Piper gasped, then shook her finger at her attractive co-worker. “That was Gran, you rat.”
He scooped noodles into his mouth and swallowed. “The man’s got a thing for you, Piper.”
She smirked. “The man’s got a wedding ring, Rich.”
He pursed his lips and nodded. “I noticed. Pity, too. The two of you would make a great couple.”
The memory of Ian’s kiss, never far from her mind since she’d closed and locked the back door last night, washed over her anew. She glanced away, her cheeks burning with shame.
Rich leaned closer, narrowing his eyes. “What happened?”
Stapling a stack of reports, Piper kept her voice light. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He smiled. “Then let me be more specific. What happened last night when he dropped you off at your place?”
She pulled back, indignant. “How the devil do you know about that?”
Rich abandoned his spoon and tipped the paper cup to his mouth to drain the broth, keeping her in suspense until he lowered the cup with a satisfied sigh. “It was on the blackboard at Alma’s this morning.”
Panicked, Piper half rose out of her seat. “What?”
He laughed and chucked her under the chin. “I’m kidding. I was inside the burger joint last night having a romantic dinner with a bad paperback and I saw him drive around.” Adopting a dubious expression, he added, “And I could have sworn that was you in the passenger seat.”
Busted, she could only relent. “Okay, long story short, I accidentally took a painkiller and Gary wouldn’t let me drive. I ran into Ian—er, Mr. Bentley, and he was kind enough to offer me a ride home.”
“And I know how you can’t resist kind men,” Rich said dryly.
“He didn’t even come inside,” she added through clenched teeth.
“Glad to hear you practice safe sex.” He winked at her and dodged her swatting hand, then sobered slightly. “Relax, Piper, I know you’re much too moral to stoop to fooling around with a married man.” Then he picked up her hand and sandwiched it between his in a rare display of affection. “But you’re too good a catch to be languishing in a place like Mudville.”
Squeezing his hand, she angled her head. “And I might say the same thing about you, Rich,” she murmured, a gentle reminder of what he was running from.
He gave her a small sheepish smile, but the sound of a man clearing his throat interrupted them. Glancing toward the entrance, her heart jumped when she saw Ian walking slowly toward them, his gaze politely averted.
Rich released her hand and rose to his feet. Piper squirmed as Ian drew closer.
Dressed in navy suit slacks and a taupe-colored collarless dress shirt, he looked just as devastating as he had the day before, except for the faint circles under his bloodshot eyes. Ian Bentley had not slept so well on the mattress he’d been praising yesterday—a guilty conscience? A black leather briefcase hung from his beringed left hand.
Piper sat up and squared her shoulders. “Good afternoon, Mr. Bentley.” Disappointment resounded in her chest that she could still be so affected by him after knowing about his deceptive nature.
“Ms. Shepherd,” he responded lightly, his eyes unreadable. “Mr. Enderling.” The men shook hands, then Rich excused himself with one last meaningful look at Piper.
Ian set his briefcase on her desk, glanced around the open office area, then asked, “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
Piper stood abruptly and gathered her notes for the afternoon session. “About the project? Of course.” She swept her arm in the direction of the lab. “Shall we?”
For an instant, he hesitated, then inclined his head and walked beside her. He remained silent, as did she, although she could hear her own shallow breathing. They entered the lab, and as she made her way to a computer workstation, Piper reviewed her plan mentally: stay focused on the project and steer clear of discussing their personal encounter.
“About last night—” he began.
“Yes,” she cut in casually, turning a friendly smile his way, “I didn’t thank you for dinner and the ride home.”
Ian set his briefcase on the counter with slow, deliberate movements. “You’re welcome,” he said evenly. “Piper—”
The door to the lab swung open, admitting Rich. “Sorry, Piper, but this is the fax you were waiting for.”
Grateful for the timely interruption, she scanned the paper he handed her, refusing to acknowledge his knowing expression. “Thanks, Rich,” she said in dismissal, but he stood rooted until she glanced up again. His left eyebrow quirked a fraction. “Thank you, Rich,” she repeatedly pointedly. Her assistant nodded curtly, shot a look toward Ian, then left.
With her body humming in awareness of Ian’s proximity, Piper studied the sheet. “Good news—marketing secured co-op offers from Peabody’s peanut butter, and from both Chico’s and Sandal’s chocolate, among others. We can reduce your ingredient cost, plus benefit from the impact of the brand name if we tag it on your new dessert.”
“Nice work,” he admitted, then took the sheet from her and laid it on the counter. When he glanced back, Piper’s pulse kicked up. He seemed determined to discuss their indiscretion.
His gray eyes were troubled. “Piper, we need to talk about last night.”
Panicked, she rubbed her hands over her arms and walked around the other side of the counter to gain an emotionally safe distance. After a deep breath, she turned back to face him. “There’s nothing to discuss, Ian.”
He held up his hands. “Just hear me out.”
At his obvious irritation, her temper flared. She leaned forward, splaying her hands on the counter. She pasted a pleasant expression on her face, but injected a hard edge into her voice. “Mr. Bentley, I really don’t care to listen to how your wife doesn’t understand you—”
“I’m not married.”
“—or that you have an open relationship….” She stopped and squinted. “What did you say?”
“I’m not married.”
A wave of terror washed over her. Not only had she made a fool of herself yet again, not to mention insulting the character of their largest client, but she realized with alarming clarity that she’d considered his married status insurance against yielding to her physical attraction to him.
She realized he was waiting for her reaction, and she felt frozen in place. Commanding her mouth to move, she tested words on her tongue. “Y-you’re not m-married?”
A glint of amusement flashed in his eyes, but he didn’t smile. “No, I’m not.”
Her gaze involuntarily flew to the ring on his left hand. She straightened and crossed her arms self-consciously, yearning to scratch her chest and neck and back. “Th-then why didn’t you say something last night?” To what end, she thought, and shuddered at the possibilities.
His chest expanded as he inhaled deeply, and Piper realized there was more to the story.
All morning Ian had steeled himself against Piper’s allure, telling himself he could clarify the situation and apologize without digging himself deeper into a pit of lust. But he hadn’t realized how much he’d been looking forward to their meeting until he’d seen her sitting at her desk. Absurd jealously had bolted through him at the sight of her assistant holding her hand so intimately. At least now he knew which man Piper had been referring to when she’d said she was also contemplating a committed relationship.
“But I am involved with someone,” he said finally. She blinked, but her expression remained unreadable. Ian cleared his throat and nodded to the ring on his left hand. “She, um, proposed the day before I left Chicago, and I told her I’d let her know when I return.” When she offered no response, he pursed his lips, then continued, “So you were right—no matter how attracted I am to you, I had no business kissing you last night.”
He hesitated, foolishly half hoping she would assure him she too felt the attraction rebounding between them and fully understood his reaction. She didn’t, forcing him to p
roceed. “I apologize for placing you in a compromising situation. If you would prefer I work with another scientist on this project, I understand.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Um, no, I’m committed to seeing this project through until the end.”
He nodded, respecting her dedication. “I could return to Chicago and send a representative in a couple of weeks—”
“No,” she cut in rather brusquely. “I mean…I’ve already prepared a few samples, and I was hoping we could wrap this up within a couple of days.”
Ian studied her for a few seconds, aware of her discomfort, wishing he could put her at ease, wishing he could convincingly reassure her and himself that he would not be thinking about their solitary kiss every moment he was with her. “I wouldn’t want all your work this morning to be for nothing.” He attempted a smile. “And besides, I’m hungry.”
At last she smiled, a welcome sight, though a mere shadow of the spectacular eye-lighting grins he had become accustomed to seeing. His heart lifted a notch. “Am I forgiven?”
She seemed surprised, and her smile slipped. “On hindsight, what happened hardly seems like a sin.”
“It’s important to know I haven’t offended you.”
She blushed and raked her hand lightly over her chest. “In that case, yes, all is forgiven.”
Enormously relieved, yet bothered that her opinion had become so important to him in such a short time, Ian patted the counter for emphasis. “Good.”
Piper nodded somewhat stiffly toward the white table. “Well then, let’s get down to business, shall we?”
Ian made his way toward the table and tried not to watch Piper as she walked, still limping slightly, to a commercial-size refrigerator. She’d traded her jeans, T-shirt and sneakers for loose black slacks, a light-colored blouse peeking through her knee-length blue lab coat and sensible flats. With her dark hair tucked behind small ears, her cheekbones and those piercing ice-blue eyes were even more prominent. She resembled a neat little package just begging to be unwrapped. Ian swallowed and busied himself removing notes from his briefcase.
She withdrew a covered tray and carried it to the table, but she scrupulously avoided making eye contact with him. A sense of loss stabbed him, for which he sternly chastised himself. Undoubtedly, most of the attraction he felt for Piper was triggered by his panic over Meredith’s sudden proposal.
“I hope to have more chocolate recipes tomorrow,” she said as she lifted the cover. Beneath sat an assortment of four desserts on individual plates. She named each one as she pointed. “Lemon meringue mousse, cherry and cream cheese parfait, cinnamon layer cake with chocolate icing and caramel-pecan clusters in phyllo pastry.”
His mouth was already watering, and he dearly hoped it was due to the food. “I’m impressed.”
“I’m glad,” she said cheerfully. After arranging several forks and spoons next to the tray, she handed him a napkin. He took the soft cloth, dismayed at the electric charge when their fingers brushed. She must have felt it, too, because she immediately dropped her hand and her gaze, then turned toward a freezer. “I’ll get a sorbet to cleanse your palate between dishes.”
Glancing between the colorful concoctions, each different, but beautifully presented, Ian sighed. “I’ve never liked having to choose,” he said, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.
With her back to him, it was difficult to discern if she’d noticed the Freudian slip. She returned to the table bearing a clear glass bowl of garnished lime sorbet and a tight smile. “That’s life,” she said lightly.
She’d noticed, all right. He squirmed and felt a flush climb his cheeks.
She situated the sorbet near him, then took the seat farthest away, poised with a pen to make notes as they moved through each dish. There was something decidedly provocative about eating a beautiful dessert while looking at a beautiful woman, Ian decided.
He chose the lemon-meringue mousse first and dipped in the end of a spoon, scooping up a dollop the size of a cotton ball. Somewhat self-consciously, he lifted the spoon and slowly placed the yellow puddinglike dessert into his mouth. His taste buds tingled as soon as the cool, creamy tang hit his tongue. Holding the creation against the roof of his mouth, he savored the light, tart flavor.
With a start, he realized that Piper, sitting at the other end of the table, held her gaze riveted to his mouth. Her eyes were soft around the edges, and she moved her empty mouth in synchronization with his. He chewed, she chewed. He pursed his lips, she pursed hers. He swallowed, her throat constricted. His body reacted, and he imagined hers responding, too.
“Very nice,” he croaked, shifting in his seat.
Piper started, then slid a fact sheet across the table. “Ingredient measurements, costs and nutrition breakdown per serving,” she explained.
Ian picked up his pen and made notes of his own at the bottom of the sheet. Soft, creamy and sensual.
The refreshing sorbet chilled his tongue and, thankfully, his expanding desire. With his heart pounding in relief, he picked up another spoon and turned to the parfait. He knew he was doomed, however, when he withdrew the utensil only to find a round, red cherry dangling from the end.
His gaze darted to Piper, who seemed mesmerized. She licked her lips slowly, then said, “Of course, the cherries are local, er, grown locally, that is.”
“Of course,” he murmured. Figuring it was best to get it over with, he plunged the spoonful into his mouth. This time, instead of torturing himself with a slow contemplation, he kept his eyes off Piper and nearly swallowed the portion whole. Naturally, the cherry lodged in the back of his throat. He swallowed painfully several times, lapsing into a coughing fit as a finale. She sprang up and retrieved a glass of water, which he gratefully accepted.
At the bottom of the sheet she passed him, he wrote should be savored, not rushed.
He swirled the sorbet around in his mouth and used the napkin to wipe the perspiration from his forehead.
“Ah, chocolate,” he said, slicing a fork into the pinkish two-layer cinnamon cake dripping with dark icing. He shoved in a mouthful and crushed together the rich icing and surprisingly spicy cake. Piper seemed to be captivated by the notes in front of her. He swallowed and reached for the fact sheet.
She glanced up and met him halfway, staring at him with an odd expression in her eyes. When her rosy tongue appeared and made a leisurely trip around her lips, he forgot what he’d intended to write. Stone-still, he watched as her tongue reappeared and reached new lengths in its second trip around her bow-shaped mouth. This time he doubted the cold taste of the sorbet would be efficient to douse his burgeoning erection. She leaned forward and pointed to a spot above the corner of her mouth. Then he realized she was trying to tell him he had something on his face. Chocolate icing, no doubt.
He wiped his mouth with the napkin, but she shook her head. He wiped higher, then lower, but she shook her head and giggled.
“I’ll get it,” she offered. She stood and took his napkin, then dabbed at the corner of his mouth. Ian sat perfectly immobile, catching a whiff of something medicinal as she leaned close to him. Small and well-shaped, her hands were free of jewelry. He gulped a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The desire to pull her down into his lap was overwhelming. Almost involuntarily, he reached up and encircled her wrist.
She went still, pulling back a millimeter, her breath suddenly ragged. In her wide eyes, he glimpsed the fire lurking just beneath the surface. “You’d better let me,” he declared. Ian released his grip and took the napkin from her shaking hand.
“Okay,” she whispered, then straightened. “More water?”
“The colder the better.”
“I think I’ll join you.”
While she prepared the much-needed neutralizer, Ian found the fact sheet and wrote sweet on the outside, fiery on the inside.
Piper set down a glass of water next to him and hurried back to her own seat so quickly a few drops sloshed over the edge.
F
or the phyllo-pastry creation, Ian abandoned utensils, which seemed like a good idea until he bit down and the filling oozed over his fingers. The buttery paper-thin pastry dissolved against his tongue, allowing the rich, gooey caramel to flood his taste buds. He groaned his pleasure and rolled his eyes heavenward. Another bite finished off the pastry, and Ian’s fingers were halfway to his mouth before he remembered he had an audience. He stopped, midmotion, and glanced up guiltily.
Piper sat with her dark eyebrows raised, an amused smile on her face. “I take it the caramel pastry is your favorite?”
“Um, yeah.”
She laughed into her hand, her shoulders shaking.
Ian laughed, too, but mostly out of sheer pleasure at seeing her happy again. He tried to clean his sticky hands with the napkin, but gave up and walked over to one of the three utility sinks to wash. He walked back to the table, drying his hands on a paper towel.
Still grinning, she slid the fact sheet in front of where he stopped to lean. “Unfortunately, it’s by far the most expensive choice.”
He scanned the sheet. “Ouch.”
“I know—we could try to get co-op dollars from Conner’s caramels, but even though they own the market, I personally doubt the brand name is strong enough for you to benefit.”
“Disappointing, but true, I’m afraid,” Ian agreed. Across the bottom, he scribbled desirable, but out of reach.
“I’ll have more samples for you tomorrow morning,” she promised. “Lots of chocolate.” She scratched lightly along the neckline of her blouse. “Then you can make your selection.”
“Allergies still bothering you?” he asked.
She nodded and stood, rolling her shoulders.
“I happen to be a great back-scratcher,” he offered.
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” she said with a wry smile. “We’re finished here, if you have something else to do.”
Patting his stomach, he laughed. “I’d like to work off a few of the calories I just consumed.” Another faux pas in light of the sexually charged atmosphere, he realized a syllable too late. At her “now, now” expression, he sighed. “I think I’d better go before I say something I’ll really regret.”
Manhunting in Mississippi Page 8
