Fire and Ice

by Carla Fredd

  The ringing telephone interrupted Holly's concentration. Annoyed, she picked up the phone. "Hello, Holly Aimes."

  "Hi, I'm calling to tempt you." Mike's voice was husky, smooth, and sexy.

  It wouldn't take much, she thought to herself. "What have you got in mind?" she asked, leaning back in her chair.

  "How would you like to join me at the studio today? A group of musicians are practicing for tonight's show."

  "Well... I don't know. I've got lots to do today."

  "You know you really don't want to work on such a pretty day. We could listen to them play for a little while, then we could go outside and play ourselves. No work, no phones, nothing."

  Holly looked at the folders on her desk, then turned to look out her window. The sun was shining brightly and the day was indeed pretty. Work could wait. She wanted to be with Mike more than she wanted to work.

  "I could be persuaded to leave early. What time should I meet you?" she asked, looking at her watch.

  "How about right now?"

  Holly arrived at the studios of Thomas Television Network. Mike had left her name at the guard station and she was allowed to enter the gates. She saw Mike the instant she walked inside the building. He was dressed in baggy jeans and a casual short-sleeved shirt that showed off his muscular arms. Her heart quickened in her chest when he smiled at her.

  "I'm glad you came," he said, and guided her to a bank of elevators.

  "I didn't need much encouragement to leave today." She walked inside the elevator car. They were the only two people on board. The doors closed. Mike pulled her against his body and kissed her, quick, hard, and thoroughly. He released her moments before the doors to the elevator opened and two men in suits entered.

  Holly struggled to regain her composure. Kissing Mike was like drinking brandy: strong, smooth, and potent.

  They exited the elevator on the fourth floor, walking down the carpeted hallway until they reached glass double doors that read, "Williams Production, Inc." Mike used a card key to release the locks and held open the door for her to enter. They walked past the receptionist, who was busy with phone calls, but she took time to wave to them as they passed.

  They came to a door at the end of the hallway. Mike reached for the doorknob and turned to her. "Don't let these guys intimidate you." He opened the door before she could question him.

  They entered the studio where she had sat last Friday. It should have seemed empty, but the group of people milling around the band stage made enough noise to make the studio seem full. The mingling of voices warming up and the directions for mike check created an air of confusion.

  "Hey, guys," Mike called out to the group. The voices died down and everyone turned to look at them.

  Holly gasped when she recognized the internationally known artist. Mike smiled down at her.

  "I want you guys to meet Holly Aimes."

  A chorus of "hellos" greeted her. "Holly is playing hooky from work, and I invited her over to hear you practice before the show."

  "Come over here with us, Holly." The singer gestured her toward the group. She was introduced to everyone from the backup singers to the musicians. Everyone was friendly and joked around until it was time to practice. Then the laughter stopped and serious work started. Mike led her to the first row of the empty studio. For the next hour they listened to music that could only be heard at a live concert. Sitting beside her, Mike put his arm around her, clearly demonstrating to everyone in the studio that they were a couple.

  When the musicians finished their practice, she watched as Mike interacted with the group as if they were old friends.

  "Hi again."

  Mike's producer, Diane, sat in the row behind her.

  "Hi."

  "They're great, aren't they?"

  "Yes. I've never seen them in concert. This was great."

  They fell silent as they looked at the group.

  "You know, Mike has never brought anyone to the studio, other than his family. You must be very special to him." Diane stood and left. Holly watched her walk across the studio to join the group.

  She had to be mistaken, Holly thought. She couldn't be that important to him, could she? She was just a convenient date to him. But even as Holly denied Diane's statement, hope sprang within her. Holly looked at the group and smiled when Mike motioned her over. I'm not going to hope, she told herself.

  She would be moving soon, and from what she'd heard, long-distance relationships didn't work out well. No, she thought, walking to the group, she wouldn't hope. She would enjoy the time they had together and concentrate on opening a new branch office in Seattle.

  "Hey, you don't want to hang around this guy," the singer said, when she reached Mike's side. "Why don't you meet me after the show?" He wiggled his eyebrows jokingly. "I'll treat you better than he will."

  "She's mine. Get your own girl." Mike put his arms around her as if to hold her back from the singer.

  Everyone laughed at the joke, and for that brief moment, Holly felt like she was his girl.

  "We're going to Dave and Buster's. Why don't you come with us?"

  "No, we're going to pass this time," Mike said.

  The singer smiled at them. "I understand. See you later." He shook Mike's hand and, turning to Holly, took her hand and brushed his lips across the back of it. "Are you coming to the show tonight?" He continued when she shook her head "no." "It was a pleasure to meet you, Holly."

  Soon the studio was empty except for the two of them. "Now, wasn't that much better than working?" He took her in his arms. The warmth of his body filtered through her clothes and wrapped around her.

  "Yes, it was." She put her arms around his waist, laying her head on his shoulder. "Thank you so much."

  His arms tightened around her, pulling her closer into his embrace. She savored the masculine scent that was his and his alone. Against her cheek she felt the slow, steady beat of his heart.

  The sound of voices shattered the silence and broke the quiet, intimate atmosphere surrounding them. "Let's go have some fun," he said, and took her hand.

  Mike drove to a movie theater with six screens. They argued over which movie to see, then decided to see them both, since they had enough time. Mike bought a large tub of buttered popcorn and two Cokes. The theater had less than twenty people seeing the movie. They sat toward the back of the theater, trying to answer the movie trivia that flashed on the screen. The lights dimmed and the action-adventure started.

  Later that evening, she picked up her car from the studio and followed him to his house for dinner. When they reached his home, the smell of fresh-baked cake sent them to the kitchen. The man chopping green and red pepper looked like he was a member of a gang. He was well over six feet tall and solidly muscular. His hair was cut so close that he looked almost bald, and his skin was the color of rich coffee. But it was the brown, penetrating eyes that made her feel as if he could see right through her. That and the fact that he wielded the knife like he could carve a man as well as chop vegetables made her want to give him all the space he needed.

  "Henry." The man turned to them. He wasn't smiling. "I'd like you to meet Holly. Holly, this is Henry, the new chef."

  Henry nodded to her and turned back to the chopping block.

  "Nice to meet you, Henry."

  "Ma'am." His voice matched his appearance . . . intimidating.

  They left the kitchen and went to the den. "Where on earth did you find him?" she whispered.

  "He was recommended by one of my neighbors. The only reason he didn't hire Henry was because he had worked with his chef for five years."

  "Doesn't he intimidate you?"

  "No. One thing I learned is that how a person looks on the outside has nothing to do with the way he is on the inside. I don't care what he looks like. He cooks the food I like when I like it, no questions asked."

  "Would you really complain if he served you tofu burger?"

  "Yeah, I'd complain . . . over the telephone, when I wa
s out of town! We've got thirty minutes before Henry serves dinner. Do you play pool?"

  "I haven't played in some time."

  Mike pick up two pool sticks and offered her one. "How about a game to pass the time? I promise I won't embarrass you too badly when I beat you." He smiled and set up the balls.

  Two games later, Mike wasn't smiling. Holly was poised to win the third game. She carefully considered her move. Holly made the last shot and smiled smugly at Mike.

  "Dinner is ready, Mr. Williams." Henry stood in the door of the den. She jumped at the sound of Henry's deep, loud voice.

  "We'll be right there," Mike said, replacing the cue sticks.

  Henry left as quietly as he had arrived.

  "I thought you said you hadn't played in some time," Mike asked.

  "I haven't played since sometime last week," she said with a frown. "I know who Henry reminds me of . . . Lurch on The Addams Family."

  Mike looked at her, then smiled. "You know, you're right. Can you imagine him in a black tuxedo?"

  Holly shook her head. "It boggles the mind."

  They walked to the dining room, where Henry waited next to the buffet. Holly had a hard time trying not to imagine Henry in a tuxedo.

  "We'll serve ourselves tonight, Henry, thank you."

  Henry showed no emotion. "Very well, Mr. Williams. I'll see you tomorrow." He walked out of the room.

  Holly whispered to Mike, "I think we hurt his feelings by not letting him serve dinner."

  "Are you kidding me? He's probably glad I told him to leave." Mike walked to the buffet and surveyed the food. "Grilled salmon, stir-fried vegetables and rice, and for dessert, lemon cake," Mike said, then breathed in the aroma of the food. "Not a single alfalfa sprout, and no tofu."

  Holly laughed at him. "Well, don't just stand there. Feed me. I'm hungry." She sat down at the table and waited for him to serve her.

  "Yes, dear." Mike made his voice nasally and wimpy, then proceed to serve her dinner.

  She took a bite of the fish and closed her eyes in ecstasy. "I'm having dinner here every night and I take back everything I said about Henry. This is wonderful."

  "You're welcome to come over every night—for dinner and anything else."

  She paused and met his gaze across the table. His eyes spoke of sin and desire. There was no doubt that dinner wasn't the only thing she was welcome to share with him. Desire that had been held at bay surged forward throughout her body. Heat rose and spread from her face to the very center of her.

  "Uhmm, thank you." Holly broke the sensual bond and looked down at her plate.

  "Holly, you know that I want to make love to you."

  She couldn't think of a single reply. A thousand thoughts ran through her mind and all of them were sexually explicit. She had never played the sexual word game before, and now she was right in the middle of the game and didn't know the rules. How could she tell him that she wanted to make love to him right this very minute without sounding like a sex-starved maniac?

  She envisioned herself slowly taking off her clothes while he stared in amazement or telling him that now wouldn't be too soon to make love. Instead of doing or saying anything, she ate.

  Silence stretched between them and she could almost see the tension in the air. The clang of silverware against the plates and the tinkle of ice shifting in their glasses were the only sounds in the room.

  "Mike." Her heart pounded in her chest; her eyes were glued to her plate. "Will you make love to me tonight?"

  She could have sworn that the room couldn't have gotten any quieter, but it had. Oh, Lord, he doesn't want to make love to me, she thought. He wasn't serious. When she worked up enough nerve to look across the table, she was nearly burned by the heat and desire in his eyes.

  "Are you sure, Holly, because there's no turning back once you say yes."

  Holly met his gaze and with a husky, passion-filled voice, she said, "I'm sure."

  Chapter 9

  Mike rose from his chair. Instantly he was beside her. Taking her hand, he urged her to her feet. The dinner that they barely touched lay forgotten on the table.

  Heat and desire raced through her body as she stared into his molten brown eyes. He wanted her— that much was clear. He slid his arms around her waist to her back, pressing their bodies together.

  "Holly." He kissed her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. "Sweet Holly."

  She parted her lips and shivered when his tongue slipped inside. With long, slow strokes he mated with her mouth, and with each stroke he created a wave of desire within her that rolled from her breast to the depths of her femininity. He gave her one final mind-numbing kiss before holding her away from him.

  "Come with me." He took her hand and led them up the stairs to his bedroom. The early evening sun came through the large windows, giving the room a warm glow. Holly looked at the windows uncertainly. She had always made love in the cover of darkness. In this room she would be exposed. There was no way she could hide.

  "Mike."

  He turned to her when they reached the bed. He saw the uncertain expression on her face. Tenderness warred with his desire. "Are you having second thoughts?" His voice carried the strain of his emotions.

  Holly held her head down, afraid to meet his gaze, afraid to see the anger and frustration he must be feeling.

  "Sweet, the last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable. Tell me what's wrong."

  "I . . . I'm nervous."

  Mike lifted her chin. "We won't do anything that you're not comfortable doing. We've got all the time in the world." His body would make him pay for that statement. His body made demands that wanted, no, needed to be filled.

  He led her to one of the Queen Anne chairs in the room. He sat down, pulling Holly into his lap. She felt his hard and rigid manhood against her hips. She lay her head on his shoulder and his arms wrapped around her. He tilted her chin up and he kissed her with gentle, tender kisses. He kissed her forehead, her eyebrows, her cheeks, and her chin before worrying her lips. He suckled, licked, and gave her little love bites on her lips.

  She felt as if she couldn't get enough oxygen in her lungs. His hands wandered from her waist down her hips, stroking her, caressing her. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart when her hands explored his firm chest. She touched him, gliding her hands from the middle of his chest to his broad shoulders. His skin was hot, as if a fire burned within him.

  His hands found the small buttons on her shirt and he began to release them one at a time. She sat up as he removed her shirt. The lacy white bra barely covered her breasts. Her dark brown nipples showed through the silky material. He ran his thumb over one nipple and groaned in satisfaction when it puckered against the lace. His hands went to her back and he unhooked the bra, sliding the straps off her arms, slowly revealing her smooth, brown breasts.

  Instinctively, she crossed her arms to cover herself, but Mike put his hands over hers and looked into her eyes.

  "Holly, don't hide from me. You're beautiful." His eyes were hot with passion and sincerity. "I love looking at your body."

  She yielded, letting him move her hands, uncovering her breasts.

  With hands that trembled slightly, Mike slid his fingertips on the sides of her breasts. She shivered at the feelings that his touch evoked within her. The shyness was gone and in its place was the yearning to be stroked and caressed. Holding her breath, she watched as he made lazy circles, spanning the circumference of the swell of her breasts. The circles grew smaller and smaller until he outlined her coffee-brown nipple. Then he stroked her with butterfly-light strokes. She released her pent-up breath with a groan. Her action moved her body from his pleasurable hands. She took his hand and placed his palm over her breast and held it there. She arched her back as she pressed his palm harder against her. Yearning desire shone in her eyes as she met his gaze.

  Mike brought his other hand up to stroke her, but it wasn't enough; she wanted to touch him. She reached for his shirt and pulled it out
of the waistband of his pants. Her fingers trembled as she tried to unbutton his shirt. Their arms tangled as each stroked the other. Finally, Mike joined in the quest to remove his shirt. The cotton shirt was removed quickly, revealing his smooth, muscled chest.

  Holly leaned forward. She kissed his chin and slowly spread kisses along his jaw and his neck. She slid out of his lap to kneel between his knees on the carpeted floor. Then she touched her lips to his hard chest. Her hands spread along his sides moving upward, caressing every ripple of his hard waist and under his arms before moving inward across his chest.

  His chest was smooth, almost hairless. His muscles jerked in reaction when she touched his small, pebble-like nipples. She looked at him when she stroked him again. His hands moved urgently down her shoulders and arms. Holly leaned forward and kissed the middle of his chest. Mike stiffened and became totally still. Holly looked at his face. His eyes closed and his expression was one of pain.

  "Mike?"

  His eyes opened. "Do that again," he said in a voice she didn't recognize. She lowered her gaze and kissed him again. She felt the groan that racked his body. His hands moved to the back of her head and his fingers combed through her hair. She kissed every inch of his chest, savoring each and every caress, slowly, ever so slowly, making her way down until she reached his navel. Her tongue flirted with his navel in a gentle game of taste and retreat.

  Desire and freedom that she'd never felt before made her bold. She kissed the skin above the waistband of his jeans, then gave him gentle love bites, soothing the bites with a touch of her tongue.

  When she slid her hand under the waistband of his jeans, he got out of the chair. He was on his knees beside her in an instant. His mouth devoured hers. She felt the fire when she leaned against him, his hard chest to her breast. As they kissed, he leaned her down until she could feel the carpet beneath her bare back, supporting most of his weight on his forearms. Their legs tangled together and she felt the rigid proof of his desire for her.