Kiss Me Crazy

by Ednah Walters

  I can do this…

  At the top of the stairs was a seven-shaped hallway with doors leading to various rooms—several storage rooms and restrooms, a conference room and a little kitchenette, Baron’s assistant Rick Ben Jacob’s office, then a left turn to a private elevator, which went to Baron’s offices upstairs. Kara ducked in the bathroom to freshen up.

  She washed her hands, took lip gloss from her purse, and applied a trace amount on her lips then leaned back to take inventory of her appearance. Her hair was in its usual ponytail in the back and pinned back by one of her vintage clips, a perfect hairdo for her kind of work. She pulled off the clip and quickly ran a comb through it. A little bit more makeup wouldn’t hurt, but all she had was lip gloss. She sighed at her tan pants and black top. Getting dressed up and putting on war paints would have bolstered her confidence but it wouldn’t change anything. She still had to face the beefcake upstairs.

  She pulled off her glasses, stared at her blurry image, and sighed. She should have worn her contacts instead of the glasses, but there was nothing she could do about that now. Besides, she’d rather not trip and fall across Baron’s desk because she couldn’t see the tip of her nose. That was how he ended up kissing her the last time.

  Kara pushed her glasses in place, stepped out of the bathroom, and hurried past Rick’s office. Upstairs, Gena Ray, Baron’s secretary, sat behind her desk, her irritated gaze on two young women waiting in the visitor’s corner—two plush couches with an antique coffee table to the right of her desk. Baron must still be interviewing showroom attendants for his San Francisco gallery.

  One of the girls wore a skimpy top that clearly indicated she wasn’t wearing a bra, which explained Gena’s annoyed expression. Kara covered a smile. Gena, a leggy and stunning brunette with a kick-ass wardrobe, ran Baron’s office like her private fiefdom. No one was allowed to see him without an appointment. Except me, which ticked her off to no end. But despite her territorial attitude toward Baron, she always acted and dressed professionally. Anyone who didn’t know her might think she had a thing for the boss. Kara knew she was just a perfectionist when it came to office behavior and protocol. She was also happily married.

  As usual, the secretary scowled when she saw her. “Kara.”

  “Gena.” Kara gave her a brief smile.

  “You want to see Mr. Fitzgerald?”

  Why else would I be here? She didn’t understand why the woman insisted on using ‘Mr. Fitzgerald’ when both of them addressed him as Baron. Only the sales clerks were that formal with him. “Is he busy?”

  “As always.” She flipped through his appointment book. “But I can squeeze you in for a few minutes. He has an important conference call in exactly five minutes.”

  In other words, don’t waste his time. Kara understood. “Thanks, Gena.”

  She stepped toward Baron’s door just as one of the girls from the couch spoke up. “Excuse me? We’ve been waiting to see him for almost an hour now and you’re letting her—”

  “I told you he’ll see you when he’s ready. If you can’t wait, come tomorrow.”

  The conversation receded to the background as Kara knocked and waited for a response. When it came, she took a calming breath then another before pushing the door open.

  The large room was the seat of power, from the grey carpeting and the expensive knick-knacks around the room to the dark cherry desk. But the electrifying surge of energy came from the man behind the desk. He’d removed his jacket and his light blue shirt clung to his broad shoulders with careless elegance. His black hair, cropped short, suited him just like the longer style he’d sported years ago. It really didn’t matter what he wore or how he styled his hair, Baron exuded raw sexuality.

  He looked up and locked his bottomless blue eyes on her. His gaze was like a physical touch. The hairs on her arms lifted in response, and gentle wash of warmth made her stomach curl.

  Baron had known Kara was his visitor long before he looked up. Her scent, woodsy with a hint of wild flowers had a way of making the back of his neck tingle. His eyes skimmed over her slender, yet curvy, figure. Even in simple slacks and shirt, she managed to look elegant and graceful, and the effect on him was headier than a perfectly aged cognac.

  He watched her walk toward him, her hip-swaying stride confident and mesmerizing. A walk that proclaimed to the world, “I’m a sexy woman, deal with it.”

  He’d resisted dealing with it for years, partly because of bad timing and a company policy he’d drafted himself. He would have broken it in a heartbeat had she given him any hint that she was interested. There was something between them, something subtle but constant. Encouragement or not, he was making his move the day after the doors of his San Francisco gallery opened. The one thing he’d learned these past years was how to outline a good strategy and follow it systematically until he achieved his goal. The courting of Kara Michaels was part of this year’s plan, to be commenced in exactly one month.

  Baron rose to his feet, his gaze moving over her heart-shaped face, intelligent hazel eyes behind narrow, frameless glasses, and the luscious lips a man could get lost in for hours, days even. She rarely came to his office. He, on the other hand, went to the basement once a week in the guise of checking on the progress of the piece she was working on. Always hoping she’d do or say something to give her feelings away.

  “Kara, what a surprise,” he said.

  “I hope I’m not bothering you.” She stopped before his desk and gave him one of her sweet smiles.

  The nerves on the surface of his skin responded to her husky soft voice. Maybe he was a fool for waiting. “You bother me? Never. Come on, have a seat.”

  He waited until she sat down then settled back in his seat. For a moment, she didn’t speak, just sucked her bottom luscious lip between her teeth and chewed on the pink flesh, eyes vulnerable behind her glasses. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but the silence was driving him nuts.

  She reached up and touched the temple of her glasses, something she did when nervous. His gut tightened. “What is it, Kara?”

  “I want you to know that it’s been a pleasure working here these past five years, Baron. You took a chance on me when I was fresh out of grad school and taught me so much. I’ll always be grateful for that. I’ve thought hard about this, it’s nothing personal, I just think the time is right for me to leave. I’m here to offer you my resignation.”

  Baron’s chest had tightened before she finished her first sentence, every word after that a needle prickling his skin. She was leaving him, walking out. His brain short-circuited and the past rushed back with the force of a tsunami.

  It was the situation with Valerie all over again. He knew it was irrational to feel betrayed, to compare the two women. They were nothing alike, the situations not remotely the same. Kara wasn’t pregnant with his child. His ring wasn’t on her finger. And she wasn’t about to take off with someone he’d thought was a friend. Baron clenched his teeth and forced himself to think and act rationally.

  He looked at Kara’s hand and saw the letter she was holding. He glared at it until he saw her hand shake. That sign of weakness made him feel better. She wasn’t as calm as she appeared to be. His gaze moved to her face. Her eyes, hazel with specks of green on the edges, met his squarely and without guile.

  “Why?” His made sure his voice was calm, with just the right amount of curiosity.

  Surprise flashed in her eyes. What had she expected? For him to lose it? Sure, he wanted to take the damn letter from her hand and ram it in the shredder. The problem was she’d just bring him another one. From the stubborn angle of her chin and the determination gleaming in her eyes, the gorgeous woman thought she was doing the right thing by leaving. The sooner he disabused her of the idea the better they’d both be. They were perfect together as business partners, and if he had his way, he’d show her just how perfect they could be as a couple.

  “I need to follow my dreams, Baron. It’s something I’d promised myself I’d d
o before I reached a certain age, and I’m not growing any younger.”

  He understood dreams, but he couldn’t bring himself to applaud her decision. Valerie had said the same thing about following her dreams, though worded it differently, before shattering his life with, ‘I can’t do it married to you.’

  Pain blindsided him, piercing and relentless. He thought he’d reconciled with his past and moved on. The echoes of it sneaked up on him when least expected, but never this vividly. He clenched his teeth to stop the ache, to contain the anger and the disappointment.

  But Kara wasn’t Valerie. Kara was smart, gifted and tenacious, an amazing art conservator he couldn’t afford to lose. They once had a relationship that worked, one he’d missed these past years. He could have it all again—the meals in the basement, stimulating discussions, watching her eyes light up with laughter when he told his lame jokes. Only his time it would at work and at his home.

  “Is it the money?” He made sure his voice stayed calm, belying the turmoil churning his insides into goo.

  “No.” She shook her head so hard a lock of her pale hair moved to the front of her face. She brushed it behind her ear impatiently. “Of course not.”

  “You know I could double it if that’s what you need.”

  Anger flashed so fast in her eyes he might have imagined it. He ignored the letter in her hand and concentrated on her expression, her body language. Her gorgeous eyes watched him, calm but serious, her hand resting on top of her purse. With her love for vintage accessories and graceful mannerisms, she was a throwback to a time when women walked around with pink parasols and lackeys waited on them hand and foot. He wanted to be the one to pamper her, love her. There must be something he could do, offer her to stay while he planned his next move.

  “Do you need a new studio? I can refurbish the offices next door to your specifications.”

  A baffled frown settled between her curved eyebrows. “Fab Fashions just leased it.”

  “Leases can be terminated at the landlord’s discretion.”

  “And you think that would be fair?”

  The censure in her voice made him feel like a heel, for about a second. There was a lot more at stake here than some tenant’s ruffled feathers. “I’m just trying to make it worth your while to stay, Kara. I’ll get a designer to start working on the—”

  “No, Baron.” She jumped to her feet and pressed the tips of her fingers against her temple. “This is not about money or an office.”

  “What is it then? Last year you said your work wasn’t challenging enough. You couldn’t reach your fullest potentials as a restorer of fine art when the bulk of your work was on antique furniture, busts, and vases. You needed to clean more paintings, the older the better. I made it happen.”

  Her work was exceptional and word spread fast. People lined up to use her services, from private collectors to antique dealers. The demand for her services was only going to grow. Why couldn’t she see that? They were a team, damn it. A great team.

  “Once again you’ve come up with a reason to leave. What exactly do you need, Kara?” His tone had gotten colder and curter as he progressed, and her eyes narrower.

  She nearly slammed the letter in front of him then braced herself on his desk with the palms of her hands, her eyes flashing. “You obviously haven’t been listening to anything I’ve said. I need to fulfill a dream. Something I thought you, of all people, would understand. Obviously I was wrong. You are...,” she growled deep in her chest, “never mind.”

  Good gracious, she was glorious in anger. Her close proximity sent a dose of her feminine scent straight to his gut, piercing his defenses. Not that he’d ever had any when it came to her. His eyes shifted from her eyes, passed the kissable lips and chin imbued with steel stubbornness to the enticing cleavage, its size accentuated by the simple top she wore. He couldn’t stop the desire that surged through him or the thought that followed.

  She’s mine.

  “I’ve given you a month’s notice. If you need help finding my replacement, you know where to find me.” Her words killed his amorous thoughts and assertion.

  “That won’t be necessary.” His tone came out dismissive, causing her eyes to darken further.

  She straightened and gave him a sad smile. “I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this. I don’t want us to part as enemies, Baron.”

  He ignored the begging quality of her tone. What had she expected? Marching bands and fireworks? Courtesy demanded that he say something but he couldn’t think of anything that would be remotely polite. Last time she came into his office, talking about quitting, he’d shown her he was willing to go the extra mile to keep her. He’d called his contacts and let them know the gallery would, from that day, restore paintings from any period. He still didn’t know what he’d said to tick her off, women were unfathomable that way, but she’d read him the riot act, threatened to leave despite his efforts.

  He’d swiftly moved around his desk to her side, ready to do anything to make her stay. In her haste to get up from the chair, she’d tripped and he did what came naturally to him—wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her. But it had presented an opportunity he would have been remiss not to exploit. Kissing her turned out to be a mistake. He hadn’t factored in his response, the roar of blood in his ears, the overwhelming urge to claim and possess. After Valerie, he’d sworn to never let a woman get under his skin. Kara did that evening, not with threats and broken promises but with a kiss. He set out to prove he would not be dictated to by his emotions, especially when it came to a woman, and had succeeded.

  “I’ll let you continue with your work,” she mumbled, interrupting his thoughts, and turned to leave.

  Watching her step away from his desk sent panic straight to Baron’s gut. He hated the feeling, yet was helpless to control it. The intercom on his phone chose that moment to light up, too, demanding his attention. His focus stayed on Kara. He wanted to tell her to stay, beg her not to leave, but he couldn’t bring himself to beg. A man had his pride. If she couldn’t see how great they were together then maybe she needed to go.

  Why then did the thought fill him with sadness?

  At the door, Kara gave him one last look as though hoping he would say something. He couldn’t, that was how pissed off he was. He was more likely to haul her in his arms and kiss her crazy, a repeat of what happened a year ago. Only this time he was sure she would knee him. As the door closed behind her, his well-laid plans crumbled and dissolved into nothing.

  CHAPTER 2

  On her way back to her office, Kara was relieved she didn’t bump into one of her coworkers. Anger blocked her throat and tears burned the back of her eyes. She didn’t even know why she was tearful. Baron had accepted her resignation, hadn’t he? Even though he’d been nasty about it, the deal was done. Over with. Kaput.

  Then why did she feel like crap? And typical of her, her tear ducts were tied to her emotions, a real pain in the butt when she wished to stay in control.

  She closed her door and hurried down the stairs. Beating a path on her wooden floor didn’t make her feel any better. How dare that arrogant man try to buy her off? Double her pay, new office, who the hell did he think he was? To have the nerve to imply she was indecisive? She wasn’t the type to wring her hands and let others make decisions for her.

  Kara stopped pacing, flopped on her chair, and gnawed on her lower lip. Okay, maybe occasionally she was a tad indecisive. Like whether to have a Brazilian wax or basic bikini line, turkey-on-rye or on croissant, nothing major.

  How about a year ago? A tiny voice in the back of her head mocked. Fine. So she might have appeared hesitant about her resignation last year, big deal. Or when she’d kissed Baron like she couldn’t get enough of him then pushed him away.

  Pushed him? Yeah right. As if her puny arms could dislodge the Rock of Gibraltar Fitzgerald. She’d protested the onslaught on her senses, and he’d taken notice and let her go. Then as though unaffected by their kiss, he’d gone bac
k to his usual sober self. His response put a dent the size of a crater in her self-confidence, made her question her own sensuality. Her previous boyfriends had never complained, but after that day, she’d wondered if perhaps she was lacking in some areas. Maybe that was why she now thought sex wasn’t a big part of a relationship. Shared goals and interest, respect, and companionship were the main things she sought in a man these days.

  A knock sounded behind her and she turned to see Rick Ben Jacob peering down at her. Six-foot-one with a mass of brown curly hair, a surfer body, and a face any male model could die for, Rick was the main buyer for the gallery now that Baron was busy with expansion and new talents. He was also unavailable to the female population.

  “Hey, Rick.”

  “Are you okay, hon?” He started down the stairs, his soft brown eyes not leaving her face until he reached her side. “You zoomed past my office without a word.” He squatted by her chair. “What happened?”

  Tears threatened to fall at his sympathetic tone. Crying in his presence would be so humiliating.

  “Nothing.” She toyed with a lock of his hair. “What are you doing down here?”

  “Sweetie, you can’t hide anything from me by changing the subject. I live with Mr. Raul-in-Denial and his BS doesn’t fly with me either.” He touched her cheek. “You had a fight with the witch? Want me to punch her nose for you?”

  Kara smiled. Rick had nicknamed Gena the witch a few years back and the employees quickly embraced the name. But despite his teasing, she couldn’t dare confide in him. He would discuss whatever she said with his life partner Raul, who could never keep his trap shut. Raul owned an organic pastry shop two blocks away and was in and out of the gallery a few times a week. Within a week, her coworkers would know about her resignation.

  No, she had no intention of telling anyone who worked for Baron she was quitting. That was his prerogative.