It cooled off a bit last evening, and the morning reflected that, so Sylvia picked out a cream-colored business suit with matching heels. The sleeves were long and the neck high. A plus since she had a love bite on her neck that embarrassed the hell out of her. She wasn’t a horny teenager. Damn it. Though receiving the bite had been heavenly.
“Damn it,” she muttered. “I’m a businesswoman. What in the hell am I doing to myself?” Sylvia slammed the soda down and grabbed her keys.
The drive to the office was silent except for the chatty deejay. Sylvia stewed silently. Bad choice. Poor decision. God, she really fucked up this time. How could she look her employees in the eye?
A small breeze lifted her hair as she stepped out of her car and locked it. Sylvia took a deep breath and walked up to her doorstep. Just another day. One of many. Her hand shook slightly as she fitted the key into the lock. It slid home, and she almost sighed in relief.
Sylvia stepped inside, but before she could shut the door, Tempest was there. “Hello, boss.”
The smile felt false, but Sylvia tried it anyway. “Tempest. I’m sorry about yesterday,” she said.
Tempest shrugged easily. She wore a pair of slim ivory slacks and a tailored blouse to match. The boots were pale with three-inch heels. Her ebony hair fell in long waves down her back. “We were fine. Though the devil called and said hell had frozen over.”
The laugh caught her by surprise, but Sylvia rolled with it. She laughed until tears poured from her eyes. “Oh. My. God.” Her blue eyes were watery as she lifted them to look at Tempest. “That was the perfect thing to say.” She brushed the moisture from her cheeks.
Tempest smiled. “We can function without you for a day, Sylvia. There are simply times you need for yourself.” Her blue eyes studied Sylvia closely. “I’d say it did you a world of good.”
“It did.” Sylvia shut the door behind the pair of them and locked it again. “It was a nice break.”
“Good.” Tempest brushed her hair back and handed Sylvia a stack of notes. “The invitations are ordered. The bouquets are taken care of. We’re looking for a reception site and videographer.”
“Great.” Sylvia smiled and took the stack of papers. “Good job.” She paused. “Have you heard from Beth?”
Tempest grinned at her. “She’s wonderful. The air agrees with her. She’s going to email you sometime soon.”
“Good.” Sylvia tapped the papers against her leg. “I worried about her.”
“I know.” Tempest winked and walked toward her office. “Back to the grind,” she said and waved.
* * * *
The day turned crazy. Phones rang off the hook as wedding details came together. The Calhoun wedding was coming together surprisingly well. Maude had her secretary call and let Sylvia know her sons were anxiously awaiting their tuxedo fittings. Sylvia made a note and continued her calls to find a suitable caterer.
She looked up from her desk at a knock on her door.
Wilda stood there. She was resplendent in a pair of designer blue jeans and a red silk blouse. Her hair was pulled back into a clip that left loose tendrils to curl along her cheekbones.
Sylvia smiled and motioned her inside. “What can I help you with?”
“I was rather hoping I could help you.” Wilda smiled and pinned her with emerald eyes. “I realize we didn’t have what Keira wanted, but I had a design I simply had to show you. In case there’s another wedding it would fit.”
She opened a large ruby bag and withdrew a picture. Wilda unfolded it and slid it across the desk.
Sylvia’s heart raced in her chest. It just happened to be the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. A fairy tale gown. White silk with blue, pink, and gold threads shot through the material. The sleeves were fitted with the shoulders bare. The body of the gown wrapped lovingly around the model. The bodice was a sweetheart neckline with tiny pearls outlining it. The dress fell to the floor with a twelve-foot train of netting behind it. The train had small crystals sewn into the fabric that reflected the glint of the light on them. The white slippers also had crystals sewn into the fabric.
“It’s gorgeous,” Sylvia whispered. She glanced up at Wilda to see the other woman staring at her.
“It is,” Wilda agreed. She stood and motioned to the paper. “Keep it. In case you find someone who would wish to wear this creation.”
“Who wouldn’t?” Sylvia murmured.
Wilda smiled. “Indeed.” She opened her mouth and then closed it abruptly when she caught sight of Tempest in the doorway.
Tempest’s blue eyes darkened dangerously, and a small breeze lifted the picture on the desk and pushed it into Sylvia’s lap.
“What are you doing here?”
Wilda winked at Sylvia. “Just a bit of business.” She tilted her head to the side. “I believe that’s only fair.”
“You would.” Tempest scowled and noticed the picture of the wedding gown. The scowl cleared immediately. “Clever,” she commented. She glanced at Wilda. “But don’t let it go to your head.”
Wilda tossed her red hair and grinned. “When have I?” She waved at Sylvia and stepped closer to Tempest.
The two exchanged words, and Sylvia frowned.
“Do you two know each other?”
Tempest’s lips twitched as she looked at the redhead. “We go way back.”
“Way back,” Wilda echoed and stepped out of the office.
Rather odd.
Sylvia glanced at her lap and at the picture again. “It doesn’t fit Keira’s wedding. But I think we should keep it on file.” Her fingers lovingly traced the lines of the gown.
“Definitely.” Tempest nodded, and her blue eyes were wise. “The bride who wears that gown will be the happiest in the world.”
* * * *
Sylvia drove herself to the point of exhaustion for missing half a day yesterday. Tristan, once again, furnished her staff with lunch and drinks. A special mug of coffee awaited her on her desk. It was thoughtful. But he had been doing that before he crawled into her bed.
She drove the thoughts of that out of her mind and concentrated on hammering out the details for the next weddings on her agenda.
The details for Keira’s wedding had been dispersed among her staff. Tempest now in charge of the bridal shower. Alicia busy with searching for an experienced videographer. Liz made transportation arrangements from her desk.
Everything was coming together wonderfully. But her cynical mind already thought up possible glitches. What happened if a driver became ill? Did they have enough back-ups? Were there guests who had special dietary guidelines? They were looking at Dunbar’s to cater.
“What am I missing?” she murmured.
“About ten good hours of sleep.”
Sylvia’s head shot up, and she blinked to clear the blurriness from her eyes.
Tristan Calhoun leaned against the side of her office door and smiled at her.
The fluttering in her chest was completely irrational and crazy as hell. It had been, after all, just sex. Right?
“Ten hours of sleep is a luxury, Mr. Calhoun. Not a necessity.”
He chuckled and walked inside. His chocolate brown suit fitted his form effortlessly. The white button-up shirt was unbuttoned, and his tan tie skewed. Tristan sat on the corner of her desk and motioned to the clutter atop it.
“All work and no play makes Jill a dull girl.”
Sylvia’s eyes narrowed. “It’s made Jill a damn millionaire.”
Tristan leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. “Even tired, you spark up like a fire on a cold night when I poke at you. I like that.”
“Then you’re the masochistic sort.” Sylvia rubbed her hands across her eyes and sighed. “What makes you darken my door, Mr. Calhoun?”
“Mr. Calhoun?” Tristan shook his head. “That’ll never do. I can distinctly recall you calling me by name several times last night.”
“For the love of God,” Sylvia snapped. “Keep it in your pants.”
Tristan’s lips twitched. “What has you in an uproar this evening, Sylvia?” He reached over and massaged her neck and shoulders. “You’re tense as hell. You need to relax.” His hands moved forward over her shoulders and cupped her breasts. “I’m at your service.”
“Oh, I just bet you are.” Sylvia fought to not rub against his hands like a cat needing petting. She glanced at the clock. “Is it really nine o’clock?”
“It really is.” Tristan rubbed his fingers over the front of her shirt. He unbuttoned one button and looked her in the eye. “Let me take you home. I’ll make sure you get…” Tristan rubbed his thumb over her taut nipple, “rest.”
Sylvia’s body reacted instantly. Rest. Sure. Right. Like fucking hell. Her blue eyes darkened to a midnight blue.
Tristan smiled satisfactorily and bent down to brush his lips across Sylvia’s. “See. Now you aren’t thinking of work. I should probably get you home.”
“And naked.” Sylvia arched an eyebrow and waited for a response.
“Naked is a perk.” Tristan brushed her hair back and threaded his fingers through it. Then he tugged lightly to bring her mouth to his again. “Have any more Ben & Jerry’s?”
* * * *
How could something so physical relax her so much? Sylvia nipped Tristan’s shoulder, and he groaned theatrically. They both lay naked in her bed with the sheets strewn from one corner of it to the other. An empty container of ice cream lay on the nightstand.
“Give me just a second.”
Sylvia bit her lip to keep from laughing aloud. “What about your manly prowess?”
Tristan opened his eyes lazily. Then he hooked his arm around her and flipped her on top of him.
“You do the work this time.” Then he closed his eyes again.
Sylvia stared down at him. Is he serious? She straddled his waist and situated herself comfortably on his stomach. The breadth of the man amazed her. His muscles were strong cords that roped down his wide chest to his slender waist.
She reached out and trailed her hand from his neck to his naval.
Muscles spasmed beneath her hand.
Sylvia smiled wickedly and let her mouth follow the same trail. When Tristan opened his eyes and reached for her, she pushed his hands back down.
“I’m doing the work,” she reminded him. “Now lay there like a man and take it.”
Tristan grinned and arched an eyebrow. “Bit of a quick study?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Sylvia brushed her breasts against his chest and arched her back to nestle Tristan’s erection between her legs. “Oh. That’s nice.”
Tristan’s smile died away, and he groaned. His hands clenched in the sheets as he lifted his hips.
Sylvia bent her head and took Tristan’s mouth with hers. He tasted strong and masculine. Exotic. She clutched his hair in her hands while she ravaged his mouth. And still, he lay there for her.
Sylvia brushed her lips against his one more time. She sat up and bumped her body against his again.
“Witch,” he murmured in admiration.
Sylvia’s eyes darkened. “You have no idea.” She reached down between them and took him in her hand.
Tristan twitched and muttered.
Sylvia slid down his body and let her hair fall over Tristan’s stomach. He tensed and tried to shift, but she didn’t let him. She stroked him while kissing his stomach and hipbones. So much strength.
Tristan’s legs tensed beneath her. “You’re killing me,” he managed.
Sylvia smiled and then took him in her mouth.
His hips arched off the bed, and the breath whistled in and out of his lungs. “Sylvia,” he breathed. “Baby.”
She licked him up and down while he moaned and thrashed on the bed. But his hands never left the sheets. When she knew he couldn’t take another minute, Sylvia moved up and slid him inside her.
Tristan’s hands immediately clutched her waist, and he groaned. “You feel so good.”
Sylvia braced her hands on his chest and rocked against him. “Do you like that, Tristan?”
“Yes,” he bit out. “Yes.”
“Good.” She moved his hands up to cup her breasts while she rode him slowly back and forth. “Is this working for you?”
“Jesus, Sylvia.” Tristan struggled for control.
The result was heady for Sylvia. To have such a powerful man subject to her whims. To have him beneath her while she controlled the pace. And then all thought left her as Tristan trailed his right hand down and stroked her between her legs.
“You cheat,” she gasped.
“Yes.” Tristan clutched one of her hips in his hand while the other pleasured her. He arched off the bed to meet her.
Pleasure shattered her completely, and Sylvia moaned as Tristan thrust harder into her and shook with the force of his own orgasm.
She collapsed on top of him and sighed as he stroked her back. “Is it always like this?”
There was a pause. “No.”
“Good. I’m glad.” Sylvia lifted her face and looked at him.
“No comparison studies.”
She lifted her shoulder in a slight shrug. “I don’t expect anything from you, Tristan.”
“And why is that?”
Sylvia heard the anger. She braced herself. “This is great. But I know you aren’t the settling down type. And I accept that.”
Tristan shifted underneath her, his voice cold, as he said, “Oh, do you? Accept that about me, I mean?”
“Yes.” Sylvia nodded and slid to his side. She tucked herself under the sheet. “I don’t need you to change for me. I don’t expect it. As long as you don’t expect it, either.”
“God forbid,” he muttered and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Tristan looked back at her. His anger was palpable. “How kind of you to not expect anything but a leisurely fuck.”
Sylvia’s eyes widened and then narrowed. “That’s not what I said. And how dare you twist my words!” Her anger built. She brushed her hair back. “I’m simply telling you that I appreciate our time together, but I don’t have any delusions about us.”
“Delusions?” A muscle worked in Tristan’s jaw. “And what delusions would you have?” He hit the nightstand but kept his furious eyes on her face. “That I care about you? That I like to spend time with you? Stupid shit like that?”
Sylvia’s stomach rolled, and she reached out to Tristan.
He stood suddenly and yanked his pants on. “How wonderful to have every bit of your life mapped out. To know everything about what’s going on. How fucking great.” Tristan shoved his arms through his shirt sleeves and reached down to pick up his shoes. “Hope my unscheduled visits to your body didn’t totally fuck up your plans.”
Sylvia sat in shock as she heard the front door slam. Oh my God. She pressed her hands to her cheeks, surprised to find tears pouring from her eyes. This. This was why she was a workaholic. Why she didn’t date. Why she never shared herself with another.
Because it hurt too fucking bad.
* * * *
Life went on. As trite as it sounded, Sylvia found it to be true. Her employees didn’t notice that she kept her door closed more often than not. They didn’t comment on the fact that Tempest took over a great deal of the Calhoun wedding. No one ever said a word.
Months passed, and Sylvia kept her head down and focused on the bottom line. Really all that mattered. Weddings to book. Details to be ironed out. That was her life.
Until Tempest walked into her office one day and shut the door behind her.
It was a windy November day. The window behind Sylvia vibrated with the gusts. It was a comforting sound of sorts. Sylvia pored over her ledgers for each wedding and made notations in the margins.
When the door shut, Sylvia lifted her head and stared at Tempest. “Did we have a meeting? I don’t recall scheduling one.”
Tempest shook her head. “There’s food in the kitchen. Mr. Calhoun apparently values this staff. Otherwise, I th
ink he would have quit that little tradition after a month or so.” She held out a plate with a sandwich and a stack of peanut butter cookies on it. “I brought you some lunch.”
“Just set it on my desk.” Sylvia motioned absently.
Tempest set the plate down and waited.
Sylvia looked at her. “What? You’re dying to say something. Spit it out.”
“Ben asked about you.”
Sylvia’s jaw dropped. Of all the conversation starters, that one took her completely by surprise. She had told Tempest to fit all the groomsmen and best man for the wedding.
Tempest nodded. “I told him you were very busy this time of year.” She shrugged. “He asked me to pass along a message.”
Sylvia waited expectantly. “Yes?”
“He said, ‘Tell her the offer still stands.’” Tempest smiled. “I assured him I would.”
“That’s nice.” Sylvia mustered up a smile and bent her head over the ledgers again.
“Tristan was there.”
The pain ripped through Sylvia viciously, and she fought not to recall their last conversation. She kept her face completely blank and glanced up. “I thought he might be. Being the soon-to-be brother-in-law and all.”
Tempest sat down and grabbed a cookie from the plate. “He seemed rather moody. I may have commented on it.”
Sylvia took a cookie and bit into it. “That’s rather unprofessional.”
“It was.” Tempest smiled.
“And?”
“He bit my head off.” Tempest chuckled. “Some nonsense about a merger falling through.” She shrugged delicately. “I told him these things sometimes happen. He wasn’t amused.” Tempest met Sylvia’s eyes. “In fact, he muttered something about getting his measurements from his tailor and left.” She leaned forward. “Now. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing.” The response came out quick and automatic.
“Right.” Tempest took another cookie and bit off a piece. “Do you think we don’t see you’re hurting? That something has upset you so much that you’ve cut yourself off from everybody? That there are no smiles anymore?”
“You draw the short straw?” she asked sarcastically.
“I volunteered.” Tempest tapped her fingernails on the desk. “I thought perhaps I could draw hazard pay.”
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