Kiss Lonely Goodbye (15 page)

“So, let's consider the consequences of us hooking up.” Nicole crossed her arms.

“How romantic.” Marcus worked hard not to smile. Her naughty style thrilled him.

“Well, we have to use common sense. I'm under a giant magnifying glass. One might say I should concentrate on taking care of business—at the company, not with you.”

Desire stabbed him like a knife that cut deep but felt good even as it drew blood. He rested one arm along the back of
her chair without thinking. Her fragrance, something wild and spicy, curled into his nostrils. If he leaned only a millimeter toward her, his lips could brush her earlobe.

“Hmm,” he hummed, unable to articulate much more for the moment.

“On the other hand, the will doesn't say anything about my love life. We're both single adults. In conclusion, our private life is nobody's damn business.” Nicole turned to look at him, her face only a breath away from his. “Do you agree?”

“Technically you're right. But is it worth the uproar we both know it will cause? Your father won't approve for two reasons. One, we work together. Two, I'm not in your class.” Marcus considered both points valid. Still he didn't pull back from the ledge he teetered on.

“I can draw the line between professional and personal. Not that I'm saying it will be a snap. As for not being in my class, I won't even dignify such a nineteenth-century concept with a serious answer.”

Nicole's reply whispered toward him like a sweet-scented breeze. Against all common sense he leaned into it instead of away. “Then what are we going to do?”

“Pay the dinner bill and go back to the address,” she said with a smile.

Nicole lifted a hand to get their waiter's attention. They argued over who would pay and Nicole won. Ten minutes after the waiter returned her gold card, they were driving in his Acura toward her house. She punched a button on his compact disc player, and Jill Scott's sinuous voice surged from the speakers. Soon Jill launched into her one-of-a-kind “tell-the-truth” explicit lyrics about love. Nicole hummed along.

“I know we're going to fit 'cause you've got Jill on the system.”

Her throaty laugh instigated a tickle of lust that spread over
him with hurricane force. Suddenly the trip to Nicole's house was taking much too long. Marcus shifted to a faster lane of traffic. He suppressed a moan of relief when the green exit sign they needed appeared. Nicole added to his torture by brushing a hand along his shoulder. He tried to concentrate.

“You're a devil wrapped in a satin tank top,” Marcus said, his voice hoarse. His muscles ached from the effort to keep his hands on the steering wheel.

“Silk,” she corrected with a small laugh.

Mercifully they arrived at her house a few minutes later. He pulled into the circular driveway. Nicole waited while he got out and opened the car door for her. She gave him a smile of reassurance as she walked past him to the tall, carved, double front doors. One tiny prick of doubt made him hesitate on the threshold. The moment passed at the speed of light. There was no way he would turn back now, not with the need to touch her thumping through him like a pleasant ache. Marcus followed her through the foyer and down a hallway to the den.

“You've done some redecorating.” Marcus hadn't been in the house since the last company Christmas party, in fact.

“A bit,” Nicole remarked over her shoulder. “Jolene raised such a fuss when I got the house, so I let her take some of the furniture. There was one old canopy bed upstairs that was a real monstrosity. The thing looked like something Dracula would swoop in at night to sleep in.”

“Mr. Summers cherished those pieces. They were family heirlooms.” Marcus settled on a butter-soft, honey brown leather sofa.

Nicole went behind a polished oak bar in one corner of the room. She retrieved two glasses and poured chilled white wine into them. Marcus enjoyed watching her movements. Her long tapered fingers wrapped around the fancy wineglasses, their rose painted tips looked lovely against her café
au lait skin. As she walked toward him, Marcus imagined them trailing up and down his back. Her impish half-smile hit him like a hot coal. The burn felt good. Nicole turned up the heat when she sat down next to him. She handed him one of the glasses and settled against the sofa.

“Jolene saw my ‘surrender' as a victory, the one time my conscience forced me to fairness.”

Marcus smiled as he savored the crisp taste of the chablis. “Was it?” He already knew the answer.

“Yeah, right,” she tossed back with an impish grin. “Like I miss those grim dust-catchers. My housekeeper Rosaria danced for joy the day the movers took them out.”

“I have to admit the place is brighter.”

Marcus glanced around at the cool green paint on the walls topped by a soft eggshell white ceiling. New draperies, a light green leaf pattern that was almost abstract, had replaced the heavy dark emerald ones Mr. Summers had chosen.

“If you're wondering when I had the time, I didn't really. My mother did the legwork. I picked out colors and fabrics, and she hired the decorator.” Nicole looked at the room with him. “The only time I let Mother take over my living space.”

“She did a great job.”

“True, but I don't want her to get any ideas. You might have noticed she can be autocratic.”

“I only met her once, at the funeral. She seemed like a nice lady.” Marcus remembered the stately woman with piercing greenish-brown eyes that seemed to miss little.

“What a diplomatic description,” Nicole quipped and peered at him over her glass.

Marcus smiled. “I meant it actually. She was very gracious toward me.”

“All the Summers women are fantastic at any social gath
ering, somber or happy. I'm the exception.” Nicole's eyes narrowed, giving her a “bad-girl” expression.

Marcus studied her for a few moments. “Not as much as you think.”

“Tell me more, Doctor Reed.” Nicole crossed her legs.

He gazed at the shape of her thighs beneath the smooth linen-and-silk-blend white slacks. Marcus gave himself time to recover his breath so his words wouldn't tumble out incoherently. Nicole watched him with interest, as though gauging her effect.

“You attended the right high school, the right university, and belonged to the right sorority. Alpha Kappa Alpha, am I right?” Marcus remembered the snobbish young women he'd met in college.

Nicole nodded with a slight frown. “Correct up to a point.”

“Your father got you a good job with his college buddy, a man from another old Creole family.”

“You've made your point,” Nicole broke in before he could go on. Music played softly as each grew quiet. They both seemed to consider their differences.

As little as six months ago Marcus would have laughed if anyone had suggested he'd be seriously attracted to such a woman. He'd dated women from the so-called better families. Several of them had been nice enough, but most had been picky and superficial. Shaun and he had gone on quite a few double dates in their efforts to trade up and out of the 'hood. Marcus had soon tired of being dissed by pretentious parents, but Shaun had had an uncanny ability to win favor. Perhaps his greater skill at deception had played a part. Whatever the reason, Marcus hadn't worried about it much. Concentrating on his career and portfolio had been his priority, not bagging a rich wife. Finding a mate had been very much on the back burner in his mind. Marcus had figured he would settle down with a pleasant middle-class woman from
a moderately good family, a presentable wife with a professional job and ambitions in line with his own. At least that had been the plan. He glanced at Nicole. She drank from her glass with a faraway expression on her enticing face. Suddenly he felt bad about his description of her.

“Sorry. I bought into the stereotype. Not too cool.”

“But accurate. I'm a hopeless Black American Princess. Yes, I own Prada shoes and at least one Gucci purse.” Nicole sighed and put down her glass.

“What would your parents say about me? About us?” Marcus ventured.

“Daddy respects you a great deal. He'd have been just as happy if Uncle Hosea had made you CEO,” she insisted.

“Nicole, be real.”

She got up. “I need another glass of wine.”

“Sorry again. I started this heavy discussion.” Marcus followed her to the bar.

Nicole took his glass and poured until his half empty glass was full again. “Let's lighten the mood. This is just the first date.”

“Is it?” he said quietly. Marcus placed his hand over hers as she handed him the glass. Nicole didn't pull away.

“Actually, you're right. If we're going to be more than colleagues—”

“Boss and subordinate,” he corrected. “A big difference. A tricky situation.”

“Then we need to have this talk. Your style, not mine.” Nicole looked into his eyes steadily. “I'm used to just jumping into what I want. Call it the spoiled BAP in me.”

“No, you're right. Why ruin the moment?” he murmured, gazing at her full lips. Wine still glistened on them.

“We'll have to consider the fallout sooner rather than later,” she replied in a soft voice.

He pulled her to him until their noses touched. “But not tonight.”

Giving in felt good. Marcus savored the first moment by gently rubbing his lips against hers. No warning voice or bell could sound loud enough in his head to stop his hands from roaming. The bare skin of her arms was supple beneath his fingers. He nipped at her mouth to taste an appetizer. Nicole sighed and leaned into him. She placed both palms on his chest. The sensation made him shudder. Her body molded to his like the perfect fit of a missing puzzle piece. Between asking in a whispered voice what she liked, Marcus deftly undressed her. With his eyes closed, he gasped with pleasure when she took off his shirt.

Nicole planted tiny kisses along his shoulders. Without pausing in her tender attention to his upper body, she took off his belt, unhooked his pants, and gave them a tug. Marcus stood back long enough to remove the rest of his clothing. With a sexy smile, Nicole did a little dance. She was dressed only in midnight blue high-cut satin panties and matching bra.

“I love this song,” she said and grabbed the sound system remote.

Marcus watched in fascination as her hips swiveled to the bass bumping from the speakers. “Come over here.”

She shook her head as she looped a finger beneath the front hook of her bra. “You come to me.”

Before he took two steps, Nicole danced out of reach and up the staircase. “My bedroom is this way.”

“Teaser,” he called out as she ascended.

“Guilty.”

She stood on the landing above. The bra came off, and she dropped it on the floor. Marcus was breathing heavily by the time he reached the top step, but not from climbing the stairs. Backing away, Nicole led him into a bedroom decorated in
slate blue, green, and gold. One small lamp spread a soft yellow glow across the walls and furnishings. The thick comforter had been folded and placed on a hope chest at the foot of the bed. The sheets were turned back. Plush pillows were piled against the padded headboard. Music from the compact disc player below came from speakers set in the walls. His hand shook with the need to touch her flesh. Nicole pushed him further into arousal when she took off her panties. Marcus should have felt angry at what seemed like a setup, a calculated seduction. Instead he wanted her to win.

“You were expecting me,” he said hoarsely.

Her playful smile melted into an expression of longing. “I wasn't sure. You're such a man of principle. I thought maybe you'd back out, keep it all business.”

Marcus almost laughed at the notion. She'd been the subject of more than one heated daydream in the past four weeks. “Are you sure?”

Nicole blinked and placed her arms across her breast. “If you don't think we should…” Her voice faded. Anxiety clouded her dark eyes.

Suddenly what he wanted most was to please her. Marcus felt a surge of protectiveness he'd never experienced before. “Honey, I want you more than anything right now,” he said.

She sank onto the bed. Marcus padded across the thick moss green carpet until he stood over her. Nicole wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his belly. He buried his fingers in her thick hair. They held each other that way for a time, each adjusting to their mutual decision. Then Nicole let go and lay back across the velvety, expensive cotton sheets.

Marcus lay beside her. They looked into each other's eyes as though searching for answers. In seconds they seemed to learn all they needed to know for the moment. He kissed her
again as one hand cupped her right breast. With a sigh deep in his throat, Marcus stretched his body atop hers. Nicole enfolded him in a tight embrace. They caressed and kissed for a long time as though each wanted the foreplay to last forever. Her svelte form drove him to a tight arousal that bit into him. He nuzzled her lush breast, breathing in the tangy scent.

“Do you taste as good as you smell?” he whispered.

Marcus was sure he knew, but he fully intended to confirm his presumption. He licked both of her cocoa brown peaks. They tasted like honeyed chocolate candy. Nicole cried out when he traced a line of fire down her tummy with his tongue. Marcus paused. As though reading his thoughts, Nicole reached into the nightstand and took out a square foil. He put on the condom, then worked his way back up her body. After planting kisses over every inch of flesh he could reach, he gazed into her eyes.

“Baby,” she breathed. Her fingers guided him inside her.

Both moaned low as their bodies settled into a rhythm of give and take. Slowly at first, they moved together. With each moment the sensation of being surrounded by her velvet heat pushed him to impossibly higher levels of delight. The measured beat of their lovemaking increased. Marcus experienced a sharp stab of hunger for more, and more. He pushed her to the limit, eager to be the source of her joy, wanting to make her scream only for him. Nicole whimpered in a voice of surrender.