Two Lips, Indifferent Red

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

We’d met about a year or so ago—

All right, who was I kidding? It was seventeen months, three weeks, and five days. He was leaving Georg’s and I was coming in for my shift. He nodded at me, and I nearly fell over my own feet. I stood staring after him, and when he glanced back, he’d grinned and winked.

And just like that, I was in love.

Oh, I knew it was hopeless—he must have been about twenty years my senior and was probably used to lovers who were soigné and debonair, and s**t, he was most likely straight, so those lovers would be chic and svelte.

But he had brown eyes, the kind called honey eyes, skin the color of cafe au lait, and thick, curly hair as dark as a moonless night.

I grinned like the sap I was. What could I say? He brought out the poet in me.

And if he’d asked, I’d have sprawled on the nearest flat surface and let him have me.

Wait, what? That startled me. I’d kept my distance from anyone who looked like he might be even remotely interested in asking me out. After what Daniel had done to me, I just didn’t trust my reaction to anyone.

Why was I drawn to this man?

Oh, of course. I chuckled sheepishly to myself. That walking wet dream would never look at me that way even if he was gay, and so it was perfectly safe for me to fantasize about him, about licking that skin and running my fingers through that hair. Would his skin taste as sweet as it looked? Would those curls wrap around my fingers, clinging to them? Would—

“Kipp!” My boss’s voice shook me out of that pleasant reverie. “There’s a delivery out back. Get hopping.”

“Yes, Hunter.”

Of course I thought about trying to find out who the man was, but how much luck would I have if he paid cash? And if he used credit cards, how would I know which was his? I simply had no way of discovering who he was…

All right, I knew that was bullshit. If I really wanted to discover who he was, I could track transactions. But he was out of my league, and it was foolish to set myself up for a fall.

But I could dream of him. And oh, momma, were my dreams good!

The man came back about six weeks later. Hunter had me filling clear glass vases with multi-colored glass stones and potpourri. Once I was done, I was supposed to place them around the shop, in various nooks and crannies, demonstrating my ability to create something that would pop.

The scent of the citrusy potpourri irritated my nasal passages, and I sneezed, and then sneezed four more times in a row.

“God bless you.” The voice was like a warm brownie with two scoops of vanilla ice cream, drowned in hot fudge sauce—no nuts, though, thanks very much—and topped with a mountain of whipped cream. Without even seeing the voice’s owner, I was in lust.

“Thank you.” I looked up, pressing my index finger against that spot under my nose to prevent another sneeze, and it was him, the man of my dreams! The grin that spread across my face had to be the broadest, silliest thing he’d ever seen, but his eyes were kind, and he handed me a handkerchief.

In one corner was the initial H.

“Thank you,” I said again. I tried to be cool about blowing my nose, but I had the feeling I was a complete failure at that. Well, at least I didn’t sound like a Canadian goose. “I’ll have this laundered and get it back to you as soon as I can.”

“There’s no rush.”

I sighed. I’d thought that was the perfect excuse to see him again. “What does the H stand for?”

He tilted his head and grinned, and I went from “Whistle While You Work” to “Oh, Momma, Buy Me That!” in two seconds.

“What do you think?”

“Harrison? Henri?” Lots of people were suckers for accents, so I gave that the French pronunciation. And then I gave him an innocent look from under my lashes. “Handsome?”

He burst out laughing, but a blush rose in his cheeks. His skin wasn’t so dark I couldn’t see that, and I’d put it there! I’d never flirted with anyone before, and it was like heady wine.

“May I help you with anything, Mr. H?” Maybe it stood for his last name. This would be the safest way to address him, in the shop at any rate. If Hunter heard me coming on to one of his customers, I didn’t think I’d have a job for very much longer.

“I think you should call me something else, Kipp.” Wait, how had he learned my name? I’d never told him. Unless he’d asked Hunter?

Did I really care, one way or the other? I was going to find out his name!

“Sure. What did you have in mind?”

“Ham.”

“Um…” All right. “Like that character in Doc Savage?”

“You’re much too young to remember that.”

“I’m not that young,” I muttered under my breath. The last thing I wanted him to see me as was a kid. “I saw the movie once.”

“Ah.” He touched the corner of my mouth. “Such a sweet dimple,” he murmured.

He liked that dimple? No one else had ever mentioned it before. Best of all, not only did he know my name, but he’d touched me. I grinned so broadly my cheeks ached.

But then he cleared his throat and said, “Well, I never stole hams.”

Huh? Oh, yes, that was how the character had gotten the nickname.

Ham must have gotten bored with the subject, because he changed it. “Is Hunter in?”

“Oh. Yes, of course.” He was here to see my boss, not me. I felt as if I were back at home, and I sighed. And his comment about that dimple was simply kindness.

“Kipp?”

“Yes, sir?”

He frowned at me. “I thought we’d agreed you’d call me Ham?”

“Yes, Ham?”

“Hunt called me. He ordered a bronze piece for me, and he said it had come in.”

“He’s in the back room. I’ll go get him.”

“Thank you, Kipp.” He ran his fingertip over my cheekbone to the dimple.

I was almost dancing as I went to get my boss.

Hunter had the radio playing his favorite station, which aired songs of the fifties and sixties. Just then Chuck Berry was singing about a brown-eyed handsome man, and how apropos was that?

“Yes, Kipp?”

“We have a customer who’s waiting to see you.”

“Who is it?”

I wasn’t going to tell my employer that a customer had told me to call him “Ham.” Not only was it too familiar, but it was…just between the two of us. “I don’t know. He said you’d ordered a bronze piece for him?”

“Ah. That would be—”

I held my breath. I was about to learn my dream man’s real name.

Hunter paused in the doorway and beamed at me. He was a big man who looked like he should have been on the football field taking down offensive linemen rather than helping wealthy women change the décor of their living rooms, but he was also the sweetest-tempered person I’d ever met. And he was damned good at what he did. In fact, I wanted to be him when I grew up.

“Finish up those vases, all right?”

“Yes, Hunter.”

He took Ham into his office and closed the door, and I sighed again and went back to work.

But that was meeting number two.

And so it went: he’d come into the shop, greet me, and tease me. It almost felt as if he was flirting with me, but I couldn’t let myself even consider that someone as gorgeous as he would be interested in a sophomore at Armand U. Or a junior, as I was now.

Until the day last week when he’d found me in the stockroom. “Ham!” I could have kicked something. Why did he have to see me looking like this? Because I was cleaning the stockroom, I was wearing my oldest clothes, the ones even Goodwill wouldn’t accept. My hair was in my eyes, cobwebs draped over one ear, and dust and sweat streaked my cheeks. I pushed the hair off my forehead and rubbed my shirtsleeve over a cheek.

“Kipp.” The expression in his eyes…I’d never seen anything like it before, not directed toward me.

He came right up into my personal space and gripped my shoulders. I stared at him with my lips parted. He stood about six foot two, maybe an inch or so more, while I was five foot ten. I had no clue about what he intended when he pulled me up onto my toes. And then he kissed me.

His lips were soft, and they pressed against mine in kisses that were chaste and gentle. That was the last thing I wanted.

I struggled to get free, and the warm color of his skin seemed to leech out.

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t you dare be sorry!” I wrapped my arms around his neck, moistened my lips, and fastened them to his. He made no effort to slip his tongue into my mouth until I touched the tip of my tongue to his lips, and then…“Oh, yes!”

Of course I’d been kissed before—well, on the cheek—but this was the best kiss I’d ever had. I could stay here forever. I could—

“Kipp!” Hunter was calling me from the showroom, and Ham set me away from him. I could read his expression now; it was serious. I remembered Daniel’s words: a guy liked to make the first move, and…oh God, Ham was going to tell me I’d blown it, and not in the good way—

“He’ll be right with you, Hunt,” he called, then lowered his voice. “I want to take you to dinner, Kipp. I’m booked the rest of this week with…business, but perhaps next week?”

“Yes!” We were going to dinner! An actual, honest-to-God date!

He smiled and caressed the line of my cheek to the corner of my mouth. “Such a cute dimple,” he said softly, then became more businesslike. “Let me have your cell phone.”

“Shit.” I bit my lip. I shouldn’t have sworn in front of someone I wanted to impress. “Sorry. I must have left it in my dorm room.”

“Okay.” He took out his cell phone. “Give me your number.” He programmed it into his phone, then took a notebook from the inner pocket of his suit jacket, tore off a sheet of paper, and wrote down his number. “Here.” He handed it to me. It had an out-of-state area code and extra minutes on my prepaid plan cost the earth, but who cared? I rarely called anyone anyway. “I’ll call you later in the week to firm things up.”

“Sounds good. Thank you, Ham.”

He tugged on the hair that curved over my ear. “Thank you. Now you’d better go see what Hunt wants, or he’ll think I’m having my wicked way with you.”

I went out into the showroom, grinning the whole way.

“Kipp, I—” Hunter frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Never better.”

“Hmm. All right. Would you—” He looked me up and down. “Never mind. I was going to ask for your help with that new customer, but you look like you’ve spent the day in the coal mines.”

“Give me a couple of minutes to get changed. I have the clothes I wore here.”

He patted my shoulder. “Good man.”

I blushed and hurried to the back room, once again almost dancing across the floor. And while yes, this was an important job Hunter was giving me, most of my pleasure was because I had a date with the nicest man I’d ever known. The fact he was also the handsomest was just a bonus.

When I got back to the dorm after work, it was to find my roommate out, probably trying to get into the pants of the newest girl he was dating. I just hoped she knew the kind of guy she was dealing with.

I logged Ham’s number into my phone and dialed it.

“Hello there, blue eyes.”

“Hi, Ham.” I could barely catch my breath. I loved that he knew it was me, that he had a pet name for me. “I just put your number in my phone and I wanted to be sure I had it right. I…I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

“No. I’m here, all alone. I wish you were with me.”

“Oh!” Oh God! His voice was smooth as honey this time. I’d never heard anything like it, and the way it coiled around my d**k…I nearly came in my pants.

“Kipp?”

“I…”

“Next week can’t come soon enough for me.” Was this what he sounded like in bed?

“Me neither.” I would have danced across the room, only that would have left me breathless—more breathless—so I hugged myself instead. “Where…uh…where will we go for dinner?”

“I thought I’d take you to the Gramercy Tavern.”

“Isn’t that in Manhattan?”

“Yes.”

“We’re having dinner in Manhattan?”

“Yes. We’ll take my jet. And afterward I thought we’d go for a carriage ride around Central Park as well.”

It was a good thing he was on the other end of the line. I didn’t want him to see how my mouth was gaping. We were going to fly to New York to go to one of Zagat’s top-rated restaurants, and then a carriage ride…

This was going to be the world’s best first date!

It was probably too warm for a blanket to cover us, cover what our hands might be doing, but I could picture it. He’d unzip my fly and reach in—oh, I’d go commando!—and he’d stroke the pad of his thumb over my d**k, gathering up precome. He’d take his hand out of my pants, press his thumb against my lips, and I’d—

I rubbed my palm over the bulge in my jeans and bit my lip to keep from moaning.

He must have misunderstood my silence, though. “Of course, if you’d prefer to go somewhere else…”

“No, no, that’s fine!” I could feel the heat rise over my cheeks. “I…that’s fine.” Thank God he couldn’t read my thoughts.

“I’m glad to hear that. I think you’ll enjoy the duck breast and confit.”

What? Oh, food. “It sounds delicious.” I’d enjoy gator nuggets and seaweed if I was having it with him.

“The flight into JFK will be about forty-five minutes, and I’ll have a limo take us into the city, so suppose I pick you up about 6:30?”

“Yes.” I’d learned my freshman year at Armand U that there were only a few occasions throughout the school year that required dress clothes. At that time, my allowance had been enough for little extravagances, and since a growth spurt had resulted in me outgrowing all the clothes I’d brought from home, I’d purchased a quality blazer and trousers, a couple of button-down shirts, a silk tie, and a pair of dress loafers. They were almost three years old now, and while I didn’t doubt they’d meet the Gramercy Tavern’s dress code, I wanted something new, something nicer.

I groaned. Oh, God, how girly was that?

“Are you all right, Kipp?”

“Yes.” I tucked my phone between my shoulder and ear and pulled out the key for the drawer in my desk that locked. It wasn’t that I didn’t exactly trust my roommate but…I didn’t.

I took out my checkbook and turned to the last entry in the transaction register. The balance was a little more than three hundred dollars, and I sighed. I had to strictly budget my funds, and I wouldn’t have enough for a new suit even after my next paycheck was deposited into my checking account at the end of the week. But I could get my blazer and trousers dry-cleaned, and…maybe the shirt and tie as well? Yes, the whole thing shouldn’t cost more than twenty dollars. I could swing that.

I was about to put the checkbook away and somehow I managed to drop my phone. “s**t!” I scooped it up. “Ham? Are you still there?”

“I’m here.”

“I’m sorry. I dropped my phone. You were saying?”

“Kipp, is everything okay?”

“Certainly.” I replaced my checkbook in the drawer, locked it, and put the key away. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You sound a little…I don’t know…distracted?”

“Ah. I’m sorry. I was…” How could I tell him I’d been fussing over what I would wear?

“I know I’m older than you. Am I too old? Would you rather not—”

“Oh God, no! I want to go to dinner with you! It’s just…When you hear what I’ve been thinking about, you’re going to change your mind about going out with me.”

“I doubt that.” His voice had taken on that honey quality again, and hearing it made me so hard…“Tell me.”

All right, I’d just have to bite the bullet. “I was wondering if I should buy a new suit.”

“Really?” I could hear his amusement in that one word.

“You’re laughing at me.” Not that I really minded.

“No. I think it’s very sweet.”

“I just don’t want you to be embarrassed to be seen with me.” As a Llewellyn, I knew how important it was to make sure I was always dressed appropriately.

“As if that could ever happen.”

“Now that’s very sweet.”

“I’m a cutthroat, Kipp. Any of my competitors will tell you that.”

“But I’m not your competition, am I?”

“No. I hope you’ll remember that. Excuse me a moment. Yes, Armitage?” He must have put his hand over his phone, because I couldn’t distinguish his conversation with whoever this Armitage was, but after a few minutes, he said, “I’m sorry, Kipp. That was my personal assistant.”

“You’re busy. You should have told me. I’d better let you go.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

That did it. Between his voice, fantasizing about what he’d do to me during that carriage ride, and the memory of his kisses, I gasped and climaxed.

“Are you all right, Kipp?”

“F-fine. I’ll see you next week.”

“Next week.”