Mistletoe Maneuvers (10 page)

“I haven't strung anyone along. I told them exactly what the circumstances were.”

She could see him hesitate.

“Let me show you what I've done. Give me a chance.”

Before Rick could respond, the door flew open. The director of marketing entered arm in arm with the director of finance. When they saw Lessa and Rick standing in front of them, their jaws dropped in surprise. They moved away from each other. “We were just, um, looking for…some more napkins,” the director of finance said quickly.

“So were we,” Lessa said. “None in here.” Rick followed her out.

“We can't talk here.”

“Tomorrow morning. We'll discuss everything before I contact the buyer.”

“Tomorrow morning won't work,” Rick said. “I have a meeting that I can't change.”

“Please, Rick, give me a chance. Let me prove to you that this will work.”

He hesitated, looking at her sternly. She could almost see the inner machinations of his mind. “Then we'll do it now. Get your coat,” he said. “I'll meet you downstairs.”

Lessa found Fran on the second floor. “I have to go.”

“You're going? You can't go! We haven't done the toast.”

“You're going to have to take care of it. Rick and I need to discuss Antigua.”

“You're
both
leaving?” she asked, her eyes widening.

“Yes, but—” But what? She couldn't very well deny an affair. So instead she shrugged her shoulders. “Thank you for taking care of things.”

“Sure,” Fran said, obviously stunned that the CEO and the chairman of the board would be leaving so soon and so together. “Have fun.”

Fun, she felt like saying, was the last thing she would be having. She had never seen Rick so angry—not even when she'd fired him.

“All right,” he said as they walked to the car. “Where to? Your place?”

Her place was not a good idea. She could just imagine trying to work with her aunt sitting at the table with them, making snide comments about Rick. “Your place,” she said without hesitation.

Without saying a word, Rick turned the car toward his apartment.

 

Even though Lessa was the one who'd suggested that they go back to his apartment, Rick couldn't help but feel that this was a bad idea. It might have been okay if she weren't wearing a skintight red velvet dress that left little to the imagination.

But where else could they go? he asked himself defensively. Besides a restaurant, a coffee shop or any of the other million places that were available in New York City.

“How long have you lived here?” Lessa asked as they stepped inside the elevator in Rick's building.

He thought for a moment. “Five years.”

Anger. He had to hold on to his anger. How could she presume to sell his property without even conferring with him first?

The doors opened directly into his apartment and they stepped out. He turned on the light. He took her coat, trying hard not to notice the curves beneath her dress. He hung up her coat as she walked over to the window and admired the view. She turned back to face him and asked, “Are you putting up a Christmas tree?”

“No. I never do. As I told you, I'm usually gone for Christmas.”

“But you'll be in town this year,” she said.

He would not allow himself to indulge in another personal conversation. It was too dangerous with them alone in his apartment. “Let's get to work, shall we?” he asked gruffly, nodding toward the table. She sat down beside him and began to talk.

An hour later, she looked at him and said, “Well? What do you think?”

He sat back, impressed. He had to admit that the proposal was not as farfetched as he'd initially thought. She had done her research. She understood the problem of the competing marketplace in Antigua as well as the potential and future worth of the property in Florida. “I'll take a look at this Florida property,” he said after thinking it over. “Set up an appointment.”

She smiled, obviously proud of her accomplishment. A lock of her hair fell over one eye and he had to stop himself from pushing it away. She may not have succeeded in convincing him entirely, but one thing was certain. He was not ready for her to go. He suddenly realized he was hungry. He hadn't eaten at the party and was fairly certain she hadn't either. “Are you hungry?”

“A little.”

“I have a housekeeper who keeps me stocked with some basics. Or we can order in.”

“Let's see what you've got,” she said with a smile. He led her into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. She bent down and looked inside.

“Anything good?”

“You're right,” she said. “Basics.” She handed him a package of eggs. She put a block of cheese on top and grabbed a loaf of bread.

“Omelets?” he asked.

“No. I'm going to make a soufflé.”

“A soufflé. Can you cook? I thought your aunt cooked for you.”

“I've picked up a few tips along the way,” she said with a smile.

An hour later, his apartment was filled with the warm, homey smell of fresh-baked biscuits and a fluffy soufflé.

When they sat down at the table, she waited for him to take a bite. “It's great,” he said, eliciting a smile from Lessa.

There was something about her smile, something about the tenderness in her eyes that tugged on his heart. He felt a sudden surge of protectiveness, a desire to take her in his arms and protect her from the world.

And suddenly he remembered how he had felt when he'd made Karen smile. He could still see her laughing at the beach, her blond hair flowing in the wind. He had loved her with all the passion and naïveté of youth. But would their love have survived? If Karen had not died that day, would she still be beside him?

It was something he was ashamed to admit that he questioned. But how could he not? He had seen friends marry the woman they claimed to be madly in love with then file for divorce several years later. But, he reminded himself, those were his friends. He knew himself well enough to realize that he would never make the same mistake. When he fell in love again, it would be forever.

“Rick?” she asked and smiled. “Where did you go? You look so deep in thought.”

“I'm sorry,” he said.
Focus.
She was a business associate. The line was drawn. There would be no reprieve. But he couldn't help but wish otherwise. He remembered the way she had felt in his arms, the way she had looked up into his eyes. He had felt something, a stirring in his soul that he hadn't felt for years. But it was ridiculous. He could not have her. Never. His very career depended on it. “I should get you home,” he said. “Your aunt will be worried.”

“I'm not a child, Rick. I don't have a curfew.”

What was that supposed to mean? “Just leave the dishes here,” he said, standing. “The maid will take care of it tomorrow.” He grabbed her coat and headed toward the elevator.

“Wait,” she said, touching his arm. “Did I say something to upset you?”

How could he explain that he needed to get her out of there before he did something he would regret?

She stood in front of him, looking at him with her big emerald eyes. And then that damned lock of hair fell into her face again. But this time he didn't hesitate. He gently brushed it out of her face. And then she kissed him.

“I'
m sorry,” Lessa said quickly, breaking away. What was she doing? What had possessed her to kiss him like that? “I don't know what got into me.”

But Rick did not look offended. There was electricity in the air as he gazed at her seductively. “Stay with me tonight,” he said finally. He stepped toward her, trailing his hand down the side of her neck. She held her breath, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the delicious sensation. He tilted her head slightly upward, as if to kiss her. She felt her resistance fade away. He kissed her again, rough and hard. It was as if every part of her were on fire. She was powerless to do anything but give herself to him.

He took his time, intimately exploring her mouth. His tongue tickled and probed, claiming ownership. She arched against him, craving more. She ran her fingers
up and down his back, feeling the strength of his muscles underneath his starched cotton shirt.

Her brain had long ago stopped working. Lawrence Enterprises seemed like a name from a distant past. All that mattered was what she was feeling right then and there.

She inhaled slightly as his hands slipped under her dress. His fingers made their way up her legs and sides, lightly touching her lacy bra. She arched her back, silently begging for more. Within a second, he had unhooked her bra and, with one hand, he began to finger the soft, plump flesh of her breasts while the other hand lifted her dress over her head. As her dress fell to the floor, he dropped to his knees in front of her, kissing the bare skin of her belly, working slowly, taking his time. He gently pushed her back onto the couch. As she sat against the smooth leather, he moved over her, working his way toward her breasts. He freed her breasts and took her nipple in his mouth, gently sucking and kissing. In one smooth maneuver, he removed her bra and leaned over her. In the light of the moon, she could see him stare at her, his eyes gazing up and down her body as if committing her to memory.

He reached his fingers inside the waistband of her panty hose, carefully taking them off. Still looking into her eyes, he slid his fingers in between her legs and underneath her panties. A ripple of excitement surged through her as she arched her hips. His touch was as light as a feather as he made his way toward her most sensitive point. The pressure slowly increased as he continued with his most intimate massage. She closed her eyes and her body began to surrender. “Let it go,” he whispered. “Let it go.”

When the release came, he silenced her cries with a kiss and cradled her in his arms, kissing her ear and brushing the hair, damp with perspiration, away from her forehead.

But if he thought that one orgasm was enough, he was wrong. It had done little to quench her desire for him. She was consumed with what it might feel like to have him inside her, to feel his naked body against hers. To have him make love to her.

“Your turn,” Lessa said, staring brazenly into his eyes.

She unbuttoned his shirt, kissing his chest as she went. As he shrugged off his shirt, she kissed his neck while running the flats of her hands over his bare chest and down toward his belly. Her fingers slid over the hardness inside his pants, then reached for the zipper. He grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

She had never been so certain in her life. “I want you to make love to me,” she said, looking deep into his eyes.

He paused, as if giving her another chance to change her mind. She gave a tug on his pants and he kicked them off.

Like a Greek god, his finely carved body stretched out beside her. Every muscle seemed taut, as if his whole body were tense with desire. She ran her finger over his lips, working her way down his chin and his chest. As she moved down his belly and toward his hard self, she could see him swallow, fighting for composure. She took him in her hands, wrapping her fingers around him.

“I want you inside me,” she said. “Now.”

Staring deep into her eyes, he pulled her down beside him and skillfully flipped her underneath him. She
opened her legs and he gently put himself inside her. He slowly began to move, thrusting deeper and deeper. She buried her hands in his thick hair as he kissed her, his lips hungry and demanding. It was unlike any sensation she had ever felt. Her body filled with a lush feeling of pleasure as she submitted her heart and soul to a primitive power.

Still pushing himself deep inside her, Rick stopped kissing her, hoisting himself up so that he could look directly into her eyes. It was even more intimate than a kiss. It was as if he could see directly into her soul. She fought off the climax that was threatening, desperate to maintain the luxurious tension between them. As if reading her eyes, Rick smiled slightly, and she could see his muscles tense. It was a dare to see who would lose control first. He gave a final thrust and together they relinquished control, releasing their bodies to pleasure.

 

When Lessa woke up, it was nearly two in the morning and she was naked on Rick's bed, locked in his embrace. She was filled with a feeling of bliss, a sense that all was right in the world. And then, just as quickly, the bliss did a one-eighty and turned into remorse. What had she done?

She had slept with Rick Parker. And not just once either. Twice.

He moved slightly in his sleep, his hand brushing against her bare breast. And just like that, the bliss was back. She was half tempted to reach under the covers and start everything all over again. But that would be a bad idea. If she didn't get home soon, her aunt would
start to worry. Of course, she thought optimistically, she could call her and tell her she was, um, detained.

But that was a really bad idea. Because soon it would be morning and she would be forced to endure the official “morning after,” complete with awkward conversation and embarrassing attempts to explain their behavior. Better to leave on a high note.

She slid out from underneath Rick's arm and scooted slowly out of bed. She grabbed her clothes and tiptoed quietly into the other room. She called a cab and dressed as quickly as she could. She arrived home and was thankful to discover her aunt sound asleep. She crawled into bed, her head spinning.

She had spent so much time hating Rick Parker. How could so much change so fast? As much as she was tempted to explain her behavior as an aberration, the truth of the matter was that she had known exactly what she was doing and to whom she was making love. And she hadn't cared one iota. It had been worth every single orgasm.

After a nap and a shower, she headed back toward the office, eager to return to the normalcy of work. It was only six o'clock, yet she felt certain that a long, hard day was just what she needed to snap her back to reality. But as she made her way through the office, occasionally passing a half-empty glass of champagne, she couldn't help but feel a little sad the evening was over. Although she knew she shouldn't, she couldn't help herself from wishing she could go back in time. That she could once again feel the strength of Rick's arms around her and the emotional power of their lovemaking.

She stopped. There, standing in her office, leaning up
against her desk as if waiting for her, was Rick. His normally slicked-back hair was tousled and he was unshaven, wearing jeans and a black turtleneck. He had, she thought, never looked so good.

“Good morning,” he said.

“What are you doing here so early?”

He paused for a moment and said, “I came looking for you.” He sighed. “I have a meeting and I wanted to talk to you before everyone else arrived.”

But she didn't want to hear any I-don't-know-what-got-into-me excuses. That was exactly the reason she had left so early.

“Look, Rick,” she said, raising her hand. “Let's not make a big deal about this. It happened. Let's just forget about it.”

She thought she saw him hesitate. That was what he was going to say, wasn't it? She felt like kicking herself. Why had she cut him off? Why couldn't she just let the man speak?

“Forget about it? Is that what you want?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said as confidently as she could, flashing him her best all-business smile as she sat behind her desk. “I thought I'd try and set up a look-through at Mara del Ray later today,” she said, referring to the Florida property she had told him about. “I figure including air time, it would take us about eight hours.”

“I don't think so.”

“Rick, if you're worried about what happened last night, you don't need to be. It was just one of those things, a one-night stand, so to speak. We got it out of our systems and now we can move on.” She tried to sound as casual as she could.

“It's not that,” he said.

Well then, what was it? Was he still mad at her about Antigua? “I thought we worked out our difficulties last night. You said you were willing to look at the property and we have to do it today. I don't want to risk losing the buyers for Antigua.”

“Look, Lessa. I have…another commitment this afternoon. A personal commitment. I can't make it.”

Her heart fell.
Another commitment.
“What's her name?” she asked quietly.

He glanced toward her. “Her name?”

Normally she wasn't a masochist but, in this case, she couldn't seem to help herself.

He shook his head. “I don't have a date,” he said. “Believe me, if that was the case, I'd cancel it. I have a family obligation.”

She felt a sense of relief wash over her.
His family.

He smiled and said, “My sister's getting married.”

“On a Wednesday?”

“She wanted a Christmas wedding and it was the only time she could get the reception hall she wanted. It's a…well, a last-minute affair.” He hesitated a moment and said, “Maybe you should come.”

“What?” He wanted to introduce her to his family?

“Makes sense. The wedding's in White Plains at two o'clock. There's an airport in Westchester. After it, we'll leave directly for Florida. We should get there before sundown.”

“I'd love to, but—” She hesitated. “Do you think it's a good idea? How's your sister going to feel about you bringing a co-worker to her wedding?”

“She knew she ran a risk having her wedding in the
middle of a work week. She'll just be happy that I'm there.”

She saw herself surrounded by his devoted and loving family, all asking the same questions: Who are you and what are you doing with Rick?

“It's business,” he said, summing it all up.

He made it sound so simple, as if meeting his family would be the most inconsequential event of the year.