by T. M. Cromer
Odd, that this one woman could make him forget his rules and have him tossing his schedule right out the window. Yet, here he was, throwing caution to the winds.
Her legs caught his attention again. Pencil skirts were his ultimate weakness, and she wore the one thing designed to make him crazy. The beauty of the skirt’s design was that it didn’t allow much underneath. Nearly every woman under the age of forty who wore one sported a thong—or nothing at all.
“Where do you take your clients for lunch?”
“The Sweet and Savory Bistro.” Lie number two popped out smoothly.
She nodded as if she’d expected as much. A snort rose up and nearly choked him. What would she have done if he’d said he cooked for clients at his home?
With a graceful movement, she rose and retrieved the enormous blue bag she’d arrived with. “I’m ready when you are.”
Doubtful. Or at least she wasn’t ready in the way he was. A reach into the credenza along the side wall of his office provided his wallet, keys, and cell phone.
“That explains it.”
He pinned her with a questioning look. “Explains what?”
Her blush was adorable. Adorable? Since when did he started using words like adorable in reference to a woman?
“I… um… you…” She cleared her throat and went there. “The smoothness of your slacks against your ass. No wallet to ruin the line.”
He gaped at her. “You don’t have a filter, do you? Do you always say the first thing that pops into your mind?”
“No!” she denied hotly. “I have a filter. I was thinking out loud, and you asked me to clarify my comment. You can’t accuse me of no filter when you ask.”
The indignation she presented was real. She truly believed the excuse she spouted. Curious despite himself, he approached to within mere inches of her. To give her credit, she didn’t retreat. Instead, she lifted her chin and cast him a belligerent glare. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. She resembled nothing so much as a spitting kitten; hackles raised and claws bared.
He leaned close enough to catch a wisp of her subtle scent and whispered, “Do you always check out men’s asses or is mine special?”
“Yours is special,” she expelled on a breath. “I bet I could bounce a quarter off the tightness of those cheeks.”
Laughter burst forth. Helpless not to, he whispered in her ear, “Maybe some day soon we’ll test your theory. Shall we go?”
CHAPTER 3
Rand scowled. He found himself appalled at how free Faith felt to help herself to the food on his plate. In an effort to prevent further pilfering, he shifted his burger and fries closer to his side of the table.
“Have you lived in St. Helena your entire life?”
Her question took his focus off her food-stealing ways.
“No.”
An awkward silence filled the space between them. Not that she’d noticed, she simply stretched across to steal another handful of his fries.
“Damn, these are so good. I don’t know what Lexi puts on them, but they are like crack.”
Irritated, he bit out, “Then why didn’t you order your own.”
She stopped mid-shovel and stared at the cluster of fries in her hand. “Oh. I’m sorry. I…”
Confusion warred with embarrassment on her features. She hadn’t even realized she’d been stealing his lunch from underneath his nose!
With a heavy sigh, Rand shoved his plate closer to the middle. “Help yourself.”
Faith dropped the offending fries on top of her salad and stood. “No, that’s okay. I really should be going. There’s a lot I have to get done today.”
“You’re lying.” Rand hated liars, and for some inexplicable reason, he especially hated a lie coming from Faith’s cherry-red lips.
“Well, sure I am, but how else do you leave in the middle of an awkward lunch date?” She expelled an irritated huff of breath and snatched up her purse.
“It’s not a lunch date. You’re a client.” He sounded like an ass even to his own ears.
She went from offended to amused in the span of a heartbeat. “Yes, we mustn’t mix up the two, must we, Randall Crandall?”
No longer hungry, he stood and threw a few bills on the table. “Rand. My name is Rand.”
“No, it’s not. It’s Randall Crandall. You only prefer to call yourself Rand so—”
He didn’t care to hear the rest of her inane comment and strode away. In the reflection of the glass window, he witnessed her fish-like expression—mouth opening and closing, eyes wide and staring, breath heaving. Good! It’s about time someone refused to put up with her spoiled little princess routine.
What he didn’t care to see was the laughing, dark-haired man throw his arm around her and lean in to whisper into her ear. Her tinkling giggle reached his ears, and Rand shoved the door open with a little more force than necessary.
He’d made it halfway to his car when the cold, bitter wind penetrated his ire. It was rarely below sixty degrees in November, but today had to be a record low at forty-one with fifteen mile-per-hour winds designed to chill a man to the bone. Dammit! He’d have to go back for his coat. He only had the one. While he could afford a hundred such coats, he tended to be frugal. And really, no one needed more than one coat in California.
Rand pivoted on his heel to head back and came up short. Faith had trailed behind him, with his coat neatly bundled over her arms. Rage bubbled up at her patently false innocent expression.
“When exactly did you intend to make it known you were following me with my coat?”
Her grin was full of mischief. “When you got to your car.”
Full of fury once more, he snatched the coat from her grasp and stalked toward the parking lot. This time the click of her heels mocked him as she dogged his steps. He increased his pace. She followed suit. Before long the tap-tap-tap of her stilettos indicated she was running to keep up.
He spun back around which caused her to barrel into his chest. Neither had been prepared, and the action propelled them against the closest brick wall. With the feel of her curvaceous body pressed fully against his own, his reaction was instantaneous. Desire coursed through his veins, and his cock went on high alert.
“Well, Randall Crandall, is that a banana in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” Her sparkling mocha eyes and wide, smiling mouth did him in.
“It’s Rand,” he growled before capturing that smart mouth in a kiss designed to shatter her world and spoil her for all other men.
Tongues intermingled, and he caught a taste of the spices from the fries they’d shared. Her deep moan had more blood surging into the penis pressed to her stomach. A twist of their bodies had her up against the bricks and him tight against her. His hips found the V of her thighs through her wicked, black pencil skirt, and he rubbed like a teenager with his first girlfriend. All finesse was gone. He needed to feel. To have the sensation of skin on skin. His hand reached down and toyed with the hem of her skirt.
“Wow! I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man dry hump in an alley like a horny teenager before.”
Because he knew the female voice couldn’t come from the woman whose mouth he currently had occupied, Rand whipped his head up and around. The other woman had to be related to Faith. The resemblance was remarkable—as was the ability to make a direct hit with her snarky comment.
“Hope Fiore, I presume?”
“You guessed it in one, hot stuff. Whatcha doing with my sister there? I certainly hope it’s consensual.”
“Oh, it is,” breathed Faith, her wide, playful grin back in place. “I was just teaching Randall Crandall here how to let loose and have a bit of fun.”
He’d entered the Twilight Zone. There was no other explanation for it. Or he had a brain tumor. That was probably the better excuse for why he practically screwed a new client against the wall behind the restaurant. He’d never done something so vulgar in his life.
“Randall Crandall?”
Faith’s sister’s laughter contributed to his black mood. Without another word, he ran. Literally ran. He had to get away, far and fast, before he murdered these two Fiores.
He was sure he heard Faith say, “Why do all my dates beat a hasty retreat?”
Why, indeed?
FAITH WATCHED Rand’s retreat with a mixture of relief and sadness. There was a man who needed to learn how to have fun. Unfortunately for her, he disliked her. Sure, she could turn him on—she’d turned on many guys in her lifetime—but in the end, they all ran as fast as they could to get away from her weird ass.
Before today, she hadn’t been overly concerned about it either. But something about ol’ Randall Crandall had her a bit moody and out of sorts. She’d had fun teasing him, but at the same time, he made her feel small and as if she irritated him at every turn. Yet there were moments during their lunch, he’d forgotten to keep his rigid control in place and let loose. In those moments, Faith caught a glimpse of the man he could be if he allowed himself to feel.
“Quite the PDA, even for you, kid. Tell me more about your new beau.”
Hope earned an eye roll. “He’s not my beau. He’s our new accountant.”
Her sister choked on her laughter. “Are you kidding me?” she sputtered.
“Not in the least.”
“Oh, my.”
“Exactly.”
“Who knew accounting could be so much fun?”
Suddenly, Faith laughed. Hope always looked at the bright side of life.
“Come on. Let me buy you an eclair. I know how much you like them.”
“Why? What’s Royce been saying?” Hope asked, suspicion heavy in her voice.
“Nothing. But Coby told me a great story about how Royce got back into your good graces with a box of Lexi’s finest.”
“Remind me to kick Coby in the nads first chance I get,” Hope said, but the smile on her face spoke of a whole different story.
Faith wove her arm through her sister’s. “Now, Hope, we don’t want you going to jail for assaulting an officer. Besides, now you have to spill.”
“Only if you tell me more about the delectable Randall Crandall.”
The sisters walked arm-in-arm back to The Sweet and Savory Bistro.
LATER THAT EVENING, as Faith sat alone in her office, reviewing the current month’s tally and keying in the numbers for sales, her mind once again turned to Rand. If she thought about their kiss hard enough, she could almost feel the pressure of his lips on hers. She brushed two fingertips across her lower lip in remembrance. The man could kiss like it was nobody’s business.
She sighed and forced herself to focus on the task at hand. Thirty minutes later, she emailed a compiled report to Rand’s office. As she prepared to shut down for the night, a notification came across her screen. For the longest moment, she stared at the email in disbelief. A glance at the clock showed it to be nine-thirty p.m. The man appeared to be a machine. He needed Workaholics Anonymous, if there was such a thing. With nothing left to do but go for it, Faith opened the email.
“Ms. Fiore,
Let me start by apologizing for my boorish behavior earlier today…”
Boorish behavior? And he accused her of speaking as if they were in Victorian England? She read on.
“… I have no excuse other than that I allowed you to provoke me. The kiss should not have happened, and in future, I suggest we keep our working relationship on a professional level.
Kindest regards,
Rand Crandall”
Faith was fit to be tied. She provoked him? Who the hell did he think he was? In a fit of pique, she replied.
“Randall Crandall,
Thank you for your sucky apology, but I believe you think a little too highly of yourself. I’d already forgotten about the kiss. I have no problem keeping things professional.
Faith Fiore”
His response wasn’t long in coming.
“Forgotten? Why do I find that hard to believe? Your moan of pleasure echoed throughout the alley.”
The gall of the man!
“Moan of pleasure? Really? Don’t flatter yourself, Randall Crandall.”
A ping indicated his comeback—a laughing emoji. If Faith could climb through the computer and rip out his insides, she would.
“I’m surprised you even know what a laughing emoji is, Randall Crandall. Will wonders never cease?”
She turned off her computer as soon as she hit send. Enough was enough. The man had called it correctly, he was boorish! As she stood staring at her blank computer screen, Faith had the urge to turn it back on. Because the desire for a connection with the man was too strong, she ignored the urge, grabbed her bag and keys, then hightailed it home.
Once she was settled comfortably on the couch, a large glass of wine in hand, Faith’s thoughts turned to her pathetic love life. Rand had stirred up feelings she’d preferred left alone. Here it was, Friday night, and she was home, drinking by herself, nary a love life to be found.
Should she try online dating? Perhaps there was a man out there who liked a woman who said the first thing that popped into her head. She toyed with the idea of the hook-up app, the one everyone used for meaningless sex. Could she do it? Why did receiving pleasure from sex mean you had to be in a long-term relationship?
But the truth was, she wanted long term. She wanted someone to call her own and who appreciated her for her forthright manner. A sigh escaped as she poured another glass of wine. As she stared down into the dark liquid, she decided enough was enough. She shot a text to her best friend, Amy.
“I have to get out of this house or go insane. Meet me at The Hangover in thirty.”
After she received the confirmation text, she scheduled an Uber and jogged up the steps to get ready. A touch up of her makeup, the standard butt-hugging jeans, and a low-cut top highlighting her cleavage all worked wonders for her ego. She threw on a pair of heels and was ready for her night on the town. She almost laughed. If she were smart, she’d head outside the city limits for her fun. Everyone in this town pretty much knew her and were ready to report back to her mother with any and all of her misdeeds. Oh well, it wasn’t anything her mother hadn’t already scolded her for anyway. Such was the life of a small town.
CHAPTER 4
T he Hangover was hopping by the time Faith joined Amy. As she made her way through the crowd to the bar, she detected a familiar figure from the corner of her eye. She whipped her head around to stare, and nearly face-planted as she stumbled. When she righted herself, he was nowhere to be seen. Good. Rand was a complication she didn’t need tonight.
Irritated because the one person she had hoped not to see was frequenting her favorite watering hole, Faith charged straight in the opposite direction toward the booze. She climbed up on the nearest stool and slammed her purse on the glossy pine bar in front of her.
“Jeez, Faith! What’s gotten into you?” Amy asked, out of breath from an attempt to keep up with her.
“Randall Crandall,” Faith snarled in return. Okay, technically he hadn’t gotten into her, but wasn’t that the problem? She’d gone for eleven straight months without sex, and some arrogant, tight-ass accountant had her tied in knots with his steamy kiss. Now that kiss was all she could think about. Well, that and fantasizing about bumping nasties with the guy.
“Who is Randall Crandall?” Amy waved to get the bartender’s attention.
“The owner of the accounting firm we just hired, and a pain in my left butt cheek.”
“Is he the tall, dark-haired guy glaring in our direction?” Amy nodded to her right.
Faith pasted on a mocking smile before swiveling in her seat. “Yep,” she said from the corner of her mouth. “That’s him.” Her little finger wave caused him to scowl and lightened her mood a fraction.
“Damn, he’s hot. If you don’t want him, I call dibs.”
The awe in Amy’s voice caused Faith to pin her with a hard stare. “No. Get that thought out of your head right this instant. You�
��re my friend, and as such, are supposed to be on my side.”
“Yeah, but Faith, look at him. If the man were an ice cream cone, I’d eat him up.”
Because Faith had a similar thought when she’d first seen Rand, she couldn’t be upset with Amy. But because a small part wanted him for her own, she greeted the green-eyed monster.
“Keep your tongue in your mouth. The man has the personality of a wet blanket.”
“Just as long as he’s covering me, I’m cool with it.”
“You need to get laid.”
“That’s what I’ve been telling you!”
“Well, it won’t be by Randall Crandall. He’s off limits.” Faith told her and turned to greet Billy as he asked for their drink requests. “Two Tequilas and margarita on the rocks, please.”
“What?” Amy came out of her lust-induced fog and objected. “I can’t do shots. I have to work in the morning.”
“Who said they were for you?”
Amy ordered an appletini.
“Wuss,” Faith accused.
“Yeah, well, someone is going to need to make sure you arrive home in one piece.”
“That’s what Uber is for.” Faith downed her first shot and shuddered.
Amy rolled her eyes and took a sip of her pretty drink. “Don’t look now, but we have bogeys at two o’clock.”
“Have you been watching Top Gun again?”
“It’s my favorite movie.”
“It’s like a million years old, Amy.”
“I can’t help it if the volleyball scene is still one of the most erotic pieces of film in cinematic history.”
“Oh, lord. Here we go.”
“It is! Four hot guys, bodies glistening in the sun, aviator glasses and white grins, and when they dive for the ba—”
“Hey, Ladies.”
Brandon Marks, dumb jock extraordinaire, ducked on the opposite side of Amy and scooted in close.
“Hey, Brandon.”
Faith could almost hear the giggle forming in Amy’s voice box. It would make an appearance in three… two… ah, there it was! She accompanied it with a flutter of her lashes and a slight tuck of her chin—her friend’s standard mode of flirtation.