That First Kiss (11 page)

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“Okay, who’s the girl
, and more importantly, do I know her?”

Tate focused on the burn in his thighs and not falling face first on the treadmill as he turned his head to look at Felix. “What girl?” There was a girl? Tate darted a glance around the packed club, searching for the girl in question. There were many, but none of them stuck out to him.

Felix laughed. “I’m talking about the one who has you glaring at the equipment like you want to set it on fire. The one who has you running your ass so far into the ground I’m afraid it might affect the deadline and singlehandedly bring the company to its knees.”

Oh, that girl
. “I think you might be being a touch melodramatic. The deadline’s fine. I’m on track. In fact, I’m more than halfway through with the storyline already.”

Felix nodded, pleased. “Glad to hear it. Maybe now I can shake Bradford off my ass for a while. Get some room to breathe.”

“Riding your ass is he?”

Felix shot him a
dark look. What did he think? “So, the girl?”

“No girl.” Tate ran faster, upping the speed to a punishing pace
so he wouldn’t have to meet his eyes.

“Bullshit. The only time I have ever seen you act this way was when you hit a mental block, or
there was a woman involved. Since you just told me how great the book is coming along, I know it’s not that. Talk to me. Never know when I might have some incredible flash of insight.”

Tate didn’t doubt that he could help him. After all, Felix had been
seeing someone for a while now. Unfortunately, he had no clue who she was. Felix certainly was a secretive sonofabitch. 

Friend or not, Felix was still his boss.
How could he possibly tell him that he was pissed because he’d woken up this morning expecting to find Piper in his bed only to find himself alone? The wench had snuck away while he was sleeping, too chicken shit to face him in the light of day? The several hundred times he’d tried to call her phone, it went to voice mail. Since it was a Sunday, the office was closed and technically it was her day off, so she didn’t have to get back to him for another…He glanced at his watch. Twelve hours and forty-two minutes. But that was twelve hours and forty-two minutes too long from where he was standing.

She owed him an explanation and if she kept refusing to answer his calls, she was going to force his hand. He was already entertaining thoughts of pounding down her door
, but he was trying to be a gentleman about it and give her a chance to come to him.

Felix was his friend, he knew that, but he was also his boss. He’d never asked him about it before, because there had never been a cause to, but he had to assume that like any reputable business, there
was a policy against fraternizing with coworkers. He couldn’t very well ask him about it now, not with him questioning him like he was. It would raise too many red flags.

He didn’t want to jeopardize Piper’s job. And it would be her that would get fired. He was too important to the company, his success tied directly to theirs and vice versa. Logically he knew that they would just set him up with another replacement, but he wasn’t ready to send Piper off just yet. Not to mention, he didn’t want to be the cause of someone,
anyone
, losing their job.

But he needed to talk to so
meone, release some of the pent-up frustration that had built since the moment he rolled out of bed.
Alone
. Damn, he had to quit dwelling on that. It was fucking with his head. He couldn’t talk to his mother, for obvious reasons, and Marie, whom he usually confided in, probably wouldn’t see things his way, since she seemed to have found a new friend in Piper. Except for Felix, he really didn’t trust anyone else with his problems. Maybe he could skirt the details, tell Felix just enough to get his opinion without giving away that he was talking about Piper.

That could work.

Decided, Tate shut down the treadmill and grabbed his towel, swabbing his brow and chest before draping it over his shoulders. “Let’s hit the weights,” he suggested. He had the feeling that the only way to relieve some of his tension would be through a brutal workout that would leave him too tired to function. For the next twelve hours and thirty-three minutes, if he was lucky.

Tate stretched out on the weight bench and Felix got into position, spotting him. “So, what’s up?”

Gripping the metal bar, Tate braced his feet on the floor and pushed off, slowly lowering the weight to his chest. “Like you said; woman trouble.” Lift. Lower.

“Anyone I know?”

Lift. “Maybe.” Lower.

“That’s a yes.” Felix chuckled. Tate didn’
t bother to correct him. Lift. “So, what’d Piper do to piss you off this time?”

His stomach tightened at the
sound of her name and the bar slipped. Tate cursed, expecting a hundred and fifty pounds to come crashing down on his chest, but Felix’s quick reflexes saved him. Grasping the bar in both hands, Felix set it back in the cradle. “Who said it has anything to do with her?”

Felix rolled his eyes as they moved to switch positions. Tate looked down on him, shocked and a little annoyed that the man had been able to read him so easily.
“Because I’m smart like that.”

Tate glared, not appreciating his humor. “Intelligent though you may be, I fail to see how you
’ve drawn that connection.”

Felix pumped out one last press and reset the bar. Rolling to his feet, he swipe
d up his towel and gym bag. “I’m done here. You?” Tate nodded, gathering his things and following him to the locker room. “The connection is easy to make,” he continued, as they stepped into the steamy showers, “because I’ve never met anyone who gets under your skin quite like she does. Plus, the fact that you haven’t barreled into my office demanding that I fire her is a pretty big clue.”

Tate puzzled over his words. “How does my not wanting to fire her translate into my being angry with her?”

“Aha, so it is Piper you’re angry with,” he said, turning under the spill of water to point a foamy bar of soap at him.

“
Oh, that’s brilliant, Sherlock. You mean to tell me this whole time you’ve been prodding me for information, you didn’t even know if it was about Piper or not? Well, damn. It’s a good thing I’m already in the shower. I feel dirty. Used.” Felix grinned and shook his head.

“Coercion at its finest,
my friend,” Felix said smugly. “That’s what having a good woman in your life will do for you.”

“Speaking of women. When do I get to meet this mystery woman
of yours?”

Felix turned off the shower, his lips sealed tight. Tate rinsed quickly and followed him back to the lockers to change into his street clothes.

“Cat got your tongue?” he taunted, pulling a gray sweater over his head. “Let me guess, she has a
great
personality.”

“As a matter of fact, she does.”

Tate stilled, affecting a compassionate, understanding expression. “That ugly, huh? Tough break, buddy. Ouch!”

“Watch your mouth about my woman,” Felix warned,
whipping him with his towel again, then giving one last playful punch/shove combo that sent Tate crashing into a row of lockers for good measure.

“Anyone ever tell you that you have anger management issues?”

“Only once, but they didn’t live to tell about it.” They finished dressing in companionable silence.

Outside, the air was balmy but pleasant. Tate rolled up his shirt sleeves to keep from overheating. Felix turned to him just as he was about to tell him he’d catch him later. “So, Piper, huh?”

“What?” Tate blinked. He was so completely taken aback by his sudden and unexpected question that he was at a loss for words. Hadn’t they ended this line of conversation already?

“I said,
Piper, huh?
” Felix spoke slowly, enunciating the words as if Tate were mentally challenged.

“I know what you said.” He scowled. Looked off across the parking lot searching for an excuse, you know, in case one just happened to coast by
on a breeze. Nothing came to him. Feeling backed into a corner despite standing out in the middle of a wide-open parking lot, Tate scratched his fingers through his hair.
When in doubt, deny, deny, deny
. “How in the hell did you manage to make that leap?”

“I was a frog in my last life. Seriously, though, you got a thing for Piper?”

Jesus, clearly the man wasn’t going to let it go. Tate studied him, searching for any indication that Felix might be upset with him. All he saw in his dark eyes was concern and not a little curiosity. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“What’s the office policy about dating a coworker?”

“Shit, I was right.” Felix’s curse did not put him at ease. “Listen, there isn’t really a policy in place about this sort of thing, because we’re all adults here, but if you’re thinking about hooking up with this woman, do us all a favor and really
think
about it before you jump in the sack with her, okay? These things don’t usually have the best turn out and tend to get ugly, fast, and—shit, you already slept with her, didn’t you?” he questioned when Tate scowled at the ground.

“Fuck. Yeah, man.” Now it was Felix’s turn to run his fingers through his hair, as if this whole situation was
his burden to bear. “Look, what happened between her and me happened before she started on as my assistant. She didn’t even know my name. So, you know, you don’t have to fire her or anything.”

Felix glared at him. “I’m not going to fire her. Do you really think I would put myself through the misery of combing the globe for a person ballsy enough to stand up to your prick ass
again? No, thank you.”

He paced, and the whole action made Tate a little ne
rvous. “So this was what, a one-night stand?”

“Yes, but…” Tate stalled, unsure of how far to go. Maybe it was time to come clean, know what he was up against, what he stood to lose. What they both stood to lose. Then he could come up with a game plan instead of flying blind. “It’s not enough
, though. I want more. There’s just something about her…I can’t put it into words.”

“
I know what you mean, man.” Felix sent him a cautious look. “Is that what she wants?”

“I don’t know” he admitted. “I think she might hate my guts, but
I feel like there’s something there.” The way she had fallen asleep in his arms, trusted him to care for her so completely, told him that much.

“Then you have to find out.
Don’t let this thing fester. Unanswered questions have a way of eating you alive. Get your answers so you can both move forward.”

Tate felt
some of the tightness in his stomach lessen as hope and anticipation filtered in. “What are you saying? That I should go after her?”

“I’m saying that you need to iron out whatever this thing is between you two.”

“What if we decide we want to be together?”

“I don’t care if you decide to dress up in monkey suits and climb fucking trees all day, so long as your work isn’t affected,” he
barked. When Felix suddenly rounded on him and jabbed a finger into his chest, he was ashamed to admit that he flinched a little. “So help me, if you screw this up, if you scare Piper off, I will tear up your contract so fast it will make your head spin.”

Tate
nodded; although it was a shock to see his friend react so strongly in defense of another person. He must really like Piper, he thought idly. “Noted.”

They parted ways, and as Tate climbed into his car he couldn’t ignore the triumphant feeling filling him. He’d been given the green light to go after what he wanted. A
s he drove away, a single question nagged at him. What did he want? He wanted Piper, he knew that much, but did he want a relationship with her? Could he even be in a relationship? He wasn’t sure he could trust himself to be monogamous. He’d tried it once and look at how well that turned out. Great sex did not a relationship make.

Baby steps, he reminded himself. First he had to talk to her. Then he had to get her. After that, it was anyone’s guess.

Now all he had to do was get her to open the damn door.

15

Piper had the best time out with the girls. Rather than a movie, Shelia had talked her into calling up Lynn and Jules—Patti was nursing a cold and couldn’t make it—and hitting one of the new clubs that had just opened on the west end. It was a small, fledgling business, but it worked for what they wanted, which was a nice time out with a couple of drinks, a lot of laughs, and no complications. She had almost completely forgotten about the waking
-up-in-bed-with-her-boss situation.              

             
Unfortunately, that plan was thrown to the curb the moment she stepped foot off the elevator and noticed the mass of angry male leaning against her door jamb, scowling at her.

             
“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded to know, sliding past his unyielding body to unlock her door. “Do you mind?”

             
He moved, but barely. “Why haven’t you answered any of my messages,” he asked, his face inches from hers.

             
The hinges protested with a squeal as she pushed open the door and stepped into the living room. Intending on giving him a less than fond farewell, Piper turned to slam the door in his face only to stop when Tate shoved his way inside. “Just what do you think you are doin’?” she hissed, a touch of her accent coming through.

             
Tate stood over her, his blue eyes raking over the little black dress and sky-high heels she wore. They snagged briefly on the insane amount of cleavage and she saw the spark of desire register an instant before the anger took over. “What the hell are you wearing? Did you go out on a…were you out on a fucking
date
?”

             
“That’s none of your damn business!” she shouted, slamming the door closed so they wouldn’t disturb the neighbors. But with paper-thin walls, she wouldn’t be surprised if the police showed up any moment for disturbing the peace. “It’s my day off,” she snarled. “I do get one of those, in case you forgot.”

             
“How could I possibly forget? I had to make my own coffee!” he roared.

“Well
, call the newspapers! It’s a wonder you’re still alive,” Piper yelled back. She stabbed a finger at him. “I am not your damn servant, Tate. I’m your assistant and that does not give you the right to push me around or show up at my
home
demanding to know where I’ve been or who I am spending my time with.” They’d only just begun, but already this whole argument was wearing her out.

Tate looked away, refusing to acknowledge anything she just said. D
istracted, his gaze roamed her apartment, taking stock of her meager possessions. “You haven’t answered my question.”

             
“That’s because I don’t have to!” She couldn’t even recall what question that was. Breathing deeply, Piper worked to affect some sense of calm. “Now, please, leave. I will see you in the morning,” she said tightly, proud that her voice hadn’t shaken, then returned to the door and held it open.

             
Completely ignoring her, Tate plopped down on the sofa. “This is a nice place, Piper,” he commented, eerily calm for someone who had just been shouting at her. Reclining back, he folded his hands across his stomach and kicked his feet up on the tabletop.

             
“Thanks,” she said. “Now get your shoes off my table.”

*****

              Tate dropped his feet and passed her a smooth smile that had melted many women’s hearts. Piper cocked an eyebrow, no sign whatsoever that she was even marginally effected by his charms. Yep. He knew she found him attractive, had suspicions that she thought of him as much more than that, but she was hard to read and it was quite possible that for the first time, he might be wrong and she might not want him at all.

Momentarily dejected, Tate tried to keep the smile on his face and the mood light.
Piper’s refusal to let go of her own anger was making that nearly impossible to accomplish, however.

             
Resigned, Piper silently closed the door again and slipped out of her shoes—a pair of sexy black heels that he was sad to see go—and placed them neatly by the door. “I need something to drink.”

             
Sounded good to him. “I’ll take water, beer, coke, whatever you have.”

She stopped
mid-step and gave him an arch look. “I wasn’t offering.”

Tate grinned widely and cocked an eyebrow. “
I know. Surprise me.” The look on her face could have shriveled his balls had he been a lesser man, but Tate wasn’t a lesser man. Settling into the cushions, he brought his arms up and laced his fingers behind his head, closing his eyes while he listened to Piper moving around quietly a few feet away.

Behind his closed lids, he imagined all the different ways this thing could play out: Piper returning with a cold beer in one hand, her bra in the other and wearing a sinful smile that made promises he would make sure she kept. Piper wearing nothing but her heels, striding toward him, her full breasts bouncing and swaying with each step in a hypnotizing rhythm. Tate’s fantasy took him deeper to Piper lying beneath him, her lids heavy and her lips moist and parted—both sets—waiting for him to plunge inside with his tongue, his fingers, his cock.

“Tired?” The soft, feminine voice ripped him from his fantasies and Tate straightened as a cream soda was thrust in his face. “I ran out of bottled water and I don’t drink.”

             
“It’s fine,” he said, surprised to find his voice deeper than normal and filled with gravel. He cleared his throat. “I like cream soda.”

             
“Glad to know you approve,” Piper replied tersely, clearly not over her anger. She settled on a cushion at the opposite end of the couch with her body turned toward him, and twisted the cap off her own bottle with a small
shhhnick.

             
Tate twisted his own cap off and took a long pull. The pop fizzed in his mouth, burning the inside of his nose and causing his eyes to water. He coughed, blinked several times.

             
Piper’s musical laugh touched his ears, but the wicked look in her eyes reminded him that she was laughing at him, not with him.

“What’s so funny?” he inquired, his head canting to
one side.

“Nothing.” She sipped her drink. “Actually,” she amended, “I was just thinking how I wished you would choke on it…and then you did.”

Tate’s eyes narrowed. “I see.” So she
was
laughing at him. How lovely of her.

Piper rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t be such a baby.
The first drink is always the worst. After that, it all goes down smooth.”

             
He’d bet a lot more than the soda would go down smooth.

Leaning forward, Tate placed the glass bottle on a small table positioned in front of the couch. “It’s been a while since I had one of these. I forgot how volatile they
are.” He gave her a meaningful look, but she wisely looked away, choosing not to answer. Well, he knew how to pick his battles, too. For instance, he was choosing to be the bigger person here by letting whatever anger had sparked between them moments before, go. He hadn’t come here to fight. His motives were much more debauched.

             
Piper just sat there, looking anywhere but at him and sipping at her drink as silence invaded the room. For the first time in his life, Tate was at a loss. He wanted to sleep with her, to ravage her body until they burned through whatever craziness this was between them. He’d already decided to go for it. But now that he had Piper right where he wanted her, he didn’t know what to do with her.

Piper wasn’t a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of girl,
his instincts told him that much, so he couldn’t just ask her where the bedroom was. Could he? No. She would hate him for that, and even though he wanted to lay her out and crawl inside her, he couldn’t use her that way. This left him with only one option: the reason they came here.

He needed her to be on the same page before he moved this thing ahead. He needed her to understand that
he was interested in exploring this thing, letting the chips fall where they may, and when the fire they shared burned out—because it would, he had no doubt—they would be done. The question was would she go for it?

***
**

I need to get him out of here,
Piper thought frantically. She’d been hoping, praying, that after refusing to answer any of his calls he would let it go, but she should have known better. It was bad enough that she had already been having trouble keeping her nerves in check even thinking about having to face him Monday morning—Tate had that kind of effect on her. He made her blood boil and her insides quiver until her legs turned to jelly and her stomach twisted up in knots.

She was kind of hoping he’d forgotten about what happened earlier, that way she wouldn’t have to explain, but she’d never been so lucky and now he was sitting there staring at her; one corner of his mouth curved up in that sly smile that flooded her body with heat and made her pussy clench with need.

              Right now she was kind of wishing that she had a bigger apartment. One that was cramped with furniture, instead of the teeny tiny square that could barely hold a couch and recliner, let alone a television or the matching love seat she’d had to pass on. Now she was uncomfortably close to the man who made her wild with need, and he was looking at her in a way that made her want to reveal her innermost desires—not that she would ever tell him any of that. Still, it made her jittery, because she would so love to put some distance between them right now.

             
Tate, always the picture of ease, sat with his long legs spread wide and his arms spanning the back of the couch. His shirt stretched over his chest, fitting him like a second skin and hinting at the ropes of trim muscle underneath. Letting her eyes flick over him in a quick assessment, she couldn’t help but notice the impressive bulge behind his fly, and she blushed when he moved to adjust himself, realizing that she must have stared for a lot longer than just a quick glance.

             
“Keep staring like that, honey, and I’ll make sure to satisfy your curiosity real quick.”

Piper felt instant heat flood her cheeks and looked away so fast it was a wonder her head didn’t spin. She knew Tate was a very forward kind of guy, and he didn’t mince words often, but it was always a bit of a shock when he directed sexually charged words at her, maybe because it didn’t happen
that often. At this point, she should be used to it. She shrugged it off.

What she needed to do now was get her head on straight
and focus on getting him the hell out of her apartment. Nothing good could come of this, and all she wanted to do was crawl into bed and forget that any of this had happened. Forget that she had woken up in Tate’s bed. Forget that she had slept with her boss. Forget the way his hands felt when he touched her flesh. Would it be too much to ask for a blow to the head with a blunt object? She could use a bout of amnesia right about now.

Unfortunately, that
idea was shot to hell when Tate inched closer and placed his hand on her thigh.