MELT

by Deborah Bladon

  "You know about the party?" Gabriel arches a dark brow. "I thought it was..."

  "He thought it was tomorrow night," Isla interrupts. "He can't keep his days straight anymore. That's what old age does to a hot man."

  He huffs out a laugh. "You'll pay for that later, Isla."

  "Promise?" She turns to him. "Promise I'll pay for it."

  "That's my cue to leave." I run my hand over Ella's brow. "I'll see you in a few days, little lovely."

  ***

  "You weren't at the party last year." I adjust the collar of Crew's dress shirt. "Why are you making an appearance this year?"

  He studies my face. "When did you grow up?"

  "It's been a long time coming." I step back to survey the shirt. It's flawless. "You didn't answer my question. You weren't at the marketing department's holiday party last year. Why are you going with me this year?"

  "Things were fucked up last year. Ryker was only on the job for a few months back then. I'd fired Miller, the idiot who used to head marketing, right before Thanksgiving. Every person who works in that department wanted my head on a platter because they loved Miller and I passed them over for the promotion and gave it to Ryker." He rubs his forehead. "It was a shit show, Lark. I stayed away for my own personal safety."

  "I only want to stay for an hour," I announce, ignoring his long winded accounting of why he stood me up last year. He was with a woman. I don't need to be a genius to figure that out. My brother doesn't hide the fact that he has a penchant for beautiful brunettes. Everyone who works at Matiz knows it. "After that, I'm coming back here to watch Christmas movies and drink egg nog."

  "You're going to be twenty-four in a few days, Lark, not eighty-four. You've been single since your ex moved to L.A. Why don't you hit a club after the party? You're looking stellar tonight in your Mrs. Claus getup."

  I look down at the plaid dress I'm wearing. It's red and black with a white belt complete with those two small bells attached to the buckle. "What's wrong with my dress?"

  "Nothing if you're trying to attract an old white haired stalker type with a beard who creeps around the world in the darkness of night dressed in a red suit."

  "I'm trying to be festive. I found this at a vintage shop in the West Village."

  He eyes me again. "You're beautiful. I think you're too beautiful. It scares the hell out of me that you look the way you do. Even in this tablecloth dress you look like a million bucks."

  "My dress looks like a tablecloth?"

  He nods. "Granny Benton had a tablecloth that matched this. I think it's the same material."

  "Shit." I cover my eyes with my hands. "That's why I fell in love with it. It reminded me of Granny Benton."

  "Go change." He points toward my bedroom. "Choose something less Granny and more millennial."

  "I don't have time." I glance at the watch on his wrist. "It's almost seven, isn't it? The party starts at seven."

  "Who the hell cares when it starts?" He scoffs with a grin. "I'm the fucking boss, sis. Take all the time you need. The party won't start until we walk through the door."

  Chapter 6

  Lark

  "Do you know what Mr. Moore's been working on the last couple of days?" I ask as I stare out the window of the car that was waiting outside my apartment building for us. My brother is an Uber or taxi type of guy, but tonight he opted for a chauffeur driven sedan. He must have a date after the Christmas party. I've learned the hard way never to ask questions about his personal life.

  "Mr. Moore?" he mimics my voice as he repeats Ryker's name. "What the fuck is that? Does he make you call him that?"

  "I call him that because that's his name."

  "His name is Ryker. You should call him that." He taps my knee. "Don't bow down to him, Lark. He's your superior, but you're gaining on him. Some of your ideas crush his."

  I can't tell if he's being genuine or being an older brother. I choose the former because the ego boost never hurts. I look at the driver before I bring my attention to Crew. "I've needed to speak to him since yesterday, but he's been out of his office. His assistant said he was busy with a special project."

  "Special project?" He looks at me with skepticism in his eyes.

  "It's probably Gem." My voice is a murmur.

  "Gem?" he repeats back almost instantly. "That's over, Lark. She dumped him a couple of days ago."

  "She did?" I try not to sound as excited as I feel. I don't know why my heart jumps at the news but it does.

  Ryker has shown limited interest in me since the kiss we shared a year ago. Sometimes I feel like he's looking at me like I'm a woman and he's a man instead of the way a boss looks at his employee, but he's hard to read. Besides, Gem is always floating in and out of his life. I got so tired of seeing pictures of them together online, that I stopped searching for either of their names.

  "She's throwing him under the bus." He pushes his phone into my lap.

  I glance down. It's a profile on a social media site. I know instantly, based on the seductive photo of a brunette in a bikini that it belongs to Gem. I scroll down and see a few postings that mention Ryker. I only read two before I give the phone back to Crew. "Some things need to be private."

  "You're telling me. Like those pictures of the two of them on the beach." He leans forward to gaze through the windshield. "I'm waiting for her to talk shit about Matiz. If that happens, one of our company lawyers is ready to pounce."

  Everything is business to Crew. He protects the Matiz name even though the bulk of the company is owned by his closest friend, Nolan Black. Crew would fight off a lion with his bare hands if it meant Matiz kept its good name. He's loyal to those he loves. He's going to be an amazing husband to a lucky woman one day.

  "Why didn't we turn on Fifth Avenue?" I glance back out the window. "We're headed away from Matiz. We can't go to the party if we're going in the wrong direction."

  The driver chuckles but he doesn't offer any explanation.

  "I moved the party to Nova," Crew says nonchalantly. "The food is better."

  "Nova?" I push my back into the car's seat. "The restaurant owned by Tyler Monroe? We're having the marketing party at Nova?"

  "We are." His eyes gleam. "I think it's a much better choice than potato chips and cheap beer and wine in the boardroom."

  "It's also way more expensive," I counter. "You're telling me you're paying for a party at Nova? Crew Benton is hosting a party for his employees at Nova? This isn't real."

  "It's real, Lark." He gestures out the window as the car slows as it nears the curb. "We're going to spend the evening enjoying food prepared personally by Tyler Monroe."

  Holy shit. I love Tyler Monroe. I also love his fiancée, Cadence. I've seen them both on television too many times to count.

  They're two of the most talented chefs in the country. I've never been to Nova. I've wanted to go for months but dining alone at an upscale restaurant isn't my thing. I always imagined I'd be on the arm of a handsome man when I had dinner there. I never thought that man would be my brother.

  ***

  "I told you this was a stupid fucked up idea, Crew. She's going to pass out. She's going to fucking pass out because you scared the hell out of her."

  I swat my brother Kade across the chest as he leans over me. He's older than me but younger than Crew. He speaks before he thinks but tonight he's going to tone it down. Acting like an asshole at my party isn't allowed.

  "I'm just surprised," I say as I look up at Crew and Kade. "I didn't know this was my birthday party."

  I couldn’t have known. When I walked through the door of Nova, I did it with the anticipation of seeing everyone I work with. I never expected to hear people screaming the word 'surprise,' and I couldn't have known that my parents, my brother, Isla and Gabriel would be standing right in front of me. There are more people here, but those were the faces I recognized before my knees gave out and I fell back into Crew's arms.

  "I told Crew this was a bad idea, Lark." Kade brushes hi
s lips over my forehead. "I told him we should keep things as is and toast to your birthday during Christmas dinner. It's what you expect. I only want what's best for you."

  They both want what's best for me. All of my brothers do. That's why my mother shoved a birthday card into my hand the moment I sat down. I know it's from Curtis, my eldest brother. He's in Philadelphia for a few days with his family celebrating the holidays early with his in-laws. He'll arrive in New York by train on Christmas Eve with his wife and two boys in tow. The next day my family will open gifts and sing carols and then at the end of the night, my dad will pop open a bottle of champagne and my family will toast to my birthday. It's been that way for as long as I can remember. The champagne used to be sparkling apple juice but the sentiment was always the same. I never got an extra gift. The birthday cakes were eventually replaced with apple and pumpkin pies with a single white candle in the center of each that I blew out after everyone sang Happy Birthday to me.

  "I brought a glass of water." A deep voice behind me startles me. "It's for the birthday girl."

  I turn and look into the very recognizable face of Chef Tyler Monroe. "You're him."

  "I'm Tyler," he says as he crouches next to me. "Drink this. You look white as a ghost."

  I take the glass from him and down the water in one gulp. "Is your fiancée here? I love her."

  "I love her too." He taps the center of his chest with his fingers. "Crew made a special request for her to be here, so she is. Cadence is in the back cooking up a storm for our special guest."

  "For me?" I look past his face to Crew's. "This is all for me?"

  "All for you, Lark." Crew smiles down at me. "This is your night."

  Chapter 7

  Ryker

  I'm stopped at the door of Nova by a brawny looking bouncer type. I know this place is sitting at the top of everyone's best restaurant in New York list, but the guy dressed in all black with the pissed off look on his face is overkill.

  "The restaurant is closed to the public tonight," he says in a thick Russian accent. "You'll come back another night."

  "I'll stay tonight," I shoot back with a fake grin. "I'm here for the Benton birthday party."

  He gives me the once over. I'm dressed in a black suit, white shirt, and a blue tie. I look the part of the distinguished party guest, even though I was never formally invited. "I'll check the list. What's your name?"

  Fuck. Seriously? A guest list?

  I look past him into the restaurant to where Crew is standing next to a petite blonde woman. I recognize her immediately. She's Isla Foster. I used to work for her husband, Gabriel, at Liore Lingerie. I'd see her around the office every once in a while, and when I started working for Matiz, she popped up there. We laughed about it at the time before she explained that Lark is her best friend.

  "Your name?"

  I look back at the guy with the accent. He's asked me twice. I need to give him an answer.

  I go for broke because this bouquet of peonies in my hand isn't going to look as great tomorrow morning as it does right now. I want to hand them to Lark tonight. "I'm Ryker Moore. Lark works for me."

  He nods. "You're not on the list."

  "You didn't check a list."

  "I have the list in here." He taps his massive forehead. It's more like a five or six head but I'm not about to point that out.

  "Check it again," I say louder hoping to draw Isla's attention.

  He rolls his eyes. "I checked. You're not on the list."

  "I need to give these flowers to Lark for her birthday."

  He reaches for them but I back away quickly. There's no way I'm placing these in his paw. He'll crush them without even trying.

  "Give them to me." He lunges toward me. "I'll give them to her."

  "No fucking way." I shake my head. "I'm handing these to Lark myself. Step aside and let me in."

  "Watch the mouth." He places his index finger over his lips. "This is probably why you're not on the list."

  "He's on the list." A soft female voice says from behind me. "You can let him in."

  I straighten the knot on my tie before I pivot to face her. I hold the flowers out in front of me. "These are for you, Lark. Happy Birthday."

  ***

  I curse everything in the world when I look down at her hand. It's holding tight to the arm of the man next to her. It's not just an average guy. This guy looks like he belongs on the cover of a magazine. Fuck this night and this surprise birthday party.

  "These flowers are beautiful." Her cheeks blush pink. "You bought these for me, Mr. Moore?"

  "For your birthday." I try not to stare at the man next to her. I should introduce myself but what's the fucking point? He's obviously her boyfriend. I'm her boss. I'm just her goddamn boss. I can't forget that.

  "You knew about this party?" Her gaze drifts over my face. "You came to my birthday party to give me these?"

  "Yes," I answer dryly. "I wanted you to know how much I appreciate all the valuable work you do at Matiz."

  Her face is awash in something, maybe disappointment or confusion. It's possible that she's frustrated that I crashed her party. I wasn't invited. I don't know why the fuck I thought this was a good idea.

  She clears her throat. "Thank you for the flowers. I hope you'll at least stay for dinner. Tyler Monroe and his wife are cooking for us."

  I have no fucking idea who that is, but I'm game. She wants me to stay, so I will. "I'll stay."

  "Good." Her expression brightens. "We were just out getting some air. We're heading back in there now."

  I step aside to let her and her date take the lead. Lark walks into the restaurant just as he stops and extends his hand to me. "So you're the infamous Ryker Moore. I've heard a lot about you."

  I give his hand a firm shake. "Don't repeat any of it."

  He laughs and drops my hand. "I'm Kade Benton. It's great to meet you, man."

  It's fucking amazing to meet him too. He's her brother, not her boyfriend. I feel a sense of relief I know I shouldn't, but I can't deny that there's something about Lark that draws me to her like a moth to a flame.

  Chapter 8

  Lark

  I place the fork on the small plate that had a good size piece of white chocolate birthday cake on it not more than three minutes ago. I practically inhaled it after Isla handed it to me. It's not the best cake I've ever had. That recipe belongs to my mom. She used to bake me a chocolate cake every year for my birthday before the masses started demanding pie as a dessert replacement on Christmas Day.

  "You like cake." Mr. Moore swipes his finger over the corner of my mouth before he slides it between his lips. "I can see why. This is delicious."

  I freeze in place. That felt intimate. It felt incredibly intimate even if wasn't his intention. The entire night I've felt that sensation over and over again.

  He sat next to me during dinner, his knee brushing against mine whenever he moved slightly. He picked up my wine glass by mistake and took a sip before handing it back to me and watching intently as I drank from it.

  It was white wine. He chuckled when I ordered a glass of red. I laughed too and immediately changed my mind and ordered white. He did the same.

  "I like cake," I say to break what I think is sexual tension. He may think it's just me being my typical awkward self, but it feels like more to me. "Ice cream is my favorite, though."

  Way to sound your age, Lark.

  "I have a soft spot for ice cream myself." He taps his fingers on his dress shirt over his stomach. It has to be rock hard. I saw the outline of his abs in the pictures of him on the beach. I also saw that unmistakable V that only really hot guys have. Well, hot guys who work out like mad. I saw his cock too, but I've been trying to think of that less and the rest of him more. His body is ideal. It's what any woman could ever want and now it's available and so close to me.

  "You don't eat ice cream." I reach out to touch the same spot he just did, but I stop myself. "You can't eat ice cream and look like that."r />
  "When your grandparents own the best ice cream shop in the city, you eat ice cream." He scoops up a tiny bit of buttercream icing onto a spoon and brings it to his lips. He licks it slowly.

  My mind jumbles. Do women put icing on their nipples? If we were in bed together and I put icing on my nipples, would he lick it off like that? If I put it on my clit, would he suck it off slowly?

  I take another sip of white wine hoping it will shut my imagination down.

  "The best ice cream shop in Manhattan is Cremza," I say with conviction. "I've been going there once a week for years. I've tried others but I always go back to Cremza."

  "Good to know." He grins and I'm sure an angel somewhere weeps because it's so strikingly beautiful.

  Dammit, Lark. Get a fucking grip on yourself. It's just a smile.

  I push the half-full glass of wine away from me. I know my limit and I've obviously cruised past it, way past it. "I have to work tomorrow. I should probably get home."

  He chuckles, the sound deep and raspy. "You can come in late tomorrow, Lark. I'll overlook it."

  "You're a prince, Mr. Moore." I rest my hand on his forearm. "You're not as bad as I thought you were."

  "I can be bad."

  My head snaps up, my eyes widening in surprise. I look directly at him. This is the first moment I've had alone with him all night. It's the ideal time for me to ask him why he still has those pictures of my tattoo on his phone. I need to ask him that. I should ask him that but I don't. "Did you just say you can be bad?"

  "I can be bad," he repeats gruffly. "I can be firm, or demanding. I can be many things."

  I squirm slightly in my seat, my thighs rubbing together beneath the thin fabric of my black dress. I don't want to jump to the wrong conclusion. He might be talking about work. There's a chance he's not. There's a huge chance that he's talking about sex; bad, firm, and demanding sex.

  Not bad exactly. The man can't be bad in bed. I bet he could get me off just by looking at me long enough. Is that an actual thing? Is it even physically possible? I stare at him to test my theory.