"I told you to hush up," he scolded, "don't interrupt me again."
"Sorry."
"I'd forgotten all about it until I opened my case just now, and when I noticed the cover I thought about maybe gettin' one like it for my sister. That's why I was lookin' at it. I'm not the kinda guy that would stoop to lookin' through your personal stuff. You got that? If I wanna know somethin' I'll ask. Are we clear?"
"Yes, sorry."
Dropping her wrists he engulfed her in his arms and hugged her tightly, and as she sank against him she let out a heavy breath. Why had she jumped to such a stupid conclusion?
"How's your butt?" he softly asked, moving his hands to cup her backside.
"A bit tender."
"You pull that crap with me again and I'll freshen it up real quick."
"I won't. I'm sorry."
"You hungry?"
"I hadn't thought about it but, yes, I think I am."
"Come on into the kitchen," he said, releasing her and taking her hand. "I'll rustle us up somethin' to eat."
"Um, what about my phone?"
"You'll get it back later, when you've settled down."
"What? First, I am settled, and second, I'm not ten!"
"You sure as hell are, sugar," he said softly, pausing his step and looking down at her. "I told you, I'm different from other men."
"I know, but—"
"But nothin'. The punishment should fit the crime, it does, and now you're poutin' about it."
"I'm not."
He softly kissed her, then took his lips to her ear.
"Yeah, you are."
"I don't even know what to say," she grumbled, trying to ignore her fluttering butterflies.
"Yeah, I know that too," he grinned, "so let's get us somethin' to eat. I've been waitin' for you and I'm starvin'."
Hating that he could see right through her, yet strangely loving it as well, she fell into step beside him, but her righteous indignation continued to plague her. He may be Liam Taylor and he may be amazing, but what right did he have to lock away her phone? She didn't care that there was no cell service it was still her phone. What was he playing at, telling her she was ten, then making her feel like a scolded child?
"Have a seat," he said, gesturing towards the bar stools lining the long kitchen island. "Whatta you in the mood for? Soup, pasta, scrambled eggs?"
"Whatever."
"Whatever? I'm not sure I have any whatever," he chuckled. "I'll cook us up some pasta."
"What time is it?"
"A bit after seven. The clock's on the wall there."
"I should see if my parents emailed me."
"Yeah, you probably should."
"I'll be back in a minute."
As she ambled away, a wide smile crossed his face and he shook his head. She was a brat, but that was fine with him, and their sparkling chemistry was undeniable. He knew she'd to try to open his briefcase, and when she found she couldn't it would tick her off even more. Was he being high-handed? Probably, but he needed to start things off on the right foot or there'd be trouble ahead.
"What am I thinkin'?" he muttered, "there's trouble ahead regardless."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Entering his den Summer walked briskly across to his briefcase and tried to pop it open. It was locked. She cursed under her breath. She would have put the cellphone back, but she wanted to see if there were any fresh texts or voicemails from Sandy, her best friend. Sandy always had such great words of wisdom, and she may have left a message before the cell service went down.
It was Sandy with whom she'd been speaking when Liam had overheard the incriminating conversation. For the umpteenth time Sandy had suggested Summer should tell him the truth about why she'd originally knocked on his door. That's when Summer had made the comment about singing all morning to no avail.
"Dammit," she muttered, staring at the briefcase. "I guess it doesn't matter. It's all out in the open now anyway."
Moving behind the desk and powering up the computer, she was thrilled to see two emails waiting for her. The first was from her father, and the second was from Sandy. She'd be able to read her best friend's pearls of wisdom after all, but she opened her father's mail first.
Sweetheart, your mother and I are so relieved you weren't hurt in the accident. Don't worry, we'll take care of the car once the storm is passed. We wish you were here to celebrate Christmas Eve but knowing you're safe is the most important thing. We'll be able to Skype a bit later. Did you forget? We'll be going next door, assuming we can walk across the yard in the blizzard. I'll try you on Skype when we get back. It shouldn't be too late. Let me know you got this. Love you, Dad.
Relieved and happy, she sent back a quick response wishing them a fun time and promising to check the computer later that night, then opened the email from Sandy.
Hey, Summer. I heard Liam's voice right before the call ended. I guess the cat's out of the bag. It's about time. You know how I feel about all this. I've always thought you should have told him why you were really there. I don't know what's happening between you two right now, but I hope everything's okay. Just be straight with him, and don't pull any of your bratty pouty crap. That won't help anything. Love you. Sandy.
"My bratty pouty crap," Summer muttered. "Shit."
Hitting the reply button she quickly typed her response.
Sandy, I'm so glad to hear from you. I had an accident on the way home after our conversation and Liam found me and got me out of the storm and brought me back to his house. Things are amazing, but you're right. I need to do exactly what you said. You're always my voice of reason. Thank you so much. Back in touch soon. Love you back. Summer.
Hitting SEND, she logged out, put the computer to sleep, and admonished herself as she walked back to the kitchen. For no good reason, sitting at the kitchen counter, she had pulled bratty pouty crap.
"I take it you heard from them," he remarked as she entered. "I'll bet they were happy to hear from you."
"Totally," she replied with a big smile. "What can I do to help?"
"You look better. I'm glad."
"I got an email from my best friend and she, uh, it was good to hear from her."
"The one you were talking to earlier?"
"Yeah, that one, and I'm sorry I got all weird before. It was stupid."
Placing the wooden spoon on the counter he moved across to her, and holding her face in his hands he softly kissed her.
"You're forgiven, but next time…"
"There won't be a next time."
"Of course there will. Brats don't disappear in a day."
"Am I really a brat?"
"You can act like one, and when you do there'll be a consequence. Okay?"
"You mean you'll spank me?"
"Maybe, maybe not. Just know there will be a consequence."
Her butterflies had started up again, and dropping her head into his shoulder she wrapped her arms around his waist. Liam Taylor was incredible. She'd been crazy about him for weeks, but she was now falling deep, really deep. Was it his take-charge attitude or his drop-dead sexiness? It was probably both, but she didn't really care about the why. She was nuts about him, pure and simple.
"I was thinkin', it's Christmas Eve. Why don't we have dinner by candlelight?" he purred, interrupting her thoughts.
"Here, in the kitchen?"
"No, no, that's not what I call romantic. I was thinkin' about laying a tablecloth on the coffee table and eatin' in front of the fire."
"That sounds heavenly, but with the fireplace will we still need candles?"
"We will definitely need candles," he said with a wink. "There are some in that cabinet by the nook. Grab two of the tall ones marked soy wax, and there'll be a red and white checked tablecloth in the drawer just below it."
"Soy wax? I've never heard of soy wax candles."
"You have now, and once you've used them you'll never want to burn anythin' else."
"Huh, that sounds interesting," she said ha
ppily, then pulling back she gazed into his twinkling brown eyes. "Thanks, Liam."
"For what?"
"Putting up with me. I know I can be a bit difficult."
"Hey, I have no problem with difficult. I kinda like it. Now let me go, woman, I need to check the pasta."
"Yes, Sir, cowboy," she giggled, then walking across to the cabinet she found the candles and the tablecloth in the drawer, then carried them out to the living room.
As she started moving the large photo books and various bits and pieces from the table and on to a nearby bookshelf, a warm chill of excitement rippled through her body. This was going to be a special evening, and though she was sorry she wasn't with her family, a part of her was very happy she was exactly where she was.
CHAPTER SEVEN
With the fire and candles softly flickering, Liam and Summer were sitting on the floor with their backs against the couch sharing Christmas memories as they ate the perfectly cooked linguini. Taking her last bite, with a satisfied sigh she declared the spicy tomato sauce was the best she'd ever tasted.
"I'm glad you like it. I've never found anythin' better. It came all the way from a family restaurant in Little Italy."
"You mean, Little Italy, New York?"
"Yep. It's made in their kitchen by the grand matriarch. I swear she's a hundred-years-old, but she rules that place like Michael Corleone."
"Really? No wonder it tastes so good."
The silky smooth bottle of Napa Valley cabernet was almost empty, and he poured the last of it between them.
"To you," he said raising his glass, "a beautiful naughty girl who made this Christmas Eve one I'll never forget."
"Liam, my gosh. I've never had a Christmas Eve like this either."
"Then let's make it, here's to an unforgettable Christmas Eve for us both."
They downed the last splash, and placing his glass on the table he took hers from her grasp, set it down, then leaned in and languidly kissed her, drifting his lips over hers until she was ardently kissing him back. "There's more," he murmured, carrying his mouth across her neck.
"More wine?" she breathed, surrendering to the delicious goosebumps caused by his warm tongue as it traveled across her skin.
"No, I have more planned for this evening."
"You do? Like, dessert?"
"You could call it that," he softly replied, raising his head and locking her eyes. "Do you like surprises?"
"I definitely like surprises."
"Do you trust me?"
"Absolutely."
"I wanna blindfold you."
"Ooh, Liam, I would love that."
Just the thought sent an excited tumble through her stomach, and moving her arms around his neck she pressed her body against him with urgent neediness. She could feel his fingers curl in her hair, and when he tugged back her head she lifted her eyes.
"You turn me on so much," she said breathlessly. "God, Liam. I'd say so fucking much but you don't like it when I swear."
"There are exceptions, and that's one of them," he said huskily. "I'll only be a minute but when I come back I wanna find you naked."
Her heart skipped, and as he released her hair she wished he'd clutched it even tighter and consumed her mouth with a greedy kiss. She watched him rise to his feet, pick up their plates and walk away, then closing her eyes she let out a long sigh. Liam Taylor was the sexiest man on the planet, and he was absolutely, positively, taking her breath away.
Feeling strangely weak she pulled off her sweatshirt and tossed it on the couch, following it with her pants and socks, and though it felt odd to be sitting there with no clothes on, it felt all kinds of tantalizing as well. She touched her sex. She was soaked, and as her fingers pressed against her clit, a rich, deep voice crooning a bluesy song filled the air. She didn't recognize the singer, but hearing Liam's approach she turned around and saw him moving towards her. He'd changed into a black cotton robe.
"Who is that singing?" she asked as he sat on the couch behind her.
"My next superstar. His name is David McDaniel. His first CD comes out a week before Valentine's Day."
"He's incredible. His voice is like that wine we just drank, all smooth and velvety."
"Hmmm. I might use that. Drink in the voice of David McDaniel. Yep, I like it. I'll shoot it over to my PR team."
"Really?"
"Really, but right now I have somethin' else on my mind. Close your eyes, you beautiful naked girl."
"You mean I'm not a beautiful naughty girl anymore?"
"You're both. A beautiful naked naughty girl," he grinned. "Now do as you're told."
"Yes, Sir."
"Where did you get that from?" he murmured as he put the blindfold in place.
"Um, it just came out of me. Is it okay?"
"It's more than okay. Use it for the rest of the evenin'."
"Yes, Sir, and…"
"And?"
"Shoot. Maybe I shouldn't say this."
"Tell me."
"When I say it, it makes me…what's the word? Gooey. In a good way, in a really good way."
"Gooey? Like hot caramel?"
"Exactly like hot caramel."
"That's what you are, hot caramel with a hint of cayenne pepper, and I'm gonna eat you up," then pausing, his lips at her ear, he whispered, "Have you ever called anyone sir before?"
"No, never, and, uh, I love it. It feels…right."
Liam felt an unexpected surge of emotion. She was speaking from her heart. He could feel it.
Too many times he'd felt the insincerity of a woman pretending to be turned on when she wasn't. He knew his wealth and celebrity were a magnet, but Summer had lied her way into his house not because of him per se, but because she wanted to be a singer. It was an interesting twist that she was now sitting before him naked and blindfolded, and proving to be wonderfully submissive.
"I'm going to lay you on the floor," he murmured, traveling his lips across her neck and fondling her breasts with both hands, "and you're gonna spread your legs and play with yourself, but you're not allowed to come."
"Can't we sit here for just a minute longer?" she whimpered, lost in his massaging palms and his wonderfully warm moist lips on her skin.
"You can, but I'm steppin' away for a moment."
"No," she said, grabbing one of his wrists. "I refuse to let you go."
"Is that right?"
"Yes, that's right!"
"You're' bein' naughty, you know that too, right?"
"Maybe, but—OUCH."
His finger's had suddenly, sharply, pinched a nipple.
"That should keep you company for the few seconds I'll be gone."
"Ow, ow. Was that really necessary?"
"Yep, and you are really pushing your luck," he scolded, though wearing a grin she couldn't see. "Just stay there, and no more back-talk."
She loved the darkness of her blindfold, and as she felt him rise off the couch and move away she rubbed the soreness from her breast. Why had he left again? What other salacious surprises did he have in store? She strained to listen. He was close by, and though she could hear him she couldn't figure out what he was doing.
"On to your hands and knees and crawl forward," he ordered. "You'll feel a rug."
It was surreal, moving across the floor blindfolded and naked, but she loved it, and when she felt the fur under her hands she couldn't wait to lay in its warm softness.
"You sure look good on all fours," he murmured his lips suddenly at her ear, "especially with that gorgeous backside still so lovely and pink. You know I'm gonna be spankin' you more often than not."
"You are, Sir? Why?"
"I have a sayin'; a spankin' a day keeps the brat away. You might wanna remember that. Time to lie on your back."
Her butterflies wildly fluttering, she dropped down and rolled over, and sending her hand against her sex she sought out her clit and began her salacious massage.
"That's a mighty nice picture," he crooned. "Leg's wider, that's better.
Imagine you're in your bed with my T-shirt."
Her surprised gasp made him chuckle, but when he glanced down at her hand nestled against her sex he shook his head; she'd stopped rubbing.
"OOWW, SIR!" she wailed as a sharp slap suddenly landed on the inside of her each of her thighs.
"I didn't give you permission to hit the pause button," he scolded. "Disobedience has consequences."
"Sorry, I was just so shocked that you knew about me taking your T-shirt."
"I was real pleased that you did. It told me how you were feelin' about me, but right now you'd better start playin' with yourself again. Like I said, do it just the way you do when you're alone and thinkin' about me. Is the shirt usually layin' next to you."
"No, Sir.
"Tell me where you usually have it."
"It's a bit embarrassing, Sir."
"I can slap your thighs 'til you don't feel embarrassed any more."
"No, no," she said quickly. "I lay it over my face."
"Almost like your own blindfold. Aren't you clever? Tell me one of the things you've imagined—say—over the last month."
"Uh…my back's against a wall," she began breathlessly, "and you're holding my wrists in one of your hands above my head and—and—"
"And?" he pressed. "Don't stop there, sugar."
"Your other hand is under my skirt, and your mouth, it's devouring my neck like a vampire. Ooh, Sir."
"Keep goin'."
"Then you turn me around—and—ooh—you tell me to keep my arms where they are, then you lift my skirt and slap me, then tease between my legs, then slap me again, and you keep doing that until I…"
"Until you come, like you're real close to doin' right now?"
"Yes, yes."
"Stop!"
"Oh, Sir, please, I can't, I need to keep going!"
"Bad girl!" he growled, grabbing her wrist and jerking her hand away. "You'll have to be punished for that. Put both hands at your side and throw your legs over your head."
"SIR?"
"Wow, you must really wanna get your butt whipped."
A Country Music Christmas (Country & Western Suspense) Page 4