by Leslie Kelly
She didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until she woke up to the sounds of Rand returning. He was moving around in the living room of the penthouse. She heard glasses clink, saw the light flip off, and figured he was bringing them a drink. Champagne maybe?
She yawned and smiled, tucking herself deeper under the covers and closing her eyes as she waited for him. When the bed sank a little as he sat on the opposite site of it, she rolled onto her side and murmured, “I thought you’d never come back.”
He jerked so hard he almost fell off the bed. “Wha...”
“Get your clothes off and get in here,” she ordered, barely opening her eyes to watch him as he got up and stood beside the bed. He’d turned out the light in the other room and it was dark and shadowy in this one, so she could only make out the vague outline of his body. “I’ve waited forever and I want you to make love to me for the rest of the night.”
“Are you serious?” he asked, his voice low, surprised.
“Of course I am,” she said. She stretched again, enjoying the sensation of the silky sheets against her naked-but-for-the-stockings body. Still trapped somewhere between dreamy sleepiness and fully awake, she ran a hand down her body, smoothing her fingertips over her breast, doing as he’d asked—touching herself where she wanted him to touch and kiss her.
“Are you going to make me beg?” she said, her voice a purr of feminine need.
He moved back onto the bed, kneeling beside her, reaching over to brush her hair off her face. Emily opened her eyes and looked up at him, in the darkness distinguishing nothing more than the outline of his clothed body and his dark hair.
She reached up and tangled her fingers in that hair, tugging him down on top of her. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”
Catching his mouth with hers, she thrust her tongue against his, tilting her head so she could invite him deeper. He groaned, stiffened and then gave up any pretenses, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her up against his broad chest, the kiss getting hotter, wetter.
He tasted of alcohol—scotch maybe—and the taste was an unfamiliar one. She couldn’t imagine why he’d stopped for a stiff drink before coming back to bed, and figured the wealthy auction bidder had insisted on buying him one.
“Touch me,” she insisted against his lips, wondering why those big, perfect hands weren’t working their magic on her. “Please.”
He ran a hand down her side, cupping her waist, stroking his fingertips over her hipbone, then higher until he was cupping her bare breast. Emily arched up toward him, pushing at his clothes, trying to get the leather jacket off his shoulders so she could get at all that warm, wonderful skin.
Leather jacket?
Wait. Rand had been wearing his tux. She’d watched him yank the shirt and jacket on before he’d left the room forty-five minutes before.
What the hell?
“Rand?” she asked, sleepiness beginning to fade as the mixed signals finally got through to her brain. Something was wrong. Something was seriously wrong.
“Sorry, gorgeous,” said that warm, deep, masculine voice—an unfamiliar voice, she finally realized. “But my name’s not Rand, it’s Damien. Now, what should I call you...other than Goldilocks?”
* * *
IT WAS FORTY-FIVE minutes before Rand could get away from the auction winners—an elderly couple who were in Chicago for a holiday visit with their family. Their grandson was a big fan, and he also was dealing with a serious case of juvenile diabetes. Rand was just as much a sucker for sick kids as he was for animals, and he hadn’t been able to tear himself away until he’d not only posed for the picture and signed his autograph, but also recorded a message for the boy on the grandfather’s cell phone.
Returning to the penthouse, he let himself in and blinked as the darkness swallowed him up. Emily must have gotten up and shut off the light after he’d left.
Smiling at the thought of climbing into bed and waking her up from a sound sleep, as she’d once done to him on the night that was burned into his memory, he stripped off his clothes as he crossed the dark room. He dropped them on the floor one piece after another and by the time he reached the bedroom, he was unzipping his pants and pushing them off. But his hands froze when he heard a man’s voice.
“So, Goldilocks, as nice as that kiss was, I suspect I’m not the just-right bear you’re looking for. Do you want to explain what you’re doing in my bed?”
“What the fuck?” Rand growled, slapping at the light switch on the wall.
The room was suddenly bathed in illumination and what he saw was enough to shock him into utter silence for a second. Emily was sitting on the bed, the sheets wrapped around her hips, but naked from there up. Her long hair was tangled around her bare breasts, one nipple peeking saucily through.
And beside her sat a guy. An attractive man of about thirty, with black hair, dark eyes and an expression that appeared too much like a satisfied smirk for Rand’s comfort.
“Oh, my God!” Emily shrieked, leaping from the bed, as if she’d just been shocked out of her own immobility.
“You sick bastard, I’ll kill you if you touched her!” Rand snarled, striding toward the bed.
“Who are you people?” the man said, rising to stand and face Rand. “And what are you doing in my bedroom?”
Rand had been just about to leap and tackle the intruder who’d obviously terrified Emily.
Who’d kissed her.
But the man’s words—and Rand’s own pants, which had slid down his hips and were now tangled around his feet—stopped him cold.
“What?”
“What?” Emily echoed.
“You are both in my bedroom,” the man explained, glancing back and forth between them, that smile still lurking on his lips. But it wasn’t amusement he displayed when the man dropped his gaze to her naked body—it was sheer admiration.
Emily grabbed the sheet off the bed and wrapped it around herself, and the stranger shrugged his shoulders as if to say who wouldn’t look?
Rand was going to punch his lights out for that. Just as soon as he figured out what the hell was going on.
First things first, though. “Em, are you all right?” he asked, striding over to her, kicking his own pants off and out of the way in his need to reach her and make sure the assault hadn’t gone too far.
She flew into his arms. “I’m fine. Scared out of my wits and so confused, but...”
The stranger interrupted. “What’s to be confused about? This is my hotel, my penthouse, my room and my bed.”
“Oh, God,” Emily groaned, covering her eyes with her hand. “You’re Damien Black.”
Rand had heard of him. Rich dude. International playboy.
Owned hotels.
Shit.
“Yes. Now, who, exactly, are the two of you?” The man glanced at Rand. “Well, I know who you are.”
“I’m Emily Crowder,” Em replied, “one of the floor managers. We all assumed you were still out of the country and had no idea you would be home tonight.”
“So I gathered. Does this happen a lot? Staff sneaking into my place for hookups?”
Rand grabbed the guy by the lapels of his jacket and jerked him close, not giving a damn that he was stark naked and the guy probably owned more baseball teams than Rand had ever played for. “Watch your mouth. Your general manager rented me this suite. I’m a paying customer and Miss Crowder is my guest. We’ve known each other for years.”
The millionaire—billionaire?—nodded slightly, murmuring, “My apologies.”
Emily was apparently regaining her equilibrium, and her anger. Without much concern for her job, she snapped, “What is wrong with you? Are you in the habit of just kissing strange women you find in your bed? I thought you were Rand, who’d left almost an hour ago. But who did you thin
k I was?”
Rand stiffened at the kissing part, but forced himself to put his anger and jealousy aside. He could go a little nuts later conjuring up images of another man holding the woman he loved, naked, and kissing her when she’d believed she was kissing Rand. Right now, there was still too much to deal with.
“Actually, I figured you were one of my exes. You said you’d been waiting for me to come back, and I assumed word had gotten out that I was here and you were hoping for some makeup sex.” He sighed heavily. “They’ve managed to talk their way in before.”
Wow. And Rand thought he had it rough with groupies. Nobody’d ever actually invaded his home.
“It wasn’t until you called me by another man’s name that I realized you weren’t my belated Christmas present. Too bad.”
There was another flash of the spoiled, rich playboy. The quick, appreciative stare he cast over Emily, from the top of her tousled head down to the bare toes peeping out from beneath the sheet, made a hot wave of fury course through Rand. His whole body tense, muscles taut and fingers fisting, he stepped forward.
“Calm down, Captain America,” Black said with a half smile. “Just trying to get a rise out of you. Speaking of which, you might want to put your pants on.”
Right. Rand was naked. He’d forgotten.
He grabbed his trousers off the floor and stepped into them, never taking his eyes off the other man.
“How about you go wait in the other room and give us a minute.”
“Of course.” The rich guy gave a slight bow, offered Emily one last admiring smile, then walked toward the door. Before he left, though, he turned and looked over his shoulder.
“By the way, Miss Crowder, the GM will want to see you tomorrow. Whether she fires you or not is up to her. Either way, I will be informing her of what happened tonight.”
Rotten bastard.
Rand was about to open his mouth, but Emily held up a hand, silencing him. She wasn’t at all cowed.
“Are you going to inform her of everything that happened tonight?”
Including the fact that this guy had climbed into bed with Emily and kissed her? The idea still made Rand nauseous.
“Touché,” Black said. “I suppose we’ll both be embarrassed. But the point is, you shouldn’t be fraternizing with guests in my suite, especially since, unless I’m mistaken, those are your work clothes lying on the floor, and you are supposed to be at the front desk.”
“I’m off duty,” she shot back.
“So perhaps this wasn’t an egregious offense. But it wasn’t very professional, and you might be paying for it with your job.”
Rand opened his mouth to protest, but Emily grabbed his arm and squeezed, shaking her head. She obviously wanted to handle it on her own.
Her face had paled. She’d heard, as Rand had, the genuine note of warning in her boss’s voice. At first, Damien Black had come across as some kind of laid-back, spoiled lothario, but Rand now saw the steely, ruthless businessman lurking beneath the surface. To maintain the reputation of his hotel, he’d allow Emily, a woman he’d just kissed, to be fired for what she did on her own time, in what was, technically, Rand’s room. For tonight, anyway.
Rand watched Emily, trying to figure out just how upset she was about her imminent unemployment. Would she blame Rand? He could say he regretted dragging her up here tonight, but he’d be a damned liar. He didn’t regret one minute he’d spent with her, though he hoped she didn’t experience any fallout because of him
“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Black said before exiting the room, shutting the door behind him.
Once he was gone, Rand swung around to Emily and grabbed her, pulling her tightly against him. “Are you all right?”
She was shaking, and she wrapped her arms around him, gripping him. “I am now. I was scared to death.”
“It’s all right now. You’re safe.”
She nodded, but didn’t release her grip. It took a few long seconds before he felt her racing heart begin to slow and the shivers stop racking her body.
“I can’t believe that just happened,” she finally murmured.
“I’m so sorry. I’ll help you fight for your job, hire a lawyer...”
“Forget it. I’m not sure I want it now. I’m a lot more upset about being naked in front of the boss.”
He stiffened. “Ditto.”
“I mean, when I realized he wasn’t you, I was terrified.”
“Was that before or after he kissed you?”
She pulled away and gazed up at him. “I thought he was you.”
“I know,” he growled. “Can’t say I’m happy that some other man kissed you. In fact, I hate it like hell and don’t ever want it to happen again.”
“Ever?” she asked, obviously hearing something in his tone that clued her in to what he was really saying.
He made it clear. “Ever.”
It was way too soon to have this conversation. He had no idea if she still had feelings for him—other than intense passion—but he couldn’t pretend that his feelings were merely casual. Despite living in the movie capital of the world, he wasn’t a good enough actor to even try to convince her that he’d sought her out merely to finish something.
“I was crazy about you when we were younger. I’ve thought about you thousands of times...it seemed like every day,” he said. “I’ve never for one minute felt about another woman the way I have always felt about you. I want to do bodily injury to anybody who so much as lays a finger on you.”
Her brown eyes misted. “Then why....” She fell silent, as if unsure whether she wanted to ask the question he was sure she had been about to ask.
“Why did I stay away? Why didn’t I write or return your messages?”
She nodded, nibbling on her lush, well-kissed bottom lip.
“I promised Seth I wouldn’t.”
She gasped, her mouth falling open.
“Don’t be mad at him,” he insisted when he saw the beginning of an angry frown on her lips. “He was doing what he figured was best, playing the father role when he wasn’t much more than a kid himself.”
“He had no business doing that.”
“He believed he did. He made me promise I’d leave you alone and let you grow up. As far as I’m concerned, twenty-five is pretty damned grown-up, so I decided to find you.”
She searched his face, searching for any words he hadn’t yet said. “But you told me you came here to finish what we started. And I assumed you were talking about sex.”
“I wasn’t just talking about sex, Em.” Lifting a hand, he brushed it against her soft cheek, wondering how he’d lasted seven years without seeing this beautiful face anywhere but in his dreams. “I was talking about us—you and me. Something started between us, something I’ve never gotten over. And I came here to find out what it meant and where it might lead.”
Tears formed in her eyes. “Are you serious?”
“Very.”
“You want more than tonight?”
“I want so much more than tonight. I want us to be together. Now that we’re both adults with careers and lives and no overprotective brothers.”
She laughed softly, curling her face into his hand and kissing his fingertips.
“I have no idea if your feelings are still as strong for me as mine are for you. But I loved you once, and after what happened between us tonight, I’m sure I still do.”
She stared at him, unblinking, emotion and tenderness pouring off her. “I loved you, too. I have never had those emotions for anyone else, Rand. And I still have them for you. I convinced myself I wasn’t the type of girl who was wild and passionate. But I’d just buried that girl deep within myself. You brought her out again. You brought me out again.”
Relief washed through him. Cupping her chi
n in his hand, he tilted her head back and brushed his mouth against hers. They melted together, holding on tight, kissing again, revealing even more than their words just had.
When they finally broke apart, she made it clear. “I do love you, Rand McConnell.”
“And I love you, Emily.”
“This is going to take some work,” she replied. “I might not lose my job, you realize.”
“Hey, I’ve always wanted to wear white sox.”
She laughed softly. “That’s very sweet, but we won’t know what happens until the morning.”
He squeezed her. “I can’t believe that bastard would let you be fired for something that was his own damn fault.”
“I’m not sure I can ever face Mr. Black again. Maybe I’ll quit,” she said.
He couldn’t say he’d mind that, especially given how the rich hotel owner had ogled her. Frankly, if Damien Black never got within ten feet of Emily again, Rand would be very happy.
“I might be happy living in L.A. It would be nice to be near Seth and Lauren.”
He couldn’t stop a frown from tugging at his brow. “Will your brother ever forgive me?”
She cupped his face in her soft hands and stared into his eyes. “He will, because he loves me, because he’s learned a lot about people coming together after spending years apart. And because he’s missed you.”
“Not as much as I’ve missed you,” Rand said, kissing her again.
They kissed and kissed, sharing whispers and gentle touches, until they finally remembered the billionaire in the other room. The one who might want his bed back. Good Lord, it was going to be a long night. But as long as Rand had Emily by his side, he didn’t care if they had to spend it sitting up on a bench in the lobby.
“So, will the big hotshot ballplayer be able to stand sleeping in my queen-sized bed in my tiny apartment?” she asked, her mind obviously going in the same direction.
“As long as you’re sharing it with me, Em, I’m up for absolutely anything.”