“Lena...”
She slipped her hands free and planted her fingers on his chest, pressing the paint to his skin. Letting her hands move slowly, she traced paint down his abdomen. “There. We’re even now.” She dipped her fingers into the bright blue paint again and drew a line from his forehead down the slope of his nose and across his lips to his chin. “You look like a Norse god.”
Her touch was driving him crazy. She could see it in his eyes, the tightening of his jaw, the slight flare of his nostrils. She smiled and brought her fingers to her chest and smeared the rest of the blue in two vertical lines down her chest, pulling away the shirt collar to reveal her breasts.
“What about the whole inappropriate thing?”
“We’ll deal with that tomorrow.”
His hands cupped her cheeks, turning her face up to meet his eyes. “I’m not a onetime kind of guy, Lena.”
“We’ll deal with that tomorrow too.”
“I don’t have...”
“I do.”
* * *
“IS THIS STUFF going to wash off?”
Matt traced a line of kisses along her neck. The paint was everywhere. His sheets were probably ruined. And after the amazing sex, he was pretty ruined himself. The hints and tastes he’d gotten of her had proven to be mere shadows of the reality.
“Nope. Should wear off in a week or so.”
Matt grinned as Lena sat up in the bed. “Tell me you are lying to me, Charles Beaumont Matthews the Fifth, or I will feed your guts to my cat.”
“Ow!” he said as she caught his beard in a fist and gave it a tug. Grabbing her wrists, he tried to pull her back down against him but she slipped a leg over and straddled him. “Okay. This works too.”
Slipping her wrists free, she laced her fingers with his. “Tell me,” she growled.
He grinned as he looked up at her. Naked. Her hair a wild tangle. The stripes he’d painted were now smeared across her cheeks. Her breasts dotted with the paint she’d smeared on him. “God, Lena. You are so incredibly beautiful.”
She rolled her eyes in dismissal but not before he caught the fleeting look of something softer there. Letting go of his hands, she sat back on his thighs and traced a lazy hand across his chest. His breath caught. Round two? Her eyes locked onto his as she shifted on his thighs, pressing her heat against him. Her fingers continued their light, teasing tour of his chest, now heading south. Then stopped.
“Does it wash off?” she asked.
He groaned. “Maybe. I think so.”
Her fingers began to move again, millimeter by maddening millimeter. His hips flexed. And her fingers stopped again. “You think?”
“I have turpentine if it doesn’t.”
She was off him like a shot. “Turpentine?” she screeched. “Turpentine? This paint better wash off with soap and water, pendajo.”
She stormed from the room, leaving a stream of enraged Spanish behind her. He scrambled from the bed with a grin. She made him crazy. Hearing the shower turn on, he grabbed a couple of clean towels on his way. Expecting more anger, he stopped in the doorway.
“It’ll wash off,” he said. “I was just teasing you. A little soap and water.”
She turned her head and gave him a sultry smile. “Promise?”
He set the towels down and caught her cheek in his hand. “I’ll wash it off myself.”
“Oh, that sounds fun.”
Jerking the shower curtain open, he gave her a smart smack on the butt. “In with you.”
She twisted and turned under the water. It was all he could do to keep his mind on the task of getting the paint off. Yes, it would wash off but he wasn’t going to take any chances with delaying the job. She’d kill him if she had to go to work in the morning with paint on her face. She grabbed the bottle of body soap.
“Guess I should be glad it isn’t some dude-bro stuff, huh?”
“Don’t be insulting.” He poured soap into his palms and pulled her closer. “Close your eyes.”
Gently, he washed the smeared lines of paint from her face. The movement of his fingers over the curves of her cheeks seemed more intimate than their lovemaking. She opened her eyes and the dark depth of them mesmerized him for a moment.
“Is it coming off?”
“Yes,” he managed to choke out as he concentrated on soaping down her shoulders, chest and belly. “I think that’s all of it,” he said, and turned her into the water.
She rinsed off and turned back round, pulling him under the spray. “Your turn,” she said with a wicked smile.
He groaned as she began soaping his face and chest with slow, deliberate strokes. Forced himself to remain still under her touch.
“All done,” she finally said.
He turned quickly into the water, rinsing as fast as he could. Lena’s arms circled around him. He felt her hot mouth press kisses along his spine. Turning, he pulled her into his arms and pressed her against the shower wall.
“We can stay here,” she said.
“Hot water won’t hold up that long,” he said with real regret. But it was the truth—they were about ten seconds away from ice water raining down on them. “I’m going to dry you off and take you back to my bed.”
* * *
“I CAN’T STAY all night.”
“If you did, you might kill me,” he said. “You can stay as long as you want.”
Lena didn’t answer but snuggled up to his body, draping an arm and leg across him. He felt so good. So warm. So solid. “Thank you,” she whispered against his chest.
He shifted and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her even closer. “For what?”
“Not throwing me out when I showed up here.”
“Should I have?”
“No. I knew what I was doing. What I wanted.”
“I hope you got at least that,” he teased.
“And some. That was pretty amazing.”
“Art makes everything better.”
She growled deep down in her throat. It had been sexy as sin. Both the going on and the washing off. “You’ve made a believer out of me.”
“I want us to get to know each other. Like normal people. Go on dates. Meet each other’s friends.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“Make it happen. Tell me you don’t feel it. That you aren’t just as attracted to me.”
“Oh, I felt it. But sex is just sex.”
“What I feel is more than sex. And I think it is for you too.”
He let go of her and rolled over on his back. Acutely feeling the loss of his warmth, Lena propped up on an elbow and looked down at him. “Don’t pout. It’s unbecoming.”
“I’m not pouting. I’m confused.”
“About what?”
“What comes next.”
“Does there have to be a next?”
He tilted her face up to look in her eyes. “I want there to be a next. Go on a date with me, Lena. A real date. I have a showing this week. Come with me.”
“Matt. I can’t...”
“You can. Turn my account over to Mose. Or cut me loose as a client. I don’t care. I want to give us a chance.”
She pushed away. “There is no us, Matt.”
“I want there to be.”
She rolled out of bed and gathered her scattered clothes. Once dressed, she looked at him. “But there won’t be.”
“Why? Tell me one reason other than this whole business thing.”
She hesitated. Pressed her lips together even as doubt flickered within her. She let out a long breath and shook her head. “We’re too different.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I don’t think we’re very different at all.”
She rais
ed an eyebrow. “You don’t? Why not?” This should be interesting. This rich white man thinking we have so much in common.
“Go on a date with me and I’ll tell you.”
A frustrated half growl rolled from her throat. “You are the most conceited, irritating, and...and...”
“Handsome?”
“Basta!”
He scrambled off the bed and caught her at the door, draped in the bed sheet. “Wait. Let me walk you to your car.”
“No.”
He grinned. “A good-night kiss?”
“I think you had enough kisses.”
“See you Wednesday night then?”
“I can’t on Wednesday. Sadie and I have dinner every week. It’s sacrosanct.”
The evil-bad-boy-Viking-about-to-ravage-a-milkmaid grin surfaced. “So, you will go out with me, just not on Wednesday?”
Every part of her was screaming to walk away now. Let it be a warm memory of the best sex she’d ever had. Yet there was a tiny little part of her that was curious. Because he might have come from money, but he didn’t have any. She’d seen his finances. He had sky-high student-loan debt. The kind a person gets when their family made too much money for student aid and scholarships. The kind you get when your family doesn’t fund your college education. What exactly did he think they had in common?
“What time on Wednesday?” The words fell out of her mouth as if by accident. Her only saving grace was that he looked so surprised he didn’t even tease her about it.
“Seven. At the Unitarian Church.”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “Our first date is going to be at a church?”
His hand swept her hair back and he placed a lingering kiss on her forehead. “We can beg forgiveness for our sins. Now, let me get dressed and walk you to your car.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to.”
“But I want to.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“OH. MY. GOD. Why are you so slow?”
The coffeemaker didn’t reply. Lena needed more than a cup of coffee. She needed another five hours of sleep. She’d stared at her ceiling for hours after returning home from Matt’s apartment. Feeling exactly how cold and lonely her bed was. Wondering what she’d gotten herself into. Coming up with a plan that was a little more professional than “Hey, I slept with a client so here’s his account.”
“Finally,” she said as she grabbed her giant travel cup. Downing half the coffee in a single guzzle, she moved toward the door, gathering her purse and phone as she went. “I’m going to work, Sass. Do not climb the curtains again or no more catnip for you.”
Chloe and Mose were already at the office when she arrived. “Good,” she said as she walked through the lobby. “I have a couple phone calls to make, and then I need to talk to you both.”
“Good morning to you too, boss,” Mose said.
Stopping to refill her cup in the tiny space they called the kitchen, Lena waved a hand in Mose’s general direction. She wasn’t awake enough yet to even pretend to be polite.
“Rough night?” Chloe asked, innuendo dripping from each word.
That got them a middle finger as Lena went into her office and shut the door. She finished the coffee as her computer booted up. Finally, the caffeine began to hit her nervous system and she didn’t quite feel like stabbing anyone anymore.
Rough night. Last night had been anything but rough. Amazing. Hot. She felt as if she should have burns from the heat. Pulling up her client list, she shook her head. Last night was last night. Now it’s time to do business. She scanned through the list of clients. She needed one more. She couldn’t just hand Matt alone over to Mose. She’d figure that out in a hot minute. Ah. There we go. Perfect. She reached for the phone.
“Logan? It’s Lena Reyes. Sorry for calling you so early, I know you work late but I had a question for you.”
“Shoot,” Logan said. “I’m mostly up.”
“I’m making some changes here and want to promote Moseley from my assistant to an associate partner. I want to turn a couple accounts over to her to manage and yours is one of them. I need your consent.”
“Uh, sure. That’d be fine.”
“Great. Thanks. We’ll send you a formal letter later.”
Lena sat back after ending the call. Are you sure Mose is ready? Wanting to bang a client was not a good reason to give a promotion. Two promotions. She looked around the office. Her degrees on the wall. A few pictures of her receiving various awards. Here she sat with an office on Broad Street, some of the most powerful men and women in the city on her client list, and yet she was still afraid it would all disappear at any second.
“Time to stop being a coward,” she muttered under her breath. Pushing back from the desk, she stood and walked out to the hall. Mose’s office door was open. “Mose. I’d like to talk to you in my office please.” She turned her head toward the lobby. “You too, Chloe.”
They came in giving each other side glances. They both looked worried. “It’s not bad,” Lena said. “Sit down and stop side-eyeing each other.”
Once she returned to her chair, she drew in a deep breath. “It was pointed out to me the other day that I can be a bit of a control freak.”
“Is that person still alive?” Chloe asked.
“Shit,” Mose said, elbowing Chloe. “She’s going to jail. That’s what this is about.”
“No one is going to jail. God. Stop it. I can take constructive criticism.” She could feel the heat across her cheeks. The snickering giggles from her employees only made it worse. “Okay. I get it. Here’s the deal. I want to make some changes.”
That got them to stop laughing. “Mose, I’ve received permission to turn over two accounts to you. I want to promote you to associate partner. Let you handle these accounts and as you feel comfortable, you can start building your own client list.”
“Yes!” Mose said with a fist pump.
Lena smiled. Matt had been right about this. Seeing Mose grow and learn had been one of the most rewarding parts of her work. It was past time for this. Time to let her fly.
“So,” she continued, turning her attention to Chloe. “That means I’m losing my assistant. I’d like to promote you to be the assistant for both of us. We’ll hire a new office manager and once we have him or her trained, you can move into your new position. If you want to, that is.”
“Absolutely,” Chloe said.
“What brought all this on?” Mose asked.
“It’s overdue. Should have done it months ago. You’re both more than ready.”
“Which accounts am I getting?”
“Logan Rutledge and Matt’s,” Lena said, straining to keep her tone casual. As if she’d just randomly chosen two accounts. Mose and Chloe went back to side-eyeing each other. “What?”
Chloe held out a hand, palm up, to Mose. “Twenty dollars.”
Lena glared at them. “What?”
“You slept with him!” Chloe blurted out. “Didn’t you? Come on, Lena. Oh my God, how was it?”
She glared harder. Added her patented single-eyebrow arch. And they were still giggling in their chairs like teenage girls. “Get out of here,” she said.
“Please,” Chloe begged, clasping her hands together. “Please, please, please tell us. He’s so gorgeous.”
“I am not discussing my sex life with you,” Lena said prissily. “Get out. I have work to do. And you need to hire a new office manager.”
As they left the room, still grousing about not getting any juicy details, Lena shook her head and smiled. She couldn’t give details. If she started talking about last night, she’d end up right back at Matt’s door like a stray cat. Focus.
Settling in to her Monday routine of checking any developments in the financial world over the weekend and m
aking a list of actions to take, she began to feel more in control. More like herself. Was that the problem? That Matt turned her upside down and inside out and she didn’t feel in control? Maybe she was a complete control freak. She made a face. No, she wasn’t. She’d just turned over a huge hunk of control to Mose and Chloe. Because of Matt.
“Shut up,” she said out loud.
Pulling up her list of contacts, she turned her attention to the next item on her agenda for the day. St. Toribio’s. Where to start?
“Lena. It’s so good to hear from you.”
“Hi, Doris. I know. It’s been too long. I had a quick question.”
Doris Manigault was the Director for Diversity at Lowcounty College. She’d been there when Lena had been a student needing guidance through the alien environment of higher education.
“Make it a long question. I always have time for you.”
“I was out at the mission over the weekend. St. Toribio’s. Are you familiar with it?”
“Yes. The Catholic mission?”
“That’s it. Well, I didn’t know this but apparently, some of my mother’s generation have been holding me up as an example to the kids out there.”
“As they should.”
That made Lena smile. Doris was the sole reason she’d survived the first semester. “I got to thinking about how lost and confused I was that first year. How much you helped me. I’d like to... I don’t know... It’s a rough idea, but I’d like to try to get together some professional women to either do some talks or workshops. Things like how to apply for financial aid. How to write an application essay. How to find the academic assistance they may need.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. Lena felt a bit of panic begin to creep in. Maybe this was stupid. Thankful she had presented it to Doris first because she knew Doris wouldn’t judge her, she drew in a breath. “Is it...”
“No. No! Oh, honey. This is brilliant. I was just writing down names. I have all sorts of people we can get together for something like this.”
“Wonderful. Another thought I had was more of an economic issue than diversity issue. I thought we could talk about the difficulty of beginning your first professional, white-collar job when you are from a history of laborers or blue-collar workers.”
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