She had an image of three men, carbon copies of Hank, all rushing away from a small, weather-beaten ranch, and it made her smile. “Quint, Will and Morgan are your brothers?”
“Quint and Will are. But not Morgan.” She didn’t understand why he looked so amused until he added, “Morgan’s my sister.”
Maybe she would just have her foot sugar-coated and be done with it. That way, every time she stuck it in her mouth at least it would taste good. “Sorry.”
Hank wondered why she felt so compelled to keep apologizing.
“No reason to be. Natural enough mistake with a name like that. Morgan’s the youngest and my grandfather had gotten on my mother’s case that none of the kids were named after him. When Morgan came along, he said he didn’t care that she was a girl. He figured the name might bring her luck.”
Hank laughed, remembering Morgan’s hot temper. A temper that hadn’t gotten all that tamed, really. It just came in a prettier package these days. He pitied the man who’d try to tame her.
“Wasn’t all that long ago that she wanted to be my brother. She always felt as if she had something to prove. No one would have ever accused her of being all sugar and spice back then. Even now, Morgan likes to think she’s as tough as the rest of us.
“Funny thing is, she is.” Hank winked at Fiona.
The small flutter of lashes and skin went directly to her belly like brandy to an empty stomach. She had no buffer to shield her from it, or from the sexy smile that lifted the corners of a mouth created for the sole purpose of seduction.
“I’m glad you decided to stay in that,” he added.
She lifted a shoulder, then let it drop quickly when she realized how helpless it made her seem. He’d just been talking about how strong his sister was, and here she stood, acting like one of the mice in Cinderella, scattering in the wake of the cat.
Except that the cat had never been this damn sexy.
“It wasn’t a decision,” she admitted. “There wasn’t enough time to change.”
They weren’t going anywhere. She was all but escorting him out the door. Why was she worried about time? “I’m afraid I don’t follow. Why wasn’t there enough time?”
This was just getting worse and worse. “Well, you were changing and…”
Hank put it together quickly. “You thought that I’d come looking for you if you weren’t at the door when I opened it? Maybe walk into your room while you were still half dressed?”
He could see by the expression in her eyes that he’d guessed correctly and couldn’t resist teasing her. He’d never in his life even come remotely close to forcing himself on a woman. It was against everything he believed in. But because he thought of himself as laid-back, he chose to let it amuse him rather than anger him.
“Maybe even crowd you a little, like this?” Hank maneuvered her until the wall was at her back and there was nowhere to go.
“No. Yes.” Trapped and feeling frustrated by her reaction, Fiona was suddenly filled with exasperation. “Stop it.”
Hank took a step back, though he had to admit that the close proximity was tantalizing. There was a fragrance in her hair—wildflowers, he thought— that was proving to be very arousing.
He didn’t mean to laugh, but the expression on her face gave him no choice. When her eyes narrowed with annoyance, he held up his hand to ward off the tiny arrows her eyes were firing.
“Fiona, you are a pure delight” He thought of the last conversation he’d had with his mother before he’d boarded the plane. “You’re nothing like the women my mother was worried I’d run into.”
“Your mother was worried about you?”
The laughter faded in his throat, replaced by something else. A feeling, a tenderness entering where it had never existed before. Hank cupped her cheek with his hand. “Sure. Everyone knows that California girls are heartbreakers.”
Her words came out slowly, like tiny beads being strung one at a time to form a necklace. Her eyes were mesmerized by his, unable to draw away.
“Then she’d be very happy you were here with me. I’ve never broken a heart in my life.”
His mother wouldn’t be the only one who was happy about logistics, he thought.
“Are you sure about that, Fiona?” Hank lowered his mouth until it was less than a breath away from hers. “Are you very sure about that?”
Fiona felt as if she were suffocating. There was no air left in her lungs. Why that should be such a pleasant sensation was beyond her. Maybe she was just getting too light-headed to think clearly.
“Positive,” she whispered, afraid of waking herself up because it had to be a dream.
Her breath, sweet and enticing, drew him in, erasing the last stitch of space between them. Very softly, he touched his lips to hers.
All he wanted was a tiny sample, nothing more. Just one tiny sample.
But what he got, what he discovered, compelled him to deepen the kiss a little further. Greed, born in the wake of surprise, lifted its head, wanting more. Desiring more. The spark within his veins struck excitement, causing it to burn brightly as he savored the flavor of her lips.
His hand left her cheek and cupped the back of her head; his mouth pressed harder on hers. He was afraid of bruising her. And afraid of retreating.
The kiss seemed to deepen all on its own. He wasn’t in charge anymore. At least not completely. Adventurous by nature, Hank felt just a pinprick of uncertainty as he felt himself being taken away. All he could think as he tightened his arms around her was that the last time his head had felt this way, he’d been kicked by a mule. He’d come to in a hospital bed.
This was infinitely more preferable.
Fiona forgot to be afraid. Forgot to draw back. Instead, confronted with such sheer maleness, she gave up all resistance and felt herself swept into the heart of the crackling inferno that blazed before her.
So this is what they meant by instant attraction.
As she wrapped her arms around his neck, Fiona’s head fell back as the kiss overpowered her. There was no struggle on her part and no desire to put one up. All she wanted was to have this go on for a century or so. So she could make up for lost time.
Shaken, not quite sure exactly what to make of all this, Hank pulled his head back and looked down at this stick of dynamite he’d just handled. Talk about looks being deceiving.
He blew out a breath very slowly, silently waiting for his pulse to unscramble and do something about the meltdown in his brain.
The inexplicable feelings of tenderness were still there, hanging tenaciously like survivors of a shipwreck on to driftwood.
Unable to help himself, Hank lightly skimmed his fingers through her hair. “Don’t be so positive, Fiona. Unless I miss my guess, there’s a whole battalion of broken hearts in your wake.”
Fiona blinked. The euphoria fell away like so much dead skin from a snake. What had been so beautiful a moment ago had turned ugly on her.
He was laughing at her, she thought, her back stiffening. The kiss had probably been a joke, as well. Turning, she pulled open the door. “It’s late. Maybe you’d better go.”
Hank stared at her uncomprehendingly. “Was it something I said?” The sweet, unassumingly sexy woman he’d kissed only a moment ago was gone, vanished like a magician’s assistant in a magic act, to be replaced by a tiger.
Fiona wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of saying yes.
“No, but I have to get an early start tomorrow.” Catching him off guard, she planted the heel of her hand on his chest and pushed him over the threshold. “Thank you for everything. Good night.”
Before he knew what was happening, Hank found himself staring at the door instead of Fiona. What the hell had happened here? One moment he thought they were on their way to an incredible night of lovemaking; the next moment he was communing with a newly varnished door.
Mystified, shaking his head, Hank slowly walked away. Maybe his mother had the right idea about California girls. At the very l
east, they were a little crazy.
“You threw him out?”
Bridgette stared at her sister the following Monday as if her hair had suddenly turned into an array of hissing snakes. Too stunned to stand, she sank down at the long table Fiona had slavishly made at an adult education course in the local high school.
“Fiona, I thought insanity stopped in our family with Dad.” She couldn’t make herself believe it. Even Fiona wouldn’t throw away a perfectly good man unused. “A gorgeous man and you threw him out?”
Fiona thumbed through her worn recipe book, looking for something exciting she could whip up as a sample to bring to Mr. and Mrs. Goldberg. It wasn’t every day that a couple got to plan a celebration for their golden wedding anniversary. The last thing she wanted was to discuss the fiasco in her hallway the other night.
“I didn’t throw him out,” she said tersely. She placed a colorful Post-it note on page 543 to mark her place, then continued thumbing through the worn pages.
“Giving him the bum’s rush is throwing in my book. Just what happened?”
Fiona shut the cookbook. All right, if Bridgette wanted the truth, she’d give it to her. “He made fun of me.”
Bridgette shook her head uncomprehendingly. “By kissing you?”
Restless, unable to find any peace for herself since Saturday night, Fiona got up and moved around the kitchen. There was nothing to clean, nothing to put in its proper place. She’d already done that. She settled for fussing with the spice rack.
“It wasn’t the kiss, it was what he said.” She shot Bridgette an accusing look over her shoulder, knowing exactly what her sister was thinking. That she was an idiot. “You wouldn’t understand. You’ve been beautiful all your life.”
That still explained nothing. “Thanks, but what does that have to do with anything?”
Fiona struggled to make her understand. “When we were growing up, whenever someone gave you a compliment, you knew they were telling you the truth. When I heard one, it was always from someone just being sarcastic.”
Bridgette knew what Fiona had gone through. It was to her everlasting shame that she’d been too vain and taken with herself to intervene then. But there was no undoing the past All she could do was try to make the present work for her sister.
Bridgette slipped an arm around Fiona’s shoulders. “Look, kids say a lot of hurtful things. They find the one thing that bugs someone and tease the hell out of her.” She looked into Fiona’s eyes. “That doesn’t mean it’s true.”
Fiona pulled away. She knew Bridgette was just trying to be kind. Their relationship had improved a thousandfold since they’d grown up. But that still didn’t change the way things were.
She tried to act as if it didn’t matter. That it was only a fact of life she’d accepted. But at the bottom, it still bothered her and it always would. “Dad said it was true. The mirror said it was true.”
“Have you looked in that mirror lately?” Bridgette asked softly.
Fiona shrugged. It was all unimportant now. Only when someone like Hank came along was she reminded of the past and all the insecurities that had haunted her. “All right, so it doesn’t crack anymore when I walk by, but someone like Hank is accustomed to the best. You saw the way women were swarming around him.”
They might have swarmed, but Fiona was the one he’d kissed. “Your point being?”
Did she have to spell it out? “If he can have the very best, why would he be interested in me except to amuse himself?”
Bridgette had a feeling that Fiona had it all wrong, but she knew how stubborn she could be. “There’s nothing wrong with amusement.”
Fiona turned away from her and headed back to the table. Doggedly, Bridgette followed. “Sometimes it grows into something else. Besides, it’s as good a place to start as any in forming a relationship.”
“The only relationship I intend to have is with my business,” Fiona reminded her, as if she hadn’t already said the same thing a hundred times. But Hank had done one thing for her. He’d put the bug in her ear about advertising. It was now another goal to be met. “Maybe after a few more affairs like the Kellerman wedding, I’ll have enough in the slush fund to consider an advertising campaign.”
Bridgette’s ears perked up. “What did you say Cutler did for a living?”
Fiona knew that look all too well. Bridgette was off and running again. She should have just lied and said that nothing had happened between her and Hank.
“Down, Bridgette. If and when I decide to fund an advertising campaign, it won’t be with Hank’s firm.”
“And why not? You’ll know you’re getting your money’s worth then.”
Sometimes Bridgette’s reasoning astounded her. “And why is that?”
Bridgette’s expression could be termed nothing short of dreamy as she envisioned the man. “He’s got honest eyes.”
“Ha! Every time I saw you, you were looking at his butt, not his eyes.”
Bridgette remained undaunted. “So he’s got an honest butt, too. It’s a set.” As Fiona turned away, Bridgette placed her hand on her arm, stopping her. If only Fiona had learned how to tune out hurtful words as easily as she could tune out helpful ones. “Fiona, don’t be foolish. This is perfect.”
“For what?” she wanted to know. “For the business, or for me?”
Bridgette didn’t even try to lie. Fiona would see right through it. “Both. From what I’ve seen, you are the business.”
Maybe, but there was a simple little obstacle that couldn’t be overlooked. “You forget, I don’t have the money right now.”
“Talk to the man,” Bridgette implored. “I’m sure arrangements can be made. Maybe you don’t have to fund everything up front.”
“I don’t get into deals asking for favors.”
“Didn’t he say that he owed you one, for alerting him that he’d sent his fax to you by mistake?”
Fiona shook her head. “We’re squared away after Saturday. If anyone owes anyone, I owe him. He wouldn’t take any money.”
Bridgette’s mouth dropped open. “You offered him money for kissing you?”
“No, for waitering.” Fiona sighed in exasperation. “Bridgette, if you’re going to pump me for information, at least pay attention when I give it to you.”
But as far as Bridgette was concerned, she was paying attention. Very strict attention. To what she needed to hear.
5
“Let me get this straight.”
Hank leaned forward in his chair and pulled over one of the many yellow pads he liked to keep handy in case an idea struck him. Though he considered himself on the cutting edge of technology, he had to admit that there was still nothing like the feel of pen to paper when it came to initial creativity.
Right now, he wasn’t feeling all that creative, just bemused. He’d doodled a question mark on it when he’d first taken the call and discovered that Bridgette was on the other end. After listening to the woman talk nonstop for several minutes, the question mark was no closer to being erased than it had been to begin with.
He repeated what he’d gleaned from her ramblings. “You and your sister would like to arrange a meeting with me to discuss an advertising campaign for her catering business?”
There was a note of impatience in Bridgette’s voice that she tried vainly to conceal. “That’s what I’ve been saying for the last five minutes.”
Hank knew a setup when he smelled one. “Fiona didn’t indicate any interest in advertising when I spoke with her about it.” Unless showing him the outside of her front door somehow translated into being interested.
“She’s had time to think about it and she’s changed her mind. About everything,” Bridgette added significantly, hoping that the blanket statement would cover anything that might need covering.
Though she’d pulled the story out of her sister bit by bit, Bridgette had no idea if there were any missing pieces that Fiona had failed to elaborate on. The tall, sexy stranger had seemed interested
enough to her when she’d seen the two of them together. Maybe this would rekindle any fires that Fiona had doused.
“I see.” As he spoke, the doodle turned into a stick figure of a woman balancing a huge wedding cake on a tray as she hurried to a waiting van. He gave the stick figure very curly hair that reached almost to her waist. And black high heels. “If she’s so interested, why isn’t she calling me herself?”
“She’s busy today, meeting with a prospective client. A couple planning a party to celebrate their fiftieth anniversary,” Bridgette elaborated. “Fiona likes to do one thing at a time whenever possible.”
“Interesting.” Moving the pad to one side, Hank flipped through his calendar. Since he’d joined the firm, three new accounts had come his way, with more in the offing. He wanted to give each his personal attention. That necessitated his going to each company and spending the better part of the day orienting himself about products, procedures and any little thing that might spark his imagination. “I’m kind of booked up for the next few weeks.”
“Oh.”
Disappointment dripped from the single word. It was a setup all right, he thought. But one he fully meant to take advantage of.
Hank turned the page and made a notation on the next day’s page.
“Why don’t I meet with you after-hours? Say tomorrow, about six-thirty?” He would have said today, except that he was driving up to Riverside to meet with the owner of Central Computers right after lunch. “There’s a restaurant called McGonigle’s on Newport Center Drive. Inside Fashion Island—”
“Don’t bother with directions, I know where it is. We’ll be there,” Bridgette said with obvious delight.
Hank smiled to himself. He wondered what sort of story Bridgette was going to concoct to get Fiona to show up. “I’m looking forward to doing business with you, Ms. Reilly.”
Fiona And The Sexy Stranger Page 6
