“Right.” Kip grabbed the bag. He looked around but saw no trashcans in the lobby, which seemed like poor building planning to him. So, look like an idiot and walk back out with Victoria’s lunch after having announced that it was hers, or suck it up and deliver it. Get in and out.
“Top floor?”
The man nodded. “And to the right.”
Kip offered a grimace of a smile. Bring Victoria lunch at work. This was the worst idea he’d had in recent memory. She was going to laugh him right back to his car.
Which wouldn’t matter to him at all. Not even a little. Because his emotions were not in any way embroiled in this business arrangement. And tomorrow he had a new client. Onward and upward.
He straightened his shoulders and jabbed at the elevator button several times. As he walked aboard the elevator, someone called out, “Hold the elevator!”
Kip eyed the buttons on the control panel, and his gaze lingered longingly on the one that would close the doors. With a heavy sigh, he pressed the other one instead.
A middle-aged man in an impeccable three-piece suit stepped into the elevator, his mouth open as if to say thanks. Until he seemed to recognize Kip as someone who did not belong in the building. His mouth snapped shut, and the elevator ride up to the top floor was filled with oppressive silence and several quick, sidelong glances at the bag Kip held in his fisted hand.
As they neared the top and it became apparent that Kip and the well-dressed stranger would be getting off on the same floor, those sidelong glances became a little more penetrating.
Kip gritted his teeth and stared resolutely at the changing numbers as they neared the end of this uncomfortable ride.
The elevator ding was one of the most welcome sounds he had ever heard. Both men burst from the doors as though the elevator’s fine, patterned carpet were on fire. Kip was objective enough to recognize how ridiculous they must look, and his lips twitched.
His faint smile disappeared, however, as he looked around. Which direction had the greeter said to go? His brow furrowed.
“Can I help you find someone?”
The voice came from his elbow, and though Kip hadn’t heard it in all the time they’d been enclosed, he immediately knew whom it belonged to. And the helpful question contained just enough judgment to push him over the line into being officially done.
He turned to the man, who apparently still subscribed to the red power-tie theory, and lifted his chin. “I have lunch for Ms. Hastings.”
The other man’s gaze grew shrewd, and he looked Kip over again without hiding his obvious perusal. “Are you a deliveryman?”
Now he understood why the greeter in the lobby had been so incensed. This was an insult if Kip had ever heard one. He glanced down at the button-down shirt and jeans he wore. Sure, he wasn’t wearing a three-piece suit, but he didn’t look so bad. Kip opened his mouth. What he was going to say, he didn’t know, but—
“Kip?”
Both men turned in the direction of that gorgeous, husky voice. There Victoria stood at the mouth of a hallway, a notepad clutched in one hand. Her other hand was pressed against the wall. Her eyebrows were drawn together, and her eyes were clearly confused as to what she was seeing.
“Kip, is it?” the man in the suit asked. He glanced at his watch as though Kip had already wasted too much of his time. “Sorry for the less-than-warm greeting. We have some highly confidential projects underway, you understand.”
Victoria walked toward them as though in a daze. She stopped several feet away and frowned. “What are you doing here?”
Making a mistake. Obviously. Kip shifted his weight and could find nothing to say. Was it too bad an idea to shove the take-out bag her direction and then sprint away?
“Why don’t you introduce us, Victoria?”
She snapped to attention; it was obvious this was her boss.
That she had reasons to request his discretion became suddenly clear. As did the fact that he was an ass. There was nothing he could say or do to salvage this. He’d fucked things up but good. Without a word, Kip extended the bag toward Victoria. “I’m just a friend.”
Her lips pursed, and as she accepted the bag from Sally’s, her boss turned his attention toward her. With her boss’s back turned, Kip mouthed, I’m sorry.
A muscle ticked in her jaw in response.
“A friend?” her boss asked.
“Yes.” Kip cleared his throat. “One who is currently late.” He glanced down at his own wristwatch but knew it lacked the power of when her boss had done it. “I have to run.”
And with his boss and her boss staring at Kip’s back, he retreated, cursing internally with every step.
Fucking had to see her one extra time. Brilliant. Now, he’d managed to ensure he’d never see her again whatsoever.
He stepped into the elevator still waiting for him as though it knew it would be needed, and he couldn’t resist drinking her in as the doors closed. Because he was certainly fired after such a stunt.
Maybe, if he were lucky, she would fire him in person.
If I am lucky? The elevator doors closed, and Kip covered his eyes with one hand as he sank back to the lobby. God, he had it bad. What kind of gigolo found himself hoping his current client would fire him face to face just so he could see her one more time?
One who has crossed all the lines.
Chapter Ten
“Victoria?”
The question in her boss’s face was undeniable. The heavy scent of salt and grease floated up from the bag she held in her hands, and her stomach heaved a rumble of appreciation.
What the hell had Kip been doing at Precision Media? It was, in fact, the question Mr. Kincaid was asking her without putting it in words.
She was currently the subject of a background check that, were it very thorough, would open her and Precision Media Services up to a rejection neither of them could afford. But, both she and Mr. Kincaid seemed to know any further questions would be entirely inappropriate for a boss and his employee.
Thank God.
She took a step back. “I’ll be eating lunch in my office.”
He looked as though he wanted to protest, but he didn’t.
By the time she closed herself in her office, her blood felt like it was percolating. She dropped the Sally’s bag on her desk, where it emitted a plop. He could have ruined everything!
In a way, he had ruined everything. Because there was certainly no way she could meet with him tonight, their last night together, now.
And their working relationship had come to mean a great deal to her. More than almost anything in her life, as a matter of fact. Only her desire to achieve her goal of representing a major casino meant anything more to her. Every time today she’d remembered tonight was “it,” her mind had blanked, sweat popping out on her upper lip, her hands turning clammy.
The only thing that had gotten her through the day was knowing she’d get to see him one last time tonight.
She sank down in her chair. And he’d ruined it!
She snatched the bag and peered inside. She groaned. Her favorite. Naturally.
Damn, he made her happy. Really, truly happy. And now she had to tell him he was fired, and the very thought almost made her appetite vanish entirely.
But the smell of the greasy cheesesteak sandwich would not be ignored. She took her first sloppy bite, leaning far over the paper bag so it could catch the pieces of meat that fell from the sandwich.
She chewed and couldn’t prevent a moan. “Goddamn it, Kip.”
I don’t want to fire him. In the dim recesses of her mind, a thought echoed back: Maybe you don’t have to.
Kip had introduced himself as a friend. It was false, obviously. They had no relationship between them other than that of employer and employee. But perhaps she could convince Mr. Kincaid that Kip was a friend. If he even asked again.
She and Kip were officially over after tonight. He would not show up at Precision Media in the future. He’d have to
be an idiot to do that, and he certainly wasn’t. And Mr. Kincaid viewed matters of a personal nature with trepidation.
This could be okay.
But that wasn’t going to keep her from giving Kip a piece of her mind.
She took another bite of her sandwich, and, with her other hand, reached for her cell. With one clunky thumb, she typed out a message to meet in their room at the same time tonight.
Something fluttered in her belly. It was not excitement at seeing Kip after nearly convincing herself that she never would again.
No, it was not that.
The rest of the day crawled by, and though Victoria had heaps of work to do on the new idea she and Kip had developed last night, she found herself unable to concentrate on the simplest of tasks. She checked the clock at embarrassingly short intervals.
Kip never responded to her text.
For the first time since the incident, as she had taken to calling it in her mind, she reflected on her own behavior during the confrontation with Kip and Mr. Kincaid.
She hadn’t behaved very well.
Yes, sometimes her introversive tendencies and also the—she mentally flinched—pain of her past made her a reluctant member of society. But at least she could always say that she was kind.
Well, she couldn’t say that anymore, now, could she?
She drummed her fingers against her desk and fought to swallow past the lump in her throat. Kip had done something undeniably sweet bringing her a meal from her favorite restaurant—one he, incidentally, hated with a passion.
He’d braved the notoriously sassy greeter in the lobby and the cold reception of Mr. Kincaid and the even more dismissive reception she herself had given him. What’s more, he had done so with more manners and composure than any of them had managed to scrape together.
When she thought about the stiff set of his shoulders as he’d walked to the elevator after introducing himself as her friend, she wanted to weep. She wouldn’t treat the lowliest intern at Precision Media the way she’d treated Kip today, and the interns didn’t do for her what he did.
No one did what Kip did.
She swallowed. No one makes me feel the way Kip does.
Physically. Yes, just physically.
At last, it was an acceptable time to leave the office. Well, not acceptable by Victoria’s normal standards, but a person with an understanding of work hours would not find her departure unacceptable.
What she was going to do in the hotel room for the three hours until the time Kip would arrive, she didn’t know. But she couldn’t stand to stay in her office for one minute longer, which was odd, as her office was one of the few places of solace Victoria had. Along with her home and . . .
Victoria started. She had mentally added the hotel room at the Desert Oasis to the list of places she felt truly at peace.
Ridiculous.
She’d only known the hotel room—and the man in it, for that matter—for just over two weeks. It had taken her a year to be at home in her office. Around that length for her house as well.
It seemed as though every traffic light in Sin City was determined to switch to red as she headed over to the hotel. As her frustration mounted, she had to remind herself nearly every minute that she was still two and a half hours early. That there was no reason to rush.
In fact, Kip might not come at all, and that would be only what she deserved.
The clerk behind the desk gave her a knowing nod as she strolled to the elevators. By the time she got to the right floor, she was finding it hard to catch a breath that was deep enough to keep her from feeling slightly dizzy.
She couldn’t figure this out—why she was so affected. It defied explanation. Her fingers trembled as she inserted the key card. She pushed the door inward, stepped over the threshold, and froze.
Kip was already spinning around from where he stood by the window. Their gazes connected at once.
For the first time that day, everything within her calmed immediately beneath the balm of that blue gaze.
They took simultaneous steps toward each other. “I’m sorry.” The words left their lips at the same time. In the next moment, they met in the center of the room. As the door clicked closed behind her, his arms encircled her.
She took a deep breath—the first of many. Her heart rate began to slow, and she had not even realized it was racing prior to stepping into this room and seeing him here waiting for her.
“I never should have come to your work.” His words fluttered the hair at the crown of her head.
She shook her head, brushing her face against his shirt. “I shouldn’t have treated you that way.”
He pulled back. “What do you mean?” He looked truly confused. “I messed up here.”
Her gaze searched his, and she realized he believed everything he said. That he deserved to be treated the way she had treated him. As though he were nobody. As though she were better than him. She frowned. “I . . . think I’m getting mad again.”
He nodded. “Say whatever you need to say.”
“Kip!” She shoved him away with two hands against his chest. “No one is allowed to treat you the way you were treated today.” She poked him in the chest. “Not me. Not anybody.”
He rubbed at the spot she had poked. “Um . . . ”
“I could see it in your face! You thought you didn’t deserve to be there, and it makes me sick.”
“Wait.” He tilted he head. “You’re not mad at me?”
She huffed and crossed her arms, feeling suddenly cold. “I’m mad at me.”
He shook his head. “Well, I’m not.”
“You should be.”
“Victoria, you stressed to me that we have to be discreet. I showed up at your work.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“That was dumb. Really, really dumb.” He stepped toward her again. “You set boundaries, and I crossed them.”
Well, when he put it that way. She shook her head again. “That still doesn’t excuse—”
He placed a finger over her lips. “I don’t think either of us is going to win this argument.”
She felt her brows pull together. “We’re arguing?”
He breathed a laugh. “Yes. Can’t you tell?”
“I . . . ” She swallowed. “I don’t argue.” Not for years. Jeremy had been so very sick. She’d voluntarily walked on eggshells to make life as smooth as possible for him. Did she like her life there at the end of his? No. Did that mean she could confide that in Jeremy, or for that matter, anyone?
Definitely no.
He cocked one eyebrow. “Let’s just admit we both made a mistake—though, it pains me to compromise.”
She considered him for a moment, and then smiled and dipped a nod. “All right then.” Her gaze connected with his and held. “I’m sorry.”
His lips quirked. He raised a hand, then brushed his fingers along her cheek until he cupped her there with his palm. “I’m sorry.”
She licked her lips. “Did we just make up?”
A gentle shake of his head. “Not yet.”
And then he kissed her.
He’d moved so quickly, she hadn’t seen it coming, but her lips were ready for him in a way that could only be described as instinctual, parting beneath his. Her tongue darted out, meeting his in the middle, anticipating the move that had become second nature to them in the last two and a half weeks.
Funny, she’d been married to Jeremy for years, and they’d never perfected the physical ebb and flow that she and Kip had down almost immediately.
What does that mean?
Nothing! It meant nothing.
As he kissed her deeper, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in to his firm chest, her heart began to pound. Oddly, though, it wasn’t from being close to Kip, which never failed to get her body’s most passionate response.
It was from the way her mind was racing.
If Kip were to be believed, they’d had their first argument. They were making up.
It did not feel like a working relationship right now. And that was when the truth hit her: it hadn’t ever felt like a working relationship.
At least not for her. Had it for him? God, maybe it was a good thing this was ending tonight.
Kip bit her bottom lip and licked away the sting. “You’re thinking again.”
Guilty. She sighed and pulled back. Questions rioted within her, and as she stared up at him, she knew one of those questions was going to burst out, God help them both. Her lips parted; she braced.
“What made you become a gigolo?”
She wanted to slap a hand over her mouth as Kip’s eyes widened, but damn it, she wanted to know the answer too badly to take it back. And it was a way less embarrassing question than some of the others that had been brewing in her panic. His hands fell from her body, and she nearly groaned.
He puffed a breath, his cheeks billowing for a second. “An accident.”
She tilted her head. “Wait. An . . . accident made you a gigolo? Like, ‘Oops, I’m accidentally fucking you for money’?”
When his head tipped back and a full-bodied laugh poured out of him, she grew even more confused. He lowered his head and looked at her again. “Actually, yeah. Almost exactly like that. Minus the fucking.”
“Okay, you’ve lost me.”
He gave her a half smile and held out his hand. “Come here.”
His hand was warm and comforting as he tugged her across the hotel room, climbed up on the bed, and pulled her onto the mattress after him. He settled them against the headboard and then arranged her across his chest, wrapping his arms around her.
Cuddling her.
They’d never done this before. Though after sex there had been a few tender kisses—more so lately, as a matter of fact—they’d never simply lain around and held each other.
She willed her body to stiffen. To pull away. But she knew it was a lost cause as soon as she had the thought. Her body—traitor that it was—loved this. She nestled her cheek against his shoulder, and her arm drifted across his stomach. She could feel his heartbeat against the inside of her forearm, steady and strong.
“I don’t tell people this story.” His words rumbled through her.
Hard Work Page 12
