by Julie Kenner
“Mmm.”
At his noncommital response, she turned to look at him, but didn’t try to reassure him.
“Well,” he said, “it doesn’t matter now, does it?” With the side of his hand, he stroked her cheek. “That was all a long time ago, right?”
Her breath caught, but she managed a nod. “A lifetime.”
He glided to a stop in front of a valet stand. “Hungry?”
“Supporting the competition?”
He flashed a grin as he handed the keys to the valet. “They make a fabulous crÈme brûlée.”
“Tim’ll have your head if he hears you.”
“You’ll keep my guilty secret, though, won’t you?” He slipped his arm around her waist, and she leaned against him automatically. His arm tightened just slightly, and she realized with a start her proximity to him. For a split second she considered jumping away, but she hadn’t been held in a long, long time and it felt rather nice. Nice, but disconcerting.
When he’d said he wanted her as a condition of helping her, she’d assumed he’d meant sex—wild, hot, passionate sex. But this was Ken she was dealing with. Sweet, innocent, Southern Ken. She should have realized he wasn’t the seduction-for-revenge type. Flirting, sure. But wild sex? Not his style.
Not at all.
And damn if she wasn’t disappointed.
7
ALICIA DRUMMED her fingers on the vanity, her eyes trained on the phone she’d just hung up. She’d known Tina Strombard ever since the little twit had interned for her while Alicia had anchored the news. Now that Tina was Winston Miller’s receptionist, Alicia’d resorted to sending the twit presents. So far, the payoff hadn’t been particularly amazing—a few tidbits about casting, early news about where Miller was filming his latest, general crap Alicia could chat about during her morning show.
But today…well, today she’d hit pay dirt. And she was pissed as hell.
Not one day had passed since Ken Harper had practically patted her on the head and shoved her out the door. He’d made it clear. No filming in his precious restaurant. Certainly can’t do a favor for a woman he used to date. Nothing that might upset the oh-so-mysterious mystique of his precious restaurant. And now he’d gone and opened the door to a full production crew. Not only would they likely be filming for weeks, but Oxygen was going to end up splashed all over a movie screen.
Bastard.
Her fingernails clicked on the wood as her fury grew. What was it Tina had said? Something about sending some tramp location scout to convince Harper to open the restaurant. Well, she must have been awfully persuasive.
She wondered just how persuavive. Had the little bitch just spread her legs and invited Harper in? Alicia imagined so, and that really burned. She’d offered Ken the same, and he’d practically turned up his nose.
What the hell did the little tramp have that she didn’t have? Nothing. Alicia had her own talk show, for God’s sake. And there was no way in hell Alicia was going to believe that Ken preferred a tramp to someone of Alicia’s caliber. No way at all.
And she certainly couldn’t believe that his bimbo location scout was so amazing in bed that Ken would do a complete one-eighty. No, that just wasn’t possible. Something else was going on.
The little witch had something on Ken. Some bit of dirt. Some piece of gossip. Something. But what?
She didn’t have a clue. But she hadn’t earned an Emmy because she didn’t have instincts. She had excellent instincts.
Something wasn’t right. The kind of something that Gavin wanted as spice for her show.
Alicia intended to figure out exactly what that something was.
“SO DID I LIE?” Ken asked.
Lisa looked up, surprise in her beautiful eyes. “Lie?”
They were walking along his favorite section of the Third Street Promenade, near the topiaries designed to look like giant dinosaurs. He stopped at a cart selling espresso and ordered two cappuccinos. “About the crÈme brûlée. It was the best ever, right?”
She laughed. “It was pretty good,” she said.
“I’ve got to figure out a way to get their pastry chef to come work for me.” He paid the vendor and took the drinks.
“Well, just be your usual charming self and I’m sure the chef will fall all over himself to do anything for you.”
“You think?”
They stopped at the corner, and she turned just long enough to flash him a saucy look. “Absolutely. Isn’t that how you got where you are today? Your famous charm?” She cleared her throat, then ran her tongue over her lips before looking away. “Isn’t that why I’m here?”
Sadly, it wasn’t. She was there because she needed him. Nothing more, nothing less.
Except…
There had been moments that had seemed almost normal. Moments when he felt almost right, almost whole. They’d had a wonderful dinner. No games, no double entendres. Just a man and a woman sharing a meal and conversation. They’d talked about everything and nothing—certainly nothing important. She hadn’t mentioned her movie; he hadn’t mentioned their deal. It had almost been like old times.
And now he realized that she was about to burst with curiosity. On his mental scoreboard, he chalked one up for the home team. Before he was through, he intended to score a touchdown.
He slipped his arm around her waist as they turned toward the beach. “You’re not here because I’m just so damn charming. You’re here because you need me, and I insisted you be here.”
“True.” She tilted her head to look him straight in the eye, not the least bit intimidated by the censure in his voice. “But you have to agree you’re pretty persuasive.”
“Persuasive.” He mulled over the word, amused by how she was holding her own. “And here I was hoping for handsome and sexy. At least as hot as…who is it all the women like so much? Mel Gibson? Or is it Russell Crowe now?” He stroked his fingers over the sleeve of her T-shirt, moving down until his fingertips caressed her bare skin. “Either way, I’m willing to settle for persuasive.”
“Oh.” Her hard-fought cool was slipping.
He put his arm around her shoulder to pull her close. “Sure you’re not cold?”
“No.” She glanced down at his fingers grazing the goose bumps on her skin. “Um, I mean, yes. Yes. It’s chilly.”
He took his hand from her shoulder long enough to slide out of his jacket and put it around her shoulders.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
They strolled another block in silence, and Ken fought the urge to touch her again. When they reached the next street, he gave in and took her hand, part of him irritated with himself for giving in to desire so easily, another part of him feeling a little like a high school kid out on his first date. Ironic, since the plans he had for Lisa were anything but prom-night innocent.
As they walked, she looked down at their clasped hands and then back up at him, a smile and a question in her brown eyes. “How about now?”
“Now what?”
“Will you tell me where we’re going now?”
“Wouldn’t you rather it be a surprise?”
“I’ve had a lot of surprises already, and I think there’s a lot more to come. I think I’d like to know this one little thing.”
“For you, anything.” He let go of her hand and spread his arm out in front of him. “We’re here.”
She blinked and looked across the street, then back into his face. He kept his expression serious.
“Here?” she repeated. “The Santa Monica Pier?”
“Absolutely.” He extended his arm in invitation. “Shall we?”
She shook her head, half smiling, but she linked her arm through his, and they walked across the street to the boardwalk leading up to the pier. They walked in silence past the vendors selling cotton candy and roses. To their right, waves broke on the beach that stretched out below the pier, the froth lit up in the moonlight. To the left, a Ferris wheel turned, giving tourists and natives
a romantic view of the city skyline.
“Remember when we came here?” she asked.
Of course he did. “Every detail.” He’d never forgotten a second of their first date.
“Oh, look!” She turned, tugging him with her as she rushed to the glassed-in building on their left. “Well, damn. The carousel’s not running tonight.” She tossed him a sad smile. “Too bad.”
“Would you have taken a ride with me if it were?”
“Why not?”
“We rode it on our first date.” He heard the harshness in his voice and cursed himself for not keeping a better check on his emotions. “I guess I’m not sure if riding it tonight would be nostalgic or callous.”
“Listen, Ken, I don’t know what you think…” When she turned to face him, he saw a tear in her eye, and felt a moment of guilt, wondering if he’d put it there. She straightened her shoulders, the gesture giving her some semblance of control. “Well, I have some idea, considering this little deal you put together, but I want you to know you’re not exactly right.” Her voice was firm.
“How do you know I’m not right if you don’t know what I think?”
“I’m relatively intelligent,” she said. “And I just want you to know I never meant to hurt you.”
He opened his mouth to tell her she’d done a damn good job of it anyway, but he caught himself before the words were out. He wasn’t there to fight about the past; he was there to move on.
She licked her lips. “I’m sorry I never told you that before, but when I left I was thinking of my job. I thought…” She trailed off. “Never mind.”
With effort, he swallowed, managing to force down the lump of tenseness in his throat. He didn’t want to hear her excuses and apologies, and he feared he was going to give in. He was that close to pulling her into his arms and telling her that all was forgiven. But it wasn’t forgiven or forgotten. And he’d do well to not harp on some sentimental image of how it used to be.
“You thought what?” he asked, knowing he shouldn’t be opening that door.
She tilted her head back to look at him, her lashes damp with unshed tears. “I thought we could still see each other.”
He bit back a mirthless laugh. “Even though you’d just run off to New York with another man? Oh, sure. I can see how you thought that had all the makings of a fine relationship.”
“It was a great opportunity. And I wasn’t dating him. Not then. He was just my boss.”
Ken bristled, not sure he believed that. “Even if, you were still thousands of miles away.”
“Couples do it successfully all the time.”
“Maybe. If they’re focusing on their relationship and not their careers.”
“My career is my life. And you had a career, too.”
“I’m not the one who left.” He stopped in the middle of the boardwalk, then waited for her to turn to face him. “That is why you left, right? Your career?”
She nodded.
“And that’s why you came back, too.”
Her lips pressed together, but again, she nodded.
“Seems like I’m always getting sloppy seconds.” The anger he wanted to hide edged into his voice and he fisted his right hand, trying to tamp it down.
“I told you why I came back.” Brusquely, she swiped a lock of hair behind her ear. “I haven’t kept any secrets from you, Ken. You know exactly why I’m here.”
“You’re right. And you know exactly what I want.”
“I thought I did.” She looked around the pier, turning a slow circle. “But…”
“What?”
“I—I don’t know. I’m confused.” She squared her shoulders and continued on before he had a chance to ask what she meant. “I guess I’m unclear if this is one of the places you have in mind for Winston’s movie, or if this is where…well, if this is where…” She lifted one shoulder, the blush on her cheeks obvious even in the dim light. “You know.”
“Where I plan to seduce you?”
“If you plan to seduce me.” She sounded almost disappointed, and he had an inkling of how intrigued she was by his proposal. Good. He wanted her intrigued, wanted her interested and willing and ready for him…when he was ready.
She swallowed, twisting her hands in front of her. “This place is more sweet than hot. I don’t think it’s seduction territory.”
“You don’t?”
When she looked up at him, he thought he saw sadness in the depths of her eyes. “We came here for our first date, Ken. It’s a wonderful place, but I don’t think of it as sexy. It’s special, but it’s sweet.”
“I’m not sure I agree.” He moved toward her, closing his hand on her shoulder when she tried to take a backward step. “I don’t think we’ve explored its full potential.”
She squinted, wary. “What do you mean?”
Combing his fingers through her hair, he bent, breathing in the clean smell of her skin. “For example,” he whispered, “have you ever made love on a Ferris wheel?”
HIS WORDS BLAZED a path of goose bumps down her spine, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. “I, um, no. I can’t say that I have.”
“Maybe it’s something we should try.”
Her head was spinning, and she certainly wasn’t thinking about Winston or her job. Instead, she was about to dissolve into a puddle of mush, simply from the caress of his words.
Running her hands through her hair, she turned and wandered to the edge of the pier to look out over the ocean toward Pacific Palisades, grateful he took his hand off her shoulder and let her go. This wasn’t Ken, not the Ken she knew. He was playing some kind of game. Earlier, he’d been nothing but sweet and innocent. Schoolboyish, almost. A few hours later and he was practically Barry White, seducing her with his voice. And doing a damn good job of it.
She closed her eyes, annoyed with herself. Of course he was playing a game—he was playing it with her. And from what she could tell, he was winning. Certainly if the goal was to make her quake and tremble and imagine his hands running over her body, he’d already won the grand prize.
She heard him move up behind her, then closed her eyes as his hand slid around her waist. “What do you think?”
“About what?” she asked, stalling.
“The Ferris wheel.” He bent until she could feel his warm breath tickling the back of her ear. “Shall we give it a try?”
She must have said yes, because the next thing she knew they were standing in line and the operator was holding the door to the bucket open for her. She stepped in, automatically steadying herself on his arm when the bucket swung from her movements.
As soon as she was seated, Ken sat next to her, and although she could have sworn the bucket was wide enough for both of them, he was practically on top of her. His leg brushed against her, and the point of contact suddenly seemed like the focal point of the entire universe. He rested his arm on the back of the seat, his fingers dangling down to tickle her shoulder. He seemed to be touching her all over, stroking and caressing her, and yet in reality, the only contact between them was one tiny spot on her leg and his fingers on her shoulder.
She swallowed, trying to gain control of her senses. No use. She was hyper-aware, and Ken had become the center of her world.
Next to her, he shifted, and her leg grazed his khakis from hip to knee. Though not blatantly erotic, she’d never been more aware of a simple caress, never so in tune with the movements of her body.
Part of it was because it had been so long since she’d been with a man. She’d avoided dating after Tyrell, telling herself she was content to throw herself into trying to salvage her career. So now the sensations…the way her body warmed and tingled…both enticed and thrilled.
But it was more than just the touch of a man. It was the touch of this man. Ken. The man she’d wanted so desperately all those years ago.
She hadn’t dated in part because of her career, but in moments of honesty she had to admit that she held back partly because she knew she’d never m
eet another Ken. How could she? She’d had him…and she’d walked away.
And now…now the thrill of having him sang through her veins. She’d wanted his touch—no matter what the price—and so she’d agreed to his condition.
But something was different. She’d agreed to his proposition not just because she needed help, but because she knew Ken. He was safe. But this man—this Ken—wasn’t safe. He was dangerous. And Lisa wasn’t sure she knew him at all.
Earlier, when she’d tried on the dress, she’d imagined his hands on her, but she hadn’t fully imagined his presence. Sometime in the past five years, Ken had become more than just a man—he’d become purely male, so male she could practically smell the testosterone, and damn if she didn’t want to drown in it.
The wheel creaked as they moved backward, and she started. He moved his arm from the seat to her shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine. I just haven’t been in one of these things in a while.” The wheel lurched, and she squealed, then flashed him a sheepish look. “Sorry.”
The corner of his mouth curved up but, to his credit, he didn’t tease her, at least not out loud.
They made half the circle, and ended up at the very top, the ocean spread out behind them, and the lights of Los Angeles in front.
He took his arm from around her shoulder, then stroked her cheek with the side of his hand. “Beautiful view.”
“It is,” she agreed. When she turned to him, his grin widened, and she realized he wasn’t talking about the view at all. “Oh. Thank you. I wasn’t sure you’d want to pay me a compliment, all things considered.”
“It’s not a compliment. I’m just stating a fact. No matter what happened between us five years ago, you are beautiful.”
She turned, ostensibly to look in the opposite direction, but really because she didn’t want him to see that her eyes had filled with tears. She’d wanted sweet words, and instead she got a backhanded compliment mixed with a subtle jibe.
Not that she should care. If she could make peace with Ken, great. But that wasn’t her priority; it wasn’t why she was here. She needed to get over this moodiness and to keep her eye on the ball. She had no excuse, none, not even PMS. And that made the fact that he turned her blood to fire all the more frustrating.
