Tender Kisses (12 page)

“I see you're still here.”

She spun around in her chair and glowered at Brandon in her doorway. “What do you want, Brandon?”

“It's after seven.”

“And? First you tell me I'm staying too late, and then you all but tell me I'm not doing my job. Which one is it?” she asked with annoyance.

His lips settled into a grim line. “That's not what I said, Siobhan.”

She jumped from her chair, rounded the desk and pointed a finger at him. “
Yes
, you did. You made it sound like I let Dad down.”

Brandon let out an exasperated sigh. “What are you talking about?” They were both yelling now.

“Oh, come on, Brandon. Cut the crap. You know what you said.
Somebody's trying to ruin the company, and you're off doing who knows what
,” she mimicked.

“Vonnie, that's not what I meant.”

“Then why did you say it?” Angry tears stung her eyes.

He ran a hand over his head. “I was upset, worried... I don't know. But I never said you let Dad down, and I don't know why you would think something like that,” he added softly.

She swiped at a tear that escaped.

“I'm sorry.” He groaned. “Please don't cry.”

“I'm not crying. I'm mad.”

“I know. You can hit me.” He tapped his chest. “Go ahead.”

Siobhan seriously considered taking him up on the offer. Growing up, when one of the boys did something to upset their sisters, they let the girls hit them once in the chest to even the score. But they weren't kids anymore. “Go home,” she mumbled and went back to her chair.

“Not until you leave. I know I'm the last person you want to see, but I'm not leaving you here alone.”

Not having the strength to argue, Siobhan packed up and went home. After having leftover chicken from Sunday's dinner, she trudged down the hall to her room and flopped down on the bed. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied the weekend bag she had never unpacked, which reminded her that she needed to wash at least one load of clothes. Standing again, she placed the bag on her bed and emptied the dirty garments.

At the bottom lay the bag holding her two T-shirts from the Michael Jackson show, and with it all the memories of that magical weekend. Emotions that she worked hard to keep at bay struggled to rise to the surface, and she pushed them down. Reaching for her cell, she sent Justin a short message. She couldn't handle these feelings right now and didn't know if she would ever be ready for them.

* * *

The remainder of Justin's day went downhill. He spent the next several hours rewriting some codes and adjusting the sensors, but made two mistakes and had to start over. Siobhan had finally sent him a text that read:
We should slow things down
. No explanation, no nothing, and she wouldn't answer his phone call, which added to his frustration. He racked his brain trying to come up with a reason. Had he said or done something? She said she had enjoyed the weekend, so when had things changed?

It was close to eleven o'clock when he finally went to bed. He fell across the bed fully clothed and dropped into a restless sleep. Two hours later, he woke up hard and reaching for Siobhan. Rolling onto his back, Justin let out a loud groan. Why couldn't he stop thinking about her long enough to sleep?
Probably because I don't know what I've done wrong.
For the second night in a row, she invaded his peace of mind. He couldn't have another night like this one, not if he expected to get any work done.

Tomorrow he was going over to her house, even if it meant waiting all night.

Chapter 12

“H
ave you found out any other information about the lawsuit?” Siobhan asked Morgan as they ate a late lunch on Tuesday.

“Nothing more than what was disclosed in the meeting. We're still waiting on the reports.”

“How do you feel about Dad asking you to take the lead?”

Morgan tossed her fork down and blew out a long breath. “I really don't want to do it. You know I don't have any intentions of making this my career.”

“I know, but it'll give you some good experience for when you get your first sports client.”

“I hope it happens sometime in this century. Unless it's a woman's sport, most athletes won't even look my way, like I don't know as much or
more
than they do about football.”

Siobhan chuckled. “Hang in there. You'll get your chance. Do you have your dance class tonight?” Morgan taught tap, jazz and hip-hop at her friend's studio.

“No class tonight, but Brooke and I are meeting to start the choreography for the summer show. It's going to be so good. We're thinking about highlighting the talents of one musical giant, but haven't decided who yet.”

“What about Michael Jackson?” Siobhan asked nonchalantly.

Morgan sat straight up. “Ooh, he's
perfect
. And why are you smiling like that?”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. And you never said who you were with over the weekend.”

“Justin showed up at my house Saturday morning and said he was there to kidnap me.”

“Sounds like my kind of man. Where did you go?”

“We had breakfast, went over to the Santa Monica Pier for a while and ended up in Vegas.”

Morgan's mouth dropped.
“Vegas?”

“Yes.” She told her sister how she had mentioned wanting to go back in one of her and Justin's conversations, and in another one talking about her love of Michael Jackson.

“So, based off what you'd told him in some random conversations, he remembered, drove you to Vegas—”

“
And
took me to see the Michael Jackson Cirque du Soleil show. It was phenomenal.”

“That smile says the show wasn't the only phenomenal thing. Is he good in bed?”

“Morgan!” Siobhan's head whipped around to see if someone at a nearby table had overheard.

“Well, is he?”

She nodded.

“Girl, you'd better hold on to a man like that.”

Siobhan's smile faded.

“Come on, Vonnie. I know you're not still tripping over Arthur. And we all know you still blame yourself for his lies.”

“That's not true. And I'm over Arthur. Besides, it's not like that with Justin and me.”

“If it isn't true, then there should be no reason why you and Justin can't have a great relationship. No man is going to go all out like that for some fly-by-night hookup.”

“How do you know? Men do all sorts of things to get what they want. That's why I gave him Mom's maiden name as my last name.”

Morgan shook her head. “You what? That's just wrong.”

“Anyway, we're supposed to be talking about your show.”

Morgan just smiled and continued to eat.

Back in her office, Siobhan had difficulty concentrating on writing a press release. Morgan's words rang in Siobhan's ears, and thoughts of the past came rushing back. That mess with Arthur was her fault. She shouldn't have been so gullible and put his name on her accounts. Granted, he had added her name to his, as well, but she found out he had opened the account one day before he took her over and not four years prior, as he'd said.

And Malcolm... If Siobhan had stayed home, Malcolm might not have fallen off his bike because she always watched her younger siblings when they played outside. Her parents didn't say anything when they arrived, but Siobhan knew what they were thinking. She was the oldest, the one they'd left in charge, and it was her responsibility to protect her siblings.

She had spent the past sixteen years ensuring her parents never had a reason to fault her for anything else. Her work ethic was impeccable, and aside from her farce of a relationship, she'd done well. Now there was Justin. Everything about the way he behaved with her revealed that what he wanted went far beyond the occasional liaison they'd agreed upon at the beginning. And for a moment, she let herself fantasize about what being with him long-term might be like.

Shaking herself mentally, she refocused her attention on the blank computer screen. What typically took her less than half an hour to complete stretched to three times longer. Siobhan had planned to stay late today, but with her mind wandering, she realized it would be a waste of time and energy. She shut down her computer and placed the flash drive in her tote, in case she felt like doing some work tonight. Minutes later, she sat behind the wheel of her car listening to one of the smooth R & B stations on satellite radio.

Her heart went into overdrive when she spotted a figure sitting on her porch as she approached her house. “What the...?” She trailed off when she got closer and recognized it was Justin. What was he doing here? Siobhan assumed, since he hadn't responded to her text, that he agreed that they should back off. She parked in the driveway and got out.

Justin stood, met her halfway and eased the tote from her arm. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He followed her up the two steps and into the house. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to apologize.”

She stopped walking and turned back, her brows knit in confusion. “For?”

He shrugged. “For whatever. I don't know what happened between Sunday and when you sent me that text, but I'm sorry.”

Siobhan wanted to stomp her foot. Why was he always so...so...
nice
? She pointed to a chair. “You can set that bag down.”

“Did I do or say anything, Siobhan?”

“There was an emergency at my job, and I didn't get the message—”

“Because I convinced you to turn your cell off.” He ran an agitated hand over his head, paced briefly and then took her hands. “I am so sorry, Siobhan. I just wanted you to have a few minutes of downtime because you work so hard. I never intended to cause you any trouble with your job.”

He seemed so miserable that Siobhan felt bad for not calling him. “It's not your fault, Justin.”

“Yes, it is. If I hadn't insisted...” He shook his head.

“It's fine, Justin, really. You didn't cause me any problems. Everything has been handled.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” She smiled to put him at ease.

“So, what was that text about? I thought we were getting along fine. Are you having regrets about last weekend?” He stroked a finger down her cheek. “Because I don't have one regret.”

“No, but...”

“But what?”

“I'm not sure where this is leading or what it means.”

“Sweetheart, it's leading anywhere we want it to go.”

“I thought you just wanted to have a good time with no attachments.”

“I know I said that in the beginning, and at the time, I meant it. But I'm not so sure that's all I want anymore.”

What if she couldn't give him more? She tried to ignore the anxiety weighing on her chest thinking about the negative possibilities. “I don't know, Justin.”

His eyes softened in empathy. “He hurt you badly, didn't he? It's okay—you don't have to answer that.”

How did he know? Going through that pain topped her list of why committed relationships were bad news, and it was why she always held back a part of herself. But her feelings for Justin had taken on a life of their own and scared her to death.

Justin tilted her chin and locked his gaze on hers. “Understand this—we can go as slow as you need, but I like you, Siobhan Hunter, and I believe there's something growing that neither of us anticipated.”

Siobhan felt a twinge of guilt at the mention of her name. “Slow is good.”

“Whatever you need.” He kissed her. This one was soft and promising. He wrapped his strong arms around her, pulled her closer to the fit of his body and changed the intensity of the kiss. His tongue thrust in and out over and over again in an explosion of passion that staggered her.

She melted into him and felt the pulse of his erection pressed firmly against her. They were losing control. The kiss gentled and ended with nibbles on her bottom lip and neck.

“Sorry. We're supposed to be going slow,” he husked out, transferring his kisses to the shell of her ear. At length, he lifted his head. “Do you want to get some dinner?”

“I took out a couple of chicken breasts to thaw this morning. You're welcome to stay.”

“I'd like that.”

“Let me change out of these clothes, and I'll be right back.” He smiled, and that dark, penetrating gaze fixed on hers. Siobhan's heart rate quickened. She was falling, and fast.

* * *

Justin sat in one of the armchairs while waiting for Siobhan and cursed under his breath. His impulsivity could have cost Siobhan her job. Although she said everything worked out, it still bothered him just the same. She had every right to be angry with him, and he wouldn't have blamed her if she had tossed him out on his butt. Had he been out of the corporate workforce so long that he'd forgotten what it was like to be ruled by a time clock? He would be more careful in the future because meeting her brought a spark back to his life that he'd lost, and he didn't intend to lose it again.

“Okay. Let me see what I can come up with for this chicken.”

He stood at the sound of Siobhan's voice behind him and trailed her to the kitchen. “What were you planning to do with it?”

She shrugged. “Grill, broil, sauté—I have no idea.”

Justin laughed. “Sounds like me most days.”

“What do you think?”

“Do you have some chili powder and cumin?”

Siobhan walked over and opened a cabinet. “Yep.”

“What about bell peppers and onions?”

She moved to the refrigerator and checked. “I have two onions. Will red and yellow peppers do?”

“They will. If you have a grill pan, we can make fajitas.”

“Yum. I haven't had fajitas in a while.” She retrieved a cutting board and grill and sauté pans. “Since this was your bright idea, I'll let you season and cook the chicken, and I'll take care of the onion and peppers.” She snapped her fingers and went back to the refrigerator. “Oh, wait. I know I have some,” he heard her mumble. She held up a package. “Tortillas. Can't have fajitas without them.”

They worked in companionable silence until Siobhan turned on the music. “Jazz, huh?”

“Sometimes after a long day, I need to hear something soothing, and contemporary jazz always relaxes me. Two of my favorites are Boney James and Brian Culbertson, as you can hear.” She had selected a playlist featuring both artists.

Justin filed that information away in his brain for future use. Twenty minutes later, they sat down for dinner. She bowed her head and recited a short blessing, and he followed suit.

“Oh, my goodness. This is
so
good. You have to give me the spice rub recipe you used. The next time my siblings and I get together, I'm cooking this.” She held up her fajita.

“I'll write it down for you before I leave.”

“I might have to sample some of your other dishes.”

Unknowingly, she had just given him the opening he'd been looking for. “Actually, I wanted to invite you over to my house on Saturday for dinner. If the weather holds, I can fire up the grill and we can eat outside on my deck. And you can bring your phone,” he added quickly.

She chuckled. “Thanks. I'd like that.”

They fell quiet for a while, and then Justin said, “Can I ask you a question?”

Siobhan hesitated briefly. “Okay.”

“Why do you work so hard and such long hours? I mean, I know companies often demand a lot of time, but you seem to go far above the call of duty. Is someone hassling you and you're working because you think you need to prove something?”

She took a sip of the lemonade she'd made before answering. “Is that what you think?”

He nodded. “You remind me a lot of how I used to be. I put so much pressure on myself to do well because one, I didn't want to be a failure, and two, I wanted to make my parents proud.”

“I forgot you're the oldest, so you know how it is.” She ran her finger around the rim of her glass and spoke in a faraway voice. “My parents left us at home one afternoon when I was seventeen. They were meeting friends for lunch. Usually, I was the one they put in charge, but on this day, my two best friends asked me to go to the movies. I went. And I came home two hours later to flashing red lights and my baby brother unconscious and bleeding. He had fallen off his bike—always the daredevil,” she said with a sad smile. She took a deep breath. “Anyway, he ended up with a concussion and had to get twelve stitches for a gash near his temple. If I had just stayed home... I let my parents and my brothers and sister down.”

His heart broke for her, and he grasped her hand. “Baby, you can't possibly believe any of that was your fault. It was an
accident
.” Justin left his chair and hunkered next to her. “All this time you've been trying to make up for something that you couldn't have prevented. That's a heavy burden for one person to carry. Take it from someone who knows. During a couple of my teen years, I stayed in trouble, but seeing what it did to my parents made me do a total one-eighty. Only this time, I worked myself into the ground trying to prove to them that I had changed.

“Three weeks of constant headaches sent me to the doctor. My blood pressure was so high, the doctor said she was surprised I hadn't had a stroke. At twenty-four years old, I was this close—” he put his thumb and index finger together “—to potentially dying. Sweetheart, you have got to let this go, or it will eat you alive.”