Honeymoon for One (9 page)

"Uh. Nothing. It just looks..." She glanced around the yard. Even in the daylight she knew it was going to be fabulous. "Magnificent."

Corrie hugged her sister. "I can hardly wait for sunset to turn them all on. This is way sweeter than what we usually do."

"I just did what you told me," Kirk answered while collecting the empty boxes.

"Yeah." Corrie let go of her sister. "When Steven helped, we always had a nice sprinkling of lights, but this is a way cool explosion of color.”

"Glad you approve." He spoke to Corrie, but looked at Michelle.

She knew he was, because she could feel the heat of his gaze burning through her. Everything in her shouted getting close to this man again was a huge mistake. With a capital
H
,
Huge
. The kind of mistake that, this time, her heart might not survive. She opened her mouth to send him home and heard herself say, "Stay for supper?"

***

"Dinner was delicious." Kirk picked up his plate and carried it to the sink.

"Glad you liked it."

"I don't usually get home-cooked meals, and now I've had two in less than a week."

"It's not much compared to all your hard work.”

"I had fun. I don't do much for the holidays. This was...nice.”

Moping into the room, Corrie tossed her phone onto the table and plopped loudly into the nearest seat. The attitude he'd met that first day in the office was back.

Michelle turned to the sulking teen. “Bad news?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

Corrie shrugged, and even Kirk could read the frustration on Michelle's face. Handing off his plate to Michelle, he winked, then turned to face Corrie. “Nobody around to hang out with?”

“Everyone’s gone rock climbing,” she huffed.

“And they didn’t invite you?”

“Of course they did." Corrie’s spine stiffened, her lips tightened, and the fury in her gaze should have burned a hole through him. "I told Brittany I couldn’t go.”

“Because of your wrist?”

“No, it feels much better." Slumped back in the seat, she waved a thumb at her sister. "
She
never lets me go.”

Kirk shot Michelle a fast glance, then turned his full attention to Corrie. “Where do your friends climb?”

“At Pete’s.”

“Pete’s?” he repeated.

“Pete’s Sports Complex,” Michelle added. “They have skating, basketball, batting cages, and rock climbing. The local kids practically live over there.”

“So, you're not talking about real rock climbing, but an indoor facility with protective gear, safety lines, all standard precautions?” Kirk addressed Corrie, but the query was directed at Michelle. Since he couldn't come outright and say, "You've done it. You know it's safe," this was the best he could do.

“Yeah.” Corrie shrugged. “But Michelle thinks it's too dangerous.”

“When was the last time you asked?”

Corrie stared at Kirk. Tilting her head, as though it might help her understand better, she mumbled, “Not too long ago.” Then shifted her focus to Michelle.

Under her sister’s scrutiny, Michelle shifted in place. A vain effort to hide her discomfort. He understood she loved her sister, but the woman needed to cut the kid some slack.

“Can I go with my friends? You know, rock climbing?”

The hopeful look in Corrie’s eyes should have been enough to turn the hardest of hearts. Or the most protective of sisters.

“Yeah." Michelle finally nodded. "You can.”

The excited teenager practically leaped over the table to hug Michelle. “Thanks, sis.”

“You’re welcome.”

Kirk waited for the expected
Be careful,
but it never came. He bit back a grin. She got it. Mama bear was learning to let go of the cub.

Corrie whirled around and threw her arms around Kirk. “And you, too! I’m not sure exactly how, but I know you had something to do with this.”

Taken by surprise with the sudden gush of emotion, Kirk lifted his arms hesitantly and slowly circled them about the teenager. “I, uh...all I did was ask a few pertinent questions.”

“Whatever, but thanks." Corrie pulled away. From halfway down the hall she called back, "I'll be home by ten.”

As soon as the door latched closed behind her, Michelle turned to Kirk. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

Eyes filled with tenderness settled on him. “Everything."

"Sure. No problem." Unsure what more to say, he reached for the last of the dirty dishes.

She stilled his hand with hers. "You've done enough work today. You don't have to do the dishes, too.”

"Cooks shouldn't have to clean up.”

"This cook does." With a smile, she turned on the water and reached for the dish soap.

Hip braced against the counter, Kirk crossed his arms and wondered what was the whole story behind Michelle/Micki Bradford. "Why does Corrie call Steven
Rat Bastard
?"

Michelle dropped the dish she'd been rinsing and blinked several times before blowing out a long slow breath. "Steven was my...fiancé."

Swallowing hard, Kirk hid the stab of jealousy that poked at him. "Was?"

Grabbing another dish, Michelle nodded. She ran the plate under the water. Whether she was thinking, hurting, or hiding, he wasn't sure. But he waited.

Hands finally still, her shoulders hunched, she focused on a distant point out the window. "He broke it off three days before the wedding. The cruise was to be our honeymoon.”

Three days?
Rat Bastard
was too good for him.
Fucking Asshole.

Michelle slipped the dish into the machine and reached for another.

Busy work. He understood keeping busy.

"Beth was my best friend. She was supposed to be my maid of honor.”

The way she said
supposed to be
pricked him.

"She and Steven were married in Las Vegas.”

"Here's your hat, what's your hurry?" he mumbled.

Michelle let the dish drop into the sink and leaning heavily on one elbow, turned to face him. "I never cried. Don't you think a normal person would have cried?"

"Is this a trick question?"

A curt huff that might have been a chuckle slipped past a weak smile. "
Trick
being the key word." She turned her back to the sink. Her arm brushed against his, but neither moved. "I couldn't believe my best friend would do that to me."

"These things happen."

The way her chin tipped up so she could study him made Kirk want to run for cover. She looked all too perceptive.

"Did you lose your best girl to your best friend?”

"Not exactly."

"What exactly?”

"My mother divorced my dad for his best friend.”

Straightening to her full height, she cocked her head, continuing to study him. "How old were you?"

"Fifteen." And why did he answer that? He
never
talked of his family with anyone. Not even Dave.

"That couldn't have been easy."

He'd already said more than he'd intended. "Did you suspect something was going on between the Rat and your best friend?"

Turning back to the window, she shook her head. "Completely blindsided.”

Kirk nodded. Wasn't it always that way? "So I was rebound sex?"

One corner of her mouth tipped in a lopsided grin. "Something like that.”

Leaning in close enough to hear her breathe, he lowered his voice, "Want to do it again?”

Kirk's deep-throated voice sent shivers of anticipation up and down her spine. When Michelle had first heard that sinfully sexy voice in the casino, she'd had no idea what he was capable of. Now she knew, and heaven help her, she
wanted.

Unsure who moved first—and right now, there was very little she
was
sure of, except having his arms wrapped around her felt damn good—his lips tasted and caressed. Slowly, his fingers slid forward from around her waist and slipped under her shirt.

The sudden rush of chilled air against her hot skin had her gasping for breath. Kirk didn't miss his chance. As their mouths tasted and dueled with a delicate hunger, his hands danced along her sensitive flesh with a gentle touch that made her body sing. Every inch of her knew Kirk's touch, remembered the feel of him, but this was different. With the same tenderness and care a master would use to play a fine-tuned instrument, his fingers soothed, caressed, and excited. The tangle of sensations sent her mind and body reeling.

Someplace in the back of her mind, flash cards of sanity popped into her head. Kitchen, windows, neighbors. But before her frazzled neurons could process the contrary information, Kirk hiked her into his hold. Her arms already wound about his neck, her legs eagerly twined around his waist. With slow steady steps that matched his gentle kisses, he carried her down the hall, and just as slowly, moved up the stairs.

At the top of the creaking staircase, he murmured against her lips, "Which room?"

"End of the hall," she mumbled, her emotions scrambled with her heightening senses. Her heart screamed
Wait, think about this, he's going to leave us.
Her body cheered with ragged breaths, yes, more. And, oh, she wanted more. But, if this was all she could ever have, her heart would simply have to live with the right now.

As he took the last step at the end of the hall, Kirk's thumb brushed lightly against the edge of Michelle's breast. He knew he'd hit the delicate spot when she gasped against his mouth. In a mirror image of the dance they’d both been waiting for, he slid his tongue past her open lips. Kicking the door shut, he pressed her tightly against his aching groin and nearly came undone when she squirmed against him.

How did this woman turn him on so? Eternity wouldn't be long enough to get his fill of Micki Bradford. Backing into the bed, they fell over, a tumble of arms and legs. Their mouths still sizzling in a passion rarely found in only a kiss, he undid the buttons on her blouse. His hand began a tortured path of pressure and softness, caressing, kneading, every inch of exposed skin. He wanted this woman so badly it hurt.

Dragging his mouth away from her moist kiss-swollen lips, he trailed a path down her neck, past her collarbone. His arousal grew unbearably harder when she gasped at the feel of his tongue licking his way along her cleavage, his fingers delicately teasing her hardened nipples. When his hungry lips descended around the brown tips, she thrust herself farther into his mouth.

The feel of her taut nipple pressed up against his tongue, squeezed into the recesses of his mouth, was quickly disintegrating what little control he still possessed. He wanted this to last. Tonight, tomorrow, next week, next year. He would never have enough of her.

Michelle floated in absolute heaven. The sparks igniting throughout her breasts were setting off fires in nerve endings she didn’t even know she had. She willed her fingers to explore and expose more of Kirk's well-toned anatomy. Tugging at his shirt, her fingers brushed against his chest before shoving the unwanted garment over his shoulders and tossing it across the room. Next came her slacks, his buckle, her panties. His pants and boxers were cast aside in a single kick.

Reaching down, she stroked him. A gentle brush, a tease of her fingertip, followed by a firm hold, sliding up and down, hoping to inflict the same torturous pleasures she’d been writhing with. Her other hand continued swirling and kneading slowly along Kirk’s back and rock-hard backside. Their hot flesh, now pressed closely together, ached for that final joining.

The barrage of licks and strokes, sucking and caressing, had her soaring higher and higher.

His fingers tangled gently in her curls before carefully teasing her bud, and then seamlessly sliding in and out of her shivering body. With his mouth still sucking and circling her breasts, Michelle let out a loud cry, unable to contain the explosion of ecstasy at the hands of Lloyd Kirkland McEntire. Wracked with spasmodic pleasure, she curled into his embrace.

Sweetly, he kissed her chin, her cheek, her eyes, and then, his lips delicately met hers. "Please," she murmured. "Now.”

His body lined up perfectly with hers, slowly, and carefully, he slid deep inside her. Their bodies rocking to a rhythm uniquely their own.

Michelle's body began once more climbing the heights of passion, tingling and shivering. She wanted more of him, all of him. Kirk continued to plunge into her. When she coiled tightly around him, screaming his name, he thrust one last time, then emptied himself inside her warmth, her name on his lips.

***

On the ship Kirk and Michelle woke when they wanted, slept when they wanted, and made love as often as they wanted. In Bluffview, Michelle had a reputation to maintain and a sister due home in less than twenty minutes. Despite every satisfied bone in her body telling her to roll over and cradle the man beside her, she slipped out from under the sheets and reached for her bra. Calm and cool. She could do this. She could pretend being with this man here and now had not completely shifted her world.

"You look better without it." Kirk turned onto his side. His elbow on the pillow, his head rested in his palm as he watched her dress.

"That may or may not be true, but Corrie will be home shortly. You need to get dressed." She paused, one leg in her pants. "Now.”

"Yes, ma'am." He saluted and rose from the bed. His derriere an homage to Renaissance sculptors. The man was definitely in fine form.

By the time she made her way into the bathroom to brush her teeth, Kirk had finished dressing and was back in the kitchen. Or had he left?

Moving faster than was probably called for, she hurried down the stairs and skidded to a halt where Kirk stood at the bottom step, his coat in hand, obviously waiting for her.

"I'm guessing you'd rather I wasn't here when Corrie comes home?"

"That might be for the best."
Was it
?

"I understand." But he didn't move.

Did he really? Could he have any idea how hard she'd worked all these years to set an example for Corrie, worthy of her mother and father? Did he have even a clue that no man had ever been allowed to share her bed? Not even Steven. Whenever they were intimate, it was always at his apartment. Away from Corrie. No risks.

Why did it have to be this man who had her willing to risk it all?

***

Kirk knew if he kissed Micki he'd want more. So much more. But there was no way he was walking out the front door without saying or doing...something. His fingers itched to reach for her.

"I have some work to catch up on." He told his legs to move back but the traitors refused to budge.

"Of course." She stepped into the foyer. "I'll see you Monday morning.”

"Yes, Monday." All he had to do was focus on work for the next twenty-four hours and everything would be well. Except the blood already pulsing to his groin told him Monday morning wouldn't be coming soon enough.
Oh, what the hell.

Pulling her close against him, his mouth came down on hers. The kiss was hard and fast and anything but gentle. But it was all he had time for. If he didn't get his car out of their driveway before Corrie arrived, there wouldn't be any more chances to be with his Micki. And despite the demand, the chaos, and the problems at work, he wanted more chances with her.

"Would you—”

"Yes," he cut her off.

Her cheek dimpled in a knowing smile. "I haven't asked you anything yet.”

"Whatever it is, the answer is yes."

"Join us for brunch tomorrow?"

A broad grin covered his face. "What time?"

"Ten thirty.”

With a quick bob of his head, and his smile still in place, Kirk walked out of her house, into his car, and when he arrived at his executive suite, the satisfied grin was still plastered across his face.

After zoning out all morning, playing hooky all afternoon, and just playing all night, he had a great deal of catching up to do. But even newly upgraded high speed computers at the paper couldn't tempt him to go to the office at this hour. Instead, at his laptop, fingers on the keyboard, he started with email.

Only one offer to help an African prince obtain his massive inheritance. The idea that some unsuspecting senior citizen was very possibly going to buy into the scam raised his hackles. At least he was no longer receiving triple-digit offers to enlarge his penis. Clicking on one piece of unsolicited email after another, he stopped at the email from the COO of the conglomerate that now owned the
Bluffview Tribune
.

Per your original outline...numbers analysis...time frame...cut staff...
and then he saw the words that twisted his gut.
National ad department will absorb the duties of all local personnel.

Michelle Bradford's reprieve had run out. Monday morning the woman he'd just made love to was about to get a pink slip.

***

Corrie Bradford skid to a halt in the kitchen doorway. "Wow. You look great.”

"Thanks." Playing this light and easy, Michelle poured the batter into the waffle maker.

Her head in the fridge, Corrie grabbed a carton of juice and backed into the room, taking a glass from the cabinet. "When did you go shopping?"

"Bought a few things for the trip. Thought I might as well put them to use." Wearing a dark pair of ankle-length capris and a black knit top, Michelle felt like Micki.

"Well I think it's about time you stopped dressing like a dowdy librarian." She took a sip of juice. "I like what you did with your hair, too.”

Michelle resisted the urge to pat and primp, but she felt wonderful. Tossing and turning most of the night, she'd dreamed of parasailing, kayaking, and rock wall climbing, then awoke to thoughts of PTA meetings, bake sale committees, and school board campaigns. She didn't like the stodgy person she'd become. Last night, in her own home territory, she'd tossed out her rule book. Slept with a wonderful, handsome hunk. And this morning the world did not come to an end.

Corrie had not run screaming from the house or taken off with a motorcycle gang. Everything was very normal. Except for the first time in a very long time, Michelle felt alive in her own home.

"Please set the table for three. I invited Kirk to join us."

"I like your boss.”

Michelle forked four waffles onto a large dish, then slid the plate into the oven to keep warm. "It was very nice of him to help us out yesterday.”

"I think he likes you." Corrie set the table. "And I think you like him.”

"Don't go getting any funny ideas. The man is only here temporarily. Once he gets the paper in order, he'll be gone on another project in some other part of the country." Michelle tried really hard not to let her own words burst her happy new view of life. She would deal with that reality later.

"I'm just saying—”

"No. Listen to me. He's a very nice man, but we're not his kind of world. As long as we both remember that, everyone will be very happy." Lord knows she certainly hoped so. A good-sized chunk of her heart wondered if anything would ever seem right again after Kirk McEntire left her world.

***

Kirk hadn't slept a wink. For years he'd been cutting jobs and turning companies around without ever taking time to consider whose lives he was turning upside down. He couldn't. The key to success in his business was keeping a personal distance from the human factor and focusing on the math. Simple economics. Worked every time. Until now.

Michelle wasn't a number, or a statistic, or data on a flow chart. She was flesh and blood real, and had successfully burrowed under his skin and made herself at home.

"Shit." He banged on the steering wheel and turned into their driveway. He hadn't considered the house very much yesterday. It could use a fresh coat of paint. Some of the hedges were overgrown, but for the most part the house appeared well cared for.

Turning off the engine, he surveyed the home again. Was it paid for? Did she have a mortgage? Did Corrie have a college fund? Was there anyplace in this little town where Micki could find another job? He pulled the key from the ignition and climbed out of the car.

Whether he liked it or not, he had to tell her what was coming down. He couldn't wait for her to find out at work. "Shit.”

As he reached the front porch, his pace slowed. What the hell was he going to say? "Shit.”

Forcing one foot in front of the other, he climbed the porch steps and rang the bell. Through the frosted glass he could make out a perky form bounding toward the door. Corrie. He felt the hint of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. If you asked him why, he wouldn't be able to give specifics, but he liked her. He really liked the kid.