His Forbidden Kiss

by Jessica Lemmon

  “I was carried away,” he murmured.

  Satisfied, she smiled as she brushed her hand along the soft suede arm of the love seat. So she had rocked his world. Not bad, Tay.

  “ThomKnox is facing a very big transition in the coming weeks and months after my father retires. As top brass, our focus needs to be on our shareholders and investors. You don’t have to worry about my mouth on yours—on any part of you—again. We can continue at work the way we have in the past. I trust you agree that it’s best we appear as one cohesive management team.”

  The shift from such a personal comment to words as impassioned as a cardboard cutout pissed her off. Royce valued control. This much she knew. But acting like another kiss might disturb the otherwise perfect harmony at ThomKnox? Come on. How cocksure could one man be?

  Denying the real attraction that existed between them wasn’t only a fabrication, it was cruel. She hadn’t had a man in her bed for nearly two years. Two years! She’d put her attraction, her desire for another person, on hold. She’d funneled every ounce of her remaining energy into prayers and good vibes and meditation and research on alternate medicines for her father. Anything to give him another year—another twenty years—on this planet.

  None of her efforts had changed what fate had so cruelly set in motion. Her father was destined to die no matter what she did to stop it. It was unfair, and she’d wailed those words at the blank white ceiling of her bedroom on more than one occasion. And now Royce thought he’d come along and mansplain away how she was feeling when she kissed him? And worse—claim he hadn’t felt the attraction she damned well knew was there.

  What a load of crap.

  “You can lie to me about that kiss,” she told him, “but you know the truth deep inside.”

  “The truth, deep or otherwise, is that it shouldn’t have happened. I’m willing to forget it, and I suggest you do the same.”

  Seven

  After Taylor ended the call with Royce—hanging up on him as he deserved—she didn’t have the energy to confront Brannon. First, she was too angry with the eldest Knox brother and didn’t want to take it out on the wrong one. Second, and as much as she hated to admit it, Royce was right.

  The company was facing a very big transition and it was of the utmost importance that the top brass were one cohesive unit. She and Brannon had both made mistakes. Him, planning a proposal when they’d never so much as slept together and her, not breaking up with him when she knew damn well their relationship hadn’t stalled—it never started.

  That saying about eating crow swooped by on wide black wings, her father’s sage voice echoing in her ears. If you have to eat crow, might as well do it while it’s warm.

  In other words: no more delaying doing the right thing.

  She purposefully came in late the next morning to avoid chitchat and the possibility of bumping into Brannon or Royce on the way to her office. The executive suites had some distance between them in the sprawling building. At least she could ensure privacy for her conversation with Brannon.

  After checking their shared meeting calendar and determining he was in, she straightened the skirt of her slate-gray wrap dress and headed to Bran’s office.

  His personal assistant, Addison Abrams, had worked for ThomKnox since last June and was, according to Brannon, indispensable. She was smart, attentive, and as far as Taylor knew, incredibly kind. Addi was one of the first people in the office to approach her after her dad’s death, both with kind words and a touch to the arm that had turned into a gentle hug. Taylor would never forget that small but meaningful gesture.

  “Good morning.” Taylor checked her slender wristwatch before correcting with a smile, “Late morning.”

  “It’s still morning.” Addi’s smile was cooler than usual. Typically, she was quick to compliment Taylor on her wardrobe. Maybe gray wasn’t Addi’s favorite color. The two women didn’t converse outside of ThomKnox, but Taylor wouldn’t have been surprised if she and Addison someday formed a friendship. “What can I do for you, Ms. Thompson?”

  The formality was new, too.

  “Everything okay?” Taylor ventured.

  Addi’s platinum blonde hair was a few shades lighter than Taylor’s and wound into a twist at the back of her head. Addi’s dress was a bright, sunset orange and would’ve been appalling on any other woman. But with her high cheekbones, ocean-blue eyes and golden skin tone, Addison was a true Cali girl. The vivid color suited her.

  Those blue eyes were icy when she responded, “Everything is fine.”

  Oh-kay. So much for small talk.

  “I’m dropping in on Bran if he’s not busy. Is he on a call?” Taylor asked.

  The other blonde checked the desk phone where a red light blinked twice before vanishing. Addi sounded inconvenienced when she announced, “Not anymore.”

  “Perfect. I’ll let myself in?”

  Addison nodded, her smile forced.

  Taylor rapped lightly on Bran’s office door before letting herself in. She’d caught the expression of surprise on his raised face through the slatted wood blinds just before she entered. “I’m responding to your text finally.”

  “In person, no less.” He didn’t wear a scowl as well as Royce. Bran was better suited for a smile or a mischievous smirk. “Have a seat.”

  He gestured to the pair of dark leather chairs in front of a glass coffee table and stood to join her. Before he left his desk, he pressed a button on his phone and spoke into it. “Addison, can you send in an intern with drinks...” He let go of the intercom button to ask Taylor, “Is it too early for a drink?”

  “Coffee will do.”

  He dipped his head and pressed the intercom button again. “Coffee. Black for her—”

  “Cream and two sugars for you,” Addi finished. “I’ll arrange it.” Her voice was warm when she addressed him. Interesting.

  “So Addison isn’t unhappy in general, only with me.”

  Bran didn’t deny it. “More like misguided protection. She works for me which means she’s automatically on my side.”

  Addi sent a withering glare through the blinds before stalking off. Taylor wasn’t sure Bran had that right. Addi didn’t like that Taylor was in Bran’s office. With the door shut. Probably she’d heard about the failed proposal and the kiss. Who knew what sort of rumors had been flying around the office?

  Bran had already taken his suit jacket off—it was a rare occasion that he wore it—but his tie was knotted at his neck. It was a fun design—yellow with bright orange suns. Taylor had the passing thought that it complemented Addison’s dress.

  They shared pleasantries about a few emails that had come through regarding a new laptop design until an intern arrived with a tray. The conversation was slightly forced, and given Brannon’s stilted responses, he felt the same way. There seemed to be an unspoken rule about civility that almost gave Taylor pause.

  Almost.

  Bran poured her a cup of black coffee, doctored his own with too much cream and sugar and leaned back in the chair, mug in hand. He was waiting for her to speak, and why shouldn’t he? She’d come to him.

  “Why do you want to marry me?”

  He blew out a soft chuckle. “I don’t.”

  “You did,” she replied calmly.

  “I...” He shook his head, frowning to himself. “Clearly, it was a mistake.”

  “We hadn’t been on an official date in at least a week. And the chemistry wasn’t exactly sizzling those two times we kissed.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “Bran,” she said through a laugh. “I’m one of your best friends. Be honest with me.”

  He stared down at his coffee for several beats before meeting her gaze. “The kisses could have been better. But. That wasn’t my fault.”

  “And you thought an engagement would improve our odds?”

  He
set down his mug and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Engagements can last a long time. How do you know?”

  There was something he wasn’t saying. Him being coy was getting them nowhere. Gia’s comment about Brannon looking like a better option for CEO made sense. And Taylor, despite coming in here to extend an olive branch, couldn’t do it knowing that she was nearly proposed to out of convenience.

  “Royce lied to you.”

  Brannon frowned.

  “I didn’t apologize to him after kissing him. And while I regret the timing—I absolutely should have ended things between you and me a few weeks ago after that awful seafood dinner.”

  Bran’s eyebrows jumped. “We’ve never had that difficult a time trying to hold a conversation.”

  “Never,” she agreed. “You can tell me why, you know. I am your friend.”

  She balled up her fist and slugged him in the arm. He smiled that cute Brannon smile she’d admired for as long as she’d known him. It might not light her up the way Royce’s did, but Bran was still ridiculously attractive.

  “CEO means a lot to me. This company means a lot to me. I want a family and kids, but I thought I’d have that before my role at the company changed. Now that it’s a one out of two possibility, I felt like...” He shrugged. “I should get the ball rolling?”

  He winced, probably not liking how that sounded out loud. But she knew him—had known him her whole life. Gia was right. He hadn’t used her. He’d been caught up in the race for CEO.

  “So your ambition was in the lead. Admit it. You don’t want to marry me.”

  “It was too soon,” he said instead, probably trying to spare her feelings. He might’ve been blowing by her like a stiff wind lately, but face-to-face, he couldn’t be unkind.

  “For the record, I don’t think you did it on purpose. Your heart is as big and inclusive as your father’s. You’d do anything for your family, for this company. Even something as misguided as marriage.”

  He put his hand to his forehead. “God, Taylor. What was I thinking?”

  “I should have walked up to you when you were holding that ring and asked what it was.” She shrugged. “Instead...I panicked.”

  Crap. She had panicked. One point for Royce.

  “And locked yourself in a closet.”

  “That was an accident.”

  “Was the kiss an accident?” Bran looked genuinely curious. “You and Royce...” He shook his head. “You two are more mismatched than you and me.”

  “Well, we both drink white wine and you won’t touch it, so we have that going for us.”

  “Your father proposed to your mother at that gala. And you’ve been sad. I thought—hell, I don’t know what I thought. It was the wrong thing to do.”

  “So your heart was involved after all,” she said gently. He was sweet. No matter what reasoning was behind the doomed proposal.

  He stood, taking her hands and helping her to her feet. “Friends?”

  “Always.”

  He pulled her into a hug. When she dropped her arms, he wore his usual mischievous grin. “Damn. That was an awful hug. Dare I say...disgusting.”

  “Appalling,” she teased back. She lifted her mug to take one more sip of her coffee when she caught a flash of bright orange at the window. Addison’s mouth was a compressed line, her gaze hard. And hurt.

  “There’s someone out there for you, Taylor,” Bran said. “But not me. Now stop begging me to go out with you. It’s embarrassing.”

  “In your dreams, buddy.”

  “It’s not Royce, either.”

  “What makes you say that?” She wasn’t going to deny there’d been something in that kiss. Something unexpected. Something worth pursuing.

  “I don’t want to see you hurt. As your friend, I’m saying you can do better.”

  She nodded, hoping that the nod communicated that she agreed. She couldn’t exactly disagree. Royce had been a pompous ass lately.

  “Thanks for stopping by.” Brannon opened his office door. Then to Addison he said, “Taylor can’t keep her hands off me.”

  The joke did not go over well. Taylor walked away feeling Addison’s eyes on her back the entire time.

  Jealous much?

  She wanted to go back and comfort Addi, to tell her there was nothing going on with Brannon, and there never had been. But she couldn’t right that relationship before she fixed another one...

  With ThomKnox’s stubborn CFO.

  Eight

  Everything was back to normal by the end of the week.

  Sort of.

  Royce had been mesmerized by numbers and reports come Friday morning until Taylor marched in, arms flying. And he did mean marched.

  She’d come in to complain about Lowell Olson—the owner of Box, an elite electronics store. Lowell was in discussions about where and how to shelf ThomKnox products—something Box had never done before.

  “Apple is not the only sleek, sexy product on the market, you know. We have a good—no, better—tablet right around the corner and he acts like we should pay him double what they’re paying for premium shelving!” While Taylor talked, one of the pearl buttons on her silk shirt wiggled loose.

  Royce tried to reroute his eyes—honest to God—but they kept flitting back down to that gap showing a swatch of pale pink bra. His body tightened, the memory of the kiss slamming into his gut like a two-by-four. Finally, he looked down at the tablet in front of him and pretended to read the notes he’d taken at yesterday’s meeting.

  “Are you listening to me?”

  He repeated her last sentence back to her. “‘Lowell is a buffoon if he thinks ThomKnox can’t stand up to any brand on the market. And his company’s bottom line is as tiny as his prehistoric brain.’”

  She bit her bottom lip, trying to hide a smile. That attraction he’d been trying to ignore? Wasn’t working. She’d been carrying on as usual. He’d been barricaded in his office, only attending meetings he was required to attend simply to let the—whatever was between them—pass. It would. He’d see to it.

  “Was I close?” he asked.

  “Spot-on. It sounded funny in your serious tone.”

  “I’m one-note. Can’t help it.” His eyes strayed to her shirt again and the bra playing peekaboo.

  “You are not.” Her smile suggested she saw him differently than a rigid numbers guy. It was oddly appealing.

  “Are you looking at my shirt?”

  “No.” He averted his eyes.

  “Royce! You could have told me I was flashing you.” She quickly fixed the open button.

  “I didn’t want you to think I was harassing you at your place of business. You are a colleague and I respect you.”

  She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Well, the next time my breasts are on display, or any other body part, please tell me.”

  He frowned. Mainly because now all he was thinking about was what the rest of her would look like on display.

  “Okay.”

  “Anyway. Hopefully Lowell will come around before the new tablet launches. We need as many eyeballs on it as possible.” She pointed to the interoffice mailer she’d dropped in his inbox when she’d walked in. “Can you sign that really fast?”

  “What is it?” he asked, opening the envelope.

  “Birthday card for Addison.”

  “Could you have chosen one with more glitter?” He brushed the stray gold specks from his desk before scribbling his name into the card and handing it back to her. “Is there a reason you’re taking her card around personally?”

  “I need to run off the steam that built after the interaction with Lowell.”

  “It’ll work out.”

  “I’m also seeing to it that Addison receives her birthday card from me personally.” Taylor took the envelope. “As a gesture of goodwill. Well, th
is and a giant bouquet of Please Stop Hating Me flowers.”

  “Addison doesn’t hate you. She likes everyone.” She was bright and smiley and professional. Bran wouldn’t shut up about what an amazing assistant she was whenever he mentioned her. Which was usually when Bran was trying to talk Royce into hiring an assistant of his own on a permanent basis. Royce utilized the interns for delegation. A personal assistant seemed too...in his space.

  “She shot daggers at me through Bran’s office window when she saw me hug him.” Eyes rolling to the ceiling, Taylor missed Royce’s reaction. He went stock-still, his fist choking the life out of the gold-and-black Mont Blanc pen in his grip.

  “You what?”

  “I talked to Bran.” She dismissed the topic with a hand, like news of the hug wasn’t a bombshell shaking the walls of Royce’s skull. “Addison saw us and I don’t think she liked it.”

  Well. That made two of them.

  “I think she likes him, but he’s too thickheaded to notice.”

  “Why were you hugging Brannon at all?” The question came out like a thunderclap. He rolled his shoulders and fingered his bow tie, trying to calm down.

  “Because Brannon’s my friend?” She looked at him like he’d gone crazy, and hell, maybe he had. She’d hugged Brannon before. She’d hugged Royce before—he thought. He seemed to remember a few stiff-armed side squeezes over the years. But if Addison was jealous...

  “That must’ve been some kind of hug.”

  She watched him carefully. A little too carefully.

  “I have a lot to go over here—” he gestured to his tablet “—if you don’t mind.”

  Still skewering him with a look, she reached up to finger the button on her blouse, drawing his attention to the silk shirt that touched her body like a caress.

  He imagined undoing each of those pearl buttons and sliding the blouse from her skin while covering every revealed inch with his mouth...