
Long, Slow Surrender
Copyright © April 2011, Stephanie Morris
Cover art by Elaina Lee © April 2011
Amira Press
Charlotte, NC
www.amirapress.com
ISBN: 978-1-936279-82-1
No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and e-mail, without prior written permission from Amira Press.
This story is for my oldest niece. Dee-Dee, now that you are eighteen, I officially deem you old enough to read my books. I wish you a very happy birthday. I love you now and always.
Help me with this, please!
Connor Sakuma stared at the small letters that were written on the back of the business card, struggling to scramble the letters into a happier meaning.
Well, she'd actually done it. After years of fighting her own battle in futility, she had decided to ask for his assistance.
He should tell her no.
His mouth even formed the words, but when Connor looked up and gazed into the fathomless hazel eyes of Michelle Lewis, he knew he was as perfectly cooked as the steak on his plate.
Damn. Well, he wouldn't go down without a fight.
"No," he mouthed the words. He shook his head, just in case she missed what he was saying.
"Please," Michelle mouthed back at him, shooting one of those damsel in distress looks his direction that, under different circumstances, might have worked wonders on him.
However, he'd never been one of those knights who rode around saving hopeless women. Nope. Not even close. There were chinks in his armor. Big dents. Huge dings.
With a heavy sigh, he stared across the pristine tablecloth at the proud visage of Dr. Theodore Sakuma, D.D.S., his younger brother, who was currently studying the wine list like it was USA Today. And there sat Connor's biggest chink.
Theodore. The entire world revolved around Theodore. Before Theodore had reached the advanced age of ten, he had mapped out his entire future. Mainly because in elementary school, life really sucked for boys named Theodore. First, he was going to become a doctor of something in order to get rich just to spite those bullies who picked on the Theodores of the world. And second, to further their torment, he was equally determined to marry the most beautiful girl at George Washington Elementary, who happened to be---Michelle.
It was a simple plan, and Connor applauded his brother's single-minded pursuit of his goals. He'd achieved them all. Theodore was a wealthy dental surgeon, the bullies from grade school were nowhere near as successful, he'd graduated at the top of his class from Stanford, he drove an expensive luxury vehicle, but for Theodore, there was still one goal to accomplish.
Michelle.
The last time Connor had seen her had been Theodore's college graduation. Tonight, he had been surprised to see she had developed a maturity that had been missing before. She was still gorgeous, but now there was a confidence in the way she talked. Just like Theodore.
This brought Connor back to the plea for help on the back of the business card. Well, whatever she wanted him to back her up on, it wasn't going to happen. Connor firmly believed that Theodore's love life, sterile and non-existent as it was, was none of his business.
"Not my problem." Connor stated his response matter-of-factly, meeting her eyes so there was no misunderstanding.
For years he had stayed out of the entire thing, listening to Theodore rhapsodize about Michelle's breathtaking features and thinking, yeah, she was okay if you liked cool, level-headed African American women with impeccable fashion sense, expressive eyes and café au lait-colored skin.
But Connor liked his women with fire in their blood and sin in their eyes. He smiled, fondly reminiscing about his last date. Sometimes it was hard to believe he and Theodore shared the same genes. Maybe they didn't. It would explain a lot. Why Connor hadn't gotten accepted into St. Christopher's preparatory school when Theodore had. Why Theodore wanted to make people well, and Connor just wanted to make enough money to pay his bills.
The wine steward came to the table and, wisely, Connor and Michelle let Theodore make the selection. Michelle shot Connor another meaningful look.
"Please," she mouthed again.
Then she lifted her palms, a suffering angel. Right.
Theodore placed the order, and then turned back to Connor. "What were you saying?"
"I was telling Michelle that things are going great at the restaurant. Couldn't be better working conditions. Thanks so much for asking."
He passed the business card back to her, wondering why she had even agreed to go out to dinner with Theodore in the first place and, even more mysteriously, why she had wanted Connor to come along.
Michelle smiled politely, took the card in her perfectly manicured hands, and slipped it back into her purse.
Michelle never gave anything away. She was the perfect compliment for his brother, the liberal sophisticate. Everything except that mouth.
In a face composed of high cheekbones and unblinking eyes, her mouth was wild and wicked. Full lips with a hint of gloss that curled up slightly at the corners, as if she had a secret and you knew that no matter how you tried, you'd never discover it.
Connor knew Michelle had secrets, that there was a hidden piece of her that she never showed, and he didn't know whether it was the poised exterior or the promise of that mouth that inspired his brother.
But that was none of his business.
Finally, she raised one eyebrow, a challenge. Then she turned to Theodore, and brushed her hair back on her shoulders. Very smooth. Of course, Michelle was an attorney and she knew all the moves.
"It's not going to work," she murmured.
Huh?
Michelle picked up her glass of water and watched Connor, her mouth curving ever so slightly. He shifted, not liking that provocative smile blasting in his direction. She turned to Theodore.
"It's time I was honest with you."
About time. And that sounded like his cue to leave.
Connor stood. "Excuse me. I'm certain you two need a little privacy. I'll just take a cab home."
"No!"
All traces of steel vanished from her voice, her hazel eyes soft and pleading. Theodore heaved a theatrical sigh.
Surely she didn't expect Connor to stick around while she had The Talk with his brother? Not that Connor thought it would do a bit of good. Theodore would never give up. He could bulldoze the entire world if he put his mind to it, and Connor gave Michelle high marks for managing to escape un-dozed. So far.
"I think we need to tell your brother this together."
We? There it was again. The whispered tone, that intimate look. Like lovers. A guy could get really used to that look.
And then it all clicked. Connor. Michelle. Lovers.
Holy hell.
"Uh, no, I don't think so," he responded, every cell in his body flashing red-alert. There were some cells that were flashing more enthusiastically than others, and Connor shifted uncomfortably. He tried for a paternally disapproving voice. "You should have talked to me before you decided to bring this up."
And still, she stared at him, and he almost forgot his good intentions. He almost forgot Theodore. Which was a hard thing to do.
Thankfully, the wine steward came and placed the bottle of wine on the table, waiting for Theodore's approval. Then the ritual began. Theodore sniffed, whirled, sipped, and finally nodded. The steward poured everyone a glass and then departed in silence.
"What did you want to tell me, Michelle?" Theodore asked.
Michelle shot Connor one last pleading look. He almost caved. He pretty well figured it out. Connor and Michelle, pretend lovers. Absolutely without question, the most harebrained scheme she'd ever had to get rid of Theodore. Of course, as long as he'd known Michelle, she hadn't done harebrained well, and Theodore definitely wasn't very cooperative as a dumpee.
"Theodore, I'm in love with Connor."
Her harebrained skills were improving by the minute. It was a valiant struggle not to spew merlot all over the pristine, white tablecloth, but he managed. He'd thought she was proposing an affair, but no, this was Michelle. Of course, she would want it all. She'd say she was in love with him. With Connor.
Was she insane?
He took another hasty swallow of wine. He had truly underestimated her this time. Who knew that beneath that cool exterior lurked a schemer? No harm, though, because, of course, Theodore would never believe it.
Feeling rather confident of his prediction, Connor turned to Theodore. Three. Two. One.
"Connor?" Theodore sputtered, predictable as always. "You can't be serious! He's a cook."
And so it went. Connor sighed and began to butter his bread. "Thanks, Theo. Love you too, little brother."
But Michelle wasn't done yet, and if Theodore hadn't been blood-kin, Connor would have felt sorry for her.
"I am serious, Theodore. It's something I've been fighting for a long time. I can't let you ruin this for me, Theodore. I won't let you ruin my one chance at happiness."
Theodore's face was all screwed up and confused, not a pretty sight. "But why Connor?"
Enjoying himself now, and feeling quite safe, Connor took a bite. He couldn't wait to hear the answer to this one.
She pushed at her perfectly styled bun as if a strand had fallen into her eyes, which, of course, it hadn't.
"Because I'm tired of being restrained, constricted, and having to constantly put on appearances." She took a deep breath, the neckline of her pale pink linen dress rising discreetly. "I want to stop worrying about what I say and who I have to meet, and whether my nails are done."
Oh, she was good. If not for the plea for help on her business card, he might have believed her. He wasn't going to back her up on this tale, though. Theodore might be pompous, stubborn, and a little weird, but he was his brother. And if Connor had been named Theodore, he might have turned out just like him.
"I don't understand the connection between your looks and Connor." Theodore frowned and rubbed a finger against his brow.
"There isn't one. There doesn't always have to be a reason or an explanation. Sometimes things just are. Connor doesn't worry about having to be something he's not. He's just happy being who he is."
Theodore assumed his serious expression, which looked so much like their father's. "Sounds damned irresponsible to me."
It sounded pretty irresponsible to Connor, too, but he was impressed that Michelle had enough depth to figure that part of him out.
"It's not irresponsible, it's serenity," she responded.
Connor almost laughed out loud at that. Serenity? Sounded more like something a frequent visitor to Woodstock would say. He wondered if he should interrupt now and put an end to all of this nonsense. He wouldn't have his brother hurt. Though it bothered him that Theodore acted more appalled than spurred. Just for that, Connor leaned back and folded his arms across his chest.
He'd stop it in a minute.
Theodore smoothed out his napkin, then began folding it with precision. "Serenity? You're spouting irrational words. Next you'll be telling me you've decided to go off on some mission to a third world country to find yourself. Michelle, you're a beautiful woman. Be happy with who you are."
"Theodore, you're a wonderful man. I do love you in a special way, but I will never love you like that."
"Well, of course you will. In time, you'll see it all from a rational viewpoint."
Theodore rummaged through his pocket for the package of stomach medicine he carried with him. He swallowed a few tablets and turned to Connor, obviously deciding that Connor was somehow responsible for it all. "You've seduced her, haven't you? I should call you out."
Always the dramatic one---he got that from their mother---Theodore stood up and slapped his napkin on the table.
"Now, Theodore, sit down. Please. There's no need to make a scene." Michelle placed a hand on his arm.
Magic words to Theodore, who despised making a scene. He obediently retook his seat.
"Nothing has ever happened between the two of us." She cast a calming smile in Theodore's direction. "Connor is much too honorable to do anything while you are so, um, fixated."
Theodore shot a questioning glance in Connor's direction, and Connor nodded. Damn straight.
Michelle cleared her throat, squared her shoulders, and pierced Theodore with a steely gaze. "However, I think it's time that you step aside, and let me and your brother be happy."
Connor watched her, silently applauding her acting skills. It was easy to imagine her leading a meeting at work.
"Based on my findings, Mrs. Woolverte has experienced a great amount of pain and suffering due to her employer's negligence and has a solid case."
However, Theodore still didn't appear to be buying it. He turned to Connor, using his serious expression again. "Is this true?"
Connor looked from his brother, who looked just a little too smug, to Michelle, who looked just a little too desperate. It was a tough choice, and his conscience even tweaked him a bit. Theodore's dedication to Michelle wasn't exactly fair to her, but Connor stood with his brother. Now and always. He might be considered irresponsible, but he could never be labeled un-loyal. "Absolutely not. She's lying. Don't believe a word of it."
Michelle twisted the linen napkin between her fingers, that one little move giving her away. She was ticked.
"Theodore, can I talk to Connor alone, please? He won't admit the truth because he didn't want to do this tonight." She shot Theodore a pleading look. "Just a few minutes."
Theodore frowned, looking displeased with the idea, but he was too polite to stay, so he stood and stuck his hands in his jacket. Looking as dignified as always, he scanned the dinning room. "Well, it looks like Dr. Gaffner's waiting on the other members of his party. I suppose I could go say hello."
Michelle studied her nails to buy precious time, and wondered if she should have talked to Connor in advance. Of course, he would have said no, which was why she had taken the coward's way out and waited until he couldn't say no. It was such a brilliant plan, though, and she told him so.
"It's brilliant. Why don't you admit it?"
"You're insane! What happened to telling him you're not interested?"
Connor and Theodore didn't look a thing alike. Connor was dark. Dark short wavy hair and tan skin enhanced his half Japanese genetics. Theodore had fairer skin, taking on more of his Caucasian genetics. Their dark eyes were similar, though. Except Theodore's were calm and placid. Connor's eyes were dangerous and exotic.
"Do you know how many times I've told him that? You're his brother; you know how he is. I can't divert him."
Connor tugged at his tie and leaned forward, elbows on the table. "But this is ridiculous! Every other woman in America knows how to dump a guy."
"Connor, I've been dumping your brother for"---she rolled her eyes with clear exasperation---"so many years that I've lost count. I like him. He's nice in a stuffy kind of way. I've made up excuses, gone out with other guys, returned his gifts. Good grief, this is the first date I've been out on with him, and I made him bring you."
"It's the second. You went to a varsity basketball game with him."
When had his memory gotten to be so good? "How did you know?"
"Theodore talked about it for months. That night, he was the envy of every guy who had ever beaten him up. You always were doing nice things for him."
"He didn't deserve to be bullied like that."
"No." Connor stared off at his younger brother.
Michelle adjusted her silverware. They were getting sidetracked. Both of them cared for Theodore. "My point being, you're the only way I know of to get him to move on with his life."
Connor looked at her and raised his brows. "Get another guy."
There's the rub. Oh, she'd tried. Every date she'd ever been on could be summed up in one word---boring. Honestly, she was afraid she was boring. She didn't want boring. She wanted someone to teach her how to really live. She wanted a man who lived on the unconventional edge. And she'd found him.
"Connor, I've tried dating other men. Nothing changed."
Connor sighed. "Get married, then. I bet he'd get the message."
"I'm not getting married just to get rid of Theodore."
Marriage? She wasn't ready to get married. Heck, she didn't even want commitment. No, she wanted an affair with a capital A. And she'd found just the guy. The perfect guy for a nostrings-attached, screaming good time. And the best part? Finally, Theodore would leave her alone. Just thinking about an affair with Connor made her smile. They'd spend Sunday morning lazing in bed, making love, taking long showers together. She closed her eyes, feeling tiny tremors dance across her skin.
That would do. Now she just needed to stay focused. She opened her eyes and folded her hands in her lap. "Let me explain. What if we pretend to be passionately in love for say, a couple of months? That's all. I have tons of friends that I think would be perfect for him. I'll fix him up, he'll move on, and then I'll be free."
He didn't look convinced; really more skeptical than anything. "Why do you think he'll move on?"
Why are men dense at the most inopportune times?
"Connor, for you, he would step aside. It's the noble thing to do. And Theodore is nothing if not noble."
Connor shook his head mutinously, as stubborn as Theodore at times.
"He'll never forgive me."
"In a few years, he'll thank you." She was completely wrong for Theodore; they'd bore each other to tears. "Imagine this. We're on a double date. I have a veritable cornucopia of friends and colleagues who would enjoy the company of a prominent dentist. We'll go to dinner and Theodore acts rather dejected. She asks what's wrong. He tells her he's been betrayed by his older brother and that his one true love is no longer true. He would love it!"
Connor dark brows arched upward. Oh, he had such a great face. All lines and angles and a nose that he'd broken, not once, but twice. How could a woman not lust after a guy who'd actually broken his nose? There, she was getting herself distracted again. She got back to the subject at hand.
"Okay, so maybe I'm overstating things a bit, but you must admit, it has certain dramatic flair that Theodore would enjoy wallowing in for a while."
"I don't know."
At last, progress. He was beginning to waver.
"Connor, I'm not going to break down after all this time and suddenly fall in love with Theodore. It's time for everyone to stop pretending that my future is preordained as Mrs. Theodore Sakuma."
She stared at her hands, ten perfectly polished fingernails. What she would do to not worry about how her hands, hair and clothes looked.
"Theodore will never fall for this ruse. We have nothing in common. Hell, I haven't seen you in years before tonight."
"Theodore doesn't know that and, besides, we spent our most of our childhood years together. That counts for something."
"Growing up in the same neighborhood does not count as the basis for a relationship."
"Opposites attract."
"You're not my type. Theodore does know that."
Ah, he'd overcome the emotional issues and was now moving to the logical. She had prepared her arguments for both.
"As it stands now, you're right. But I think it's time to live a little. Let my hair down, metaphorically speaking, of course."
He drummed his fingers on the table and she studied his rough, callused hands, imagining what it would be like to feel their touch. The tremors began again. Connor was the sort of guy who inspired tremors, and fantasies. Wild, wanton fantasies that involved heated strokes and passionate kisses. Well, today, she was going after her fantasy.
"Connor, in the long run, this is the best thing for him. This can't be healthy. He should be married, populating the world with little Theodores that he can train in his likeness. I'm not the woman for him."
"I don't know. I think you both are perfect for each other."
That's what everyone else said, too. Frankly, she'd grown tired of it. "Then you don't know me."
"Guess not." He tilted his head to the side, studying her, and she wished he could see more inside her than just the façade. "Not going to do it, Michelle. I won't hurt Theodore."
"Connor, you're doing him more harm letting him waste his prime dating years stuck on me."
"It's wrong."
"Connor, Theodore is thirty-two. How many dates has he been on?"
Connor thought for a moment. "A handful, I think."
"How many girlfriends?"
"Besides you?"
She dug her nails into her palms, wanting to scream. Somehow, she managed not to. "I have never been his girlfriend."
Still, a few people looked in their direction.
"Then, none."
She lowered her voice. "Connor, Theodore is probably still a virgin."
Connor coughed. "Uh, no. There was this..." He cut himself off and cleared his throat. "But that was a long time ago and it's none of my business." He took a sip of wine. "I'm not going to do it. There's got to be a better way."
There is no other way.
"Fine. Name it. You give me some ideas of how I can get your brother to move on with his life, and I'll forget all about my idea. One. Just one little thing I can do."
Connor took another sip of his wine, stared at Theodore shaking hands across the room, and sighed in defeat. "Pretend dating, huh?"
Finally. "More than dating. He's got to be convinced it's real, passionate, something that will make him think he doesn't have a chance. A sultry affair." She loved the way the words sounded, coming out of her mouth.
He turned pale. "Sultry?"
She nodded. "Sultry."
Awareness flared in his eyes and all that exotic fire shot in her direction. She struggled to breathe.
He smiled. "Sweetheart, I don't think you can do sultry."
"Is that a wager?" she managed.
As quickly as it came, the fire was gone. He was back to looking at her like everyone did. Theodore's girl.
"You think this plan of yours will really work?"
"I'm willing to bet on it, aren't I?" She held out her hand across the table, waiting. "Are you in?"
He stared for a long moment, and her heart began to pound. He had never touched her, in all the years she'd known him, never once. She had imagined, dreamed, fantasized, and now she was going to discover how his skin felt against her own. He wrapped one rough, calloused palm over her silky smooth hand and the tremors started in earnest.
"I'm not going to hurt my brother," he stated, his voice sounding far away because he was still touching her, and her entire nervous system was threatening to explode.
She swallowed. "I don't want to hurt him either, but I'm not about to marry him just because I think he's a nice guy."
He stayed silent for a moment, and then dropped her hand. "I'm not going to rub his nose in this."
Under the table, where he couldn't see, her fingers traced the spot where Connor had touched her. "Rub his nose in it? You saw him. He doesn't even believe it. Yet."
"So, what do we do?"
"Well..." She pretended to think about it for a moment. "We go out on a few dates. Maybe he could catch me over at your place a few times... What does Theodore usually know about the women you---date?"
Connor smiled, satisfied and smug, obviously recalling past---dates. Michelle wanted to smack him. Not jealous, not jealous, not jealous.
Thankfully, she saw Theodore heading back, arrogant and harmless. Why couldn't Theodore be a jerk? It would make things so much easier. Instead, he was like a full-grown puppy dog.
She exhaled softly. "Look, Theodore is coming back. Tonight we'll ease into this thing and just see what happens. Maybe it'll be easier than you think." Michelle doubted it, but miracles could happen.
Connor shook his head. "If he gets extra weird, I'm bailing, Michelle. I can't see how this can be a good thing."
At last. Acceptance. "Okay, okay. Just let me do the talking."
He spread his hands wide. "You're the executive planner of all this."
Oh, heck, this was going to be harder than she thought. "Enough with the wisecracks. Remember, we're supposed to crave each other."
Connor just laughed, obviously thinking such an idea was unbelievable.
Just you wait, Connor. Just you wait.
When Theodore returned, he looked calm as ever. Which could only be a good thing, Connor thought. Somebody needed to be calm. Connor sure as hell wasn't. Maniacal was the actual word that flashed in his mind.
With surgical precision, Theodore placed his napkin in his lap, a graceful gesture that was clearly for their benefit. First, Theodore looked at Michelle and then back to Connor. "Well?"
Michelle began first. "As I said---"
Theodore held up his hand. "No. I want to hear what Connor has to say."
Damn.
Connor had never been prepared at school, which was why he'd been exiled into public school, and he definitely couldn't win at debate with his brother. He kept it simple. "She's right."
Theodore leaned forward and Connor got that awful spider-in-the web feeling. "Connor, are you really in love with Michelle, or are you just after a temporary diversion that is several plateaus above your standards?"
What was he supposed to say? Theodore was his brother. He stalled, not quite ready to commit himself yet. "Theo, if I was in love with Michelle, what would you do?"
Theodore took a sip of water. "And she was in love with you?"
Connor nodded.
Theodore stroked his chin. "If the two of you were truly in love, I wouldn't interfere."
Michelle shot Connor her female "told-you-so" look.
"However," Theodore continued, "I fully expect this little walk on the dark side to run its course after a short time. A very short time."
Theodore lifted his glass and swirled the wine, but Connor wasn't fooled. This was serious to Theodore.
"Are you in love with her, Connor?"
He didn't like being dishonest with his brother. There were better ways of dodging the truth, but maybe Michelle had it right after all. Connor touched Theodore's glass with his own and nodded.
Instead of sadness, Theodore's smile was full of that same smug confidence that had gotten him accepted into St. Christopher's and a scholarship to Stanford. "Then may the best man win."
Connor closed his eyes and sunk into his seat. No way. Why hadn't he seen this coming? He was not going to enter some insane competition with his brother. When it came to Theodore, Connor always lost.
Michelle poked him with her sharp finger under the table and he shot her a dirty look. He didn't deserve that. But he'd gotten himself in too far. She'd sucked him right into her ridiculous, harebrained scheme, so he just smiled faintly. "Sure."
This was such a bad idea.
It had only been three days. Michelle traced the petals of the flowers with her finger. Lilies, of all things. She glanced about her office, for the first time hating the mother of pearl modern decor that she, herself, had pick out two years ago. Beige art deco chairs, an uncluttered glass desk, and unadorned soft white walls. She had always like white and neutral colors paired together. Her office was clean, pure, and now, unfortunately, her office was more like a sterile research laboratory. Detached.
Mentally, she gathered her courage, lifted the receiver and dialed Theodore's number. She followed the voicemail instructions when he didn't answer, leaving a message as she made notes on how she would redecorate her office.
A few minutes later, Julia, the latest temporary employee, walked in, wearing red polka dot sunglasses. Temporary administrative assistants were usually invisible beings that flitted around the office not wanting to be noticed at all. Julia was different. She was a perpetual tourist trapped in the body of a temp.
"Dr. Sakuma for you, Ms. Lewis." She lifted her shades. "Should I tell him you're not available?"
"No. Thanks, Julia."
"You're welcome, boss."
Julia left Michelle alone with the blinking phone line.
Michelle looked at the flashing light and then picked up the phone. Giving Theodore the reality check he needed had never come easy to her. Perhaps he had sensed that. Whatever the reason, Michelle still hated discussing it. One day. Hopefully soon.
"Theodore?"
"Yes? You called?"
"Why did you send me flowers?"
"Did Connor send you flowers as well?"
Michelle exhaled heavily into the mouthpiece, making sure he heard it. "No."
"Well, you definitely deserve them, and the man in your life should have no problem sending them."
"Theodore, I told you. I want Connor."
Saying the words gave her a wicked thrill. She'd been unable to say them for so long. But desire for Connor was beginning to feel very overwhelming. As usual, Theodore didn't pay any attention to what she said.
"I've been offered two tickets to a play tonight."
"I already have a date."
"With Connor?"
"No, with Ryan. Of course with Connor."
Theodore ignored her snide remark. "Where's he taking you? I hope someplace that offers a great dining environment. Have you tried that new Italian place? Michelangelo's?"
"Our plans are to stay in tonight." She followed the statement with a drawn out silence, hoping that he'd think that she and Connor would be participating in wild, animalistic sex. Probably not yet, though. It was too soon. But when? Theodore inhaled sharply. He got the point but she continued on anyway. "I think we are going to watch a movie and order take-out."
"How substandard. I'm sure if Connor could afford better, he'd actually take you out."
"Don't be such a snob, Theodore. I would never date a man solely for his wealth."
"I'm sorry, Michelle. I didn't mean to imply that you would. Not that I think the war is over, not by any stretch of the imagination. I have not yet begun to fight."
That's what she was afraid of. "Theodore?"
"Yes?"
"I have a briefing to go to. I'll talk to you later. Oh, and I would appreciate it if you could respect the relationship I have with Connor and not send any more flowers." She hung up the phone before he could reply and immediately dialed the number to the restaurant Connor worked. "Connor Sakuma, please."
In the background, she heard the sound of pots and pans banging, a muted pounding, and the murmur of voices. Finally, Connor picked up.
"Sakuma speaking."
"Connor? It's Michelle."
"What's up?"
"I told Theodore we were watching a movie tonight."
"Okay? Do you need me to call him and tell him the same thing? If so, it will have to wait. We are preparing for the lunch rush."
She gritted her teeth. "No. We just need to watch the movie at your place."
"No can do, Michelle. I have a date tonight."
"A date? You're dating someone?"
"Um, yes."
"Are you serious about her?" Nervously, she twisted the barrel of her ballpoint pen back and forth.
"How do you define serious?"
"Now is not the time, Connor. How long have you known this woman?"
"I met her two weeks ago."
"Connor! What do you think your brother will do when he finds out? He'll think you're being unfaithful!"
"He won't ever find out."
"Connor!" She picked up her pen, jotted down some information on her notepad, and then crossed it out again. "You want this plan to work, right?"
The noise level in the kitchen rose. "It's not going to work."
"It won't work unless you believe it will, and you agree not to see anyone else while this plan is in place. Celibacy is a must."
"You didn't tell me this was a requirement last night."
She remained silent.
"You're killing me, Michelle."
"Connor, going without sex will not kill you."
"But it can make me very unpleasant." Thankfully, he acquiesced soon enough. "All right. I suppose Erica will understand."
Erica? Trust Connor to be interested in a woman named Erica. "For the entire time, Connor. Be prepared, it might take some time for this to work."
"How much time?"
"I don't know. Days. Weeks. Months."
"Months? Are you serious?" There was a pause, and then his voice dropped. "Look, I can keep everything hidden. Theodore will never know."
"Connor."
"I'm not a priest. I'm not even a priest wannabe. I don't do celibacy."
"Connor. He sent me flowers today. Flowers!"
To antagonize her further, he laughed. "Okay, okay, I'll concede. Have you no idea the great sacrifice you are asking of me?"
She knew exactly what she was asking. Hopefully, they could all fumble through this and live happily ever after. Right now, she just wanted to concentrate on one day at a time and getting Connor in her bed. "It's for a worthy cause." After all, she didn't want Connor to turn into a sexually frustrated man.
"Right," he said, sarcasm blatantly obvious.
"See you tonight, Connor. I'll pick up a movie."
He sighed like he was already regretting agreeing to tonight's plan. "Yeah. See you then."
That evening, she brought the movie she'd promised and wore her most form-fitting jeans. If he noticed the outfit she'd carefully picked out, he hid it well. Connor's apartment was almost as she'd pictured it. There was one overstuffed couch, a leather chair, and a coffee table that had never seen a coaster in its carefree existence. No IKEA here.
She thought of her own pristine, neutral-tone-colored loft and sank happily onto the folded cushions. This is what she wanted to know more about. How to have a relaxed like and not feel guilty about it.
"Want something to drink?"
He had a beer in one hand and his shirt hung halfway unbuttoned, as if he had just shrugged into it and done up a few buttons for modesty.
"Water is fine."
When he returned with the drink, she took it and handed him the DVD, secretly studying the chest that he exposed so casually. He was strong, she knew that; he was all muscle, slender and lean, but not bulky. Bottled energy. When Connor walked, he radiated that energy. She craved that energy.
He looked at the DVD, a torrid film that she thought would be perfect. The most scorching movie she could find that wasn't porn.
"You're not going to make celibacy easy, are you?"
She brushed a stray strand of her hair back and smiled. "Just for a little while. Surely it won't kill you."
If she had her way, it'd only be a few weeks. Maybe days. She glanced at her watch. Maybe before tonight was over.
Connor sank into the big leather chair across from her. For the first time, he seemed to completely relax. She laughed aloud.
He crossed his arms over his chest. "So, tell me what is so amusing to you."
"I like your apartment."
"Not your usual style, is it?"
There was a guarded tone in his voice that she had heard when he was near Theodore. He'd never used it around her before now. It stung her to hear it now, with her.
"Connor, I am serious. I like all of it." A painting hung over the couch, and she turned around for a better look. A nude lady, tastefully done, she'd give him that, but still naked. She pointed at the pouty, dark-skinned beauty in the picture. "Well, expect that painting."
Her statement helped. He relaxed again, the other corner of his mouth tilting upward. "All women seem to dislike her. It's a beautiful painting."
"Well, yes, but if you had other paintings..." She stopped and looked around the room. There were other paintings. Some landscapes, some portraits, and one small sculpture. "You like art?"
He gave a curt nod. "I know you wouldn't expect someone of my caliber to be into art, but I am. Women of your stature don't expect much from men like me."
Still shocked that he liked art, she wasn't even mildly annoyed by his stereotypical statement, only curious about his interests. "You don't think very highly of women of my distinction do you?"
"If I say 'yes' you'll take it personally, right?"
She nodded.
He thought for a minute, his fingers silently drumming on the arm of the chair. "Well, you're okay, but you have to admit, most of the highly intelligent and successful barracudas are annoying as hell, not to mention rude."
She agreed with that, but just like everything else, there were bad women and there were good women. She wanted to be one of the good ones. "I am a good person, period. I couldn't live the life I do, performing my job as well as I do, if I wasn't."
"Yes, but does that ever get old? Does the job ever get old?"
Sometimes she worried she worked too much. That she was missing something in her life, but her work was important. "Connor, people get hurt every day from things that aren't supposed to hurt them. It's my job to see that not only are people compensated, but more importantly, that corporations change their behavior and that nobody gets hurt anymore." He smiled. She liked his smile. It was never a grin, but a mere lifting of his lips at the corners. Very Connor-like.
"You are going to be director someday, aren't you?"
"I'd like to." She stared at the small sculpture on the table in the corner. "It'd be nice to be completely successful at what I do. To leave my mark within OSHA." Connor remained silent, and too late, Michelle realized that she'd probably said the wrong thing. She changed the subject. "So I'm thinking Theodore will show up at eight. What do you think?"
Connor looked quite relieved. "If he shows up, it won't be until after CSI Miami. It'll take him fifteen to twenty minutes to get over here, so ten thirty."
"Ten thirty? Theodore is too worried about appearances to drop in that late, especially unannounced."
His expression reflected unwavering confidence. "Ten thirty. Trust me. You can set every clock you own by Theodore. I figured that you'd know that by now."
"Actually, I've tried to live my life as Theodore free as possible."
"Lucky you. Unfortunately, I have no choice in the matter. But he's all right when you get to know him."
Michelle traced the soft fabric of the couch. "It's really not all that bad. It's not like Theodore is a horrible person. It's just"---she struggled to explain something she didn't understand herself---"I need to be me. Out of everybody, you should understand that best."
He studied her over his bottle. "Who are you?"
"Good question. I don't know the answer to that yet, but I'm not happy with who I am now."
He took a drink and swallowed. "Thought you'd be beside yourself. Making very good money, an upstanding young dentist who wants to marry you, you're intelligent and very attractive. What's not to be excited about?"
"How did you learn to be content with who you are?"
He did smile that time. "You mean, me, the financially strapped sous chef?"
Oh, right. "You're not anywhere near the poor house."
"Maybe not poor, but I don't make anywhere near the money you do, sweetheart." He didn't sound like he was kidding.
"Really?" She shook her head, not letting him distract her. "You are trying your best to avoid my question."
"Why do you think I actually have an answer?" he retorted.
"Because it appears that you do. Aren't you happy with who you are?"
Connor exhaled slowly. "Majority of the time."
What? Big shock number two. She leaned forward, wanting to dig for more information, and he shook his head, then picked up the DVD case.
"So, are we really supposed to watch this?"
The easygoing persona was back, the serenity that made her want to see if his heart was still beating, if his blood could still run hot.
"Unless you can think of something better to do?" She looked at him, trying for a sexy, torrid stare, but ending up with a heated face. Shoot. This was not going well.
Connor watched her for a minute, and tension weighed heavy in the air. Finally, he stood and placed the DVD into the player. She was impressed at the high quality of it.
"Do you want anything else to drink before I start? Soda, juice, beer."
Michelle started to refuse, since she'd barely finished her first drink, but then changed her mind. "Beer." After all, the purpose of hanging out with Connor tonight was to let her hair down a bit. She reached up to the elastic band at the back of her head and pulled it free, trying to get rid of the small bump that never failed to be there when she did.
Again, Connor watched her for a few minutes. Finally, he nodded. "I'll get your beer."
While he was gone, she toed off her shoes and settled comfortably on the couch. Okay, this was better than she thought it would be. When she had been a child, she could lie down on the couch. But that all changed after her dad's job promotion. Her parents now lived in a ritzy part of San Diego with overpriced items everywhere. No lying down on their couch. One had to use the utmost care just to take a seat.
A few moments later, he appeared, and placed the bottle on the well-used coffee table in front of her, and then looked rather fixedly at the television.
"Could you turn down the lights a little?" she asked. He whipped his head in her direction and she offered a small smile. "To set the ambiance in case Theodore shows up."
He stood, flipped the light switch, and the room turning a deep shade of indigo, the last bit of sun long gone. Connor sat down, looking more determined than ever.
Ah, sweet progress.
She curled up on the couch, struggling to contain her smile. The movie was actually good. A great drama, with action and some steamy love scenes. She wasn't brave enough to stare pointedly at Connor during the intimate moments, but she did peek out the corner of her eye. His jaw looked pretty tight, and there was a bead of sweat on his upper lip. She shifted a little on the couch, and crossed her legs at the ankle.
When a knock sounded at the door, they both jumped. Connor shut off the TV quickly and room went dark.
Michelle looked at the clock. Ten thirty? Already? Gee, time flew when you were watching porn, um, a movie.
"That's Theodore, isn't it?"
"Definitely," Connor answered.
Theodore.
It was show time.
Michelle looked at Connor, shirt untucked, chest untouched, and she glanced down at her own still-ironed look. Even the couch, with all its comfortableness, couldn't get rid of the starch.
"Great. We don't look like we've been doing anything."
Connor looked at her with a deadpan stare. "Usually women just get this look about them. Some sort of natural response."
She wanted to laugh at him, but darn it, she needed to think. This was important to get right. "No, Connor, remember this is supposed to be a heated affair. We need to look like you can't stand one minute without touching me. Remember," she stressed the words, "Theodore needs to think he doesn't have a chance."
The doorbell rang, and Connor lowered his voice to a furious whisper. "This was your idea. What are we supposed to do? Get a little down and dirty on the carpet while magically opening the door so Theodore walks in?"
She looked at the carpet and got a nice visual. She decided right then and there that someday, someday indeed, she would get down and dirty on the carpet with him.
The knock on the door lasted longer this time.
"Hang on a second. I'm coming," Connor shouted, still standing several feet away from her, looking completely untouched. Michelle took a step toward him. "Look, this is supposed to be a real date. What would Theodore expect to find?" She wanted to know exactly what was expected when it came to a sultry and torrid affair because she hadn't the slightest idea.
His smile was slow, but provocative. "Sweetheart, if this was a real date, you'd be lucky to have your clothes on."
She almost drowned in the absolute hedonistic image he provoked.
Clothes.
Crap!
She looked down at her clothes. They were definitely too tidy. Something had to be done about that. Quickly. She shook her head free of her lustful thoughts. Not now.
"Okay. Here, let me do something with my shirt. I should undo a few buttons or something."
She reached frantically for her buttons, Theodore now knocking insistently and firmly at the door. Well, he could just wait. Very quickly, she undid the tiny buttons, popping them free.
She pulled the stiff cotton material free of her pants and made the rather huge mistake of looking at Connor. Her fingers froze. His eyes were leveled on the brown, lacy bra she wore underneath her shirt. Okay, her chest was somewhat small, but she liked to think of herself as pert.
The way Connor was looking right now, as if she were a delectable treat he wanted to devour, she was beginning to like small and pert, but she really did need to get a move on. Unfortunately, none of her muscles seemed to work.
Connor finally spoke, his voice a little hoarse. "You need to button up. Theodore definitely doesn't need to see you like this."
She almost reminded him that was exactly why she'd unbuttoned them, but decided now was not the time to debate it. She fumbled a little. The buttonholes had mysteriously shrunk a few sizes too small, and her hands had grown much clumsier.
With a low curse, he brushed her hands aside and began the task himself.
"Connor, don't button them up right. I'm supposed to look ravished."
His hands froze. Right on top of her breasts.
Oh, my.
He muttered something under his breath, but she couldn't make it out. "Connor, focus. Connor, your brother is on the other side of your front door." His hand brushed against her skin. She jumped. "Connor, you need to hurry up."
The knock on the door lasted longer this time.
Connor looked up, eyes dark with lust. "Don't speak to me right now. I just need to get these damn buttons fastened. How did you manage to find a shirt with so many buttons? I told you I wouldn't be able to handle priesthood well."
"How long has it been?" she asked, trying to distract both of them.
"Two months."
She bit her lip to hold back her groan.
He gritted his teeth, and his finger brushed against her nipple.
She emitted a choked gasp.
Her nipples grew even perkier, clearly visible under the brown satin. Connor's breathing turned shallow.
Oh, my.
Not knowing what else to do, she apologized. "I'm sorry."
He stopped fumbling with the buttons and focused on her face. A deep blush appeared under his skin, very noticeable underneath the shadow of whiskers clinging to his jaw. Her fingers lifted, craving the touch.
"You haven't done anything. I should be the one apologizing."
She started to explain that she was apologizing for her nipples and his breathing problem, but realized this was not what a sexy, sultry seductress would do. Yet, there had to be something she could do. Her breasts were in his hands; there was definitely something she could do.
And so, she kissed him.
She was trying to kill him. All that silky skin. And her mouth. Now he knew exactly what that wicked mouth tasted like. Pure sin. Damn, but if she didn't kiss better than the best sex he'd ever had. He tugged her down on the couch and took over the kiss, letting his tongue explore the inside of her mouth. It was like a drug in his head, and he couldn't breathe. His hands fumbled with the clasp at the front of her bra until it broke and he was able to touch her bare flesh. He was going to die from lust. He had to---
"Oh, Connor," she whispered in his ear, and he was beyond grateful that, at that moment, he was named Connor and not---
There was brief knock on the door, followed by louder knocking.
"Michelle! Are you okay?"
Theodore.
Connor lifted his head. "Theodore, go away!" He stared at Michelle's face. So soft, so delicate.
What was she doing with a man like him?
Rational thought returned.
Theodore.
Still, he couldn't look away. She looked almost bewildered, hazel eyes dazed and confused, with remnants of passion.
He had so needed her to be the rational one. With her body beneath him---how had that happened?---he didn't want to be the logical one. It was physically painful to move away from her.
"Michelle."
One corner of her mouth curved upward and he moved back, giving her space to sit up.
"Connor."
"Michelle, we need to straighten your clothes. Theodore. I'm sorry."
The haze in her eyes cleared, her focus getting sharper. "Oh."
She looked down at the bra now hanging open uselessly, then looked up at him and chuckled. "Give me a second..."---he watched as she pulled the scrap of satin through her sleeves like a magician---"looks much better without it anyway. Don't you think?"
Her fingers recovered nicely, and she buttoned up a few strategic buttons, but now the pale green material covered places that he had just seen, conquered. Unable to do much else, he sat.
Michelle moved to the door, but he raced after her and caught her before she could open it. This was important. There was one question he needed answered.
"Michelle, why did you kiss me?"
"Well, because..." She hesitated for a long moment and looked at her hands. Finally, she looked up at him, eyes big, wide, and full of residual passion. "I wanted to."
Another knock sounded on the door, and Connor flung it open, pissed off at his brother for interrupting, upset at Michelle for starting it, and angry at himself for thinking the thoughts that were racing through his head. Now he'd really screwed up. Now he wanted her. He looked through the open doorway, not really caring about appearances anymore.
Theodore stood, looking neat in a button-down dress shirt and khaki pants He looked ready for a few rounds of country club golf. Next to him, in a tight skirt, hot pink fingernails, stiletto heels, and a blouse with hardly any material, stood Erica, looking ready to pitch a major fit.
"Good evening, Theodore, Erica. I see you two have met."
Connor felt like he had an entire eighteen-wheeler in his throat.
Theodore scowled, a deep flush coloring his neck. "Connor, I've been waiting fifteen minutes."
"Be happy that it was only fifteen," Connor replied grumpily, then took a deep breath. Now wasn't the time. "Well, you arrive unannounced, but please, come in."
Erica appeared to cradle a pot of something that smelled awfully good, and although she tilted her chin in the direction opposite Connor, she followed Theodore into the apartment, which seemed to be getting more confined by the minute.
Michelle settled herself on the couch again, looking extremely comfortable. Theodore sat next to her, and Connor noticed his eyes drifting toward Michelle's cleavage every so often. If not for Erica, Connor would have pushed him off the couch and told him to keep his eyes off Michelle's chest. Unfortunately, Connor had a hard time keeping his eyes at eye level, and was in no position to make such a demand.
He watched as Erica sat down the covered container, then settled into his favorite chair. With no other choice, Connor tried to lean casually against the wall.
There was a long silence, Theodore making a sound of irritation every now and then, his eyes still darting to Michelle's shirt. Finally, Connor couldn't take it anymore. "Stop it, Theodore."
The remark seemed to work, and Theodore took out his handkerchief and wiped at his forehead.
Michelle extended her hand to Erica. "Hello, I'm Michelle."
Clearly, that was more that Erica could put up with.
"Connor, you told me you were sick. You sounded so ill on the phone, all the coughing and sniffling. I thought I'd find you here, curled up on the floor, dying and miserable." She waved a hand toward the container on the floor. "I even brought you some of my homemade potato soup. It'll have you back on your feet in less than a day."
"Connor, you jerk!" Theodore burst out, obviously believing that Erica was not capable of sticking it to Connor on her own.
Connor turned to Michelle and waited. She continued to quietly hold her tongue. Intelligent woman. This was her doing. Well, okay, he shouldn't have told Erica he was sick, but how did a person call someone three hours before a date and say, "Um, I've finally been given the chance by the woman of my dreams and I won't be seeing you for around one hundred and nineteen days, and about eight hours." Illness seemed so much easier to explain. Of course, he could have told Erica the truth, but what female in their right mind would buy that? Hell, he was a guy, and he wouldn't have believed it.
Connor looked at Erica with a fond sadness. She was nice. He had high hopes for her, and damn it all, the contents in the pot smelled really good. But there was Michelle, looking sexy as hell and a little bit irritated, and he really didn't have a choice.
"I'm sorry about this. I should have told you the truth." Connor gave Michelle and pointed look. Understanding his message, she hunched her shoulders, sinking lower in the chair.
"To be honest, I just started going out with Michelle and, well, it's been somewhat of a surprise."
Especially that kiss.
Erica emitted a sound of irritation.
Theodore wasn't so calm. "Connor, how could you do such a horrendous thing?" He inclined his head Michelle's direction. "Are you certain you want to remain in such a dysfunctional relationship? One day in, and he is already cheating on you. How could you tolerate such a womanizer?"
Michelle sat up straight, her blouse becoming a lot less revealing. Thank goodness. "Technically, he's not a womanizer."
Erica flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Maybe not to you, but just give it a little time. The girls at the nail salon in the shopping center near the restaurant he works at warned me about this one. Said he was a heartbreaker. He doesn't have any money either. It would be impossible considering he's a chef, sous chef, yes, but a chef nonetheless." She pointed a scarlet-tipped finger at Michelle. "You'll be next, sweetheart. Guys like this"---she clicked her tongue---"worse than dogs in heat."
Theodore patted Erica's hand. "You poor woman. Michelle, if you're ready to leave this playboy's love nest, I'd be more than happy to escort you home." His gaze cut back to Michelle's cleavage. Connor allowed himself one proprietary smirk.
Not in your dreams, Theo.
"I'm not leaving," Michelle replied in a dreamy voice that reminded Connor that they still needed to lay out a few ground rules before she did really leave. That one kiss might cause him to lose a few nights sleep, but there were some lines he wasn't about to cross. He thought of the kiss again and corrected himself. Okay, he wouldn't cross them more than once.
"Connor, have you got anything with alcohol in it here?" Erica eased herself into a standing position. It was the only range of motion the short skirt allowed.
"Michelle, you really should---" Theodore began, but then pulled his pager from his pocket. "Shoot. I have a dental emergency. I need to go to the hospital."
"An emergency?" Michelle questioned. "This time of night?"
Theodore puffed up a little. "Yes, an oral maxillofacial surgery I complete earlier today."
Erica laid a hand on Theodore's sleeve. "You're a doctor?"
"Dentist," Theodore corrected.
"Very interesting. So, do you think you could drop me off at home on your way? I took a cab over here and I would have to wait on one to pick me up so that I can get back home. I could take the bus or the train..." She gave a look of distaste.
Connor watched his brother. Theodore, play heroic knight to a woman like Erica? Yeah, that'd be the day.
"Why, certainly. You're in such a fragile emotional condition, and you don't need to be subjecting yourself to having to stick around this place any longer than necessary."
Oh, really?
He glanced over at Michelle. Tonight, everybody was somebody new.
Erica placed a hand over her heart. "It shows? You know you are such an observant man. All of the guys I've dated just miss my little signals." She glanced over at Connor and exhaled softly. "I can't believe this has happened again."
Theodore took Erica's arms and looked at Connor with disgust. "Now look at what you've done."
Erica fluttered her lashes at Theodore. "Do you drive a BMW?"
"Bavarian Motor Works?" Theodore scoffed. "No. Japanese. Lexus to be exact," he said, opening the door for Erica.
Her appreciative "oh" echoed as they walked out of the apartment. Connor heard the clinking of Erica's heels as they started down the stairs. One problem dealt with. Now to solve the other one. He closed the apartment door and turned to Michelle.
"Now, about that kiss..."
Mind-blowing was the first word that came to Michelle's mind. She already felt like he had ruined her for other men, and she was only thirty-one. Heck, he was only thirty-seven. Maybe she should have gone for an older man before now. Then again, maybe she'd tire of his kisses in time. She studied his mouth, wondering where he'd learned to kiss like such a professional. "What about it?" she asked, not sure where this conversation was going.
Connor sat down and rubbed his eyes. For the first time, she realized that he looked tired. She resettled herself back on the couch, which was quickly becoming a favorite. Maybe she could give him a massage. Or a hot bath! She loved bubble baths.
"There will definitely be no more kissing."
That probably meant the bath was out, as well, but Michelle wasn't ready to call it quits. "You're going to have to kiss me. Theodore will think something is wrong if you don't kiss me."
"Theodore wasn't here," he replied, easily defeating her best argument in defense of Michelle pressing her lips against his.
"Actually, he was here."
Connor glared. "In visual range, Michelle."
She rearranged the empty beer bottle on the coffee table. "Semantics. You will have to kiss me again, or Theodore will never be convinced." She narrowed her eyes as another thought struck. "And why did you tell Erica you were sick? Were you planning on cheating on me?"
That thought really bothered her. It bothered her a lot more than it should. After all, she only wanted a faux affair. At least that's what Connor thought.
He leaned forward in the chair. "No, I wasn't planning on..." Then he caught himself. "Damn it, Michelle. This is only pretend." His eyes dropped to her chest. "And button your shirt. Theodore's gone. Go home, Michelle. I'll call you a taxi. I need some sleep. Maybe that will help me think rationally."
Slowly, she buttoned up her shirt, tucking in her shirttail and smoothing out all the wrinkles. Nearly midnight and already her glass slippers were transforming back to wooden clogs. She exhaled heavily. Well, this was only Day One. And what a day it had been.
She picked up her bag and searched through it until she found her keys.
Connor looked at her with amazement. "You drove?"
She nodded.
"Where did you park?"
"Over on Beach Street."
"Beach Street? That's several blocks away. You shouldn't be walking by yourself this late at night." He stood and stretched, the muscles in his stomach lengthening and flexing. She watched the movement with severe longing, wanting to touch. "I'll escort you to your car."
"Thanks."
Neither of them said much on the walk to the car, and Michelle was grateful for the silence. Although his street was anything but---kids were playing basketball, somewhere in the distance a radio blared, the sidewalk vibrated from the heavy bass. Two old men were sitting on lawn chairs near a bench sharing complaints about their lives and catching up on local gossip.
One of the men looked like he should be in a retirement community, judging by the tacky Hawaiian shirt he wore with pride. His khaki shorts and white socks pulled up to his knees completed the picture. He took a long drink of what she hoped was tea from his glass, and then drew his hand across his mouth.
"I saw that Reese boy just the other day. Remember back in the day? Always in trouble, that one. I thought he'd never amount to anything. But I saw him yesterday. You'll never believe it---he's a cop."
"No! Get outta here," the younger man said. He must have been well about seventy and was mostly bald with a fringe of gray circling his head.
The other man lifted his free hand. "I swear it's the truth. He had a gun and a badge. Even let the neighborhood kids fool around with the squad car lights and siren. You should've seen it."
The bald and graying man winked at Michelle. "Good evening, Connor Sakuma. Aren't you going to introduce us to your gorgeous lady friend?"
Connor waved them off. "Not tonight, fellows."
They joined together in a chorus of catcalls. They looked like such nice men, and Michelle thought it might be rather fun to have a seat with Connor and join the older men. "Could we sit for a while?"
Connor's eyes widened. "You actually want to?"
More than she wanted to go home and be alone. "Certainly." She extended her hand to the older gentleman who held the cup. "Michelle Lewis."
"Anthony Green," he said, taking her hand and kissing it.
The other man smiled, exposing sparkling white teeth. How had he managed that? "Luis Garcia."
Michelle nodded politely, still wondering about the teeth. Were they dentures? "Very pleased to meet you."
"Charmed, I'm sure." Anthony held out his glass to her. "Would you like a drink?"
Michelle looked over at Connor, who settled himself on the bench next to the men and arched a dark brow in her direction. While she wanted to be friendly, she wasn't without common sense. "What is it?"
"Metamucil and bourbon. At my age, you need to save all the time you can." Anthony patted his round stomach. Connor laughed as she shuddered.
"Anthony, mind your manners. A beautiful young lady has graced us with her presence tonight."
Luis sighed, wiping his forehead with his bandana. "Looks like it's going to be a hot summer."
Anthony passed Luis the glass. "Times like these, I go to bed knowing I've died and gone to Hades."
"If I was married to Rosie, I'd think I'd died and gone to hell every night, too."
Both men shared a brief chuckle while Connor shook his head. Luis scratched his chest, sighing with satisfaction. "You know, my first son was conceived during one of these summers."
"Miguel?"
Luis nodded. "The very one." He still had a smile on his face when he turned to Connor. "How's school treating you? Oh, and where's my Lincoln?"
Connor reached into his wallet and handed over a five-dollar bill. "I received high praises on the meal that I prepared. I can't believe you were right. As much as I struggled, I didn't think the instructor would be able to stomach the first bite."
"It does my heart good to know an old man can still take advantage of you younger whippersnappers every now and again." Luis winked at Michelle. "I told Connor that he's smarter than he gives himself credit for being. Did Connor tell you what he's doing?"
Connor hunched his shoulders. "Not now, Luis."
"You haven't told Ms. Lewis about your career ambitions?"
Anthony cuffed Luis on the shoulder. "Luis. Shh."
Michelle's ears perked up. "What career aspirations?"
"It's nothing, Luis." Connor stared meaningfully.
Michelle wasn't going to let Luis off that easy, though. "Please tell me."
Luis pursed his lips. "Nope, my loyalty is to Connor. If he says it's his personal business, who am I to disagree?
Michelle pulled out her purse. "Luis, I'd like for you to meet Mr. Lincoln." She held out a five.
"Michelle. Put that away." Connor tried to pull her purse away, but she held on tight.
Luis was a tough customer. "Please, miss, listen to him and put that away. I wouldn't rat on Connor for anything less than Mr. Jackson."
Everyone laughed.
Michelle looked at Connor for a minute, but he was just studying her. This was a test. She put the money back into her purse. "My apologies, Luis."
But then Connor surprised her and told her anyway. "I'm working to get my culinary degree."
She looked at him, amazed. Her hand landed on his knee. "That's great."
"Don't say anything, okay? It's going slow. The classes don't come cheap even with financial aid, and it will be a few years yet before I have the degree."
He wanted to earn a degree in culinary arts. She shouldn't have been so surprised. While Theodore had shouted his dreams and goals from the rooftop, Connor had whispered his. Yet, no one had listened to begin with so many assumed he didn't have any at all. But he did. Somehow, he had become serious about his future and no one had noticed.
Connor stood, tall and capable. Theodore had always been the smart Sakuma boy, hadn't he? She wasn't so certain now.
Luis stared up at the looming buildings and incandescent street lights, looking as if he was contemplating the universe, and then he gave a heartfelt sigh. "And what do you do, Michelle?"
"Michelle's an OSHA Labor Liaison," Connor responded.
Anthony nudged Luis. "You don't say? You hear that? She works for OSHA."
Luis's reply was a noncommittal grunt.
Anthony swirled the glass in his hand, pointing it at Michelle. "I've been telling Luis he should find a good lawyer. Like one of them on TV."
Michelle turned to Luis, intrigued. "For what?"
"I've been having trouble with my lungs now and nobody's ever said anything, but back when I was on the line, they used this product cleaner that---well, it was strong stuff. They didn't use it very long, but a couple of other guys who did the some of the same work at the same time I was there, well, we're all in the same shape."
Anthony sniffed. "They probably knew exactly what they were doing to their employees, but just didn't care. Corporate America. But that's what the legal system is for, to keep those greedy bastards in line."
Luis looked at Connor. "What do you think?"
Connor shook his head. "You want a lawyer? You are going to need one of the best for a thirty-five-year-old case."
Michelle opened her mouth, ready to defend her labor law skills. But there was no need. Connor took care of that.
"But I know you can't afford one, so believe me, Michelle is the next best thing." His smile was real, but a little sad.
For a moment she just stared. He didn't know what a gift he'd just given her. She didn't know whether she should kiss him or say thank you, but he had a "hands off" look. Disappointed, she handed a business card to Luis. "Call me first thing in the morning. I'll look into it and see what I can do."
Connor yawned. "Well, I'm sorry to chat and run, but I need to get Michelle back to her car, and me to bed."
"Sure, sure," Anthony said as he extended a hand to help Michelle up from the bench. "Traffic should be okay for you now. Congressman Kanepi held a meeting tonight on the new park plans. For some insane reason, they're still not done debating the location. It went on for five hours. Five hours! What's there to discuss? Plant a few trees, some flowers, and put a swing set in the middle. It's a park. What? They need a committee to figure that out? Well, anyway, you're lucky you didn't try to leave before now. Traffic was insane."
"Michelle, it was a real pleasure. Good night, Connor. Come down tomorrow night and talk to us," Luis said.
"Working late tomorrow and I have class. Can't do it." Connor stuck his hands in his pockets and turned left at the corner, his stride more a run than a walk. Michelle waved to the old men, then hustled to keep up. "Connor, wait. Why didn't you tell me about you going to school? That's so great."
He stopped, his expression grim. "Look. Nobody knows. Okay? I don't know if I'll be able to finish or not. I don't know if I want to finish. I've peaked in the culinary world, and I can't move up without it. Still, it's a lot more than I can handle." He pointed to the row of cars parked on the street. "Which one is yours?"
She almost didn't tell him. "The Range Rover."
He just shook his head and laughed. "Yeah, why didn't I guess?" She unlocked it with her remote, and he opened the door for her. "See you around, Michelle." He started to turn away.
"Wait, Connor." She leaned against the cool steel door, shutting it. "What do we do now?"
"We've already done too much."
In her mind, they hadn't done nearly enough, but she remained silent. "I'm talking about Theodore."
"Why don't you marry him, Michelle? I've never seen two people more perfect for each other. My parents would be thrilled. I think yours would be, as well."
He actually sounded serious.
Why couldn't anyone understand? Theodore wasn't the one she wanted. "My plan is working. Theodore really believes we're having an affair. Just a little more time, Connor. Give it a chance. I needed your help to make this work."
"Michelle, you don't need anyone's help. Least of all mine. You could do anything you set your mind to."
She didn't want to see him go. Not yet. "Please? I know this will work."
Connor looked up at the streetlights and closed his eyes. "Why would Theodore ever believe this?"
It was the sarcastic tone that made her angry. "Look at me. I have put up with Theodore Sakuma for twenty years! That's longer than most marriages. For the first time, Theodore is actually entertaining thoughts of other women. Did you see him with Erica? That's what I was trying to tell you. This is going to work. It has to work. I don't know what else to do." To her chagrin, she felt tears gathering at the corner of her eyes, and she brushed them away with the tip of her finger.
Connor swore, lifted a hand to touch her, and then stopped. "Don't start crying. Look, if you want me to help, I'll help." He pushed at his dark hair with an unsteady hand. "But nothing else, Michelle. I don't know exactly what you're thinking here, but he's my brother. Nothing real is going to happen between us." He pushed his hands in his pockets and took a step back. "Nothing."
Michelle knew when it was time to leave it alone. She opened the car door and settled into the plush leather interior. Why couldn't she drive a Honda? He shut her door and saluted. Completely unaffected by what she considered was certainly a defeatist attitude, she rolled down the window and waved. "You work on Saturday? We can go dancing."
Connor put a protesting hand on the car door. "Theodore doesn't like clubs. What if he won't show?"
She ignored his statement, pulling away from the curb, and pressing her horn. Just to make sure he understood, she stuck her head out the window. "I'll be at your place by nine o'clock to pick you up. Don't be late." She glanced in her rearview mirror and watched Connor get smaller and smaller as she drove away. Well, their first date had gone surprisingly well, considering it had been a disaster.
Saturday would be their chance to get it right. She touched her lips, remembering his kiss...touched her breast, remembering his touch, and then smiled to herself. He inspired such passion in her. Passion she'd never felt before. And who would have thought that Michelle Lewis would be out at midnight, moonlighting on a bench? It felt good. An affair with Connor would be all that she imagined.
And more.
At Connor's insistence, they took a taxi. Some didn't like to travel by taxi, but Michelle had always secretly enjoyed it. Their taxi driver was Marty Clement, licensed since September 20, 2005.
"Where to?"
"Fifty-one fifty-one Fourth Avenue. Downtown."
Marty looked at Connor in the rearview mirror. "You sure about that?"
Connor nodded.
The taxi moved forward, pulling away from the curb.
"Fourth Avenue it is."
Michelle found herself pressed back against the seat by the sudden movement, and laughed in delight. Connor's intense gaze flickered over in her direction, and she felt a fresh burst of heat wash over her skin.
He likes my dress. Oh, he hadn't said one word, but the banked appreciation in his eyes spoke volumes. Every now and then, they would drift in her direction, as intimate as a touch.
She shivered.
"Cold?" he asked, glancing at her chest.
She fought the urge to cross her arms over her breasts and, instead, smoothed the blue silk material lovingly over her thighs. She watched with smug confidence as he turned a little paler. "No, but thank you for asking."
The cab lurched to the right, interrupting her moment.
The deserted residential streets slid by, although every now and then a dog-walker or evening jogger would appear. Michelle checked her watch. Nine-thirty. If she was back by one, she could spend an hour or so to finish going through the articles she'd found on industrial cleaning solvents and their side effects. She'd agreed to take Luis's case almost immediately after they talked on Friday, and after less than twenty-four hours of research, she knew she was on to something. She'd already started the paperwork that would get the ball rolling.
And Connor didn't miss a thing. "Have someplace else you need to be?"
She smiled and shook her head. She was exactly where she needed---and wanted---to be. Dressed in slacks and an emerald green button down shirt, his hair slightly mussed, and a wicked gleam in his eyes, he looked---perfect.
"No. Tonight I'm going out on the town. It's time to have fun."
His eyes locked with hers for a moment, and then he turned away, looking out the window instead.
Coward.
As they reached the downtown area, she took in the sight of all the restaurants and stores. The sounds and smells assailed her, even in the enclosed cab. Under the shimmering lights, two young lovers walked hand in hand. Michelle sighed, the long-forgotten echoes of Winston Marsalis playing in her head.
The cab screeched around a corner, and Michelle slid into Connor. Mysteriously, her hand found its way to his thigh. Not so mysteriously, her hand worked its way up his thigh. Connor didn't blink. "You don't want to do that."
"Oh, I definitely do."
He sat straight, taut, very unlike the easygoing man she thought she knew. Michelle ventured ahead. "You're attracted to me."
He shrugged. "You're single. You're a female. I'm not picky."
A sharp pain began to throb right between her eyes. She had known he was stubborn. Had always thought his "stick-to-his-guns" trait was admirable, appealing even. She was an imbecile. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "We don't have to pretend, Connor."
"Yes. We do."
She offered him a soft, reassuring smile. "No. We don't."
"We most definitely do."
Michelle moved in closer. "We could do sultry, carnal, you know."
"Absolutely not."
"Torrid."
She licked her lips, getting into the best femme fatale persona she could muster. The debriefing room had never been this entertaining.
"No." The denial sounded very forced.
"I could make you change your mind."
"You belong to Theodore. Nothing can make me forget that."
Her jovial mood fizzled. "I'm Michelle Rose Lewis. Daughter of Virgil and Anita Lewis. Graduate, magna cum laude, of University of California-Berkeley and Stanford Law School. I am my own person. I will never be Theodore's girl."
Connor turned away from her. She looked out the window herself, staring at the full moon casting a silver glow over the city.
"He is head-over-heels for you."
"No, he isn't. Theodore is in love with the notion of attaining something he can't have. Besides, there is one thing Theodore will always care about more than me. Himself."
Connor turned back toward her and smiled. "You have a good point there."
"You're stubborn."
His smile turned cocky and sure. "Must be a family trait."
Her leg began to tremble. She'd never quite been able to conquer the spasm of irritation, but she could disguise it. She settled back against the seat, crossed one ankle behind the other. Her voice was void of humor when she spoke. "Why did I ever have to meet the Sakumas?"
"You're cursed," he replied, looking completely serious.
"You think Theodore will show up tonight?"
"Yeah, I told him we were going dancing. He knows where I go."
The driver turned his head and smiled at Michelle. "Fifty-one fifty-one Fourth Avenue. Ten dollars and fifty cents."
Connor dug out his wallet. He paid the driver, then held the door open for Michelle. But Marty wasn't finished.
"Hey man, let me give you some advice. If my girl looked like she does, and if my girl wanted to dance with me like that, I wouldn't be in a taxi. I'd be giving her the Marty Mambo. You're a chicken, man." He pointed a finger at Connor to emphasize the words.
Michelle smiled at the driver. "He's not really chicken, just a little hesitant."
"Sweetheart, you need a real man? You come to Marty. I'll treat you good in ways that exceed your imagination."
"Get out of the car, Michelle."
She exited from the taxi, cool, calm, and collected, trying to contain her smile. "You're no fun, Connor."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." He slammed the door behind her.
Her heels clicked on the pavement as she made her way down the street. "But I'm still going to make you forget who and where you are before the night is over."
This dance club had always been one of Connor's favorite places to hang out. Low-key and out of the way, no one ever made judgments. The music was sultry and sexy, just like the air. The atmosphere has always proven to be the best place to meet women.
But tonight, he was playing the hero for Michelle. And he wasn't a coward. That one remark from Marty had bothered him more than all the barbs against his testosterone levels. He had spent his entire life not measuring up to Theodore, and eventually, he'd stopped trying. But with Michelle? Damn. For her, he wanted to try again. Those thoughts of material success were weaving a spell in his head.
Connor settled back against the stuffed cushions of his seat. He sipped his beer and let the music seep into his mind. He'd already played that game once. Never again. Not even for Michelle.
He watched as she moved on the dance floor. The midnight blue dress billowed out and then flowed back as she swayed to the sultry beat of the music.
What was she doing with him? Why this sudden desire to walk on the wild side? Michelle was a high society type. About as straitlaced as Theodore and just as prim and proper. That's what private preparatory school did to people. Probably was a good thing Connor hadn't attended it. He didn't want to be genteel, didn't want to be conventional. His eyes narrowed, watching her move. Maybe not so straitlaced after all.
He should be dancing with her. Instead, like a big jerk, he'd said no. And now, she was moving on the dance floor with two guys sandwiching her like a ménage in a music video.
Great job, Connor.
He glanced at his watch. Theodore should be arriving soon. Connor would have to hold Michelle in his arms, kiss that luscious mouth again, and caress all that smooth, silky skin.
Why the hell had he agreed to this?
Because you wanted to, sucker, a voice whispered in his head. One of the muscle-bound men tugged Michelle closer, and Connor put down his beer. He made his way out on the dance floor, reached for Michelle, and spoke very clearly to all the male members of her ménage. "She's with me."
Michelle's body brushed up against his and he inhaled deeply, suddenly, as the room seemed to spin.
She glanced up at him from underneath half-mast lids, midnight blue material barely covering the cleavage he'd touched a couple of nights ago. Her eyes sparkled with ill-placed adoration. She definitely didn't see him as a coward. Not tonight.
"Has Theodore arrived?"
"No." Connor moved his body, picking up the smooth, rhythmic beat, and maneuvered her around the floor.
Excitement shone in her eyes. "You came to dance with me on your own? You actually wanted to?" Her hands slid up his chest, to his shoulders, until they cupped his neck. "Don't you think you want to kiss me as well?"
The strong desire to do more than kiss her swamped him. He had to fight the urge to drag her back to his apartment, take the blue material off of her, and bury himself deep inside her for days. He glanced at the door, saw the scowl on Theodore's face, and the corners of his mouth tilted upward. "Maybe I should."
He stopped swaying, and met her luscious mouth halfway. He had prayed, he had wished that his memories were false, that he'd made her out to be some sort of fantasy, but when he felt her lips soften under his tongue, it became clear that the reality was even better. She tasted so succulent, so good, and so exquisite. Her tongue tangled with his, moving back and forth, making love to him with her mouth.
Their tongues mingled to the beat of the music. He pulled her closer until their bodies locked together. For a few moments, he let himself forget, but only for a few moments. He withdrew slowly, and gazed into her eyes, needing to understand her. "Why are you torturing me like this?"
"I don't want to torture you,"---her lips teased his jawline---"but I can't resist you,"---her hands massaged his back---"and you are the last hope I have of getting your brother to move on and leave me alone."
He reached out and took her hands in his. He couldn't seem to think straight when she touched him. "This can't be real."
The salacious smile she gave him could have started a fire. He felt like he could combust any moment. She was hell on his self-control. "It has to be real. I want it to be real."
He clasped her hands to his chest. Much better, safer that way. "Why?"
"Because I want it to be. I know there is more to life...passion, than what I have now. I have no doubt you can show me."
Images popped into his head. Captivating portrayals of naked flesh, long dark hair, and her mouth. On his skin. Oh, man. There was definitely a lot he could probably teach her. He coughed, his need to breathe momentarily forgotten. He had to regain control of this situation. Otherwise, it could get ugly. "Michelle, I can point out at least six other guys, seven if you count Marty, who would be more than happy to teach you the meaning of passion."
Her gaze didn't leave his to seek out six of the seven men he referred to. "And you make eight. But more importantly, you are the one that I want. The only one who matters."
"I don't know why I try to rationalize with you."
He took a step away from her before he lost himself and touched her again. Before he forgot what this was all about. Before he didn't remember that he had a brother.
The eyes that had looked at him with adoration now shone with disappointment. She reached for his arm before he could move further away. "Can't we have it out later, Connor? Theodore is here." She gave a small nod toward the entrance to the dance club. "At least play along for now."
Play along.
It would be a struggle, but for now, he could do it. He studied his brother out the corner of his eye. Theodore found a small table and ordered a drink. Connor knew what he needed to do. He tugged Michelle closer, inhaled her perfume---what was the name of the intoxicating scent she wore?---and saw his brother's eyes narrow.
What the hell was he doing?
Michelle drew away and danced slowly around him, taunting, provoking, using her luscious mouth to send him imaginary kisses. He had to admit that he was not happy with imaginary. He wanted the real thing. He looked at Theodore who now looked away.
Damn it.
This wasn't supposed to hurt his brother. Then again, nothing hurt Theodore. At least it didn't now. Theodore had achieved every goal he set, except one. Making Michelle---the most exceptional woman Connor had ever met---his wife.
Her hair twirled around her shoulders, brushing his face, his arm. Once again, Connor was struck with the feeling of not wanting to follow through with the plan. He just couldn't stoop to that level.
"I'm sorry, Michele. I can't do this."
Her lips curved upward into a sexy and sure smile. He wasn't certain he could get used to her playing the role of seductress. She grabbed for his hands and led him off the dance floor. They walked a few steps to the narrow hallway where autographed photos of famous people who frequented the club hung.
In the low lighting, her smile dimmed, became less confident. "Connor, you're the only person who can really help me with this."
"You have to find another way to handle this. Did you not see the way my brother is looking at you? I'm not as emotionally cut off as it may appear. I can't ignore his feelings. Sit down and talk to him. Break up with him yourself."
Her growl could have been heard in Texas. "You can't dump someone you aren't with." She paused, closed her eyes briefly, and exhaled slowly. "I have talked to Theo several times. I'm tired of talking. Besides, he doesn't listen. But I can show you better than I can tell you. If I talk to him again, and he still refuses to believe I'm not his soul mate, then will you agree to help me all the way through the end?"
He folded his arms across his chest. "How am I to know if you are really trying? I don't trust you when it comes to this, Michelle."
She threw her hands up in frustration and he caught a glimpse of her breast, the shadow of her nipple. Oh, how he craved to touch her. "Look. You can decide for yourself. I will ask Theodore if he can come over tomorrow night for dinner, and you can listen in on the entire conversation."
"Spy?" He frowned.
"You just said that you don't trust me when it comes to this."
Connor sighed, but remained silent.
She folded her arms over her chest. "Do you have any better way?"
Connor wished for a moment of creativity, but the only thing he could think about was how much he wanted to see her again. Then his frown deepened.
"Why tomorrow night after this ruse tonight?"
She tilted her head to the side. "Because you don't work on Sunday nights and I know you don't have class. Otherwise, it might be tricky to arrange this. Time I don't have. So, stop by before six at my place."
"Well, unfortunately, I do have something to work on tomorrow. Can we make it Tuesday night instead?"
She closed her eyes, the image of a very attractive woman desperately looking for help. "Okay," she said, sounding completely exhausted.
His heart turned over in his chest.
Connor enclosed Michelle's hand in his and headed out of the club, barely acknowledging his brother on the way out. His stomach clenched the way it did when he'd overindulged on food. He was starting to realize he couldn't trust himself around Michelle. It wouldn't take much for him to cross a line that he shouldn't, and he was positive Michelle knew it.
Michelle was trouble. Around the time Connor had become a chef, he realized that he was content with his life. He enjoyed his neighbors and liked his close circle of friends. He felt like he'd found where he belonged. But every time he looked at Michelle, every time she studied him with those calm, accessing eyes, he felt anything but comfort.
He wanted to impress her with his every move or captivate her with charm and wit. When he really thought about it, he was sure neither was likely to happen. There was only one true knight in the Sakuma family. Theodore.
Connor made sure that Michelle made it back to her loft safely. Now there was nothing left to do but to go home and wish he were someone other than Theodore Sakuma's older brother.
All too early Tuesday morning, Julia knocked softly and then entered Michelle's office sporting her latest eyewear---Army camouflage plastic frames. On the average person, it would be silly, but the personal assistant wore the Army colors very well.
"Boss lady, Sakuma's on line four."
Michelle's fingers froze over her keyboard. "Connor?" she asked, trying to disguise her excitement.
"No. It's Theodore." Julia lowered herself to the edge of Michelle's desk; her temporary placement had only started two months ago and she was already at home. "Boss lady, I don't understand why you are so enamored with Connor. Now, Theodore, he definitely should capture your attention. By the way, he sent you flowers again. They're on my desk. Would you like for me to get them?"
Michelle leaned back in her chair and rubbed her tired eyes. "I know you have some work to do." She reached for the box that she kept discarded confidential paperwork in. "If not, you can start shredding this."
"Aw, boss lady." The young woman clicked her tongue in admonishment, her russet ringlets flying as she shook her head. "Why is it that we as women can be so blind when emotions are involved? Because of that, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Let's take a closer look at this. Theodore calls you routinely, at least once a week, if not two." She paused. "And I don't recall Connor calling you one time since I've started working the phone lines."
Hearing Julia say it aloud made the truth almost unbearable. In Connor's eyes, she was off-limits and she might as well be invisible in a lot of ways.
Why did she want Connor so much? Why did she want to have an affair with him so badly? Was it all about the challenge? Or did it have to do with her insistent need to succeed at everything she did? She looked at her immaculate desk with the two pens and a pencil arranged carefully in their proper places, and cried out for disorder.
"Theodore, line four." Julia nodded toward the blinking phone line.
Michelle inhaled a slow, relaxing breath before giving Julia her best "get out" look. Unfortunately, it went completely ignored. Why did it matter anyway?
She picked up the phone. "Theodore?"
"Good morning, Michelle. I just wanted to see if you received your delivery. Not to mention how much the sound of your voice brightens my day."
Michelle sighed. "Theodore, I planned to call you today so I'll get right to the point."
"Very well. I know your time is very valuable with the wonderful work you do, and idle chatter should be kept to a minimum."
"Theodore, could you come over tonight?"
"Most certainly! Is something amiss? Did Connor do something to hurt you? I knew it. Nothing good could come of this---"
"Actually, Theodore, I'm inviting you over because you and I need to talk. How does six sound?"
"To be honest, seven would be better. I'll be leaving the office late tonight."
Michelle smiled. Theodore loved his job. So did Connor. It seemed to be the one thing---the only thing---the Sakuma brothers had in common. What a pair the two of them made. "That's fine, Theodore. I'll see you this evening."
"I'll bring a bottle of white wine. Oh, I must go. I'm being paged. The patient must be prepped. I'll see you tonight."
Julia looked at Michelle as she hung up the phone, a wide smile splitting her face. She held up one hand, a waiting high-five gesture. Trying to muster up excitement, Michelle responded, halfheartedly, but it seemed to work.
Julia didn't mention anything about it. Instead, she forged ahead. "Wear the red blouse."
Michelle had no idea which shirt Julia referred to. She had more than one red blouse. "Which one?"
"I think you should wear the red silk one that you wore last week. It's nice, classy, but sexy as well. Just the sort of impression that you want to make. You know?" Julia's leg bumped against the desk with an irritating thumping sound.
"Thanks for the suggestion. I will take it under consideration." Michelle sat up straighter in her chair. "Could you find me Luis Garcia's file? Then you can return to your other duties. I have a lot of calls that I need to make."
"Of course, boss lady." Julia located the file quickly, then left, exhaling heavily.
Thank goodness.
Michelle picked up the receiver again. The phone call was to Connor. She looked at the two pens and one pencil standing upright in the holder at a perfect ninety-degree angle. With swift determination, she picked up both pens and placed them flat on the desk. "Much better."
Connor answered the phone, the usual kitchen noises clanging in the background. "Sakuma."
Michelle reached out for one pen, rolling it around on her desk. "Hey, it's Michelle. Theodore will be at my loft at seven. You still plan to make it?"
"I'll be there ten minutes before."
Sadness swamped through her. He couldn't stand to be alone with her for anymore than ten minutes. Julia was right; she was a fool. "That's fine. I'll see you then. Bye, Connor." But he had already hung up.
After staring at the pens for several minutes, she exhaled deeply and placed them back in the holder, propping them upright until they were perfectly aligned with the pencil.
Saturday night, as they had danced together, Connor had given her a long, passionate kiss as if she were the only woman alive. As if he needed her more than air. Michelle's life was predictable and planned. She didn't understand a need like that, but it attracted her to him. She hadn't realized it until now, but it was everything she'd always wanted.
"I'm sorry, Hilda, but I've been on hold for a while now. At this point, I really can't afford to hold any longer." Michelle glanced down at the steno pad, an entire page full of doodles, and released a pent up breath. She'd spent the last fifteen minutes on hold drawing pictures of stick figures holding hands. She really needed to get out more.
"I'm doing the best I can, Ms... What did you say your name was, Ms.?"
"Lewis. Michelle Lewis. Look, I'm certain you are doing the best you can, but I really need to find out the name of Mr. Groesbeck's secretary in nineteen eighty-five." She placed the pen back into the holder. No more idle drawing.
"Royal Cleaning Company has thousands of records, Ms. Lewis. However, if you submit a written request---"
"Thank you for the offer. I'm sure you have a ton of personnel files, but I'm positive that somehow, somewhere, someone can find this out for me. Perhaps they could be ready by the time I arrive at your office, or I can wait around a little if necessary."
"That information is located in secure storage, if it could be located, not here. However, there was a merger in nineteen eighty-eight, and I think those personnel records were lost or damaged."
Michelle removed the article from the file she'd started and scanned it quickly. Groesbeck was mentioned, as well as Olsen. "What about Mr. Olsen? Is he still working there?"
"No. If I'm not mistaken, he left and went to another company, uh, let me think, should have been around nineteen ninety-one, maybe ninety-two."
"Great. Do you know what company he went to?"
"Olsen? The last I heard, he was a director at Whitfield Industries."
Michelle's ear perked up. "Whitfield Industries?" She'd met with them around two years ago concerning violations found. She shuffled through her Rolodex. W. Whitfield Industries.
"Yes, ma'am. Received a very nice severance package when he left, too."
"Thanks, Hilda. If you ever spot any workplace violations, you let me know."
Michelle disconnected the call and leaned back in her chair. Finally, progress on the Garcia case. Now she just needed to find Olsen at Whitfield Industries. She took one last glimpse at the old article headline---"Cleaning Company Lawsuit Settled"---before printing out a copy and placing it in her briefcase. The sun was starting to lower in the office window and she realized it must be later than she thought. She checked her watch---almost five thirty. Crap. She planned to call Olsen and see if he was still at his office. Unfortunately, her apartment -needed a quick cleaning before Theodore came over. And Connor. Before Connor arrived.
That thought made her smile. She had big plans for Connor Sakuma this evening. She straightened up her desk and put the Garcia file in her briefcase. She'd take it home with her. She could also call Olsen from her cell phone on the way home.
Connor found himself at Michelle's door at six thirty. He rang the doorbell, refusing to attempt to come up with an explanation as to why he was early, denying the fact that he had a motive, not wanting to admit that maybe he did want to see her before Theodore arrived.
She opened the door, her hair pinned up on top of her head, her body wrapped in a long, white terry cloth robe. Her smile alone made the visit worth it. "Come in. As you can see, I'm running a little behind time. Work. It never ends."
He followed, studying her robe-covered butt, wondering what she had on underneath it. Was she naked? His heart skipped a few beats; a few other parts of him were affected, as well. He was grateful that she didn't say anything about him arriving early, because he didn't know how he would explain.
"I'm still getting ready. Would you like anything to drink?"
He shook his head.
"At first I thought I could stash you in the bathroom because it's closer, but Theodore might need to use it. The bedroom would definitely be a better choice. I'll have to leave the door open for you to hear everything that's being said."
Connor's thoughts shoved him back to the present, unpleasant situation. He wasn't a police detective. "Actually, Michelle, I don't think I'm going to stay. This entire set-up is insane."
She folded her arms over her chest. "I thought you needed proof that I have done everything I can to prove to Theodore that I'm not interested in him."
Point one for Michelle. "Um, yes, but I was...uh wrong. I was wrong." She tilted her head to the side. The hair she had pinned to the top of her head didn't move. How did women do that?
"When did you decide you were wrong, Connor? More importantly, what are you wrong about?"
Owning up to bring wrong wasn't easy for Connor, and he thought, preparing a response, wanting to help, wanting to look intelligent, but not ready to get himself in too deep. "You don't have to do this tonight. I was upset Saturday night and I should have kept my mouth shut. You don't have to prove anything to me." He paused for several moments. Finally, he said the words that he'd come all this way to say. "I believe you, and I trust you."
His words brought a smile to her face. He liked it when she smiled. Really liked it when he was the cause of that smile.
"What brought on this change?" she asked softly.
"Theodore called me and told me about you asking him over. He wanted to know what I'd done to you."
Michelle mumbled something Connor couldn't quite make out, but he didn't think Theodore would be flattered. "I told him you hadn't done anything."
Connor laughed. "It's okay, Michelle. He's just used to assuming the worst when it comes to me."
Usually, Theodore was right.
"He's just worried. He doesn't want me to hurt." Michelle sat down on her sofa, and crossed her ankles. "This is between me and you, not Theodore."
Connor looked at her bare skin peeking out from under her robe and wondered how it would feel. "Michelle," he murmured in what was supposed to be a warning. Instead, it sounded like a plea.
"Yes?" She looked up at him, all innocence. As if she didn't know exactly what was going on in his head.
Somehow, he had to get back to the subject at hand. "Look, Michelle. Talk to Theodore. I'll stay hidden in your room. If he doesn't get the point, after he leaves, we'll get your robe off---" Connor bit his tongue. Hard.
Michelle stood up and walked toward him, her hands at the sash on her waist. "Why wait? If you want---"
"Wow, look at the time! You better get dressed." He tugged her in the direction of her bedroom. "Unless you want Theodore seeing you...um..." looking like every man's favorite fantasy. He waved a hand in her direction. "Like that."
Michelle smiled again, this one even more confident than the last. Just what he needed. "You're right. Anything you want to watch while I'm getting dressed?"
His gaze flew up to meet her eyes before he realized she was referring to the television that sat on her dresser. He was officially a pervert. "I'm okay for now."
She remained silent as she handed him the remote then made her way toward the closet, which seemed to rival the space of a small bedroom. He looked around the room. Bed, dresser, huge mirror over the dresser.
She emerged five minutes later with a dress resting over her arm. Satin scraps hung from her hand and he swallowed. He really did not need to see her undergarments. She headed for the bathroom behind him and called over her shoulder, "I'll only be a few minutes. Make yourself comfortable."
Comfortable? She was in the other room---bare, naked, nude---he was in her bedroom, alone with her bed. He glanced at the piece of huge furniture and chuckled.
He should have known. It was a king-size bed with several pillows that looked as though they had been plumped. The comforter was a soft beige thing and he was able to handle everything until he noticed the sheets peeking out from the corner.
Satin. Ivory.
A part of him wanted to run screaming from the room. He'd never slept on satin sheets before, but suddenly, his mouth watered at the thought of doing just that. He reclined on the bed and fingered the silky material.
Michelle slept here. Probably in some slinky lace teddy thing that he would give his right arm to see her in. That was probably the way Michelle would make love. Satin, lace, silk, flowers and candlelight. That's the woman she was.
He studied his reflection in the mirror, occupying her bed like he belonged there. When they made love, every image, every movement would be vividly available in front of his eyes. Damn, he was getting hard. It was so easy to imagine. She seemed so real. All that soft, creamy flesh reflected in front of him. A heart-shaped butt that was perfectly symmetrical. His hands clenched. She brushed out her hair, her arms raised, her breasts firm and uplifted. She looked more like of those great Italian sculptures than a living, breathing woman.
Somewhere in the distance, he heard a whimper. Yep, that was him all right. Weak, Sakuma, very weak. He rubbed his eyes, willing the fantasy away. But when he opened them again, she was still there, and that's when it clicked. This wasn't a fantasy. Michelle was real, and he was sitting there, watching her reflection in the mirror.
An inkling of suspicion popped into his head. Had she done this on purpose? Was it another ploy to get him into her bed? He glanced down, noticed the way his jeans were suddenly several sizes too small, and admitted her trick was working.
Nope. He'd been watching too many conspiracy movies. Instead of playing the role of voyeur, he should be watching television. He leaned further back against the pillows, pressed the on button and tried to focus his attention on the images. It was a wasted effort.
Television was boring. Michelle getting dressed was not. And what would it really hurt? Hell, she had probably planned the entire thing.
His gaze cut back to the pure perfection of Michelle Lewis' body. She started to apply lotion, her hands touching, smoothing the moisturizer over silky soft skin. In his mind, he started to mimic her movements, as if he were the one rubbing her down.
She turned sideways, and inhaled deeply, patting her stomach. Connor struggled to hold in his laughter. No, she had no idea she was being watched.
At that exact instant, she lifted her head, and got a good long look at him in the mirror, eyes hot, jaw tense and mouth slightly open.
Busted.
He couldn't bring himself to look away, and she didn't even try. Her head tilted, a question in her eyes. Her fingers splayed on her stomach and then they moved. First up to cover her breasts, a movement that seemed to be partly modest and seductive. Her fingertips trailed over her nipples, and he groaned. She smiled, slow and aware, and her hands moved down lower.
He rose, not thinking about any of the reasons he shouldn't be doing this, and started toward her. All he wanted to do was taste her soft skin, kiss her lush mouth, and tease the places that would make her cry out with pleasure.
He was halfway across the bedroom and the sound of someone knocking rose above the sound of his own ragged breathing.
Theodore.
Connor closed his eyes and found a chair in the far corner of the room. Far away from temptation, far away from bedroom tricks with mirrors. Several seconds later, Michelle walked out of the bathroom, safely dressed in pale pink silk, her hair pulled back away from her face and twisted up on top of her head. She looked completely forbidden, elegant and untouchable.
"Connor?"
"Go let him in." His voice was raspy and he had trouble forming words.
She didn't reply, just studied him for minute. After heartbeats, she turned away and walked out of the room.
Michelle's legs were shaky, but they carried her to the front door. She rested her head against the door. Somehow, she had turned into an exhibitionist and it was extremely stimulating. If not for Theodore's untimely arrival, she knew exactly what would have happened.
It excited her to know how close they had come, and a part of her body was still vibrating, waiting for release. Maybe he would stay after Theodore left; maybe he would see how useless it would be to keep fighting the sparks between them. Maybe he would now understand that Michelle Lewis could tempt and tease just as well as any female that he might have favored in the past.
Maybe he could desire her.
Theodore knocked at the door again, eliminating any more thoughts of a late-night seduction. First things first.
Dealing with Theodore.
Theodore always looked so well put together. Michelle glanced down at her own wrinkle-free dress and frowned.
"Come on in, Theodore."
He bowed low from the waist and brought forth a bottle of wine from behind his back. "A fine wine for a refined woman."
From her bedroom, she heard a choked laugh and she was glad she'd left the television on.
"Please, have a seat."
He sat down and then pulled out a corkscrew from his jacket before proceeding to uncork the wine. "I brought everything except the wine glasses."
She nearly broke the sound of speed as she made her way into the kitchen, finding two wine glasses. When she returned to the living room, he was sniffing the cork appreciatively.
Seriously. Who does such a thing?
With a loud clank, she placed the goblets on her coffee table, then seated herself on the chair farthest away from Theodore. The last thing she wanted to do was encourage him.
He poured her a bit of wine, then poured some in his own glass. "I would like to make a toast."
She didn't lift her wine glass, but she did place a coaster underneath it. "Hold on, Theodore. You might not be in a toasting mood after I say this."
He tilted his head to the side, his expression full of curiosity. "Feel free to speak your mind."
She rested her hands on her knees. "Theodore, I know you think the two of us make a perfect couple, but I don't agree with your---"
"Is this why you started seeing Connor, to make me jealous?"
"No, Theodore. That's not why."
"Michelle, you've always been there for me, ready to defend me when no one else would even think about it. I know you care for me. You always have."
"Yes I do, but only as a friend, Theodore. Are you truly willing to settle for that affection when you deserve so much more?"
He reached for her hand. "Having you care for me, even if it is just friendship, makes me happier than being with another woman who sees me as nothing more than a bank account."
She stared into his warm eyes and wished she were the woman for him. He deserved someone good, nice, the perfect wife. Someone who could love every stuffy, pompous inch of him.
"I wouldn't be happy with friendship and, deep down, you know you wouldn't either."
"I don't know, Michelle. You're an exceptional woman. I think we are well suited."
"You think you know who I am, but you would be unhappy with me."
"Why would you say that?"
She took her hand out of his grip and reached for her wine glass. "I'm not the friendliest person in the world. I've also been accused of being unpleasant when I don't get my way."
"That's okay, dear. All women have their days."
Her hand tightened reflexively around the wine glass. His socializing skills were horrible. Lacking.
"That's a very sexiest statement."
"My apologies, of course."
It was a struggle not to roll her eyes. "Yes, well, this is just more reinforcement of the fact that we're not meant for each other. Look, Theodore. I'm discovering a new me. I want to feel alive. I want to shiver with excitement when the man I am involved with touches me. I don't feel that way with you."
"And you do with Connor?"
She nodded. It was the truth.
"Why?" he asked.
She exhaled softly. "You're not going to make this easy, are you?"
"To be quite honest, I think you're trying to break up with me, so I don't have any intention of making things easy."
"I'm not trying to break up with you. That would imply that something existed between us that never did. It also never will. You're a very nice man---"
Theodore cut her off. "I think you need to take your time about this, Michelle. We are very compatible, you and me. Way more than you and Connor. You're ambitious, sophisticated, and intelligent."
Michelle sat down her wine glass. "And you don't thing Connor is?"
"My brother is a rebel. He always did things his own way. He's certainly not sophisticated, his intelligence, or lack thereof, is the reason he didn't attend the same schools as you and I, and ambitious? What do you think, Michelle?"
She frowned. "I don't understand how you two can be brothers and be so completely opposite. You lack some of Connor's better qualities, Theodore."
Theodore shrugged, just like Connor. "All these years, Michelle, why did you befriend me? I'd always assumed you cared for me. Was it just sympathy all this time?"
He looked at her, completely clueless. Unfortunately, that was Theodore. "No. I did something the other kids didn't do. I focused on your potential."
"Potential?" His laugh lacked humor. "I was an experiment for you then? A project? Help the nerd out of the shadows. You want to help the needy? Is Connor next on your list of good deeds?"
She rose to her feet. "I will not allow you to do this, Theodore. You don't get to twist my words around to soothe your ego. For the absolute last time, what we have between us is friendship, nothing more. It never will be. If you can't accept that, then we can't remain friends either."
A long silence followed her passionate statement, and for the first time, Theodore Sakuma looked defeated. "Well, when you put it like that..."
She made a soothing sound. "Let me set you up with someone, Theodore. I have a few friends who would love to meet you."
His mouth twitched with amusement. "A date? You want to fix me up?"
"Yes. A concept I know you aren't familiar with and definitely underutilized by the male gender, but quite useful. Will you let me?"
He fidgeted for several moments, straightening his tie, taking a drink of his wine. "What sort of woman do you have in mind for me?"
"Someone that has graceful social etiquette, she could set the perfect table, would have a nice warm dinner waiting for you when you arrive home."
"It does sound very intriguing." He frowned. "You would be okay with this? It is quite sudden."
She fought the urge to grit her teeth. Baby steps. One small step at a time. "I have Connor." Again, the muffled sound came from the bedroom.
Theodore turned his head. "Did you hear that noise?"
"It is probably the television," she responded quickly.
"Michelle, Michelle, Michelle..." Theodore exhaled in a dramatic fashion. "He's here, isn't he? My blood, my brother, my rival." Theodore stood up. "Connor! You cad, reveal yourself!"
Connor appeared in the doorway to the bedroom, looking quite at home. Michelle was thrilled. "Does anyone say 'cad' besides you?"
"There are other words I could use, but we are in the presence of a lady."
Connor emitted an elaborate sigh, sounding just like his younger brother. Michelle studied him carefully, trying to determine if he was mocking Theodore. But no, he didn't even seem to notice he did it.
She observed the undercurrents between the two men, not certain what to do. "Connor, would you like to join us for a glass of wine?"
He grinned at her. A nice smile. A supportive one. She really liked it. "I will join you, but I'd rather have a beer." He strolled into the kitchen, again, looking quite relaxed and at home. Theodore scowled.
Did she even have beer in her refrigerator? Michelle thought about it for a moment, not certain that she did. But then Connor exited the kitchen with a beer bottle in his hand. Well, she must have bought some. Connor sat down on the arm of her chair. A casual possessiveness that caused a hot shiver to race up her back. Was he changing his opinion toward her?
Connor pointed his bottle at Theodore. "Back off, little brother."
Well, she definitely hadn't expected that, but his defense made her feel warm and fuzzy. Theodore's well-arched eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch. "Is that a threat?"
Connor spoke with what seemed to be a lifelong weariness. "Of course not, Theo. I'm simply trying to help you."
"What can you do to help me?" Theodore asked with all the superiority of a younger brother who'd always managed to outshine the older one.
Michelle rushed to Connor's defense. "Theodore, be nice."
Connor gave her a nice hug for her effort. "You need to get out and live a little. Do things. Meet other women."
"Like you do, you mean."
"Yes."
Theodore's chest puffed out. "I would never---"
"Connor's right," Michelle interjected.
Theodore looked at her as if she had suddenly lost her mind. "Do you really agree with him?"
He looked so earnest that Michelle felt a pang of sympathy. "That's what I've been trying to tell you for years."
Connor leaned forward, placing the cool bottle against Michelle's neck, a gesture that Theodore noticed. She felt the cold perspiration trickle down her neck, and she crossed her legs tighter, squirming in her seat. Another gesture that Theodore noticed.
He cleared his throat. "What should I do?"
"I have a friend. I'll fix the two of you up. A week from Saturday. That should be enough time. We can all do dinner."
Theodore pulled out his iPhone. "Can't do that day. Have dinner with the parents Saturday evening." Connor swore under his breath, which Michelle ignored, majorly curious at the thought of seeing Connor with his parents after all these years. How had he and Theodore turned out so completely opposite? From what she could remember of the Sakumas, they were just like Theodore. Connor had always been the black sheep.
"Excellent! We'll all go! Theodore, I'll call Vivien." She batted her eyelashes at him, a blatant misuse of her feminine wiles. Necessary when at battle with a man like Theodore. "It will be fun!"
Theodore shared Connor's look of discomfort, but at least he nodded. "Okay. I trust your opinion when it comes to all matters." He glanced at Connor. "Almost all matters. So, I will leave myself in your very capable hands. Feel free to mold me anyway you like, as though I am---"
"Goodnight, Theo," Connor said, standing.
"But I just arrived," Theodore began.
Connor wrapped an arm around Michelle. She leaned back into him, felt a warm kiss against her neck. Her blood heated instantly, and her eyes drifted shut. She dissolved into her own little pool of heaven and heard brisk footsteps on the cold tile floor followed by the sound of the door shutting decisively.
Pure nirvana.
For several minutes, Connor stood behind her. She felt his heartbeat against her back, felt the strong muscles in his chest, felt the all-too-real proof of his desire pressing against the curve of her bottom. This was the moment she had longed for.
She turned in his arms, stared up into his eyes, and prayed for his kiss. The depths of his gaze heated, then burned. Burned for her.
And then he blinked. He drew away from her; his look turned cool, distant.
Crap. She rubbed her arms, feeling a chill in the room for the first time. She looked around the bland apartment, so empty, so lifeless.
The she looked at Connor. Dark jeans, black boots, black hair. No color at all, yet the apartment seemed full of him, full of his light.
He stepped further away. "I guess I should go now."
"You don't have to---" Michelle began.
"I owe you an apology," he interrupted.
"You do? For what?"
He shrugged sheepishly. "You tried."
She couldn't hide her triumphant grin. "You noticed that, huh?"
"Considering my history with Theodore, I should have believed you in the first place."
"Yes, you should have."
"Next time I will."
"Good." She pressed her luck. She wanted him to stay, forever. "Why don't you stay for dinner?"
He shook his head. "I don't think that is a good idea."
"Why? Are you watching your weight?"
He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Do you think I should?"
She studied his broad shoulders, emphasizing his hard yet smooth muscles. No one would blame her if she jumped him right now. She closed her eyes and exhaled. Sanity returned. "You don't need any more compliments, mister. Your head is already big enough."
"But it would definitely mean more coming from you---" he bantered. Abruptly, he turned away. "I really should leave now."
"I've got salmon, asparagus, and rice pilaf. I can have a salad ready in less than five minutes."
That got his attention. He took one step closer. "I didn't know you can cook."
"Not as well as you, of course. But I hold my own in the kitchen." She picked up the wine glasses from the coffee table. Adjusted the magazines until the corners were perfectly even. "You should stay, Connor." She met his gaze full on. Her desire was there, unhidden for him to see.
This time, he didn't blink. "Okay, I will."
Connor sat across from Michelle at the table, eating absolutely some of the best salmon he'd ever had. "You're very good at this."
"Not better than you, of course."
He stopped, his fork halfway to his mouth. "Yes, but I have received formal training and there are still things that stump me."
"There are? Like what?"
Dangerous territory. As far as he was concerned, Michelle knew about enough of his weaknesses. He stuffed his mouth full, murmuring sounds of assent, hoping she would forget her question.
She laughed at him. There wasn't anything mean or vindictive about her laughter, only something warm and nice.
He wanted to cook for her in return. Damn, she was starting to get under his skin. Maybe Theodore had been onto something when he'd fallen for Michelle. Nah. He shook his head, refusing to admit Theodore was right about anything.
"What's your favorite thing to eat?" she asked.
He swallowed another mouthful of the delicious food. She had done a marvelous job with this fish. "A nice steak. Perfect Gorgonzola encrusted."
Her smile made his heart skip several beats. It could only be described as mysterious and amused. "You and your brother share similar taste in food."
"It's a Sakuma thing." He shrugged it off, not want to think about similarities between him and Theodore. As far as Connor was concerned, there weren't any. "What do you like?"
"I'm a big fan of breakfast. My absolute favorite being quiche. Don't care what kind it is as long as it is quiche." She closed her eyes and inhaled. "A hot, fresh cup of brewed coffee with the right amount of cream and sugar."
Quiche? His kryptonite. The one food item he always struggled to prepare and had yet to succeed. But he could learn to make it correctly for Michelle, couldn't he? He took in her exquisite look of pleasure and knew that he'd move heaven and earth in order to be the cause of that hedonistic expression.
For a moment, the thought shocked him. Michelle and hedonistic didn't belong in the same sentence. Yet, there she sat, looking like some Nubian goddess. His body responded instantly. He adjusted the napkin on his lap. Just in case.
"You want to be an executive chef?" A medium length piece of asparagus dangled from the end of her fork and she took it in her mouth, sucking it in like a kid. A dangerous combination of innocent and sexy cunning. Her eyes were wide and guileless, but her words were what mattered.
Forget hedonistic, she was just trying to turn him into something he wasn't. Intelligent, ambitious, sophisticated. He heard what Theodore had said, and Connor wasn't playing that game.
"Yes." He studied his bottle of beer. "This beer is pretty good. I've never had it before."
"I'm glad you like it." She dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin. "Now, why do you want to be an executive chef?"
It appeared that she wasn't going to let him distract her from her line of questioning. He gazed at the brilliant scenery outside the window in her loft. All those lights. All those dreams.
What about his dreams? He turned back to Michelle, and instantly dreams and reality became muddled.
"It's the ultimate pinnacle in the restaurant world, next to owning the restaurant, of course. But that's not the path I want to go down. Besides, I am good at what I do and I want to be the best at it. Becoming an executive chef would definitely be my best." He chuckled, embarrassed.
Michelle didn't share his humor; she looked serious. "You should do it, then."
Ambition. Uncomfortable with that thought, he shrugged. "Yes, well, then there's reality, Michelle. Sometimes the price is too high. Not all of us were meant to be ridiculously successful."
"No one is meant to do anything. Your life is your own for the taking. No one makes it or breaks it for you."
"How optimistic of you."
An awkward silence occupied the space. He'd pissed her off. And maybe part of him had done it on purpose. A ticked off Michelle he could deal with.
He studied her carefully as she put her napkin down on the table, and then walked across the room. When she stopped in front of the stereo, she bent slightly and adjusted the volume.
Every time she moved, he knew. Every time she breathed, he noticed. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't.
"I think Luis is going to have a solid case."
Connor shook his head. "Excuse me?"
"I looked through several archives. The company who manufactured the product that Luis used settled a case out of court. I recommended a lawyer to him a few days ago. Luis liked the attorney so I provided the information that I collected. From what I understand, Luis and his counsel filed suit against the company today."
And Connor had thought Theodore was amazing. "You've done all of that in a week?"
She flipped through the stack of CDs next to the stereo. "No, it's been longer than a week. But I put a lot of work into this when I could because my gut told me there was something wrong. It seems I was correct."
Just looking at all the energy inside her made him tired. "How many hours did you put into this?"
"Doesn't matter. Would you like dessert?"
There was an invitation in her eyes, clearly telling him she was willing to share more than a little something sweet. His mouth filled with the memory of her taste. He slowly put his fork down, then placed his napkin on the table. "Speaking of extra work, I have a shift to pick up that starts early in the morning." He stood.
"Maybe some other time then," she murmured.
He closed his eyes, wondering how he should handle this. Could he make love to her, discover all the warmth and heat that lay under her cool exterior? He liked to think of her as cool and unfeeling. That made her untouchable and safe. The thought of her hazel eyes brimming with passion scared the hell out of him.
The next morning, he'd wake up and have to look himself in the mirror, with Theodore's scent lingering in the air once more.
"You have a strange sense of honor, Connor."
For a moment, he feared he'd spoken his inner thoughts aloud. She looked small and lonely as she stared out the window at the city.
His hands clenched. "Better strange than none, right?"
She exhaled softly. "You have this role in your head that you think you have to play, but you've outgrown it."
"Actually, it's not a role. I just learned to accept who I am. Someone always has to take second place, Michelle."
"Connor, you could never be second place. You are so much more than that."
His heart shifted in chest. Heart shifting was not good. "Look, I appreciate the vote of confidence. It's nice. But I really enjoy my life. You don't have to feel the need to change it for me."
"You could do more," she responded quietly.
He thought about laughing, but she might take it the wrong way. No, he couldn't do more. He'd tried to live up to Theodore. That hadn't worked. And now there was Michelle. "And that's the difference between the two of us, isn't it? You're like a fairy-tale princess who locked herself into some ivory tower far away from the real world. I like my world, though. I don't want more."
Michelle spun around, her gaze fixed on him. She looked to be on the verge of tears. Damn it. "I'm going to paint my apartment yellow."
"Where did that idea come from?" He looked at the pale walls, and subtle prints. "Isn't that a little extreme?"
"Yellow, Connor. Bright yellow." Her bottom lip turned up, and she planted her hands on her hips. Her soft hazel eyes were hot.
He needed to go home. Now. He took a step toward the door. "Yellow would be a good look. I have to go."
She followed him. The sound of her stocking covered feet sliding over the tile was an oddly intimate sound that he didn't want to hear.
Unfortunately, she wasn't done with him yet. "You're using Theodore as a shield, Connor."
"Maybe I am. But it is for the best."
"Is the thought of making love to me so frightening?"
The thought of making love to her was pure bliss. But Michelle carried a high price. I'd just disappoint you, Michelle. Been there, done that. "I don't want to get seriously involved with anyone" is how he actually responded.
"Maybe I don't either."
"You're not that sort of woman," he said, wanting to get out of this conversation quickly. It was getting harder and harder to remember why he should leave.
"And that's the only sort of woman you ever get involved with, right? However, I don't recall saying that I wanted to marry you," she stated in a quiet voice.
"No, that would definitely mean that hell has frozen over, wouldn't it? He placed his hand on the doorknob and twisted.
"Connor." She placed a hand on his back.
He looked deep into her eyes, seeing concern and pity in them. The pity is what annoyed him.
"What's the matter? None of your usual in-crowd giving you any? You want to get laid?" he uttered the words, trying to sound like saying them didn't kill him.
Shit.
He had to leave. Now.
"Goodbye, Michelle," he said, closing the door behind him. But instead of walking away, he just stood there, staring at the impenetrable barrier separating them.
No. He couldn't leave it like this.
"Michelle?"
"Go away, Connor," she said from behind the door.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
"No, you shouldn't have. Now go away."
Connor stuffed his hands in his pockets and made his way toward the stairs. Give it up, Sakuma. He spun on his heel and turned back. "Would quiche help?"
"What?"
"If I made you a quiche, would it help?"
"No."
He had just descended the first couple of steps when she opened the door a crack.
"But you might want to try it anyway."
The smoke alarm wouldn't stop blaring. Connor fanned the alarm with a towel. The burnt culprit sat on the counter, still smoking. It was a complete disaster. The oven door was closed, but residual smoke still wafted from it. Yeah, he'd really screwed up this time.
The door to the kitchen slammed open, almost sounding as though it was coming of its hinges. Now what? Connor took one last look at the complete mess surrounding him then looked up. Dustin, who was currently trying to earn his culinary arts degree as well, stood there with a bewildered look on his face.
"What the hell is going on, man?"
Hundreds of smart-ass remarks sprang into Connor's mind, but he remembered his resolution. For today, I will not be a jerk. "Nothing. I have it under control," he answered.
Dustin came further into the kitchen. "I called nine-one-one."
Sirens blared down the street.
"I have everything under control," Connor shouted, to be heard over all the noise. As though he burned food in the school's kitchen every day.
Dustin stepped closer to the burnt smoking disaster sitting on the kitchen counter. The fire alarm still screeched loudly. "What are you trying to make?" Dustin yelled. "I haven't seen this much smoke since you tried to make quiche---"
Anything else that Dustin was going to say was cut off by the sound of heavy boots pounding into the room. The fire department was there.
Connor grimaced and held up a hand as a team of fireman approached. "Sorry, guys, but everything is okay this time. I have everything under control." Connor hoped the captain would ignore the blaring alarm.
The captain looked around slowly. "You sure about that?"
Connor emitted what he hoped was a confident laugh. "Yeah. Just a little accident with the oven."
The fireman studied him, a question in his eyes.
The alarm stopped. For which he was forever grateful. He owed whoever shut it off big time for that. Connor nodded once more.
"Cooking?"
Connor felt a warm flush travel up his neck that had nothing to do with the heat from the kitchen. "Baking."
The fireman's face split into a huge grin. "You wouldn't believe how many calls we get like this."
"Yeah, I know."
The captain became serious. "We need to take a look around in here, but it won't take too long." After a thorough and quick inspection, the captain spoke to Connor. "Try to be more careful next time."
"I will, sir. I promise."
Connor waved until the men were out of sight and then leaned heavily against the counter. Now he had to deal with Dustin, a huge mess, and a smoky kitchen. Time to get back to it.
Dustin leaned around to look at the incriminating burning evidence. "I see you are trying your hand at quiche again."
Dustin picked up a fork and poked at the blackened quiche. Connor found a clean spot on the counter before hopping up onto it. He ran a hand through his already ruffled hair. The quiche was history. There was a reason he didn't like to bake. "Drop it, Dustin."
Dustin stared at the burnt food, then back at Connor, then back at the burnt food. "You need a lot of assistance when it comes to making quiche."
That was the understatement of the year. He started to laugh, half on the verge of a serious mental collapse, half in humor. It would take more than carbonized quiche to dampen his hopes. Connor inhaled deeply. The day was still young.
"Yes, I do, and I know just the person to help me."
Michelle allowed herself to sleep in an extra ten minutes and woke up the next morning at 6:10 a.m. That was just enough time for her to do everything she needed to do and get ready and still be at work by eight. She had just finished dressing when there was a knock on the door. One of her neighbors? When she opened the door, no one was there, just a food tray with a covered dish on top. She looked around, but did see anything. She bent over to open the lid and laughed. Ham, tomato, and Swiss cheese quiche. There was a note attached.
Michelle,
Ham, tomato, and Swiss cheese quiche, Day One. Please leave the container and tray outside the door when you are finished. Don't worry about cleaning them when you're done. I'll take care of that as well. Also, if you could grade me by checking the appropriate boxes below.
ð Too much salt
ð Not enough salt
ð Well cooked
ð Not cooked enough
ð Crust too flaky
ð Crust not flaky enough
ð Perfect
I'm sorry, Michelle.
See you soon,
Connor
She ate the quiche, marked the "not enough salt" box, just to knock him off kilter, and put the tray back outside her apartment door. She wished things were different between her and Connor. And if she had her way, they would be. His apology was a great start.
Michelle,
Ham, tomato, and Swiss cheese quiche, Day Two. I added more salt, but it tasted really salty to me. Tell me what you think. Also, I'm leaving you a gift card to the bistro around the corner from your job. You really out to try it.
ð Too much salt
ð Still not enough salt
ð Not quite as mad at Connor
ð Still mad at Connor
ð Perfect
Talk to you soon,
Connor
Michelle,
Ham, tomato, and Swiss cheese quiche, Day Three. All right, I think I have the quiche mix right. Since you're still mad, I made hash browns as well. They turned out pretty good.
ð Add bell pepper (for the hash browns)
ð Add onion (for the hash browns)
ð Not enough salt (for the hash browns)
ð Still extremely mad at Connor
ð Still mad at Connor
ð Hash browns were a step in the right direction
ð Perfect
Talk to you soon,
Connor
Michelle,
Ham, tomato, and Swiss cheese quiche and hash browns, Day Four. Do you think I should add some cheese or country gravy to the hash browns? Or maybe both?
ð Want cheese and gravy
ð I hate gravy. Why didn't you know that?
ð Forget the cheese
ð Forget Connor
ð Still mad at Connor
ð Only slightly mad at Connor
Talk to you soon,
Connor
Michelle,
Ham, tomato, and Swiss cheese quiche and hash browns, Day Five. I can tell I'm on the right track. Your checkmarks didn't seem as violent yesterday. Glad you are enjoying the hash browns. I added a cup of coffee today.
ð Didn't like the coffee
ð Milk is better
ð Apple juice is most preferred
ð Orange juice
ð Starting to forgive Connor
ð Connor is still an ass
Talk to you soon,
Connor
"Well, aren't you just a ray of sunshine this morning? Looks like somebody is finally getting some." Julia perched herself on Michelle's desk, attired in a dress that made her look like Audrey Hepburn.
"If by 'getting some' you mean breakfast, then yes, you are correct."
"A man is making breakfast for you?"
Michelle rolled her eyes at Julia's tone of disbelief. "Only for the past five days. Ham, tomato, and Swiss cheese quiche, hash browns and coffee." Connor was coming around to her way of thinking. She was sure of it.
"Wow, Theodore Sakuma is something else, isn't he?"
"I wasn't referring to Theodore. I meant Connor. Connor is the one making me breakfast."
"You have got to be kidding me."
"No, I'm not." Michelle smiled, quite proud of herself. "He gave me a gift card, too." And today, she was going to try the bistro next door. As much as she'd always wanted to, she couldn't find the motivation.
"Interesting...sounds like he does have romantic feelings toward you. I mean, I know Connor is a chef and all, but the fact that he has personally made you breakfast all week says something." Julia looked at her over the rim of her glasses at Michelle. "So, is he a good cook? I have yet to manage to make it be the restaurant he works at."
"Connor is an excellent cook."
Julia was clearly impressed. "Good to know. However, do those skills transfer over to the bedroom?"
"Julia, that is none of your business."
Julia's expression fell. "He's not, is he? Damn. The attractive ones are always too confident. Give me what I'm looking for and we'll worry about what you need if there is time."
Michelle was not happy with Julia's assumption of Connor. "You are way off the mark. What I have experienced with Connor is mind-blowing. He gives great long kisses."
"Kissing? That's it?"
"The rest is just around the corner, so don't you worry."
"Good deal, lady. Connor better watch out. He won't be able to resist you with your goal of getting him into your boudoir, or you getting into his."
The statement earned a frown from Michelle. Neither would happen if she couldn't keep Theodore "I'm An Old Stickin-the-Mud" Sakuma from getting in the way again. Her plan to set him up with someone else had to work. "To be honest, I've never really seduced a man before."
Julia's eyes widened behind the frame of her lenses. "Really?"
Michelle tapped her pen on the desk. "Have you ever seduced a man?"
"Hundreds of them."
"Hundreds?" Michelle looked at Julia with skepticism.
"Well, two. Maybe three if you count Bryan Kerr."
"Tell me what works."
"Aggression. A take no prisoners attitude. You have to look him square in the eye, and say, 'I want you in my bed, now.'" She flipped her hair over her shoulder. "It's never failed me. Except for Bryan, but he's gay, and I didn't know it until Fawn told me, and then I didn't want to believe her. But when he turned me down, and I had on my eff me skirt and heels, I knew it was true."
"What are 'eff me' heels and skirt?"
"A skirt that is flouncy and short, to the point that you can't wear underwear or it would absolutely have to be a thong. The heels would have to be so high that one false move and you could fall over."
No underwear?
Michelle inhaled sharply, thinking about the panty hose and discreet beige underwear that she had on underneath her dress. She didn't know about going completely without underwear. That would be too extreme for her. The thong idea didn't sound much better, but she might be able to wing it. Either way, it felt wicked. She glanced at her open office door. "And anyone can see?"
"Yes, but only if they are looking. You definitely want to be sure to give the person the outfit it is meant for a reason to look."
Maybe Julia was on to something here. "I bet princesses don't do this, do they?"
"No, a princess doesn't have the guts." Julia stood up, file folder in hand. "What do you have in mind?"
Michelle started drawing on the paper in front of her. Short skirts with panty lines and short skirts without undergarments. She exhaled heavily and marked a big circle around the doodles. "I'm thinking I never liked being a pegged as a princess anyway."
On Thursday, Connor was dying to pick up the phone and call Michelle. She wanted an affair. He wanted an affair. Neither one of them was looking for a serious relationship. That'd be a major joke.
Regardless, this was Michelle, and all the smooth moves, all the lines Connor had ever used, just didn't seem to be right for this situation. For the first time in his life, Connor had no idea what to do. Michelle needed romance and Connor wanted to give her that. But how?
All week he'd been plagued by dreams. Michelle was being debriefed about her case finding, wrapped in nothing but one of the satin sheets off her bed. He kept waiting for the sheet to slip lower, but it never did. She answered every question with poise and confidence. Looking every bit like the superb professional that she was. How could a man stay sane with such a provocative image plaguing him?
Connor couldn't. Nor did he want to. Maybe there was a way to make this work out after all. It took a very strong man to walk away from such a woman. Connor wasn't that man. He reached for the phone.
The California courtroom was magnificent and imposing. Michelle enjoyed coming to observe and absorb the process of justice. It was one of the main reasons she loved her job.
The lawyer for Royal Cleaning Company was Kerry Monroe from Proctor and Russo. Michelle had heard of him, but had never seen him in action. He was one of those high-dollar, sharpshooter attorneys. She opened up her purse and grabbed a pen and small notepad while trying not to smile. Her friend Philip Berman was up against the big boys. Yet, she wasn't worried. Knowing Philip the way that she did, neither was he. She allowed one corner of her mouth to curve upward for Philip since she knew that he couldn't.
"All rise."
Michelle stood, watching Kerry give Philip a polite nod. Kerry had no idea of what was to come. Judge Lanport was a stickler for starting on time, and today he looked even more impatient as he rushed into the courtroom, robes flying behind him.
"Okay, let's quickly move this along. It's my wife's birthday, and I'm meeting her for lunch. I need to be out of here in..." He looked at the clerk. "How much time?"
The clerk at his side glanced at her watch. "One hour, your honor."
"One hour it is." After the attorneys stated their names and clients for the record, the judge point to Philip. "Mr. Berman, you're up."
Philip stood up and took one last look at his notes. "Your Honor, Mr. Garcia has filed this action against Royal Cleaning Company alleging claims for negligence and strict liability. In order to prepare this case, it is imperative that we receive the discovery requested, as reflected in the Plaintiff's brief and the exhibits and affidavits we've file with it. The Defendant's objections are nothing more than roadblocks thrown in front of my client in an attempt to delay this case in hopes that he'll give up." Philip shot Kerry a glance. "I assure you, Mr. Garcia is here for the long haul." Philip glanced down to check his notes.
Kerry took advantage of Philip's pause to interrupt. "But Your Honor, any alleged wrongdoing occurred over twenty-five years ago. Even if Royal Cleaning Company was liable in this situation, and I'm definitely not saying that is the case, the statute of limitation would long since have expired."
Michelle frowned, but Philip was quick to rebuttal. "Your Honor, Mr. Berman can raise limitations in a motion for summary judgment. But since he hasn't, I would like to focus on the motion before the court. My client has a right to the documents asked for in the request for production. As you can see from the affidavits attached as exhibits A through R, we believe those documents will show that Royal Cleaning Company was aware of the toxic components of its product. We can prove that awareness through the settlement documents we've requested."
"There was a settlement in this case?" the judge questioned with a frown.
"Not with my client, Your Honor," Philip responded. Evidently, he'd anticipated that question from the judge. "Our investigation has revealed that six claimants entered into a settlement with Royal Cleaning Company. As you can see from the affidavits, that settlement resulted from the employees' threat to sue for injuries resulting from using the toxic cleaner."
Kerry interrupted. "Exactly, Your Honor. That was over twenty-five years ago. Limitations have run."
Philip stood up straighter. "The discovery rule applies in this case, Your Honor."
Kerry took the bait. "Your Honor, the employees Mr. Berman is referring to were obviously aware of the alleged toxicity. There is no reason to believe that Mr. Garcia would not have been just as cognizant. The discovery rule doesn't apply."
Philip cleared his throat. "It most certainly does, Your Honor. Mr. Garcia was not in the same position as those plaintiffs. He worked for a company using the product, not the Royal Cleaning Company. Royal Cleaning Company deliberately and maliciously failed to inform it customers about the dangerous effects of long-term exposure. Those documents that we seek go directly to both this concealment and to the broader question of liability. My client needs those documents not only to establish liability, but to counter any limitation argument that Mr. Monroe may choose to bring up."
Philip turned to Kerry. Michelle couldn't see Philip's expression, but she could imagine it was smug.
"Point taken, Mr. Berman." Judge Lanport looked at the papers in front of him. Michelle held her breath. All of Philip's information seemed to be in order. Actually, she knew it was. Luis Garcia had given her a few details on how Philip was planning to move forward.
Finally, Judge Lanport looked up. "Very good, Mr. Berman. Mr. Monroe, you should have done your homework. Motion to compel is granted. Mr. Monroe, your client has thirty days to turn over the documents that Mr. Berman has requested." The judge turned to the clerk. "How much time?"
The clerk looked down at her watch. "You still have twenty-five minutes, Your Honor."
The judge smiled. "Excellent. I have time to stop and get some flowers. Court adjourned."
Michelle stood and waited until the judge left the bench before gathering her things to leave. To her surprise, Rob Sigsmond, the Deputy Director at the Executive Office for the Occupational Safety and Health Standards Board, stood waiting at the back of the courtroom. What was he doing here? Michelle assumed a professional stand as he approached. "Mr. Sigsmond, I didn't know you were here."
"I was here on another case, but thought I would drop by because word is getting out about this one." He held a hand out to her. "Excellent job from what I heard."
She shook his hand. "Well, according to Philip, this is only the first step. Monroe wasn't bluffing on filing a motion for Summary Judgment, and his firm definitely has the capability to bury Berman in paperwork. Even once Philip has the documentation showing the concealment, the legal briefing on the application of the discovery rule is going to be intense, based on my research."
"I am familiar with Philip Berman's experience. I have the utmost confidence in him, especially since he has consulted with you, Michelle. You'll be up for that promotion before you know it."
Michelle nodded in what she hoped was a wise manner. "I hope I can live up to the high standards that come with it."
"Being ambitious with a strong work ethic is all that we ask for."
Michelle smiled cheerfully. "Thank you again, sir." She waited until Sigsmond was out of sight before she left the courtroom and took off down the main hall. She was going to be late meeting Connor.
The San Jose Museum of Art was the one place from Connor's childhood that he enjoyed. His mom had taken him here every Friday. It was an old habit, and for meeting Michelle, it was perfect. It was a public place where they could talk in private and not worry about being disturbed. She looked stunning, as usual. She wore a charcoal-colored suit. He was in jeans. It was almost laughable. They wandered outside first, looking at all the sidewalk artists. Most painted for tourist, using the San Jose skyline for subject matter.
There was one he wanted to show her, though.
"Let's go this way." He headed for the last vendor on the street---Denmark Masumoto, an implant from Japan. Connor pointed to a small canvas, a blurring of different colors. "What does that look like to you?"
Michelle leaned in close, studying the painting with her usual intensity. "It looks to be of a human element."
"You are correct," Denmark replied. "Because your eye is untrained, you only see a fraction of what is portrayed on this canvas. You paint a woman's body and she is nothing more than a collection of her shadows, lines, and curves. You paint her soul, reaching for things she wants to accomplish---her passions, her dreams---them you have great art."
Connor knew Demark was correct. At only twenty-two, the artist had already attracted a small following.
"So that's a soul, not a face?"
Connor nodded. "Art, like everything else, should go beyond what one sees on the surface."
They were both quiet as he led the way back to the museum. Connor and Michelle wandered around, finally ending up by the statues. One figure caught her attention.
"George Washington?"
Connor wasn't surprised she had noticed. It was an interesting piece. He nodded.
"In a loin cloth."
"The artist was going for a look."
"So I see." Michelle looked closer, inspecting it carefully. "It is very realistic, but there is something larger than life about it."
"That's the style of this artist. He likes for everyone that he sculpts to be something bigger than they really were. It should be so easy."
She moved to the next statue, a young girl playing in a puddle, and the read the card. It was one of Connor's favorites. The joy of childhood captured forever. The girl didn't care what she was going to be when she grew up. She was caught in one moment, for a lifetime.
"You like the sculpture best?"
He nodded. "I prefer marble over the other types. Marble is the closest to how things really look."
Her eyes studied Connor rather than the piece of art. "They look frozen."
"As is most of the world."
Michelle tiled her head, her expression full of questions.
Connor shrugged. "We all have moments where we go through the motions, just so we can have the times when we're alive."
"When do you feel alive?"
He never should have opened his mouth. "You sure you want to get into this?"
She gave a brief nod. "I do. It's a very serious question."
"That's what worries me."
"Tell me, Connor."
"When I'm in the kitchen surrounded by nothing but pots and pans, trying to create a new recipe."
"Not when you're around people? I never figured you to be a loner."
He placed a finger to his lips. "Shh. Don't tell anyone."
Pots, pans, and cutlery never judged anyone. That admission was too deep to reveal right now. It was time to find a better subject. "How's work?"
Michelle smiled. "Never a dull day, but things are fantastic."
Her positive attitude was contagious. He chuckled. "That good, huh?"
She began to pace in front of the statue. "I went to court today. Royal Cleaning Company is playing hardball with Philip and Luis. Philip had to get a motion to compel Royal Cleaning Company to release a few documents that were used in the prior case. Philip is going to nail them, Connor. They knew exactly what their product was doing to people, and they ignored it."
"What does that mean for you?"
"Hard to say right now, but it could mean more work. Royal Cleaning is still in business and could be using the product or something similar to it. If word gets out about this case like I think it will, OSHA might have to step into investigate further." At that moment, she looked like she could rule the world. She glanced at her watch. "Speaking of work, I need to get back to the office."
Was she that anxious to get rid of him? "You've only been here for fifteen minutes."
"I know, but I have a ton of things to do. She looked up at him, an expression that made him nervous and terrified, but more than a little glad. "Although, I don't want to go."
Her desire seemed easy enough to fulfill. "Then don't."
"But then I won't get any work done."
"Yes, you will."
"How?"
"You'll get around to it."
He continued on down the hallway, and she followed. Then he stopped in front of a painting of a storm on one side, beautiful weather on the other side, and the mixing of the two in between. It captured the attention of the eye, kept you intrigued, wondering what would happen. He'd give anything to have the ability to create something with so much skill and talent.
"Take a look at this."
Just as he had done the first time he saw it, she studied the painting intently. Taking in all the details. The vivid colors. The passion. "It's stunning."
"It took the artist six years to finish this."
Michelle laughed. "I bet it drove him insane. I have a one page to-do list and that's plenty."
"Not necessarily. He probably just wanted to finish things his own way."
She shook her head. "My boss would have a conniption."
She worked too hard. "How many hours do you work in a week, Michelle?"
"Fifty-five to sixty-five."
She definitely worked too hard. "Have you ever played hooky?"
"No, I've never needed to."
He was going to change that. "And when's the last time you went to the park?"
Michelle thought for a moment. "I can't remember the exact time, but I was a child."
"You work too much."
"But if I don't do my job, then people who really need my help won't get it."
He should have known Michelle would be driven by something more human than money. Then again, he should be surprised. "What will happen if you reach burn out mode, or if you just stop caring? Then what will you do?
"I can't just take off." She appeared to be embarrassed. Theodore would say he was corrupting her. "Michelle, it's a job. You deserve the right to have a life, too."
"But I've worked hard for this career."
Theodore would be correct.
"And you have done a great job at it, but is that all you want to do?"
"Are you telling me I should quit, move to the valley, and smoke hemp?"
Connor couldn't contain his chuckle. "No. But I think there's a lot more inside you than just a career." She should realize that as well. "I am sure you have hobbies."
"Well, I used to knit, but I could never finish anything so I stopped."
He paused. "Do you read?"
"Oh yes, all the time. I love to read. I have to keep up with environment business and medical journals." She stopped. "That's not what you meant, is it?"
Connor made up his mind and grabbed her hand. She needed someone to come to her rescue more than she knew. "Come on."
He purchased two deli sandwiches, a bag of chips, a soft drink, and a copy of a steamy romance novel. They found a bench outside a quiet spot, and he handed her the book and a sandwich. After half and hour, she was enthralled.
"Why did you pick this up?" she asked. "I never would have picked it up."
"I have only read a few romance novels. While I haven't read that one, I just figured you could use something different to read."
"This couple is sort of sad."
He took the book from her and read a few lines of the emotional scene she was in the middle of before giving it back. "In a way, but they're your average couple."
"Well, no, he's a millionaire whose family owns a popular hotel in Italy and she is a woman looking for an affair after being jilted at the altar."
"Yes, but I don't think that's the author's point. It all boils down to a man and woman trying to make their lives mean a little more. While the circumstances surrounding them seem to be impossible, they both want it."
Michelle reached for his hand. "It's just a book, Connor."
He looked down at their intertwined hands and laughed. "Yeah. Silly me." When he looked up, his eyes were full of warmth. "I'm glad you're here."
Somewhere in the distance, kids were laughing and playing, and dogs were barking. But everything in Michelle was focused on the intensity in his eyes. They weren't talking about the romance novel anymore. "I'm glad you suggested this."
"Michelle?"
She liked the way his voice dipped when he said her name. "Yes?"
"You're nothing like how I thought you'd be."
"How so?"
"You're not so---" He pushed a stray strand of hair away from her face. "Rigid. I thought you'd be serious and businesslike all the time, but you get so animated when you talk about your work."
In a few minutes, Connor was going to figure out that it wasn't her work that got her excited. He inched closer, and her nose tingled from the masculine fragrance of his cologne.
"I'm not all work, Connor."
He traced her lips with a light finger and she shivered. "Not with this mouth, you're not."
"Is that an insult, Mr. Sakuma?"
At the same instant she reached up for him, he lowered his head. Great minds. "I would never insult your mouth, Michelle," he whispered against her lips. "Never."
It started out quite innocently, soft and teasing, a mere brushing of lips. His tongue traced just inside her mouth, sending quick sparks of desire racing through her. When she wanted more, he held back.
Today, he seemed to be in no hurry. She loved the taste of him. It was wonderfully intoxicating. Connor was a temptation that she could not resist. He didn't hide anything from her. His unsteady breath, the quickening of his heart. The way his hands caressed and stroked. All of it went straight to her head.
A breeze drifted over them. In the distance, the city moved forward. Car horns honked and, somewhere in the distance, a woman was singing. Yet, the bench that they sat on had become a haven.
Unable to resist the temptation, she took his lower lip in her mouth and sucked, fascinated by the feel of his jaw under her fingertips, the rough stubble that lined it.
Connor pulled her closer until she sat in his lap, his hands pushing firmly inside her jacket. With an easy sigh, she melted into him. Already, her body was beginning to throb and heat. Her tongue tangled with his, impatient, but then he slid his tongue deeply in her mouth and covered her heart with his hand, his touch gentle and soothing.
He kissed her with a slow, incessant rhythm that made her shift her hips until she could feel his erection underneath her. Even then, it wasn't enough. She rubbed against him, the friction of his jeans a poor substitute for what her body was demanding.
Nearby voices buzzed in the background, reminded her of where they were. Connor lifted his head, tracing her cheek with an unsteady hand. "You're killing me here, Michelle."
"I don't mean to."
"Don't apologize." He glanced down at his watch. "Look at the time. It's getting late. You should go. You're not going to finish all that work you have."
He was studying her. This was another test. If it hadn't been for an important call to a manufacturing company, she would have stayed. She wanted to stay. But she did need to finish a report for an insurance company as well, and a co-worker's inspection of a warehouse was very spotty. If she didn't follow up on the inspection, no one would.
"I can't," she murmured, kissing him softly. Michelle stood, brushing out wrinkles in her suit.
Connor shrugged as though it didn't matter, but his expression said otherwise. "No big deal. I'll see you later."
The next morning, Michelle looked at the clock on the office wall---9:00 a.m. If there was true justice in the world, it should be 5:00 p.m. considering she'd already put in five hours. She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. Her pens were lying sideways and she reached out to straighten them, but then shook her head. Nope. As difficult as it was, she had to leave them as they were. A little disorder never harmed anyone.
Maybe she should have slept in this morning, but then again, she wouldn't have finished typing the report for the insurance company in a pending case, or read an interesting article in the Business Weekly. A rising issue with workers developing asthma in a manufacturing warehouse. One she and her counterparts could end up in. Quite a productive day.
She opened up her e-mail and scanned the listing of messages. There was one marked urgent from Sigsmond. The day was getting a little more interesting. She reclined back in her chair and wished she could put her feet up on her desk.
With a confident click of her mouse, she opened it up and began to read. It was just as she suspected, her co-worker needed help with the inspection of the dairy product warehouse. She'd tried to tell Sigsmond earlier, but did he listen? Noooo. Not to low-on-the-totem-pole Lewis. Not until the inspection was on the verge of being totally botched. Not a good thing since a potential lawsuit could come out of this. She reread the last line:
I know you've been working a lot of hours, but would you help Timmer? I'd consider it a personal favor.
Personal favor. She saved the e-mail in her folder named PF, and went to see what was up with Susan Timmer. When Michelle entered Susan's office, she looked up from her computer. "Hey you." She smiled.
Michelle got right to the point. "Sigsmond said you need some assistance."
The smile slipped. "No, I have it."
She shook her head. "When's the next inspection?"
"Next week."
She looked pleased. It was a nightmare. "Have you addressed the issues mentioned in the original complaint?"
"Uh, I think I have addressed most of them, but not all."
"Look, you handle compiling the information on the inspection that has already been completed and I'll take care of what still needs to be inspected."
This would mean a few extra late nights, but they could salvage this.
Susan pushed her keyboard away and stood up. "I'm sorry."
Michelle froze. "What for?"
"I should have asked for help earlier. Just found out that I'm pregnant, and well, my husband and I are excited. I've taken some time off. It's hard to work when your mind is elsewhere."
Michelle sat down in a chair, amazed. She didn't even know Susan was married. "Congratulations."
Susan's smile was truly joyous. "Thanks. I'm just on the other side of four months. I will probably start showing soon."
"How do you do it?" Michelle had always just worked. It was a simple solution.
"You have to make it work, so you do. I'm going to cut back some. Take some easier cases. Wait until you have a husband and children, then you will understand. You ever think about getting married?"
Not until recently. It had never seemed appealing before. "Some."
Susan laughed. "I hear there is a top position becoming available. You'll get it. Just you wait."
Michelle didn't need to be thinking like that. Time to change the subject. "Why don't you let me take a look at the case? I'll study it. Then that way, if you need me, just ask."
"Thanks. I owe you big time for this."
"No, you don't. This one's on the house."
Michelle took the file folders and walked out of the office. She shut the door behind her and ran straight into Sigsmond.
Michelle juggled the files in her hands. "Good morning, sir."
"Assisting Timmer?"
"Yes, sir, but I don't think she needs much help, sir. She's doing a fine job."
"I am very happy to hear that. Well, get back to it," he said, then he hurried down the hall.
Soon. She had six years under her belt and already they were dangling the carrot in front of her. Someday real soon.
When she returned to her office and shut the door, the noticed a letter on her desk. Heavy stationary with bold printing no less. She stared at the letter for a few moments before she opened it.
Dear Michelle,
Although a thank-you note seems somewhat strange, I just want to put your mind at ease.
I realize it is time that I move with my life, but I need to thank you for giving me so much happiness. You were nice to me when others weren't and, dreamer that I am, I could always imagine that there was more between the two of us than there really was.
You have always been the consummate lady. If there is such a flaw, it is that you were too much the lady, trying not to insult my fragile ego. Please forgive my annoying persistence in the past. It appears I play the fool better than most. I'll say nothing more about my brother. You know my opinion on that subject. Although perhaps I should credit him for allowing you access to the bit of shining armor you seem to see.
I am looking forward to meeting your friend and will watch my brother closely. I do not want to see you hurt. If he does, he shall answer to me.
Sincerely,
Theodore
Michelle opened a drawer to hunt down a box of facial tissues. Beneath that arrogant exterior was a kindhearted man. She needed to call and tell Vivien how lucky she was. This weekend, she would be going on a dream date with a wonderful man---Theodore Sakuma.
All her life people had made assumptions about Michelle. Now she found herself guilty of the same thing. The phone lingered right under her hand. She should call Connor and let him know. This time, there was no doubt. The plan was actually working. A big surprise to her. Not only was Theodore moving on with his life, but she was, too. Now she had a life outside of work. She'd been to the park, a museum, a club, and she had started reading---for fun---and she had found the time to talk to her parents on the phone.
But the biggest surprise of all, she was working fewer hours. Down by about six point three hours per week, but still...it was a start. And she'd get better as she went along.
All because of Connor.
That made her smile.
She leaned back in her chair and, this time, she did put her feet up on the desk---after all, the door was shut. She remembered their conversations, the way he looked at her with those magical eyes of his. All life and heat, and oh...she shivered.
Her fingers lightly touched the buttons on her phone. Maybe he'd just want to see her again because he enjoyed her company. Because she could make him laugh. Because he wanted to kiss her. Because he wanted to do more... She loved the way he kissed, so unrestrained, uncontrolled. Connor knew who he was, and when he kissed her, she knew it too. And when he took her to bed...
Her eyes drifted shut. The men she'd dated in the past had never even broken a sweat in bed. Connor would be different.
He would carry her into the bedroom... Nope, that was all wrong. They'd barely get the door shut and he'd press her against the wall. Yeah, that was more like Connor's style. He'd kiss her then. Muscles holding her against the wall, tongue thrusting inside her mouth, circling. Hungry and greedy. He'd be breathing heavily in her ear, telling her what he wanted to do to her. How she would respond?
Michelle clenched her fists a few times, taking deep breaths. Oh, this was getting good.
He would rip off her shirt, the buttons flying across the room. Her bra would be no obstacle; he'd unfasten the clasp with one hand. His desire had him whipped up in a frenzy. His desire for her. Every bit of her was throbbing, pleading for his hands, his mouth. Her nipples were hard and sensitive, aching to be touched. He'd tell her how perfect she was. Then his lips would clamp over her breast.
At last.
Sucking hard and fast. She would bury her hands in his hair, welcoming the pressure. But she wanted more. She rubbed against him, feeling his erection, the friction between them making her insane.
His hands would fumble at her skirt, and he'd rip his fingers through her hose. She whimpered, wanting relief. He would hold her hand against him with his big strong hands.
Oh, it would be bliss, pure bliss. His fingers would plunge inside her. Exploring. Discovering the exact spot that would make her beg. She'd fumble with his fly, desperate now, almost begging to have him inside her. Wet and hungry for him. He'd laugh and tell her how hot she was. How good they would be together.
She moaned weakly, anticipating. And now, just when she was ready to go over the edge, he'd slow everything down to a torturous pace. His fingers would play inside her, first one, and then two. Everything inside building, centered on that heated flesh, damp between her thighs. He'd tell her how he wanted to make love to her all night.
She closed her eyes and moaned.
All night?
Her eyes flew open. In return, she'd work her way inside his pants, touching him carefully at first. He'd be all hard and silky, his breathing shallow. She'd stroke the tip of him, and then he'd moan, and so she'd get serious. He'd tilt her chin up, and their eyes would lock. Slowly, she'd stroke him. Then faster.
She smiled to herself. This time, he would beg.
Finally, his pants would go. And then his boxers or briefs. For Connor? Boxer briefs, definitely boxer briefs. By that time she would badly want to get that powerful piece of him inside her. He'd pull her up until she was straddling him, her legs wrapped around his waist. And then, with one blessed thrust, right inside her.
Oh.
He'd start to move, and she'd hold on for dear life. He would ravish her. Her back would be pressed against the door, and each time he thrust, she would rap against it.
The pen bounced on her desk.
Bam.
Bam.
Bam.
Wait a second...
Bam!
Bam!
Bam!
Her eyes flew open.
"Michelle?"
A voice called from the other side of her door.
Sigsmond! Please, no.
Her legs flew down from the desk and she straightened her skirt. Oh, crap. She pressed her thighs together, her muscles still a little jumpy. "Come in."
He entered her office and sat down in the chair opposite her desk. That mean he was going to stay.
Darn it.
"Michelle, I'd like to thank you for your help with Susan. You've been a real asset lately, picking up whatever needs to be done, finding cases on your own."
"Did you need my help with something, sir?"
"Yes. I have another favor to ask. Dorsey is having some problems with the inspection that he did at the cell phone plant. I promised to get him some help. I need someone really good. I think you're the perfect person for the job."
She stared at the pens, so straight and upright. Right in their place. This was it. This was the chance she need. Help out another co-worker---fast track to the promotion.
"I'd be happy to," she began, and then stopped herself. "But you know, I don't think I could give Dorsey's case the attention it deserves. Garcia's case and helping out Susan is going to be a real bear considering my existing caseload... The great thing about our division is that all of the liaisons are top-notch and I'm sure anyone you pick to help Dorsey will be the very best. You've done a wonderful job assembling talent at this firm, sir. You should be proud."
Michelle took one of the pens from the holder and spun it sideways on her desk blotter. She waited, anxious to see his reaction. His face fell. Disappointment. Crap.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Michelle. I knew you were the one." He rose and adjusted his jacket, and then started walking toward the door. And there was her promotion. Walking right out with him.
"Wait!"
He turned, a brow raised. "Yes?"
Michelle walked from behind the desk. She wasn't ready to give it up yet. "If my schedule eases up, if there is a quick recovery from Royal Cleaning Company, I could take this one."
"But you can't right now?"
She hesitated, but in the end she knew her answer. "Well, no."
"I see." Disappointment was back.
Well, that was too bad. Michelle stood her ground. "No, I can't right now. I'm sorry."
He walked out the door and she collapsed in her chair.
What had she done?
Michelle arranged to meet Connor after work---six o'clock at the Blue Finn Park. She tried to slip out at five o'clock without anyone noticing, but as luck would have it, Sigsmond had decided to refill his coffee just when she was slinking down the hall, briefcase and keys in hand. "Leaving for the day?" he asked, pouring a little creamer in his cup.
She could come up with all sorts of excuses, wanting to work at home or needing to meet with a client. Any of the standard replies that a person seeking a promotion would make.
"Yes," she said, waiting to see what politically correct alibi she could come up with. But instead of the dedicated, ambitious, quick thinking person she was, she was struck dumb.
"I suppose you know management will be meeting next week? Going to see who's going to receive the coveted promotion. It's no secret you're up for consideration."
"Is it time to make that decision already?" she asked, knowing that the date had been marked on her calendar for several weeks.
"Yes, you've been working very hard. Doing extremely well. You have bright future here at the agency."
"Thank you, sir," she said, discreetly checking her watch. She needed to leave soon if she was to be on time.
"Are there any new developments with Timmer's case? Has she messed it up badly?"
"Oh, no. No, sir. She has everything taken care of. Nothing much for me to do, really. I set up another meeting with management next week. I think they are already making improvements to the work area."
"That's good." He leaned his hip against the counter. "I knew you were the person to take on that challenge."
"Anytime, sir." Just not right now.
"And I'm going to keep you in mind. I wanted to talk to you about the Garcia lawsuit."
"Yes, yes." She nodded obediently.
"I'm not certain he has much of a case, Lewis. Are you sure there's any potential for recovery there. It's taking up quite a bit of your time. Without a positive ruling in his favor, is it really going to be worth it?"
She took on an authoritative stance, looking Sigsmond right in the eye. "Don't worry. I'm thinking that once Royal Cleaning Company sees the memos that Berman has discovered from their old president, a ruling in Mr. Garcia's favor won't be an issue. And Royal Cleaning Company will be more than ready to talk settlement rather than risk getting nailed to the wall by a jury. A payout will be the least of their worries. They'll be more concerned with a confidentiality agreement to keep the news media off their backs. I'm sure Berman will give it to them, too. For a steep price."
"I trust your judgment, Lewis."
She sneaked a look at her watch---five-ten. She was going to be late. "You won't be disappointed, sir. Now, if you will excuse me?"
Sigsmond looked apologetic. "I've been holding you up, haven't I? Go on."
"Are you sure?" She did her best to look sincere.
"Take advantage of it while you can. If you receive this promotion, these warm spring days will be a thing of the past."
Michelle took off down the hall, and as soon as she got out the door, she ran.
Connor checked the time. Michelle was late. Connor had never considered himself a punctual person, and it had never bothered him before to be kept waiting. But damn it, he'd been counting the minutes all day, and some little part of him had hoped she'd been counting as well. Wrong again, Sakuma.
With spring gearing up, Blue Finn Park was always busy at six o'clock. There were mothers with toddlers, roller-skating teenagers, and the usual assortment of kids on bikes. A golden retriever bounded by with a stick in its mouth and its owner in hot pursuit. For a few moments, he scanned the park, and then he saw her.
She moved with an easy grace. Her hair swaying around her shoulder when the wind caught it. Heads turned when Michelle walked by, but she was always too busy to notice. He looked down at his own casual dress and frowned. He should have dressed up more. She was in navy pinstripes and it should have looked manly, but the fitted material did nothing to hide her curves.
Okay, so maybe the day was improving. Radically. Damn, he was lucky. That dark-haired---that attractive, intelligent, dark-haired woman---was heading right for him.
"Hello, handsome."
"You're late." Not the "I need to make love to you or die" that he wanted to shout, but close enough.
"Do I get a kiss?"
She didn't need to ask. His hands were already reaching out as Michelle leaned in, fitting his body perfectly. At the first touch of her lips, lust rushed through him, rendering him incapable of thinking. God, he could never get enough of her.
He clutched her waist in his hands, pulling her closer, positioning her between his thighs. She rocked up against him, and he heard someone moan. That someone was him.
How could someone who looked so delicate, so fragile, kiss like that? He needed to breathe, draw some sort of oxygen into his lungs, but he couldn't move. He could stand here forever like this, just feasting on her mouth.
She tore her lips away and buried her face in his neck. He could feel her heart racing against his chest. Maybe it was his own.
"Are you doing this on purpose?"
"Doing what?" he managed to get out when his brain resumed proper functioning.
"First the museum, now here." She lifted her head. "Always in public. Never private. Why?"
Because she was different. She was caviar and champagne, and he didn't trust himself to be alone with her, not until the time was right.
He took her hand, noticing how small it looked in his own. She kept her nails painted. A professional-looking pink color. He released her hand and shrugged. "I hadn't noticed."
Her expression told him she didn't believe him at all. "Tell me the truth, Connor."
This time, he looked at her, really looked at her. "Michelle, what do you want?"
"I want the truth."
"No. I mean, what do you want this to be between us? A fling? Something more?"
When she stared up at him like that, all starry-eyed and full of hope, he got scared. Part of him wanted to sit her down and say, "I'm not the man for you." But he held his tongue, waiting, trying not to anticipate her answer.
"I received a letter from Theodore today. I did what I set out to do. He is moving on."
The words scared the hell out of him. There were no more excuses. Now everything was real. "What do you want, Michelle?" He repeated his question, needing her answer more than anything now.
"For the past couple of months, I was thinking just a fling. You always seemed so...unconstrained." Her brown gaze locked with his. "I wanted that."
"Is that what you want now?"
If she said yes, he would leave. There were women he could take a few hours of mutual pleasure from before he'd get dressed and leave in the middle of the night. But not Michelle.
"No. I want to see where this goes. Being with you so far has changed me, Connor, and that's what I want."
Change? She wanted to change something?
"What the hell do you want to change? You're perfect."
Michelle laughed. "No, I'm not. I don't have a life outside work and I can never relax. I stay up late at night and I don't watch the latest movies or X-rated cable shows. No, I research the latest findings about OSHA violators."
He took her hand, perfect nails and all. "I thought you loved being a labor liaison. Going to be on the cover of The Economist, change the world. Remember that?"
"I don't know. Right now I don't want to think about work. I don't want to think about anything. What about you? I told you what I was thinking. Now it's your turn."
"We don't have to do that."
"Yes, we do," she responded, using her authoritative voice.
Resigned to his fate, he sighed. "What do you want to know?"
"What do you want? An affair? More?"
He couldn't believe how completely calm she was while his palms were starting to sweat. Still, she had been honest. God only knew why, but she wanted a relationship with him. There were expectations with a quick roll in bed, but he knew he could handle that. But the expectations from a relationship scared him. Responsibility, ambition, emotions. This time, he wouldn't fail.
"More," he answered quietly.
"Where to from here?"
To his bed, straight to his bed. Her smile was flirty, her eyes giving him all sorts of ideas. No, he had a plan for her. Romance, seduction. He wanted their first time to be unforgettable. "We take things slow. I want everything to be perfect for you."
"What could be more perfect than today? Look at the flowers, the sun. Feel the cool breeze. I don't want slow."
He cleared his throat, pushing aside all sorts of visuals in his head. "Michelle---"
She interrupted before he could finish. "You don't understand. When I said unconstrained, I meant unconstrained. Spur of the moment, spontaneous, live life to its fullest and all that."
Connor stared, trying to make up his mind. It was tempting. She was tempting. Finally, he decided. "Unconstrained, huh?" He liked that image. He liked that image a lot. A whole lot. He tugged at her hand. "Walk with me."
"Okay."
They walked through the park. He led her to a spot that was quiet and out of the way. A few couples lounged around the edges, but he made his way deeper, where the tall grass shrubs shut out the rest of the world. This would be perfect. Roses bloomed everywhere and a wooden fence appeared and disappeared between the trees.
He leaned back against the fence. "What do you see?"
"Trees. Shrubs. Flowers," she replied.
This time, he pulled her against him, his hands spanning her waist, keeping her close. "Now, close your eyes. Tell me what you smell."
She inhaled deeply. "The grass. The flowers. Your skin."
He pressed a kiss against her neck, trailed his lips over her ear, let his tongue explore her softness. It was with great satisfaction that he heard her long sigh.
"What do you hear?"
"The wind. Insects. Your breathing. People talking."
"They are far away, Michelle. No one is here." He turned her in his arms and began to work the button on her blouse.
"What are you doing?"
"I thought you wanted unconstrained? I'm trying to help."
Her eyes flew open, full of shock. "Connor!"
He used his fingertips to close her eyes, watching the dark lashes flutter closed. A deep flush began to appear at the base of her neck.
"No one is here. No one can see us."
Connor pushed the soft material aside, his hands undoing the clasp between her breasts.
"You have such beautiful breasts. Absolutely perfect."
She felt his rough fingers touch her hard nipples, his thumbs brushing against them softly. A muted sound reverberated in her ear causing her to tense.
"It's the wind, Michelle."
She kept her eyes tightly shut, her thighs clenching together. Already, she felt herself throbbing and swollen.
His mouth closed over one of her nipples and pulled. "You taste sweet," he whispered. His strong hands kept her in place, hands that she longed to feel all over. A sharp breeze blew across her bare flesh and she shivered. Hot and then cold.
"Please, Connor." She kneaded the hard strength of his arms with her fingers, but it didn't help.
"Please, what? What do you feel?"
"I ache all over."
His knees parted her thighs, and she felt the hard length of him pressing against her. In the distance, she heard voices. She wanted to cry out, tell him to stop, but then his mouth closed over her other breast, his tongue circling her nipple, sending warm tides of pressure between her legs.
"What are you thinking about, Michelle?" he asked, his voice seductive, taunting. He licked a drop of sweat that collect between her breasts. "Are you scared they'll see you? You shouldn't be afraid."
Her legs were starting to tremble; her blood pumped faster. The voices grew louder.
"We need to stop," she murmured, even as she pulled him closer. His hands tangled in her skirt, cupping her bottom.
"What do you want?"
"I want you, Connor. Here. Now. Please." There was the sound of footsteps getting louder, then just as quickly, they grew softer, more distant.
"Here, in the park?" His chuckle was wicked. "But that's so...uninhibited."
She wanted to yell at him. Anything to relieve the urgent ache between her thighs. Tight with frustration, she curled her hips up to his erection and ground against him---hard. It was with a high level of satisfaction that she heard his indrawn gasp.
"Now."
Her cell phone went off. In the quiet, amidst only the strained sound of her breathing, was the blasted ringing that she was ready to condemn to the bowels of telecommunications hell. He lifted his head and stared at her. His dark gaze filled with desire. With a trembling hand, she searched in her purse for the stupid device. She took a long look at the number flashing there. Sigsmond.
She tossed the cell phone up and down like a softball, eyes on the shrubs, thinking how good it would feel to hurl the thing right over midfield. But the damned numbers kept flashing and, finally, she couldn't stand it anymore.
By the time she'd made up her mind, Connor's eyes had cooled, though the teasing gleam was still there.
He pressed one last kiss against her breasts and then fastened the clasp. When he buttoned her blouse, the light touches were sweet torture against her over sensitized nipples.
"Connor---"
He waved a hand. "Don't worry about it. I'll see you soon."
He straightened her blouse and her skirt, forcing her heartbeat to a manageable rhythm. No big deal. Right? When she finally got herself together, she searched the path for him, but it was too late. Connor had already disappeared.
They were supposed to go out on Wednesday. At the last minute, Connor cancelled. He had a special project for school that he needed to finish. They tried to meet up on Thursday, but he got called in to work. Michelle didn't want to believe he had an ulterior motive for not seeing her. When Friday rolled around, she stared at the office phone all day, half expecting Connor to cancel the dinner with his parents as well.
Over lunch, she browsed the case files Timmer had provided her and called Vivien, just to confirm. Michelle had arranged for Vivien to meet Theodore at the Sakumas' house and then they'd all leave from there.
Just when full-blown panic set in, late Friday afternoon, he called from the restaurant. He would pick her up at her apartment and they would go to his parents' home. Apparently, Connor stood by his commitments.
The car ride was quiet, filled with her watching other commuters as they attempted to make it to their own destinations. She didn't say much, didn't see the point. Clearly, Connor didn't either. But he kept glancing at her. He was wearing a tie tonight.
A tie.
Even in a suit he looked untamed. She noticed several of the ladies in other vehicles staring at him, but he didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he was used to it.
A short time later, he pulled into the driveway of his parents'. Connor came around to her side of the vehicle and opened her door. She took the hand he offered. Tonight, he was the gentleman. She held tight, lingering as long as she could get away with. She loved his hands, loved their strength and hardness.
The air seemed to clear once she stepped out of the vehicle. The Sakumas lived a few miles from where she and her parents had lived after her father received the promotion. They made their way up to a well-maintained home.
"Here we are," he said, looking a little pale.
Her palms started to sweat, but she didn't have any reason to be nervous. So she was meeting Connor's parents. Big deal. Would they remember her? She'd only met Mr. and Mrs. Sakuma a handful of times. That had typically been when they were picking up and dropping off Theodore for some type of school event.
Before he rang the bell, Connor straightened his tie, and took a deep breath. Fascinated, she watched him. He was really nervous about this.
Why?
When the door was opened by a tiny woman with a loud voice, Michelle understood.
"Connor Sakuma, as I live and breathe," Nancy Sakuma exclaimed as she swept him into a mother's hug. She stepped back and gave Michelle the once-over. "So..." she murmured, and then took Michelle by the arm, leading her inside the house.
The Sakumas' home was very cozy, with antiques here and there that probably belonged to generations of prior family members. The wall over near the fireplace was covered with family pictures. Sensing a chance to do some serious swooping, Michelle took a look. There was Theodore with his dad at high school graduation, Theodore throwing his cap in the air, Theodore in a doctor's coat, Theodore holding up a large fish, presumably the same one that was stuffed---did they actually stuff fish?---and mounted over the bar. And there were more. But not one of Connor.
Mrs. Sakuma stepped forward. "Michelle, you must call me Nancy. Theodore's told us so much about you. And you're a labor liaison with OSHA. Imagine!" She tapped Michelle on the arm. "Oh, listen to me. Juro tells me to stop with all the constant chatter, but after forty years of marriage, I don't listen to him. I just politely tune him out."
Michelle shot Connor a "help me" look, but Connor was carefully studying a painting on the wall, strategically ignoring his mom.
"It's about time we finally met, seeing as how Theodore feels about you."
"She's my date, Mom. Not Theodore's. We've been seeing each other a while, now." Connor came over and threaded his fingers with Michelle's.
She looked at him, wondering what he was doing. Was this a pretence of a pretence? He smiled at her, but it was strained. Obviously, going home wasn't easy for Connor. She rubbed her thumb over his, a comforting gesture more than a come-on. He squeezed her hand in response.
Not really knowing what else to do, Michelle smiled brightly. "Yes, we have."
"Oh." Mrs. Sakuma looked away. "Oh." And her smile faded some. "Would you like to see my paintings? I have a gallery in the next room."
Michelle noticed one painting, then another on every wall. "You paint?"
"Yes, I do. Although I prefer to sculpt. My pieces appear to be more realistic. Are you a fan of sculpture?"
Michelle smiled as the last piece of the puzzle slipped into place. "Well, Connor's been showing me---"
The doorbell rang and Connor coughed loudly. "You should get that, Mom."
While Nancy went to the door, Michelle tempted fate and reached up and kissed Connor on the lips. Just once. Softly, warmly. He looked at her, surprised.
"That's a mercy kiss, isn't it?"
"Yes, Connor Sakuma," she whispered, and then kissed him again. "It was a mercy kiss."
He looked ready to say something, but then Theodore, his mother, and Vivien walked into the room. Whatever he had been ready to say, he held back.
Vivien turned heads with her flawless look. She wore ivory as a rule, with Manolo Blahnik pumps. Michelle didn't do ivory very often---if at all---it tended to make her look untidy. However, on Vivien it was elegant and fashionable.
Theodore took charge, impeccable in a dark suit that seemed tailored just for his body. "Mother, I can see you've met Michelle. Connor, may I introduce you to Ms. Vivien Young."
Vivien looked from Theodore to Connor, back and forth, like a dieter might look at an all-you-can-eat buffet. "You have an amazing pair of offspring, Mrs. Sakuma."
Nancy looked at her sons and blushed. "Thank you, Vivien."
Theodore rubbed his hands together, pleased as always. Michelle noticed he seemed quite taken with Vivien, which was one small step on the way to a Theodore-free life. Mentally, she cheered.
"Well, should we all depart?" Theodore asked. "I hired a car service for the evening. It'd be a tight fit in the Lexus."
Vivien nearly swooned.
Nancy practically glowed. "I just love riding in the limo. Our Theodore, he does so much."
Connor looked at Michelle. "You ready?"
She grasped his arm for support. "Yes."
When they arrived at the restaurant, Connor saw his father waiting for them in the lobby.
"Son." He clasped Theodore's hand in a manly ritual of affection.
Connor spared him and simply waved. "Dad."
His dad smiled back. They all understood each other. Juro turned to Michelle and held her at arm's length. Nancy's brows rose is warning, but he ignored her. "And this is Michelle. My, how you have grown." He smiled at Theodore, full of masculine pride.
Michelle, new to the Sakuma family's eccentric ways, stepped back and took Connor's hand. "If it hadn't been for Theodore, I'd never have met Connor."
And then she kissed him.
On the lips.
That made three times tonight. Connor was counting. At that moment, he didn't want his father there, or his mother, or Theodore, or Ms. Vivien Young. Right now, he wanted to be alone with Michelle. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and forget about everybody else. Giving into temptation, he kissed her back. Longer. With feeling.
Someone cleared their throat, and the maitre d' murmured a low, "Good evening, Dr. Sakuma."
Connor looked around and saw that, once again, he'd embarrassed the family. He stared at Michelle and shrugged.
Too bad.
They proceeded into the restaurant and were seated at a large, round table toward the center of the room. Theodore pulled Vivien into a conversation, and Michelle, well, Michelle was just watching him with a very sultry expression. And for the first time tonight, Connor found himself looking forward to dinner. He didn't know if it was the tight plum dress she was wearing, or something else, but she was smoldering, and in the best possible way.
He just wanted to drown in those eyes. The wait staff came and went, brining wine and appetizers. Theodore had picked the menu for them this evening and everyone seemed to be too busy talking, discussing the food.
"He's into the swing of things this evening," Michelle said, tilting her head in Theodore's direction.
"Uh-huh."
"It looks like he wants her."
"Uh-huh." He studied his brother, noted the way Theodore's eyes never left Vivien. Theodore was never that focused on another person, except at work.
Michelle heaved a sigh, the plum material lifting nicely. "Theodore's not the only one. I know what I want right now."
"And that would be?"
"I think you should take me home and I'll show you."
Connor closed his eyes, picturing Michelle wrapped in ivory satin sheets, her hair flowing over her shoulders. He pictured her in his arms, watching her face as he moved inside her. Would anyone noticed if they left right now? He checked his watch. A few more hours.
Her dress caught his attention again. It wasn't her style at all. He'd almost commented, but then stopped himself. Was she doing all of this for him? Because that's what she thought he'd like?
He lifted the bottle of wine. "Would you like some?"
Instead of answering, she took a fork and studied the feast in front of them. "Do you like mussels?"
"Yeah, they're okay."
She picked up a mussel with her fingers, and raised it to his mouth. "Taste this."
He stared at the tender morsel of meat, but knew he was hungry for more than seafood. He closed his lips over her finger, his tongue lapping at the soft meat, slow and methodical. With a heavy-lidded gaze, he watched her, noting the way the pulse at her throat was pounding.
He was painfully hard, quickly liking the idea of leaving. His parents were completely preoccupied, laughing and chatting with Vivien and Theodore. Nothing out of the ordinary about that. Tonight, he didn't care, though. He turned his attention back to Michelle.
His hands slid under the table, flirting with her thigh. He slid his fingers upward, letting her see exactly what he intended. She was biting her lips, her eyes half closed. And then her knee bumped against the table, and the silverware went clanking. She jerked her leg away, a dark flush appearing at the base of her throat.
And then the next course arrived.
He tried to eat, but his gaze kept drifting back to her. His hand would stray near hers, an accidental touch. Maybe their thighs brushed up against each other, but each time, he'd pull back. Patience, Sakuma. Patience.
"Connor, how is the restaurant doing?" his father asked, jerking Connor out of his fog.
"Good," he responded.
Vivien wiped her mouth daintily. "Oh, you own a restaurant. I think that is wonderful---"
Juro coughed. "Ah, no, Connor is a sous chef, but we're proud of you, son." He winked.
Connor wanted to crawl under the table.
Instead, Michelle picked up his hand and traced her fingers against his palm. "You know, when you go into a restaurant, you trust yourself to these hands. You trust that when he inspects the food after it's purchased, everything will be okay. When he cooks the food, you know you are going to leave and not suffer from food poisoning the following day. You know he'll toss away bad food rather than risk bad service. When you work in a restaurant, there are a lot of people who work together to make sure that you completely enjoy your dining experience without ill health effects. No one ever thinks about that, do they? But that's what Connor does."
His jaw dropped open. Good thing he didn't have any food in his mouth because he would have set it across the table. Where the hell had she learned all of that information from? She looked at him and smiled, a very confident grin. He felt something tugging at his heart.
That something was Michelle.
They all went dancing at an old-fashioned place that his mom and dad frequented on their anniversary. There were round tables surrounding the dance floor and a full band played old cheesy music. High on the ceiling above them, a disco ball rotated around. If he'd been there with anyone else, Connor would have spent the evening cracking jokes about how lame it was.
Tonight, he wasn't in the mood for jokes.
A little less than two hours left on his date with Michelle. A little less than two hours before he saw the princess safely home.
She was an excellent dancer---no surprise there. The way he figured, she did everything well. He twirled her around to the tune of some forgotten love song and pulled her in closer.
She snuggled against him. "I'm thinking you're a really good actor."
He smiled. "And I'm thinking you're a really good smart-ass."
"What's Theodore doing?"
"Boring Vivien with his life story."
"Really?" Her head jerked toward the small table, where Theodore and Vivien appeared to be having a wonderful time. "It's working Connor. I told you it would."
"Yes, you did. You just might be correct."
"Oh, please. You know I was right. You'd be surprised about how many things I'm correct about. Like us, for instance. Admit it, Connor. We're good together."
He kissed her, long and lingering, his fingers grazing over the curve of her shoulder.
His possessive gaze trailed over her, noting the designer outfit, the discreet diamonds at her throat and her ears, the pinned-up hair, twisted and curly.
Each time he looked at his parents, his mother waved at him as if he'd never grown up. Well, she was wrong, and soon he would prove it. As if on cue, his cell phone rang. He walked Michelle off the floor and answered. "Sakuma here."
"Connor, Tiny here. You wanted some extra hours, right?"
"Sure."
"We could use you here tonight. The restaurant is packed and we are two people short. Can you come in?"
"I'll be right in." Connor hung up the phone and placed it back in his pocket.
"You have a cell phone?"
The way Michelle stared, he might have grown another pair of eyes instead.
"Doesn't everyone?" He kissed her quickly. "Listen, I need to leave. Come outside, and we'll take a cab home."
"Leave?"
"Yes. Work beckons."
"Work?" she repeated with a catch in her voice that had nothing to do with affection and everything to do with anger. Of all the people in the world, he figured Michelle would be the one to understand this. While watching her mouth tighten with displeasure, he realized he'd figured wrong.
"Are you doing this intentionally?"
"What?"
"Leaving me to go to work. Is this to teach me a lesson?"
Connor rubbed his forehead, trying to soothe the pounding throb that was beginning to hammer in his head. It didn't help. "What are you talking about?"
"Why are you working so much?"
Well, it was about time she noticed. "Maybe it's time I became more serious about life. Look at you; look at what you've accomplished. I've been telling myself that I was happy where I was, that I didn't want any more out of life. Maybe I was wrong."
Michelle went quiet. "Are you certain you're okay?"
"Never better." He kissed her once, and then again.
When she looked up at him, this time, he saw uncertainty reflected in her eyes. "I want to see you, Connor. Alone. This waiting is driving me crazy."
She thought she was going crazy? His hard-on was becoming a permanent fixture in his life. But he wanted their first time to be special. Something elegant, breathtaking. Something she'd remember for a long, long time. She walked with him out the door.
"Soon, honey. Soon. I promise."
Michelle held his arm. "Stay just a little bit longer."
"I can't. Look, I have a few hours off on Saturday. I'll call you and we'll do something then."
"Make love?"
Just for that, he kissed her again, "Michelle, I'm shocked." He tried to keep his tone light, but if he sounded like he was completely turned on, well, here it was.
Her cool eyes flashed at him. Damn, she looked good when she was angry. "I don't want you shocked; I want you as aroused as I am."
Like lightning, he had her pressed against the wall. Locked together from breast to thighs, he made sure she felt every tortured inch of him. "You don't think I want you? You think I've been killing myself to keep from touching you." He laughed. "Hell, I can't even do that right."
"You can't be serious," she said, sounding completely rational.
Her calm attitude did it. He didn't answer. Instead, he took her mouth with more teeth and anger than finesse. He didn't care. He tangled his hand in her hair and pulled until her mouth opened beneath his. Still, it wasn't enough. Right now, anything short of full-body possession wasn't enough.
He dragged his lips where her dress skimmed her breast, sucked hard, marking her. Damn it, she was his. Her hands twisted on the front of his jacket, and he heard a whimper come from within her. Fear?
That stopped him. He lifted his head and stared; frustration and desire beat like a drum behind her eyes. Her lips were swollen were he'd kissed her, her eyes were more shut than open, and her prim little bra peeked out from beneath her not so prim dress.
Still, there was no hiding the victorious gleam in her eye. Somehow, that only made it worse.
"You did that on purpose," he said.
With shaky hands, she fixed her dress. "Sure did, Sakuma. You sure you have to go?"
Satin sheets. Satin sheets. Satin sheets.
He didn't answer, just tucked her into a cab and then took off for the train station. The long walk was just what he needed to cool off.
Soon, Michelle. Very soon.
The weekend passed in one caffeine-induced blur for Connor, but by the time Monday morning arrived, he was feeling rather proud of himself. He had booked a suite at Moorpark Hotel for Saturday night, had a reservation for two at Aoki, and had arranged for two-dozen Japanese Magnolias to be delivered to her office on Friday.
Yes, everything was falling into place.
When the final reservation was confirmed, her called Michelle. The weekend would be a surprise. His gift to her. Hopefully, it'd be one she'd never forget. It was about time he lived up to his potential. He was a few months away from graduating. He needed to cut back on his work hours, but that meant money would be tighter. Oh well. Michelle would just have to understand. After thirty-seven years as Theodore Sakuma's irresponsible older brother, Connor was ready to do something about it. Michelle would be proud.
It was 11:00 a.m. before he finally had a break. Preparing the kitchen for opening time was hard work, which was good. They were too busy getting the kitchen prepped for him to think about her. Making love to her. Sliding her oh-so-prim bra right off her shoulders and watching her eyes drift with pleasure. He looked at his hands, wishing they were a little softer, less calloused.
He stared out into the kitchen, wondering why he hadn't become a computer programmer, or a financial mogul, or some other sort of mogul.
Because he liked to cook.
Damn it.
He liked Michelle just as much as he liked to cook. Considering the lone hour of sleep he'd finally gotten last night, he suspected he like Michelle more.
Michelle was steady and reliable.
He could be steady and reliable, too.
However, cookware didn't have feelings.
Michelle did.
He picked up the phone. Steady and reliable---that's who he was.
"Michelle Lewis's office."
"Michelle, please."
"May I say who's calling, please?"
"Connor Sakuma."
"Oh."
The person on the line drew the word out several syllables long. Disapproval in all of them. Then followed with one long, heavy sigh, just in case he missed it. "You'd think her boyfriend would know when she's not feeling well considering this is the first sick day she's taken since she's worked here."
"Sick?" She'd looked perfectly healthy when he last saw her. Sexy, vibrant, alive. In fact, he was getting a little hot just thinking about her physical well-being.
"Yes, Mr. Connor-Not-the-Doctor, she called this morning, coughing and sneezing, poor doll. Said she spent the night puking her guts out. You would think someone who professes to care for her would be sitting by her bedside, tucking in the covers. You would think someone who enjoys her companionship would be holding her head as she worships the porcelain goddess. You would think that the man she adores would be at her side with some soup, and not that pond scum that comes out of a can, either. Clearly some of the members of the stronger sex do not think at all. I bet Dr. Sakuma wouldn't be so insensitive, Mr. Sakuma. Goodbye."
Connor could only stare at the phone.
"Problem, Sakuma?"
He didn't know she was sick. Hell. He was innocent here. "Hmm?"
He looked up, and there stood the executive chef, Tiny.
"Sakuma? Is everything okay? You look a little pale."
Not everyone could get away with the nickname Tiny, but Willard Baker could. He was tough, could stand up to even the most impatient customers and critics, and he was just a few inches under seven feet, weighing at least three hundred pounds.
"I'm okay," Connor mumbled.
Tiny gestured to the phone in Connor's hand. "Uh, if you're done there, then..."
Connor handed off the receiver. "Can you cover for me? I need to leave. It's an emergency."
Tiny scratched his head, looking doubtful. "Well, we are expecting several large parties tonight and we are already going to be short handed."
"I'll pull a double shift for anybody that can help. Michelle's sick."
"Who's Michelle?"
"She's my, my..." Connor gave up, not wanting to figure out that answer right now. "I need to be there," was what he ended up with, sure of that one.
"Did you sign off on the prep check list?"
Connor nodded.
"Okay then. But be back by five p.m. Unfortunately, I can't spare you for the dinner rush." The executive chef grinned. "I still remember what it's like after you first fall in love. I am calling home right now."
In love? Yeah, sure. And where in the hell would be find homemade soup? "Thanks, Tiny. I'll be back. You're the best."
Connor grabbed his keys and ran out of the office, the door slamming behind him.
Michelle had nearly finished her first wall when she heard a knock at the door. She put down the paintbrush and studied her handiwork with a critical eye. Not bad for a novice.
Today she was the new Michelle. No more long nights pacing the floor because Connor Sakuma didn't feel the need to call her and say hi.
"You can't change all of them, honey." Wasn't that what Julia told her? No, she couldn't change Connor, but she could change Michelle.
She waded through the drop cloth and made her way to the door. She definitely wasn't expecting company. Might be someone from work, though. Maybe something urgent came up. She faked a cough as she neared the door.
"Yes?"
"Michelle. You all right?"
Connor. She looked at her painting clothes and wanted to cry. Pajama pants and a tank top. Not the best look. "What are you doing here?"
"Let me in and then you go lay back down. I'll take care of you."
Go lie down? What was that all about? Maybe he'd changed his mind. Maybe he was here to ravish her. Obediently, she opened the door after taking one last look at herself, and there he stood, panting. What was the emergency? Her heart started to lift. Maybe he needed to see her. Maybe that was the emergency.
"Connor? Is everything okay?"
He looked at her, the pajama pants, the tank top, the can of paint at her feet. "You're painting?"
Well, he wasn't dressed much better. Dark pants and a white shirt with what looked to be grease stains. And a wonderful smelling paper sack. He'd come straight from work. With food. "Are you okay?"
He strode into the apartment, rubbing his face. "I thought you were sick."
And it all made sense. The worry, the out of breathless, the---oh my God, soup. He'd brought her soup. She struggled to find the chair under the drop cloths, couldn't find it, and settled for leaning against the bulky blob in the middle of the room. If felt like a chair.
He looked around. "What are you doing?"
"I'm painting the apartment." She held out a paintbrush. "You can help. Unless you're going to leave now. After you've come all this way to give me...soup." She tried to stay cool, like she didn't care that he had run out on their date and hadn't called her once over the weekend. She really did, but the warm smell of soup was turning her into mush, and her voice softened right at the end.
"I'll help." He handed her the brown paper bag. "But only if you eat this first."
How did he do it? She spent the weekend watching the Food Network and called her parents several times. Just to chat. Something she'd never done before. Anything to keep her mind off the phone. But no matter what she did, her thoughts always returned to Connor.
Everything between them was so new, so uncertain. She'd planned on seducing Connor, but he'd turned the tables on her---made her fall in love---and he probably had no idea. When he gazed at her, a thousand apologies in his eyes, she melted even more.
"Deal."
He looked down and stared at her feet. Bare feet with yellow paint spots. Embarrassed, she curled her toes. It didn't help. Finally, he raised his eyes to her face and waved halfheartedly at the walls. "It looks good."
The walls were as yellow as yellow could be, and her vision tended to blur when she stared at them too long, but she'd done it. All by herself. Her apartment was forty-five percent completely covered in yellow. Not ivory, not tan, no off white, not mother-of-pearl. Sunshine yellow.
She started to fold her arms across her chest, then remembered she was holding her soup. Hot soup. She placed it on the kitchen table. "Yeah, I think so."
Actually, she was beginning to rethink the color scheme, but wasn't quite ready to admit that. She returned to the living room, and he looked down at her feet again. "You sure you need help?"
She shrugged defensively. "No, but you're welcome to stay if you like." She flicked back a strand of hair from her face. "If you have the time."
"Yeah."
"Well." Michelle exhaled and his gaze rested on her chest. The room heated for a moment. "Would you like to eat first or just start painting?"
"Why don't you eat?" he answered, still staring at her chest. Here they were. Alone in her apartment. He'd said, "soon..."
Suddenly, now even wasn't soon enough. She breathed again. Deeper this time. His jaw tightened. "Okay."
He followed her into the small kitchen, off-white with a modern breakfast table. "Do you think I should paint in here, too?"
Connor looked startled, and then cleared his throat. "No. Leave it like it is."
She put two bowls on the table, but he pushed one aside and sat down. "I'm not hungry. Thanks."
He still looked a little pale. "Smells good."
"So, you're playing hooky today?"
She nodded. "Yup. It's the new me."
"The old you wasn't all that bad."
She paused. Checked to see if he was joking, but he looked sincere. "Really?"
"Really."
"Well, that may be, but the times they are a-changing."
"Looks like they're changing to yellow." He tried to smother his grin, but his lips twitched suspiciously.
Today it didn't bother her at all. "You're laughing at me."
Magically, his face transformed. All traces of humor were gone, but there was a telltale dimple in his left cheek that hadn't been there before. "No, no."
She felt like laughing, herself. "Actually, it's sunshine yellow." She sat down at the table and began to eat. "I may change it."
Connor picked up his paintbrush and studied the wall in front of him. Not bad. He'd done lots of painting in his high school days. Now, Michelle, well, obviously she hadn't put herself through college by painting. But for a first effort, it wasn't awful.
But yellow?
Paint was everywhere. In her hair, on her feet, and on that sinful pink tank top. No, Connor, don't want to think about that. He felt the familiar blood-draining reaction to even a hint of Michelle's flesh and swore.
"Everything okay?"
He watched as she climbed down from the ladder she was on, completely unaware of the lurid thoughts running through his head.
"Yes, it is," he responded, trying not to look at her chest. She was wearing one of the slinky bras, the kind he didn't understand why women bothered with it at all. She was either charged up or cold or... He closed his eyes. Damn, he needed to change the subject and quickly.
Satin sheets.
That was his new mantra. He had a beautiful scene for seduction all planned out and it didn't include a drop cloth amid paint rollers and paint thinner. Thankfully, the phone rang. Michelle picked up the receiver.
"Hello."
She listened for a minute and then turned to him, mouthing, "It's Theodore."
Trouble.
"Yes, I'm fine."
He watched her talk, watched her expression change from calm to amused. "No, Connor didn't break up with me. No, I didn't break up with him either. Tell me about Vivien...Self-absorbed? No, not really...Well, yes, she enjoys talking about her job, but I mean, we all do that, Theodore." She smiled. It was a nice smile. "Yes, even you. In the right environment, a man who listens can be quite appealing...Yes, Connor's a good listener... Maybe you should. Listen, I need to go, Theodore."
She didn't need to hand up on his account. He was content just to watch her. He sat down against the one remaining white wall and it felt good. He closed his eyes, letting Michelle's voice wash over him.
"No, you don't need to come over. It's just a little runny nose." She sniffled into the phone. "Yes, he's here... No, you're not being a pest. I think you're being sweet. I do wish you'd call to talk to Vivien, though. Maybe send her flowers..."
Flowers, Connor thought sleepily. Maybe he should send her flowers before Saturday...
When Michelle hung up the phone, she looked over at Connor. Asleep. He looked so exhausted. What the heck was he doing? And why? Not that it mattered right now; she definitely wasn't going to wake him up. She grabbed a pillow and the put it behind his head. For a few minutes, she sat next to him, just watching him sleep.
He didn't stir at all. Well, she could wait. Michelle noticed the yellow paint that stained her shirt and feet. Yuck. No wonder he chose painting over making love to her. That was something she could fix, so she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and then went off and picked out her sexiest lingerie. Next up, a long shower. Let him sleep a little bit longer.
By the time she emerged from the bedroom, Michelle was feeling pretty good. She'd gotten most of the paint off herself, and even painted her toenails.
Hopefully, he was awake by now. She closed her eyes and leaned against the door frame, striking a seductive pose, all ready for him to awaken and take her in his arms. When she was greeted with nothing but silence, she shook her hair and sighed. Loudly. Nothing. Heck, she couldn't even hear him breathe.
Finally, she opened her eyes. The room was exactly the way she'd left it. Open paint cans, rollers and her toolbox. Everything was there.
Except Connor.
He called on Wednesday afternoon and apologized. He had to work. Again. Michelle tried to sound nice and understanding, but inside, she was furious.
"I'll see you Saturday," he said.
"Are you off all day Saturday?" she asked, still struggling for an understanding tone. She really didn't want to sound like she was being sarcastic.
"Not just Saturday, the entire weekend."
"Good. Why don't you pick me up about eleven in the morning? I have an idea."
He chuckled into the phone. Just the way it sounded, warm and intimate, gave her goose bumps in places she'd never had before.
After he hung up, she smiled, determined. This time, there would be no question. Connor Sakuma was going to be seduced.
Michelle called Julia into her office. She needed something one hundred percent guaranteed. She'd tried subtle, she'd tried sexy. Nothing had worked.
Now it was time for the heavy ammunition.
Saturday arrived warm, breezy, not a cloud in the sky. Connor took his time getting ready. Hot shower, close shave. He had no idea what Michelle had planned for the day, but everything was set up for tonight. He couldn't wait to see her face.
At last, she'd see him for what he could be.
He stared at himself in the fogged-up mirror. What he could be. He wiped down the mirror, drawing a big L on the reflection of his forehead. He didn't want to stop seeing her. Not ever. Why was he working double shifts now? Because of Michelle. Why was he even more motivated to get through culinary school? Because of Michelle. Why was he reading Business Weekly? Well, he actually enjoyed the magazine, but because of Michelle as well.
Man, a guy's ego would really take a beating with her. But wasn't she worth it?
Yeah.
He had disappointed a lot of people in the past, but not anymore.
He rubbed his hand over his chest. There was a new weight in there. Hope was a heavy thing. He erased the L on the glass and then threw the wet towel on the floor.
Nope, not today. He picked it up, folding it, hanging it up carefully on the rack. If she could change, then so could he.
Michelle wouldn't let him see her until she was dressed, which was bad enough. He was wearing khakis and a button-down shirt. He looked very presentable.
And then she came out of the bedroom.
Connor tried to speak, but his tongue was hanging out far enough to lick the floor.
Red skirt.
Little red skirt.
Heels.
Killer, do-me heels.
Her hair rolled over her shoulders in waves, and she was wearing red lipstick. It matched her skirt.
A limo was picking them up at 7:00 p.m. Dinner was at 7:30, the hotel at 8:30. He was supposed to hold out for nine hours and twenty-five minutes?"
He was a dead man.
"Ready to go?" she asked, all casual and cool.
"I think I need to sit down for a minute."
And breathe.
Damn, he couldn't breathe. He collapsed into a chair.
She pursed her lips and put on more lipstick. "Take all the time you need, honey. Get you some rest. You're going to need it."
Well, it wasn't tea and scones at Moorpark Hotel. Instead, she took him to Gilroy Gardens. Connor had never been there. But she knew right where she was going. They bypassed the paddleboats, the concession stands, the carousel, and the games. Michelle acted just like a woman on a mission and, apparently, that mission was the Quicksilver Express.
Connor stared up at the roller coaster and smiled. "You want to ride this?"
"More than you know," she replied, her gaze traveling slowly over him from head to toe.
Somehow, he didn't think they were talking about the Quicksilver Express. His blood heated just a bit. Today, they were on his turf. No talk about careers, absolutely nothing but blue skies and red leather.
"Remember, you asked for this."
They made it through the line, and he watched her climb into the car. The leather clung to curves he didn't want to remember she had. He settled in next to her, still trying to figure out what she was up to.
The attendant pulled down the bar and she shook out her hair. There was not one trace of Michelle Lewis in her. Somehow, she'd changed into a raging sex kitten. Michelle turned to him, not shy or the least bit demure. Instead, she was bold, confident, and more than a little scary.
"Connor, it's time you learned something about me. You see, under this skirt, I'm wearing a lacy thong from Victoria's Secret in flaming red."
Connor gripped the bar a little tighter. "Okay."
"I have six more pairs just like this at home."
He cut her off. "I don't think talking about your underwear is a good idea."
The car started to move away from the platform.
"No, actually, it's an excellent idea. You think of me as a fragile little princess." She licked her lips.
He looked up at the sky, down at the crowd below them, anywhere but at that succulent mouth. "I don't think that."
"You don't need to lie about it. It's okay. You're partially correct." She reached her hands under her skirt and shimmied in her seat.
Connor simply sat frozen.
The roller coaster started to climb up the long hill, creaking all the way, the chain grating against the wooden track. And Michelle slid a pair of flaming red Victoria's Secret thongs down her long legs.
He whimpered.
"But you see," she continued, ignoring his heart attack in the making, "I can change. You can change. What we think we are"---she held up the panties like a battle flag and he realized why she'd chosen to ride in the last car---"isn't always what we have to be."
A teenage boy clapped Connor on the back while the girl he was with giggled.
"Dude!"
The car stopped, poised in midair.
Michelle stared over at him.
Connor couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. One flaming red thong billowed in the breeze. And then the car dropped down the hill, gravity taking over, and the thong floated away.
Oh, God. He was trapped on a roller coaster with Michelle in red leather, no panties and a "take-no-prisoners" gleam in her eyes. He felt so sorry for any company not compliant with OSHA standards that she went up against. They didn't stand a chance.
They raced up and down camelback hills, round curves, and Connor's stomach was left somewhere back at that first hill.
Michelle threw her arms in the air and screamed. Connor just gripped the bar in front of him, needing distance, needing to run. But on the Quicksilver Express, a man could go nowhere but down.
Finally, mercifully, they made it back to the station. Connor scrambled out and watched warily as Michelle extended one leg, placing it carefully on the wooden planking. Next came another.
Something else.
All he needed to do was think of something else. Anything. He looked up at the sky and a pair of flaming red panties floated in the breeze, drifting away from them. He didn't stand a chance.
Michelle had done it. She walked throughout the park with a freedom, a flair, a confidence that she'd never felt before. Every inch of her felt alive, the salty sea air teasing her nose. Everywhere she looked there was color, bright Technicolor. Bright blues. Sparkling greens. Not an off white, beige, or mother-of-pearl to be found anywhere.
She ate cotton candy, had their picture taken, bought an "I Love San Jose" T-shirt, and all in all, was having a great time.
Connor looked wonderful in the picture. He couldn't take his eyes off her, and there, in an 8x11, was positive proof that she could stare at anytime she felt like it. She bought two.
"I think I should take up photography, don't you?" she asked. She liked the idea of capturing them together on paper.
"Hmm?" he said, dragging his eyes from her legs. She touched his chest with a scarlet-covered nail. "I think I'm going to take up photography."
"Photography? That's nice?"
Only one more thing could make this day absolutely perfect. "Connor?" She stopped walking, taking in the sight of the balloons and ribbons that adorned a carnival game. A father started shooting the targets for his little boy. "Have I proven my case yet?"
He stood a careful twenty-four inches away from her. Not far, but not close enough. "What would that be?"
"There is absolutely no reason in this world why we shouldn't make love."
The dazed look disappeared and he glanced down at his watch. "No."
She placed a dollar down on the counter and the pot-bellied attendant picked it up. "I think it is past time."
The man winked at her and pressed the button on the water gun in front of her. Michelle bent over and lined up her sight with the target. Her thighs tingled from the warm air. The buzzer sounded, and she began to shoot.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"I'm trying to win a prize."
Connor moved to stand behind her, blocking the view. She wiggled for effect. Obligingly, he moved closer.
"Damn it, Michelle."
Her aim misfired and the water shot into the air. "You could help me."
He wrapped himself around her, muttering something she couldn't understand. The bulge that was pressing behind her, she understood quite well. If her smile was a little fundamental, who could blame her? Finally, the water stopped; the man rang the bell.
"We have a winner!"
Michelle picked a fuzzy-headed little teddy bear and shot Connor a grin. "What do you want to do now?"
"Locate the nearest shower and take a cold one."
Success was almost hers. "How about the Panoramic Wheel instead?"
Connor proclaimed the gondolas on the Panoramic Wheel to be two sizes too small. Michelle sat next to him, her legs stretched out, crossing her legs first one way then the other. He tried to keep his thoughts pure, but the little voice inside his head was starting to whisper very lewd suggestions. Determined to ignore them, he stuck his head out of the gondola and watched the people milling below.
This was not what he had planned.
A hand brushed his thigh.
The world started to spin and he closed his eyes.
"Connor?"
"Yes?"
"Don't you like me?"
He feigned ignorance. "I think you're nice."
She slid closer, the sound of leather rubbing against the warm metal. "I don't want to be nice. I don't want to be fragile. I don't want to be Princess Tiana."
Princess Tiana? "What?"
Her hand caressed his thigh. He swallowed. Hard.
"I want to be desirable, sexy and, well, just a little bit bad."
"Bad?" His voice cracked.
"Connor, I need you." The hand rubbing continued. Her lips caressed his ear. "Make love to me, Connor."
Michelle held her breath. Connor didn't move. The car continued to rock back and forth, and she wondered if she'd blown it.
"Connor?"
He turned to look at her and she saw such pure pain she wanted to cry. He didn't love her; he didn't want to make love to her. All she'd done was embarrass herself.
And then he shifted. Moved his body closer to hers.
"Michelle, I have to ask you a question first."
"Anything," she whispered, mesmerized by the feverish frustration in his eyes. She covered his heart with her hand. Under her palm, the heavy beat thrilled her.
"Why me? Out of all the guys, why did you choose me?"
She bit her lip, not knowing whether she should tell him the truth, or even if he'd believe her. What was it about Connor that made her sacrifice her pride? Why Connor? Ham, tomato and Swiss cheese quiche, steamy romance novels, and the freedom to finally discover who she was. The answer was really simple.
"I love you."
Connor had braced himself for a lot of answers, but the one Michelle gave wasn't one of them. He couldn't take it if this was a joke. He'd thought she'd been playing with him, wanting nothing more than a walk on the wild side. Now all of a sudden, the stakes were raised.
"Michelle."
A thousand reasons sprang to his lips why they shouldn't be together, but he couldn't force himself to utter one. He thought he had set everything up perfectly. A romantic evening, candlelight, wine. Now he was going to mess that up, too.
He took her face in his hands and kissed her. At first, he was hesitant. This was Michelle. Even with a leather mini skirt, and hooker lipstick, she was more precious than anyone he'd ever known. He brushed his lips across hers. Once, twice. He tugged gently at her bottom lip, trying not to rush her, trying to hold back.
She sighed and her mouth opened beneath him. Sweetly. He caressed her face, her hair. She smelled so good, so warm. Even the smell of leather couldn't mask her basic scent. He deepened the kiss, taking his time; they were going nowhere, just moving toward the sky, a meeting of lips. He felt the tip of her tongue touch his own and he smiled against her mouth.
"Not yet. We have all afternoon, and right now, I don't want to do anything but taste you."
She groaned and pressed in closer. Up in the air, the world seemed so far away. They were alone in a magical place, and no one could intrude upon them here. His fingers slid down her neck, down her throat. He felt a shiver. Her skin was so soft. He touched her pulse beating in her throat. Her blood was pumping fast and hard. For him.
"I'm taking you home when we get down, Michelle. I want to taste you, see you. I've been dreaming about you. I tried to stay away from you, but I can't. I'm done fighting this." He pushed aside her shirt, smiling at the whisper-thin bra that covered her breasts. "You nearly killed me the first time I saw you without the robe." He took her nipples in his hands, watching the base of her throat begin to darken with a flush as he rolled them between his fingers.
"What do you want?" he asked, lowering his head to kiss her once more.
In response, she climbed into his lap, her legs straddling him, and she started to unbutton his shirt. His body struggled for control, aching to push inside her right there. When she looked up at him, her eyes were bright with desire.
"I want you to touch me. I want you to taste me."
He nearly came from the words she whispered. "We're almost to the ground."
"I don't care."
Truth be told, he didn't care either, but then the gondola rolled to a stop. Quickly, he buttoned up her shirt, his hands fumbling, doing a poor job of it. "We'll go home."
She nodded. "Yes."
The ride home was surprisingly slow. It seemed everyone had the intention of spending a nice Saturday afternoon out. There was actually traffic. Michelle placed her hands in her lap, trying not to clench them into fists. She surveyed Connor from underneath her lashes, wondering what he was thinking. He met her gaze, his eyes flaring with arousal.
That was a look she understood.
She sat frozen, trapped by the heat in his eyes. His heavy stare wandered over her, touching her lips, her breasts, her thighs. Slowly, he reached out, his hand brushing against her arm. The slight touch was a heady torment, and her breasts swelled, her nipples throbbing against her bra.
Everything inside her felt heavy and full, all rushing down to the apex of her thighs. It was another twenty minutes to her apartment, and she didn't think she could wait. She clenched her thighs together, oh so carefully, but it only made things worse. She heard Connor's indrawn breath. Closing her eyes, she bit back a whimper. What she wouldn't give to be able to get closer to him.
He reached over and cradled the back of her neck in the palm of his hand. She moved her own hand over the console and touched his rock hard thigh before moving higher. His erection was hard and insistent behind the fly of his khaki pants. She licked her lips, her eyes drifting shut.
Her body started to shake, and it was all she could do not to melt into a puddle on the floorboard. There was something incredible about the way he smelled. All musky and male. Each time she moved, he answered. Each time he moved, she moaned.
His hands skimmed lower, flirting between her thighs. She opened her eyes and met the stare of a woman in the car behind them, who quickly averted her gaze. Michelle couldn't bring herself to care. All she wanted was relief from the insistent throbbing between her legs. She rocked against his hand, biting her lip in frustration. His hands slid between her legs higher and higher, and without hesitation, she parted them. Anything.
Her stomach tightened in anticipation.
One heartbeat, then two.
One finger slid inside her, then two. His fingers pushed inside her farther, and she leaned back into the seat, her spine completely useless. She shivered, cold, then hot.
His lips brushed against her ear. "You are so wet."
Oh.
Slowly, he pulled his fingers in and out of her, and her muscles contracted around him, trying to hold him, not wanting him to stop. She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths, feeling the dampness inside her. When she opened her eyes again, she tried to focus, but she saw nothing. They still hadn't moved far due to the traffic, but that was the least of her concerns.
He toyed with the outside of her lips, caressing, teasing.
"We have to stop," she whispered.
"You don't like that, hmm?"
Actually it was the exact opposite.
Once more, he put his fingers inside her, pushing upward. He went deeper this time as his long fingers circled, sensing the coils of tension racking her body. She tried to keep her hips still, keep them from following the rhythm of his hand, riding to meet him. But she couldn't.
He kissed her neck, whispering in her ear in slow, exquisite detail exactly what he was going to do to her. What he wanted to do with her right here. Right in the middle of traffic under the watchful eyes of everyone around them.
She drew her bottom lip between her teeth, ready to scream. When his thumb brushed against her, she felt her muscles spasm and shake. That was all she could handle. She closed her eyes, as the world shattered.
He covered her mouth with his own, and he kissed her cries of pleasure away.
They made it to her apartment, where he took her keys and undid the locks, and to his great relief, they were inside. He tugged her skirt upward, her hands fumbling with his zipper.
"Condom," he whispered, just as she managed to pull down his zipper.
"Bathroom."
"Stay right here."
She didn't move, plastered against the door, waiting. "Hurry back."
"Where is it?"
"Second drawer, right hand side."
He returned quickly.
"I can't wait," he murmured, taking her lips in a quick kiss.
She fumbled with his briefs. "Now."
He sheathed himself with shaking fingers. "I wanted this to be slow," he said, lifting her.
She wrapped her legs around his waist. "I need to feel you inside me. Now. We can go slow later."
He took one step forward, braced her against the door; she locked her hands behind his neck.
And then he plunged inside her.
Connor staggered for a second, amazed by the intense overwhelming pleasure of being surrounded by Michelle. Warm, drenching pleasure. There was no frigidness or coldness to her, only a heat that made him frantic. He needed to find control, but all his control was gone.
Now she was his. Finally. Her hips ground against him, and he started to move. Thrust insider her, deeper, as if he could touch her soul.
His eyes held her heated gaze, unflinching. The way she looked at him, with need and something more, made anything possible. For now, nothing could touch them.
She was his.
He drove inside her, over and over, determined to please her. In this, there would be no one but him. Connor kissed her again, her tongue tangling with his, her breathing as ragged as his own.
Over and over.
Her head rolled to one side, her hair falling across his arm, just like he dreamed it would. She bit her lip and still, he moved.
Over and over. Not yet.
A moan of surrender fell from her lips. She was close. Her nails were biting into his shoulders now, but there was no pain. Instead, he moved faster, harder. He felt her muscles clench around him, saw her eyes go blank, her lashes drift downward. She began to gasp and tremble, and he smiled with satisfaction.
At last.
He thrust inside her one last time, as far as he could go. His body jerked, a charge of energy roaring through him. Then his climax came, the undeniable pleasure, the undeniable truth.
He was in love with her.
Connor leaned against her, his panting breath, like hers, slowly returning to normal. She unhooked her legs from around him, sliding down until she stood, and felt a sense of loss as their bodies pulled apart.
Cupping her chin with his palm, he raised her head. Dismay crossed his face at the silent tears running down her cheeks. "Michelle? Oh God, I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"
"No!" She shook her head vehemently. "You didn't hurt me."
His thumbs wiped at the moisture on her face. "Then why are you crying?"
"It's silly really. I've never..." She sniffled, her face burning with embarrassment. "I've never... during you know---had that happen before."
Absently, his fingers tucked a strand of her escaping hair behind her ear. Then understanding dawned on his features. "You've never---"
"No." She cut him off, then glanced away, struggling to find the words to describe her joy. "It was so...unbelievable. I felt so..." Her eyes met his again and she gave up the struggle.
"Unbelievable?" he teased her with a smile.
"You're making fun of me," Michelle accused, too happily to really be offended.
He shook his head, his face suddenly serious. "No, Michelle. I feel honored I was the first one to give you that pleasure. If anyone deserves to be made fun of, it's me. Usually, I have more control." He frowned. "I've never resorted to tearing a woman's clothing before."
"Then I feel honored I was the first one to give you that pleasure." Running her hands up his wide chest, she grinned suggestively. "Shall we do it again?"
Connor laughed, then gave her a long and lingering kiss. "Yes, again," he promised, kissing her eyelids. "And again..." He kissed her cheeks, her nose. "And again..."
When he pulled away from her, she moaned in objection. She pulled the hem of her skirt down while he fixed his pants, then he picked her up, an arm under her knees. "In my bed this time. I've waited a long time to see your soft hair spread out like this."
"A long time? But we've only---"
Leaning his head down, he silenced her with a blistering kiss.
When they finally broke apart, she couldn't remember what she'd been about to say. The man need only kiss her and her mind went blank, her body enveloped by sensations she never thought possible.
He carried her to her room. Once he stood her on her feet, she reached over to turn on the bedside lamp and it bathed the room in a soft glow of light.
Pushing the door closed behind them with his foot, he stopped to kiss her before moving over to lay her down on the bed. Her eyes barely had the chance to focus before he bent down to kiss her again.
"When I came to pick you up earlier, I wanted you so badly it took my breath away." He gently tugged at her skirt, dragging the material downward. "If it weren't for the little self-restraint that I had, I'm not sure that I wouldn't have taken you right then."
Michelle lifted her hips and he drew her skirt the rest of the way off.
"Maybe I should tell you what I wanted to do while we were at the amusement park." She playfully nibbled his square chin, slipping her hands under his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders. "On top of the hill while on that roller coaster."
He pulled away and stood, shrugging the clothing from his arms. "Tell me."
Rising to her knees on the edge of the bed, she pressed kisses onto his chest, her hands unbuttoning his pants. "I'd rather show you." She shoved the loose pants from his hips and they fell to the floor. Her fingers dipped beneath his boxer shorts and he moaned as she stroked the velvet tip of his shaft.
Grasping her hand, he held it tightly against him, halting her movements. "No. This time is for you."
After removing the rest of his clothing, he quickly rid her of what she still had on. Then he set her on the bed before carefully untangling her hair, watching it cascade over her shoulders.
Weaving his fingers into her soft mane, he gathered some and brought it to his rough cheek before drawing it across his lips. "Your hair is like silk. Beautiful, shining silk."
The compliment warmed her already fluttering heart. "Thank you."
Sliding her back against the pillows, his lips caressed her cheek and nuzzled into her neck. "I have dreamed of seeing it spread over a pillow, just like this." His mouth traveled down and tasted her breasts, gently suckling the tips.
She melted beneath his lips, the molten fire once more gathering in white-hot force between her legs. "Yes," she told him, already breathless. His long hair brushed over her hardened nipples. She wanted him so badly she would have shaved her head if he'd asked.
He moved on, his tongue whirling and licking as his mouth journeyed downwards. Pausing at her navel, he dipped into the shallow divot with a rhythm that caused her hips to undulate restlessly beneath him. When his lips shifted farther down to the triangle of hair between her legs, she stiffened in a mixture of pleasure and shock.
"What---what are you doing?"
His darkened gaze lifted to meet hers. "Making love to you." The heat of his breath blew against her.
"But---no... I can't..." She squirmed under his foraging mouth and he clamped her hips and buttocks under him.
"You can. Let me love you." His tongue worried the nub of her desire before delving inside her. Her heels dug into the bed, her hands clutching the bedspread. Then she was lost. She cried out as pleasure crashed over her like a tidal wave, drowning her body in pure sensation. When the last few spasms faded away, he withdrew, planting a kiss on her moist nest one last time.
"Look at me," he ordered, sounding so rough and strained that she obeyed without question. His eyes were dark and fierce, reminding her of the image she had seen transposed on his face.
"Spread your legs wider and bend your knees," he told her. A flurry of alarm mixed with excitement rushed through her. She bent her knees, allowing her legs to go slack, while he found protection. He ran his hands along the underside of her calves and up the inside of her thighs.
"You're so beautiful. So soft." His hands gripped her hips on either side and he ground his erection against her still sensitive sex.
"I'm going to bury myself deep inside of you. Until you feel nothing but me."
Dark flames of desire shot back through her. "Yes," she breathed.
Gently, his fingers stretched apart her folds, the tip of his manhood pressing into her. His face was taut with desire, but no longer held the strange savage quality. "Tilt your hips. Like that..." He slowly sank into her body until he completely filled her. "Oh, God...you're perfect...so hot and wet."
She wrapped her arms around him, moving her hands down his back until they settled on the firm muscles of his buttocks. The muscles clenched and unclenched under her palms as he slipped in and out of her again and again.
Should she tell him he'd gotten what he wanted? That all she could feel was him inside her? Dear Lord, she felt him. So big, so hard within her. Every thrust, every short, teasing stab. Nothing else mattered but reaching the top again and, this time, tumbling over together.
He kissed her and she tasted herself on him, the musky scent of sex filling her nostrils. With a sobbing moan, she felt the tremors start and tried to put them off, wanting it to last longer.
"Come with me, Michelle." he rasped in her ear. "Come with me."
"No...oh---" Her hands flailed against him. Pushing him away, pulling him to her.
"Yes." He reached down between them, stroking her swollen nub with his thumb as he plunged deep inside her. Her hips bucked wildly, matching him thrust for thrust. Then he stiffened and cried out in his native language, letting her contracting muscles milk him.
Exhausted, Michelle slumped back into the bed. Her eyes closed and she felt Connor pull the comforter over them. She cuddled into his warmth and immediately descended into sleep. And dreamed. Very sweet dreams.
So many thoughts raced through Connor's mind that his head began to throb. He was unfamiliar with the emotion of love, but too exhausted to dwell on it. Instead, he pulled her closer to him and closed his eyes.
By the time he woke, the sun dipped low in the sky, the rays reaching through the blinds, making long, even stripes on the satin sheets.
Satin sheets.
Even his dreams weren't close enough. Michelle rose above him, looking like a caramel-colored sea goddess.
"You look so beautiful, so perfect. I want to hide you from the world."
She didn't answer, only smiled, her lips curving in a woman's smile of pleasure. She splayed her hand over his chest, her fingers kneading him. Slowly, her hips moved up and then down, embracing him with liquid fire. Her mouth trailed over him.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go. It was her turn now. He rolled her beneath him, taking her mouth in a gentle kiss. He thrust into her with quiet passion, gently as he had longed to do earlier, as she deserved.
He kissed her neck, then her breasts, watching her chest rise as her breathing grew labored. She whispered his name, a single sound separated from the rest of the noise outside. The air conditioner blew, a plane flew overhead, but he heard little except the rapid beat of her heart. Her head twisted, as if she was fighting, and Connor covered her mouth once more, thrust harder, deeper. He reached between them, found the place that brought her the ultimate pinnacle.
When she moaned, he found his release, and then pulled her close, watching her as her breathing slowed, as her eyes drifted shut in sleep. And even then, he held tight. He wasn't about to let her go. Not now.
A short time later, the doorbell rang exactly at seven. Michelle didn't stir. Quietly, Connor slipped from the sheets and went to the door and told the driver to go home. It wasn't exactly what he planned. Somehow, his plans always got off-track. He'd make it up to her. She deserved romance and candlelight.
He checked his watch. There was a corner store down the street. Maybe he could give her romance and candlelight after all.
Michelle reached out for Connor as she rolled over in bed. Empty. The she heard the music. Sade. A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. What was that about? She wrapped herself in her robe and wandered to the living room---she'd made her way into a very romantic setup. Candles were everywhere, flickering, bathing the room in a magical glow. He was sitting on her couch, sipping a glass of wine, casually, as if he'd done nothing at all. The room dimmed with the blur of her tears.
At the rustling sound of her robe, he turned and lifted a brow. As one song came to a close, he stood, walked over, and then took her hand. "May I have this dance?"
She didn't reply. Instead, she drifted into his arms. They whirled around the room with no sounds but the hiss of candles and the soft slide of satin on skin. One song turned into another, and before long, the music stopped.
She studied his face, so unbearably dear, so unbelievably handsome, and let the robe fall to the floor. At first, he didn't move, and instead, let his gaze linger long and slow, making her blush. He lifted his hand and trailed a gentle finger from her mouth, down the line of her throat, between her breast and lower.
"I owe you an apology," he murmured.
"For?"
He lifted her in his arms. "I should have done this at the start. Sometimes I'm a little slow."
"I'm starting to find that I like it when you're a little slow."
Gently, he lay her down on the couch. "Good," he murmured, his mouth cruising over her throat, and then her breasts, heavy with intent. She reached for the buttons on his shirt, but he grabbed her wrist and shook his head.
"This is for you."
Helpless to do much more, Michelle closed her eyes. His palms grazed her breasts and she arched upward to meet his touch. For long, torturous moments, he did nothing but lightly circle her nipples with wicked strokes of his fingers. She felt the moisture pool inside her, pulsing and throbbing.
He lowered his head, his mouth replacing his fingers, and she shoved her fingers in his hair, pulling him close. His tongue flicked against her skin, at first gentle, sensual, and then with more purpose. His mouth pulled her nipples in deeper, almost painful, and she cried out.
Michelle curled her toes, her thighs falling open, waiting for him to appease her. But he chose to ignore her pleading and instead, his mouth worked its way farther down, his tongue teasing against her belly.
"Oh, yes!"
His fingers stroked the inside of her thigh. High, but not high enough. He cupped her heat and she curled her hips into his hand, waiting to be filled.
But he had other plans. He slid his hands beneath her legs, opening her even wider. His mouth pleasured the inside of her thighs, licking the moisture coated between them. With each flick of his tongue, he moved closer, and she fisted her hands into the couch.
Incoherent pleas fell from her lips as she felt herself flying higher and higher. She bucked against him, her muscles clenching and unclenching.
Just a little more.
While his mouth continued its torment, he put his fingers inside her, touching her there. And that was all she needed.
The lights behind her eyes flashed brilliantly bright and she felt her muscles began to spasm. She cried out just as her senses exploded.
They didn't leave her apartment that weekend and on Sunday afternoon, they'd just finished lunch when she received the phone call. It was a retired office manager from Royal Cleaning Company returning Michelle's call. When Michelle hung up the phone, she was flushed with her success.
"Good news?" he asked, like he couldn't tell.
She sat down on the couch next to him, her hands automatically straightening the weekend paper.
"Great news. He knows where the old files are. I knew we'd get them, and now there's undisputable proof. We have to celebrate."
He bet she celebrated a lot. She worked so hard to achieve everything that she had. "What would you like to do?"
She pulled her hair back with one hand, her breasts lifting, reminding him that she wore no bra. "Dinner tonight at Aoki, champagne."
And Japanese Magnolias. Tonight he'd give her the Japanese Magnolias.
"I'll make the reservations." He started to rise from the couch, but she pushed him back.
"Not yet."
Her hazel eyes were full of purpose. He was coming to recognize that look. Connor might never have been the smartest in school, but he knew how to please a woman. Michelle pulled her tank top over her head and climbed into his lap. His hands found the places she wanted to be touched; his mouth kissed her in the exact right way. It wasn't everything he wanted to give her, but right now, it was all he had.
Without saying a word, he came to her, took her face between his hands, and lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was smooth and wet. She basked in its gentle warmth. But it wasn't enough. She needed more. So much more.
Michelle broke off the kiss, her hands sliding up his rock hard chest to clasp around his neck. "Make love to me," she said, her voice barely loud enough to be heard. He swept her up in his arms and carried her through the doors.
After they entered the room, Connor set her feet down on the floor and held her up as he suckled her breasts through the soft material of her camisole. She pressed against him, cupping her palm along the hard ridge outlined by his jeans. With a low groan, his mouth moved back to hers, this time kissing her with the same rough and savage passion as he did in her dreams.
She wanted him. Now.
Michelle tried to undo the metal clasp of his pants, her trembling fingers struggling with the unyielding material. He kept their mouths joined together while his hands shifted and released the fastener for her. She unzipped his fly, feeling the sound of pleasure he uttered against her lips when she dipped her hands into his briefs, stroking his velvet heat. He strained against her hand and her fingers curled around him, easily sliding up and down as she slicked the length of him with the drops of his own desire.
He took a step toward the bed, but she stopped him. The urgent need to have him inside her, right then, consumed her. "Now. Please. I want you inside me now." She sank down to the floor, pulling him with her so frantically that he stumbled a bit before righting himself and bracing his arms on either side of her. A soft, cool breeze blew over them through the open windows as her desperate hands shoved his pants down below his buttocks then yanked her pajama bottoms down her legs. It didn't take him long as he made the frantic motions to protect them.
As he came up over her, she flexed her hips against him. She clasped her palms on his lower back, tugging him to her. The burning throb between her legs intensified as he easily glided into her moist flesh.
It was almost more than she could bear. The need she felt for Connor was almost overwhelming. Then he began to make love to her. The smell, the touch, the taste of them blended and circulated through her senses until their differences blurred into obscurity. She cried out his name, feeling him stiffen and hesitate a moment before pulling back and sinking into her once more.
His hand slid up to caress her breast, lightly pinching the erect tip as he began a slow, rhythmic thrusting. When she tried to increase the pace, he held her hips. "Easy, now. I'll bring you there. Just let it happen."
Her nails lightly raked across his shoulders and he shuddered against her. "Please," she begged him, her breath coming in gasps. "I can't...stand it. I can't..."
"You can," his husky voice told her. "Because I won't stop." He drove into her again, filling her to the hilt. "Not until you come for me."
Her back arched off the floor as she climaxed, seized by rapture so great that her breath caught in her throat and her lips parted in a silent cry. His hands left her hips to cup her buttocks, tilting them and plunging deeper into her heat as he groaned with his own release. The spasms of pleasure seemed to go on forever and yet, not long enough.
He whispered something foreign, nibbling at her ear. She didn't have the strength left to ask him what it meant.
Her hands slid down from around his back to spread along the rigid muscles of his chest, her lips burrowing into the hard chords of his neck. A sense of well being settled over her as she lay in his arms, her heartbeat returning to normal. It was right to be here with him. Because---
Because she loved him.
She loved him.
Her breath caught in her throat as she realized it was true. She had been tossed irrevocably, inconceivably in love with a man she hardly knew. And why? Because he saw her unruly dark hair as shining silk? Because he could bring her to orgasm? A banners flying, rockets shooting, I-could-die-right-now-because-I've-experienced-an-epiphany kind of climax. With Connor it wasn't just a pleasurable melding of bodies. It was something more, something she couldn't even put into words if someone were to ask her. As if her love for him had always been there, dormant inside her and waiting to be released the moment he entered her life. That's what was so frightening. She'd never felt this way about anyone. Connor held the power to wound her down to the very depths of her soul.
Monday morning came way too soon. Connor had the alarm set for 4:00 a.m. He had to make it home, shower, and get into work. Michelle was still fast asleep. He watched her sleep, the city lights keeping the room from darkness, even at this hour.
She loved him. He hadn't brought it up again. He was too afraid she would change her mind. He gathered up his clothes and started to dress. He still didn't understand it all. There was one big question that lurked in the back of his mind. What now?
She was going to help win Luis's case for him, go out and take the world by storm. And what was wrong with him? Why couldn't he be proud? Why couldn't he get past the fact that second place was really okay?
After all, he'd been in second place most of his life. So much so that most people were often shocked to find out he was Theodore's older brother. He pulled on his shoes with more force than necessary and started to walk out the door. Michelle rolled in the satin sheets and his heart clenched.
He loved her.
He leaned down over the bed, brushed the hair away from her face. He pressed a gentle kiss against her check and then walked out the door.
Michelle made it into to work at 10:15 a.m....10:15 a.m. Two hours and fifteen minutes later than Sigsmond. It was going to be the talk of the office. She just knew it. Nobody said anything, though, and she was somewhat shocked---and disappointed---that no one had noticed.
On the other hand, she was glad no one noticed. Then she might have to experience the awkwardness of explaining why she was late. She'd looked through her apartment for a note from Connor, but couldn't find anything. Oh well. He'd call. By noon, she'd heard nothing. It was still early. By 4:30, she was ready to cry. Thankfully, Julia was nearby, adorned with a Mickey Mouse emblem hanging from her neck.
"Julia, do you know a place to get a drink around here?"
Julia looked up from her desk. "Well, Bocca's is just around the corner, and there's always Killarney's. Are you looking for someplace upscale or a little rowdy?"
"Rowdy." She couldn't handle upscale today.
"Killarney's is the place. They have the best drinks. They also have a pretty hot bartender. His name is Daragh, and he wants to be an actor. Oh my word. He is to die for." Julia fanned herself. "Oh, but I bet you're taking your new boyfriend. Mr. Connor Sakuma. Probably wouldn't be the best choice."
"No, I'm going alone. Unless you would like to join me?" she asked hopefully.
Julia saw through her facade. "Oh, no. He's done it, hasn't he? He broke your heart. Look at you. I'm sorry."
"He didn't call today." She felt pitiful and needy, but after the weekend they'd shared together, surely...
"Oh, it's even worse than I thought." Julia made a sympathetic sound.
"I thought he'd at least leave a note."
"They just get so wrapped up in themselves, they forget that we need a little reassurance."
"I told him I love him."
Julia's expression became one full of sympathy. "Oh, sweetie. You've been hurt, but you can't let this get you down, you know what I mean? It's that time of year. You've got basketball, arena league football is starting up, and soon, baseball. And what woman can compete with sports?"
Julia's attempt to ease the situation didn't work. This uncertainty was new to Michelle, and she felt tears in her eyes. "I don't even know if he likes sports."
Julia took her by the arm. "Come on, sweetie. You're new to this entire thing. Let me tell you how it really is."
Killarney's was packed. The air was heavy with the sounds of laughter, conversation, and smoke. Every thirty minutes, Michelle excused herself to go to the bathroom. She didn't think Julia bought into it after the third time, but she checked her voicemail faithfully.
"You have zero new messages."
What had she done wrong?
She made her way through the crowds back to their table. "I want to call Connor."
Julia slapped her hand over Michelle's. "No. Give me your cell phone."
Michelle hesitated.
"Right now. It's for your own good."
Julia looked at the caller ID. "Dr. Sakuma." She pushed the talk button. "Hello, Dr. Sakuma. Yes, Michelle is right here. Would you like to speak with her? No, I'm her personal assistant, dating coach, advice giver, and drinking confidant." She covered the mouthpiece. "It's for you, sweetie. The doctor."
Michelle took the phone "Theodore?"
"Michelle, have you seen Connor? I was supposed to meet him for a night out on the town, but he seems to have been detained."
She had hoped he knew. Hoped he had some message for her. Pitiful. "No, I don't know where he is."
"Are you all right, Michelle? Your voice sounds rather faint."
"It's just the noise in the bar, Theodore. I'll try and speak up."
"It's quite all right. If you see Connor, tell him that I'm waiting."
The phone clicked, and Michelle closed her phone. She was a logical person. She tried to create rational reasons for his behavior. She did it all the time.
"He is supposed to meet Theodore tonight. Maybe that's why he didn't say anything. Maybe he knew he had plans and couldn't see me."
"Oh, sweetie. A woman has to see the truth as it exists."
"I think I'm going to cry."
"Go ahead, honey. I'll get you a sex on the beach. It'll make you feel better."
For the first time in his thirty-seven years, Connor was looking forward to hanging out with his brother. But, they had two extra parties come into the restaurant, and he was running behind schedule.
Finally, he met up with him, Theodore looking totally out of place wearing a suit and tie at Black Cayman. Connor slid into a chair, beer in hand. "Hey, little brother."
"Hello. You're late."
"Got tied up at work. Sorry. You're more crabby than usual."
"I'm sorry. I had a little girl who fell out of a shopping cart and knocked out a few teeth. She's going to be fine though."
Oh. Connor clenched his hands, then slid his beer across the table. "Here, you need this more than I do. I really am sorry."
"I spoke to Michelle."
Connor looked at Theodore. What did that mean? "Oh? She called you?"
"No, I called her. I was looking for you."
"I was at the restaurant," he answered casually, anxious to hear how she was.
"I thought the two of you would be together."
"No. She has a life of her own. A very busy one."
"Is everything okay, Connor?"
"Of course! Why do you ask?"
"You're being more of an idiot than usual. You have a wonderful woman with a prominent career who obviously cares for you. What could be wrong?"
"Yeah, Michelle is perfect, isn't she?"
Theodore studied a lady across the bar. When she smiled at him, he smiled in return. Then he turned his attention back to Connor. "What's the real issue?"
Theodore would never understand. "You know, Theodore, I never thought I'd meet someone more successful than you, but I think Michelle even has you beat in the accomplished department." He tried to make light of his dilemma.
Theodore arched a brow, looking completely unfazed. "Is that an issue?"
"Well, yeah."
"Why?" Theodore assumed his typical inquisitive persona.
"I think I should buy a new vehicle. Maybe a Japanese import like yours, but not yours. It'd be more reliable that what I currently drive."
"You don't need a new car, Connor."
"What? Everyone can have a new car except me?"
Theodore exhaled heavily. "No. All I'm saying is that you don't have a real need for a new car. Is that why you have been working all the extra hours? You can't finance it like the rest of the world, you have to pay cash?"
"No. However, it will have to be something reasonable. I have culinary school that I am paying for and trying not to put myself into too much debt. I have also been thinking of moving to another part of town."
"School, I can understand. However, a new apartment? I thought you were happy with the one you are currently in. If I had known you weren't, I would have helped you move a long time ago."
"I can't see you hauling boxes, little brother."
"Of course not. That's what movers are for." Theodore took a sip of beer. "Why all of these changes now. Is this because of Michelle?"
"Some. Truth be told, I'd always figured that I'd get married some day. Live a simple, quiet life somewhere."
Theodore rolled his eyes.
"Well, you know what I'm saying here. You're a tough act to follow, Theo, so I didn't even try because I can't, and I was born first. Unfortunately, it is even worse with Michelle. Now I want to try."
"Interesting. Is your male ego so fragile that you can't deal with the thought of a woman being more successful?"
It sounds really pitiful when put that way. "Maybe."
"Connor, she loved you for who you are."
And who was that? Connor, the philanderer, Connor the incredible lover, or Connor the wannabe executive chef? He truly doubted it was Connor the philanderer that was the man of her dreams.
"You really think she loves me?"
"You're my brother, aren't you? Why wouldn't she?" After a lengthy silence from Connor, Theodore leaned forward. "What? No sarcastic remark?"
Connor shook his head, knowing exactly what his younger brother was trying to do, and it was working. "Want to shoot some pool?"
"Depends on whether you are buying the beer this time?"
Already, Connor felt better. Michelle loved him. That's what was important. He smiled. "Yeah. Tonight's beer is on me."
"Then I'd be happy to."
It was almost closing time at Killarney's and the place was still crowded. Michelle was on her fourth drink and she was going to be sick. Julia looked fine, all five of her.
"You know, Dr. Phil had an entire miniseries on why guys run. Supposedly it's some survival instinct when they feel threatened. I, myself, have another theory."
"What's that?" Michelle focused on the spinning Julia's, but the world started to tilt.
"I need to get you home."
Sometime in the middle of the night, Michelle became aware of another presence in her apartment.
"Michelle? It's Connor."
"You jerk. You stinking jerk. I can't believe that you---" Her stomach started to heave. "Oh no...I'm going to be sick." She raced toward the bathroom. The toilet wavered in front of her, all three of them. "Connor. Help."
A cool towel brushed against her forehead and another against the back of her neck. "It's okay, love."
"No, it's not." She emptied the contents of her stomach into the bowl, and she felt a soft hand on her hair.
"Don't leave me, Connor."
"I'll be right here. I promise."
The next morning, Michelle's alarm sounded off too early, just like every day. Only today it hurt. She took a shower, and got dressed, cursing anything that contained alcohol, including her eye makeup remover. When she entered the living room, she stopped. There was Connor, asleep on her couch.
So it hadn't been a dream. He had really shown up. Late, no note, no call, but still here. Then she realized all her anger had faded away. She smiled until her head started to throb again and then steadied herself against a chair. Mercifully, she made it to the kitchen and grabbed the ginger ale and crackers. It wasn't Connor's ham, tomato, and Swiss cheese quiche, but then she didn't think she could stomach that this morning. She sat down next to him, just watching him sleep for a while.
He looked so relaxed. So content. He'd been that way when she first proposed the big plan. Lately, though, he'd been anxious and tense. Just like the millions of other people who worked too hard.
She wrote him a quick note and then walked out the door.
Connor kept up a routine of sorts. He'd show up every night at Michelle's, not too early, not too late. They'd make love, and then early in the morning, someone would sneak out first. He increased his hours, took some more double shifts. Lots of things were not discussed. Conversation stayed on innocent subjects---art, the pending settlement in Luis's case. At some point, they would have to talk about the important things, but for now, Connor spent most of his waking hours at work. Which was good, because the less he thought of Michelle's turbo-charged success, the better he felt.
By late June, Connor had become quite efficient at dodging serious conversations with Michelle. But that didn't stop Theodore. Connor met up with him at Black Cayman. Theodore was becoming a regular. He seemed to really enjoy it. Connor barely had time to eat nowadays, but tonight was Theodore's birthday.
"I haven't seen Michelle lately. Why don't we all go out to dinner?"
Connor reached for a handful of peanuts. He'd worked through lunch and he was starving. "Can't. I have to work."
Theodore looked around the bar, the healthy sign of a man checking out the prospects. "Why?"
"I'm thinking of taking Michelle to the Bahamas. I think it would be good for her to get away for a vacation."
Theodore didn't even scoff at the idea. "How is school going?"
That, he loved. For several hours a week, he could work at bettering himself. Achieving his dream of becoming an executive chef. These days it seemed like that was the only time he felt on top of the world. And he knew that wasn't right. It wasn't the way it was supposed to be. "Very well. I should be able to finish by the end of next year."
"You are doing really well."
"Yeah, it's time I grew up." Connor's hand drummed on the table as he searched for the waitress. "I can't wait for all of this to pan out. You think I'll make a good executive chef?"
"Did Michelle ask you to do this?"
He really needed something to drink. "No, but I'm getting kind of tired of working as a sous chef. Don't get me wrong. I love what I do, but it is getting old and I want to advance. I want to do something new."
"You're very determined to make this work, aren't you?"
He was going to make it work, no matter what. If he kept repeating that to himself, maybe it would all work out. But most days, he worried because he just couldn't keep up with her.
Finally, the waitress appeared. Connor ordered a cup of coffee and smiled. "I learned it from you, little brother."
On August 18, at exactly 11:26 a.m., Michelle received the news that Luis Garcia signed the settlement papers. He'd be set for life. Royal Cleaning Company would also contact all of the other companies who used their products during the time that the product was found to be harmful, and the rest of the Luis Garcias of the world would finally see justice.
By 3:15 p.m., Michelle's entire office was happily ensconced in the bar at the Moorpark Hotel. Sigsmond propose a toast, with an arousing round of "hear, hear" echoing all around. For Michelle, it was a nice victory---she just wished Connor has been able to make it.
Once the congratulations had quieted down, Sigsmond pulled Michelle aside. This was it. She adjusted her blazer, and wished she'd worn something a little more professional than the royal blue suit.
"Michelle, you know you've been considered for a promotion for some time."
Oh, boy, here it comes. Michelle smiled. "Yes, sir. You informed me of that a while back."
"Well, this case has far exceeded our expectations---while it is being kept quiet for now, the potential publicity we'll receive is going to be tremendous. We all know this case would not have come to light if it hadn't been for you. I need someone like you working by my side for a long time to come. The Assistant Deputy Director position is yours if you'd like it."
Assistant Deputy Director. Just what she'd waited to hear for so long. She waited for the thrill of accomplishment, the surge of satisfaction she'd feel from being offered the promotion. After feeling nothing, she waited a little longer, sure that a wave of happiness was going to overwhelm her at any moment.
No wave. No nothing.
"Now, of course, you'll have more responsibility around the office and you will do less field work, but we will ease you into everything."
It all sounded extremely exciting, but Michelle had one thing on her mind. "Mr. Sigsmond, may I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"It's about my schedule. I don't know that I can put in any more time." As it was, she didn't spend enough time with Connor. She wasn't willing to give up any more.
"I've been meaning to talk to you about that. I've seen too many of the employees suffering from burnout, and I don't want to see that happen to you. You've been carrying a huge caseload, Michelle. I've already talked to the higher ups and we'll be hiring several new labor liaisons and personal assistants. Of course, one of them will be assigned to you. It will mean a lot less hours for you."
Fewer hours. She couldn't believe it. He actually wanted her to work less. But she wasn't willing to gamble with Connor.
"Are you sure?"
He nodded.
She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck, but that wouldn't be appropriate in the least. Instead, she shook his hand until he got embarrassed and cleared his throat and she realized what she was doing.
"In that case, you have a deal."
"Great! Come by my office first thing Monday morning and we'll complete the paperwork to make it official."
"Okay."
Michelle couldn't stop grinning as her boss walked away. Assistant Deputy Director," she said to herself, testing the title out on her tongue.
When she turned around, there was Connor.
And now, the day was perfect.
It was after dark before they made it home. Connor picked up some roses on the way. It seemed fitting for the occasion. After all, it wasn't every day that his girl received a promotion.
In her apartment, she walked in with a confident swagger. "Can you believe it?"
"I didn't doubt it for a moment," he said, which was absolutely the truth. Whatever she put her mind to, she did. Whatever she wanted, she worked until she got it. And all that seemed to make her happy.
It was the happy part that he didn't get.
"I couldn't have done this without you," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"I'm positive that I didn't have anything to do with this."
"No, I'm serious. Do you know how much I love you?"
"Why don't you show me?" he asked, slipping easily into his incredible lover persona.
She made love to him the way that she did everything else. Perfectly. When he was inside her, he forgot that he wasn't happy being anything but a sous chef. He forgot that he didn't want to be perfect. He forgot everything but her.
It was a long while later, when she was drifting off to sleep, that he brushed a kiss against her hair. He whispered a quiet, "I love you" in her ear, and this time, he wrote a short note for her to find.
I love you, but I don't think we should be together anymore. I'm sorry, I really did try. I wanted us to work out. For you, I would have done anything. But I still don't think it would ever have been enough.
It wasn't easy, but Connor had been kidding himself. He couldn't complete with her. It was beyond irrational for him to even try. He twisted and angled to turn himself into something that he wasn't, and tonight, as she stood there glowing with all her success, he realized there was absolutely nothing more he could do.
He didn't want to hurt her, but the man she was in love with wasn't him. She'd figure that out soon enough and then where would they be? Once again, he'd be Connor the disappointment.
He was out of options.
He left a rose on top of the note and took one last look. The light from the moon shone on her satin sheets, as if even the beams adorned her. His heart crumbled in his chest. Time to go. And so he left, leaving her behind.
Michelle woke and reached out for Connor. Empty. She inhaled deeply, waiting for the aroma of breakfast to tickle her nose. Nothing. Well, once again, this didn't look good. Frowning, she crawled out of bed and wandered into the living room and the kitchen. Nothing.
She walked back into the bedroom and then she saw the note. As she read, her smile faded. She sank back onto the bed and curled into a ball. Several hours passed before she was able to make it to the phone.
She dialed the one person in the world who had never let her down. "Hi, Dad. It's Michelle. Guess what? I have some good news and some bad new..."
That was all she managed to get out before she started to cry.
The next day, she was ready to confront him. He had said he loved her. They could do anything if they loved each other. Love conquered all. A thousand other clichéd phrases raced around her brain. When she knocked on his door, she had her speech all ready.
Connor opened the door. "Hey."
One simple word of greeting and her prepared speech suddenly didn't feel right. "Hey."
They both went inside, and he inclined his head toward the couch. Quietly, she sat. It was the first time she'd been back to his apartment since the night they'd watched the movie. It felt like a lifetime ago.
She tried to smile at him, but he watched her with such a solemn look in his eyes that she couldn't. "Don't you think you should have brought up your concerns about this to me?"
Connor hunched down in his chair. He looked so exhausted. "It's my issue. I thought I could fix it. I was wrong."
"And what exactly is the issue?"
He was silent for several long moments, and finally, he spoke. "I should be happy for you. I want to be happy for you. But I can't. I can't keep up with you and it's tearing me apart."
"This isn't a competition between the two of us, Connor."
Today, his eyes didn't shine with happiness at all. Instead, they were dull with sadness.
"I never competed with Theodore. It took me some time to realize that it was okay for me to be content with the little piece of life that I was happy with. I knew what I was good at. I focused all of my energy toward that, but then I met you. I wanted to be more for you."
She scooted forward, willing him to understand. "You don't have to do that. Not for me. I love you the way you are, Connor." The pain in his eyes brought tears to her own.
"Do you? What if some other guy comes along? Maybe he's a little more successful than me. A doctor. A lawyer. Do I get compared to him?"
"There is only one of you, Connor. I can't compare you to anyone."
"But I do." He rubbed the heel of his hand against his head. "I'm so sorry about this. I didn't want to hurt you. I thought we could keep things simple."
"You were wrong."
"I can't say that's anything new."
"Can't you just go back to the way you were?"
"Yeah, sure. For a while. But insecurity combined with jealousy is not a good thing. It comes back around just when you least expect it."
She'd never had a case she couldn't figure out. Never a challenge she wasn't up for. And sitting across from him was the biggest challenge she'd ever come up against, a man that she was in love with. And she couldn't do a thing about it. "I love you."
His expression lightened a little. "I love you, too. I didn't want to tell you. At first, I was scared. And then later, I realized why women of your caliber don't marry men of mine."
There was one thing she could do. "What if I gave it up? I don't have to accept the promotion."
He stood and began to pace around the room. "Michelle, don't do that."
"You mean more to me that getting a promotion."
Connor started to laugh. "This is exactly what I didn't want. Now you're going to start turning down every good thing in your life just so I can feel better about myself."
"I don't want to not have you in my life."
"I want you in my life, too. But, Michelle, I want to be happy for you. I want to celebrate with you when you take on the world, and I can't do that. I thought I could accelerate the plan to become an executive chef and everything would be fine, but you know what? All I've done is make myself miserable."
"This is it, isn't it?"
"I think so."
She stood, not wanting to cry. "Goodbye, Connor."
He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked her to the door. She wanted to touch him. One last kiss, one last embrace. But he had put up barriers that she couldn't penetrate. As he closed the door behind her, she heard him say, "I really do love you, Michelle, and I wish I could have made it work."
Michelle returned to her old routine. She got up every morning on time. When she couldn't sleep, she'd work on her computer at home. She was the new pride and joy in her division.
Now she didn't care.
Her nails were perfectly manicured---all ten of them. Her desk was spotless, perfectly organized. She found comfort in order.
Although there were things she allowed. She kept her apartment sunshine yellow. Someday, she would change it, but for now, sunshine yellow suited her.
She liked reading romance novels. She could hear Connor's voice reading to her. Sometimes, it made her cry, but eventually, the tears dried up.
September went by in a haze. Connor still worked the extra hours. At first, he had cut back, wanted to go back to his old ways, his old contentment, but after two weeks, he realized that wasn't going to happen. Work made it easier to get through the days, but the nights were pretty much hell.
Late one night, he rounded the corner to his apartment building and spotted Luis and Anthony sitting on the stoop.
"Good evening, Connor!" Luis was wearing a tacky jacket and holding an unlit cigar in his hand.
"Nice jacket."
Luis beamed. "Why thank you, my good man."
"You're pretty hopped up this evening," Connor retorted, reaching into his pocket for his keys.
"I received my first settlement check today. I've been thinking about moving. Perhaps a home in Santa Monica."
"I hear it's nice."
Anthony snorted. "Only if you like those snobbish types."
Luis twirled his cigar in the air. "I owe this all to Michelle, Connor. Where has she been? She's a real tough lady, you know."
Connor wasn't going to answer the first question, so he forced a smile. "Yes, she is."
A few days later, he met Theodore at his office before they went for dinner.
"Connor, you're turning into a hermit."
"Thanks for noticing."
"Now see, that's just what I mean. You have to get over her."
Connor shot him a look. "And you're the expert right?"
"I've moved on."
Connor wondered sometimes. "Have you?"
"Of course I have, but long time habits are hard to break."
"Well, I'm going to move on, too. I'll find someone new, settle down, maybe take up painting."
Theodore shook his head. "I have to say that's the biggest pile of---" His cell phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket. "Yes, Mother... Certainly. I have it in my car... Well, I guess so, but I'm going out with Connor... Yes, we're having dinner together... Yes, yes. Understand. We'll be right there." He put the phone back into his pocket. "She wants me to bring by the new candles for the new Feng Shui thing she has gotten into. Supposedly, these are quite hard to come by."
Connor was intrigued. "Do I need to come with you?"
"She said she hasn't seen you in ages."
He looked straight ahead. Seeing his mother didn't make him nervous any more. He'd been through worse and was still alive. Now he was just numb. "Let's get this over with then."
The house was the same. Mother was the same.
"Connor Sakuma!"
"Hi, Mom." He hugged her, a little tighter than usual.
"How have you been? Come sit down."
She led the way to the family room. "You look as though you have lost weight? Would you like something to drink?"
"No thanks." He surveyed the room; it hadn't changed much in the past years. Oh, maybe there were a few new pictures of Theodore on the shrine. He walked over and started to count. Theodore fishing. Theodore's graduation. Theodore...
And then, some new ones.
Of Connor.
Connor at the park. Connor in Michelle's apartment. Connor at Gilroy's Garden. He was smiling, all happy. Love did that to a person. It seemed like a lifetime ago, and it'd only been two months. Somewhere along the way, he had lost his life and Michelle as well. "Mom!"
"I'm right here, son. You don't have to yell."
He stared at himself at Gilroy's Garden. He'd been looking at her when the photographer shot the picture. It was frightening to see so much love in his eyes. "Where did you get these?"
His mom moved to stand next to him. "Can't you guess? From Michelle. She is such a sweet girl."
Michelle must have cleaned off her shelves after the big split. One final, painful reminder that they had no future.
"When did you see her last?"
"Oh, it's been ages now. She brought these over shortly after you two started seeing each other."
His mom had to be wrong. Michelle wouldn't have brought them over here then. "Are you certain it wasn't more recent than that?"
"Well, of course I'm certain. I had to buy picture hangers because we were all out, and then as I was getting ready to pay, I ran into Iris Skirich, and her daughter-in-law was with her. She looked ready to deliver the baby that day. She was so pregnant, and little Gillian is...well, she must be about three months old by now. It was late May, early June, I'm positive."
He looked up at the wall. There he was. Right next to Theodore. Never second place. Not with Michelle. "Are you certain?"
"Of course I am. Your father is the one that has the bad memory. Not me."
He chuckled as his heart filled with hope. Michelle had done that for him. He really had messed up. Maybe it wasn't too late.
"I love you, Mom." He hugged her and kissed her on the cheek.
"I love you, too, Connor." She followed him to the door. "Where are you going?"
"I have something I have to do."
"Well, okay. Just make sure you eat something. You're looking much too thin."
Michelle stared at her computer, finishing up the last of her notes on an investigation review. She glanced up at the clock---11:00 p.m. She hated the nights alone worst of all.
An insistent knock sounded on her door. The person on the other side sounded as if they had an emergency. Quickly, she went to the door and looked out the peephole, hoping no one was hurt.
"Michelle. Let me in."
The sound of his voice made her tremble. "Connor?"
"Please."
She needed to be strong. "Why?"
"Michelle, we need to talk."
She leaned her head wearily against the door. "I don't think I want to see you."
"It's important." He sounded so urgent.
That just made her angry. "So important that it's taken you over a month to think of it?"
"No, Michelle." There was a long pause. "Michelle?"
"What?"
"I need to talk to you. I love you."
"That's not fair, Connor."
"Will you let me in? Please?"
She removed the security chain off the door, absolutely refusing to get her hopes up. He burst through the door as soon as she unlocked it. "What's going on, Connor? Why are you here?"
He motioned for her to sit down on the couch, his eyes animated. "To talk to you."
"Go on then."
"I think we should try again."
Michelle couldn't control the wild increase of her heartbeat. However, she was wiser now. "And with our successful track record, why do you think this time around will be better?" She closed her eyes. Praying for strength.
"I finally figured it out."
That opened her eyes. "What?"
He started to pace around the room. As if there was a restless energy forcing him to move.
"Michelle, when I grew up, my parents measured a man by how much he made, how successful he was. A lot of people do that, me included. I figured you'd see me as second best and I couldn't understand how you, who have your life so together, at your age, could ever be happy with someone like me, who at my age, doesn't. For you, I wanted to be the best." He knelt in front of her. "I owe you a major apology. You're not like that."
Hope was a marvelous thing, and she shook her head. "No, I'm not. You could have just asked me that."
He took her hand. "I wouldn't have believed you."
"And you would believe it now?" she asked carefully.
When he smiled up at her, she already knew the answer. For the first time in his life, Connor Sakuma believed in himself.
"Yes. Michelle?"
The lump in her throat prevented her from speaking. She nodded.
"Will you marry me? I can't live without you."
"You're certain about this?"
He looked so serious, so earnest, so in love. "Yes."
It had been so long since she had touched him. She got down on the floor next to him. "Good."
"It's not going to be easy." He lowered his head.
"I know," she answered, scooting closer.
"There will have to be a few compromises." He kissed her neck. "And sacrifices." He parted her robe.
She buried her hand in his hair while his lips played on her skin. "And negotiations."
He eased her down to the carpet. "Second thing we do is repaint all the walls."
"What is the first?"
His laugh was low and sultry. "Let me show you."
The End
About the Author
Stephanie Morris resides in Fort Worth, Texas. In her spare time, she enjoys reading, traveling, dancing, cooking, and spending time with her friends and family. In Stephanie's opinion, there is nothing like curling up with a good book that you can't put down, and she is addicted to writing them. Stephanie can be contacted through her website http://www.stephaniemorris.webs.com/ or via email at authorstephaniemorris@gmail.com.

