More Lipstick Chronicles

by Emily Carmichael

  “Not on your life.” He was afraid she’d deck him. “Lyss, I didn’t leave a message because I knew it would sound bad about Beth, and I wanted to explain in person.”

  “Well, it looked bad, too.”

  “Not much different from you and Quest,” he said tightly.

  She leaned down and got a towel, wiped her face and shook back her hair. “Is that what this is all about?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Parker and I met on business. If it was something more, I’d hardly go to The Executive Room.”

  “Beth and I were talking shop.”

  “Ah, the business she suddenly needs your help with.”

  He grabbed her by the arm to force her to face him. “Yes. I’m making a plan for her to get her interior design firm going again.” For a minute he felt guilty. “And you might as well know now, she’s going to do my office as her first job.”

  A brow arched. “At home or at work?”

  “Actually, both.”

  Elyssa shook her head. “You were holding her hand, Joe. You were absorbed in her.”

  “She was telling me about the divorce. About her daughter.”

  “Your divorce from her must have been amicable.”

  “Yes, it was. I initiated it, so I worked hard to hurt her as little as possible.”

  “Why did you get divorced?”

  He glanced around the gym. “This isn’t the place to discuss it.”

  She faced the bag again, said, “Fine by me,”and took two savage punches.

  Frustrated, he jammed his hands into his pockets. “I got bored. She quit work as soon as we married and turned into a socialite. It was . . . tedious.”

  “And now she’s morphed back into a businesswoman. Just your type.”

  When she stopped punching for a second, he stepped between her and the bag. “You’re my type, sweetheart.”

  She eyed him up and down, then landed a couple of mild punches on his chest.

  “I know you know that, Lyss.”

  Another two punches, a little harder.

  “I can’t believe you’d question my feelings.”

  Her eyes were wide when she looked up at him. Despite the color exercise brought to her cheeks, he could see the fatigue etched in her face. “I don’t know why when you doubt mine.”

  That was different. Because she doubted her own feelings for him, so did he. Or at least she didn’t trust her feelings and was afraid of committing to him. He knew it as sure as he knew the contents of his stock portfolio. But he didn’t want to fight tonight. Lately, it seemed like that’s all they did. “I’m sorry if I upset you today.”

  Her shoulders sagged and she reached a gloved hand to his face. Not for a punch, but for a clumsy caress.

  “Let’s go home,” he said softly.

  “Seems like we always settle things in bed.” Her tone was weary.

  “Well, not this time. Come to my house. You can take a bubble bath while I cook you supper.” He leaned over and whispered, “Then I’ll give you a long, lazy backrub.”

  She rested her forehead on his chest, and his hand came up to grasp her neck. “You don’t have bubble bath at your house,” she whispered.

  “Yes, I do. I brought you some from that fancy soap shop on Madison Avenue that you like.”

  She grinned against his suit.

  “I’ve got champagne . . .” He continued to ply her.

  “Maybe.” Her voice told him she was weakening.

  Soberly, he said, “I want more than sex from you tonight, Lyss. I want to be close.” Which of course was part of her problem.

  Burrowing her cheek into him, she asked, “Will you give me a foot massage, too?”

  I’ll give you anything you want, he thought, then panicked at the truth to that. But he quelled his unease, drew her away from him and began to unlace her gloves.

  The frothy bubbles tickled Elyssa’s chin as she sank back into the almost-too-hot water of Joe’s huge tub. A blissful sigh escaped her as every single one of her muscles eased. “This is sinful.”

  From where he leaned against the vanity, Joe chuckled and picked up a jar. “Actually, it’s called Sinful Delights.”

  Closing her eyes she let the heat and scent encompass her. Firm lips grazed her forehead and a deep voice filtered through the haze. “I’m going to start dinner. Relax.”

  She did. Much to her surprise, she was able to blank her mind of Allheart and jealousy and a thousand other things she might have been tempted to think about and had sunk into a semiconscious state by the time Joe returned.

  The scrape of a chair. A masculine shifting. “Here, love.”

  With a smile, she opened her eyes, sat up a bit, and accepted the champagne. They clicked glasses. “To us,” he said simply.

  Grateful, she smiled at him. “Hmm. This is wonderful.”

  “It’s your favorite.” He dipped a long finger in the soap and streaked her shoulder with some bubbles. Despite the heat, his touch raised goose bumps.

  Without thinking about it, she grasped his hand and kissed his knuckles. “You’re my favorite.”

  Pure pleasure lit his face. “I like hearing that.”

  She liked looking at him. He was so . . . male in old jeans and a cotton sports shirt, untucked and half unbuttoned. Enticing glimpses of skin peeked out.

  Indulging herself in the view, she lay back in the tub and sipped her drink. Life didn’t get any better than this. An incredibly sexy man waiting on you hand and foot. Bubble baths and champagne. She was in heaven. “Tell me about New York.”

  He filled her in on his work there, and what he’d done with Elliot. She loved listening to the low masculine cadence of his voice, his pithy comments about her brother and his wry sense of humor about the city. He left once, to work on supper. When he returned, she was ready to get out of the tub.

  “Not yet.” He fished in a bag he’d left on the counter and drew out an oversized natural sponge.

  “Oh, I love those,” she said.

  “I know. You told me once. I got it when I picked up the bubble bath.” With utter masculine grace, he whipped off his shirt, revealing a road map of muscles and curling black hair all strategically placed. “Sit up and lean forward.”

  Giving him her glass, she obeyed, bending her knees, resting her head on them, and clasping her hands together on her shins.

  With mathematical precision, he started at her shoulders and worked his way down her back. He repeated the process until he’d done her entire back. She could eke out no more than an inaudible murmur in response.

  After a while, he kissed her neck, exposed from piling her hair on top of her head. “Now, lie back again . . . that’s it . . . lift your leg and rest it on the edge of the tub.” He took his time. First her left leg, then her right. He covered every inch of each arm.

  Her bones were jelly by the time he finished. “Done.”

  She moaned.

  In her ear he whispered, “You know, you’re a hedonist at heart.”

  “I didn’t know that before I met you.”

  Again the chuckle. He rose. “Now, up.” He assisted her to stand then half-supported her as she climbed out of the three-foot-high tub. She leaned into him. He held her close. “Ah, Lyss.” Kissed her hair, then swathed her in a towel.

  It was warm. “Oh, God, Joe.”

  “I put it in the dryer.”

  “You spoil me,” she said into his neck.

  “Remember that, sweetheart.”

  She sat on his lap as he dried her, as she draped all over him like a rag doll. He took his time, whisking the warm terrycloth over her breasts several times, down each leg, between them. When he was done, he wrapped her up in the blue robe and led her downstairs.

  The table was set by the fireplace, which was lit now and blazing brightly. “This is lovely.” She sniffed. “What do I smell?”

  “Frittata. I had the sausage, peppers and potatoes, but it’ll be sans onions.”

  Sinkin
g onto a chair, she stared at the fire and sipped her wine as he left for the kitchen and returned with their meals and thick, crusty bread.

  “You do like to cook, don’t you?”

  “When I have someone as appreciative as you to share it with.” He grinned and topped off their champagne. “Even if it is because you’re hopeless in the kitchen.”

  “I have my assets.”

  “Yes, you do,” he said dryly as he sat down. “And if you want to keep this evening platonic, you’d better cover up some of those assets right now.” He nodded to her chest.

  She glanced down. The robe gaped. She closed it with a chuckle. “The evening doesn’t have to stay platonic.” Her voice was husky. “I’m feeling pretty mellow.” Actually she was half-aroused. The bath. His hands on her. The champagne.

  “Too bad. I’m a man of my word. We aren’t settling our tiff in bed.”

  “Then how are we settling it?” She bit into the spicy sausage that reminded her of summer barbecues at home.

  “By just being together and enjoying each other’s company.”

  She smiled and continued to eat.

  “Tell me about the latest with the Allheart girls. Last I heard Carole and Mitch were getting serious. I don’t know what’s going on with Dana or Alix. Robyn’s an open book, though,” he said affectionately.

  Through the entire meal, around mouthfuls of hot bread, tart peppers and the succulent meat, she filled him in on the escapades of her friends and coworkers. As she talked about Mitch and Carole, and Alix and Dana, she noticed how Joe’s blue eyes were intently focused on her, how his comments were insightful, how his sense of humor so matched her own.

  “Done?” he asked when she set down her fork.

  “Mmm. It was five-star. If you ever lose your shirt investing, you could certainly be a chef.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  She started to stand. “Let me clean up.”

  “It’s all done but these plates. We’ll take them to the sink on our way upstairs.”

  Following him out to the kitchen, they disposed of their dishes and he took something out of the microwave, which he wouldn’t let her see. Holding her hand tenderly, he led her down the hall and upstairs.

  In his bedroom, he said, “All right, strip down, lady. It’s backrub time.”

  “How can I resist?” She dropped the robe and Joe stilled, his eyes flaring. She noticed the bulge in his jeans. “Joe, we can—”

  “No, we can’t. Lay flat out, Elyssa.”

  Well, she’d see if they couldn’t. After the backrub. She stretched out on the bed.

  It was the most decadent twenty minutes of her life. His hands were magic on her body, kneading, loosening, stretching muscles. He used oil that he’d warmed and brought upstairs with him. When his fingers inched up to the top inside of her thighs, she moaned, and struggled to get closer to his hand.

  “Hmm.” His knuckles brushed between her legs. She startled. He leaned over her. “Want something else?” he asked sexily.

  “You know I do,” she mumbled into the pillow.

  Another chuckle full of smug male satisfaction. “All right. Scoot up a little.”

  Her arms gripping the pillow, she lifted her hips.

  His clever hand slid beneath her and touched her intimately. She gasped.

  The climax hit her in seconds—it was long and loud and eminently satisfying.

  Afterward, she was unable to move; she felt kisses on her spine. “I love seeing you like this,” he whispered into her skin.

  Finally, she stirred. Lifting herself onto her elbows, she looked over her shoulder. He was sprawled behind her on the big bed, arm bent, head resting on his palm, watching her.

  “Your turn,” she said hoarsely.

  But instead of reaching for her, he went for the lamp and flicked it off. “Uh-uh,” he said into the darkness; gently, he pressed her face back into the pillow.

  She could feel him full against her bottom. “Joe, I—”

  He began kneading her shoulders again. “Shh, relax. This night is just for you, honey.”

  She had no choice but to do as he said. She felt her eyes close and her breathing even out. The last thing she remembered was the feel of his clever hands on her.

  “It was a wonderful five days.” In the elevator on their way up to Allheart’s offices, Elyssa moved close to Joe and slid her arms around his neck.

  His hands gripped her denim-clad bottom. His own jeaned thighs thrust forward. “Hmmm. Kiss me.”

  She did. Long. Trustingly.

  Their escape together to his parents’ cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains had gone a long way to bridge the rift between them. They’d forsaken all cell phones, beepers and work-related materials and holed up in the wilderness to concentrate on each other. It had been a glorious time. She smiled thinking of how she’d paid him back for his night of spoiling her a week ago—and had done a lot more.

  Just before the elevator doors opened, Joe released her. She strode to her offices, her mind a muddle. They’d come back at the end of today so she could check her messages and schedule for the rest of the week, but right now she wished they’d stayed cuddled in the big bed with the Indian blanket.

  Allheart’s offices were buzzing this afternoon.

  “Omigod, E’s here,” Robyn practically shouted when Elyssa strolled through the door.

  “Calm down, Robyn. It can’t be that bad.”

  “Where have you been?”

  Joe came up behind her and put his hand on her neck. “You know we went to the mountains, Robyn.”

  “I know, but you were supposed to be back yesterday.”

  “No, today.” Elyssa picked up her pink phone slips. As she rooted through them, she asked, “What’s going on?”

  “You had meetings all morning. And you’ve got another one at four.”

  “That’s impossible. I told you I’d be out until Wednesday.”

  “You said you’d be back Tuesday. I scheduled appointments.”

  “Let’s not bicker now, ladies.” Joe leaned over the desk. “What did Elyssa miss?”

  A bit miffed at his highhandedness, Elyssa listened to Robyn explain the appointments that had been canceled.

  “That doesn’t sound too bad.” Joe smiled charmingly. “And she’s here for her four o’clock.”

  “Not dressed like this, I’m not.”

  “You look perfectly charming, darling.”

  She glanced down at her boots, denims, light suede jacket and silk blouse. “No way.”

  Joe dragged her into her office. “She’ll be here,” he called to Robyn over his shoulder. He eased her inside and backed her up against the wall. There, he kissed her senseless.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, when she was able to pull away.

  “Come on, Lyss. So you got your wires crossed. No big deal. Let’s not ruin the mood of the weekend.”

  She arched a brow, then leaned into him a minute. Drawing away, she crossed to her desk and booted up her computer.

  She sank to the chair and called up her calendar. Scanning it, she sighed. “Damn, I’ve got the wrong dates on here. Robyn was right.”

  “Well, confess, will you, while I use the bathroom?”

  Giving him a withering look, Elyssa buzzed for Robyn.

  After accepting her explanation, and apology, Robyn said, “Your four o’clock’s here. I’ll send him in.”

  “Who is it?” Robyn clicked off and the door opened simultaneously.

  Parker Quest strolled in.

  He was dressed similarly to her in jeans, boots and a black leather jacket. “Hello, Elyssa.” He came toward the desk and she stood. Graciously he took her hand. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “No, an error in my scheduling.” She smiled and glanced down. “Sorry about the duds.”

  “I like you like this.” He didn’t let go of her hand. His light brown eyes sparkled. “Makes you less intimidating.”

  Walking back i
nto the room, Joe said dryly, “I wouldn’t be taken in by the clothes, Quest, if I were you. Underneath she’s still the tiger she’s always been.”

  Parker dropped her hand and faced Joe. “Nice to see you, Joe. And don’t worry, the last thing I’d do is underestimate Elyssa Wentworth.”

  Joe’s look was glacial. It said Parker Quest would do a lot less than that, if Joe had his way.

  “Mind if I sit in on this meeting?” Joe asked innocently. He moved closer to Elyssa and touched her back possessively. “We just got back from the mountains and I’d like to catch up on our business, too.”

  “Don’t mind a bit.” Parker’s down-home inflection thickened.

  “Good.” Joe spared her a glance. “You, Elyssa?”

  She shook her head. She didn’t trust her voice to answer him. Through gritted teeth she said, “Sit down, Parker.”

  For two hours, Joe watched the young designer charm the pants off Elyssa, figuratively, of course. He’d do it literally, if he had his way, but Joe wasn’t about to let that happen. Nor was he going to let the guy influence Allheart the way it was clear he was trying to do.

  As Elyssa appeared to be letting him do.

  “We don’t have seasonal cards, Parker.” Elyssa concentrated on the packet Quest had prepared and didn’t look up as she spoke. Her delicate brows knitted in earnest thought.

  Joe scanned page eleven. “Should have done your homework, Quest. This last section is useless to us.”

  Stretching out his long legs, Parker smiled at Elyssa and ignored Joe. He’d been treating Joe like the Invisible Man for most of the afternoon.

  And devouring Elyssa with his eyes.

  “Well, the way I figure it, implementing seasonal cards, and combining the Halloween and Thanksgiving lines under the umbrella of fall, the Christmas ones under winter, et cetera, would accommodate my plan.”

  Tapping her pencil on the folder, Elyssa studied his suggestions.