That First Kiss (20 page)

             
He’d broken his cardinal rule that night.

             
He’d fucked up.

             
It didn’t matter that they had laughed and teased one another, because as fun as that might have been, they just didn’t get along. Their personalities clashed completely. He was rough around the edges, demanding and he liked his personal space. Piper was laid back, professional, and conservative. It didn’t take much to hurt her feelings, and that happened more than he liked to admit. It wasn’t as if he awoke each morning intending on snapping at her, but that was just how they operated around one another. It was just another reminder that he needed to take it back a notch and sever whatever this thing was that was happening between them. It couldn’t go on. Sexual chemistry be damned, it didn’t take the place of love and it was not something he was in the market for.

             
“How’s it coming along?” Tate looked up to find Mr. Bradshaw’s imposing figure standing there, his cool, calculating gaze fixated on him. Tate rose and offered his hand.

             
“Can’t complain. Just taking care of a few last-minute details before I head up to bed. How are you, Jonathon?” he asked amicably.

             
The head honcho of Bookish Temptations and the reason for them all to be here, held Tate in his assessing gaze. He’d made great strides throughout his employment to keep a distance between him and this man, because immediately after one life-changing moment in time, he’d been placed under a microscope. To say that the man didn’t like him was a massive understatement, though Tate could hardly blame him. He had, after all, been engaged to his sister.

             
The bad blood between them ran deep, so Tate did his best to stay out of his way. He chose to work from home for this very reason, only going to the office when absolutely necessary. However, like his women, they were bound to cross paths from time to time.

             
Jonathon laughed derisively. “Sir? Come on, Tate, do you really think formality is going to butter me up this late in the game?”

             
Tate stood tall, refusing to back down from what was bound to become a very public blowout. Everything in their shared history deemed it inevitable. “I wasn’t aware we were playing a game. Besides, if that were the case, it certainly hasn’t worked so far. I was just trying to be polite to my boss. There’s no reason this has to turn into a cock-fight, Jon.”

             
“No doubt, it’s a fight that I would win,” he stated confidently. “I hope you’re on top of everything? The book is coming along?”

             
“If you’re asking whether I am on schedule or not, then yes, I am. In fact, I am well ahead of the deadline.”

             
Jon’s mouth pressed into a tight line, his displeasure evident. “Good. Wouldn’t want to have to suspend your contract or anything.”

             
“No, we couldn’t have that,” Tate agreed, gritting his teeth as his pulse jumped. Although Tate tried to keep his personal and professional lives separate, Jon simply wouldn’t allow it. He harbored a deep resentment on Casey’s behalf. It stung to know that the man he had grown up with, the man he had once considered a brother, hated him so deeply. Did he really think that he wouldn’t have worked it out with his sister had he thought there was a chance for them?

             
“So, where’s this little assistant I hired?” Jon made a show of searching the room.

Tate didn’t bother to tell him that he didn’t have a chance in hell of pointing her out in an empty room, considering that he had never bothered to meet her. It was Felix that had interviewed and hired her on. It was Felix who handled all the details, not Jon, who couldn’t be bothered with much outside of corporate dinners and golf outings. He was a numbers man, through and through.

             
“Tell me you haven’t run this one off too?”

             
Tate glowered; surprised the man was plugged in enough to know that small detail. But then he probably made it his mission in life to know every move Tate made, right down to the moment he rolled out of bed in the morning and scratched his ass. “No, she’s upstairs resting. It was a long flight.”

             
“Hmm, I’m sure it was.” Jon smirked knowingly.

Probably one of the main rea
sons he detested Tate so much was because, not only did he call off the wedding, but he nursed his broken heart by jumping into the nearest bed, which just happened to be Jon’s ex-girlfriend. To his credit, they had been broken up. How was he to know that Jon would get so riled up? Besides, it wasn’t like he was out to marry the woman. She was just the first in a long line of many who would come to occupy his bed.

             
“Casey’s in town.” Jon casually tossed the news out there like he was talking about the weather. Tate nearly choked on his tongue. “She’s been dying to get out and see some sights and when I told her that we were holding the signing, she decided to come down and check it out.”

             
Tate’s teeth were clenched so hard, he was surprised they hadn’t shattered and turned to dust. Casey and Jon never missed a chance to torture him. Casey was under the impression that she could win him back, and Jon was determined to find any excuse he could to ruin his life. When he had signed on to what was then a fledgling company, Tate never could have imagined that such an innocuous business venture would come back to haunt him. Now he was trapped in a dizzying spiral of familial discord that was growing into a black hole more and more every day.

             
“I’m sure you’re glad to have the company,” Tate said, managing a friendly tone.

             
Jon nodded. “It’s always nice to spend time with family. Of course, once she heard that you would be here, I couldn’t keep her away.”

             
“We’re not getting back together,” Tate warned him not for the first time.

             
“Never said you were. She wants to talk to you, though. People change.” He added the last as if it would make any difference in his decision.

             
Tate could give a damn if she had become a fucking nun. He wasn’t interested in anything she had to offer. “And we both know we’re past the point of talking.” Tate moved from behind the table, intent on retiring to his room before things got out of hand. Well, any more than they already had.

             
“She still loves you.” Jon stopped him with a firm hand on his arm and a hard look in his eye.

             
Tate looked down accusingly at the offending appendage. “Get your fucking hand off of me,” he growled. “I don’t love Casey. What we had is in the past. Now, I am sorry you can’t get over it, and I’m sorry it had to affect our friendship the way it has, but it is what it is. As for your sister changing...” Tate laughed bitterly. “If she’s changed so much, why am I still the one that everyone blames? Has she ever taken responsibility for her actions?”

             
Jon dropped his hand, but he stepped into him, glaring into Tate’s steely blue eyes. “She knows what she did was wrong. She apologized. It’s you that can’t let go. It’s you that has his head so far up his own ass that he can’t see what he has right in front of him. Instead, you would rather go out every night, get wasted and stick your dick in anything that moves.”

             
Everything Jon said was true, except for one thing: He did see what was right in front of him. He just wasn’t sure he wanted it.

“I don’t know why I ever took your side—”

              “You never took my side!” Tate bellowed, frustration finally getting the better of him. The few people in the room turned their attention to the show they were creating.

             
“I took your side alright,” Jon shouted, pressing closer. “I took your side right up until you fucked my girlfriend!”

             
“Ex-girlfriend!”

             
“That’s not the point!” Jon spun away, spearing his fingers through his hair. “Why can’t you just see? You had a whole family that would’ve loved to call you their own. For Christ’s sake, Tate, you were practically a brother to me. It doesn’t have to be like this. Are you really going to let what happened ruin everything? You’ve loved each other since we were kids,” he implored.

             
Tate shook his head, tired of rehashing the same argument. “Find me a time machine, man, and I would gladly go back in time and stop this from happening, but it has and I can’t. I might have forgiven Casey, but I can’t forget what she did. I’ve moved on. It’s time you did, too.” He started toward the door. “One day, if you find it in you to be my friend again, remember my door is always open.” Tate let his feet carry him out the door and didn’t look back.

24

“I hate him,” Piper growled into the phone.

Tate had left without a word. She’d woken up to an empty bed. Her first thought was that she had done something wrong, but then realization clobbered her over the head with its fist: it had just been sex for him. The entire time she had been giving away pieces of her heart to him, he hadn’t even wanted it. Her chest constricted painfully. How could she have been so stupid?

“I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself!” She fell back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as she contemplated how she was going to manage working alongside Tate, in a crowded room, all day. Then again, maybe the hordes of people would act as a much-needed buffer.              

             
“You do it because the man has skills in the bedroom, clearly,” Shelia reasoned. “I don’t know why you’re complaining though. If I found a man who could pop my coochie and bounce, it would be a dream come true. Instead I get stuck with stage five clingers or men who bat for the other team. Count yourself lucky that you aren’t stuck with another mouth to feed. Instead of talking to me, you could be trapped in a kitchen right now scrambling eggs and getting spit on by bacon grease.”

             
Piper rolled her eyes. “You’re so jaded, Sheila. What’s wrong with wanting to wake up to the man you had sex with? Or wanting to feed him for that matter?”

             
“And you’re a hopeless romantic. But to answer your question, nothing is wrong with it,” Sheila conceded. “I think there is always a time and place for matters of the heart, but you just got out of a relationship. Need I remind you of what a bang up job Tyler did to your heart not so long ago? Does it bear repeating, because I will. I will totally throw that back in your face if it means you getting your head out of your ass and wiping those stars from your eyes. You. Are. Not. In love with your boss.”

             
With a frustrated sigh, Piper rose from the bed. Arguing with Shelia over her love life while lying in the same bed she had sex with Tate in hours before didn’t do well to keep her head clear. “I’m over the Tyler thing,” she said as she paced the room. “That was months ago. And I never said I was in love with Tate. God, Sheila.”

             
“Don’t take that tone with me.”

             
“What tone?”

             
“
That
tone. Don’t make me reach through this phone and smack you.”

             
“Watch yourself, you’re beginning to sound like your mother,” Piper teased.

             
Shelia growled in warning. “Them’s fighting words, missy.”

             
“Bring it. Oh, that’s right, you can’t,” Piper taunted. Being miles away certainly came in handy sometimes.

Fishing through the wardrobe, she eyed a sleek dress she’d viewed in a storefront window and
was compelled to buy, even though she had no idea where she would wear it. The price tags were still on it. One thing she had learned since acquiring the friendship of such a loving and supporting group of women was that it was always best to come prepared. This was Vegas, after all.

Looking the garment
over with a critical eye, she debated the appropriateness of wearing it to the convention. It was sexy with its pale lavender fabric that came to a flirty stop just below her knees. The V-neck could hardly be considered plunging, but if she bent over just right or she came into contact with someone taller than her—which wasn’t too difficult to imagine—she would give them quite a show. All in all, she might get away with it if she paired the dress with the right shoes and left her hair down. Or up. She couldn’t decide.

“And how do you know what my mother sounds like, anyway,” Shelia demanded to know, still on the topic.

“I don’t, since
someone
is hiding her away. Or rather
hoarding
her,” Piper rebutted. “And don’t think we have forgotten that promise you made and failed to keep,” she reminded her, including all the women in their little group in the argument. “We still haven’t tasted those world-famous cookies you promised us.”

Shelia cleared he
r throat. “I told you, shipping food stuffs is a touch and go situation. I had to test them first, make sure you guys didn’t get food poisoning.”

“All of them?” Piper challenged. She laid the dress out on the bed and placed her hand on her hip as she focused on their conversation.

“Yes, all of them! And you should be thanking me,” Shelia insisted. “I suffered a severe stomach ache afterward.”

“Oh, well, you poor baby,” Piper mocked. “I’m sure that had absolutely nothing to
do with the fact that you snarfed six dozen cookies,
alone
. We all appreciate your great sacrifice.”

“Thank you,” Shelia sniffed. “It’s nice to know my efforts weren’t in vain. So,” she said, her voice perking up. “What are your plans for today?”

Piper accepted the change in topic easily, and tipped her head from side to side, debating where to begin. “The convention starts in an hour and runs until five. I’ll be there all day and then I’m sure I’ll need to stick around awhile for clean-up, but I can’t imagine that being too extensive since Tom and his staff and the hotel will be handling most of it. I’m hoping that we can distribute all the books so there won’t be anything to worry about. Which leaves the evening open.”

“An evening in Vegas,” Shelia sighed longingly. “Whatever shall you do?”

“No clue.” Piper slumped down on the bed, her head already filling with a laundry list of things to do. She still needed to settle on what to wear, do her hair and make-up then head downstairs. Afterward, well, where did one start?

“Want to know what I would do?”

“Not really.” Piper chuckled.

“I would start with
a good old-fashioned plan of action. First, make that turd of a man you call your boss see that you could give a crap. He doesn’t define you.”

“Who said I gave a crap?” Piper contested.

“Honey, I am miles away and even I can tell this man has a hold over you. You care, whether you want to admit it or not. That’s why you have to hit him where it hurts: his ego.”

This coming from the woman who once tied herself naked to her ex-boyfriend’
s bedpost in a misguided attempt to show him that she was worthy of his affections.

After he told her he wanted to break up.

Because he was gay.

Piper wasn’t at all sure why she was listening to any advice offered by Shelia, but she
did anyway, at a loss for ideas and admittedly a little desperate for any direction the woman could offer her. Since meeting Tate, it felt like her life had been tossed into the sky and she was left sailing through the air, looking for a soft place to fall when all she could see was a field of pricker bushes awaiting her.

As much as she wanted to claim that Tate was nothing more than her boss and an occasional lay, she couldn’t. He’d gotten under her skin. But Shelia was right. She couldn’t let him know that. She needed to show him that she was completely unaffected.
She was her own person. One that was obviously attracted to him, but not dependent on him in any way. Take it or leave it.

Easier said than done, she was afraid.

“Alright,” she said solemnly. “Tell me what to do, oh wise one.”

*****

An hour and fifteen minutes later, Piper stood in front of the mirror appraising the image standing before her. The soft lavender dress hung from her shoulders accentuating her curves in a way that made her feel feminine and pretty, but powerful, ready to take on the day ahead of her. She’d settled on keeping her hair down, and the pale tendrils fell in soft, delicate waves over her shoulders bringing attention to the muted glow of her freshly polished skin. She went with a natural but sophisticated look, keeping her makeup light with a smoky eye that would work for the day but the evening too, in case she decided to hit the town later. In a word, she looked radiant.

             
Take that!
She mentally shouted, stepping away from the mirror and into a pair of comfortable silver kitten heels. She wanted to see Tate’s jaw drop. She wanted to see the want in his eyes and the look of devastation when she told him to take a hike.

             
Normally a punctual person to a fault, Piper had to resist the urge to sprint from the room. The convention was already under way and whether she showed or not, it wasn’t going anywhere. Besides, fashionably late was till fashionable, wasn’t it?

             
Moving slowly, she gathered her I.D. and credit card from her wallet and stuffed them into her bra so she could forgo carrying a purse. She took a moment to fluff her hair and touch up her lip gloss, a silky, shiny color called ravishing red, then headed for the door.

             
“Oh!” Piper startled and stepped back. For a moment, she forgot to breathe. She soaked in the man before her, his tall, masculine build. The black tailored pants and crisp white button down tucked in around his trim waist. She licked her lips.

             
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I was just about to head down and thought you might want to join me. Piper?”

             
Piper realized she was staring and blinked several times as she scrambled to recover what was left of her brain. “Sorry. Um…what was the question again?”

             
Tom’s smile lit his whole face and he brushed a hand down the front of his shirt. “Too much? I don’t know. The whole suit and tie thing isn’t really…well, my thing.” He shrugged.

             
Piper realized her scrutiny had made him uncomfortable and rushed to reassure him. “No, no. You look good. Better than good,” she amended, soaking him in once more. He’d left the top two buttons of his shirt undone, revealing a tantalizing triangle of bronze skin. A smattering of dark hair peeked through. “But won’t you get your clothes dirty?”

             
Tom gave her a funny look as he tried to comprehend her meaning. “Oh, you mean in the kitchen? No. As much as I would prefer staying behind the scenes, my presence is better suited on the floor where I can watch over my crew and deal with any missteps as they happen. Plus, sometimes people want to meet the chef and it’s just easier to already be available than to have to waste time sending someone from the floor to find me and leaving the kitchen and you know what?” He said abruptly, tilting his head as another smile crested his handsome face. “Enough about me. Let’s talk about this dress.” His gaze roamed over her, sending a thrill of excitement through her. “You look amazing, Piper. Truly. You clean up well.”

             
“Yes, a shower tends to do that for a girl,” she said, downplaying the compliment. She stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind her.

             
“Never underestimate the power of bathing.” Tom stood at the ready, offering her his elbow. “Shall we?”

             
Piper giggled, looping her arm though his and letting him guide her into the elevator.

             
The moment they stepped out onto the first floor, the buzz of voices met them. The steady flow of bodies moved down the hallway in both directions, some boarding the elevators, others either joining the crowd of people gathered in the ballroom for the convention, or leaving it.

             
With his fingers pressing gently against the small of her back, Tom led them into the room.

             
“Wow,” Piper breathed, looking around the room. “Your people did this?” She turned to Tom in question. He nodded, a self-satisfied smirk curving the corners of his full lips.

Piper took a moment to absorb her surroundings. The room itself was a standard square with beige, lightly patterned walls. Contem
porary glass sconces adorned them, glowing with muted amber light. On the back wall stood two tall windows framed with heavy plum fabric showcasing the garden of lush green trees in the distance and creating the impression that they were in a private estate.

A series of long rectangular tables sat just in front of the windows, seating the five authors in attendance, of which one was Tate Larson. He was smiling into the book he was signing while the older gentleman standing in front of him chattered about something she couldn’t hear.

Tate was in his element, his face positively shining, Piper noticed. If he hadn’t just succeeded in souring her day, she would be tempted to describe him as edible. As it stood, she could only see him as a drop dead gorgeous piece of manure. Scrunching her face in distaste, Piper wrapped up her analysis of the room.

More than a dozen round tables had been scattered throughout the
modest space, each seating upwards of seven guests. The place settings, Piper noticed, had been kept simple but elegant. Crisp white linens covered the tables and chairs and rich plum napkins rested beside tall Champagne flutes and crystal water glasses. In the center of every table sat a small arrangement of wild flowers boasting an array of vibrant colors including yellow, orange, purple and red. Everywhere she looked, men and women dressed in black and white uniform similar to Tom’s meandered around the room carrying trays laden with the foods she had sampled.