As he took the last step at the end of the hall, Kirk's thumb brushed lightly against the edge of Michelle's breast. He knew he'd hit the delicate spot when she gasped against his mouth. In a mirror image of the dance they’d both been waiting for, he slid his tongue past her open lips. Kicking the door shut, he pressed her tightly against his aching groin and nearly came undone when she squirmed against him.
How did this woman turn him on so? Eternity wouldn't be long enough to get his fill of Micki Bradford. Backing into the bed, they fell over, a tumble of arms and legs. Their mouths still sizzling in a passion rarely found in only a kiss, he undid the buttons on her blouse. His hand began a tortured path of pressure and softness, caressing, kneading, every inch of exposed skin. He wanted this woman so badly it hurt.
Dragging his mouth away from her moist kiss-swollen lips, he trailed a path down her neck, past her collarbone. His arousal grew unbearably harder when she gasped at the feel of his tongue licking his way along her cleavage, his fingers delicately teasing her hardened nipples. When his hungry lips descended around the brown tips, she thrust herself farther into his mouth.
The feel of her taut nipple pressed up against his tongue, squeezed into the recesses of his mouth, was quickly disintegrating what little control he still possessed. He wanted this to last. Tonight, tomorrow, next week, next year. He would never have enough of her.
Michelle floated in absolute heaven. The sparks igniting throughout her breasts were setting off fires in nerve endings she didn’t even know she had. She willed her fingers to explore and expose more of Kirk's well-toned anatomy. Tugging at his shirt, her fingers brushed against his chest before shoving the unwanted garment over his shoulders and tossing it across the room. Next came her slacks, his buckle, her panties. His pants and boxers were cast aside in a single kick.
Reaching down, she stroked him. A gentle brush, a tease of her fingertip, followed by a firm hold, sliding up and down, hoping to inflict the same torturous pleasures she’d been writhing with. Her other hand continued swirling and kneading slowly along Kirk’s back and rock-hard backside. Their hot flesh, now pressed closely together, ached for that final joining.
The barrage of licks and strokes, sucking and caressing, had her soaring higher and higher.
His fingers tangled gently in her curls before carefully teasing her bud, and then seamlessly sliding in and out of her shivering body. With his mouth still sucking and circling her breasts, Michelle let out a loud cry, unable to contain the explosion of ecstasy at the hands of Lloyd Kirkland McEntire. Wracked with spasmodic pleasure, she curled into his embrace.
Sweetly, he kissed her chin, her cheek, her eyes, and then, his lips delicately met hers. "Please," she murmured. "Now.”
His body lined up perfectly with hers, slowly, and carefully, he slid deep inside her. Their bodies rocking to a rhythm uniquely their own.
Michelle's body began once more climbing the heights of passion, tingling and shivering. She wanted more of him, all of him. Kirk continued to plunge into her. When she coiled tightly around him, screaming his name, he thrust one last time, then emptied himself inside her warmth, her name on his lips.
***
On the ship Kirk and Michelle woke when they wanted, slept when they wanted, and made love as often as they wanted. In Bluffview, Michelle had a reputation to maintain and a sister due home in less than twenty minutes. Despite every satisfied bone in her body telling her to roll over and cradle the man beside her, she slipped out from under the sheets and reached for her bra. Calm and cool. She could do this. She could pretend being with this man here and now had not completely shifted her world.
"You look better without it." Kirk turned onto his side. His elbow on the pillow, his head rested in his palm as he watched her dress.
"That may or may not be true, but Corrie will be home shortly. You need to get dressed." She paused, one leg in her pants. "Now.”
"Yes, ma'am." He saluted and rose from the bed. His derriere an homage to Renaissance sculptors. The man was definitely in fine form.
By the time she made her way into the bathroom to brush her teeth, Kirk had finished dressing and was back in the kitchen. Or had he left?
Moving faster than was probably called for, she hurried down the stairs and skidded to a halt where Kirk stood at the bottom step, his coat in hand, obviously waiting for her.
"I'm guessing you'd rather I wasn't here when Corrie comes home?"
"That might be for the best." Was it?
"I understand." But he didn't move.
Did he really? Could he have any idea how hard she'd worked all these years to set an example for Corrie, worthy of her mother and father? Did he have even a clue that no man had ever been allowed to share her bed? Not even Steven. Whenever they were intimate, it was always at his apartment. Away from Corrie. No risks.
Why did it have to be this man who had her willing to risk it all?
***
Kirk knew if he kissed Micki he'd want more. So much more. But there was no way he was walking out the front door without saying or doing...something. His fingers itched to reach for her.
"I have some work to catch up on." He told his legs to move back but the traitors refused to budge.
"Of course." She stepped into the foyer. "I'll see you Monday morning.”
"Yes, Monday." All he had to do was focus on work for the next twenty-four hours and everything would be well. Except the blood already pulsing to his groin told him Monday morning wouldn't be coming soon enough. Oh, what the hell.
Pulling her close against him, his mouth came down on hers. The kiss was hard and fast and anything but gentle. But it was all he had time for. If he didn't get his car out of their driveway before Corrie arrived, there wouldn't be any more chances to be with his Micki. And despite the demand, the chaos, and the problems at work, he wanted more chances with her.
"Would you—”
"Yes," he cut her off.
Her cheek dimpled in a knowing smile. "I haven't asked you anything yet.”
"Whatever it is, the answer is yes."
"Join us for brunch tomorrow?"
A broad grin covered his face. "What time?"
"Ten thirty.”
With a quick bob of his head, and his smile still in place, Kirk walked out of her house, into his car, and when he arrived at his executive suite, the satisfied grin was still plastered across his face.
After zoning out all morning, playing hooky all afternoon, and just playing all night, he had a great deal of catching up to do. But even newly upgraded high speed computers at the paper couldn't tempt him to go to the office at this hour. Instead, at his laptop, fingers on the keyboard, he started with email.
Only one offer to help an African prince obtain his massive inheritance. The idea that some unsuspecting senior citizen was very possibly going to buy into the scam raised his hackles. At least he was no longer receiving triple-digit offers to enlarge his penis. Clicking on one piece of unsolicited email after another, he stopped at the email from the COO of the conglomerate that now owned the Bluffview Tribune.
Per your original outline...numbers analysis...time frame...cut staff...and then he saw the words that twisted his gut. National ad department will absorb the duties of all local personnel.
Michelle Bradford's reprieve had run out. Monday morning the woman he'd just made love to was about to get a pink slip.
***
Corrie Bradford skid to a halt in the kitchen doorway. "Wow. You look great.”
"Thanks." Playing this light and easy, Michelle poured the batter into the waffle maker.
Her head in the fridge, Corrie grabbed a carton of juice and backed into the room, taking a glass from the cabinet. "When did you go shopping?"
"Bought a few things for the trip. Thought I might as well put them to use." Wearing a dark pair of ankle-length capris and a black knit top, Michelle felt like Micki.
"Well I think it's about time you stopped dressing like a dowdy libraria
n." She took a sip of juice. "I like what you did with your hair, too.”
Michelle resisted the urge to pat and primp, but she felt wonderful. Tossing and turning most of the night, she'd dreamed of parasailing, kayaking, and rock wall climbing, then awoke to thoughts of PTA meetings, bake sale committees, and school board campaigns. She didn't like the stodgy person she'd become. Last night, in her own home territory, she'd tossed out her rule book. Slept with a wonderful, handsome hunk. And this morning the world did not come to an end.
Corrie had not run screaming from the house or taken off with a motorcycle gang. Everything was very normal. Except for the first time in a very long time, Michelle felt alive in her own home.
"Please set the table for three. I invited Kirk to join us."
"I like your boss.”
Michelle forked four waffles onto a large dish, then slid the plate into the oven to keep warm. "It was very nice of him to help us out yesterday.”
"I think he likes you." Corrie set the table. "And I think you like him.”
"Don't go getting any funny ideas. The man is only here temporarily. Once he gets the paper in order, he'll be gone on another project in some other part of the country." Michelle tried really hard not to let her own words burst her happy new view of life. She would deal with that reality later.
"I'm just saying—”
"No. Listen to me. He's a very nice man, but we're not his kind of world. As long as we both remember that, everyone will be very happy." Lord knows she certainly hoped so. A good-sized chunk of her heart wondered if anything would ever seem right again after Kirk McEntire left her world.
***
Kirk hadn't slept a wink. For years he'd been cutting jobs and turning companies around without ever taking time to consider whose lives he was turning upside down. He couldn't. The key to success in his business was keeping a personal distance from the human factor and focusing on the math. Simple economics. Worked every time. Until now.
Michelle wasn't a number, or a statistic, or data on a flow chart. She was flesh and blood real, and had successfully burrowed under his skin and made herself at home.
"Shit." He banged on the steering wheel and turned into their driveway. He hadn't considered the house very much yesterday. It could use a fresh coat of paint. Some of the hedges were overgrown, but for the most part the house appeared well cared for.
Turning off the engine, he surveyed the home again. Was it paid for? Did she have a mortgage? Did Corrie have a college fund? Was there anyplace in this little town where Micki could find another job? He pulled the key from the ignition and climbed out of the car.
Whether he liked it or not, he had to tell her what was coming down. He couldn't wait for her to find out at work. "Shit.”
As he reached the front porch, his pace slowed. What the hell was he going to say? "Shit.”
Forcing one foot in front of the other, he climbed the porch steps and rang the bell. Through the frosted glass he could make out a perky form bounding toward the door. Corrie. He felt the hint of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. If you asked him why, he wouldn't be able to give specifics, but he liked her. He really liked the kid.
"Just in time." A bright smile took over her face. "I hope you like waffles.”
"Waffles?" Judging from the wonderful smells attacking his senses, he was pretty sure Corrie wasn't referring to the boxed, frozen variety.
Leading the way, she waved him into the kitchen, then dropped into a chair and held up a sample of her sister's culinary achievement. "Sunday special.”
Michelle scooped more batter into the piece of kitchen electronics. Glancing at him over her shoulder, she lifted her chin toward the table. "Take a seat.”
"Thank you." His gaze followed her about the kitchen, rinsing spoons, putting away ingredients. Some in the cabinets, some in the fridge. She reminded him of Laura Petrie from The Dick Van Dyke Show. With the grace of a dancer, she made being a housewife look awfully damn sexy. The way Michelle's slacks hugged her bottom was enough to make a dead man salivate. What the hell had Steven the Rat Bastard been thinking?
"Here you go. Corrie, pass Kirk the sausage and the syrup." Michelle took a seat between him and her sister, and served herself a mound of waffles.
"Hungry?"
She flashed him a toothy grin that made her eyes sparkle. "Starved.”
If he didn't know better, he would have sworn she was taunting him about last night. But the Michelle Bradford he'd come to know since arriving in Bluffview wouldn't do that. Not with her sister at the same table. Would she?
He had to admit this wasn't the Michelle Bradford who came to work every day at the paper. In her sexy pants and cropped top, she looked more like the Micki Bradford he'd known on the ship.
"Where do you go after you're done working here?" Corrie shoved a forkful into her mouth. Michelle coughed, swallowing hard.
"I'm hoping Cairo.”
Corrie's eyes rounded. "Egypt?"
Taking another bite, he nodded.
"Wow. How cool is that?”
"I don't know if I'll get the assignment yet. But, yeah, how cool is that?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card case. "Here's my contact info. Send me an email when you get a chance, and I'll try and share the fun side of my trip."
Her eyes beamed with delight. "Will do. How long will you be gone?"
"Don't know. Maybe six months. Nine on the outside. Depends on what I find when I get there."
"It must be fun traveling all over the world for work."
"I like it." His gaze caught Michelle's and held. How was he going to tell her?
A horn sounded outside.
Corrie shoved his card in her backpack, pushed away from the table, and leaned over to give her sister a kiss on the cheek. "I'll be home by suppertime.”
Michelle bobbed her head. Her eyes following her sister all the way down the hall. Not till the door latched closed behind her did Michelle turn back to her food.
"She's a good kid." He suppressed the urge to reach out and fold her free hand in his.
"Usually. Yeah. I worry a little. Most kids have a mother and a father. Some even have a couple of spares. All she has is me.”
"Don't sell yourself short. You've done a good job raising her. It couldn't have been easy.”
"I'll admit there were times I didn't have a clue what I was doing. But I had Beth, and Steven." She stood, a dish in each hand.
"I'm sorry.”
She shook her head at him. "Don't be. I realized something yesterday. When Steven broke it off, he told me that I didn't really want to marry him. That I was in love with idea of being in love. Getting married. Having a family again." She set the plates in the sink and turned to face him. "He was right. I was upset that my happily ever after was gone. That my best friend was gone. That my fiancé was gone. But I didn't feel much about losing Steven.”
He wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms. Kiss that spot at the back of her ear that made her squirm with delight. But that wasn't what she needed. Not now. Instead, he picked up a few more dishes from the table and handed them to her.
"Thanks." She turned on the water and began rinsing the plates. "I hadn't really thought about it before, but I don't think I could have been with you so soon after the breakup if I had really cared about Steven. You know what I mean?"
He nodded. Micki may have been his for a little while, but Michelle was a forever kind of woman. "It must have been especially tough, him marrying your best friend.”
"That part still hurts. But if I look at it honestly, I have to take some of the blame. Until I stopped to think about it, I hadn't realized just how often I'd put Steven off and had asked Beth to stand in for me.”
"Somehow I doubt marrying him was what you had in mind." He handed her some silverware from the table.
She let out a dry chuckle. "No. But I didn't really give the relationship my all, the way I should have. I think Beth and Steven spent more time together than Steven
and I did. I can't tell you how many parties I left early, telling Steven and Beth to stay. The bank galas I couldn't attend. The banquets I'd talk Beth into going to so I could go to a PTA meeting or a teacher conference.
“I didn't want to give Corrie the wrong impression about love and dating, so I followed the rules as though I were also a teenager. Always home by eleven o’clock at the latest. Didn't drink, except maybe New Year’s. The list gets really long.”
"You sound awfully understanding.”
"Yeah, well. I wasn't a few weeks ago.”
"And now?"
"It still hurts. But not quite so much.”
All the plates and utensils rinsed and loaded in the dishwasher, Kirk fumbled for a way to bring up work. Instead, he trimmed the overgrown hedges, replaced the hinge on a caddy-wampus gate, and adjusted the chain on a leaky toilet. He was all set to replace the screws on a broken pantry shelf when Michelle leaned over to pick up a stray screw from the floor, and all conscious thought bled out his ears.
Thirty minutes later they were cocooned in her bed and he still hadn't told her about her job.
"Is that your phone?" she murmured into his chest.
Somewhere between the top of the stairs and the bedroom door, she'd relieved him of his pants. His phone was in the front pocket. "I probably should see who it is."
"Mm, probably.”
The cell phone stopped, and Kirk rolled her onto her back. Hovering over her, he leaned in for a tongue-tangling kiss. And Ravel's “Boléro” sounded again.
"Persistent whoever it is." Michelle patted him on his chest and nudged him away.
Stomping down the hall, buck naked, Kirk had the fleeting thought that this could be extremely embarrassing if Corrie came home early. Snatching the phone out of his pocket, he marched back to the bedroom. "Hello.”
"Kirk?" The timid voice sounded young and nervous.
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