His Forbidden Kiss

by Jessica Lemmon

  “You’re so understanding.”

  “Men are babies.” Gia shrugged. “They’ll get over it.”

  “I should talk to Bran.” The idea of approaching him hung in the air like a foul stench. But they worked together, and closely. She didn’t want there to be awkward vibes during meetings or conference calls. She didn’t want him to avoid her out of discomfort or pride.

  “You will. And you’ll say something brilliant and then everything will be okay. He didn’t act like a man in love, Taylor. I don’t know why he thought an engagement was the right move, but he wasn’t acting from the heart. It was pragmatism and planning if you ask me.”

  “I should’ve said what was on my mind that night. That we weren’t working romantically. It would have been a relief for both of us.”

  “You should have,” Gia agreed with a curt nod. “But you didn’t. And now you have to make decisions starting from the square you’re standing in.”

  A “square” was filled with Royce and her truckload of attraction to him. When she thought about him, apart from everything else, she had to admit it was exciting. Maybe she finally had a chance at a relationship that was visceral and real.

  God, how she needed something real.

  Even if she never kissed Royce again, she’d had a realization of sorts. She was still sexually attractive. After two years of no dating and her and Brannon’s lackluster romance, Taylor had started wondering if she’d ever find someone who curled her toes.

  She hadn’t imagined that someone would be Royce. Years ago, she’d taken her father’s warning at face value. He’d been protective over his baby girl when he’d told her to stay away from Royce. But she was a far cry from a baby now.

  “See you in the quarterly meeting.”

  “Thanks, G.”

  “You’re welcome, doll.” Gia wiggled her fingers in a wave and left the office.

  Four

  Royce stepped into the financial review meeting, unbuttoned his suit jacket and took a seat at the sleek mahogany conference room table. As CFO, he’d be called upon for input but he wasn’t running the meeting. That was up to the finance manager, Stella, who had already lined up the projector and was sifting through her notes.

  He’d had trouble keeping his mind on work for obvious reasons. Work and play didn’t mix. Not that he had time to play. Being in charge of the company’s numbers was an undertaking he took very seriously.

  Gia arrived last as per her usual. She sat next to Taylor, who was at Royce’s left elbow. Brannon was across the table, leaning back in his leather chair, tapping a pencil eraser-side down while he glared in Royce’s general direction.

  Royce ignored him.

  “Everyone ready to get started?” Stella asked rhetorically before doing just that. Meetings were a nuisance but necessary to keep everyone on the same page. Especially now that his father was flirting more and more with the idea of early retirement.

  Jack Knox wouldn’t hit the links right away nor was he interested in building birdhouses in his spare time. No, no. Jack planned on traveling, experiencing life and the world. Royce’s old man, now sixty-one, had never truly run out of wild oats to sow.

  Bran focused his attention on a paper report while Taylor and Royce consulted their tablets. Gia had a fussy leather notebook in front of her, bejeweled with gems and dotted with stickers. His baby sister wasn’t much for formality. Brannon wasn’t either, though he did follow along. He rarely used the very electronics their company sold, which made Royce laugh.

  Or would have if Bran hadn’t been shutting him out for two solid days.

  The last conversation they’d had was at the threshold of that closet when Bran had caught Royce and Taylor post-lip-lock. When Royce had come upon Bran and Gia talking later that same night, Bran promptly turned and walked away. Royce understood his younger brother’s anger. Seven unanswered text messages later, he’d given up, until this morning.

  He’d stepped right into Brannon’s corner office and addressed him with a “Good morning, brother.”

  Brannon had looked up from his laptop to narrow his eyes. Eyes that were lighter brown than Royce’s own, and greenish like their mother’s. He’d picked up his phone, made a call and started talking, ignoring Royce altogether.

  That’d been two hours ago and here they sat, ignoring each other again.

  With a sigh, Royce glanced at Gia, who was jotting notes and lounging in her chair at the same time. No doubt her big brain soaked up every word Stella was saying like a fresh, dry sponge. Gia had always been able to pay attention to everything around her. Bran was more easily distracted during boring moments like this meeting, while Royce enjoyed the methodology of a presentation. There was a certain order to it that made sense to him.

  Jayson Cooper, Gia’s ex-husband who still worked at ThomKnox, was notably absent from this meeting. Cooper was in charge of tech, but he’d sent his assistant, Whitney, to ferry back any pertinent information.

  Taylor asked a question, drawing everyone’s attention. Royce watched her openly, not a hardship since she was beautiful. He appreciated the way she’d come in today sans drama about Saturday night. She’d always been professional at the office, even though he remembered her differently when they were kids. She and Gia were about the same age, but Royce was six years older than the girls, and only a few years older than Bran. While Royce didn’t exactly hang out with any of them when he was younger, social situations mashed them together.

  Charity functions, raffles, art shows and galas like the Valentine’s Day celebration on Saturday put them in fancy clothes at fancy affairs on the regular. Even when he was a gangly sixteen-year-old and she and Gia had been fifth graders. He hadn’t thought of Taylor as more than his sister’s friend, including when the girls were teens and attending those same functions in ball gowns.

  As he’d aged up, so had Taylor. He could begrudgingly admit that her changes hadn’t gone unnoticed. Charles Thompson’s candid discussion about how Taylor wasn’t a good romantic option for Royce had prompted no argument. Charles was like a second father and Royce respected the man immensely.

  But since that very conversation, Royce had noticed attributes about Taylor that he hadn’t previously. Physical ones, sure, but also the way she handled her life. She wanted everything and wanted it all at once. Like a kid at a buffet who agonized over how she’d fit a spoonful of everything onto the same plate.

  Royce was simpler than that. He did better when his focus was narrow. Unfortunately for everyone, it’d been Taylor who’d narrowed his focus to a fine point on Saturday night.

  No matter the reaction to a rogue kiss, the wisest course of action was to set them back on the path from which they’d strayed. They both cared greatly for ThomKnox, Taylor having been thrust into the position of COO after her father passed last fall.

  It was a loss she took hard and he noted now, and not for the first time, that those feathered lines around her eyes were a new addition. Grief had taken a toll on Taylor and her mother, Deena, most of all. Jack Knox and Charles Thompson were best friends who didn’t always see eye to eye but made the best decisions for the company. Since Charles’s death, Jack had been less about the company and more about skydiving lessons, traveling to Africa for safari and scuba diving in the Great Barrier Reef.

  His father might be having some sort of late midlife crisis, but Royce supported Jack’s decision to retire, regardless of who was chosen for the CEO position. Both brothers wanted it. Bran had a knack for fusing fun and hard work and ending up with a blend both investors and employees enjoyed, so he was a valid choice. Probably the better choice.

  Approachability was not Royce’s strong suit. He was methodical and careful, prepared and concise.

  Stella finished answering Taylor’s question, and Taylor smiled, her bow-shaped pink lips forming the words thank you. Royce felt a pull from the center of his stoma
ch down to his groin.

  When Taylor grabbed hold of him and kissed him at the gala, he hadn’t expected it. He’d only thought of her over the years as someone he shouldn’t be kissing. Ever. That kiss had snapped his control in two and ushered in a loss of equilibrium that had changed his world.

  Who wouldn’t be tempted by that?

  But temptation was a temporary dalliance. The moment had passed. He was determined to cram the meddling genie back into her glass bottle, wedge the cork and toss it out to sea. There was no room in a company about to lose their CEO and appoint a new one for squabbling between brothers. Especially over a woman as well respected as Taylor. She was in the upper echelon of ThomKnox. Investors liked stability. Nothing was more important than righting the already upset apple cart.

  There was a certain order that Royce liked to keep and though change was inevitable, he preferred to get through it as quickly and painlessly as possible.

  Taylor swept a lock of blond hair behind her ear, shifting in her chair so that one long leg slipped over the other. She circled her foot, wrapped in a tall black high heel and he allowed his eyes to trickle up a rounded calf to a supple thigh that vanished beneath the demure hemline of a black dress.

  Stella’s voice faded into background fuzz and his brain blurred in much the same way. It wasn’t hard to admire Taylor before, but now that he’d had his lips on hers, he could easily imagine pressing those lush breasts to his chest and sampling her neck, smelling her soft perfume as he allowed the tip of his tongue to dip into her cleavage...

  “Royce?”

  By the sound of Stella’s voice, that wasn’t the first time she’d said his name. He jerked his attention to her, raking over Brannon’s grouchy visage on the way. Stella smiled patiently. “The numbers you wanted to share?”

  “Yes, thank you, Stella,” he replied evenly. He flipped from one screen to the next on his tablet and pulled up the report, but the numbers stopped him cold. They were wrong. This wasn’t...

  Fantastic.

  The report he’d queued up was from last quarter, not the careful one he’d been preparing for the bulk of the morning.

  “Um... One second.” Aware of every pair of eyes in the room on him, he opened a file in the Cloud and hoped to God he’d remembered to back it up there. Then he remembered he’d emailed it to both Brannon and Taylor. All he needed to do was pull up the sent email to access the correct report. He opened his mouth to tell Stella as much when Taylor spoke.

  “I can take that question, Stella.” Warm hazel eyes swept over him, almost slate gray against the backdrop of her black dress. “Royce and I were discussing that this morning, and there was some confusion as to who was presenting. It appears that the numbers for this quarter showed a nice increase going into next...”

  Royce, rapt, listened as she smoothly read the numbers he’d crunched this morning, numbers he’d planned on presenting. He hadn’t expected her to take over for him. But she had, sliding in and saving his ass as easily as she’d tugged his mouth down to hers last weekend. Impressed by her knowledge and ease with the topic, he couldn’t tear his eyes off her for a solid minute.

  When he did, it was only because he felt Brannon’s gaze pinning him where he sat. Taking in his brother’s ire was nothing new—there were plenty of times when they’d seen the world differently. Their father assured them that it was healthy for brothers to bicker, but Royce didn’t think this situation was what Jack had in mind.

  Locked in silent battle with Taylor between them, well... There was nothing healthy about it. It was bordering unhealthy. Royce could feel the animosity radiating off his brother and hoped to God no one else picked up on it.

  He wouldn’t stand for it.

  Within ThomKnox were their careers—all of them. The entire Knox family’s and Taylor Thompson’s, too. His father was retiring soon and her father had left her with bigger shoes to fill as well. They were the next generation of ThomKnox. Time they started behaving like it.

  Royce had never, to his memory, missed his cue in a financial meeting—in any meeting. The wild card that had changed everything?

  Kissing Taylor Thompson.

  The last intimate moment they’d ever share.

  He had to put this behind him—for the sake of their future. His eyes clashed with Gia’s and she quirked her lips in amusement as if saying Something on your mind, big brother?

  Yes.

  And he couldn’t afford to have his mind anywhere other than work. The company was about to undergo a massive transition. Either Royce or Brannon would be CEO soon—they’d each been groomed.

  The smoother the transition went, the sooner they could return to their regularly scheduled programming.

  Royce glanced at Brannon, only this time he’d made a decision. He was going to have a conversation with his younger brother—whether Brannon wanted to or not.

  Five

  Taylor’s mother’s papillon, Rolf, stood on his hind legs and pawed Taylor’s thigh.

  “Such a beggar, honestly.” She stroked the dog’s fringed, butterfly-like ears.

  “Don’t feed him your—” Her mother clucked her tongue as Taylor handed over a cube of steak. Her mother was dressed for dinner in a pink skirt and suit jacket, a bumblebee-shaped broach pinned on the lapel and her matching gold jewelry shining. Her budgeproof lipstick was in place, her smooth, straight hair tucked behind one ear.

  Deena Thompson fit into the role of wealth easily. Taylor’s mother had been raised in a family of wealthy investors and business owners, most of her money hailing from the airline industry.

  “He’s a dog, Mother. He likes meat. Besides he enjoys beef more than me. I’m more interested in the potatoes and asparagus.” Both of which she’d eaten already.

  Dinner had been served rather formally in her mother’s dining room. The table that stretched the length of the room was better suited for a packed Thanksgiving dinner, which her parents had hosted on numerous occasions, but this was where Deena Thompson liked to dine, so here they sat.

  “He’s a little dog, and I won’t have him fat.” Deena cocked her head to the side, sending her medium-length blond hair over one shoulder.

  “One bite of steak won’t hurt him, will it, Rolfie?” Taylor dropped her napkin on her plate and ruffled the dog’s fur, nuzzling his tiny nose with her own. She’d never thought of a fussy toy breed like Rolf’s as loving until her dad had been diagnosed. The little dog spent many, many evenings in either Taylor’s or her mother’s laps, soaking up their tears in his soft fur.

  “He does love you,” Deena said with a soft chuckle. “I think he believes you’re his sister.”

  “Well. We both have great hair.” Taylor gave her last cube of steak to the dog and ignored her mother’s scoff.

  Taylor was an only child but hadn’t felt lonely growing up. She’d had her mother to pal around with, and the Knox siblings were a very big part of her world. Royce, Bran and Gia were raised by busy working parents as well as a team of nannies. Deena, while she’d always had a house staff, had been more than ready to leave the hectic working lifestyle to care for Taylor. Deena considered herself the ultimate domestic diva. She enjoyed keeping a house and a staff. She enjoyed catered dinners and selecting wines. She also enjoyed crafting in her massive craft room where every shade, pattern and color of scrapbooking paper lined the towering shelves on every wall. Now that Taylor thought about it, her mother’s ambition at home was a career.

  She was under no delusions that she had to mimic her mother’s choices. Her work, which she loved, took up a lot of her time. Hiring help to clean her apartment was a no-brainer, especially when she spent her days as COO of a massive company. Sometimes though, she wondered how she’d balance work and family life once she decided to have a child of her own.

  “Did you want more than one child?” Taylor scooted Rolf’s front paws from her lap as he
r mother’s chef stepped into the room to clear the plates. After they agreed everything was delicious and chose a dessert, he returned with two crème brûlées and tiny glasses of port wine.

  Her mother dug into the crème brûlée, either ignoring or forgetting Taylor’s earlier question.

  “Mom?”

  “Hmm? Oh, sorry. Children. We couldn’t have any more.” She shrugged, announcing it as easily as if she’d just run out of milk.

  “What? You never...” Taylor shook her head in confusion while her mother sipped her port.

  “No, no, not like that. Not like couldn’t. Your father was busy with work and so was I. When the company expanded I wanted to hire my part out and stay home with my baby.” She smiled warmly and patted Taylor’s hand. “You.”

  “You never wanted to give me a brother or sister?”

  “Well, we thought about it. But you had the Knox kids and I had my figure to consider.” Deena winked, joking. She was beautiful for a woman of any age.

  Taylor considered herself lucky to have inherited her mother’s athletic build and love of exercise.

  “What’s bringing this about? Is a certain special relationship advancing? I never asked you about the gala.”

  Deena had attended for an hour or so before she made her exit. She told Taylor she’d felt inconvenienced by the idea of attending a party for show. Taylor couldn’t blame her. Their grieving Charles’s passing was a personal matter, and yet the masses felt they should be involved.

  “You didn’t hear about Brannon’s proposal?”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t hear about it. I said I never asked.” Deena’s eyebrows lifted.

  “We broke up that night. Things at work are...strained. He’s upset. Understandably.”

  “Well, you did kiss his brother.”

  “Mom! You know everything!”

  “Patsy Sheffield told me,” she said of their gossiping neighbor. “Your father wouldn’t like that you’re canoodling with the older Knox boy,” Deena continued, the crème brûlée spoon hovering in front of her mouth. She cocked an eyebrow. “Did you? Like it?”