Before We Kiss (Fool's Gold #14)

“You could tell him.”


Dellina smiled. “I could, and believe me, I’ve thought about. But every time I start to have the conversation with him, a voice in my head says Fayrene needs to figure this out on her own.” She glanced down. “I know this is going to sound weird, but it’s almost like my mom is there, giving me advice. So I listen.”

“Not weird,” he said. “Nice.”

Her smile widened. “Thanks. Because I don’t want you to think I’m really hearing voices. At least, not scary ones.” She looked at her notes. “Let me put together a list of everything we’re going to need to check out. Menus at Henri’s, of course. The various hotel venues, Castle Ranch, the obstacle course. Obviously the festival will happen without us checking on it, but everything else that can be tested, tasted and reviewed will be.”

“Do I get to ride the elephant?”

“I’m confident that can be arranged.”

* * *

SAM MADE A joke about Priscilla. Dellina was pretty sure she’d responded appropriately, although she wasn’t positive. She was still shaking, still fighting the fiery need that burned low in her belly.

When Sam had pulled her to her feet and held her, she’d nearly melted from the inside out. His hands on her body had reminded her of what had happened between them before. She’d actually had the thought that if they pulled the blinds at the big windows looking into his office, they could pick up where they’d left off right there.

Which was beyond insane. She wasn’t that girl. She was cautious and responsible. She didn’t bring strange men home and she didn’t have sex in people’s offices. Except when it came to Sam.

She drew in a breath and nodded at what she hoped was the appropriate place. She could do this, she told herself firmly. She could act normal and be a professional businesswoman. There was a lot at stake with this party. No way she was going to let her hormones and girl parts ruin a great opportunity.

So she’d pushed him away when what she really wanted to do was drag him closer and let him show her a good time. How strange that he was the one to rock her world...sexually at least. Couldn’t she have the hots for a nice, regular kind of guy? Like a plumber or one of Ryan’s friends? Did she have to go all slutty for a former football star with a fan club and who knows how many exes in his past?

“...talk about the lecture,” he said.

“We should,” she murmured, not sure what he’d been saying. Obviously something about the lecture.

He frowned. “You’ll pull some ideas together?”

“Of course. I’ll find people who are available and there will be a range of topics. We’ll narrow it down.”

“So, in two days?”

“Yes,” she said, figuring he was talking about their next planning session. “Let’s meet at my place. I’ll have charts and graphs for you.”

He grinned. “My favorite.”

“As long as there are numbers, too?”

“You know it.”

He waited while she collected her paperwork and then walked her to the front of the building. When they’d said goodbye, she walked outside and drew in a deep breath.

Talk about embarrassing, she thought as she headed for her car. When she got home, she was going to give herself a stern talking-to. Then she’d have some ice cream. Because there were very few problems chocolate chip cookie dough couldn’t solve, at least temporarily.

* * *

KIPLING GILMORE GLANCED toward the windows. Snow came down steadily, promising a good day of skiing tomorrow. So far he hadn’t done much more than mess around on the slopes and get back into fighting shape in the gym. But the rest of his team would arrive by the end of the week and then the training would get serious.

He used a towel to wipe the sweat from his face, then slowed the treadmill to a walk. Music pounded from the speakers in the hotel gym, but he kept his earbuds tucked in place. Not that his music was any better. The earbuds were his way of keeping the world at bay. At least while he worked out.

The post-Olympic whirlwind had finally slowed. Not that he was complaining. If the price of two gold medals was a round of media events, red carpet appearances and lavish parties all over the world, well, he was man enough to be willing to pay. Although he had tired of finding strange women in his hotel room. Fortunately the management at his hotel in New Zealand were determined to protect his privacy.

He stepped off the treadmill and headed for the exit. He would be back later for a second workout. Weights this time. What he did on skis required more than coordination and luck; it required strength, and he’d gotten lazy since the Olympics.

“Hi, Kipling.”