by Dee Tenorio
Kyle felt his jaw drop. Clingy? Him? He’d never been desperate for a woman in his life. Well, okay, except for when Jessica ran away from him. Or maybe when he stayed up half the night trying to think of a way to get her to change her mind. But that wasn’t really desperation.
It took a few hours, but it’d finally hit him around three a.m. that he’d already laid out a plan there on the stairs. What Lucas generally referred to as Kyle’s Demand and Destroy maneuver—basically, relentlessly drive a person nuts until they give in. It had worked with petitions, with sales, with debate. Never taking no for an answer had always been his strength. But how much chance would he have with it if he couldn’t get past her door?
“You’re going to need help,” Dory said suddenly, reminding Kyle he wasn’t alone in the outer office. “By the look of you, a lot of help.”
He stared down at himself, wondering what the hell she kept looking at. “What do you mean a lot of help? Jess and I got along fine before—”
“The Misunderstanding?” Dory blinked too knowingly. “You have smooth player written all over you, kiddo. Probably never met a woman you couldn’t talk into bed other than your mother.”
He’d never thought of it as talking them into anything.
“If I know Jessica—and I do—about the only thing she misunderstood was that you’d want more than a quickie.”
Well, hell, she had sized him up right.
Dory’s eyes narrowed. “You poor sad sap. I can tell just looking at you that there’s no talking you out of this, but you’re cute, so I have to warn you—boy, did you ever pick the wrong girl.”
Funny, she could tell everything about him except the fact that he had no idea what she was talking about.
“Jessica Saunders does not do happily ever after. I’m pretty sure Jessica doesn’t do happy, unless she’s getting promoted. I keep telling her, either get a better boyfriend or get a better vibrator, because there’s no way she’ll let me talk her into getting a life.” Dory sighed and moved around her desk to plop into her plush-looking leather chair. “So if you’re serious about wanting to see her again, do yourself a favor. Don’t tell her.”
A shiver went up his spine at her shrewd gaze. “Don’t tell her what?”
Her smile could have passed for the Sphinx’s, but was it because she could tell she was making him sweat or because she just enjoyed being cryptic? “You probably fool a lot of people with that innocent look. Maybe even yourself from time to time, but you can’t fool old women and you certainly aren’t getting one over me. But I tell you what. You do exactly what I tell you from this point on, I’ll help get her to give you a chance.”
Instinct told him to play this very carefully. Jessica wasn’t going to be happy if she found out her secretary was helping him out. “Why would you do that?”
“Honey, I’ve been around too many years and lived through too many things to see someone with as much to live for as Jessica go around wasting herself. If she has her way, she’ll be partner in the next ten years and won’t have a thing to show for it but money and loneliness. I like her too much to let something like that happen to her.”
“But why are you willing to let someone like me happen to her?”
“Because every girl should have someone like you happen to her.”
On the other hand, he wasn’t getting anywhere by himself, was he? He held out the bouquet to Dory, whose eyes lit up. “Lead the way, Mistress.”
“Oh honey, if you were ten years younger, I probably would.” She breathed in the blooms and smiled. Then, squaring her shoulders and blowing out a breath, her eyes took on a gleam of utter mayhem. “Here’s what you do…”
* * * * *
Kyle Lonnigan is a few sandwiches short of a lunchbox.
He had to be. Any other man on Earth would be thrilled to have a night of wild sexual abandon and never see the woman again. But no, Jessica had to find the one guy on the planet who thought a good round of nipple tweaking meant undying devotion. For the last three days, he’d done everything humanly possible to get her to talk to him, to forgive him, and so far, all he’d achieved was to drive her nuts.
He’d come to her office at nine the morning after their stairwell debacle, knocking on the door as if she were really going to give him the time of day. Afterwards, Dory spent the whole day wagging her eyebrows to indicate she knew something interesting had happened. Jessica refused to see him and especially refused to explain to the blue-haired sex fiend demanding details. She figured Kyle, at least, would pick up on the not-so-subtle clue.
He didn’t.
It didn’t take long to discover why not, either. He’d made friends with Dory—the traitor sold her out in less than an hour for a bushel of roses and a sexy smile. He sent restaurant deliveries of her favorite dishes, helped along, no doubt, by his new secretarial best friend, who also most likely clued him into her lunch and dinner schedule. The man she could ignore. Fresh manicotti from Santori’s she could not. But she didn’t send him any thank-you notes. In fact, she made it a point to thank Dory instead.
“My pleasure,” the older woman replied without missing a beat in her filing. “God knows I’d have paid for dinner twice just to get that brick out of your ass.”
“I had nothing of any kind in my ass, thank you very much.” Jessica said stiffly, hoping to God no one else had heard anything through the outer door, which was closed for once.
Dory only raised an eyebrow, the demonic glitter back in her eye. “You could if you’d talk to the man.”
That officially ended any expectation of support from Dory.
The second day, as soon as the doors opened to the public, the first plant arrived. In a wide round pot, it was probably some kind of bush with flowers, beautiful sprays of purple petals on long green stems growing to waist height. It’d be hideous if it weren’t strangely appealing. A few hours later, some kind of cactus arrived, this one with a note the delivery guy was instructed to ensure she read.
For The Collector Of Pretty Things.
The man handed her a thick horticultural picture dictionary. Only after Dory hummed her way out for the day did Jessica allow herself to creak open the book and look at the glossy pictures inside. She felt like a felon, but she looked. She nearly jumped out of her seat when a flat flash of orange slipped out of the middle. Picking it up, she saw the tiny flower had been carefully pressed so that the petals folded back on one side, keeping the life of the bloom preserved. There were three other flowers in the center, along with a small note: Honeysuckle. These reminded me of you.
Jessica closed the book and stuffed it under the cushion of the small loveseat she never used. But she couldn’t stop looking at it.
More strange plants arrived the third day, a name written in Latin on their tags, invoking guilty treks to the couch cushion, just so she’d stop wondering what the names meant. But it wasn’t as if she needed either the plants or the meals or even Dory’s innuendos to keep the man on her mind. Kyle Lonnigan was proving impossible to forget all on his own.
How could she have gone so long without sex, yet after one night decide she couldn’t live without it? It was as if he’d slipped her some kind of permanent aphrodisiac. Sleep had all but disappeared from her radar and in its place was a constant craving for more of his touch, his taste. Her body stayed tense, sensitized. As if instead of sating her, he’d simply whetted her appetite, leaving her with an unrelenting need that grew with each thought of him. And she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Every time she dressed, the slide of silk over her skin reminded her of his palms gliding over her breasts before firmly squeezing and taking the aching tips into his mouth. The whisper of fabric reminded her of the slide of her sheets beneath their overheating bodies. Worse, her bedroom felt too big, too empty, too quiet, since he’d gone, though he’d been there only an hour.
She’d stripped her bed, but she could still smell his cologne on her pillows. She took a sleep aid only to discover her drea
ms were all about him. Wanting him. Having him. Toying with him. Her subconscious never replayed what had actually happened between them. No, her imagination opted to consider all the things she’d wanted to do with him. The things she’d been deprived of when she woke up alone in a tangle of sheets and confusion.
Even now, angry as she was, her mouth watered at the thought. Wrapping her fist around his cock, pumping him toward her open lips, letting him think she would lick, but missing her tongue by just…that…much. Then, when he least expected it, wrapping her mouth around the head and swallowing him whole, sucking him down over and over again until he gave her what she wanted. And when those fantasies ended, she moved on to the things he could have been doing to her…
Every morning since, she’d woken up with her fingers deep in her sex, straining close to orgasm, her clit straining for a wet kiss it was never going to get.
For that alone, she wanted to kill him.
Almost as much as she wanted to drag him into her office and demand he finish what he started.
The fourth morning was peculiarly quiet, which explained—she supposed—why she answered the phone while Dory was out to lunch. The caller ID left no question who was on the other side of the line. But if she had to be brutally honest with herself, the truth was she just wanted to hear him again.
“I’m getting to you, aren’t I?” he asked without preamble.
“Not really,” she replied in her firmest voice, staring at the crooked cushion across from her desk, wishing she could squish it further down. Along with every instinct screaming at her to see exactly how far he was willing to go for forgiveness.
“Yes, I am. I can tell.”
Smug schmuck. “Get to a lot of people, do you?”
His laugh nearly curved her own lips, sending millions of little sparks of pleasure through her. Sparks she didn’t want. “If considering harassment charges means you’re getting to me, then yes, Kyle, you’re getting to me.”
“You feel harassed?”
Why did he sound so surprised? She longed to be a better liar. Since she wasn’t, she dodged. “I feel exhausted. I have hours of work to do. I don’t have time for your games.”
“This isn’t a game for me, Jess.”
She also hated how her whole body continued to preen at the hated nickname. From anyone else, it brought back memories she’d rather not rehash. From him… No, not thinking about it. “It isn’t a game for me either. It’s my life and you’re ruining it. Why can’t you just let what happened be a mistake?”
He gave her the benefit of mulling over his answer. “Because I could never consider meeting someone like you a mistake.”
Then, very quietly, without any kind of goodbye, he hung up.
Which meant he was smart enough to quit when he was ahead.
She put the handset down, staring at it for far too long before she took her hand away. He might be shy a few sandwiches, but if he kept saying things like that, she was going to have to start worrying that her own lunchbox was just as empty.
Chapter Six
Kyle stepped into the elevator with more than his usual shiver. What the hell was he doing here? Goesler & Groom was the last place he should be at noon in the middle of the week. But one call from Dory and he found himself exactly where she told him to be. To be honest, it was more than one phone call. Since this whole siege began, she’d called him a total of forty-seven times.
Most of the calls were vaguely cryptic instructions left on his voice mail. A few were cackled calls of success about his gifts. Well, Dory’s idea of success. “If she doesn’t set it on fire, honey, it’s a win.”
So far, manicotti and plants were supposedly the way into Jessica’s heart. Not that he was entirely sure that was where Dory was trying to get him. Still, she’d called, and against his better judgment he answered. “Get here and be in the west elevator at twelve fifteen, exactly. I’ll do the rest. You got me, kid?”
Here he was, at twelve fourteen and forty-five seconds, traveling up to Jessica’s floor. Whatever Dory’s plan was, Kyle just hoped it didn’t involve Jessica kicking his ass in front of her colleagues.
The door opened and he only had enough time to take a breath before he realized the woman on the other side was none other than his favorite redhead and her ancient Girl Friday.
For a second, Jessica’s brown eyes lit up, as if she were excited to see him before she reminded herself she wasn’t. Then her slim brows came together and her full lips flattened. “I’ll take the next one,” she said through lips that didn’t move.
Kyle switched his gaze to Dory in question for a second—the second it took Dory to shake her head minimally—but it was long enough for Jessica to register. Her dark eyes narrowed and her mouth pursed. He’d kind of figured Dory intended him to cross paths with Jessica, but that expression had “backfire” written all over it. Before he could get out any words of apology, the doors started to close and that’s when it all slowed down.
Jessica let out a squawk when Dory suddenly shoved her inside the car with the force of a middle linebacker. It was all he could do to catch her as the doors shut in front of Dory’s waggling fingers.
“I’m not sure who to kill first, you or her,” Jessica said into his shoulder, still regaining her balance. She found her footing, accepting his help only because she had to or fall down in an ungraceful heap. She’d just leveled him a dirty look when the elevator gave a sickening lurch and tumbled them into each other all over again. The lights flickered overhead and the bottom of Kyle’s stomach disappeared entirely.
“Her,” he heard himself saying, never afraid to throw an old lady under a bus when she had it coming. “Definitely her.”
As last words went, they probably weren’t all too heroic, but Kyle didn’t have much time to take them back. The lack of movement was registering in his brain and he expected the panic to follow as soon as it did. His throat was already tightening. He watched his hands claw around Jessica’s shoulders, denting the felt fabric of her coat. Against his will, he looked up at the sealed doors. Sealed. Like a tomb. Like the cold, metal box of death it was.
“Kyle?”
Dory wouldn’t lock him in an elevator, would she? Could she? She wouldn’t do that to him. Not that he’d gotten around to telling her about his problem. His usually insignificant, fairly-easy-to-ignore problem.
“Kyle, you’re hurting me,” Jessica said quietly. Or maybe she just sounded quiet. Distant. It was hard to hear anything over the blood starting to rush through his ears. “Kyle!”
“What? Oh…sorry.” He pried his fingers off her and took the two steps backward he could.
Her frown reshaped into a softer expression. He wedged himself into the corner of the car, finding small comfort in the cool mirrors at his back and even less in the decorative handrail. It was so thin it wasn’t going to do anyone any good should the car suddenly plummet to the…not a positive thought. Was it Dr. Rosen who’d said to think positively? Or Dr. Joden? He confused their psychobabble all the time. Besides, positive thinking wasn’t going to open those doors until the power came back on.
“Does this happen often?” he asked. He didn’t think a place as image-conscious as Goesler & Groom was going to have a broken elevator for long. They wouldn’t be in there long. Five minutes, tops. Right?
“Does what happen? Timed abductions of lawyers?”
“Wouldn’t I have to get you out of the building to abduct you?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to check with our criminal department when the doors open.”
She didn’t sound terribly put out. He, on the other hand, could feel that cold tingling at the base of his spine. Soon, his throat would close entirely and the edges of his vision would turn black. But not before his lungs turned leaden. Air would stop coming in and then there’d be that embarrassing hyperventilating scene. If he was lucky, he’d pass out before she realized he was a frothing, lathering idiot.
“Well, point me to your best guy.
” He forced himself to keep talking. Stave off the humiliation a little longer. “This is a double ambush, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” Jessica grumbled, her tone dark and foreboding. Not wanting to think what that could mean for him—or for Dory—Kyle concentrated on the carpet.
He’d read that if you focused your attention intently on one thing, breathing carefully, you could maintain your control. It was in his recent spate of reading about pregnant women, but he didn’t have a whole lot else to do. Frowning, he stared down until he could see the faint repeating pattern of the carpet loops. He focused tighter, counting the number of loops before it began to repeat.
Amazingly, the trickle of cold sweat felt less like acid and his throat stopped squeezing itself so tight. Air swept into his lungs as he saw all the space between the loops. Tons of space. Miles and miles and miles—
“But that doesn’t make this any less your fault.”
The room shrunk again. “My fault?”
“If you hadn’t been stalking me—”
“I’m not a stalker.” Horror made him meet her gaze. Why did she look smug?
“All Dory ever needs is an excuse. She’s impulsive and occasionally insane. You trying so hard to see me again was all the incentive she needed to try something this stupid.”
“It’s not like she could stop the elevator. She’s just a secretary.”
Jessica barked a laugh. “That’s like saying Stalin was just a Soviet.” He must have looked as bad as he felt at those words because she kept going. “Dory keeps Victor, the maintenance guy, on a string. He’d do anything for her.”
“So you’re saying…”
“We’re here for the long haul.”
“Couldn’t let me have my hopes and dreams, could you?” he asked, for the first time wishing he’d found a woman with a slightly smaller mean streak.