Kissing Her Enemy

by Coleen Kwan

  “Oh my God.” Amber was already at his side, her face ashen with shock. “What have you done?” She let out a salty expletive.

  He managed to give her a faint smile. “Swear jar.”

  She cussed again. “Let me look at that!”

  Muttering under her breath, she gingerly inspected his hand. Her fingers were trembling, he noticed, and her face was pale to the roots of her hair. He liked looking at her; it was preferable to looking at his hand. He was afraid if he did, he’d disgrace himself by fainting.

  “Oh God, I can’t believe this.”

  Finally he risked another glance at his hand. There was less blood than he’d imagined, but the sight of a chunk of wood embedded in the back of his hand was grotesque. His head started to swim, but somehow he managed to remain upright.

  “Guess I’ll take myself to my doctor,” he wheezed out, trying to sound nonchalant. “Sorry to leave you with all this work.”

  Amber gasped. “Are you nuts? You can’t drive like this! No, I’m taking you, so just shut up about it!”

  She grabbed his business shirt from the windowsill and carefully wrapped it around his injured hand. Next, she draped his left arm over her shoulders, wrapped her right arm around his waist, and helped him out of the playhouse. The dizziness had cleared from his head, and he was okay to walk by himself, but why say anything when she was nestled into his side? She was so close he could smell the fruity scent of her hair, and her body was warm and supple against his. There were some compensations to shoving a piece of wood into his hand, he thought as they reached their cars.

  “We’ll take my Lexus,” he said. “Keys are in my pocket.”

  He enjoyed the feel of her brushing against him as she settled him in the passenger seat and did up his seatbelt, but as they rode over a speed bump, he jarred his carefully cradled hand, causing his vision to blur with pain.

  “I’m so sorry.” Amber’s voice was tight with anxiety. “Hang in there. I’ll get you to the hospital as quickly as I can.”

  Logan told her which medical center to drive to, then closed his eyes, soothed by Amber’s presence. When he opened them again, they were outside the private hospital that his family used. The staff here was generally excellent and didn’t need Amber needling them to take care of him, but he appreciated her insistence. As a nurse ushered him into a treatment room, he looked over his shoulder to see Amber standing there, hair falling messily around her taut, pale face, her eyes so fixed on him it gave his heart a jolt.

  “You don’t need to hang around,” he said to her, conscious that he had totally upset her day.

  She shook her head, wisps of hair clinging to her cheeks. “I’m staying,” she said in that stubborn way of hers.

  The nurse tugged gently at his elbow. He nodded at Amber before falling into step with the nurse.

  “Your girlfriend is worried about you.” The nurse smiled.

  He gave her a weak smile in return and didn’t bother to correct her.

  …

  “I’m here, I’m here. Oh my God! What has he done to himself?” A young man dressed in a suit with a messenger bag bumping against his hip galloped toward Amber, his face flushed with excitement.

  “Pablo?” Amber blinked. The last person she’d expected to show up at the hospital was Logan’s personal assistant. “Did Logan call you?”

  “Yes, he told me to get down here.” Pablo’s eyes darted around the waiting area before settling on Amber. “What did you do to him?”

  “Me? I didn’t do anything. He managed to get a piece of wood rammed into his hand all by himself.” She folded her arms. Even now she couldn’t help shivering at the image of that hideous fragment marring Logan’s hand.

  Pablo turned green and clutched at the back of a chair. “A piece of wood in his hand? Oh…I think I’m going to be sick…”

  “No, you aren’t,” she said sternly, even though she’d already been sick herself in the bathroom earlier.

  Pablo swallowed. “You’re a dangerous woman,” he said with a trace of admiration. “You know, as soon as you called this morning, he raced out of the office. I’ve never seen him do that before.”

  What did that mean? That Logan was eager to see her? Or only that he was a stickler for sharing the workload? She was saved from having to reply by a nurse appearing and asking them to follow her. Amber did so, Pablo falling in beside her. The private hospital was a far cry from the one her mom attended. Here, there were plentiful staff, nonexistent lines, and the best medical care. Plus, private rooms, fresh floral arrangements, even original paintings. Like an upmarket hotel.

  They walked into a room. Amber didn’t know what to expect, but she was taken aback to see Logan sitting on the edge of the bed and looking remarkably composed, his right hand sporting a large bandage over his knuckles.

  “Hi, Pablo.” Logan’s gaze flicked to her. “Amber, you shouldn’t have waited all this time.”

  Right, she shouldn’t have, because now he might think she cared about him. “I wanted to make sure you were all right,” she said stiffly. She stared at his wounded hand, imagining the pain he’d suffered, and a strange ache gripped her chest.

  “I’ll survive. No broken bones. Just a few stitches and a tetanus shot.” His voice was a little gruff. He lifted his injured hand. “See this, Pablo? Let this be a lesson to you. Don’t let your concentration slip when you’re working with your hands.”

  “Yessir.” The young man nodded vigorously. “So you want me to rearrange your appointments for today and tomorrow?”

  “Just today. I’ll be fine for tomorrow.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Amber couldn’t help interrupting. “That hand is going to hurt for a while.”

  “No, it won’t.”

  “Did the doctor give you painkillers at least?”

  Logan picked up a bottle of pills. “Yeah, but I don’t think I’ll need them.”

  “What, too macho for painkillers?”

  “I can manage without them.”

  “I’m sure your doctor recommended you take a couple of days off.”

  “My doctor isn’t CEO of Wright Inc.”

  “But he does know more about injured hands!” She huffed, at the same time wondering why she was getting so worked up. Logan was a grown man; he could take care of himself, and yet she couldn’t help fretting over his wound.

  Pablo was darting nervous glances between them. Logan tilted his head at him. “Pablo, keep my appointments for tomorrow.”

  She couldn’t help butting in again. “And Pablo, be prepared for his foul mood when his hand starts hurting, but he refuses to take a painkiller.”

  “Um, okay…” The personal assistant suddenly displayed a deep interest in his messenger bag.

  “Did you bring that report I asked for? I want you to make a few changes and distribute it this afternoon. I’ll give you the details,” Logan said. Pablo pulled out a sheaf of papers from his bag, and the two spent a few minutes discussing the report. At the end, Logan said, “Don’t tell anyone what’s happened. You got that?”

  “Okay. Anything else?”

  “That’s all. Thanks, Pablo. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Amber waited until the assistant had scampered out before turning to Logan, ready to argue about tomorrow. But a glimpse of the tiredness he kept so well hidden dragging at his eyes banished all thought of arguing.

  “Come on, let’s get you home.”

  He blinked for a moment, then rose to his feet and followed her.

  …

  The GPS in his Lexus guided her to his home, a modern, glass-and-wood house perched halfway up the mountain. Standing on several acres of land, it commanded spectacular views of the ranges and the nearby lake. An infinity pool on the outside deck added to the air of luxury. But she was less interested in the house than taking care of Logan. Not that he seemed to think he needed any taking care of.

  “Make yourself at home,” he said as soon as they entered the double-height foye
r with its sweeping staircase. He glanced down at his stained undershirt and pants, his bloodied shirt bundled up under one arm. “I should clean up a bit, but then I’ll make us drinks.”

  “Yes, go and change.” She waved him toward the staircase.

  He paused. “Want to wash up, too? There’s a guest bathroom up here, and I can probably find you something clean to wear.”

  For the first time, she became aware of her own dusty, disheveled appearance. Feeling weirdly self-conscious, she nodded and followed him up the stairs.

  The second level held several guest bedrooms all with ensuites. He led her into one, plushly decorated in expensive taupes and grays. “Bathroom’s through there,” he said. “I’ll leave some clothes for you here.” His eyes slid over her as if measuring her size, before he nodded and disappeared.

  In the large, cool bathroom tiled in gray granite, she stripped and stood under the rain showerhead, letting the water sluice away dirt and sweat from her body. As she washed, she closed her eyes and imagined Logan joining her in the shower. Her cheeks heated, and a moan quivered in her throat as if he really was there with her.

  Shame on you. The man was injured, and she was fantasizing about him.

  Afterward, with a fluffy towel wrapped around her, she ventured into the bedroom to find Logan had left an assortment of clothing on the bed. To her relief, they weren’t women’s clothes but most likely his. A green T-shirt that reached to her knees and a pair of gym shorts with a drawstring waist were the best bets. No underwear, of course, and she was unwilling to put on her dirty underthings. She’d just have to go without.

  Feeling fresh and strangely excited, she walked back downstairs. Her stomach knotted when she saw Logan in the kitchen. His wet black hair gleamed. He’d thrown on a clean pair of jeans and a linen shirt…only the shirt was secured by just one button, revealing a wedge of tanned chest. My God, the man had delectable abs. She wondered what they felt like—

  Oops, Logan was saying something to her, and she hadn’t heard a word.

  “Um…excuse me?”

  A tiny smile danced on the edges of his lips, as if he knew what she’d been thinking. “What would you like to drink? There’s beer, white wine, red wine, or I could mix you a cocktail. I make a mean vodka martini.”

  “I think I should stay off alcohol. Maybe just a Coke or lemonade.”

  He made a moue. “And there I was hoping to ply you with alcohol and have my wicked way with you,” he said lightly. Opening the refrigerator, he drew out two cans of Coke and passed one to her.

  “Have you taken any of those yet?” She nodded at the bottle of painkillers on the counter.

  “Nope.”

  She picked up the bottle and read the label. “It says you can have one to two tablets up to four times a day.”

  “I know, but I’m good.”

  “Your hand must be killing you.”

  “It’s fine.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not a sign of weakness if you take a few painkillers.”

  He took a sip of Coke, eyes pinned on her. “Amber, why are you so fixated on the painkillers?”

  “Because I don’t like seeing you in pain,” she blurted out before she realized what she was saying.

  He set down his Coke. “I didn’t realize.” He sounded faint with surprise.

  Why had she said that? Her honesty had divulged more than she intended. She ought to make a flippant remark, brush it off. But she didn’t. Maybe she was glad to reveal her feelings.

  She watched Logan watching her, his expression so intense, so honest. Something flared between them, something that burned and pulled them together. And then, without her noticing any actual movement, he was just an inch away, close enough for her to feel the heat shimmering off his body and his uneven breathing. His eyes were alive with want—desire for her—but also questioning.

  She answered that question by rising on her toes and lifting her lips to his. At the first touch he instantly responded, his mouth hot and greedy, his arms wrapped around her. They kissed fervently, lips parting, tongues sliding together, hungry and desperate. She clutched his shoulders as he buried his face in the curve of her neck, his lips nipping at her skin. He groaned, and the sound urged her on. She pushed him back a little so she could nibble at his chin, delighting in that dimple, before moving back to his lips. For endless minutes there was just the sound of their heavy breathing, their reckless kisses.

  Groaning, Logan fisted his hand through her hair. “Damn, Amber, you’re killing me here.”

  She glanced up, and the sight of his passion-hazed eyes sent another shot of lust rippling through her. Her legs were trembling, her body was melting, her head was dizzy. They were both powerless to the forces of attraction. They were yin and yang, a perfect combination.

  His hand curled into the hem of her T-shirt.

  Her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected him to move this quickly. “Uh, well…”

  He tugged at the T-shirt. “You owe me, Amber.”

  “I do?”

  “Yeah. When that piece of wood went through my hand, I wasn’t concentrating. I was too busy thinking about your underwear.”

  “What about my underwear?”

  “I could’ve sworn you were wearing a red lace bra.”

  Heat began to climb in her cheeks. “And now you want to check?” Some devil in her made her continue. “Well, go on, then. Take a peek.”

  He blinked, as if taken aback, and then his eyes flared. “Fair warning here. I’m not gonna be satisfied with just a peek.”

  She gulped, feeling the intent and hunger in his gaze. “One peek wouldn’t satisfy me, either. Just so you know.”

  He couldn’t mistake the invitation in her words or her expression as she felt her face suffuse with need.

  “You’re sure?” His expression was earnest. “This is what you want?”

  There were so many things she wanted—a thriving business, a healthy mother, a solid future. But he wasn’t asking about that. Right now, there was only one thing Logan could give her, and only one thing she wanted from him. One night with Logan Wright. Over the years, how many times had she fantasized about that, even though it left her feeling guilty? Despising him had never stopped that incurable attraction she had for him, only added an extra sharpness to it. Now that they’d met again, the anger and disdain she’d harbored for so long had abated. At the same time, her lust for him had become too big to ignore. She had always desired him, now more than ever. This was her chance to find out if everything she’d daydreamed about could be true, and afterward maybe she’d be satisfied. Sometimes, the only solution was to fight fire with fire.

  “Yes,” she said. “This is what I want.”

  Fresh heat leaped in his eyes. He threaded his fingers through hers and tugged her out of the kitchen, toward the staircase. She followed, her body thrumming with sensuous anticipation.

  Chapter Eight

  Eleni Koukoulas sighed. “My nephew thinks I should take the money and retire.”

  Startled, Amber turned to her neighbor who had come into the store for an early morning chat. “Oh. Do you want to retire?”

  “No. I love my yarn store.”

  “Well, then, don’t listen to him.”

  “Young men always think they know best.”

  Amber nodded and then covered her mouth with a hand as a fit of yawning took hold of her.

  Eleni made a motherly cluck of concern. “You look tired, paidi mou. What did you do last night?”

  Logan Wright, that’s what she’d done last night. Several times, and still they hadn’t been satiated. Memories rose, each one so vivid and erotic that she found her ears warming. “Uh, nothing much,” she mumbled, conscious of her neighbor watching her closely.

  “You should take care of yourself. I’ll bring you some of my pastitsio tomorrow.”

  “Oh, that would be awesome.” Eleni’s Greek baked pasta with creamy bechamel sauce was heavenly.

  Just
then the front door jingled, and Logan walked into the store. Amber gaped at him. What on earth was he doing here? He was dressed for a day at the office, his suit immaculate, his jaw freshly shaven. When she’d slipped out of his bed three hours ago, he’d been deep in sleep, his face boyish and innocent despite the dark stubble peppering his chin. She’d gazed at him, drinking in his beauty. This was probably the last time she would see him like this, she’d told herself. As incredible as the night had been, she couldn’t picture them repeating it anytime soon. So she had tiptoed out of his house at the crack of dawn, confident she was doing the right thing, sure that she wouldn’t meet him again for at least the rest of the week.

  But now he was here.

  He stopped in front of the counter, giving a brief nod to Eleni before addressing Amber.

  “Good morning,” he said, as if nothing had happened last night.

  Eleni, who had been staring at him, let out a small gasp. “I know you. You’re Logan Wright. I saw that picture of you and Amber in The Gazette.”

  Logan gave her a smile, though it was obvious he wanted to talk to only Amber. “Yes, that was a good picture, wasn’t it?”

  “I’m Eleni Koukoulas. I own the yarn store next door.”

  “Ah. Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Koukoulas.” He looked more closely at her as they shook hands. “I take it you’re aware of my plans to redevelop the block?”

  “Not if Amber has her way.” The woman waved a plump hand excitedly. “Amber says you can’t force me to sell.”

  “That’s true, Mrs. Koukoulas, but there’s no harm in discussing it, is there? You’ve obviously received the offer to purchase from my lawyers, but I want to help you in any way I can. Why don’t we meet sometime?”

  But Eleni was already backing away, shaking her head vigorously. “No, no. I know you hot-shot big-business types. You’ll confuse me. No, I’m happy for Amber to speak for us. You talk to her. She won’t let you cheat us.” With that she hunched her shoulders and scurried out of the store.

  “What’ve you been telling your neighbors?” Logan asked Amber.