Captiva Captive (11 page)

Chapter 9

B
lythe was mildly irritated with Sven, which happened daily.   If he hadn’t been pestering her to wax his back, conveniently forgetting that she was merely his bookkeeper, he’d been flirting with every man and woman who graced Sven’s Men and Day Spa since the minute Blythe started working this afternoon.

He was a total fraud.

No, it wasn’t the dark roots under his bleach job that made him phony, nor could she blame it on his fake Swedish accent that often wandered into the lands of India and sometimes France. She leaned back in her chair, shaking her head sadly.  Without batting a guilty eyelash, Sven handed his private number to every customer who asked, shamelessly using his good looks to drum up more business. The poor souls never realized they weren’t receiving preferential treatment, and they would find out the hard way that Sven’s heart was at no time involved. He was a pig rolling in mud, and Blythe couldn’t stand his selfish callousness.

That wasn’t the half of it.  Unfortunate for her, Blythe knew firsthand what Sven’s roaming eyes, fingers, mouth, and hardened body could do in between greeting his customers. In the past, she’d never put up with that kind of crap from any employers.  Times changed.   A desperate perseverance took hold of her, making her choices terribly unfair.  For the sake of her brother and the great need that she had for Sven’s higher than average pay, she marginally tolerated Sven’s gross misconduct and overall creepiness for the past three months she’d worked there.  Thankfully, she’d deftly avoided being alone with him at any given time.

Blythe had to admit that today was exceptionally rough, since Sven’s mama had taken the day off.  He was walking on air, as if his parents had gone on an extended vacation, leaving his teen self at home and fully in charge. He’d probably down a six-pack later and turn on some porn in the break room just to warm up, or maybe he’d plant a Kama Sutra popup book on her desk when she took her next trip to the bathroom. 

Nah
, she tapped a fingernail on her keyboard, rethinking it.  All that would be too tame for Sven.  He was such a calculating weirdo that she wouldn’t put
anything
past him.  Blythe never knew what Sven would come up with next, so she was always on her toes.  Unbeknownst to Blythe, she’d inadvertently thrown down the carnal challenge when she originally started her job.  She refused to bend over his desk, and in his supreme arrogance, he couldn’t fathom why.  In the sexual arena of his brain, Sven’s virility rose to the challenge, and every ‘no’ that left her lips incited him even more. Things were starting to get a little desperate on both sides.  With him chasing intently and Blythe running to preserve any aspect of her lost dignity.

“So, Blythe,” he said, moving in for the kill.  Since he was too close, his minty-fresh breath blew her hair around. “Let’s have an early dinner and catch the new play on Third Street.  It’s opening night,” he continued when she simply stared at him. Without a doubt, he’d just brushed his teeth – maybe threw in some mouthwash, hoping he’d shove his tongue down her throat. “I’ll buy you a shimmering dress that’ll slide over your amazing curves like water.  That boutique across the street has a marvelous silver gown in the window.”  She was still staring.  “Every man in the theater will hate my guts when I walk in with you on my arm wearing
that
.” 

He was just too flattering.  “Well, Sven, even though it’s every girl’s dream to be a shimmering adornment on a successful man’s arm, unfortunately, after I leave here, piles of paperwork are waiting for me at INKS.  Then, I have to put in some time at Six Feet Under.” She clenched her fists in her lap. “I took yesterday off, catching up is necessary.” Because she didn’t have time to be sick. “Thanks for thinking of me.” When you were only thinking of yourself, she mentally chided. 

“At least, let me take you out to an early dinner.  Trixie says you love that French bistro around the corner.”

Thanks, Trixie.
“Not tonight, Sven, but I appreciate the offer.” 

While leaning over her chair, he gave her the same weary sigh that she heard from Ryan countless times.
I’m weary, too, Sven.
  Bracing a hand on each armrest, he corralled her. “You’re not going to give me a snowball’s chance in hell, are you?”

Her skirt was riding up her thighs, so she squeezed her knees together to ward off any undue attention in that area.  “We work together.” She eased her butt to the edge, prepared to make a ‘drop and roll’ over the side of her chair.  “Keeping a professional distance would be a lot harder after giving in to crazy impulses.” 
I have to keep this job.
  She adopted her best forlorn expression as she continued, “So… I’ll
try
to stop ogling you all the time.” She followed a dramatic wince with the saddest smile she could muster on such short notice.  “And you pretend I’m another hard-working employee like Trixie…or even your mom.”  She knew he was smarter than this.  But as far as Sven’s overinflated ego went, it always needed a good stroking.   

“Only because you work for me,” he said while eyeing her shrewdly, “is that it?” 

She had a feeling she’d made things worse, so she lost all sense of reasoning and used Ryan ruthlessly.  “That and Ryan.”   She inwardly groaned.  It would be all over the club in ten minutes flat.

“Ryan?” Sven had the nerve to laugh at her.  “Earlier, I distinctly overheard him asking Dakota to a rival bar that he wanted to check out on Saturday night.”

“He does that from time to time.”

“You didn’t see the way he was rubbing up against her.”  The corner of his lip curled like a snake.

“I trust him.”

“Because you’re just friends and everyone knows it.”

“We can just be friends, too, if you put your mind to it,” she almost pleaded.

“No one understands why you live in a hovel over the club when you can have so much more.” He had the nerve to sniff her hair.

Oh
, everyone had offers of ‘so much more’ as long as she raised tail for payment. “I have obligations and I’m grateful to have the hovel.”

“
I
can give you more.” 

That broken record was the typical, horny, self-indulged rich man’s mantra. She straightened her spine at the carefully worded insult.  Blythe decided on the high road long ago, at least as close as she could get to it.  Although she had a physicality men adored and a pitiful bank account that could use a decent deposit, she was no man’s whore. 

Sven had other thoughts, though. His hand brazenly moved to her knee, squeezing the painful knot that had formed mid-morning after a strange encounter with a crate full of gourmet chocolate. She’d found a year’s supply of the best confections money could buy parked in front of her apartment door and tripped over it like a gawking idiot.  Logic said she’d be foolish to think that they were from Ryan. 

Sven had taken her silence as an invitation to close in on her lips. But God, in his infinite wisdom, took the time to intervene.  The door chimed and Trixie was still on break.  Meaning
Mr. Sexy And He Knew It
had to put on the charm with someone other than her.  “Don’t go anywhere, Blythe,” he warned.   “We’re going to work this out.”

What an ass-hat.
Work
what
out?  She rubbed her sore knee and wished just one pair of pants had been washed so she didn’t have to wear a skirt around Sven.  On top of that, she’d eaten so much chocolate for lunch, she’d was experiencing scary bouts of tachycardia even now, and Sven’s annoying machineguns didn’t help any.

Then she heard
his
voice.

“I may be a bit early, but she’s expecting me.”

As if.
  She shot out of her chair to duck in the bathroom, but Sven was too fast.  He came around her partition and pulled her reluctant body forward. “Ah, here she is.” His accent was soaring over the lands of Malaysia, which meant Sven was highly pissed. “You should have told me you had a dinner date to begin with, Ms. Giarrusso.”

She wanted to disagree, but her brain kicked in at the last second.  Blythe could use Sixten for the greater good
.
  “I was so engrossed in work, it slipped my mind.” She smiled sweetly.  “Sixten is always too early, or much, much too late.”  Sixten’s eyes narrowed a fraction when she stared up at him.  “Trixie isn’t back yet, so I have to man the phones, Six.”

He played right along, releasing a dazzling smile, which displayed two perfect dimples anyone could get lost in for a while…or forever.  “Then a kiss, angel, to hold me over while I wait.”

He curled his strong hand around her wrist, reminding Blythe of the difference in their sizes, and pulled her flush against him. Taking advantage of her circumstances was what Sixten was all about, so it was payback time.  She discreetly pinched his side as hard as she could when his soft mouth closed over hers, but Sixten didn’t have the decency to flinch. 

Then, her toes curled without warning. 

When her lips parted on a surprised gasp, he moved in for the kill, sliding his expert tongue over hers in a worshiping, systematic rhythm that spoke of bad, bad things. The kind of things she shouldn’t revisit. The kind of things she remembered about him in the middle of the night when she woke up in her bed all alone. 

But they weren’t alone now.  Sven grumbled, “I’m outta here, and so are you.  Go eat your early dinner.”

Heat pushed its way to Blythe’s cheeks.  Embarrassment was never easy for her to hide, even with her deep skin tone.  “Are you sure, Sven?”  She stared at Sixten’s chest, subtly trying to wrench her arm free, but he held firm.

“Sure am,” Sven huffed.  “I’ll get our hydrotherapist to play receptionist while Trixie’s gone, and I’ll see you…tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tonight, you have to hit INKS as well as the bar, right?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow, Blythe.”  He stomped to his office and slammed the door.

“Hydrotherapist?”  Ice-green eyes burning with shocking possessiveness stared down at her.

“If you have to ask”- she had to look away – “you don’t wanna know.” Blythe marched back to her cubicle, grabbed her purse, and prayed she could get away from him and hit INKS early.

The clouds moved over the afternoon sun, cooling the sidewalk enough to make an early-evening stroll bearable. Still, a trickle of perspiration slid between her breasts, and she fought like mad to ignore it.  Leave it to Sixten Kovac’s kiss to break her out in sweats. 

They’d walked away from the spa, going past several shops until they reached the corner.  People openly stared.  They had always made a striking couple, and human nature often orbited around the pretty.  But Blythe knew firsthand what kind of trouble her above-average appearance could garner, and
that
wasn’t pretty in the least.

A car nearly rear-ended another when its driver wolf-called her, instead of keeping his eyes on the road.  Sixten shot him a murderous glare and muttered tightly, “Aren’t you the fantasy girl?”

“Six, we’ve walked far enough.” She stopped, ignoring the men elbowing one another as they walked by. “Sven has better things to do than spy on us.”  Or so she hoped, but she wouldn’t bet on it.

He placed his hand on the small of her back and ushered her in the direction of Maxxi.  “Is this the bistro you frequent?”

    When someone else insisted on paying, she thought, since she didn’t have a dime to drop in this place.  “I only left with you to get away from Sven.  You understand that.  Just like you know I don’t wish to eat with you.”

    “If wishes were chocolate…”

    “They would be at my front door,” she groaned.  “I’m injured because you wanted to be Mr. Wonka.” She pointed to her knee.  

    “I could kiss that.” He wasn’t looking at her knee at all.  He stared at her chest until her nipples pebbled under his relentless scrutiny. “Starting from the top of your head….  Retract that.” He deliberately slid his pink tongue over his bottom lip. “I’d start with those two” – he spoke to her breasts – “and work my way down…and back up again…and right back down again.  Damn, I could do that all night.  Wanna give it a go?”

    “Ryan wouldn’t be happy to hear you say that, or to find out how you attempted to corral me into dinner,” she said, trying to appear indignant while tapping a pink, peep-toe pump on the sidewalk. They both knew he hadn’t pressured Blythe, but he had the grace not to refute her.

    Like an idiot, she wanted to close her eyes and kiss him.  Step back in time on one of the better days…

A strange wind blew through and their eyes simultaneously fixated across the street on the river. Without the sun’s brilliance, it just sloshed around like dirty, gray bathwater.  They were supposed to get married there, on the banks of the Caloosahatchee, followed by a lavish reception at a historical home one block over.  When Sixten turned his angelic face back to her, she knew he was remembering the same thing.

Then, his eyes tightened, and he had the nerve to shoot green icicles at her. “The ‘Ryan bit’ is getting a little old, angel.  Perhaps you should come up with some new lines, since we know you don’t have a serious relationship with him.  Oh”- he snapped his long, eloquent fingers -“I’ve got just the thing.” He snatched her hand and brought her fingertips to his lips. “Lick me everywhere, Six.” He whispered while nipping her index finger roughly. “You know the way I like it,” he said in perfect falsetto, mimicking her husky voice.

    “What’s gotten into you?” She pulled her hand back, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed.  Somehow, without realizing it, he’d backed her into an empty alley next to a vacated store.

    He glared at her throat for a long moment, before he said, “Oh, I don’t know.  What’s gotten into Ryan, or Sven, or the man swerving his car off the road in a near miss with a minivan full of soccer kids?  How about the guys skirting us on the sidewalk, hoping I would take off so they could have at you?”

    “Stop.”

    “You stop.”

    “It’s not your concern now.” 

    “I want it to be.”

    “I’m not yours anymore.”