He was late, dammit.
Bram checked his watch. 10:35, Saturday morning. Twelve freaking hours late.
He slammed the door of his silver Lexus, strode into Holiday Quinn and marched up to the reception desk. But was Shannon there? No. Instead he came nose-to-nose with that pain-in-the-ass assistant, a clipboard in his hand, a sour expression on his face. Jake the Prick narrowed his eyes when he saw Bram coming. Bram narrowed his eyes right back.
“Bram Hartwick,” he informed the guy, taking particular pleasure in looking down at him. “I reserved a room for the weekend.”
Jake slowly perused the sheets on his clipboard. “Ah, yes, Mr. Hartwick.” He paused. “However, you were originally scheduled to arrive last night. I’m afraid we’ve given your room to another guest.”
Bram raised his eyebrows at the guy and leaned a couple of inches closer. “Then I’ll take a different room.”
Jake pursed his lips and let out an arrogant sigh. “This is quite a popular weekend, Mr. Hartwick. Our waiting list is several pages long. Guests usually make their reservations months in advance and, if there’s a delay in their arrival, they usually have the courtesy to let us know when we might expect them.” Jake tossed the clipboard on the counter and pushed it away with a bored flick of his fingers. “You can try The Ashland Hotel in town, but I don’t believe we have any other rooms available for this holiday. Perhaps next time.”
Jake turned away like a member of European royalty who’d just dismissed the peons. Bram had dealt with quite enough of this bullshit.
“Listen, Jake,” he began, using the tone of voice he reserved only for lousy accountants and lazy office managers, “I haven’t slept since yesterday morning, and I’ve been on the road since one a.m. I would have flown into Green Bay last night if it had been possible to charter a plane at midnight and rent a car from there, but it wasn’t. I tried.” He shot him a very steely glare. “As I’m sure you know, I sent my credit card information along with my room reservation last month, so I’d be happy to pay for the night I missed. But right now I want a room. And I want a schedule of this weekend’s Easter events.” And, if I don’t get it, I want your fucking head on a platter.
Jake turned back and gave an apathetic shrug. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Hartwick, but—”
He’d pull him apart. Piece by snotty piece. “Now,” Bram interrupted, lowering his voice to a dangerous whisper. “Right. Now. Jake.”
A shadow of fear darkened the assistant’s green eyes, but he didn’t back away. The brave idiot. He didn’t know who he was dealing with, did he?
“We’re booked, Mr. Hartwick. There are no single or double rooms available. Period.”
“Really? Why is it that I don’t believe you?” Bram crossed his arms and glared at the lying bastard sitting smugly behind the counter.
“What you believe or don’t believe isn’t any of my concern,” Jake replied, fiddling with the puffy white tail of a stuffed-animal rabbit, which decorated the corner of the reception desk. “I suggest you leave, Mr. Hartwick.”
And I suggest you go to hell. Bram took a deep breath and opened his mouth to say something that would probably border on extremely insulting...when he heard a voice behind him.
“I’m so glad you could make it, Bram.”
He swiveled in place and saw Shannon Quinn’s beaming smile. Man, she was lovely. He’d forgotten just how much.
“Thanks, Shannon. I’m glad I could make it, too. It’s nice to see you again.” He shot a look at her assistant who, for the first time since Bram’s arrival, didn’t look disdainful, just defeated. He almost felt sorry for the jerk. Almost.
“Shannon,” Jake began, resuming his supercilious tone, “I gave this gentleman’s room to Mr. Prescott this morning. We’re filled and cannot accommodate him now.”
Shannon laughed. “Of course we can. The Astaire Suite is unoccupied. Mr. Hartwick may have that instead.”
Bram saw Jake’s jaw drop.
“The Astaire Suite?” the assistant said. “But it’s huge. It’s for honeymooners. Anniversary couples. Are you sure you want to—”
“Of course,” she said. She turned to Bram. “Unless you have a strange fear of open spaces or something, or if you believe a room of that size will make you nervous.”
“I suffer from no such phobias,” Bram said. Then, just to make his position on the matter perfectly clear, he added, “I’m greatly in favor of elbowroom at night.”
Her grin broadened. “Then it’s settled.” Shannon reached for Jake’s discarded clipboard and a pastel-colored pencil with a yellow baby chick where the eraser should be. She scribbled a few notes on the top sheet then pointed the baby chick’s head at her assistant. “Please charge Mr. Hartwick only the rate for the original room he reserved, Jake.”
“Why, thank you,” Bram said, impressed by her moxie and her seemingly effortless ability to put Jake the Prick in his place. The discount, though nice, was unnecessary. “I appreciate the V.I.P. treatment.”
She responded by winking at him. Winking, the little vixen. She took a few steps away from the desk, her auburn hair swinging in tempting waves behind her. Bram was aware of Jake watching her every move, just as he did. Neither of them seemed capable of pulling their gaze away.
Shannon turned for a final glance over her shoulder. “You’ve missed a few activities already, Bram,” she informed him. “But the Bakers are leading an Easter Egg Hunt at noon. Feel free to join in, if you’d like.”
And he knew right then and there that he’d search every inch of Holiday Quinn, from noon until midnight, for silly chocolate-marshmallow eggs if Shannon would be standing nearby.
“I’ll be there,” he told her. Exhausted or not.
After she walked out the door, he and Jake shared one meaningful glance that charged the air with testosterone and certainty. They both wanted to have this woman. And they both wanted to have her now.
The race was on, and it didn’t have a damn thing to do with Easter eggs.
***
Shannon’s knees shook, but she hoped she’d managed to disguise it well enough.
He was here. He’d made it after all.
Yes!
She’d forgotten the controlled intensity that was Bram Hartwick. When she’d walked in on him and Jake, she could almost feel the room imploding. How did one man manage to upset the ions in the atmosphere simply by standing there? She didn’t know, but she couldn’t deny its truth. His intense manner was as distinctive as his signature.
She inhaled the mid-April air and drank in the Saturday sunshine. As she scanned the expansive front yard of her inn, she saw the sturdy oaks her grandfather once planted, now with colorful, wind-ruffled ribbons encircling them. The pastel bows, placed by the Bakers for the weekend festivities, added a sense of celebration to the just-awakening landscape. Even in these cold northern reaches, spring had finally come.
She clomped along the newly emerging shoots of grass on the walkway to the backyard and spotted two tall figures bounding toward her.
Darlene Baker arrived first, breathless. “We’re all set!”
Her husband Keith jogged up next to them. “We’ve got it done, Shannon dear, not a thing for you to worry about.”
“We’re so excited!” Darlene hugged herself through her thick pink windbreaker. “Thanks for letting us lead this activity. We’ve wanted—”
“To do something like this for years,” Keith concluded for her. “And we had such a blast—”
“Coloring the eggs!” his enthusiastic wife said. “Five hundred and seventy-eight of them and—”
“Then hiding them along with all of those chocolate ones,” Keith added. “Not to mention the more grown-up treats. Haven’t had this much fun since the kids were toddlers.”
Darlene grabbed Shannon’s hands in her own. “You made our weekend!”
Shannon laughed. “I wish all of my guests would insist on helping out, cheerfully doing hours of work and managing to create a finished product that looked so professional.” She paused to grin at them. “Come to think of it, I wish all of my staff would do the same. I’m comping your room for this holiday just because you’re so darned inspirational!”
“It’s our pleasure, Shannon,” Keith said, the sincerity of his words evident in his voice and his warm gray eyes.
Darlene released Shannon’s fingers and turned to her husband. “Oh, Keith! The baskets.”
Keith’s glance darted around the backyard. “We’ve still got to set up the table with the baskets,” he explained to Shannon, already striding toward the spot he and his wife had selected earlier. “See ya in an hour, hon!”
So, Shannon left them to their tasks and completed several small chores of her own. The next time she glanced down at her watch, it was five minutes to noon.
When she reached the Bakers, the yard was already swarming with animated guests of all ages, every one of them as energized as that famous TV bunny, ready to fill their baskets with colored eggs and sweet treats.
At the stroke of twelve, Darlene rang a bell to quiet the crowd. Her husband cleared his throat.
“Welcome to Holiday Quinn’s Annual Easter Egg Hunt!” Keith said.
The crowd cheered. Shannon glanced at their faces, hoping to see Bram, but he wasn’t outside. A shot of disappointment surged through her. She hadn’t wanted to admit how much she’d been looking forward to seeing him having a little child-like fun, especially since there wasn’t a thing that seemed remotely child-like about him. She’d hoped to catch a glimpse of a different side of this commanding, authoritative man.
And, well, she also just liked looking at his body.
Keith continued. “Miss Quinn has graciously allowed us to run the event a little differently this year, so we’ve decided to add a new twist to it.”
Shannon grinned. When the Bakers had suggested this change to her, she thought it might be a funny one. She was curious to see if the predominantly adult crowd thought the same.
“Any child under ten gets a basket and free rein to run and collect whatever he or she can,” Keith said. Shannon noted the giddy handful of guests that fit into this age bracket. “Everyone over ten must hunt with a partner. And only one member of the team is allowed to touch the eggs, though the other can lead and direct. One more thing—” Keith paused for dramatic effect. “The partner that picks up the eggs and puts them in the basket has to be blindfolded.”
A gasp rose from the crowd followed by a bubbling of laughter, which grew louder once Darlene demonstrated the blindfolding process by tying a long scrap of black fabric around her husband’s eyes.
“So, you adults out there, choose wisely,” Keith informed them, lifting the fabric on one side so he looked like a benevolent pirate. “You’ll want to be with partners you trust.”
Darlene passed out the baskets to the little ones and then, with her husband’s help, made sure all of the adults in attendance had been paired up, with one member of the team securely blindfolded.
Stopwatch in hand, Keith said, “You and your partner get to keep the booty and, adults, some plastic eggs are hidden in higher locations, filled with treats just for you…so enjoy whatever you find!”
Darlene pointed to the stopwatch. “Five, four, three, two, one…GO!”
And off they went. The little ones scurried around, eager and unfettered. The wisest of the adults held hands, the sighted ones leading the way. The Bakers, too, held hands and snuck in a few kisses when they thought she wasn’t looking. Shannon sighed. It must be amazing to still be in love like that after so many years together.
“Have I missed it?” a deep, instantly recognizable voice whispered from behind her.
“Hi, Bram,” she said, trying to keep her excitement at his appearance in check. “I’m afraid the hunt has already begun, yes. Did something detain you?”
He tapped the cell phone in his hand and shot it a disgusted glance. “Phone call.”
Of course. She was talking to Mr. Workaholic, after all. “Well, you can watch the festivities with me, if you want. Here, from a safe distance.”
He smiled. “I’d like that.”
“Oh, no you don’t,” Darlene declared.
Shannon, Bram and Keith all stared at her.
Darlene wagged her finger at Bram. “No guest can stand on the sidelines like a wallflower at our event. Get a blindfold on and get yourself out there!”
“Like a wallflower?” Bram muttered, clearly mystified by having such a term applied to him.
Shannon couldn’t help herself. She had to laugh at this. “It’s okay, Darlene,” she began. “Perhaps if another guest joins in late, Bram can—”
“Who needs other guests?” Darlene said, a devious grin pulling up the corners of her lips. “You’re not running this event, Miss Shannon Quinn. We are.” She thrust a blindfold at Shannon and an Easter basket at Bram. “Hurry! Clock’s ticking. You don’t want everyone else to get all the good stuff, now do you?”
“W-Well, I hadn’t planned on—” Shannon said.
Keith, getting into the act, grabbed the fabric out of Shannon’s hand and tied it tight around a surprised Bram until his eyes were completely covered. “Go!” the older man commanded.
They didn’t dare refuse.
As she tugged on Bram’s hand, his large palm engulfing hers, she felt his body heat seep into her skin. Her pores tingled everywhere.
“Uh, what just happened back there?” Bram said, gamely allowing her to lead him toward one of the oak trees at the edge of the property. “One minute we’re talking like civilized adults…”
“…and the next, we’re being pushed off on this merry chase,” she concluded for him.
His grip on her hand tightened. “Well, I’m not complaining. But I hope you’re leading me toward something good.”
“Guess you’ll just have to trust me, won’t you?”
He chuckled but didn’t reply. More intensity emanated from him, radiating unspoken questions in her direction along with a rising warmth.
What the heck she was doing?
Playing flirtation games with this man was like blithely cutting wires on a ticking bomb. And though she wasn’t inexperienced in the romantic arts, she was hardly an explosions expert.
She briefly explained the rules of the game and directed him to an area near their feet where a few colored eggs were stashed. “Okay, Bram. There are three eggs along the base of this tree. Two are real. One is milk chocolate filled with caramel. They’re all about a six or seven inches from the tips of your shoes.” His very nice leather shoes.
He squatted next to her, still holding her hand with one of his. With the other hand, he put the Easter basket on the ground near his foot and blindly reached a few inches in front of him, tapping the grass with the pads of his fingers until he finally touched one of the colored eggs.
“Hey, I got one.” He lifted it and placed it into the basket, somehow managing to make every motion provocative.
“Very nice, Mr. Hartwick. You’re a quick learner.”
He rubbed her palm with his thumb, a wicked grin emerging from the mouth below the blindfold. “You have no idea, Ms. Quinn.” He nabbed the other eggs in a flash and stood up. “Where to next?”
Even without eye contact he was still a formidable presence. Shannon felt her pulse speed up and she took a few cleansing breaths. “Um, well, I spotted a couple of plastic eggs between two branches just above us. I can hold the basket for you, but you’ll have to be the one to reach for them.”
“Sure. Which direction?”
She studied the tree limbs and the juncture between them where a pink and a purple plastic egg sat. If she asked him to swivel around and he turned too far, he could easily hit his handsome head on one of the branches. Didn’t want that to happen.
“Okay,” she said. “Here’s our strategy. The angle is a little tricky. I’m going to have to move your body so you’re facing the eggs.” She stood behind him, wrapped her arms around his strong torso and slowly pivoted him about 45 degrees to the left. He didn’t resist being handled, but he was solid man. Hardly what she’d call “pliable.”
“How am I doing?” he said in a low voice. “Am I in the right position?”
She cleared her throat and tried to get her mind out of the gutter. “Yes. You’re perfectly positioned.”
She caught that wicked grin of his again. “That’s what I like to hear.”
Inwardly, she groaned. He wasn’t making this easy on her. Another ten minutes of his innuendos and she was going to rip those designer clothes off his back and start reenacting one of her favorite nighttime fantasies, right here in front of everybody.
“Carefully lift your right arm,” she instructed him, “until it’s parallel with your shoulder.” He did this and waited for her to continue. “Now bend your right elbow and move your hand toward your chin until I say to stop.”
“Okay.” He followed this direction, too.
“Stop,” she said when his hand had cleared the branch. “Now reach up like a crane. A few inches at a time.” She watched as he did this. “Higher,” she said. “Still higher.” His fingers hovered just above the plastic treasure.
“Am I getting closer?” he asked, with no attempt to disguise his amusement by this continued game of intimate insinuation.
“Very close,” she said, determined to keep them on task. At least in public. “All you have to do now is pick them up. They’re right next to each other, about two inches below your fingertips and a little to the left.”
He reached for them and, with his large palm, scooped them both up at the same time. “Got ‘em!” But as he leaned over to drop them in the basket Shannon held for him, the purple egg slipped out of his grasp, landed in the grass below and broke open revealing—to Shannon at least—its contents.
Ooops.
“Damn, I dropped one,” he said. “Here, direct me. I’ll pick it up.”
“No, no, don’t worry about it.” She tugged at his hand. “Why don’t we go to the next tree?”
He stopped like dead weight in place and pulled her toward him. “What’s in the egg, Shannon?”
“Just, um, just a few condoms.”
He let out a short laugh. “How many? Two? Three?”
Shannon blushed, glad he couldn’t see her face. She glanced at the broken egg and its spilled booty. “More like seven.”
“Seven?” He laughed again, longer this time. “Wow. Optimistic Easter Bunny. Are they colored?”
“Yes.”
“Flavored?”
“Um…yes.”
“Well, in that case, we’re not leaving them here.” Bram knelt down and began patting the ground. “A little help, Shannon. Am I getting warmer?”
His fingers were nowhere near the egg, but every part of her turned warm just from standing next to him. “Yes,” she whispered, unable to keep the desire from her voice. She knew it the moment he lifted the blindfold from his eyes. He dragged her toward him and toward the side of the tree furthest from the Holiday Quinn crowd.
“So much for playing by the rules,” Bram murmured, tossing the scrap of black fabric on the ground and bringing her body flush with his. He leaned against the tree’s solid trunk and let his fingers dance along her vertebrae. “Tell me how you want me to move next, Shannon.”
Taking chances was a good thing, a tiny voice inside of her whispered. She needed to learn to take more risks, within reason, she reminded her internal critic. This was the only explanation she could give herself for what she said next. “I think you’d better kiss me, Bram. Now. And you can do whatever you want with those fingers of yours.”
She didn’t need to say more than this. He grunted and simply took over. His mouth was on hers the moment her words had left it. His hands roamed the curves and crevices of her dress slacks, pausing to give special attention to the gap at the back of her waistband. He slid a few fingers in there and massaged her lower spine while pressing the front of her body up against all his hard ridges and planes.
No sensation could rival this. Bram orchestrated his maneuvers with a finesse most men could only dream of mastering. When his lips explored hers and his tongue probed deeper, she felt the rare sense of flight had been gifted to her. She would’ve sworn in a heartbeat that her shoes had left the ground.
Someone coughed nearby. “Shannon…uh, there you are.”
She and Bram broke apart, and she felt her feet crash back to earth.
Jake stood a yard or two away, a shuttered expression on his face and his voice ice cold. “The new caterer has been looking for you, and Margaret stopped by your office about half an hour ago. She left you a message.”
She nodded. “I—er—thank you, Jake. I’ll check it in a few minutes.” She took another step back from Bram and heard his audible sigh. That was when she remembered the chill between the two men earlier in the day. Well, they might not get along, but she still needed to deal with them both. “Perhaps we can run through a few things when I get back to my office,” she told her assistant. “I’d like to do something special for the Bakers, since they’ve helped so much this weekend.”
“Okay,” Jake said, making no motion to leave.
“So, I’ll see you. In my office. Soon,” she said, enunciating every syllable, all but forcing him to take the hint, which he finally did.
Once Jake stalked away, Bram returned his mouth to hers, more possessively this time. She almost let herself get pulled under his spell again, but she knew she needed to act like the owner of the inn now, not like a sex-starved teenager on her first date in months.
She put her hand to his chest and leaned away. “Business before pleasure, Mr. Hartwick. I must get back.”
His hazel eyes pierced her with fire, golden and untamed. “Understood,” he whispered. “But you know where I’m staying. Any chance you could slip away to the Astaire Suite later?”
“I have a major meal preparation to oversee, Bram, and then there’s an early evening performance I’m responsible for hosting. It doesn’t finish until nine.”
He grinned at her. “Yeah, I heard about it on my way outside. ‘Green Eggs and Hamlet.’ Very clever.”
“Entertainment for all audiences,” she said.
“That’s not the kind of entertainment I crave,” he retorted. He picked up the Easter basket and filled it with the purple egg and its spilled contents. Then, very deliberately, he dropped the black blindfold into the basket, too, and regarded her with a heated glance. “You’ve been in my fantasies, Shannon. I’d like to turn a few of them into reality tonight. If you’re interested.”
Oh, boy, was she ever interested.
But she wasn’t crazy. This man might spark a blue flame just by entering a room, but they didn’t run in the same circles or even live in the same state. There was no future in something like this, no matter how many fantasies—hers or his—they enacted in the Astaire Suite. She’d just have to enjoy it as the one-night-stand it would likely be.
Could she live with that?
A part of her wasn’t sure, but that wasn’t the part of her that was speaking. “I’ll see you around nine-thirty,” she said before walking away. “And Bram? Hang onto that basket.”
***
No doubt about it, Bram was head over heels in lust. He didn’t delude himself with illusions that his feelings were anything more than the obvious: He wanted Shannon in his bed. Tonight. And tomorrow morning. Despite not being an especially religious man, he intended to have a positively divine Easter Sunday.
He took a power nap then fielded a half-dozen or more calls. Some production problems in Zurich had been the cause of his late arrival at the inn, but things seemed to be under control now.
He shot off a few business e-mails, grabbed a plate full of delicious roasted lamb and potatoes at the buffet dinner and caught a glimpse of Shannon inspecting the stage before the acting troupe went on for their performance.
Bram couldn’t stomach sitting through a whole G-rated show, not with his mind decidedly elsewhere, but he stared at Shannon until he had the satisfaction of seeing her cheeks blush. Then he went up to his suite to wait for her.
And quite a suite it was. The Astaire featured a four-poster, king-sized bed with silk sheets and a satin-and-down comforter. It was as spacious as three regular guestrooms combined and it boasted an entertainment center, wireless Internet access, a balcony, a Jacuzzi and a fully stocked kitchenette.
Yes, he’d stayed in higher-class, more luxurious accommodations when he’d traveled to Rome or Vienna, but for a small Wisconsin harbor town, this was tops.
He decided he’d book this room every time he visited the inn. What the hell, he could afford it.
At precisely 9:29 p.m. he heard a light knock on his door.
Shannon.
He swung it open and his auburn-haired angel breezed in. “Hi,” she said, looking gorgeous but, from the slight fidgeting of her fingers, a little apprehensive.
He closed the door. Locked it.
“Hi,” he said back. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“I know.” She bit her lip. “Listen, Bram, I need to tell you something.”
Oh, God. She’s married or engaged or…who the hell knows what? He held his breath and nodded.
“It’s no secret that I’m attracted to you. Very attracted. And I want to be here with you. Tonight.”
Well, this wasn’t bad news. He released a little of the air in his lungs and said, “But?”
“But I don’t know how far we should take things. We barely know each other, and I’m a little new to taking chances on the unknown, so…”
He reached for her hands and exhaled the breath that remained. “Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen in here that you don’t agree to, Shannon. I don’t want the ghost of Fred Astaire haunting me for the rest of my life. Who knows what noisy havoc he could wreak?” Bram smiled at her and waited for her to smile back. When she did, he brought his lips down on hers.
She wasn’t wearing anything silky. Not a sleek evening gown or lingerie. Just your basic business-casual attire. Stuff he’d seen countless times on other women.
Yet, to his touch, it might have been the sheerest, laciest garment on the market because he could feel her luscious curves and softness just beneath the fabric. As he allowed their bodies to melt together, he knew with a flash of pure insight that there was nothing casual about this encounter.
And that made him pull back.
He looked down at her until her blue eyes fluttered open and he could feel the steady blaze of passion behind them. He would have to tread very carefully here. Shannon was not Angie. Shannon was the kind of woman who loved hearth and home, and his lifestyle didn’t lend itself well to that. At least, not until now. Maybe…maybe that could change.
“Let’s try this sitting down,” he suggested, leading her toward the bed. She complied then wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips against his. He kissed her back—long, hard and thoroughly—bringing her head to rest on the mattress and trapping her legs beneath one of his.
Control.
He had to remember that. Especially now when every cell in his body wanted to release her from those unfussy clothes and ravish her until morning. He knew from her responsiveness that it would take little effort to get what he wanted. He could be inside of her in ten minutes, maybe five.
But then what? Would she have second thoughts later? Would she avoid him when he came back to the inn? And he had every intention of coming back. Soon.
So, he needed to play strategy. Spotting the Easter basket on the bedside table, he reached for his ace—the blindfold.
“It’s your turn to wear this,” he told her.
She shivered but whispered, “Okay.”
He wrapped the black fabric around her eyes, careful not to pull it too tight. Then he kissed her again until she sighed, contented.
“You said you had fantasies about me,” she murmured between kisses. “Tell me one.”
Bram grinned to himself. She was playing right into his hand.
“Yes. It starts with this zipper.” He dragged down the zipper of her slacks and unsnapped the clasp at the top. Light-blue panties winked at him from between the folds of clothing. Very nice. He’d deal with those soon enough.
“And then what?” she said, her breath quickening.
“Then the slacks come off.” He slid them off her until her exquisite skin and all of the light-blue panties were revealed.
“Yes?” she rasped out.
“Then, in my fantasy, I get to place my tongue here.” He moved his mouth to her belly button, ringed it with his lips and then licked. “And my hand here.” He slipped his fingers underneath the band of her soft undergarments to reach the wetness between her legs. He pressed against her soft skin until she moaned.
“Bram…”
“Mmm-hmm?” He licked and pressed and, finding the warm space just below the pads of his fingers, pushed slightly inward.
“You…you can…” She wriggled beneath his grasp.
“Am I getting closer, Shannon?”
She laughed then sucked in some air. “Yes, dammit.”
“Well, good. You’re perfectly positioned for what I want to do next.” And with that, he thrust two of his fingers in all the way. She gasped. Then, still using his tongue on her naval and adding his thumb to the sensitive area just above his fingers, he grabbed both of her wrists with his free hand and held them firmly. The other hand tangoed with her until he got his fantasy: She screamed his name.
Once she’d had a chance to catch her breath, he loosened his grip on her wrists and helped her tug off the blindfold. She stared at him for a long time before reaching into the Easter basket and pulling out one of the flavored condoms.
“My turn now,” she said, stepping onto the carpet and waving the foil packet in the air. “I love strawberry.”
He was already as hard as concrete, so whatever flavor she chose would’ve been just dandy. “Me, too.”
She nodded. “Stand up, take your pants off and turn around.”
He squinted at her.
“My fantasy,” she informed him. “Just do it.”
He shrugged and did as the lady asked.
“The boxers, too, Bram.”
When he was standing there, his naked ass to her, he felt the familiar scrap of black fabric encircle one wrist and then the other. She tied his hands firmly behind his back then turned him face forward again at the edge of the bed.
“I think you’d better sit down,” she said, ripping open the packet and grinning at him.
“A damn good idea,” he agreed as she slid the flavored condom over his erection and brought her mouth down on it. And, a few minutes later, he was glad for the soft comfort of the bed as the force of his desire propelled him backward and Shannon’s sweet mouth caused his release.
When was the next holiday at this place? Wasn’t Earth Day coming up soon? May Day? Cinco de Mayo?
Hell, he’d take any one of them, and he’d tell Miranda to clear his calendar for a month, if that was what it took, to get him back to Shannon.
***
Shannon crept out of the Astaire Suite at around three-thirty a.m., through the hallway, down the stairs and back to her room.
Her body still trembled in a hundred places from Bram’s touch. One glance in her mirror and she saw she looked as tousled and flushed as she felt. And it felt…marvelous.
She’d never celebrated Easter Sunday quite like this.
Bram had fallen into a deep slumber sometime after midnight and, though they didn’t completely join their bodies during the evening, Shannon wouldn’t claim to be anything but absolutely satisfied by the experience.
At least from a physical standpoint. That man worked amazing deeds with his fingers.
He didn’t push her farther than she’d wanted to go. He didn’t become some guy she didn’t recognize once the door was shut. He didn’t make her feel anything but cherished for several wonderful hours. A part of her wanted to run back upstairs, wake him up and insist that they fully consummate their union right then and there. Wouldn’t that make him want to stay?
She shook her head to clear it. This was exactly the problem. He wasn’t going to stay, whether he wanted to or not. And begging him to make love to her until they’d used up all the condoms in their Easter basket wouldn’t make the gnawing insecurity of that fact go away.
This defined “risk” for her. She had to learn to embrace the inevitable, short-term nature of things—not cling to known entities just because they were safe.
But, ohhh, she liked Bram. She couldn’t help herself.
Trying to get to sleep now was futile. She showered, puttered around in her room until a reasonable hour and, finally, went down to her office to get some paperwork done.
A few minutes after seven, she heard knocking. Figuring it must be Jake, she called out, “You know it’s open.”
The door swung open. It wasn’t Jake.
“Why’d you leave so early?” Bram asked her, leaning against the doorjamb, wearing travel clothes and a lazy smile. “I missed you in my bed.”
She felt her face and most of her body heat up at his words. “I thought you might need the rest.”
He nodded. “What I need is to get back to Minneapolis.” He held up his cell phone and frowned at it. “What I want is to drag you back upstairs with me. Any chance we’ll have a next time?”
“I hope so,” she said but tried to let go of all expectation.
“Me, too.” He took a few steps closer to her. “The Easter Bunny left you a present in my room. You might wanna grab it before someone else gets to it first.”
She stood up from her desk and walked over to him. “A hint?”
“Nope. You’ll just have to see for yourself. And promise that you’ll think of me when you use them.”
Then he kissed her before she could say, “I promise.”
She broke away and nodded.
“Good. I’ve got to go, Shannon, but I’ll see you soon, and I’ll talk to you sooner than that, I hope.” He brought his lips to the back of her hand, which, while a gentlemanly gesture, still felt intensely intimate coming from him. “Happy Easter.”
“Happy Easter,” she said as he rushed out the door. She trailed his shadow into the hallway wishing she, too, could set off on a journey. Maybe Bram’s adventurousness would rub off on her.
“Good morning, Shannon,” Jake’s cool voice whispered behind her. “Have a restful night?”
“Hmm? Oh, yeah.” Liar, liar. Would Bram really come back?
“Seems that way.”
She turned to look at Jake, his gaze piercing daggers at Bram’s distant form. She grinned at her friend. “Be happy for me, Jake. It’s nothing serious, really, but I like him. Okay?”
Jake shrugged. “If you say so, babe.” Then, after a few beats, “Okay, okay.” He half smirked at her. “But he’d better treat you well, Shannon, or he’ll be rooming in the utility closet next time.”
She laughed. “Thanks, Jakey.”
He rolled his eyes at the nickname she rarely used when addressing him and mumbled a grudging “you’re welcome” back to her.
She flashed him a grin, gave his arm a quick squeeze and then raced up to the Astaire Suite.
Bram had hastily made the bed but much remained the same as when she’d left in the wee hours of the morning. In the middle of the table, however, sat the Easter basket, the black blindfold tied in a bow around the handle.
She moved closer to get a better look and discovered the basket was now filled with sumptuous soaps, lotions and body oils…all from Lathericious. Bram’s company.
She smiled as she smelled a few of the fragrances, her smile broadening when she spotted the note he’d left her. It read:
Shannon,
Slow, sensual seduction is not only my pleasure…it’s also my business. I brought these to Holiday Quinn for you. Please enjoy them at your leisure and imagine my hands rubbing them on you. That’s what I’ll be imagining.
Don’t hesitate to call me at the cell number below, or e-mail me, if you’d prefer. I’d be happy to hear from you anytime. I repeat—ANYTIME.
Bram
Hmm, would right now be soon enough? Shannon sat on the bed next to the phone and punched in Bram’s cell number before she could talk herself out of it.
“Hartwick,” he answered on the second ring.
“Hi,” she said, feeling dangerously daring as she stretched out on the warm bed that still held his scent. “Guess where I am?”