by Day Leclaire
“Okay. Keep the pearls. We’ll ditch everything else.”
This would never do! She allowed a long uncomfortable silence to stretch between them. Then in her most cool and collected tone of voice she said, “I can see I gave you the wrong impression on Saturday.”
“Not at all,” he denied. “I believe you gave me the exactly right impression.”
“That kiss should never have happened,” she tried again.
“You’re right. It shouldn’t have.” His candor caught her by surprise, as did the heated gleam in his eyes. “But nothing will change the fact that I held you in my arms, that I kissed you to within an inch of your life, and that you offered a… shall we say, enthusiastic response?”
Her anger flared with unexpected ferocity. ‘Fine. It happened. Get over it.”
“What if I don’t want to get over it?” he said softly.
“Then you can—” She bit back the rest of her impetuous response through sheer strength of will, irritated beyond measure that she’d lost her temper yet again. She never had this problem at work. Never.
“I can…?” he prompted, clearly amused by her battle for self-control. “I can what?”
The time had come to explain the facts of life to Mr. Richmond before the situation got any further out of hand. She fixed him with a cold gaze. “In case you weren’t aware of it, we have more important matters to consider than what happened on Saturday. I refuse to allow one insignificant kiss to interfere with this assignment.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Insignificant?”
Her flush deepened. “Dammit, JT, you’re my employee. We’ll be working closely together over the next two weeks. This is business, not an excuse for—” She broke off, horrified that she’d been about to say, “for an affair.” Where had that come from? She bit down on her lip, staring at him with a wary expression.
“You were saying?” Though his expression remained impassive, concealing all thought with worrisome ease, his voice held a dangerous softness.
Did he know what she’d intended to say? Did he suspect? She swallowed, proceeding with careful deliberation. “This isn’t some trumped-up excuse for a holiday,” she concluded cautiously. “I want to set working guidelines. And I want to do it now, before we leave, so there won’t be any further misunderstandings.”
He made a small sound of disgust, his eyes blazing in his tanned face. “Please. Let me save you the trouble, You want to maintain a stringent working relationship. Everything’s to be kept professional. No kissing, no touching and no enjoying ourselves. We may be forced to act as though we’re a loving couple, but that doesn’t mean we have to like it.” He pinned her with a lethal gaze, his voice cutting with sarcastic sharpness. “Is that the speech you had in mind?”
It took every ounce of willpower not to haul off and slug him. “Yes,” she said through gritted teeth. “That’s the speech.”
“Fine. Consider it said.” A taunting smile creased his face. “You keep your hands to yourself and I’m sure we won’t have a problem.”
“Mr. Richmond…”
His eyes flashed a warning. “Quit while you’re ahead, Princess. You’ve made your little announcement. The message has been received loud and clear. Now I suggest you let it go.”
She’d pushed him as far as he’d allow. Time to back off, while she still had a head attached to her shoulders. “Very well. Are you ready to leave?”
“Just about. Why don’t you come in while I get my gear. I have a preliminary report for you to look at.”
JT watched as Taylor climbed onto the porch, and then he turned to hold the front door open for her. She stepped across the threshold, the back of her soft gray skirt giving a quick twitch—a saucy, flirty little twitch that drew his gaze like a magnet. He froze, his anger blanketed by an unexpected rush of desire.
She’d done it on purpose. There wasn’t any question in his mind. Every woman—from Eve to the present-day example before him—knew how to make that suggestive little movement. A pair of swaying feminine hips had probably led to Adam’s ruination, and nothing much had changed since then.
It was all he could do not to grab her around the waist and haul her tight against him. More than anything he wanted to hear that distinctive little moan slip from between her lips again. He clamped his teeth together, refusing to give in to the impulse.
He wouldn’t fall for it. Not him.
He could afford to wait. Because soon—very soonhe’d have her in his grasp. If he didn’t miss his guess, the prim and proper Ms. Daniels would prove quite a handful, too. And though he wasn’t certain how far he could go with that handful once he had it, he’d sure as hell enjoy finding out.
She paused in the entranceway and took a quick surreptitious look around. He could tell she struggled to conceal an avid curiosity, and his mouth curled. The house surprised her, perhaps because the tired desolate feel of it didn’t fit her mental image of him. Good. One more puzzle to keep that agile mind of hers occupied.
“The kitchen’s at the end of the hall,” he told her. “My preliminary report is on the table and the coffee’s fresh. Help yourself. While you’re doing that, I’ll load my bag into your trunk.”
“That would be fine,” she said, shooting a quick, eager glance down the hallway.
He observed her reaction with weary cynicism. She was a Daniels through and through. No doubt about it. One mention of those papers and she lit up like a damned Christmas tree. So why did he find the knowledge so annoying? He shrugged off the question. He knew what she was, had known it from the beginning. And nothing he did or said would ever change that fact.
Time to get down to business. Time to put the first step of his plan in action. “I’m glad everything meets with your approval, Ms. Daniels, but in order to get into your trunk, I’ll need the keys to your car,” he practically growled.
She didn’t even look his way. “Yes, of course.” She dug into her purse and held them out.
He took them without a word, picked up the carryall he’d left by the front door and strode out onto the front porch. Approaching her car, he pulled up short, instantly distracted. Now why hadn’t he noticed this before? he wondered, his brows drawing together. Was it possible he’d been so focused on Taylor that he’d failed to notice her car? It was red, a bright cherry red convertible. He grinned, shaking his head. Damn. A red convertible. Who’d have thought the Ice Princess would drive such a flashy little number? He glanced back at the house. There must be hidden depths to the uptight Ms. Daniels.
He circled the car, giving it his full attention. Of course she hadn’t put the top down, despite the heat. But then, as buttoned up as his impeccable fiancee tended to be, that didn’t surprise him. Only Taylor would own a convertible and drive around with the top up. He’d have to see if he couldn’t do something to change that attitude during the next two weeks.
Reluctantly he concluded his inspection. As much as he’d like to take the time to examine every minute detail of the car, he had a job to complete. With swift economical movements he stowed his bag in the trunk, tossed in the keys and slammed down the lid. He made it back to the kitchen before she’d finished the first page.
“Time to go,” he announced.
“But I’m not done with the report,” she protested. “I’ve only read some of the historical background.”
He picked up her coffee mug and emptied the contents into the sink. “You can read the rest on the way.” He faced her, lifting an eyebrow. “You don’t want to miss the ferry, do you? I thought you were anxious to get an early start.”
Confusion flattered her, he decided. It softened the edges, muting that detached, professional manner she affected. “I would like to get to the resort as soon as possible,” she admitted, closing the folder with noticeable reluctance and stowing it in her briefcase.
“Well, then, let’s shake a leg. Head on out to the car while I close up in here.”
It only took a minute to switch off the lights and lock
the door. He reached the car right behind her and climbed in, running a hand along the white, bucket seat. “I thought you weren’t into leather,” he commented.
“It came with the car,” she replied with a dismissive gesture, the ruby she wore catching his attention.
He captured her left hand in his, studying the ring. “Nice,” he commented. Very nice…and very expensive. The ruby was a clear rich red, nestled into an antique-looking gold filigree setting. “A family heirloom?”
“No, it’s new.”
“New, huh?” He lifted an eyebrow in surprise. “Interesting choice.”
“If we’re going to fake an engagement, we need to have a ring. I saw this one and liked it. So I bought it.”
Her response sounded rushed and defensive, prompting him to probe further. “I’m not objecting. I just didn’t expect something so old-fashioned. What made you pick this one?”
He saw the lie form in her expressive eyes, knew before she ever opened her mouth that she wouldn’t be telling the truth. “It was on sale.”
His mouth twisted. “On sale, huh?”
She sighed. “All right, no. It wasn’t on sale. In fact it was outrageously expensive. But I bought it, anyway, because…”
“Because?”
“Because I liked it, okay?” As though aware she’d been about to reveal far too much, she snatched her hand free. Reaching for the ignition switch, she froze. “Where are the keys?”
He shrugged. “I gave them to you.”
“No, you didn’t.”
He made a production of checking his pockets. “I must have, because I don’t have them.”
“Well, I assure you, I don’t have them, either. Check the trunk lock, maybe you left them there.”
He dutifully left the car. “Nope. I’ll look inside the house.” Five minutes later he faced her, hoping she’d interpret his expression as sheepish. “I must’ve locked them in the trunk. I don’t suppose you have a spare set?”
“Yes, I have a spare set,” she stated, each word chipped from ice. “At home. But since my house keys are on the same ring as the car keys, I can’t get to them, now can I?”
JT snapped his fingers. “I know. I have a friend who’s a locksmith. We’ll call him.” He didn’t wait for her response, but went back inside and placed the call. “Okay, we’re all set,” he told her when he returned. “My friend will be along in an hour or two and promised to put the luggage and the keys on tonight’s ferry.”
She stood by the car, tapping her foot. “What about us? Did you call a cab?”
“No need,” he said with an engaging grin. “We’ll take my wheels.”
“What wheels?” It only took a minute for comprehension to dawn. She backed away, holding up her hands. “Oh, no. Not me. Not a chance.”
CHAPTER FOUR
JT SUPPRESSED a smile. “It’s no big deal. You already drive a convertible. This won’t be much different,” he insisted mildly. “Just shorter and a bit narrower.”
“It’s not the same thing. It’s not even close.” Taylor grabbed a handful of her skirt and shook it. “Dammit, JT, I can’t ride a motorcycle in a dress.”
“Sure you can. Just tuck it in real good.”
“Forget it!” she snapped. “I’m calling a cab.”
He caught her arm before she’d taken more than two steps. “It’ll take too long. We’ll miss the ferry.”
“We’ll miss the…” Suspicion glittered in her eyes. “You did this deliberately. I know you did.”
“Right. I did all this on purpose. I deliberately locked the keys in the trunk just so you’d be forced to climb on the back of my hog in a skirt and heels. Brilliant deduction, Ms. Daniels. What’s my motivation?”
“Well-”
He didn’t give her logical mind time to kick into gear. “Wait a minute. Let me guess. I did it because I thought you could do with a little fresh air blown up your skirts. How’s that for a guess? Close enough?”
“Why not?” She lifted her chin a notch and glared at him. “Nothing you do would surprise me. But I’ve got news for you. I can handle anything you care to dish out.”
“Perfect. In that case, Princess, prepare to have some of the starch taken out of your bloomers. We’re taking my bike, pearls and all.”
“What about my dress?”
“What about it?” He drew her closer, secretly pleased when she didn’t attempt to pull away. “If you’re going to the island with me, it’ll be on the back of a Harley. That’s heels or no heels, skirt or no skirt. It’s your choice. But I’m betting you don’t have the nerve.”
She was furious. Magnificently, gloriously furious. “Prepare to lose the bet, Richmond. I told you I can take whatever you care to dish out and I meant it. Where’s your… pig?”
“It’s a hog. And it’s in the garage.”
Within minutes, he had the bike out and had shoved a black helmet on her head. With infinite grace, she slipped onto the rear seat of the bike, her back ramrod straight. He removed her purse from her shoulder and pried her briefcase from her hand.
“Give me a minute to stow these and then we’ll get going.” He slipped the articles into a saddlebag, then tossed her his black leather jacket. “Here. Put that on. It gets cold when you’re out on the open road.”
She twisted around to look at him. “What about you?”
“I’m used to it.” He fastened his helmet and slipped on his sunglasses before straddling the seat. “Spread your skirt out in front of you.”
“I beg your pardon? Why should I do that?”
He loved the prim way she spoke, her voice so cool and elegant. If he didn’t suspect they’d miss that damned ferry, he’d kiss her until that stiff haughty tone turned as soft and sweet as honey. “I want you to spread your skirt out because I’m going to sit on it to keep it from blowing. Come on, we don’t have all day. Not if we’re going to make it to the dock on time.”
For once she didn’t argue but did as he requested. The minute he settled into the V of her thighs, however, he felt her tense. “I don’t know about this…” she began nervously.
“Well, I do. Now hook your heels on the pegs.”
“What pegs? Where?”
“Right there by your feet. That’s it. You’ve got it. Make sure you’re sitting on any of the skirt I’ve missed,” he ordered, “and wrap your arms around my waist.”
He didn’t give her time to change her mind or climb off, but fired the engine, deliberately revving it to a deafening roar. She threw her arms around his waist in a panic, her helmet grinding into his spine as she buried her face against his back. He could feel the rigid clutching of her thigh muscles, feel the frantic pounding of her heart, and he grinned.
“Hang on, Princess,” he shouted, and released the clutch. “If this doesn’t loosen a few of your lug nuts, nothing will.”
Riding on the back of a Harley while clinging madly to JT was unlike anything Taylor had ever experienced. She couldn’t think straight, the noise driving every thought from her head. All she could do was feel. Feel the sensations coursing through her like the heady rush of champagne. No, she decided. It wasn’t quite the same. Champagne had never stirred this violent a reaction.
The bike rumbled beneath her, vibrating with all the pent-up aggression of a savage beast. She adjusted her grip on JT’s middle, hugging him without reserve, his broad back a hard muscular buffer between her and a chilly relentless wind. A sudden gust fanned the length of her leg, tugging wildly at her skirt, pushing the soft cotton to her thigh. Why in the world had she chosen to wear silk stockings and a garter belt today, instead of panty hose? She didn’t dare look down to see if her dignity was still intact. Some things were better left unknown.
They approached a sharp curve and the cycle tilted, dipping into the turn. She clung to JT, a shriek catching in her throat. To her relief, no more than a muffled squeak escaped. She squirmed closer, her breasts crushed against his back, her arms and thighs gripping him intimately. She was
terrified. And thrilled. She wished the ride would end right now. Or last forever.
The Harley jerked to a halt, and her helmet clipped IT’S. “Sorry,” she called, taking her first cautious peek around.
They’d stopped at a red light, the motorcycle quivering violently beneath her, as though gathering itself for a quick leap forward the moment the light changed. She glanced at the car next to them, shocked to realize the driver was staring with avid interest at the length of her leg. She blushed and yanked at her skirt, tucking it more securely beneath her in preparation for their next run.
JT readjusted his rearview mirror and glanced over his shoulder at her. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, then shouted above the muted roar of the engine, “What’s wrong with your bike?”
“What do you mean?”
“It keeps shaking. It’s not supposed to do that, is it?”
He twisted around, his vivid blue eyes glaring over the rim of his sunglasses. “Of course it’s supposed to do that. It’s a Harley.”
The light turned green and with a throaty roar they took off, jumping instantly from a dead standstill to eighty miles an hour. At least it felt like eighty to Taylor. With a strangled cry, she tightened her hold on his waist, her hands twisting the heavy cotton of his shirt, and hung on for dear life. She fought her panic. Calm down! Everything would be fine. JT would protect her, came the unbidden thought. He’d keep her safe. And with that knowledge, the fear slowly dissipated, replaced by an undeniable certainty. JT would make sure nothing happened to her.
She shook her head. This was crazy. Insane. He was her employee, for goodness’ sake, not some sort of heroic fantasy figure. He mocked her, taunted her, ridiculed her at every turn. He was a drifter. He lacked direction. Some fantasy man.
And yet…
And yet she couldn’t deny his attractiveness—nor her reaction to him.
Business, she thought desperately. I have to keep my mind on business. What would her father say if he saw her on the back of a Harley with someone like JT?
Her eyes widened. Good grief. They could stop right next to Boss and he wouldn’t even recognize her. No one who knew her would. The realization sent an illicit rush of excitement through her. She didn’t understand her reaction. She didn’t even attempt to analyze it. She just knew that for the first time in her life she felt completely free.
