“Literally.” Katie affirmed. “Well...”
“Oh. My. God. The grey eyes, almost black hair… It was Alec MacGowan.”
“Yes,” Katie said as she dropped her head. “God help me. Alec…” She hesitated. “He saw more of my body than my doctor ever has. And the things we did…” she said, shaking her head. “And now… now he’s my boss.”
“Oooh, Katie, what’s that about your new boss? He’s definitely a fine male specimen. And who knows, maybe he’ll be able to thaw you out, though I might let him practice on me first.” The shrill sound of the voice rubbed Katie’s already on-edge nerves even rawer.
“Spying on me even out here, Lucy? Tell me something. Do you have my home bugged too?” Katie asked, smiling ever so sweetly.
Lucy Millar, head of the Inner Circle, never ceased to amaze Katie with her ability to sniff out any hint of scandal or intrigue. She was worse than a damn bloodhound. She’d had it in for Katie ever since she’d been hired nearly eight years ago. Rumor had it that her one goal was to get Katie out of the Institute, preferably by scandal, ensuring the gossip would follow her everywhere she went professionally. Lucy clearly saw her as a threat, though for the life of her, Katie couldn’t understand why. She didn’t even know what Lucy did besides torment her.
Lucy tossed back of her head and cackled. “If I thought there was anything interesting going on in your bedroom, I might be tempted, but it’s a well-known fact that you’ve been in a sexual drought for ages now. Or should I say you’re in a deep freeze?”
Katie’s body twitched at the additional reference to her Ice Princess reputation.
“Perhaps you’ve forgotten what to do?” Lucy sighed loudly. “Maybe you can study some of the cave art drawings stored in the Institute’s basement for a refresher.”
Katie jumped up, her soda hitting the wooden planking and rolling toward Laura, her hands at her side, fists clenched. “At least I know how to satisfy a man, you, you—” Just as the insult was about to jump off her lips, a large hand clamped down over her mouth as another slid around her midriff, pulling her backwards, slamming her into a very hard, very male body.
“I’d advise you not to say another word, Katie,” Alec said into her ear.
Katie squirmed, trying to break free. Her hands pried at the one holding her against him. His grip tightened. She relaxed, her self-defense training kicking in. As she expected, his grip loosened. She took the moment to elbow him in the stomach and spin out of his reach. “You son of a bitch, what do you think you’re doing, manhandling me like that?”
He crossed his arms, eyes glaring. “You kiss your parents with that potty mouth?”
Laura gasped. Lucy winced. Katie froze. She breathed in deep, consuming the air around her as she straightened her spine, and willed the shield to fall into place from head to toe. She felt it cascade down through her body as she counted to ten before she faced him. Her eyes looked past him, focusing on the lighthouse in the harbor. Calmly she answered, “No. I do not.” She turned and walked back toward the Institute.
Laura shook her head at Alec then strode after Katie.
Alec turned to Lucy. “What the hell just happened?”
Lucy, her smug smile gone, replied, “Katie’s parents died in some horrific accident. No one knows the details. She doesn’t talk about it. I don’t think even Laura, who’s like a sister to her, knows the whole story.”
“Damn it. I had no idea.”
“Come on, Alec,” she said as she hooked her arm around his, tugging until his feet moved. “I think we should talk. It’s been too long.”
R
Chapter Three
Katie slammed her office door and paced back and forth in front of her desk. “Who the hell does he think he is? I can so have his ass in a sling for what he just did.”
There was a knock on the door. Laura stepped in before closing the door behind her. “You all right, Katie?”
“No,” Katie snapped. “Who the hell does he think he is? He assaulted me. He manhandled me.” She crossed the room again. “And then he had the gall to bring up my parents. Ooh, I just cannot work with that man.”
“I agree he had no right to touch you like that but…” Laura hesitated.
Katie stopped walking and planted her hands on her hips. Her eyes locked on Laura. “But what?”
“Katie, I’m sure he didn’t know about your parents. It was an honest mistake.”
Katie pursed her lips, paced a few steps and then turned back to face Laura. “You may be right, Laura, but if he didn’t try to muzzle me, it wouldn’t have been said.”
Laura shrugged. “You’re right.”
“I just can’t work for him. He thinks he can tell me what to do, what to say? Well, he’s got another thing coming. I don’t need a babysitter. He’s not going to control me.”
“I don’t imagine many people control you, Katie,” Alec said.
She whirled around and faced him, her chin set in stubborn mode, willing him to bring it on. She was in the mood for a good fight. “Who invited you in? I didn’t hear you knock.”
Laura headed for the door. “I think you two need to talk. If you’ll excuse me,” she said as she left, closing the door behind her.
Katie walked up to him. Even in her heels her head didn’t reach the top of his shoulders. She tossed back her head to make sure he saw the anger in her eyes. “You had no right to stop me from telling Lucy off. I was not on company property and I was on my own time.” She jabbed his chest with her index finger for emphasis. “Absolutely,”—poke—“no,”— poke—“right.” Poke.
He rubbed his chest. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t have to take her snide remarks. I’ve taken them for too long.” She turned and strode toward her desk. “I’m tired of looking over my shoulder, waiting for her to materialize.”
“I said I’m sorry.”
She fell into her chair and crossed her arms. “She does nothing that I can see but get in my face.”
“And she does that very well, Katie. You shouldn’t let her—”
Katie jumped up and headed for him again, her eyes narrowed and blazing. “Don’t you dare try to tell me how to deal with her. I’ve had to put up with her for my entire career here,” she huffed. “For all I know, she’s the only reason you got the director’s job over me. You two seemed awfully chummy when I looked back.”
He chuckled. “Jealous, KitKat?”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Why would I be jealous? If you want to go to bed with a viper, that’s your problem.”
He laughed. “Seriously, could you picture her and me doing the horizontal mambo?”
She tilted her head and shrugged. “I don’t know anything about you. She may just be your preferred type, blood-sucking vampire banshee that she is. Actually, I heard she’s the one that got you the interview for the director’s job. What’s that all about?”
He closed the distance between them before she could react. He circled her waist with his arm and drew her in tight to his chest, backing her up, effectively trapping her between his hard body and the hard desk. With his other hand, he lifted her chin. He lowered his mouth, capturing her lips between his. His lips were firm, commanding. She splayed her hands against his chest, pressing the heels of her hands against his hard muscles, trying to free herself. He reached his hand around to the back her head, applying enough pressure to trap her mouth against his. He took control, gently urging her to relax, respond. She pushed against him again, twisting her mouth slightly. He brought his other hand to her head, making it impossible for her to pull away. His assault was intense, relentless… delicious. She relaxed her lips and kissed him back. She suckled his bottom lip. The taste of him brought the memories flooding back. She arched into him, seeking contact with every possible inch she could, and opened her mouth. He wasted no time in claiming her.
His tongue melded with hers, neither seeking control, just exploring, tasting each
other… remembering. She heard a low moan and realized it was coming from her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, raking her fingers through his silky almost black hair. She pulled him tighter against her swelling lips. His hand swept down her back, cupping her butt, molding her against him. She moaned again. If he wasn’t holding her she would have sunk to the floor, her knees unable to support her. He slowly came up for air and lifted his head. She whimpered at the loss of his touch, his heat. Her eyes drifted open, trying to focus, as her mind came slowly back under her control.
He brushed her hair off her face. “Am I forgiven, KitKat?”
“Um, forgiven?” she replied, still dazed.
He laughed and headed for the door. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
She should be mad at him, but just couldn’t bring herself to get riled up. It was heady. He’s getting under my skin. If I’m not careful, the lines between professional and personal will disappear in an instant. She sank into her chair and she grasped the lilac-colored crystal that hung from the chain around her neck. She swished it back and forth, making a familiar zipping sound as she did. The memory of his touch, his scent, came racing back from that night five years ago, flooding her consciousness and began to play in her head. She was helpless to stop it and she admitted she didn’t want to. She’d allow herself the luxury, hell, the pleasure of remembering.
She was beginning to feel normal again, though not quite herself yet. While she was honored that she was one of a handful of Nordstrom Institute personnel that was given free rein at Willowton, Lord Anthony Chester’s West Country estate, she always ended up feeling off-kilter after a few days. Maybe it was the isolation or the fact that it was built over the convergence of three ancient ley lines. She only knew that after her two-week stay there pouring over research material, she longed for some human interaction, some modern surroundings. So before heading back to the Institute in Boston, she’d opted for a few days in London.
She checked into The Uber Metro hotel in London. It was ultra-modern, sleek, a stark contrast to Willowton with its tapestry-filled halls and portrait-laden rooms. While not her normal choice in décor, she hoped the chrome and glass surroundings would speed up her return to normal and the twenty-first century.
She smoothed the sleeveless, curve-hugging black dress, adorned only with an emerald necklace and matching earrings, which her parents had given to her. She checked out her reflection. She didn’t normally wear a lot of black, but she had to admit that with her heels, her dark hair and gold-green eyes, she looked ready to prowl, like a jaguar with an itch that needed scratching.
Who was she kidding? Katie Walsh, a femme fatale? If she didn’t feel so out-of-sorts from her stay at Willowton, she would have been rolling on the floor laughing at the very thought of it. As it was, she needed to get out of the room and back into the modern world and breathe. She grabbed her purse and headed down to the Uber Metro bar in search of a drink and maybe, just maybe, a little company. She sighed. Just a little uncomplicated company, no awkward morning-after moments, and no follow-ups. The bar was quiet, probably because it was only Tuesday. She’d been there about forty-five minutes, nursing her vodka tonic, and only four people wandered in. A middle-aged man offered to buy her a drink, but she turned him down. She wasn’t a flirt, and the last thing she wanted was someone to infer something that she wasn’t willing to commit to. A second man, old enough to be her grandfather, also offered her a drink. She smiled and told him she was waiting for someone. She motioned the bartender over and asked him to please not send any more drink requests her way. When and if she wanted another drink, she would buy it herself.
She finished her drink and debated whether to have another or just call it a night. So much for prowling, she thought. As she set the now-empty glass on the table, the hair on the back of her neck twitched. Someone was watching her. She sat erect, her senses on high alert, trying to determine where in the room he was. And it was definitely a he. She could feel his heat. Normally the thought of being watched would unsettle her, but tonight, she had a sense of… anticipation, heightened anticipation.
Without thinking, she turned to the left and saw him. She inhaled. Lord, he was impressive. Almost black hair, broad shoulders, and grey eyes—incredibly grey eyes, she noted as they locked onto hers. He cocked his head, acknowledging her. She felt herself smile in response and watched as he spoke briefly with the bartender. Within seconds, a clear drink appeared on the bar next to his glass. She licked her lips, hoping that drink was for her, and was rewarded as he picked up both glasses and headed over to her.
“The bartender told me you weren’t accepting any drinks from your admirers,” he said in low husky voice with an American accent, as he placed the clear drink in front of her. “I informed him that you’d accept it from me, as I wasn’t one of your admirers.”
She inhaled, not sure if she’d just been insulted.
He winked. “I told him you and I were old acquaintances and you’d accept my drink. So in order to help me save face, please accept this vodka tonic.”
She searched his face and relaxed. “Thanks. Would you like to join me?”
The table vibrated as he set his glass down, brushing her arm as he settled next to her.
The touch, brief as it was, was delicious, teasing her body. He looked like a real male, not a metrosexual. He seemed comfortable in his skin. His presence announced, “Here I am, take it or leave it—your choice.” She liked the fact that she probably wouldn’t have to spend much time stroking him. Well, not his ego at least.
“My name is—”
She cut him off. “No names. If you want to sit here, then no names.”
He looked at her, his eyebrows knitted together.
She sipped the vodka, hoping it would quickly give her the courage to ask him to spend the night with her. She breathed several deep breaths, inhaling his spicy sandalwood scent. It’s now or never, she thought. For once in your life grab the chance to do something out of character. For once in your life, experience life instead of hiding from it.
“Are you all right?” he asked, tilting his head, scanning her face. “You look… preoccupied. Would you like me to leave?”
She shook her head and exhaled. “How would you feel about spending one night together, no names, no follow-ups, no regrets? Come dawn, we go our separate ways, never to meet again.” Her eyes widened in the subdued light, hoping he’d find her attractive enough to say yes.
He took a deep sip of the amber liquid in his glass and then carefully set the glass on the table. Their eyes locked. Heat pulsed through her body.
“Are you saying… we spend the night together, enjoying each other’s company, and then go our separate ways, no strings attached?”
“Yes,” she replied, her voice husky with rising desire, her breath hitching. “One night of anonymous passion, no follow-up. Think of it as a modern-day Cinderella tale, but with dawn breaking the spell.” She inhaled, smelling him, waves of heat pulsing through her core. “Are you interested?”
His mouth formed a slight grin. “You’re sure about this? You don’t seem to be the type.”
She sat upright, her spine rigid. “Would it be so unpleasant to spend the night with me? Or would you consider it an act of kindness on your behalf, an act of pity sex, some way to pass the dark hours, considering the pickings are slim here tonight?” she asked as she cast her gaze around the room.
Great, way to go, Katie, insult the guy. That’s a sure way to get him to take you up on your offer, she thought. She started to rise. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to insult you.”
He leaned away from her, running his hand through his hair, his eyes slowly moving down her body. ”Pity sex? The only pity would be in turning you down.” He grabbed her wrist as she rose, slowly massaged the inside of it, then gently pulled her back into the seat. “What I meant was… well, women who prowl bars looking for a good time have a… how can I put this diplomatically?”
“Look, I’m a big gi
rl. Just say it. I prefer people to be direct. I can deal with it.”
“Well,” he started, a smile spreading across his lips, “women on the prowl usually advertise by wearing much more revealing clothing. From a male perspective, visible cleavage is a big selling point.”
She felt her face flush. She frowned as she looked down at her chest, at the black form-fitting sheath with its high neckline. Do I even have cleavage, she thought. Maybe time to invest in a push ‘em up, push ‘em together bra.
“And,” he continued, “they usually touch the man in rather intimate ways, sending non-verbal signals as to what they’re offering, and what they’re interested in.”
She swallowed. “I would never behave that way in public.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Hence my comment, ‘you don’t seem to be the type.’”
“Oh,” she sighed. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”
He let loose a low chuckle that rumbled through his chest. “It’s no bother. And as long as you’re sure,” he paused, “I’d like to take you up on your offer.”
She swallowed, raising her head to search his face. “Really? Even though you obviously know this is something I don’t normally do?”
“Yes.” He leaned forward, softly tucking her hair behind her ear and whispered, “And that’s what makes you much more intriguing.”
Her breathing deepened as she fought her inner demons, pushing them into the dark shadows. With the demons vanquished for the moment, she said softly, “Do you have a room here?” She hoped he did. She didn’t want him to find out anything about her, not even her room number.
“Yes.” His voice was husky as he cupped her face in his hands, turning it to meet his, bending his head, claiming her mouth.
His kiss was as challenging as it was rewarding. She was shocked at her own eager response to the touch of his lips. It was a kiss for her wired soul to melt into. When it ended, her mouth burned with fire, her lips swelling with the want of more.
He stood, waiting for her to stand beside him. He captured her hand in his as they headed toward the elevators. His gaze was soft as a caress. She stared with longing at him, fighting her overwhelming need to be near him. They rode in silence, the anticipation filling the space.
Trove (The Katie Walsh Mysteries) Page 7
