Girl Gear 5: Wicked Games (7 page)

He squeezed her foot hard. "Do you want to hear about the design, or do you want to take this outside?"

"Bring it on, tough guy."

He stared at her for several seconds, an expression on his face that she couldn't define. His hands on her feet stilled while he seemed to consider where to take the conversation.

And then he shook his head; his lips quirked in a wry smile. "You don't make it easy on a man, do you?"

Poor baby. He was not having one of his better days. She pulled her feet from his lap, tucked her robe around her body and leaned forward to kiss him. A simple kiss. Just a quick brush of her lips to his.

But Doug had other plans.

The moment their mouths made contact, his hands were in her hair, holding her head for a kiss that escalated beyond a comforting gesture into a desperate and needy embrace. He devoured her, and Kinsey's mouth trembled.

She'd intended to soothe him, yet he seemed resistant to being easily calmed … as if … as if … nothing. She couldn't express what she sensed in him except for a strange sort of despair.

And despair did not fit at all with what she knew of Doug Storey.

His kiss, on the other hand, was the one she remembered from Coconut
Caye
. Wild and hungry, reckless and hot. His tongue possessed her mouth, stroking over and around and along the length of hers, stirring both her body and her blood. Her heart raced, her breasts tightened, her sex quivered.

And then he was done, setting her away as quickly as he'd struck.

She sat back, stunned speechless by his shift in mood and emotion, thinking that she really had no idea what it was that made Doug tick. For months she'd enjoyed his company, but until hit with the news of his upcoming move, she hadn't thought about Doug's deeper appeal.

She'd really been stupid not to take him more seriously, not to learn what she could while she'd had the chance. A chance she now might never have.

"So," she began, reaching for her napkin and dabbing it at her mouth. "What were we talking about?"

Doug sat up, stabbed at a bite of chicken, swirled it through a smear of papaya glaze on his plate. "About what you said to me during last summer's vacation."

"No. I'm sure that wasn't it."
Think, think,
think
, Kinsey. Think
. Why could she remember in great detail her rum-soaked ramblings from over a year ago, but nothing they'd said before that kiss? "The café. We were talking about the café and your design."

Doug sighed,
then
shook his head, a momentary surrender, but she knew he'd be back. "My idea would actually have given the place more the look of a diner. But I went there with a reason after seeing what they'd been offered previously."

"Which was?"

"They wanted retro." He snorted. "And, no offense to anyone at Warren Sill, but I didn't see a lot of thought in any of the concepts."

Interesting
. He wasn't even settled into the job yet and the penis wars had already started. "Maybe it was a case of the group's frustration in dealing with that particular client. I mean, why go all-out when faced with what sounds like guaranteed failure?"

"I don't buy it." He shook his head. "That's a bogus way to work."

She should've known he wouldn't understand anything less than a commitment of two-hundred-plus percent. "Maybe, but it's human."

"Well, it would certainly account for the cliché after big
stinkin
' cliché I saw. Booths and counters. Red vinyl. Black-and-white-checkerboard floor tiles. As if the designs were all dialed in."

"Booths and counters say retro to me."

He shrugged. "Sure. They say retro to everyone. But there's a difference between retro and authentic. I read a
New York Times
quote once that basically said when it comes to retro fashion, historical accuracy is often beside the point."

"And your diner design was authentic."

He shook his head. "It was actually more reminiscent of a railroad dining car. True historic diners were prefab, usually stainless steel with porcelain enamel skins. I didn't go quite that far."

She felt her mouth tipping up in a smile. "Actually, I know that about diners."

Doug blinked and then he grinned. "So? Astonish me with
your
brilliance already."

"It's a long strange series of coincidences that make the entire thing sound like fiction."

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, and settled back into his chair.

There he went again, making her feel like she was the center of his world. It was the sort of attention she was used to receiving before sex, not after, and it raised Doug's rating a number of notches on her mating scale.

"I'm not sure if you've ever heard
Sydney
talk about her friend Izzy? Isabel Leighton?"

Doug shook his head. "Don't think so."

"I've heard her talk about her off and on, but only met her last year. The funny part is that I already knew her. Or I had known her, way back when we were kids and last names didn't matter," she explained, adding a cheery laugh.

"This is the truth being stranger than fiction part, right?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Izzy's uncle works for my parents. He does lawns, theirs and several of their long-time neighbors. He put in my mother's backyard pool garden." She fluttered one hand expansively.

"Anyway, Izzy and her mother lived with her uncle Leonard for a while after her parents divorced, and he used to bring her along when he worked weekends. He'd take me with them to lunch at his mother's diner, where her mother worked."

"And it was original."

"Yep. The whole long counter, the stainless-steel panels and spinning stools that Izzy and I had way too much fun playing on." She shrugged, grinned. "They lost most of the original structure years ago during Hurricane Alicia Anyway…" Ugh. Why was she rambling on?

Her cooking might not kill him, but she was definitely on the right track for babbling him to death. "That's the extent of my diner-specific brilliance. And I really am sorry your concept didn't work out. Nothing like starting off on the wrong foot, huh?"

Doug made a face as if blowing off her concern. "I suppose being the brunt of an inside joke didn't sit well, but I'll live. And I'll hold on to the design."

"And you should. You'll get a chance to use it later. The railroad car idea sounds like a lot of fun. I can see the serving staff dressed like porters or engineers."

"My thoughts exactly." He pushed his plate away, rubbed his hands together with way too much glee and returned them to her legs. He tossed her robe open so that she was exposed from her toenails to her panties, before pulling the garment completely off her shoulders.

And then he reached for the papaya glaze.

Kinsey held her breath as Doug lifted the spoon toward her, and she curled her tongue to catch the sweet drizzle he poured. Except that he continued to pour even after she'd closed her mouth, dripping the sticky fruit glaze over one bare nipple before moving to the other.

Shudders rippled through her as she waited for Doug's next move. Finally, he made it, leaning forward and lapping his way around one breast, from the underside to the upper curve before settling his lips over her tightly drawn nipple and licking her clean.

Any minute now she was going to die, because then he moved to the other breast and repeated the process of savoring the tastes of citrus and her skin. She had no doubt that he savored because his grip on her arms tightened.

The throaty purr in his throat sharpened into a near feral growl before he pulled back, leaving her panting, and sticky with sugar and sweat.

"Now," he said, eyeing her
pruriently
. "I think it's time for a second helping of dessert."

Chapter 4

«
^
»

K
insey had barely walked through the door of her office before Lauren verbally pounced from behind. "What is wrong with you that you never answer your phone anymore?"

Rounding her desk, Kinsey booted up her PC, noticing the early distribution of weekend mail filling her in-box, and the message light blinking on her phone. She blew out a heavy sigh. Back to work without even a chance to sit and daydream after last night's fantasy feast.

Reality definitely bites,
she mused, looking up and greeting her hovering partner-slash-fairy-godmother with a smile. "Good morning to you, too."

Even though Lauren rolled her eyes, this time she had the courtesy to wait until Kinsey stored her purse. And this time the pouncing was not quite so fierce. "When
Syd
couldn't reach you last night, she called me, and then I called both your home and your cell."

"And neither one of you managed to leave a message on either." Even so, concern rapidly replaced Kinsey's annoyance as, slowly, she sat. "What happened? Is everyone all right?"

Lauren seemed to nod and shake her head at the same time. Wispy strawberry-blond curls settled around her shoulders. "No one's hurt, but Izzy's uncle Leonard? There was a fire at the house his church is building for Habitat for Humanity."

"You're kidding!" Kinsey's heart lurched; her hands grabbed the edge of her desk tightly. "But her Gramma Fred's okay, right? And Leonard, and her mother? God, Izzy would die if anything happened to Rose."

Once again, Lauren nodded. "Everyone's fine. No one was on-site when it happened. A group from Leonard's congregation had headed out there after Sunday evening service and found the structure a total loss. It was like a fire-breathing dragon, it hit so hard and fast."

"Oh, God."
Oh, God
. Placing her elbows on her desk, Kinsey pressed her mouth to the back of her fingers. She shook her head, even as she imagined hammers swinging in rhythm to "I'll Fly Away." "Do they know what happened?"

"First indication is that it was electrical."

"What about
homeowners
s insurance?"

"It's arranged through Habitat, but it'll take time, as all settlements do." Lauren shrugged fatalistically at the prospect of dealing with bureaucracies and never-ending red tape.

Kinsey slumped back in her chair. "This is unbelievable."

"Yeah, and apparently this particular family is in serious need right now. The dad and the boys are staying with Leonard in the parsonage, while the mother and the girls are in one of the women's shelters Izzy works with. It really sucks."

"Izzy must be going crazy. What are we going to do?" Kinsey asked, because she knew the company would do something.
Sydney
would see to that.

Lauren settled into the plush armchair in front of Kinsey's desk. "I talked to
Sydney
earlier adjust sent out an e-mail. We have a meeting this afternoon at four. Apparently she's had a
Sydney
brainstorm."

"Okay. Good." Kinsey was too overwhelmed to even know what to say. "Where's
Sydney
now?"

"With Izzy and the others, sifting through what they can before the bulldozers move in. From the way it sounds and what Anton says, I doubt they'll be able to salvage any of the donated materials or supplies."

The very idea made Kinsey sick, especially knowing how important it was for Izzy to be able to give back the good fortune with which she'd been blessed. Izzy's family had always emphasized the importance of caring for those less fortunate, a tenet that served as the driving force behind her charity and volunteer work. "I can't imagine. What a waste. And I hate doing nothing. I feel like we should at least take them breakfast."

"Izzy's Gramma Fred has that covered. All we can do is
wait
to hear what
Sydney
has on her mind." Lauren leaned back and crossed her legs, swinging one foot and narrowing her gaze to focus on Kinsey's face. "But speaking of food…" She let the sentence trail off until certain she had Kinsey's full attention. "How was the chicken?"

Doug!
Kinsey's heart turned over in her chest. She wondered if he'd heard about—

Wait. What was she thinking? He'd told her last night that he and Izzy had never met. Funny how she assumed everyone who belonged to the circle of friends she thought of as family shared the closeness she felt to each.

She definitely needed to introduce Izzy to him. "Amazing, really. I had no idea that cooking was actually something I could manage."

"With a little help from your friends, you mean."

Kinsey smiled, giving Lauren her due. "My friends and one swarthy pirate."

After a moment's pause, Lauren's foot stopped swinging. She lifted one perfectly tweezed brow. "Patrick wasn't exactly a pirate, you know."

Kinsey cringed, drawing up her feet to sit cross-legged in her oversize chair. "Yeah. That was really insensitive of me, wasn't it? I desperately need to stop spouting the first thing that comes to mind."

"Ooh, let me guess." Lauren's mouth pulled into an I-told-you-so smirk. "Your big mouth is getting you into trouble again."