Sleigh Bells in Valentine Valley (18 page)

“Where's your regular shirt?” he asked in a strained voice.

She looked down at the tank top with the generous neckline. “Nicole seems to get better tips than I do. Ethan needs his college fund, so I thought—what the hell. Do you like my skirt?”

“I can see a lot of your legs.”

“And you hate that,” she teased.

She leaned over to put her portfolio on the desk and watched with pleasure when his gaze dipped to her cleavage and stayed there.

“You're trying to soften me up for something,” he said. “Just tell me what it is while I can still think straight.”

Laughing softly, she straightened. “My proposal for the band festival.”

Tony eyed her. “Didn't this cause us to have an argument the other day?”

“It did, but I thought we were moving past that. Just look it over. I know there's some money up front, but I've given you some projections of the revenue I think it can bring in. Be open-minded, and we'll talk after the shift.”

She felt his gaze on her until she turned the corner into the hallway.

Throughout the evening, she kept glancing at him, wondering if he'd read it. But keeping him in her line of sight also let her see everything else he did—the way he oversaw his employees without being a tyrant, his easy relationship with Chef Baranski. But mostly, she watched him with people. There was a sad drunk at the farthest end of the bar, close to the wall—as if the man was trying to hide. She'd seen him before, and he usually sat alone, watching a college basketball game or talking to the bartender. Tonight, it was Tony bending his head to listen, leaning his elbows on the bar to have a serious discussion about whatever long speech the man gave. The drunk wasn't belligerent; he concentrated on Tony's face, swaying slightly, as if Tony was his lifeline.

Kate felt a glow of warmth that stayed with her. As the evening started winding down, she found herself leaning against the bar as she waited for her last two tables to need her. Tony was mixing a few drinks beside her.

“So did you have fun snowboarding?” he asked.

She winced. “Sure, but I'm paying for it today. There are bruises in places I don't want to think about.”

“Gee, I hope that doesn't interfere with certain other activities.”

She shook her head. “Always thinking about yourself, De Luca, always thinking about yourself.”

He handed her the tray of drinks. “Only thinking about you, Fenelli.”

When she returned and entered her order in the POS, he said, “You know, Ethan's only concerned that you're having fun.”

She sighed. “Everyone seems worried about that. I know I keep busy and work hard, but sometimes that's fun for me.”

“Well, I know that. But you used to have other things, too, before college and work.”

When she didn't say anything, he said quietly, “You can let yourself have fun, even back in Vail. Don't punish yourself.”

His gentle tone made her throat tighten. She took a deep breath and smiled brightly. “Did you look at my portfolio?”

“Stop! We're having a discussion about fun. Remember in our first year of college, I used to come to your dorm and drag you out of there, pretending we were going to the library?”

“Yeah, I learned that was your tagline for anything
but
the library.”

“Hey, I had to be creative. We didn't go to the same school, so I had to find some way to be with you and get your nose out of your books.”

“I kept telling you you were going the wrong way, and you led me right off campus to a park, where you pulled the most amazing picnic out of your backpack.”

“Hardly an original idea, but I was desperate. You were looking hollow-eyed and pale.”

“I was feeling pretty overwhelmed at first. I thought I'd worked hard in high school and was so prepared for college. But the classes required much more work. There just weren't enough hours in the day.” She glanced at him and smiled. “And although I might have protested, I did enjoy it when you took me away from all that.”

“And I don't think you've changed. Besides this job, you've been working on this portfolio—”

“Did you read it?” she interrupted eagerly.

“Not yet. I bet you've been working on something else besides the portfolio.”

“Oh, my table needs me. I'll be back!”

But she couldn't avoid him for long.

“I know you,” he said. “You haven't been ‘getting your priorities straight,' you've been working on that law case.”

“Well, I have to do something! The public health might be at stake. I talked it over with your sister, and since I can't deal with the company myself, I'm researching them to find a way to put my mind at ease. They're a reputable company, and I'm honestly not finding anything in their history to lead me to believe they might mislead us and the FDA.”

“Then that should make you feel better.”

“Not yet. I'll let you know.”

They had a quiet moment beside each other as Tony polished glasses.

“You know,” she said, “you might be shocked that I'm willing to admit this, but though I resisted moving to Vail—it felt like a demotion, even though I was a junior partner—”

“You were the managing partner of the office. They put you in charge.”

“I know, I know, but you know how focused I was on Denver.”

“I know.”

His voice had lost that teasing edge, and she knew she skated close to the edge of their past problems.

“But I found I actually liked the slower volume of work in a smaller office. I liked living in Vail, leaving behind the stress of traffic and the bigger office. In Denver, I was starting to have trouble sleeping.” She hesitated. “Not sure I should be admitting this to you.”

“I think better of you for admitting the truth. I bet you got too skinny in Denver, too. I always used to have to remind you to eat.”

“I didn't really like being pressured to eat,” she grumbled. “Sometimes it felt like you were going to pretend the fork was an airplane.”

They glanced at each other and smiled. She looked into those warm chocolate eyes, and something in her breathing gave a hitch. Their smiles died, and then as if by unspoken agreement, they quickly moved apart and went back to work.

After closing, when Kate was bringing the linens into the kitchen, Chef Baranski stood alone, looking at his phone.

“Excuse me, Chef,” she said, trying to get by him in the narrow aisle.

He harrumphed but stepped aside. When she returned, he gave her a look. “Tony's happier than he's been in a while,” he said with no preamble.

She swallowed almost nervously. “Oh. I didn't realize he was acting any differently.”

“That's because you're not usually here. He's a quiet, steady guy, no great highs or lows. And then you show up.”

“Is that bad?” she asked hesitantly.

“I don't know. Guess we'll see when you leave.”

He stepped aside and she escaped, but as she put chairs upside down on tables, she couldn't help wondering—was Chef trying to warn her that Tony was going to get hurt?

But Tony was the one who'd begun this sexual dance. He was a grown man and would have to accept the consequences of his choices. And she
had
to leave; she had to prove her integrity to Clements, Lebowitz, and Yang. If he was sad when she left, it would probably be because he missed the sex. Whatever else had happened, they'd always done that really well.

Except . . . except the last year of their marriage, when she'd been in law school and so stressed and exhausted, even their sex life had taken a hit. It hadn't been right of her, she knew that now, but at the time, she'd barely been able to focus on anything but the overwhelming number of cases she'd had to study. And Ethan. She'd missed important things in his life—Tony had seen his first steps, Ethan had said “Dada” first, and instead of a cling-to-Mommy phase, he'd wanted Tony. All those things had been hard enough to deal with, and she'd almost begun to resent that Tony had wanted even more from her.

She'd been so wrong.

She finished her work in the back room, and when she came out, there were few lights near the bar. The kitchen was dark, and she realized Chef had gone home. Just Tony's office light was on, and he was reading her portfolio.

She stood silently in the doorway and simply watched him, the way his dark head was bent as he read, the curve of his neck beneath his hair, which hung a little too long. Those broad shoulders had borne the load of father, husband, and business owner.

He looked up and saw her. “So do you want to discuss . . .”

She pulled off her tank top. Her bra was black and lacy, and his mouth sagged as he looked at it. And then she removed it, hanging it off a box on the nearest shelf. She crawled onto the office chair, straddling his lap, her skirt inching higher on her thighs, then put her hands in his hair to tilt his head back and kiss him.

The kisses were mindless and wild, deep and exciting. With a groan, he worked his way down her neck, sucking, tasting, then arched her back until he could take her nipple into his mouth. Kate shuddered, pressing her hips into his. His jeans might have gotten in his way, but it was an interesting sensation against her delicate underwear. His tongue worked magic as she rubbed against him. He moved between her breasts, as if he couldn't bear to leave one alone for long.

To her shock, he suddenly swore, swiveled the chair, picked her up, and deposited her on his desk. She only vaguely heard things tumble out of the way behind her, because all she could focus on was how he shoved her skirt higher and spread her legs, holding her thighs wide as he bent his head. The first touch of his mouth on her silky underwear made her cry out. He licked her through it, then ran his tongue along the edge and underneath. She shuddered and dropped back on her elbows, bumping her head into the wall behind. But nothing distracted her, nothing stopped her focus on the rising tide of passion that hurdled her higher and higher.

And then Tony was over her and inside her, his body thrusting, holding her hips to guide her just as he wanted. She caressed his chest, his nipples. More stuff fell onto the floor, but she was mindless by this point, nothing but Tony and their need and their desperation.

She climaxed almost violently, shuddering hard, and with a groan he followed her into bliss, his thrusts slowing. Now she felt the awkwardness of her head bent against the wall, his body pinning her to the desk, his shoulders almost touching both the side wall and bookshelf on the other side.

She started to laugh, unable to help herself.

He straightened and looked down at her, still breathing hard. “Am I funny?”

“No, but my neck will develop a crick in it if I don't move soon.”

Without breaking their connection, he pulled her off the desk and collapsed back on the chair, with her still straddling him. Slouching, his head resting on the seat back, he watched her between half-closed eyelids. She smiled and gyrated languorously, still feeling him hard inside her.

“Jesus, I missed this,” he murmured hoarsely.

“So I'm the best lay you've had.”

“Well, I'm not saying that . . .”

“Hey!”

She went to get off him and he caught her hips and held her firmly to him. She hesitated for a moment, then slowly lay onto him, pillowing her head on his shoulder, her face against his neck. He smelled so good, and she felt more relaxed and at peace than she had in a long time. Her bare breasts against his cotton shirt felt erotic and daring. His arms came up around her, and he held her to him. She felt a momentary unease; if they were just about sex, then maybe they shouldn't linger afterward. But . . . she couldn't make herself move.

“Oh, I was supposed to give you a message from the widows,” Tony said, caressing her bare back. “We're all invited to the boardinghouse Tuesday for dinner.”

“‘We're all'?”

“You, me, and Ethan.”

“Uh-oh, why does this make me nervous?” She kissed his neck idly.

“Don't know. I've given up trying to anticipate their moves ages ago.”

“They used to scare me when I was little.”

“You never told me that.”

“Well, I was really little, four or five. BT, Before Tony.”

He gave a snort of amusement. “Why did they scare you?”

She felt his big hand begin to slowly comb through her hair, and it was heavenly. “They were friends of my grandma, of course, and before she moved to Arizona, she occasionally took me with her when they got together to play cards. They were really competitive, I understood that eventually. But then—they were shrieking and slapping down cards and shouting with laughter and occasionally swearing. I was a pretty serious, quiet kid, and they just . . . scared me.”

He gave a soft laugh. “But you got over it.”

They were quiet for long minutes, and at last Tony sighed. “Looks like I'm not exactly ready for round two anymore. Guess we should call it a night.”

She straightened up, and while he studied her breasts again, she looked around until she spotted the portfolio.

“Did you finish it?”

“I want to mull it over some more.”

“Don't take too long, okay? We don't have much time.”

“I know you put a lot of thought into it. I appreciate it.”

“And is that a grudging undertone I hear?”

“Not really, I . . . I don't know.”

“Okay, okay, no pressure. I think it'll be a fun thing for all our friends and customers to look forward to, but I certainly won't insist. You're the boss.”

“Right now I think your breasts are in charge, because I can't seem to do anything but focus on them.” He leaned in and gave the gentlest kiss to first one tip and then the other.

She shivered. Trying not to think of the warmth such a tender kiss inspired, she at last slid from his lap. While he zipped up, she tugged down her skirt, and found her bra and shirt. He'd actually torn her underwear, but she didn't mention it. It gave her a little thrill.