by Joanne Rock
“Then I’m definitely driving you home.” He shrugged his way into his jacket and retrieved his car keys from a desk drawer. “They’ve either destroyed your place or they’re waking up the neighbors with howls for food. You know how much Kong eats in a day?”
Leaving the building, they found the city streets covered in snow. Tempest took pleasure in holding on to Wes’s arm while they slipped and slid their way to his car, but as they drove the handful of blocks to her apartment, she was surprised how quiet he’d become.
For days, there’d been so much to say, so much ground to cover for his case. And now…there wasn’t anything left to talk about except for what was happening between them.
Deciding she’d waited long enough to dive into those dark, emotional waters, Tempest was ready to take the plunge when Wes spoke up from the driver’s seat.
“Is this Bliss woman going to be in trouble with the company after she went out on a limb to help Marianne?” He pulled into a parking space on the street in front of her building, carefully avoiding a few teenagers lobbing snowball bombs at each other from the safety of parked cars.
“We do need to standardize hiring practices at Boucher, but I like the idea of leveraging company profits to help people in the city who need it most.” She’d been thinking a lot about what Bliss had tried to do since the woman’s efforts really resonated with her. “Before I step down as CEO, I’d like to change our corporate mission to reflect some charitable efforts. Maybe then I can tell myself that these past few months of company reorganization will have lasting effects that won’t fade away just because I’m not in the driver’s seat anymore.”
“I bet you could do a lot of good with the excess profits.” Wes steadied her with his arm as they made their way to the door of her building. “Maybe Kelly Kline won’t want to quit once she sees what a forward-thinking company she’s working for.”
Tempest brushed the snow from her shoulders as they stepped inside and called the elevator. “Something tells me her threat of resignation was just a stunt to make me recognize her value.” She suppressed a little shiver of anticipation as Wes entered the elevator with her. The confined space made her all too aware of how much she wanted to resolve the problems between them—and take advantage of the heat that simmered close to the surface. “But she’s very good at what she does, so if she doesn’t mind supporting the new Boucher mission, I’m glad to have her stay on board.”
“The more money she makes, the more money you can spend on worthy causes.” Wes remained on his side of the elevator while she stayed on hers, a yawning ache of space between them.
She would fix that, just as soon as they reached the privacy of her apartment. “What better excuse for capitalism at its shameless best?”
“And no need to feel guilty about revenues you’re only giving back to the community.” Wes stood aside while she disarmed the lock and opened the door to her apartment. “I don’t know what your mother will think of the plan, but I really admire you for making the effort.”
“Thank you.” Her heart warmed to his praise, and she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had told her they were proud of anything she’d done. She’d taken pride in her sculptures. And she’d been glad that she held Boucher Enterprises together for eight months without incident, but no one else in her life had ever shared the sentiment.
Still, even though Wes’s praise meant a lot to her, Tempest realized she didn’t need it to feel strong and secure about herself. She’d waited a lifetime for her mother to dole out a few gentle words, and never again would she pin her self-worth on what anyone else thought about her. Tonight she’d proven to herself that she was made of sterner stuff than she’d ever imagined.
Soft, tired woofs greeted them as Kong and Eloise lifted their heads from the throw rug in the middle of the living room. There was no mess, no signs of massive destruction. Only a shared pillow on the floor where both dogs lowered their big, furry heads before falling back asleep.
“Somebody made herself at home today.” Wes bent to give his dog a scratch on the head. “I don’t know how I’m going to pry Kong out of here without a fight.”
“Then maybe you should make yourself comfort able, too.” Tempest figured she owed it to him to spell out what she wanted since she’d been the one with cold feet the last time they talked about any kind of future together.
He stared back at her in the dark apartment lit only by a night-light she liked to leave on for Eloise.
“I’m not sure that would be a good idea.” Straightening, he ran his hand along the back of his neck. “I know myself well enough to be pretty certain I can’t man age a sleepover without the intimacy. That kind of sensitivity just isn’t in my genetic makeup. But that’s not to say I couldn’t handle it somewhere down the road.”
She was still reeling from his polite refusal to spend the night when his last words penetrated her conscious ness. “You would give me…more time?”
“Isn’t that what you wanted? Some space to straighten out your own life before you think about get ting wound up in mine?”
Her heart did a skip-hop in her chest, an off balance beat that reminded her how much she needed to share with him.
Drawing him deeper into the studio apartment, she held one of his hands in hers, thinking she wouldn’t let him leave until she’d told him everything important. Everything that mattered. “I thought I needed more time.” She’d woken up this morning so scared of the future, so worried that she’d never be able to forge her own way in the world with a strong, take-charge man in her life. “But what I failed to realize is that my life will never be perfect. There will never be a supremely comfortable time to have a relationship because there will always be problems to overcome, a career to worry about or a character flaw to obsess over.”
“So you’re saying there will never be a good time for us?” His hand squeezed both of hers, smoky gray eyes searching hers in the dim night-light from the range hood a few feet away in her kitchen.
“No, I’m saying I need to stop romanticizing the way people fall in love and just remind myself I’m al ready there. Whether or not I’ve gotten my life squared away, the truth is I’m crazy about you now, Wesley Shaw. I love you and I don’t want to wait for all our stars to be perfectly aligned before I get brave enough to take a chance with—”
She might have stumbled on with words for another half hour if Wes hadn’t slanted his lips over hers and kissed her with all the warmth she felt in her heart.
He slid an arm around her waist, lifting her against him as he pressed her back to the living room wall. He tasted her with a thoroughness that left her weak. Mindless. Hungry for more.
When he broke the kiss, it was only long enough to whisper in her ear.
“I’m in love with you, Tempest.”
Ooh.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on for dear life as he kissed her again. Staggering with the pleasurable weight of that news, she felt overwhelmed this amazing man could love a neurotic artist trapped in the public eye wearing a business suit.
Easing back, she cupped his jaw with her palm. “Are you sure? Because if you fell in love with the corporate chick on the conference room desk, I have to tell you that wasn’t the real me.”
“No?” He didn’t look terribly concerned. In fact, amusement danced in his eyes as he roamed his hands over her hips and around to her back.
“No. The real me is the soap-opera-watching junk-food junkie.” She bit her lip for a moment, wondering how to define herself to this man who had only met her in crisis mode. “I like to ride my bike when I walk my dog and reporters with cameras scare me. I like to create naked sculptures of men and just as soon as I find the right person to head up Boucher Enterprises, I’m leaving behind the corporate world to work on my art full-time.”
“Don’t worry.” He leaned in to nip her ear and soothe the bite with a lazy sweep of his tongue. “I love that woman, too. And maybe if you’re a self-employed ar
tist, you won’t mind the crazy hours of a cop.”
“I promise I can handle the police work. Even if it involves an occasional prostitution bust.” A new sense of peace flowed over her, a dose of confidence she hadn’t expected from being in love. “Although I may ask you to do some overtime nude modeling for me during your off hours so I can reassure myself how much you want me.”
She allowed her hands to roam over his crotch, al ready feeling very reassured.
“I think I can handle the extra work.” He pulled away from her, holding her at arm’s length to study her. “But wait a minute. Do you think this new artistic woman wears blindfolds like the corporate chick used to?”
“Oh, I think she can be convinced.” She ran her hands over his chest, soaking up the solid strength of him. “I have the feeling she likes playing all sorts of games.”
“Sounds like my kind of woman.” Wes toyed with the buttons of her blouse, taking his time undoing each one and igniting a wealth of heat deep inside her. “I wonder how she feels about visits to the tattoo parlor.”
She arched her back to melt deeper into his touch. “After tonight, I’m guessing she’s had enough brushes with sharp objects to last her a lifetime, but maybe if you held her hand…”
“No, she only needs to hold my hand since I’m the one going under another needle.” He guided her hand to his chest, cradling her fingers against his shirt pocket until she felt the beat of his pulse. “Tempest the roman tic deserves a big, red heart. Right here.”
Touched more than she could say, Tempest led him toward the bed she wanted to share with him tonight and many more nights to come. Tugging him down to the pullout sofa, she could already see the years of walking their dogs and playing blindfold games rolling out in front of them.
“I think she’s going to be very happy right there.” She brushed a kiss over his heart, imagining his new tattoo. “Forever.”
ISBN: 978-1-4268-6948-8
SILK CONFESSIONS
Copyright © 2005 by Joanne Rock
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