He realized she was right—and her comment made him feel ever so slightly slimy. “It was just business,” he said, knowing it was a lame defense.
She shook her head, her curls twitching in response. “It always is,” she murmured.
“How old are you?” he asked.
She blinked in surprise. “Twenty-nine,” she responded. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“I just thought—you’re awfully young to be that jaded.”
She sighed. “You’re right. But I’ve had some bad experiences.”
“Why don’t you tell me about them?”
“What are you, a bartender?”
He chuckled. “You don’t have to tell me about your business now, if you think it’ll compromise you,” he said. “But you could tell me about your old job, right?”
Glancing over, he saw she was staring at him through narrowed eyes. “Are you trying to soften me up?”
“Yeah,” he admitted, and was rewarded when she laughed. “But I am interested.”
“Know thy enemy, huh?”
“We’ve got another five hours ahead of us, at least,” he said. “I don’t want to be stuck feeling like a spy or a criminal just because we happen to work in the same industry.” He winked at her. “Besides…I like you.”
That seemed to catch her by surprise. “Why?”
“You’ve got guts,” he said. “And lord, you’re persistent. I half thought you were going to hit me on the head and steal my car if I didn’t give in!”
“Why didn’t I think of that?” She laughed again, and slowly, he felt the tension in the car recede. “So, what do you want to know?”
He looked at her. “Why don’t you tell me about your old job,” he said, “and we’ll take it from there.”
Sophie revealed her past as an account executive at a cutthroat apparel company, talking about hellish bosses and asinine corporate policies that had finally caused her to quit. The stories, while crazy, were also funny, at least the way she told them. “So that’s why I decided to work for my family,” she said. “What about you? What caused you to work for cosmetics?”
“I used to be—don’t laugh,” he cautioned. “I was a male model.”
She didn’t laugh. “I can see that,” she said instead, and he could’ve sworn that there was a tone of admiration in her voice. Warmth expanded from the pit of his stomach in response, and he focused on her next question to distract himself. “But why cosmetics?”
“I ran into a lot of cosmetics people working,” he said. “They knew a lot of cosmetics sales reps, and I wound up interviewing with one of them when I decided to go into business. It was a friend of a friend. Besides, I understood how the products worked on the women I worked with,” he added. But that sounded defensive. “I figure, it’s been a good experience.”
“Huh. We’re a pair, aren’t we?” She leaned back, stretching, and he got a glimpse of her breasts pressing against the straining cloth of her blouse.
“How do you mean?”
“We’ve both got something to prove,” she said. “I’m trying to prove that you can make it in business without being heartless. You’re trying to prove that you’re more than just a pretty face.”
He stared at the road, momentarily stunned. She’d summed up his life in one sentence, and realized what people he’d been working with for years hadn’t seemed to grasp.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “That was blunt, again, wasn’t it?”
“No, it’s fine,” he said.
“I know you’re more than just your looks, though,” she added.
“Really?” He sneaked a quick look at her face. “How can you tell?”
“You heard me talk about my meeting, and you jumped on it,” she said. “You’ve been persuasive, without being a pest. And you listened to my old business stories and asked really good questions. You obviously know your stuff.”
He couldn’t help it. He grinned with pride. “Thanks.”
“You’re going to be a tough competitor to beat.”
He laughed. “Damn, I like you.”
She smiled in response. “I like you, too.”
“Let’s stop talking about business,” he said. “I want to know more about you. The real you.”
She laughed, a bit nervously. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything,” he said softly. “Everything.”
For a moment, it was as if they were frozen in time. Then she cleared her throat.
“I always wanted to live in Paris.”
He smiled. It might not help him get the promotion, but as he listened to her talk about her dreams and fears, he admitted that he felt better than he ever had, at any sales meeting or business function. And she was, technically, the enemy. After this car ride, they’d probably never see each other again, except the odd mention in a trade bulletin.
Too bad she’s a competitor, he thought, putting his ambition aside for a moment as he listened to her musical voice.
Because I sure would like to get closer to this woman.
“WE’RE FINALLY HERE,” Mark said, his voice sounding slightly disappointed.
Sophie could hardly believe it. It was eleven o’clock when they rolled into the Bedingfield Arms, and yet the hours had flown by. Considering they’d both avoided talking business, she was surprised at how much they did have to talk about. But he’d traveled around the world, to many of the same cities she’d loved. And they liked a lot of the same movies, the same books, the same music. And while she was exhausted, she was sorry that the trip had to end.
“Oh, man, I am dying for a hot shower and a big bed,” he said, in that mint-julep drawl of his.
She sighed. That sounded good. Sounded even better if she could share one or both with Mark, who was arguably one of the best-looking men she’d ever seen. And the past few hours had only made her bizarre crush stronger, because he was different. Good-looking guys with egos the size of a Cadillac, she wanted nothing to do with. But Mark was funny, and versatile, and smart. He knew how to listen, and he knew how to share…. He had some of the wildest stories she’d ever heard. She’d actually wiped tears away from the laughter several of his anecdotes had produced.
If only he could write a decent e-mail and knew how to return a phone call, she’d probably go to bed with him, she thought, then bit her own tongue as she started giggling.
“What? What’d I miss?”
“Nothing,” she said, rolling her own head back, trying to stretch the kinks out of her neck. “Just punchy.”
“You are the best, you know that?” he said as they parked the car. “Honestly. I haven’t had this much fun on a road trip since the Parker twins needed a ride to Georgia.”
“Well, I’d love to drink to the Parker twins, and you’ll have to tell me that story sometime,” she said, unfolding herself from the car with a groan. “But looks like our sojourn is over, pal.”
They collected the bags, and she felt a stab of regret. Now that they were at the hotel, he’d undoubtedly go up to his room, she to hers, and never the twain would meet, as it were.
Still, he was funny, he was nice, and she hadn’t spent this much time with a man after the sun had set since she’d started working at Diva Nation. She needed to get out more. She took a quick glance at his physique as he easily lifted the bulky luggage.
Getting out’s not the only thing I need.
She shook her head, clearing it of the thought. Getting any further involved with Mark would be trouble—no matter how much she liked him personally.
Man, it had been a long day, a long drive. A long night.
They checked in with the night clerk, and got their keys. As luck would have it, they had rooms right next to each other. They rode the elevator in companionable silence. Finally, they were each at their respective hotel-room doors.
“Well, I guess this is it.” She held out her hand. “Thank you. For the ride, for being a great conversationalist. For everything.”
She laughed, then bit her lip. “Would a hug be totally inappropriate? Because I swear, after that car ride, I feel like I’m leaving my best friend here.”
He laughed, put down the laptops and his duffel bag, and held out his arms. Putting down her purse, she moved into his arms, hugging him tightly. He smelled good and felt like a billion dollars, giving the perfect hug…just enough arm, not too crushing, not at all reluctant.
She was really, really going to miss him. It was ridiculous, after only six hours, but she was going to miss him like crazy.
She was turning to tell him that, she would tell herself later. She wasn’t turning to do anything else when she was still in his arms. She just looked up into those sky-blue-gray eyes of his, smiling when he stroked the side of her face. Smiling back at him.
She was still smiling when he leaned down. The two of them were smiling when their lips met. And for a second, it was absolutely perfect—the end of a perfectly awful day with the most wonderful ending imaginable.
Then something changed. Oh, it was perfect—but there was nothing friendly about it.
She felt him crush the hair at the nape of her neck, very gently, with his broad hand, holding her more tightly to him as she let out a soft moan and pressed herself against him. She opened her mouth and felt his tongue brush against her lips, tickling hers. She tilted her head for better access, and sighed right into him. He felt sinfully delicious and tasted like heaven. She clutched at his shoulders, feeling him press her against the door. She didn’t care. She wanted as much of him as she could get.
She had no idea how long they stood like that out in the hallway, but it was probably far too long…and it wasn’t even long enough. But she heard one of the bags falling over and, startled, she pulled back.
“Wow,” Mark said, his breathing uneven. “Just…wow.” He stared at her. “You okay?”
She took a deep breath. “I think you shorted out my left temporal lobe.”
He laughed, stroking her arms. She took a step back, studying him.
“Do you have any idea how outrageously good you are at that?”
He grinned, tongue in cheek, and leaned against the door frame. “Good manners would say I should be modest right about now,” he said, then he grinned devilishly. “But hell, I’m too tired. Yeah, I knew.”
“Good grief. You should wear a warning label. Be registered as lethal in most states.”
He winked at her. “Just most states?”
“Well…I’m betting you’d probably be okay in Hawaii,” she said. “Thanks again.”
“You make me laugh,” he said, his smile causing her to feel warm all the way down to her toes. “I dig that.”
“Who says dig anymore? What are you, Austin Powers?” She had to escape. If she stayed out here…
“Why?” He winked. “Do I make you randy, baby?”
“You nutcase,” she replied. “I dig ya right back.”
He sighed. “It was the kissing thing, huh?”
She thought about it. “Actually, it was the car ride. I’ve never met anybody who could talk about as many non–work related things as you,” she said. “It takes a man of true distinction to find Andromeda, debate the finer points of A Face in the Crowd and sing all the words to ‘Dead Man’s Party’ in a decent voice.”
His eyes lit up, like a kid at Christmas, and his grin was so happy she wanted to drag him into her room and not let him go, possibly ever.
“You keep smiling like that, Tennessee, and I’m going to do things I regret. So let’s call it a night.” With that—and because she was an utter, stupid glutton for punishment—she gave him one last, quick kiss, then opened the door, dumped her stuff inside and shut the door behind her. Then, she kicked off her shoes and threw herself onto her bed. She heard him hauling his bags into his room next door, and closed her eyes.
Okay, you’re an idiot, she berated herself. Kissing that man was like juggling chain saws. Might seem like a cool idea in theory, but if you didn’t know what you were doing, you were bound to get hurt.
Still…he was pretty amazing. And of course, gorgeous. And really funny.
And damn, that man could kiss.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and she groaned. “Will this day never end?”
She peeked through the peephole…and saw a figure that still managed to look good despite the distortion of the fish-eye lens.
Don’t do it. You’re tired. You’re slap happy. You haven’t had sex in two years, she admonished herself. He works for the enemy. Do. Not. Open. That. Door.
She saw her hand grab the doorknob, twist it and swing the door open.
“Forget something?” she inquired.
His answering smile made her toes curl.
“You know,” he said, “sometimes, regret is healthy for you. Besides, it’s been a long time since I’ve done something somebody’s regretted.”
Without another word, she grabbed him by the shirt and shut the door behind him. His lips were on her before the dead bolt even shot the lock.
“We must be crazy,” Sophie muttered breathlessly against Mark’s neck, even as her fingers flew to the buttons on his shirt, undoing them slowly. She wasn’t going slowly out of any inherent sexiness…. Passion and exhaustion had made her fingers clumsy.
She knew her brain was too tired to be thinking rationally. Otherwise, she’d acknowledge just how universally stupid this course of action was. She’d driven six hours to get here, after a full day of traveling, and now she had a complete stranger in her hotel room after midnight when she had one of the biggest meetings of her career at, what, nine o’clock the next morning….
She suddenly pulled back to stare at him. Good God, what was she thinking? Was she a complete and utter moron?
“Mark…”
He smiled, his eyes aglow. Then he leaned down and devoured her mouth. Her fingers twined into the hair at the nape of his neck. She felt his fingertips dig into her hips, pulling her forward, molding her against what felt like a sizable hardness. She opened her mouth, tasting him, cuddling him at the juncture of her thighs as she pressed her breasts against his chest.
Oh, yeah. A complete and utter moron, indeed, was her last coherent thought.
But a happy moron.
He tugged at her until the two of them tumbled onto the queen-size hotel-room bed. For a second, they lay there, kissing softly. It wasn’t clawing, or rushed, or even a mad grappling. It was more like coming home. Yes, that was a cliché, but since she’d never really felt it before, even when she was coming home to someone…
She wasn’t going to think about that now.
He moved from her mouth to her jawline, insistent kisses against her neck. She gasped a little, and her hands went back to his shirt, finally succeeding in getting the last of the buttons undone. She pushed the shirt away from his chest, letting her palms slide over the taut muscles of his torso. He felt hot, and smooth, and perfect. He was kissing her collarbone, and for a second, she forgot how to breathe.
He reached for the hem of her short-sleeved blouse, and pulled away enough for her to wiggle out of it as he pulled it up over her head. He shrugged out of his shirt, and the lace of her bra was the only thing between the heat of their skin. She sighed against him, rolling him onto his back and straddling him. He reached for her belt buckle as she kissed him, over and over.
This was madness. Utter, fantastic madness.
He had her buckle undone and the top button on her linen pants open, unzipping slowly, and she laughed with sheer abandon. “I never do this,” she murmured, wondering if he’d think she was easy. Wondering if it was too late to be wondering about that kind of thing.
Wondering, halfheartedly, if she really cared.
“I never do this, either,” he said instead, and he smiled at her, a sugary kind of smile that had her smiling right back before he started kissing her again, deeply, a
nd moving her over on her back. “You are exceptional in all kinds of ways, Sophie Jones.”
“And you’re wonderful,” she said, and meant it. She barely registered the fact that he’d tugged her pants off, leaving them on the floor. Now she was in her underwear and knee-high socks, and he was still in his trousers. “Come here.”
He slipped off his trousers and socks and then he was just in boxers, striped white and blue, which for no reason she thought was amusing until she saw the erection tenting the front of the material. She suddenly didn’t find anything funny at all. She only felt desire, white-hot and ravenous.
He covered her with his body, kissing her, and she kissed him back passionately. She reveled in the feeling of his fingers combing through her hair, and she clutched at his back.
Then she felt his hand smooth down her shoulder, skim over her rib cage and cup her breast.
“Oh,” she gasped, tearing her mouth away from his as the sensation shot through her. After two years, it was almost more than she could bear, complete sensation overload on a global scale.
His hand paused on her, and she could feel the heat of his palm through the lace of her bra. “All right? Are you okay?”
“More than,” she murmured, arching her back and pressing more firmly into his hand. He was between her legs, only the thin material of her panties and his boxers between them. “This is…Oh, my.”
He pushed once, experimentally, and circled her nipple with his fingers at the same time. She opened her eyes long enough to see him smile, a tender smile, and she almost came undone in his arms.
He leaned down and kissed her again, and she couldn’t help it…. She wrapped her legs around his, feeling herself go damp enough to soak her underwear. He had to feel it, too, because she could feel the muscles at his shoulders bunching and heard him groan against her neck as he pressed a hard kiss against her. “You’re sure?” he whispered.
“More sure than I’ve been about anything,” she said recklessly. “Please. Please, make love to me.”
One Night Standards Page 2