The KISS Principle Part 1

The K.I.S.S. Principle.

By Karen Booth.

Chapter One.

What a brilliant idea to bring home a mountain of work, especially with the long, lonely Memorial Day weekend staring Allie Flynn in the face. She grumbled, struggling with the banker's box overflowing with files. If only she'd packed lighter. Balancing the box on her thigh, she keyed into her apartment building, wedging her knee between the door and jamb.

"Hey, Allie. Wait up. Let me help," a familiar voice sounded behind her.

She turned and her sights landed on Cooper Hale, resident of 3B, the apartment directly above hers. Great. Here comes Mr. Tall, Hot and Too Young for Me. And I look like c.r.a.p.

Cooper, wearing navy basketball shorts and a ratty gray t-shirt from Sweeney's, a bar in Wicker Park, held the door. His aroma, although a bit ripe, was achingly appealing, musky and masculine.

"Oh, thanks. No." She straightened and adjusted her grip on the box but her laptop bag slipped off her shoulder for what felt like the fiftieth time. "I got it." She stumbled into the vestibule where the apartment mailboxes were, her heels clicking on the tile floor. Cooper followed and the gla.s.s door whooshed shut behind him.

"Give me that." He s.n.a.t.c.hed the box from her grasp. His face had a subtle sheen and his messy, sandy-brown bangs clung to his forehead in spots. "Go ahead," he said with a nod. "I'll bring it up to your place."

Allie hitched her laptop bag and purse back onto her shoulder. "Really. It's fine." She held out her arms, but the condescending arch of Cooper's eyebrows said that he wasn't planning on handing over the box any time soon.

Backlit by ribbons of sun streaming into the hall, his tawny brown eyes turned a deeper hue. He tossed the box up onto his shoulder as if it were full of feathers and Allie couldn't help but notice the well-defined contour of his biceps as he curved his hand over the cardboard lid. He nodded toward the stairs again. "Shall we?"

She turned, now fl.u.s.tered, and started up the steps. "I'm not helpless. My laptop kept slipping off my shoulder." She glanced at him when she rounded the corner to climb the next flight.

He grinned and rolled his eyes. "People complain chivalry is dead, but you try to help a woman and she insists she can do it herself. I'm just being a gentleman."

Allie sighed as they approached her door. "I'm sorry. Thank you for carrying the box for me. I appreciate it."

"I don't really buy it." He smirked. "That's about the lamest apology ever."

Allie feigned a huff. "It's been a long week, Cooper. I don't know what more you want."

"A beer would be a start."

"You want to come in for a beer? Now?" Her plan for that night had involved wiggling out of her too-tight skirt and drinking most of a bottle of merlot while playing Scrabble on the computer. Her vision narrowed on Cooper's face, his strong jaw shadowed with a day's worth of stubble, high cheekbones, the tempting swell of his lips. Too bad he wasn't wearing his gla.s.ses. Or maybe it was good that he wasn't. She liked him even more in his gla.s.ses.

"No time like the present." He smiled yet again, mesmerizing her with his teeth. "You haven't had me over since the power went out."

The ice storm. Mother Nature had wreaked havoc on the city in March, a truly nasty bout of weather even for Chicago. She and Cooper endured two days without lights or heat, occupying themselves with gin rummy, endless conversation, and many bottles of red wine. Allie's middle-floor apartment stayed comparatively warm and she had food, unlike Cooper. They'd been friendly before the storm-a few hundred frustrating glimpses of innocent flirtation-but those forty-eight hours cemented their friendship. It also set in motion her full-blown crush on the guy who spent two nights snoring on her couch while she shivered under a heap of blankets in her bed.

"It's not like I have anything else to do," she muttered as she unlocked the door. "Fair warning, I'm not even sure I have any beer." Her keys clattered when she dropped them onto the gla.s.s-topped entry table. The setting sun filtered through the towering windows along the far wall of her apartment.

Cooper slid the box of files onto the black granite center island in the open-concept kitchen. "May I?" he asked, opening the fridge before Allie had a chance to respond. He leaned forward, rummaging through the bottom shelf.

She leaned against the center island, appreciating the view. Her thumb rode along her lower lip as she settled her gaze on his long, muscled legs and the mind-blowing curve of his a.s.s. The way his slightly sweaty t-shirt draped over the defined plane of his back caused her to shudder. Sweet Jesus. Don't do this again. He's way too young. He's way too easy on the eyes. Every woman he meets has to be thinking what you're thinking.

"We have a winner, but you only have two," he said, tucking the amber bottles under his arm. "Bottle opener?"

Allie pulled herself out of the stupor brought on by Cooper's physique. She opened a drawer and handed him the metal church key. "Sorry I didn't have more of a selection." She closed the cabinet with a b.u.mp of her hip.

"Cheers." He clinked his bottle with hers. "That's okay. We can switch to wine after this."

"After this?" Allie asked.

"Well, yeah. Aren't you making me dinner?" He watched the smile creep across her face. The way her eyes lit up when she was even the slightest bit coy put his entire body on alert. "And you're the one who said you didn't have anything to do."

"You weren't supposed to hear that." Allie yanked open the fridge, planting her hand on the full curve of her hips. Her black skirt hugged all the right places and as he'd noticed many times, Allie had all kinds of right places. "I have some steaks. Sound good?"

"Better than good. I'll be back in ten after I shower and change."

He took the stairs two at a time up to his apartment. Dinner with Allie was a significant improvement over the original plan-order a pizza, watch hours of mindless TV and jerk off before going to sleep.

Striding through his kitchen, he slowed as he reached the living room, shaking his head in dismay at his tired black futon couch, the hand-me-down coffee table from his parents. Being in Allie's perfectly decorated apartment only brought out the ridiculous shortcomings of his. I'm almost thirty and this place is like a freaking dorm room. I make enough money. I just need to find the time to shop for it.

He stripped off his clothes and cranked the shower handle, stopping to study himself in the mirror as he waited for the hot water. He'd gone two days without shaving and the scruff along his jaw was scratchy. He wondered how Allie felt about facial hair. I'm probably pushing it.

The warm spray beat against his back and his thoughts drifted to Allie as they did most of the time when he was naked. It had been impossible to get her out of his mind since the ice storm. Those two days had shown him that she was more than beautiful and hot, she was smart, sarcastic and funny as h.e.l.l, a lethal combination. Every time he'd seen her in the building since, he found idle ways to steal her time, asking her questions about things like the weather and basketball, when he knew for a fact that she didn't really like sports.

Allie was out of his league, a career woman with her s.h.i.t together. But then, that was the challenge, part of the appeal. Women in their twenties were so transparent, open books filled with agendas and mindless chatter about things that were wholly unimportant right now. I'm not ready to get married. I don't want to have kids. I just want someone who can carry her end of the conversation and do it for me in bed.

Every day since their weekend together, he imagined what it might be like with Allie, mentally undressing her whenever he had the chance. She had a few more years of experience to her credit and that was intriguing. There would be fewer games to play, no learning curve. Plus, he'd read in a magazine that at forty, a woman was close to if not at her s.e.xual peak. No doubt Allie's body was at its peak. Any guy who'd seen her in the black skirt knew that.

To his chagrin, Cooper's c.o.c.k had responded to the siren song of Allie and was now eager for his attention. s.h.i.t. I told her ten minutes. He gripped his rigid shaft, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the tip as his chin dropped to his chest. The steam billowed around him, warming his already overheated body. A primal breath escaped his lips and he widened his stance, placing his other hand on his thigh while he arched his back.

He wanted to take his time, but all he could do was pump furiously. The mental image of Allie materialized, lowering herself to her knees and wrapping her luscious lips around his c.o.c.k. The thought sent jagged tremors through him. She sucked, swirling her tongue and flashing devastating glances up at him. Her dripping, chocolate-brown hair clung to her shoulders, tendrils trailing over the swell of her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Perhaps Allie knew some b.l.o.w.j.o.b techniques that he'd never experienced. The mystery of what that might involve was too much and Cooper felt his b.a.l.l.s draw tight against his body. Pressure came, quickly doubling and then doubling again. A hum buzzed through him until the force could no longer be contained and it surged in steady pulses. He convulsed with the final wave. Jesus.

He turned and rinsed off his body, washing away the evidence before toweling his chest and legs. He'd whacked off dozens of times to the visions of the Allie that resided in his head. I'm acting like a d.a.m.n kid. I need to man up.

After shaving, he threw on a clean pair of dark wash jeans and tucked in a mostly wrinkle-free white dress shirt. He even took the time to put on a belt and find his Italian leather dress shoes at the back of the closet. Any guy with half a brain knew that women were impressed by good footwear. Allie wore killer shoes, often sky-high and always dead s.e.xy, making the already appealing shape of her legs even more tempting.

When Allie answered the door, the air was knocked from his lungs. She'd changed into jeans, formfitting and worn and...dangerous. A white V-neck t-shirt hugged her curves and her feet were bare, accentuating her pet.i.te stature. At six-foot-four, he felt like a giant towering over her, but there were worse things. He had a mind-blowing view down into her ample cleavage.

"Oh, wow. You look nice," she said. "Sorry if I'm not quite up to muster. I had to get out of those work clothes. That black skirt is so tight. It had to come off."

n.o.body was stopping you earlier. I would've volunteered for zipper duty. "I think you look perfect." He lost all sense of time and place as he sank into the mystifying blue-green of Allie's eyes, rimmed with dark, feathery lashes.

"Perfect, huh? Careful. You're going to give me a big head," she said, with more than a hint of flirtation. A winding jazz instrumental, John Coltrane if memory served, played in the background. "Come on. I have bruschetta in the oven."

He trailed an extra step behind, savoring the motion of her a.s.s as she traipsed into the kitchen. The hypnotic sway of her hips was enough to send him careening off a cliff. He reminded himself how miserable he'd be if he was a wimp about it and had to go sleep in his own bed tonight, alone.

"Your kitchen is so much nicer than mine," he commented. "I should've upgraded to the six-burner when they rehabbed my unit. Guess it would've been a waste, though. It's not like I cook or anything."

Allie forced a smile at the mention of the stove. She'd gone with the upgrade because her boyfriend at the time, Ian, loved to cook as much as she. It was one of the few things they did well together. The rest of their relationship had been anything but a partnership, especially in the bedroom. Six months without him, and his cooking was the only thing she missed.

She slid a sheet pan of sliced French bread from the oven. "You okay with tomatoes?" Two cut cloves of garlic sat on the cutting board. She rubbed the raw sides over the surface of the hot bread.

Cooper came up behind her and placed his hand on her back, startling her. "Smells good. What are you doing?"

She swallowed back the pleasurable hum that came from his touch but it took considerable effort. "This gives you the flavor of the garlic, but without giving you the world's worst breath." After placing the last of the bread on a serving plate, she began topping the slices with a mixture of chopped tomatoes, basil and olive oil. Like he cares about garlic breath around me.

"Interesting." He took a piece of bruschetta before she'd had a chance to offer it to him. "Wow. This is good," he said, holding his hand over his mouth. "Hot, too."

She poured a gla.s.s of red for him before topping off her own. "Thanks. Most people wait a minute for it to cool before diving in." She settled back against the counter.

"Wait too long and you miss out." Cooper stepped closer and his smell was more evident-clean and fresh. His scrubby hair was still damp from his shower and the vision made Allie feel as if she could benefit from a cold one. He took a second piece of bruschetta as he held his gla.s.s out to hers. "Cheers."

His eyes stayed on her as he drank. In fact, it felt as if he was doing nothing but looking at her, watching her, studying. She wiped her mouth with a napkin and ran her tongue under her lip. Do I have something in my teeth?

Cooper's pointed stare made her less self-conscious about the fact that she couldn't keep her eyes off him. She'd always been a sucker for a guy in a pair of jeans, and the way Cooper rocked his was positively groan-worthy.

Her attraction to Cooper had sprung to life the moment she first laid eyes on him, but the weekend of the ice storm kicked it into overdrive. Forty-eight hours alone was a delicious form of torture, watching how expressive his eyes were when he laughed at her jokes, how he managed to move that long body with ease. When he talked about his flourishing start-up company, the self-confidence oozed out of him, making him irresistible.

His self-a.s.sured demeanor told Allie that he'd never be interested in her. He was an absolutely stunning physical specimen and at twenty-eight, with his looks, he could have any woman he wanted. He was so smart that he sometimes tried to hide it, always lightning-fast with a self-deprecating quip.

"What's the latest in the world of software design?" she asked.

Cooper leaned against the counter, remaining close as she worked on dinner. "Our new office s.p.a.ce is almost ready. It's going to be amazing."

"On schedule? Impressive. How many people do you have working for you now?" She sprinkled peppercorns into a stone bowl and cracked them with a pestle.

"We finally broke down and hired an office manager. My brother Brian has an a.s.sistant now. That takes us up to..." He counted on his fingers and looked at the ceiling, putting the stretch of his sinuous neck on display. "Twenty-one people." He crinkled his forehead. "Is that even possible? It doesn't seem that long ago that it was three of us in my old apartment."

"That's what happens when you're successful." Allie turned on the gas and placed a cast-iron skillet on the flame.

"Hey. My mom has a pan like that."

Of course she does. She sighed. Fabulous. I'm like his mom. "It's good for steaks. It holds heat well."

"How'd you get to be so good at cooking?"

"I've always liked it, but Ian showed me a lot of things."

Cooper downed another piece of bruschetta. "Right. The ex. Do you still talk to the Grim Reaper?"

She caught the smirk painted across his face and laughed. "I forgot you'd given him that nickname."

"What? It's not a nickname. He really is the Grim Reaper."

Ian didn't come off well to most of the world, and she'd asked herself many times since their breakup what she'd ever seen in him. "I suppose you're right." She pressed the steaks into the hot pan and they sizzled and bubbled, the aroma quickly rising. The fan gently whirred to life as she flipped on the range hood.

Cooper's presence behind her was evident again and he pressed his hand against her back, but this time it had landed in a decidedly lower spot. A tingle built from the heat of his palm and fingers. She glanced over her shoulder and rolled her neck as if she were working out a kink.

"I always wondered what a woman like you was doing with a guy like that," he said in a warm tone, his baritone lazing over her.

Her heart thumped as he leaned closer. The placement of his hand was exactly what she wanted and completely unfair. She didn't want to get revved up for nothing. "I should get the salad going," she said, stepping away to the fridge. "Do you mind getting the salad bowl down for me? It's on the top shelf of that cabinet."

"Sure." He stretched as he reached for the bowl but it all played out in painfully slow motion. Everything about him was so long-his arms, his torso, his legs.

Dammit. Stop staring at him. She dumped a bag of pre-washed arugula into the bowl and began slicing a cuc.u.mber. "Balsamic vinaigrette or honey mustard?"

"Balsamic all the way." He plucked a piece of cuc.u.mber from the cutting board and munched on it. "What's up with you and work?" he asked. "Things must be busy. You brought home fifty pounds of files."

Allie's nose twitched at the hint of a new smell in the kitchen. "s.h.i.t," she said, lunging for the tongs and flipping the steaks, which were now charred around the edges. "I hope you're okay with blackened."

"Sure. I love Cajun food."

She added a touch of olive oil to the skillet and adjusted the flame. "I'll try to keep from burning the other side." Steam began to escape another pan on the stove. She lifted the lid and pulled out a green bean. "Want to be my official taste tester?"

He surprised her when he didn't use his hand when she offered it, but his teeth instead. The motion of his lips, mere inches from her fingers, was infinitely fascinating. Her throat tightened, her chest heaved. "Mmm. They need another minute."

I need a minute. Allie checked the steaks again, turned off the heat and transferred them to a plate, covering them with foil. "I need to let the meat rest."

He coughed and twisted his lips before reaching for her winegla.s.s. "Let me top you off."

They took their meal to the small dining table on the far side of the kitchen, in front of the windows. The sky was a bluish black, broken by scattered rectangles of light from the building across the street. She'd set out a single candle but stopped short of dimming the lights or changing the music to something seductive. The embarra.s.sment of setting the stage for romance when one person wasn't interested would last a lifetime.

Chapter Two.

Cooper dug into his steak as Allie served the salad. It was the best tasting thing he'd eaten in weeks and he'd been to top restaurants all over the city. "Allie, this is so good."

She smiled and he felt as if someone were yanking a rope tied to his bellyb.u.t.ton. "Glad you like it."

"Salad and beans are great too. You're making sure I get my veggies." Why the f.u.c.k would you say that? The corners of her lips turned down and although the pout of her lower lip was enticing, his heart sank again.

"I try to eat healthy. I suppose you probably need more to eat than this, huh? I should have made some mashed potatoes or something. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. This is perfect. Really." Time to change the subject, dips.h.i.t. "I asked you about work earlier, but we got sidetracked by the steaks."

Allie wiped her mouth with a black cloth napkin. She took a long sip of wine, plump raspberry-pink lips curving around the gla.s.s. "Things are going surprisingly well. We have a handful of new clients, a few proposals out right now."

"What's in the box?"

"I have a huge presentation due on Tuesday. It's one of my old clients. They're not happy now that my old agency is so big. If I get the account, it'll be the third that left to work with me again. That's pretty gratifying."