Passionate Kisses

by Various

  "Well, ladies, if there is nothing else you need me for, I have some real work to do for my clients and would like to use this room, if you don't mind." He is all business and arrogant.

  "Okay." So much for the help. "I believe this room is open for another hour or so, but it might be booked for a meeting later this afternoon." The nerve of this guy, born with the right name, so he has a license to be a jerk and take over my office space.

  Without waiting for a response, I turn and walk out of the room. I hear Julie exit behind me.

  "Fucking lawyers." She fumes under her breath behind me. "I can't believe you wanted to be one of those."

  That stings a little. I guess it's a foregone conclusion that I’ve given up on law school.

  "I hope David finds him in there and goes ballistic on him. God!" She continues her tirade. I can't help but smile at the thought.

  Sitting at my desk I reach for the phone again, trying the hotel manager one more time. I really need to fix the room change today. I may need to go down there and meet in person. He still doesn't answer the phone.

  Hoping he’ll call me back, I catch up on some other issues. Finally giving up, I call Julie's desk, "I'm going over to the hotel to meet with the manager. Any luck with the notepads?"

  "Hold on, I'll be right there," she shouts into the phone.

  Julie breezes in my office a few seconds later.

  "I found another source, but it will cost a lot more money, and the other company now says they might make it, but no guarantees," she says, the wariness in her voice evident.

  She looks exhausted, and it's only just after four. It’s been a long day here, and with every passing hour we get hit with more problems. The latest of which is still in our conference room.

  "Okay. Keep trying. Any word from Daddy's boy?" I wonder if he left.

  "No. Man, is he a G.A.J.!"

  "A what?" I laugh; acronyms are Julie's favorite hobby.

  "A Good-looking, Arrogant, Jerk." Julie looks rather smug at her latest invention.

  "Yeah, is that the truth or what? He is definitely a good-looking, arrogant jerk."

  "Excuse me." I hear someone at the door and whip around. Ryan, Mr. Cole, is standing in the doorway, briefcase in hand, looking amused.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Oh. My. God.

  "Not to interrupt your afternoon gossip session," Mr. Cole says with a smirk on his face.

  You have got to be kidding me. Did he just say that?

  "What is it that you need, Mr. Cole?" I spit the words out, getting angrier with each one.

  "I was letting you know that I have completed my calls and am at your disposal to work on the event." He looks almost smug, but still sexy, leaning against the doorframe, hand in his pocket, hair pushed back from his eyes. The nerve of this man.

  Julie looks from me to him and back again. I nod at her that I’ve got this and she turns on her heel and walks out.

  "I need to meet with the hotel manager, and given that your role is one of ensuring that everything is to the company's satisfaction, I thought you would like to come with me."

  That came out a little more sarcastic than I meant it to, but I'm still pissed. His eyes narrow.

  "I guess I better come along, then," he says, stepping into my office. "What, pray tell, do we need to speak to the manager about?" He continues in a voice a little too sing-song to be real.

  "We need to convince him to honor our original reservation and not change our room from the Cypress to the Oak Room." I say, panic free as possible.

  "Oh!" There is genuine surprise on his face. He steps back, straightening up to his full height, and once again I am taken aback at his remarkable handsomeness. "Well then, we best be off."

  Mr. Cole doesn't have a car, so we take mine. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise as we approach my old Honda Civic, once baby blue but now more rust than anything, but he doesn’t comment. Neither do I. This is my college car. I’m still holding on to the hope that one day I will be back in college, and therefore will still need it.

  “So, Mr. Cole, how did you get the honor of babysitting the event planners?” I say once we’re inside the car, feeling braver now that we are moving and outdoors.

  He blanches and looks at me in surprise. "Babysitting? Is that what you think this is?"

  "Yes, frankly. You are here to," I raise my hand in finger quotes, "’oversee’ the preparations, and ensure everything is to Mrs. Foster's satisfaction." The Honda veers to the left, and I grab the steering wheel to straighten out the car. Jeez, I need to get that fixed.

  "Yeah,” he starts squirming uncomfortably in his seat. "My aunt is a bit tightly drawn."

  "Mrs. Foster is your aunt?" I ask, before I can think about how that sounds.

  "Yeah. My uncle and my two aunts own the law firm. Reade and Foster are their married names. Besides, it sounds better than Cole, Cole and Cole." He laughs as I make a mental note to do more research on large clients.

  "In any case, why are you here to babysit us? Julie and I can do our jobs. We know what we’re doing." I scowl at him with more emotion than I knew was there. My God, what is up with me today?

  "Time will tell, Miss Young. So far, it looks like you may need me when we get to the hotel," he says with finality. Does his arrogance know no bounds?

  I can almost feel actual steam coming out of my ears. He really is a bastard, isn't he? Damn good-looking bastard! I scowl inwardly and focus on my driving to get us to the hotel as quickly as possible.

  We arrive at the Palo Alto Inn. It was once a large chain hotel, but was bought by a family several years ago. We do all our business with them, at first to help them out and then later, when their reputation for being one of the more plush and luxurious hotels in the area grew, to help us out. We’ve had a working relationship with Gary, the manager, for years. Everyone at work loves him, but I have never trusted him; something about his shifty eyes makes me think of a snake every time I see him. I never meet him alone if I can avoid it.

  Gary is overly apologetic about being unavailable all day and is willing to see us. Gee, thanks Mr. Change-My-Reservation, how kind of you.

  "Well, well, Nora. How are you?" He’s all smiles and handshakes.

  "Hi, Gary. I was rather alarmed when I got your message. I wanted to talk to you about our reservation." The charm is not going to work with me today, snake eyes.

  He looks up at me and catches my eye. I stare back at him, willing my resolve to come through my stare.

  "Ah. Well, as you know, sometimes we need to move people around to accommodate multiple events on the same day."

  "Gary, we have one hundred and sixty lawyers coming in for two full days. I can't imagine that one, another event has come in that is more important or two, that there is another space in this hotel that will accommodate that many participants."

  "The Oak Room can accommodate everyone. We can easily fit over 28 tables in that room. Everyone will fit."

  "At six to a table, Gary. We agreed to four per table. We need the Cypress Room."

  Gary is a short, balding man well into his fifties. Over the years, we have watched his waist grow and his hair shrink. Today he looks too cool and composed, like he is hiding some secret weapon the rest of us don't know about.

  Just then, Gary turns to Mr. Cole and offers his hand to him. "Hello there, I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself. I am so sorry for being rude."

  Ryan smiles a tightly and takes his hand, "Mr. Cole. Nice to meet you."

  Gary’s eyes widen in surprise. "Gary, this is Mr. Cole from the law firm we are hosting. He has joined our team for the next few days to help ensure that everything goes as planned. I would like to remind you that I have a signed contract with you stating that we, in fact, have the Cypress Room reserved for two days." I step in between them.

  I don't know why, but I don't want Ryan to take over this fight. This is my fight, and I want to fix it. It was a mistake to bring him.

  Gary's eyes come back to
me and he smiles a wide, fake smile. I knew this man was a snake. "Nora," he starts with a condescending tone, "In that very same contract it states that the hotel manager has the right to move you to a different room that will fit your needs, and it is entirely at my discretion."

  That's what I thought, the bastard. And Julie and David thought I was being such a pain in the ass when I signed this contract. I reach in my bag and pull out my copy.

  "Not this one, Gary. This contract is amended with that clause stricken. Signed by you. Our contract is iron clad. We have the Cypress Room for two days next week. End of discussion."

  I am breathless, trying desperately to keep my composure, when I glance up at Ryan I see that he has a huge, surprised smile on his face. Gary looks like he just swallowed a bitter pill. Adrenaline is running though my body, my scalp is on fire, and my whole body feels alive.

  "I see. Yes, I do remember you being quite persnickety about this reservation." He looks down at the contract and notices that it is merely a copy of the original. I wouldn't put it past him to try and tear it up right here in front of me.

  "I am sure you can work out other accommodations for the simultaneous event." I reach for my copy of the contract and stuff it back in my bag. "So, are we done here? We remain in the Cypress Room for the main events."

  "Quite done." Gary's smile is tight. I have won this battle, but I have royally pissed him off. I make another mental note to look for new hotel conference room centers, as I suspect that this is my last one here. "And yes, you have the Cypress Room." He turns to Ryan, "Mr. Cole."

  We stand up and leave. As I pass through the doors and enter the hall I breathe out a huge sigh. The adrenaline is slowly dissipating.

  "Well, Miss Young, that was quite dramatic. End of discussion? What are you, his mother?" Ryan looks questioningly at me.

  I start to giggle. "I didn't know what else to say, but whatever, we got the room back and Mrs. Foster will be happy. Yeesh, I have never worked with anyone so particular and fussy in my life."

  "You have no idea." Ryan mutters under his breath. "What now? It's after five, do you want a drink? That was quite a show, Miss Young, and I think we should celebrate."

  What, Mr. Stuffy Cole wants to have a drink now? I am coming down off my high now, and think through his proposal.

  "Um, no thanks." I compose myself. "I only drink with people I know on a first name basis."

  "Whoa. That was cold, Miss Young. Very cold." He draws a hand through his hair and stops me walking. "Please, call me Ryan. Sorry I was an ass." He pauses and I wait. "You're right, I am babysitting for my Aunt, and it's pissing me off. You obviously don't need me around."

  Oh, this is news. His eyes look straight into mine and I melt on the spot.

  "Okay, Ryan. Let's have a drink. At least one thing went right today!" We head to the hotel bar.

  The bar is darkly lit and smells of strong liquor. We walk together through the lounge tables and sidle up.

  "What'll it be, Nora?" Ryan asks, his demeanor completely changed. He seems carefree, and all signs of the sulky, petulant daddy's boy have evaporated.

  "I'll have a Dos Equis, please. Just the bottle, no glass." Now that I'm here, I really want a beer.

  "A beer, huh? Perhaps I have misjudged you all this time." Ryan looks impressed, though I can't imagine why. It's just a beer, for Pete’s sake.

  Cold, bitter-sweet liquid slides down my throat, quenching my thirst and soothing my nerves. Ahh. This is what I needed. I smile at Ryan as we clink bottles.

  "Now that is quite a smile," he says, flirtatiously.

  "Oh, so now that we’re in the bar drinking, you’re flirting with me?" I laugh out loud, astonished at both his forwardness and my comment.

  "Do you say everything out loud that pops into your head?" He looks at me with an unreadable expression on his face.

  "Yes. It’s a real problem. Be forewarned." Laughing, I realize that I’m flirting with him, too. "So. A lawyer, huh? What's that like?" I ask, not wanting to sound too eager, but I can't pass up the opportunity.

  "My work? Wow, Nora, that's original. Run out of things to say already?" He looks almost wounded.

  "No, really. I want to know. I was pre-law at Stanford. Tell me about your work."

  "Pre-law at Stanford?" He looks shocked. Jeez, do I come across as such a dumb ass that me going to Stanford seems so shocking? "Why are you working as a party planner?"

  Ouch. That stings, a lot.

  "First of all, I now hold a degree in Political Science thank you very much. And I am NOT a party planner, I’m an event specialist. I’m simply taking some time off between—"

  I trail off, knowing that excuse worked for the first year or so, but three years later—my stomach turns over. This is not what I want to be talking about. "You know what, never mind. Let's go. I've got a lot of work to do for your aunt." I grab my coat and bag and storm off towards the car.

  "Hey!" Ryan catches up to me in the parking lot. "Sorry. I hit a sore spot. I get it. I can be kind of an asshole some times."

  "Kind of?" I snort.

  I want to be out of his company. He is too good-looking and too smooth, and my stomach is in knots from all the adrenaline, coming from either his quirky looks or my meeting. Suddenly, I’m exhausted.

  We stare at each other in the parking lot. His face is frozen with a look of astonishment, but he doesn't say anything. His eyes are flashing from copper to dark brown to something murkier with whatever is happening in that brain of his. Whatever it is, it's pulling at my stomach.

  His hand reaches up and pulls a few strands of hair out of my eyes, leaving a tingly trail from my eye to my check bone where his fingers brushed against my face. My stomach clenches as more adrenaline spikes through my arms and legs and deep in my abdomen. Oh my! My breath catches in my throat.

  "I'm sorry. I don't know what I said, but whatever it was, I am sorry," he says, his voice soft and genuine, causing my heart to leap into my mouth.

  Speechless for a few seconds, I stare at him with an open mouth and shallow breath, taking in the sensations of his hand, my body, the wind moving around us, and the beer. Oh yeah, the beer. That's what this is. Not his touch, that is so similar to my stranger from the bar. Not because my knees are now weak and I can’t get my head out of the gutter. Nope, not that. I’m sure it’s really from the beer.

  "Maybe you should drive. I think that beer did me in." I hand him the keys and with his touch that tingly sensation shoots from my fingers up my arm and back down again to that sweet spot between my legs. Man, that was a strong beer.

  "Oh. Okay, sure." He takes the keys and looks perplexed. "Do you want to go back to the office? Or home?"

  I shake my head to try and clear it. It's after six, and I know what I need to do is to go home and take a nice hot bath, then go to bed.

  "No. I think I better go home." I yawn, hoping I might clear my head a little. "Do you mind? I can call you a cab from there."

  He looks down and smiles at me. "No worries. I'll take you home." His eyes flash with some salacious thought and then he turns toward the car. Another wave of adrenaline crashes through my body with that look, and all that sensation ends up deep in my belly. Oh God, get me out of here.

  After giving him directions, I roll down the window in the pretense of staying awake, hoping the wind in my face will quell this longing I feel inside, or at least cool my skin. What the hell? I feel like I'm 17 and on a first date.

  Sneaking a glance at Ryan, I watch as he sweeps his hand through his hair and scans the road intently. I can see his jaw muscle tighten and relax over and over again. Nervous habit? Or did he feel something, too?

  “Have you ever gone to—” I start and then change my mind. If it had been him, he would have said something by now. Ryan doesn’t say anything. Halfway home I realize that I’m disappointed.

  We arrive at my apartment and Ryan insists on walking me up to my door. I frantically wonder if I have dirty dishes or laundry anywhere
.

  "Okay, Young. Is this you?" Ryan asks as we approach the door. Oh, he's not coming in? Did I want him to? Nora Young, what is the matter with you? I must be getting my period. I am completely insane today!

  "Yes. Thank you for being such a gentleman and escorting me all the way to my door. I'll remember that a Dos Equis on an empty stomach after a long day is a bad idea." Or maybe just drinking it with you is a bad idea.

  He hands me my keys and I feel a lurch of tingles all the way to my stomach again. DAMN IT!

  "You’re sure you’re okay? You can get home from here?" I ask, almost pleading with him to come inside; I need him to come in. I am aghast at my inner self.

  "I'm fine. I can get to my car from here. No worries." He pauses. I think he is going to say something else, but nothing comes. "Okay, then." He takes a step back toward the stairs.

  "Okay. Bye. G’night. See you later, then." I turn and will myself to open my door and not turn around. I make it in the apartment, shutting the door behind me. When I’m brave enough, I look through the peephole, but see nothing.

  Sighing with relief, I turn back and sag against the door.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Shifting through the plan book for the millionth time this morning, I realize that the fog is not lifting from my brain. So much for the Fog Lifter coffee David buys at the organic store. Last night was rough, sleepless, and filled with dreams and images and running, lots and lots of running. I woke exhausted and a little excited. So confusing.

  I wonder if Ryan will make an appearance today. I can’t help thinking that he might be my sexy stranger from the club. Why wouldn’t he say anything last night when we were together? Julie has been on the phone all morning tracking down the marketing shipment and looking for an Amaryllis source. I know I am missing something, but I’m so frazzled I can't seem to figure out what it is.

  "Hey! Uh-oh, you look a little wasted. Do you think you're sick?" Sophia is at my door.