Annette Blair (11 page)

“Right,” he said. “Absolutely. But speaking of dates, how did yours go Friday night with Billy?”

“He was right,” she said. “We danced until dawn and slept late on Saturday.”

Jason grinned despite himself, and she socked him.

IF
this
wasn’t
a date, Kira wondered an hour later, why were Jason’s arms around her? Why was he snuggling his package against her bottom? Why were his arms crushing her breasts, and, more to the point, why wasn’t she enjoying it more?

Because she couldn’t stand upright, that’s why.

“Try to keep your legs together,” Jason said.

“Hah, I’ll bet you never said
that
to a girl before.”

“Stifle it, Wobbles.”

Before he dropped her, which she expected him to do, he turned her in his arms, her feet doing a disconnected Highland fling kind of thing, as he rolled her against his body until they were breasts to chest, er, erection to . . . target, happy erection and happier target.

Okay, so she
was
enjoying this.

She looked up, right into Jason’s sparkling silver wolf’s eyes. She had never seen eyes with such clear, bottomless depths before, and in those sexy depths she could see that Jason knew that she knew that he wanted her.

What could she say to make him realize she felt the same? She could hardly believe she wanted to put into practice the meaning of the four-letter word he’d shouted when she scared the hell out of him Friday night. She tested it in the form of a sentence.
Fuck me
.

Then she remembered that Charlie had already done that, in more ways than she appreciated, and she gave up on the idea, even though her body was crying ‘Wolf,’ and Jason’s was crying ‘Here I am.’

She slid down his body and out of his grip, his erection grazing her chest. “Is that a hockey stick in your pocket?” Kira dared. “Or are you just happy to be back on the ice?”

Jason barked a laugh. “Sorry, sometimes Harvey has a mind of his own.”

“How do you do, Harvey,” Kira said, on her knees at Jason’s feet, face-to-face with the big guy under wraps.

She looked up at Jason. “You dropped me.”

“I got distracted.” He watched her as if he could tell that, in her mind, she was fondling Harvey.

Harvey grew bigger before her eyes, proving her mental success.

She covered him with her forearms, as if she were trying to rise and was using Harvey as leverage.

“Shit!”

“Yeesh,” she said. “I hope that felt better than it sounded.”

“You caught me off guard. I didn’t expect that, not from you.”

“Me? Why am I so different?” She rubbed a wrist against that engorged area through Jason’s thick man-scented sweats.

He said the word she’d wanted to use, only he said it with determination, and didn’t use it in a sentence. Neither did he try to help her up, but she didn’t mind being on her knees, because for the moment, she liked the view. “It’s hot in here,” she said. “You made me wear too many clothes.”

“Take some off, by all means,” he said, gazing heatedly down at her.

“I just might.” She eyed Harvey again and licked her lips.

“Watch out,” Jason warned. “The ice is hard.”

“So’s Harvey.”

“I was thinking about your back, if you keep that up.”

“Hey, I’m not doing a thing. He’s keeping it up all by himself.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Promises, promises. Your knees couldn’t take the ice any more than my back could.”

“Hurts just thinking about it.”

“I think the heat from
my
knees might be melting holes in the ice,” she said.

“I don’t mind,” he said. “Get as hot as you want.”

“Do you mind this?” She knuckled Harvey and felt a mini shock at her core.

“Doesn’t hurt a bit. Do it again.”

“Don’t think I don’t want to, but I’m starting to feel the need for equal attention.”

“My pleasure,” he said. “Let’s get you on your feet.”

He got her up and kept her from falling again by
grasping her bottom in one hand as he slipped the other between them to cup her center, applying just the right amount of pressure.

Kira sighed while a series of mini shocks rocked her.

“Wow,” he said. “You didn’t just—”

“This is scary,” Kira said. “We can’t do this.”

“You’re right,” he said. “Let’s go upstairs. Your bed or mine?”

“Bed?” Kira said, coming out of her sexual haze. “You’ve sworn off women.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“I’ve sworn off men, and we have to work together.”

“I’m sure we’d work beautifully together.”

Kira sighed. “I mean at the foundation.”

“I don’t think doing it there is such a good idea,” Jason said.

“No more than here, or in a bed.”

“Then we have to go our separate ways for the rest of the day at least.”

“Right.” Kira leaned away, looked down, and knuckled his length.

Jason touched her forehead with his.

“I’m out’a here,” he said, but he didn’t move.

When he started to back away, Kira panicked. “Wait, don’t leave me here. I can’t stand by myself.”

“I won’t be responsible if I touch you again. I’ll turn my back while you crawl to the bench, because even that will turn me on.”

Kira got to her knees the hard way, by landing on her ass. Then she did crawl, which was good, because it made her feel way less sexy. When she got to the bench, she used Jason’s hockey stick to raise herself.

“Hey, watch out for Harvey.”

“Wait! You call them both—”

“You got a problem with that?”

“You’re nuts—”

“Are yours for the taking.”

“Cut that out. As soon as my skates are off, I’m the one who’s out’a here.”

“That
would
be best,” Jason said as he pulled her skates off. They walked back to the house with three feet between them, but ended up in the Cloud Kiss elevator together.

Kira wanted his world-class lips on hers, so she traced the dimple in his chin, hoping he’d bring his lips the rest of the way. Instead, he pushed her against the elevator door and ran his hands all over her, but he kept his lips to himself.

They shifted positions until she rode his good leg, the hard part of him teasing her center. Jason cupped her breasts and nuzzled her, from her neck to her breasts. Geez, she was gonna come just like—

The elevator door opened behind her, and she fell back, landing on her ass in the hall.

Gram’s maid yelped and Jason stopped midlunge. He backed up and the elevator door closed. Kira saw the floor numbers go down, while Gracie gave her a hand up.

“I don’t know where my mind was,” Kira said to Gracie, aware that Jason had turned her on, and left her flat, just like Charlie. And in true Charlie-style, he’d brought her to the brink of orgasm and left her wanting.

FOR
the first few days of the following workweek, Kira tried to pretend that none of it had happened, not Jason’s midnight snooping, not their sexual interlude in the rink, not the heat lightning in the elevator, and especially not her abandonment afterward.

They were formal and polite, a boss and an employee, a bit snappish, pretty much like the week before, but with regret and frustration thrown into the game, in a weird and uncomfortable way.

Kira tried to figure out how many men in her life had brought her so close to surrender in so short a time, and she
realized that no one else ever had, though plenty had dumped her, the way Jason dumped her on the floor outside the elevator.

Still, though he was no different from any other jock, her boss turned her on.

Great. She was such a loser, a toad could turn her on.

She tried to stay the hell away from him, caught up on paperwork, and set everything up with St. Anthony’s to get the boys to and from hockey practice. She talked to Sister Margaret about a play for the boys to perform and suggested a Christmas theme.

She didn’t speak to Jason and he didn’t speak to her, except when strictly necessary for the sake of their jobs.

The first time he became the least animated was the day the box of children’s hockey sticks was delivered to his office. She stood in his doorway watching him unwrap one of every size; like a kid beneath a tree on Christmas morning. “Having fun?” she asked.

He looked up guilty, as if he’d unwrapped every gift, his and everyone else’s, and his half-grin enchanted the crap out of her.

“Come see,” he said.

She went to sit beside him, and just like that, three dozen hockey sticks broke a week’s worth of ice.

They visited every mansion after that, checking building-and fire-code compliance, scoped out ballrooms for dancing, patios for cocktail parties, kitchens and dining rooms, attics, billiard rooms, hothouses, doll houses, wine cellars, carriage houses and stables.

Kira tried to stay cool throughout, but when she saw the kitchen at Kingston by the Sea, her enthusiasm got the best of her. She knew exactly what event to plan around it.

“This kitchen is incredible!” she exclaimed. “We can’t let it go to waste. What would you say to having Salem’s
Kitchen Witch
show filmed here live? We could sell tickets to a pricey, elegant cocktail party on the night the show airs, and our guests could meet Melody.”

“Melody Seabright? She can’t come cheap,” Jason warned. “I think getting her would eat up our profit.”

“You think so?” Kira took out her cell phone, hit a single digit and Send. She listened to it ring while she eyed her boss with a “watch me” brow. “Hey, Mel,” she said, enjoying Jason’s stunned reaction, “I have a great idea for your show.”

Jason listened to Kira talk with one of TV’s hottest cooking-show stars, or to someone pretending to be Melody Seabright, of
Kitchen Witch
fame, for some time before he stopped gaping.

Then Kira spoke to someone named Logan, from whom she solicited a documentary about the mansions, then she went back to talking to Melody again, if her conversation was to be believed.

“Love to Shane,” Kira said. “Really? Yes, please. Hi, baby. How’s old Snoopy doing? He did?” She laughed. “Ink and Spot are what? No. Kittens? Both of them? You’re kidding? What did your dad say? No, honey, you don’t have to say the bad word. I get the picture. Love you, too. Give Mom a hug for me when I hang up, okay? Dad, too. Bye, sport.”

Kira raised an arm in victory and did an enchanting little happy dance.

Jason shook his head in denial. “That was a joke right? Some family member was in on it.”

“No joke. Mel’s gonna talk to her producer tomorrow, but she said to consider it a go. She thinks the second week in November would be great. She says she has to reserve the third week for Thanksgiving, and the first is already planned.”

“Now pull the other leg,” Jason retorted, but Kira’s enthusiasm seemed genuine.

“Melody suggested that a documentary about the mansions might be good promo. That’s what her husband, Logan, does; he makes documentaries. He said he’d donate one for a tax write-off.”

“I got that,” Jason said.

“He’ll shoot some of it when Mel’s here to do her show. They’ll film ahead, Mel said. They don’t like to go live anywhere except in the studio. But she’ll be happy to come back for our reception the night the show’s aired.”

“You’re
not
kidding,” Jason said. “About any of this.”

“Of course not.” Kira placed her hand on her heart. “Witch’s promise. Mel wants to work the show around a Gilded Age Society menu. She asked if I could send her info on the dinners they served. She was thrilled.”

Kira walked around the kitchen, touching everything as if she imagined her friend was there. “Mel likes to stay with New England themes as much as possible, so Newport is perfect. I knew it would be. I’ll bet we hook some great promo with this. Mel will plug us in her ‘upcoming show’ credits for weeks before our show airs.”

“Is she really a witch?”

“Melody has always worked some pretty amazing magic,” Kira replied with a wink. “We grew up together. She’s from the Boston Brahmin side of the tracks; I’m from the poor Irish side.”

“What? Same school?”

“Hell, no. Mel went to boarding schools, the poor thing, but the summer we were five, we met in Boston Common, Mel’s nanny and my mom looking on. About a week later we met Vickie there, and the three of us have been best friends ever since.”

“Is Vickie the friend who sells vintage clothes?”

“Right,” Kira said, somewhat surprised. “I can’t believe you listened that closely. Anyway, Mel grew up in a mansion, but she always liked our small houses better. Vic’s mother spread affection like icing, so that was understandable, but Mel liked my house, too. Not sure why. It was the smallest, the noisiest, and had the most kids running around. Busting at the seams, literally. Still is, most days.”

“Sounds great to me. I think I would have liked your house better as well.”

“Poor little rich boy.” She patted his cheek.

Jason grabbed her wrist and held her hand in place, loving the feel of her skin against his face, the two of them eye to eye for the first time since the rink, neither of them giving, neither looking away, for too long to be comfortable, but he didn’t care.

“Hockey lessons in less than an hour,” Kira said, sucking the heat right out of him.

“Right.” Jason rubbed his nape, so flummoxed, so freaking beguiled, he felt bewitched.

He watched her write a few more notes in her day planner, the hoops in her ears swaying with each shift of her pen.

He wanted to shock her out of hiding, which is what he feared she was doing by wearing nothing but black.

“I’m looking forward to hockey practice,” she said.

“Figures. Most hockey players who turn to coaching are considered to be washed-up, you know.”

Kira raised a brow, as if he’d made her point, and he was pissed. “I am
not
washed-up! The NHL wants me back, and I’ll be there before you know it. You’ll see. Meanwhile, I
hate
the idea of coaching, just in case you didn’t know.”

“I saw you with those hockey sticks. My ass, you hate the idea.”

“Don’t talk to me about your ass,” he said. “I’m trying not to remember how good it felt in my hands.”