Just One Kiss

by Carole Dean

  What about his touching her? Nikki thought about that. He did tend to touch her once in a while, but it never seemed out of place. It wasn’t unusual for him to place a hand on her shoulder when he leaned over her desk to study something, or to touch the small of her back as he stepped back to let her through a door or into an elevator. Common courtesy.

  He had hugged her once, when they’d finalized that troublesome distributor agreement, but he’d been careful not to prolong it. Nikki remembered with absolute clarity just how damn short the hug was.

  What exactly was he guilty of? Why did she feel she was being romanced when she could see no evidence of it? Her frown deepened.

  He had touched her hair again. She was sure of it—yesterday, when it was down. He’d come in carrying two cups of coffee and moved behind her desk to look at the sales projections. He had stroked it ever so lightly. Or was she dreaming? She’d been dreaming a lot this week.

  There was one other thing, and when she thought of it, Nikki felt the golden cord tighten across her chest. The scent of him in the morning! That clean, potently male scent with an aftershave chaser. If she closed her eyes right now and breathed deep, she could smell it.

  She stopped, frozen in place.

  She was falling in love with him. Minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, she was falling for a man who hadn’t done anything other than be himself.

  She tried to find some common sense in her mishmash of a brain, told herself that these kinds of thoughts were exactly what he wanted her to think. Next thing, if she weren’t careful, she’d be the one wanting the office romance.

  Michael was winning. She wanted to fight back, but she couldn’t for the life of her spot the enemy.

  She moved from the uncomfortable edge of her desk to the comfort of the swivel chair behind it. She spun it to face the wall and closed her eyes. Flexing her shoulders, she worked to ease her tight back muscles and push Michael from her mind. She needed a long, hot bath with the works: bubbles, oil, foaming water. She thought longingly of the hot tub at her apartment. Her eyes still closed, still working her shoulder muscles, she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her until it was too late.

  Two strong hands found their way under the mane of her loose hair and started to massage her shoulders.

  “Sleeping on the job?” Michael’s voice teased.

  Nikki tried to wrench herself away. “Don’t—” she started.

  “Relax.” His hands held her fast. “I know how tired you must be. It’s been a long week. And can’t you think of anything else to say besides don’t?” His hands gentled her as they kept up their assault on her tired, tense muscles, muscles that had tensed even more at his touch.

  “You shouldn’t be here.” The objection was a lame one as she allowed his fingers to probe and prod the stress knots near the nape of her neck. “And you sure shouldn’t be doing this.” She barely restrained the satisfying moan building in her throat. His hands felt so good, she could scarcely stand it. But she’d programmed herself to protest. “You said you wouldn’t—”

  “—kiss you. I said I wouldn’t kiss you, and I won’t. I think I’ve been a model lecher for two weeks. As for this—” he rested his broad palms on her shoulders and used his thumbs to ease the ache of fatigue lodged between her shoulder blades “—this is not kissing, this is a company benefit. Nothing personal, you understand. It’s a service I offer to all my general managers.”

  “Sure, you do.” Nikki words were a sarcastic sneer. She considered leaping from her chair, doing the incensed bit and tossing him out of her office. Instead, she leaned back into his hands, reveled in the heat and gentleness of his touch.

  As he worked to loosen the tight cords of her neck with his thumbs, the palms of Michael’s hands settled on her shoulders near the base of her neck. His long fingers rested on her collarbone. Nicole could feel the weight of him when he leaned down to bring his mouth to her ear. His warm breath against her neck made her skin quiver.

  “You believe me then,” he whispered, and she sensed his smile. “I’m surprised. I thought you had me pegged as another office Romeo. Can I assume we’re making progress?” His lips skimmed her neck and every fiber of her femininity responded. A long sigh escaped her lips. His hands were so good, his lips so soft, everything was so right.

  She could feel his hands moving down her shoulders, only the silk of her blouse between them and her sensitized skin. His breath on her neck seared her flesh. If she were to turn ever so slightly, she could take in the scent of him, taste him ...

  Somewhere in the morass of her feelings, Nikki found her bearings. Abruptly, she swiveled her chair to face him. This was madness. He was driving her crazy. And when she looked up into his dark, smiling eyes, she knew he knew it. Damn him! was her next thought. This whole thing was ridiculous. He wasn’t irresistible. No more than any other man.

  “You’re not going to give up, are you?” Nikki struggled for control.

  “No.” He moved back and leaned, half sitting, half standing against her desk, looking maddeningly at ease. “I have too much to gain if I win.” He watched her intently as if trying to read the emotions she knew were fast-forwarding across her face.

  Nikki’s mind was in overdrive. There was no way she could take another two weeks of this. It was as if she were fighting a giant with one hand tied behind her back. She thought of all the times she’d so easily warded off other men’s unwelcome advances—but that was when she was on equal ground with nothing to lose. Michael was different. Boy, is he different, her little voice trumpeted.

  He was her boss. She couldn’t just brush him off like a piece of lint. It would be too risky. Of course, the real problem was that part of her didn’t want to brush him off. She attributed that thought to her brainless hormones and forced herself to think.

  If only she could make it his idea to drop her. But how?

  It seemed to Nikki that so far in this relationship, Michael had won every meet, while she went nowhere at warp speed. If she didn’t do something to even the odds, it would become intolerable. Well, she refused to be hunted like a nervous rabbit. There had to be an alternative.

  If not the hunted, what then?

  A sly smile crossed her face. What had Megan Dorado said about her son? He was an incurable romantic? She got up from her chair and looked at her handsome adversary.

  “Why don’t you buy me dinner tonight, Michael, and we’ll talk about it. About us.” The surprise that registered on his face delighted her. Gotcha, she said to herself with glee. Still, there was caution in his voice when he answered, and a hint of suspicion.

  “Dinner is a great idea.” He watched her.

  “Good. But I want to go home first. Can we meet later? There’s a terrific Italian place on Marine drive. La Cucina. Around the 1900 block, I think. Say about eight-fifteen?”

  Michael looked wary, but he glanced at his watch and nodded his assent. “I hope it’s casual.”

  “It is. Wear something you’re comfortable in.” She reached for her bag and walked around him to the door of her office, then looked back. “Something easy to get out of.”

  Nikki had only a second to register Michael’s expression before she closed her door. Shock was not a strong enough word.

  Nikki was home in fifteen minutes. Within fifteen minutes of that, she was showered and anxiously rummaging through her closet.

  This wasn’t going to be easy, but it was important she look the part. The trouble was, she didn’t have any office vamp clothes. She hadn’t realized until now how conservative her wardrobe was. In desperation, she chose a short black skirt, black stockings, and black high heels—very high heels. She looked at them dubiously. Her back would probably be out for days. She topped it with a deep turquoise silk blouse, leaving only enough buttons closed to avoid arrest. For accessories, she dug out her old jewelry box and found a set of noisy bangles—too many—and large dangling earrings.

  Then she went to work on her hair. She tried pushi
ng it to one side and thought it looked too chaste. She fiddled some more, then swept its copper abundance up from her nape into an artfully mismanaged fountain of wisps, curls and tendrils that fell in profusion around her face. Probably into my pasta too, she thought ruefully. She used twice her normal makeup, all courtesy of Prisma, stood back and studied the effect. She choked back a laugh. She’d done it, concocted the perfect office sex machine.

  Nikki wasn’t sure where this charade would lead, but at least she had a plan, a plan to regain control of a difficult situation. Before leaving her apartment, she spent a few minutes fixing her objective for the evening firmly in her mind. She was determined to make Michael see the utter futility in any kind of office affair, the plain, untouched truth about what it was like when a boss and an employee became involved. If he was a romantic, as she and his mother believed, he wouldn’t like the new, recently updated Nicole Johnson. If she were lucky, he’d run for his life.

  Nikki took a last look in the mirror and added another shot of mascara to her long lashes. In her wildest imaginings, she couldn’t see the suave, sophisticated Michael escorting this woman in public. She rubbed her lips together to set the brilliant slash of lipstick, then spun in front of the mirror. It’s a good thing he was young and strong, she decided. If he weren’t, and he looked at this in-your-face babe she’d created, he’d have a heart attack.

  With that, she donned her coat and left.

  Nikki was ten minutes late getting to the restaurant.

  “I’m meeting a gentleman. Dark hair. Tall?” The maître d’ was helping her off with her coat.

  “Mr. Dorado?”

  She nodded and followed his lead to a table at the back of the restaurant, staying far enough behind for Michael to get the full effect. Shoulders high, chest forward, she concentrated on producing an undulating, rhythmic walk. It wasn’t easy in the four-inch stiletto heels. Too late, she remembered why they were in the back of her closet; they were killing her! All she could do now was hope she could make it to the table without falling on her face.

  ***

  Michael watched Nicole’s entrance with astonishment. What was she up to? First, the unexpected invitation to dinner. Now this? Every eye in the room was on her. One thing was for sure; if she’d decided to break her rule, she was planning to do it with a vengeance. He hoped that was the case, but guessed otherwise. With Nikki, it wouldn’t be that simple.

  He continued his scrutiny as she approached the table and felt a tensing in the pit of his stomach. She was pure seduction. Her appearance, which he knew was carefully calculated, was hot and sultry. Heavy-handed? Maybe, but sexy as hell. His eyes drifted over her, the glistening mass of hair, the open neckline of her blouse, the erotic curve and sway of her hips, and fixed finally on the dark silk of her legs. He imagined what she would wear under such an outfit. At the thought, it was no longer only his stomach feeling tense. He stood up as she reached the table.

  “Hello, Michael. Sorry I’m late.” Nikki gave him a dazzling smile. Leaning forward, she let her blouse gape open as she kissed him lightly on the cheek. She would get and keep control of this evening. That meant capturing Michael’s interest and holding it. She glanced up at him from carefully lowered lashes. For a few seconds she faltered. She could not read his eyes. In the dim light, they were no longer emerald, but black opals, the green hidden in dark ebony depths.

  “No problem. I just got here myself. I ordered wine, but if there’s something else you prefer ...?” They took their seats.

  “No. Wine is absolutely perfect,” she gushed.

  The waiter arrived promptly to fill their glasses. As he worked with the cork, he commented on Michael’s wine selection, wresting Michael’s attention from Nikki. Thankful for the reprieve, Nikki breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back in her chair, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the man across from her.

  He was dressed simply—black slacks and a soft black sweater, the starkness broken at the neck by the collar of a deep-red striped shirt. He looked dramatic and sensual. As usual, he wore no jewelry except for a watch. His straight black hair was thick and shining. Sitting back comfortably in his chair, he exuded the easy grace Nikki had come to admire.

  For a moment, his attention left the chattering waiter and he looked at her, possessing her with an impatient, intimate smile. His smile made her tremble. She reached for her wine, but her eyes remained locked on the relaxed, darkly appealing man across from her. A wave of physical attraction overwhelmed her. For a moment, she was actually afraid. She was out of her league—way out of my league. But her die was cast. She’d see this night through if it killed her. As well it might, she thought miserably.

  Finally, the waiter left.

  “I thought he’d never go,” Nikki said, forcing a bright smile to her nervous mouth.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore you.” Michael drank some wine and openly studied her before he spoke again, glancing up to the wild tumble of red hair as he did so. “You look very different tonight.”

  “Do I?” she replied innocently. “In what way?”

  “Kind of an interesting cross between the Happy Hooker and Little Orphan Annie. Appealing, though. Especially the Happy Hooker part. Tell me, is there a message in all this, the offer of dinner and the, uh …” he burned a look towards the opening of her blouse “… the other invitation? It is an invitation, isn’t it? If it isn’t, you should be warned that you’re playing with fire.”

  Nikki fixed what she hoped was a mysterious smile on her face and slowly raked the back of his hand with a painted nail.

  “Michael, how cruel you are. Happy Hooker indeed! How can you say such a thing? I’m trying to please you. I want to be exactly what you want me to be. Did I do something wrong?”

  Michael was warming to the game. “Let me get this straight. You want to please me. Is that it? That’s what this is all about?”

  “Of course. What else could it be?” Nikki took a breath for courage and lifted her foot out of her shoe. She began rubbing it against Michael’s calf. She couldn’t believe she was doing it, but she was. What was irritating was, it didn’t seem to be bothering him one bit.

  “If you want to please me, love, the foot should go higher, much higher.” A wicked smile crossed the chiseled planes of his face.

  Nikki, speechless, gulped some wine, then was saved by the return of the waiter to take their order. He’d called her love! She hadn’t expected that. Determined as she was to control events, she could feel that control slipping away. She kicked herself for not factoring in the effect he had on her—and that he was as stubborn as she was. He would not make things easy.

  “I thought we should talk about your travel schedule,” she said.

  “My travel schedule?” he repeated.

  “Yes. How often do you plan on being in Vancouver? I know it’s not romantic, darling, but I do want to have an idea when you’ll be flying in. You know, so I can arrange my life accordingly.”

  “Nikki, what are you talking about?” Michael realized he liked her calling him darling, even if she was being facetious. He liked her touching his hand, too, and moving her foot against his leg. He liked everything about this sassy woman.

  And he couldn’t wait to see what she would come up with next. He settled back in his seat with the pure aim of enjoying himself.

  She ignored his question and carried on. “You’re definitely not married, are you?” She seemed to think about this for a minute or two. “Because if you are, we’ll have to be much more careful, of course. Not to worry, we can handle it, I’m sure.” She gave him a wonderfully seductive smile. “We all know that love, true love, conquers all. Isn’t that right?”

  “Right.” He smiled back, not giving an inch.

  “We’ll have to be careful in the office, of course. I’ll get a lock for my office door. In case we—” she let her voice trail off to a raspy whisper and looked at him through lowered lashes “—well ... you know.” She sucked on her finger the
n, and Michael came damn near to losing the game right then and there. “You do know, don’t you?”

  “I think I get the picture, yes.”

  “And I think I should get a private line, don’t you?” she went on. “I know it’s an extra cost for the company, but it will make it easier for us to make our arrangements.”

  “Definitely a private line and most definitely a lock for your office door—and maybe a sofa?”

  Nikki didn’t look up at him then, keeping her head down as if to think of anything else that should go on the list. “Let’s see, you’ll need a key to my apartment—” she tapped one red-tipped finger on her chin “—and obviously I’ll need a substantial travel budget.” Again she gave him a lingering smile. “There may be times when we have to get away. I’ll try not to be too demanding, darling, but I will want as much of you as I can get.” She raised her eyes to meet his when she spoke the last sentence.

  Don’t I wish, he said to himself, then nodded with what he hoped was a straight face. “Of course.”

  “Oh, and Michael, I’ll try not to let my job get in the way of our relationship. Of course, I’ll understand if yours does. I mean that’s different, isn’t it?”

  Here it was at last. The point! She intended to give him an object lesson, and a damned effective one. But then this woman didn’t do anything in half measures. In living color she was depicting her vision of what a relationship between them would be like. And, he had to admit, it was not a pretty sight. But she was wrong.

  He locked his gaze to hers, marveling again at the delicacy of her features, the high proud chin, intelligent blue eyes and her brilliant hair.

  And her mouth ...

  Michael’s breath set hard in his throat. Along with the surge of desire came a wave of exasperation. He was being a fool for this woman, running the risk of taking whatever she offered. Not his style. Not at all. His eyes moved to the shadowy valley between her breasts, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. There was chemistry at work here, powerful chemistry well beyond the minimum required for an office romp. He’d just have to make her see that.