by Sara Daniel
She didn’t fight for him or try to save him from his new, unwanted date. No, she marched out of the restaurant without looking back.
Jamie advanced on him, and he wasted precious minutes trying to untangle himself from her grasp. He worked his way to the door just as a taxi sped away from the curb, Gretchen silhouetted in the backseat. He stared down the street long after the cab’s taillights had been swallowed by the rest of the city traffic.
His first date in a year had walked out on him before the meal arrived. But his ego wasn’t as bruised as his hopes for starting something with Gretchen. At some point, his generic interest in enjoying an evening out with a sexy, intriguing woman had morphed into a very personal interest in her alone. He sighed and returned inside to settle up with the wait staff.
“Hey, Kyle, can I buy you a drink?” A vaguely familiar woman materialized alongside him. “You know, for old time’s sake.” She winked.
He shifted away, embarrassed he had no recollection of their “old time” together. Jamie was curled around a tall, dark-haired man at the bar. Two more women tucked scraps of paper with their phone numbers into his pocket.
While he waited for the valet to retrieve his car, he pulled the papers out to toss in the nearby trash. Gretchen’s business card fell out too. “Gretchen Meyers, Certified Financial Planner.” He stared at the business address, Web site, social-media contacts, phone numbers, and professional certifications embossed on the front, then flipped it to her personal information scribbled on the other side.
When he’d started modeling as a lonely eighteen-year-old kid, he’d loved when women fought over him. But he hadn’t loved watching Gretchen abandon him. As much as he’d wanted her to put Jamie in her place, he didn’t want to be a fought-over object anymore.
Relationships based on idolizing the physical perfection of the other’s body had gotten old by the time he turned twenty-five. He could spot implants and Botox at fifty paces. If the women didn’t notice his new imperfection right away, they’d find out soon enough. He didn’t want to pretend a little photo touch-up would fix everything. He couldn’t offer perfection. The Army had recognized it first. If he stuck around, the modeling world would, too, but this time he’d chosen to reject them before they could reject him.
Chapter Three
He sent flowers to her apartment on Sunday. He had chocolates waiting on her desk when she came into work on Monday. Somehow Gretchen wasn’t surprised to see Kyle sitting in a chair inside her corner office on Tuesday morning.
Aside from her personal hurt feelings and disappointment, their date on Saturday had been a tremendous success. He’d picked a restaurant frequented by people in the business, showing without words how much he wanted his modeling life back. And Jamie, although not the person Gretchen would have chosen, had been the perfect lure to remind him of what he’d been missing, something she, in her plus-size clothing, couldn’t offer.
She’d also had time to analyze the meaning behind the flowers and the chocolates. As much as she’d tried to make a gracious exit, her actions still suggested the other woman’s interruption had upset her. As such, Kyle’s gifts were an attempt to soothe her ego and get on her good side.
Totally unnecessary, of course. Desperation trumped pride in her quest to bring him back to the Zola Modeling Agency. Her mother had been an insufferable bundle of I told you so after Gretchen had returned from their failed date within an hour.
She turned to her secretary. “Hold my calls, and push back my morning appointments.”
“Holy cow, he’s yummy. Where did you find him?” she whispered. “Please tell me he’s your client, and he’s in such bad financial shape he’s going to need to come back here every single day. I’m on a diet, so I’m in desperate need of calorie-free eye candy.”
“Tell me about it. He’s my mother’s client. But until Mother gets an office of her own, I’m letting her use our conference room. Can you call and tell her Kyle Ramsey is here and she has a job to do?”
Gretchen squared her shoulders and headed for her office. “Kyle.” She closed the office door behind her and then faced him. “So glad to see you’ve had a change of heart. The DeAngelo Vurberuchi job looks better the more you think about it, doesn’t it?”
“Vurberuchi has nothing to do with why I’m here.”
The restaurant scene, then, had done its job. She’d have to send Jamie flowers. No, she’d send a box of fattening chocolates instead. “Did you enjoy your evening after I left?”
His gaze narrowed, and he pushed himself out of the chair. “Did you arrange with Jamie to drop by our table?”
“How could I, when I had no idea where we were going for dinner until we were there?” Not to mention, she’d have preferred to sever essential body parts than ask Jamie Feldman for anything. But her irrational possessiveness was her own problem. “The important thing is you had a good time, and you’re ready to make up for everything you’ve been missing over the past year.”
“Those things aren’t important at all.” He advanced on her slowly.
She took a step back and came up against the door she’d closed a moment before.
Kyle flashed a predatory smile. He took her purse and briefcase from her shoulder, setting them aside. Then he rested his forearms on either side of her head and stared into her eyes, his lips a scant inch from hers as he spoke. “I’m here for you. Our date deserves another shot.”
Her heart thundered. The thick eyelashes framing his gray-green eyes mesmerized her. He stood too near for her to formulate a coherent response. This much physical perfection and sex appeal should be outlawed. Her mind was not equipped to handle it.
“What do you say?” he asked.
Yes, take me. “I say, why me?” Her voice rose with an embarrassing squeak as she struggled to compose a rational argument and remind herself she was in her office, just feet away from her employees who’d never seen her anything less than one hundred percent professional. “I get why you went out with me on Saturday. You’d shut yourself away from the world, and I was the first woman to find you. But you’ve been reminded you can have Jamie or anyone else you crook your finger for. Why do you still want me?”
His gaze softened with a tenderness that pierced her heart. He brushed his thumb along her cheek. “How could I not want you? You’re smart and funny and beautiful and not afraid to let a guy who has no idea what you like order for you on a first date.”
She laughed. His closeness prevented all the rational reasons she shouldn’t believe him to invade her mind. She didn’t even care what they were as she circled her arms around his neck, unable to avoid touching him any longer.
He brushed his body across hers, his hips rocking against her pelvis until she ached to remove the clothing impeding complete intimacy. He caressed her shoulders, then her cheeks, and she melted into his embrace.
She slid her index finger over his warm, supple lips, and he sucked on it, then slanted his lips across hers. She moaned at the glorious, amazing sensation of Kyle Ramsey kissing her. Her head lolled back, and he captured it, splaying capable fingers through her hair, imprisoning her to his delectable ministrations.
Unable to stay passive, she slid her hands down the knit fabric covering his sculpted back until she reached his waistband. She rubbed her thumbs under the fabric, craving his hot skin.
As her fingertips made contact, he jerked back, breaking off the kiss. He grasped her hands in his. Lips swollen, he stared at her, looking as stunned by the force of their shared kiss as she felt.
“Why’d you stop?” she asked, her arousal so acute it bordered on painful. She wanted him to take her against the door, on the desk, the chair, the floor. Anywhere. Everywhere.
“Because.” He glanced around, his gaze focusing out the large glass window next to the door into the reception area. The design had originally called for shades, but she’d never thought they were necessary. No one had ever kissed her in her office.
He took another step bac
k and tucked in his shirt. “Your mom just walked in.”
“Oh.” She’d place a shade order today. But she couldn’t turn Mother away, not when she’d finally seen a reason to get off the couch and rush to Gretchen’s office. Business first, pleasure later.
Good God, she could only pray she had the option for pleasure later. Kyle had turned her body into a ticking time bomb waiting to orgasm. She wiped her hand across her lips and straightened her blouse and skirt while trying to ignore her racing pulse and ragged breathing.
Not wanting to raise suspicions by delaying any longer, she opened the door and smiled with as much wattage as she could muster. “Perfect timing. Look who stopped in to see us.”
“Kyle.” Mother headed straight for him and kissed both his cheeks, his hands on her shoulders preventing what Gretchen was pretty sure would have turned into a full-body hug. “Which modeling job did you want to start with?”
“Actually.” Gretchen jumped in before he could dash Mother’s hopes and send her in another downward spiral. When she’d had her secretary call, she hadn’t expected Kyle’s visit to be personal. “Let’s not jump into negotiations quite so fast. Kyle, would you be interested in coming to my apartment for dinner tonight? The three of us can have an informal discussion.”
“As long as you don’t expect me to cook,” Mother said.
“Of course not. I’ll do all the cooking.”
“Something light, no more than four hundred calories a plate. I need to diet if I’m getting back into this business, and you, Gretchen, dear….” Her voice trailed off, as if she doubted dieting would be enough to save her daughter’s figure.
Gretchen’s face burned. The attitude wasn’t new, but she couldn’t bear for the adoration on Kyle’s face to transform into disgust.
He sauntered toward her, skimming his hand down her cheek. “You are spectacular, and I’ll eat anything you cook. The more calories the better.”
As she gazed into his eyes, for the first time ever, she felt spectacular.
***
Kyle entered Gretchen’s apartment for the second time in less than a week. Again Zola welcomed him. “Kyle, you sexy man, I’ve finally convinced you to come to my place for the evening.”
“Mother,” Gretchen warned from the kitchen.
“Oh pa-shaw, she’s no fun,” Zola said. “I’ve agreed not to convince you to sleep with me, something I’m sure I’ll regret by the end of the evening.”
“Nothing to regret, Zola,” he said. “You should know by now I never will.”
“That’s a regret in itself.” She sighed heavily. “I’m not even allowed to take it as a challenge. Anyway, I’m in talks with nineteen-year-old twins, so you won’t be my only client.”
He was her only client? Holy shit. He hadn’t realized things had gone so bad for the agency. No wonder Gretchen wouldn’t stop pressuring him into accepting a job.
“And you’re not going to sleep with those boys either, Mother.” Gretchen danced between the stove and the counter, her face flushed, the curve of her breasts rising over the top of a white, slightly splattered tank top.
“Gretchen, you’re supposed to be changed and presentable. Our guest is here.”
He might still be a client on a mere technicality, but if Zola wanted to use his name to bolster her roster, he’d agree on the condition she move out of Gretchen’s home. The next time he came over for dinner, he didn’t want anyone else around to distract them.
“Don’t pay any attention to me and what I’m wearing,” Gretchen said. “I’m almost done. Let me get you each a drink while I finish up.”
“No rush. I have all night.” Kyle threw her a wink, enjoying how her flesh became a brighter shade of pink. He had every intention of paying as much attention to her as possible. “I brought a bottle of wine.”
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t notice.” She strolled across the room, extending her hand to take the bottle.
“If you have glasses and a corkscrew, I’ll work on the wine while you do your thing.” He kept hold of the bottle as he entered the kitchen, looking forward to the chance to work alongside her. “Smells delicious. What’s cooking?”
“Chicken marsala.” She returned to the stove and turned the meat in the pan.
“The highest-calorie recipe you could find, I hope,” he said, as he released the wine cork.
“No, but not so virtuous all the joy is sucked out either.”
“I love the way you compromise.” He filled the glasses with chardonnay and offered her one.
She took it, clinking against the glass still in his hand. “I’m confident we’ll find a compromise you can live with, too.”
He drank the chilled golden liquid, but he’d lost the contented enjoyment of moments ago. She still thought she could convince him to resume modeling. He couldn’t string her along just for the pleasure of her company. His modeling days were over. Even if he wanted to return, the companies who hired him would change their minds. They assumed he still had the same body they’d photographed before. They were wrong.
Gretchen set her drink down and finished preparing the meal. After a couple of minutes, she shifted the pan to a warming burner. “I’m going to change. I’ll be back in five minutes.”
“Make sure you wear black,” Zola called.
Black, no. He wanted to see Gretchen wearing color. Something bold, something bright, and preferably something with the power to shock her mother into silence. He turned to tell her so, but she’d already headed down the hall.
“Wine?” Kyle returned to the living area, offering the third glass of chardonnay to Zola.
She raised it over her head, sloshing liquid over the rim. “To the comeback of the world’s sexiest model.”
Kyle winced. His cell phone rang from his pocket, and he lunged at the excuse not to engage in the toast. “Sorry. I need to take this.”
Zola waved him off, too engrossed in downing her glass to care about his lack of participation.
He stepped into the hall and answered. “Kyle speaking.”
“This is Dr. Becker’s office.” The nurse’s familiar voice came through the speaker. “I’m calling to let you know Dr. Becker was very happy with your EKG. We’re still waiting on the results from the lab. I’ll call you again as soon as they come in.”
“Great. Thanks,” he croaked.
“EKG?” Gretchen stared from an open bedroom doorway, her eyes round and concerned.
“Nothing.” He pocketed the phone. “What are you doing listening in on a private conversation?”
“Why do you have it on speaker if it’s supposed to be private?”
Long ago, he’d been taught not to hold a phone to his ear to avoid pimples caused by bacteria from the device rubbing along his jawline. Used to being alone, he hadn’t given a thought to others within earshot.
“Are you sure everything’s okay?” She proceeded toward him. “I’m a good listener, and I care.” She smiled, but a hint of sympathy lurked in her expression, too. He wanted no part of anyone’s pity.
“Everything’s fine.” His gaze traveled down her body. She’d half-undressed, wearing nothing but her white tank top and fuchsia bikini underwear. How had he not noticed? He closed the remaining space between them, entranced by her rounded hips, the bright swath of color a beckoning target. “In fact, I’m better than fine.”
***
Gretchen’s breath caught as Kyle gawked at her exactly as he had in her office that morning, as if she were the only woman in the universe. She backed up, and he swaggered with her, step for step, until they were inside her bedroom. Reaching behind him, she closed and locked the door.
“Kiss me,” she whispered, wanting the physical manifestation of his ogling.
His mouth covered hers, the cool tang of the wine turning warm and heady. He caressed her lips with his tongue, and she parted for him.
She wanted to ask more about the phone call, to make sure everything was truly all right. Lab tests and an EKG seemed t
o suggest a serious medical issue. But she couldn’t think enough to form a thought about what issue he could be facing, let alone verbalize a question. He certainly kissed like a one-hundred-percent healthy male.
“Touch me, Kyle.” She channeled her feverish need into kissing him back. No one had ever made her want so fast and so much.
He coasted his hands down her sides, then cupped her ass cheeks, his palms hot against her flesh through the thin fabric. Below the bottom elastic, his fingertips curved into her bare skin, burning her with anticipation.
Desire causing her to shake too much to stand upright, she slumped against the bedroom wall. He tugged her panties down, then slid his hand inside. She grasped his head for support. “Yes.”
His gaze held hers, as he drew his right index finger forward across her wet opening and stroked her clit. She gasped. He squeezed her ass again, then glided along the sensuous path, this time circling her opening.
“Yes.” Panting, she moved her arms down to his shoulders, wanting to touch him in return, to fill her palm with his hard, hot cock.
He pulled back. “Keep your hands on my head, or I’ll stop.”
“Don’t stop.” Her body pulsed with need, burning and aching for him. She gripped his hair, pressing her palms against his scalp, accepting the price of not being allowed to touch any lower.
He rewarded her by swirling around her opening. Then he dipped in, a quarter inch at a time until she was sure she’d scream, unable to contain her pleasure.
His mouth covered hers, swallowing her wanton moans, as he drove in, twisting to reveal new pleasure points. He explored each one with precision, sweetness, and enthusiasm. Gretchen tightened her fists on his scalp. Kyle was her rock, her torture, and her endless delight all rolled into one.
Maneuvering inside her panties, he pressed a torrent of heat to her mound. She bucked against him, rubbing her clit into a frenzy.
