A Fine Romance

by Christi Barth

  “My parents called,” Mira said in a quiet voice.

  That was her big mood-killer? Sam worked elbow to elbow with his mom ten hours a day, and he didn’t go around biting off people’s heads. Not even when said mother offered up his only free afternoon to babysit the snippy new girl. “Oh, the horror.”

  “Obviously you and your mother have a close relationship.” She slid him a knowing, sidelong glance. “Maybe too close, according to Gib.”

  “I object. Hearsay.” Everyone said the British were reserved and tight-lipped. So how come Gib flapped his jaws nonstop? The man was almost as bad a gossip as Milo. They both could chitchat the girls in their group under the table.

  “Well, consider yourself lucky. Not everyone enjoys that level of closeness.” Mira looked away again. Was it an interest in the glass-and-steel skyscrapers along the water’s edge, or simply a desire not to look at him? “I don’t get along with my parents. At all. And I assure you, the feeling is mutual.”

  “That’s too bad.” Sam couldn’t imagine living like that. His family had always been so tight-knit. The bottom dropped out of his world when his dad died, and they were all still struggling two years later to pick up the pieces. Out of that encompassing sadness, the one bright spot was that he and his mom grew even closer. The flip side was his worsening relationship with his sister, Diana. She who was the black hole currently sucking his life and his future away. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “Nope. The family’s hopes and dreams are all riding on me. Or, if you believe my parents, the hopes and dreams were buried a few years ago under the crushing disappointment I turned out to be. They call every six months or so to layer on the guilt. It never goes well. I usually dive for ice cream or wine as soon as they hang up.” She flashed him another determined smile. “But today, I get to go on a boat ride instead.”

  “No reason to skip a good coping mechanism.” Sam dug in his pack. He produced two plastic glasses and what Gib had promised was a more than decent bottle of Riesling. “I brought provisions.”

  “I’m impressed.” She took the glasses so he could pour.

  He paused after filling only one glass. “I should probably check before I ply you with alcohol. Do you know if you get seasick?”

  Mira sipped quickly from the filled glass, as if concerned he’d take it back. “No worries in that department. I got my sea legs before I could walk. We’d yacht around the Côte D’Azur or the Greek islands over spring break. What I liked better, though, were the summers at our house on the Cape when I raced sailboats.”

  “Wow.” Sam almost dropped the wine bottle. They weren’t from two different worlds. They were from two different universes. He recorked it and stowed his bag below his seat. Then he took a long, slow swallow to buy time while he recalculated everything she’d done and said so far.

  When Ben mentioned at the party that Mira came from old money, he’d dismissed the information. Coming from money wasn’t the same as having it now, in this century. Chicago was chock-full of people related to railroad or stockyard barons. Thanks to wars and the Depression, all that many in this generation had left were a bunch of swanky stories. But Mira sounded like she was loaded. Hell, yachting and summer houses? Make that wipes-her-ass-with-hundred-dollar-bills loaded.

  He hadn’t started the day expecting them to have much to chat about. Now Sam was positive they had less than nothing in common. Aside from a single connecting door between their shops. And how long could you talk about a door?

  Mira elbowed him. “What?”

  No point dancing around it. “You’re crazy rich, aren’t you?”

  “You mean you didn’t know?”

  Surprisingly, she looked embarrassed. Since when didn’t the rich love to brag about themselves? Sam met new clients every week who insisted on bragging how many thousands of dollars the flowers and the photographer and the dress cost before they’d pipe down long enough to sample his gourmet wedding cakes. In his experience, the bigger the price tag, the more they wanted to tell everyone. It drove him nuts. He far preferred the everyday bakery clientele, who came in for cookies or a birthday tart. They always had a smile, and bothered to ask after his mom if she wasn’t around. Real people, not walking bank accounts who measured everything by their net worth.

  Sam scratched the back of his neck. “How would I know something like that? You don’t walk around with a giant green dollar sign across your back.”

  Wine sloshed over the edge of her glass, and he nipped it out of her unsteady hands. Mira’s words tumbled out so fast he could barely keep up. “I thought you all knew. Daphne said Ivy told her all these stories about me over the years—where I went and what I did.”

  “I’m a guy. There’s every chance Ivy mentioned you and I tuned it out. Ivy talks a lot. If I paid attention to everything she said, my brain would’ve filled up two weeks after I met her.”

  Her cheeks reddened. Mira bit her bottom lip, but it still trembled. Embarrassment morphed into—oh God, was she about to cry? Sam panicked. He’d brought wine and sunscreen, not Valium and a box of tissues. Then he noticed all the heads swiveled in their direction, rather than facing out at the historic architecture along the riverbank.

  “Come with me.” Sam took her slender wrist and led her down the stairs to the very front of the boat. It gave them privacy, aside from the circling seagulls. Plus, the gusty wind at the prow might whip away those tears hovering on her lashes. He couldn’t tell if she wanted to talk about it or not. Should he leave her in peace and retreat to the upper deck? Christ, if Ivy found out he made her friend cry, his life wouldn’t be worth two cents. How the heck did you comfort someone who yachted around the world?

  Mira shifted out of his grip to hang on to the railing with both hands. “I’m so sorry.”

  Not at all what he expected to hear. “For what?”

  “For sounding like an idiot. I never should’ve mentioned those trips. But I figured that for once I didn’t have to hide my background. The cat was already out of the bag.”

  “Mira, you don’t have to hide who you are. You don’t have to hide anything.”

  “Yes, I do. Trust me. I’ve been doing it for years. Do you think I didn’t see the expression on your face? The disbelief, followed by an immediate layer of glacial frost? The automatic she must think she’s too good for me reaction I’ve encountered a thousand times? When people immediately stop seeing me and only see money?”

  Sam didn’t know what to say. She was right. Once he figured out her net worth hovered near the level of a small country’s GNP, it put a filter on everything Mira said. That filter was based on his experience with the über-wealthy, as well as stories from his friends. Gib’s job as manager of the swankiest hotel in town provided an endless fodder of bad attitudes coupled with over-the-top excess.

  It was easy to write off an entire social group—until one of them stood before you, sniffling and teary. It was also dead wrong. His mother would probably lecture him for two days straight if she found out he’d been such a judgmental prick. Sam passed over the paper napkin he’d grabbed from his pack. In that odd way of all women, Mira dabbed the corners of her eyes, and then underneath.

  “Ivy never cared about my background. She never made a big deal about it. Daphne cracked jokes, so I knew she’d be cool.” With a head shake that sent her ponytail horizontal into the wind, Mira’s spine straightened back to its familiar, ramrod position. “I guess I shouldn’t have leapt to the assumption the rest of their friends could handle it so well.”

  An hour ago Sam would’ve slapped back at her high-handed insult. But now he’d seen a glimpse of the complicated, vulnerable woman beneath the ice princess facade. Worse, he knew he deserved the dig. His response had nothing to do with possible recrimination from Ivy for making her friend cry. It had everything to do with his genuine regret at hurting Mira. He cup
ped his hands lightly around her upper arms.

  “You’re right.”

  Her toned muscles tensed beneath his palms. “What?”

  “I made a snap judgment. It was stupid. I’m sorry.” Thick-lashed blue eyes widened at his words, but he couldn’t tell if it was from surprise or disbelief. Funny how her eyes were the same color as the miles of lake surrounding them. A man could drown in eyes that deep blue. “You don’t deserve to be judged on anything more than who you are, right now, in front of me.”

  At that, her biceps softened. Her entire demeanor softened, and even her lips fell into an open circle. “Oh.”

  Sam wiped away the last teardrop glistening on her lashes. As his thumb grazed the softness of her skin, he couldn’t resist feathering the back of his knuckles down her cheek. It made those bright red lips purse into a tighter circle, that drew him like a tempting target. One that drove away all thoughts of why this might be the worst idea ever. He dipped his head and kissed her.

  It only took a second to realize one kiss wouldn’t be nearly enough. Mira’s lips were cool from the wind and spray at first, but quickly warmed beneath his. Soft and pliable, they melded against his the same way her body leaned into him. Eagerly he wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her even closer. It lined everything up in a way that jacked his desire from hot to supernova. He bracketed her legs with his, making sure to keep contact with their long, smooth length. It made it easier to turn her, angle her back against the rail. He caught one last glimpse of those alluring eyes before they fluttered shut.

  “This is...” she whispered, barely able to be heard over the slap of the water against the hull.

  Sam didn’t like where that sentence might be going, so he kissed her again. “...terrific,” he said.

  Not satisfied with slow nibbles, Sam deepened the kiss. She tasted sweeter than his honey truffles. Mira moaned as his tongue swirled, learning the secrets of her mouth. Learning just where to apply pressure, where to linger that made her clutch at his back. Her long nails dug through the thin cotton of his shirt, but he didn’t care. Sam relished the proof he’d roused her. All he wanted was to seduce more moans, more sexy little gasps out of her.

  He wrapped his hand around her ponytail and tugged her head to the side. There, on the side of her neck, he licked at the spot where her pulse fluttered against the surface in a rapid triple time that matched his own. Mira wriggled, a move that threatened to pop his dick right through his shorts. The way she flowed against him, with the sinuous ease of perfectly tempered melted chocolate, made him want to drop to the deck, rip off all of her clothes and bury himself deep inside her. Another few minutes, and he wouldn’t have a choice in the matter. His below-the-belt brain would take over completely if they kept up this level of foreplay.

  Hell, he hadn’t even touched her breasts yet. And that was a treat he refused to skip or rush. Or shortchange her the pleasure he had every intention of bestowing. No, they wouldn’t have sex until she begged. Until she wrapped those chorus-girl legs around his waist and joined them herself. Until he’d worked her into such a frenzy that she quivered at the touch of a single finger, and screamed his name to the heavens as he lapped at her—

  Obnoxiously loud, the ship’s foghorn split the air. Mira’s eyes flew open. Her arms dropped to her sides.

  “Don’t worry. Nothing’s wrong. The captain’s just saying hello to the bridge operator.” He eased back a bit so she could take in the first of a series of high drawbridges that spanned the river. “It’s a waterway tradition here in Chicago. Like how they kiss under bridges in Venice, but not nearly as fun.” Sam cupped her cheek, then traced her generous bottom lip with his thumb. “And speaking of kisses, where were we?”

  Mira twisted her head away. Her ponytail lightly slapped his cheek. “Oh, I don’t know. Out of our minds, perhaps?”

  How did she do it? How did she burrow under his skin like a fire ant with just a sentence? “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend for a second you aren’t as revved up as I am right now.” He lowered his hand from her waist to her sweetly curved ass and squeezed. “Or do you need me to prove it?” Sure enough, she twitched, grinding her hips into his.

  “No. Stop that!” Mira pushed at his chest, breathless. “Enough already.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “For now, I do,” she hissed. “Don’t be an idiot. With moves as smooth as yours, you must know full well how effective a kisser you are.”

  “Effective? Way to damn me with faint praise.” Sam made sure not to let a smug smile get any further than his eyes. But he knew he had her.

  She rolled her eyes, but stopped pushing him away. “Okay, you were fabulous. Will that do? Your lips deserve a gold medal. Your technique is flawless. Sam Lyons should be listed as a must-do attraction on all the Chicago sightseeing maps.”

  “That’s more like it.”

  “What I meant was that we were out of our minds to grope each other on a fully packed boat. I think our fellow passengers wanted to take in the sights, not a sex show.”

  “Trust me, no one can see us. Except maybe the captain, and he deserves a little excitement. Poor guy pilots in the same straight line three times a day. Must be like throwing a bowling ball with the bumpers up.”

  Mira pointed off to the side, where two tricked-out power boats bobbed very close. Both were full of water-skiers in trunks and minuscule bikinis, clapping, hooting and waving at Mira and Sam. “I don’t want one of them to video us. With my luck they’d post it on the web and it’d go viral by the time we docked. I’m quite sure that’s not the sort of free publicity Ivy wants me to drum up for the store.”

  “What happened to there’s no such thing as bad publicity?” But Sam saw her point. And he backed off a few steps, leaning against the wheelhouse with his legs crossed at his ankles. He didn’t really want to be the feature of the day on YouTube, either. The guys would never let him hear the end of it.

  “Soooo.” She let the word unfurl slowly, like a birthday horn. Then she fiddled with her shirt, and tightened her ponytail. Stretched her arms out along the rail, and crossed her ankles, mirroring his pose.

  It only took until her third deep inhale for him to figure it out. Mira was nervous. She’d liked his kisses. Hell, she’d bent over backward explaining just how much she liked them. And now she had no idea what came next.

  Well, neither did Sam. It’s not like he’d planned to kiss her. He didn’t have a rule about it or anything, but it struck him as wise to steer clear of women who practically scalped him. Not to mention women who took everything he said the wrong way. Life was too short to waste on high-maintenance, snippy women.

  However, life was also too short to waste by not kissing this particular vibrant, beautiful woman right in front of him. Especially when being with her distracted him so thoroughly from the looming question of his future. It wasn’t much of a plan, but Sam could think on his feet. “We should go on a date.”

  “Should we?” The thin slash of just her right eyebrow arced up into a half moon. “What gives you that idea?”

  Sam wasn’t ready to lay out a firm case. This was more of an itch between his shoulder blades. The kind that wouldn’t let you concentrate on anything else until you scratched it. Call it a hunch that he needed to spend more time with her, even if he couldn’t fully explain why. “I’ve discovered there’s more to you than the annoying princess veneer. I’d like to find out what else you’ve got hidden under there?”

  “Interesting premise. Or, maybe this is a monumentally stupid idea.”

  He chose to ignore the stupid comment, and latch on to the fact she found the suggestion interesting. “Not at all. As you pointed out, we’re on a full boat, shouting to be heard over the engines and the rushing water. Not the ideal circumstances for a first date. I didn’t even wear my lucky blue first date shirt.” She’d stopped
fidgeting. He’d take it as a good sign.

  “What makes it lucky?”

  Gotcha. He had her on the line, and it wouldn’t be too hard to reel her in. Well, for the date, at least. Sam had no doubt Mira was nothing if not full of complications. “I always get a second date when I wear it.”

  “You sound like a girl, Sam. I never would’ve imagined you to be a fan of fashion.”

  “I’m not.” Snorting, he waved his hand at his one hundred percent non-name-brand outfit. “I’m a big fan of second dates, though.”

  Mira laughed. “I like your honesty. So I’ll admit I like second dates, too. Of course, the third date is where things really get exciting.”

  “Come on, give me a chance to take you out and get to know the real you. You had fun today, right?” Shit. All she’d done so far was cry and kiss him. Probably the wrong thing to ask.

  “The last five minutes weren’t so bad.”

  She was like the rainbow trouts he hooked in this very lake, fighting against every attempt to be reeled in. Except Sam knew he had her on the line. Tire her out, and he’d get her eventually. “Well, I put zero effort into this excursion. Imagine how much fun you’ll have once I buckle down and put serious thought into impressing you?”

  Mira batted her lashes in double time. “Be still my heart.”

  “Plus, we’re pretty good at the kissing part. Don’t you want to find out how good we’d be at the rest of it?”

  “Mr. Lyons, are you trying to seduce me?”

  “Ivy did tell me to be nice to you. I’m just following orders.”

  Long, red-tipped fingers drifted to her lips. “I’d say you went above and beyond the call of duty.”

  “True. This isn’t my standard welcome-to-the-neighborhood approach.”

  Her hand fell to her side. “You know, maybe we shouldn’t go on a real date. After all, we work with each other.”