Delicious Complication Read online

  “Oh, yeah, we are. Well, I think I need some air from over there.” She pointed to the balcony’s railing. Praying that her legs weren’t completely filled with jelly, she stood up and stalked to the edge of the patio’s balcony. A passing breeze cooled her instantly, and her head cleared. She wasn’t drunk. Yet. After taking a few deep breaths, she felt like herself again. But then Brandon approached her from behind and the wooziness returned. She tried to focus on the amazing view before her instead of on him.

  “The city looks beautiful from up here, doesn’t it?” he said. “Funny how the things that you see every day can suddenly look so different once you change your point of view.”

  “It’s breathtaking,” she agreed.

  “Breathtaking is exactly the word I was thinking.” His low, odd tone made her turn around…and inhale sharply. He was looking at her, rather than the cityscape down below them. The look in his eyes sent those familiar shivers through her body again, and this time they went straight to her nipples, making them pebble underneath her strapless bra.

  “You’re cold. Here, take my jacket.” He undid one button and opened it. She fought the urge to wrap her arms around his chest so he could warm her up with his body instead. But she knew that touching him wouldn’t just warm her, it would ignite her. So she stayed put.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Just take it.” She inhaled as he held it out in front of her. She turned her back to him and slid her arms into the oversized sleeves. But the breath she’d been holding for those few seconds came out in a rush once his hands stilled on her shoulders.

  “So I just thought of another thing you probably don’t know about me,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s taking every ounce of will power I have to not think about that kiss and how you tasted. Todavía te pruebo en mis labios.”

  She touched her lips. She could still taste him, too. Her heart pounded and her mind jumbled. Was this another one of his silly games? And why on earth did she want to play, despite knowing any night spent with Brandon would be one night only?

  The memory of that searing kiss came rushing back, kicking her pulse up by a thousand notches. What he said earlier was true. She had enjoyed it. And now she craved it. So much so that she knew she wouldn’t be right until she experienced it again.

  She turned slowly to face him. His arms fell away, and she instantly missed his touch.

  Just one more time, she promised herself. One more kiss and she’d say good night and show him that she could flirt and tempt as much as he could without it having to mean a thing.

  She grabbed his head between her hands and brought his lips down to hers, smugly enjoying his surprised expression before closing her eyes and losing herself in his warm mouth.

  He let her control the tempo at first, their tongues languidly reacquainting themselves, their hands roaming each other’s bodies in timid exploration. But the build-up of passion eventually exploded, and their movements turned from composed to urgent as Brandon backed her up against the railing. He moved his lips to her neck. “Maldicion! Why in the hell didn’t we do this sooner?” he rasped.

  She knew exactly why. Because he terrified her. Or rather she was terrified of the way he made her feel. For as much as she sometimes wanted to strangle him, she also wanted to screw him. Afraid she’d tell him as much, she put her hands on his head again and brought him back to her lips. His hands moved from her waist to her breasts and she sighed in pleasure. A subtle vibration startled her and for a second she was impressed with his skills. But when the vibration persisted, she realized it was coming from the pocket of his jacket and not from between her legs.

  “I think your phone is buzzing,” she murmured between kisses. When he didn’t answer, she broke away from his grasp and pulled out the phone. Her words must’ve finally registered, and Brandon took a step back as he reached for it. It buzzed one last time in her hand and she looked down at the screen.

  “Sorry about that. I’ll turn it off,” Brandon said as he swiped his fingers across the phone.

  “If you need to make a call, I don’t mind.” It would give her a chance to catch her breath and clear her head.

  Brandon shoved the phone into his pants pocket. “It’s fine. I’m sure he’ll leave a message if it’s important.”

  “I didn’t know you knew Christian Santos. That was him, right? The telenovela actor?”

  He pulled her into an embrace. “He’s one of my best customers and has become a good friend, too.” Brandon lowered his head for another kiss. She kissed him back, her mouth open and accepting of it all. Eventually he moved his lips to her neck again, and she took the opportunity to speak while her mouth was free.

  “He’s getting married, right? I read in People magazine that she’s not even an actress or a model. Just a regular girl he met in Whole Foods.”

  Brandon continued with his warm nibbles and licks. “Well, if it’s in People magazine then I guess it must be true,” he whispered between kisses on her collarbone. “I didn’t realize you were a celebrity groupie.”

  “I’m not a groupie. I just think it’s interesting that you’re friends with Christian Santos, that’s all.” She sighed as he focused on consuming one of her earlobes. “So, how good of friends are you?”

  This time he raised his head to look at her. “What do you mean? Have we smoked cigars and drunk brandy together? Sure. Lots of times. Is he going to ask me to be his best man? I doubt it. Why?”

  “Well, I was thinking that maybe next time he comes into the restaurant you could call me and I could come by. I’d love a chance to meet him and his fiancée. Who knows? Maybe I could even convince them to let me be their wedding planner.”

  “Are you serious?”

  The slight chuckle after his words straightened her back. “Of course I am. Do you know what planning a wedding like that would mean for my business?”

  “I don’t know, Daisy. He’s a very important customer and I don’t know if I feel right pushing you on him like that.”

  “Why not? You give me referrals all the time.”

  It was true. When Daisy had announced earlier in the year that she wanted to start her own event planning business, he’d offered to give her a couple of referrals to get the ball rolling. So far she’d done his accountant’s fiftieth wedding anniversary and a graduation barbecue for a news anchor’s son. But a Hollywood wedding? That was on a whole other level. An event like that could get people—important people—talking about her business. Then she wouldn’t have to rely on Brandon or Amara to pass on jobs.

  Brandon rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know…”

  “You don’t think I’m good enough.” The realization made her step away from him.

  “I don’t think you have enough experience. You just started this business. Besides Amara’s wedding, how many other weddings have you done?”

  “None.”

  “Exactly. And while this was a very nice wedding, I highly doubt it cost more than, what, ten thousand?” He took her silence as confirmation and continued. “I didn’t think so. And knowing how much Christian is willing to spend on a bottle of wine, you can bet his wedding will be expensive.”

  “And what? You’re afraid if it goes bad, that I’ll embarrass you?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to. It’s all over your face. Who’s the bad poker player now?” She slid out of his jacket and pushed it against his chest.

  He reached for her. “Daisy…I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Can’t we forget about this and go back to learning new things about each other?”

  She backed away before he could touch her. “And I just learned that all those celebrity gossip magazines are true. You are an ass.” This time she walked away from him before he could see just how deep his words had cut her.

  She grabbed her purse and stormed back into the bar, stopping only to pick up the pair of heels she’d left behind. She made it all
the way to the lobby elevator before a hand grabbed her wrist and spun her around. She came face-to-face with Brandon. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “We weren’t done…talking,” he said lowly. Why did his eyes tell her they weren’t done doing other things as well?

  “I was.” She yanked herself out of his grasp and pushed the button for the elevator. She closed her eyes and willed her nerves—and arousal—to disappear. She blamed both on the shots.

  “Didn’t your mamá teach you it’s not nice to walk away from people when they’re trying to apologize to you…or kiss you?” Brandon growled from behind her.

  “My mamá didn’t raise me, my dad did, and he taught me how to inflict all sorts of pain on someone who won’t leave me alone. So if you’d like to use certain body parts after tonight, I suggest you go call yourself a cab. Now. ”

  The elevator doors opened and an elderly couple walked out. She escaped inside and pressed the button for the tenth floor repeatedly. Much to her chagrin, he followed her.

  The doors closed and he stood directly in front of her. His eyes focused on her mouth and she bit her lip. The air became thick. She took a deep breath, afraid she’d suffocate from just the presence of him.

  “So, we’re back to you pretending that everything I say pisses you off? I guess that means you don’t want to kiss anymore?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, you do want me to kiss you again?”

  “Yes. No. God, you’re so infuriating.”

  “Damn. You’re eyes turn dark brown when you’re all hot and bothered. I wonder what color they turn when you’re worked up in a different way?” She could still smell the tequila on his breath. Why did that excite her? He moved closer and she closed her eyes. “I don’t think you’re really mad at me. I think you’re really mad at yourself because even though you want to hate me, you also want to be fucked. By me.”

  The doors opened. A group of rowdy college kids—based on their licensed sweatshirts and baseball caps—fell inside. Drunk, every last one of them. Brandon moved again. This time, he stepped behind her and pulled her with him against the back wall of the elevator.

  “If you really don’t want this, tell me and I’ll get off on the next floor,” he whispered against her ear. “We’ll pretend none of this ever happened and go back to the way things were before you walked into the bar tonight. Tell me you don’t want this. Say the words.”

  She stared at the floor numbers as they ticked away on the display screen above the elevator doors. Time was running out.

  Tell him Daisy. Say it before things go to far.

  The elevator lurched and she stumbled backward until her ass grazed his upper thigh. The hard bulge in his pants jerked against her, and she knew at that moment she didn’t want to fight this anymore. His arousal and need thrilled her, filled her with a sense of power she hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe she wasn’t good enough to impress one of his famous friends, but she was sure as hell good enough to make him lose control. So what if it was only one night? She’d make sure it was one night he’d never forget.

  This time, Daisy pushed herself further into him on purpose. Her breath hitched as his right arm reached around and his fingers slightly brushed the side of her breast before encircling her waist.

  She clamped her lips tight before a sigh escaped. The doors opened again and the group of drunk college kids spilled out. The doors closed again but Daisy and Brandon didn’t move.

  By floor number seven, his lips were on her neck and she fell into him more, if that was even possible. He moved his hands to both of her breasts, cupping and caressing them through her dress. By floor number eight, her hands were on the side of his thighs and she was purposefully grinding against his crotch.

  Floor number nine. He’d had enough. With a grunt, he spun her around and found her mouth, open and waiting for his total consumption.

  Floor number ten. He pulled her into the hallway, murmuring and asking her for her room number. She tried to gain perspective even as his thumbs rubbed her nipples into hardened peaks. Taking his hand, she led him down past four or five rooms but before she could reach for the keycard in her purse, he pushed her body with his against the door and captured her mouth in another all-consuming kiss.

  The clattering of glasses and plates from just a few feet away pulled her away from total surrender. She opened up her eyes just in time to see a hotel employee pushing a cart out of a nearby room. The stark realization of what she was doing and who she was doing it with was as sobering and shocking as a slap across the face.

  Madre de dios. Brandon Montoya’s hand is on my ass.

  She tried to relax as he gathered her dress behind her and slowly inched it up the back of her thigh.

  Think sexy thoughts. Think sexy thoughts.

  What was wrong with her? How could she not be automatically thinking sexy thoughts when one of the most sexiest men she knew had his tongue in her mouth, one hand on her boob, and another one dangerously close to her three-day-old Brazilian?

  As Brandon moved to nibble on her ear, Daisy noticed the hotel employee with the cart was now staring at them. “Someone’s watching us,” she whispered to Brandon.

  “Let them enjoy the show,” he whispered back and slid his hand underneath the layers of her gown.

  The hotel employee looked away and directed his cart down the hallway toward the elevator. Even though they no longer had an audience, Daisy debated again as to whether she should stop things before they went any further.

  Then he brushed his fingers against the edge of her thong.

  Electricity pulsed throughout her body, turning her blood into lava and melting her insides. She willed him silently to push his finger past the flimsy material and into her sex. But he didn’t move. He just stared at her, through her, with dark, wild eyes. His gaze was as hot as his touch.

  Words weren’t needed. She knew what he waiting for. It was the same thing she was waiting for. With one slight move of her hip, his finger grazed the smooth, delicate skin underneath her panties. His dark eyes widened before he captured her mouth in another devastating kiss. It had been months since the last time someone kissed her. But Brandon wasn’t just kissing her, he was destroying her. And as his finger teased her clitoris with soft strokes, she ached for even further destruction.

  “So am I going to fuck you right here in the hallway or are we going to go inside? And just so you know, I’m good to go either way.”

  She was about to reach for her keycard when through her half-closed eyes she thought she saw a flash of light. Maneuvering her body away from his, Daisy tried to regain her wits.

  This time Brandon seemed to also be trying to focus on their surroundings. “What’s wrong?” he asked and turned around.

  “I thought I saw something.”

  They both looked, but the hallway was empty. She could swear someone had been watching them again.

  Or maybe you’re just looking for excuses to stop this before it’s too late.

  Brandon grabbed her hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed it. “What’s going on, Daisy? You can tell me if you’re having second thoughts about…this.”

  As soon as he said the words, she knew she couldn’t go through with it. The fog lifted. Her mind cleared. As desperately as she wanted to feel Brandon inside her, it wasn’t enough for her to forget who he was—an OCC looking for a one-night stand only. Sleeping with her was merely a means to scratch an itch or forget about his crappy day. Everything he’d said to her, everything he’d done, was nothing more than an attempt to get her into bed. He would’ve said those things to any woman tonight. She just happened to be the one who had sat down next to him at the bar.

  Sleeping with him while knowing all of this would definitely hurt their professional relationship, because she’d never forgive herself for being such a dope. That wouldn’t be good for her business or Amara’s bakery. She couldn’t go through with it no matter how good it had felt.

  Daisy looked a
t the floor, embarrassment flaming her cheeks even more so than before. “I’m sorry.”

  “Stop. You don’t have to apologize. I get it. Sleeping together would complicate things, and neither of us likes complications, do we?”

  “I hope you don’t think I meant for this to happen.”

  “Same here.”

  “Then can we just forget this and go back to being…”

  “Friends?”

  “I was going to say business associates. But, I guess we’re more than that now.”

  “I guess so.”

  She reached out her hand. “Friends?”

  He took it. “Friends,” he said. Although he smiled, she noticed he barely gripped her hand.

  “Look, you’re still welcome to spend the night. It’s late and the suite has a pull-out couch.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll just go down to the lobby and book my own room.”

  “The hotel is sold out this weekend. There are no rooms. Come inside and get some sleep.”

  “It’s fine. Really. I’ll call a cab.”

  “Would you stop? I’m trying to be a grown-up here. We can spend the night in the same room without it leading to something else. Friends, remember?”

  Brandon agreed and after several uncomfortable minutes, he was settled on the couch and she was lying by herself on the king-size bed replaying the events of the day. Although she tried to focus on the happy things that had happened during the wedding and reception, thoughts of Brandon kissing her and touching her made her toss and turn.

  In fact, sleep didn’t come to her until almost three-thirty in the morning, when she heard Brandon leave the room.

  She already knew she’d wake up with a headache. If anyone asked, she’d blame her bloodshot eyes and crabby mood on the drinking.

  Because no way was anyone ever going to find out that she almost slept with Brandon Montoya.

  Chapter Three

  Brandon had been back in Los Angeles for less than twenty-four hours and he’d already reached his frustration limit when it came to traffic gridlock. Thanks to construction detours and roadside fender benders, it had taken him almost an hour to travel a mere fifteen miles from his condo in Los Feliz to his lawyer’s office in downtown.