Kiss Me Crazy (2 page)

“That’s the way to do it.” Renee retrieved her bag from the coat rack and paused to add, “Now if only you could apply that go-getter attitude to your personal life—”

“Goodbye, Buttinski.”

She laughed and patted her perfectly shaped butt. “I hope you’re referring to my very, very fine behind.” No, she wasn’t. “Then stay out of my business.” Renee laughed. “Wil do, as soon as you stop letting people walk al over you. You’re too nice. Most of the time anyway. See you at lunch.”

“Not today. I have to work on that piece.” Kara pointed at the Halè painting.

“Cal me if you change your mind, or,” she paused for effect, “if you decided to jump his bones. I might give you some pointers.”

Kara growled as she watched Renee giggle up the stairs and out of her workroom. It was pathetic how easily the woman read her. It started when the two of them shared a room at Berkeley. Renee with her privileged background, designer clothes, and vacations in exotic islands could easily have treated her and her working class parents with disdain. Yet she hadn’t. She always looked forward to Kara’s parents’ visits. They’d stayed friends to the present. In fact, she couldn’t have found out about the job at La Baron Galeria if it weren’t for Renee. Renee grew up in the same neighborhood as the Fitzgeralds and heard through a mutual friend that Baron was looking for an art restorer.

As for her suggestion to seduce Baron, it wasn’t going to happen. Lusting after him and seducing him were two very different things. Stil, the idea was tantalizing. Kara removed her apron, retrieved the letter from her desk, and shoved it in her purse. Better to give him the letter now and get it over with than continue to agonize over her decision. She started upstairs, each step more determined than the last one.

I can do this…

At the top of the stairs was a seven-shaped halway with doors leading to various rooms—several storage rooms and restrooms, a conference room and a little kitchenette, Baron’s assistant Rick Ben Jacob’s office, then a left turn to a private elevator, which went to Baron’s offices upstairs. Kara ducked in the bathroom to freshen up.

She washed her hands, took lip gloss from her purse, and applied a trace amount on her lips then leaned back to take inventory of her appearance. Her hair was in its usual ponytail in the back and pinned back by one of her vintage clips, a perfect hairdo for her kind of work. She puled off the clip and quickly ran a comb through it. A little bit more makeup wouldn’t hurt, but al she had was lip gloss. She sighed at her tan pants and black top. Getting dressed up and putting on war paints would have bolstered her confidence but it wouldn’t change anything. She stil had to face the beefcake upstairs.

She puled off her glasses, stared at her blurry image, and sighed. She should have worn her contacts instead of the glasses, but there was nothing she could do about that now. Besides, she’d rather not trip and fal across Baron’s desk because she couldn’t see the tip of her nose. That was how he ended up kissing her the last time.

Kara pushed her glasses in place, stepped out of the bathroom, and hurried past Rick’s office. Upstairs, Gena Ray, Baron’s secretary, sat behind her desk, her irritated gaze on two young women waiting in the visitor’s corner—two plush couches with an antique coffee table to the right of her desk. Baron must stil be interviewing showroom attendants for his San Francisco galery.

One of the girls wore a skimpy top that clearly indicated she wasn’t wearing a bra, which explained Gena’s annoyed expression.

Kara covered a smile. Gena, a leggy and stunning brunette with a kick-ass wardrobe, ran Baron’s office like her private fiefdom. No one was alowed to see him without an appointment.
Except me,
which ticked her off to no end.
But despite her territorial attitude toward Baron, she always acted and dressed professionaly.

Anyone who didn’t know her might think she had a thing for the boss. Kara knew she was just a perfectionist when it came to office behavior and protocol. She was also happily married.

As usual, the secretary scowled when she saw her. “Kara.”

“Gena.” Kara gave her a brief smile.

“You want to see Mr. Fitzgerald?”

Why else would I be here?
She didn’t understand why the woman insisted on using ‘Mr. Fitzgerald’ when both of them addressed him as Baron. Only the sales clerks were that formal with him. “Is he busy?”

“As always.” She flipped through his appointment book.

“But I can squeeze you in for a few minutes. He has an important conference cal in exactly five minutes.”

In other words, don’t waste his time.
Kara understood.

“Thanks, Gena.”

She stepped toward Baron’s door just as one of the girls from the couch spoke up. “Excuse me? We’ve been waiting to see him for almost an hour now and you’re letting her—”

“I told you he’l see you when he’s ready. If you can’t wait, come tomorrow.”

The conversation receded to the background as Kara knocked and waited for a response. When it came, she took a calming breath then another before pushing the door open.

The large room was the seat of power, from the grey carpeting and the expensive knick-knacks around the room to the dark cherry desk. But the electrifying surge of energy came from the man behind the desk. He’d removed his jacket and his light blue shirt clung to his broad shoulders with careless elegance. His black hair, cropped short, suited him just like the longer style he’d sported years ago. It realy didn’t matter what he wore or how he styled his hair, Baron exuded raw sexuality.

He looked up and locked his bottomless blue eyes on her.

His gaze was like a physical touch. The hairs on her arms lifted in response, and gentle wash of warmth made her stomach curl.

Baron had known Kara was his visitor long before he looked up. Her scent, woodsy with a hint of wild flowers had a way of making the back of his neck tingle. His eyes skimmed over her slender, yet curvy, figure. Even in simple slacks and shirt, she managed to look elegant and graceful, and the effect on him was headier than a perfectly aged cognac.

He watched her walk toward him, her hip-swaying stride confident and mesmerizing. A walk that proclaimed to the world,

“I’m a sexy woman, deal with it.”

He’d resisted dealing with it for years, partly because of bad timing and a company policy he’d drafted himself. He would have broken it in a heartbeat had she given him any hint that she was interested. There was something between them, something subtle but constant. Encouragement or not, he was making his move the day after the doors of his San Francisco galery opened. The one thing he’d learned these past years was how to outline a good strategy and folow it systematicaly until he achieved his goal. The courting of Kara Michaels was part of this year’s plan, to be commenced in exactly one month.

Baron rose to his feet, his gaze moving over her heart-shaped face, inteligent hazel eyes behind narrow, frameless glasses, and the luscious lips a man could get lost in for hours, days even.

She rarely came to his office. He, on the other hand, went to the basement once a week in the guise of checking on the progress of the piece she was working on. Always hoping she’d do or say something to give her feelings away.

“Kara, what a surprise,” he said.

“I hope I’m not bothering you.” She stopped before his desk and gave him one of her sweet smiles.

The nerves on the surface of his skin responded to her husky soft voice. Maybe he was a fool for waiting. “You bother me? Never. Come on, have a seat.”

He waited until she sat down then settled back in his seat.

For a moment, she didn’t speak, just sucked her bottom luscious lip between her teeth and chewed on the pink flesh, eyes vulnerable behind her glasses. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but the silence was driving him nuts.

She reached up and touched the temple of her glasses, something she did when nervous. His gut tightened. “What is it, Kara?”

“I want you to know that it’s been a pleasure working here these past five years, Baron. You took a chance on me when I was fresh out of grad school and taught me so much. I’l always be grateful for that. I’ve thought hard about this, it’s nothing personal, I just think the time is right for me to leave. I’m here to offer you my resignation.”

Baron’s chest had tightened before she finished her first sentence, every word after that a needle prickling his skin. She was leaving him, walking out. His brain short-circuited and the past rushed back with the force of a tsunami.

It was the situation with Valerie al over again. He knew it was irrational to feel betrayed, to compare the two women. They were nothing alike, the situations not remotely the same. Kara wasn’t pregnant with his child. His ring wasn’t on her finger. And she wasn’t about to take off with someone he’d thought was a friend. Baron clenched his teeth and forced himself to think and act rationaly.

He looked at Kara’s hand and saw the letter she was holding. He glared at it until he saw her hand shake. That sign of weakness made him feel better. She wasn’t as calm as she appeared to be. His gaze moved to her face. Her eyes, hazel with specks of green on the edges, met his squarely and without guile.

“Why?” His made sure his voice was calm, with just the right amount of curiosity.

Surprise flashed in her eyes. What had she expected? For him to lose it? Sure, he wanted to take the damn letter from her hand and ram it in the shredder. The problem was she’d just bring him another one. From the stubborn angle of her chin and the determination gleaming in her eyes, the gorgeous woman thought she was doing the right thing by leaving. The sooner he disabused her of the idea the better they’d both be. They were perfect together as business partners, and if he had his way, he’d show her just how perfect they could be as a couple.

“I need to folow my dreams, Baron. It’s something I’d promised myself I’d do before I reached a certain age, and I’m not growing any younger.”

He understood dreams, but he couldn’t bring himself to applaud her decision. Valerie had said the same thing about folowing her dreams, though worded it differently, before shattering his life with, ‘I can’t do it married to you.’

Pain blindsided him, piercing and relentless. He thought he’d reconciled with his past and moved on. The echoes of it sneaked up on him when least expected, but never this vividly. He clenched his teeth to stop the ache, to contain the anger and the disappointment.

But Kara wasn’t Valerie. Kara was smart, gifted and tenacious, an amazing art conservator he couldn’t afford to lose.

They once had a relationship that worked, one he’d missed these past years. He could have it al again—the meals in the basement, stimulating discussions, watching her eyes light up with laughter when he told his lame jokes. Only his time it would at work
and
at his home.

“Is it the money?” He made sure his voice stayed calm, belying the turmoil churning his insides into goo.

“No.” She shook her head so hard a lock of her pale hair moved to the front of her face. She brushed it behind her ear impatiently. “Of course not.”

“You know I could double it if that’s what you need.” Anger flashed so fast in her eyes he might have imagined it.

He ignored the letter in her hand and concentrated on her expression, her body language. Her gorgeous eyes watched him, calm but serious, her hand resting on top of her purse. With her love for vintage accessories and graceful mannerisms, she was a throwback to a time when women walked around with pink parasols and lackeys waited on them hand and foot. He wanted to be the one to pamper her, love her. There must be something he could do, offer her to stay while he planned his next move.

“Do you need a new studio? I can refurbish the offices next door to your specifications.”

A baffled frown settled between her curved eyebrows.

“Fab Fashions just leased it.”

“Leases can be terminated at the landlord’s discretion.”

“And you think that would be fair?”

The censure in her voice made him feel like a heel, for about a second. There was a lot more at stake here than some tenant’s ruffled feathers. “I’m just trying to make it worth your while to stay, Kara. I’l get a designer to start working on the—”

“No, Baron.” She jumped to her feet and pressed the tips of her fingers against her temple. “This is not about money or an office.”

“What is it then? Last year you said your work wasn’t chalenging enough. You couldn’t reach your fulest potentials as a restorer of fine art when the bulk of your work was on antique furniture, busts, and vases. You needed to clean more paintings, the older the better. I made it happen.”

Her work was exceptional and word spread fast. People lined up to use her services, from private colectors to antique dealers. The demand for her services was only going to grow. Why couldn’t she see that? They were a team, damn it. A great team.

“Once again you’ve come up with a reason to leave. What exactly do you need, Kara?” His tone had gotten colder and curter as he progressed, and her eyes narrower.

She nearly slammed the letter in front of him then braced herself on his desk with the palms of her hands, her eyes flashing.

“You obviously haven’t been listening to anything I’ve said. I need to fulfil a dream. Something I thought you, of al people, would understand. Obviously I was wrong. You are...,” she growled deep in her chest, “never mind.”