Lipstick Kisses : A Sexy, Standalone Contemporary Romance (2 page)

“What are you doing here? The shoot was over hours ago.”

“I was waiting for you.”

“Really?” I ask incredulously.

“Yes, really. I wanted to see if you’d like to grab some dinner together.”

I hesitate. I don’t know why, but I just don’t know if I want to go there with Chandler—be just another notch in his bedpost. He seems like that kind of guy, and I have been with enough of those.

“Well?” he asks.

“Normally, I would love to. But I’m really tired tonight, and I have an early day tomorrow.” I make excuses, and he knows it.

“Come on, all work and no play?” He ribs me.

“I’m sure with you, it’s all play.”

“Ouch, that hurt,” he says as he clasps his hand over his heart in feigned offense.

“Don’t judge a book by its cover. I might actually be a nice guy, but you’ll never know unless you have dinner with me,” he persists.

I still hesitate as I look into those twinkling light grey eyes of his. How can I say no? I bet girls never tell him no.

If I were smart, I would say no, but sometimes I’m not very smart, especially when it comes to the opposite sex.

“All right, but I can’t be out too late. Where shall we meet?” It’s safer if I have my own car. I don’t want this getting out of hand. My body is lusting after this guy big time. I need to show some self-control.

“You pick the place. This is your neck of the woods,” he suggests.

We decide to meet at Luca’s, a tiny hole in the wall Italian restaurant in Beverly Hills.

I park, and before I get out of my car, I realize that I’m nervous. Calm down, Nikki, what the hell is wrong with you? It’s just a casual dinner with Mr. Hottie.

I walk into the restaurant, and Chandler is already waiting inside for me. I melt ever so slightly at the sight of him. He’s too good looking for the likes of me. I know that much.

The hostess seats us at a cozy table toward the back, and Chandler pulls my chair out for me. Quite the gentleman. I like that. It’s a good way to make a lady feel special and taken care of.

“Thank you,” I say over my shoulder as he pushes my chair in.

“Have you been here before?” I ask.

“Nope,” Chandler says as he peruses the menu.

“It’s one of my favorite places when I’m in the mood for Italian food.”

“What do you recommend?” he asks.

“Everything here is good. What are you in the mood for? I mean, what sounds good to you?” I rephrase my question, but it doesn’t go unnoticed. Chandler glances up at me with a wicked grin.

My face flushes. I told you, this guy gets me going. My thoughts imagine what he looks like naked, and I bet he’s good in bed. I can just tell by looking at him and the way he carries himself. Why am I acting like such a man?

“What are you thinking?” Chandler asks as he closes his menu and stares straight across the table at me.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because you’re blushing.”

“I am not,” I deny, pressing my palm to my cheek to see if it’s warm.

“Are you ready to order?” The perky waitress comes up to our table in the nick of time.

“Yes, I will have the Caprese Salad and the Lobster Ravioli,” I stammer out quickly.

“I’ll have the same,” Chandler says coolly.

“You’re easy to please.” It rolls of my lips, and again, I stick my foot in my mouth.

“That’s what they tell me,” he says with a wink.

This guy unnerves me. I can’t go out with him again—mental note to self.

“So, where do you live?” I ask. Now I sound like I want to go back to his place. Ugh . . .

“In Venice Beach. How about you?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I have a townhome not far from here, but I’m in the process of looking for a new place closer to the ocean,” I reply.

“I love living near the beach. They don’t have beaches in Montana,” he says.

“My agent has me looking at homes in Malibu and the Pacific Palisades, but I’m leaning toward Malibu,” I say.

“There’s nothing like living near the beach,” he says.

As we finish dinner, I find that I enjoy Chandler’s company. He’s not just some airheaded model who’s all looks. Underneath his heart-stopping good looks lies a real person, a sincere person, a man who actually asks me questions about myself, not some egotistical guy who does all of the talking, mainly about himself.

Today, I have a modeling gig with Lipstick Kisses. I’m a little late, as usual. Once I arrive, in walks Nikki Russo, owner of this booming cosmetic company, and at first, I’m taken aback.

I expected her to be an older and more mature woman. After all, this is a big, thriving business.

But the girl standing self-assuredly in front of me couldn’t be a day over twenty-five.

Immediately, it fascinates and intrigues me that she’s so young and owns this company.

After the initial shock, I find myself captivated by her understated style and beauty. She wears classic, stylish attire, not overly made-up like you would expect from a makeup heiress, but just enough to enhance her delicate features. She’s nothing like I would have expected, and I mean that in the best way possible.

Why do I find myself wanting to get to know her better, as in much better?

But she would never give a guy like me the time of day in any other situation. If I wasn’t pimping myself out as a model, our paths would never have crossed, but now that they have, I’m going for it.

What do I have to lose?

My guess is that Nikki probably only dates A-list, wealthy guys, the movers and the shakers in LA. With her beauty and her money, she probably has her pick of suitors.

But she’s never met someone like me.

I have it all packed in my low-slung jeans.

I’m going to charm the panties off her.

She doesn’t know what she’s been missing.

Just you watch. Watch me work my charms on Miss Nikki Russo.

Chandler invites me over for dinner at his place. He says he’s going to cook for me, and immediately, I’m impressed.

I find my way to Venice Beach and park in the driveway of his modest bungalow. I can’t say when I was last here in this neck of the woods.

I walk up to the front door, and it has a half-door. I can hear
Can’t You See
by the Marshall Tucker Band wafting through his bungalow.

“Hello,” I call out.

“Hey, Nikki, come on in. The door’s unlocked,” I hear Chandler call out from somewhere inside, but I don’t see him.

I walk in, and he comes out from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he says, walking up to me and giving me a warm, tight embrace followed by a firm kiss on the lips. I stiffen.

“Relax, Nikki. Would you like some wine?” he offers.

“Yes, that would be nice. I like your place,” I say, taking in the extensively remodeled 1920’s bungalow he calls home. Natural light filters in through the windows and the hardwood floors throughout make his home a warm and inviting.

“Welcome to my humble abode. Would you like the Grand Tour?” he asks with a grin.

We roam from room to room until he shows me his bedroom, the danger zone. Or the place where all the magic happens, right?

I want this guy, and I know he wants me. Why else would he be inviting me over for dinner?

“This is my room,” he says as we walk in.

His eyes linger on mine, and I have to look away.

“Nice,” I say, looking around his room. His bed is made and there’s minimal clutter. He’s pretty neat and tidy from what I can tell.

He walks up to me. I still won’t look at him. I’m afraid he’s going to kiss me.

“Relax, Nikki. I won’t bite, unless you want me to,” he says softly.

“How about that wine?” I ask awkwardly as I turn and walk out of his room. What is it about this guy that has me unglued? I’m acting like I’m about sixteen years old.

I hear him chuckle as he follows me out of his room and to the kitchen.

We get into the kitchen, and he pours me a much-needed glass of wine. I need to settle my nerves. Then he starts working on dinner.

“You really know your way around the kitchen. It’s very impressive,” I comment as I observe him move around his kitchen. I get to steal glances at his great ass in his faded blue jeans.

“Why, thank you. I’ve enjoyed cooking since I was in high school. I would help my mom around the kitchen,” he says, pulling all the trimmings for the making of a salad out of the refrigerator.

“How sweet. Do you have any brothers or sisters?” I ask.

“I’ve got one little sister. How about you?”

“I have two older brothers. I’m the baby,” I reply.

“Are you close to them?” he asks.

“Not really. They gave me a hard time growing up. They picked on me.”

“Really? That’s not very nice. If you were my little sister, all I would want to do is protect you and look out for you,” Chandler says sweetly.

“Yeah, well, not my brothers. Now, they’re just plain jealous of my success rather than being happy for me. What can you do? Family. You can’t choose your family,” I say wistfully.

After dinner, we make it onto the sofa in his living room to relax. He leans over and starts kissing me. He’s one hell of a kisser, let me tell you.

It’s getting pretty hot and heavy, and his kisses leave me deeply aroused.

“Look, Chandler, I would love to fall into bed with you, but I won’t.”

He says nothing, just runs his fingers lightly through my hair, his eyes questioning.

“I won’t be another notch in your bedpost.”

“In case you didn’t notice, I don’t have bedposts,” he replies with a wicked gleam in his eye.

“You know what I mean.”

“Do you know how gorgeous you are? Stunning in fact. From the moment we first met, I was captivated by your grace and beauty.”

I just look into those eyes of his. What a sweet talker he is, a real charmer.

“I need to get going.”

“Must you?” he says before skimming my lips with his.

“Yes,” I breathe.

“Yes, what?” he says, tantalizing me—and he knows it.

I place my hands on his thighs, and my eyes cast down and see his manhood straining against the zipper of his jeans.

“Look, Chandler, I really need to go. Thanks for the scrumptious dinner. It was delicious.” I can see the rise and fall of his chest. He’s hot for me. I know that much. I start to stand. I really need to get the hell out of here before I do something I’ll regret later.

He won’t get up off the sofa, but I get up to go in search of my purse. He finally stands and follows me as I head for the front door, where he stops me.

“I will have you, Nikki,” he says, and I melt inside. I reach for the doorknob and open the door before he weakens my resolve. He follows me out to my car, and then he presses me against the driver’s side door.

“Feel what you do to me, Nikki,” he taunts as he presses his steely shaft against my belly. Whoa. It’s hard, and it feels massive through his jeans! I should be running scared.

“Chandler, please,” I whisper.

“Please stay,” he whispers into my ear, then he dips down to kiss me lightly on my neck.

“I need to get going. Goodnight,” I reply.

God, how I want this man, more than I’ve wanted a man in a long, long time.

He’s going to be trouble. I can tell.

“When can I see you again?” he asks urgently.

“Chandler, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“Just take my word for it.”

“Look, Nikki, I know you want me.”

“Yeah, the only problem is, so does every other hot-blooded female.”

“What does that have to do with us? I want you, and I WILL have you,” Chandler promises.

“Goodnight,” I reply with a quick kiss on his lips. I duck into my car, leaving him standing there as I back out of his driveway, making a quick getaway.

But something tells me he isn’t going to be giving up that easily, and I secretly hope he doesn’t.

*****

I try to throw myself into work the next day. I desperately need a distraction from my lustful thoughts of Chandler last night. How I managed to show self-restraint is beyond me, but I’m thankful I did.

Why do I feel like I could really fall for this guy? He’s totally different from the guys I normally go out with, which, Kelsey was quick to point out, hasn’t been working out too well for me. We’ve only been out twice.
Get a grip, girl
.

“These just came for you,” Kelsey says, walking in with the most beautiful floral arrangement.

“They’re lovely,” I gush. I haven’t received flowers in forever.

“Open the card. Who are they from?” she asks.

I reach for the card buried amongst the blooms.

I will have you.

“Who are they from?” Kelsey asks again, grabbing the card out of my hand before I can wrestle the card away from her.

“Oh my God, that’s so hot,” Kelsey squeals. “Are these from Mr. Hottie himself? Damn, Nikki, you’re one lucky girl.”

Kelsey’s so cute. She starts fanning herself with the card, and I can’t help smiling at her.

“So you haven’t slept with him yet?”

“No, of course not. We’ve only been out twice.”

“Well, you will be soon, mark my words—and his, for that matter.” Kelsey giggles.

“No!”

“Why not? How can you possibly resist that kind of temptation? I sure as hell couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I told you before. Indulge, girl. You’re single. Then, please tell me all about it so I can live vicariously through you.” She roars in laughter.

“Kelsey, you are a bad influence. Here lies my problem: I like him.”

“How is that a problem?”

“This guy is trouble—trouble for my heart. I don’t want to put it out there again.”

“Throw caution to the wind and live, will you? You’re always so cautious with men, and look where it has gotten you. You’re gorgeous, successful and single.”

“Thanks, Kelsey, but I just can’t do it. I refuse to be another notch in his bedpost or his flavor of the month. I’m so done with those types of men.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe he really likes you?”

“Doubt it. It’s a conquest thing.”

My phone starts ringing, and I walk over to my desk to answer it.

“Hey, gorgeous. Did you receive my flowers?”

It’s Chandler’s sexy voice on the other end of the line, and I melt ever so slightly.

“Yes, I did. Thank you. They’re lovely. That was a pretty bold comment you made in the card. Sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Can I see you tonight?” he asks.

“Kelsey read the card.”

“Oh, sorry about that. How about tonight?”

“No.”

“I won’t wait long, Nikki. You might as well say yes now, or else I’m going to show up at your office and distract you from your ever-important makeup empire,” he presses.

I cradle the phone to my ear as I gaze out my office window at the city skyline in the distance.

“Hello, Nikki?”

“Yes, I’m still here.”

“How about this weekend then?”

There is a long pause before I agree.

“All right, Saturday then.”

“I’ll come and pick you up. What’s your address?”

“No, I will meet you somewhere.”

“Nikki, don’t test me.”

I acquiesce against my better judgment and tell him my address. Now I’ll have to clean up my place—another thing to add to my long to-do list.

“See you Saturday,” I can hear his smile over the phone, and I can’t help smiling back.

“Till Saturday.” And we hang up.

Maybe I should think about taking Kelsey’s advice.

Live a little, Nikki
.