by Jaci Burton
"You can cancel the car, Mia. I really do have time to drive you wherever you need to go."
"And I'm fine with having some independence, Flynn, so I'll keep my car reservation. But thanks, anyway."
Mia always had that independent streak, even as a kid. It shouldn't surprise him that she wouldn't want to be at his mercy while she was visiting.
"Fine. I'll look for your e-mail tomorrow."
"Okay. Can't wait to see you. Love you."
"Love you, too."
After Mia, he talked to his parents. They were both doing well. Dad was busy buying some new equipment for the ranch, so they spent a lot of time talking tractors, which Flynn always found interesting. It was his goal to someday own a parcel of land that wasn't in the city.
He loved Texas. His parents' ranch was there, and while Texas might not be where Flynn ended up, he knew he wanted land and space. He loved San Francisco and everything about the city, but he couldn't deny that when he settled down and found a woman willing to put up with him, he hoped that woman would also crave time outside the city--even if it was on a part-time basis.
By the time he finished up with his phone conversations, he realized the restaurant had closed and everyone was cleaning up. He pitched in and helped the staff put up the tables so the floors could be cleaned, then made his way into the kitchen to see if he could help out there.
Amelia looked up and frowned.
"You're still here?"
He always enjoyed that shocked look on her face whenever she spotted him at Ninety-Two, as if him being in his own restaurant was unusual. "I do own the place."
"Of course I know that. I just assumed you'd be gone by now. Aren't you tired after the game today?"
"No. And I wanted to hang out and talk to you." The kitchen was spotless and she was the only one left.
"Oh." She swiped her hair behind her ears. "Sure. About what?"
She seemed flustered. Or frustrated. Maybe even pissed.
"Is there something wrong?"
"Not really. Nothing I can't handle."
He leaned against one of the stainless steel counters. "Tell me what's going on."
"I've got a handle on it, Flynn. And right now I'd like nothing more than to have a really large glass of wine."
"Let's do that. But not here. You ready to leave?"
"Yes. But let me change out of my uniform first."
"Sure."
He checked sports scores while he waited. His team was in second place in the division. Not good enough, but they were only one game behind Seattle. They could do this. They'd have to play Seattle again later in the season, and since it was a home game he was certain they'd win. He was confident in his team and their abilities. They were on the cusp of greatness. Now they just had to make it happen.
"Okay, I'm ready."
He looked up to see Amelia wearing dark jeans, boots and a white sweater. Simple, but damn if she didn't take his breath away. She had pulled her hair up into a high ponytail, and there was something about it that made him want to pull her ponytail holder out and run his fingers through her silky blond hair.
Maybe it was because she always looked so . . . perfect. So put together. He wanted to muss her up a little.
His cock tightened.
Yeah, time to rein it in a little.
They were the last two there, so they turned off all the lights and locked up, then walked outside.
"Where's your car?"
"It was a nice day so I walked. I figured I'd either walk home or grab a ride."
"Yeah, I'll drive you." He led her to his SUV and they got in. "How about my place?" he asked.
"I thought you wanted to go to a bar?"
He looked over at her. "I said a drink. Besides, you can kick off your shoes and put your feet up there."
"I'm not going to complain about that."
"I didn't think you would."
He drove to his house and pulled into the driveway. He led Amelia to the front door and unlocked it.
"I don't think I've been here since you interviewed me," she said as he opened the door and flipped on the light.
"That was a really good meal you fixed that night. My brother still raves about it."
She smiled as she laid her purse down on the sofa, then shrugged out of her sweater. "That's good to hear."
"Take a seat. I'll pour us a glass of wine. I've got a bottle of Shiraz I've wanted to open for a while now."
"But all the women you go out with keep preening for the cameras, so you haven't gotten far enough with one of them to get them back here to crack open that bottle?"
He paused, then shot her a disparaging look. "Funny."
"I thought so."
He went into the kitchen, grabbed the bottle and uncorked it. He pulled out two wineglasses, then carried it all into the living room.
Amelia sat on the sofa, her spine straight, her feet planted firmly on the floor.
"This isn't an interview, you know," he said as he set the bottle and glasses on the coffee table. "You can sit back and relax."
"I am relaxed."
He cocked a brow. "If that's you relaxed, I'd hate to see you tense."
"I'm rarely tense."
And yet she still hadn't leaned back against the sofa cushions. He had his work cut out for him tonight. He poured wine into both glasses and handed her one.
"Thanks." She took a sip.
"Now lean back against the sofa."
She shot him a glare. "Is that an order?"
"Nope."
But he waited until she finally did.
What was it going to take to make this woman relax?
He figured they had all night, and no matter how long it took, he was going to put her at ease.
*
Amelia was definitely not relaxed. Being here in Flynn's house--with Flynn, sitting in the same room with Flynn, was not relaxing.
He looked delicious in his dark jeans and his gray Henley, the sleeves pushed up his forearms revealing teasing bits of his tattoos. It was all she could do not to run her fingers over those puzzling pieces and ask him to remove his shirt so she could map his body.
With her tongue.
Dear God. Where had that come from?
She gave a suspicious look at the glass of wine, wondering if it had some magical, fantasy-inducing qualities, then accepted the fact that it had been a long, dry spell for her in the sex department and she couldn't blame the wine. It was just the man and her attraction to him.
The wrong man. Her boss.
So totally inappropriate.
This was a disaster and she was going to get fired for even thinking of Flynn as some kind of sex toy that she could climb on and have an orgasm with. What the hell was wrong with her? She should flee now before something awful happened. Like all her fantasies coming true.
She took a long swallow of wine.
"Good?" he asked.
She assumed he was referring to the wine and not her fantasy. "Yes. Very good."
He grabbed his glass and moved to the sofa, sitting next to her, which raised her discomfort level. He grabbed his netbook and inched closer.
"I looked over a few recipes for the bluefin tuna. Do you want to go over those?"
"Oh. Sure."
He leaned in, his shoulder and thigh brushing hers. Really, it wasn't like this was a first for her. She had male employees and worked shoulder to shoulder with them all the time.
The problem was, she wasn't attracted to any of them. But she was attracted to Flynn and that was wrong on so many levels.
When he'd first hired her, she'd noticed how incredibly good-looking he was, but she knew her boundaries, so she figured it wouldn't be a problem. Plus, she was so done with men. After her divorce, the last thing she wanted was to get involved.
But recently, something had changed. Watching Flynn choose one wrong woman after another had made her feel sympathetic toward his plight. And when Tara had matched him up with sweet, quirky and intelli
gent Skylar, she'd been hopeful. But she had to admit it had caused a tiny quake of jealousy, and she hadn't expected that.
She had felt bad when Skylar had turned out to be more attracted to Aaron. And then she'd felt relieved. One, because that meant Flynn would be free, and two, because Aaron wasn't a match for her.
Not that she wanted or needed a guy in her life, because she didn't. Actually, she had no idea what she wanted right now. Not a man, for sure.
Or did she? Because she was sitting next to Flynn going over recipes and she wasn't thinking about fish. She was thinking how rock hard his thigh was as it pressed against hers, how good he smelled, and how very much she wanted to climb onto him and straddle his lap.
So maybe she did want a man. At least for sex. But Flynn wasn't the man she should be having sex with.
She sighed. What a mess of contradictions she was.
"So, you don't like this idea?"
She lifted her gaze to his, realizing she hadn't been paying attention to a word he said. "What idea?"
"You weren't listening, were you?"
"Sorry. My head was somewhere else."
He laid the netbook on the coffee table and picked up his glass of wine. "Tell me where your head was, then."
Absolutely not. "Oh, it was nothing. Just a problem at work."
Liar, liar. And her pants were definitely on fire right now.
"I'm your guy, then. What's going on?"
She gave him a dismissive wave. "Nothing I can't handle."
"Talk to me, Amelia. What's wrong?"
"One of the prep cooks. I'm having problems with him."
"With his work product?"
"No, and that's the problem. He's very good at his job. When he's there. But he doesn't show up on time, and he's left mid-shift twice in the past week, claiming his wife is sick and he's had to take care of her and the kids. I'm trying to be supportive. Stuff happens. I get that."
"I take it that it's not just this past week with him, is it?"
She appreciated that he realized she wasn't falling for Jeff's excuses. "This isn't an isolated incident. Two weeks ago he came in late, claiming his wife's job had changed and they were working out scheduling issues so he had to deal with the kids and the babysitter and some kind of nonsense."
Flynn ran his fingertip around the rim of the wineglass. "And you're sensing a pattern."
"Yes. Other people have lives and families, too, and they manage to make it to work on time and stay for their shifts. I don't mind an occasional crisis. We all have them and everyone pitches in and deals with it. But when someone is always late or misses work on a consistent basis, it puts a strain on the rest of the kitchen staff. It's not fair to them."
"Have you spoken to him about this problem?"
"More than once. He seems very sincere and says it won't happen again. But . . ."
"You think this is a personality flaw."
"Yes. Which means I'm probably going to have to let him go. He's very talented, has a great personality and everyone likes him. But he's placing a burden on my kitchen and my staff, and I can't let that happen."
Flynn nodded. "I'll handle it."
She shot him a look. "No, you will not. I'll handle it."
"It sounds like you have more than enough to deal with. I don't mind."
"I'll handle it, Flynn."
"Okay." He took her now empty glass and refilled it, then picked up her foot and pulled her boot off, then did the same with the other foot.
She frowned. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Taking off your boots."
"I can see that. Why?"
"You're tense. And I'll bet your feet hurt standing all those hours."
"I'm used to it."
He draped her feet over his lap. "But your feet hurt, right?"
"I'm fine."
"Not much of a complainer, are you, Amelia?"
"No."
He smiled, then started rubbing her feet. Oh, God, it felt so good. She wanted to curl her feet into his hands. And maybe moan a little. Which would be very, very bad.
"After a game, it's like every part of my body hurts. I take a lot of hits, and during the game I don't feel them. It's only after, when I allow my body to relax that I feel every hit I've taken. My bones ache, my muscles are tight. Hell, even my hair hurts."
She looked up at his thick mane of dark hair. "Poor hair."
He laughed. "I know you know what that feels like."
"Being pummeled on every part of my body? No. I can't say that I do."
"But your feet know. And I'm sure your back hurts, too."
"I might get a little sore being on my feet a lot."
"There you go. Complain a little, Amelia. Whining is good for the soul."
She tilted her head to the side. "Is that cross-stitched on a pillow somewhere?"
"Hell if I know. I just know it's okay to say your feet hurt after a long night at work."
He dug his fist into the ball of her foot, and she sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly.
"That feels really good."
His lips curved. "It feels really good here, too."
He was not helping her saying things like that. It made her imagine being naked and him using those strong hands on every part of her body.
"But you don't have to rub my feet."
"I know I don't have to. I want to."
"Flynn. What are we doing here?"
"I'm rubbing your feet. You're drinking wine. We were talking about caramelized bluefin tuna, but you weren't paying attention."
"You know what I mean."
"I'm trying to get you to relax, Amelia. Do you have to analyze it?"
"Maybe."
"Try not to. We're just talking."
"You're touching me."
He looked down at her feet. "Technically I'm giving you a foot massage. That's not really touching."
She slid a dubious glance at him. "It's actually more than touching."
"No. More than touching would be if I slid my hand up your leg, like this."
She wasn't sure if she was happy or sad that she was wearing denim when he cupped her calf, then swirled his hand over her knee. And then farther up, his fingers teasing her thighs.
Every feminine part of her wanted to explode. She was pent up, anxious and so turned on that if he got anywhere near her sex she'd probably have an orgasm.
Wasn't that what she wanted?
No. She definitely did not want that.
Yes, you do, Amelia. Give in.
She needed to tell her inner sex voice to go to hell, because logic was going to win here.
His voice had gone deeper when he leaned in and said, "That would be touching."
Her sex quivered and she went damp, logic evaporating with his every touch. "Yes, it would be."
He stood, placing her feet on the floor, then leaned over her. "And this--this would be touching, too."
She hadn't expected it, but she didn't object when he brushed his lips across hers. It was brief, but the contact was like being struck by lightning. She wanted to reach out, to slide her fingers in his hair. Instead, she gripped the edge of the sofa cushion like a lifeline.
"Do you agree?" he asked.
She'd lost the ability to think. "Agree about what?"
"That kissing you is definitely touching."
"Oh. Yes."
"Would you like more?"
She wasn't certain if she'd nodded or not, so she wanted to make sure to give him an affirmative. "Yes."
He turned her to the side and lifted her legs onto the sofa, then hovered over her.
Right now she was barely breathing as he pressed down on top of her. She felt suspended in time, her gaze riveted on the amazing sea blue of Flynn's gorgeous eyes. He had impossibly long lashes, and the kind of mouth that was made to give pleasure to a woman.
She wanted that more than anything right now, and whatever remnants of logic were left completely shut down when his hard body nestled agai
nst hers.
"I'm so glad you said yes, Amelia, because I really want to kiss you."
NINE
Amelia couldn't remember the last time she'd been kissed. And she sure wasn't going to think about her ex right now. Not when Flynn's mouth was on hers, his body on top of her and his lips doing dangerous things to her senses.
She felt like every nerve ending had gone haywire. It had been so long since she'd felt anything so profoundly chemical, like a heat explosion inside of her. She was hot all over and her body tingled. She couldn't recall the last time she'd felt all these delicious sensations. It was like tasting her favorite dessert and as his lips rubbed over hers, she couldn't resist letting her tongue dart out to tease against his.
He groaned against her, and she felt the hard evidence of his erection against her sex, which only made her want more than a taste of what she was experiencing.
The logical part of her that she'd shoved way down deep in the recesses of her brain objected, but the libidinous part of her had obliterated all logic. She let her hands slide into his hair, and, just as she'd suspected, it was thick and soft.
She moaned against him and he surged against her, and all she could think about was his cock penetrating her, and how it would feel when he was inside of her. That tingling heat spread, and she arched upward, needing more of that hot contact.
He pulled his mouth from hers and stared down at her, his body continuing to move against her. "Tell me what you need."
"An orgasm would be really nice."
She couldn't believe the words that had spilled from her mouth, but now that they had, she wouldn't take them back.
His lips curved. "I think we can make that happen."
Since she was in full-out "I want sex now" mode, she traced his bottom lip with her fingertip.
She intended to touch him all over now that she had given herself permission.
He hopped off the sofa, then took her hand and pulled her up, drawing her against him. His hands roamed her body.
"That feels good."
"It's going to feel better once I get you naked. And, Amelia?"
"Yes?"
"I'm going to be honest and tell you I've imagined you naked a lot."
Her brows shot up. "Have you?"
"Yeah. Mostly when I'm in the dark at night with my cock in my hand."
Her body swelled with desire. Flynn was definitely going to make her come tonight. Just his hot words made her quiver.
She wrapped her hand around his neck to pull his lips to hers. "Now you don't have to fantasize anymore."
His kiss this time was harder, filled with passion and unrestrained need. She leaned into it, drank from his lips as he slid his tongue inside her mouth to flick against hers.