Just One Kiss Read online

  The arrogance of the man! Lulled into a sense of well-being by the soothing compress, she forgot her head and leaped to her feet. “Just who do you think you are? If I say I’ll make my own call, I’ll—”

  The reaction of her poor head to the abrupt change in position was thunderous. The headache roared back, so too did the queasiness in her stomach. Hands clutched to her middle, she looked up at him.

  He did not move from his place near the fire, merely stared her down. “I rest my case,” was his only comment.

  “Where’s the bathroom?” was hers.

  Chapter Four

  Michael walked back from making Nikki’s call. His shoulders and bare head were swathed in snow, but he didn’t bother shaking it off, wasn’t even conscious of it. Nicole Johnson. It was a name he was familiar with, thanks to Jayne Kingway. What was it she called her? Kingway’s rising star.

  His surprise when she’d asked him to call Amy Thurston at Chateau Whistler had gone unnoticed by his sickly houseguest. Given in a rush, as she hied her upset stomach to the bathroom, there was no time for him to let her know he knew Amy. It was painfully obvious that the trip to the bathroom took priority.

  Nicole Johnson, he said again. This wasn’t exactly how he’d planned to meet her. He chuckled. He guessed it wasn’t how she’d planned to meet him either—trading insults on a ski run. It was awkward for both of them.

  He was glad to discover the appealing woman at the cabin was well past the age of consent, but disappointed to find out she worked for him. It was his rule—and he’d never broken it—no romantic relationships with employees. In honesty, the rule was yet to be tested. He’d certainly never had to apply it to a willful redhead, with eyes as blue and steady as the water in Bantry Bay on a calm summer’s day. And he wasn’t at all sure he wanted to.

  Nikki had returned to the sofa shortly after Michael left to make her call. She’d fallen asleep instantly and was still sleeping when he returned. It was only when he pulled a blanket over her that she stirred.

  “What time is it?” she asked groggily.

  Michael, fearing to wake her completely, didn’t answer. He moved silently from the room and closed the door, going back only once in the next hour to stoke the fire.

  For a time, he stood over her, studying her face, now lit only by the dancing flames in the firebox. The soft light played across delicate skin, shadowed by the sweep of her lashes and the loose tendrils of hair at her temple. The bandage, he could see, showed a slight stain, and her long braid had lost its symmetry, curving around her throat like a wide, shimmering ribbon. Her red hair intrigued him, and he thought of freeing it completely and running his fingers through and down its length.

  Nikki shifted to the comfort of her back. Raising one arm, she used it to cradle her head. The blanket shifted downward with the movement, exposing the top portion of the long zipper on her jumpsuit. Opened a mere six inches, it exposed only the vaguest beginning of her curves, but the promise was evident as the form-fitting suit pulled tightly across her breasts.

  Momentarily transfixed by the glint of the zipper, Michael wondered what was below that silver strand. Seeking safer territory, his eyes moved back to the oval of her face, then rested on her loosely parted lips. He took a deep breath. With this woman, he knew there was no safe territory. He was aroused just looking at her.

  Damn the fire in your Spanish blood, Michael Patrick Dorado, and the Irish romanticism that fuels it!

  He left the room.

  ***

  It was ten o’clock when he returned to his sleeping beauty. He placed his hand on her shoulder.

  “Nikki, wake up.” It was the first time he’d spoken her name.

  Nikki responded with a feline stretch. The ski suit again pulled tight across her breasts. Michael swore under his breath. He didn’t need a reminder of what he had struggled to forget for the past two hours. He moved to the safety of the fireplace and waited for her eyes to open. There were times when being a gentleman was pure hell.

  He’d decided to forego explanations of who he was, and what he had discovered during his call to Amy. It would only create an awkward situation for both of them, and tomorrow was soon enough for that. Another long look at the beguiling woman on his sofa affirmed his decision. Keep it light, keep it friendly and get her out of here—fast, before he did something good little boys—and ethical bosses—didn’t do. That was the wise thing to do. Not that you’ve always been wise when it comes to women, he reminded himself.

  Nikki opened her eyes. There was only a moment’s disorientation in her quick mind before she recalled the events of the past few hours and remembered where she was. She sat up carefully, pleased to find her headache gone. She raised her gaze to her host, and the intensity in his eyes disconcerted her.

  “I can’t believe I slept so long. Why didn’t you wake me?” Self-consciously, she pulled the long braid forward and made a half-hearted effort to tidy it.

  “I considered it,” he replied, “but I thought you needed the sleep. It’s the best way to get rid of a headache. Better?” His dark eyes scrutinized her. There was a strange intimacy about the look.

  “Much better. Thanks.”

  When her host continued to gaze down at her, she suddenly felt shy, awkward. Her hand nervously pushed at her hair. There was a subtle change in him, she noticed, again glancing up at him. He didn’t seem quite the same as he had before she went to sleep, but she couldn’t say what was different. The silence was disturbing; Nikki ended it.

  “Did you manage to reach my friend Amy?”

  “Yes, I did. I told her you were okay and that I’d bring you home later tonight. She was very relieved.” He didn’t elaborate.

  The room was in shadow, lit only by the fire. Nikki watched him walk toward her, his movement fluid and purposeful. He knelt at her feet and turned on a lamp that sat on the side table to her left. That done, he reached out to touch her face.

  At his touch, Nikki’s heart beat within her like a thing caged, desperate, erratic.

  He hesitated before lightly pressing the soiled bandage on her forehead. His eyes moved down from the wound to meet hers. Confused by her odd response, Nikki looked for reassurance in his face, now only inches from hers. She found none. Desire glittered there, in his eyes, but not in his voice as he spoke again.

  “Some blood has seeped through your bandage. I should change it. I’ll get a fresh dressing.”

  Nicole seized the moments alone to try to make sense out of her truant emotions. Why these strange reactions to this man? Her logical mind looked for reasons. She was tired, addled from the fall, ill at ease being in a strange house. True, but that didn’t account for the peculiar shyness that came over her when he gave her the simplest of attentions. Shy. She was never shy.

  She tried to find a label, a recognizable tag for the emotion he evoked in her. It eluded her.

  You are avoiding the obvious, Nicole Johnson, a little voice piped up from somewhere near a pool of female hormones. He excites you. You’re attracted to him. What’s the big deal?

  Could it be that simple? Certainly she’d been attracted to men before, but never with this stunning intensity. She was almost ... afraid, as though she were at the start of an unknown road with no signposts to guide her.

  This, Nicole, her little voice added impatiently, is not a problem. Travel that unknown road a while. See where it leads. You are, after all, young, healthy and well over twenty-one.

  Mike’s return yanked her from her thoughts.

  “This should do it, I think.” He put bandage and antiseptic on the table. His hand again moved to her forehead. This time Nikki didn’t flinch.

  “Ready?” he asked, simultaneously tugging sharply on the soiled bandage. She barely felt it.

  Michael looked at the exposed wound. “It’s not a cut so much as an abrasion. It should heal without a scar.” He applied the bandage quickly and got to his feet, seeming anxious to put distance between them. “That should be the las
t of my clumsy ministrations. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

  “No, not at all. Your touch is very gentle.” Her fidgety hand stroked the fresh bandage. Nikki didn’t like his use of the word last. Only a few hours ago she’d wanted to rid herself of this man. Now she wanted anything but. Fool, she shouted inwardly. You’re acting as old as the teenager he thinks you are, and quickly developing a school girl’s crush. Somehow it was important to set him straight. But how?

  It was then she remembered. He’d called her Nikki.

  “How did you know my name? You called me by name when you woke me up.”

  “Your friend Amy told me. I was already at the phone when I realized I had no idea who you were. I described you by telling her that I had come into possession of a red-haired girl with a strange taste in ski hats.” He smiled.

  She smiled back. Seems she owed one to Amy for the hat. “It is distinctive, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe even a lifesaver. If it weren’t for that hat, you might still be face down in a snow bank. When I saw those neon pom-poms disappear down Cougar Chute, I decided to follow. Without it, I might not have found you.”

  “That would have been—” She stopped, not knowing exactly what to say.

  “A great loss,” he finished. “A terribly great loss.” His smile faded, but his eyes gleamed in the firelight.

  Nikki’s mouth went dry. So, too, did her meager store of small talk. The demand now was for substance. Was the room vibrating or was that her overactive imagination? She swallowed. Did this man, this Mike, have any idea the effect he was having on her? She dropped her eyes, took a breath and forged ahead.

  “You called me a girl. I’m not exactly a girl, you know.” It was more a stammer than a statement.

  “I know.” He said no more.

  Nice try, Nikki, she said to herself. A truly top drawer effort. He’s so excited by that flash he can barely contain himself.

  “I think I’d better be going.” She rose unsteadily from the sofa. This time it was not nausea or a headache that made her legs untrustworthy. She kept her eyes averted. “Can you call me a taxi?” As she said the words, Nikki remembered and her eyes looked to him in confusion. “Oh. I forgot. No phone.”

  “I’ll drive you, but don’t you think you should eat first? I’m sure I can rummage something up. Don’t expect too much, though. My cooking is about on a par with my medical skills.”

  “No. I think I should go. It’s late. I’ll get something at the chalet.”

  “You’re sure?” He questioned, one brow lifting as though to punctuate.

  “Yes. Sure. You’ve done enough, but thanks anyway.”

  “I’ll get a jacket and go warm the car then.” There was only the briefest hesitation before he again left the room.

  Disappointed he was so quick to let her go, Nicole was immediately appalled by her wild imaginings. She’d ruined the man’s entire day and evening. No doubt he wanted to see the back of her. For all she knew he had a date tonight. It was unlikely a man who looked as good as he did spent his evenings alone. Determined to manage a graceful—and gracious—exit, she stood and walked to the fireplace.

  He came back into the room dressed for the outdoors and carrying a red ski jacket. “Here, put this on. It’s practically a blizzard out there and damn cold. You’ll feel the chill more after what you’ve gone through.” He put the jacket over her shoulders and slid his hands slowly down her arms, giving a soft squeeze.

  A caress? She turned to him, the puzzle evident in her blue eyes. There were only inches between them. His eyes told her nothing.

  “Ready, then?” He stepped away from her.

  “Ready.”

  It was cold outside, and Nicole was glad for the added protection of the jacket. The snowfall, caught by a light, gusty wind, swirled around them. With his hand on her elbow, he helped her up and into the large, four-wheel-drive vehicle. When they were under way, she turned to face him.

  “You haven’t asked me where I’m staying.”

  “I know where you’re staying. Chateau Whistler. I called your friend, remember?”

  “Of course. I forgot.” Nikki lapsed into silence. Only occasionally did she sneak a regretful glance at his handsome profile. What was happening here? In minutes she would be at her hotel, they would say courteous goodbyes, and this day would end. She didn’t want that, she realized suddenly. There was something left to be done. An idea filtered through. She examined it.

  Dare she? Why not? Why the hell not? A little courage. That’s all that was needed, and she had plenty of that.

  “Pull over,” she said suddenly.

  “What?”

  “Pull over... please.”

  Michael pulled to the side of the darkened road and turned to look at the woman beside him. Had the ride made her sick again?

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” She was staring out the window, chewing on a now-moist lower lip as if faced with some fearsome challenge. When she stopped chewing, she turned her steady, purposeful eyes to his but didn’t speak. Her expression was a mixture of wonder and resolve.

  Michael studied her closely, at first uncertain what her eyes were telling him, then—suddenly—very sure. A current passed between them, their confined space charged with it. He told himself to slam the car into gear and get moving. Instead, he drew back slightly and tapped a finger on the steering wheel, waiting

  He wasn’t unaware of his own sex appeal. In the past, not that he was proud of it now, he hadn’t been above using that appeal. To have the woman of his choice was a given. Women came easily to Michael Dorado—always had. His cousin, Sean, told him it was probably the reason he’d never married. You don’t value what you don’t have to fight for, Michael, me boy, he’d said, exaggerating his thick Irish lilt.

  So why this strange hesitancy now? Why did this vivid redhead make him wary? He knew what to do to bring her to his arms. Trouble was, he also knew why he didn’t. She worked for him, and it was his responsibility to maintain his control.

  He scanned her face, mesmerized by the lift of her chin, the sprinkle of pale freckles on her nose, wide-set eyes, and her full lips, pink from her nervous chewing of moments ago … and invitingly moist.

  His insides knotted, desire a rock in his gut—and lower. He stilled himself, waited for her to speak.

  “You may think this odd. You might think I’m odd, but would you mind—”

  Michael watched her take a deep breath to inhale resolve. Her gaze strengthened then, and she leveled her shoulders. “Would you mind kissing me?”

  He heard the sane voice of reason, ignored it, then reached for her. The knot began to loosen. One kiss. One small kiss. What could it hurt? He’d just keep a lid on it, that’s all.

  Nikki moved into his arms. She could hear his breathing as he lifted her chin. His eyes, narrowed and questioning, looked into hers.

  “Are you sure, Nikki? Kisses have a way of starting things.”

  Sounds good to me, she thought, but was reserved enough not to say it. Instead, she nodded silently and watched as his dark head lowered to hers. His kiss was light, soft, and promising. A brush of a kiss, all warm breath and tingles. His gentle beginning, like an early spring sun, roused her slowly. When light became heat, he started to pull away, his breath heavy and uneven.

  “No, not yet.” Nikki wound her arms tightly around his neck and pulled his head back to hers.

  “Nikki, this is—”

  “Great,” Nikki whispered. “Just great!”

  She heard him groan.

  He kissed her then until she was weak from the pleasure of it. She loved his mouth, the heat and sureness of it. This man knew how to kiss, even though she sensed he was holding himself back. She breathed in the scent of him and gave a whispered cry of pleasure, running curious fingers over the taut cords of his neck and upward through the thickness of his ebony hair.

  Lost in sensation, she tried to move closer. Michael groaned and she felt a tremor pa
ss through him as his mouth moved across her feverish cheek, then to her neck. For an instant, he tightened his hold on her, buried his head in the hollow of her throat. When Nikki shuddered, he released her, cupped her face in his hand and looked down into her shadowed eyes, the expression in his own indecipherable.

  “Enough?” he asked as though seeking her surrender.

  “Enough.” Nikki answered, giving him a hazy smile. For now.

  They drove the last distance to the chalet in silence. Nikki hoped he was right and that kisses did indeed start things. She could think of nothing she’d like more. Curious, she looked at him. He was staring straight ahead, his eyes fixed on the snowy road. He was frowning.

  Chapter Five

  Nikki woke the next morning clutching pieces of a hazy dream. The gleam of green eyes, the firmness of a strong tender mouth, a male voice smoky with passion—her own body, its ability to feel heightened and intensified. A lazy, sensual drift of a dream that could take her anywhere.

  “Damn the invention of the telephone,” she hissed as its persistent noise, a harsh cross between a ring and a buzz, made it impossible for her to cling to sleep any longer. She reached for it.

  “Your wake-up call, Miss Johnson. It’s seven o’clock.”

  Nicole managed a thank-you and threw herself back on the bed, pulling the covers over her head. Five more minutes, she promised herself, reaching again for the fading dream.

  “Double damn!” The phone again.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, Nikki. You okay?” Concern filled Amy’s voice. “I called last night, but there was no answer. What time did you get home?”