Harlequin KISS November 2014 Box Set: Behind Closed Doors...Fired by Her FlingWho's Calling the Shots?Nine Month Countdown

by Anne Oliver

Staring out of the window, she toyed with the idea of going out. The sun was pouring down onto an unseasonably bright and balmy London, but she couldn’t quite be bothered.

  It had absolutely nothing to do with wanting to see what Tristan would send next or what might be written in the note that came with it.

  Nothing at all.

  Just as the discomfiting heat of her self-denial began to warm her face, there was another loud jolt on the buzzer.

  A brand-new pair of top-of-the-range headphones was waiting for her this time. She signed the courier’s electronic pad and took them eagerly into the house, pulling them out of the box to study them properly. She’d been meaning to get herself a pair of these for a while. They had amazing sound quality and were incredibly comfortable, which was imperative when you had to wear them for hours at a time.

  He’d really thought about all his gifts, targeting them directly at her needs and whims.

  Clever. Very clever.

  She pulled off the note taped to the box and read it with her heart in her mouth.

  You are appreciated. We need you here. Please come back.

  PS If you line the cards up, the first vertical row will tell you how I’m feeling right about now.

  PPS I’ll be picking you up for dinner at eight p.m. and we’ll get into those ‘perks’ that we never got around to discussing yesterday.

  Wear what you like. I suspect you look good in everything you own.

  Tristan

  Exhilaration, driven by pure unadulterated excitement, shot straight through her. What did he mean by ‘perks’? Was he referring to business-type bonuses or an altogether more saucy sort of incentive?

  Her heart banged in her chest and she had to sit down as the sudden excess of adrenaline made her woozy.

  She read the note still clutched in her trembling fingers again: ...line the cards up, the first vertical row will tell you how I’m feeling...

  Gathering all the notes together, she placed them one above the other in the order they’d been sent and scanned down the first letter of each word.

  SORRY

  It felt as though something tight and hard had finally broken inside her, coating her insides with a delicious warmth.

  Okay, so he was capable of apologising properly and he certainly didn’t do things by halves, but the man was so presumptuous telling her to be ready to go out at eight o’clock when he had no idea whether she was busy tonight or even prepared to give him her answer yet.

  She couldn’t stop a wide grin from breaking across her face.

  She really liked that about him. She liked it a lot.

  Quite possibly more than she should.

  * * *

  Tristan smoothed down his hair one more time before pressing the buzzer to Tallulah’s apartment.

  He hoped the deliveries he’d sent over had softened her up a little—at least enough to give him an opportunity to talk her round.

  After all his years of heading up a business, he couldn’t believe he’d propelled the radio station into such turmoil after he’d only been responsible for it for one day. He’d never made such an ill thought-out, emotionally driven mistake in his life and it was all down to the woman who lurked behind this door.

  He seemed to have found his nemesis.

  He’d been thinking about her all day, wondering what her reactions had been to each present and feeling a strange disappointment that he hadn’t been there to witness her delight—or disdain—as each one arrived.

  He hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself earlier, but he was actually looking forward to taking her out to dinner this evening and having the opportunity to get to know her a little better.

  Not that he was expecting any kind of serious relationship to develop here—he wasn’t ready for that so soon after the fallout of the last one—but he wouldn’t say no to another night in the sack with her.

  Would she even entertain the notion?

  He had absolutely no clue.

  The woman was a total conundrum, so much so, he had no idea what to expect when Lu opened the door to him this time—assuming that she did of course. Maybe she’d have deliberately gone out to make a point.

  At least the things he’d sent over seemed to have been taken in and hadn’t been left in a rejected heap by her front door.

  He waited, nerves thrumming, for a few more seconds before reaching for the buzzer again. He didn’t want to seem too eager. Based on his previous experience with her, he needed to keep his cool if he was in with a chance of resolving this quickly and successfully.

  Just as he gave in to his impatience and moved to push the buzzer again the door swung open to reveal Tallulah in all her glory.

  And she really did look glorious. She was wearing a knee-length black dress that hugged her voluptuous curves. The neckline was low, but not too revealing, giving a tantalising glimpse of those magnificent breasts and her hair was swept back into some sort of elegant knot at the back of her head. She looked businesslike but classy. And very sexy.

  ‘You look lovely,’ he said, experiencing a swell of satisfaction as he clocked her answering smile.

  ‘You weren’t expecting to find me dressed for dinner?’ She looked back at him from under her eyelashes with mischief in her expression.

  He battled to ignore an extra hard pulse of sexual heat as he recognised it as the same look she’d given him the other night in his hotel room.

  ‘To be honest, you’re a bit of an unknown quantity at the moment,’ he said on a grin.

  She chuckled. ‘Actually, I did consider going out in my band T-shirt, sweats and heeled slippers—which I love by the way—but I thought it might seem rather petty.’

  He nodded; pleased she’d acknowledged the slippers and seemed to have appreciated the gesture. He’d worried that that particular present could have gone down very badly, considering how touchy she seemed to be about her height. Luckily humour appeared to have won out. ‘So you went for pretty over petty.’

  Colour flushed across her cheeks at his blatant flattery.

  ‘You’re full of compliments today, aren’t you?’ she purred, the tone of her voice implying she knew his game and wasn’t falling for it that easily.

  ‘Just trying to claw back some goodwill,’ he said, leaning in closer to her.

  She took a small step back and narrowed her eyes; giving him such a taunting look he felt the power of it deep in his chest. Desire rushed more heat down his spine, but he swept away his urge to push her up against the wall and kiss that look right off her face.

  He needed to stay focused and remember they had business to take care of first.

  Clenching his hands into fists for strength against the tempting urges, he gestured back out into the hallway of the apartments. ‘So, are you ready?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, turning to grab her bag and coat from a hook on the wall.

  ‘Then let’s go.’

  * * *

  Tristan had called in a favour from a friend and snagged a table at his new restaurant, which was currently the hippest—and most eye-wateringly expensive—joint in town, wanting to ram home to Tallulah that he wasn’t messing about here.

  After the taxi dropped them off outside, he guided her in through the large dark-tinted glass doors and gave his name to the maître d’.

  They were ushered through the dining room, which appeared to be styled like some kind of 1970s diner—all dark wooden panels, squared off chrome fixtures and boxy orange leather booths—to an octagonal, glass-topped table at the back.

  Their waiter brought over complimentary glasses of Appletini and a small bowl of spiced nuts while they perused the menu.

  Neither of them said anything to the other until they’d given their food and drink orders, but the tension hummed between them like
a stripped livewire.

  Lula was the first to break the silence as she watched their waiter walk away.

  ‘So.’ She crossed her arms in front of her, which automatically drew his eyes to her impressive chest.

  He flicked his gaze back up quickly, not wanting to be caught ogling her. Damn, if this wasn’t doing his head in. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he didn’t already know how amazing she felt pressed against him and how sweet she’d tasted. How moreish.

  Shifting in his seat, he tried not to give away how turned on he was just from sitting opposite her with those incredible memories dancing through his head. ‘So. Thank you for coming back to Flash.’

  She smiled down at the table. ‘I haven’t agreed to it yet.’

  ‘Ah, but you will.’

  Her gaze snagged with his. ‘You’re very sure of yourself.’

  He shrugged. ‘We both know Flash has the potential to be an outstanding radio station—which means accolades and upward career moves for anyone working there—and that you’re the best DJ there by a mile. Everyone I’ve spoken to says so.’

  She was looking at him with a concentrated frown on her face now, which she forced into a sad little smile when he raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

  ‘It’s really nice to hear that,’ she said. ‘No one’s ever told me that before. Jez wasn’t particularly good at boosting staff morale.’

  ‘So I’ve heard.’

  ‘I guess I should thank you for taking my concerns seriously. In the end.’

  He leant forwards, splaying his hands onto the table in front of him in a gesture of total openness. ‘Look, I apologise for that. I wasn’t as focussed as I should have been during that session. Meeting you and doing what we did,’ he shifted in his seat as his body responded to the memories again, ‘wasn’t the norm for me. I’ve just come out of a four-year relationship and wasn’t looking for that to happen. It caught me by surprise, and I’m not good with surprises.’

  He took a sip of his drink to cover his discomfort. It was harder than he’d anticipated, talking about how he’d reacted to what had happened. It was bringing back the rumblings of unease he’d been supressing since Marcy had left him.

  He shook it off and focussed his attention back on her.

  She was giving him a speculating look. Was she wondering about how they moved forwards from here too?

  ‘I hope it won’t effect our working relationship because once you come back,’ he gave her a meaningful look, ‘you’re going to have to put up with having me as your boss until I can find a new Station Manager to take over.’

  She stared at him for a moment, her eyes wide, then nodded slowly. ‘I guess I should thank you for all the gifts and notes you sent today. I’m very impressed that you remembered all that about me.’ She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear and he noticed her fingers were shaking.

  ‘I bet no woman has ever resisted your wooing,’ she continued, smiling now. ‘If the way you handle your relationships is anything like the way you handle business affairs, they wouldn’t stand a chance. I bet they’re putty in your hands!’

  From the colour of her cheeks it was clear she thought she’d said too much and he experienced an unnerving urge to help her out of her babble loop.

  ‘To be honest, I’ve never sent a woman flowers before.’ He frowned. ‘Not that I should be admitting to that.’

  ‘Really?’ she raised her eyebrows. ‘Maybe that’s why your last relationship broke up.’ She followed her comment with a smile, which quickly dropped off her face when she saw he wasn’t smiling back.

  It had suddenly struck him, like a lead bar to the stomach, that he’d never sent anything of a personal nature to Marcy, or any of his other girlfriends, come to think of it. He’d bought them things, sure, but the gifts had never been targeted to them as individuals. They’d been cold, hard objects—symbols of his wealth and status.

  He gave himself an internal shake. Time to move the conversation away from him and back onto her.

  ‘What led you to become a DJ?’ he asked, leaning back in his chair and attempting to relax his tense shoulders.

  ‘I like the way it allows me to be in control of the conversation.’ She flashed him a self-conscious grin, which he returned this time.

  There was a pause in which she straightened her cutlery on the table.

  ‘I spent a lot of time in my own head when I was young and there’s something really freeing about being given a microphone to speak into without having to see people’s reactions to what you’re saying. Also, I like that people are interested in my opinions and that I can spark interesting conversations with the power of my voice.’

  Her cheeks were pink again and he wondered which bit of her answer had made her uncomfortable.

  ‘Why did you spend so much time in your own head?’

  Her gaze flicked to meet his, the expression in her eyes wary.

  Yup. That bit.

  She sighed. ‘My parents were really young when they had me and hadn’t been together very long—they met at University. Obviously, I wasn’t planned. They were both ambitious and wanted to build their careers and didn’t exactly have a harmonious relationship. They’re both really fiery tempered and after one of their arguments they often wouldn’t speak to each other for weeks.’

  She gave a little shiver. ‘There’s a very particular type of silence between two people who are angry with each other and it made for a really tense atmosphere in the house. I was their only medium of communication—I had to pass messages between them—and I used to get caught in the crossfire of resentment.’ She grimaced and put the tips of two fingers against her temple, pretending to pull a trigger. ‘Shooting the messenger.’

  ‘Sounds hellish.’

  ‘Yeah, well, it wasn’t a lot of fun. I’m not a big fan of confrontation so I spent a lot of time hiding out in my room.’

  ‘You’re an only child?’

  ‘I was then. I have two half-sisters on my mum’s side and a stepbrother on my dad’s now.’

  He nodded, starting to understand where she was coming from.

  ‘They were very good at providing all the material stuff I needed though, can’t fault them for that,’ she said, with a forced brightness in her voice. ‘My dad paid to put me through University and bought me my apartment to live in. He’s very good at buying his way out of a problem.’ She pinched her eyebrows together in derision.

  Tristan felt another thump of disquiet as he thought about how he’d been guilty of the same behaviour whenever he’d upset Marcy by point blank refusing to discuss getting married.

  ‘What did they argue about?’ he asked, not wanting to dwell on the troubling insight.

  ‘Ugh! Everything—although mainly about whether they were going to get married.’

  His stomach sank further as he realised he’d walked out of the frying pan and straight into the conversational fire.

  ‘My mum really wanted to, but my dad was dead against it,’ Lula continued, totally oblivious to how much this topic was making him squirm. ‘I think my mum felt he didn’t love her enough to make the commitment and it eroded their relationship so much she went off and had an affair, which split them up. She’s married to the guy she cheated on my dad with now and couldn’t be happier.’

  Tristan snorted, appalled that she clearly believed matrimony was some sort of magic fix. ‘Really? My father’s been married five times and it’s never made him happy.’

  ‘Wow, that’s—er—’ She was clearly lost for words.

  ‘Obscene? Yeah. My mum died when I was twelve and he got married again six months after we buried her.’

  ‘How did that make you feel?’

  He shrugged. ‘At the time I was really angry because it was as if he was disrespecting my mum’s memory by moving on
so fast—as if she hadn’t even existed, but I came to realise he just couldn’t bear to be alone.’

  He cocked a disparaging eyebrow. ‘I wouldn’t have minded so much, but I’d just started to get to like my new stepmother when he dumped her and moved on to the next one. Then the next one, then the next.’

  He snorted and ran a hand over his hair. ‘I stopped letting myself get close to any of his wives or girlfriends pretty quickly after that. As far as I’ve seen, marriage is nothing but an expensive court case waiting to happen.’

  He looked at her to find she was staring at him in dismay.

  He flipped her a grin. ‘Hey, just ignore me, it’s a subject that gets me fired up. That’s all.’

  She frowned as if she’d found what he said sad.

  Luckily, their food arrived then and they tucked in, giving him a few moments to pull himself together.

  What the hell was he doing talking to her about this stuff? They barely knew each other and here he was spilling his guts. He needed to slap a lid on that quickly—but she was just so easy to talk to with her open expression and kind eyes.

  ‘So, what are these perks you mentioned in your note?’ she murmured after another minute of silence, not looking at him while she worked her knife carefully through her sirloin steak.

  He rested his cutlery on the plate while he addressed her question, glad to get back to a subject he felt comfortable with. ‘Well, Jez had a company mobile phone and a taxi allowance for getting to any functions he attended as the lead presenter at the station...’

  He ran through a couple of other entitlements, which to him made the whole deal sound like something someone would be crazy to turn down. When he’d finished, she nodded and gave a small controlled smile. Could she really have been expecting more? ‘That’s a good package, Tallulah.’

  Her gaze met his and something like disappointment flashed across her face.

  ‘It’s a very good package,’ she said, sounding as though she really believed it. So why the long face?

  He decided to wait until they’d finished eating before pressing on with more business talk, asking her instead about what she liked about living in London and how she spent her downtime.