by Lori Foster
“Mr. Masterson is no longer employed at the firm. I’m afraid I can’t give you any further information.”
“But I have to find him. Did he go home? Is he okay?”
Chloe’s genuine panic seemed to strike a chord with the brunette. Her eyes dropped briefly to Chloe’s chest, and Chloe realized she’d forgotten to remove her name tag. “You’re her. The girl Ben was looking for last week!”
And just like that, she and the secretary were old friends. The woman leaned forward in her chair and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Look, you didn’t hear this from me, but from what I’ve gathered, he got called into Carson’s office this morning to sign all the papers for his promotion to account director, but instead he quit. The big boss men were not amused, and some yelling ensued, but Ben wouldn’t back down. Then he got frog-marched off the property.
“It’s against company policy for terminated employees to talk to anyone on their way out of the building, so when you find him, be sure to tell him Lana misses him, okay?”
“Sure. And thank you.”
“No problem. And killer makeup, by the way.”
Chloe rushed back to the elevator and hit the down button a couple of times in quick succession.
Ben didn’t work here anymore? She worried her bottom lip. Was this because of her? If his bosses had discovered they weren’t really married, that the entire dinner had been a sham, they might have—
The metal doors slid open with a ding, interrupting her thoughts. And then she recognized the lone occupant of the elevator.
Great.
“Chloe?”
Melanie. Looking perfect and lawyerly in a skirt, heels and a fancy black coat with leather trim. Her hair was perfect, her makeup flawless—if a little tame—and she was carrying a freaking briefcase!
Chloe snatched her Titanium Beauty name tag off with undue haste. The magnet that had held it in place slipped down the front of her shirt and bounced on the carpet. She abandoned it in the name of retaining some modicum of cool. “Oh, hey.”
“Hi! What a surprise. I was just dropping something off for my father.”
Chloe shrugged ambivalently, but stepped inside, cursing her horrible timing as the elevator doors slid closed behind her. Her name plate bit into her palm, she was fisting it so tightly.
“I didn’t expect you to come here, now that Ben, well… What are you doing here, anyway?” Melanie asked. Chloe could see the questions in her eyes.
“Ben left something behind,” Chloe said, not willing to admit that she wasn’t his wife and was unaware he didn’t work here anymore. Not to this woman who’d been so condescending. “A pair of cuff links that he really likes. A lot. He thought he might have left them in his desk…when he was, uh, packing his stuff up…and I was in the neighborhood, so I figured I’d check for him. You know. Wife stuff.”
“Of course. Wife stuff.” Melanie dropped her eyes to her briefcase. And then, in a rush she said, “Chloe, I just wanted to apologize for my behavior the other night. I was way out of line.”
Chloe blinked. She certainly hadn’t been expecting that. “No big deal.”
“It was. I’m a lawyer who built a name for herself defending feminism, and the next thing I know, I’m acting like a total bitch to my ex-boyfriend’s new wife.”
Chloe couldn’t have been more shocked if Melanie had punched her in the face. In fact, an elevator brawl seemed a more plausible scenario.
“I was jealous. So I elbowed my way into your home, and when I saw you wearing the ring, the ring he bought for me… Well, we’re very different people, aren’t we?” she asked.
Chloe looked down at her companion’s perfectly manicured fingers, polished in a pale shade of pink. A ginormous engagement ring–wedding band combo glittered on her ring finger. From the man she’d chosen over Ben. Stupid mistake. Because Ben was amazing, and Melanie hadn’t noticed. But Chloe had. And she was going to do something about it. “Yeah. We really are.”
“But I can tell you two belong together. You bring out this side of him, this fearless side.” Melanie laughed, but it was forced. “I mean, do you know how long I tried to get him to decorate his last condo?”
The elevator opened and they stepped into the bustling lobby.
“I acted like a petulant child whose toy had been stolen, and I am not only embarrassed, I’m deeply sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”
“Sure, yes. Thank you.” Chloe nodded, unwillingly impressed with the woman in front of her. “And I’m sorry too. For being a jerk. And for thinking you were a stuck-up bitch.”
Melanie’s chuckle was genuine this time. “I appreciate that. And Chloe? Take care of him. Ben’s one of the good guys.” With that, she turned and strode out of the building and disappeared into the chilly Seattle morning.
It was, Chloe figured, the most grown-up conversation she’d ever taken part in. And it felt pretty damn good. Like she could handle anything.
Including getting her fiancé back.
CHAPTER 17
CHLOE CRAWLED OUT of the cab with several bags of Chinese takeout. She hoped the food might keep Ben from slamming the door in her face. With a deep breath to calm the flipping of her stomach, she walked into the foyer of the building.
She was debating the merits of calling him on the phone versus ringing the buzzer when she remembered she still had his keys.
Here goes nothing. With a deep breath, she let herself into the building.
By the time she got to his door, her heart was a jackhammer in her chest. And not because of her power walk from the elevator, either. She knocked on the door before her nerves could talk her out of it.
The door flew open alarmingly fast. Almost as though he’d been waiting for her. He looked unbearably handsome in the gray suit and blue tie he’d been wearing the first day they’d met. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
She held up the peace offering. “I brought you some lunch.”
Ben’s face fell, and it made her heart squeeze. “Oh.”
He invited her in with a sweep of his hand. She stepped into the familiar apartment—had she really only stayed here for a week? He took the bags of takeout from her and headed into the living room.
So much awkwardness in so little space. This was harder than she’d thought it would be.
“I went by your office to see you,” she said, desperate to break the uncomfortable silence that was stifling them. “Well, your former office, I guess.”
Ben nodded as he unpacked the cartons of food, spreading them out on the coffee table. “Yeah, I quit. I didn’t want to end up being the kind of person who smothers dreams. I’d rather create them.”
He straightened, surveying the boxes that represented about two-thirds of the Mr. Chow menu.
“I’m starting my own company. Masterson Creative Group. I want to help people take their small businesses to the next level, but I’m going to do some consulting for larger firms until I’m solvent,” he told her. “Hotel Burke is looking over my proposal right now. We’ll see how it plays out.”
“What about the cabin?”
“Someone pointed out to me that the real fun is on the lake, not in some swanky cabin.”
“Your father would be very proud of you, Ben.”
He shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal, but she could see his pride in the set of his shoulders and the tilt of his chin. “I think you’re right.”
“I’m really proud of you, too.”
The sudden quiet made it hard to breathe.
“Chloe?”
His voice was soft and low, and for the first time Chloe could remember, he sounded uncertain.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but what are you doing here?”
“I just…there’s something I need to know.”
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He opened his arms in a just ask gesture.
“Why didn’t you tell her?” She held up her hand. “Why didn’t you tell Melanie this was your grandma’s ring?”
He shook his head, a slight frown marring his forehead. “I’m not sure. I’ve wondered about that a lot. Especially over the past week.”
“You told me.”
Ben nodded. “I wanted you to know.”
Chloe tried to absorb the words, to force them to make sense. “We’d only just met when you put this on my finger.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t have any explanations for you and me. It shouldn’t work. You said it yourself. You’ve spent your whole life running away from the stuff I’ve been working toward. But we do work. Somehow all that other stuff doesn’t seem to matter.”
Chloe’s skin pricked to life even as she tried to hold her hope in check.
“I’m so sorry I hurt you, Chloe. You’re right. I was trying to impress them because I thought that was the life I wanted. But it’s not. Especially not if it’s going to make me act like a raging douchebag. But I meant every word I said. I didn’t spin anything. I just told them the truth. You are an incredible makeup artist. It’s what you should be doing with your life. And don’t let the fact that I got carried away trying to make some ignorant old fools see how amazing you are cloud the issue.”
Chloe sat heavily on the couch and bit her lip. “Do not make me cry, Masterson.”
“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I love the mess you’ve made of my bathroom counter. And I love how every time you mention your hair, you pull a piece forward and stare at it, as if you’re judging it for yourself. I love that you chew your right thumbnail when you’re nervous. And I love that you’ve brought color to my living room. And to my life.”
Ben got down on one knee and grabbed her left hand in his, and Chloe laughed through her impending tears.
“I realize we haven’t known each other for very long, but I like you a lot, Chloe Masterson. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m completely and totally in love with you. So will you do me the honor of unmarrying me?”
He slipped his grandma’s ring off her finger, and with it went the pressure and the lies. Chloe’s hand suddenly felt as light as her mood. Although her eyes still stung a little.
Romance was making her soft. And she’d never been happier.
“I love you, too, Masterson. And I’d be honored to unmarry you.”
His lopsided grin stole her breath. “Then it’s settled. We’ll start over.”
She crinkled up her nose. “Like in all the girly movies?”
He grinned at the reference. “Just like that, Latoya.”
“C’mere, Julio.” She fisted her hand in the crew neck of his T-shirt, tugging him closer.
“Careful. This T-shirt cost an obscene amount of money.”
“I’ll bet it did,” she said, breaching the space between them to touch her lips to his. To kiss Ben like it was the first night, when nothing was hanging over their heads except possibilities.
And great sex.
He stood up, pulling her to her feet, and then right off them and into his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he started walking them toward the bedroom.
“So, listen, I don’t usually mix business with pleasure, but as the owner of a struggling start-up, I could really use a client who’s poised on the brink of success.”
He set her down in front of the bedroom.
“Makeup by Chloe is a business built on integrity. We frown on nepotism. You’re going to have to really wow me if you want the job.”
“Okay, picture this—a campaign with the tagline ‘Kiss and Makeup.’”
“You make a strong case, Masterson.” Chloe grabbed Ben’s hand and tugged him into the bedroom. “I think we should definitely get started on that right away.”
* * * * *
ISBN-13: 9781460386163
Kiss and Makeup
Copyright © 2015 by Taryn Leigh Taylor
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Look for Lori Foster’s next sizzling book,
CLOSE CONTACT,
from HQN Books.
For the men of the Body Armor security agency,
the only thing more dangerous than the job they do
is the risk of losing their hearts.
Read on for an exclusive sneak peek…
Miles Dartman rode the private elevator in the Body Armor agency to his boss’s very upscale office. The early morning summons left him confused and he didn’t like it. He’d been in the shower when she’d called at seven A.M. Her message said only that he was to get there as quickly as possible. She had a surprise for him.
Of course, he’d called her back, but she’d told him she’d explain everything once he made it to the office.
He’d only finished his extensive training a few weeks ago. So far he’d had two cases, both of them pretty routine. He’d helped to control pushy fans at a sporting event for a baseball player during a PR stint, and then escorted a big-time author with a new movie deal to some local signings around the area.
Easy-peasy.
He missed competing, damn it. Missed the cage and the physical exertion. If fate hadn’t played him a dirty hand, he’d be at it still, fighting his way to a championship belt.
The loss of his MMA fight career was only one of many regrets he’d suffered lately, and as usual, he shoved it from his mind, determined to live in the here and now.
The elevator opened and he stepped out, going straight to Sahara Silver’s posh office. As he passed Enoch Walker, Sahara’s personal assistant, he said, “She’s expecting me.”
“Indeed, she is,” Enoch said without looking up from his PC screen. “Go right on in.”
Did he detect an unusual note in Enoch’s comment? Hard to tell when Enoch stayed focused on his task.
Because the door was closed, Miles knocked, and a mere second later it opened, almost as if Sahara had been waiting for him.
Oozing satisfaction, she smiled. “Miles.”
He paused, suddenly on guard. So far, his boss had been something of an enigma. On the outside, she was a real looker, a shapely five-foot, eight inches of sass with glossy, mink-brown hair, direct blue eyes, and the demeanor of an Amazon. On the inside, she probably wrestled alligators and won. Always polished, always in killer heels, and always sporting attitude.
“That’s a different smile for you,” he noted. “Why do I feel like I’m about to be offered as a sacrifice to angry gods?”
The smile widened, then she stepped back to allow him to enter. “Thank you for getting here so quickly.”
“You didn’t leave me much choice with that cryptic message.”
“I am never cryptic.”
“No? Then what
was so urgent that I—” That’s when Miles saw her. His eyes flared as he noted her huddled position in a padded chair, a steaming cup of coffee held in both hands. “Maxi?”
When he said her name, she straightened but didn’t look at him.
“What are you doing here?” For two months, he’d waited for her, hoping she’d get in touch again.
She hadn’t.
From the start, she’d made it clear that he was a convenient booty call and nothing more. That should have worked great for him, but instead, it had driven him nuts.
He’d finally, well almost, put her out of his mind with the job switch and move to a new apartment. Now here she was, at Body Armor of all places.
A slow burn started, making him blind to Sahara standing close, at least until she said, “Your friend has had something of an ordeal.”
“And she came to me?” Umbrage churned, made sharper by other losses at the same time. He fashioned a sarcastic grin. “Surprising, since she walked away without a goodbye.”
Maxi looked at him then. Those dark eyes he’d always found so mesmerizing were now glazed and somehow troubled.
And they stared at him like a lifeline.
It dawned on him that she looked terrible when he hadn’t thought that possible. One of the very few things she’d ever revealed to him was her occupation as a personal stylist, a job that seemed to suit her since the lady had always looked very put together.
Not this time, though. Dried leaves clung to her long, tangled blond hair. Gone were the trendy clothes and instead she wore an oversized flannel shirt, faded cut-offs and bright green rubber boots dotted with yellow ducks. The ridiculous outfit made her look endearing.
Concern sharpened his tone. “What the hell happened to you?”
When she didn’t answer, he went to one knee in front of her, resting his hands on her slim thighs. A few months ago they’d been in a similar position, both naked. But she hadn’t looked wounded then. No, she’d been soft and hot, moaning his name.
Blocking that memory seemed imperative. His tone didn’t lose its edge. “Maxi?”