Bev cried out. Tunneled her fingers through his hair. “We are not doing this in the conference room.” She stroked the blond hair in her fingers, gazing up at the popcorn ceiling panels. “Oh!”
His teeth found the other nipple. “She’s stranded at my mother’s.” His laughter tickled her tender flesh. “I’m taking you home with me.” His hands dipped under the waistband of her slacks, slipping down over each round cheek, pulling her against him. “Eventually.”
She pushed him away to look into his face. “This isn’t fair.”
Kissing and stroking, he moved his hand around her hips to the front. She felt him grin against her neck. “You can go first.”
“I mean to you.” She started to laugh, but her breath caught in her mouth as his finger slipped inside her. Whatever she was trying to say got scrambled in her bloodless brain. For a moment she gave herself up to it, but her worries wouldn’t melt along with her muscles. “You’ll always be wondering—”
“If you’ll ever stop talking?” He added a finger and she gasped.
With self-discipline she didn’t know she possessed, she wriggled away. “If I love you as much as you love me.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Yes—”
“I know you don’t. But that’s okay.”
She took another step back. “See? And you think I’m competitive.”
He laughed. “All right, I give up. You love me the most.” He went after her, eyes dark and fixed on her mouth.
“Now you’re just saying that.”
“No shit. Come here.”
Her heel caught on the protruding wheel of an office chair as she ducked out of reach and bolted for the door. Her purse was in her office, and she made a run for it.
“Bev!” He appeared in the doorway of her office just as she lifted Ball off a chair and into her arms. With the fur at her chin she twirled around to face him.
His frustrated scowl broke into a mocking smile. “Give me the cat and nobody gets hurt.”
She could feel her pulse in her throat. If he would just let her think. She needed a minute before she got swept up in everything he was promising, before she took everything she wanted, before it was too late to set the stage for a future that would stick.
She looked down at Ball, a silky lump of fluff in her arms. “That’s it,” she said softly. “I’ll give it to you.”
“Kidding. The cat’s yours.” He strode into the office. “Though I assumed you were a package deal.”
With Ball still in her arms, she jogged past him and out the door. “My stuff is all upstairs.”
He let out a frustrated sigh and followed her down the hall and up the stairwell, but by the time they reached her soon-to-be-vacated sleeping quarters he was looking cheerfully predatory. “Good idea. First we make the earth move, then you move into my place.”
Heart skipping around in her chest, she smiled at him. “You mentioned that before and I didn’t believe you.” She took in the sight of him, from golden head to broad shoulder to long, strong legs, then back up to the loving, patient look in his eyes. “You gave me a choice—personal or professional, not both—”
“Forget it.” He was there, taking Ball out of her arms. “I was an idiot.”
“I chose wrong.” She held up her hands to keep him from sweeping her away again. “So you left. You chose me over Fite. I’ll never, ever doubt you again.”
His hand hooked around her waist and pulled her hard against his body. “Excellent.” He buried his face in her neck.
“But you—”
His lips nibbled the pulse under her jaw.
She inhaled deeply, lost her thoughts briefly in the rich scent of him. “—you’ll always wonder.”
“Nah.” His tongue traced the path of her racing pulse up to her ear while his hands slipped up her body, touching everywhere, under her clothes, hot fingers on her skin.
“And so,” she gasped and sank into him, “I’ll—do—the same.”
“Sure you will.” He led her over to the sofa, pushed her back onto it, and climbed on top of her, heavy and everywhere. His hands dragged the hem of her shirt up to her bra and he dipped his head. Firm lips found her nipple through the nylon, and sparks of painful lust shot through her body while she stared at the blurry half-moon out the window over his shoulder and decided he was more than a fair trade. He could have Fite, she could have him.
She smiled and closed her eyes. He didn’t believe her, but she’d show him.
He lifted himself up on one arm and frowned down at her. “This thing pulls out into a bed?”
She nodded, imagining how happy Engineering would be to have him back. Bev never did get a handle on all that garment construction stuff. And the sales guys would throw him a party.
“Well, come on.” He lifted her up to her feet. He tore off the cushions, found the handle to the mattress frame and tugged it out, never taking his eyes off of her.
“Hi,” she said shyly. He’d unhooked her bra, and she could feel her breasts heavy under her shirt. His eyelids fell, and she saw the humor drain out of him, the facade of mockery gone, leaving in its place hard, raw desire. For her.
She glanced past him at the bed, very glad she’d splurged on the expensive cotton sheets, the down comforter, extra pillows; he wouldn’t know she’d been curling up every night under a scrap of fleece that had failed its pill and color transfer testing.
He held out a hand. His eyes, nearly black, searched her face, then dropped down over her body.
She lifted her shirt over her head, taking the unfastened bra with it, and dropped it on the floor. With eyes locked with his she slid her pants over her hips, slowly, shifting to one side to show him the curve of her ass.
He tore off his own shirt and shoes and pants and boxers and socks before she had worked her ankles free. He was very ready. She stared down at him, her heart beating too fast, and she fell on top of him on the thin, squeaking mattress. His mouth whispered love in her ear and his hands roaming over her body like a gale. She lifted her knees to straddle him, interrupted by his fingers slipping under her panties and between her legs, everywhere. She traced his collarbone, the hard curve of his shoulder, and swiveled her hips hungrily to meet his, his erection sliding along the cleft of her bottom.
He groaned and pushed out from under her, pinned her to the bed. “Not yet, sweetheart.” Locks of his hair tickled her belly as he leaned down to remove her panties. She arched her back to help, and he got distracted, staring at her breasts, then fell on top of her to suck and lick and tease until the desire in her belly wound tighter and tighter and she pounded on his back to ease the torment.
“Now!” she gasped.
But he laughed silently, mouth wet on another part of her, sucking her fingers, licking her, bending her back and over and around with maddening, impossible need. She met his passion with hard need of her own, and blind hunger, and love, and he slid inside of her just at the moment she needed him most. She cried out and spun out of herself, just right, with him.
They made love a second time in the elevator, with poor Ball tucked into her carrier in the corner. Liam was glad only he knew about the security camera, though Bev gave him a suspicious look when he hung his shirt over the box in the ceiling before hitting the emergency stop button.
He didn’t care about the million-dollar parking ticket, or the cat vomiting on the seat, just that he got Bev to his torn-up condo as soon as possible—not just for a third go, but to ease his mind and close the deal. Once her suitcase and cat were at his place, and that damn bachelor pad’s of Ed’s was safely converted to cubicles, he could relax and believe he was really going to get what he wanted.
“What happened?” Bev asked when she saw his decimated kitchen.
He came up behind her and hooked his hands around her waist. “I thought I’d lost you, so I had to keep busy.” Then he swore, remembering the bathroom. The drop-cloths over his bedroom floor. He’d have to keep her so distracted in bed
she didn’t notice.
“I kind of did the same thing,” she said. “I would have done anything to keep Fite up and running. Since it was all I had left.”
“You did amazingly well. Your grandfather wasn’t crazy after all. I should have trusted him.”
Bev gazed into his eyes. “Do you really believe that?”
“Unfortunately. His evil plan for me to seduce you turned out to be just the thing.” He rested his chin on the top of her head. “You’re not a bad boss and you’re very creative with the bennies.”
She tensed. “But that’s all over.”
He turned her around in his arms. “Bev . . . ”
“Being the boss, I mean.” She rolled her eyes. “See? This is what I’m talking about. I haven’t convinced you of diddly squat.”
He let out his breath. Pulled her close. “Just keep telling me. It’ll sink in eventually.”
“I love you, I love you, I love you.”
He smiled. Felt her up. “Good.”
“No, you’re just being polite. That’s why I made you choose. So you’d know, in your bones.”
He pressed his hips against her. “Oh, my bones know.”
“I’ll work a few more weeks. Then it’ll be yours again.” She pulled out of his arms and ran a hand through her tangled hair, frowning. “You got a working shower in this place? I’d really like to—”
He snorted. “A few more weeks. Right.”
“So you know I’d rather have you than Fite.” She went over and stuck her head in the fridge. “I wonder if I can get a job at Levi’s or something. I can’t imagine going back to teaching now.”
He shook his head, smiling, and captured her from behind again. “You do whatever you like. Buy a doughnut shop. Teach molecular biology at Cal. Hang out in my bed, naked, while I bring home the bacon—”
“Bacon is right, you sexist pig.”
He sighed, enjoyed the feel of her, the fit of her. “I can dream.”
She turned in his arms, beer in hand, and went up on her toes to kiss his chin. “You don’t believe me. About proving my love.”
He smiled into her eyes. “I know you, Bev. You want to look like you’re doing the right thing, but there’s no way you’d give up Fite now. At the end of the day—” he gave her a deep, sweet kiss, “—you’re lookin’ out for Numero Uno.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
She bit her lip, trying to scowl, but her face split into a wide, adoring grin. “And you don’t have a problem with that?”
“Nope.”
“Because you’re the same way.” Her eyes sparkled. “Admit it.”
He tilted his head and looked at her. “You bet I am,” he said seriously. “At the end of the day, I’m looking out for you too.”
Then he began a kiss that was so sweet, so deep, and lasted so long, Bev didn’t notice his bedroom was painted three different colors until the next morning.
Epilogue
It was almost ten-thirty when Bev walked through Fite’s front door. She wore an outfit from the first Fite Gear delivery, dark purple sweats with a long, stretchy jacket tied around her waist with a Fite logo on her butt—like three other women on the BART train with her that afternoon.
She didn’t walk up right away to Carrie, who was on the phone, turned slightly to the side. Bev needed a minute to compose herself. Catch her breath.
“Bev!” Carrie slammed down the phone. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here?” She ran around the desk and came over, arms wide.
Bev accepted the warm impact with a smile and tried not to lose it. Lately all she did was cry. “You looked busy.”
“I am. Liam is promoting me to Trim Buyer.”
“That’s perfect for you.”
Carrie drew back and dropped her arms. “You look fantastic.”
“Thanks. Is that a new design?” She pointed at the green pendant around Carrie’s neck.
She nodded brightly. “My best-seller.” She lowered her voice. “Liam doesn’t mind me selling on Etsy as long as I don’t mention Fite.”
“Good for you,” Bev said. “So, where is he?”
“Office. He’s been holed up all day, throwing that ball against the wall, driving everyone crazy.”
Annoyed, Bev looked at her watch. “He promised to be waiting for me out here.” She did not want to go into any enclosed, private spaces with him. No matter how many times he promised to keep his hands to himself, next time he saw an opening he’d be on her like spit on lipstick. “Will you please tell him I’m here?”
“Hey there, Ms. Bev. Long time no see.” George came up behind her dragging a dolly into the lobby. He was trying to frown and grin at the same time.
“How’s your wife doing?” she asked him. “Any luck with the chiropractor?”
“Those quacks got her wrapped around their greedy little fingers. All in her head. And my wallet.” He dumped his package in front of Carrie, waved, and went back the way he came, the ghost of a smile on his lips.
Carrie shook her head at Bev, the phone at her ear. “It went straight to voicemail. He must be on the line.”
She refused to wait for him. Being at Fite again was harder than she’d expected. “I’ll go find him.” She pushed the door open and went down the hall to his office, surprised to see new carpeting, bright lighting, fresh paint. Guess the money was flowing in. He was doing fine. Without her.
His door was closed, which was more of the ‘too much,’ so she walked in without knocking and tried to keep her pulse steady when she took in the sight of him leaning back on his chair with his stocking-feet up on the desk.
“You look busy,” she said, closing the door behind her.
He frowned at her between the gap in his feet, his handsome face framed by wiggling toes. “What are you doing here?” He dropped his feet to the floor, muttered something into the receiver and hung up the phone. “You promised to let me take care of things on my own.”
“It’s Tuesday afternoon.” She walked in and sank into a chair. Her feet were killing her. Really, Fite needed to work on their walking shoes. “We had a deal.”
“Not—” He tilted his head and stared at her. “Still?”
“Hey, you’re the one who said I had to set a good example.”
He came around the desk. Smiled slowly. “Too late.” He dropped to his knees and slid his hand over her rounded belly. As always, his touch set her nerves on fire. “Letting the staff knock you up is hardly setting a good example.” His mouth found the hollow between her breasts and trailed kisses down her shirt.
She pushed her knee into his ribs. “This is why we meet in the lobby, remember?”
“I thought you’d love the excuse to stay on the couch.” He drew back and frowned, his brown eyes intense. “Which is where you should be. Or in bed.”
“Dr. Jane said I could still walk with you once a week, as long as I didn’t feel contractions.”
“She doesn’t know you hiked through SOMA to get to that walk.”
Bev kissed the tip of his nose. “She worries too much. And so do you.”
“I’d airlift you home if I could.” He gripped her shoulders and pushed them apart. “Now I have to call a cab.”
“As if I’d let you.”
“Oh, bossy again, are we?” He raised an eyebrow. “Nice try, but as of yesterday at eight a.m., I am the boss of this here establishment until you and Baby Fite come back to work.”
“Yeah, well, I still own this here establishment.”
“Community property state, babe. Fifty-fifty.”
She exhaled in frustration and slumped back in the chair, feet sticking out. “More fine print,” she said. “I swear, from now on I’m not signing anything.”
He laughed and held out his hand. “Come on, I’ll carry you to the sofa upstairs.”
She lumbered to her feet. “Forget it. You may be cute but I’ve learned my lesson. Four months of bed rest. You have no idea what I’m going through. From now
on you may admire me from a respectable distance.”
He hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her tight. “This is about right,” he said, eyes full of love, and kissed her gently on the lips. “It’s selfish of me, but I’m glad you came.”
She buried her smile in his neck. Inhaled his scent, practiced her love bites. “Better make it worth my while.”
He growled and moved his mouth over hers, kissing her like a man who knew she was going to let him carry her wherever he wanted.
Just one more time.
Love Handles
© 2011 Gretchen Galway
http://www.gretchengalway.com
Cover design © 2012 Gretchen Galway
Cover photos from Shutterstock (Four Oaks and kropic1)
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, no part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the Author.
All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
About the Author
Gretchen Galway writes romantic comedies because love is too painful to survive without laughing. Raised in the American Midwest, she now lives in California with her husband and two kids.
You can find her online at www.gretchengalway.com, or via email at [email protected].
And if you enjoyed this book, please consider lending it to a friend—all of her books are DRM-free—or leave a review online. Feedback from readers like you is priceless.
Thank you for reading!
Also by Gretchen Galway
THIS TIME NEXT DOOR
©2012 Gretchen Galway
*Previously published as The Geek Who Loved Me*
Sometimes love is right under your nose…
Readers first met Mark Johnson in Love Handles as Liam’s brilliant but awkward younger brother. In This Time Next Door, Mark the software engineer decides to break away from his computer and get a life, starting with the petite woman who’s moved in next door. But when he meets her large, blond housemate, Rose, he starts to dream… bigger.
Love Handles (A Romantic Comedy) Page 31
