Closely Guarded Secret (10 page)

“No, I’m not. My schedule is cleared all day. It’s also clear well into the evening, just for you.” I’m amazed how well he can turn me on with words. Nothing sexual, just his sensual tone and the meaning behind the words.

“According to our calendar, this has been scheduled for a while now. As far as you clearing your evening schedule, I hope you didn’t cancel other plans you may have already had.”

“It’s not my style. I’m looking forward to seeing you.” He sounds like a man on a mission.

“Do you have everything you need for the session today? Are you comfortable with the clothing and locations we’ve selected?” I ask, trying to be professional.

“I know exactly what I want to wear and where I want to be, but yes, I have my instructions. You know how we impossible types are. Always have to keep you guessing at every turn.”

At times, I’m somewhat nervous and a little scared when he comes on strong like this. I’m not used to it at all. Can I handle whatever this is going on between us? We’ve done some serious flirting back and forth this past week, and my brain-to-mouth filter didn’t always work. If his plan is to drive me crazy with desire from his words, make me desperate for him, seduce me in a slow methodic manner until I’m sucked in, well, it’s working.

“Yes, so I’ve noticed. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long day. I’ll see you at two.”

Sean, Trina and I load Sean’s SUV and drive toward Bryce’s downtown office, the first location of the photo shoot. The natural light this time of day is ideal. Afterward, we’ll drive to his parents’ home in San Mateo for few shots at his boyhood home, the place where it all began, where the Raindrop was born.

Bryce’s office occupies the fortieth floor of a forty-story building. His personal assistant, Samantha Cork, greets us as we step off the elevator. Her sparkling brown eyes, warm welcome, and offer of drinks immediately put us at ease. Samantha is about Jodi’s age, not quite at as tall as I am, and is dressed professionally. A streak of magenta in a sweep of long dark hair frames her face, showing off her individuality.

“Ms. Quinn? Mr. Steede’s finishing up a meeting now and will be with you in about five minutes. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you into his office so you can set up your equipment. And, if there’s anything you need, let me know.”

While Sean and Trina set up, I look around the office. We’re surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides overlooking the Bay and the Golden Gate Bridge. The office is modestly furnished with a beautiful mahogany desk and a matching bar. Two medium brown leather sofas, flanked by mahogany side tables, face each other across a coffee table. It’s a nice business setting, warm and comfortable too.

A shiver runs the length of my spine when I look up to see Bryce looking delectable as he strolls into his office. My breath catches in my throat. My knees wobble and my insides flutter. He’s pure sin walking on two legs, sin in which I would gladly indulge and never seek repentance.

I feel the magnetic pull, drawing me to him. Lust temporarily takes over my senses and lights me on fire. I haven’t seen him for a week but it seems longer. We hold each other’s gaze for a moment. Whoa, Quinn. Remember why you’re here and get a grip. Begrudgingly I look away, breaking the trance. He saunters over and I begin the introductions.

“Mr. Steede, it’s good to see you again. This is Sean, your photographer today.” They shake hands, but he’s looking at me, not Sean. My voice quivers as I finish the introductions. “This is Trina, our new assistant.”

“Yes, I’ve spoken with you on the phone. It’s a pleasure,” he says. Trina’s mouth is agape. I clear my throat to get her attention and nod toward Sean at the back of the room, hoping she’ll come back to her senses.

“Ms. Quinn, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” He raises my hand to his lips leaving feather soft kisses, much to my astonishment and of that of my coworkers. I’m flustered and snatch my hand away noting that Sean is eyeing us with curiosity. My face is flush; I feel the heat in my cheeks.

“Sean, are you ready?” I ask.

“Yes,” he growls, and I hope I’m the only one who noticed.

“Mr. Steede, we’ll start over here.” Trina shows him where to stand, and I fade into the background. This is Sean’s show and I don’t want to interfere unless necessary.

Sean takes several poses, a few of which I wouldn’t have chosen, but each photographer has their own unique style, and Jodi will make the final decision. The shoot lasts about an hour and Bryce excuses himself to change clothes for the shoot at his childhood home. I can’t decide if he’s sexier dressed up or down, but I’ll take him either way.

“Ali, will you ride with me to my parent’s house?” he asks out of earshot of the others.

“I’d like to, but I can’t. As the senior member of this team, I need to lead by example,” I whisper. “I hope you understand.”

“As much as I don’t want to, I understand. I’ll wait here while you’re packing up, so you can follow me and Charles.” I wonder if we’ll get to meet his parents.

As we’re leaving, Bryce’s phone rings. He looks at it with disdain and shuts it off as he ushers us all toward the elevator.

Bryce’s childhood home is beautiful: two stories, off white stucco siding with clay tiles on the roof and an arched window in the front - a great Christmas tree window. Three steps lead to a front door made of heavy oak. The double garage doors, painted barnyard red, open outward to each side. They must be originals from when the house was built.

There’s a huge magnolia tree in the front yard. The lawn has soft blades of grass that invite you to loll on it for hours, rolling around, looking up into the sky, daydreaming. Since I’ve already read the advance copy of our article about Bryce, I know that’s exactly what he did. He laid out here for hours, contemplating, sorting the pieces of the puzzle to make the Raindrop work.

Sean is setting up for the shots outside. I think Bryce would look best sitting or lying under the tree. Sean has a different idea, asking him to sit on the top step in front of the door, then stand in front of the house, feet spread and arms crossed, then takes several more of him standing outside the house.

“Do you want pictures of the inside?” Bryce asks, looking at me. I look over at Sean and he shakes his head. I excuse myself to talk with Sean. I’m now embarrassed. A client should never have to suggest poses. Ever.

“Sean, do you think a couple of shots of him in his childhood bedroom would be beneficial? Since Jodi said we’re to give the readers an idea of where it all started, I think that shot would compliment the article.” I sound more authoritative than I meant, which obviously was the wrong thing to do. He looks at me and if eyes could shoot flames, I’d be burnt to a crisp.

“Yes, that’s a fantastic idea,” he says through gritted teeth, and I know he thinks I’ve crossed a line. I count to ten and remind myself that Jodi asked me to be here. I hope Jodi likes what he’s done and Sean doesn’t prove me wrong that he’s a great photographer with a lot of potential.

“Follow me,” Bryce says stepping aside, letting us in.

The inside is magnificent. It’s like stepping back in time to the 30’s or maybe the 40’s. The hardwood floors are immaculate and all the ceilings are all arched. Each room leads into the other. The house is long from front to back, and is much bigger inside than it looks from the outside. Every room has arched doors that can divide the rooms, or can be opened wide to provide entertaining space. Off the kitchen is a small, half staircase leading upstairs to three bedrooms. When we enter Bryce’s old room, it’s like we’ve entered a time zone.

“My mother didn’t want to change anything, so she’s left it as I left it when I went off to college.” He answered the question we’re all thinking.

On the wall is a whiteboard, with drawings of some kind. I wonder if it’s his Raindrop invention. He tells Sean he can photograph everything except that. If it’s such a secret, why leave it up? I’ll ask him about that later. After helping Trina set up, we both wait in the hall since there’s not much room for four grown adults in his bedroom. Five minutes later, they emerge from his room, and we’re ready to go. Sean and Trina walk ahead of me. Bryce pulls me aside before I walk out the door.

“Ms. Quinn, a word?” he asks in his deep, rich voice, making my knees go weak.

Bryce closes the front door and the next thing I know, I’m pinned against the wall, my breath taken away by his lips crushing against mine, our mouths becoming one by this sudden onslaught of lust. His left hand cups the side of my face, his right hand travels up and over my waist, moving along my ribs, settling on my left breast.

As he caresses me through my bra I moan against his mouth, eliciting a deep groan from him. My fingers instinctively fist in his hair, holding his face firm against mine as our tongues do battle with one another. All too soon he breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against mine, leaving me in a daze and us both breathless.

“Ride back with me,” he whispers against my ear. Both of our chests rise and fall in heavy breaths. It’s all I can do keep my knees from giving out but his body is firm against mine, holding me in place.

“I can’t. I’m still on the clock,” I manage to squeak out. “Besides, how would it look if I didn’t go back with them?” I wish I didn’t have to and could ride with him.

“I can take you.” He brushes my cheek with the back of his hand, igniting electrical currents as they fire all at once throughout my body. I’m hot all over. A mischievous smile appears on his lips. He drives me crazy and knows it.

“I know you can, but I can’t go with you. I wish you would understand the reasons.”

“Yes, I suppose I do.” Is he sulking?

Reeling my senses back in, I take a firmer stance. “Don’t you have to go back to work? We aren’t supposed to go out until seven.” I reason and hope he’ll take the hint.

He stares at me for a second, “As the CEO, I can make my own schedule,” he asserts. As he straightens his posture, his full height towers over me, and the beautiful blue of his eyes returns, replacing the dark lust that was just there.

“I have a deadline to meet which will take the rest of the day. I don’t want to miss our date because I have to stay late at work,” I tell him.

He leans closer and I feel his hot breath against my neck as he whispers, “I want time with you alone.” His tongue skirts the shell of my ear. My eyes close for a moment as I take in his scent, my want for him increases by the second. If seduction were an Olympic sport, he’d definitely take the gold.

Needing to get a handle on things before they go to far, I move to the side, breaking our contact. “We’re going out tonight. We’ll be alone then, right?”

“Yes, but I don’t know if I can wait that long.” He sounds more desperate than a man in need of water who’s been stranded on a deserted island.

“Bryce, this is all so new to me, this dating thing. They’re waiting on me and I have to go.” I can’t explain it, but I’m feeling suffocated. I’m not used to this at all and definitely need a little time to myself before we go tonight.

His expression is one of a man who’s just been kicked in the balls and I don’t understand why. Is this just a game to him? The thrill of the chase and he’s hoping to bed me tonight?

Confusion sweeps across his face. “New to you? What does that mean? You’ve never had a boyfriend before?”

Crap. I shouldn’t have said that. “I don’t want to go into it right now. Call me later, okay? If you still want to go out, pick me up at seven. If not, I’ll understand.” Planting a chaste kiss on his lips, I walk to the car and climb in with the others. As Sean drives away, I look back and he’s standing in his driveway, looking dumbfounded like I pulled the rug out from under him. I instantly feel bad for the way we left things.

It’s been almost two hours. I haven’t heard from Bryce. No text or phone call. I guess he doesn’t want to go out after all. I take a deep breath and forcibly exhale. I guess I was right. He only wants me for one thing. At least I went on one date. That’s something.

Dr. Hunter was right. I never would have known if I hadn’t put myself out there. Well, I did, and it totally sucked. At least it didn’t go on long enough for me to end up with a broken heart. My heart is sad, but it’s not broken. I had a glimmer of hope I would’ve been wrong about him.

Maybe Steven will want to do something tonight, I say to myself as I head home. I try to think of anything other than my disappointment.

My stomach does that familiar flutter when I see Bryce’s SUV parked in front of my house. A wave of regret also envelops me for how I left things with him earlier. I don’t see Steven’s car either. As I walk to the front door, Bryce meets me halfway.

“Hi,” he says, eyeing me wearily like we’ve been at war and a truce needs to be called.

“Hi. What are you doing here?” That’s all you can think of to say?

“I was hoping we could spend some time together before we go to dinner. We do have a date, remember?”

I thought he changed his mind but I’m relieved he didn’t. “I need to get ready and Steven isn’t home.” I don’t know why I’m acting like I need a chaperone.

“I didn’t come for Steven. I came for you,” he says right away. “I promise I’ll be the ultimate gentleman.”

Several scenarios go through my mind of what could happen with me in the shower and him in the house, alone, knowing what he wants to do. Should I let him in? As I struggle with my decision, Bryce interrupts my thoughts.

“I don’t mind waiting in the car,” he says with an understanding tone. He leans closer to me and plants a gentle but deliberate kiss on my lips. He smells divine and so very edible. “I couldn’t wait to do that again,” he says as he turns to walk away.

My breath quickens. My fingers ache with need to touch him. I call out before he gets too far, “Bryce, it’s okay. You can wait inside.”

He looks at his watch then at me. “You’ve got 30 minutes,” he says as we enter the house.

After our impromptu make-out session earlier, I wish I had time for some much-needed release, but I don’t. This was the fastest shower I’ve ever taken.

“Damn, I didn’t ask where we’re going,” I say out loud to myself. I try to remember what he was wearing but seeing him here when I thought we weren’t going out, threw me off and I didn’t take time to notice. I send him a quick text.

*Is there a dress code where we’re going? *

A few minutes go by and nothing. I’m standing in my room, in my bra and panties, waiting on him to answer. Finally after five minutes, there’s a ping.

*Whatever you wear will be fine. I prefer what you’re wearing at this moment. *

Did he come up here and peek in my room without me knowing? I sneak a quick look out of my bedroom door and see it’s all clear. Black jeans, lavender camisole and a cardigan with hues of lavender, pink, dark purple and grey-blue, with black flats, will have to do.

Make-up’s done and my hair’s piled on top of my head with a few curls hanging down to frame my face, I take a last look before going downstairs. I don’t see Bryce and wonder where he went. I’m about to call out for him when the doorbell rings. When I open the door, Bryce is standing there, gaping at me.

“Wow . . .”

“Ready?” I ask. It’s now I notice he’s wearing jeans with a grey and white striped polo shirt, stretched tight across his chest, showcasing his muscular build.

“I’m more than ready.” His eyes roam over my body taking me in from bottom to top.

To my surprise, his arms snake around my waist, pulling me against him. I clutch onto his arms to avoid falling over.

“You’re stunning, Ali.” He inhales deeply. “Intoxicating.” His lips sweep against mine in a gentle, sensual kiss, his erection between us, hard and wanting.

I’m on fire and there’s not enough water in the bay to douse the flame. I’ve thought about his lips on mine since our first kiss and now it’s happened three times in one day. I’m a lucky woman. I’m trembling all over and my knees could give out any moment. This desire for him is overwhelming to my body and mind.

Breaking from the kiss I ask, “Ready to go?”

“Sure you don’t want go back inside?” he asks with a devilish grin.

“I thought you wanted to eat?”

“Oh, I do. More than you know.” His hypnotic voice is low and husky.

Another pair of panties moist because of him and I haven’t left the house. I make a mental note to carry an extra pair of underwear whenever I’m with him. Pretending I don’t know what he’s talking about, I say, “We should get going, don’t you think?” As I move past him, he lets out a long sigh and takes my hand.

“Hi Charles,” I greet him as I get in the back seat.

“Good evening, Ms. Quinn,” he replies as he closes the door.

Bryce slides next to me. “Where are we going?” I ask, steering us toward a safe topic.

“It’s called The House. Ever heard of it?” Bryce’s hand covers mine, his thumb strokes back and forth against my fingers.

It’s hot in here. “No, I haven’t. Is it new?” I ask and adjust the vent to blow directly on me.

“It’s been open a while now. They’re supposed to have the best Sea Bass in town.”

“Sounds great. I’m famished. I skipped lunch and I’m starving.”

“So am I,” he replies looking directly at me. The implication of that sentence hangs between us like thick fog rolling in off the bay.

# 

The restaurant is nestled between two other businesses and if you blinked once, you’d miss it. People are lined up outside waiting for tables but we’re seated right away since Bryce has a reservation.

“I would have never known this was here,” I say to him.

“I stumbled upon it one night. It’s quite good but, as you can see, space is tight.” He’s right about that. It’s small inside; you can almost touch elbows with the other patrons. This isn’t a great place to have a serious or intimate conversation if you wanted to keep it private. Most definitely not the type of conversations he likes to have.

“I don’t remember reading anything in the paper about it and we usually cover new eateries.”

“If you like the food, maybe your magazine could do a story?”

“Maybe.”

We place our order and while waiting for the wine, I decide to make tonight about getting to know him better.

“Tell me more about the Raindrop,” I prod.

Laughing a bit, he says, “You aren’t on the clock for your magazine are you?”

“No, of course not. I’d like to understand it better. Besides, you know I’m not a reporter.”

“As you know, it started back in high school. I wanted to find a way for my friends to all share their files with each other. Do you know anything about the cloud?”

“Not really. I probably know more about real clouds than virtual ones.”

“The cloud is just a way for people to have bits and pieces of files stored all over the Internet so that there isn’t a single place where information is stored. The more redundancy you have with data, the less chance you have of losing information.”

“I wish I’d known about the cloud last year when my laptop crashed. I lost a week’s worth of work.”

“Making sure you never lose your work is definitely a big part of the appeal of cloud computing. What Raindrop is all about is, bringing the cloud software and hardware together to make the cloud faster and even more reliable. The algorithm behind Raindrop figures out the best and fastest way to route data to and from the cloud. Adding the programming to the Raindrop routers really took the system to the next level. Everyone wants speed and Raindrop delivers that.” His eyes light up with pride as he talks about it.

“That’s amazing. I wish I understood technology better and how it all works and comes together.” Can he can tell I’m in awe?

“If you understand it a little, that’s half the battle,” he says, making it sound simple as he continues. “Technology, like all things, evolves. It has to. Imagine if the Internet never happened, how boring all of our lives would be.”

I frown and bite my lip. It’s information overload at our fingertips. It’s almost too much. You can find out everything about anything, or anyone.

“Are you okay, Ali? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost,” he looks alarmed.

“Yes, I’m fine. I was just thinking about evolution.” I’m quick to erase that unpleasant thought from my mind.

“You’re a puzzle, Ali. One I’m working to put together.”

“I think we’re all a few pieces short of a complete puzzle, Bryce.”

“I wouldn’t say that. It takes time and patience to make all the pieces fit.”

“I thought you said I was layered?” I joke.

“You’re a layered, 3-D puzzle,” he says and we both laugh.

“Tell me about your time at Stanford. What was your major?”

“I have a BS in Computer Science and a MA in Electrical Engineering.”

“Impressive.”

“Maybe you should wait until the article comes out to find out more about me?” he teases.

“Why would I do that when I can get the exclusive now? You’re here. I’m here.” There’s no reason to divulge I’ve seen it, though I only skimmed over a page or two. I want to learn about him from him, not from an article.

He leans close to my ear so only I can hear. “I can give you an exclusive anytime you wish.”

His hot breath against my skin is overwhelming, awakening my senses. His lips close, but not touching is sensual, erotic. A powerful yet invisible spark jumps the gap between us, binding our energy together. My clit throbs as a surge of electrical current travels through me and my legs instinctively clamp together.

“What are you thinking?” His question, a seductive whisper tickles my ear.

“How much I get lost in your eyes every time I’m around you. It’s like a maze,” I utter in a soft, hushed tone, then feel like I’ve revealed too much. His fingers trace light circles on the back of my hand, over my knuckles and down my fingers, while his focus on me remains firm.

“I want you to get lost in me. I know I want to get lost in you,” he says, and right now, there’s nothing I want more than to do just that. I’m burning with desire for this man. I need to calm down before I do something that would embarrass us both. My animalistic instincts tend to surface and I lose all inhibitions when I’m around him.

The waiter returns with our wine, giving me a chance to lean back and give myself what little distance I can in such a cramped space. He looks confused. “Have I said something to upset you?” He asks.

I take a deep breath. “No, you didn’t upset me. It’s a little warm in here, don’t you think?” I briefly fan myself with my napkin but it brings no relief. I notice the noise level has increased, as all the tables are now full. Glasses clinking together in toasts - silverware scraping against plates - audible laughter and different vocal pitches blend together as one sound filling the air. Bryce’s words snap me out of my musings.

“I know what’s causing it and I have the solution,” he insinuates with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. His carnal intent is made perfectly clear. This place is too small for us to have one of his usual conversations. I steer us to safer waters but not before gulping down half of my water. A slight smile appears on his face.

“Did you play sports or just concentrate on your business?” I ask.

“At Stanford, I was on the water polo team, and when time allows, I play beach volleyball on Saturday’s with some guys I’ve known for several years.”

Water polo? Beach volleyball? “With your height, I would’ve pegged you more for basketball.” He seems taken aback at my comment.

“My height helps a lot more with water polo and beach volleyball than you’d think. I’m only 6’3” but wasn’t always this tall. I was small for my age, short, overweight and awkward. I was teased a lot and was known as ‘Chubby-Tubby.’ The summer before my sophomore year of high school, my height shot up and I lost my extra baby-fat, but the true bullies didn’t care.” A shadow of sadness crosses his face, but only for a moment before it’s gone.

In an instant his mood changes 180 degrees. He clears his throat indicating that topic is closed. “Do you like sports?” he asks.

“I’ve only been to sporting events as a photographer. Even then I didn’t pay much attention to the game. There’s too much action to capture, so I had to be ready. What other interests do you have?” I know for him this is a loaded question. I brace myself for the sexual innuendos that are sure to follow.

“Let’s see, there’s sky diving, running, working out, anything to do with water. Oh, and bike racing,” he says proudly.

I’m reeling from the fact he would voluntarily jump out of a plane. “Bike racing like BMX?”

He lets out a hearty laugh, “No, as in dirt bikes, motocross. Sometimes, the guys let me take their bikes for a couple of laps around the track.”

Between jumping out of planes and riding motorcycles, he has a death wish. “You do like to live close to the edge. I’m surprised your Mother hasn’t had a heart attack by now.”

“Running my company doesn’t allow much time to skydive or ride but when I do, I’m always safe. Besides, what my mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” He affirms. Tell her that when she gets a call in the middle of the night. Mothers freak out when that happens.

“What about hockey?” he asks.

“I love anything played on ice. What about you?”

“I like playing with ice. Does that count?” His pupils contract and dilate. Mr. Seduction is never far away.

The waiter leaves after delivering our food and we eat in silence a couple of minutes. As Bryce tops off our wine, I feel bold and ask him about the flight and about Mara.