Chapter Six
Lacey heard Rye when he entered the brownstone twenty minutes earlier than planned.
“I’m on my way,” she yelled back after he called her name. She wore a huge smile as she made her way down the curved staircase. “I wondered if we were still…”
The expression on his face made her pause. His wide eyes and jaw half-open confirmed she’d made the right choice of attire. The plunging V-neck of the deep plum jersey dress dipped low enough to display a generous bit of cleavage; the hemline was high enough to prove her hard work on the treadmill was paying off. With minimal jewelry and four-inch stilettos, the total look was intended to drive him crazy. Smiling, she silently congratulated herself and continued down the stairs, stopping when her eyes became level with his. “Hi, you.”
Growling, he pushed one hand through the curls at her neck and then latched on to her behind with the other. Tingles of want tiptoed over her spine as he pillaged her mouth until she moaned her need. It was shameful how quickly she morphed into a burning flame when he touched her.
She felt an immediate sense of loss when he raised his head, breaking their kiss. Her disappointment diminished when he pinched the achy tips of her breasts. Her breath hitched, and hot desire streaked through her. She wanted more.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he muttered against her neck.
“Thank you,” she managed to whisper, curving her fingers around the small clutch in her hand.
“Where the hell is your bra?” He frowned as he shifted his gaze to her face.
“There’s a shelf bra built into my dress. Why?”
“Your nipples are poking through the material. I don’t want anyone else seeing them,” he said, his teeth clenched.
Great. And now her pussy was throbbing. She’d never voice it, but she loved when he went all caveman on her. She’d looked forward to their date, but she was a second away from suggesting a night in. “It’s your fault. You got me all worked up.”
His expression remained tight. “You have with a cover or something?”
“Yes, I have a wrap, Dad.” She showed him the folded square of fine cotton she held along with her purse.
“Let’s go.”
She followed as he all but dragged her out the door.
“You didn’t!” She shrieked when she saw the new vehicle in her driveway
He gave her a half smile. “I did.”
She circled the silver-gray SUV and tried to wrap her mind around Rye with a new ride. He and that damn Jeep were soul mates. “I wouldn’t have figured you for the Range Rover type. It suits you.”
“You never figured me for your type either,” he reminded her.
“True, true. What made you do this?”
A slight flush tinged his cheeks, but he didn’t answer. He opened the door for her before circling and climbing in the driver’s seat. “It was time. Will this spare your hairdo?”
“Depends.”
“On what?” he asked, his brow furrowed.
“How hot and sweaty we get later.”
His eyes darkened, and his gaze left a heated trail over her body. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I’m counting on it.” She sank into the luxurious leather seat as he backed out of the driveway.
Rye gripped the steering wheel and exhaled loudly as he took the downtown exit. “I went to see Kyle today.”
She grunted through “duck lips” as she reapplied her fruity gloss. She saw her brother at the weekly family luncheon, but otherwise, she avoided him. It was silly, but sometimes she felt like she wore a sign flashing I’M SLEEPING WITH RYE to anyone who looked hard enough. By no means was she ashamed, but the situation was complicated enough without throwing Kyle in the mix. “What were you guys up to?”
He shrugged. “Oh, I just figured I should tell my best friend I’m fucking his sister.”
Lacey saw red as heat rushed to her face. She whipped her head around and glared at him. “You what? It’s none of his damn business!”
“I didn’t want him to find out from someone else. He’s your brother and my best friend. We owe him some respect.”
“Wrong. I don’t owe him a damn thing. I am a grown woman, and I choose who I want to be with. You should have told me you were going to say something to him.”
“I wasn’t seeking your permission, Lacey.” The muscle in Rye’s jaw took on a life of its own. “We’re fucking, and now your brother knows. It’s not the end of the world.”
She closed her eyes briefly and willed her blood pressure to fall below stroke range. This was so not how she imagined their first date would start. “Were those your exact words? Couldn’t you have said something a bit more generic?”
“It doesn’t matter. He didn’t believe me anyway.”
“Why not?”
Rye’s laugh held no humor. “Because there’s no way in hell you would let a ‘bastard like me’ lay a hand on you.”
“Did he really say such crap?”
“And a few choice other things.”
She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. “My brother is difficult sometimes, but this is ridiculous even for him.”
“Maybe he’s just trying to get used to the idea,” Rye replied.
“Whatever. I can’t worry about it right now.”
The Monarch was a historic hotel also known for its five-star dining and renowned jazz club. Having assisted with several weddings there, Lacey was familiar with the landmark venue, but tonight was her first go-round as a guest. Their date was already memorable with them coming here. Anticipation of the rest of the night made her stomach flutter.
“Evenin’ Mr. McKay,” the doorman spoke. He gave her a polite nod, which she returned.
“Good evening, Mr. Burgess,” Rye said, weaving his fingers through hers.
Her breath caught in her throat. As happy as she was to be with Rye tonight, especially with him looking so handsome in his navy suit and crisp white shirt, the public display of affection caught her off guard. Mr. Burgess was an older black gentleman, and for some reason, her nerves kicked in when his eyes widened at her fingers interlaced through Rye’s like piano keys. He smiled as they crossed through the entrance, though, and it seemed sincere, so she relaxed. Why she felt she owed a perfect stranger an explanation about being with Rye, she couldn’t say. Apparently she needed to get over herself.
The dimly lit restaurant was full, but the tables and booths along the perimeter were arranged in such a clever pattern it didn’t look crowded. As soon as the hostess seated them, the sommelier arrived and described in exquisite detail the spirits to complement the seafood specials of the evening. Lacey decided on a glass of the house white, and Rye opted for his usual imported beer.
“This place is beautiful,” she murmured.
“It’s one of my favorites.”
“Yeah, I noticed they called you by name. I suppose this is your hotel of choice?”
He grinned, shaking his head. “Stop fishing, Lacey. I’ve never bought another woman to this place. The restaurant hosts all of Hanover’s luncheons and dinner meetings. I’ve been here often over the past fifteen years.”
“You’ve been with the company that long, huh?” she said, changing the subject. Even the suggestion of him with another woman made her want to eat nails.
“Yes,” he replied, giving her an intent look.
“What?”
“You look good enough to eat. In every way.”
“Rye!”
He laughed. “Did it make you uncomfortable when I held your hand earlier?”
She shifted in her seat but couldn’t seem to unlock her eyes from his. “No, I didn’t mind. This is the first time we’ve been out alone. It’s just taking some getting used to.”
“And it won’t bother you if people look at us a little harder because our skin colors are different?”
She shrugged. “Some people still make a big deal of race, but I don’t care. Does it bother you?”
Moisture rushed to her core, and her feminine folds tingled. Mercy, he was potent. She looked around self-consciously, as if every other patron knew how aroused she was, how close she was to climbing on the table, opening her legs, and letting him do just what he said—fuck her right here and now. Her need for him was out of control, and she had to get herself together.
How she made it through ordering her meal, she had no idea. Rye had made her head spin and her pussy quiver, but somehow she managed to smile at their server and make appropriate responses. She felt like a damn fiend because she couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was so long and lean, and his tailored clothes caressed him like an anxious lover. The spot where his shirt opened into a V at his neck, where she’d licked this morning, mesmerized her. His fineness was throwing her equilibrium off.
Their server left, and Lacey cleared her throat. “Is this the type of behavior I can expect from you the rest of the evening?”
He sent a heated look over the rim of his glass. “I’m humoring you even by letting you stay here for this long,” he said, his gaze revealing with no uncertainty what he’d rather be doing.
“So far, this place has been great,” she commented as she sipped the full-bodied house wine.
“I thought you might enjoy it. When your woman is an executive chef, it’s a bit of a challenge to find an acceptable restaurant.”
Shards of lightning ran down her spine. His woman. Was she his woman? What did he mean? She was losing her mind over two little words.
Calm down.
“As far as I’m concerned, not having to prepare the food gives it an automatic awesome vote in my book. I should bring the entire Thymes crew here to let someone else wait on them for a change. Can’t you see Monica barking orders to her minions?”
Rye chuckled and nodded. “We’ll all suffer if you give that girl more power.”
“I know, but if it makes her happy, so be it.”
“She’s important to you, huh?”
“Yes, she is. Without Monica, there would be no Seasoned Thymes. She didn’t call me crazy when I came up with the harebrained idea to open my own business. She rolled up her sleeves and put in as much sweat and tears as I have.”
“I know what you mean. I feel the same about Paula. We were paired together right after I started with the company full-time, and she has never left my side.”
She took another sip of wine. “Does Paula ask why she has to call me when you’re out of town?”
“No.” He frowned. “Why would she?”
“Well, she’s known me only as your best friend’s younger sister all these years, not as your lover. I wonder if she thinks it strange to contact me with updates on you.”
He peered closely at her. “You’re embarrassed,” he said, his voice hard.
“What? No! Not embarrassed. Just…private.”
“You care too much about other people’s opinions. I don’t give a damn what anybody else thinks about us being together.” The muscles in his jaw jumped a mile a minute.
“No. It’s just, she has to know things about us. About what we do.”
“Oh. You don’t want her to know we fuck well and often.”
“Rye!” She looked around to make sure no one had heard him, scowling when he laughed out loud.
“What are you afraid of? Someone telling your daddy? Too late.”
Her lids narrowed to slits, and her entire body stiffened. If it was possible, steam would be coming out of her ears. “Ryder Jackson McKay, explain right now.”
“I talked to your dad today too.”
Beads of sweat gathered at the small of her back as she considered Rye’s announcement. She hadn’t so much as mentioned a male friend to her parents since her ex-fiancé, and now Rye had taken it upon himself to invite her father into her business? Fury rushed through her until she was shaking. “Let me get this straight. Not only did you talk to my brother about us, but you also spoke to my father without discussing it with me first?”
“I let him know you and I are together now. Is there a problem?”
“Yes, there’s a problem. We aren’t even a real couple. What exactly did you tell him? That you and I screw sometimes? That we get naked and—”
“Enough, Lacey,” Rye cut in, his steely voice startling her into silence. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted to keep us a dirty little secret. Does the thought of our friends and family knowing not appeal to you?”
Her heart raced so fast she thought it might jump out of her chest. “Don’t be ridiculous! I just can’t imagine what you told Dad since you and I haven’t discussed ‘us’ ourselves.”
“Okay, let’s back up.” He sighed and leaned back against the leather-covered booth. “I may have jumped the gun a bit, but we are together.”
“Okay. Meaning what? As far as I can tell, we’re just having a fling.”
“It means we spend time together, and we enjoy each other.” He ended the sentence with a resounding period. Case closed.
It was killing her not to ask a million questions and demand answers, but judging by the hard look on his face, she wouldn’t have them tonight. Fine. Tolerance didn’t come easy to her, but common sense did, and she knew better than to push him. But surely one question wouldn’t push his buttons too much.
“What did my dad say?”
Rye curved his lips into a roguish smile. “He reminded me of how spoiled his daughter is and wished me luck. He said I was going to need it.”
“Rye!” she sputtered. Then her laughter turned into an agonized groan. “Oh my word. What about my mother?”
“She wasn’t there, so calm down. Mr. Bishop thought it best to talk to her himself—when the time is right.”
She heaved a sigh of relief. “Well, that explains why my phone hasn’t spontaneously combusted.”
“Hell, forget the phone. I’m surprised I haven’t gone up in flames,” he half joked.
Mrs. Lena Bishop was a force to be reckoned with, especially when it came to her children. She could kick ass and take names with the best of them, which made her legendary in Atlanta’s real estate community. The only person she didn’t usually cross was Lacey’s father, John. Anybody else was fair game.
Lacey and Rye shared spirited conversation, although his high-handedness stayed on her mind. She would have preferred he at least let her know he’d planned on talking to her family, but staying mad about it was a waste of time and energy. Her family accused her of having a stubborn trait, but Rye could teach the class. Right now, though, she just wanted to enjoy being with him.
Their food arrived, her grilled lobster entrée was cooked to perfection, as were the sides with it. He ate his porterhouse and all the trimmings, and then she watched in fascination as he finished everything left on her plate. After seeing it in action many times over the years, she still couldn’t believe someone so lean could consume so much food.
“Should we get the waiter and order more?” she asked with a cheeky grin.
“Nope. That was enough to fuel the energetic activities I’ll be engaging in later,” he said with a wicked smirk.
Heat started at the roots of her hair and then spread to her face. “Are you assuming you’re gonna get some tonight?”
Rye shook his head. “Not assume. Know.”
Her libido had been on a low simmer since he picked her up, and she also knew how she wanted the evening to end, but she kept her little secret to herself.
“Play your cards right, and we’ll see,” she taunted.
“Yes, ma’am. Tell me about the clients you had while I was away.”
She obliged, knowing he was always interested in the colorful characters she came across. “Two mothers of the brides acted like complete fools over nothing when they forgot it was their daughters’ w
eddings, not theirs. Then there were an ex-girlfriend and baby mama who crashed one wedding and caused all kinds of damage to the church dressing room. But the absolute best scene happened when a groom’s boyfriend ran down the aisle crying and sobbing. Reality TV-worthy.”
She laughed at Rye’s horrified expression before asking him about his recent jobs.
He spoke, and his tone grew more and more passionate, revealing how much he truly enjoyed his profession. It was tedious and sometimes dangerous, but obviously in his blood to take things that were broken and make them work again.
“Lots of travel is just part of the territory. There’s a plan in the works to cut down on my road time, though.”
“You at home would be wonderful,” she commented in a sedate voice, even as she had to calm the shout trying to get past her lips. The very thought of him being around all the time made her heart flutter and her panties wet. A visit to the washroom to freshen up was very much in order.
Chapter Seven
Rye’s gaze followed Lacey’s every step as she strutted to the restroom near the front of the restaurant. She passed by two men recently seated at a neighboring table, who also watched the play of her apple-shaped backside. He couldn’t hear their comments, but he saw their nods of appreciation for her attributes. Rye’s nostrils flared, and he gritted his teeth. She was his. Did he need to put a sign on her chest?
Damn, he had it bad.
But he couldn’t agree more with their obvious assessment of Lacey’s beauty. She was a walking wet dream. In addition to her delicious curves poured into a damnably fitted dress, her toned brown legs looked a mile long in those high heels. With each step, her hips swayed, giving new meaning to poetry in motion. His dick rose as the unfamiliar feeling of jealousy also reared its head. He couldn’t blame any man for wanting her. He was ready to tear either of them to pieces if they spoke one word to her, but then a thought calmed him: at best, they could only imagine what Lacey felt or tasted like, whereas he knew for certain. He’d be the one between her legs later tonight, feasting on her pussy, making her scream his name. His ire left as quickly as it had arrived.
Taste of Lacey Page 6