No Weddings (16 page)

A loveseat faced the only TV in the house, a 32-inch. So did a queen-sized bed. With the focus of Hercules, I gave the bed only a brief, uninterested glance. But I was very interested.

Her entire home was decorated in white or ivory with splashes of bright colors in accent pillows, a vase or treasure here and there, and one blooming orchid in practically every window. The space was cozy, and it fit her perfectly.

And although I had free reign to search every square inch of hidden real estate, per our tongue-in-cheek agreement, I passed. The adventure would be finding out what lay beneath all the layers of Hannah
with
her. I didn’t want to tarnish the impression with superficial clues.

Her bedside clock displayed the time to be just after 6:00 p.m., perfect for the surprise in the bag.

We stood beside the bay window in her bedroom, gazing out into the night through the large center pane, which had a ledge beneath it with a cushion. Through a cracked-open side window, an owl hooted.

“Ready to see what’s in the bag?”

She let out a soft giggle. “No.”

Surprised, I looked down at her. “You’ve been wanting to all night. Now you don’t?”

Amusement lit her eyes and the side of her face was illuminated by the light in her hall. “Now that I can, I’m not sure. I’m kind of scared.”

I laughed. “Wait here. It won’t be bad. Well, at least not ‘scary’ bad.”

Her brow wrinkled.

I winked.

As I returned to her bedroom, I made great fanfare of crinkling the brown wrapper by rippling my fingers over both sides.

She crossed her arms. “I’ll decide for myself whether it’s ‘scary’ bad.”

“Now, this is not for pleasure. It is strictly for business. Keep that in mind before passing judgment. We have—” I reached into the bag and pulled out its contents “—
The Secret of My Success
or
Chocolat
.”

A broad smile lit up her face, and she clapped her hands together. “Movies?”

Happy she was delighted, I forced my expression back to a serious one. “Studying. Have you seen either?”

She shook her head, closing the distance between us and taking both DVDs from me. I snatched them back when she flipped them over and started to read about one of them.

“Nope. No reading. Watching.” Waving the cases at her, I shooed her toward the remotes until she scrunched her adorable face and obeyed. “I had limited options at home. We can delve into other titles, but both of these classics are studies in hope, perseverance, and creativity in business. One is a fun
very-eighties
romp in the corporate world. The other’s an artsy story of a woman and her small business, and how she wins over the town on her terms.”

“Can we watch both?” She raised her brows, clasping her hands together.

With her hopeful expression, it took great effort to remain serious. “It goes over our agreed-upon two hours to watch both.”

She scowled, snatching both cases with lightning speed. “It’s my house. You are my guest, but I get to make the rules. And we are watching both.”

In a blur of dark brown hair and sexy green sweater, she turned and leaned down before her electronics, pushing buttons. And damn, how that woman inadvertently pushed mine. Suddenly, it was all about the jeans from my perspective—that denim may have been painted on her tight ass and hips, but with her bent over before me, it melted away, my mind guttering.

At the aching twitch in my jeans, I forced myself to turn away and stand closer to the coolness of an open window. It was no cold shower, but it would have to do for now.

Not five seconds later, and way too soon to calm my raging blood, she called out, “Ready?”

I turned to find her sitting in the middle of that pillow-filled bed. In the past, I had always hated the idea of putting a ton of throw pillows on a bed. Why? So you had to remove a million pillows to sleep in it, only to toss them all back on during daylight hours?

Kiki called it fashion. I’d only ever seen it as a waste of time.

Now? I was so damn thankful for pillows. Because sitting on top of the bed, amid all of her colorful pillows—some with lace, others tubular with tassels on either end—Hannah was happy. And when she patted the space beside her with all the confidence in the world of her safety, I was ecstatic.

Not needing to be asked twice, I kicked my shoes off and joined her on the bed.

Our thighs touched through our jeans, warmth radiating between us. I raised an arm above her and propped an elbow on the mass of pillows before wrapping my hand around her shoulder. Uncertain how she’d take the bold move, I waited, breathing deeply as the intro to
Chocolat
flared to life on the screen. Her only response was to press closer against my body.

I smiled. “Good choice for our first. This one is closer to your situation: a small shop. She uses creative displays and innovative marketing to entice customers. The story is a little quirky, but that’s what makes the movie different.”

She shifted, glancing up at me. “Are you planning to give commentary throughout the entire movie?”

“Would you like me to?”

Settling back down against me as the narrator began telling the ancient legend behind the story, Hannah replied with a softness to her voice. “Yeah, it’s nice. You’re like my business and movie tour guide.”

I scooted lower, getting more comfortable. “I like being your tour guide.”

Almost halfway into the movie, Hannah squealed. “Johnny Depp!”

I laughed. “You got a thing for Johnny Depp?”

“Nooo…” She elbowed me in the ribs for my infraction.

Another twenty minutes later, she pushed away from me and grabbed the remote, pausing the movie. “This is so wrong. We need popcorn.”

When she disappeared without a backward glance, I followed her into the kitchen, slowly drawing out my words. “I don’t knowww…popcorn implies a more casual atmosphere. Almost date-like.”

Her eyes narrowed for a split second as she pulled out a large pan with two hands. “This is not even close to a date. What would you suggest instead, a notepad and pen?”

I leaned a hip on the far counter, watching her light the stove and drop a large tablespoon of solidified coconut oil into the pan. “Would you be wearing those sexy librarian glasses?”

She raised her brows. “You think my glasses are sexy?”

Leaning up on her tiptoes, she reached for and pulled down a glass container full of popcorn kernels from a cabinet beside the stove. A few hundred kernels pinged into the pan before she replaced the lid. With both hands, she lifted the pan a few inches above the gas burner and gave it a good shake before resting it back down.

The response to her question demanded her full attention, so I waited. She turned, leaning back on her counter edge. We faced each other, her island between us. The few feet may as well have been inches with the way the air was charged between us.

I gave her a heated stare.

Her breath caught, her chest expanding.

Which caused my cock to twitch. I began to feel like one of Pavlov’s dogs.

“
You
are sexy.” I held her gaze captive. “Therefore, anything you wear becomes sexy.”

She smirked. The power she knew she had over me emboldened her. “Even my apron?”

I inhaled, remembering that ruffled apron, her thin T-shirt and short shorts hiding underneath. “Sexy as fuck.”

A kernel popped.

She swallowed. “‘As fuck?’”

I nodded. “Doesn’t get any sexier than that.”

A slight tilt of her head, and Hannah began to play. “What if I wore a potato sack?”

I snorted. “Do you own a potato sack?”

She crossed her arms, shaking her head.

My eyes were drawn down to that tempting cleavage. I took my sweet time dropping my gaze down her body, imagining her in a potato sack.

Pops sounded out. One after another. Faster and faster, like my pulse going out of control. Hannah began shallow breathing under the intensity of my stare.

“I would love to see you in a potato sack. Just like I’d love to see you in lingerie. To me, they’re both the same.”

She laughed, then turned quickly, grabbing the heavy pan with both hands and giving it another hard shake. When she turned around again, she resumed her stance in the same place, back to the counter.

This was another dance—a different location, a more enticing rhythm, but a dance all the same. Two partners circled each other, deciding how long to draw out the beginning steps before pulling each other even closer.

“How can they both be the same? You’d find me equally sexy in either?”

A deep inhale was the only thing I could do to clear my mind, keep me sane. That, and the white-knuckled grip I had on the edge of her counter, holding me immobile, keeping me from launching at her and
showing
her just how sexy I found her.

I tilted my face down, holding her gaze beneath my lowered brows. “Hannah, you have no idea. Whatever you think you do to me, magnify it. I don’t see you
in
anything. I just see you. And if you’re ever brave enough to wear a potato sack for me, wear nothing else underneath.”

The popping slowed. Her attention was needed at the stove at that critical point.

She didn’t move. “Why?”

“Because I’ll shred it and have you naked in three seconds flat. Might as well save the lingerie.”

Her eyes widened.

At the first scent of smoke, she gasped and flew to the stove, grabbing the pan off the flame and turning the knob off. “Damn.”

“Wait.” I rushed to her side. “Grab some bowls. All the stuff on top is still good.”

And just like that, we let all the sexual tension fade away into a teamwork project of sifting out good popcorn from the burnt. We managed to salvage over half of it. She liberally salted the contents of the large glass bowl.

By the time Michael J. Fox began instructing Hannah on the finer points of business with boardroom-to-bedroom antics, she had grown quiet. The popcorn had been demolished long ago, and she’d nestled deeper into my side, her cheek resting on my chest, one of her socked feet thrown over my shin.

Were it not for her occasional questions, I’d have thought she’d fallen asleep. As the onscreen company-retreat deceptions escalated, Hannah shivered. Without disturbing her, I reached over to the arm of the loveseat and lifted the blanket.

After shifting it to my other arm, I swept it over her body. She pulled the edge over as far as it would go, covering part of me too.

“This music is great.” She yawned.

“Classic eighties soundtrack. I would’ve brought
Pretty Woman
, except for there was no lesson to be learned there. You’re no hooker.”

She snorted, her body shaking against my side. “Gee, thanks.”

Her intoxicating scent drifted up again, barely noticeable. I dropped my nose into the hair above her ear, inhaling. “What is that fragrance you wear?”

“I don’t wear perfume. My shampoo? Maybe my body wash. It’s coconut mango, I think.”

“Well, I like it.” I could bury myself in that scent. Intended to, actually. Which reminded me of our unfinished business—or pleasure, to be more accurate. “So, about that date.”

She turned her face into my chest further, but didn’t look up. It was like she didn’t want to break the spell we had going, and I didn’t want her to.

“What about it?”

Snuggled together on her bed, under her blanket, in her house, we’d crossed the line. We hadn’t had sex, hadn’t even kissed, but the line had definitely been crossed. DVDs that were “business lessons” were really more than that, and Hannah and I both knew it.

Kristen and the girls would flay me alive if they knew what was happening, but they weren’t here. It went against every tenet I’d created in my business dealings, because mixing emotions into the business world created the risk of volatility; the situation alone clouded judgment.

I didn’t give a shit about any of that, though. Businesses were built, and they fell. And from the rubble of one failed business, another would rise. My business code of conduct had been amended as of tonight with a bolded, underlined exception for Hannah. Because women like Hannah didn’t come along every day.

“How’s next Friday night?”

She pushed away, propping herself on an elbow, looking at me with a furrowed brow. “Why not this Friday night?”

“Because this Saturday night is the benefit dinner at the country club, and I don’t want you distracted.”

She grinned. “What makes you think
I’d
be the one distracted?”

T
onight was the first event Invitation Only held at a stodgy country club—
our
stodgy country club. Actually, the old-money set was trying to form a revitalized image, and embracing a brand-new event company started by the children of two of its most respected and generous members was their valiant attempt.

We didn’t want to let them down.

For weeks, we’d been arguing over how far we could push tradition. I wanted to buck convention entirely, and free-spirited Kiki had been right there by my side. Kristen and Kendall, however, vehemently opposed our radical, trial-by-fire approach and insisted on going strictly conventional with just a touch of edgy.