Who I Am With You (15 page)

Duncan didn’t hesitate. He took her face in his hands and kissed her. She tasted damn good—sex and hope and tiramisu. A wild hunger roared to life inside him, lapping at his organs and turning them to mush. When her tongue touched his, a jolt sparked through his body, reminding him of being inside a fire, the rush that came with the possibility of being burned, the heat, the few minutes when he felt so alive.

Olivia pulled away, breathing as hard as he was. “Come inside?”

Without another word, he led her towards her building.

T
he moment the elevator doors closed behind them, Olivia and Duncan fell into each other’s arms, resuming the passion they shared on the sidewalk. It consumed her, and even as she thought it, Olivia knew it sounded ridiculous. Everything disappeared—work, Catherine, her past. She moaned as he pushed her against the wall of the car, trailing kisses down her neck. The echo of their breathing was the only sound, nearly drowning out the ding as they reached her apartment. Noticing the open doorway, Olivia took his hand and pulled him into the living room, her blood humming.

“This is some place.” He glanced around in awe, zeroing in on the windows. “I could handle that view every day.”

Olivia laid her hand on his cheek. “Do you really want a tour now?”

“Hell, no.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I want you.”

Duncan yanked her to him, backing her up until she was pressed against the cool glass of the windows. He slid her arms above her head, pinning them there, and dipped in for another kiss. His tongue danced with hers and he nibbled on her bottom lip. Desire, hot and electric, swept through her, pooling between her legs. She would’ve crumpled to the floor if not held in place by his hard body. Impatient, she ground her hips against his and heard his breath catch. His lips moved to her ear lobe, and lower, and her mouth cried from the absence of his, until she felt his teeth grazing the hollow of her neck. One hand snaked down to cup her breast and he groaned as she arched into it, desperate to feel his fingers on her bare skin. Olivia struggled to free her arms from his one-handed grip, but he was too strong. Dammit, she wanted to touch him. Needed to.

He separated a fraction, staring into her eyes. “When I touch your skin, press my lips to it, I’m reminded of fire. Of heat and danger.”

She answered him with a kiss, amazed at what his words did to her, how they drove her. He was hard against her hip and she continued moving against him, but nothing worked. Nothing would work until she had her legs around him. She couldn’t get close enough and when he finally released her wrists to take both breasts in his hands, she began unbuttoning his shirt, fumbling and panting. All that mattered was Duncan’s body and the emotions crashing inside of her. He’d been right about fire. It burned her from within, gathering at her core, threatening to burst. He was a drug, rushing through her veins and grabbing hold. Growling, Duncan lifted her dress over her head and the look in his eyes darkened as they skimmed over her body.

“You are beautiful.”

He bent to press his lips to her chest, inching lower, and she was lost between impatience and wishing he’d linger over every inch of her for hours. But, as soon as she had his shirt undone, revealing a firm chest dusted with dark hair, and touched his skin, everything changed. Her hunger became uncontrollable, a beast craving to be fed. Desperate for release, she ripped at his pants, pushing them past his hips. She reached out, finding him mouth-wateringly hot and ready. Things she hadn’t felt in years—confidence, desire, even innocence—stirred to life again, reawakened by Duncan’s touch and taste.

When Duncan laid her across the couch and knelt between her legs, fear and doubt reared their ugly heads. As he slipped her underwear down her thighs, the lace tickling her skin, he kept his gaze on her and she fought the urge to push him away. The hesitation she felt must have been visible because Duncan stopped and asked, “What is it?”

“I’m fine.”

“No,” he said, drawing up alongside her. “You can tell me. I promise.”

“Don’t stop,” she nearly whined, choking on tears. The intimacy sparking between her and Duncan intimidated her. She had used sex as a tool, a way to score drugs when the money ran out. Emotional connections were non-existent. The notion of someone seeing deep into her soul scared her, so she would retreat to a dark room in her mind while the man grunted on top of her. This was different. All of her ached for Duncan, and not just the physical parts, places she never intended anyone to see.

He brushed the hair from her face. “Talk to me.”

“I,” she swallowed thickly, “I haven’t done this for at least seven or eight years.”

To his credit, he only showed his surprise for a split second before grinning. “I have no complaints so far.”

“I mean, I haven’t ... made love.”

Upset over letting her insecurity ruin a beautiful moment, she covered her face in shame. Acknowledging how many nameless, faceless strangers she had allowed to use her was sometimes harder to live with than the drugs.

Duncan moved her hands and looked at her, not with pity, but understanding.

“I don’t care about your past. Hell, I’m no monk myself. The intimacy is new for me too. Trust me.”

A couple tears escaped her eyes, which he kissed away. Olivia sat up, straddling his lap, and poured everything she felt into the kiss she wrapped him in, yearning to get lost in it and leave the ghosts behind. She wanted him to fill her with ecstasy, the kind that came from a touch or a kiss. As he moved his hand between her legs, she closed her eyes and let go.

~~~~~

Nestled against Duncan’s chest with a sheen of sweat chilling her skin, Olivia fought to catch her breath. She’d almost forgotten what it was like to make love to someone she cared about, how it could rattle a person to the depths of their being. The only word she possessed to describe it was alive. She was alive. Adjusting her head, she stared up at Duncan and grinned at the satisfied expression on his face.

A pale scar on his shoulder caught her attention and she traced a fingertip over it. The edges were blurry and the skin pink and rough.

“What happened here?”

He crooked his left arm, tucking it behind his head so he could look at her. His other hand rested on her hip.

“My first real fire. I was about six months out of the academy and, although I’d never admit it to my new crew, scared shitless. It was an abandoned warehouse, occupied by homeless drug addicts. The place was a maze, easy to get lost in, and it was hard to keep my senses from overwhelming me. I had my save, was feeling pretty damn cocky, but then, I couldn’t find the exit. Fire got worse, heard the captain yelling for me on the radio. Finally, I found the doorway and was about twenty feet from safety when the ceiling collapsed on me. A busted two-by-four pierced my shoulder. My save lived and I got fifty-four stitches and eight weeks of physical therapy.”

“Talk about trial by fire,” Olivia commented, earning a chuckle from Duncan.

“Very true. Your turn. What happened to your arm here?” He ran his finger over a three-inch long scar running up the underneath of her bicep.

“Not near as gallant as your story.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“It happened in Thailand.” She sighed, vowing to not feel shame. “Rented a place on the beach and spent a few months there partying. Thailand is the perfect place to get lost in, to let all your inhibitions go. I’d just discovered heroin and still had plenty of money to burn through. Anyway, do you know who Cammie Drexler is?”

“That actress? The one who’s been in rehab about a dozen times? Didn’t she go to jail?”

“Yes, but I think she’s out now. She and I were … well, I was with her for a while. There isn’t much I remember other than lots of drugs and sex and booze. Everyone wanted to party with the fallen teen sweetheart and the trust fund brat.”

“When you say ‘with her’, do you mean what I think you mean?”

She pinched him lightly on the belly. “Typical male.”

“And you are stalling.”

“It’s not what you’re thinking. She was convenient, knew contacts I didn’t and I had the money she’d already blown. We used each other.” Olivia didn’t elaborate on their brief, yet intense, relationship. There had been nothing romantic about it, only a way to not be lonely. The whole period was so surreal to her, one that happened to a different person. “We had a huge get together at our place. I loved that house. Big glass doors opened onto a lanai overlooking the ocean. I was stoned, high out of my mind. We’d tried this new heroin, a purer heroin, and I wanted to swim, convinced I would turn into a mermaid. Good thing I never made it, I probably would have drowned. Instead, I walked right through the glass door. Nearly bled to death because everyone was too wasted to realize how serious it was.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I have that scar, plus one here on my upper abdomen,” she shifted to show him, “and another on my back.”

“Did you get in trouble? I’ve heard stories about Americans in other countries being busted with drugs and locked away in foreign prisons.”

“You forget who I was with at the time. She was still a huge celebrity and it erased a lot of red tape. Plus, the doctor we went to wasn’t quite legit, the infection I got afterwards was about as deadly as crashing through the door.”

“You were lucky.”

“I tell myself that. I’d probably be more ashamed if I could remember it all. Most of this is second hand, what someone told me the next day. I mean, who is stoned enough to walk into glass? As much as I’d love to chalk it up to being twenty-five and stupid, I can’t.”

“Well, I was once so drunk I pissed on a cop car. Swear to God, I thought it was a dumpster and I was in the alley instead of the street.”

A giggle escaped her, erasing the dark path her thoughts were trying to travel down. “Did they see?”

“Oh, yeah. They were inside the car. Pissed right on the NYPD decal on the door.” He bent his head, kissing her temple. “I’m hungry.”

Slipping out from under her, he stretched and she drank in the sight of his naked body, feeling hers respond in reaction. The stirring in her belly was hunger of a different kind. Unfortunately, he left the room instead of returning to bed so she leapt off the mattress to go after another taste.

M
onday morning, Olivia strode into work with a spring in her step, still buoyant from spending nearly her entire Sunday with Duncan, and not caring about being late. Well, her lateness wasn’t his fault, she’d made a side trip to Catherine’s, despite all that was on her plate for the day. They were meeting with the architect, filing the final building permits for her project, and here she was an hour past her normal time. Breezing past Simon’s office, she stopped dead and backtracked.

He sat slumped over at his desk and the exhaustion etched into his face startled her. Had he been there all night? His clothes were wrinkled, a five o’clock shadow darkened his jaw line and he stared blankly into space.

“Looks like you’ve seen better days,” she said as she stepped inside.

Simon shook his head, returning from wherever he’d been. His bleary eyes surveyed her and she began to worry.

“Simon?”

“You have chocolate on your blouse.”

His words were slurred, emphasizing how tired he was, and she glanced down. Sure enough, a blotch of chocolate was splattered on her ivory blouse.

“Dammit. I don’t have anything to change into either.” She wiped at it with her finger. “I made Catherine a mousse this morning and took it over. It’s why I’m late. Obviously, I was in too much of a hurry.”

His lips quirked; the first sign of life. “Mousse? For breakfast?”

“Anna said the same thing, but my grandmother assured her it was perfectly acceptable, declaring she has a short time left on this earth and if she wanted dessert first thing in the morning, she’d have it.” She gave up scratching at the stain, knowing it was pointless. Maybe she could send an intern to her apartment. Back in the day, she’d performed her share of asinine errands.

“Sounds like Catherine.” A weak smile bloomed. “How was your weekend?”

“Great, but I have a feeling you’re about to douse it.”

He sighed. “I need a distraction. Then I’ll tell you. So, why was your weekend so great?”

She set her purse and satchel on the floor before taking a seat in one of the chairs facing him. Fine, she’d play along for now.

“I had a date.” The residual glow of being with Duncan flushed her face and she couldn’t stop herself from beaming.

Simon blinked a couple times and leaned forward, suddenly more alert. “You’re seeing someone already?”

“I guess I am.” Her fingers tapped a happy tune on her thigh. “It’s kind of a long story.”

“We have time before our meeting with the architect. Besides, after my evening and morning, I need happy news.”

His rough voice didn’t sound pleased and she hesitated. Did she really want to open up to him about such a personal experience? “Okay, but when I’m done, you’re telling me what is going on with you.” He nodded reluctantly. “Anyway, Catherine told you I was at the Trade Center on 9/11, right?” Simon nodded again and she paused. “I don’t understand why she shared that with you so soon after she and I discussed it.”

“I think she needed someone to help her digest it. You don’t have to do this, Liv.”

“No, it’s okay. I get it. I’ve learned talking is therapeutic.”

With a fortifying breath, she dove into the whole story, omitting the part about being on the phone with her parents and other details that were too personal. She went for years without talking about her experience. Now, she did it constantly. It cleansed her and forced her to realize, more than ever, it was time to move on.

“And you’ve found the firefighter who saved your life? Without even looking? It’s not too often life works out that well, or that you strike up a relationship.”

“No, it doesn’t.” She sighed. “In rehab, they warn us to avoid romantic attachments for a while, to concentrate on staying sober, get a pet or a plant first. The therapists worry we will replace one addiction with another, putting unattainable expectations on the other person, so I’m a little apprehensive.”

“Maybe, but this seems more like the work of fate than anything.” His lips pursed. “Good for you. Go for it.”

Olivia thought she caught a trace of jealousy in his tone and, although it flattered her, she chalked it up to her imagination. Avoiding eye contact with Simon, she changed the subject. “Your turn.”

He expelled a heavy breath and sank back into his chair. “There was a fire at one of our building sites in Brooklyn.” She opened her mouth, stomach twisting in knots, but he held up a hand to hold her off. “It happened last night and no one was hurt. I went as soon as I heard and spent most of the night waiting. Place burned to ashes. Unofficially, fire marshal says it was arson, but I’m still waiting for confirmation.”

“Oh, Simon, I’m sorry. Do they think this is tied in to the crane accident?”

“Too soon to tell.” He rubbed at his eyes. “Let’s do lunch tomorrow. I should know more by then.”

“I suppose I can spare an hour for you.” She grinned, reverting to their normal banter.

His mouth lifted. “Wouldn’t want you to strain yourself.”

“Eh,” she shrugged, “I don’t have anything better to do. You’ve made up for my initial assessment.”

“Short of ordering a balloon bouquet, I’ve apologized for my behavior more than once.”

“Well, I do like balloons.”

Thomas chose that moment to stick his head in. He frowned when he saw them laughing together. “We’re ready.”

He left abruptly and Olivia smirked at Simon. “I still think you must have ran over his cat.”

“Welcome to my charmed life.” He pushed to his feet. “Why don’t you head over to the conference room. I’m going to try and pull myself together. Don’t want everyone thinking I’m slipping and showing up to work looking like a schlup.”

“At least you don’t have chocolate on your shirt,” she reminded him.

“What a pair we are.”

~~~~~

Olivia wanted to bang her head repeatedly against the boardroom table. For over an hour now, it’d been nothing but arguments between Simon and Thomas. The two men would not give the other an inch and the poor architect and his team appeared ready to bolt.

“There is no point in taking out this wall. We can work with what’s already there,” Simon said, coming very close to a snarl.

“And that’s idiotic. Offering one or two larger apartments will help improve our bottom line, entice some bigger fish,” Thomas fired back.

“This project has never been about a bottom line. It’s about preserving and appealing to a different buyer.”

“Don’t presume to tell me what it’s about. I was with Anderson when he came up with it.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, he’s not here.” Olivia watched Thomas’s face grow red. “It’s Olivia’s now. Remember that.”

“Don’t bring me into this,” she muttered, flashing an apologetic look at the architect.

The arguing men ignored her.

“No, he’s not here, and lucky for you he isn’t. You would have been out on your ass a long time ago. Anderson had an eye for worthless punks.”

“This shouldn’t be about how much you dislike me,” Simon continued, not rising to take the bait and exhaustion thickening his words. “I’m invested in the company as much as you are.”

Thomas kicked the level of his voice up a notch and the architect’s team flinched. “Don’t you dare assume VDB means as much to you as it does me. You can’t come in here and order me to fall in line.”

“I’m not ordering you to do anything.” Simon sounded almost defeated. “And we’re getting off track. Let’s steer this conversation back to Olivia’s building.”

“Why? So you can belittle my ideas some more? I refuse to take orders from a wet behind the ears asshole like you! You don’t deserve to wipe the shoes of those who built this company.”

Whoa, now it was getting personal. A headache flared behind her eyes and she fought hard to maintain her composure. Someone had to. This was embarrassing.

“Thomas,” she began, but Simon steamrolled right over her.

“Well, Catherine likes me fine and she’s the one who made this company what it is.”

Thomas snorted. “I’m beginning to wonder if she was in her right mind appointing you. Sickness doesn’t just affect the body. Clearly, she is deteriorating mentally as well.”

“That’s enough!” Olivia slapped her hand on the table and pushed to her feet. She tilted her head to address their guest. “Brian, I apologize. This is incredibly unprofessional. Why don’t I call and reschedule this meeting, maybe later in the week when the children are done fighting in the sandbox.”

She nailed Simon and Thomas with a scathing glare before gathering her notebook and storming from the room. Without thinking twice, she headed straight for her father’s abandoned office. Olivia put her hand on the cold doorknob and turned, entering her father’s domain for the first time in years.

Afternoon sun streamed in through the wide windows, pooling in the middle of the large, vacant space, right where the desk used to sit and warming the stagnant air. The only movement was the dust motes swirling through the light.

Weary, she stepped forward and sank to the sun-washed floor, tucking her legs under her. Sitting there, in a shaft of sunlight, she appreciated why the office was kept empty, but it seemed like such a waste.

“There are better ways to remember,” she whispered to the stale air.

“Somehow I knew I’d find you here.”

Thomas interrupted her melancholy moment, but she stayed right where she was, scowling up at him. He fidgeted, shifting from foot to foot, unable to meet her stare. Olivia remained quiet, waiting for him to say why he’d sought her out.

“I may have acted a little immaturely in there,” he admitted.

“A little?” She threw her hands in the air. “You and Simon are worse than toddlers!”

“I don’t mean to be so confrontational with him. He gets under my skin.”

“Obviously,” Olivia muttered.

“I knew we were being impossible, but I couldn’t rein it in. Maybe it’s a generational gap. I believe in a person paying their dues. He swooped in from nowhere and comes across as lazy and cocky,” he explained.

“Everyone has their own approach to business. I imagine being laidback gives Simon time to gauge his surroundings. And yes, he and I picture a different outlook on the future than you would. I bet you were the same at our age, full of big ideas and swagger.”

“I’ve been trying.”

“I’m sure the poor architect would disagree.” Olivia didn’t mention that she doubted his level of effort as well. “Besides, Simon was up all night at that fire in Brooklyn, I think he deserves a break.”

He frowned. “Point taken and I’ll apologize to Brian. I promise I won’t let that happen again.” Thomas reached for her hand, not mentioning any intent of apologizing to Simon. “Come on, let me treat you to lunch and you can lecture me some more.”

“Be prepared for a long meal.” Olivia let him help her to her feet. “You two are beyond stressful and I don’t need that.”

Before they crossed the threshold to leave the office, Thomas stopped her.

“Since we’re here, I wanted to do something. I asked to be the one to give you this. I’m proud of you, Liv.”

He handed her a plain white envelope with her name in the display window.

“What’s this?” she asked, ripping it open. She stared slack-jawed at the paper. “Thomas, you don’t have to pay me. I didn’t expect it.”

“Nonsense. You’re putting in the hours. Only fair you are compensated, and since I knew you were going to object, I gave you a decent starting wage.”

She shook her head at him, mouth still open in shock. “Thank you, then. It’s a nice surprise.”

The check trembled in her hands as she stared at it. It was such a monumental moment. Working here before, as an intern, she’d never been paid for her work, none of the interns were. This was her first official paycheck from VDB Enterprises and she didn’t know how to process it. She wanted to share the landmark with her mom and dad. Knowing them, they’d take her to her favorite restaurant, turn it into a special affair. Choking down tears, Olivia folded the check and tucked it in her pocket.

Even with the strange contentment it gave her, it made her return to the company much more real. A lifetime of offices, tailored suits, and board meetings stretched in front of her and she had to press a hand to her stomach to stifle the nausea welling. She didn’t want that, not even a little. The resolution hit her with shocking force. She enjoyed being here, carrying on her father’s work, but her passion was elsewhere, in her bakery. This wasn’t what she wanted for her life, not in the slightest, and she couldn’t base her life on what she thought others wanted for her. The realization took the weight from her shoulders and loosened the noose of guilt around her neck.

All Olivia had to do was convince Catherine to let her go.