Holiday Man Page 6

  “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 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?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Memorial Day

  What color, you ask… You mean you can’t guess ?

  I’ll leave the visuals to your imagination, Bram, but I WILL tell you their texture. Think soft and satiny from top to bottom, with a hint of roughness around the frilly edges.

  Perfect for a summer’s evening and, when uncovered, will prove more unusual than what is expected…

  Bram couldn’t resist reading Shannon’s latest message one more time. He laughed and logged off his e-mail for the night before getting ready for bed.

  Hmm, bed. Alone.

  But he was in Brussels on business and she was in Wisconsin preparing for the upcoming Memorial Day weekend at the inn. And writing, by his account, the sexiest descriptions of cupcakes ever composed online.

  Yes, professionally made and creatively frosted, using the smoothest fondant and the most artful designs for her guests. Delicate red-white-and-blue cupcakes…

  Not satin panties.

  Not sheer lingerie.

  Not silky bed sheets.

  Oh, how that woman delighted in tormenting him.

  They’d played this game for weeks now, starting after Easter
with her first phone call from the Astaire Suite. A game of suggestive one-upmanship, which turned out to be more like “one-upwomanship” because she so often had him bested. He never would’ve guessed someone with such a poised demeanor would become this evocative, this bold. This quickly.

  Not that he was complaining.

  He just wanted to see where her imaginative mind would take them these days, if ever they were face-to-face again.

  He threw his tired body down on the mattress and sank into the pillow. He clicked off the bedside light, flipped the blanket over his legs and squeezed his eyes shut.

  Nothing.

  Well, nothing but Shannon dancing behind his eyelids in a lacy, flowing teddy—probably forest green—while luring him down the darkened hallways of Holiday Quinn for a flaming quickie against one of the banisters.

  He swallowed and felt himself harden. No way would he be able to fall asleep without some help.

  He dialed room service and had them send up a cup of decaf with cream and a chocolate croissant. Carbs usually knocked him out fast. But the sweet pastry, like virtually everything else he laid his eyes on, made him think of Shannon.

  So he tried some strong bourbon from the mini bar. No such luck.

  The late-night TV show in Flemish didn’t help either. Nor did the French one.

  He checked the clock and, counting backward seven hours, he decided there remained only one viable option. He punched in a phone number he’d long since memorized.

  “Hello, you’ve reached the voicemail of Shannon Quinn. I’m unable to take your call right now, but please leave your name and message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Have a wonderful day.”

  “How the hell can I have a wonderful day?” Bram grumbled after waiting for the familiar beep. “I’m bored, horny and on my way to becoming an insomniac. Call me the second you get this and put me out of my misery. Please.” He recited the phone number of his hotel suite and his room number. Then he slammed down the receiver.

  Dammit.

  This international travel gig had long ago curtailed his social life, but he hadn’t resented it quite so much until recently. Trying to stay in contact with someone when you were seven or eight time zones away…who could do that and not go out of their freakin’ minds?

  Twelve long minutes later the phone rang.

  “Hi, birthday boy. How are you?” Shannon’s soft voice was like a salve on a wound.

  Bram exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Not great. And my birthday isn’t until tomorrow.”

  “Isn’t it already tomorrow in Belgium?”

  He glanced at the clock. She was right. Three minutes past midnight and, having been born a late-night baby, he was less than a half hour away from officially turning thirty-one. He was educated, responsible, highly successful, and yet… God, when had he become so boringly adult?

  “Yeah, okay, it’s tomorrow here,” he said. “But I’m getting impatient in my old age. I wanna kiss you and do other things to you. Tonight. And, sorry, I’m not being subtle but, frankly, I don’t care.”

  She laughed, sort of. “You’ll have to come back to the inn then. That’s where I am and where I need to be. At least for now.”

  He heard a touch of something in her voice. Couldn’t quite put his thumb on it, but it sounded like…yearning, maybe. Which gave him a great idea. “Why don’t you fly here instead and meet me? I could FedEx you a ticket in the morning and—”

  “I’d love to, Bram, really. But you know I can’t just pick up and leave. I’ve got the party coming up this weekend with over a hundred registered guests, and there’s just too much to do beforehand.” The tone of her voice continued to mystify him. Longing? Resignation? Did she burn to see him or did she merely want to get away?

  Bram let his mind drift back to the cozy comfort that was Holiday Quinn. The warm, homey feel of the place, the tasteful décor, the relaxing environment where the hotel was situated. No way would she wish to leave such a sweet spot so, perhaps, it was really him she missed.

  Something unfamiliar in the vicinity of his chest soared at the thought. He’d fly back to her in a heartbeat if he could, but business requirements claimed his time and sapped his energy. He was as bound to his world at present as she was to hers. But, hey, maybe there was a middle ground.

  “What about the weekend after Memorial Day?” He’d still be in Europe, but he could maybe swing a day or two off and, of course, they’d have the nights…

  “I’m working at The Ashland next weekend. I’m off the following one, though. What are you doing then?”

  For a split second he was hopeful. Then he checked his electronic calendar. “Dammit. I’ll be in Tokyo.” And the following week would be spent in Beijing. Lathericious was expanding to the Asian market and he had serious work to do in both cities.

  She sighed when he explained this. “Well, it’s looking like we’ll have to wait until the 4th of July.” She paused. “You are still planning to visit then, aren’t you?”

  “Hell, yeah.” He’d made Miranda block out that weekend after Easter, since he already knew Memorial Day would be a lost cause. But he hadn’t counted on missing Shannon so much in the interim. He looked forward to her phone calls and e-mails like a seventeen-year-old looked forward to a driving his dad’s convertible on a Friday night in summer.

  “Good.” He heard her exhale before adding, “So, what does the birthday boy want to do to celebrate his big day?”

  Bram almost laughed. The last time he’d done anything worthy of note on his birthday had been a decade before when he’d celebrate legal adulthood by earning his first six-figure salary and, consequently, his financial freedom from his parents. Four years later, he became the owner of his own company, had worked until at least ten p.m. on every birthday since and never once considered it unusual.

  Until tonight.

  “I want you to touch me,” he admitted before censoring himself.

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “I’m putting you on hold…and going up to the Astaire Suite,” she said, her voice low and undeniably seductive.

  He waited for what seemed like an eternity, though the digital clock by his bed flipped only one number in her absence. Then her voice returned to the line.

  “Hi,” she said, a little breathless. “I locked the door and am lying down on our bed.”

  Our bed.

  He swallowed hard at those words, but he, too, had begun to think of the silk sheets of the Astaire Suite’s king-sized bed as “theirs.” He slid onto his hotel mattress, got as comfortable as he could under the circumstances and whispered, “Yeah? We’ll I’m lying down, too. What’cha gonna do with me, sweetheart?”

  “Turn off the light.”

  He flicked off the bedside lamp. “Done.”

  “Close your eyes.”

  He did. “They’re closed.”

  “What are you imagining?” she asked him.

  What was he imagining? Huh. Would he scare her off if he told her the truth? Yeah, sure, he’d fantasized about a lot of heavily sexual things since they’d met, the content of which could fill up an issue or two of Playboy, but there were also few daydreams that’d crossed his mind in the past few weeks that were decidedly…well, more homey than erotic.

  Bram shuddered.

  Since when was he a white-picket-fence, live-happily-ever-after-with-one-woman kind of guy? Must be all the jetlag finally catching up with him.

  He cleared his throat. “You’re in your panties and bra. I’ve just tossed the silly business clothes you always wear into a pile on the floor and—”

  “Silly business clothes?”

  Her indignant tone made him laugh. “I mean, I’ve peeled off of you anything that isn’t silky or lacy or see-through. And now I’m preparing to get rid of all the rest.” He paused. “I plan to use my teeth.”

  He heard her quick intake of air on the line and couldn’t keep from grinning. Those breathy little sou
nds she came out with made his day every time.

  “Um, okay,” she said. The delectable rustling of clothing being removed greeted his ears. “The silly business clothes are now on the floor.”

  “Thank you. You gonna tell me what color those panties of yours are, Shannon, or am I to assume they’re red, white and blue like the frosting on the cupcakes?”

  “They are not red, white or blue. Nor are they any combination of the three.”

  “Hmm. So, no pink? No purple?”

  “Nope.”

  “Does your bra match them?”

  “No.” She paused. “I’m not wearing a bra.”

  Now it was his turn to inhale sharply. He squeezed his eyes tighter and said, “All the better. I’ll deal with the panties when I get to them. For now, I’m kissing your neck, just under your chin, and then running my tongue along the soft skin at the base of your throat. Can you feel that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. And, since there’s no fabric to stop me, I’m sliding my kisses further down. To your chest. To the tops of your beautiful breasts. I’m just about to reach your nipples, which are inviting me to kiss them, too.” He remembered her naked breasts and groaned. “What are you doing, Shannon?”

  “I’m gliding my fingers up your back. Kneading those stiff muscles on either side of your spine until you press yourself against me.”

  Bram flipped over on his stomach, eyes still closed, and imagined Shannon’s soft body on the firm mattress beneath him. “I can feel that,” he whispered. “Touch me harder.”

  “I want to crush your lower body to me, but you’re pulling back—”

  “Because I’m licking your nipples, Shannon. I want to drive myself into you, but first I need to hear you invite me in.”

  “You’re invited,” she whispered.

  God, he wanted to take her. Now.

  He swallowed. “Okay, then. So, I’m sucking on your nipples, squeezing them with my lips until you’re writhing beneath me. I hear the moans from deep inside your throat, and I hold your hands as I continue to kiss you.”

  She moaned. “Okay. I’m there.”