A Valentine for Two

by Lia Davis

  This is a business arrangement.

  I scrunched my lids more tightly.

  Maybe there’s a future for me at Tradelines.

  If there was?

  I shouldn’t be doing this with one of the bosses. Especially when my feelings for the other one are still unclear to me.

  But damn, this moment with Ty felt so right. I hadn’t tingled like this in years. Ached. Shit, I’d missed these kinds of body thrills. The pangs of desire, racing from my center to my toes and back again. The light-headedness combined with a screw everything but what’s happening-in-real-time sensation. This was a long missed phenomenon I wanted to explore further.

  I reached out, sliding my palms up his chest, higher and higher, until my fingers connected skin-to-warm-skin with him, just above his collar. I hadn’t noticed his cologne before, but now the clean scent wrapped around me.

  Sandalwood and evergreens. Familiar things. One prized for its calming essence, while the other was revered for its towering strength.

  The combination suited Ty somehow and it comforted me. I want to be the breeze that caused that sturdy tree to sway, to bend without breaking. I wanted...I—

  Phase two of falling for a guy had commenced. I was letting go of thinking at all the second he applied pressure and my mouth opened for him. The intimacy of a French kiss expertly initiated and carried out, the way he was working this one, always made me weak in the knees.

  Now who was swaying?

  It had to be me. That’s why I was tightening my hold on his shirt when I angled to grasp his collar. Why I sank against him. Why I wouldn’t have denied him anything at the moment. Nothing. His power drew me in, but it was the warmth of his released breath fanning out over my face that held me captive. I could have—would have stayed like this forever if he didn’t abruptly break the mind-numbing embrace.

  I didn’t open my eyes until he traced a finger across my bottom lip that was still slick from our intimate contact. “And now you know.”

  I searched his face and when I heard the sexy rasp in his voice I tried not to shiver. Breathlessly, I waited for him to withdraw his touch. Then I frowned. “I know what?”

  “The reason I came here.” He stared pointedly at my mouth and said, “Tasting a small part of you was my end game...for tonight.”

  Holy hell. That was some foreshadowing. It screamed tomorrow was another game day.

  Yeah, I didn’t hear much of anything else he had to say after that because he was all business. A world apart from the man who only moments before had rocked me to the core. It was unsettling and a major turn-on all at once. By the time he left, I felt as if I was floating in a dream I didn’t ever want to wake up from.

  ***

  Ty

  I paused before I got in my car and texted Sandy. I wanted him to know how things had gone with our angel.

  Hey, I met with West. Leaving now. I’ll be home in thirty.

  But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t make him work for the info. I didn’t have a long wait.

  So...?

  I typed. You’re curious?

  No. Murderous. WTF?

  That made me smile. She’s a religious cherry picker.

  Nice. Does she have something against strawberries?

  I couldn’t help snorting. After rereading the thread I saw my mistake. I meant that she cherry picks her religious beliefs from several different faiths. It’s quite fascinating.

  The cursor barely even blinked when he texted back. As long as abstinence isn’t one of them, I’m good with that.

  I shook my head. No worries. I don’t think it is. Oh, and I don’t think she has anything against strawberries either, but she does taste like them.

  Bastard.

  I shrugged. He was probably right. A happy bastard to you.

  Try lucky bastard.

  I wasn’t going to argue. I decided to rub it in a little instead. Good news. The coaster I gave her wasn’t in her collection.

  Why good?

  She’s keeping it close.

  Sandy took a few seconds to reply. Thanks for the heads-up. Next Thursday can’t come soon enough for me.

  There was only one response to that. I say Valentine’s Day can’t come soon enough for all of us. I’m ready to take that Keith fucker down and sweep our girl off her feet. You?

  Ditto.

  ***

  Wesley

  “This makes no sense to me. I thought you liked the scary dude.”

  I stalled, running my hand through my hair and gave Lisa the dead-eye. “Could you stop calling him scary? Please? He has black hair. Say the dark-haired dude. Or better yet?” I quickly finished giving my curls a rake, and sighed. “His name is Sandy. Say Sandy.”

  “I’m doing some subliminal dating groundwork here. If I keep saying scary you’ll believe it and then you won’t find him sexy. You should be impressed.”

  I wasn’t. I was worried and didn’t have time to let Lisa walk me into the drama she liked to produce and mostly star in. I couldn’t fall victim to that. Nope, I had to figure out what I was going to say to the scary dude tonight when he showed up at my place.

  Had Ty and he talked about the situation? I knew from firsthand experience that men like to claim things. Actions, deeds...kisses. Wasn’t that last one the male sexual equivalent of planting a flag in the territory he claimed? Of course it was, so yes, they’d talked.

  I spent as little time as possible thinking about that conversation and focused on more positive things. Namely? Ty.

  Each time he’d called me over the past week that buoying feeling I’d experienced when he kissed me, returned. So much so, I was dreading his partner’s visit tonight. Surely the attraction I’d felt for Sandy before, would be gone. He wouldn’t be sex-on-a-stick to me anymore, right? No more split personality relationship decisions. I was finished with all that. I had to be.

  “Oh, Jesus. You look like you bit into a lemon. What’s the matter?”

  “It’s going to be fine.” I got up and collected my work from the desk, stuffing a few pages into a file folder, and then handing Lisa the balance of pages leftover. “Can you scan these and then email them to the company account address, so fucknuts can steal them?”

  “Sure. Hey, these are good.”

  I walked around her and went to the door. Without turning back I called, “Not as good as the real version, but good enough that Keith will think they are and rip me off again.”

  “This isn’t the good campaign?” My friend followed along behind me as she spoke, “It’s funny as all hell.”

  “Yes, but if you stylized the toothbrush as being human-like with a pair of thick black rimmed glasses and put it in front of a blackboard as if it was a teacher, wouldn’t it be funnier if the standout tube of toothpaste sitting in the classroom asks, A tooth brush? Your mission is to cover more than one, so why aren’t you called a teeth brush? That’s funnier.”

  “Hilarious. I don’t know how you do it. You’re so clever, Wesley. Hey, wait.”

  I’d just reached the front doors that led to the street, hoping against all hope that I’d escape my friend’s prying. She was too perceptive and right now I wanted to hang out in denial land for a little longer before I had to face the scary dude with other scary possibilities.

  “Wesley.”

  Damn it. I let go of the heavy steel handle and turned. Bracing myself.

  “You can’t drive home without your keys and I know they’re in here because I put them there.”

  What a relief. She was holding up my purse. I blew out a breath and then stepped forward. “Oh, yeah, thanks.”

  Just before I got my hand on the bag she snatched it back, clutching it against her chest, and glared at me. “You don’t get it until you tell me the truth. Are you worried about screwing up things with Prince Charming?”

  Of course I was. “No.” I motioned for her to hand over the purse.

  She didn’t budge. “Wesley?”

  “Maybe a little.” That w
as the most I was going to admit to. “I told you. This won’t be a problem. I’ll figure it out.”

  Reluctantly she gave me my bag. “Alright, but if you need any help, let me know.”

  “Help?” I positioned the purse strap over my shoulder and frowned. “Exactly what could you do to help me with this?”

  She grinned. “I could be there to lessen the butt-hurt for one of those poor guys when you kick him to the curb.”

  Yeah, she had no idea what was bothering me. Thank God. “Hm. I think your husband might have something to say about that.”

  “Not if we don’t tell him.”

  She made such a goofy face I had to laugh. “You crack me up.”

  “Although I’m glad you’re smiling again.” She walked around me and held open the door. “I’m still worried about you. You’ll find the right guy. You just have to be patient.”

  More like focused, I silently corrected her as I maintained my smile. “I’m sure you’re right. Thanks.”

  We hugged and then I quickly left before I told her the truth.

  So far in every relationship I’d ever had, I’d never found the right guy.

  By the time I reached my car a terrible thought came to me. Was I cherry picking with the male population too? Looking for the perfect personality recipe? Was that why I’d never found my perfect someone?

  Tell it like it is, sister. You’re never satisfied. Sandy should be—

  Jesus wept. I got into my car and gently banged my forehead against the steering wheel. Why was I thinking about Sandy and worse, entertaining thoughts about being caught in his arms and ravaged by him?

  He is the ravishing type.

  What about Prince Charming?

  I sat up straight and took a series of deep breaths in and then out. I was determined to stay on task. Only thoughts of Ty. Strong, patient, smiling, Ty.

  He’s romantic.

  Yes. He’s the man for me. The better choice...if I’m given one.

  Made sense.

  But then if it did, why was my dread at facing Sandy in a few hours turning to excitement?

  Not. Good.

  Chapter Six

  Sandy

  “This is good, Red.” I pointed to the concept boards labeled “B” that Wesley had put together for Keith. Then I shifted my attention to the true ones, labeled “A”, she’d developed for our client. “But these are genius.”

  “I’m glad you like them. I poured you some wine.”

  I turned and saw the glass on her coffee table. Then I saw her on the couch and I smiled. “Is that the Pinot I brought?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “I figured after the sushi, which was delicious by the way, white would be better than red. Speaking of red.” She lifted a brow at me. “What’s with the nickname? My hair is strawberry blonde at best. Red? I don’t think so.”

  “How do you know I was referencing your hair? Maybe I had your cheeks or lips in mind.”

  “Okay. A little personal but...” Her brow dropped and she frowned. “Did you?”

  “No.” I joined her on the couch and picked up my glass to toast her. “To redheads. Would you like to know what I say about gingers?”

  Her eyes widened. Pupils dilated. Nice. Even better, she was adorably cautious when she answered, “You probably say that they’re hot-tempered.”

  I shook my head.

  “They have freckles?” She shrugged one shoulder then said, “Proof that I’m not one, because I don’t have any.”

  I stared right at her as I returned my glass to the table. “Not one? Not one single little beauty mark—” I purposely let my gaze slowly rove over the areas of her neck, collarbone, and then lower to her breasts, before I met her eyes once more. “—not anywhere?”

  She swallowed so hard I heard it. In fact, the sound was louder than her voice when she replied, “No.”

  And there it was. A sexual tension flaming between us that I gauged wasn’t exclusively coming from me.

  Perfect.

  Also ideal? She was attempting to fight the attraction. I loved that. It made me want her even more.

  I took a moment to soak that realization in, before I broke the intensity by grinning. “No marks anywhere? I find that hard to believe, but it’s something that can be easily proven at some point. Now, about beautiful redheads, and my saying—I’ll make you a promise. My favorite phrase has nothing to do with freckles.”

  “Favorite, eh?” She took a second to study me. “Okay. I know. It’s about how easily carrot-tops sunburn.”

  “I don’t like that term, Wesley.”

  “Carrot-top?”

  I gave her a curt nod and when I saw the light in her eyes dim slightly, as though my rebuke upset her, I softened my tone. “Keep guessing.”

  Her green eyes glistened and then her cheeks turned pink, but those two softly submissive actions were countered by her lids cynically narrowing. She was a tiger. “Don’t tell me it’s the usual joke about the color of the rug from the top floor being the same as the carpet in the basement.”

  But I’d make her my kitten. Oh yeah. “Close, but no. Besides, I believe that phrase is about carpet and drapes.”

  She looked mildly horrified. “Excuse me?”

  “As in the carpeting matches the drapes.”

  My bold comment had the desired effect. She wasn’t fighting her attraction to me now. In fact she was thinking about being bratty. I could tell. There was a devilish light in her eyes, gleaming brightly, as she tried to decide how far to push the innuendo envelope with me.

  Oddly I found myself holding my breath because I wanted her to be a challenge. I craved it on some level. Maybe I’d been too long without a complicated relationship to deal with.

  Two seconds later, I knew I had when she put down her glass and gave me a look that said, oh yeah? My heart hammered as I waited for her to speak.

  “I know some women prefer wall-to-wall, but I’m more of an area rug at the entrance kind of a gal.”

  I released my pent up breath and slowly sucked in another.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised by her quick wit. I’d seen her work. She was funny and smart on paper, but I had no idea that her humor orally translated.

  Orally.

  Damn, that word had me thinking about a few things. One thing actually. “Just say the word, and I’ll be all over your welcome mat.”

  She laughed. Not the usual sort of quiet, behind the cupped hand type deal. This was a full throated, head back, loud peal of joy that made me want to smile and take hold of her all at once. I listened, relishing the sound until it died down. Then I said, “You have a wonderful laugh. I like it. I like it a lot.”

  She was still smiling when she shook her head, looking at me. “Come on, Sandy. You’ve forced me to say far more than I intended about being a quasi-ginger. Now tell me, what the heck is your saying?”

  I loved hearing my name on her lips. So far she’d only called me Mr. Tramaine or nothing at all. Did she even know she’d been keeping me at arm’s length this way?

  Sitting back, I held her gaze. Almost daring her, when I finally told her, “If she’s red on the head, she’s good in bed.”

  There was that laugh again, only this time when she let her head fall back, she closed her eyes and something clicked inside me.

  I was in hunting mode wanting to tame...her.

  Instantly I had a picture of her in my arms, naked and laughing, while we rolled around in the sheets, getting all tangled up. Sweating and grinding our way to mind-blowing, fan-fucking-tastic-sex.

  “Alright. Okay.” Her laugh petered out as she playfully pointed at me. “So, that may be a true story—at least in my case, presuming I do have red hair, but...”

  Her words trailed off and I knew why. My expression was probably raping her. Shit. That unfortunate occurrence couldn’t be helped. I was wired this way. Eventually she’d get used to my intensity. “But?” I prompted.

  The tip of her tongue peeked out and quickly traced a
slick path over her bottom lip. This was a nervous reflex action I was coming to suspect as I’d made note of her doing this once before. “We ah...you and I shouldn’t...”

  She was staring at my mouth. That was a good sign. Slowly I leaned toward her, closing the distance between us. I wanted to feel the desire she was trying to deny pour off her while I pressed her to stop hedging. “What shouldn’t we do?”

  “We shouldn’t be having a conversation like this.”

  I reached out and picked up one of her red corkscrew curls. She could name the color of her hair any fucking shade she wanted to, but to me it would always be crimson. Like the break of dawn on an early Sunday morning. “I love a conversation like this. It gives me ideas. Inspires me. Makes me want to do wicked and immoral things with you.”

  “Sandy...”

  “Come here.” I gently tugged on that curl, pulling her closer and closer until finally our lips connected.

  Hers were warm.

  Silk.

  Velvet.

  In that order.

  But then when she wrapped her arms around my neck with a feminine groan, moving in close, so her breasts pressed against my chest, another word came to mind.

  Heaven.

  I let her take the lead, curious to see how far she’d travel. She was quick. In no time at all I had to concede that daring and bold was a phenomenal mix. She pressed and pulled at me with her arms, then bit and nibbled at my lips with her mouth, hoping I’d get the hint and give her what she wanted. When I didn’t cave to her prodding she got frustrated and shifted, biting my chin. Not hard, but hard enough that I knew she meant business. Then she went all soft on me once more.

  I was digging it.

  The woman was a tease. A true minx. Adventurous.

  She bit me again.

  Alrighty. Sign me up. I was ready for some serious playtime. And it seemed so was she.

  Before she turned into the silky tiger again and showed her claws, I pulled back and whispered against her cheek, “Open your mouth for me.”

  When she did as I told her without hesitation, I went after her the way I wanted to. Without caution or holding myself in check. I crushed her against me, sinking a hand into the back of her hair, guiding the embrace as I pushed my tongue into her mouth and enjoyed the flavor of her. Silk and honey. Ty was right. Our angel did taste like strawberries. Sweet, sweet, berries.