Vibrizzio (12 page)

She took a sip of the fruity, rum-heavy beverage and looked around the huge banquet room. The island-flavored music had all been instrumental, but then a portly man wearing nothing but a boldly colored skirt and a puka shell necklace moved up to the microphone, and the music turned distinctly modern.

Clusters of people moved toward the dance floor, and Lyssa officially felt like an outsider. It was very nice that Shep had invited the consultants to the employee event, and everyone had been politely friendly, but she was ready to get a Mai Tai buzz on and head back to her room to properly enjoy the soaker tub.

“Are they … are they playing Hall and Oates?” Hayden asked.

“Who?”

“Daryl Hall and John Oates … my God, Bates, have you never even heard of a spectacular decade called the eighties?”

A familiar lyric caught her attention, and her eyes snapped to the skirted musicians. They could only be described as bebopping as they plucked their strings and tapped their bongos in a wholly unique rendition of “You Make My Dreams.” She’d never before seen moobs quite so active and bouncy.

Hayden busted out laughing. “Oh man, we’ve gotta dance. Drink up.”

A minute ago, Lyssa would’ve told him to forget it, but there was something about the enthusiastic swivel of the lead singer’s bulky hips and the high pitched “Oowooh ooh ooh” of the backups that made her want to get out there and cut loose with them. She slammed back half her drink, stopping before giving herself in ice headache, and took Hayden’s outstretched hand, letting him pull her to the center of the bobbing bodies.

They stayed close, and she followed Hayden’s lead. As he lip synched, he somehow managed to combine total dork with sexy, keeping his brilliant eyes on her and sliding his hands loosely over her hips to keep her moves in time with his. After a while, she gave up trying to pretend she could dance at all and jumped back, shouting, “Cabbage Patch!” Sweeping her hands in front of her in a circle, she fisted them and jerked them in toward her body.

Hayden didn’t hesitate to shout, “The lawnmower!” He dropped his hand at an angle toward the floor and pulled it back, kicking his foot back at the same time.

Lyssa laughed. “Do the swim!” She alternately shimmied her arms out in front of her to imitate swim strokes and then plugged her nose, holding her free hand up in the air and wiggling her fingers as she swayed her hips almost all the way down to the floor and back up again. Hayden had joined her in that last move, and they noticed a circle had formed around them.

“Looks like they want a show.” Hayden winked, and they continued to shout out ridiculous dance moves that got steadily stupider as the song went on. By the time it ended, Lyssa was almost out of breath, and a sheen of sweat covered her.

The notes of another song began, this one a bit slower, and Hayden wrapped his hand around the back of her head, leaning forward and planting a kiss on her damp forehead. “I think we’ve embarrassed ourselves enough for the night. Want some fresh air?”

“Sounds great.”

Hayden grabbed two bottled beers from the metal trough near the door to the patio before they strolled out onto the flat, sand-colored stones. The expanse spread out toward small vignettes—each one had a small, round fire pit surrounded by deck chairs on one side and a circular bench on the other. A half wall backed the curved benches to provide privacy. The soothing flicker of the flames and the barely audible whispers of the patio’s few occupants made it feel to Lyssa as if they’d stepped into a different universe from the raucous one inside. The band’s songs were only muted background out here, and cool night air replaced the heat generated by the swirling bodies on the dance floor.

Lyssa and Hayden passed several seating areas in silence before he gestured toward a vacant one. There were no chairs, so they both sat on the bench. The stone was close enough to the fire to have absorbed some of its warmth, and Hayden spotted a basket with blankets in it, so he pulled one out for Lyssa to drape over her lap and cover her bare ankles and toes. They faced away from the building and out toward the lights of the city.

“Pretty,” Lyssa commented.

“Yeah.” Hayden took a sip from his bottle and leaned back, looking up toward the inky sky. “Nice to have this meeting over with, isn’t it? I’m going to sleep a whole lot better tonight.”

“You were nervous?”

He gave her a sideways glance. “You weren’t?”

“Well, yeah, of course I was, but you … you seemed to take it all in stride. I didn’t know you ever got nervous.”

“Are you forgetting the night of the Boston Massacre? I was freaking out from the moment Carlo called.”

“That was freaking out?”

He shrugged and lifted his bottle for another sip. “Guess I keep it well hidden, mostly. Everyone gets stressed—and a certain level of nerves are a good thing, keeps you alert, doesn’t allow complacency to set in.”

“True.” After a moment of not-uncomfortable silence, she asked, “Is that why you switched from Taft-Hartley to corporate? You were getting too comfortable, complacent?”

His gaze traveled back up to the sky. “That was part of it, but not the whole reason. I don’t intend to stay in consulting forever, and it seemed like a good idea to broaden my experience, beef up the resume.”

“Oh.” Lyssa hid her frown by taking a long swig of her beer. Of course, he was planning to leave one day. Isn’t that what everyone did eventually?

“Hey, I said no work talk. Tonight’s supposed to be all pleasure.”

“You want to head back in?”

His lips sparked into a small smile. “No. A quiet conversation with a lovely lady is all the pleasure I require.”

Lyssa rolled her eyes.

“Why do you do that?”

“What?”

“Look away whenever I say anything the least bit flirtatious to you?”

“I guess it’s my natural response to rubbish.”

“It’s not rubbish. I mean everything I say.”

“Have you ever looked up the word
flirt
in the dictionary? I have, and the words
superficial
and
not genuine
are in the definition, i.e. flirting equals rubbish.”

“Does it also say
fun
and
harmless
in there? It should. Either way, you’re going to have to get comfortable with it because I’m a flirty guy and you’re a sexy girl.”

Her reaction was so automatic that her eyeballs made it halfway up her lids before she even noticed they’d moved.

“Seriously, Bates, enough.”

Her eyes froze for a moment and then slowly lowered to look at him.

His marvelously chiseled face was half in shadow and half-illuminated by the erratic pulse of flames. “All I’m asking is that you maintain eye contact.”

“Fine. Can we move on now?” She caught herself before she shifted her gaze self-consciously away.

Mischief tweaked at the corners of his mouth. “Sure, and since I’ve already got you so adorably blushy, let’s get back to something else I’m curious about.” He downed the rest of his beer and set the bottle on the ground before saying, “Andre Agassi.”

“Hayd—”

“Eyes on me, please.”

She kept them steady on him but tensed her lower eyelids in warning.

“Thank you,” he continued. “What I want to know is, do you really, truly, honestly believe an electronic device can completely replace having a man in your life?” He watched her with that same intensity she hadn’t been able to decipher when they’d been boiling corn at the farm, but this time she thought she might understand where it came from.

“Afraid you might be replaceable?” she asked.

“I would be if I thought it was in any way possible—which it’s not.”

“I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree on that.” She looked down at her bottle, swirling it. “Do you want the rest of this? I’m not really in a mood to drink tonight.”

Hayden shrugged and took the bottle, tilting it for a long pull before he set it next to the empty near his feet. When he sat up again, his eyebrows were pulled together, and his mouth lay in a perfect, straight line. He leaned back and turned his face toward her, his head resting on the half wall. “Can I ask you something else?”

His voice was tender and earnest, inspiring her to join him in reclining against the wall, mirroring him as she rested her head and tilted her face toward him. “When have I ever stopped you?”

“This little friend of yours … can it do this?” He lifted his arm and traced his fingertips down the side of her face before cupping her jaw. He kept his thumb at her cheekbone, lightly stroking.

If she hadn’t promised to maintain eye contact, she’d have shoved not only her eyes, but also everything else she had away from him. She knew it was the alcohol making him so affectionate, but she was still sober and couldn’t as easily explain away the electrified thrill that ran through her at his touch.

He dropped his thumb to her mouth and tickled back and forth over her lower lip, daring her to hold strong. “Can it do this?” His mouth moved to hers, pressing against her lips in the slightest of kisses and pulling back just long enough for her to reluctantly acknowledge that she wanted him back on her. As if divining her wish, he answered with another small peck, and another and another, each one growing bolder until she leaned into him. The heady taste of his recent beer was fresh on his tongue, and Lyssa went after it, as if trying to drink him, to get inebriated off him. His mouth was forceful, yet gentle, and the grip of his hand as it slid down her back to her rump was so … so …

Lyssa jerked back, giving Hayden an extra shove in the chest as she stood and unwound from the blanket, letting it drop to the ground as she backed away.

“Look out for the fire,” he huffed, sounding breathless.

She stopped moving and glared at him. A confused haze hung over his features as he watched the dancing flames. The short waves of his black hair were disheveled—had she done that to him?

“Eyes on me, Hayden,” she growled. His gaze lifted to her, but he didn’t appear completely focused. “That was
not
okay!”

“All right, all right, I’m sorry. Calm down.” He looked from side to side as he seemed to regain his bearings.

She lowered her voice. “What was that about? What the hell was that about? You tell me it’s harmless, and then … and then you do that?”

“I didn’t exactly
do
that
all by myself.”

“
You
kissed
me
.”

He gripped the front of the bench, tensing his hands, and now it wasn’t just the firelight that heated his handsome features. “And
you
kissed
me
right back.”

“Because you tricked me.”

“Tricked or tempted?”

She held up her hand, pointing at him. “This is not going to happen. You are not going to put me in your stable of women.”

“I don’t want to put you in my stable!”

Her hand dropped. Of course he didn’t. Those stalls were only available to thoroughbreds like Sabine and Roni. Then why had he been making out with the yard mule? Was he teasing her? Making fun of her?

He must’ve noticed the hurt that pinched her features because his voice calmed and became apologetic. “Look, it just happened, all right? I was only trying to joke around, and it got a little out of control. End of story. Won’t happen again.”

“You’re damn straight it won’t. Good night, Hayden.” She turned abruptly and headed to a side door that would allow her to get to the elevator without having to reenter the party. Hayden didn’t try to stop her. She only wished she could mute the damn slapping of her flip-flops as she made her inelegant exit. Jamming the elevator button, she stared at its steady glow and let out a bitter laugh. Sticking exclusively to electronic “men” was definitely the way to go—no need to try to figure them out or second-guess their motives. No disappointments.

Back in the room, she tore the
umbrellafied
toothpick from her hair and kicked off her flimsy shoes, then paced between the bed and the bathroom. She didn’t have the patience to wait for the soaker tub to fill with water. She needed tension release now. After quickly washing her face and brushing her teeth, she stripped down to nothing and dove under the covers, summoning Jean-Luc.

She ran her fingers through his thick, black waves. No! He was bald. She took a breath and recalled the
Star Trek
captain’s image more vividly, then got back to it. She could still taste Hayden through the toothpaste. Grunting in frustration, she flipped onto her stomach. Clearly, the lowest speed wasn’t cutting it, so she kicked it up to the next level. The toy vibrated wildly for a few seconds and then sputtered, fading in and out of action. “Come on, come on … ” she coaxed, but there was nothing for her to do but listen to her little friend die a slow death. She groaned and beat her fists into the pillow, relieving an unsatisfactory amount of stress that way.

Chapter Eleven

The next morning, Lyssa tried really hard through the cab ride to DH headquarters, during the breakfast meeting with Shep and Gloria, and then on the limo ride to the airport, to pretend that nothing unusual had occurred between her and Hayden. He likewise never referenced the kiss, but something about his demeanor felt stiff. Or was she imagining it?

They passed through airport security with barely two words spoken between them, but as they entered the wide corridor that would lead to their gate, Hayden stepped in front of her and pivoted so that his keen eyes peered directly into hers. “Can we please stop this?” he asked.

“Stop what?”

“This,” he gestured back and forth, sending the now familiar spice of his cologne wafting upward. “This coldness. I’m sorry about last night. I drank too much and overstepped my bounds. Please let it go. I truly am sorry. You’re an awesome partner, probably the best I’ve ever had, definitely the most fun, and I don’t want that to change because I made a mistake, okay?”

Lyssa exhaled. “It wasn’t a big deal, and yes, of course I can get past it.” She smiled, but it felt forced. She hoped that part didn’t show through. Hayden returned her smile—and his looked strained too.