Page 67 of Second Time Around
Chapter 12
Kyra put down the knife on the kitchen island at the Carver Center and rested her pounding forehead on the back of her hand for a moment. Last night seemed surreal in the cold light of day. She’d poured several thousand dollars of wine on the naked body of a billionaire CEO and then lapped it off him, all while cavorting on a giant bed in his multimillion-dollar Manhattan townhouse. Not to mention what he’d done to her body with the other bottle of wine. Yes, they’d drunk two bottles of Le Montrachet, although drinking was a term she had to use loosely in this scenario.
The wine-infused lovemaking was only the tip of the iceberg. Early this morning she woke up wrapped in his arms with his long, strong body pressed against her.
She’d held herself still so she could drink in the beautiful planes and angles of his face while he slept. With the attention-grabbing hue of his eyes hidden behind his eyelids, she could focus on the different shades of gold in his hair and the shadow in the cleft of his chin. Generations of breeding had created a perfect bone structure that was elegant yet utterly masculine.
Finally, she could restrain herself no longer and traced her finger along one sharp cheekbone. His eyelids flickered open, and the brilliance of them speared her. “I like waking up to find you staring at me,” he said, his voice raspy with morning and seduction.
“I was just thinking that your DNA should be put in a vault for future cloning.”
“I, er, will take that as a compliment. I think.” He rolled so that she lay on top of him. She felt his cock stir against her stomach while he stroked down to caress the curve of her backside. And she’d forgotten her hangover headache for a while.
He’d insisted on fixing her breakfast, so they’d sat across from each other at a granite-topped table in his sleek, modern kitchen, she with her oatmeal, he with his omelet, sipping coffee and sharing the newspaper.
Now she moaned out loud at how right, how comfortable, how perfect it had felt. But it wasn’t Kyra’s world. It was the castle in the clouds that Will strode through with exquisite, well-bred women like Petra gliding along beside him.
Lifting her head, she forced herself to concentrate on cutting the cantaloupe into uniform bite-size chunks. The kids would help her wrap the chunks in thin slices of prosciutto and skewer them with colorful toothpicks. They were part of the array of hors d’oeuvres she’d planned for Max Varela’s official induction into the Carver Center’s board of trustees tonight.
She’d come up with recipes that offered the children a chance to contribute since the whole Carver Center community—children, parents, staff, and trustees—was invited to attend. She was also offering deviled eggs garnished with little swirls of smoked salmon, fresh fruit skewers, and figs stuffed with robiola cheese, all things that required lots of assembly that amateur hands could provide this afternoon. Emily had authorized extra funds to purchase the ingredients, so the celebration would be especially festive.
Thank goodness she’d taken the entire evening off from bartending because of the party. Maybe she could go to bed early. Of course, Will appeared to expect her to spend every night with him now. His casual assumption was both thrilling and unnerving. She wondered if she should insist on a night to herself to actually sleep.
Who was she kidding? She was going to take every minute she could get with Will. Because there wouldn’t be that many more.
She finished the cantaloupe and sliced open another one with her favorite large supersharp knife that only she was permitted to touch. The kids were not allowed to slice and dice for their own safety and to protect the center from liability.
“Wow, what did that melon do to you?” Emily strolled in as Kyra started speed chopping a slice into chunks.
“Just trying to get things ready for when the kids arrive. We have a lot of goodies to put together for the reception.”
Emily plunked the shopping bag she was carrying onto the counter. “A gift from Max. He said you mentioned something about crab not being in the budget, even with the supplemental funding.”
Kyra dropped the knife and reached into the bag, pulling out a container of premium lump crabmeat. “Oh my God! Tell Max he’s the best.” She hugged the plastic tub before peering into the bag to find five more. “Should I make crab cake bites or crab salad on minibuns or crab and artichoke dip? I can’t decide.”
“They all sound scrumptious, so go with your instinct.” Emily sat down on a stool and held up her phone. “I got an e-mail from a Farrington Lange—who prefers to be called Farr—about a fact-finding visit here for the Thalia Foundation. Which just happens to be funded by Cronus Holdings, which just happens to own Ceres. Any connection between you and Farr?” Emily was grinning.
“I was afraid he was being polite about his interest in the Carver Center, so I didn’t want to get your hopes up,” Kyra said. “But yes, he’s a friend of Will’s and heads up the foundation’s trustees. I saw him at Stratus last night, which must have prompted him to get in touch.”
“Thank you.” Emily stood to give her a hug. “A personal connection is the best.” A light flush showed on her cheeks. “Something I counted on as well.”
“Is it true that you shoved aside Max’s secretary, burst into his office, and forced him to give you the money to buy the empty lot? He claims it is, but I can’t picture it.” Max liked to tease his fiancée, which was really cute in such a brilliant, intense man.
The flush brightened but Emily snorted. “Shovedis too strong a word.Brushedwould be more accurate. I wanted that lot for the kids and the dogs, and we were running out of time and options. But no one canforceMax Varela to do anything he doesn’t want to, trust me.”
“You’re pretty fierce when it comes to the kids.” Kyra admired Emily’s devotion to the center, a devotion that had led not only to the founding of the K-9 Angelz program but a fairy-tale second chance at love. Someone should write a book about it.
“Back to Farr. I’d like you to join the tour, if possible, since you know him. Do you have a preference on the date?”
“You know my schedule better than I do. I’m fine with any day we aren’t having a special meal.”
“I appreciate all your work on the food for Max’s induction. Your fancy hors d’oeuvres will make it so joyful.” Emily swiped a chunk of cantaloupe and popped it in her mouth. “Mmm, how do you find such sweet ones?”
“I thump a lot of melons. And sniff them.”
“You’ll have to teach me sometime. But I’ll let you get back to work.”
As Emily exited, Kyra pulled out her cell phone. She texted Will:Did you lean on Farr to set up a visit to the Carver Center? If so, thank you.
