Silent Desires

by Julie Kenner

  “I’m a brilliant businessman, remember? And you’re probably a lousy poker player.”

  She spread her hands out in a gesture of supplication. “So you caught me. You’ve had erotica lessons from a fraud.”

  “Now that,” he said, “is not true.” He straightened his leg, until his foot pressed against her thigh. “You definitely know your stuff.”

  “Good. Then I didn’t void our deal.”

  “Not at all.” He let his gaze skim over her. She looked so innocent sitting there in a fluffy white bathrobe. But he knew better. The woman under that terry cloth was a long way from innocent. And that was good news for him.

  “I’m looking forward to my next lesson,” he said. “But why did you tell me all that stuff about having the Ph.D.?”

  “Oh,” she said, “that’s easy. I’d already lied to you about co-owning the store, so—”

  “Wait,” he said, holding up a hand. That lie he hadn’t caught. “Why did you lie about that?”

  Her gaze wavered and she looked a little sheepish. “That dress-for-success thing,” she said.

  Bryce shook his head, not following.

  “Ronnie’s thinking about cutting the store’s hours or finding a partner. And, well, I want to convince her to bring me in as an owner. And all those books say that you should act like you already have the job you want, so—”

  “So you figured you needed those kind of credentials.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “Well, that and I, uh, wanted you to take me up on the trade. I didn’t know if you’d be interested in trading business for erotica with a bookstore clerk.”

  “Makes sense,” he said, relieved that it did, in fact, make sense. “So were you more interested in learning about business, or sharing erotic knowledge?”

  She licked her lips. “Both held a certain appeal. But…”

  She trailed off, and Bryce couldn’t help but laugh. “I get it,” he said. “You came up here with an agenda.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “Guilty.”

  “Well, I’m happy to fulfill my end of the bargain, but if Ronnie’s interested in bringing in as a partner, she probably needs someone who can bring cash to the deal.”

  Joan nodded, her mouth curving down into a frown. “I know. That was another reason I wanted to come up here. You said you’d buy three first editions, remember?” She knit her fingers together. “Um, are you still going to buy them?”

  Bryce laughed. “There’s definitely nothing wrong with your salesmanship abilities.”

  Her cheeks colored. “Sorry. It’s just that the store’s had a terrible year so far, and I figured that if I brought in some serious money, then Ronnie would maybe let me work full-time even if she doesn’t want me as a partner.”

  “Serious money, huh?”

  “Well, they are first editions…”

  “I see.” He put on his negotiator’s face. “I didn’t get where I am by wasting money.”

  She raised an eyebrow, then sat up straighter. “I bet you didn’t get where you are by welshing on deals, either. You said three, and I don’t recall being handed a budget.”

  Bryce laughed, then leaned forward to kiss her.

  Her eyes widened. “What was that for?”

  He had no idea. The woman simply charmed him. “I’ll buy the books,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

  “Good.” She nodded, clearly relieved. “So what else? Teach me everything. My own little miniature MBA.”

  He nodded toward the television. “That was lesson number one. Not as scintillating as Survivor, but did you manage to stay awake?”

  She cocked an eyebrow, indignant. “Awake? I thought it was interesting.” She ran her fingers through her hair, pushing the loose curls off her forehead as she shifted on the bed. She ended up sitting cross-legged in front of him, her face animated, the robe tucked modestly around her. “I mean, I never thought to watch it before, but it was kind of cool. And I liked that quote from the Margaritaville guy.”

  He held up a hand. “Warren Buffett. Not Jimmy.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You knew who I meant. My point is it made a lot of sense. Price is what you pay and value is what you get, or something like that.”

  “Pop quiz. Apply it to your business.”

  She grinned, and he knew she’d seen that one coming. “Like buying a first edition at an estate sale for twenty bucks when it’s worth four hundred. The idea is to keep the price down and the value up.”

  He tapped her on the nose. “If you’re not careful, you’re going to turn into the teacher’s pet.”

  “Yeah?” She uncrossed her legs, sliding her foot out and then stroking his thigh with her toes. “I can live with that.”

  He closed his eyes, letting the heat generated by her touch wash over him.

  “So tell me more,” she said, her voice low with a teasing edge.

  “You’re trying to distract me,” he said.

  “Me? Never.”

  “Hmm. I think a little game is in order for lesson number two.”

  She pulled her foot away, then rested her chin on her knee. “What kind of game?”

  He nodded to the armoire. “Top shelf. Under the spare blanket.”

  She got up, moving to the armoire. After pulling the blanket off, she turned to him with a grin. “Monopoly?”

  “Not just Monopoly, sweetheart. Strip Monopoly. Think you can handle it?”

  She laughed, the sound delighting him.

  “Oh yeah,” she said. “I think I can handle that just fine.”

  10

  HE WAS REAMING HER in Monopoly. He owned Park Place and almost everything else, and all she owned was Baltic Avenue. Not only that, but she was paying rent on his hotels out the wazoo, and she kept ending up in jail.

  Needless to say, she was pretty nearly naked.

  Being a gentleman, Bryce had lent her a pair of boxers, some sweatpants and a T-shirt. She’d helped herself to a pair of socks and put her bra back on. Then she’d slipped the bathrobe on over the entire thing.

  He’d started out in nothing more than gray sweats and a T-shirt. No socks and, she was pretty sure, no underwear.

  Even so, he remained fully dressed.

  She was sitting there with only his boxer shorts for modesty. “This isn’t fair, you know,” she said.

  His gaze drifted to her breasts, her traitorous nipples peaking under the scrutiny. “Maybe not,” he said. “But it’s a hell of a lot of fun.”

  She scowled, rolled the die, and ended up on one of his railroads. He owned them all, so they were hard to avoid. She sighed. “How much?”

  He glanced at the tiny pile of bills by her knee. “You don’t have enough.” He waggled his fingers in her general direction. “Okay. Drop them.”

  “Argh!” She flopped back on the bed. “No fair.” She rolled around, ending up on her stomach with her feet in the air. She gathered the covers up under her chest, reducing her bareness, which increased her ability to concentrate exponentially. “I’m not dropping anything until you drop some more information.”

  A slow smile spread across his face. The smile of a supremely confident man. “Mutiny,” he said.

  “Maybe.” She nodded toward the board. “Come on. Information. Give.”

  “Fair enough.” He shifted, stretching his legs out parallel to hers.

  They weren’t touching at all, and yet she could feel him. His presence alone turned her on more than she could have ever imagined.

  “You’ve learned a lot about business in the last forty minutes,” he said, his tone managing to be both playful and serious. “I’m sure of it.” He plucked a hotel off a property and held it up for her. “For example, tell me about this.”

  “Real estate,” she said. “Just like in Manhattan, I’m getting screwed on rent.”

  His gaze ran the length of her near-naked form. “But I’m making out like a bandit,” he said. He rolled onto his back, his hands intertwined behind his head. “That’s how I got starte
d, you know.”

  “Hotels?”

  “Real estate.” He turned his head, meeting her eyes. “Construction, actually. I started at the bottom.”

  “Sort of like where I am now,” she said. “In real life and Monopoly.”

  “Something like that.”

  “So how’d you get into it?” she asked.

  He reached out, running his fingers under the waistband of the boxers she was wearing. “If I tell you, will you take those off? I won fair and square. I want my prize.”

  She lifted her chin. “Tell me. Then we’ll talk.”

  He made a low growling noise, and she laughed, moving away as he lunged across the bed toward her.

  “Missed me!”

  “I won’t miss again,” he said.

  “I hope not.” She met his gaze, enjoying the way his eyes flashed with need. “Now tell.”

  “I was working your basic construction gigs. Just a kid,” he said after a brief pause. “And then I bought a building and fixed it up. And while I was doing that, I learned a bit about repairs and renovations. Then I sold the property and learned something about real estate.” He shrugged. “It just sort of snowballed from there.”

  “Wow,” she said. “I’m impressed.”

  “Thanks.”

  She scooted forward, then ran the palm of her hand over the tips of his fingers. “That explains it.”

  “Explains what?”

  “Your hands are rough.”

  “Too rough?” he asked, his voice low and intimate.

  She shook her head, a tingle shooting up her spine merely from the sound of his voice. “Not at all,” she said. “Perfect.” She frowned. “But you don’t work in construction…”

  “That was more than ten years ago,” he said. “I work at a desk now.”

  “Oh.” Her brow furrowed. “You must have one hell of a rough typewriter.”

  “Habitat for Humanity,” he said. “Keeps my hand in construction, gets me out of the office, and it’s a good cause.”

  “You miss it,” she said. “The hands-on stuff, I mean.”

  He nodded, silent, and she saw something flash in his eyes. Regret, maybe?

  “I always thought I’d like to do something like that,” Joan continued. “Like Habitat. But I can barely tell a hammer from a screwdriver.”

  “If you’re interested, you should go anyway. They can find work for pretty much every skill level. Besides,” he added, “you seem like a quick learner.”

  “I am,” she said.

  “That’s my business advice for you,” he said.

  Her brow creased. “Habitat for Humanity?”

  “Being a quick study. Pay attention to things. Learn by doing.”

  “Hmmm,” she said. “That much I figured out on my own.”

  “You’ve already taught yourself about the erotica. What else have you studied?”

  “Rare books in general,” she said. “And marketing. I read a whole bunch on that and then I called and talked to the owners of some other bookstores in town.”

  “Good. Cooperative marketing, being aware of the competition. Important stuff.”

  “It’s the bookkeeping stuff that gets me.” The thought of all those numbers made her head spin.

  “Me, too,” Bryce said. He grinned. “I hire someone to do the numbers part.”

  “Really? You don’t know how to keep books?”

  “I know the theory, but I’ve never put it to practice. The point is to bring the money in. I don’t necessarily need to be the person to tally it up. I just need to trust the person I hire to do that for me.” He grinned. “You want confirmation that you’ve got more money coming in than going out.”

  “That I knew.”

  He rolled onto his side, traced a lazy finger over her thigh. “My point is that you’re doing everything right. Make sure Ronnie knows everything you’ve learned. You’re an asset, Joan. I can’t imagine she doesn’t realize that.”

  “Thanks,” Joan said, trying to focus despite the heat building from his touch. “I really appreciate that.” She eyed the board, then sighed. “You really creamed me, you know.”

  “Absolutely,” he said, looking more than a little smug. “Off with your pants.”

  Joan laughed, then reached across the bed for a pillow and whacked him with it.

  “Hey!” He crossed his arms over his face in self-defense. “I won fair and square.”

  “Oh yeah?” Laughing, she wonked him again. “If you want your reward, you’re just going to have to come and take it.”

  “You drive a hard bargain, babe, but I think I can handle that.” As he spoke, he crawled toward her. She started to scramble away—not trying too hard—and he caught her around the waist, pulling her back on top of him.

  Laughing, Joan wriggled and kicked, her legs in the air above them.

  His arm encircled her waist and his free hand slipped under the waistband, tugging the boxers down. Joan squealed and wriggled some more, her wriggling actually helping Bryce in his quest to defrock her. She stifled a grin. Oh, darn.

  When the boxers were down around her knees, he flipped her over, his arms on either side of her head as his knees hugged her hips. Joan quit laughing, her body on fire, as she saw the hunger reflected in his eyes. “Bryce,” she whispered.

  He lowered his lips to hers, the anticipation almost as sweet as the kiss. It started out slow, almost tentative, but soon his mouth consumed her, as if he had to have her, as if he couldn’t have enough.

  She opened her mouth to his, exploring and tasting and teasing. Her hands stroked his back. She could feel that his skin was hot, burning, even through the thin material of his T-shirt.

  “Take it off,” she murmured.

  He ignored the request, instead slipping his hand between her legs, finding her already wet. She groaned, her back arching with need, as if trying to draw him in. She needed him inside her, needed to touch him, just needed him. And she pulled at his shirt insistently, sliding her hands under and then tugging it up and over his head.

  “Joan.” Her name was a demand on his lips, and she raised her hips as he tugged the boxers the rest of the way off. Her fingers fumbled for the string to his pants, and he struggled out of them. Before she could even make the demand, he slipped on a condom.

  “Now,” she demanded. He didn’t waste time, thrusting inside her with a need that matched her own. She was so close, so ready, and the orgasm hit almost immediately, forcing her over the edge as she clung to Bryce and forced him along with her.

  She breathed deep, unable to remember ever feeling quite so alive. Her body still tingled from wave after glorious wave of pleasure, and still she craved him. And it wasn’t even sex she craved. It was everything. Sex and laughter and, most of all, Bryce.

  He held her close, and Joan sighed, breathing in his scent.

  “It’s like those magic doors,” she said. “And I don’t know that I ever want to open it again.”

  He shifted to meet her eyes, his expression a question mark.

  She shrugged, feeling a little silly. “You know. Like when you’re a kid and you read a book and the characters go through a magic door. And they have a fabulous adventure and then, when they come back, it’s like they never left their old world.” She licked her lips. “I guess I’m not looking forward to going back through that magic door to the real world.”

  He didn’t answer, at least not out loud. Instead, he cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand, stroking her skin as he looked in her eyes. After a moment, he bent and kissed the tip of her nose.

  “I’m being silly, aren’t I?”

  “To the contrary. I think that’s one of the nicest compliments a woman has ever paid me.”

  She smiled, snuggling up close again. “Just so you know, I really liked my lesson, even if you did literally beat the pants off me.”

  “I’m glad,” he said. “And just so you know. Right now, you’re at the head of the class.”

  BRYCE HAD THO
UGHT Joan would be a distraction. That her constant presence would make it hard for him to manage to get any work done. In fact, he managed almost a full day of work. Quite remarkable considering the circumstances.

  And it was even Joan who’d suggested he get his butt out of bed and in gear. “Can’t you work with a phone?” she’d asked. “I’m not going to be the cause of you being a slacker.”

  He’d laughed, but he’d appreciated her efforts. So many women he dated seemed offended if he even checked his messages in the evening. Joan seemed to realize instinctively that his work was all-encompassing. That it was part of who he was and that sex with Joan would be all the sweeter if it was a reward for a hard day’s work.

  And so he worked. He got on his cell phone with Leo and managed to straighten out a few issues with the New Jersey deal. He had his New Mexico attorney fax him the specs on a building he was considering buying in Albuquerque, and he reviewed a press release issued by the Carpenter Shipping shareholders objecting to his plans to purchase the company.

  Joan even helped, reading the Albuquerque materials and marking in the margin anything she thought sounded odd or interesting about the building. “I like it,” had been her ultimate verdict. “It has a history and yet it seems to be in pretty good shape.”

  “Price to value?”

  “Absolutely,” she’d replied. “Tons of value.” She winked. “And a really nice swimming pool, too.”

  She’d left him the papers and had disappeared into the bedroom to watch television. For a while, he’d heard the familiar snappy music of The Simpsons theme song, and he realized she must have found a rerun. A few other sitcoms followed, and Bryce tuned it out. After a while, he realized he was squinting as he reviewed the papers spread out next to him on the couch. The sun was fast setting, and he’d left Joan all alone for hours.

  With a frown, he got up. That hadn’t been his intention. He’d appreciated her letting him work, but she was stuck against her will and he hadn’t planned to abandon her.

  Now he headed into the bedroom, an apology on his lips. When he saw her, though, he stifled the apology and simply grinned.

  She was sitting cross-legged on top of the covers, a carton of orange juice on the nightstand and an open jar of olives in her hand. The television was turned on, and instead of the sitcoms he’d tuned out, he now recognized the evening business report. He lifted an eyebrow in question.