Kiss and Makeup (6 page)

4

B
EN
STEPPED
FROM
the jet bridge onto the plane, stifling a yawn. He was definitely feeling the lack of sleep. Not that he was complaining. The mere memory of Chloe writhing beneath him, his hands on her skin, her tongue in his mouth... Ben shifted with discomfort as his dick stirred at the erotic recollection.

What he
planned
to complain about when he saw Chloe again was the fact that he'd woken up alone this morning. But first he had to make it to his seat. He shuffled farther into the plane, waiting as the gentleman in front of him hoisted his suitcase into the overhead compartment.

Jesus, he could still
smell
her. It was an unfortunate by-product of an overactive imagination and this morning's shower. He'd used what she'd left in the tiny bottle of complimentary hotel shampoo, and now the achingly familiar perfume of flowers lingered around him. Normally it would have made him nauseous, but thanks to the wrestling match on the bed last night, it was making him horny.

Ben pushed a hand through his Chloe-scented hair and continued to sidestep down the narrow aisle until he arrived at row G and the object of his lust-filled fantasies came into view.

She was wearing faded jeans and a white T-shirt with a zombified Audrey Hepburn on it. Her lips were stained a deep shade of berry; her eyeliner was back with gothic vengeance. And if his cock had been mildly interested at the memory of her, the reality of Chloe had its full attention.

Her
attention, though, was studiously focused on the in-flight magazine in her lap.

“Is this seat taken?”

She glanced up as he shoved his carry-on into the overhead bin. She might have sighed as he brushed past her to sit down, but he couldn't be sure.

“Guess I should have thought this through a little better. I was trying for a dramatic and mysterious exit after a single night of passion.” She flipped a glossy page with her index finger.

“Yeah, assigned seating really messes with drama.”

She flipped another page. “Worst one-night-stand exit ever.”

“On the contrary. You were very quiet when you left—I didn't wake up at all. Nothing was drawn on my face in permanent marker, and I still have my watch, my wallet and my credit cards,” Ben countered charitably. “As far as I'm concerned, this ranks very high on the scale.”

His joke earned him a withering glare.

“I meant that we're stuck in forced proximity and tight confines, with no choice but to ignore each other awkwardly and try to keep our arms from touching until we can finally go our separate ways. Which reminds me, I'm claiming this now.” She laid her right arm on the armrest from elbow to wrist, completely covering it from view.

“Or...we could defy the expected and skip the awkward silence. Just keep on living life as though I didn't ruin you for other men last night.”

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Look, Chloe. We've got about an hour of forced proximity left to go here. So what do you say we move on, start over?”

* * *

“S
TART
OVER
?” she asked speculatively.
Like I'm not completely and utterly mortified that I jumped you in the hotel room last night?
“As in we do that lame handshake thing in all the girly movies and reintroduce ourselves?”

Ben laughed, and the rumbling sound put a dent in her defenses. “Yeah, that.”

With a shrug of acquiescence, Chloe held her hand out. “I'm Latoya.”

Ben smirked at her as they shook. “Julio.”

“Hmm. Sexy name. So tell me, Julio, what do you do for a living?”

She was expecting a smart-ass comment, like “romance novel cover model,” but instead she got: “What do you
think
I do?”

She arched her right eyebrow. “Honestly?”

He nodded.

“Sales.” She didn't even hesitate. “Ad exec, maybe? That or hocking used cars.”

“Wow. Don't take a second to think about it or anything.” Ben's voice was light, jokey, but his forehead was a bit furrowed, and there was a gravitas to his next words. “How come?”

“Are you kidding me?”

His silence said he was not.

She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I don't know. The way you dress is part of it.” She eyed his attire.

“Lots of men wear suits. Newscasters. Athletes. Mob bosses. The alter-egos of superheroes.”

She remained unmoved. “Am I right?”

Ben shrugged. “I can neither confirm nor deny this line of questioning until you tell me what you do.”

“What do you
think
I do?” she mimicked.

He turned in his seat to look at her,
really
look at her, and Chloe squirmed a little under the inspection. She was
this close
to blushing. To counteract the uncomfortable feeling, she forced herself to square her shoulders and raise her chin a notch.

“Well, I'm gonna strike flight attendant and used car salesman from the list of possibilities, considering your obvious scorn for those professions.”

Chloe flashed him a tight smile.
Ha, ha
.

“Um, okay. You're
not
a dentist. You're
not
the vice president of anything.” His eyes darted to the zombie on her T-shirt. “And you're
not
a kindergarten teacher.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why do I suddenly feel like this game is going to be less than flattering?”

“What do you mean,
suddenly
? Did you
hear
the way you say
sales
?”

“Just guess already,” she urged, but with a sinking sensation in her stomach. Chloe wasn't so sure that she wanted to know Ben's impressions of her.

“I think you're an artist.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

He nodded slowly, contemplatively. “Whatever you do, it's something that other people only wish they did. I bet you illustrate comic books, or sing in a band, or create amazing sculptures out of ordinary, everyday things.” He squinted at her, analyzing. “There's a slight chance you're a little more corporate about it, though—like a graphic designer, or maybe you have a clothing line in the works.”

Chloe sucked in her breath. It was highly possible that that was the nicest thing anyone had ever said about her. Or
to
her, for that matter.

“So? Am I close?”

God, that lopsided grin was adorable.

In a really weird way that she refused to scrutinize, Chloe didn't want to disappoint him with the truth. Or herself. What was the point of squashing the warmth in her chest with cold, bitter reality? She liked the way Ben saw her, full of possibilities. She wasn't ready to relinquish that feeling yet.

“You know what, Ben? You and I are going to return to our regularly scheduled lives in just over an hour, right?”

He glanced at his watch. “Thereabouts.”

“So how about we don't ruin today with anything as mundane as the truth? I mean, think about it. In your lifetime, how many people have you spent the night with who didn't know what you did for a living?”

Ben's lips quirked in a bit of a smile. “None.”

“Exactly. So let's not label ourselves. Let's embrace that rebellious streak of yours, Mr. Lone Wolf. Let's live dangerously and talk to strangers.”

“Huh. Impassioned speech. Is this your way of keeping me from guessing your true occupation? Because if you're a politician, I promise I won't think less of you,” he vowed.

Chloe relaxed in her seat and let the hour fly by, literally and figuratively, as she talked to Ben.

* * *

C
HLOE
STOOD
NEXT
to Ben, watching the unfamiliar luggage circling past them on the conveyer belt.

After they'd decided not to make the usual small talk about themselves, they'd ended up bonding over innocuous things like a mutual hatred of sunglasses that rivaled dinner plates in circumference, and a shared belief that specialty cartoon channels had massacred the joy of childhood Saturday mornings.

Turned out Ben was just as cool as she'd suspected. It would figure she'd spent the past four years dating nothing but losers, only to run into one of the good ones when she was only looking for a one-night stand.

“The boutonnieres are an absolute disgrace. How will it look with the groomsmen wearing champagne roses when the rest of the wedding flowers are white?”

O
h no
. Chloe turned toward the familiar voice growing ever louder as a woman with a cell phone to her ear barked orders and stalked toward the baggage claim. Not even the bustle of an international airport could mute this particular woman scorned.

“We're not going to pay for this kind of lack of attention on your part. That's right. Yes, eight new boutonnieres made with white roses. We'll be expecting them by noon. Yes, that's the correct address. Tell the concierge it's for the Masterson–Van Allen wedding.”

Ignoring Ben's questioning look, Chloe took off toward her mother, trying to keep as much distance between him and Fiona Masterson as possible. No need to complicate things any more than they already were.

“Mom! Hi.” The second the words were out of her mouth, four years of distance swirled up around them and stole Chloe's breath. Her mother looked the same. A little older, obviously, but as regal as ever.

Her graying hair was pulled back into the elegant chignon she favored. She was dressed in black from head to toe, all designer labels, all tailored to perfection for her slim frame. Even the posh winter coat. Her jewellery was gold, but her earrings were pearls. The first piece of jewelry Chloe's father had ever given her, the night he'd professed his love, a mere seven dates into their courtship. That's what her mother had always called it, their “courtship”. As a little girl the tale had been one of Chloe's favorite bedtime stories, and she would beg her mother to tell it night after night.

And now they were reduced to exchanging an awkward air kiss in an airport terminal.

“Chloe Marie, it's about time you got here.” Her mother made a production of glancing around as she dropped her phone into her Louis Vuitton handbag. “Alone, I see. That's going to throw off the seating chart. You couldn't have RSVP'd to let us know so that we could rearrange the tables earlier, I suppose. I'm sure selling makeup to mall patrons keeps you from picking up the phone. Never mind that an uneven seating chart can completely derail a wedding.”

Chloe gritted her teeth in her best semblance of a smile. “What are you doing here? We agreed to meet at the hotel.”

“I was ironing out a few last-minute things for the wedding, so I had the car service bring me here. I thought you could come back to the bridal suite with me. You can get ready there, so I don't have to worry about you being late for tonight's ceremony. Also, I need someone to keep an eye on your sister while I check on the catering staff. You know they...”

Her mother's eyes widened and the rest of the chastisement died on her lips a split second before an arm slipped around Chloe's waist.

“I've got our bags, babe. Mrs. Masterson, it's great to finally meet you. I'm Ben.” He extended a hand in Fiona Masterson's direction, and Chloe could only mirror her mother's shocked expression as he delivered the coup de grâce. “Chloe's boyfriend.”

5

I
T
WASN
'
T
ON
PURPOSE
. He wasn't a knight in shining armor. But something about seeing this smart-mouthed goddess who'd rocked-and-socked her way into his world fade into a shadow of herself was disheartening.

He liked Chloe. She was funny and jaded, but not quite as jaded as she thought she was. Their conversations over the past twelve hours had been the most fun he'd had with a woman in a really long time. And had he mentioned the sex had been hot as hell? Truly top-notch. So why bring the fun to an end?

Besides, it wasn't like he had plans tonight. His meeting with hotel magnate Edward Burke was at four o'clock. By five he'd be free and clear. And a guy had to eat, so what did he care if it was room service or fancy wedding food?

“I'm sorry, what did you say your name was again?”

“Ben, ma'am.”

“Ben. Is that short for Benjamin?”

“It is.”

“May I call you Benjamin?”

“Of course.”

She finally accepted his outstretched hand, eyeing him coolly. He felt every second of her assessment, like her eyes were shooting tiny, prickling ice shards as they studied him. His face, his suit, his arm around her daughter's waist, his shoes. He was glad he'd taken the time to polish them that morning. “It's nice to meet you, Benjamin. Chloe failed to mention she was seeing a handsome professional man. What is it that you do for a living?”

“Mom! Boundaries. Geez.”

“Fine. We'll talk about it in the car on the way to the suite.”

Ben put on his best client-wooing smile. “I really appreciate the offer, Mrs. Masterson—”

“Fiona,” she corrected.

“Fiona. But I've got a business meeting this afternoon, so we should really head straight to our room.”

“Yes, Ben's got a meeting first!” Chloe latched onto the excuse with all her might. “He can't be late for that. So...yeah, what Ben said. Gotta get to our hotel. Check in and stuff.”

“Hotel Burke,” Ben added, hoping the ritzy name would impress Chloe's mom a little, or at least thaw her a bit. She didn't bat an eye. Chloe groaned.

“Well, I'm relieved to hear you're staying at the wedding venue. I figured you would have picked something clear across the city, just to be contrary.”

“See you tonight, Mom.” Chloe reached for her luggage, but Ben beat her to it, grabbing her scratched-up plastic suitcase in his left hand, his pristine black one in his right. “I got it.”

“What the hell was that?” Chloe whirled on him the second they stepped outside. The frigid wind whipped her hair around her head, and Ben set their suitcases down on the snowy sidewalk so he could shove his hands in his pockets.

“Unbalanced seating plans are wedding kryptonite.”

“Oh, God. You heard that?”

Ben shrugged his shoulders against the cold. “It's a well-known fact. I can't believe you weren't aware of it, Chloe Marie.”

“I can't believe you told her you're my boyfriend.” Chloe jammed a hand through her hair. “Why would you do that?”

“I believe the words you're looking for are ‘thank you, Ben.'”

“Why would I thank you? You've ruined everything!”

“What are you talking about? I just saved your ass.”

“In what world did you save me? Now I'm going to get a lecture three times as embarrassing as before because she won't have a chance to even out the damn seating arrangement before I arrive solo at the big event.” She pulled her coat tighter around her. “Maybe I could just say you got hit by a bus, or you're allergic to tulle—”

“Or I could just come with.”

“—or you ate some bad shellfish or— What?”

“What time does it start?”

Chloe stared up at him with no sign of understanding on her face. The tip of her nose was turning pink in the cold.

“The wedding,” he clarified.

“I, uh, let me check.”

“You don't even know when the ceremony starts? Isn't that like, the raison d'être of bridesmaids?”

She fished a thick, pearlescent envelope from the depths of her purse. “Oh, I'm not a bridesmaid,” she told him, pulling a fancy-looking itinerary out of the envelope.

Ben's shoulders drooped. As an only child with no living family, he'd kind of romanticized the idea of having blood relatives. Chloe's words shook him a little.

“According to this, the ceremony starts at six, appetizers and cocktails are at seven, late supper and speeches start at eight.”

“Perfect. My meeting should be done by five at the latest. Gives me a chance to shower and change.”

She stared up at him again, this time with skepticism. “You sure you want to do this, Masterson?”

“You underestimate the things I will do for a free dinner, Chloe Marie. Now c'mon. Let's grab a taxi before I lose my ears to frostbite.”

* * *

T
HE
V
ALUE
I
NN
had been adequate. Hotel Burke was spectacular. Vaulted ceilings, glittering chandeliers, sumptuous fabrics, and rich wood lent the place an air of old-world glamour.

Ben gave a low, impressed whistle. “So your mom takes a car service and your sister's getting hitched
here
? What's the deal? You're actually some poor little rich girl or something?”

“My parents have money. I don't have money.”

He'd been teasing, but something in her voice caught his attention. She'd gone very still.

“Hey, I was just teasing.”

She smiled to reassure him, but didn't quite pull it off. “I know. It's no big deal. I'm just... I'd kind of forgotten what this was all like, this life I left behind.”

Growing up with just his dad who'd often struggled to make ends meet, he couldn't quite imagine anyone walking away from all this and being fine with it. It was the dream, what most people strove for. “Do you regret it?”

She shook her head, pretty green eyes darting around the ornate lobby. “No. I mean, in the big picture, there's no difference between the Value Inn and this place. A hotel is just a place to sleep, right? But it reminds me of the person I used to be.”

Her hand drifted subconsciously to her hair.
Boring old brown
, she'd called it. He wondered what she was remembering as emotions flitted across her face—sad eyes, a ghost of a smile, the determined set of her chin.

The desire to pry was overwhelming. He wanted to learn everything there was to learn about the beautiful, complicated woman beside him. But right now she needed to be distracted.

“Shall we go check in?”

“Huh? Oh. Um, yeah. About that...”

He turned to face her.

“You know what my mom said? About me booking a room across town just to be contrary?”

The guilty look on her face made him smile. “Seriously?”

She nodded sheepishly.

“Stay with me.”

Chloe's cheeks bloomed with color. “What?”

“I like you,” Ben confessed. “The real you. But you're different when you're around your mom. And I get it,” he hurried to explain himself, “because I've had people in my life like that, too. People you can't quite be yourself with.” Melanie's face came to mind, right on cue, but Ben was surprised that his bosses' faces were also part of the mental parade.

“Thanks, Ben. That's really nice of you, but...”

Uh-oh
. He'd spooked her. He should've known better. Chloe preferred to keep things light.

To that end, he lowered his voice and leaned in closer. “Also I really enjoy getting you naked. So what do you say? How about we make this a two-night stand?”

Her smile told him he'd saved the mission. Well, him and the fact she didn't have much choice now that her mother thought she'd be staying here. “Why, Mr. Masterson, are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?”

“I really hope so.” God, did he hope so.

“I'm in, but only if you let me pay half,” she stipulated, “because I don't want the guy at the desk to label me a hooker.”

“I accept your terms, because the room's actually a comp. When you do business with Edward Burke, you stay free at his hotel. And for the record, there's no way anyone working at a classy place like this would ever mistake you for a common hooker. This is call-girl territory.”

“Well, in that case,” she teased, grabbing his hand, “hurry up and get us a room already.”

The man behind the counter was extremely efficient and they were in the elevator and headed up to their room in no time.

Smiling and laughing, bumping into each other more than was strictly necessary, the low-grade sexual tension that had been simmering between them escalated the closer they got to the room. He loved this playful side of her.

“Look at this place.” Ben held the door open so Chloe could join him in the tiled foyer. A freakin'
foyer
, with a shoe rack, and a closet, and a giant urn full of fake palm-fronds. The room was stunning, done in opulent shades of brown and cream. “And this isn't even a suite.”

“Forget the foyer, I'm more interested in checking out the bed. You wanna help me with the inspection?” The wheels of her suitcase were quieted as they met carpet when she ventured farther into the room.

“Oh, hell yes.” Ben pushed the door closed behind them and locked the bar latch as he glanced at the emergency map.

In case of fire, use stairs unless otherwise instructed
.

“Ben? Are you coming? Because I want to.”

Notify the operator (dial 0) or pull nearest fire alarm.

“Nothing? That was a grade A pun, Masterson. Right up there with ‘Mrs. Understanding.'”

If you hear the fire alarm, evacuate, don't investigate
.

“Are you seriously reading about the fire escape routes?” Her voice was so close it startled him, and he spun to face her, embarrassed at being caught.

“It's just good sense to know where the closest emergency exits and fire extinguishers are.”

She shook her head at him in faux disappointment. “You're such a freak sometimes, Masterson.”

“Uh, yeah. A freak in the sack.”

“Prove it,” she challenged, squealing in surprise as he wrapped his arms around her and hoisted her up his body. She wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him back as he carried her over to the bed before dropping her unceremoniously on the giant mattress.

“With pleasure,” he said, divesting himself of his suit jacket and shoes.

“Ooh, I like the sound of that.” She reached up, pulling his tie down until he joined her on the bed. He pushed her down onto the pillows.

Then he settled beside her, propping himself on his elbows so he could stare down at her. Her makeup was different again. Today his little chameleon was sporting a clever blend of pinks and browns that made the golden flecks in her green eyes shine.

She raised her hand to his cheek, startling him out of his inspection, and he accepted her wordless invitation and lowered his lips to hers.

The soft meeting of their mouths was a revelation, so different than the last time she'd been in his arms. That had been the heat and passion of a match meeting gasoline. This was a slow burn, and he let himself revel in the sweet eroticism, the simple beauty of just kissing her.

The first sweep of her tongue made his breath catch. As much as he loved the soft brush of her lips on his, tasting, teasing, he was relieved as the pressure built because he was starting to go out of his mind with all this restraint. His breath came faster, his mouth grew more demanding, and he ached to touch Chloe everywhere.

She pressed her palm to his chest, curling her fingers into his shirt, tugging him closer. He loved knowing she was as turned on by their make-out session as he was. She had just started in on his shirt buttons when the shrill ring of her cell phone intruded on the moment.

He rested his forehead against hers. “Ignore it.”

“It's my mom. She'll only call back if I don't answer. Again and again and again. Trust me. It's why I assigned her a special ringtone in the first place.”

With a sigh, Ben flopped onto his back as she crawled across the bed in search of her phone. It took a moment of digging through her purse and four more rings to answer the call.

“Hi, Mom...Yes, we're here...” She glanced over at Ben, rolling her eyes. “Right now?...Okay, I'll be there in a minute...Yes, the fourth floor...I understand that you're on seven, and I know how to use an elevator, so I'm sure this will all work out fine. Okay...Okay...Yes...Mom, I'm coming right up...I'm coming right up! We can talk about it when I get there. I'll see you in a minute.”

“What, did she follow our cab to make sure we came straight here?”

“I wouldn't put it past her.” Chloe tugged her T-shirt back into place as she stood. “I am really sorry about this. But I'm glad you're coming to this wedding with me. I don't know how I'd have gotten through this by myself, so thank you.”

He stacked his hands behind his head and waggled his eyebrows. “You can thank me later.”

God, he loved making her laugh.

“I really wish I didn't have to leave.” She walked over to the mirror and fussed a little with her hair. “I have no idea how long this will take, so good luck with your meeting.”

“You can good luck me later, too.”

She turned and hit him with a sultry look that upped the heat simmering in his belly. “Oh, I'll luck you all right.” She started walking toward him with a slinky, do-me walk that drove him crazy. “And it's gonna be so good,” she promised, leaning over to plant a final kiss on his mouth. Ben grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down on top of him.

She giggled against his lips, squirming to get back up. “Ben, I have to go or she'll send out a search party!”