Fiona And The Sexy Stranger

by Marie Ferrarella

  “Why, what’s in it?” She had absolutely no clue what there might be in the newspaper that Hank would think she’d be interested enough in seeing to drive all the way over here.

  Taking the newspaper from him, she turned to the page he’d specified. She honed in on the article quickly enough and scanned it. Her mouth dropping open in surprise when she saw her name, Fiona went back to the beginning of the piece and read the short article carefully this time. It was written by a food critic. And it was all about the party Fiona had catered the weekend before. When she finished reading, she had more questions than she’d had to begin with.

  Hank watched in silent fascination as disbelief, joy and a host of other emotions moved over her face. Unable to contain himself, he took the paper from her.

  “Here, let me read it to you,” he volunteered. Her fingers, he noticed, were lax as she surrendered the paper. “‘I never thought I’d be taking a busman’s holiday,’” he began, reading out loud, “‘but there’s something I feel I have to share with you. If you ever find yourself entertaining more than two for dinner, it might behoove you to look up a Ms. Fiona Reilly.’” He stole a look at her. “‘The lady is the owner of a quaint little catering company called Painless Parties. Believe me, there is nothing quaint about the food she will bring to your table…’”

  Fiona placed her hand on his arm. Hank stopped reading and looked at her. “Did you do this?”

  He held up the paper for her verification. “It says right here it was written by Terrance Gilbert.” He pointed to the byline.

  “I didn’t ask if you wrote this, I asked if you did this.” Fiona knew by the look on his face that she was right Somehow, Hank had had a hand in this article. “Did you bribe this Terrance Gilbert to write the article?”

  Hank laughed at the mere thought of anyone telling Terrance what to write. Terrance Gilbert was the most opinionated person he knew, barring maybe his sister.

  “If you knew Terry, you wouldn’t ask that question. He considers himself above things like bribery. And he’s pretty much of a food snob. But yes, I do know him and it so happens that he’s friends with one of Mrs. Harrison’s sons-in-law,” he explained, mentioning the name of the woman who’d had the party catered. “We had lunch the other day. We were talking and your name came up. He mentioned the dinner he’d attended and I mentioned that you could use the publicity. In the trade, this is called serendipity.” He handed the paper back to her. “I thought you might want to save this. It’s a damn nice writeup.”

  “Yes.” Fiona looked at the page. “It is.”

  “My guess is that it should go a long way in bringing you some more business. People actually take Terry to heart. But then, they don’t know him the way I do.”

  Fiona raised a brow in silent query.

  “We went to school together. I saved his butt once.”

  And now Gilbert was returning the favor, she thought. For reasons she couldn’t quite pin down yet, it made her feel closer to Hank. No matter what he said to the contrary, he’d called in a personal favor to help her. Didn’t that put them half a step beyond just working professionals?

  As did his showing up on her doorstep, she realized a moment later.

  The telephone rang just then. “I’d say that might be someone who just read his morning paper.” Pleased with himself, he nodded toward the telephone. “Why don’t you go and answer it?”

  Torn between wanting to bask in the glow generated by knowing he’d done her a personal favor and wanting to take advantage of the result of that favor, she finally held up her hand.

  “Wait right here.” Fiona bent over the sofa to get to the telephone.

  Her shorts rode up high on her leg, giving Hank an unobstructed view of perfectly sculpted, firm thighs. He continued looking, unabashed. “I’m in no hurry to go anywhere.”

  Three phone calls, all coming on the heels of one another, went by before Fiona finally had a chance to talk to him again.

  Turning to address Hank, she found him sitting on the floor, scratching the cat behind the ears. Velcro was utterly submissive.

  “I’ve never seen her behave like that with a stranger before.”

  “All she wants is a little attention, don’t you, girl?” The cat was on her back, her feet straight up in the air as she absorbed the magic coming from his fingertips. Fiona had a bizarre urge to purr and emulate her pet.

  “Don’t we all,” Fiona murmured. When he looked at her, a bemused expression on his face, she knew she’d misspoken again. “About the article,” she added quickly, sliding her hands over the creased page. “I have no idea what to say. Thank you doesn’t begin to cover it.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” he agreed. Patting the cat, he set her upright and turned his attention to Fiona.

  She wasn’t sure just what to make of the intense look in his eyes. All she knew was that it was undoing her. “Right, the check.” She went to get it.

  It surprised her that Hank still hadn’t taken it from her, even though they had met in his office several times already. Each meeting was conducted after-hours because of his heavy schedule. She didn’t mind adjusting her time around him, but she didn’t like feeling as if she were in debt to him.

  But he stopped her before she could find her purse. “For the time being, I have a different form of payment in mind.”

  Though she still couldn’t remember the details, her dream had left her feeling tingly and vulnerable. The effect intensified as he looked at her with what her grandmother’s generation had referred to as “bedroom eyes.”

  “Such as?” she heard herself whisper.

  His answer wasn’t what she expected. “Collins Walker is having their annual party in a couple of weeks. Since I’m the new guy, it’s my job to find a suitable caterer to handle the details.” He tugged on the knot in her T-shirt. “Know anyone I can use?”

  “Very funny.” She was grateful that the conversation had turned to business. “How many people are going to be there and what would you like?”

  He was quiet for a second, seeming to do a mental tally. “Roughly three hundred and what I personally would like is if you told me your dream.”

  So much for taking refuge in business. He was making those strange things happen inside her again. “I already told you that I couldn’t remember.” Although now there were snippets whizzing through her brain, teasing her like a memory that had faded but wasn’t quite gone yet.

  “And I volunteered to help you try.” He took her into his arms. “Does this help?”

  Settling against him felt like heaven. A very particularly accelerated heaven, where pulses raced alongside hearts. “My circulation, yes. My memory, no.”

  “How about this, does this help?”

  Even as he spoke, Hank lowered his mouth to hers, skimming his lips along hers. Her sharp intake of breath excited him. No more skimming, no more teasing. He slanted his mouth against hers, drawing in her sweetness, exchanging it for passion.

  The battle was lost before a single weapon was discharged. Before a single weapon was even drawn. Defenseless, she twined her arms around his neck, her body allowing itself to be molded to his.

  Fiona couldn’t fathom why he would want to kiss her.

  Maybe the thought that she was resisting prompted him, she didn’t know. And right now, she didn’t care. All she cared about was that he was kissing her. She had never felt like this about anyone before. And in all likelihood, never would again.

  She took his breath away, Hank realized. There was no other way to describe it. This deceptivelooking little slip of a thing, with her eagerness, her verve, stole the very air from his lungs. Pulling his head back, he was silent for a moment, trying to get his bearings as he looked at her. Very slowly, he ran his hands along her back, the very feel of her comforting him.

  And then he smiled at her. “Wow, I don’t know about you, but that’s certainly going to set me off dreaming for quite some time to come.” Very gently, he brushed back a lock of
her hair. “You’re not at all what you seem, Fiona Reilly.”

  She blinked, not knowing what he meant by that. “I’m not?”

  “No, you’re not. You’re not nearly as reserved, as straitlaced as you try to pretend.”

  She tried to withdraw, but it was too late for that. She was his for the taking and she knew that he knew. But what he didn’t know, she thought, was what was inside her.

  “I don’t want people to think I’m standoffish. I’m not,” she insisted. “I’m…afraid.” The admission wasn’t an easy one to make.

  Hank tried to understand. As far as he remembered, he’d never been afraid of anything. Except maybe thunder, but he’d been five at the time.

  “Of what, Fiona?” Holding her to him, he searched her eyes, looking for his answer there. “Of me?”

  She nodded; it was simpler that way. Fiona was unable to put into words that it wasn’t him she was afraid of, but what she felt for him. Wondrous though it was, this feeling would get out of hand and take over her life. And then, when he’d satisfied his curiosity—or whatever it was that had him dallying with her like this—and left her, she wouldn’t be able to bear it.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he coaxed softly. He framed her face with his hands. How could she think herself plain? The light in her eyes made her beautiful. “Don’t ever be afraid of me.”

  But she was, he thought, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

  “Do you believe in chemistry, Fiona?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Chemistry?”

  “You know, that funny thing that draws two people together while repelling two others. I believe in chemistry,” he told her seriously. “More important than that, I believe that when there’s chemistry between two people, they owe it to themselves to explore it.”

  For the first time humor played along her lips. “In the name of science?”

  His gut tightened as desire flooded through him. “In the name of any damn thing you want.”

  And then, because she tempted him in a way he’d never been tempted before, he forgot that he wanted to take her to meet someone. He forgot everything, except that he wanted her, wanted this woman who was a combination of innocence and sex, of laughter and seriousness. He wanted her in the worst way.

  In the best way that a man could want a woman.

  He kissed her again. And again, slanting his mouth over hers first gently, then with a growing urgency, and finally with passion. Holding her to him, feeling her hands as they first timidly, then with growing confidence and hunger, swept along his back. He savored the way her body trembled against his.

  Savored, too, that his own body was trembling in awed anticipation. He wanted to make love with her. He wanted to show her that she was beautiful. Beautiful to him.

  And then the phone rang, shattering its way into their private world of two.

  Fiona wanted to ignore it, to shut it out and focus instead on the heat that was traveling through her body at the speed of a racing train. His lips were doing such wonderful things to the pulse in her throat. Fiona gripped his shoulders as her head fell back, her skin eager for the feel of his mouth.

  “Don’t you think you should answer that?” he asked.

  It took her a moment to understand the words. Another to focus.

  “Right Sure.”

  And a third moment to feel the bitter sting of disappointment as his words, as their meaning, penetrated. Didn’t he want to make love with her? She’d all but waved the white flag in his face, all but laid herself out on a serving tray for his pleasure.

  For her pleasure.

  She flushed, trying to salvage what there was of her pride. Maybe he hadn’t noticed how eager she had suddenly become. How much she wanted him.

  Sure, as if that didn’t happen to him all the time, she thought ruefully. What made her think that she was different from any of the others who wanted him? Women he could take or leave on whim.

  “Saved by the bell,” she murmured.

  There was something sad in her voice, so sad that it twisted his heart, Hank thought It made him want to sweep her into his arms and hold her until the sadness went away.

  The impulse surprised him. He couldn’t remember ever feeling protective of a woman before, as if he were directly tied to her feelings.

  Lightly, he touched his lips to hers. “To be continued,” he promised.

  As she reached for the telephone, Fiona was certain her heart was going to pound right out of her chest.

  “She is a gem,” Collins said to Hank as he munched on one of the hors d’oeuvres that he had been consuming all evening. “I don’t know where you found her, but I’m ready to make you a full partner for discovering this jewel.” Fascinated, he looked down at what was left on his plate. “These crab cakes are fantastic. I must have eaten my weight in them and she keeps bringing in more. How does she do it?”

  “She’s living proof of the American edict. Oldfashioned hard work,” Hank answered. “If you enjoy the food, why don’t you tell her yourself, Jeff? I know she’d love to hear it.”

  Collins took another bite, savoring it every bit as much as his first one two hours ago. “I think I will.”

  Setting his empty plate down on a nearby surface, Jeffrey Collins plowed his considerable bulk through the gathering of clients and employees until he cornered Fiona.

  “Young lady, I’d like a word with you.”

  Fiona stopped dead in her tracks, a feeling of déjà vu washing over her. Her father had always hauled her out on the carpet for one of his lengthy lectures with those very words. “Is anything wrong, Mr. Collins?”

  “Wrong?” He laughed as he purloined another hors d’oeuvre from the tray she was holding. “It couldn’t be more right. I don’t know where you’ve been hiding, but I’m certainly happy that Hank brought you to our attention. You can be assured that there are a lot of people here who will want to avail themselves of your services. Just don’t forget that we have first call on you.” He made short work of the hors d’oeuvre then debated taking another, hesitating only because she was looking at him so intently. “My daughter’s graduating college at the end of the summer. I’d like to have a little get-together for her. Pencil me in for the last Saturday in August, will you?” The debate went in his favor and he picked up another crab cake. “Love these things,” he told her between bites as he walked away.

  Though his compliments had been flattering, the conversation had left her puzzled. Fiona looked around for Hank. She saw him talking to another man and made her way over to him.

  “Can I see you for a moment?” she asked.

  Hank tried to read her expression. She didn’t quite look like a woman who had been complimented. He thought of Collins’s reputation. “What’s the matter, did Collins come on to you?”

  Fiona thought she heard something protective in his voice, but then decided that she’d just imagined it. “No, he just asked me to do some catering for him. Hank, he acted as if he didn’t know anything about me. Wouldn’t he at least know that I was a client with the firm?” Or was the firm so large that the man couldn’t keep track of everyone associated with it?

  He knew he should have told her earlier, but the right moment had never come up. It was here now, whether he liked it or not.

  “Well,” he began, “you’re not exactly the firm’s client. You’re mine. Exclusively.”

  8

  The words refused to compute. Fiona stared at Hank. The rest of the guests at the party faded into the background. “What does that mean exactly, ‘yours exclusively’?”

  Hank chose his words carefully. There was a certain look in her eyes he couldn’t quite read. But twisters came in all sizes and shapes. He knew better than to run headlong into one.

  “It means that when I signed on with Collins Walker, in addition to heading my own department and dealing with a number of major accounts, I had a clause put into my contract allowing me to take on a small account of my own if I saw some sort of merit in it
.” It had been the first step to eventually setting up his own firm, something he knew was destined to be in his future. And he saw so much merit in hers, he thought. “One that wouldn’t be a threat to any of the accounts that Collins Walker already handles. That. also means I get to use some of the firm’s connections and their facilities at corporate rates. In exchange, should what I’ve taken on—on my own time,” he emphasized, since this in no way was allowed to cut into company time, “prove, somewhere down the line to grow into a large account, I bring it into the fold.”

  He studied her face, waiting to see her reaction. So far, he couldn’t read her expression. Maybe that was a good sign. “You might say that this is sort of like an orphan program.”

  The words penetrated immediately.

  “And I’m the orphan.”

  He’d known he’d used the wrong term the minute it was out of his mouth. Hank tried to apply a little damage control, but he had the uneasy feeling that it might be too late.

  “No, you’re the account with potential that doesn’t have the money to finance a large-sale advertising campaign.” He could see she was far from convinced. Drawing on his salesmanship, Hank made another stab at making this palatable to her. “If I were a lawyer, this would be like taking a case pro bono.”

  Fiona knew exactly what that meant. And exactly how she felt about it. There was no way she was going to accept this. “Charity?”

  They could bandy euphemisms back and forth all night. It still didn’t change the bottom line. The bottom line was that she didn’t have the kind of money that was needed to accomplish what she needed done. Not yet, anyway. But he wanted to help her. If not for Fiona, he might not have this job. Besides, he believed that everyone should do something that made them feel good about themselves once in a while. Helping her made him feel good about himself. Made him feel good, period.

  “Don’t get your pride up, Fiona. The charitable act being performed is by you to me.”