Fiona Love (29 page)

Christina held the sponge in front of herself defensively, actually backing away a step before she realized what she was doing and stopped. He was so close she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye, but she held his gaze, teeth nibbling nervously at her full upper lip.

“When you’re done here, come into the office and straighten up my files,” he said, eyeing her captive lip thoughtfully before he turned to go.

Christina thought seriously about pitching the sponge at the back of his head, but instead she softly called his name.

“Yes?” he asked as quietly, staring her in the eye after a quick up and down perusal.

“At the end of the week I expect to be paid in cash.”

He grinned. “Of course.”

Now
he’ll come back and laugh in my face, telling me what a fool I am.

She stood there, waiting, her smile slowly fading when she didn’t hear the hardwood floor creak beneath his loafers. Nothing happened at all, and Christina huffed irritably. How long was he going to keep this up? Could he possibly be serious? He couldn’t. Could he?

Stumped, and without a reasonable alternative, she continued her work. She swept the kitchen floor, wiped down the range hood and tightened the lid on the apricot jam he’d left out before she put it back in the fridge.

There was no sign of a mop. The inside of the oven didn’t look as though he’d actually used it, and the mostly empty refrigerator was tidy inside and out. He’d told her to do his files next, but she hesitated to go in while he was on the phone. She’d tackle the bathroom. That’s what maids did most.

“May as well earn my fee,” she muttered.

Yes, the bathroom was close enough. Cleaning it brought her within eye and ear shot of his office. No longer completely convinced this was a joke, Christina didn’t want to give Charlie any reason to do anything more to her than what he’d already done.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew she was talking herself out of following his instructions, but she rationalized that he’d never liked being interrupted while he worked. The specialized finance work he did was private, for high security, high stakes business clients. No, the bathroom was the next best chore to tackle…

The Hick and the Hippie

             
The cabbie seemed to have picked up some of Xander’s urgency as he rolled high speed toward downtown. He leaned over the steering wheel, changed lanes without signaling and muttered as though every close call with his fellow automobiles was a personal affront to his rather ragged bit of yellow and white metal. Perhaps too quickly, they stopped.

             
“This you?” she asked, looking up at the elegant brownstone off Oak Street.

             
“Yeah, the top. I rent out the bottom.” Xander gave the driver enough bills to have the man spring up from his seat to unload their luggage from the trunk, leaving him to haul her up the front walk.

She stole one glimpse of his quiet, tree-lined street, luxury cars gleaming against well swept curbs. Then she was in a dimly lit hall, and he’d tossed his bag and her suitcase and purse aside.

             
She let her breath go in a rush as he stripped off her trench, and good God. Just that little bit of handling had her clit throbbing. She felt weak. She held up a hand,
wanting him to slow down, needing to get her bearings.             

“Xander.”

             
“Yes,” he said softly. “You feel it too. Come with me.”

Lee looked around as he led her through his home. It was neat with dark, masculine furniture and piles of books everywhere. He’d always been a piler, only then it was football equipment or arrangements of empty beer bottles. Now framed movie posters bumped shamelessly against a few really good paintings, and photographs were grouped in random but charming clusters.

His bedroom was large and airy with lots of windows, cream colored walls and a rug that felt soft beneath her shoes.

“You’re curvier now,” he whispered, pulling her onto his lap. His hands stroked her outline appreciatively. “More womanly.”

             
She shook her head, put her hand flat against his chest, trying to break the spell she was falling into. She tried to focus on something else, anything, and her eyes landed on a beautiful old wood secretaire she recognized. It had been his mother’s. She bit her lip as he yanked her belt free.

             
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress,” he said, pushing the halves of her wrap dress apart.

             
“You’re a bully,” she said, when he was a tad too rough pulling her close.

             
“That didn’t hurt,” he scoffed, mouth already searching out one lush nipple.

             
It hadn’t, but she had to release tension somehow. She shivered as his hand found her other breast.

             
“Perfect,” he whispered, nuzzling her. “I’ve missed you, Lee Lee.”

             
He acted like they’d just seen each other last week, but she couldn’t complain. His lips, that nickname, they were ripe with a nostalgia so potent she felt her spine unkink as his hands warmed her skin.

             
“No panties.” He cupped a hand full of her round bottom. “You’re a bad girl.”

             
She pouted, turning her head away and gasped as he nipped her ear in punishment. Then he slid in two fingers. They went in easily, her body already preparing itself for his, and he moved them immediately to stroke her clit.

             
“No,” she said firmly and was ignored. “No,” she said again, quieter. “Xander.” His name was two syllables, the last broken high on the end. When he began to massage her clit more forcefully, she tried to close her thighs against him. When that didn’t work she sank her teeth into his upper arm and groaned when he shivered. “Stop,” she panted, leaning back to slap his face.

             
He looked up, surprised, but even then his impudent fingers kept rubbing her clit until she pulled his hand away.

They stared at each other, green eyes stroking brown as their hearts took a break from furiously pounding the blood to their limbs. Lee stroked the side of his face, accepting his kiss on her palm as she soothed the area she hadn’t really hurt. Her eyes closed as she savored his heat, his touch, the smell of his skin.

A million “why didn’t you call me’s?!?” bubbled behind her lips, but her body cared nothing for explanations. Later, her brain whispered. Now, her body called, but she tried to move away, to think clearly. He clutched her to him instantly, murmuring so anxiously she gave up and relaxed.

It was strange discovering the passion they’d shared as kids had survived. It was also terribly sexy, easy, despite the uncertainty that lingered, and she wanted more.

It wasn’t like they’d parted acrimoniously. There’d been no big scene, no harsh words or accusations. There was just a kiss and a plane and then, nothing. No calls, no letters, no emails. Nothing. Until now.