by Nancy Warren
She kept her eye on the workers grumbling and shaking their heads. What? Did they think because she was talking on the phone she was blind to how negative they were being? And she could imagine the names she was being called over there. “Why Hush?”
“Shouldn’t you be telling me why I should choose Hush?” Warm humor laced his words, and she wanted to lean into the sound of his voice.
“I’m…we’re pretty busy.”
“My dates are flexible. Why don’t I come down and meet with you over lunch.”
Two guys had managed to climb on ladders overhead and were poking around up in the ceiling area and looking pessimistic.
“All right.” Piper would kill her if she turned away business. She pulled up her calendar. “When were you thinking of lunch?”
“Today.”
“Today? But—”
“I checked with some woman who answered your phone and she didn’t see any bookings for today.”
“That’s because I’m working through lunch.”
“How about a quick one? I’m in the neighborhood.” Her cell phone sounded funny, as if his voice was echoing. She glanced up and Peter was standing inside the door, his phone stuck to his ear, staring at her.
Her foolish heart leapt in her chest. She snapped her cell phone closed. “So I see.”
He stepped closer, looking crisp and sexy in a suit that had to have been tailored in Europe, a shirt whiter than snow on the Alps and a tie with geometric shapes on it. His shoes were Italian leather, and somebody had spent time recently at the shoeshine.
A thin leather briefcase hung from his fingers. She was shocked at how badly she wanted to take him.
Now that she’d regained her equilibrium, she realized how much she’d enjoyed her weekend with Peter. Everything but the rehashing of old history.
“Well?” he said, a half smile playing over his lips as though he’d been reading her thoughts.
She glanced at her watch, stalling for time, then made up her mind. “I don’t have a lunch date today. I’d planned to work through the day on the setup for this crystal event. But, business is business. If you’re okay eating in the hotel, then I can sneak away for a bite.”
“Perfect.”
She nodded. Then yelled up to Mario the grump, “I’ll be around the hotel. I’m on my cell.”
She got the usual grunt in reply.
“I gave you the tour of the ballroom when you stayed here last weekend,” she reminded him. “This is where we hold most of our corporate events.”
“It should do nicely. How many does it hold?”
“At full capacity, we can accommodate two hundred and fifty. Of course, we can also add temporary dividing walls to break it down into two smaller ballrooms.”
He stood close to her and she got the faintest hint of his aftershave.
“It looks like an ice palace,” Peter said, watching as the guys wrestled huge mirrors.
“I’m going for the Versailles look. We’ll see.”
“Always going for the wow factor, huh?”
An uncomfortable prickle itched its way down her spine and Piper’s words came back to haunt her. There was the wow factor and then there was the kapow of disaster. She glanced up at the men shaking their heads above her and muttering and said, “Just a second.”
She crossed to where Mario was muttering in Italian. It sounded like he was counting his rosary. “Mario, maybe you’re right. How many chandeliers are you comfortable with?”
He stared at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. Then he glanced up again. “Five,” he said.
“Five?” She wouldn’t have Versailles, she’d have Ivana Trump’s living room.
“Five…maybe ten,” Mario conceded.
“Okay. I can live with that.” Then she shot Mario her most conciliating grin. “Especially if it was ten.”
“Do my best,” he said.
Okay, so maybe the effect would be a little dimmed, but did she really want crystal crashing down like a glacial avalanche?
No. She did not.
“Well?” she said to Peter. “Shall we?”
He followed her out of the ballroom. “Amuse Bouche?” he asked.
“Let’s start in my office. We can talk about your ideas.” If he actually had any.
“Sure. That sounds great.”
“How’s work going?” she asked, as they took the elevator down to her office. That suit was giving her fantasies the way erotic lingerie got to men.
“It’s good. But I need to introduce our services and some new innovations.” He glanced at her and grinned. “I’m looking for wow.”
“You came to the right place.”
16
KEEP IT COOL, keep it business-like, Peter reminded himself as Kit led him into her office. Public Relations, it said on the door. The door was etched glass, not as fancy as the doors in the main hotel areas, but with art deco styling. Even in the basement, Piper wouldn’t go with cheap, boring decor.
She ushered him in ahead of her and shut the door. “Why don’t you tell me what you have in mind?” she said, gesturing to his briefcase. She didn’t sit behind her desk, but sort of leaned against it, silently inviting him to stand beside her and show whatever he’d brought along.
He stood beside her and felt the warmth coming off her body. She wasn’t one for heavy perfume, but her skin smelled of one of those stores that sell botanical products. She smelled of lemon and something spicy.
She shifted slightly beside him and her bare arm brushed his suit jacket. She wore a pale blue sleeveless top, a paisley cotton skirt and funky little sandals. There was a turquoise pendant on a chain around her neck, and matching earrings hung in big triangles from her ears.
Even though summer was ending, she had the light freckles that said she’d spent some time in the sun over the last weeks.
He opened the case, withdrew a sheaf of papers and laid them on the desk. “I thought I’d share our target market strategies with you and see if you’ve got any suggestions.”
“All right. I’ll read it this afternoon and start thinking of ideas.”
“Great. Thanks.”
“Why don’t you sit down?” she indicated, not one of her visitor chairs, but the one behind her desk. Heat was coming off her and he caught a scent that was deeper than the fruits and spice of her beauty product. It was a scent he knew and loved. Hers. When she was aroused.
He glanced at her in surprise, but she merely gestured to the chair. He walked around the desk and sat.
“I’ve been thinking about us,” she said, walking around and hoisting a hip onto her desk.
“You have?” After the way they’d left things so unresolved on the weekend, he was delighted she was bringing up the very subject he’d sworn to avoid.
“Yes.” Her voice was husky, low. “I was thinking we could help each other out.” Before his bemused gaze, she slipped her hands under her skirt and eased her pale purple panties down her long, sun-kissed legs. She stepped out of the panties and neatly tucked them into her desk drawer.
His mouth went dry as his entire body sprang to attention. “Help each other out,” he managed.
“That’s right.” She leaned over him, her lips hovering inches from his mouth. He saw the black flecks in the depths of her eyes, the dusting of freckles on her nose, pale lip color that he wanted to kiss off her mouth. She reached for his belt buckle.
The door of her office was closed, but it was glass. Anybody could see inside. They were partly shielded by Kit’s desk, and he doubted this was a high traffic area, but still. Kit surprised him.
She undid his belt while blood pounded to his groin, making him light-headed with the sudden transfer from his brain. She flipped his shirttails out of his pants, undid the button and then eased the zipper of his fly over his sudden, and very eager, erection.
Her hand was around him, warm and firm, squeezing him gently but with purpose. “Kit, I…” She stroked him and he lost all power of speech. In some part of his brain, he
registered that there was something wrong with this scenario, but it was the tiny, evolved part, and it was soon silenced by the overwhelming Yes! of being surprised by sex.
He reached up under her skirt, wanting to touch her, see her, but she wasn’t in the mood for toying and she let him know it by releasing his cock and yanking at his pants until they were down to his knees. He was fully dressed up top, to the knot in his tie. He made a motion to take off his suit jacket, but she stopped him. “I love that look on you,” she said, letting her lust-darkened gaze travel from his business top to the erection emerging from between the two sides of his shirt.
Once more she grasped him and this time when he slipped his hands under her skirt it was to grasp her hips and nudge her onto his lap.
From the same desk drawer where she’d tucked away her panties, she drew out a condom. That was typical of Hush. It was certainly a safe-sex hotel, even down here in the business section. She had him sheathed in a second and then she sank onto him, tight and wet. And hot. Oh, so hot.
“We always fit together so perfectly,” he said, feeling a rush of tenderness as he cupped her hips and held her against him. She moved, and he moved. The office chair had pretty good suspension, for it supported them, rocking with their increasingly frenzied coupling.
He let Kit find her rhythm and he held on as she rode him, rocking her pelvis so that she was stimulated both inside and out.
He wanted to bare her breasts, but knew he wouldn’t. He didn’t even let himself touch them, loving the idea that they were so prim and proper from the waist up, and so down and dirty below the desktop.
He watched her lovely face become passion-pink, her eyes darken and her breathing grow ragged. Not wanting to mess up her clothes, he found, as she had, that he liked seeing her in her work getup even as they screwed each other silly. He only touched her below the waist. Her legs, her hips, and finally, he slipped a hand between them to where their grinding bodies met. Her curls were damp, her clit slick with her own juices. He wanted to throw her on the floor and bare her body, he wanted to lick every inch of her, push his tongue up inside her the way she liked it. The fact that he couldn’t do any of those things only made him thrust up inside her, deeper and higher.
They were both panting.
Her head went back and crazy sounds emerged from her mouth. He rubbed a little faster, feeling her begin to quiver. He could tell from her increasingly frenzied movements and the inarticulate sounds she was making that she was close. Good, because so was he.
She clutched at him with one hand, knocked her keyboard with the other so all the Happy Faces on her screen saver ran for their lives. The document revealed showed twined naked bodies—see-through bodies.
“You were viewing porn?” he panted.
“Erotic stemware,” she gasped. “Client.”
Her internal muscles were beginning to milk him and his love for her, his gratitude that she’d let him back in her body and her life, and his intense level of horniness were taking their combined toll. “I can’t hold on much longer.”
“Stay with me.” She clutched him, kissed him wet and deep, her tongue driving him as wild as her gyrating body.
He held on, gritting his teeth, rubbing her magic spot, until he felt the tremors begin to rock her harder. Her body clenched against him and she used his mouth to stifle her cries as her body spasmed against him and around him. With a low, heartfelt moan, he let go, riding that glorious rush along with the woman he loved.
“Oh,” she said, staring down at him with a self-satisfied expression. “That was…”
“Amazing,” he said and kissed her. He took the time to do it right, kissing her long and slow until she pulled away with a slight giggle. “We’d better clean up before somebody catches us,” she said, going back into that amazing desk drawer of wonders for tissues and wet wipes.
He tried to hold her hand as they left the office but she batted him away. “Stop it. I’m at work.”
A little of his heady pleasure faded. In the restaurant, the lunch crowd had thinned, making it even more private. He ordered some fancy Amuse Bouche version of a steak sandwich, feeling the need for protein and red meat. Kit had the daily fish and a salad.
While they sipped Perrier, waiting for their food to arrive, he reached forward and touched the edge of her fingertips with his, liking even this tiny connection of his skin with hers. His body still buzzed from the sex, but it was intimacy he wanted right now. The kind that exists between soul mates, that had always existed between them.
“How would you like to go to Cape Cod this weekend?” he asked her.
“Sorry, I’ve got plans.”
“What kind of plans?” he asked, stung. “We both work all week. I figured we’d see each other this weekend.”
She stared at him as if he were dumber than the fork she was currently toying with. “In what universe do you think my weekend plans are any of your business?”
“In the universe where our lunch date begins with sex in your office chair.”
She leaned closer, so close he could see the line where he’d kissed her lipstick mostly off her mouth. “Have you ever heard of the term bed buddy?”
If she’d shot him with a twenty-two, he couldn’t have been more shocked. “Of course I have. And that is not what we are. I love you. I want back in your life.”
“Then you are doomed for disappointment. I loved you once, Peter. I won’t be that stupid again. I enjoy your company, the sex is great. I’ve been thinking that we could help each other out. I realized last weekend how much I miss having a decent lover in my life.” She sent him a sizzling glance. “And you are certainly that. If you want an uncomplicated relationship until one of us hooks up in a significant way, then give me a call.”
“You don’t mean that.”
The look she sent him was cool and controlled. “I’m not the woman you knew in college. I’m older and a lot smarter. I’m in control of my own life and my own pleasure. Yes. I mean every word.”
Since lunch arrived at that moment, he didn’t have to reply, which was just as well since he couldn’t think of anything, anyway. He knew in his gut that she was lying. No one changed that much in three short years. But how did he get through to her? How did he let her know he was now more than ready, anxious in fact, for the very commitment that had sent him running?
How did he make her trust him again?
He ate because he was hungry, but with none of the pleasure he’d felt twenty minutes ago. Kit didn’t seem to have the greatest appetite, either, picking at her food, so he thought she was a lot more perturbed than she was letting on. She usually enjoyed food with the same up-front honesty she enjoyed sex.
“Have you ever had one before?” he asked her.
She glanced up, a reddish leaf of lettuce hanging from her fork. “Had what?”
“A bed buddy.”
“That is really none of your business,” she said, dropping her gaze to her lettuce and shoving it in her mouth.
Which answered the question as well as if she’d simply said no.
A small measure of relief spilled through him. She hadn’t changed so very much, and she was yanking his chain for reasons of her own, reasons he didn’t think were that difficult to figure out.
“Fine,” he said, deciding to call her bluff.
“Pardon?”
“Fine. I agree. Sex buddies it is.” If the woman believed she could have a casual relationship with a man who’d already told her he loved her, with the man she was in love with, even if she was in big-time denial, then he was willing to play along. At least until she came to her senses.
She swallowed, then sipped water. “All right then. Good.”
“So, how does this work? We call each other when we want sex?”
“Pretty much. And if the other is busy or doesn’t feel like it, then it’s no big deal.”
“Agreed,” he said formally, wondering how long she thought she could keep this up. He hoped it wasn’t
long, because he certainly couldn’t keep up any pretense that his feelings were casual. Not with Kit.
“So,” she said, after the silence grew heavy, “what kind of event are you planning at Hush?”
He blinked, wondering what she was talking about, then slowly it came back to him. The flimsy excuse of an event that he’d pathetically, if gratefully, accepted from Piper. That he should hold a PR event at Hush.
“Basically, I want to invite our firm’s top clients and some prospective clients to an evening they’ll never forget. In a good way.”
“Is it also a way of introducing you to these big shots?”
“Sort of. But I don’t want to be the star attraction or anything.”
She toyed with her food for a bit. “I’m not sure this is the greatest idea, you know. Hush has a certain…reputation.”
“Hey, don’t try to blow me off. Remember, I helped you out of a jam. I’m counting on you to help me out, too.”
Her head jerked up and she stared at him. “When did you help me out?”
Now it was his turn to look shocked. “I got you an escort for Funny Girl, didn’t I?”
“You tried to set my fantasy weekend winner up with a gay man.”
“Giles isn’t gay,” he reminded her.
“You thought he was when you set them up,” she said.
“I still think you could be a little more grateful.”
She tried to look irritated for another moment and then suddenly he saw her mouth quirk into a smile and a dimple appear in her cheek. “Actually, I am grateful. That fantasy weekend promotion was a roaring success. We practically had to throw those two out of their suite on Monday. As far as I know, they’ve moved the affair to his penthouse. Irene’s so happy she sent me flowers.”
“And Giles?”
Her smile widened and then she broke into laughter. “He sent me flowers, too. I swear those two are crazy in love.”
He was mildly pleased that his inadvertent bit of matchmaking had paid off so well. Even more pleased that the hotel’s fantasy weekends really seemed to work. “Crazy in love like we are?”
Her sunny humor disappeared as though a storm cloud had rolled in front of the sun. “Like we used to be.”
