Sultry in Stilettos (2 page)

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Where
is the asswipe, anyway? I’m going to see if I can get him tossed
out.”

“Don’t bother. He’ll just cause a
scene. God, I can’t believe I wore Spanxx for this guy.”

“What the hell are Spanxx? And can I
see them?” He waggled his eyebrows.

She rolled her eyes.
Ignore and deflect
. “You
don’t want to know. And no, you may not. Besides, I know you like
your women modelesque. My Spanxx would scare you.” For years she’d
tried telling Beckett he might have more luck with a longstanding
relationship if he just picked someone a little less
Starving-Barbie and a little more normal.
Like me.

With practiced ease, she smothered the
errant thought. Her college crush on Beckett always picked the most
inappropriate times to rear its head. Beside, Beckett Mills was not
the marrying kind. Nor, with her petite curvy figure, was she in
any way his type.

He inclined his head and grinned.
“Nothing wrong with hot women. I can’t help it if they want to date
me.”

“So modest. But maybe just once you
could date someone who looks like she actually eats. What’s her
name tonight could do with a pork chop or some of my mother’s
callaloo.” Growing up, the Trinidadian dish, with its spices and
hint of sweetness from coconut milk, was one of her favorites. It
also was probably the reason for half her curves.

He nodded. “Yeah, hot.” He licked his
lips. “And don’t make me hungry. I love your mom’s
cooking.”

“You’re incorrigible. You
deserve what you get.” Good old Beckett, predictable in his
flirting. Normally, she indulged herself and enjoyed the attention.
One of life’s little indulgences and, save one night in college,
she knew better than to take his flirting as anything more. But
tonight she wasn’t in the mood. All she wanted to do right now was
go home and crawl into bed.
With
Beckett
. No. Not with Beckett. Even she
wasn’t that self-destructive.

One of the many photographers rolled
around and snapped a shot of them together, which they dutifully
smiled for. The poor guy had a tough time trying to get the two of
them in the same frame. At her even five feet, she was more than a
foot shorter than Beckett.

Beckett stared gloomily into his empty
champagne glass. “So, are you going to let Jaya put you in one of
those hideous bridesmaids’ gowns? If you want, I can recommend
those ones from the mermaid fantasy we did last year.”

She grimaced. “Don’t you
dare. The color alone is enough to make me vomit.” Of course
he
would
remember
that fantasy. They’d both worked at Fantasy, Inc. as event planners
for three years. Leave it to Beckett to remember her least favorite
fantasy.

“You wouldn’t have known it from the
way you encouraged that woman. You were so sweet. I couldn’t
believe you were able to pull that one off. The bride was a
nightmare.”

“Well, that’s my job.” She tipped her
head up and narrowed her gaze. “You going to survive Jaya’s
wedding? I know you and Alec aren’t the best of
friends.”

Beckett shrugged. “I don’t have any
problem with the guy. And he seems to make Jaya happy, though I
could do without the two of them pawing each other every chance
they get. It’s not too likely that we’ll be chummy. Besides, my
little ducklings have to grow up sometime.” He reached over to tug
one of the tendrils that escaped her side bun.

Ricca gasped and ducked out of the
way. “Do you have any idea how long it took me to get my hair to do
this?” The side-swept messy bun had just the right amount of
control and fun to it. Her hair was hard enough to control she
didn’t need Beckett adding to the mess. “If I were you, I wouldn’t
let Micha hear you call her a little duckling. I don’t want to
think about what she might do or say to you.”

“I’m not afraid of Micha.” But still
he looked around to make sure she wasn’t standing
nearby.

From behind them, someone said, “How
about a kiss?”

Both of them whirled and
gaped at the unassuming photographer. Ricca’s heart skipped into a
trot at the suggestion. Even as she drew in a shuddering breath,
she clamped the flare of desire quick.
No
. Not ever going to happen. That
would be all kinds of fuckeduptitude. She opened her mouth for some
pat awkward response, but Beckett beat her to it.

“Yeah, no. I don’t think so. We’re not
a couple.”

The photographer held up the camera.
“It’s for the charity kiss auction. Winners of best kiss will get
twenty thousand dollars donated to their favorite charity. Are you
sure you can’t muster up a kiss?”

Ricca could practically hear Beckett’s
teeth grinding. He needed the money. He’d been dying to rehab an
old gymnasium downtown for years. Besides women, it was all he ever
talked about. Twenty thousand dollars would go miles toward
rehabbing it into a practice pool for underprivileged
kids.

Never mind that she’d only
fantasized about him kissing her for a million years. But
this
would not be
that
kind of kiss, she
admonished herself
. It’s for
charity
, her inner diva whined. But one
kiss from him and she’d be in a mess of trouble. He was too much
like his brother Braedon.

****

Becket’s heart thudded, and
in that breath, he leaped at the idea. Not just because of the
charity earnings. He might tease Ricca, but flirting with her was
about as close as he’d ever let himself get. She was the one
relationship he couldn’t fuck up—
wouldn’t
fuck up. She was right. It
would ruin everything if he kissed her. But God, of the most secret
wishes, it was the one he kept closeted under lock and key and
under a wardrobe trunk.

Still
, twenty grand, and he could have that pool open by the end
of the year if he busted ass. He already had a few architects he
wanted to take a look at the place. All he needed was the start up
cash—and to risk his most important friendship for a dream. Maybe
it would be fine.
Maybe
.

All he had to do was kiss
her. Something quick and brief enough to put a holster on any
errant fantasy that might crawl its way to the surface, but with
enough dramatic flair to win.
Geez
. He cleared his throat. Maybe
if he made a joke of it, it would be okay. “Relax, Ricca. I promise
you, I’m very good.” He waggled his eyebrows for effect.
Keep it nice and light.

She wrinkled her brows as she looked
between him and the photographer. “You’re kidding me, right?
Beckett, this is insane.”

“This
is for charity. And I know just the charity. Help some
underprivileged kids get a pool. It’s for the kids, Ricca. I can’t
help it if you want my body.” He could only wish.

She scoffed. “You’re an
idiot.”

“That may be true, but your
man has a point. The charity kiss auction has been a Westhorpe Gala
tradition for thirty years.” Adele Westhorpe, the hostess and
billionaire hotel magnate, interjected as she strolled up to them,
looking regal in her shimmer and diamonds. “Besides,” she added,
“You’re standing under the mistletoe. You almost
have
to kiss at this
point.”

Beckett looked up, and his heart
kicked again. When he glanced back at the old lady, he would have
sworn there was a knowing look in her eye, but it was gone just as
soon as he noticed it, replaced by an impassive stare. He cleared
his throat. “It’s not me you have to convince.” He inclined his
head at Ricca. “I’m afraid she thinks I’m beneath her.”

Ricca slapped him on the arm. “Would
you stop?” She huffed a breath. “Fine. But if you’re going to kiss
me, make it good for the camera. Some kids need a pool, or so
someone tells me.”

Beckett watched as Ricca
licked her full lips. His body jerked and went rigid.
Shit
.
Breathe.
His fingertips
tingled with the urge to touch her. In so many ways this was a huge
mistake. In so many ways this could ruin everything.

Too bad he didn’t care.

Ricca looked from side to side. “Okay,
let’s do this.”

He looked over at Adele
Westhorpe, who wore a beatific smile.
Fine
. He could do this. Stepping
into Ricca, he inhaled her scent. Something lemony and sweet. As
familiar to him as his own cologne.

She tipped her head up and gave him a
wry smile. “Why do you look terrified?”

He hadn’t had to think
through the mechanics of a kiss so much since he was sixteen.
Beckett wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his
body. She leaned back, and wide, honey-brown eyes stared up at him.
He swallowed hard as he walked himself through the technical
mechanics.
Lean over. Hold her tight.
Angle your head. Place lips on hers.

The instant electric sparks made his
brain fuzz. All he heard was the blood rushing through his head.
Immediately, they pulled their lips apart and just stared. Under
his fingertips, he felt her racing pulse, and his eyes widened.
She’d felt it too?

She puffed out a tiny breath, and he
smelled champagne and mint mixed with her lemony scent. He couldn’t
have predicted what would happen next. When her lips parted,
cohesive thought didn’t even factor. He slid his lips against hers
again. Her breath mingled with his and his tongue sought hers. When
she tentatively met his tongue with hers, he devoured her. Clamping
a hand behind her neck, he held her in place. His hands shifted
from her waist to her ass. He held her against him and groaned when
her hands tentatively went to his face. The soft, generous curves
of her breasts pressed into his chest.

She made a soft mewling
sound, and he immediately deepened the kiss as a low growl rumbled
deep in his chest. His libido roared to attention, and his erection
throbbed against his tuxedo pants. In this moment, it was him and
Ricca, alone and both willing and ready to do something carnal and
dirty and—
No
,
they weren’t alone. And he wasn’t kissing some random chick he’d
picked up in a bar. He was kissing Ricca.

His brain gave the command
to remove his hand from her ass, but his body rebelled against the
instruction. Ricca didn’t help matters when her hands shifted from
his face and fisted into the hair at the nape of his neck. An
errant thought intruded into his lust-filled haze.
Is she pulling you in, or is she pulling you
away? Shit.

He straightened and pulled her
upright, separating them. He took a deliberate step away and met
her gaze. Her lips, plump and juicy, parted just a little. Her dark
eyes were heavy lidded, and her pupils dilated. His body screamed
to go back for more.

Ricca blinked, opened her
mouth to speak, then shut it again. Beckett racked his brain but
didn’t have the words for what they’d just done. After all there
wasn’t a Hallmark for this kind of thing.
Sorry I just kissed you like you were some bar girl I picked
up in Pacific Beach.

“Well, if that doesn’t win best kiss,
I’m dying to witness what does.” Adele Westhorpe looked pleased
with herself.

Beckett’s fingers twitched, and he
still felt the tingles in his feet. There it was, the inevitable
urge to flee. Far and fast, away from anything important and
serious. But he couldn’t just walk away from her. “Ricca,
I—”

She quickly averted her eyes. “I—um.
I’m just going to go. I’ll see you later.”

Beckett watched as she nearly ran in
the opposite direction.

“Are you just going to let her walk
away?” asked Adele.

“I don’t really have a
choice.”

I never
should have kissed him.

As Ricca iced her last
cupcake, she anxiously checked her phone again. No texts. Exactly
one week, two days, and nine hours since she’d gotten the kiss of
her lifetime from Beckett, and not once since then had he texted or
called.
You haven’t called him
either
. Ricca glowered at her inner
Diva.

It’s not like she’d been the one to
jump him. It was supposed to be a silly kiss. Then somewhere along
the way, it had changed into something hot enough to melt her
panties. Icing oozed over her fingers as the memory of Beckett’s
hand on her ass, cupping her against his body intruded.

“Oh shit.” She grabbed a checkered
kitchen towel and quickly wiped up the icing from her large,
butcher-block island. Reaching down, she snapped open the cupboard
under the island and searched for the perfect container. She needed
one large enough but not too expensive, in case her container
walked away like her last two had. She grabbed the one she was
looking for and placed the cupcakes into the dish. She had enough
for the morning meeting staff and a few left over for the
assistants.

Hell, she didn’t even like the
birthday girl very much. But she was the cake girl—the one who
baked something for everyone’s birthday on the mid to senior staff.
Who was she kidding? She pretty much made cupcakes or desserts for
everyone she had any direct contact with. The way she figured it,
it paid to be nice to the staff. When she was in a jam with a
client, she could usually call in a few favors. And things could
get hairy this week. As it was, she already had an anxious
mother-to-be breathing down her neck for the perfect baby shower,
complete with baby elephants and a bratty teenager who wanted to
get One Direction for her party. Apparently, Ricca was a miracle
worker instead of a fantasy event planner. Just once, she’d kill
for the opportunity at one of the master fantasies. Master
fantasies were where the challenges were. Out of the box thinking.
Too bad she’d been asking for one for over a year, but no
dice.