The Millionaire Affair(28)

"Is? Present tense? So you're seeing him again?"

She turned, bright, tropical-print pants in hand. "I don't see how that's any of your business."

"Wear the green dress," he said, unfazed. He returned his attention to his paperwork.

A clothing rack serving as her closet stood at the end of her bed. The  new-to-her, safari-style green silk button-down dress he'd referred to  hung in a primo spot at the end. She'd picked the dress out of her  latest acquirements for the store the day she left to go to Landon's.  Other than the one time she tried it on, she hadn't worn it.

Mick's mouth kicked into a half smile. "You look good in green."

She shoved the empty suitcase under her bed, not wanting to have this  conversation with him. It was …  weird. "Are you going to be here much  longer? I have to get ready."

He spared her a glance. "Tonight? You're seeing him tonight?"

Frustrated, she held up her palms. "Yes. I'm seeing him tonight."

His face puckered, not liking that for whatever reason. He slid off the  stool and moseyed over to her and she tensed, unsure what he was going  to do. He palmed her shoulders and she stood prone, wanting to swat him  away but not wanting to hurt his feelings. They were in such a  predicament. She didn't hate him. But she didn't really like him. And  she'd never really loved him. More the idea of him. The idea that she  could have forever with a man who enjoyed the same things she did. A man  who had a vested interest in her future. Now they were co-workers and  partners, no longer lovers or roommates, their relationship inconvenient  and unpredictable in every way.

"You're not this girl, Kimber." As if consoling her, he rubbed her upper  arms. She shrugged him off. Maybe because he had a point.

She'd never been the type of girl capable of an unattached fling, with a  millionaire or otherwise. Look at her and Mick. She was supposed to  take him home for one night of fun and had swathed him into her life  instead.

"Maybe I am now," she said. She'd have to be. Because there was no way  she and Landon were ending with her in retched heartache because she'd  turned this into something it wasn't.

Mick sighed and turned away, taking the report he'd been reading with  him. "Have it your way." He paused at the door. "But I'll hate gloating  when this jerk ends up hurting you."

"No you won't," she said. Unfairly, probably. "But thanks. Your support is overwhelming."

Mick didn't argue and she was glad. He patted the door with one hand before shutting it behind him.

Kimber sat on the edge of her bed. She refused to let herself end up  hurt. She could have an affair without getting super involved. Landon  was in no position to get super involved, so in a way, he was as safe as  they came.

She stood and lifted the green dress off the rack, holding it against  her body. The full-length mirror showed a woman with red hair, rosy  cheeks, and the will and ability to have a fling if she damn well  pleased. There wasn't time for any longer of a pep talk than that.

She had a date to get to.





CHAPTER ELEVEN


After dinner in the Hancock building's restaurant on the ninety-fifth  floor-yeah, he'd been showing off-Landon held Kimber's hand as they  walked down Navy Pier. He watched her lick an ice cream cone out of the  corner of his eye. The sight of her tongue was enough to make him cut  the date short and drag her home right then. If not for how fun she was  to hang out with, he may have. She offered him the rest, and he ate it,  keeping hold of her hand with his free one.

Even for August, the weather was cooler than usual, an almost refreshing  breeze rolling off the lake and chilling his bare arms beneath the  short sleeves of his polo shirt.

His eyes traveled over Kimber's dress again. Sitting across from her at  the dimly lit restaurant had kept her body from view. Now, out in the  open, he could look his fill. She looked …  God. She looked incredible.

At first glance, the green dress was nothing remarkable: a simple,  sleeveless number with pockets and a tie at the middle. But on her body …   Wow. The dress skimmed over her supple thighs in a way that made his  mouth water.         

     



 

They'd stopped to admire the moonlight bouncing off the water, but he  couldn't keep his eyes on the scenery. She'd worn her hair up in a  ponytail, wavy strands framing her face. His gaze snapped to her thighs  again, and he followed the length of her bare legs down to flat, strappy  sandals and painted toenails. He remembered the feel of those legs  wrapped around him, her heels digging into his butt as she'd pulled him  closer. The sound of her high-

The weight of her gaze pulled him out of the memory. He was staring. Quite possibly drooling.

A small smirk sat on her mouth as if she knew what he'd been thinking.  It was all he could do not to taste her lips. The only thing stopping  him was the reminder that while this was technically a date, it wasn't a  real one. This was the foreplay to what would come after. For both  their sakes, he'd do well to remember that clause in their agreement.

He tugged her to a nearby bench. They sat quietly and listened to the  sounds of the pier: musicians playing, children laughing, rides  spinning. "We could get on the Ferris wheel, you know." He hadn't been  on a Ferris wheel since he'd moved here straight out of college. Hadn't  had the urge to get on one since, but with Kimber it sounded fun. With  Kimber, everything sounded fun.

"And what, make out?" she asked.

He closed his arm around her waist, her silken dress beneath his fingers  as smooth as her skin. "Yes." His voice came out a low growl.

She laughed and rested a hand on his thigh, her touch burning a hole  through the light slacks he'd worn. Her fingers traced a circle over the  material and he shifted, a certain part of him stirring. If she wasn't  careful, she'd awaken the sleeping giant.

"I have to admit, I was surprised you asked me on a date."

"Why?" he asked. But he knew.

Her ponytail slid over her shoulder when she tilted her head to look at him. "Because it wasn't on the list."

Tensing, he gave a subtle shake of his head. "You really are all about  the list, aren't you?" For some reason it frustrated him to have to plan  for everything. Or maybe it frustrated him that she had to plan for  everything. Which wasn't like him at all. He loved plans. Normally.

"I have to be," she muttered.

He tipped her chin, forcing her eyes to his. "What does that mean?"

She licked her bottom lip and clamped on to it with her teeth. A memory  of the first kiss they'd shared, of the moment she'd climbed atop him  and speared her fingers into his hair and kissed him for all she was  worth echoed a sentiment stirring the giant to life. He was going to  have to limp out of here if he didn't kill this line of thinking.

"I don't want to be your Lissa."

Her comment startled as much as angered him. She was nothing like Lissa.  Kimber was warm and responsive and cared, probably too much, about  everyone she came in contact with. It bothered him that she'd compare  herself to the heartless supermodel who'd left him in the dust for no  more than a publicity stunt. Further, it bothered him that Kimber could  ever imagine he'd treat her like he had Lissa. He'd been more careful,  more gentle, more open, with Kimber than he had with anyone in a long,  long time.

The anger built the longer he considered her comment, which was probably  why, when he did speak, the question came out surlier than he'd  intended. "And what the hell does that mean?"

She placed a soft kiss on his mouth. "Nothing."

Something. But he'd better not push her. He'd already opened a can of thought best left sealed.

"You want to check off the list and walk away," he said, reiterating her  original request. He'd been all for that-still was all for it. But  those two words "walk away" niggled at him. Why? Because your list is  ongoing and can't be completely checked off.

"Exactly," she said, her expression stoic. She slid her hand higher on his thigh. "Back home?"

His heart gave the faintest clench. He knew she was referring to his  home, not hers. For a short period of time it'd been her home as well.  In her mind, maybe it still was her home. In the interim.

The realization warmed him. Even though it shouldn't.



Kimber pulled the sheet over her breasts as Landon held on to a corner  to cover his bare butt. He arranged himself on the balcony sofa, head  resting on the back of it, chest glistening with sweat in the moonlight.

"I can't believe we did that out here," she said, lifting a lock of hair  from her forehead. She sent a furtive glance at the buildings  surrounding them and prayed no one had equipped their window with a  telescope. She'd seen a movie like that once.         

     



 

"We had to," he said, his voice low and deep and damn sexy. "It was number five."

"And we have to go in order."