The Makeover Takeover

by Sandra Paul

  “Here—just a minute.” For a second, the ice bag slipped as she moved away and he automatically lifted his hand to hold it in place. Then she returned and tucked something behind his neck. Something furry and soft.

  “What’s that?”

  “My teddy bear. Now, lean back.” She took the bag again, and gently pulled his head back against the bear. He expected her to step away, but she didn’t. She just stood behind him, holding the ice to his bruise, neither of them talking.

  “Lauren—”

  “Shhh. Just relax.”

  Her warmth, the dimly lit apartment, the cold bag— okay, he had to admit, it felt good. Very good, as a matter of fact. It felt even better when she lightly, tentatively, began brushing his hair back from his forehead. Her slender fingers soothed him, sifting through his hair, stroking his scalp. Rafe stifled a sigh of mingled relief and pleasure. His eyes drifted shut. He couldn’t remember anyone ever fussing over him like this.

  “Rafe?”

  He opened his eyes a slit. Lauren’s face, upside-down from this angle, wore a worried expression as she looked down at him. “Are you sure you don’t need a doctor? The medic at the rink said if you feel dizzy or weak you should go get checked out.”

  “Lauren, I’m fine.”

  He did feel dizzy and weak, but it had nothing to do with his injury. He didn’t need a doctor. He just needed her to keep stroking his hair the way she’d been doing.

  And she did. He closed his eyes again. He found himself anticipating each glide of her fingers, each gentle breath she drew. He could smell her perfume, cotton candy and the enticing, womanly scent that was Lauren herself.

  He opened his eyes again. She was still looking solemnly down at him, her eyes dark and serious. As she met his gaze she spoke, her voice quivering just a bit. “I’d feel terrible if anything happened to you, Rafe. Especially since you got hurt saving me. It was… scary, when I realized you were really hurt.”

  Something inside him softened. She sounded so worried. He reached up and curled his hand behind her head. Slowly, he pulled her down until her lips met his in a short, sweet, upside-down kiss.

  When he let her go, she eyed him questioningly. “What was that?” she asked softly. “Another challenge?”

  “Just a kiss, Lauren.” His voice sounded husky, and he cleared his throat. “To thank you for taking care of me.”

  “I see.” She ran her fingers through his hair again, her smoky blue eyes darkening even more. “Well, I forgot to tell you something. The Blues won.”

  His pulse kicked into overdrive as she slowly bent down to press her soft mouth to his. For a long moment, he didn’t move. Then he felt the tip of her upside-down tongue shyly touch his, and heat flooded his body.

  He tossed the bag of ice on the floor. Hell, it would have melted in a couple of minutes anyway. “C’mere,” he muttered against her mouth.

  He caught her wrist, pulling her around the chair, and down onto his lap. Her arm circled his neck and shoulder, and she laid one hand against his chest. He wondered if she could feel his heart pounding beneath her palm as he took her mouth again.

  His lips moved along her cheek, and he felt her take a quick breath. “Rafe. Your head—”

  “Forget my head.” It wasn’t the throbbing in his temple that concerned him, but the throbbing in his loins. His mouth closed over hers again and this time he groaned aloud. It felt longer than a few days since he’d held her in his arms. It felt like a lifetime. Kissing her was like coming home. Warm and sweet and welcoming. She tasted like sugar and peanuts. She tasted like she was his.

  He wanted to kiss her forever—to kiss her everywhere. Intimately and completely. To feel her melt like cotton candy against his tongue. Without lifting his mouth from hers he slid his hand under her soft sweater, finding the smoother, even softer skin beneath it. He stroked her back, running his fingers down the delicate ridge of her spine. He smoothed his palm over her stomach, then slid his hand higher.

  Still kissing her, he cupped her breast. Beneath the lace of her bra, the small bump of her nipple nestled against his palm. His body grew harder as he felt her quiver, heard her make a little moaning sound in her throat. His kiss grew hungrier, his hands more urgent. He didn’t want to stop, he couldn’t seem to stop—but she put her hands on his cheeks, gently pushing him away.

  “Rafe,” she whispered against his mouth, her breath sweet and ragged. “Are you sure all this isn’t too much for you? What if you have a concussion or something?”

  The whispered words jolted him. Warmth spread through him—and a touch of shame. It wasn’t herself she was worried about… it was him.

  He looked down at her. Her eyes still looked concerned, but they were also cloudy with desire. Passion had softened her features. Her mouth was red, her cheeks pink with sensual heat. Her body felt boneless, warm and yielding as she lay across his lap.

  Her fingers stroked the back of his head, gently playing with his hair. She was asking him if he wanted to stop— while making it clear that she wanted to continue.

  Looking down into her eyes, he knew all he had to do was to say he was okay, and she’d let him make love to her. In fact, wasn’t that what he’d planned to do all along?

  To seduce her, to use her desire for him to gain her surrender? To prove to her he was the man that she wanted?

  Yeah, he’d subconsciously planned to let the lovemaking come first, the talking after. With any other woman— the more sophisticated ones he’d been with in the past— it wouldn’t have been a problem. They’d known the score up-front. They were familiar with the rules of the game.

  But Lauren was different. She was special. He cared about her—really cared about her—much more than he’d even realized. He wanted her to be sure she knew what she was doing. He didn’t want her to agree to make love with him out of gratitude, because she thought he’d saved her from a damn puck.

  With a sigh, he cupped her chin in his hand and met her gaze with his own. “We need to talk.”

  The resolve in his voice seemed to get through the sensual daze she was in. He felt her stiffen, saw the flush in her cheeks deepen as she removed her arm from around his neck.

  When she tried to move away, he held her tight. “I care about you, Lauren. You’re special to me. I’ve never known anyone like you, you’re so incredibly sweet.” He rubbed his cheek against her soft hair. “I don’t want to do anything that might hurt you.”

  She’d averted her face, but at that, she turned and met his eyes, hers wide and questioning.

  He added, “So I want you to be very—very—sure that this is what you want. I don’t want you to have any second thoughts, or any regrets, afterward. I want our first time together to be perfect.”

  Her eyes grew luminous. Her lips softened. “Oh, Rafe—”

  “No—” His voice was harsh with the strain of resisting her. He put his fingers against her mouth. “Don’t answer me now. I want you to think this all over hard and carefully.”

  He stood up, lifting her with him, and set her on her feet. He held her until she was steady, his hands on her shoulders.

  He told her, “We’re leaving day after tomorrow for Hillsboro, and by then you’ll have had time to make a decision. Whatever it is, you can tell me there, when we’re alone. And I promise I’ll understand.”

  His voice deepened, and he leaned forward to brush his lips lightly against hers, one more time. “And I also promise that if you choose me, I’ll make sure that you won’t regret it.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  I care about you, Lauren. You’re special to me.

  Every time the memory of Rafe’s words drifted through Lauren’s mind the next day as she packed for their business trip, her pulse would quicken with happiness.

  He’d looked so endearing last night, with his hair sticking up on one side, flattened on the other where the ice had wet it. He’d been so grouchy because that puck had knocked him out. She’d wanted to laugh at him. She’d wanted
to take care of him. She’d wanted to put her arms around him and… just love him.

  He’d been so tender when he’d kissed her. His eyes so serious when he’d pulled her down onto his lap. His lips had been hungry—his body hard with desire. Yet, he’d stopped her when she’d wanted to continue their lovemaking. He’d told her that she needed time to think.

  That wasn’t something a man did who was just fooling around, just playing a game. No, she was sure about that. It was something a man did when he was in love.

  The thought made her pulse flutter. She’d called Jay, to tell her what had happened, and her friend had sounded skeptical about Rafe’s feelings. But Lauren had just laughed, for once confident in herself as a woman.

  Jay liked everything spelled out. She was worried that Rafe still wasn’t interested in marriage. But Jay didn’t realize that when a person was in love, their feelings changed about everything. Hadn’t Lauren’s feelings changed when she’d thought he’d been seriously hurt by that puck? She’d realized then that despite her new plan, her new resolve, she still loved him. She’d been ready to make love with him, in fact, despite her one-time resolve to wait until marriage. Love and Rafe were what mattered—-not a ceremony.

  He’d been so sweet, so tender, so caring about her. So determined that she “think things over.” And he’d wanted their first time together to be perfect. Yes, he loved her all right.

  So Cinderella preparing for the ball couldn’t have been more excited—or more particular—than Lauren was as she packed for their trip.

  She chose her favorite blue suit to wear in the morning, deciding it would be comfortable for the car ride, yet would look neat and professional for their first meeting at Bartlett, Inc.

  She selected another suit—a prim burgundy—to wear to dinner, .but included her “little black dress” as a possible alternative. “All women, no matter their age, shape or economic level, need a little black dress,” Jay had told her firmly when they’d gone shopping. “It’s good for late-night romance if you team it with a sheer scarf, it’s good for funerals if you team it with a black jacket. You can dress it up, you can dress it down.”

  Or, Lauren thought wryly as she removed it from its hanger, she could wear it as it was and appear almost completely undressed. She’d change into the burgundy suit if dinner ended up being a business affair, she decided, but if just she and Rafe dined together—well, why not the black?

  She added it to the case. Then, after hesitating a moment, she went back into her closet, and took down the white box set on top of the one containing her mother’s wedding dress.

  She opened it and drew out the nightgown inside, letting the silk ripple across her hands in a smooth sensuous flow. She brushed a fold across her cheek, enjoying the material’s cool softness. She’d had the gown forever. She’d bought it on a whim when she’d first moved to Chicago. Frightfully expensive, wickedly beautiful, the slim silk sheath was a pure, snowy white.

  She’d never worn it. She’d put it up in her closet, to save to wear for that special someone she’d dreamed of finding someday. She’d looked good in it when she’d tried it on in the lingerie store, way before her makeover. She was sure it would look even better on her now.

  So she wrapped it in a sheet of tissue paper and put it in her case.

  It was a rather large case for a two-night trip, but Rafe didn’t mention that when he came to pick her up at dawn the next morning. In fact, he didn’t even seem to notice. His gaze met hers with an intent, almost searching look as he took it from her hand.

  She thought for a moment he might kiss her, and her breath caught. But then he stepped back.

  Lauren felt oddly flustered. She glanced at his face, then quickly looked away again. “How’s your head?” she asked hurriedly.

  Something in her expression must have pleased him, because his eyes softened and he smiled. “My bump is gone, but I’m getting dizzy just looking at you.”

  His gaze skimmed down to her black high heels, then roamed slowly up her legs again to her blue wool suit, buttoned up snugly to reveal just the white lace collar of her blouse. “You look beautiful,” he said huskily.

  The compliment thrilled her. But it made her self-conscious, too. She wasn’t used to hearing things like that from Rafe. She was more accustomed to his teasing. “I’ve worn this before, just a week ago,” she said lightly as they walked to his car.

  He put her case in his trunk, then turned back to her. He smiled into her eyes. “And I should have told you then how fantastic you look in it.”

  Again she felt a thrill. Not quite sure how to respond to this new, charming, “politically correct” version of Rafe she climbed into the car. She tried not to think about the night ahead. What he’d say when he took her in his arms. What would happen after she gave him her answer. She trembled with anticipation.

  As if he sensed her tension, Rafe kept the conversation flowing and fixed on business. “This isn’t going to be an easy merger,” he warned her as they drove out of the city. “Bartlett’s people seem to be taking it pretty hard.”

  That became obvious as soon as they arrived an hour later. The managers greeting them were tense, their expressions strained, as they gathered in the conference room to find out exactly how the takeover would affect them. Their responsibilities, their families, were obviously their main concern. Especially since, in this uncertain economy, new jobs weren’t always easy to come by, and mortgages and college tuitions were constantly on the rise.

  Lauren knew Rafe wasn’t unaware of their plight, but to him, business was business. Any buyout situation meant restructuring, and since Bartlett had been operating in the red for quite some time, in this instance the cutbacks would be severe. Management, as usual, would take the heaviest hit. Since they’d been in control of the disaster, they’d be the first to be eliminated.

  Many, of course, had already lined up positions elsewhere, and a few would be kept on. But still, there were enough worried expressions in the group to make Lauren’s heart feel heavy. This was the part of her job she liked the least. She had no problem looking at numbers and recommending changes. It was much harder looking into peoples’ faces and doing the same, knowing that jobs were at stake.

  She did what she could to soften the blow, offering coffee and silent sympathy wherever possible. But when the day’s meetings were concluded she felt drained, and much of her earlier Cinderella glow had faded.

  Rafe, however, appeared elated and full of energy. Taking her arm, he strode briskly to the car to head for the hotel. “Can you believe it? We covered more today than I ever thought possible. A brief follow-up session tomorrow, and this project should be in the bag.”

  He continued to talk about the day’s work as they drove, but the closer they got to the hotel, the harder time Lauren had concentrating on what he was saying. Her stomach flipped when the hotel sign came into view—but then he drove on past.

  Her head whipped around to stare back at it. “Rafe! That was our hotel.”

  He shook his head. “No—I canceled our reservations there. I’m taking you to the Chariot. It’s much smaller, but I think you’ll prefer it.”

  The Chariot was smaller—it was also very exclusive. Tucked back from the main road, it wouldn’t catch the attention of many passing tourists, Lauren thought. Nor, she decided as a doorman wearing white gloves ushered them into the lobby, would the average tourist be able to afford the place. Huge vases of flowers were placed throughout the room. Everything gleamed, from the black marble of the concierge’s desk, to the Venetian glass in the wall sconces and the chandelier overhead.

  Even the hotel manager gleamed, with his sleek black hair and toothpaste smile, as Rafe strode toward the reception desk.

  “Mr. Mitchell, how nice to see you again.” The man flicked a glance at a waiting bellhop who immediately stepped forward to take their cases. “Mr. Mitchell and his guest will lodge in the west wing,” the manager told him.

  A small, unpleasant shoc
k ran through Lauren. She wasn’t Rafe’s guest—they were here on business. But that wasn’t quite true either. They’d done business today, but tonight, Rafe had said, would be just for them. She caught the quick evaluating look the bellhop gave her before he led the way to the elevators. There was nothing offensive in the look. Far from it. It was just an impersonal, possibly unconscious, evaluation of her charms. Still, an uneasy feeling crept up her spine.

  “This hotel isn’t on the company’s approved list,” she whispered to Rafe as they followed the bellhop.

  He gave her a sideways glance, his eyebrows rising. “I’m paying for this, not the corporation.”

  Lauren was glad that Kane Haley, Inc., wasn’t paying for their—their getaway. But she wasn’t sure she liked Rafe paying for it either.

  Still, it was probably unsophisticated of her to worry about it. These days no one cared if two adults decided to share a room. She was relieved, however, to find that Rafe had booked them separate rooms. She was a private person, and she didn’t want to be the source of speculation— even to a minor degree—for the hotel staff.

  Her room was lovely. A tufted, hunter-green sofa sat near the window, while the bed and the rest of the furniture were carved of glossy mahogany. Thick, plush beige carpeting was on the floor, and sparkling mirrors hung above the dressing table and on the closet doors. There was even a crystal bowl of fruit on the table near the bed.

  After glancing around, undoubtedly to make sure everything was okay, Rafe left to follow the bellhop to another room across the hall. Lauren didn’t even get the chance to open her case before she heard a knock at her door.

  She jumped. Pressing a hand against her chest, she went to answer it.

  She opened her door. “Hey, you,” Rafe said softly, looking down at her.

  “Hey, yourself,” she responded, melting a little at the smile in his eyes. When he glanced toward her bed, her pulse skipped a beat.

  He looked back down at her. “Do you want to go somewhere else for dinner, try the dining room here, or…” He paused, “…have dinner sent to my room?”