by Alison Kent
“What if I don’t feel like being polite?” she asked, moving closer still until he could feel her heat.
“Sweetheart, that’s all right with me.” His body tightened, and his erection pressed painfully against the confines of his slacks. He fought not to grab her around the waist and pull her close. They were somewhat secluded behind Santa’s Village, but they were hardly alone.
“It is?” Surprise laced her voice, and once again he was struck by the dichotomy between the boldness of her actions and the hesitancy in her eyes.
“Come on.” More roughly than he intended, he took her hand, leading her toward the elevator. He needed to get away from prying eyes and questioning glances.
He wanted what she wanted—no question about that. But he didn’t intend to take it until he understood her motives. He didn’t know if that made him chivalrous or self-indulgent, and he didn’t care. Just now he wanted to get to the bottom of this. Because only then could he lose himself inside her. And that, frankly, was one damned strong motivating factor.
She followed in silence until they stopped, waiting for the elevator to appear. “Where are we going?”
“Someplace quiet.” He had no idea where, though. The store was filled with employees. Not one square inch would provide any privacy.
“Brent!” His father’s voice underscored the point. “There you are.”
Trying for nonchalance, his lips curved in greeting. “Father.” He nodded toward Annie. “You remember Annie Silver.”
“Of course,” he said pleasantly. But the tightness in his father’s face indicated another emotion. Winston Carrington III might be polite, but he was also a snob.
“Nice to see you, Mr. Carrington,” Annie said. “And, uh, it was great bumping into you, Brent.” She took a step away, and Brent realized her nerve was fading again. “I…uh…should go find Faith.”
No way was he letting her get away. In one fluid motion he reached for her elbow, urging her back toward him. “I thought you promised to help me.” He smiled at his father. “The champagne’s running low. I’m going to go see how much we have left.”
“Excellent.” Winston gave him a hearty slap on the back, even while he frowned in Annie’s direction. “I’ll see you later, son. And tomorrow I want you managing the toy department.”
“I know, Father,” he said flatly. The last thing he wanted was to spend his Saturday within fifteen feet of Santa’s Village and all the Christmas hokeyness his father had crammed into the store.
Then again, Annie would be there, so that would take some of the edge off the punishment. He cast a quick glance her way, taking in the so-short elf costume and green tights. The outfit hugged her curves, leaving nothing to the imagination, while at the same time managing to seem tame. Her hair hung down to her shoulders in a mass of curls that he supposed destroyed the elfin image somewhat. But he was happy for the trade, especially since he intended to lose himself in those soft brown waves.
The elevator arrived, and Brent ushered Annie on, then pushed the down button. He’d helped the caterers carry the last case of champagne up from the basement two hours ago, so he knew no one would disturb them.
As they entered the darkened room, he turned away from her to lock the door behind him. In that brief moment, she scampered away, ending up underneath the one low window that backed the alley.
The moonlight filtered in through the wire mesh, setting her skin to glow. Especially in her costume, she looked ethereal, beautiful. He was hard as a rock just from looking at her. Now he wanted to touch her…stroke her soft skin…tease her nipples….
“I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes meeting his. He saw regret reflected there. Regret and uncertainty, but also a bit of pride. In one fluid motion, she pulled herself up and headed for the door. If she went through it, he wouldn’t stop her. Her seductive words and glances had brought him to his knees, and he had no idea what her game was, but there was no way in hell he’d ever force a woman.
She dragged her teeth across her lower lip. “I was being silly.” She shook her head as her fingers flipped the deadbolt. “I should never have—”
Abruptly she quieted, her eyes wide as she turned to stare at him. “It won’t open.”
In an instant, he was by her side, her nearness disconcerting even as he focused on the door. “The time lock,” he said, the words coming out in a rush as memory returned. “Father installed a time lock. Part of the new security system.”
She sagged against the door. “When…”
“The morning. Seven, I think.”
“Oh.” Her lips formed a perfect circle, encasing the single small sound.
“Tough break, huh?” He leaned against the wall, brushing her shoulder with his. Unless he’d missed his guess, she still wanted him. She’d just been overcome with a bout of conscience. But that wasn’t something Brent intended to let get in their way. Not if he could help it.
“Someone might find us.”
“They might, but…” He trailed off into a shrug. The implication was clear enough. It was a big party. No one would miss them.
She turned to face him, her eyes wide and soft and hesitant. He intended to erase all her hesitations. “Then we’re stuck until morning.”
“Afraid so.” She closed her eyes as he traced her cheek with his finger, then dipped down to follow the delicate curve of her neck. “Any ideas how we can possibly entertain ourselves all night…?”
A small shiver shook her body, and when she opened her eyes, the longing he saw there cut straight to his gut.
“I shouldn’t have started this.”
“But you did.” With infinite patience, he traced her cheek, delighting when she moaned under his touch. “You started it, and now I want to finish it. So what’s it going to be, sweetheart? Naughty? Or nice?”
CHAPTER THREE
WHAT DID SHE WANT? Brent’s question hung in the air, and Annie fought to find a coherent answer.
Earlier, it had all seemed so simple—she wanted Brent. But she’d never expected her desire to be reciprocated. Hell, she’d expected him to balk. She’d flirt and tease and tempt him, but she hadn’t actually expected him to say yes so easily. Had she?
But he had said yes. In fact, his affirmative response had been quite enthusiastic. Which meant that her foolhardy, wine-induced plan was suddenly a reality. And she had absolutely no idea what to do.
“Annie?” His amused grin made him look even sexier than usual. “I sure hope you answer me tonight, because I really don’t want to waste this opportunity.”
She stumbled backward, unable to think. His scent did something to her insides. Something wonderful, yes, but it made it hard to keep her thoughts in order. “I should never have—”
“Come on to me so strong you just about melted my insides?” Amusement danced on his moonlit features. “So you said. But you did. And I liked it. And now I want to know what you want to do about it.”
He’d moved toward her as he spoke, and now she was backed up against a stack of boxes, unable to escape. What she wanted was to press against him and demand that he kiss her with all the passion she saw reflected in his eyes.
But what she should do…well, that was something entirely different. Before, she’d just wanted Brent. But bumping into Brent’s father had reinforced how different their lives were—and that she was playing with fire. Ultimately, she’d be the one who got burned.
She couldn’t conjure words, and when his finger curved under her chin, tilting her head back, her silence was assured. A little voice in the back of her mind screamed that she should protest, run, anything, to get away.
But she wanted this, Lord help her, she did, and when he lowered his lips to hers, all she could do was moan and open her mouth in silent invitation.
His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her against him into the warm curve of his body. “Are you sure? If you’re not, say so now, because, dammit, Annie, I’ve wanted this for too long. I don’t think I can stop if
this goes much further.”
“Wanted this?” Wanted her?
Common sense told her she should stop this. But instead of protests, she heard her own voice, husky and raw, whispering, “I’m sure. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
He took the invitation to heart, tasting and teasing in a frenzy of passion that left her breathless. Her own enthusiasm matched his, and she wriggled closer as his hands cupped her butt, pressing her tight against him, so tight he would have entered her had it not been for their clothes.
“Please,” she whispered.
“Please, what?”
She met his eyes, wanting to lose herself in the pleasure those rich blue irises promised. “Touch me.”
He needed no more persuasion, and his hands went to work on her costume, undressing her slowly and sensually. Somehow, he managed to lose his own clothes, as well, and before she knew it, he was right there, hot and ready. And she was so very willing.
“I want you, Annie.”
“I know.” She could see and feel the hard evidence of his desire. “I want you, too.”
Silently, she demanded that he enter her, but instead he stroked her breasts, his mouth warring with hers, his sex teasing and tormenting her.
“This is your show, sweetheart,” he whispered, and she realized he was waiting for her. It wasn’t enough to say she was sure, she had to show him, too. Brent wasn’t about to do anything she didn’t want to do.
She broke the contact only long enough to fumble for her purse and pull out a condom. He moaned as she sheathed him, but his moan was even more primitive when she placed his hands on her hips, urging him to lift her up, then bring her down, burying himself in her slick heat.
She gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his body as they moved together. Her back was still against the boxes, and she oddly wondered if they would topple over during their lovemaking.
But soon all silly thoughts left her head, leaving her thinking only of Brent, and the way his body felt against hers. A glorious pressure built inside her, and she cried out, shaking and trembling in his arms as he thrust deeper and harder, finding his own climax before they both sank to the ground.
She cuddled next to him, delighted when he kissed the tip of her nose. In a few moments, he surprised her by pulling a sheet over them. “Linen delivery,” he explained. “I’ll buy this sheet in the morning.”
Spent, they snuggled together, and she tried to stay awake, but the warm, coziness of his arms overwhelmed her and she fell asleep, his gentle kiss on her forehead the last thing she remembered.
LIGHT WAS CREEPING in the tiny window when she awoke in the circle of his arms, and for a moment she just lay there, breathing his musky scent, and wondering if she’d ever again in her life feel so cherished. So loved.
Loved?
The veil of sleep vanished, and she was fully awake. What on earth had she done? In her ridiculous fantasy, she’d planned on a seduction where she was in charge. She’d get her wish—Brent in her bed—and she’d get him out of her system.
Except nothing had worked out the way she’d planned. Instead of getting him out of her system, he was more ingrained than ever.
Damned inconvenient, considering she was moving to New York in just a few days—and since nothing long-term could ever develop between a Carrington and a Silver. Heck, he’d practically admitted as much when he’d confessed to noticing her in the past, but never approaching her.
No, the best thing to do was cut her losses.
Carefully, she rolled out from under his arm, then stood up and climbed back into her costume. Brent stirred once, but didn’t awaken.
Before she could change her mind, she headed for the door. Without the time lock, the door opened easily, and she paused to look back at him. She wanted to stay, but staying meant complications. And right now she needed to follow the path she’d already set for herself. Say her goodbyes, pack her bags, and move to New York.
And she might as well start right now.
With tears welling in her eyes, she pressed her fingers to her lips, then blew him a kiss.
“Goodbye, Brent,” she whispered. “And thank you.”
CHAPTER FOUR
BRENT STRETCHED, seeking Annie’s warmth even from the depths of his dreams. Nothing. His eyes flew open and he bolted upright, a choice curse escaping his lips.
She was gone. The most wonderful night of his life, and the woman he’d shared it with had walked out on him.
Frustrated, he banged the back of his head against the stack of boxes, trying to decide what to do next. Not that there was really any question. For years, he’d wanted a taste of Annie Silver, and now that he’d had one, he didn’t intend to give her up. She was sweet and warm and her honest passion had driven him to the brink. He’d never met a woman like her, and he wasn’t about to let her walk away without a fight.
Unfortunately, Annie seemed to have a different idea. But Brent hadn’t suffered through an M.B.A. program without learning a few things about negotiating. And the first rule was to know your opponent. He knew Annie. He’d watched her for years, wishing he’d been brave enough to assert himself against his father and ask out the smartest, sweetest girl in the school. But he never had, and now he was kicking himself for it.
And the one thing he still didn’t know was why she’d come on to him in the first place, or, more important, why she’d walked away.
But he did know someone who might.
“GIVE IT UP, FAITH. I know you know what she’s up to.” Faith and Annie had been inseparable since elementary school, and even now they were roommates.
Faith held up a finger as she handled the bill for one of the regulars at her little café by the river. As soon as the customer left, she focused on him. “What do you mean ‘what she’s up to’?” She looked him up and down, clearly taking in his rumpled outfit. “Seems to me you figured that out last night.”
If she was trying to fluster him, it wasn’t going to work. “I figured out that she wanted a fling. Believe it or not I’m pretty astute at picking up on those subtle little clues.”
Faith’s mouth twitched, and he knew he’d scored a few points.
“What I hadn’t figured on was her bolting. What the hell’s up with that?”
“How should I know? Nerves, maybe?”
“She wasn’t too nervous to try to seduce me.”
“Maybe she thought you didn’t want to be seduced.” As soon as she spoke, Faith’s shoulders slumped, and her eyes darted away. Brent picked up on the signals easily enough—she hadn’t meant to reveal that little tidbit.
But why would Annie want to seduce him if she didn’t think he’d want her? Or maybe she’d thought she could convince him—he was a guy, after all—but that the most that would happen would be one night of hot and heavy lust. Something simple they could walk away from.
But nothing about last night had been simple. He’d never experienced the kind of closeness he’d felt with Annie, and he was certain she’d felt it, too—and it had scared her enough to send her scurrying away.
The door to the apartment over the café burst open, and Annie bounded in. She stopped cold the second she saw Brent. He clutched the countertop, fighting the urge to go toward her, to hold her.
She swallowed, the flush on her cheeks making her look more adorable as she calmly walked toward them. “Brent. Hi.” She licked her lips. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you. And trying to figure out why you left.”
“I…” Her eyes darted to Faith, but her friend only held up her hands and backed away.
“Don’t drag me into this. I already said more than I should have.”
Annie’s shoulders slumped. “Faith…”
“Don’t blame her,” Brent said. “I threatened her with bodily harm.”
Her expression shifted, and though she tried to hide it, he could see the flash of amusement under her tight features.
“Neither one of y
ou should be talking about me,” she said.
Brent moved closer, overcome by the urge to touch her. “Why not, when you’re such an enticing subject?” He took her hand, cutting off her answer. “I want you, Annie. I thought I made that perfectly clear last night.”
Her lips pressed together before she lifted her eyes to his. “We had our one night.” She took a deep breath. “I’d appreciate it if we could chalk it up to hormones and wine and a party atmosphere and just be friends.”
“Not gonna happen.” He urged her closer, pleased when she didn’t fight his gentle tug. “You started this, sweetheart. And I don’t think we’re anywhere near finished.”
Annie’s pulse beat an unsteady rhythm as Brent’s deep blue eyes bored into her. When she’d come up with her plan to seduce him, she’d never imagined the kind of connection that had sparked between them in the basement.
She’d run because she was scared. And now, because nothing between them could be permanent, she had to keep running.
“It can’t work, Brent,” she said as soon as he’d steered her into a corner booth.
“What can’t?”
“You. Me. There can’t be anything permanent here.”
“Why not?”
“This isn’t Twenty Questions.”
Leaning across the table, he clasped her hands. “I want to know. Why can’t it work?”
She tried to remember all the reasons—it was hard to think with him touching her. “For one, we come from totally different backgrounds.”
He made a noise in the back of his throat, and she wondered if that argument had missed its mark.
“My job, for another. I’m moving in January.”
That excuse seemed to resonate a little better. “I thought you loved the library.”
“I do. Except that my master’s is in rare books. Not a whole lot of use in Bishop.” She sat up a little taller, still proud of herself for landing her new job. “I’m going to work at the Metropolitan Museum. I’m moving to New York.”
His eyes widened, and he grinned, as if she’d just said she wanted to move in with him, rather than that she was moving all the way to Manhattan. Odd.
