Passionate Kisses

by Various

  He chuckles and slides next to me. "Nora. Our sex life is great. We don't need toys, or ‘on the fly’, whatever that means. We don't need to go there."

  He reaches over and moves the pillow. I stare at his face; he is so much calmer now. I am amazed at how quickly he went from withering to calm, a little scary, really. A smile plays around the corner of his mouth.

  "Fine. Next time, I won't listen to her. I'm sorry.” I drag the pillow back over my face. This is what my friends don’t realize; there is no changing Darren.

  Life is so much easier when I just don’t care. Go with the flow, open to anything. It’s just better that way, given how scheduled and rigid he is. But I have to say, I didn’t expect outrage at one little suggestion.

  I feel his hand on my stomach, and I know what's next. It's what we always do on Sunday afternoons. There will be no more discussions about sex toys or adventures outside the bedroom. I willfully submit to the next item on the weekly schedule. He moves the pillow and kisses my neck.

  I awake sometime later and note early evening light is streaming into the hallway outside the bedroom. I feel Darren move next to me as he rolls over. He smiles, his short, light brown hair clinging to his scalp. Sitting up, he sweeps his hand over his head and his just-fucked look goes back to boardroom-ready hair. I watch, dismayed.

  Reaching for his pants, he asks, "What time is it?"

  My stomach drops. Why, I couldn’t tell you. For three years our schedule has worked fine. Lately though, it’s been grating on me. Every Sunday leaves me feeling empty and used. Why doesn't he ever stay over?

  "Just after six. Want some dinner?" I let the rest linger, still hoping.

  "Dinner?" He looks perplexed.

  This is outside the norm. Yeah, I know, but still, one day he might just say yes. I stand up and put on a long shirt.

  "Um. I think I better go." He stands and sweeps me into his arms. "That was amazing, Nora. See, we need nothing." He shoots a breath through his teeth, "Wow!"

  "You're not so bad yourself."

  He takes a step closer and nuzzles my neck, "So, you’re ready for a little rough play?"

  Huh? I look at him, confused.

  "Earlier you let it slip that you want me to take you passionately. Did you have a place in mind?"

  I said that out loud? My heart leaps into my mouth. On the street, in the theatre, in your car, so many images flash through my mind I can't speak.

  "Next time, maybe I'll take you on the couch!" He growls low in my ear.

  I let out a long breath, of course the couch, silly me. "Yeah, that would be fun to try," I say, hiding the disappointment in my voice. He kisses me on the forehead and then gathers his belongings.

  Darren stands at the door, ready to leave, but unexpectedly he turns around and grabs me, pulling me into his arms. His mouth clamping down on mine, his tongue thrusting into my mouth while he holds me close.

  "Mmmm, don’t forget, now that I know you’re ready, I may take you by surprise one day." His smile is slightly sardonic.

  This takes me back, and my breath catches in my throat. Oh my, a new Darren?

  "Okay Darr, I'll be ready for you." I start to kiss him again, but he pulls away and is out the door before I get a chance, leaving me breathless and wanting. And alone.

  Walking back through my apartment, I begin to gather my scattered thoughts. Darren is odd, but he has always been odd. He doesn't like to sleep here, and he adamantly believes that Sunday nights are for getting ready for Mondays. While there is some truth to that, I’m beginning to feel slighted at the end of most weekends.

  The distance between our two apartments is less than eight miles, but Woodside is worlds away from Redwood City. A while back I thought we should just move in together, but he wasn’t ready. Our arrangement was stable, he argued, so why would we mess it up? I'll see Darren again on Wednesday night, our midweek get together.

  With a sigh, I pick up the tiny rubber ring. Who knew such a small thing could cause so much turmoil? I have to say, after that fight we had the best sex we've had in months, so it wasn't a total loss.

  Maybe tonight I won't feel so depressed and wanting. Sunday nights often leave me with too much time to think about finally starting my real life, going to law school and becoming who I am supposed to be. Maybe tonight I can appreciate Darren, and all of his quirkiness, and focus on my upcoming week. My stomach tightens just thinking about it.

  This week at work will be excruciating. I have ten days to finish preparations for a huge annual meeting, and this one is going to be a challenge. Funnily enough, it's for a large law firm. So now everyday, I get to work for the people who hold my dream job, instead of with them. The irony is not lost on me.

  Chucking the ring in the trash, I square my shoulders and resolve to forget about the whole thing today with Darren. Now it's time to focus on getting ready for my week from hell. Laying out my clothes for tomorrow, I set out my black pencil skirt and matching jacket. I want to wear my heels, but Darren hates them, so to the back of the closet they go. I only bring them out when I need that added bit of confidence, or I'm out with the girls.

  At five feet, ten inches it’s not like I need them anyway, still, I used to love wearing them. I pull out a red blouse that will hopefully make my green eyes pop. I have some stress lines around my eyes, but other than that, my face still looks about my age, 24. Too close to 25, a quarter of a century!

  I’ll deal with my boring, brown, straight hair tomorrow. Maybe I won’t wash it and put it up in a bun. Oh, what I would do for bright red, curly hair and a feisty personality to match! I spend the rest of the evening holding the panic at bay with the thought that I’m still working at my just out of college job, and haven't yet started my real life.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I'm kicking ass today! Real life or not, I’ve got a job to do. I woke up refreshed and ready to go. As I head out the door, I grab my briefcase and keys and smile. I am the lead event coordinator for the company's largest client to-date. One hundred and sixty lawyers from Reade, Foster, and Cole, a corporate firm in Palo Alto, have commissioned us for their annual meeting. All of their associates, partners, and staff are having a two day meeting with break-out sessions, catered lunches, fine dining, and conference room lectures next Tuesday and Wednesday. It's my job to make sure that everything is exactly the way Mrs. Foster and Mr. Cole want it. It's a huge nod from David that I am running this event, and proof that I am moving up the ladder. A thought that makes me cringe, oddly enough.

  Twenty minutes later, I pull into the parking lot of David Chappelle Premiere Events in Palo Alto. Not a bad commute time for the El Camino Real. I hate the commute, but no matter which side street or alternative route I try, it takes 20 to 30 minutes to get to work. It's only 7:30 in the morning, and I know I’m going to have a great Monday. I’m hoping for at least an hour of pure quiet and concentration in the office before the chaos begins.

  Walking into the overly large and slightly ostentatious doors, that fantasy gets blown out of the water. The office is already buzzing, and seems to be ramping up to total chaos. What the heck is going on? So much for getting an early start.

  "What's all this?" I ask our new receptionist, Abby, who usually doesn't get in until nine.

  "Oh. Hi, Nora. David is freaking out, and Colleen thought their team should get an early start. We all came in at seven this morning. Someone brought donuts and coffee, if you want some. Just don’t tell Colleen or Sophia, and don’t tell anyone I told you!" she says with a smile. Oh, I like this one!

  "Thanks." I laugh. Poor Sophia. When the job came up for David's assistant we all tried to tell her to run for the hills, but freelance writing wasn't cutting it, and she was getting desperate.

  To avoid the chaos, I scuttle off to my office. Everyone is working on a number of smaller events, but all of them are high stress, far away and logistically challenging, to say the least. I was relieved when I was assigned the annual meeting.

  Julie, m
y co-conspirator on this project, walks into my office at nine with a smirk on her face and two large blueberries muffins in hand. Technically, she’s the project assistant, but she is much more than that, and we both know it. However, I am still in charge, and it will be my head that rolls if things don't go as planned.

  "Check these out! I just swiped them from the break room. Sophia’s having food brought in to keep the troops happy, but no amount of cookies and snacks can make up for David's tirades."

  Julie has dark cropped hair, almost black, with dark blue, alluring eyes. She is just under 5'5", but that never seems to stop her from filling the room.

  "What the heck is happening out there? I’ve been hiding in here, going over the final contract and the plan book."

  She sets down a large muffin covered with brown sugar and humongous blueberries, and my mouth starts to water. I take a big bite, the sugar and dough crumbling on my desk. Oh, they are so good I groan.

  "I know, right? No idea, but I like the food they bring in."

  We sit and munch our stolen goods. Looking up as I take another huge bite, I see that she, too, is shoving a large piece of muffin into her mouth with a look of ecstasy on her face. Just then, Sophia opens the door to my office. Oh, she looks pissed.

  "Really, guys? You leave me completely alone to deal with David and his psychotic fits, but you steal my food and don't even tell me?"

  "Hmm hummu mumnjp!" Julie tries to speak, but can't. I burst out laughing, spewing muffin and sugar over everything on my desk. Thankfully, Sophia starts laughing too.

  "Sorry! Sophie, I was trying to stay out of your way," I say when I recover enough to speak.

  She comes in and sinks into the nearest chair. Her blonde hair is bedraggled looking, not her usual office style. She looks exhausted and stressed to the max, her pale blue blood shot eyes close as she slumps in the chair.

  "God, I hate Mondays. Why did I take this job?" Just then, we hear David in the hall, calling for her. "Crap." She jumps up and ducks out.

  "Yikes." Julie turns back to me. "Okay. I wanted to let you know, Mrs. Foster is coming over with Mr. Cole at two. And." She waits a beat. "I can't find the flowers she wants for the tables. And." She waits again as I dread what will come next, "The hotel called to say we can't have the Cypress Room, only the Oak Room."

  "What!" I jump up. "What do you mean? We've had the Cypress Room booked for over two months. We can't fit them all into the Oak Room.” I pause to take a breath. “What else?" I ask, adrenaline surging through my blood; this can't be healthy.

  "The marketing package is back-ordered, and the writing pads with the logos aren't ready." Julie stands up, signaling that she is finally done with her report.

  "Ugh. Okay. I'm going to need lunch here today, so if you hear of anyone going for a run, let me know." I give her my best arched eyebrow.

  After making a few unsuccessful calls to the printer and the hotel manager, I go back to the contract and plan book. The meeting today is to go over everything, and make sure that Mrs. Foster and Mr. Cole approve of it all. I swear, the way those two old fogies fuss, you would think they have never held an annual meeting before. Maybe they haven't? This is the first time they’ve done one with us.

  At two o'clock, the bright red Mercedes drives into the lot, signaling me to get ready. I’m standing by the entrance waiting for the doors to open while Julie is in the conference room, ready with plan books, fruit, and water. Thankfully, the rest of the office is calm and quiet for the first time all day.

  Just as the doors open, Abby comes rushing by and knocks into me. I feel my back slam into the wall. Stumbling, I recover as quickly as possible. Not quickly enough, though, as I see Mrs. Foster watching me adjust my skirt.

  "Oh, my girl. Are you okay?" She shrills with a slight, albeit completely fake, British accent. I've only been able to guess that it goes with her style of dress. Mrs. Foster’s white hair curls around her head, and she tends to dress as if she is part of the monarchy. Today she is wearing a bright yellow suit with a small pill box hat pinned to her coiffure to match. She is short and fairly stooped, I suppose from years of working over a desk.

  "Yes. I’m fine.” I quickly brush the hair out of my eyes and try to compose myself as Abby scurries off.

  "Oh good. Today Ryan is here with me. Mr. Cole is working on a case and couldn't be disturbed." She points to a young man standing next to her. I missed him completely in my fluster.

  My heart stops when I see him. He’s the stranger from Jack London’s. I’m frozen, I can’t breath, I just stand there looking at him like an idiot. Another surge of adrenaline rushes into my body, but this time it doesn’t hurt as it makes its way through my blood. He is exquisitely dressed, wearing a black suit jacket, black pants, black shoes, and a black tie, with a crisp, bright white linen shirt. The contrast is striking, dramatic.

  His hair is styled back, but still a little long for your typical businessman. In this light I can see his strong jaw and perfect nose. He’s even better looking than I remembered and my entire body is reacting to his presence. Snapping out of it, my eyes meet his. They are two-toned, chestnut brown and copper, clear and cunning. I take him in and smile.

  I reach out my hand to introduce myself, "Nice to finally meet you, Ryan. I'm Nora, the coordinator for this event."

  He thrusts his hand into mine, "That's Mr. Cole, please," he says, icily.

  My body cools under his touch. Am I wrong? Is this not the man I shared that dance with? I sigh and flash a tight smile, embarrassed. I guess he’s just the boss’s son, not the sexy stranger I danced with. But damn, he looks exactly like him. This is going to be a long meeting.

  As we enter the conference room, Julie looks up and notices Ryan right away. She looks at me and gives me her holy cow look. I quickly nod my head, yeah I noticed, no, it’s not him. She shrugs ever so slightly.

  "Hi, I'm Julie. I'll be working with Nora on your event." She offers her hand to Daddy's boy, Mr. Cole. Julie is so good at introductions and charming people. She is so socially aware and confident, two things I completely lack.

  Mr. Cole shakes her hand and introduces himself again. I see her eyebrows arch slightly in surprise, but she quickly recovers and we get down to business.

  We all sit and Mrs. Foster reaches for the plan book. Mr. Cole sits a few seats away from her and looks petulant.

  "To begin, I thought we could go over the plan book and make sure everything is set to your specifications."

  I stand again and offer Mr. Cole a book. He looks surprised when I hand him one. Our eyes meet and my heart leaps into my throat. His eyes are swirling deep chestnut brown and copper. He looks so much like my stranger, I’m having a hard time believing his twin is in my conference room. Smiling quickly he takes the book from me. I take a deep breath and walk back to my seat.

  Mrs. Foster is adamant about the flowers, and we assure her that we can find the Amaryllis for the table pieces; I want to ask what is wrong with carnations but don't.

  "And the tables, the room is big enough for 40 tables. That’s four to a table. Is that in the book, too?" Mrs. Foster is flipping through the plan book looking for the room schematics.

  Julie starts to speak, but I cut her off. "Yes, it is. Forty tables, and we still have enough for water tables on each side and a snack table in the back. It will be tight, but we can do it."

  Julie shoots her eyebrows up in a questioning arch. I shake my head at her before glancing at Daddy's boy, who has been sitting quietly this entire time. I wonder what on earth he is doing here. It’s obvious that he has no interest in this at all. While he spaces out, I watch him closely. His face is captivating. He is cleanly shaven with high cheekbones and a narrow nose that sits perfectly on his face. Those alluring eyes are framed with dark, neat eyebrows. The complete package is akin to art. His entire being screams well-bred, his hair the only hint of rebellion.

  As if feeling my eyes on him, he looks directly at me and meets my stare. I feel a wave of heat
creeping up my face. A trace of a smile crosses his mouth, and for the first time since we sat down, he looks vaguely interested. Holy shit, can he read my mind?

  Julie senses my distraction and jumps in. "Was there anything else we needed to go over before we finalize these plans?"

  "Well, that about covers it. The note pads will be at each chair in the Cypress conference room?" Mrs. Foster asks as she stands.

  "Yes, of course." I say before Julie can answer her direct question with the latest bit of bad news. I am determined to fix that.

  "Excellent. Oh, and Ryan will be staying with you two for the duration of preparations to ensure everything is to our satisfaction." Mrs. Foster smiles her best courtroom smile at us.

  Crap, that’s why he’s here. No wonder he’s so sullen and pouty. He's on a babysitting mission.

  "Great," I smile back at her to cover my surprise. "I look forward to the help." I look him in the eye on that one. He smiles back but does not look pleased.

  "Good, I knew you kids would get along." She turns to Ryan, um, Mr. Cole, "Ryan, be a dear and walk me back to my car."

  He looks up at us and stands. "I guess I'll be right back, then." I hear the dripping sarcasm in his voice. Excellent, just what I needed today.

  Julie turns to me after they leave the room and rolls her eyes. "Are you kidding me? We’re being watched by the owner's son?"

  "I didn’t see that coming!" I say, reeling.

  “Doesn’t he look like—?” Julie starts

  “Remarkably so but no, that’s not him. Too bad, that guy would be a lot of fun to work with!” I say, my eyebrows wagging.

  "What are you going to do with him?" Julie asks while cleaning up the table.

  "I could come up with a few things." I say sardonically.

  She looks at me in shock.

  "For Pete’s sake. I'll put him to work. We can use all the help we can get." I snap at her.

  Mr. Cole walks back into the room, his hair tussled from the wind. I wish he wasn't quite so good looking. He walks right up to me, standing as tall as he can, over six feet, I would guess. I meet his eyes; it feels good to look up into a man's eyes for a change.