KISS AND MAKE-UP (9 page)

He should never have gone along with Jackie’s stupid dinner scheme, or have met Cassie for drinks Wednesday night. Because both of those events had given them a reminder of how good they’d once been together…as social friends during dinner. And as intensely compatible lovers during their crazy kiss at the bar.

Wyatt couldn’t think about that kiss at the bar. Nor could he allow himself to picture the hurt expression on Cassie’s face after he’d said those cruel things to her. He’d been so certain that driving her away had been the right thing to do. He’d almost been able to ignore his own pain at having done it.

In the end, though, neither had been true. He couldn’t ignore the pain, and he hadn’t driven her away. Cassie was still here. And she was driving him absolutely nuts by insinuating herself into every part of his life. Not only did he have to hear his sister chattering nonstop about Cassie, but he got the same spiel from his own secretary.

Worst of all, he had to deal with his ex-wife in the flesh. Very,
very
tempting flesh.

God, she’d practically taken up residence in his office. She was constantly coming by, stopping his heart whenever she appeared in the doorway, with that sunny smile and that warm laugh. She always came in on a wave of excitement. Like now, late Friday morning, when she emerged from the elevator, carrying an enormous box. Wyatt’s jaw dropped. “What the hell is this?”

“Lunch,” she said brightly. “A giant submarine sandwich. Everyone’s been working so hard on this automotive campaign, I figured you could use a break.”

Sylvia, his secretary, came hurrying out from behind her desk and hoisted one end of the six-foot-long box Cassie was maneuvering around the corner to the break room.

“Thanks so much, Cassie, everyone will really appreciate this,” Sylvia said.

As if the box contained an elixir of the gods, every one of Wyatt’s employees poked their heads out of offices or over the tops of cubicles. Sniffing, they followed her like she was the Pied Piper of Hamlin.

Lunch that day was practically a party, with Cassie serving up slices of turkey sandwich to his staff. She charmed them, praised them and pretty soon had all of the men ready to kiss her feet and all the women lining up to take makeup advice.

The afternoon wasn’t much better. She came back around three, loaded for bear with a case full of face creams and makeup for his staff. With Sylvia’s help, she gave makeovers to any woman who wanted one. It wasn’t until he heard her chatting up each and every product to his design team that he realized she was working on them—to work for
her!

“We’re not doing this campaign,” he told Gabe Wiley, one of his top guys, who’d come to work for Wyatt fresh out of Georgetown University last year.

Gabe was peering into the break room, where half a dozen women sat reading product labels while waiting for green slime to harden into some kind of rocky paste on their faces. “They really do make good products,” the younger man said. Wearing a reminiscent smile, he added, “My girlfriend has this Fresh Face raspberry body lotion that absolutely drives me insane.”

He didn’t want to think about that because he couldn’t imagine raspberries without remembering the way he and Cassie had once devoured a small container of them while lying naked in bed. They’d bounced and fallen and rolled into some very interesting places—places he’d been happy to explore with his mouth.

Thinking about raspberries would soon get him thinking about the vanilla ice cream he’d insisted went so well with fruit. And which he’d smeared all over Cassie’s belly and thighs, laughing while she shivered. He’d warmed her up by licking off every drop.

Dangerous memories.

“My sister raves about the vanilla lotion,” said Jerry, his in-house graphic designer.

Closing his eyes, Wyatt groaned softly. He simply couldn’t escape his thoughts. Or Cassie. The woman was utterly relentless.

He hadn’t even realized
how
relentless until he found out that afternoon that Cassie had already made appointments with his art director and his on-staff photographer. She was getting input for the cosmetics campaign he was so not going to design for her.

When she wasn’t winning everyone over with bribes, she was asking him for directions to a good Thai restaurant or bursting into his office with a bunch of touristy guide maps. Like the one for the Olde Towne Boston Tour, which she’d begged him to take her on over the weekend.

He’d refused, of course. He had more common sense than that. But it hadn’t deterred her. She was in his face, in his world, in his life.

And now, in his dreams.

That Friday and Saturday night, he endured long, restless hours full of intense, erotic dreams. Waking up sweating and aroused Sunday, he had to get up and take a cold shower at 5:00 a.m., though it didn’t help to cool him off. Neither did the five-mile predawn run, or the
second
shower he’d taken after his workout. He had a feeling he’d be wanting another cold shower at some point in the afternoon.

Because he was going to be spending the day with the most frustrating, desirable woman he’d ever known.

He was taking Cassie on the stupid tour. Somehow, he’d let himself be talked into it by Sylvia and Jackie, both of whom guilted him about Cassie being a stranger in town, alone for a whole weekend in a cold, impersonal hotel.

Ha. Cassie was little Miss Sunshine these days. She probably could have had the hotel manager give her a private tour with a quirk of her finger.

But no, she was going to be stuck with her cranky, rigid, completely impersonal ex-husband. Because he was just enough of a sap to have said yes.

Arriving to pick her up at 10:00 a.m., he couldn’t help wondering once again why she simply had to do the most touristy thing there was to do in this town. Revolutionary War era sightseeing. He’d rather watch the women in his office getting another makeover.

“I am so excited,” she said as she hopped into the passenger seat of his car. He hadn’t even had to go into the lobby; she’d been waiting right outside, giving the doormen a cheery wave as she flagged Wyatt down. Her eyes sparkled, and she practically bounced on her seat with anticipation.

Which was when he realized why he’d given in to her. The woman was absolutely irresistible. If “dazzling” was a product, he could market it with one shot of Cassie’s brilliant smile.

“Yeah, I can barely contain my enthusiasm myself,” he said, determined to keep his defenses in place.

She rolled her eyes. “Stop being such a grouch. I can’t believe you live in Boston and you’ve never been to the Old North Church or the Minutemen National Park.”

“And I can’t believe you got my sister
and
my secretary to work on me until I agreed to take you.”

She leaned back and made herself comfortable. Damn, he wished she’d worn jeans again today. Instead, she was dressed in a cute, flowery skirt that wisped around those fine, creamy thighs. “Believe me, Wyatt, when I set my mind on something I want, there’s not much I won’t do to get it.”

He met her stare for one long moment, wondering exactly what she meant. But Cassie didn’t say another word, just opened up the guide maps and began mumbling under her breath about all the exciting historical stuff they were going to do today.

Exciting and historical seemed a contradiction in terms to him. But somehow, seeing the excitement on Cassie’s face made him think the day might not be such a waste of time, after all.

Cassandra loved history.
But her enjoyment of the proud old city of Boston couldn’t compare to the thrill she got out of spending a whole day with Wyatt.

After his initial reluctance—and grumpiness—he’d relaxed and become the fun and entertaining guy she knew. He’d laughed with her, humored her and teased her. At one point when they were walking over a rocky area in the park, he’d even taken her hand to steady her. Cassie had laced her fingers through his and held on tight, not letting him pull away.

Oh, yes, she definitely knew how to get what she wanted. As she’d warned him in the car, she could be relentless about that.

And after her call to her grandmother the other night, she knew what she wanted.
Him.
Wyatt Reston.

Her husband.

She wanted him in her life and in her future. Most of all, right now, she wanted him in her bed. Which was why she took every opportunity Sunday to brush against him, to lean close enough for him to smell her skin or feel her hair caress his cheek.

But the darn man resisted. Oh, sure, he was fun and sweet, playful and entertaining. Despite her best efforts, however, he had not found the nearest bed, thrown her on it and had his wicked way with her.

“Probably ought to stop reading racy novels,” she muttered under her breath as they drove to Landsdowne Street, where they planned to stop for dinner.

“Sorry? What did you say?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. Just thinking about how great today has been. You were so sweet to take me sightseeing, Wyatt. You should come to New York sometime and let me repay the favor.”

He stiffened, just a bit, but said nothing. Cassie realized she’d made a tactical error, bringing up the whole dual-city lifestyle thing. She hadn’t quite figured out how to handle that. At this point, though, getting Wyatt to admit there was still something strong and unbreakable between them seemed much more important than geography.

“You really liked all that stuff, didn’t you?” he asked as he parked the car near Fenway Park. Trendy restaurants and clubs surrounded them, and the street was full of residents enjoying the late-afternoon sunshine.

“I did,” she murmured. Then, knowing she had to grab whatever chances she could, she leaned toward him. Cupping his cheek with her hand and not giving him any warning, she added, “Thanks again, Wyatt.” Without another word, she pressed her lips to his, gently, softly. A simple kiss of thanks.

She should have known better. Simple couldn’t begin to describe what was between them. As Wyatt groaned a little and parted his lips to hungrily taste her mouth, Cassie found herself wishing she’d just gone ahead and kissed him sooner. Like first thing this morning. Because she’d inspired such a delightfully strong reaction.

The deep, hot kiss soon had her quivering with the need for more, and Cassie crawled across the seat into Wyatt’s lap, straddling him. He dropped a hand on her thigh, his other arm curling around her shoulders to hold her tight. The kiss went on and on, sweet and wet, his lips and tongue soft and delightfully familiar against her own.

She could feel him growing hard, and couldn’t stop herself from grinding against him. Even through his jeans, that big, hard cock felt delicious, and she took more—more pressure, more heat. She rode him, stroking up and down, loving the way he felt against her clit, until warm pulses of pleasure pulsed through her.

“Please, Wyatt,” she sighed, knowing it wouldn’t take much for her to climax.

“Please what?” he asked, nibbling on her lips, his fingers sliding higher on her leg until his thumb was entangled in the tiny strap of her thong panties.

“Please touch me.”

That thumb moved, brushing the curls between her legs. “Like this?

The car was small, the quarters incredibly tight, but she needed satisfaction and she needed it now. She shifted her hips, arching toward him. “More.”

Those strong, warm fingers swept beneath the fabric of her panties, and she cried out when he rubbed her with his knuckles. “You’re so wet,” he groaned.

“You make me that way.”

“God, you are gorgeous, Cass. I’ve dreamed of touching you like this again,” he admitted as he slid a finger between the wet lips of her pussy.

Cassie thrust toward the touch, throwing her head back and savoring it as he slid a long, warm finger into her. When he scraped his thumb over her clit and rubbed gently, she began to pant. Heat and tension rose and swirled, all centered in the hot place between her legs that he was so deftly exploring and making his own again. He sunk his fingers into her hair, tugging her toward him and covering her mouth with his in a hot, drugging kiss. Their tongues plunged together, hard, hot and hungry, and he continued to make love to her with his finger and his thumb. Within seconds, she felt her climax rise like a cresting wave, and suddenly it broke over her, crashing, churning, pounding.

She moaned against his mouth, the relief so delicious, so damned good. Still, it wasn’t enough. Not when he was still so massive and rock-hard against her. She was dying to reach down and unzip him, free that big, delicious cock, and impale herself on it. But she could barely move; no way could she ride him the way she desperately wanted to.

“I wish you still drove that beat-up old van,” she said, wanting to cry with the need to have him inside her.

“Ditto.”

But he didn’t. He drove a tiny sports car. Oh, and it was still light out and they were in a public place. Their location was suddenly brought home to them by the sound of some teenagers hooting and yelling from a passing car. Cassie regretfully pulled away, looking into Wyatt’s eyes, seeing the longing he couldn’t possibly disguise.

After a long moment, he shook his head as if to clear it, then gently disentangled his arm and helped her over to her own seat. He stared out the windshield, and silence descended between them. She knew he was already regretting what had happened between them and was trying to figure out how to put that protective wall back in place between them.

“Cassie…”

She waved an airy hand, determined not to let him get all regretful and pessimistic. Not when she was still reeling over how right—how perfect—they still were together. “Forget it. It was a thank-you kiss. No big deal.”

His jaw fell open and he actually chuckled.

“Okay, it was a little more than that,” she admitted.

“A thank you orgasm?”

“Well, I was trying to thank you.”

“Consider me thanked. I got a lot of pleasure out of that.”

“Good.”

“But it can’t happen again.”

Not good.

“Agreed?” he asked.

She frowned. “Is that really what you want?”