He stood in the doorway of her brand new office with Vi, wearing his leather jacket, bike helmet hanging from one hand, hair mussed, weight on one long black denim-clad leg that ended in a biker boot, and a crooked smirk that always made her pulse cartwheel.
And the temperature did change after all, it changed right up and down her body. This pull between them so real, it was strange to her that it wasn’t visible. Fine electric strings with enough length to enable them to walk around without the other but always bringing them back, always with this effortless heated connection.
“Told him to keep his nose out,” said Vi. She slapped the back of her hand on Reid’s arm. “Got wax in his ears.”
He gave an indignant grunt. “You said, ‘hello handsome. Zarley’s in her office.’” He pointed to his ear. “Perfect hearing.”
“I also said she’s busy, Back Booth, and you’re not supposed to be here, but did you listen?”
Reid opened his mouth to answer but Vi got in first. “No, you did not. Typical man.”
The two of them glared at each other, neither willing to be the first to crack a smile. If Zarley had to place a bet, it would be even odds. It was almost impossible to stare Reid down, but in her hostess days, Vi had faced every size and scale of drunk from dumb as a brick to mean and dangerous and never lost a fight. But this could go on all day and she had a liquor order to place. “Get a room, you two.”
Vi broke. Slapping Reid for a second time and laughing. “I don’t know how you live with him, Zarley.”
“I was your favorite drunk, Vi,” said Reid.
“You weren’t the worst, crying in your beer.”
Vi had that right. “Zarley cured me of that.”
“If I’d been twenty years younger when you started coming here, I’d have taken a crack at curing you myself, given Zarley a run for her money.”
“If you were twenty years younger, I’d be terrified of you,” he said.
Vi flashed him a smile. She’d have tossed her hair too, if it wasn’t so stylishly cut. “He’s all yours, Zarley hon. I’m off to the bank, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
They both watched Vi leave. Three years ago she’d had lined skin, stained teeth, uneven hair color, cheap clothes, family woe, and limited prospects. And then Lou died and left her his considerable property portfolio including the building Lucky’s was in, and Vi’s whole life changed. Zarley changed it again by becoming her partner to open the new nightclub, which needed a liquor order if it was ever going to open in time.
“She has it bad for me,” Reid said.
“She scares you shitless.”
“Proves I’m not stupid.”
Nothing stupid about her man; offensive, insulting, abrasive, a pain in the ass, but in his industry he was considered a visionary. “You do still have a job, yes? Showing up here in the middle of the day is making me wonder what not good thing you’ve done.”
He slapped his hand over his heart. “Such little faith.”
It wasn’t religion he inspired. The liquor order could wait. She had him unexpectedly in her office when she was dressed to kill. She’d been so busy, they’d seen very little of each other of late, and she was usually in sweats by the time he got home. He worked even longer hours than she did. She could use this. She pushed her chair back from the desk at an angle and then propped her feet on the edge, crossing her ankles.
As was the plan, his eyes went straight to her legs, and then flared when the skirt of her wrap dress gave in to gravity and slid off her thighs. She didn’t adjust it.
“Do you like the shoes?” They were new, stilt heel, hot pink, to offset her black dress.
“Fuck the shoes.”
Tingles all up and down her spine because there was that crunch and gravel his voice got when he wanted her, and the heat in his eyes set her temperature to shiver. He shrugged off his jacket and dumped the helmet, took the chair in front of her desk and sat.
“So did you do something naughty today, Reid?”
“Not yet.”
Oh, that promise made her body go tight. But soon would be good. Cara would be back shortly, and later there’d be a room full of women learning to pole dance in the studio across from them. He’d be a fox in a henhouse, but for the half hour they had the place to themselves and he was her fox to chase down and pet as she pleased. “Doesn’t tell me what you’re doing here.”
“Can’t a man come see his girl in the middle of the day for no reason?”
“You’re not a man who does things without reason.”
“Fell for you unreasonably.”
He very much did, and when she’d gotten over the freak-out value of that, it was the best thing that had ever happened to her. “What do you want?” Apart from something naughty, and that was a consequence, not the reason he was here, because they’d had sex this morning before he left for work, so it wasn’t like either of them were starved for it.
“Dev and Sarina are going to get married and I know what I want to give them.”
He could’ve phoned that in. “What are you up to?”
“Dev wants to do it quickly so they need a place. I offered him Lucky’s.”
She took her legs off the desk and pulled her chair around. “Without talking to me first.” He was unbelievable.
“I’m talking to you now.”
He was doing a snow job on her, trying to bully her. “But you already told him he could have a wedding here.”
“Told him if it was a problem, I’d let him know.”
“It’s a problem.” And not hers.
He made a come on, tell me more gesture and she bit down on the urge to shout at him.
“Weddings are held in churches or function centers, a hotel, a park, a beach. A registry office. Somewhere romantic or, at the very least, traditional. You don’t get married in a nightclub that features pole dancers.”
“You need a crowd for a soft opening.”
“And I have an invitation list for that.” She stood, satisfied she hadn’t turned this into a shouting match with provocation. “I can give you a bunch of recommendations for Dev, but he can’t have a wedding here, and you had no right to suggest it without speaking with me first.”
“Fuck it, Zarley.” He pushed a hand through his hair and looked up at her. “A wedding is the people you love, food and drink and something to make it official. Helps to have a roof over it, but Dev will do it on a street corner rather than wait. He doesn’t want to waste any more time not being with Sarina, and I wanted to help.”
“Is this about the baby?”
He shook his head. “It’s about being in love. I’d marry you stripped naked, on my knees with a knife at my heart, in a goddamn dark fucking alley at three in the morning, with drunks and crack addicts for witnesses if that’s all you offered me.”
She dropped back into her chair, anger dissolved like sugar on her tongue. Reid could be an obstinate, crash-tackling dickhead, but she loved him, and when he said things like that she hated herself for holding out on him. “You’re a human wrecking ball.”
She didn’t need an event to make them real and she didn’t understand his obsession with having one. Paper promises didn’t stop marriages from going bad and busting up. Weddings were fantasies and she preferred life to feel real. And they were already married in every way that counted as far as she was concerned.
“Let me help find somewhere better for Dev.” She could ring around some venues, tap some contacts and see what she could shake out; maybe a cancellation would fall in their laps before Sarina was too heavily pregnant to want to deal with it.
“Where the hell is going to be better by Sunday?”
“Sunday. As in tomorrow, Friday, Saturday, Sunday?” She shook her head. “That’s impossible.”
“Dev and Sarina spent a dozen years, fumbling around, not getting it right. They’d given up on each other. That’s impossible.”
“Even if I wanted to, we’re not ready to open.”
“I ca
n’t begin to understand what that would be like for either of them to be so close and so far, and to almost fuck it up entirely because they didn’t get the words they said to each other right, they didn’t listen well enough. It’s fucking infuriating.”
Oh, this man. He had second-hand social skills, but he was sharp about reading people once he’d clued into them, and behind the rough and awkward, he was all intuition and heart.
“I don’t care if you don’t marry me, Zarley. I know you love me for all my failings. I wanted it for insurance. It makes it easier legally, sure, but I wanted it because I’m afraid I’ll get the words wrong. You know that’s what I’m like. We’ve been there. We’re there now.”
He broke eye contact, cast his eyes down and she stopped breathing. He never did that.
“I’ll say the wrong thing or I’ll not say what needs to be said, or I’ll say too much or too little, or say it too late, or I won’t hear what you’re saying, and I’ll have no way of holding on to you. I’m a better me when I’m with you. I would lose myself if I lost you. I don’t want Dev and Sarina to have to wait another day to get their insurance, so they have the best chance not to fuck it up again.”
She stood, abruptly, the chair shooting out behind her and bouncing into the wall. Reid looked up, wary, and nothing separated them, not the desk, not the gear on it, not their very different ways of looking at the world, not his impossible request or her contained annoyance.
“I haven’t made all the hires or ordered all the stock. The bar isn’t plumbed. There’s no lighting in either of the bathrooms.” She couldn’t collect her thoughts but she had to move. She came out from behind the desk and he turned his chair. “This is a disaster. I don’t need a marriage ceremony to be married to you. It wouldn’t matter if it was written in blood, and carved on my skin, if I wanted to leave you, I would. But I’m not doing that. You’re stuck with me. You’ll have to pry me off of you. And you need to buy a car.”
He reached for her, but dropped his arm. “What?”
“No more bike in the rain. No more nearly horrible accidents. I don’t want to lose your arrogant ass either. I happen to love it and the rest of you besides. I want to hear you say yes to that.”
“All right, yes. Yes. I’ll get a car. I won’t ride in the rain. You only had to ask.”
“I have no idea how I’m going to pull this off but, okay, Dev and Sarina get a wedding at Lucky’s on, oh my God, Sunday.”
“Zarley.”
She stepped between his legs and shoved her hand in his hair, yanking his head back. He could make her feel the most intense craving, like she’d lose her mind if he didn’t touch her. “You need to get me some idea of numbers and this is not coming out of my operating budget, and, Reid, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m gonna break into a zillion pieces.”
“Jesus,” he said, hands to her ass. “Marry me.”
“I’m already married to you with everything I’ve got.” She pulled at the tie on the hip of her dress and let it fall open.
“You are fucking amazing.” He shifted her closer, pressed his face to her belly and breathed deeply. “Contract killer. It’s the only way you’re getting rid of me.”
“I’m getting rid of you in thirty minutes or Cara is going to walk in on us.”
He smiled into her skin. “Won’t be anything she hasn’t seen before.” Then he let her go and sat back. “Lose everything but the shoes.”
She let the dress slip to the floor, undid her bra. He went for his shirt. “Stay dressed.” She had this idea that fucking him in her office while she was naked and he was dressed would be fun. “But show me what you’ve got.”
The tension in his face fell away. But he wasn’t fast to obey; she didn’t drop her bra until he undid his belt. She stepped out of her pants when he unzipped and brought himself out, fingers clasped around his length, eyes razing all over her, and she couldn’t decide how to take him: hands, mouth, combination, or all the way inside.
“You get more beautiful every day.”
Decision made. She stepped around his legs and bent to kiss him, his face in her hands, his lips softer than ever his words were; never misplaced, saying what he had trouble expressing, letting her hear his truths and fears loud and clear.
One of his hands spread over her tailbone. He used the other to line them up, to tease with a swipe, a probe and then to seat her over him and push up inside. They stilled. Like this he made her so full, she needed a moment to adjust. His clothing felt rough between her thighs, across her torso, one of his shirt buttons grazed her nipple and she flinched. His hands were hot, and every kiss was another zing of connection as she softened around him, knowing he’d feel it and time his move so their pleasure was at its most intense.
“You’re perfect, Flygirl.” He dragged his lips across her cheek and nuzzled her ear before kissing down her neck to her throat.
In his arms she believed it, but she’d spent the last year in a lather of terror that she’d bitten off more than she could chew with Lucky’s. The renovation was one thing, it was easy to hire experts, but there were so many ways to fail as a business person and she knew more about failure than success, because who was she really but a busted gymnast and a semi-retired pole dancer with a business degree so new it was still under warranty.
He brought their faces together, a hand to the back of her head. “What’s going on?”
“I’m scared.”
He knew her fear had nothing to do with sex in her office. “You won’t fall.”
Fall not fail, but they meant the same thing. “You can’t catch me if I do.” She was on her own in this, he had no part in Lucky’s, and that’s the way she’d wanted it.
He flexed his hips and pressed her body down, hitting a spot deep inside, causing sharp ripples of feeling to pulse rhythmically though her. He did it again; she dropped her head back and he groaned against the hollow of her throat. “I’ll always be there to pick you up.”
“I love you.”
“Hold that thought,” he said, and started a steady grind, going for her mouth with wild hard kisses, and she did break into a zillion glittery pieces but was all the stronger for it when he brought her back together with lazy caresses and murmured praise.
She curled her arms around his neck and snuggled under his chin. “Did you seduce me so I’d forget to be angry with you?”
“Did it work?”
“I’ll get back to you.”
His amusement rumbled in his chest. “I like your office.”
“I’m sorry I made you stay away, but I wanted it to be a surprise.”
He strummed her spine. “Worked out swell for me. I was thinking I was going to get flayed, not laid.”
She pulled his ear till he made a face, then kissed his jaw, and they might’ve started up again but for footsteps in the corridor, and Cara calling, “Zarley, I got you a sandwich.”
Reid said, “Oops,” and spun the chair so his back was to the door as Cara arrived in it.
“Holy mother of pearl,” she said. “What is wrong with you two?”
“Cara,” said Reid. “Do I get a sandwich too?”
“No, you don’t get a damn sandwich, you maniac.”
Zarley tucked her head into Reid’s neck and laughed as Cara drew breath. She couldn’t count the number of times her best friend had caught them having sex and she really hadn’t intended being caught again. They should’ve at least closed the door.
“Is nowhere sacred? You have a whole apartment you can screw like rabbits in. This is where I work. I guess you thought it was time to christen every room here. You could’ve warned me. Oh wait, I better not find you’ve been in my studio, the cutting table is not strong enough for humping on.”
“You know this because . . .” Zarley said, looking over Reid’s shoulder. Behind his body, Cara wouldn’t see much of her, except arms and legs.
“Shut up. If there is one bolt of fabric, one thread out of place, I’ll . . . Hey,” she poi
nted at Zarley’s feet, “cool shoes. Didn’t notice them earlier.”
“Thanks. “You’ll what?”
“I’ll invite Owen over and do him on your antique bar top.”
“Not till after he’s finished the quarterly reports,” said Reid. “He doesn’t need the distraction.”
Cara groaned. “What are you even doing here? Did you break something at Plus?”
Reid, put his teeth to Zarley’s shoulder and laughed. Cara’s fuming was so comic. “What are you doing Sunday?” she asked.
“Why?”
“Dev and Sarina are getting married here.”
“What? No. Here? You’re not serious?”
“I don’t believe it either.”
“Did he sex you into that?”
“Pretty much.”
Reid made the chair rock. “I’m still here you know.”
“Unfortunately,” Cara drawled. “Oh, shotgun wedding, does Sarina have a dress? I’m going to call her.” She took off.
“She has my sandwich,” said Zarley, as Cara’s footsteps sounded down the corridor.
“She hates me,” said Reid, disentangling them, re-zipping himself.
“Eh, she doesn’t hate you. It’s—”
“Yes, I do,” Cara shouted.
They both laughed and Zarley put her underwear on while Reid held out her dress. “I’m going to need help for Sunday,” she said, sliding her arms through the sleeves.
“Anything and all the costs are on me.” He pulled the dress around her and tied a clumsy bow to hold it together. “Sorry I ruined your surprise.”
“You didn’t.” She stepped into his open arms. Her hair was tangled, what little makeup she wore wouldn’t have survived, but when your partner was a human tornado, you had to expect a little rough weather, and the eye of the storm was always delicious; the calm after it restoring. “I’ll see you at home.”
He kissed her forehead. “You’ll be late. Call me when you’re leaving, I’ll run you a bath.” She watched him collect his jacket and helmet. By the time she got home, he would’ve organized dinner, and soaking in the huge tub with him was a gorgeous way to end a long day.
Shotgun Wedding (Sidelined #4) Page 4
