“I’ll drive,” he said with a smile.
“Okay, then. It’s a date. I mean an appointment.” He just smiled at her slip, and she stood up. “Let me take you on a tour so you can see the inn’s improvements.”
He stood as well. “That sounds great. Are any of the rooms currently empty?”
“Actually, we’re full for the next few nights. I was even on the verge of putting the executive quarters available to rent before you showed up.”
“If it means saving space, I could room with you.”
“Nice try, but I’m sure the inn can handle the loss of income.”
“Especially at the nightly rates we’re charging.”
“Let’s not start in on that again.”
They were doing an inspection of the kitchen when Blake mentioned HGA, Inc.’s plans to sell the inn once they had improved its profitability margin.
Ivy went rigid with shock, her brown gaze narrowing in clear consternation. “You’re doing all of these updates just to turn around and sell?”
“Yes.” He didn’t understand why she sounded so horrified. “The property was an investment purchase, not a long-term acquisition.”
“Then, why not sell it now, before investing more money?”
“The kind of money we want to invest, combined with the inn’s reputation for occupancy, should net a significant ROI.”
She was silent for several minutes after that, letting Blake ask the chef questions about his special line of menu items that included apples as a key ingredient. Blake had found the practice a bit corny at first, seeing as how the Old Orchard Inn was located in Delicious, Ohio. That in itself was pretty quaint, but he’d had the baked apples the last time he visited and now thought the chef bordered on brilliant.
Ivy didn’t say anything as she led him out of the kitchen and to the front lobby.
“Is something wrong?” he asked his suddenly silent companion.
“No.”
Silence. Again.
“Did you want to save going over reservation procedures until later?”
She didn’t look at him. “That might be best. I’ve got some work to catch up on.”
“Me, too.” He hadn’t checked his e-mail since leaving Cleveland early that morning. “I don’t suppose there’s anywhere nearby I can get a high-speed Internet connection?”
“In Delicious? I don’t think so.”
He remembered the last time he had visited, he’d resorted to driving a half an hour south so he could use the wireless connection at a Starbucks. Apparently, nothing had changed since then. “What time do you want to do dinner?”
She shrugged. “Whatever works for you. You’re the boss.”
The words didn’t give him the sensual thrill they had earlier. She said them with too much resignation.
He grabbed her shoulders and forced her to face him, recognizing somewhere deep inside that he was acting like a Neanderthal and unable to alter that reality. “What is the matter?”
She bit her lip and then frowned. “Don’t you find it the least bit ironic that you’re going to update the inn and force me to quit my job, just so you can sell it?”
“Honey, I—”
She shook her head, her expression pained, cutting his words off as effectively as if she’d covered his mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that. This isn’t about me. It’s about making money for HGA, Inc.”
An unfamiliar sense of guilt washed over him like a poisonous red tide. “I’m sorry.”
She jerked her shoulders from his loosened grasp. “There’s no need for you to be. I’ll see you for dinner.” She spun on her heel and left, disappearing behind the counter and into her office before he could unstick his usually eloquent tongue from the roof of his mouth.
Blake knocked on Ivy’s door ten minutes before they were due in the restaurant. She’d been expecting him to be early, so she was ready.
His blue gaze traveled over her as though he was memorizing each dip and valley of her feminine form. His eyes said he liked what he saw, even if the terrain was somewhat modest. “You’re not on duty anymore, Ivy. I wouldn’t have minded seeing you in something besides an HGA, Inc. uniform.”
She looked down at her crisply ironed blouse, no-nonsense blazer, and straight skirt she habitually wore when in her office and then back at him. “We can’t have what we want all of the time, and I’m having dinner with my boss. That means I’m on duty. Ask Ed. He wanted to have dinner with me, too, but business came first.”
“You didn’t want to eat with him.” Blake sounded so sure of himself that she almost lied just to take him down a peg.
“No, I didn’t.”
“You’re not going to marry him.” Another statement of incontrovertible fact.
She shrugged.
“You won’t be seeing him anymore.” This time, he sounded slightly uncertain, and she couldn’t help playing out his tension.
“Maybe.”
“Damn it, Ivy. Is it over between the two of you, or not?”
As quickly as the desire to tease had come, it left. He was way too intense for her to treat his question lightly. “It’s over. I doubt I’ll see him again.”
“Good.”
“Why does it matter? You’re in town for what, two, maybe three days? Then you’ll be gone. Who I see then is none of your concern.”
“Wear something besides a uniform tomorrow for our trip into Cleveland,” he said, ignoring her assertion of independence in her social life.
“Do you think that as my boss you have the right to dictate what I wear?”
“If I told you to wear your uniform, would you?” he asked instead of answering.
She thought about it. “Probably.”
“So, I’m telling you not to wear it. I’m not telling you what you should wear instead.”
He was being entirely too reasonable considering the aura of masculine intent emanating off of him.
“Fine, I’ll wear something else.” A burlap sack. Wouldn’t he just love that? “Now, can we go to dinner?”
“Sure.”
She stepped into the hall and closed her door, locking it before turning to head for the stairs.
“Is there a reason why we can’t take the elevator?”
She stopped short. “Uh . . . no. I’m so used to taking the stairs, I never think of it.”
They stepped into the elevator, and he pulled the gate closed before turning the key toward the down position. The elevator started its slow descent. “I’ve always loved this elevator.”
She smiled. “Me, too.”
“You could do very interesting things in this space.”
She looked around them at the rich mahogany walls and the temporary privacy afforded by the slowly passing wall between floors. “Um, I guess so.”
He stepped closer until his body hemmed hers in with his heat and solid bulk. “For instance, it moves so slowly, there’s plenty of time for a stolen kiss between floors.”
She got a mumbled “mm-mmm” out before his lips claimed hers. Unlike their previous kisses, this one was soft and gentle. Although, it felt just as much of a claim staking as his more aggressive behavior had earlier.
The elevator jolted to a stop as he stepped away from her. “You may look like a buttoned-down, all-business property manager, but you kiss like a woman I want to possess.”
Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. She’d gotten the message he wanted her, but to have him state it so blatantly in a public place was unnerving.
It was also exciting, and the throb between her legs testified to that fact.
He opened the gate and then slipped his hand under her blazer in an intimate and proprietary move that could not be mistaken. His hand settled against her waist, and he led her from the elevator.
Trudy had left an hour ago. However, the evening desk clerk, an older gentleman who had retired from the Apple County Savings and Loan the year before, gave her and Blake the same blank-eyed stare of shock Trudy had had
on her face earlier. And it was no wonder. Blake was acting like her lover, not her boss.
His hand branded her with its heat through the crisp cotton of her blouse, forcing her body to accept what her mind was still fighting. This man was going to be her lover.
They were seated at a table on the far side of the big fireplace. It was the one place in the restaurant that afforded a modicum of privacy from the other patrons, and she couldn’t help wondering if Blake had requested it.
She straightened her already perfectly placed cutlery. “Did you ask for this table earlier?”
His feet settled on either side of her left leg, and then his calves came together, pressing her leg between his and making the air hiss out of her lungs in a startled gasp. “I wanted to be able to focus on you, not the other diners.”
“I thought you were here to check out the inn.”
“I already know you are doing an excellent job managing it. I came to get you to agree to the upgrades I wanted.”
“You could have done that over the phone.”
“Then I guess I really came to see you.”
“Oh,” she said on another gasp of sensual delight as his leg moved against hers.
“Can you doubt it?”
Her sensible navy blue pump slipped off against his calf, and she shivered as her nylon-clad foot rubbed along the tense muscles of his lower leg. He smiled and leaned forward. Suddenly her foot was locked in strong fingers and then lifted to his lap. He pressed her arch against a truly impressive bulge in his pants.
“Blake.”
“Don’t you want to feel what you do to me?”
“I . . .” She couldn’t say no. It excited her unbearably to know she had this effect on a man she found so amazing and delectable. “This is not the place.”
“Yes, it is.”
Her eyes widened and then narrowed. “You’re awfully bossy.”
“I’m your boss. Being bossy is part of my job description.”
“Are you trying to say that my employment with your company somehow depends on me letting you do this sort of thing?”
“And if I am?” he asked in a voice that made her insides shiver.
“I would remind you that I’ve already given my notice.”
“So, I guess you know you’ve got a choice. Are you going to choose to let me tell you what to do?” The dark promise and obvious desire in his voice sent frissons of sensation up and down the backs of her thighs.
“You want to order me around?” she asked, never having considered the possibility a turn-on, but inexplicably excited by the prospect now.
“In the bedroom? Oh, yeah.”
Oh, man. She was going to melt into a puddle of need right there on her chair.
“You want to play some kind of dominant /submissive game with me?” she asked just to clarify.
His hand held her foot against him as she tried to wriggle away. “And if I do?”
“I . . .”
“Maybe I want to take you back to my room and play sexy games with you until you can’t stand because your legs are so rubbery from exertion and you can barely talk from screaming your throat raw.”
Heat pooled low in her belly, and heaviness settled in her womb. “I’d say I’m glad no one is close enough to hear us talking and that it’s a good thing the walls are so thick in this place.” She tried to say it lightly, but her voice came out seductive and rasping instead.
Molten desire flared in his eyes, and every trace of humor left his face. “How thick?”
She could barely breathe. “The kind of walls married couples wish they had between them and their kids so they could make love without Little Johnny asking what all the ruckus was the next morning.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“For what?” she croaked out.
He didn’t answer immediately, and all sorts of scenarios ran through her mind. Some totally implausible . . . or were they?
“Are you ready to order?” The chirpy voice from over her left shoulder made Ivy’s body jerk in reaction, but Blake kept her foot firmly in his lap.
“We’ll both have the chef’s special tonight.”
“We will?” she asked, not even remembering what it was, and she’d approved the menu for the week.
Blake had no right to look so disgustingly in control and unaffected while she could feel her face flame with embarrassment, even though there was no way Bonnie could see what was going on under the long white table cloth they used to cover the tables for dinner.
He nodded and smiled at Bonnie as if she were the one who had asked the question. He also ordered a bottle of wine and appetizers of Waldorf salad. Bonnie took the order, a look of bemusement crossing her perky, youthful features.
“I’m perfectly capable of ordering for myself,” Ivy said as the waitress walked away.
Blue eyes challenged her with serious regard under blond brows drawn just slightly together. “Hawthorne.”
“What?”
“If you want to stop playing anytime tonight, all you have to do is say my last name.”
She’d read about that kind of thing. It was called a safe word, and it gave the submissive partner the power to actually control the intimacy by being able to stop it anytime. However, she couldn’t quite see why she would need one with Blake, unless he had some very different ideas about lovemaking than she did.
“I’m not into pain.”
His mouth twisted with instant revulsion. “I’m not either, not giving it or receiving it.”
“Then why Hawthorne?”
He leaned across the table, his gaze mesmerizing with its intensity. “I want to push you past your comfort zone, Ivy. I want to make love to you like no other man has or ever will. I want everything you have to give and then some.”
“You sound like an army recruiter. Be all you can be.”
His lips quirked at one corner. “We can play drill sergeant and new recruit another night, sweetheart.”
“I didn’t say I wanted to play at all.”
“Then say my last name. I’ll stop.”
“You mean you’ll stop trying to seduce me?” No doubt the man had been working on her desire to succumb since that first powerful kiss in the lobby.
“Is that what you want?”
All she had to do was say yes, and he would stop. She could see it in his eyes.
She opened her mouth, but she couldn’t make the word come out. She wanted to make love to Blake Hawthorne, had wanted to since the first day they met. He wanted her, too, and that knowledge served only to fuel the fire of her own desire until it was a river of unstoppable lava flowing through her veins.
In one day, maybe two, he would leave Delicious, and she would never see him again. He was right about her not wanting to continue working for HGA, Inc. She couldn’t. She would have to find another job not impacted by her monthly magnetic pull.
A job that would not include phone calls, memos, and the infrequent on-site visit from the compelling man sitting across from her.
She closed her mouth and licked her lips nervously.
He caressed her foot under the table, doing things with his thumb against her instep that sent sensual thrills straight to her womb. “Are you going to let me love you tonight, Ivy?”
“Do you play games in the bedroom often?” she asked, trying to hedge around a direct answer.
His thumb moved to a spot between two of her toes and pressed. Oh, jeeze, that felt good. She barely stifled a gasp, but her shallow breathing had to be giving her away.
His eyes darkened to the color of the night sky. “I’ve never played this game before. I’ve never wanted to, but I feel things with you I don’t feel with anyone else.”
He didn’t mean what her heart wanted him to mean, that he was maybe falling in love, too. However, knowing that she was unique to him on a sexual level was pretty heady stuff. Blake was the kind of man who drew women to him like hungry bees to honey. He was one of the beautiful people with a sense of per
sonal power that never wavered.
She wasn’t his type, not with her small-town lifestyle and quirky full-moon magnetism. Only he didn’t seem to see things that way. In fact, he was saying she was exactly his type in a special and unique way. She wanted that to be true. Badly.
He massaged each of her individual toes with strong, steady fingers that knew exactly what to do to make her quiver between her thighs. His hard-on still pressed intimately against the bottom of her foot, and if she wasn’t mistaken, it was growing. Oh, wow. It got bigger?
More sexy images flashed through her brain, making her hotter than she’d ever been in her life, and he wasn’t even touching her intimately. Her eyes slid shut, and it was all she could do to stay on her chair.
Bonnie chose that moment to return to the table with the wine.
Ivy jerked upright and almost fell sideways when her leg didn’t move with the rest of her. She made a startled sound and grabbed the table to maintain her balance.
“Are you all right, Ivy?”
“I’m fine, Bonnie.” But her cheeks were blazing, and the look she gave Blake let him know it wasn’t only excitement she was feeling. “Why don’t you have Mr. Hawthorne taste the wine?”
Her foot was released immediately, and she lowered it to the floor, searching desperately for her pump. She found it and pushed her foot inside, finding it harder than it should have been because she was trembling.
Blake went through the ritual of sniffing and tasting the wine before approving it.
Did anyone ever say, No, thank you, this Riesling is just too fruity for my palate? she wondered whimsically and then laughed at her own joke. Both Blake and Bonnie looked at her questioningly.
She shrugged. “Uh . . . nothing. Just something I was thinking about.” She was losing her mind, and it was all Blake Hawthorne’s fault.
So, say his last name again and end the game, her mind taunted. But she knew she wouldn’t do it. She wanted to lose her sanity in a haze of desire and charged emotion at least once in her life, and this would probably be her only chance. No other man had ever impacted her like her soon-to-be ex-boss.
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