Bringing Up Baby New Year & Frisky Business

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “Oh, no, it’s not that. It’s just that, uh, Kyle would feel really bad if I got sick and he didn’t know about it. You know, since we’ve bonded and all.” Bonding. That word didn’t nearly do their kisses justice, did it?

  She took a few steps toward the game, watching as Bill dove for a ball, barely missing Kyle. Weren’t they supposed to be on the same team? She waved to Kyle, to no avail, and then heard Walt say, “Laura?” His voice had lost some of that secret agent slur, and he now sounded more worried than sinister. “You weren’t lying about the margaritas. You’re breaking out.”

  “I am?” She rubbed at her neck again, feeling a telltale bump. She started itching. “Oh, I am. Kyle,” she called, taking a few more steps toward the net and waving at him.

  He turned around to look at her, and his eyes bugged out—in horror or worry, she couldn’t tell, but she suspected horror. Oh, she hoped she hadn’t overdone it. That was all she needed—for Kyle to see her looking like a case study at a dermatologists’ convention.

  “Laura,” he shouted, holding his hand up to stop the game.

  She didn’t know whether Bill saw it or not. As for Harris, he was still chugging and plugging away. He knocked a ball over the net, a ball that would have been Kyle’s if he weren’t looking at Laura. In the split second it took Kyle not to move, Bill had jumped for the ball.

  “Watch out,” she yelled.

  Bill landed, with a crunch that was audible even from a distance, on Kyle’s ankle.

  Kyle gave Laura a look she could only describe as goofy. Then he crumpled to the sand in a heap.

  6

  HE DIDN’T HEAR a heavenly choir singing. He couldn’t see the pearly gates. But he did hear the splash of water and the sweet strains of “A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes,” sung by an angel who sounded remarkably like Laura would sound if she could sing. Was that Laura singing? Where was he?

  He was aware that he was conscious, but that didn’t rule out the possibility of being dead, especially since he seemed to remember that his last moments on earth were spent facedown in the sand with a throbbing ankle, with a hive-covered Laura hovering over him. Now he seemed to be in a soft bed, pillows piled around him, a cotton comforter at his cheek. The vicious throb in his ankle was a dull pulse. Maybe heaven was just an upgrade in circumstances, like going from coach to first class. With difficulty, he opened his eyes, only to see Laura, in a killer green sundress, pacing around a sumptuous hotel room holding a phone. Her hair, wet at the ends, was down, but she lifted it, revealing a neck free of blotches. Yep, definitely first class. He shut his eyes again before she could see that he was awake.

  “Kate, I am not so desperate for a social life that I have to seduce a comatose man,” Laura said into the receiver.

  Talk her into it, Kate.

  Laura paused, then said, “I told you he was cute when he started working at the company. Now he’s cute and likable. But he’s still a vegetable—”

  Am not, Kyle thought.

  “And he’s still after my job.”

  Ah. Am so, Kyle thought sadly. Surely there was some way they could both work there with no egos lost? That one would take the vice presidency and the other wouldn’t mind? Yeah, right. What if he refused the vice presidency and Laura did, too? Then Harris would lose all respect for them and probably go recruit some other hotshot.

  This was too much thinking for someone whose head felt as fuzzy as his did. He understood why when Laura said, “I don’t know. It’s not a bad sprain, but I didn’t read the directions on the over-the-counter painkillers until I had shoved three of them down his throat.” She listened for a second. “One. I was supposed to give him one. And I forgot that he’d had two beers. Remember when the dog ate all the antihistamines you spilled on the kitchen floor and slept for four days?”

  When she’d finished her conversation, she turned on the television and sat down on the edge of Kyle’s bed.

  “I had the strangest dream,” Kyle said, as Laura jumped up from the bed, her hand on her throat. “You were there, only you were covered in welts.”

  “Oh, thank goodness you’re awake.” She rushed around to his side, and bent down toward him, smelling of perfumed soap and shampoo. He noticed that she skipped telling him about the painkillers, while also skillfully avoiding the issue of the blotches. “Bill jumped on your ankle, do you remember?”

  “I remember how it sounded,” he said. “Like stepping on a cockroach.”

  She sat down on the bed, near him, looking a little queasy. “Could you not mention that sound? I’m squeamish.”

  He changed the subject. “What have I got on my ankle? A bandage or one of those cool plastic things?”

  “One of those cool plastic things,” she said, pulling the covers back from his ankle. “The hotel doctor put it on while you were out cold. He left you some crutches, too.”

  He tried to lean up and look, but felt dizzy and put his head back down again. Laura moved as though she were going to get up, and he said, “Could you adjust this for me?”

  “Oh, of course,” she said, yanking the pillow out from under his head. He felt a bounce and a wave of wooziness before she got it all arranged. Maybe encouraging Laura’s Florence Nightingale side wasn’t such a great idea. Unless it included sponge baths.

  “Hey, am I still wearing yesterday’s clothes?”

  “Of course,” she said, sounding a little shocked. “Did you think I was going to change them for you?”

  “A man can dream,” he said, and stifled a grin as she blushed. He wasn’t a vain guy, but he had been unconscious for who knew how long and was desperate to make sure he wasn’t drooling in front of her or something. Maybe if she got up for just a second, he could sneak a look in the mirror.

  “So you charged a dress to Harris. Let me see it,” he said.

  “You’re looking at it,” she told him.

  “No, I meant stand up.” She did, but he was too captivated by the sight of her curvy legs and rounded chest to bother looking at himself in the mirror.

  “I got you some pants and a shirt,” she said, holding up a pair of khakis. Since they looked like every other pair of khakis he’d ever owned, he took a peek at the mirror. Drool-free, but at what a cost to his head. He laid back down again, moaning a little, counting on the moan to bring her to his side.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, just sit with me a minute,” he said. She sat down next to him again, and he reached for her hand. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “It makes me feel grounded. You know, like when you have bed spins and you put one foot on the floor.”

  “I’ve never had a bed spin,” she said.

  Ignore that opening. Ignore that opening.

  From the television he could hear the twisted vowels of Mr. and Mrs. Howell on Gilligan’s Island. “Which episode is this?”

  “The one where Mary Ann gets knocked on the head and thinks she’s Ginger.”

  “Do you know what my favorite episode is?” Kyle asked her.

  She leaned toward him, looking interested. “No, which one?”

  “The one where they almost get off the island but Gilligan screws it up.”

  Real smile. Definite real smile. Their eyes connected, and the smile turned to something more. She was thinking about kissing him. He rose up a little, wanting to connect with Laura, but she suddenly stood up again, dropping his hand.

  “Shouldn’t I get some ice for your ankle?”

  “If it makes you feel better. Do you like playing nursemaid?”

  “Well, it’s my fault your ankle’s busted. But no,” she admitted. “I’m not very good at this nurturing stuff.” She laughed, a nervous sound. “But if you need someone to do an instant market analysis, I’m your woman.”

  “You are my woman,” he whispered, pulling her back down beside him on the bed.

  “Kyle? You’re talking about it.”

  “Not now I’m not.” He stretched his arms around her and brushed a soft kiss
against her lips. Her mouth opened hesitantly against his, and the slow sweetness of her kiss was unbelievably rousing. He told himself to take it slowly, that he didn’t want to scare her. But when she claimed his tongue with her own, he recognized a need in her that was as great as his own.

  He pulled her down toward him, his hands tracing the pattern of the zipper along the back of her dress. He hadn’t known how right she would feel in his arms, how her body would seem made for his. He reached for her still-wet hair, pulling it off her neck, moving his lips to her collarbone and up to her earlobe as she sighed.

  Her mouth was buried in his hair, and he scooted a little, forgetting about his ankle, to catch sight of her breasts straining against the dress. Time to get rid of that. Retaking her warm and eager mouth, he moved her off him so that she was beside him while he worked the zipper. Once undone, he pulled it off her shoulders, aching with the want of her as he stared at her creamy breasts pushing up from black lace.

  She blushed. “They didn’t have plain white underwear at the clothing shop,” she whispered.

  “My kind of place,” he said, pulling her arms free of the garment as he kissed her. Then he leaned back to admire her, saying, “You’re so graceful, do you know that?”

  She blushed. “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are.” It was important that she know she could trust her body, that she could trust him as well. He ran a hand along the top of her breasts, and, feeling her shake with want, moved her hand to his chest.

  Her fingers etched a pattern down his chest to the beginning of his waistband, and he gasped with anticipation. He looked at her, afraid that his gasp was going to make her think he’d done something to his ankle, and saw that sly smile he’d first encountered this morning. He returned it with one of his own, and he didn’t see any more hesitation in her face as he unhooked her bra, swallowing hard as he cupped one of her breasts.

  He leaned over to take the nipple in his mouth, and as he did, her hand unbuttoned his shorts, reached below his waistband and closed around him. He groaned a response against the full roundness of her breast, and his hands moved up her thighs until he met more lace.

  She buried her head against his chest as he moved her on top of him, the lace pressing against his own cloth barrier. He slid his hand under the lace and felt the welcoming warmth there.

  “Laura.” With his free hand he caressed the back of her neck. “I’d give anything to make love to you.”

  “Me, too,” she whispered hoarsely, and he, a man used to a lot of blandishments and meaningless chatter, thought those two simple words were the sexiest he’d ever heard.

  “But we don’t…”

  She hurried off the bed, the dress hitting the floor as she did so. He was an idiot to have put a stop to their lovemaking before it grew out of control, he thought. He’d never felt so empty and alone…and aroused…in his whole life.

  But Laura wasn’t leaving the room. Instead, she picked her jeans up from a chair near the door and took out a foil packet. How the hell?

  She bit her kiss-swollen lip a little before her chin went up and she said firmly, “It was a whim.”

  “And a damn good one,” he said, relieved. “Come back to bed.”

  KYLE HAD THE MOST beautiful body in the world. Not that she had seen all the male bodies in the world, or even a handful of them, but she just knew no one else’s chest was such a combination of planes and muscles. No one else’s hands were so gentle and accomplished. And for the moment, all this was hers.

  He wanted her as much as she wanted him. She knew that by the throaty sounds he made as he eased the lacy underwear down her hips, and she felt a thrill of power as she watched him overtaken with desire. His mouth claimed her breast again, the roughness of his unshaven chin bestowing an extra sensuality on the sensation of his mouth and tongue moving across her nipple.

  She was lying beside him now as he moved his mouth to hers, their gazes locked. She thought again that she had never seen eyes like that, like a painting, all sharp and muted blues. Then he touched her, his touch moving inside her, and she heard herself beg, “Please, Kyle, now, please.”

  He moved her on top of him and she had a dry-mouthed feeling that there was no way she was going to be able to do this. Then her hips came down to match his thrust and she felt him fill her. Oh, did he fill her. She rocked a little on top of him and felt him moan as she bent toward him, his hands catching her breasts, handling them with an unexpected strength that made her bolder in her own movements. She reached behind her to run her fingers up alongside his thighs, taking pleasure in the expression on his face as he watched her body arch. Then she was past thought as instinct took over. No need to worry that she didn’t know how to do this. She knew. Oh, did she know.

  He grabbed for the ends of her loose hair as she bent her face toward him, and he captured her mouth in a hungry kiss as she felt an unfamiliar joy fill her body. She moved her lips to his chest, tasting the sweat on his body and soaking in the feel of him beneath her as he cried out her name into the room’s stillness.

  Afterward, she still couldn’t get enough of touching him, curling up against his chest, pushing her hands over the muscles on his arms. She might have felt self-conscious about it if it weren’t clear that he couldn’t get enough of her, either. He enjoyed her body, the body she’d never given a moment’s thought to. He turned on his side and kissed her, then ran a gentle finger over her chin.

  “I need a shave, huh?”

  “Mmm.” Laura pulled him down for another kiss, tasting the sweet and salt of his mouth. Would she ever get tired of kissing this man? “I bought you a razor, but I used it.”

  “She’s already stealing my razors,” he said, and she blushed at the familiarity of it. “I do kind of like the way your face looks after I’ve kissed you. It matches your ears.”

  From now on, she was going to wear her hair down whenever she was in danger of seeing Kyle. This ear thing was clearly giving her away. She poked him in the shoulder, and he said, “That pain shot down all the way to my ankle.”

  She ignored him, stretching her arms above her head. “Since you’re an invalid and all,” she said, “I wonder if we could talk the room service guy into bringing some razors when he brings dinner.”

  Kyle appeared to think about it. “Since the room service guy is going to get razors anyway, I wonder if we could talk him into another purchase in the personals department? With a suitable tip, of course.”

  He wanted more. This was encouraging. Not only had she just had the most incredible erotic experience of her life, with the man who made her pulse pound the way no one else ever had, but now she had a chance to top it. Or should she leave? She should leave. She should take some time to figure out why and how she had slept with her biggest rival. Well, the why part, she thought, looking at his body beside hers, that was pretty clear. And she’d been celibate for a long tine, but the how part had pretty much handled itself the way nature intended. What she really wanted to know was What Did it Mean?

  “I should get my room key from you and leave right after dinner,” she said. “You know I can’t stay all night.”

  He didn’t say anything, only pulled her toward him for another kiss, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

  She stayed.

  KYLE HAD the strangest sensation that somebody was upset with him about something. And whoever it was would not stop pounding on the door. He flung an arm out to make sure Laura was still beside him. She was. As long as she wasn’t the one pounding, he was happy. Obviously she wasn’t so easily pleased. She bolted up out of bed, bouncing his head and his ankle, which both felt a lot worse today. Then she started shaking him.

  “Laura, don’t, please.” He threw his hands over his eyes.

  “That’s Harris,” she said. She pulled his hands off his face. “He’s at the door.”

  “Kyle.” Pound, pound, pound. “Have you seen Laura this morning?”

  “Damn, damn, damn,” she whispered,
struggling into her dress. She’d forgotten the bra, which he dug out of the covers and handed to her from his place in the bed. She looked at it blankly, then stuffed it into a bundle with the rest of her clothes. She paced around the room with the clothes for a second before throwing them in the closet and slamming the door.

  “I’m here,” she called through the door. “I’m helping Kyle with his ankle.”

  He thought of all the things they’d done last night, none of which involved his ankle.

  “That’s a new one,” Kyle said. He was met with a heap of new clothes in his face. Then she was dragging him out of bed.

  “Go get dressed in the bathroom,” she said.

  “You’ve got five seconds before I throw you out of this hotel,” Harris said from the hall. “Do the words stolen fuschia Chevy Cavalier mean anything to you?”

  That got Kyle’s attention. He let Laura push him into the bathroom.

  She was back to being all-business Laura, a Laura who didn’t sing in the bathtub or spend the night doing incredible things with his body. Fine. He’d get back to being Boy Wonder.

  “Hey, Harris,” Kyle said, after he had dressed and reentered the room. He sat down in the chair that had held Laura’s clothes. “What seems to be the trouble here?”

  “Rand’s awake,” Laura said, folding her arms across her chest. Her face was pale and tight. He didn’t care if she regretted last night or not; he was never going to forget how she looked in—and out—of that dress.

  “And he’s pissed,” Harris added.

  “Me, I’m still feeling serene,” Kyle said lazily. “How about you, Laura? Are you serene?”

  She was giving Harris a disapproving glare. “Brian Keith would never have used the word pissed.”

  “I don’t give a tinker’s damn what Brian Keith would and wouldn’t say,” Harris roared, causing both of them to flinch. “Suppose you start by telling me why you stole the man’s car and finish by telling me what you’re really doing here?”

  They did, alternating their telling of the story. Laura still looked worried, but Kyle got the feeling that Harris believed them, as much as he didn’t want to.