by Calista Fox
“Bayli,” he said as his fingers twined in her glossy hair. “If you want me to stay … just say the word. There isn’t anywhere else I’d rather be right now.”
She rolled her eyes, likely to break the tension that seemed to suddenly grip her. “Your king-size bed isn’t calling your name this very instant?”
He kissed her again. Then whispered, “Nope.”
Their gazes locked. She searched his eyes, though he wasn’t certain what she hoped to find.
A minute or so passed. Then she simply said, “Stay.”
Christian kissed the tip of her nose. “I was planning on it all along.”
He slipped from the bed again and tidied up, finding it impossible to keep the grin from his face.
Bayli Styles.
She was something else.
He returned to her, joining her under the covers. He settled on his back and pulled her to him, so that she lay on top of him.
“This definitely can’t be comfortable for you,” she said.
Christian tucked strands of hair behind her ears to give him a better view of her beautiful face. “I like your skin on mine. And all these luscious curves. Christ, you can get me hard again in a heartbeat.”
His hands skimmed over her shoulders, down her back, to her ass. He palmed the cheeks and squeezed. She let out a small cry.
“The way you keep inciting all these sizzling sensations,” she murmured against his lips, “I might as well have stuck a bobby pin in a light socket.”
He chuckled. “I entertained myself a couple of times as a kid by doing that. The apartment wasn’t exactly babyproofed.”
“Nor was ours. I was particularly thrilled to discover, around the age of four or five, that all I had to do was open the drawers next to the refrigerator and use them as steps to reach the freezer. I’d grab an ice cube tray and sneak the homemade Popsicles into my room. Keep them in the nightstand drawer, thinking I was quite clever. Then cry a river the next morning when I found they’d melted overnight.”
“Sometimes a kid has to learn the hard way. What was your favorite flavor?”
“Wild cherry. Imitation Kool-Aid, of course. It was three cents cheaper per package, my mother always said.”
“Ah, yeah, wild cherry. That was a good one.”
“But you preferred grape, right? All the boys in the complex preferred grape.”
“Not sure what it is about grape Popsicles,” he mused. “And shit, I haven’t had one in forever.”
“Well,” she said in a conspiratorial tone, “if you get a craving, my freezer is well stocked with ice cube trays of all flavors. It’s how I’ve been surviving this New York heat and humidity over the summer. I can’t wait for the weather to break.”
“Any day now…”
“Thank God.”
His lips brushed her cheek. Then he said, “I can send over ice cream from the restaurant.”
“Don’t you dare! I’ll scarf down every delicious calorie. It’s tough enough serving gelato in Central Park two days a week and not setting aside a scoop or ten for myself.”
He laughed heartier this time. “Yes, that would be a challenge. What else do you do?”
“I’m at a library fifteen hours a week. It’s close to Grand Central Station and the United Nations building. Used to be a church, and it’s absolutely gorgeous. But the congregation became so massive that they had to find another facility to accommodate all the people. A private investor came in, bought the building for twice the asking price—his charitable contribution to the parish, I guess—and then turned it into a library. It’s positively stunning. I’m quite honored to ‘worship’ there.”
“You like your books,” he said, recalling she’d mentioned being a bookworm.
“I love my books,” she corrected. “Not knocking the Internet or anything, but I’d choose being surrounded by the smell of dusty pages and hearing that cracking of the spine when you open a hardback over the efficiency of Google or Wikipedia any day.”
One of his hands remained on her ass. The fingertips of the other grazed along her spine, up to her nape, and then down to the dip at the small of her back. He felt the shivers through her body. Felt the blood rush to his cock as it began to swell again.
Ignoring the intrinsic sexual pull for the moment, he said, “You’re a Renaissance woman. Skilled in several areas, fascinated by all manner of subjects, willing to invest time and effort into any task, such as cutting an expensive cigar. And you like the classics, the traditions. Yet one look at you tells me you know how to put a modern spin on traditions.”
“Well, I do use Crystal Light or MiO for the Popsicles, instead of Kool-Aid,” she quipped.
Christian grinned. “If you’re worried about the sugar and calorie content, you should know that I think you’re pretty much perfect.”
Her tawny eyes glowed. “You’re a lot kinder than I expected you to be.”
In a swift move, Christian rolled them so she was on her back and he was settled between her parted thighs. “Did you mistake me for some sort of ogre?”
“Not at all.” Her arms slid around his neck and her legs tangled with his. “It’s just that you and Rory are friends and business partners and so I figure you’re both of like minds. And while I definitely sensed there was some chemistry between me and him, there was also palpable tension. And he told me he’d call me. But…” Her teeth clamped down on her lip briefly before she seemed to realize she’d self-consciously employed the insecure gesture, then released it. “He never did. He thoroughly dismissed me. Kicked me right out of his kitchen. In more ways than one,” she added on a low breath.
Christian’s mouth skimmed over her jaw. “Rory has his moods. But he’s very much like you—he’s a Renaissance man. The two of you will get along fabulously. You just have to find your groove with him. Don’t let him scare you off.”
Christian kissed her ardently as the mere thought of Bayli and Rory sparking the way Christian and Bayli did charged him, lit him up. Christian’s cock throbbed and thickened. The feel of her beneath him, against him, surrounding him, made him hotter than hell. Factor in the notion of Rory partnering with him to bring her the ultimate pleasure … Jesus, it was a wonder he didn’t just slide right into her and push them both over the brink again.
But there was a big, fat fly in the ointment.
“You don’t happen to have a condom handy, do you?” he asked.
Bayli’s eyes squeezed shut. “Shit. No.” Her lids lifted and she said, “A romantic or even merely a sex life is not something I’ve actively pursued in … wow. A really long time.” Her gaze narrowed as she obviously contemplated this further and then she let out a little snicker. “Geez, another embarrassing moment. I probably haven’t gotten laid in like … two years? I’d like to be more specific, but it really wasn’t memorable enough to anchor a time frame to. In fact, it would have pretty much been a waste of a condom we could be putting to good use right now. Exceptionally good use.”
He kissed her. Then said, “I haven’t exactly been active in that arena of late, either. Launching the steakhouse and then trying to fix a colossal business failure—”
“A failure?” Her brows jumped. “All of your restaurants are wildly successful.”
“Yes, thankfully. Rory and I have a knack for being in the right market at the right time. But this other project…” He snorted at himself and rolled onto his back, pulling Bayli to him so she was nestled alongside him. “I fucked it up badly. It’s not even Rory’s fault despite him trying to claim some responsibility. My idea was completely uninspired and I didn’t take into account his, uh … disposition.”
“You mean that gruff exterior and sharp tongue that makes a person want to fade into oblivion when he stares them down?”
“Yeah, that. Except Rory told me on the phone earlier that he tried that with you … and you still walked into his kitchen. Which impressed him.”
“Wait.” She sat up suddenly, her long black hair tumbling ove
r her bare shoulders. She stared at Christian. “I impressed him? Because that is not the way I saw it. By any stretch of the imagination. And I assure you, I am incredibly good at creating my own little Emerald City in my mind over things like blowing an interview. Yet there wasn’t one decent takeaway from the entire debacle, aside from the fact that I restrained myself from marching back into the restaurant after he’d shooed me from it to demand an actual interview with the man.”
“That must’ve taken some willpower on your part.” Christian had no doubt the woman had steely resolve. And, from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, he’d not missed the determination exuding from her.
Coaxing her bac down beside him and draping an arm around her shoulders as her head rested on his chest, Christian told her, “Rory is a perfectionist. He wants everything to be precisely the way he wants it. But there’s another side to him. A very … giving … side. And I truly believe the two of you will get along incredibly well. Once we’ve settled the professional aspect of things.”
“Still leaving me in the dark with that one,” she lightly scolded.
Christian’s fingers stroked her skin, drawing lazy circles on her upper arm as he considered how much to divulge at this point. He hadn’t fully fleshed out the new idea in his mind, much less run it by Rory. But then again, when it came to conceptualizing, that was Christian’s forte and Rory left him to it while capitalizing on his own strength behind the scenes.
So giving Bayli a little preview wouldn’t hurt anything, Christian surmised.
He said, “I’m envisioning you in front of TV cameras, not digital ones. Traveling with Rory to off-the-beaten-path places where you use your research skills to unearth interesting local cultural and scenic tidbits and Rory explores the culinary genius of up-and-coming chefs in the area and incorporates their favorite ingredients into a menu he can whip up during the show. While you host it. That way, Rory’s focused on what he does best and doesn’t have to scare the living hell out of the audience because he neither speaks in layman’s terms when in chef mode nor does he interact well with the natives. Any native.”
Bayli was instantly back to her sitting position. “A cooking show?”
“Of sorts. When I say ‘natives’ I even mean a studio audience here in New York. He’s much too intense, much too tunnel-visioned. Apparently extremely—”
“Off-putting,” she said for Christian. “Yeah, I can see that. Except…”
Bayli shifted on the bed so she could look directly at Christian. She’d switched off the chandeliers earlier when he’d popped into the bathroom, but there were still some pillars flickering throughout the apartment, casting shadows and warm glows, softly illuminating her striking features.
She said, “I really didn’t consider him pompous or anything. That wasn’t the response I had to him. Yes, he set me completely on edge, but it was in sort of a challenging way. And when I just observed him at work, absorbed the entire atmosphere he’d created in that special space of his, I really felt that the all-encompassing surliness isn’t so much that; rather, it’s … passion. Zest. Pride in ownership when it comes to everything he creates.”
Christian didn’t miss the excitement in her eyes when she spoke of Rory. Nor did Christian miss the admiration in her tone. It convinced him even more that he was on the right track this time. And not just with the show …
He told her, “The static—and stagnant—studio concept was all wrong for us. But cooking live on location, on the beach, on a cliff overlooking the ocean, on a balcony, under a thatched palapa, whatever … I think that will not only give us a more inviting, engaging feel, but it’ll focus on more than just discussing ingredients and how to prep the meal. We can make this rich with history, as well as traditional and current flavors. A local flair that’s dynamic, interactive, educational, and entertaining all at the same time. Starring you and Rory.”
She blinked a few times, looking a little stunned.
He said, “You’d be the hostess, historian, buffer. Rory would be in the background. Where he prefers to be. That way he doesn’t have to get aggravated when people can’t keep up with him over complicated instructions. You can serve as the liaison. You’ll intermingle with the audience and simply relay Rory’s instructions with humor and grace … and that amazing fucking smile of yours.”
She didn’t speak as she clearly tried to process it all.
Had she really not known this was the direction in which Christian was headed? Or was he overwhelming her, this concept coming out of the blue since he’d just tapped into it this very evening?
Christian didn’t know. All he could focus on was how her eyes bulged a bit and her chest rose and fell more quickly behind the sheet and duvet she pressed against her bare breasts.
“Everything okay over there?” he asked.
Her jaw worked as though she had something to say but couldn’t quite find her voice.
He said, “You did a hell of a job with the cigars tonight, sweetheart. Imagine all the research you’ll get to do on various locations around the globe? All the travel you can possibly dream of if this show takes off. And damn it, my gut tells me it will. You’ll be an international celebrity. Japan will love you even more than they already do.”
She let out a strangled laugh. “They’ve long since forgotten about me. That ad campaign was years ago. But everything you’re putting on the table, Christian…” Her grip on the bedcovers tightened. “Is it all real? Are you serious? And will Rory even consent? I mean to me? He’s—”
“Already thinking along the same lines.” Christian rested a hand on her bent knee peeking out from the duvet and said, “Yes, he told me you weren’t right for the in-house hostess job. I’m sorry about that, and I do stand behind him. Rory knows the intimate operational details of running a restaurant. I’m the corporate guy, the visionary, the location, location, location guy. So I won’t override his decision. But he was already trying to work through his mind how to get you involved with the show.”
A long breath fell from her luscious lips. “Why didn’t he just tell me that? Why keep me in suspense? Why make me feel so damn incompetent?” She flushed as she got a bit riled up over her botched interview with Rory.
“Hey.” Christian sat up. His fingers whisked over her cheek. “You didn’t seriously feel like that. Or you never would have approached me at the party. Not as boldly as you did.”
She gave a reluctant nod. “That’s true. Maybe incompetent isn’t the right word. I just felt so easily dismissed. And it probably wouldn’t have mattered so much to me if I didn’t really need the job. Or if he hadn’t looked at me the way he did. I could tell he had some sort of interest in me. I just wish he would have come right out and told me what it was.”
“He was in the middle of a very important lunch service, Bayli. Rory has trouble compartmentalizing.”
“Ah…” Now she nodded enthusiastically. “That I fully understand, because I do compartmentalize. And it can be very confusing to people who don’t understand silos. I put everything into buckets to keep all my thoughts neat and orderly. Rory likely sees the bigger picture all at once.”
“Don’t be offended that he didn’t call. He wanted to speak with me first. We’ve just had trouble connecting the past couple of days. I’ve been in meetings and negotiations, and he’s been holding down the fort.”
“I’m not trying to make this all about me, Christian. I’m just not used to screwing up so badly. Yes, I’ve had plenty of doors slammed in my face. I always try to do the best I can, though, and I just didn’t stand out with Rory.”
Christian’s lips swept over hers. “And I told you that you did. So don’t worry so much, hmm?”
He lay back down, bringing her with him, so they were snuggled up once more. Her cheek rested on his pecs and her hand splayed over his abs. Christian was still rock-hard, but he tried not to fantasize about Bayli’s palm sliding lower, under the sheet to his cock. He couldn’t help but will it, though. He was pulsa
ting with an insatiable need for her. Something far beyond what he was accustomed to feeling with a woman. This one easily held his attention, garnered his lasting interest. And he couldn’t help wondering if Rory would experience the same deep-seated need and craving for her that didn’t go away with one quick fix.
Breaking into his thoughts, Bayli said, “I’m a bit mind boggled over your business proposal. But how would you feel if I told you the orgasms you give me are even more earth-shattering?”
He smirked. “This platform could launch your career and make you an international star.”
“True. But let me tell you where you really launched me.…” Her hand grazed his lower abdomen to his groin. Teasingly skirting his erection. Her fingernails skated along his inner thigh; then one long finger stroked his balls.
Christian grunted. “It’s not exactly fair to get me all revved when we’ve already established there are no more condoms at our disposal.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t be a little wicked.…”
“So you’re just going to get me more worked up and then leave me high and dry?”
“Not dry,” she said suggestively. And licked her lips.
His pulse surged. “You’re going to suck my dick.”
“You inspire me to do all kinds of sexy things to this magnificent body of yours.”
“And I was grumbling about what, exactly?”
She laughed quietly. “I have no idea.”
Her hand drifted upward and her fingers encircled his shaft. Her palm glided to his tip, slid slowly back down to his root. She repeated the gesture and Christian’s eyelids dropped.
She squeezed him, then pumped.
“Fuck, yes,” he ground out.
Her warm lips swept over his chest. Her tongue swirled around one of his small nipples before she tenderly bit it, jolting him. All the while, she worked his cock, setting a sensual pace to jerk him off. Then she licked the palm of her free hand and rubbed it over the head of his erection as she continued to stroke him.
“Bayli.” The word tore from his lips. “Jesus.”
She licked again. Set an even sexier, vigorous pace. Pumping, stroking, rubbing … Fuck, he couldn’t catalog it all. Especially when her head dipped and her tongue replaced her palm at his tip. She lapped at him, then suckled. Tauntingly at first. Then her hand slipped down to the base of his cock and she held him firmly as she took him deep in her mouth. So fucking deep.