A Dream Christmas. Кэрол Мортимер
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world and it was his, and Riley’s, favourite dish. They were the only ones who could eat it as hot as Mariah liked to make it and it had been a frequent topic of argument about who handled the heat better. Back when they still argued. James missed that. Then again, he missed lots of things about Riley.
‘No rice but there’s fresh bread in the bread bin—do you want to help yourself?’
Riley hopped to her feet. ‘Sure. Do you want some?’
‘I ate earlier.’
Ten minutes later, Riley was sitting cross-legged on the couch, food on her lap, dipping her bread into the juice of the curry and making appreciative noises. ‘So good, so good.’
He wished she was making those noises while tasting his body but watching her eat wasn’t a bad consolation prize.
‘For someone so small, you can pack it away,’ James commented, watching her lick a drip of sauce from the corner of her mouth with her tongue. It was the sexiest thing ever … ever.
‘Big metabolism. My mum is the same. So is Morgan, actually.’ Riley cleaned her plate with a piece of bread, popped it into her mouth and placed the plate on the coffee table. ‘Oh, God, I feel a million times better. Warm and full.’
Riley rested her head against the back of the couch and James could feel her eyes on his face. He turned his head and met her stare straight on. He realised that her eyes held a hundred shades of grey, from silver to lightning to thundercloud. He remembered that her breasts tasted like the sweet grapes grown at Bon Chance, that her ass was world quality. His sex stirred and then jumped to attention, all ready to rock and roll. The sex between them had been off-the-charts stupendous …
But it was much harder to admit that his attraction to her wasn’t only about sex; her laugh had the power to turn his day around, her smart-aleck comments and the irreverence she displayed towards him kept him grounded, and she had a super-fast mind behind her artsy exterior. Being with her made him feel like the bigger man, a better man.
‘You look exhausted,’ Riley said softly. ‘No, not just tired. You’re stressed and worried …’
He blinked as her words sank in. There were few people who could see past his tough-guy CEO facade and Riley slid right on through. He considered brushing her concern off but instead he told her the truth.
‘Yeah … I’m battling to get investors together for a diamond mine we want to open in Angola. There’s a strike looming at one of our biggest mines back home. Theft at a store in Hong Kong. I have to fire one of my right-hand people in security because he has a drug problem. Grant has gone home because his father isn’t well and I have to deal with someone temporary for the next month or so, which is always a pain. Grant takes care of the small stuff before it becomes big stuff.’
Riley tucked her toes under his thigh and the action was so natural that he wasn’t sure if she was even conscious she’d done it. ‘How can I help?’ she asked.
James frowned at her. ‘You want to help? Me?’
Riley yawned and her eyes drooped. ‘Despite the fact that you can be a constant nagging pain in my … neck, you still are one of my oldest friends. Despite our craziness, I would do anything I could to make the shadows in your eyes go away.’ Her eyes narrowed and he realised that she was very conscious of what she was saying. ‘I’ll help you, not because you are forcing me to or because you have this stupid idea that I should work my notice; I’ll help you because …’
James held his breath, not having a cooking clue what she was about to say. ‘Because?’
Riley bit her lip. ‘Because you have been incredibly good to me as a boss. I realise that. But also because I don’t want to start a new life without us being friends. I don’t want to carry that baggage forward with me, James.’
Generous Riley, he thought. As a child she’d always been the one to share a sandwich, would give up her last sweet, anxious to please and happy to give. It was warming to know that she still had that inside her, that generosity, that warmth.
Riley yawned widely and wiggled down so that her head was resting on the arm of the white leather couch. James leaned across and pushed a strand of red hair off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. ‘Why don’t you just close your eyes for a sec, Ri?’
‘I should go home.’
‘Not tonight, honey.’
‘I’ll close my eyes for a little while and then I’ll call a taxi.’
‘Yeah, okay,’ James replied, knowing that she would be asleep in a minute and wouldn’t wake up before sunrise. If he could trust himself he’d pick her up and take her back to the spare bedroom but he knew that as soon as he had her in his arms she’d end up in his bed and then he wouldn’t be able to resist waking her up with a couple of strategically placed kisses. No, it was better if he left her exactly where she was. They’d made some progress tonight and if they carried on in this vein then maybe he could get her to talk about why she was leaving so that he could fight fire with fire, so he could fix this.
Leave her here, his brain insisted—she would be fine here for the night. The apartment was toasty-warm, but he grabbed a spare blanket and put it over her anyway before turning off the lights.
The thought of waking up to her, even if she wasn’t in the same bed, shouldn’t make him as happy as it did. But tonight he was too tired to care. He’d worry about it in the morning.
RILEY SNUGGLED INTO the cushions of the couch, smelled coffee and shoved her hand out from under the blanket and wiggled her fingers. ‘Gimme.’
She felt James’s fingers on hers, positioning her hand to grip the cup and, still lying on her stomach, she pulled the cup to her lips and took a scalding sip. The heat burned her tongue but she didn’t care. After a couple more sips, she opened her eyes and saw a pair of muscular thighs covered by expensive material, a fine white pinstripe running through the deep grey fabric. Her eyes wandered up, past a rather pleasing bulge, up and over a hard stomach covered, sadly, in her opinion, by a white dress shirt and a solid black tie lay between those wonderful pecs.
‘You shouldn’t get dressed. Ever,’ she muttered, sipping again.
She heard his snort of laughter and when she opened her eyes again he was on his haunches in front of her, clean-shaven and smelling amazing.
‘You awake now, Taylor?’
‘Go away,’ Riley muttered, conscious that she probably had canyon-size creases in her face from the throw pillows.
James brushed her hair away from her face. ‘It’s time to get moving.’
‘What part of “go away” is difficult for you?’ Riley muttered, yanking the blanket over her head.
James pulled it away again. ‘I’m making omelettes. You want one?’
Riley opened one eye. ‘Maybe. Mozzarella and bacon?’
‘Maybe.’ James smiled as he stood up, taking the blanket with him. She was still warm and the couch, though horribly white, was super comfortable … she could just drift off—but James’s hand landing on her butt had her eyes flying open again.
‘I’m up! I’m up!’ she growled at him.
‘You never could wake up gracefully,’ James said, yanking her to her feet.
‘If you want chirpy then go and catch a budgie,’ Riley told him, taking her coffee, her bag, and staggering towards the hallway. She needed six more hours of sleep, a shower and a meal and then she would feel human.
She looked up at the transparent ceiling into the clear blue water of the lap pool directly above