by Geri Krotow
“So. Fucking. Wet.” He moved again and again, wanting this to last forever but needing the intensity of release he’d only ever felt with her.
“For you.” Her words puffed out as breathless as a cloud and it only excited him more.
“Are you close, babe?” He reached around her waist and circled her clit with his fingers, needing her release as much as his own.
“Brandon!” Her scream of pleasure was his only warning before his world exploded into pure pleasure. He allowed the wave of sexual release to wash over him and become more.
As his breathing slowed he leaned over her, still inside her, not wanting to break their connection.
“Poppy.” He whispered her name to her spine, kissed the bumps of her vertebrae.
“Mmm.”
“I think we just christened this boat.”
Her laughter rolled over him, the pleasure not unlike what their joining had just unleashed. Brandon stilled. Poppy’s warm body was under his as she remained bent over the counter, resting her head on her arms. Their legs touched at every point possible, and he couldn’t get enough of the silky smoothness of her skin next to his.
It hit him clear as a Louisiana autumn sky. Poppy was more than a friend to him. More than a girlfriend, or fuck buddy. But what, he didn’t know. Which was kind of a relief, because he didn’t think his heart could handle the answer.
* * * *
Poppy felt Brandon stiffen, and not the kind of stiff that had just given her the most intense orgasm ever. She swore she heard his heart’s windows and doors systematically shut closed as they pulled apart and dressed. Unlike when they’d torn each other’s clothing off, now they dressed themselves.
“The bathroom’s not functioning yet, but there’s one off my office.”
“Thanks. I’ll make it until then.” Damn, even she sounded brisk and businesslike. She snuck a glance at him but his expression revealed nothing as he shrugged into his pullover, closing off the view of his chiseled chest.
“Let me show you the rest of the cabin.” He took her through to the four-bunk bed area the client was going to use for his children, a guest bedroom, and the master suite that included a shower as big as hers in New York. The attention to space utilization intrigued her, as did the comparatively bland cabinetry and furniture.
“Are all of your boats designed the same, inside?”
“Pretty much, yeah. Unless the buyer has a definite idea for what they want, in terms of colors and styles. Now you know why I want to hire you to help me with this part.”
“It’s very impressive.” And it was. The only things she’d add to the living quarters would border on whimsy—fabrics for the bedding and key eye-candy items like a vase or wall hanging. “And I’d have to adapt my ideas to be able to be nailed down and secured in the event of rough seas, correct?”
“In the event of any seas. It doesn’t take a whole lot to get things tossed around down here.” Brandon didn’t do any of his usual flirty moves in the sleeping area, and she bit back a laugh. They hadn’t even made it to the bedrooms before they’d had to be together. Again.
“Let’s go down to my office.”
She followed him through the narrow passageway back to the galley kitchen where they’d made ingenious use of the smooth counter, and back up onto the deck.
As when they’d come up onto the scaffolding, Brandon went down the outside ladder first and motioned for her to follow. His chivalry was something she wanted to poke fun at, but knew it was futile. He’d charmed her out of her panties with his good manners.
Once on the warehouse floor, she waited for him to lead the way. He stood next to the boat, looking up at the keel from the bottom.
“Where to next?”
“We’ve got the main office to go through, which is nothing to get too excited about.” He turned and looked at her. “I didn’t mean to send you running scared up there, Poppy. When we’re together I seem to lose any ability to be reasonable.”
She gulped. “You didn’t scare me. I wanted it as much as you. It was spectacular. I’m coming off a bad breakup, and I’ve never been so comfortable with another man, so it’s weird for me.”
“Me, too. About the comfortable part.” He motioned for her to walk with him as he led them to the exit. “Do you have any questions about the company now that you’ve seen it up close?”
He changed the subject and she went with it. Examining the fact that she felt safer with Brandon than she had in a long, long while—and so soon after a major breakup—was akin to wrestling an alligator. She didn’t have the expertise or inclination to explore either option. Sometimes it was easier to let her heart catch a break.
Chapter 14
“Where are you?” Poppy spoke to Sonja, whose incoming call alerted her that her phone was working again. Since she and Brandon had, um, broken in his newest ship’s kitchen counter, she hadn’t even checked it.
“I’m safe and with a friend.” Sonja’s voice was flatter than normal but not as scary as Poppy had anticipated.
“I thought Henry was with you?”
“He’s not there?” Oh shit. She heard the concern, the worry, and maybe a little bit of anger in Sonja’s voice.
“No. I thought he was going to find you. But it’s been crazy weather here. This is the first phone call I’ve been able to take in almost five days.”
“Yes, I saw the reports. You still have power at the house?”
“I, ah, I’m not at your house.” She quickly filled Sonja in on how she’d ended up at Brandon’s. “But it’s all worked out. He needed help preparing for a big meeting and I’ve been able to help him with his prep.”
“Well, that’s a turnaround from how you two were sniping at each other when you met.”
“How are you feeling? Morning sickness? Have you told Henry?” Poppy wanted to know the answers to these questions as much as she was unwilling to share what had happened between her and Brandon. How could she share what she didn’t understand?
“I’m doing well. And I can’t tell Henry about the baby if I haven’t seen him, can I?”
“So you haven’t even talked to him?”
Silence, then a shuddering sigh. “I can’t face him right now. I’ve been such a coward.”
“You’re not a coward, Sonja. What’s the real reason you ran away?”
“I read about you in the news, Poppy.” Sonja had her own way of avoiding the hard questions. The hairs on Poppy’s nape stood up.
“What’s in the news?”
“That the biggest retail deal for a fashion and home decor line in a decade has been canceled. That Attitude by Amber has been tanked. Oh boo, what are you going to do?”
Poppy fought the tears that burned to fall. Then sat straight up as a bolt of realization jerked her out of her self-pity. “I’ve got to go. Glad you’re okay.” She threw her phone down and raced from the guest room, needing to find Brandon.
He was at the kitchen counter, sipping a cappuccino while he thumbed through his iPad.
“Hey.” A quick glimpse of blue eyes as he gave her an even quicker once-over. Did he already know?
“Good morning, Poppy. You’ve figured out the cell coverage has resumed. I heard you talking to someone.”
“Yes. It was Sonja. She’s fine, but hasn’t spoken to Henry yet.” She fidgeted. “I need to tell you something.”
“Let me guess.” His eyes were on her again but the heat wasn’t sexual. He was pissed. “Are you going to admit you’ve lost your entire career? Your New York City business was one thing, but now you’ve torpedoed your Attitude by Amber line. How long have you known about this? Were you hoping to endear me to you with your styling ways so that I’d hire you on permanently?”
“No, no. And the work we did together is gratis. I won’t take a penny from you.”
“Bullshit, Pop
py. You expect me to believe that a woman of the world like you didn’t deliberately deceive me about your work situation? Do you even have money to fly back to New York?”
She swallowed. “Yes. It was a round-trip ticket, I can change the return anytime.” Not that she was going to. She’d figured out what she wanted to do with her business, and New Orleans was where she wanted to start a pilot project of sorts. Nothing she was going to share with him. Not now.
He didn’t say anything, just sipped his coffee with his eyes boring a hole through her. And made her realize that she actually cared about his opinion of her. They’d all but agreed to keep their connection sex-only, with a dose of her helping him out for the San Sofia contract bid. Neither of them wanted more. She certainly didn’t.
So why did her heart feel like an invisible hand was working it like Play-Doh?
He got up from the stool and walked to the deep stainless sink, rinsed his cup out. “The airport’s open as of noon tomorrow. Let me know when you need a ride.”
“But what about your meeting for the anti-drug boats?”
“It’s been postponed until next week. You’ll be gone by then.”
“Wait a minute, Brandon. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Attitude by Amber being tanked. It’s not been my best time, these past couple of months. There’s no way I’m leaving NOLA before you’re done with the meeting and land the account. Because I know you will.”
His eyes reflected scorn, disappointment and maybe a glimmer of need. As in he needed someone to believe in his ability to get back on his feet. She knew what that was, how low you had to be to be willing to give something your all, to trust someone else so completely.
“Take me back to Sonja and Henry’s—the power’s got to be back on there, right? I’ll drive back here as needed to help you prep. We can go over the presentation at least one more time. I’m guessing you’ll be interviewed more than once if you get in the running for the contract.” He didn’t get to shut her out like this. Her helping him had been more than a nice gesture. It was what had saved her in her darkest moment.
He regarded her with what might be doubt but she hoped it was more like disgusted disappointment. Because what they’d shared last night, all night, had been more than scratching each other’s itch and she couldn’t bear it if he hated her. Like Sonja not wanting to acknowledge her doubts about fleeing the wedding, her need of his acceptance was nothing she wanted to acknowledge.
“Let’s not make this more than it is. Was.” He spoke slowly, his face guarded, the scars of Jeb’s betrayal smoothed over by his detached stance. She saw underneath it, though. “You’re still on my payroll, until I land the San Sofia contract. I’m not going to take rent from you, Poppy.”
It made sense to accept something for her work, even though it had been fun to style Brandon. And she wanted to appear as professional as he when it came to a firm boundary between work and play. “I won’t take a penny unless you do get it. I meant it when I said to consider it my rent, but I’m okay with you paying me, after you get the contract. You can pay me like an agent. We can agree to a flat fee or a percentage.” She meant it. She’d have to come up with another way to fund her initial legal bills if San Sofia walked, but she’d worry about it then. Maybe her lawyer would consider giving her an advance on the expectation she’d get to unfreeze her assets soon.
“I thought we at least had the start of a friendship.” She placed her hand on the counter, hesitating. No one had made her feel at once full of esteem and afraid of her next move. “You can play ‘Gus’ all you need to, but I’ve seen Brandon. That’s who I’m here for. Not the sex, although that was intense, not your stormproof house, but for you.”
He picked up his iPad and held it to his chest as if it were a shield. “I accept your continued professional support. We’ll go back to Henry’s to get Sonja’s car, if it survived the flood, so that you can come and go as you need to. If it’s in need of a dry-out then you can continue to use one of my vehicles. If the 300 series isn’t working out, I have others. You’ll probably want to stay here, though. And you’re welcome to. It’ll take a couple of weeks to get all the utilities back on in Henry’s neighborhood, not to mention to get the river stench out of the downstairs.”
He seemed to overlook that he was incredibly fortunate to be mostly independent of the grid that drove the average Louisianan’s life, but she didn’t call him on it. And to throw out that he had a BMW that he’d lend to her so casually was another sign that they were from different worlds. Any extra money she made she sent to her mother and sister. She’d paid for Ginger’s college singlehandedly, and had purchased a small-town home for her family in one of the nicer suburbs of Buffalo. None of her family lived like they had when she was young, at the hands of brutality. Abuse from the one man they should have all been able to trust, her father and her mother’s husband.
He looked up at her. “You’re being awfully quiet. Am I pushing you into staying here?”
Could she handle staying in this house, in close quarters with Brandon, for another week? She definitely needed Internet and electrical power because not only was she supporting Brandon as a client, she had her own work to do. The idea had sprouted in the midst of her pity party and blossomed as she’d helped Brandon lay out suits and set up his PowerPoint presentation.
“No, not at all. I’m used to being more independent, living in hotel rooms as needed.” But she didn’t have the funds for that, and she needed more time to set up her next career move, and Brandon’s house worked for her. She was comfortable here, if she ignored the almost constant sexual tension. And that wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly.
“I promise I’ll give you all the space you need, Poppy.”
“I know you will. I’ll stay here but you won’t know I’m around. Unless you have a question about your prep for your meeting for the San Sofia contract.”
He set down his iPad and stalked around the counter toward her. She held her ground and lifted her chin. If she could hold his gaze maybe he wouldn’t see the quakes that started the minute he moved closer. He stopped a foot from her, reached out and tugged on one of her locks.
“Thank you, Poppy.” His fingers ran along her neck, his thumb brushed over her bottom lip.
“For what?” Geez, did her breath have to get behind her voice like that? She sounded like one of the women in the bars who’d all made it clear that they were available to Brandon. And yet he’d taken her to bed. She could blame it on the storm, they both could, but neither of them was that shallow or immature. They’d done what they’d wanted to. What did this man see in her?
He leaned in and kissed her, as if it were their first. His lips were firm, his tongue warm and reassuring as his mouth moved over hers. She leaned in, her hands on his chest, and kissed him back. When he lifted his head he pressed his forehead to hers. “Thank you for being here.”
“I could say the same.” Who’d rescued whom?
He straightened and the take-no-prisoners business expression was back in place.
“That’s how you need to look.”
“What?” His head tilted, his total focus on her. She loved it.
“When you have your meetings for the San Sofia contract. You look confident, intelligent, and like anyone who’d turn Boats by Gus down is a loser.”
He blinked. “I’ll keep that in mind. Let’s go get your wheels.” He walked out of the room and she waited for the relief to hit her. Relief that she had a respite, time to regroup. It wasn’t going to be easy, staying here, trying to remain detached from an emotional entanglement. Not with Brandon’s masculine stamp in each room. Since her business assets were frozen and she was down to nil in her bank account, a free bed and all the technology she needed was heaven sent. Instead of relief, she felt a fluttering in her belly that had nothing to do with the new career path that had started to form in her mind. Nothing to do with having a dry
place to lay her head at night. Nothing to do with being able to stay in New Orleans and avoid the harsh critical spotlight of her New York City colleagues and clients.
The fluttering was the unfurling of an emotional landscape she had yet to traverse. Attraction, desire, chemistry, instant-crush; she was an expert at these. This sense of belonging was something else altogether, and it scared the grits right out of her.
She grabbed her purse and ran after Brandon, who’d disappeared into the hallway where the garage was connected.
“Coming!”
* * * *
The next couple of weeks flew as Poppy began to put her new career into motion. After canvassing all of NOLA for the perfect storefront, she decided to give herself a break and a treat at Café Du Monde. She bit into a hot beignet and savored the instant rush of pure white flour and sugar to her brain. It was the perfect formula for her kind of crack. New Orleans–style donuts, consumed at this tiny table in a corner at New Orleans’ most famous café, were a sensory treat for her. No one recognized her, or if they did, couldn’t care less. The lack of celebrity attention was a new freedom she was afraid to count on.
“What are you doing here?”
She jolted at the sinfully sexy voice. A voice that had whispered the dirtiest words in her ear while he’d made love to her. Had broadened her concept of hot sex more than once.
“Playing tourist, obviously.” She looked up at him and consciously wiped the sugar from her lips with her napkin, lest he think she was ogling him. In one of the impeccable suits they’d agreed upon for his meetings he towered above her and everyone else in the chilly morning air. Several heads turned to take him in and she realized that in this city, Brandon, or rather Gus, was a celebrity.
“May I?” Only then did she notice the white paper bag in his hand, the grease spots spreading. He held a cup of chicory coffee in his other hand—she could smell the warm aroma.
