Private Relations (19 page)

She didn’t know quite how it had happened, but the booth was suddenly crowded with Peter’s party and her own and she was sitting beside Peter, deeply aware that her casual lover’s thigh was pressed warmly against her own.

When the agent returned, the booth was simply too crowded for all of them. That’s when Peter asked her to dance.

Since the Irishmen were now deep in convivial talk and laughter with four attractive, interesting women, Kit slid out of the booth and let Peter lead her to a small, crowded floor and pull her against him.

“Aren’t you going to thank me?” Peter said into her ear.

“For what?”

“Rescuing you from that Irish bore.”

“How did you know he was boring me?”

“You do this thing when you’re bored. You start playing with your watch strap. Unbuckling it and rebuckling it.”

“I do?” No wonder she went through the things so fast. “Maybe it’s a nervous gesture.”

“Nope. When you’re nervous you play with your hair.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about me,” she snapped.

“I’ve known you a long time. Like right now, your eyes are getting dreamy-looking. Know what that means?”

“I’m tired?”

“You’re aroused,” he said softly.

He moved against her and it was perfectly obvious he was also aroused. Whatever had been wrong between them, it had never been sex.

“Had that woman really heard of Seamus?” Kit asked him with some suspicion, feeling that a change of subject was probably a good idea.

“Of course she had. I’ve heard her talk about him. She loves his stuff. Maybe she wouldn’t have recognized him if I hadn’t pointed him out, but…”

She chuckled. “Was there an ulterior motive, or did you want to meet the famous author?”

“I wanted to dance with you.”

She glanced up to find him gazing down at her with an expression she knew well.

“Just dance?”

“No.”

“I’ve got to get up early in the morning.”

“Then how about we leave now? I’ll come to your place, tuck you in and set your alarm for you.”

She glanced at the booth, torn between wanting very
much to go home with Peter and not wanting to abandon her charges.

“Don’t worry. Lexi will make sure your author gets back to his hotel. She’ll probably tuck him in bed.”

It was obvious she wasn’t needed, and Seamus and his agent knew how to call the limo.

“Okay.”

She said her goodbyes, told the Irishmen to call for the limo when they were ready and headed out with Peter.

They didn’t touch as they left the club, but the current of desire zapping between them was an almost tangible force. In the cab to her place, which they automatically chose because her apartment was closer, they stared hungrily at each other but didn’t touch. She had a feeling they both knew that the second they got their hands on each other, nothing was going to stop them.

They waited until her apartment door shut behind them and then they lunged for one another.

She dragged at his jacket, yanking it off, while he unsnapped the halter strap from around her neck and shoved the bodice down with no finesse whatsoever, reaching for her naked breasts.

They were kissing, panting, murmuring crazy things. She fumbled the buttons of his shirt in her eagerness and he finally batted her hands away and did it himself.

She liked watching him undress, but not tonight. Tonight she was too eager. It felt like years since they’d made love, when it hadn’t even been a week.

Her bedroom might as well have been across the Atlantic—there was no way they could make it there with need pounding in and around them. She removed the black silk tie from her waist and let the dress fall into a
silk puddle, then she stepped out of her panties while he tore off his remaining clothes.

“Not the shoes,” he said, when she would have unstrapped them.

So she fell back onto her living room couch, naked but for a pair of cherry-red stilettos. Peter stood over her for a moment taking in every detail.

“I really like you in high heels,” he said, then he dug through his pants until he found his wallet and a condom. Good thing to be prepared, she thought, even as she wondered…but their relationship wasn’t about exclusivity, she reminded herself. Except, of course, that it was for her.

He was back at her side in an instant, leaning over and kissing her, his lips hot, his body hot, the air around them snapping with heat.

Even as she craved the feel of him inside her, stoking the heat even higher, her mouth said, “So, if you hadn’t bumped into me tonight, who would you have gone home with? The thin girl with the glasses?”

Peter raised his head to stare down at her for a minute. She thought she saw a spark of anger, but it was gone so fast she wasn’t sure.

“Forget it,” she said, mortified that she’d asked. “Sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“No,” he said.

“No?”

“I wouldn’t have gone home with the thin girl with glasses.”

And then he kissed her in a way that (a) made talk impossible and (b) made thought of any kind impossible. Maybe she hadn’t slept with a lot of men in her life, but she’d kissed plenty. No one, but no one, kissed the
way Peter did, as though his whole universe were wrapped up in that kiss. She was as lost as she always was and when he touched her,
oh, please,
kissed her body,
oh, more,
and entered her,
oh, yes.

She was greedy for him, all of him. She pulled and squeezed, dragging him closer, and as she arched beneath him and her head fell back in a cry, she felt him lift her even higher, so a second climax shook her even as she felt his body clench in its own explosion.

She let her eyes droop shut as her hand stroked his warm, slightly damp back. She loved the feel of his smooth, warm skin and the hardness of muscle beneath. She thought she’d never tire of him.

“Mmm,” she said, feeling sleepy and sated. “Bed.”

“Right,” he said, pulling himself up. “You said you had to get up early. I’ll get on home.”

She’d meant bed with him in it. She didn’t want to sleep alone all night without him wrapped around her. But she didn’t say anything. He was following the rules she’d set, and that was exactly what she wanted.

“T
HAT’S THE THIRD TIME
you’ve yawned,” Piper said, reaching over to pick up Kit’s watch, which had fallen to the desk when she suddenly raised her hand to cover her open mouth.

Deftly she rebuckled the watch around Kit’s wrist. “I’m not used to boring people.”

“You’re never boring. Sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Piper was instantly alert. “For the right reasons or the wrong ones?”

“We bumped into Peter at Incendiary last night,” she admitted. “He came over to my place.”

“Mmm, tell all. Did he do delicious things to your body until the sun rose? He looks the type who knows how a girl’s put together.”

Kit felt herself blushing, which was ridiculous. “He didn’t stay over.”

“Okay. Nothing wrong with a quickie before bed,” Piper said, but her eyes were wary. “What’s going on with you two, anyway? Since you were less than pleased with me for my well-meaning interference re the contest, I’ve been trying to stay out of it. But it’s killing me. What’s going on?”

“It’s—” she huffed out a breath “—weird.”

“Okay.” Piper grinned. “My two favorite things are my sex life and the sex lives of my friends. So spill.”

Kit laughed and reached across her desk to grip Piper’s hand. “You’re a good friend, you know. In your own interfering way.”

“So?” Piper said, leaning a hip on Kit’s desk and staring down at her. “Details? Or is it all too complicated?”

“No. For once, it’s simple. Peter is a man I can call if I want sex. We’re both single, live crazy schedules, and we’re compatible in bed.” Compatible didn’t begin to describe it, she thought. “So, we’re helping each other out.”

Piper stared at her as though she’d this second grown a fig tree out of the crown of her head. “Your ex-fiancé has been demoted to a booty call?”

“I wouldn’t have used that term. But yes. That’s exactly what he is.”

“You do understand the unwritten rules of the booty call, don’t you?”

“Yes. I’ve been around.” She glanced at Piper. “I’ve known you a long time.”

“Ouch,” Piper said, clutching her chest, then she grinned. “Oh, I did have some good ones, huh? Remember that prince?”

“Of some godforsaken country that wouldn’t let him or his family on their soil? Yep, I remember him.”

“He may have had no country but he was great in bed.” Piper seemed as though she was wandering down her own X-rated memory lane, but suddenly she turned her attention back to Kit.

“So, you and Peter aren’t exclusive?”

A pang hit. “No.”

“Who else are you sleeping with?”

There was a pause. Kit twirled a curl around her fin
ger and then, remembering Peter’s words from last night, dropped the hair and folded her hands in her lap.

“I’m not sleeping with anyone else, as you know. I’ve barely got time for one sex buddy.”

Piper gave her one of those annoying I-know-something-you-don’t-know smiles that were big on enigma. “Darling, if you sleep exclusively with a man you used to be engaged to, that is not a sex buddy.”

“What is it, then?” Kit wailed.

“I guess you’ll have to work that out for yourself.”

F
OR SOMEBODY
whose career was on a roll, who loved her life in the greatest city in the world and who was getting fabulous sex regularly, Kit was awfully jittery. Something felt slightly off, as though her life were a puzzle where none of the pieces quite fit. In fact, some days she felt as if the picture on the box was wrong.

Maybe she simply wasn’t getting enough sleep. She’d have incredible, mind-blowing, fly-me-to-the-moon sex and then lie awake for hours in her lonely bed thinking about her lover, her career, her life, her parents, whether she’d ever have kids. Stupid things that seemed so incredibly important at three in the morning.

Peter’s event was less than a week away and she was knocking herself out to make sure it was memorable. The guest list had Piper salivating because she knew as well as Kit did that those same people who were being wooed by Peter’s firm were also hopefully going to be seduced by Hush.

Since neither she nor Peter were interested in the usual dog and pony show with wine and cheese and a slide show or even worse, ye olde company video, they’d gone with Manhattan’s favorite excuse for a party. The charity event.

There would be no hard sell. The event was sponsored by Peter’s company and she’d insisted that he be the evening’s master of ceremonies. All the guests were paying a hundred bucks a head to help restore one of the oldest theatres on Broadway. Since it was also the theatre where the Tony-nominated hit,
LoveYa, Babe,
was playing, Kit had been able to arrange for the two leads in the play to present a short scene from the play at the party.

She’d decided to theme the evening around the 1920s when New York’s Stanley Theater had opened its doors. She’d borrowed some movie posters and props from the hit plays of the era, and had turned the ballroom into a kind of movie set version of a Twenties theatre.

The dress code was Twenties, Jacob Hill and his staff were creating a light supper authentic to the period, and, in a flash of four-in-the-morning inspiration, Kit had hired actors to serve the food and drinks. Well, it wasn’t as if most of them hadn’t had experience waiting tables and tending bar.

Each actor or actress adopted a persona from the stage or screen, and she’d told them to recite actual play and movie dialogue wherever possible.

At one point, she’d planned to do a scene complete with aerial stunts. Hah, wouldn’t that wow the crowd? But when she thought about the logistics, she quietly put that idea away. Sometimes, she realized, she could put on a great event without flying actors or crocodiles. This time, all she wanted was for Peter to get a good profile, some decent press and, hopefully, the accounts of some prospective clients.

The day of the event, Kit personally checked and re-checked every detail until Piper finally threw her out of the ballroom. “Go get dressed, Kit. Now.”

“I’m running Cassie through her lines one more time.”

“Cassie is an experienced actress, she’ll be fine.” Cassie and Roger were doing a scene from the first play ever produced at The Stanley. The play was so over-the-top melodramatic that Kit had coached the actors to play it up for laughs.

“Right.” Kit nodded, unexpectedly nervous. “I want tonight to be perfect, that’s all.”

Piper smacked a kiss on her cheek. “It will be.”

And it was. When Kit came back down, she wore a vintage silver flapper dress with a beaded fringe. She wore a beaded band around her head and long jet beads. She’d had her hair and makeup done in Hush’s salon and the clever hairstylist had managed to curl her hair into a longish Twenties bob while the makeup artist had gone heavy on the eye makeup and light on everything else. She really did feel as if she’d stepped out of a different era.

On reentering the ballroom, she was delighted to find that Peter was already there and that he’d followed instructions. He wore a crisp tux and spats and looked so gorgeous her heart did a bit of a Charleston.

He caught her gaze on him and stopped in mid-conversation with Piper. His eyes narrowed slightly and gave her a slow once-over that made her body flame. She walked slowly toward him and he never took his eyes off her.

“You could have been a flapper, Kit,” Piper said. Since Piper never believed in following rules, she’d gone for a Marlene Dietrich look. She may have been a decade out, but she looked stunning in a long, black evening gown.

“I was telling Piper how much we appreciate all
you’ve done. This evening is important for us. It turns out all the board members decided to come.”

Kit blinked. “Aren’t you an international company?”

“Oh, yeah. They flew in from Singapore, London, San Francisco, Paris and Berlin. They’re having a board meeting while they’re here, but they definitely flew in because of the party. I’m on the hot seat, all right.”

“Nothing like a little extra pressure to add spice to an evening,” Piper said. “Excuse me, I’ll warn Trace to be on his best behavior.”

“You look fabulous,” Peter said in the tone he reserved for her.

“You look pretty fabulous, too,” she said, reaching up to straighten his bow tie.

“How about a kiss for good luck?”

He didn’t wait for her to agree, but covered her mouth with his. She felt the usual heat and spark flare between them. He took his time, kissing her thoroughly, then said, “I’ll collect the rest of that later, in my room.”

“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

He grinned down at her. “You bet.”

“Kit, the chef wants to know…” and she was off in the usual rush of last-minute requests and minor panics that were an inevitable part of her job.

Within the first hour, it was clear that the event was a success. She heard a lot of animated talk and laughter, and the ballroom was so full she knew almost everyone who’d bought a ticket had actually showed up.

Excellent.

Peter was the perfect emcee. She was so proud of him. He managed to be funny without getting carried away, to mention his company without doing a sales pitch, and in general to be so charming that she won
dered if she was the only woman who dreamed of going up to his hotel room after the event.

A flutter of possessive pride stirred her blood, though, because she knew she’d be in his bed later.

Considering that he was the emcee, and that this event was partly to help him launch his career here in New York, he spent a lot of time with Kit. He introduced her to all the board members of his company. When she admonished him for wasting time on her, he kissed her nose. “I’d rather impress you than the entire Fortune 500,” he assured her.

She laughed and then the laugh froze as two people she knew very well, but hadn’t seen in more than three years, approached.

“Mr. and Mrs. Garson?” she spluttered.

“Kit, how nice to see you again,” Peter’s mother said warmly, embracing her in a scented hug.

“Mom, Dad, glad you could make it,” Peter said.

“Hello, Kit,” Mr. Garson said, giving her a smacking kiss on the cheek. “When Peter mentioned in his e-mail that he was planning this, we decided it was time to take a trip to the Big Apple anyway. We haven’t been here for years.”

She was so shocked she could barely think of anything to say. “Um, what a surprise,” she managed. They smiled at her with fondness. “Where are you staying?”

“Right here,” Peter’s dad said.

Her eyes widened. Did they have a clue what kind of a hotel this was?

Apparently they did. Peter’s father put an arm around his mother’s shoulders. “It’s a good thing to shake things up now and then, kids,” he said, looking from one to the other. “You remember that.”

Did they know that she and Peter were sleeping together?

“John,” Peter’s mother said, giving him a reproving glance.

“Well,” Kit said, desperate to escape, “I’d better go check on the band.” She sent them both a totally inane grin. “Nice to see you again. Excuse me.”

The band was doing absolutely fine without her interference, so she slipped out and hid in the kitchen for a few minutes until the shock of seeing Peter’s parents for the first time since her aborted wedding had sunk in.

It had felt so natural for a minute there, the four of them together celebrating Peter’s success. If only…She shook her head. But that was stupid. It hadn’t happened. He was a nice guy, a fantastic lover and until she met the man she still hoped was out there, he was a convenient lover.

The trouble was, of course, that the man she hoped was out there for her was exactly like Peter except for his ability to make and keep a commitment to a woman.

“Kit, when you go back, can you tell Roger that he has to keep his jacket on when he’s serving?” One of the sous-chefs held a white dinner jacket in his hands.

With a gasp of annoyance, she snatched it up and marched back to the ballroom.

She stuffed Roger back into his jacket and did her job. By keeping a careful eye out, she managed to avoid Peter and his parents for the rest of the evening.

Until the last guest had left, and there was only her, Peter, the actors and wait staff, and the band packing up their gear. Even Piper had snuck out with Trace earlier in the evening. That party girl sure didn’t party like she used to. Not in public, anyway.

Peter came up to her with a big smile on his face and caught her in a huge hug.

“Success?” she asked.

Peter glanced down at Kit and thought she was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen. Her eye makeup was heavier and somehow different than usual. He didn’t know what she’d done, but he recognized it was something to do with the flapper era. The costume was sleek and sexy, and every time he’d watched that fringe sashay around her legs, he’d wanted to speed up time to the end of the evening when he could finally take her upstairs and ease that dancing dress up over her body.

Her brows rose slightly, and he realized he hadn’t answered her question.

“Better than you can imagine. I’ve got a pocket full of cards from people who are going to give me a call next week, and all the board members seemed to be having a good time. Always important,” he said.

“That’s great.” She glanced around. “Um, where are your parents?”

“They went to bed early.” He grinned at her. “I’m pretty sure they’re having a good time at Hush.”

“Well, that’s nice,” she said. “I wish you’d warned me they were coming.”

“It was sort of a last-minute thing. I guess in all the craziness, I never had a chance to mention it.” He touched her arm. “They were happy to see you again.”

She smiled faintly. “That’s nice.”

“So, anyhow, my aged parents snuck off early, Piper and Trace cut out early and it’s finally our turn. I think you and I have a date upstairs,” he murmured in her ear.

“I believe we do,” she said.

“I’ve got a bottle of massage oil with your name on it.”

“Oh, I definitely have some tense muscles that need work.”

“Come on.”

He was in one of the regular rooms tonight, but there wasn’t a room in Hush that wasn’t fabulous.

He watched Kit as she entered the room ahead of him. That teasing fringe had his hands itching to get under it, to Kit, hot and willing and all his.