Jingle Bell: Rock Part 25

The Westin added credibility somehow. It was big and anonymous, and enough holiday functions would be going on this time of year that if they b.u.mped into anyone they knew, they could easily have an innocent reason for being there.

He might have blown the whole thing off as undoubtedly a sick joke, except if he were planning a s.e.xual a.s.signation and he wanted to keep it a secret, he'd have picked one of the big hotels, too.

He could drive right past and spend the evening in a dozen different places, but he already knew he was going to the Westin. The decision had been made the minute he saw the key card and her dare.

A man didn't get to be a top salesman without taking risks. And the payoff on this one could be huge. h.e.l.l, he'd sleep with Tara Ellison simply to get her to lighten up on his expense reports.

He'd have s.e.x with her to see what her face looked like when it wasn't glaring at him.

He grinned to himself. He'd make love with her because she'd surprised the h.e.l.l out of him. He liked that.

Deciding he wouldn't look any more foolish showing up with wine and flowers, he stopped on his way and bought a couple of dozen red roses and a chilled bottle of vintage Dom Perignon.

After all, he figured that going from trading insults to trading body fluids in the s.p.a.ce of twelve hours deserved some kind of celebration.

He entered the hotel lobby and did his best to keep his head down. He didn't remotely want to b.u.mp into anybody he knew. He didn't think he could fake a conversation right now, or explain the wine and flowers. All his energies were focused on what he hoped was awaiting him behind the door of the hotel room his key card unlocked.

His pulse pounded uncomfortably fast. He was antic.i.p.ating this so keenly it was almost painful. When had he begun wanting Tara so badly? And how come he'd never known it before today?

The elevator carried him skyward with quiet efficiency, and then he was there. In a tastefully decorated impersonal corridor walking to... what?

He left the key card in his pocket and knocked, sliding the flowers and champagne behind his back. If there was a hen party going in there, all ready to burst out laughing at his expense, he didn't want to give them any more ammunition.

A few tense seconds pa.s.sed. Then he heard her voice, soft and low. "Who is it?"

For a second he wondered if she was thinking he might have brought a posse of yahoos with him, and he grinned. "It's Daniel."

The door opened and he stepped inside.

He knew immediately that this wasn't a sorority gag, but the real thing.

Music played softly, the lights were dim, and Tara, the woman he'd only ever seen in business attire, with a snarky att.i.tude wrapped around her like a cloak, was standing in front of him in a robe.

Not a terry towel hotel robe, but obviously her own. It was soft, dusky rose and shimmered when the light hit it.

l.u.s.t shot through him.

Even though the robe covered her from chest to midcalf, he'd bet all next year's commissions that she was naked underneath.

He became aware of a stinging pain in his right palm and abruptly realized that as l.u.s.t had gripped him, he in turn had gripped the rose stems so they bit him through the florist's cellophane wrapping.

Glad now he'd brought them, just to give him something to do in this awkward first moment, he pulled them from behind his back.

"For you."

"Flowers, how beautiful." She reached for them and it occurred to him that this was the first nice exchange they'd ever shared.

Instead of letting go when her hand closed around the wrapping, just below his, he brought his other hand from behind his back. "And champagne."

Her lips tilted in a smile. Was she thinking he didn't show much imagination? Probably. He didn't care. He used his imagination where it counted, as she was going to find out in the next few hours.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," she said. How had he never noticed before how soft and husky her voice was? Her hair was glossy as though she'd just brushed it and she smelled good, spicy and floral at the same time.

"I haven't turned down a dare since David Wilkerson bet me his Hot Wheels set I couldn't Rollerblade backward down the hill behind our house."

"Did you end up with his Hot Wheels?" She was gazing around the room, the flowers still clutched in her hand, and he realized she was looking for something to put them in.

With a shrug she picked up the ice bucket and headed for the bathroom.

"I ended up with a broken arm," he said to her back. Nice back. Filled out a silk kimono just right.

While she put water in the ice bucket and arranged the flowers, he crossed to the minibar and found a couple of winegla.s.ses. He wondered how they were going to pull this off. Being polite to each other was a new experience and a pall of awkwardness cloaked the proceedings.

Well, he figured a woman wearing a silk robe intended to be eased out of it. He'd give them each the time it took to drink a gla.s.s of champagne and then he'd oblige her.

Truth was, he'd never received a present that he wanted to unwrap as much as his surprising secret Santa gift. He eased the cork out of the bottle so it hiccupped rather than popped, and poured.

Tara was going to book herself into therapy first thing tomorrow. What had she been thinking?

All these months she'd sensed a potent animal attraction between them, but now Daniel was here in a hotel room with her, she had to wonder if she'd simply confused the crackle of anger with the sizzle of l.u.s.t.

Now that they weren't exchanging insults, she didn't want to jump him. She wanted to transport herself to her own living room couch, with a cup of hot chocolate, her fuzzy bunny slippers and a chick flick in the DVD.

Instead, through her impetuous temper, she'd trapped them both into this horribly embarra.s.sing situation.

She should have demanded an apology when she overheard his crude words. That's what the sane woman would have done, but she'd blurted out that crazy dare, and then had been so intrigued by the idea she'd followed it through. All the way here.

They sat by the window in the two armchairs flanking a rectangular table in some kind of dark wood. The roses graced the table. She'd offered to turf them so he could put the champagne on ice, but he'd tossed out all the soda from the minibar and managed to wedge the champagne bottle in there.

By craning her neck over her shoulder, she could look out the window at the lights of Seattle and the dark smudge of Puget Sound. If she sat normally, her view was of the king-size bed that dominated the room.

She sipped, wondering if politeness would take all the sizzle out of their relationship. Wondering if she should go ahead and admit this had been a stupid idea and let them both off the hook.

She sipped again, and took the time to savor the taste of champagne. Her favorite. Her gaze moved to the roses, looking elegant but casual in their ice-bucket vase. "You shouldn't have spent all that money," she said.

"Don't worry. I plan to sneak it into my expense account. Under miscellaneous."

Her ire sparked instantly, making her blood crackle like the champagne. She jerked her gaze to his, ready to really let him have it, then caught his expression and realized he was teasing. "Don't even think about it," she said, trying not to smile.

"What about the hotel room? I could put it on my corporate card. We get a special rate."

Impossible to believe that he was joking about the subject that usually had them at each other's throats.

She laughed, feeling a little of that sizzle make its way to her erogenous zones.

Then her laugh died in her throat.

Daniel rose and stepped in front of her. Frozen, she watched as though from outside her body as he reached for her drink, took it from her and placed it on the table. Then he took her hands and drew her to her feet.

His hands were warm and sure while hers suddenly felt cold and shaky.

O. This was probably a terrible idea. If s.e.x with Daniel was a monumental disaster and then she had to face him every day-well, this had been her ill-advised idea. She'd have to go get another job, that's all.

Daniel didn't seem to be sharing her doubts. He looked supremely confident. Keeping his gaze on hers, he let his fingertips travel over her palms to the soft, sensitive skin of her inner wrists under her silk robe. It was just a whisper of a touch, with both of them still clothed, yet it felt intimate and shiveringly arousing.

His lips came closer, brushed hers slowly, and, as her eyes fluttered closed, she knew monumental disaster was not going to be an issue.

Chapter Three.

He deepened the kiss and she felt as though she had to hang on to him or risk slipping bonelessly to the pale green carpet.

Leaving her mouth, he kissed her jaw, found the sweet spot just behind her ear and made her gasp when he flicked his tongue, then kissed his way down her throat.

"You smell good," he said, his words rumbling against her skin.

She'd arrived at five-thirty, making sure she had time to bathe, pluck, shave, buff and scent herself. She didn't consider herself any more vain than the next woman, but she'd also dimmed the lights near the bed, so as to show herself-if it came to that-in the most flattering light.

"It's my body lotion." She sighed, tipping her chin to give him greater access, wondering how she'd ever exchanged an angry word with a man who could do this with his mouth. "It's imported from France."

Well, in the most intelligent remarks of her life, that one was going to go down as a list topper. While his mouth was busy with her throat, his hands moved slowly up her arms to her shoulders, then traced the V of her silk gown.

Her skin seemed to pulse with warmth where he touched her. He didn't pull the lapels apart but seemed content to discover her body's contours by touch rather than sight.

Fine by her.

His fingers traced the opening of her robe to where it crossed, and continued to the loose knot at her waist. Instead of undoing the sash, he took his hands back up her sides and feathered them across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She could barely keep still. The feel of silk sliding against her naked skin and the warmth of his hands through the fabric drove her crazy.

A quiet humming sound came from her throat as she played her hands over his shoulders, feeling muscle and bone. His neck was athletic and ropy, his hair thick and luscious when her fingers plunged into it.

But it was his mouth that most surprised and excited her. Based on what his kisses were doing to her, she couldn't wait to get on with the evening's program.

She could be naked at the pull of a sash, but he was still far too clothed.

Running her hands down his back, she took a moment to appreciate the fine wool of his shirt and the musculature of his back. Soon her hands were burrowing beneath to feel his skin.

No good. Needed more. She reached for his shirt hem again, to find him there before her, his own hands divesting himself of the shirt at top speed.

"I don't think I can take this slowly," he panted as he tossed the obviously expensive shirt to the floor. "I wanted to, but I can't."

"Me neither," she admitted.

He stepped back to give himself some room and went to work on his buckle.

With fire raging in her own body, Tara put a hand to her robe's silk tie.

"No!" He stopped her with a ragged half-shout "I want to do that. I've been thinking about it since I got in here. You're part of my Christmas present and I want to unwrap you myself."

Since he'd just dragged his pants and briefs down in one jerky motion, and her gaze had eagerly followed the movement, her mouth was currently too dry to speak.

She was getting an inkling of where his legendary reputation with women originated.

Oh, my.

She didn't remember seeing him take off his shoes, but he wasn't wearing them now, and he snagged his socks with a practiced smoothness as he finished undressing.

"You are gorgeous," she heard herself say, then blushed at sounding such an idiot. So she scolded. "And it's not fair you get to undress me when I didn't get to undress you."

A purely carnal gleam lit his eyes. "I guess you're right," he said slowly. "Fair's fair."

He stepped to the end of the bed, giving her a mouthwatering view of his muscular back, adorably white b.u.t.t and darker legs. He flipped the tasteful floral bed cover back, stacked a couple of pillows at the head and settled himself against them. She'd think he was settling in for a nap if it weren't for the straining impatience of his impressive erection.

"Okay," he said. "Your turn."

Why hadn't she kept her big mouth shut? Now he'd left her with two choices. She could act like a scared prude, which was exactly how she felt, dash to the bed, toss the robe and plunge under the covers, or she could bare herself to him as though she were one of those brazen perfect-bodied women who made exercise their life's work.

She grit her teeth. She'd be d.a.m.ned if she cowered. And her body wasn't going to attain perfection simply by standing here.

The h.e.l.l with it. What could he do?

Apart from laugh at her and share the secrets of her nakedness with all the puerile juvenile men in the office.

She stood there, her hand hovering at the knot in her robe's sash.

"You look as though you're calculating the daily interest on the national debt," he said, with a crooked grin. "Come on. I showed you mine. You show me yours."

"If one word of this ever, ever gets out in the office, I will take you apart."

Instantly, he grew serious. "Some things are private," he said softly, and she found she believed him.

She pushed her shoulders back, took a deep breath. She undid the robe then shrugged it from her shoulders so it slid, raining silken kisses down her back.

For a long moment his gaze remained on her face and for that alone she wanted to kiss him.

Then his gaze took a slow, lazy tour of her body and instead of feeling self-conscious and imperfect, she felt like a G.o.ddess. There was no disguising the rapt adoration in his eyes.

When even her feet felt loved by his gaze, and her own feminine power was a high all its own, he said, "Come here." His voice was so husky she heard the barely leashed control.

All her womanly instincts responded.

She walked slowly toward him and let him look.