Текст книги "A Taste of Summer"

Автор книги: Beverly Preston

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Chapter Three

‡

After an evening of Cosmos, girl talk, and a trip or two down memory lane, the morning greeted her with a fresh perspective. Carrie Ann likened Ryan Summer to her favorite dress from high school hanging in the back of her closet. The Boho chic peasant dress put a smile on her face every time she stumbled across it. It taunted her to slip the chiffon over her head, fasten a wide leather belt around the waist, and throw on her combat boots. The multi print had always been her most beloved dress and nothing she ever did could change that. Deep down, she knew she’d never wear that damn dress again, yet she held onto it thinking ‘maybe, just maybe, I’ll wear it again someday.’

Waiting for Sara to arrive at the Villa, she settled into one of a dozen outdoor chaises. Little waves fanned across the top of her coffee as Carrie Ann blew on the rich creamy goodness. Staring out at the ocean in a trance, she debated on whether to cancel going to the premier.

“Morning.” Sara greeted cheerfully, handing off a beautifully wrapped rectangular box. “I swung by the office to pick up my handy dandy measuring tape and this was lying on your desk.”

“Shit,” she grumbled, giving a jiggle to the box assuming it to be chocolates.

“Looks like Jason is working some extra sweetness.”

“I don’t think it’s from Jason.”

“Ooh! Who’s the mystery man?”

Momentarily shunning the card, Carrie Ann strummed her fingers along the box. “It’s probably from Ryan.”

“Ryan?” Sara tilted her head in a questioning manner, brown eyes wide with interest.

“Ryan Summer.”

“Oh my God! Are you kidding me? Open the card!” On the verge of drooling, Sara anxiously rubbed her hands together. Putting herself in a business-like check, she suggested calmly, “I mean, don’t you think you should open the card?”

Somehow Carrie Ann’s lower lip managed to slip between her teeth. A lethal concoction of anger, irritation and pain brewed deep within. To her own disbelief a pang of interest knocked a little lower within Fuck! Fuckity-fuck! She chewed on her lip for a full thirty seconds before opening the card.

Just a little snack for you to enjoy during your busy day

Glad the Villa worked out perfectly

Looking forward to seeing it decked out for the Auction

Jason

“Thank God.” A sigh of relief burned from her throat, handing the card off to Sara.

“Oh, man.” Sara’s shoulders slumped in utter disappointment. “I mean, you know, Jason’s cute and all, but…Ryan! Now he’s a total hottie. Do you actually know him?”

“We dated in college.”

Ignoring Sara’s squeals of enthusiasm and barrage of questions, she drifted off into her own thoughts. A numbing ache of disenchantment settled heavy in her chest. She thought for sure it would be from Summer. Worse yet, somewhere hidden in the dusty corners of her heart, Carrie Ann wanted them to be from him. But just the idea of that tiny admission infuriated her.

“Did you say you brought a measuring tape?”

Sara stopped mid-sentence. The off-limits subject duly noted with a nod of affirmation as she handed off the yellow tape.

The day went off with only a few minor hitches. Carrie Ann and Sara executed a minute by minute dry run of the event, creating a list, and then backtracking every task, so no detail would slip through the cracks.

Fatigue set in at the end of the day. Walking through the front door, she was greeted with a rich floral fragrance. Ignoring the gorgeous bouquet, Carrie Ann plopped her purse and box of chocolates beside the clear crystal vase.

Kicking out of her flats, she turned on some music, grabbed a glass of red wine, settled into her favorite overstuffed chair, and dug into her little brown bag of dinner-to-go. With each passing minute, the melody faded to background noise. Carrie Ann attempted to ignore the red roses staring her in the face. Hostility grew with each bite of lemongrass chicken. Half way through one of her favorite meals, she stood, slamming her fork and bowl on the kitchen counter.

Her nails clicked against the cold granite. She couldn’t decide who she was madder at, Summer or herself for allowing him to get under her skin. Fuck! Fuckity-fuck! Hormonal outburst kicked into full swing, pacing with punishing strides, stomping on the wood floor.

Reaching for the chocolates, she tore open the box, sinking her teeth into the caramel filled square of dark chocolate. Frustration loomed over her like a black cloud…a black cloud during a Summer downpour.

She needed an out.

Without so much as one rational thought, she grabbed her phone.

“Hello.”

“Hey,” she choked a bit, swallowing the sweet treat. “Sorry, I was just taking a bite of chocolate.”

“I was hoping you’d see them before the weekend.” A smile colored Jason’s voice. An unmistakable question hid within his statement.

“Luckily, Sara spotted them on my desk this morning and brought them with her to the Villa. They’re delicious. Thank you.” She kept her tone smooth, not overly coy, but just enough of an indication.

“It’s my pleasure. Have you had a chance to look at your schedule?” he paused. “Maybe go to dinner tomorrow night?”

Tommy would be upset if she backed out of the premier. However, the last thing she wanted to endure was the sight of a piece of arm candy attached to Summer’s side, while she watched from the sidelines—dateless—looking like a lonely idiot.

Desperate times lead to desperate measures.

“Actually, I have an extra ticket to a movie premier tomorrow night.” She stumbled through her words. “I need a friend to go with me. Are you interested?”

Jason fell quiet on the other end of the line. “Friends, huh?”

“Friends,” she remarked casually. Glaring at the flowers, Carrie Ann added out of pure spite, “Friends…date…maybe.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Even with a warm measure of charm pouring from Jason’s voice, she didn’t feel the slightest tingle of interest. Not one zing. Guilt reared its ugly and unflattering head. Make it clear…friends only! Her typically poised date routine morphed into a ramble. “Would it be too much to ask if we just keep it simple…for right now. See how things go? I’ll be consumed for the next week, and honestly, I get so bogged down, all of my energy—”

“Carrie Ann, I totally understand. I’d love to go. I promise to keep my hands to myself and I won’t expect you to move in with me until we’ve had at least two dates.” He chuckled. “I’ll arrange a car. What time would you like me to pick you up? I’m assuming that’s okay?”

She had to laugh at his sarcasm. “That would be great. Six o’clock?”

“Six it is.”

*

A-listers arrived by car, feeding the frenzy of flashing lights and screeches of exhilaration from fans, press and paparazzi. Carrie Ann and Jason arrived via a separate entrance and waited in a VIP holding room along with one hundred or so other attendees. The eager movie goers cared not so much about the movie, but about the irresistible sensation of channeling their inner-celebrity for an evening.

Not wanting to draw attention to her girls, Carrie Ann opted to conceal her cleavage wearing an edgy, silver sequin cropped mini paired with blue suede peep toe ankle boots. The platform bootie with stiletto heel added some serious inches to her average five foot five height next to Jason’s broad six-foot stature.

Their conversation flowed easily, chatting it up with other guests waiting for staff to usher them in groups down the Red Carpet, spreading out the excitement. Jason was polite, attentive, and very admiring, hitting all the fine-tuned points a date needed to make a good impression. The man had what Carrie Ann referred to as Player discipline, delving out compliments in moderation to ensure its success ratio. Starting with the traditional, “You look beautiful,” upon arrival and, “Your eyes light up when you talk about HAHF,” during the drive, followed by an intrigued, “What makes you so passionate about the Have a Heart Foundation?” while in the holding room.

Fortunately, the Cinema staff came with impeccable timing and arrived right on cue to save her from sharing a personal story of her mother’s death, a story she rarely shared.

Stepping into the lime light, Carrie Ann duly inspected Jason’s masculine frame. She couldn’t deny his strikingly handsome features. Dark hair layered seamlessly across his forehead, tie knotted to perfection at his throat, even his shoes exhibited a pristine shine. Caught staring, Jason smiled amiably, taking the opportunity to rest his hand on her lower back. As the corners of her lips began to turn upward, he gave another adjustment to his already perfect tie, pressing and primping with neatly manicured fingers. Her lip recoiled with a tiny flinch, bombarded with the sudden urge to muddle his hair or dislocate his tie.

They stopped several times, managing to get in a few selfies along the Red Carpet. Carrie Ann discreetly canvased the walkway, fully prepared to run into Summer at some point during the evening. The constant feeling of distraction wore on her nerves.

Hearing shrills of excitement erupt in the distance sent a cautionary warning ping to her chest as autograph seekers called out for Ryan and his co-star Jessy. She automatically teetered on her tip toes, stretching her neck in the direction of the strobe of photogs, but couldn’t see anything through the cluster of press.

Once inside the Cinema, the insanity hushed to a low roar and scent of buttered popcorn permeated the air. Carrie Ann and Jason settled into their assigned seats directly behind Shayla and John.

“Hey,” Shayla croaked, choking on her popcorn seeing Jason at her side.

Carrie Ann purposely failed to mention bringing Jason to the premier, fearing a long lecture from Shayla that surely would’ve pointed out the fact that she’d already mentioned having no interest in dating Jason. Which undoubtedly would’ve led to topics like childish behavior or you’re using your date to make him jealous or You need to come clean with him. Or a number of other rational statements that Carrie Ann had no interest in hearing. She simply didn’t want to endure the humiliation of watching Ryan Summer parade a gorgeous woman around in front of her all night.

“It’s a madhouse out there. You look amazing. Great dress,” Carrie Ann complimented, hoping to ease the look of dismay washing the color from Shayla’s cheeks. She leaned over the seat-back between them, passing out hugs to her favorite couple. “Hi John.”

“The crowd is crazy!” John agreed, pressing a friendly kiss to her cheek before extending a hand to Jason. “John Mathews.”

“Jason, Jason Calver. Nice to meet you.

“This is my wife, Shayla.”

Shayla squashed the bewilderment forged into the groove between her brows before greeting Jason. “Pleasure to meet you. Carrie Ann’s told me all about the Villa you found for the auction. I can’t wait to see it this weekend.”

John’s eyes beaded and a rogue smile filled his handsome face. The man had a gift for reading people and judging by the snarky gleam in his eye, he knew exactly why Carrie Ann had a man at her side. He glanced toward a group seated several rows in front of them. She followed his lazy gaze, skimming over the crowd. An unusual sensation of butterflies fluttered in the pit of her stomach, spying a head of thick sandy blond hair. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t help noticing Summer’s co-star, Jessy and her husband sat to the right of him, and Drew filled the seat to his left.

No arm candy.

An awkward twinge fired off in the pit of her stomach. She fidgeted a bit, squaring her shoulders to adjust her posture. Why the hell am I even feeling the slightest bit of guilt for bringing Jason? The man had his chance years ago and blew it.

“You look lovely this evening, Carrie Ann.” John’s deep voice pulled her out of a trance. Understanding lingered in his emerald eyes, whispering, “You okay?”

His protective tone, considerate and caring, indicating Shayla had already mentioned her meltdown over the roses. The couple didn’t keep secrets and told each other everything. Truth be told, Carrie Ann had a wee bit of a crush on her best friend’s husband. It wasn’t your typical crush of attraction or infatuation. It was more like a man-crush. John sat at the top of her Men You Admire Poll. He could build or fix anything. That alone was impressive enough, bearing in mind she grew up in a house where her dad couldn’t or wouldn’t even change a lightbulb. Plus, John was an amazing father. However, what she loved most about John was that he thought the sun rose and set inside Shayla. He was crazy in love with her and didn’t hide it.

“I’m good.” Her tender smile acting as a thank you. “You look very debonair this evening.”

“Ha! Debonair? I don’t think that’s a category I fall under. The boys said they made some cash off you the other day.”

“They sure did. I was just happy not to have to endure a tarantula sighting.”

Focus all but obliterated, Carrie Ann dared to take another look in Summer’s direction. Drew peered over his shoulder, perusing the room with wide-eyed interest. The sheer buzz of excitement was evident in his exuberant smile. They made eye contact. He raised a hand, flashing her a peace sign as he flipped a chuck of blond hair from his forehead. She couldn’t help but delight in his enthusiasm. It was probably the coolest moment of his life thus far. Tossing him a quick wink, she settled into her seat.

The director arrived on stage, sharing his zealous passion, showing his favorite cast interviews, who gushed about the incredible life-changing experience it was to work with the best director on the planet. Feeling distracted, Carrie Ann could barely pay attention to the ongoing ramble, preoccupied by the guilt seeping in through the cracks of her conscience. It wasn’t fair to invite Jason. Even though she clearly defined her intention for the evening as friendship, she used him as a buffer and knew it. Not my finest moment.

Theater lights dimmed giving warning that the movie was about begin.

Carrie Ann slipped a loose strand of dark hair behind her shoulder, but in mid-motion she saw a pair of warm cognac eyes in her peripheral.

Summer’s powerful gaze landed directly on her, demanding her attention.

A surge of guilt, ridiculous and unreasonable, simmered beneath the surface of her skin. The pounding of her heart, almost painful in its beat. He held the piercing stare for what felt like eternity before cutting to the male companion at her side. Though his face showed no emotion, his jaw stretched taut and rigid, bolding the cleft in his chin.

Carrie Ann squirmed in her seat. Without being able to stop herself, she inched away from Jason’s side.

A quick mental assessment of her own bizarre reaction fired off an internal round of head-strong tenacity. Irritation capsized. Gathering her defenses with several deep breaths, she turned to Jason showering him with a reserved smile.

As darkness lowered over the theater, Summer faced the screen leaving her to endure two of the longest hours of her life.

*

A list of Who’s Who filled the trendy restaurant which opened exclusively for the after party. Dinner tables were replaced with smaller bar-like high tables, covered in fine white linens and candles, giving the restaurant a more intimate party vibe. Men dressed in formal wear blended with a mixology of women’s colorful gowns and dresses making for an exquisite palate for the evening. Sparkly jewels nestled between vast amounts of enhanced cleavage, and a copious amount of free-flowing alcohol, made for a plethora of sightseeing. And not the kind you’d find on your average tour of Hollywood Boulevard.

“What would you like to drink?” Jason asked.

To drink or not to drink? That was the question. Lord knows she needed a dose of pink cure all, but she wanted to keep her wits about her. Carrie Ann tried to make an excuse for an early exit, but Tommy wasn’t having it, encouraging her and Jason to join them at the private after party. Jason rubbed elbows with LA’s wealthiest on a daily basis, yet Carrie Ann thought she might have to wipe the drool from his chin when Tommy Clemmins insisted they share his limo. She giggled to herself practically hearing the cha ching of dollar signs roll through Jason’s eyes like a Vegas slot machine at the mere possibility of assisting Tommy Clemmins with any real estate needs.

“I would love a water.”

“Water?” A hint of shock crossed his face. Judging by the quirk of Shayla’s brow, she was just as surprised. “Anything else?”

“No thanks, just water, please. I have to work tomorrow. The next few days will be brutal.”

Jason turned from the table, leaving her standing amid a small group including Shayla and John, Tommy and Tess, and a revolving door of people patting Tommy on the back for the near God-like production of The best film they’d ever seen in their lives. Carrie Ann loved the movie and the film’s merit would certainly make its mark on several award nomination lists, however, the well-rehearsed congratulations and felicitations bordered on some major ass-kissing.

JC called out to Jason as he made his way toward the crowded bar, “Can you make that two waters?” She waved before hiding a yawn in the palm of her hand.

A set of broad shoulders made their way through the horde of people. Reed approached with a chair. “Here you go, darlin’. I’ll get you a water. You want me to get you something to eat?” he asked sweetly, bending closer to inspect her face as if she were a young child or an elderly woman.

The muscles in Carrie Ann’s face slowly softened watching the tender exchange in awe. Reed placed a kiss near JC’s temple and rubbed a small circle over her flat tummy before catching up with Jason.

Her mouth popped open in recollection. “Are you…” Her question cut short gesturing a hand roll in the direction of JC’s mid-section.

“What? Why would you ask that?” Panic saturated her tone. JC’s eyes darted from side to side checking the proximity of prying party goers.

“It’s just…” Carrie Ann moved closer, whispering, “That’s the second time I’ve seen him touch you like that.”

“Touch me like what?” She attempted to hide her beaming grin, but the joy radiating in her eyes gave her away.

Carrie Ann glanced around, making sure no one in the near vicinity was paying attention to their quiet conversation. Most were immersed in Tommy and all things Oscar talk. She covertly circled a hand over her the waist of her sequin dress.

“Shit. Please don’t say anything.” A deep shade of crimson flushed her cheeks.

“No, no. I would never. Congratulations. Does anyone else know?”

“Only family…and we’d like to keep it quiet as long as possible. Maybe Thanksgiving, depending how soon I start to show. We just found out the other day when we saw you at Tommy’s place.”

“You better tell Reed to stop rubbing your tummy like that in public. Oh my gosh, I can’t even imagine how beautiful your baby will be. You two are the most attractive couple I know.”

Another round of severe blushing.

The deep red sparked an idea. “You know, if you’re interested in announcing your new arrival—” she whispered the last few words in JC’s ear “—publicly, I’d love to have you and Reed pose together in the Bared Your Soul Calendar. The chemistry between you two is off the charts. All the proceeds go to the—”

“Hello, Red.” A deep delicious voice swept over her bare shoulder.

Jolting upright, she let out a squeal bumping into his muscular form. “You scared the shit out of me,” Carrie Ann blurted bringing her eyes around to meet his.

Summer stood inches to her left. Humor flicked the crease of his wide, full mouth. Her breath hitched slightly before turning erratic. Somewhere deep inside, she felt a small urge to bolt, but his amber eyes rendered her immobile. Inner chaos gathered force as intuition rebelled against logic. She struggled to catalogue the distinction between the two, reluctantly allowing herself to bathe in the fearsome pleasure of the sight of him.

“Let’s chat later.” She heard JC say faintly, beneath the blood pounding in her ears.

Carrie Ann took him in at a sideways glance, not daring to face him head on. His tan skin accentuating his white smile. She breathed in the spicy scent of him invading her senses. A tingle of awareness danced through her veins against her will.

“You brought a date to my movie premier.” He said flatly, more of a statement than question. There was no change in his expression except the humor fading from his lips.

She was slow to react. The mere brush of his fingers lingering playfully over the back of her arm made her come undone. Goosebumps chased up her spine, one vertebrae at a time, instantly prickling her exposed flesh.

“No. I mean, yes. I mean…so what, Summer?”

“I’d hoped, perhaps, you would’ve joined me this evening. Did you get the fl—“His words drifted off, golden eyes swallowed her whole, taking in every intimate nuance of her face.

Needing to detach from the intensity of his stare, Carrie Ann sought the near vicinity for assistance from Shayla…who pretended not to pay attention while drowning her wide-eyed interest behind the rim of her glass.

The touch of his fingers, light and arousing, coasting along the length of her arm captured her undivided attention. “What?” she asked unsteadily.

“My God, you look breathtaking, Red.” He stated smoothly, intimate eyes wearing a half smile, taking zero time to make her heart flutter. “Though, you always do.”

She could scarcely breathe. Her body now acting in complete treachery of good judgment, permitting her gaze to drift lower, stealing a peek at the open collar of his deep plum shirt. His throat clean shaven and golden tan. She could practically feel the hard running emotions firing off beneath his fine graphite suit jacket.

The curve of his mouth lifted as his gaze slipped to her feet. “Love the shoes.”

The comment, bursting of innuendo, snapped her out of her awestruck state of mind. Her eyes narrow. Not the shoes. Don’t even go there! Carrie Ann cocked her head, lifting her gaze to meet his. She lost the ability to string two words together, though a firm Fuck Off rang loud and clear in her head.

Summer dropped his view, admiring the cherry-colored polish peeking out from her blue suede Jimmy Choos. Leaning closer he murmured in a soft tender voice seemingly searching for a fond memory, “Nice choice. I do miss your Come Fuck Me Red, but my favorite is still your Eat My Pussy Pink.”

A surge of blood ripped through her veins searching claim of the farthest points. Her signature, cherry-red polish had been the inspiration for her nickname. Wrath and haste overrode every rational thought in her brain. Carrie Ann drew in a deep breath, braced herself, and spun to face him.

Head on.

Summer’s hips jutted backward, but it was too late. Carrie Ann had him right where she wanted him…by the balls.

He wasn’t breathing well.

And neither was she.

They glared at each other in a silent battle of wills, his cocksure power fading beneath the tips of her fingers.

Summer’s hand flew to his groin, seizing her wrist with long powerful fingers. His chest heaved, nostrils flared, and lips parted sucking in a rough gasp. As he exhaled, the heat of his ragged breath fanned across her temple. Gripping his manliness, her body responded involuntarily easing into him as if being caught in a riptide or gravitational pull.

Carrie Ann watched a ripple of a hard swallow slip down his throat. If it weren’t for the look of terror in his eyes as they rolled beneath the lids, she could’ve easily mistaken the strain of his neck and face for an intense climax.

A slow burn deepened in the pit of her stomach.

“Easy, Red.” Pain eminent in the guttural croak.

“Take it easy?” Her body quaked. Losing all good sense and stability, she squeezed a little tighter. “Take it easy? How ’bout you cut me some slack?”

A battle of stubborn wills ensued, neither flinching. Pressure was building, toxic and uncomfortable. She could feel the contraction of his abdomen and below shrinking in the palm of her hand.

“Carrie Ann,” he panted with a hint of pleading. A small vein throbbed above his left eye.

“The polish? That’s pushing it a little, wouldn’t you agree?” She issued the warning through gritted teeth. The rising temperature in her hand noticeable through the thin layer of his trousers.

The rich amber shade of Summer’s eyes deepened, darkening to the color of whiskey. Any words or disagreement appeared to be lodged in his throat. Tightening the imprint of his fingers around her wrist, he gave a small nod, discreetly taking inspection of their surroundings.

“Had I known that’s how you control Ryan, I might’ve actually tried that a time or two during filming.” Tommy heeded from behind.

So engrossed in anger, she’d completely ignored their situation and surroundings. Carrie Ann immediately loosened her grip on his goods. A heavy puff of air whooshed from his lungs. Summer refused to relinquish her wrist. The weight in her hand grew thick and heavy with arousal. A dangerous cocktail of irritation and desire swirled between them. The lids of his eyes dusted shut beneath his thick dark lashes. His gaze turned lazy with hunger. She could feel the blush on her cheeks begin to blister.

“Let go of me.” Brimming with embarrassment, her voice thickened.

His face hardened to stone. He nailed her with a sharp glare, before releasing her arm.

A long silence lingered.

Now acutely aware of her surroundings, and growing humiliation, Carrie Ann remained paralyzed facing Summer’s shirt front. Her reaction bordered on one of the most hasty, reckless, un-thought-through, excruciating moments of her life. Well almost. She refused to look up at him or turn around to face the music.

“Is everything okay here?” John questioned with the potency of a protective brother.

Folding her arms beneath her chest, she forced herself to turn around. Clearing the sentiment from her throat, she attempted to sound resolute, “Everything is fine.”

“Excuse us.” Summer bit coolly.

Feeling the grip of his fingers encircle her upper arm. Carrie Ann let out a tiny squeal. Her eyes bulged in surprise as he hauled her away from the table.

“Ryan?” Tommy inched toward them, caution held in his tone.

“Back off, Tommy,” Summer said through clenched teeth.

While the collective gaze of her friends teetered between them, Carrie Ann nodded indicating she could handle herself; as if she hadn’t just made that point crystal clear.

She could’ve stopped him, but went along willingly. Though she didn’t know why. He steered her through the crowd, making their way through a set of doors. She wriggled free of his grasp, but he splayed his hand across the small of her back, directing her down a long corridor and into an office.

Summer shut the door behind them, locking out the sounds of muffled voices and beats of music. Boxes of wine and liquor hid the wall behind a long desk covered in files and paperwork.

“What the hell are you doing?” She spun to face him, hands clamped to her hips.

“Me?” He let out an explosive huff.

The rhythmic sounds of their labored breathing filled the strained air between them. Layers of feelings, abandoned and painful, clawed their way toward the surface. Ancient feelings she swore she was over ten years ago.

She unloaded, spewing years of pent up emotions. “You don’t get to just step back into my life! Have you lost it? You have the nerve to think we’re going to pick up…”

“Yes, I’ve lost it.” His heated stare fixated on her bottom lip. Overhead lighting shadowed the dimple on his chin. “And I’ve decided I want it back.”

“What?” She balked, wrinkling her nose. Her chest propelled forward in defiance. “Why the hell are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m just wondering—“One brow lifted and a sexy grin deepened on one side. “—if your mouth is gonna taste as good as I remember.”

“You’re out of your mind!” She drilled her index finger to his forehead.

A long pause.

Without taking his eyes off her, Summer took two wary steps back, repositioning himself out of her reach. He leaned against the desk, half sitting on the edge. Her senses heightened witnessing something she hasn’t seen in some time, his full lips curving into a genuine heart stopping smile. An electric spasm struck low in her abdomen.

“What do you think, Red? Hmm?”

Hearing him ask the double question, her thighs tensed. Every time he followed a question with Hmm, his fingers were usually thread through her hair for one reason or another. Each recollection zipping through her mind led her back to some seriously pleasurable memories of discovery. Memories so clear, she could damn near feel the imprint of his hand in her hair.

“Do you think I’ll taste as good as you remember? Hmm?”

Muscles in her face screwed tight in annoyance.

Arrogant. Cocky. Mother. Fucker.

“One date, Red. I just want one night.”

Shaking with frustration and several other very identifiable sensations, she snapped.

“One night?” she shrieked. Waving her hand aimlessly at the desk, brash tenacity flew from her mouth, “I suppose you think I’m just going to lay back and let you fuck me right here?”

A smirk of surprise tipped his brow. Carrie Ann cringed inwardly at her crudeness. He remained calm, exuding a sureness she hadn’t seen him wear before.

“As tempting as that sounds, no Carrie Ann, that’s not what I meant. I want to take you on a date. I want talk. Dinner, wine, a walk on the beach, Broadway, New York, Paris…I don’t care what we do.” Taking quiet observation, he continued, his voice turning soft and wishful. “I want another shot, Red.”

Her mouth gaped open in dismay attempting to filter the bullshit from the truth. Catching a glimpse of hunger behind his eyes as they drifted over her lips, she snapped it shut.

“And if you’re still inclined…” He glimpsed down at the desk, curling his fingers firmly around the edge. “I’d love nothing more than to lay you back on a desk and fuck you till you make that noise—” His eyes, glassy and rapt in time, rolled behind the lid. “—that sexy little groan you make.”

Carrie Ann stiffened from head to toe. Before she had time to fire back a list of coherent rhetorical remarks, a rap on the door stopped both of them in their tracks.