Midnight Kiss (18 page)

“Elise,” he said, but his tone was half-hearted. She kept moving.

Unbelievable. They’d been having a meaningful conversation, and then he’d pulled
that
out. Her stomach burned as if he’d stabbed her with a real knife instead of a metaphorical one. He’d dismissed everything she’d built with Evan as if it had been nothing.

Almost the same way Evan had dismissed the life they’d built together. The way he’d so simply proven that work was more important than love to both of them.

Elise was such a failure at love that
everyone
could see it, from inside and out.

She wiped a tear from her cheek before she stepped out of the dimness of the bar and into the bright hallway that led to the elevator. She was terrible at relationships, but she was good at her job, and she’d be damned if she’d let one of her people see her crying like a little girl.

Her father and her uncles had raised her to be tough. Once she’d turned five, her dad had told her she wasn’t a baby anymore, and she’d agreed. She’d lived for her dad’s pride and approval, and even when she’d broken her arm playing peewee football, she hadn’t cried. But being a woman was so much harder than being a kid. Kids were allowed to throw themselves into situations and fall flat on their faces if they failed. But as an adult…she had no idea how to navigate relationships. Throw yourself in or hold back… She’d tried it both ways and neither had worked.

But she was thirty-one years old. She had to figure it out soon, or she’d live her whole life lonely. That was another reason she’d been so desperate for the Denver job. She needed a big change in the worst way. Most of her Saturday nights over the past year had been spent with her uncles. Elise was turning into an elderly man.

She slipped into the thankfully empty elevator and tipped up her head to keep more tears from falling.
God, she didn’t know what was wrong with her. The holidays or the weather or…the
tequila.

Elise immediately felt better. The tequila had exposed her maudlin side. She could not fall into the trap of drinking with Noah James again. The man was a menace, sliding past all her defenses like an assassin. Did he have this effect on other women?

She’d never heard a word about an office romance, and she’d damn sure been paying attention. The man drew her eye anytime he was near.

In Madison, she’d been emotional because of the layoffs, and Noah had been right there, solid as granite. But that wasn’t right. Not like granite, because sitting next to him at the bar, she’d been able to feel the warmth coming off him. And—she’d thought—sparks. Sparks like little bits of fire floating through the air and landing on her skin. Sparks that had made her nerves shiver…

She’d sat there with him, forcing herself to breathe and smile and talk, but all she’d wanted was to turn and press into him. And finally she had.

The tears overflowed then. Elise rushed blindly toward her room, praying none of the other doors opened before she could get there.

Sadly, her assault on Noah James had been the most alive she’d ever felt. Powerful and feminine and recklessly
alive.
Sad, because despite her initial certainty that he’d been responding—really responding—Noah had pulled away. Sad, because she’d followed him and he’d been forced to push her back.

All those sparks, all that chemistry…it had only been Elise. He hadn’t felt it at all.

Another romantic failure. She moved through her
love life like an awkward, gawky teen, lurching from one uncertainty to the next.

But at least she was good at her job. She liked being in control. She never let a goal slip from her grasp no matter what else she was juggling. As long as her goal wasn’t Noah, anyway.

Elise’s jaw was set as she let herself into her room, determined to put these messy emotions behind her. She’d have a shower, sober up, and crunch some numbers on her laptop. Then she’d take a quick nap and get back to work.

Elise started the shower and tossed her dirty clothes onto the closet floor. When she stepped back into the bathroom, it was already foggy with steam. She stood under the hot spray for a long time, cocooned by the wet heat that quickly filled the entire space. Forcing the rest of the world to fade away, Elise let herself think of that kiss. She took out the memory on rare occasions, handling it like a keepsake.

There had been a few awkward silences in their conversations that night, moments when they’d meet each other’s eyes and then look away. Elise had still been holding her breath after one of those moments when she’d slipped away to flee to the bathroom. There, she’d checked her makeup and fixed her hair and smiled nervously at her own reflection. Noah James was handsome and intimidating and out of her league, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her from hoping. He might make a move. He might offer to walk her back to her room. And even though they worked together…she’d let him.

Heart beating hard with excitement at her own pep
talk, Elise had stepped into the dim hallway at the back of the bar…and right into Noah.

Eyes wide, he’d reached out both hands to steady her, and that touch had done something to her. Made her bold or brave or incredibly stupid. Elise had stepped forward, and he’d stepped back. There was no give in the narrow corridor, and when his back hit the wall, she’d stepped forward again, pressing her body to his. When his hands had tightened on her upper arms, she’d mistaken the emotion and risen on tiptoes to kiss him.

Wincing at the memory, Elise dipped her head and let the shower drown her in a curtain of hot water.

Despite her humiliation and embarrassment, she’d never been able to nullify the pleasure of that moment. The perfect taste of him, the incredible heat. She’d swept her tongue into his mouth and shivered when he’d responded. And he
had
responded, hadn’t he?

He’d opened his mouth, after all. He’d sighed. He’d rubbed his tongue over hers and slanted his head to delve deeper.

The kiss had seemed to last a thousand heartbeats, but it must have been just a few seconds. Still, it had been enough to wake something desperate inside her. Something strong and relentless and demanding to have its way.

Her moan must have startled him. Or the way she rubbed her body closer to his and wrapped her arms around his waist. Whatever she’d done it had spooked him, and while she was still trying to get inside him, Noah had broken the kiss and raised his head.

That hadn’t been enough of a hint. As his grip had tightened on her arms, Elise had pressed kisses to his
jaw. She’d dragged her open mouth down his throat, sighing against his skin, pressing her teeth to his flesh.

“Elise,” he’d said.

“Noah,” she’d whispered back. “God, you feel so good.”

“We can’t do this.”

She’d been nodding when he’d finally forced her off. “Not here. My room.”

Her lust had kept her from seeing the horror in his eyes, but she couldn’t help but notice when he’d started shaking his head. “No. I can’t do this.”

“Why?”

“I have a girlfriend. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you think…”

The power coursing through her had taken a moment to dissipate. She could picture how lust-dazed she must have looked as she stared in confusion. His taste had still been on her tongue.

“Oh,” she’d finally said. “Oh, of course.” Yet her arms had still circled his waist, her knee was still thrust between his. Disentangling herself had been the single most awkward moment of her life.

“I’m sorry, Elise. Really, but I don’t want to—”

“No big deal! I understand. Really. Sorry about that.”

Unable to take the hot water or the memories anymore, Elise reached blindly for the faucet and shut it off. The steam still surrounded her in a comforting blanket, so she wasn’t the least bit cold as she stepped out. The little bathroom felt like a dream world, so she didn’t bother to wipe off the mirror. She liked the white blankness of it as she dried off and rubbed lotion into
her skin. She didn’t want to watch her reflection and worry over the same imperfections that every woman did. Too much here, not enough there. Screw it. Her body had nothing to do with her romantic problems. It was her awkward tomboy insides that threw everybody off balance.

She didn’t know how to dance or flirt or make men feel strong and steady. She wasn’t soft or comforting. Whatever women like Lara had, Elise had gotten none of it. She had confidence and control and a hell of a fake on the basketball court, but her best efforts at being feminine were shaving her legs and wearing mascara. Those two ploys had been enough to fool Evan into dating her, but not enough to coax a man into
truly
wanting her. Certainly not a man like Noah.

But maybe that was for the best. Love was too fleeting and delicate and easily lost. Even the kind that was supposed to be permanent…like a father’s love. That left too, because there was no way to hold on to it, even if you tightened both your hands until the nails dug in hard enough to make your palms bleed. Even then, your dad still died, and his love left right along with him.

Elise bent slowly forward, watching the bloblike outline of her reflection grow larger. She pressed her forehead to the cool, wet glass and closed her eyes. She didn’t cry. It had been ten months; she was all cried out. But the cold felt good and she held herself there for a long moment.

She still had her uncles. She still had her job. And maybe someday she’d build a bigger life with a good man who didn’t mind that she wasn’t cozy and warm and comforting.

“Forget it,” she muttered, so tired that the words
were more a whisper than a curse. Apparently tequila made her feel maudlin
and
hopeless. Next time she’d stick to beer. And she’d find a table that didn’t come equipped with the hot guy she’d mauled two years before.

Elise pushed herself off the glass and flicked the switch that started the fan. She brushed her teeth and combed out her hair. As she dried it, her ghost self became solid in the mirror, and eventually, it was just her. Looking clean and exhausted and typically grumpy.

But when she switched off the hairdryer, the high-pitched whine faded away to expose a new sound. Banging. Frowning, Elise switched off the fan as well, and then there was no question about the source of the sound. Elise met her own wary eyes in the mirror and considered who could be knocking.

It’s not Noah,
she told her galloping heart.
And you’re a fool to be excited by the thought.

Angry in the face of that hope, Elise wrapped a towel around her body and stalked out of the bathroom. A tiny shiver coursed through her at the change in temperature, but she refused to feel vulnerable as she put her eye to the peephole and squinted.

It’s not Noah,
her brain was still repeating. But it was. And her heart slipped so quickly into a downward lurch that Elise only got angrier.

She yanked open the door and glared.

“W
HAT THE HELL
do you want?”

The voice sounded like Elise Watson. The words fit her perfectly. But the woman standing in front of him did not complete the puzzle. Elise Watson did not
have hair that cascaded in dark, shiny waves down bare shoulders. She didn’t have cheeks that glowed with pink innocence. And she didn’t have so much skin, surely.

“Uh,” Noah managed.

“Get over it,” she snapped. “I don’t sleep in business suits, regardless of what you might think.”

Actually, she’d never worn a business suit to bed in any of his unwanted fantasies about her. He stared at the dewy skin just above the confines of the towel. She’d wrapped the towel firmly around her. It looked perfectly secure. It also squeezed her breasts so tightly that they mounded above the fluffy cotton. She looked so…warm. The scent of her soap wound around him.

Elise shifted, her hand touching the edge of the towel as if to be sure it hadn’t moved. “Did you come to apologize?”

Right. That was why he’d banged on her door for the past two minutes. Noah forced himself to snap from the daze of nearby nudity. “Yeah. I didn’t—”

“Apology accepted,” she growled and started to push the door closed.

Without any signal from the conscious part of his brain, Noah’s hand rose to stop the door from shutting him out. “I shouldn’t have said what I said. Can I apologize and blame the tequila at the same time?”

“You can do anything you want.” She glanced down at his hand. “Just not in my room.”

The sentence got all mixed up in Noah’s brain, even as he shook his head against it.
Not here,
she’d whispered two years before.
My room.
And now:
You can do anything you want.
But that hadn’t been what she’d said. It wasn’t what she meant.

His eyes swept down her body to the fascinating
amount of thigh that showed beneath the hem of the towel. She tensed and those thighs turned from softness to muscle, and Noah’s body responded in full.

Mistake or not,
she’d
kissed him two years before. She’d felt it too, the aching need that arced between them. The tension that made them snap at each other whenever they were in close proximity.

But Noah didn’t feel like snapping now. He felt like touching. And kissing. And tumbling into bed with her.

Elise crossed one arm over her chest and pulled the towel tighter. “I’m not decent,” she said, vulnerability rounding the edge of outrage in her words. “We’ll talk later.”

“We never have time to talk. You’re too busy bossing me around.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s my job. Screw you if you don’t like it.”

He cocked his head. “Who said I didn’t like it?”

That surprised her so much that she took a step back. Noah stepped forward, sliding his body through the space she’d opened in the doorway. But he stopped, half in, half out, and waited for her to regroup. Shocking her was fun. Scaring her wouldn’t be.

Her grip tightened on the towel, but instead of making it more secure, she pulled the edge down an inch. His fingers curled in response.

She shook her head like she was tossing off her reaction. “I can’t be sweet and cuddly and still do my job.”