She might or might not be able to deal with that.
Circling back to the living room, she stared at the floor.
Step one: take the cookies out of the box. Eat one, or ten.
It will be a good thing, a helpful thing.
Kneeling next to the box, she lifted out the first smaller box, noting again that lightning did not strike. The walls did not fall down.
She lifted out another container and went back in memory to the times as a child when she had wished for a gift like this.
“It’s okay. Therapy.”
After she had unpacked all four-dozen cookies, she got to her feet. The first step was working. Some of her guilt had already fled, chased away by things that weren’t really magical at all, but at the moment seemed magical to her.
She was smiling.
“What if I had invited him to dinner?” she said aloud. “Wouldn’t that hurry things along?”
No reply came. No argument or lament from the house’s ghosts. She was free now to make her own choices, and had been for some time. Suddenly, she understood that fully.
When her phone rang, Kim took the stairs two at a time, figuring that Brenda would be checking in. She plopped down on the bed. “Bren, guess what?”
A low-pitched masculine voice said, “Are you sure you won’t change your mind and invite me over if I say please and categorically deny being a stalker, providing references upon request?”
Monroe. Her heart began to thud inside her chest. Her throat tightened. How persistent was he going to be? And why wasn’t she displeased?
“I’m nowhere near where you are, as you already know, having sent the package,” Kim said.
“You’d see me otherwise?”
“No,” she lied again, ill-equipped to handle what he was suggesting. Admittedly, the house might have been brighter already, though it remained too quiet. More cleaning would only get her so far in terms of occupying her time. A whole night stretched in front of her, with far too many hours to fill.
She missed her cozy apartment.
Clearly, Monroe’s gift had shocked her into some kind of middle ground where she might consider seeing him.
If she did, she’d find out what he really wanted from her. She could stand her ground and face him; she’d show him that she was taking charge of her life in all situations, and that she would make up her own mind about her future. In that light, seeing Monroe might be a good idea.
“Kim? You there?”
It was rotten how her pulse jumped after hearing his voice, and how the hand holding the phone trembled, especially when only five minutes before she’d made up her mind to stand firm against the potency of his allure.
“Well, maybe. If you were closer,” she said, not really having to worry about that remark since she was no longer in the city.
There was a knock on the front door.
“You’ll have to excuse me. Someone is at the door,” Kim said. “I have to go.”
“Take me with you, in case it’s someone you don’t want to see,” Monroe said. “Be on the safe side.”
Kim ran back downstairs, turned on the porch light and looked through the glass. She whirled with her back to the door and leaned against it, raising the phone.
“What is it?” he whispered in her ear.
But she could not speak.
Outside, on her porch, was a Christmas tree, its shape unmistakable.
“Did you send a tree?” she demanded, her voice faint, her heart hammering.
“I did not, in fact, send the tree,” Monroe replied.
Do not open the door, Kim’s inner lecturer told her.
It’s too much, too soon.
Placing a hand on the knob, she waited out several racing heartbeats. An idea came to her, along with a sudden waft of familiar heat. She said into the phone, “I suppose if I open this door, someone will be holding that tree?”
“Someone who could possibly contract pneumonia from standing in the cold,” Monroe said. “Plus, I did get an invitation, sort of. I am in the area, as it turns out.”
Kim lowered the phone and opened the door. Monroe stood there, all right, holding the tree. The sight registered as surreal.
“Semantics,” he clarified. “I didn’t send the tree, I brought it.”
Before Kim knew what was happening, she was up tight against him, listening to the muffled crash of the tree falling to the porch floorboards as she pressed her mouth to his.
Thirteen
Kim McKinley was a frigging enigma. But who had the time or inclination to put on the brakes?
The woman who occupied every waking thought was in his arms, at least for the next minute or two, until her sanity returned. And though he had planned on talking to her and keeping a discreet distance, his hunger came raging back from where logic had stored it, overpowering his struggle to comprehend the situation.
What else could he do except let himself go?
The meeting of their mouths was intense, and like food for the starving. She welcomed his touch, his tongue, his strength, seemingly determined to have a replay of the night before, and to see this through. Whatever this was to her.
She did not want the kiss to stop, and made that quite clear. But she was tense. When his arms tightened around her, she breathed out a sound of distress.
He loosened his grip, moving his hands to her rib cage, waiting to see if she’d repeat the sound. She didn’t. Through the sweater, he caught a feel of something slick, like a silky second skin. The thought of Kim’s body again sheathed in the filmy material was a deal breaker in terms of his vow to keep his distance.
A big-time vow breaker.
Deepening the feverish kiss, then easing up, he stroked her softly, almost tenderly, with a desire to discover every part of the body he had dreamed about. Her hips molded to his. Her back arched each time his hands moved. She clung to his shoulders. Her breasts pressed against his chest. She was going for this. There was nothing to impede the forward momentum of this reunion.
Well, okay.
Chaz backed her up, through the open doorway. As he turned her to the wall, the impact of their moving bodies slammed the door. The sound seemed to reverberate through Kim, as though she’d felt a chill wind. A shiver ran through her. Her mouth slackened. Her hands were suddenly motionless.
Hot and cold...
Seriously?
The dichotomy of those temperatures ran through his mind with the fury of a wildfire. Chaz drew back far enough to see Kim’s face in the dim light of an overhead entryway lamp. As before, when Brenda Chang’s voice had driven a wedge between them, her face paled. Did she regret her reaction to him already? Was she nothing but a tease? Damn it, what just happened? He was all fired up.
“What is it?” he asked. “What’s going on?”
Her eyes were wide and unseeing. He cradled her face with both hands and spoke again. “Kim? Look at me.”
The hazel eyes, more green than brown, refocused.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I didn’t come here to do that. We don’t have to do anything but talk. See?”
He dropped his hands and stepped back. “You sounded lonely on the phone. I’ll go if you ask me to, though I’d like to stay.”
She shook her head. “It’s just that... It’s just that there hasn’t been any company in this house for as long as I can remember. Certainly never a man. I felt...”
“I can be good company when I put my mind to it,” he said when she didn’t finish. “So what do you say we make up for lost time?”
“Yes.” She smiled, though she looked wary. “Okay.”
He glanced past her at the living room and withheld a frown. This wasn’t like any room he had imagined her in, and nothing like what he’d seen of her apartm
ent. This room didn’t reflect her personality at all...unless of course she actually had a split down the middle.
The place wasn’t drab, really, but very close to it. There were faded floral curtains, a beige cushioned sofa, and hardwood floors covered by rugs. The musty smell hinted at the house having been closed up for some time, though he also caught a whiff of a cleaning product.
On the floor sat the box he had sent. Kim had looked at the contents, at least. She’d had her hands on that box.
He wanted her hands back on him, but had to play nice and see how far he got with that idea. His plan was to break the news no one else yet knew—about his intention to turn over the agency to a new owner in the near future. Once the finances were settled in the black zone, he’d be gone. If he told Kim about this, and she realized she would still have a shot at the job she coveted, they might have a chance to explore the heat building up each time they came into contact with each other.
It wasn’t the first time he’d thought about that. He just had to wait for the right time to spring it on her.
“Shall we start by bringing in the tree?” he asked. “I feel sort of sorry for it out there.”
He took her silence for a no. Maybe she wasn’t ready for another surprise gift.
“Conversation would also be nice,” he suggested. “How about if I start, and clear the air?”
Her eyes remained on him in such a way that he wanted to kiss her again and bypass the rest of what kept them apart. Even her serious expression was sexy. As for her killer body...well, that was the icing on the cake he couldn’t yet have a bite of.
“I’m here because I didn’t want to leave things the way they were,” he said. “Our confessions in the elevator only whetted my appetite for truthfulness. I thought by coming here, we could patch things up and move forward at a faster pace. If you’re game, that is.”
“Is there a rush?” she asked, tilting her head, showing off more of her long, bare, graceful neck.
“I thought so,” he replied, stunned at how that stretch of pale skin affected him. “And now that I see you here, in this place, I’m not so sure this is a good location for you to spend your vacation time.”
She didn’t argue with his assessment. “This is a sad house.”
“Does that mean you have to be sad in it?”
“It’s hard to change the past, but I’m here to try.”
“Yes, I suppose change is difficult. You might start by inviting me in. We could liven up the place for an hour or two.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Do you recognize the word pushy?”
Chaz raised his hands. “How about if we start over and I go outside and knock, and you don’t accost me wickedly this time when you open the door?”
She made a face. He had to wonder how deep her inner pressures went for her to embrace so many different emotions in the span of a few minutes.
This was indeed a sad house, but houses were built of wood and plaster, and possessed no souls. Though the temperature was warm inside, the room had an empty, cool feel. Already, after a few hours here, Kim looked like a different person, a sadder version, and his protective hackles had gone up.
Was he back to being a fool for wanting what he might never have? Why would he desire her when she was so confusing most of the time?
“Or you could ask me to take off my coat and sit down.” He gestured to the sofa. “And we could try to behave like civilized people.”
“Be my guest,” she said, stepping aside.
Chaz tossed his coat on a chair and sat down on the couch, relieved to have gotten this far and wondering how she could look as good in sweats as she did all dolled up for work. He liked the fact that Kim seemed less formidable in this kind of casual wear, and in her bare feet. He liked her hair swept back in a ponytail, and felt an urge to pull strands loose to run between his fingers.
“Would you like something to drink?” She remained by the door. “I’ve got wine in teacups. I’m thinking of starting a new fad at wine bars. Merlot in chipped china. Very snazzy.”
Chaz smiled. “All right. I’ll try that. Can I help?”
“Let’s confine you to one room at a time,” she replied with a slight smile.
Kim seemed to have thawed again, though he had a feeling she might run out the back door and leave him there. Relief came when he heard her closing cupboard doors in the next room.
He didn’t bother to check out more of his surroundings, noting only that there were no pictures, either on the walls or in frames set on the end tables. Not one photo of Kim existed in this room, whereas in his parents’ home, every surface held a snapshot or two chronicling the family through the years.
The lack of personal touches here bothered him. After seeing a small portion of her apartment in the city, albeit in the dark, Kim’s taste ran to modern. No clutter. Sleek lines, with lots of leather. That kind of decor suited her much better. This was old stuff, and quite depressing.
Clinking sounds brought his gaze to the kitchen doorway. Kim hadn’t been kidding about the cups. She appeared carrying two, and handed him one without allowing her fingers to touch his in the transfer. She moved his coat and sat in the chair opposite him with her legs curled under her. Very much like a kid. Also like a seductive siren with no idea of how hot she really was.
Several deep breaths were necessary before Chaz’s first sip of wine. He eyed her over the rim. “Hate to tell you this, Kim, but even our agency couldn’t sell your new wine in china fad to the public.”
She smiled earnestly, he thought, and the smile lit up her face. “Something about the textures being wrong,” she agreed. “Porcelain adds a taste of its own.”
“What’s the wine?”
“I’ve no idea. It was recommended by the local grocer.”
Chaz chuckled and took another sip before setting the cup on the coffee table. He folded his hands in his lap to keep himself from reaching for the woman who had the ability to drive him mad with desire.
“How long has it been since you lived here?” he asked.
“A couple years. I stayed as long as I could and until...” She let whatever she had been about to say go, and started over. “Nothing has changed in here since I was a kid. I’m going to fix it up to sell. There will be a lot of work to get it ready.”
“That’s why you’re here?”
“Partially.”
“The other part?”
“Confronting ghosts.”
It was a reply Chaz hadn’t anticipated. His smile faltered as he watched Kim slip a silky aqua-blue strap back over her shoulder, beneath the sweater, where it stayed for a few seconds before falling back down. Treacherous little strap. His eyes strayed to her breasts, their contour visible through the slinky blue-green silk. She wasn’t dressed for ghost hunting, but for cuddling.
And he had to stop thinking about that.
Whether or not she noticed his appreciative gaze, Kim pulled the soft sweater around her, which was a good move, and helped him to avoid more thoughts about how smooth her skin was, and where touching it might lead.
Still, as he saw it now, they were faced with a quandary. He was, anyway. Perfume wafted in the air he had to breathe. Kim’s body taunted him from behind its cloth barrier. His reaction to these things were proof positive that he couldn’t work in the same building with her after this. Maybe not even in the same city.
But he had started this by asking for a night of sharing confidences, and by showing up on her doorstep. Confidences and sex didn’t necessarily go together.
He wanted her, but so what?
“Are we past the tape recorder duel?” he asked.
“Are we still negotiating?” she countered. “Is that the reason for the gifts?”
He shook his head. “No. Since we’re being honest, I’ll admit agai
n to feeling uneasy about the way things have gone down between us. As I mentioned, our chat in the elevator didn’t ease my mind much as to what to do.”
“Why?”
“I don’t honestly know. I wish I did.”
“Are you sorry about the kiss in my doorway?” she asked.
“No.” He zeroed in on her eyes. “Are you?”
“Not really.”
Chaz swiped at the prickle on the back of his neck that was a warning signal to either get out of there with his masculinity intact, or get on with things. Talking about emotions wasn’t listed in his personal portfolio of things he liked to do best. He was pretty sure no guy excelled at this kind of thing.
“I do hope you don’t welcome everybody like that, though,” he said in a teasing tone.
Kim shrugged. “How do you suppose I’ve kept my clients so happy?”
Chaz grinned before remembering her comments about sleeping her way to the top.
“Shall we move on to something else?” he suggested.
“I don’t think so. Part of my healing process is to deal. So I’m going to tell you what you’ve wanted to know, and fulfill your objective for showing up here tonight.”
When she took a breath, the damn sweater fell open. He did not look there. Her serious expression held him, and also made him uncomfortable. All of a sudden, he felt like the bad guy, when he’d never, as far as he knew, hurt anyone on purpose.
“I kissed you because I wanted to,” she said. “I find you extremely attractive and hard to resist on a physical level.”
“Only physical?”
She waved his question away and let her gaze roam the room.
“My mother basically died of depression, as a direct result of a disappointment too terrible for her mind to accept.”
The Boss's Mistletoe Maneuvers Page 14