Burned Deep

by Calista Fox

Dane had the newspaper in one hand, a mug of cappuccino in the other, as I joined him.

  “That was sexy,” he said, lust tingeing his voice.

  My cheeks warmed. “Too bad we can’t bottle your scent. I like it even more than the frankincense.”

  He set aside the coffee and paper and reached for me, pulling me into his lap. He wrapped one arm around my waist. The other hand cupped the side of my face and he kissed me. Slowly, deeply. As it went on and on, his palm slid over my throat and down to my chest. He deftly worked the first few buttons and slipped his hand inside to caress my breast and then brushed his thumb over my tight nipple. As he paid the same attention to my other breast, magma flowed in my veins.

  When he finally dragged his mouth from mine, I was burning up. No heaters necessary.

  “It’ll definitely be a toasty winter if you keep doing that.”

  He grinned. Funny how he didn’t even balk at my second mention of us being together in winter when it was still only September.

  My fingers skimmed over the scratches on his bare chest, running from his collarbone to his pecs. Four nail marks that clawed at him.

  “I’m sorry,” I said with a cringe.

  “Don’t be. I like you all worked up and crazed for me.” His voice was sensual and arousing.

  He kissed me again. Then, breathless, I got to my feet and took the chair across from him. Or we’d never make it to work.

  “Keep the buttons undone,” he said, his tone a bit darker.

  I did as instructed.

  He asked, “Which section of the paper do you want?”

  “Sports.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “Why’d I even ask?” He handed it over.

  I scanned scores as I dug into the omelet on my plate. Fully loaded and absolutely fantastic. I moaned. “My compliments to Ms. Crocker.”

  He chuckled. “Don’t get too excited. I have a very limited kitchen repertoire.”

  “Good thing you have five-star chefs at your disposal.”

  “It’s certainly a perk.”

  I went back to devouring my breakfast, including the southwestern potatoes with red and green bell peppers and onions, a hint of cayenne and paprika to add just the right amount of spice. Ravenous, I barely said another word until I reached for my orange juice to wash it all down. Then I started in on the cappuccino.

  When we were finished, I stood to collect the dishes.

  “Don’t worry about them,” Dane said. “I have someone who cleans. Rosa. She comes in at nine.”

  “Then I’ll do my makeup and get dressed.”

  As much as I wanted to kiss him before I left the patio, I hesitated. All of this was out of my realm of normalcy. I didn’t want to make assumptions. Though after last night … all the intimacy and the things we’d said in the heat of passion—

  Dane caught my wrist, taking the guesswork out of how this was all supposed to go. He got to his feet, drew me into his arms, and kissed me. It sizzled as he held me tightly and his tongue delved deep, sliding over mine.

  When he eventually pulled away, I was breathless. Yet somehow I managed to say, “We’re going to be late. I wouldn’t want the boss to think I’m a slacker.”

  His mischievous grin made my stomach flip. “I think you’re safe.” He kissed me again, another scorcher. Then said, “Take however much time you need.”

  “Thanks.” I returned to his bathroom and wrapped up quickly.

  We met in the foyer and I all but melted in my high heels. Dane wore black, too. A sharp tailored suit I had no doubt was by Armani or some other prestigious designer. A dark-gray silk tie complemented his crisp white shirt.

  “I forgot how incredible you look with clothes on,” I told him, admiring the view. “Though naked really is preferable.”

  “You’re amusing.”

  “I’m being totally serious.” And had to bite back the sigh of longing swelling in my throat.

  He took my tote from me and gathered up both our laptop bags. I preceded him outside. We left in his black Escalade instead of the F5. I surmised the latter lacked trunk space. Or a backseat. There’d be no place to put our bags, except piled high on my lap.

  We left the gated property and I tried to shift my attention from Dane to work as we drove into Sedona and then west toward the Lux. It was difficult to concentrate, though, when flashes of him between my legs, behind me, beneath me, on top of me, riddled my mind. It was completely insane, but now I ached for him all the time.

  We slowed at the security booth but breezed through the gates, the guards clearly recognizing Dane’s vehicle and license plate, not daring to detain the owner of 10,000 Lux. We pulled alongside the entrance of the hotel and Brandon, dressed in black pants and a black polo shirt with the Lux’s crest in gold on the left chest, swooped in to open the passenger door for me. It suddenly hit me how my arrival with Dane must appear.

  I quickly explained to the valet, “I had car trouble this morning. Mr. Bax was kind enough to give me a ride.”

  “If your Sorento needs to go to the dealer, Miss DeMille, I can arrange that for you. Pickup and delivery. You don’t have to do a thing.”

  “Wow, you really are all about first-class service.”

  He smiled. “Well, it’s not exactly your standard hotel.”

  “No, it’s definitely not.”

  Brandon retrieved our bags from the back of the SUV and handed them over. Then he walked ahead of us to the tall doors and pulled one open. I caught sight of Kyle in the lobby and quickened my pace.

  “Hey,” I said. “Don’t you look professional?”

  He wore a navy-colored suit and what I suspected were new shoes.

  “Interview,” he explained. “I’m meeting someone from HR.”

  “Probably Patricia.” I glanced at Dane, who kept up with me, given his wide strides. “You two haven’t officially been introduced. Dane Bax, Kyle Jenns.”

  They shook, though it was that sharp, tense kind that belied the whole territory-encroachment issue.

  Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  But I’d already pleaded my case with Dane, and he’d agreed to let the chips fall where they may when it came to Kyle possibly working at the Lux.

  “And there’s Patricia now,” I said as she stepped around a white marble and gold-accented pillar. She headed our way. “So, good luck,” I told Kyle as Dane latched on to my elbow and started to maneuver me away. “Let me know how it goes.”

  We started off toward the glass-enclosed elevators. Over my shoulder, I mouthed, Call me. I held my hand up to my ear, mimicking the pinkie and thumb gesture for Kyle to phone.

  Dane’s grip tightened on my elbow and I turned back to him. “After last night, do you honestly think he’s any sort of competition?”

  “Haven’t we already established that I protect what’s mine?”

  A wicked thrill shot through me. “He’s no threat, Dane,” was all I could say.

  The truth was, it excited the hell out of me that he had this claim over me. It was completely foreign yet exhilarating.

  We flashed our badges against the electronic reader he’d just had installed at the west wing bank of elevators, so that only authorized personnel could access this portion of the hotel. On the fourth floor, we parted ways at my office door.

  There was no one in the hallway, so he leaned in close and whispered, “We’ll have dinner tomorrow night. Pack another bag.”

  My pulse jumped. “Feel free to punish me if Kyle gets the job.”

  He scowled—though somewhat playfully. “You already know he’s getting the job.”

  “Dane.” I smiled at him.

  “It’s what you wanted.”

  “Yes, so … Thank you.” I kissed him on the cheek, then entered my office, a bit on the giddy side. Too bad I couldn’t tell my new friend, so he wouldn’t stress over the interview. But I couldn’t call him now that he was with Patricia.

  I set my tote alongside my desk and unloaded m
y laptop bag. I had another huge stack of catalogs to wade through and samples to order. I also needed to take photos of the lobby to fully assess where all the decorations would go and somehow gauge how many miles of garland, crates of ornaments, truckloads of wreaths, et cetera, I’d need.

  And twinkle lights.

  Lots and lots of clear twinkle lights.

  Amano waited for me outside my office when I headed to the stairwell. He fell into step behind me, not crowding me, but close enough that he could intervene in any given situation. It was a bit disconcerting to have someone follow my every move. However, if it made Dane feel better until he’d fixed all of his problems at the resort I’d do as asked and let Amano perform his duties. He wasn’t a nuisance, didn’t try to chat me up. Just provided a protective presence.

  I snapped photos of the outer entrance of the Lux. Then the lobby and reception area. The key to the holiday decorations was to create a beautifully festive ambience but not overdo it so that anything detracted from the natural, decadent opulence of the place.

  Though I was extremely good at striking a balance with my weddings, I couldn’t help but fear I’d go overboard here. So much opportunity and an astronomical budget were demonic temptations to a party planner. But, again, the goal was not to have every inch of 10,000 Lux dripping Christmas decorations. I had to be strategic. What I did needed to accentuate, enhance, complement what currently existed. Not overrun the stunning fixtures and features of the hotel.

  My stomach churned as I considered how seriously I could fuck this all up. And let Dane down.

  I didn’t even know how to calculate the amount of everything I’d have to order. I decorated a sad-sack Charlie Brown Christmas tree every year, because my dad and I didn’t really do holidays. So my effort was hardly on par with what I dealt with now.

  And that brought up another consideration—trees. Did I want a single tall one standing between the curving staircases? Accompanied by two skinny ones up front at the entrance? Or maybe just the skinny trees so I didn’t block the view out to the grounds beyond the lobby?

  Shit. For that matter, where the hell would I get a real tree that spanned three or four stories? Where would I get an artificial one of that magnitude if I had to go that route?

  I stalked back to the stairwell, forgetting all about Amano as I stewed over my lack of experience with something as simple as holiday decorations.

  I spent the majority of the day on the Internet, deciding I had to start with the tree options before I could even think of selecting ornaments. Something told me I’d need everything custom made. But did we have enough time for that?

  Mid-afternoon, Molly came into my office with three gentlemen wearing jeans and T-shirts, tool belts around their waists.

  She said, “Your corkboard has arrived. Is now a good time to install it?”

  “Install?” My brow jerked up. What had Dane done?

  I stepped around my desk and into the hallway, finding a long metal cart with a mammoth wood cabinet resting on it, protected by a drop cloth on the floor of the cart.

  One of the men told me, “There’s corkboard inside and also on the inner panels of the doors, so that you have more space to pin stuff. You can also close and lock the cabinet when necessary, for security.”

  “Wow. This is much more than I expected.” So Dane-like.

  “It’ll take us about a half hour to install it. Just confirm where you want it hung.”

  We returned to my office and I indicated the wall by the conference table.

  “I have a meeting,” I said, “so now works well.”

  I gathered up my papers and placed them in a black leather folio. Then I left the workers to it. Molly and I walked toward the stairwell, since that was where Dane’s office suite was located. He was just outside the door to his inner sanctum, engaged in discussion with Amano.

  As we approached, Molly peeled off to enter the suite.

  Dane asked me, “Where are you off to?”

  “I have a meeting on the third floor with PR.” To Amano, I said, “I won’t be long. There are some guys in my office putting up my corkboard.” I shot Dane a look and added, “Thanks, by the way. It’s gorgeous. And huge.”

  “You have a lot of planning to do.”

  Hadn’t I just learned the full extent of it this morning? “I do. This will be a big help.”

  Amano said, “Maybe I should be in there with them.”

  “Probably a good idea,” Dane agreed.

  I didn’t have anything top secret going on at the moment, but given the anxiety over security that Dane had, I wouldn’t add to his grief by protesting.

  Instead, I assured them, “I’ll just be one floor down with Traci Carpenter, VP of Public Relations.”

  Dane nodded his approval. I moved past them as they wrapped up their conversation. I opened the heavy door and stepped into the stairwell, trying to get my breathing under control before I met with Traci. I didn’t need her seeing me all flushed and excited. She wouldn’t know it was because of Dane, granted. But still. A five-second conversation with him had me all hot and bothered, so that I was—

  I drew up short on the fifth step down and let out a bloodcurdling scream. My heart leapt into my throat and my portfolio went flying, all the papers scattering in the air.

  On the landing not more than six or seven steps from me was a rattlesnake. Coiled and hissing.

  “Oh, shit,” I choked out. “Oh, God!”

  Terror besieged me. The snake started to uncoil and move. Toward me. I took very small, slow steps backward, up to the fourth-floor landing. It slithered to the first step. I turned and raced the rest of the way up and grabbed the handle on the door. It didn’t budge.

  Fuck!

  I swiped my badge, forgetting that I had to in order to unlock the door. The light remained red. I swiped again, yanked on the handle. Nothing happened.

  I stole a glance down the stairway. The rattler inched toward me, its pronged tongue darting in and out of its mouth, its tail sounding like a sprinkler going off in the middle of summer.

  I screamed again. Pounded on the door. “Dane! Amano! Someone!”

  I pulled harder on the lever. Then my fists banged against the door again.

  Suddenly the electronic reader chimed and the door flew open. I jumped back.

  Dane took one look at me—likely with horror stamped across my face—and grabbed me, jerking me to him.

  “Jesus Christ,” he said.

  “Snake.” I pointed. “Don’t let the door close!”

  “What the fuck?” He ushered me out of the stairwell, his arms tight around me.

  My heart had never thundered so fiercely. I couldn’t catch my breath.

  “What happened?” Amano demanded.

  “Rattler,” was all Dane said.

  Amano flung the door open and saw it for himself. “Son of a bitch.” He slammed the door closed. “I’ll get rid of it.”

  “Have the grounds crew do a thorough sweep to see if there are more. Tell them to check for eggs.” Dane guided me to his office.

  Molly sprang to her feet when we entered. “My God, Ari! You’re white as a ghost.” To Dane, she repeated Amano’s question. “What happened?”

  I shook uncontrollably, so she likely assumed I couldn’t get a coherent word out. She was probably right.

  Dane said to her, “Send an e-mail to all employees to stay out of the west wing stairwell and tape signs to the outside of the doors telling them to keep out.”

  “I don’t under—”

  “Please, just do it,” he insisted. “No one’s to be in the stairwell.”

  “Of course, Mr. Bax. Whatever you say.” She scurried off.

  Dane led me to the sofa and I sank onto the cushion, still vibrating violently. He poured a scotch and brought it to me, sitting on the sturdy coffee table in front of me and holding the crystal tumbler so I could sip.

  “It’s okay,” he said in a soothing voice. “It’ll be okay.” Tension r
adiated from him, undermining his effort to calm me.

  After a much longer gulp of scotch, I asked, “How the hell would a rattlesnake get into the stairwell?”

  “I don’t know, Ari.” His jaw clenched. He didn’t say more. Didn’t want to speculate. Just brooded in a tormented sort of way.

  Several minutes passed as I polished off the drink. My breathing slowed but my pulse was still erratic. That damn snake could have given me a massive coronary before it’d even bitten me.

  Amano returned. With a concerned look I appreciated, he asked, “Are you okay?”

  “Getting there,” I lied.

  To Dane, he said, “We’ve got it under control in the stairwell. Couple of guys on the crew worked at a golf club in Scottsdale previously. They’re used to dealing with the snakes. Keep special lassos on hand, just in case.”

  “They’re not all that common this far north,” Dane commented. “Especially not this time of year.”

  He shook his head and stood. Anguish rolled off him in waves, mixed with the very obvious tension over it having been me in the dangerous situation.

  “Goddamn it!” he suddenly roared as his fist slammed against his desk.

  I jumped.

  He glanced my way and asked, “Why couldn’t you get back in?”

  I lifted the badge hanging on a thin, bejeweled lanyard around my neck. “Didn’t work.”

  Amano was instantly on his cell. “Bring up Miss DeMille’s account,” he said without preamble. His strained tone spoke volumes, and a second later he was shaking his head, too, and pacing the floor. “Deactivated? When?… Twenty minutes ago. Shit … Not just hers? Three others.” He shot a look toward Dane. “More goddamn IT issues.” He listened further, then said, “Reactivate her account and monitor it regularly.”

  As soon as he disconnected the call, Dane told him, “I want all of the security wiring replaced before Monday morning. I don’t care if your contractors have to work around the clock. Get it done. Every single camera has to be functioning before I come in.”

  “Agreed. The cameras in the stairwell aren’t even hooked up at the moment. But they will be.”

  So there was no concrete way to discern how a snake had made its way into the area. A propped-open door during some routine maintenance work, or … Had someone on the inside known about the cameras not currently providing surveillance in the stairwell?