Authors: Toni Blake
Hotbed Honey (10 page)
An overreaction on her part, big time. That hadn't been an I - broke - a - glass - and - made - a - mess kind of scream, but an I'm-being-molested one. For the first time since it had happened, he had the chance to start getting angry. At the top of the stairs, he grabbed her wrist and spun her to face him. "Don't ever do that again," he snapped, though he worked to keep his tone low enough that Carlo wouldn't hear.
Her eyes looked darker now, more brown, in the dim lighting of the upstairs hall. "Do what?"
"Don't scream like that unless you mean it."
"I meant it."
But he kept right on going, his anger reaching a fever pitch now. "Do you know how badly that scared me? Do you know what I thought was happening to you in there? You don't scream like that unless something's really wrong, Kimberly. Got it?"
Got it, she was supposed to reply, but she didn't.
Instead, her voice came out hushed and snide. "Look, something
was
wrong and breaking those glasses wasn't an accident. The guy's hand was lingering dangerously close to my breasts, and he was ready to pounce. I had the feeling I might not be able to hold him off. So I went with my impulse and slammed my glass into his. And for your information, I kind of felt like I needed you in there. You abandoned me without warning. I know this is my job, but your job is to be there if I need you, remember? So I'll scream whenever I damn well feel like screaming. Now, do
you
got it?"
was
wrong and breaking those glasses wasn't an accident. The guy's hand was lingering dangerously close to my breasts, and he was ready to pounce. I had the feeling I might not be able to hold him off. So I went with my impulse and slammed my glass into his. And for your information, I kind of felt like I needed you in there. You abandoned me without warning. I know this is my job, but your job is to be there if I need you, remember? So I'll scream whenever I damn well feel like screaming. Now, do
you
got it?"
Damn, Max thought. He'd had no idea Carlo would make a move like that so fast. She was right, he should've been there. But he'd misjudged Carlo's technique. He'd also been selfish, not wanting to have to watch the jerk get close to her.
He took a deep breath. "You're right. I'm sorry, Brandt. I should've been keeping an eye on things."
She was still looking at him as if she wanted to kill him, until finally she turned and stalked toward the master suite. He started to follow, when suddenly she stopped and faced him, one finger in the air. "This doesn't mean I can't handle the guy, Tate."
"I didn't say it did."
"Because I can. I can do my job, and you'd better not start thinking I can't."
"Brandt, I didn't—"
"I'm not the same woman you knew before, Tate. I'm no shrinking violet. I'm a lot tougher than before, a lot more capable. Got it?"
What could he say to all that? Judging by what he'd seen so far, it seemed a completely valid self-assessment. "Got it."
* * *
Kimberly stepped from the oversize shower, glad to feel clean. Clean of the brandy. Clean of Carlo's disgusting touches. After the brandy incident, she'd been more than ready to call it a day.
Beyond the bathroom door, she thought she heard Max come in. "Tate, is that you?"
"Yeah, it's me."
Next, she stepped into the enormous closet, which was attached to the bathroom, looking through her own contributions to the clothing that hung there. She pulled one of the nighties she'd brought from a satin-covered hanger. She was more than a little nervous about putting it on, but worrying was useless at this point. Of course, had she known the kind of reaction she'd end up having to Max, she'd have definitely brought a wider variety of sleepwear. As it was, she was stuck wearing the short, yellow, rather thin nightgown.
She changed into it with her back to the mirror, afraid of how revealing she might suddenly find it to be. Whether or not worrying was useless, it was also seemingly impossible to prevent. Even without looking in the mirror, she knew this thing was practically see-through. What on earth had she been thinking when she packed? Bring sexy clothes, Max had told her.
That's
what she'd been thinking. So she'd ravaged her closets and drawers for anything that seemed sexy. She'd had little time to measure practicality and now she had to walk out into the bedroom—the bedroom they had to
share
—and face him in
this!
That's
what she'd been thinking. So she'd ravaged her closets and drawers for anything that seemed sexy. She'd had little time to measure practicality and now she had to walk out into the bedroom—the bedroom they had to
share
—and face him in
this!
If she were to do this, she'd need to distract herself and … just act normal. That's it, she thought. Act normal and so will Max. It was that simple.
"Is Carlo all settled in for the night?" she asked through the door. A good, sensible,
normal
kind of question.
normal
kind of question.
"I showed him to one of the guest rooms, gave him some sweats to wear, and he went back down to watch TV," Max replied on the other side. "He seemed terribly disappointed that you didn't come back down with me."
"Yeah, well, I've had about as much Carlo Coletti as I can stand for one night." And Max couldn't say she hadn't earned her pay tonight.
"You mind if I ask you a question, out of curiosity?" Max asked then.
"Sure." She returned to the bathroom and started removing her makeup. This acting-normal stuff was going well, she thought, even spurring conversation.
"After seeing the way Carlo behaves around you," Max said, "I find myself wondering… Why would all these women sleep with this raunchy guy? Frankly, I'm baffled. Can you shed any light on that?"
Kimberly decided to share the thoughts she'd had on the same issue earlier. "He's sort of a handsome man, Tate."
"He is?"
She smiled, amused at how shocked he sounded. "Well, yeah. Sure, he's a jerk and an obvious lech, but if a woman were, say, suffering from low self-esteem or in a bad marriage or something, maybe she would choose not to see Carlos's bad points. Having a guy fall all over you and give you compliments might make you feel special or something."
It took Max a minute to reply. "What about you? He didn't make you feel special or something, did he?"
He almost sounded jealous.
Almost
. But his question, Kimberly decided, more likely stemmed from fear that she'd soften toward Carlo and botch things up. He was afraid this was just another version of the Carpenter case all over again.
Almost
. But his question, Kimberly decided, more likely stemmed from fear that she'd soften toward Carlo and botch things up. He was afraid this was just another version of the Carpenter case all over again.
Still, she kept her cool and answered without getting upset. "No, he makes
me
feel creepy, but I'm just not sure all women would realize what kind of a guy he is. I know it seems obvious to you—and to me, too—but a lot of women thrive on flattery, Tate. If a woman feels alone or neglected or something, well, I could see it happening."
me
feel creepy, but I'm just not sure all women would realize what kind of a guy he is. I know it seems obvious to you—and to me, too—but a lot of women thrive on flattery, Tate. If a woman feels alone or neglected or something, well, I could see it happening."
"Hmm." That was all he said. So she didn't know what he thought of her response, if he was out there doubting her abilities again or something.
But at the moment, she had other things to worry about. She was done taking off her makeup and was still standing in front of the mirror when… Yikes! This nightie
was
revealing!
was
revealing!
Act normal, she reminded herself. Just act normal.
I'm coming out now
. She thought about announcing that through the door, but that
wouldn't
be very normal, would it? So she held her tongue and prepared to open the door. Her stomach filled with more of those grenade-wielding butterflies that she'd become acquainted with since seeing Max again. Oh boy, this wasn't gonna be easy.
. She thought about announcing that through the door, but that
wouldn't
be very normal, would it? So she held her tongue and prepared to open the door. Her stomach filled with more of those grenade-wielding butterflies that she'd become acquainted with since seeing Max again. Oh boy, this wasn't gonna be easy.
Kimberly took a deep breath and pulled the door open, casually entering the bedroom. Max lay on the bed wearing a pair of white drawstring lounging pants, no shirt. He looked so good. It didn't help her nervousness one bit.
She walked around to the other side of the bed, thankfully unnoticed until Max looked up from the magazine he was flipping through.
"Is that what you brought to sleep in?" She could feel his eyes on her, his expression practically aghast.
She swallowed and forced herself to look at him. "Well," she explained, "I didn't think ratty pajamas would really fit my new image."
"He's not
sleeping
with us, Brandt."
sleeping
with us, Brandt."
She pulled back the covers. "You said before that it was possible he'd sneak around in the night or something weird like that. I thought he might see me."
"Too
much
of you."
much
of you."
His eyes were still on her, as if glued to her and his tone almost made Kimberly think… No, it couldn't be. But then, there
had
been that kiss. That soul-stirring, weaken-your-knees kiss. He'd even used his tongue. She knew she shouldn't say it, knew it was a stupid, crazy thought, but she was tired and when she got tired she sometimes couldn't think clearly enough to stop herself from saying stupid, crazy things. "I thought letting him see too much of me was the idea here. You sound jealous, Tate."
had
been that kiss. That soul-stirring, weaken-your-knees kiss. He'd even used his tongue. She knew she shouldn't say it, knew it was a stupid, crazy thought, but she was tired and when she got tired she sometimes couldn't think clearly enough to stop herself from saying stupid, crazy things. "I thought letting him see too much of me was the idea here. You sound jealous, Tate."
He tilted his head as if to say,
You've got to be kidding
. "Don't be ludicrous. And the idea is to be friendly to the guy, Brandt, not incite him to attack you."
You've got to be kidding
. "Don't be ludicrous. And the idea is to be friendly to the guy, Brandt, not incite him to attack you."
Kimberly chose not to reply. Instead, she slid beneath the sheets—made of some kind of fabulous silk that felt glorious next to her skin—wondering if that was what
Max
wanted to do, attack her. He would say no, of course, but his eyes said yes.
Max
wanted to do, attack her. He would say no, of course, but his eyes said yes.
Then she remembered. She'd never been able to read his eyes. He was always able to hide his feelings, no matter what was going on. What looked like lust to her was just as likely annoyance, or maybe even some kind of disgust. Besides, when would she get it through her thick head, once and for all? Everything Max did in front of Carlo was pretend and everything he did away from Carlo was belligerent. Even if he
had
tolerated her outrage in the hall, she'd been justified about that and he knew it. Any way you sliced it, it was still all business.
had
tolerated her outrage in the hall, she'd been justified about that and he knew it. Any way you sliced it, it was still all business.
She only wished it were that way for her—all business. She wished she saw Max as only a co-worker, because how she was going to sleep next to him like this, she didn't know. She shook her head in frustration against the fluffy silk-covered pillow beneath her, then pulled the covers up over her breasts, pressing her bare arms to her sides above the sheets.
Think normal,
she told herself.
Think normal,
she told herself.
Oh, who was she kidding? This was about as far from normal as any situation she'd ever been in. What she felt for Max—in every sensuously charged fiber of her body at the moment—was far from normal, too. She had a feeling it was going to be a very long night.
"Ready for lights out?" Max asked.
Next to him, she nodded. Max set his magazine on the bedside table, then reached up and flipped the switch that darkened the room. He settled on his back, thinking,
What a relief
. But then, not really. The only relief was that the lights were out and he could quit trying to look so unaffected by the sight of her. Yet affected he was. He'd seen her nipples through that silky yellow fabric. A dark, rosy color, they'd been poking prominently against the front of her sexy little gown. What had she been thinking, wearing
that
to bed with him?
What a relief
. But then, not really. The only relief was that the lights were out and he could quit trying to look so unaffected by the sight of her. Yet affected he was. He'd seen her nipples through that silky yellow fabric. A dark, rosy color, they'd been poking prominently against the front of her sexy little gown. What had she been thinking, wearing
that
to bed with him?
Well, the answer didn't matter. What mattered was that the picture of those taut, rose-colored buds was planted firmly in his mind now and he knew there was no way he would quit thinking about Kimberly any time soon.
He wanted desperately to roll over and touch her breasts. He wanted to kiss their enticing peaks. He remembered her breasts clearly—
too
clearly. Round and soft and very sensitive, they'd filled his hands perfectly. She had nipples that beaded instantly when he touched them, that hardened into tiny pebbles against his tongue.
too
clearly. Round and soft and very sensitive, they'd filled his hands perfectly. She had nipples that beaded instantly when he touched them, that hardened into tiny pebbles against his tongue.
God, it would be easy,
so
easy … but no longer just easy to want her. The fact was, he already did. He didn't want to feel that way, he wanted to keep right on fighting it, but he was hard as a rock beneath the covers and there was no denying
that
. Now it would be easy to roll over onto her, to plant another of those full, deep kisses on her mouth, to take those two sweet mounds of flesh into his eager hands, to press his aching hardness into the place where he knew she was soft and warm.
so
easy … but no longer just easy to want her. The fact was, he already did. He didn't want to feel that way, he wanted to keep right on fighting it, but he was hard as a rock beneath the covers and there was no denying
that
. Now it would be easy to roll over onto her, to plant another of those full, deep kisses on her mouth, to take those two sweet mounds of flesh into his eager hands, to press his aching hardness into the place where he knew she was soft and warm.
Get hold of yourself, Tate. You're on the job here, for God's sake. Quit acting like a fourteen-year-old boy who just saw his first naked woman.
He rolled over away from her to be sure he didn't make a tent of the covers. She'd been right earlier—this was inappropriate, them sleeping next to each other. But he hadn't planned on feeling this way, hadn't really expected it at all, so he hadn't foreseen this problem.
Damn it, on top of everything else, she smelled good, too. Like the dusting powder he remembered she loved—a sexy, musky scent that always made him think of summertime heat. She must still put it on each night before she went to bed. How would he last the night smelling her like this, remembering the sight of her breasts through that sheer little gown, wanting to feel her and taste her?
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