by Noelle Hart
LETHAL AFFAIR
by
Noelle Hart
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2014 Noelle Hart
SMASHWORDS EDITION – LICENSE NOTES
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LETHAL AFFAIR
by Noelle Hart
CHAPTER ONE
Either the mirror was distorted or the dress was too damn tight. A deflating sigh ran through Kylie Lambert as she began to peel off the admittedly too snug, sizzling red hot fabric overemphasizing her curves.
“What are you doing?” came a squeal from behind her. “It was made for you!”
Kylie flashed her roommate a scowl. “I can't breathe let alone sit in this thing.”
Jolene Sparta, whip thin with a wild mop of coppery curls, sprang off the bed and moved quickly to stop Kylie in mid peel. Hands on her shoulders, she turned Kylie back around to face the full length mirror. “Just give it a chance.” Mischief flashed across her features. “The fabric is a Lycra blend so it will move with you in just about any position. Let's try it with the heels.” She dipped to the floor with athletic grace and plucked up a pair of strappy red sandals. “Put these on.”
It wasn't a request. Seeing no-nonsense determination glitter in Jolene's hazel eyes, Kylie testily snaffled up the extravagant shoes and grumbled, “There's no Lycra in these, is there?”
The sultry dress smoothed back into place, shoes slipped on with Cinderella-like precision, Kylie took another critical look at herself in the mirror and couldn't decide if she was looking at a magazine ad for Vogue or Hustler. She had to admit, she did look smokin' hot. The woman reflected back at her had worked hard at her fitness and it showed. Morning runs on the trails through Beacon Hill Park had sculpted her rear end, toned her thighs and firmed her calves. She had Jolene to thank for that, her crack-the-whip morning runs forcing her to stick to a sometimes grueling exercise regimen. And now it was Jolene's closet that was challenging her.
Kylie yanked on the low bodice in a useless attempt to show a little less cleavage.
Jolene's hand slapped hers down. “Stop that. It's time he sees what he's missing. And stop making all those faces. You'll develop premature wrinkles.” She extracted from a jewelry box a pair of earrings. “Here. They're perfect with your eyes.”
Kylie realized she was being ungrateful and churlish. She whisked her poker-straight blonde hair behind her ears, fastened the amethyst studs to her lobes and then stepped back for the overall effect. The violet in her eyes intensified, enhanced by the glittering gems. Cat eyes, Drew had called them, and then joked that he hoped she'd never claw him. At least she thought it had been a joke. Sometimes she couldn't tell with Drew.
Jolene stood directly behind her. “Look at you.” She shook her head. “I don't get it. You've been dating this guy three months and all you've gotten is a little peck on the cheek. Is he gay?”
Kylie froze, considering.
“But then why would he be taking you out?” Jolene continued. “Oh I know, he's a 40 year old virgin.”
“He's only 30.” Kylie teetered across the room adjusting to three inch heels, grabbed her Merlot and drained the glass. “Fortitude,” she said. “I could use a little more.”
Jolene poured them both a half glass and plunked down on the bed. “It's not natural. He should have jumped your bones and then some by now. Are you sure he's single?”
Kylie met her gaze with narrowed eyes. “Fine. Have it your way. He's twisted. Weird. Abnormal. Happy now?”
Jolene wasn't buying it. “Tonight's the test, girly. If he doesn't make a move on you in that,” she swirled her Merlot in the direction of Kylie's dress, “then he's officially on my weirdo list.”
Reluctantly she realized Jolene may be right. From the get-go she'd been powerfully attracted to Drew Hammond, then developed serious doubts after three solid months of dating and not so much as a smooch on the doorstep. Made a woman doubt her own magnetism. These were modern times after all and she had a right to expect some play time in the sack with another consenting adult. But that was the problem right there. He wasn't exactly consenting.
Their dates were mostly expensive dinners and late night dance clubs where he prudently held her at arms length. Adversely he gave off animal-like vibes that suggested there was something just below the surface, waiting to pounce. Was he being a gentleman, or was there something else going on?
Frustrated, Kylie allowed herself a moment to fret. Then ruthlessly got a handle on things.
“You're right. If this doesn't do the trick then nothing will.”
Jolene arched an eyebrow. “What is it you want from this so-called relationship anyway?”
As the doorbell rang, Kylie knew it was time she asked herself that exact same question.
*
Drew Hammond rang the bell again and muttered to himself. What was taking her so long to answer the door?
Strikingly handsome in casual yet sophisticated attire, he posed, hands in pockets, for any neighbors who might be doing a Gladys Kravitz and peeking out to see who was calling on the girls. Always a good idea to project the right impression.
The door remained closed and he shuffled, his patience meter swaying precariously. He'd told her he didn't like to be kept waiting, that it was one of his quirks. Drew Hammond had many quirks. His world tilted a little and he closed his eyes, willing back the unpleasant sensation. It was a daily battle, this thing he had to keep in check. His gut squirmed as his hands formed fists in his pockets. He'd already had a challenging day and didn't need this to top it off.
The door sprang open.
He realized that this was one of those times when the cliché about the wait being worth it definitely did not apply. At least not for him. His eyes glazed as mixed messages assaulted his senses. The clingy dress accentuated each and every curve; the cut and color literally screamed take me now loud and clear. To his mind, it was something he could buy on a street corner.
Kylie's come hither grin wavered as she watched emotions slide over his features. She didn't like the look of any of them. “You look... incredible.” She saw his lips form the words, but his eyes were saying something else.
“Oh dear,” she managed, taking a step back.
He took a step in. “Sorry. Wasn't expecting such a display.” Before he could bite his tongue, “Where's your pole?”
Kylie's knees wobbled. This was so far off the reaction she'd been after it was humiliating. “Did you just insult me?”
“If that's how you want to take it. This isn't you Kylie. I can't take you out looking like this.” He gave his watch a cursory glance. “We have time. Go and change.”
His tone was strangely conversational, a snippet of small talk, like, it's raining outside, you'd best get an umbrella.
Kylie stared wordlessly for a full five seconds, her mind processing. She cocked her head. “Am I some kind of cover for you while you hide in the closet?”
A flash of anger spiked. “Is this what you want?” He stepped in, lips crushing hers, tongue invading hotly. He gripped her waist and pushed her against the wall, her dress riding up. Hard body holding hers in place, one hand molded her breast while the other gripped her buttock and squeezed.
It was too much all at once. Rude and sexy and so right and all wrong. Kylie's senses flared to life, each cell of her body reacting and rebelling at the same t
ime.
Too conflicting to wrap her mind around.
“Stop!” She gave him a hard shove and his quick release had her tumbling to the floor. She glowered up at him, then scrambled to her feet – no easy feat in the damn heels – pulling her dress back down over her thighs.
Kylie watched the angry passion fade. He met her eyes and murmured, “Oh my God. Look what you made me do.”
She bit back a harsh laugh. “Didn't know you were such a drama queen, Drew.”
His eyes widened, a contradiction of fire and ice. “You seduced me. That dress, those shoes. You're wearing candy apple porn lipstick.”
Now she did laugh, a defense mechanism as confusion crowded her mind. She shouldn't have forced the issue, but now that she had, something had been off. A violent undertone had quivered beneath his superficial response.
“It goes with this get-up. Which, by the way, was meant to do all this, but not like this.”
Drew straightened his jacket. “You've been a class act so far. This is out of character for you.” He stepped in close but this time it was all sweetness and light. “Kylie, you're a beautiful woman. Believe me, I want you, but there's no need to whore yourself up for me. Now wait a minute,” as she instinctively pulled away. “What I mean is, that kind of dress does the job, and when the time is right I'll want you for my eyes only. If my holding back has spooked you, then give me a chance to explain why over dinner.” He glanced at his watch. “We're late now but I'll call and push up the reservation. Go and make yourself presentable as my date.”
Miffed, yet strangely curious, Kylie wondered if this was the start of their demise as a couple before they even became one. But she got it now. He was a man who prided himself on appearances. When they were out they often ran into his business associates – he was a rising star in a major accounting firm for crying out loud - so it was only natural he would feel embarrassed to be seen with a vamped up woman. It should have occurred to her before she'd allowed her overzealous roomie to insist that she lure out the hidden sexual side of her new man. And had she! There was no doubt now as to his sexual orientation.
A deep breath calmed her nerves. “Want a drink while you wait?”
“I'll help myself.” He went to a side table where they kept a few bottles, his hair, outfit, shoes; all impeccable. Who was she to take him down to a level to which he was so obviously well above?
*
Jolene scurried back to her room as Kylie mounted the stairs, shoes in hand. When she passed her door Jolene came out as though just having done so.
Kylie gave her a hard look. “You're not fooling anyone. I know you saw the whole thing.”
“Hey. He calls you a whore, he calls me a whore. Who's dress is that anyway?”
“Shhtt! He'll hear you!” Kylie dragged her by the wrist to her own room and shut the door.
Jolene slumped on the bed watching Kylie drop the red dress on the floor and rummage through her closet. She came out holding a drab navy blue concoction in her hand. She whirled around to face Jolene. “I heard that!”
“I didn't say anything.”
“You didn't have to.” She raked her now fly-away hair. “I can understand that he's got a reputation to keep intact but wow, that went from cold to hot and back again in an instant.” She plunked down at the dressing table and ruthlessly swiped away the offending red lipstick. “He wants a class act, let's give him one.”
Jolene recognized trampled on feelings when she saw them. “One thing's for sure, you can definitely get a rise out of him.”
Kylie stared dully into the mirror. Yeah, she thought, the physical rise was fine if not exciting, but that other thing she'd felt rise to the surface along with it was vaguely disturbing.
Shaking it off, Kylie set about re-inventing her image for this evening. Whether there would be any more after this was yet to be seen. She'd met Drew in the gift shop of the garden center at Valley Farms where she'd been filling in for a sick employee. Normally her work remained behind the scenes in the greenhouses where she supervised all areas of plant production. He'd been there looking for a present for his mother who apparently loved gardening, had asked her out right away, and she'd accepted.
Three months of dinners, theater and dancing had flown by, and throughout he'd remained a perfect gentleman, never touching her except for a chaste buzz on the cheek at her door. Sexually he'd been a closed book, but now and then she'd caught him looking at her with something brewing in his eyes. That cauldron had intrigued her and set her on a path of seduction.
It hadn't gone well. He'd actually called her a whore. Deserved? No! The war raged inside her head and she couldn't decide whether to be upset or get over it, and quick.
Jolene soothed. “Stop brooding. You'll pop a vein or something. Want me to go down and shove him out the door?”
Kylie slipped on the blue dress. Next to the red it was demure with lace trim and a full skirt. The color turned the violet in her eyes to a bruised tanzanite. “I'm giving him one chance to explain himself. If I don't like what he has to say I'll drop him, end of story.” She re-applied pink lipstick and on her feet went a pair of low heeled suede pumps.
Jolene scrunched her nose. “Now all you need is white lace gloves and a bible.”
*
The girls had a pact that when one of them had a date over the other would stay out of the picture. But Jolene itched to go down and be formally introduced and make her own assessment. The few times she'd sneaked onto the landing above the stairs to peek – never mind the pact – she'd determined him to be a blasé albeit good looking corporate type. But tonight she'd received signals from her hidden vantage point that worried her. Not something she could pin-point exactly. More of a feeling, a gut reaction.
Weirdos galore out there.
Okay. She was being a mother goose. The mystery would reveal itself soon enough.
Sitting at her computer, her thoughts took a detour toward the mystery man in her own life. Lyle Morris, cook extraordinaire. At the busy diner where Jolene waited on tables, Lyle the hunk pumped out dish after scrumptious dish to a clientele that was steady and true, returning daily to partake in his culinary delights touted as good old fashioned home cooking on the sign outside the door. His popular pies were a staple of the neighborhood and snaffled up by the slice or even whole.
Jolene wished he'd dish her up a slice of or two himself. What the heck, she'd take the whole damn pie!
But he never even so much as smiled at her, and when she tried to engage him in conversation all she got was a brusque get-back-to-work. All the man seemed to care about was running that diner at maximum capacity. He and his partner Will Delaney would soon be opening another diner in an outlying community and she'd heard talk of transferring some of their present employees to the new location.
Jolene fervently hoped she would end up working at the same place as Lyle. She loved her job, but it was his presence no matter how distanced from her that put a spring in her step and carried her through the long hours and swollen feet. That, and the great tips.
She mentally rolled her eyes. Kylie and me, we're pathetic. But at least Kylie wasn't being ignored.
She opened Google and began a search on Drew Hammond.
*
Downstairs Kylie did a little sarcasm laced whirl in front of Drew.
His smile was warm. “Better. More suitable.”
“I'm a regular chameleon.” She tempered her tongue because she knew she was being obstinate. “Where are we going?”
“Chez Laffette.” When Kylie simply nodded, “Look Kylie, I'm a very private person when it comes to seduction. I'm sorry if that disturbs you but it's one of my...”
“Quirks.” She smiled thinly, still miffed. “I get it. You have an image to uphold.”
He moved in and she flinched. Resting his forehead on hers, his lips lightly brushed hers. She felt something in her give.
“I'm very attracted to you, if that's what's worrying you.” Suddenly he pulled
back, his eyes flickering up the stairway. “C'mon, let's go.”
The ride to the restaurant melted away the rest of her mad. Drew's sporty silver convertible flew along the parkway on a slinky evening breeze, ruffling Kylie's hair and soothing her soul.
Inside the magnificently appointed Chez Laffette they were seated next to a crackling fire in a stone hearth. Drew asked what she wanted, then ordered in broken French making Kylie laugh, much to the thinly veiled tolerance of the requisite snooty waiter.
Excellent wine served, Kylie studied Drew. “Okay, let's hear it.” At his raised eyebrows, “Your explanation for not making a move on me for the past three months, Mr. Hammond.”
“Can we chalk it up to being old fashioned?”
Not going to worm out of this, she thought. “I think you can pretty much use the Garden of Eden as a starting place for hanky-panky.”
He leaned forward earnestly. “I haven't told you much about my parents. On the surface they're like any others, but their unusual history is one big skeleton in their closet and that's where it gets interesting.”
“Do tell.”
His gaze went distant and she hoped he wasn't conjuring a lie. Not that he wasn't obliging when she posed personal questions, but his answers were mostly cryptic, skimming the subject quickly.
Finally, “I've bedded my share of women and each relationship fizzled before it could even become one. From the moment I saw you I wanted this to be different.” He paused as troubled emotions played over his face. “My parents had an arranged marriage. Two family mergers to ensure that their companies and the resulting gains be handed down through a bloodline. An antiquated notion at best. My father could have made my mother love him but the way he handled things, she ended up hating him. It wasn't something we ever discussed and believe me, she was very good at covering up her emotions. And the bruises. Heck, when I was a kid she had me convinced she actually loved him, but when I got old enough to know better,” Drew's body tensed, “I saw what all the pretense was doing to her.”