Destiny by Design (11 page)

She took another deep breath and opened her eyes. That’s when she noticed the paint tins in the corner—the unopened, full cans clearly labeled Divine Caravan, and resting alongside were brushes, rollers and a pile of drop cloths. “What the hell is going on?”

No matter
, she thought,
my action plan just got a jump-start
. Ellis threw aside her clutch and began laying drop cloths on the floor and furniture. She surveyed the room and decided to roll first and cut around the edges later, once her hands stopped shaking. Prep work complete, she carefully tipped the tin of primer, letting the viscous liquid overtake the brim to pool in the plastic tray below. She popped a yellow fuzzy roller onto the handle and was about to dip in when she caught sight of the hem of her dress, mere inches away from the paint.

“This won’t do,” she said, looking down at her fancy outfit. She put the roller back down and stripped out of her three-quarter-length cocktail dress, leaving her clad only in a black lace strapless bra and matching panties. If she wasn’t so upset Ellis would probably find humor in her attire, but that was one emotion she didn’t have time for.

Ellis had been at it awhile when the sweat began to bead on her forehead. Her technique was rusty and she was determined to keep it neat. She’d worked as a painter with a group of college classmates one summer. Up and down, up and down, slowly and carefully so as not to leave splatter, she moved the roller over the walls of the office. She had nearly completed the primer coat when she heard the chuckle.

“My, my, aren’t you a picture.”

She turned to see Simon leaning on the doorjamb with a cocky expression on his face.

Ellis was just too tired and too angry to worry about her state of dress—or undress, as was the case.

“Well don’t just stand there! Pick up a goddamned brush and get to work! And while you’re at it, please explain to me why these walls are pink!”

“Why don’t you give me that,” Simon said, holding his hand out for the roller.

“No. You cut. My hands are too unsteady.”

“I don’t like cutting.”

“Well neither do I,” Ellis lied as she turned her back to him. She quite liked the precision involved in tape-free cutting. It was extremely satisfying, watching that fine bead on the edge of the bristles create a perfect line. But not now, not when her hands were shaking and her nerves in a state of near panic.

Simon grunted but picked up the three-inch brush and purposely let her question go unanswered. They worked in silence, their backs to one another, until the first coat was almost complete. Simon concentrated hard, focusing on the edge of his brush, anything to get his mind off her perfect ass under a scrap of lace he longed to rip off with his teeth. It was hard to deny the urge to turn around to look at her working in that sexy getup. Every time he blinked he saw her image, like she was imbedded on the inside of his eyelids, teasing him, taunting him.

Ellis, meanwhile, didn’t have it any easier. Embarrassment, anger and longing, three very different emotions, battled inside her. How could he carry on with Cynthia when he’d led her to believe they had something special together? He made her believe that after the competition they might pick up where they’d left off. But now, here she was feeling underdressed and exposed. He didn’t so much as offer her his T-shirt!

Oh God, she wanted him. Her heart pounded, throwing off the rhythm of her strokes. She gritted her teeth and began to prepare a new can of paint.

Simon finished cutting and turned to catch Ellis stirring the can of Divine Caravan. His stomach muscles clenched as he watched the way her hips swayed from side to side as she turned the big wooden stick through the thick paint. Her black lace panties resembled little shorts—they rode low on her hips and barely covered her bum. Her just-right breasts, ready to spill out of the top of her bra, shimmied with every rotation of the stirrer. Simon tried to produce enough saliva to swallow but his mouth suddenly felt dry. There was a familiar tightening in his groin, a pressure against the front of his jeans that caused him to growl with annoyance.

“Here, put this on,” Simon peeled off his T-shirt and threw it at Ellis.

“I’m not wearing your sweaty old shirt.” Ellis caught it one-handed, threw it to the floor in feigned disgust and stomped barefoot from the room. She just needed a moment to breathe, a moment away from his sexy eyes, his made-for-sex body and especially away from his visible arousal. She opened the kitchen fridge, grateful to whoever left the case of water. She chugged one bottle down, grabbed two more and headed back to the office, slowly, allowing her emotions to settle before she had to go back in. Maybe she would put on his shirt and spare herself any more humiliation. Besides, it would smell like him and that couldn’t be a bad thing.

Ellis walked in to find Simon wearing nothing but a tight pair of white knit boxers.

“Very cute, Simon,” Ellis said, acting angry to cover the surprising shock wave of lust sweeping through her. “You think this is funny?”

“Hey, just trying to break the tension,” he said. “I also thought I’d give you a taste of my agony.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Put your pants back on,” she said, tossing a water bottle in his direction.

“Only if you put on my T-shirt,” he said, catching it deftly in his left hand, the paintbrush still in the other. “I can’t work with a half-naked woman.”

“And speaking of…” Ellis muttered.

“Speaking of what?”

“Speaking of half-naked women, did you enjoy your afternoon tête-à-tête with Cynthia?” Determined not to show any sign of emotion, especially jealousy, Ellis forced a halfhearted laugh.

“Eavesdropping?”

“No!” Ellis protested, wondering why she felt she needed to defend herself. “I just happened to be walking by.”

“Well, your timing was a bit off.”

“You could say.”

Their gazes locked, each trying to determine how the other felt. Ellis wanted an explanation but she would never admit it.

Simon desperately wanted to explain but his stubborn pride prevented him. After all, he didn’t do anything wrong and it rankled him that Ellis believed that he would betray her with Cynthia, of all people. Besides, she was the one who had wanted to brush him off after the closet affair. He’d have been happy to take her home to bed that very night!

“Nothing happened,” he growled.

“Never mind, Simon,” Ellis said with a hint of bitterness in her voice. She turned with intent to nonchalantly walk away but her foot came down on the paint key and she stumbled forward. Ellis bit her lip to stop herself from yelping and steadied herself on a nearby chair.

Damn it! Her heart ached, she was half-naked and this whole situation had her feeling vulnerable and flustered. She had to regain a sense of control.

“It’s none of my business how many designers you carry on with, just leave me out of your harem, please.”

“Nothing happened Ellis, nothing,” Simon said, raising his volume a frustrated notch. “Cynthia and I have worked together on a number of projects and she throws herself at me every time. I try to avoid her when I can but it’s not always possible, so I pretend to play along but I always,
always
walk away.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what it sounded like, especially the part where you want to take her home and make her howl until the sun rises.”

“Oh, ouch. You heard the best part, didn’t you?” Simon chuckled.

“I didn’t just hear you Simon, I saw you!” Ellis shouted, angry that he seemed to find amusement in the incident that had plagued her all afternoon. “I saw her legs wrapped around you, saw your hand up her skirt! That was interesting
pretending
, Simon. Did you just
pretend
to fuck her, too?”

Simon dropped his head, realizing how it must have looked. “I say things like that to Cynthia because that’s what she wants to hear. And that’s what keeps our working relationship a pleasant one. I
pretend
to enjoy her attention and she doesn’t have temper tantrums on me, okay? You obviously didn’t see the whole incident or you would have seen me cautiously extricate myself from underneath her and get the hell out of there as fast as I could.” He wanted to confess that he told Cynthia he was involved with someone else but it was too soon for that. Those details would surface eventually.

“Good story Simon. I’ll
pretend
to believe you.”

“What do you want from me Ellis?”

“Nothing!” she shouted, pushing the chair she’d been white-knuckling. “I want nothing from you!”

“Oh really? That’s rich! What about ‘oh Simon, fix the closet’ and ‘please get the special wood’ and ‘get out of bed at five-o’-bloody-clock in the morning and come and repaint’! That’s not
nothing
Ellis!”

With each mimicking phrase he took a step closer, until he was in her personal space, but Ellis refused to be intimidated, fighting every instinct to step back. “Well I’m so sorry to have bothered you,” she countered, stepping forward to initiate some intimidation of her own. “After tomorrow we won’t ever have to work together again.”

“Damn right, sister. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I get involved in another project with you!”

“Then leave! I didn’t ask you—”

“You are the most annoying—”

“What? I’m the most annoying
what
?”

“Woman!”

“Woman?” Hardly the insult Ellis was expecting.

“Oh Christ,” he growled softly, dangerously. He leaned into her. “Yes,
woman
. You’re the most annoying, gorgeous, sexy woman…” Simon lowered his head and pressed his lips hard against her partially open mouth.

She wasn’t surprised. She could feign shock and indignation but the truth was Ellis could feel the sexual tension between them whenever they were in the same room. Primal instincts were bound to override their clashing personalities. He was like cold hard steel and Ellis an electric magnet. Once their bodies were in close proximity—CLANG—they couldn’t fight the elemental attraction.

Simon’s powerful arms wrapped around her as their mouths collided. There was no gentleness in their kisses, only desperate need. They punished each other with dueling tongues, nipping and sucking at each other’s lips. Her fingers played over the hard ripples of his abdomen. The feel of his muscular flesh, hot, hard and smooth, made Ellis moan. Like the walls that spoke to her, his skin begged to be touched, rubbed, stroked.

Simon stepped back, momentarily stunned by a rush of pure emotional heat. It wasn’t more than a split second and their mouths reconnected with such force that Ellis lost her balance and clung to him. Without breaking their connection, Simon picked her up and carried her to the cloth-covered desk. She wantonly locked her long legs around him, her hips writhing as she pushed against the glorious strength of his erection.

Simon let out a throaty growl and lowered Ellis onto her back. He broke contact with her mouth and let his tongue roam over her neck and down to her ample cleavage. Ellis shivered with pleasure as he kissed her breasts through the lace fabric of her bra. He tugged the delicate material down to let one succulent orb free.

“Ahhh, Goldilocks.” As close as they’d physically been with their previous petting, Simon hadn’t laid eyes on her naked breasts. He touched one delicately, like it was the finest Fabergé egg, glorying in its beauty. He leaned forward and kissed the vulnerable underside, working around in a broad circle until he kissed the entire perimeter of her breast.

She felt the day’s growth of his stubble on the tender, sensitive flesh and arched her back in response. His mouth ravished her perfect brown nipple, laving it, flicking its tight peak with his tongue, gripping it gently between his teeth. Ellis gasped with pleasure when he sucked it hard, pulling half her breast into his mouth. He licked his way over to her other breast, released it from the restraining lace and gave it the same treatment.

While his mouth was otherwise occupied, his rough hands roamed her abdomen and thighs, feeling, kneading, memorizing every curve and hollow of her flesh. Every nerve he touched sent sparks of white-hot intensity up her spine until she was writhing with need. She tugged at his triceps, trying to pull him closer, craving body-to-body contact.

His fingers brushed against the crotch of her panties. Her hips rose instinctively as he pressed his palm into her. He could feel the dampness, the heat, the need. She was ready for him—and this time he wasn’t going to disappoint her.