by Lynn LaFleur
Marci smiled. “That’s easy. I got a red bike for my sixth birthday. I rode that puppy all day and was back on it first thing the next day.”
Keefe chuckled. He could easily picture a six-year-old Marci with long braids tooling around town on her red bicycle. “Best Christmas present?”
“That one is tougher to answer. Mom and Dad always went all out at Christmas.”
“Okay, you can skip that one. How about first boy you ever kissed?”
“Rodney Duncan.” She wrinkled her nose. “He had the worst breath ever.”
Keefe cleared his throat to keep from laughing out loud. “How old were you when ol’ Rodney laid one on you?”
“Thirteen. We were in the school library, working on an essay for history class. I had no idea he was going to kiss me. I don’t think he had any idea he was going to kiss me. He turned every shade of red after it happened.”
“Did you like it?”
“Nope. Other girls raved about kissing. I didn’t understand the big deal.”
“Maybe those other girls didn’t kiss guys with bad breath.”
“Maybe.” She smiled tenderly as she looked across the room, obviously lost in a pleasant memory. “I liked kissing the next guy. Of course, I was older and wiser by then.”
“So you were…?”
“Fourteen.” She looked back at Keefe. “Rodney’s older brother, Gerald. He was sixteen. I learned that kissing was pretty cool after all.”
The opening couldn’t have been more perfect for Keefe to tell Marci how much he enjoyed kissing her. He knew that would be a very stupid thing to say.
“How old were you when you first kissed a girl?” Marci asked.
“Eleven.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Eleven? Did you even know what kissing was at eleven?”
“I didn’t have to know. She did.”
A knock on the door stopped Marci before she said anything else. “Hold that thought. I want to know more about the she who initiated you in kissing.”
She slipped her hand from beneath his and rose. That’s when it registered to Keefe that he’d been holding her hand the entire time they talked. It had felt so natural, he hadn’t realized that she never pulled away from him.
He moved their work to the side of the table while Marci opened the door for their dinner. She chatted with the waiter while he transferred their meal from the tray to the table. He’d noticed how friendly Marci was with everyone they were around. She wasn’t the least bit snobbish, which she could easily be in her position of power.
His admiration for her grew the more time he spent with her.
Once the waiter left, Keefe opened the bottle of Pinot Noir. Marci removed the metal covers from their plates. The food’s aroma made Keefe’s stomach growl.
“Yeah, me too,” Marci said, covering her stomach with one hand. “I didn’t realize how hungry I am.”
He splashed wine into their glasses. “A toast.” He held out his glass toward her. “To a successful venture. May In The Mountain’s Shadow earn millions for Marshall Media.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
She touched her glass to his and took a sip. “Very good. I’ve never had wine produced in British Columbia. I thought as long as we’re here, we should try it.”
“I’m always willing to try something new.”
“What’s the weirdest thing you’ve eaten?” Marci asked, breaking her roll in half.
Keefe swallowed his bite of steak and washed it down with a sip of wine. “I’m not sure about weird, but maybe out of the ordinary. Davin is a huge hunter. He’s always out in the woods the first day of hunting season. I’ve eaten all kinds of meat at his house—venison, elk, moose, bear.”
“I’ve had venison, but none of that other stuff.”
He could tell by her tone and the way her nose wrinkled that she had no intention of ever trying them either. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“I’ve tried just about every kind of chocolate available. My sense of adventure is fine.”
Keefe chuckled, then returned to his meal. They ate in silence for several moments before Marci spoke again.
“You were going to tell me about the girl who kissed you when you were eleven.”
“I was?”
Keefe tried to sound innocent. Marci’s frown proved he didn’t succeed. “What girl would kiss an eleven-year-old boy?” she asked.
“A sixteen-year-old babysitter who was showing off to her girlfriend.” Keefe wiped his hands on his napkin and laid it next to his plate. “I was a homely kid. Glasses, crooked teeth, skinny. Guys picked on me, girls made fun of me.” He shrugged one shoulder. “The usual story for a kid who didn’t belong to the ‘in’ group.”
He splashed more wine into each of their glasses. “My folks went out to dinner with friends, my other brother and sisters were all at their friends’ houses. Belinda and her girlfriend—I don’t remember her name—stayed with me. Belinda rammed her tongue down my throat, then made stupid gagging noises like I’d poisoned her.”
“What a little bitch.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I got back at her though. The next time I saw Belinda, I was eighteen. She was in the process of her second divorce. Thanks to braces, contacts and football, I wasn’t a nerdy kid anymore. She tried really hard to get me into bed.” He grinned. “I kissed her, then made stupid gagging noises. End of seduction.”
Marci laughed and saluted him with her wineglass. “Revenge can be sweet.”
“It certainly can.”
She swirled the wine in her glass before taking a sip. “How old were you when you kissed a girl you wanted to kiss?”
“Fifteen. That’s when my braces came off. I took full advantage of my new look.”
“I’m sure you did.”
“I had to make up for lost time.” Picking up his wineglass, he leaned back in his chair. “Sixteen.”
A look of confusion crossed her face. “Sixteen?”
“That’s how old I was the first time I had sex.”
She blew out a disgusted breath. “I wasn’t going to ask you that.”
“But you were wondering.”
Guilt flashed through her eyes. “Okay, I was wondering.”
“I knew it.”
Marci frowned at him. “Don’t gloat. It’s rude.”
He chuckled and swallowed the last of his wine. “How old were you?”
“Seventeen. An experience I would forget if I could.”
“As lousy as that first kiss?”
“Worse. Neither of us knew what we were doing. I decided right then that sex was highly overrated and not worth the trouble.”
“Who changed your mind?”
“My first boyfriend in college.” She grinned. “He knew what to do.”
Keefe laughed while Marci popped the last bite of her roll into her mouth. She sighed in pleasure. “Delicious. I feel like a human again.”
“All energized and ready to get back to work?”
“Yes. Unless you’d rather quit for the night.”
He didn’t want to say good night to Marci yet. He’d use any excuse to stay close to her a little longer. “We still have a lot to do. I don’t mind working another couple of hours.”
“I think we can finish what we’re doing in a couple of hours, so that would be perfect.”
“Okay.” Keefe stood and picked up the tray the waiter had used to carry their food. “Let’s get the table cleaned off and get back to work.”
“Would you mind if we sat on the loveseat? It’s softer than these chairs.”
And they’d be closer to each other. That was a plus in Keefe’s mind. “No, I don’t mind at all.”
Chapter Twelve
Marci sat on the loveseat next to Keefe, their bodies mere inches apart while they continued to work. It was almost midnight. She should call it a night and tell him to go to his room.
Marci didn’t want the evening to end.
He�
�d lit a fire in the fireplace. They’d worked, but talk had also drifted to family and friends again. She enjoyed listening to him so much, she had to force herself to return to working.
She’d never felt so comfortable with a man.
She’d never desired one so fiercely either. Her gaze would wander to him over and over while they worked. She admired his broad shoulders, wide chest, flat stomach. The nice bulge at his fly drew her attention many times, as did his sensual lips and that glorious mane of black hair.
He’d said he was a homely kid. He’d definitely grown out of the homely stage and into a hunk.
Her mind flashed back to when they’d made love in her office. It had been fierce, hot, passionate. He’d made her body sing with his kiss, his touch.
“Do you have actors in mind for the leads?” Keefe asked.
His question jerked her back to the present. She cleared her throat and pushed her hair behind one ear. “I’d love to have Thomas Reitman for the male lead, if he’s available. He’d be perfect to play Ivan.”
“Yeah, I agree with that. What about the female lead?”
“I haven’t decided on her yet. There are a lot of wonderful actresses who could play the part of Judith.”
“Did you see the movie Five Times Two?”
Marci scrunched up her nose while she tried to remember. She saw a lot of movies, but that one didn’t sound familiar. “I don’t think so.”
“I’m not surprised. It came out about eight months ago and bombed. The only good thing about it was an actress who played a small supporting role. She was incredible. I think she’d be the perfect actress for Judith.”
“What’s her name?”
“Tina Fournier.”
“Make a note to contact her agent as soon as we have a screenplay for Tina to look at.”
“Will do. I’ll contact Reitman’s agent too.”
Marci loved that she could bounce ideas off Keefe and he gave her intelligent responses. Her last Logistics VP was happy to let Marci handle as much as she would.
Perhaps she was depending too much on Keefe. He was brand new to the company and had barely learned the names of the people directly under him, much less the normal routine of Marshall Media. He didn’t know her favorite directors, her choice of screenwriters and her costume designers. “Am I throwing too much at you too quickly?” She gestured toward the printout on his lap. “I’ve given you a lot of tasks.”
“Aren’t they part of my job?”
“Well, yes, but—“
“Then you haven’t thrown too much at me. I enjoy working with you. We’re a good team.”
She couldn’t argue with that. “Yes, we are.”
With those three simple words, the atmosphere in the room turned from business to pleasure. She watched the play of the firelight on his face, the reflection in his eyes. She looked at his lips and imagined them pressed to hers.
Keefe stretched his arm along the back of the loveseat. He twirled his finger into her hair. “We’re good together in a lot of ways,” he said, his voice low and raspy.
“Yes, we are,” she whispered.
Marci swallowed as he leaned closer to her. If she said no, he would stop. If she said no, they’d go back to work and she’d pretend she didn’t feel the tempest brewing inside her body.
She waited, breath held, to feel his lips touch hers.
A bare brush of flesh against flesh. A tease of tongue in the seam of her lips. His warm breath on her cheek. So many sensations bombarded her at once. His scent, male with a hint of woodsy aftershave. His taste, the wine he’d drunk mixed with his own unique flavor. His touch, lips moving over hers and his palm cupping her cheek so tenderly.
Marci somehow held back a moan when he deepened the kiss. His lips slid over hers…smooth, soft, seeking.
Asking for more.
Marci parted her lips when she felt Keefe’s tongue again. She couldn’t stop the moan this time. His tongue dove inside her mouth to play with hers. He withdrew, licked each corner of her mouth, kissed her again.
Printouts, legal pads and pens fell to the floor. Marci went willingly when Keefe lowered her to the corner of the loveseat. He continued to kiss her while he pulled her legs over his lap. Wrapping her arms around him, Marci returned every kiss he gave her.
He kissed her jaw, the sensitive area beneath her ear. His teeth tugged on her earlobe. “I want you, Marci.” Taking one of her hands, he dragged it down to his fly. “Feel how much I want you.”
She closed her eyes and squeezed his cock. He was already hard and full. She moved her hand over him, caressing the firm flesh and tight balls through the denim.
Another kiss made her head swim. Her clit began to gently throb. She shifted her hips, trying to ease the emptiness in her pussy.
It didn’t work. She needed Keefe on top of her, inside her.
He cradled her jaw and tilted up her chin with his thumb. “If you don’t want this, it stops now and I leave.”
She couldn’t lie, not to Keefe. “I don’t want you to leave,” she said in the barest of whispers.
Heat flared in his eyes before a pained look crossed his face. He buried his face against her shoulder. “I didn’t bring any condoms. Shit!”
She tunneled her fingers into his hair and lifted his head. “Do I have anything to worry about?”
“No. I swear I’m clean.”
“So am I, and I’m on birth control.”
“Then there’s no reason why we can’t make love.”
Still holding his hair, she tugged his mouth to within an inch of hers. “No reason at all.”
She pulled him that final inch until they kissed. She’d sensed Keefe had been holding back in their earlier kisses. He didn’t hold back now. He kissed her hungrily, desperately, stealing her breath and her ability to think.
His hand covered her breast. He caressed her, squeezed her, thumbed her nipple. Each pass of his thumb over the sensitive nub sent her desire soaring. She pumped her hips, searching for more.
A strangled sound came from her throat when he slid his hand between her thighs. He cupped her mound, his fingertips pressing against her clit.
“I want you to come.” He moved his fingers backward, forward, in a circle. “Tell me what you need to come.”
She couldn’t speak, not when her body was on fire. Marci spread her legs wider, giving him more room to touch her.
“Yeah. Do what you need to get there.”
“I need… I need you inside me.”
“Come for me first.”
His touch felt wonderful, but it wasn’t quite enough for her to reach the peak. There was too much fabric between his fingers and her flesh. Marci unfastened her jeans and pushed them and her panties past her hips. Taking Keefe’s hand, she placed it between her thighs.
He growled low in his throat. “I love how wet you get.”
He caressed her again, his fingers moving over her creamy flesh. He didn’t watch his hand, but stared into her eyes while he touched her.
The pleasure began to slowly build, starting at her toes and traveling through her entire body. Marci closed her eyes, threw back her head and trembled.
“I love to watch you come.”
It took an effort, but Marci managed to open her eyes. Keefe still had his hand between her legs, softly rubbing her swollen folds. A zing flashed straight to her core when his fingertip passed over her clit. She lifted her hips to get closer to that glorious sensation.
“I don’t think you’re through,” Keefe said. “I think you need to come again.”
“Not alone. With you this time.”
“Yeah,” he said before kissing her. “With me this time.”
Keefe stood with Marci in his arms and carried her the short distance to the bed. Laying her in the middle, he straightened and quickly removed his clothes. Naked, he knelt on the bed next to her. She sat up to remove her sweater while he took off her shoes and jeans. He grabbed her hands before she unhooked her bra. Holdin
g her hands out to her sides, he gazed at the dark green bra and tiny pair of panties. He had to swallow the lump in his throat before he could speak.
“You have the sexiest underwear I’ve ever seen.”
“I discovered a new lingerie store in Seattle.”
He leaned forward and kissed the top of each breast. “I approve.”
She lay back on the bed. Keefe removed her bra and panties and stared at Marci’s body, all golden in the soft lamplight. Her blonde hair lay on the pillow beneath her head. Her lips were puffy from his kisses. Her nipples were hard, her pussy wet and open.
She looked like a goddess.
He ran one hand between her breasts and down her stomach. Her skin felt silky and damp beneath his palm. He continued his journey until he ruffled the soft hair on her mound with his fingertips.
“Do you have any idea how much I want you?” Still on his knees, Keefe moved between her legs. He cradled her hips, slid his hands up to her breasts. “I think about you during the day and dream about you at night.” He squeezed her breasts, circled her nipples with his thumbs. “I remember how your body feels against mine, how right it seems to be a part of you.”
“Keefe,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
“Tell me you want me too.”
“I want you. So much.”
Hooking one of her legs over his hip, he entered her with one smooth glide. She gasped. That gasp soon turned into a long moan of pleasure. She closed her eyes and gripped his shoulders.
“Look at me,” he urged.
She opened her eyes again and stared into his. Keefe saw desire in the blue depths, but he also saw tenderness…and an emotion he wanted to call love.
He kept his strokes slow and easy. He pushed his cock all the way inside her, then withdrew to the head and repeated the movement. With every movement, he kept his gaze locked with Marci’s. Her breathing quickened, her body tensed beneath his. Her eyes began to drift closed.
“No, keep looking at me. I want to see your eyes when you come.”
He’d barely finished his sentence when the walls of her pussy squeezed his shaft. She bit her bottom lip and arched her back, but kept her eyes open.
Feeling her channel grip his cock sent him to the heavens with her. The pleasure raced up and down Keefe’s spine and into his balls. “Yeah. Oh, yeah. Fuck!”