by Trish Jensen
It was the briefest of kisses, but she felt it all the way down to her toes. Butterflies came to life in her stomach, nerves quivered in her legs.
Then reality doused her like a bucket of cold water. He was using her. He no more wanted to kiss her than he wanted to have a chat with that Samantha woman. This was all an act for him, and she’d been fool enough to react like a schoolgirl receiving her first kiss.
Sherry smiled up at him and batted her eyes coyly. He wasn’t the only accomplished thespian in this crowd. Rolling up on tiptoe, she kissed him back. It was just as brief as his kiss, but because she’d initiated it, she’d had that split second to wrap some control around her body.
Letting her heels hit the gleaming wood floor, she said, still smiling like a woman in love, “Do that again and I will rip your heart out.”
For a moment he looked utterly bamboozled, as he swallowed several times right in a row. Then the smile returned to his face and he brushed a strand of her hair back over her shoulder, making certain his fingertips grazed her skin again. “That might be a little tough, darlin’. I haven’t got a heart.”
“Now that’s a shocker,” she retorted through achingly upturned lips.
He chuckled. He actually out-and-out chuckled. The sound was a little rusty, and Sherry could tell right off that it wasn’t a noise he made very often. Still, she felt the tiniest speck of pride that she’d gotten that much out of him.
“Well, well, well. What have we got here?” a woman purred. “The next notch on your bedpost, Christian?”
Kit’s chuckle died quickly, and Sherry could feel his body go taut again. She looked from him to the woman who’d spoken. And nearly choked.
The woman was stunning. Worse, she towered over Sherry, making Sherry feel like an insignificant little elf. She had wispy auburn hair and deep green eyes and a perfect model’s body squeezed into a black Chanel dress. Her nails were blood red to match her lips.
“Samantha,” Kit said. “How . . . unfortunate to see you again.”
Samantha laughed like he’d just paid her the highest compliment. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to this . . . child?”
Sherry was not a happy camper. She tried to draw herself up to her full five feet five inches, but she still felt trivial in the scheme of things.
“Looks can be deceiving, Samantha,” Kit said, his tone silky, “as I’ve learned well, recently.” He squeezed Sherry’s shoulder, whether for support or in warning, she didn’t know. “Sherry Spencer, meet Samantha Richards. Sherry works for Simpson & Bailey. She’s just won the Bella Luna advertising account.”
“Charmed,” Samantha said, with all the sincerity of a snake oil salesman.
“Right back atcha,” Sherry retorted, with as much earnestness.
Samantha barely glanced at her. She returned her attention to Kit, and the hunger in her eyes was almost unbearable to watch. “Mixing business and pleasure these days, Kit?”
Kit smiled down at Sherry as if he treasured every little atom in her body, then looked back at Samantha. “You know, it’s funny, but we met before we knew we’d be working together. Want to hear how? It’s a story of destiny.”
“Oh, I’m all ears.”
Sherry thought the woman was more boobs than ears, but decided not to point that out.
“We met through a twenty dollar bill,” Kit said. “Sherry found one with my name and number on it, and she called to warn me. Wasn’t that thoughtful of her?” He raised his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “Of course as soon as I laid eyes on her, I knew she was it.”
Samantha was now the unhappy camper, which pleased Sherry no end. Warming to her role, she looped her arm around Kit’s waist and squeezed, pressing her body to his. Kit Fleming might be a stoic egomaniac, but the man had a yummy, yummy body.
Kit grinned down at her again, and Sherry’s heart bumped her ribs hard. Dispassionate, he was gorgeous. Smiling, he was breathtaking.
“So, I have to thank whoever wrote on that bill,” Kit said.
“And what a good time he turned out to be, too,” Sherry simpered.
Kit leaned down and kissed her again, this time lingering a whole lot longer over the task.
Sherry would kill him later. For now, she decided to enjoy the ride. His lips were warm and firm, and she didn’t think kissing had ever felt this good. She could imagine how well he kissed when he was honestly attracted to a woman.
He lifted his head and stared down at her, and if Sherry didn’t have eyewitness knowledge of what a sublime actor he could be when he wanted, she’d believe the passion and confusion she saw blazing in his eyes.
His gaze fixed on her lips, as if he’d never seen a pair before. Then his eyes lifted to meet hers, and he shook his head slightly.
At once they both realized they were in a room full of people. They broke apart as if they’d zapped each other. It took Sherry a good minute to get up the nerve to look around and gauge how many people had witnessed that kiss.
Just about everyone in the room, she realized, face flaming. Everyone except Samantha, the ten-foot sex kitten, who apparently didn’t feel like sticking around to watch the lip lock. Sherry discovered an intense need for chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate. “I . . . um, think I need to use the rest room. Fast.”
Kit cleared his throat. “Down the back hallway. On the left.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled, starting to turn away.
“Sherry, wait,” Kit said, wrapping his hand around her arm.
She looked down at his hand, then back to his face. That’s when she noticed the slight stain of a blush on his bronze skin. Kit Fleming blushing? She wondered if the world was about to come to an end.
“What?” she asked, voice huskier than usual.
“Um . . . thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being a good sport.”
“That’s me. Good sport Sherry.”
“Can I get you a drink while you’re freshening up?”
If she didn’t know better, she’d think Kit was just a bit unnerved. But she supposed it stemmed more from putting on a peep show for a bunch of his friends than from the effect of the kiss. In fact, she felt certain that was also the reason her knees were shaky. Embarrassment, plain and simple.
“If there’s champagne, I’d love a glass.”
One of his eyebrows quirked. “Celebrating?”
She swallowed and tossed him a grin that said she didn’t have a care in the world. That she wasn’t completely stunned by the effects of his kiss. That her body wasn’t quaking inside. “You betcha.”
“Celebrating what?” he asked, his voice suspicious.
Oh, wouldn’t she just like to see him swallow his tongue if she said something like, Why, landing the CEO of a multimillion dollar corporation. The turkey. He’d used her to push away an old girlfriend, and now he just wanted to forget what had happened.
She smiled sweetly. “Why, for successfully fooling your girlfriend, of course.”
He looked so darn relieved, Sherry wanted to smack him. If he didn’t watch it, her champagne was going to land directly on his egotistical head. As if she’d fall madly in love with him over one . . . well, two . . . um, three tepid kisses. Okay, maybe a tad warmer than tepid. Especially that third one. But since it was all an act, no big deal. She desperately needed chocolate.
“Ex-girlfriend,” Kit emphasized, dropping his hand from her arm.
“I take it she’s the one responsible for that message on my twenty?”
“Oh, yeah,” he grunted, scowling and rubbing the back of his neck.
“Poor Kit,” Sherry said, patting his arm.
“Poor Kit, why?” he asked, folding his arms over his broad chest.
Sherry shook her head. “It must be rough being so irresistible to women.”
His gaze dropped to her lips, and a lazy, cocky quirk pulled at his mouth. “It has its moments.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Fleming,” Sherry retorted, turning smartly. But as
she marched from his insufferable presence, pursing her still tingling lips, Sherry suddenly understood what Samantha had meant about Kit being a good time. He did, indeed, have his moments.
Four
Kit decided he might have to kill his sister. What the hell had she been thinking, seating Sherry clear at the other end of the table? And beside that lech Walter Haines, to boot?
To compound her sins, Rachel had placed him between Debra French, a notoriously man-hungry divorcée, and Samantha.
The only reason he’d agreed to come to this dinner party was the idea of talking to Sherry during and between all seven courses. For some reason he enjoyed interacting with her. She was smart and sassy and he liked the way her mind worked. Had he known Rachel would arrange them this way, he’d have done what he did at every other one of her dinner parties: show up after dinner.
“You seem preoccupied tonight, darling,” Samantha purred.
“I am not your darling, Samantha,” he ground out. “Especially not after you pulled that stunt with the twenty dollar bill.”
“Oh, that was just a little joke, Kit.”
“I’m not laughing.” He glared at her. What had he ever seen in this woman? Sure, she was beautiful. Physically, at any rate. But the beauty didn’t reach down into the depths of her soul. When she smiled, a light didn’t come on in her eyes like it did when Sherry—
He squelched that observation in mid-thought. “How the hell many of those bills are out there, Samantha?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “Just one, darling. And it’s the least you deserve after the way you treated me.” She wet her lips. “But I’m willing to forgive you.” She leaned toward him and whispered in his ear. “We can go back and capture the magic all over again.”
Kit refrained from rolling his eyes. He didn’t understand Samantha. After all, things between them had been fine and uncomplicated, and then she’d started getting possessive, something he’d told her from the first was a no-no. And when he’d tried to cool down the affair, she’d decided to spite him by showing up at a party with another man.
Unfortunately for her, he hadn’t been the least upset. Only wildly relieved. Unfortunately for him, she hadn’t been pleased with his reaction. So maybe it had been a little callous to slap her new boy-toy on the shoulder and offer his heartiest congratulations, but what the hell, he’d been caught up in the moment.
He looked at her, and not a single hormone stirred inside him. Yet, he had to tread carefully. Samantha had already proven she had a vindictive streak a mile long. And though he was still seethingly angry, he had enough sense not to tell her exactly what he thought of her and her proposition.
Grabbing hold of the first excuse he could think of, he forced himself to smile at her. “As tempting as that sounds, I’m afraid Sherry’s a little jealous. I don’t think she’d take kindly to us resuming our relationship.”
Fury burned in her eyes, but she kept a smile on her face. “Whatever do you see in that . . . that child?”
“I assure you,” he said, for some odd reason, angry on Sherry’s behalf, “Sherry’s no child. She’s all woman, and all that I can handle at the moment.”
Kit was saved from continuing the farce when the soup arrived. Pretending intense interest in the chowder, he picked up his soup spoon, then glanced Sherry’s way. His eyes narrowed as he watched Walter whisper something in her ear. Her eyebrows shot up, and she sat back and stared at the man, and then burst into what looked like laughing disbelief. Whatever Walter had said to her, she’d apparently decided that he’d been kidding.
Kit knew better.
“Excuse me,” he said to the group in general, interrupting Debra French’s discourse on whether Frederick’s of Hollywood or Victoria’s Secret produced the better teddy. He dropped his napkin on his chair and stalked to the other end of the table. Ignoring a sea of astonished faces, he yanked back Sherry’s chair and hauled her to her feet.
She emitted a small squeal, which he also ignored. “Please excuse us for a moment. Sugarplum and I need to talk privately.”
Sherry was literally gaping at him as he dragged her out of the dining room, across the foyer to the small library. The windows rattled a little from the force with which he slammed shut the door.
“What the heck is the matter with you?” she demanded, plunking her hands on her hips. The action managed to stretch the material of her blue dress tighter across her breasts, which in turn made his mouth go dry.
She had to have the most beautiful skin he’d ever seen, and all he wanted to do was bury his head between her breasts and inhale it, taste it, touch it.
He wasn’t surprised by his attraction to her. He loved women. He loved making love to them. And when they were as alluring as Sherry, he usually did find himself sexually attracted to them. So, finding himself getting hard just looking at her didn’t astound him. What astounded him was that he was angry, too. But he couldn’t remember why. He grasped her shoulders and pulled her to him, forgetting his anger for a moment and concentrating on the wanting.
“Kit, what the—” was as much as she got out before he covered her mouth with his own. She went stiff, and at first resisted his attempts to get her to open her lips and let him inside. But Kit was nothing if not persistent. He raised his hands to her face and tilted her head a little to approach at a better angle.
She tasted like heaven and smelled even better. He recognized the perfume she wore as Destiny, his favorite Bella Luna fragrance. It suited her perfectly. It was a bold, spicy scent with just an underlying hint of powdery innocence. Just like the woman. Although her face was all pretty innocence, inside she had the determination of a bulldog.
She started to return the kiss, and Kit felt his control slipping. He wanted her with a force that stunned him. Touching his tongue to her lower lip, he groaned when she gave him entrance to that delectable mouth. She tasted of wine and woman and . . . chocolate? God, her mouth was so soft and pliant, his brain fizzled out. His hands glided up her back to her shoulder blades and he pulled her even closer against him. Unfortunately, her hands were still on his chest, and prevented her breasts from crushing against his ribs. He tore his mouth from hers and kissed his way across her face to her neck and ear.
She gasped as his tongue traced its soft shell. “Kit, stop.”
“I don’t want to,” he rasped.
Her hands pushed at his chest. “Kit, stop this. Right this minute.”
“This minute. That gives me fifty-nine more seconds.”
“Right this very second!”
He let her go. He wasn’t happy about it, but he let her go anyway. Forking a hand through his hair, he tried to put a bland expression on his face, but he thought his heavy breathing might give him away just the same.
What had gotten into him?
“What’s gotten into you?” Sherry asked, and when he finally found the nerve to look at her, he was happy to see that her eyes were soft with unleashed passion. Her mouth, that luscious mouth, was moist and swollen and he wanted it all over his body.
He threw out his hands. “Just playing the part.”
Sherry made a show of turning three hundred and sixty degrees, which gave him a view from every angle, and every angle looked perfect to him. When she finally faced him again, she said, her eyes now twinkling, “Don’t look now, but there’s no one here to applaud your performance.”
He wanted to ask whether she’d give him a standing ovation, but was a little too apprehensive about what her answer would be. That was the most spectacular kiss of his life, but who could say where it ranked on her scale?
“I believe in practicing?” he said, pretty sure it sounded as lame to her as it did to him, but the honest answer wouldn’t do just yet. If he mentioned that he fully planned on sleeping with her someday—someday soon, he hoped—he had the feeling she might just take offense.
Some women were real touchy that way. They didn’t want the inevitable spelled out for them. They wanted to hide behind re
straint and respectability right up to the moment he carried them to the bedroom.
Although Sherry seemed like the open and honest sort, he wasn’t going to risk blowing his chance with her completely by revealing all his cards. He’d gone as far as he had in his career by perfecting his timing. Now was not the moment to announce to this woman that she was his next acquisition.
He’d been right. The quirk to her lips told him she considered that a really dumb excuse. “Why were you angry out there?” she asked. “You looked like you wanted to shoot me.”
“Not you, that jerk sitting beside you. Just wanted to save you from him.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Save me from him? What in the world gave you the idea I needed rescuing?”
“I just know him. He considers himself a lady-killer.”
“Walter?” She laughed. “The man is a flirt, but he’s perfectly harmless.”
Obviously the woman didn’t recognize an attempt to pick her up when she saw one. Poor thing. While he had her in his care he’d have to watch out for her.
“How are you and Samantha getting along down there?” she asked.
Kit grimaced. “God, I can’t believe Rachel seated us together. She’s going to hear about it later.”
“Your sister wasn’t responsible. She whispered her apologies and told me someone had messed with the seating arrangement.”
“Well, guess who.”
“Right. I saw good old Sam in the dining room on my way to freshen up, but at the time I didn’t pay her any mind. I just assumed she was pilfering the silver or something.”
Kit laughed. Her jaw dropped again. Kit stopped laughing. “What?”
“You know, that’s the first time I’ve ever heard a genuine laugh out of you. I didn’t think you were capable of it.”
Kit took offense, even if he knew she was right. He’d had his sense of humor wrung out of him a long, long time ago. But at the moment, he sort of mourned its loss. Sharing laughter with Sherry Spencer appealed to him on some strange level.
Sharing a lot of things with Sherry appealed to him. Like a bed. Kit shook his head. Wrong place, wrong time. “I guess we should get back to the meal. We’ve probably missed a course or two already.”