by Gina Wilkins
Before she could regain her voice to attempt a reply, he drew a fingertip along the line of her jaw. “Oops,” he murmured, renewed arousal deepening his voice. “I’m afraid I’ve gotten chocolate on you again.”
She arched her neck. “Then you’d better get it off.”
He nibbled and licked his way from her ear to her chin, not missing a spot.
Though her hand was unsteady by the time he gravely pronounced her clean again, Kristin deliberately dipped a finger into the frosting of the slice of cake resting on the plate between them. “I do believe there’s chocolate on your face, too.”
“Where?” he asked with a smile of anticipation.
She traced the chocolate across his lower lip. “Here,” she whispered, and then slowly kissed it away.
She decided right then that there was no taste more delicious than chocolate and Perry. If she could bottle it...she wouldn’t make a dime, she decided ruefully. She could never bring herself to share that taste with anyone else.
Shifting the plate out of the way, Perry lowered her slowly back to the pillows, tugging the sheet away from her breasts in the process. “I was afraid of this,” he said ruefully.
“What?”
He trailed a chocolate-covered finger around her right nipple. “I seem to have made a terrible mess with this cake.”
“Then you’d better make sure you clean it up very thoroughly,” she ordered him sternly.
He set the plate out of the way. “Trust me,” he assured her, lowering his head. “I won’t miss a crumb.”
And he didn’t.
KRISTIN WOKE BEFORE PERRY did the next morning. She lay for several long minutes just looking at him, amazed that such a spectacular male was sleeping in her bed. And then she slipped quietly from beneath the sheets and tiptoed into the bathroom, where she spent several moments looking in the mirror to see if the night had changed her outwardly as much as it had inwardly. She couldn’t see any discernible differences. She wondered if anyone else would.
Dressed hastily in shorts and a T-shirt, her hair still damp from her shower, Kristin tiptoed through the bedroom, noting with amusement that Perry was still dead to the world. She hoped he didn’t have anywhere he had to be that morning; she didn’t have the heart to wake him when he was sleeping so soundly.
Carrying a cup of coffee into her office, she sat down at the computer and went through her usual morning routine of checking her e-mail. As usual, she had quite a few messages—notes from writer friends scattered around the country, a few annoying “spam” messages, a couple of writer’s news group digests, and a note from her agent. She read the ones that interested her, replied when necessary, stored the rest for later, then switched to her word-processing program. Maybe she’d get a little work done before Perry woke, she thought.
As was her habit, she pulled out her notebook to thoroughly outline the next chapter before she began to write it. Within minutes, she was lost in her work, her unique shorthand filling page after page of the notebook.
Something seemed to have inspired her that morning.
PERRY ENJOYED WAKING UP in Kristin’s bed. The faint echo of the floral fragrance he associated with her tickled his nose even before he opened his eyes. Warm sunlight, filtered through sheer curtains on the windows, bathed his bare chest. Her sheets were soft and comfortable beneath him. The only thing missing, he decided, opening his eyes and looking at the empty pillow next to him, was Kristin.
Just as well, he thought with a rueful smile as he stretched and groaned a bit. He’d gotten a bit carried away last night. Sometimes his body had an inconvenient habit of reminding him he wasn’t as young as he used to be—like now, he thought with a self-deprecating chuckle when his right knee, damaged in a high school football game, popped when he climbed out of her bed.
Pulling on his boxers to preserve her modesty—if she had any left after last night—he padded into the bathroom, which was also empty. A glance in the mirror told him a shower would be in order before he greeted her this morning. He turned on the water and stepped beneath the blessedly hot spray, thinking how nice it would be if she decided to join him.
There he went again, thinking like a horny kid. Damn, it felt good, he thought with a grin that felt goofy even to him. He was humming beneath his breath when he reached for the soap.
Leaving his hair wet, finger-combed away from his face, he donned clean slacks and shirt after the shower. He’d brought his overnight bag in from the car late last night—or early this morning, more precisely—so he’d been able to shave and brush his teeth. Now he was eager to see Kristin again—to see how she reacted to him now that they’d become lovers. She’d been so wonderfully responsive to him during the night, so open to him, he hoped she wouldn’t try to keep him at a distance again today. She wouldn’t have made love with him if she hadn’t finally begun to trust him, at least partially—would she?
He half expected to find her in the kitchen. Or sitting out on the deck with her coffee.
He found her, instead, in her office, sitting at her desk. The notebook he’d grown to recognize and to dread was open in front of her, and she moved her pen steadily across the pages, her expression wholly absorbed in her work.
She’d never even heard him enter the room.
He cleared his throat. She didn’t look up. “Kristin,” he said, a bit loudly.
She didn’t jump, but looked up with a slightly dazed expression, her mind obviously still focused on whatever she’d been writing in her notebook. “Yes?”
He gave her a smile. “Good morning.”
“Morning. There’s coffee in the kitchen. Help yourself.” She glanced back down at the notebook.
This wasn’t exactly the greeting he’d expected. He’d hoped for eagerness, had been prepared for a bit of shyness, but being taken completely for granted was something he hadn’t counted on at all. She acted as if she hardly even realized he was there.
“Won’t you join me?” he asked.
“I’ll be there in a minute. I just want to finish this thought before it escapes me.” Already she was writing again.
Since he seemed to have no other choice, Perry headed for the kitchen, a bit disgruntled that he was doing so alone. It seemed to him that her notes could wait at least until after breakfast. What was she writing so feverishly, anyway—her impressions of his lovemaking techniques?
He told himself to stop being paranoid. There was no reason to believe her writing had anything to do with him. He’d been told creative types tended to get lost in their own worlds at times, and he should be understanding of that if he intended to be involved with a writer—and he was most certainly involved with one particular writer.
He poured a cup of coffee and carried it out onto the deck, figuring Kristin would join him there when she was ready. Settling into one of the big spring rockers, he sipped his coffee and watched the birds and squirrels until it suddenly dawned on him exactly what he was doing. He was sulking because Kristin was ignoring him for her work. How many times, he wondered with a wince, had Jennifer complained about him doing that very same thing to her?
Elspeth’s comment whispered through his mind. If you’d paid this much attention to Jennifer, you’d be a married man now.
He’d been behaving like a jerk, he thought regretfully. He pictured Kristin hard at work on her book—the book she’d confided to him that had been so stressful for her. She’d been surrounded by the gifts he’d given her. Her lips had still been slightly swollen from a night of his kisses. He had been a real clod to be irked that she’d spent a few minutes concentrating on her work.
By the time she joined him fifteen minutes later, he was able to greet her with a warm, easy smile. “Good morning again.”
He noted that her own smile was tentative, and that she had a tight grip on her coffee cup. “Um...I owe you an apology, I think.”
He managed a look of mild surprise. “Whatever for?”
“I was rather rude to you when you greet
ed me earlier. I’m sorry, I should have taken more time to talk to you. I’m afraid I’d gotten distracted with an idea for my book and I—”
“Kristin.” He interrupted her firmly, as if he’d hardly noticed her inattention. “I, of all people, certainly understand the responsibilities of a career. I’ve kept you from your work long enough as it is.”
She looked a bit surprised, then pleased. “Thank you for understanding,” she said. “There have been...other people who found my occasional lapses into what I call ‘writer’s fever’ very difficult to accept.”
Her former lover, perhaps? Perry mentally patted himself on the back for so neatly avoiding that unhappy comparison. He waved a hand to dismiss the subject, satisfied that she was with him now. “I thought about making breakfast for us, but since I’ve already cooked the only meal I’ve learned how to make for you...”
She laughed softly, a pleasant reward for his patience. “I’ll make breakfast,” she assured him. “You can help.”
He sprang to his feet. “I would be delighted.”
Things really were proceeding quite nicely between him and Kristin Cole, he thought a bit smugly.
10
IT WAS WELL OVER AN HOUR later by the time they had prepared and eaten breakfast and were stacking the dishes into the dishwasher. Kristin didn’t remember feeling quite so relaxed in a long time. Her work had gone very well that morning and she had just breakfasted with a drop-dead gorgeous man. All in all, it was turning out to be a great day.
And then the telephone rang.
Noting that Perry was elbow-deep in dishwater, Kristin lifted the kitchen receiver. “Hello?”
“Um...Kristin?”
She didn’t recognize the woman’s voice. “Yes?”
“This is Elspeth Moore. I don’t know if you remember me, but...”
Kristin instantly pictured the lovely woman a newsmagazine had identified as Perry’s “frequent companion.” “Of course I remember you. You’re Perry’s business associate.”
She heard Perry groan.
“Yes. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I can’t get an answer on his cell phone and yours was the number he gave in case we needed to reach him. Is he there?”
Kristin was aware of the irony of Perry giving out her phone number when he rarely used it himself. But she said only, “Yes, he’s here.”
“Would you mind if I speak to him? I’m afraid it’s rather urgent.”
“Of course.” She held out the phone to Perry, who was wiping his hands on a paper towel. “I’s Elspeth Moore. She said it’s urgent.”
He nodded grimly and lifted the receiver to his ear. “It had damned well better be urgent,” he growled.
Kristin turned and left the kitchen to give him his privacy. She wandered into the bedroom, where she gathered her strewn clothing from the floor and straightened the bedcovers. All evidence of their rather decadent night had been removed by the time Perry joined her. She could tell from the expression on his face that the call had not pleased him. “What’s wrong?”
“Remember the reason I had to cut our bachelor auction weekend short?”
She nodded. “You said there’d been a crisis in California with one of your candidates. You said it was manufactured by his political opponents.”
Perry nodded grimly. “The whole thing has cropped back up, this time with even more evidence against Leo—my candidate. It’s going to get ugly. I have to be there.”
“What has happened?”
Scowling, Perry explained. “It’s being said that Leo has siphoned campaign money into his personal accounts. He’s being accused of taking illegal contributions and of tax evasion. Elspeth said his opponent claims to have papers to back up his accusations but hasn’t made them public yet.”
Kristin twisted her fingers in front of her, suddenly wishing she knew a bit more about politics so she could discuss this intelligently. Instead, all she could think of to say was a lame “That sounds...bad.”
Perry nodded. “It’s bad.”
She took a breath, phrasing her question carefully. “Is it possible your candidate really is guilty?”
A flicker of what might have been anger crossed Perry’s face, but Kristin didn’t think it was directed at her. At least, she hoped it wasn’t.
“No,” he said flatly. “It isn’t possible. I’ve told you before that I choose my candidates carefully. If I thought he was capable of this, I would never have taken him as a client.”
“What are you going to do?”
“The first thing I have to do is go to California and talk to Leo.”
“And if you find out it’s all true?”
The look he gave her made her swallow.
“It isn’t,” he said.
She nodded, and remembered at that moment that she really hadn’t known Perry all that long. She hadn’t known, for example, that he could look this hard. This angrily determined. This, she thought, was the part of him that had made him a formidable political opponent. This was the side of him she didn’t know at all.
He spun on one heel, reaching for his bag, his movements jerky, forcibly controlled. “I should have been more on top of this. I thought we’d put it to rest. Damn it, I don’t know where my mind’s been lately...” His words trailed off, as if he’d suddenly realized exactly why he’d been distracted.
Kristin bit her lip, wondering if she was being vain to think that she had interfered with his work—and if he would unfairly blame her for doing so. Jim certainly would have, she thought, then was angry with herself for thinking of her ex-lover at a time like this. She cleared her throat and motioned toward his bag. “Have you forgotten anything? Is there anything else you need before you go?”
He surprised her by catching her arm when she would have walked out of the room. “What I need,” he said, leaning closer to her, ”is another forty-eight hours alone with you. Minimum.” He kissed her lingeringly, then drew back with visible reluctance. “But I guess I’d better go.”
She suddenly had an uncontrollable urge to grab him and refuse to let him go. But she only moistened her lips and turned to leave the room, giving him privacy to prepare for his trip.
Because she didn’t know what else to do, she went to her office and turned on her computer. She wrote maybe three words while Perry was in the shower. But she couldn’t concentrate on her work just then. All she could think about was how nice it had been while he’d been there. And how lonely it would seem when he left.
JUST FOR THE NOISE, Kristin turned on her office television later that afternoon, hours after Perry left. She tuned in to a cable news network. The scandal involving Perry’s client was one of the lead stories. She watched the report of the background information, then narrowed her eyes when the smooth-talking anchorman mentioned Perry’s name.
“Campaign manager Perry Goodman has been unavailable for comment today. Sources say he has been secluded with the senator and key campaign aides and will release a statement later. Goodman, shown here in a file video with former fiancée Jennifer Craig, flew to California this morning when news of the scandal broke. It is not known if...”
Kristin didn’t hear the rest of the report. Her gaze was locked on the pictures filling her TV screen—Perry in a tuxedo, the stunningly beautiful Jennifer on his arm, an enormous diamond glinting on her left hand.
Former fiancée. Kristin had guessed that there’d been a history between Perry and Jennifer, but she hadn’t realized Perry had actually asked the woman to marry him.
Reports from the stock market had appeared on the screen by the time Kristin finally roused herself enough to turn off the TV. She told herself she shouldn’t be so stunned by the revelation of Perry and Jennifer’s past relationship. Whatever had been between them was over—and didn’t concern her, anyway.
But that was what she had believed about Jim and his ex-wife, she reminded herself dully. Even though she had no reason to believe Perry was still interested in his former lover, the memory of the pain sh
e’d suffered when Jim betrayed her was enough to make her fear that she had made another serious mistake in falling for Perry Goodman.
The news reports from the next few days didn’t reassure her. The California senator seemed to be going down in flames, and his reelection campaign seemed to be over. His former political cronies were deserting him in droves, calling for his resignation and prosecution. In politics, being even peripherally connected to a disaster of this magnitude was potentially devastating.
Perry was taking his hits, too, Kristin noted. Pundits on all the political talk shows—to which she had suddenly, uncharacteristically become addicted—were questioning his intelligence in staying with his candidate, even when there was strong evidence that the candidate was a crook. Perry continued to defend the senator, saying repeatedly that the evidence had been manufactured by political enemies—an excuse that was greeted with disbelief and outright mockery in some quarters. There were even suggestions that Perry was as crooked as his candidate, that he had covered for Leo on many occasions, that he had even accepted part of the illegally raised money as a payoff for his cooperation.
Kristin listened to all those accusations in dismay. How had this happened? Just last week, Perry had been the media’s golden boy. Now, simply because of his loyalty to his friend and candidate, he seemed to have become their whipping boy.
Was Perry’s loyalty displaced? The evidence against the senator looked bad. Kristin had no doubt that Perry was a very intelligent man. Could he really be so badly mistaken? Or—she winced as the thought occurred to her as she sat at her desk unable to think about anything but his professional crisis—was it possible that the pundits were right? That Perry really was more involved in the senator’s shenanigans than he had admitted?