Harmony and High Heels

by Tracy Wolff

  She knew what she was going to find before she turned, and sure enough, she was right. Dalton was standing there in a perfectly tailored charcoal-gray suit that made his black hair and green eyes pop even more than they had yesterday. It also made him even more panther-like.

  She felt that tug deep inside of herself again, the one that told her she wanted this man every way she could have him. The fact that she couldn’t have him only made her voice bitchier as she countered, “Do you always walk into other people’s houses without knocking?” She fashioned the first hand into a stiff middle finger and placed it in the oil before stepping back and leaning against the counter.

  “I did knock, but you couldn’t hear it.” He pointed to her smartphone. “Always listen to your music so loud? At that decibel level, you’re looking at another two years before the hearing loss kicks in.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Oz, I’ll keep that in mind.” She pulled the first batch of cookies out of the oven.

  “Are those oatmeal raisin cookies?” He sounded hopeful, but she wasn’t in the mood for company. Especially not company she was tempted to spread whipped cream all over before slowly licking it off.

  “No.” Technically, they were oatmeal raisinless cookies.

  “They smell like oatmeal raisin cookies.” He popped one in his mouth. “Taste like oatmeal raisinless cookies.”

  And damn it, it didn’t help her little problem that he had the same damn sense of humor that she did. The bastard. Not that she had any intention of showing him how much he turned her on. She might be reckless, but she didn’t do suicide missions, and the tiny voice at the back of her mind, which she usually ignored, told her that tangling with Dalton was going to fuck her up way more than she already was.

  She was determined not to ignore it today, especially after last night’s close call.

  “So, not only do you break and enter, but now you’re stealing food?” Too bad she’d left her guns by the pool. She could nip this thing—whatever it was—in the bud. “You Fort Worthers are weird. In San Angelo we have better manners.”

  His eyes roamed down her body. “Do y’all bake in bikinis? I’ve never been to San Angelo, but I just might move there so I can watch the bikini baking team.”

  “Pervert.” As she turned back to the frying donut, she mashed her lips together to hide her smile. Apparently he liked the way she looked in her bikini—maybe as much as she liked him in that suit.

  A quick test told her the donut was ready. Using a metal spider, she fished it out and covered it with a lemon glaze.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Dalton’s dark-green eyes turned huge.

  “Depends on what you think it is.” She arranged the donut on a plate so that the middle finger was the focal point, then aimed it straight at him. “If you think it’s a donut flipping you off, you’d be correct.”

  “Can I have it?” He stepped into her personal space. He was so close she could smell him—sandalwood and something underneath it that was all male.

  “No, this one’s mine.” She didn’t back away or back down. Instead, she sucked in the middle finger and bit it off at the root. The smoldering look he gave her conjured images of her mouth swallowing something else entirely. So much for the voice in the back of her head.

  Of course, she nearly choked on the mouthful of dough, but the look on his face made it almost worth it.

  “Fine.” He shrugged out of his suit jacket, folded it, and hung it on a kitchen chair back. “I’ll make my own.”

  Clearly, he wasn’t one to throw his clothes down. It appeared that he liked order. Which made her wonder, if she ripped his clothes off, would he put the groping on hold long enough to pick them all up and fold them?

  Not that she was going to find out, but it was a question to ponder. Especially as he rolled his sleeves up and picked up a dough hand. “You want to give me a hand with this?”

  His attempt at a joke was lame at best.

  She figured the only way to counter was to go lame right back. She handed him another hand. “There you go.”

  “Very funny.” He held the dough hand gingerly by the thumb. “Do I just toss it in or what?”

  “You need a little more finesse than that.” She couldn’t help herself. She took the dough and with a practiced hand molded it until the fingers met the thumb in the age-old gesture for jerking someone off. Then she dropped it in the oil. “Wait until it turns golden brown and then take it out.”

  She flipped her sunglasses down from the top of her head onto her eyes. “Now if you’ll excuse me. The latest Cosmo is waiting for me by the pool.”

  “Wait, shouldn’t you stay here and make sure I don’t burn down the house?” He grabbed the spider and tucked his tie over his shoulder.

  “Nope, not my house.” She turned and headed back out to the pool.

  He whistled his approval of her backside. “Nice.”

  Normally, that would piss her off, but it was a free country. He could appreciate her ass just as much as she could appreciate his. There was equality in mutual ogling.

  “Not too bad yourself.” She didn’t look back.

  It was time to enjoy her one and only vacation this year. When Dalton left, she’d go back in and finish up the donuts. All that caged sex appeal was too much to handle in the confines of her sister’s kitchen.

  After setting her plate on the table between two of the six chaises, she folded her chaise flat, laid down on her belly, and propped herself up on her elbows. Then she grabbed her plate and her Cosmo.

  “This is really good.” Dalton sat on the chair next to her. “Is that lemon zest in the frosting?”

  “It’s a glaze and yes there’s lemon zest.” She flipped through ad after ad.

  “You should go on that donut competition baking show,” he said between bites.

  “No way. They give the bakers weird ingredients. No one but a paid judge wants to eat a donut made out of ketchup and lemon pepper.” She could go for a chocolate glaze right now. When Dalton finally left, she’d whip up some and dip the donuts in it.

  “Mind if I have another one?”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him lick his fingers.

  “Don’t you have a job?” She continued to flip pages. “It’s the preseason. Don’t you need to go micromanage something?”

  “Yes, but I’m hungry.” He winked at her. “And I’m the boss, so I can do what I want … within reason.”

  “It seems to me that reason figures a lot into your personal life.” She continued flipping.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” He reached over and used the towel she was lying on to dry his hands.

  “I don’t think this is going to come as a shock to you, but you’re dull.” She flipped the page to find “Kuma Sutra—The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.”

  “I’m not dull.” His tone suggested that he didn’t believe it either.

  “If you say so.” She scanned the article and was a little disappointed—but not surprised—that there was nothing new.

  “I happen to live a very full and fulfilling life.” Now he sounded like he was trying to justify his life choices to her. Or, more likely, to himself.

  “Of course you do.” She flipped more pages.

  He stood. “I’m going to make myself another donut.”

  “Good luck with that.” She didn’t bother to look up.

  He stood there waiting for something—probably for her to get up and help him. “Don’t you want to make sure I don’t burn myself?”

  “Nope, I’m good.” She handed him her empty plate. “Can you put that in the sink for me?”

  He glanced down at the plate, and she could tell he was trying to decide how to play this. It was almost cute, the way he thought he had a shot of one-upping her. But she’d been trained by Livinia Angleton Wright on how to put—and keep—men in their place. He was going to have to work a lot harder than this to shake her up.

  Eventually, he took the plate, but he didn’t head b
ack inside. “Do your tatts have meaning or are they just random things you picked out?” He moved closer, until he was standing over her blocking her sun.

  Geez. This guy was harder to get rid of than chlamydia.

  “They represent places I’ve been.” She tossed the magazine on the table and flipped over. Obviously, he was in no hurry to leave. She pointed to an ornately dressed geisha. “That represents my trip to Japan.” She pointed to a volcano. “This is Popocatépetl in central Mexico.”

  “Popocatépetl—good hiking when the ash isn’t too thick.” He sat on the edge of her chaise.

  “How would you know?” There was no way that Mr. Folds His Jacket had hiked Popocatépetl.

  “Hiked it during the off-season. About three months ago.” He shrugged like it was no big deal.

  “You’re lying. It’s been closed since January because the eruptions are so violent.” She’d caught him in a lie—he was so busted. The only thing she hated more than a starched-collar guy was a faker. Which said something, considering her whole life was fake, apart from the three weeks she spent with Lyric every year.

  “There’s a back way onto the national park.” He worked his phone out of his front pocket. He tapped on the screen several times and pulled up a picture. It was a selfie of him standing on the rim with the lava exploding in the background.

  She took the phone from him and analyzed the photo, making sure it was real … not that she’d know if it wasn’t. It looked like he really had hiked the closed volcano.

  “Now who’s dull?” He took the phone back from her.

  “You made it all the way to the rim?” It was hard to refute with photographic evidence, but he just didn’t seem the type to risk life and limb, not to mention time in a Mexican prison.

  “You don’t have to sound so surprised.” He slid the phone back in his pocket. “There’s more to me than meets the eye.”

  She really didn’t like the fact that she wanted to know what that more was.

  “So, where exactly is the back entrance to the park?” She wasn’t testing him exactly, more like trying to satisfy her curiosity.

  “Before I tell you, I want you to make me two donuts. One with chocolate glaze.” He stood and offered his hand.

  “Extortion … really? I didn’t know you had it in you.” It was one more thing she kind of liked about him. “Well played.”

  “Extortion is such an ugly word. I prefer to call it an exchange of goods for information.” He put his hand at the small of her back and led her back to the house.

  If another man had tried to touch her like that, she probably would have punched him. But with Dalton, it felt … nice. She didn’t know how she felt about that.

  “You never did tell me why you’re baking in a bikini and heels.”

  “I’m inclined to make up this elaborate lie that involves spies and nuclear weapons and saving lives, but really, I just got hungry while I was out by the pool. And I always wear heels. It’s my thing. Except when I’m hiking a Mexican volcano, of course.”

  She still couldn’t believe that Dalton had snuck into a Mexican national park and hiked the freaking rim.

  He sighed long and hard. “Yes, I really did hike the rim.”

  She threw her hands up. “What? I didn’t say anything.”

  “It’s written all over your face.” He pulled out his phone again. “Feel free to check out all of the photos yourself.”

  “No, no, I believe you.” Still, she totally took the phone and hit the photos icon. Not that she was looking for any women in his life, but if she did see one, she absolutely was not going to ask if he was in a relationship. Just because he appreciated the sight of her in a bikini, and just because he currently had his hand on the small of her back … nope. Didn’t matter. She didn’t care at all.

  She totally scrolled through the photos looking for any photographic evidence of a girlfriend. Instead, she found several selfies of him just about to BASE jump. “You’re into BASE jumping?”

  She didn’t mean for it to sound so improbable, but it did.

  “Yes, I just got back from Chile.” His eyes stayed on her. “Heath told me you and your sister were supposed to go next week. Sorry you had to cancel.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s an ass. And the trip isn’t cancelled. I’m going to change his mind. Lyric and I will be going on the trip.” Especially since her plan to be a badass here in Fort Worth was currently foundering.

  “Sure, I get it. I don’t like people telling me what to do either.”

  She tried not to be impressed—and turned on—by the fact that he got her so well. It was hard, though, considering no one ever did—not even Lyric, who knew her better than anyone. But knowing and understanding were two different things, something Dalton was proving with every word that came out of his mouth.

  Not that she wanted him to know that, of course. A woman had to have some secrets, and Harmony had spent her life guarding hers.

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  * * *

  Dalton had a million things to do, but he just wanted to spend a little more time with Harm. He’d forgotten his phone last night and had meant to just pick it up and leave, but he’d smelled oatmeal cookies baking, and knowing who was behind them had forced him to check it out.

  The oatmeal cookies were fantastic, but catching Harm in a bikini was even better than winning the lottery. He’d have loved nothing more than to spend the rest of the day exploring her lush body. She had fuck-me eyes, miles of hair, and legs that went on forever. Legs that he’d love to have wrapped around his waist as he ran is tongue over every single one of her tattoos. And then there were her natural Double D’s. He could spend the rest of the day just on those. He tried not to stare at them, but he was most definitely a boob guy. Then again, around Harmony he was a boob guy, a tattoo guy, a leg guy … or maybe he was just a Harmony guy.

  He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. But he was pretty sure he’d like the chance to find out.

  “Hey, eyes up here.” Harm dropped the first of this latest batch of donuts into the oil.

  “Sorry, they’re just well … so uncovered and so spectacular.” Fuck. That had made so much more sense in his head. “That really sounded bad.”

  “Yes, but at least you noticed and acknowledged it. So we’ll just pretend you were talking about the donuts.” She unwrapped two bars of some fancy chocolate that he’d never heard of, crumbled them into a glass bowl, and stuck the bowl in the microwave. “Easy ganache.”

  “That’s a lot of ganache just for me.” He wouldn’t mind sharing, especially if sharing meant dunking every part of her in it and then licking it off. Slowly. His gaze went back to her chest before he could help himself, but he caught himself before she busted him again and made sure to look her in the eye.

  His phone buzzed with yet another new text. It had been going crazy all morning, and as he pulled it out to check it, he already knew who it was from.

  It was from Eleanor, just as the other five billion texts had been. She wanted to know where he was and if he was planning on coming into the office today. He pulled up his calendar. Budget meeting followed by a couple of advertising conference calls, and then there were the hundreds of emails he needed to go through.

  He just didn’t feel like messing with it today. He’d never played hooky—not from school and certainly not from work—but this morning, he wanted to hang with Five-Alarm Harm just a little bit longer. He shot off a quick text telling Eleanor he’d be in by eleven, then he did something else he’d never done. He turned off his phone.

  Harmony noticed. “Wow. Should I be flattered?”

  “By my gentlemanly behavior?”

  “Yeah, because staring at a woman’s tits is soooo gentlemanly.” She nodded to his phone. “I get the impression you aren’t a guy who ignores work very often.”

  “You know what they say about all work and no play.”

  “I don’t.” She leaned against the counter and arched h
er back in a way that somehow displayed her magnificent breasts to even better advantage. “Maybe you should come over here and fill me in.”

  He would love to fill her in, and fill her up. But that wasn’t going to happen, not here and not now. Because he really did have to be at work in a couple of hours, and he had a feeling that once he got Harmony into bed he was going to keep her there for days.

  “I think I’ll just go ahead and let you work it out for yourself.” He couldn’t resist stepping closer, couldn’t resist running a finger along the top edge of her bikini bottoms.

  He liked how soft her skin was, how warm and silky she felt. But he liked even more the way she shivered and the way her breath caught in her throat.

  He leaned in a little, close enough that his lips were almost brushing against hers. Her eyes sparked at him just a little, but she didn’t push him away. Just shifted a little so that her stance was even more inviting.

  Which, in the end, was why he pulled away when he really wanted nothing more than to feel her mouth beneath his. But Harm thought she was in control here, and that so wasn’t going to fly with him. He liked control too much to give it up, even to her.

  Especially to her.

  Which was why, when the microwave dinged, he very casually reached past her and pulled out the melted chocolate. “So, got any plans for today?” he asked as he put the bowl on the counter and stepped away.

  Harmony stared at him for several long seconds, eyes narrowed and mouth pursed in what he was quickly coming to recognize as her plotting look. Good. He liked that she felt the need to plot around him. It meant she was invested … and that she didn’t quite know what to do with him. Master manipulator that she was, he had a feeling Harmony didn’t meet very many people she couldn’t handle or figure out. He liked that he was one of them.

  Not that she was going to let him know he’d gotten her goat. Harmony didn’t have any back-down in her. It was another thing he liked about her.