The Boss and the Beauty

by Donna Clayton

  Unwittingly, he moistened his bottom lip with his tongue. “What’s awful is that I allowed myself to become very protective of my heart. Of my emotions. I couldn’t trust anybody with what I was feeling. I couldn’t even trust myself. I was too afraid of being lied to. Of being used.”

  His chest expanded with a slow, steadying inhalation. “But I think I’m ready now. I think I’d like to...to try.”

  His dark eyes were full of questions, full of hope, full of fear. Cindy wondered if the fear she saw was over how she might react to his story. Or if the emotion there was fear that she might reject him. She wasn’t totally sure, but she knew how easy it would be to assuage his apprehension.

  Reaching up, she slid her hand along his cheek until his jaw was tenderly cupped in her palm.

  “I’m glad you told me.”

  He closed his eyes, tilting his head a fraction toward her hand, and suddenly Cindy felt overwrought as a myriad of emotions churned inside her. Her gaze splintered with moisture. She simply didn’t believe that, in her whole life, she’d experienced a happier moment than this one, right here, right now.

  His story tumbled around in her brain. Monica had been a wicked person, a vicious, self-centered woman who had hurt Kyle terribly. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to become involved with anyone else. No wonder he’d been afraid to trust. And no wonder he’d reacted so adversely when she’d tested him about taking the job as the assistant to Barrington’s new president.

  I’d been lied to. Used. Manipulated. Lied to... used...manipulated.

  His words echoed in her head, like a mantra that had been shouted from atop the vast canyons of South Mountain.

  Cindy realized that she, too, had lied to Kyle. She’d used him. Manipulated him. All for her own gain.

  Just like Monica.

  Like muddy water solidified to crystals of dirty ice, her insides froze.

  Oh, Lord, Cindy silently prayed, how can I make him understand? How can I ever make things right between us?

  Kyle was reaching out to her, confiding in her, telling her his deepest secrets. And how would she repay him? By telling him that she was as bad as the woman in his past—the woman who had caused him such pain and anguish.

  He hadn’t actually told Cindy that he loved her, but he’d come awfully close. He’d said he wanted to trust. He wanted to try. She was on the brink of actually seeing the realization of her dreams. Only to watch them tumble over into a huge precipice of hopelessness—all because of her own foolish behavior.

  Finally Kyle opened his eyes and gazed into her face. “I can’t tell you how good this is for me. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long. How I feel about you, I mean.”

  He pulled her against him and she tried not to stiffen; instead she splayed both her palms on his chest, staring self-consciously at the backs of her hands.

  His fingers, strong and warm, slid under her chin and tipped up her face until she was forced to look into his eyes.

  “I’m so glad you know now. So glad.”

  His voice grated over her ears, across her skin, hot and sensuous. And then without giving her a moment to move, to think, to respond, his mouth descended to hers.

  Chapter Nine

  His kiss was hotter than hot, his tongue blazing across her lips like the molten desert sun. Cindy had no other choice but to surrender to the searing heat and she melted against his hard chest.

  Pressed to him tightly, her nipples contracted into tiny buds so tight that she nearly gasped, her breasts aching with the need to be touched. A sudden rush of sizzling desire coursed through her veins, turning her blood thick and fiery as lava, leaving her utterly breathless.

  And while her emotions walloped her from the inside, Kyle continued his assault from without. His fingers threading through her hair, his tongue wreaking havoc on her mouth, the feel of his rigid manhood pressing firmly against her hip.

  A small sound escaped from the back of her throat and she parted her lips, bidding him entry—an offer he didn’t hesitate to accept.

  He tasted faintly of warm wine, but he was much more intoxicating to her senses than any inebriant could ever be. Her brain fogged, her thoughts simply ceased to be and her equilibrium felt terribly unbalanced; the whole world seemed to shift off-kilter. In a desperate effort to regain some kind of control, she gathered the fabric of his shirtfront in her hands, holding on for dear life.

  Parting the facings of her lightweight coat, he slid his arms around her body, his hands gliding up her back feeling toasty warm compared to the mountain chill. All that stood between them was the thin fabric of her blouse, the mere idea of him being so close making her exhale softly against his mouth. Unwittingly she arched her spine, pressing herself into him even closer. She heard his breath catch in his throat, and then he groaned, a sound so rich, so sexy, so riveting, that she was shaken to the very core by the earthquakelike tremble that shuddered through her.

  The thought that she had caused the moan that had erupted from deep in his chest, that she was the reason his breath had hitched, sent her into a passionate frenzy. Reaching up, she wove her fingers into his dark, silky hair and she deepened their kiss further. Their tongues danced to that silent and slow, erotic and ancient rhythm.

  Danced.

  And danced.

  Finally Cindy could stand it no longer. She wanted to feel his hands on her bare skin, wanted to see him naked, wanted to touch every part of him that was now covered with clothing.

  “Come on.” She tugged at his shirt, his jacket, her voice filled with ragged frustration. “Let’s go back to my apartment. I...I need you.”

  “Oh, honey...” His voice, too, came out as a grating whisper. “I need you, too.”

  “Then come on,” she urged him. “Let’s go.”

  He spent a few long, sensuous moments nibbling at her neck, her jaw, her ear. Cindy closed her eyes, luxuriating in the feel of his hungry lips on her skin. However, if he didn’t touch her—all of her—soon, she knew she’d surely shrivel up and die right there where she stood.

  Ever so slowly, Kyle skimmed his hands over her body, from her back, around her waist, and then he settled them so that his thumbs just grazed the sensitive undersides of her breasts. Time seemed to stand still, her breathing stopped, as she waited for his next move.

  Her grip on his shirtfront relaxed, and she flattened her palm against his heart. The pounding she felt there was like the trampling hooves of a hundred horses, and the feel of it simply thrilled her.

  “Please,” she said, not the least embarrassed by the desperate whimper she heard in her tone, “can we go?”

  Again he groaned, burying his face in her jaw-length curls and hugging her to him.

  Kyle hadn’t used the word love tonight, but whatever emotions he was feeling for her had prompted him to kiss her, to touch her, in an extremely intimate fashion. Was she shortchanging herself by willingly offering him everything she had to give—her mind, her body, her soul—before she was really certain—

  She terminated the thought completely. She was more than happy to simply ride this wave of passion and not try to figure it all out just now. There would be plenty of time later for pondering and conjecture. At this moment, the hunger pumping through her—through them both—took precedence over everything.

  “Honey, I think we should go,” he finally said.

  Eagerness and a heavy anticipation colored her tone when she answered, “Good.”

  But when she made a move to go to the car, he held fast to her. A deep frown planted itself in her brow as she looked into his face.

  Starlight glittered in his sexy dark eyes; however, the ebony night hid from her whatever it was he was feeling, thinking. But one thing was clear: his hesitance.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  He took what seemed to be a deep, soul-stealing breath.

  Finally he softly repeated, “We should go. Back to your apartment.” He paused long enough to swallow before adding, “But I won’t be coming
in.”

  In that instant, Cindy discovered what true deprivation was. She felt like a starving person who was denied even a few crumbs of food. No, she felt worse. She felt like a starving person who had been about to sink her teeth into some succulent and tender morsel, only to have it cruelly wrenched from her hands.

  She trembled. “But why? I don’t understand. I—I thought you...” The words faded into “Don’t you want—”

  Reaching up, he gingerly pressed his warm fingertips against her mouth. “Hush,” he said. “Listen to me.”

  She closed her eyes, wanting desperately to purse her lips and gently, lovingly kiss the pads of his fingers, but the disappointment swirling inside her kept her from doing so.

  “I do want,” he assured her. “The wanting in me is so strong it hurts.”

  Cindy’s gaze softened. Let me ease the pain, she tried to relay with a look. Let me fulfill your need.

  She knew full well that the silent offer was the most selfish she’d ever made in her life. Satisfying his need would be no sacrifice for her, for doing so would be the only way she’d satiate her own.

  His jaw tensed, and he looked away from her for a moment, clearly communicating that he understood her soundless missive.

  Finally his dark eyes were once again riveted to hers.

  “We have to take this slowly,” he said. His voice dropped to a husky whisper that was barely audible as he added, “I have to.”

  They stood there studying one another in the cool mountain night. Then she took the only option open to her: she yielded to his wish with a reluctant sigh.

  The days that followed were the most wonderful of Cindy’s life—as well as the most miserable.

  She and Kyle had been kept extra busy at work now that plans for Days of Knights had been approved by Mr. Barrington. And their evenings were spent sampling the most romantic nightlife Phoenix had to offer. They had visited cozy restaurants—one that featured live jazz performers, another that offered a blues band, and still another whose specialty was twanging country music. Kyle had taken her to the ballet at the Herberger Theater Center, and they also enjoyed a lovely concert at the Phoenix Symphony Hall. She was discovering that the city had a huge amount of cultural entertainment to offer.

  As she rode the elevator down to the ground floor, Cindy actually smiled when she remembered their conversation last night.

  In passing, Kyle had mentioned to her that he intended to purchase tickets to the Arizona Opera Company. She hadn’t missed the reluctance he’d tried to hide, so she had quickly told him she’d much rather go to see the Phoenix Suns play at the America West Arena. He’d been relieved, obviously and overwhelmingly so.

  “Are you sure you want to go see a basketball game?” he’d asked.

  Heck, she’d thought, basketball wasn’t the most romantic way to spend an evening or the most culturally fulfilling, but she could tell by the excited twinkle in Kyle’s eye that he’d very much appreciated her suggestion. And, surprisingly, making him happy gave her more pleasure that she’d ever imagined it would.

  “Oh, I’m sure,” she’d told him. “To tell you the truth, operatic drama really isn’t my thing.”

  He’d shaken his head and smiled. “Mine, either,” he admitted. “If I’m to be perfectly honest, I hadn’t tried very hard to buy the opera tickets.”

  The guilt expressed on his handsome face could have been equated to a little boy who was confessing that he’d stolen cookies from the cookie jar. Cindy had found it so charming, so endearing, that she couldn’t help but chuckle at him. Thankfully he hadn’t been offended but had joined in with her laughter.

  Each day—and night—that they spent together served to bring their relationship closer.

  Why, then, she wondered, had she not told him about the awful lie she’d concocted with her friends? Why had she not been forthcoming with her manipulative behavior where Mike the Barrington mailman was concerned?

  She stepped off the elevator into the building’s high-ceilinged foyer and then walked down the hall on the way to the break room to fill her coffee mug.

  The reason she kept the secret hidden was all Kyle’s fault. Whenever she’d been about to tell him, he’d unwittingly take her hand, or gaze into her eyes, or stroke her hair, and immediately all thoughts of revealing the lie dissolved, there and then. In fact, whenever his attention was focused on her, Cindy actually had trouble formulating thoughts and words. The man just had that mesmerizing effect on her, that was all there was to it.

  His touches, his caresses, his hot and passionate kisses at the end of every evening, were the very things that had made her life so very wonderful. On the other hand, the ongoing lie, like a stubborn, thorn-ridden vine that absolutely refused to die, had been what had made her life so utterly miserable.

  A sigh escaped from her lips. She knew it wasn’t fair of her to blame Kyle for her dishonesty. Charging him—or rather, charging his stunningly romantic behavior toward her—was too easy. And she wasn’t in the habit of taking the easy way out of anything.

  There was no use trying to fool herself. She was the one who was at fault. She simply didn’t have the guts to tell him what she and her friends had done. Not when she knew that by doing so she’d destroy every bit of the intimacy that they had worked so hard to build—not to mention the trust.

  It had taken him years to bring himself to express to someone the pain and anguish that Monica’s manipulation had caused him, and Cindy had been so happy that she had been the person he’d confided in. Kyle was now working on getting over it; he was slowly moving beyond the emotional distress that that woman had caused him. And it was his inner pain that was keeping Cindy and Kyle’s relationship from developing to that most intimate, physical plane. To tell him that she, too, had plotted and planned against him, finessed and exploited him...

  She shook her head. The news would only obliterate the trust he was slowly beginning to place in her. He’d be devastated. He would never forgive her; she knew that without a shadow of a doubt.

  The thoughts weighed heavy on her mind as she pushed open the door to the break room.

  Normally she’d have gotten caught up in the hustle and bustle of greeting her co-workers. A few people were clustered here and there at the tables, some enjoying an early lunch, others just taking a short coffee break. Cindy had so much to do today that she didn’t intend to linger, she meant to pour herself a cup of coffee and then make her way back up to her office. However, she did allow her gaze to sweep over the room. If her girlfriends were there, she wanted to be sure to take the time to say hello.

  Well, she didn’t see Rachel or Sophia or the others, but she did see Kyle. He was standing next to the large coffee urn talking to Stanley Whitcomb, one of Barrington Corp.’s lawyers who worked with Cindy’s friend Olivia in the legal department.

  Her steps slowed. Whatever the two men were talking about, the subject had Kyle puffed up like a veritable peacock. And Stanley looked to be thoroughly enjoying her boss’s remarks.

  The closer she got to the two men, the more intriguing their private conversation—and Kyle’s body language—became to her.

  Cindy was forced to stop a few feet away from Kyle when someone reached out and touched her sleeve in greeting. She spent half a minute exchanging pleasantries with the table of people. Unwittingly, she became aware that she was able to overhear what her boss was saying, and she was stunned to discover that she was the topic of the one-sided discussion.

  “Stan, she’s just so damned beautiful,” Kyle said.

  Evidently he didn’t realize he was being overheard by some of the people in the room. Or maybe he did and he just didn’t care.

  “When I walk into a restaurant with Cindy on my arm,” he continued, “every male eye in the room turns to stare. I’m tellin’ you, it’s a great feeling. Knowing other men are envious of me makes me fly high as a kite on a windy day.”

  Cindy’s insides froze into a solid block of ice. In that instant, she
was transported back to her childhood. The utter loneliness she’d felt all those years ago filled every nook and cranny inside her. Then a terrible confusion fought for space in her crowded mind—confusion over why her beautiful mother would neglect her only daughter, why she would give all those suitors priority over her little girl. And then fear crashed over her like a giant, life-threatening wave. Fear of all those faceless, nameless men who loved being with her mother, but who hadn’t cared one whit about the “tagalong” child. Anxiety of starting at yet another school, learning her way around yet another city or town, settling in at yet another huge and lonely mansion, estate or château, the awful feeling of knowing you had no friends to speak of and wouldn’t have until you could force yourself out of your isolating shell of shyness and apprehension.

  Emotions battled within Cindy; all the while she heard echoed memories of the litany of compliments her mother invariably received from her many lovers.

  I feel like such a man with you by my side... absolutely invincible!

  Your beauty alone is well worth any trouble I must go through in order to have you.

  My dreams are haunted by your lovely emerald eyes.

  The compliments were spread, thick and smooth and sweet as creamy butter on bread. And there’s nothing that would twist a child’s idea of loving relationships more than to be forced to listen to such empty words of flattery being bestowed onto the one person she looked to for nurturing.

  Anger boiled up in her chest—hot, acidic and bitter. She could no more stop it than she could thwart a bolt of lightning or halt thunder from rumbling across the stormy desert sky.

  Trembling from head to toe, she closed the distance between herself and Kyle. Even the startled expression in her boss’s gaze when he finally saw her wasn’t enough to knock her out of her angry state. Her stern, unsmiling face seemed to confuse him, but she couldn’t concern herself with that. She set her empty coffee mug on the counter and didn’t give it another thought.

  “I do want you to know—” She kept her voice low enough not to be overheard by anyone but Kyle and Stanley. It wasn’t her intent to make a scene, but she had to let both these men know exactly how she felt. “—that I take great offense at being discussed over the company water cooler.”