages of cover model headshots spread before her, Piper took the phone out again. Setting it on the table, she powered it up and waited nervously. Any minute, several of the models would be coming in to meet her. She didn’t have a ton of time.
No more than two minutes later, the accursed thing started making its classic whooshing sound, sending out message after message she’d thought had been delivered days ago. Weeks ago. Piper winced, fearing what was coming next.
After a pause that stretched for an eternity, the missed calls and incoming texts began arriving. Two from her mom. Five from her best friend. One from her brother. Piper pulled the device closer and stared, holding her breath.
One text from Red. Then two. Three. And on and on, with increasing urgency, all the way up to twelve texts from His Highness. Piper blew out a long, agonized breath. Crap. She was a writer, not a techie. She really shouldn’t be allowed to handle electronics.
With one last, meek-sounding tone, her faithless phone sent out the last text she’d forgotten she sent, letting Red know she’d had a great time and hoping he got home safe and sound.
Four bloody days ago.
Piper hung her head and groaned. Things like this just did not happen to other people.
Before she had a chance to call Red and apologize, the conference room door swung open, admitting two of the new designers. Piper vaguely recognized them from her last meeting.
They, in turn, ushered in a handful of exceptionally beautiful young men bearing unseasonable tans and gleaming white smiles.
Piper stood up. Their headshots had not done them justice.
The cover designers looked excited. The first said, “The ladies will join us in a few. For now, just take a look at these guy’s faces.”
Piper smiled at the models. “They are very nice faces,” she told them. Based on what she was seeing, they probably looked nice all over. But were they a good fit for her new series? That remained to b
e seen.
“Have a seat,” the second designer said, “And let us tell you what we have in mind.”
TEN
THE SOMMELIER TOOK forever to approach their table at the restaurant that night. Red reigned in his annoyance as he perused the wine list, only half listening to Piper’s small talk while he tried to pick the perfect bottle to go with their dinners.
Once he finally got to order, the sommelier only said, “Very good, sir.” To be fair, the man never said anything else, but Red could tell he was impressed.
Piper didn’t notice. She was too busy looking around the cozy room with a tiny smile, her pleasure obvious. Red silently congratulated himself—he’d chosen well tonight. A good thing, too, since he only deliberated for half the damn morning, trying to decide what she’d like in her current frame of mind. At least he’d gotten it right.
Once Wayne had assured him that Piper had arrived in New York that morning as planned, and clued him in on her schedule, Red had headed over to Trident hoping to run into her—and he had. He just hadn’t realized quite how desperate he’d been. Not until they found themselves lip-locking in a broom closet, that was.
Whatever. He and Piper had ironed out their misunderstanding and were back on track now. That was what was important.
The wine arrived, and the sommelier opened it with a bit of an understated flourish. Red tasted it, gave his customary nod, then watched as the man filled their glasses and melted away. Piper and took her first sip, then another longer one.
“Wow. This is really nice,” she told him. Her lips were painted a vibrant red tonight and left a small smudge on the rim of her wine glass.
For a long minute, Red entertained himself with the cascade of images that the combination of those lips and the wine engendered. Eventually, Piper started to fidget a bit. He shook off the daydream and glanced at the bottle.
The wine had better be nice. He’d just dropped a small fortune on it—overcompensating for the frustration of the last few days, he supposed. Though why he thought Piper might be mesmerized by his posturing, he couldn’t begin to guess.
The Titan Was Tall (Triple Threat Book 1) Page 11
