With His Touch

Their success hadn’t gone unnoticed. Competitors were in the wings. After four years, it was time to grow. Grow or die was basic business law. It happened to be her personal mantra, too. Having a new challenge filled Sugar with adrenaline and relief. She liked making progress.

She would talk through her plan with Gage tonight. The Sextique International Expo, with its theme of Sex Sells…Everything, made a compelling case for her idea. With porn going mainstream and strippers making Entice Your Man videos, sex and all things spicy had never been more legitimate.

She needed to settle herself, focus in on her goal.

Maybe a drink in the bar would help. She had time before dinner. She could distract herself, clear her head, maybe network with conference-goers, get fired up for her pitch to Gage.

In the quietly busy hotel bar, she spotted a guy she’d exchanged a comment with during a marketing presentation. Handsome, he wore a crisp shirt, sleeves folded back, tie loose, and was drinking a martini with olives.

Sex was an appealing possibility and, if not, they could talk business, so she slid onto the stool beside him. “Enjoying the convention?” She tilted her head, accepting his pleased smile.

“I made some contacts,” he said, turning to more fully face her, also indicating interest. “You?”

“Me, too. I’m learning lots.”

“What can I get you to drink?”

“If that’s gin, I’ll take one.”

“A martini girl. Bombay okay?”

“Excellent.” Very classy. “I’m Sugar Thompson, by the way.”

“Conner Jameson. ExerSystems. Exercise suites for hotels and motels.” He gave her a card, which she exchanged with one of her own. “We spoke, I believe, at that workshop.”

“I remember you,” she said.

“So…‘Spice It Up,’ huh? ‘An adventure in enhanced intimacy,’” he read from her card. “I’ve heard of you.”

“Really?” Though she wasn’t surprised. Spice It Up had lots of buzz, she’d learned from other attendees. A woman from the Singles Travel Network had mentioned two resorts were adding sex counselors to their amenities—further proof that Sugar and Gage had a brief window to expand before competitors stole their edge.

“I was looking at your brochure at a convention in Nevada and a woman commented that the place was a gold mine.”

“Oh, really? Who was she?” A possible contact for franchise possibilities.

“She was with Travel Something…Quest, I believe. TravelQuest. Yeah. Business travel. Her name escapes me. She was very knowledgeable. Tall…blond…”

“And gorgeous? Had to be Rionna Morgan.” The woman was the queen of networking.

“You know her?”

“The travel industry’s a tight group.” Plus, Rionna had a thing for Gage, Sugar was sure. At the Business Association luncheon the month before, she’d complimented his incisive mind, batting her eyes so hard Sugar couldn’t resist asking her if her contacts were bothering her.

Gage seemed oblivious, but then he’d been dating Adrienne at the time.

“Good point. Makes me wonder how I’ve missed meeting you until now.” He held her gaze. Definitely into it.

She wanted to talk business still. “I hope Rionna’s right because we’re considering franchising.”

“Seems to be the thing do,” Conner said. “Big moneymaker.”

“I know. I had a great preliminary meet with a consultant who’s done motel-hotel franchises.”

“Which consultant?”

“Foster Matthews of Matthews and Millhouse. You know them?”

“Heard of them. They’re solid. We looked into the concept, too, but it wasn’t right for us.”

“Why was that?”

“Too many competitors, really, and it would have taken too long to build a franchise team. That’s crucial.”

She nodded. “Foster mentioned that. The next step is for them to come out for a diagnostic workup.”

“Have you targeted any franchisees?”

“Not yet. No.” She wanted Gage’s help for that. They would prepare a package for the regional travel convention coming to San Diego in a month. “Any other advice?” she said.

“Make sure it’s a good fit,” he said, holding her gaze. She could tell he was finished with the topic and was considering how he and she might fit in an entirely different way. “So how did you get into the sex resort business?” he asked.

“That’s a long story.” Her martini arrived and she took a sip, loving the warm sting of the gin.

“I’ve got time.” He smiled at her. Getting warmer.

Except she felt no responding warmth. The vibe was as distant as a faraway train, the whistle barely audible.

So annoying. Sex with Conner would be the perfect palate cleanser after that bed jiggle with Gage. Except she was more hot for what he knew about franchises than for what might happen in bed with him.

She sipped more gin, then told him how Spice It Up came to be, how she and Gage had conceived of it six years ago, opened it after a year of prep and planning.

“Very interesting,” Conner said, though he seemed to be talking about her mouth, not her resort.

Sugar still wasn’t fired up. She glanced toward the bar entrance and noticed Gage walking by, headed for the gift shops. Why, she wondered? He wasn’t the type to forget a toiletry item and he never snacked. He looked so purposeful.

Sometimes watching him made her want to stand still and just breathe—slow the hell down for once in her life. Lying on that bed with him, she’d really seen his face. Strong and broad, with nice cheekbones and dark, steady eyes and a firm mouth. She normally liked soft lips, but—

“Penny for your thoughts,” Conner said, honing in. No sense dawdling over cocktails when they could be upstairs.

“Nothing important,” she said, trying to shake Gage off.

“Then you won’t mind if I interrupt them?” Conner leaned forward for a test kiss that could lead to the wild and lovely ride she usually loved.

His lips looked soft, the way she liked them, but she kept thinking about Gage’s firmer ones. Focus. She was about to get a great kiss.

Which, abruptly, she didn’t want.

She felt a strange longing, like a dream where you searched room after room for something you weren’t even sure you’d recognize if you found it.

She put her hand on Conner’s chest. “I’m sorry. I just realized how tired I am.”

His eyes widened. “Did I—”

“Misjudge me? Not at all. I just changed my mind. I’m sorry. I would disappoint you.”

“Oh, I doubt that.” He smiled ruefully. “Another time?”

“Maybe,” she said, then squinted down the bar. “There’s a very hot woman over there. Her line is erotic pastries, I think. Talk about a great icebreaker.”

He looked where she indicated, then smiled back at her. “You have good taste in women.”

She shrugged. “I help where I can.” She pushed her martini away, not wanting more alcohol when she already felt funny, and stood. “I’d better take off. Listen, if you run into anyone who might be interested in a franchise, would you mind giving them my card?” She handed him several more.

“I might know of a limited partnership. I’ll let you know.”

“Great.”

“Keep us in mind, too. Custom systems at prefab prices.” He smiled, showing her the man beneath the pitch. She liked the guy. She just didn’t want to sleep with him.

He kissed her goodbye—softly and with regret—and she really liked his mouth. “Get some sleep.” He cupped her cheek.

“I will.” What the hell was the matter with her? She might not be at a sexual peak, but she sure as hell wasn’t in a slump. She knew her body, knew her needs. She handled her own O, as a matter of fact, and always had.

Maybe she needed her thyroid checked.

She was uncomfortably aware that the Water Bed Moment was proof positive that her libido was in full working order. Something else was going on here and she wasn’t happy about it.

2

THE GIFT BOX CRAMMED UNDER one arm, Gage froze in the bar doorway and watched a guy kiss Sugar right on the mouth.

He was stunned. That Armani-suited bozo was trying to pick her up. And she was letting him. After what had just happened between them even.

That ass couldn’t possibly get Sugar. He’d hit on her because she was hot and lively and fun. But Gage understood the tender woman beneath the fire and bluff.

Motivated by his new feelings, Gage wanted to march in there and knock that lounge lizard right off his stool. Luckily, before he could pull a Neanderthal, Sugar pushed to her feet, smiled goodbye to the guy and walked away—straight for Gage.

He didn’t want her to think he’d stalked her, so he backed up and ducked into an elevator before she saw him.

In his room, he paced, thoughts reeling. What was Sugar up to? Who was that guy? How long before she’d be here for dinner? He looked at his watch. Too long.

He tried to calm down. Everything was ready. He’d worked his plan like the sensible guy he was. He’d bought the leather suit for her and roses in a vase curved like Sugar’s figure. Dinner would arrive in an hour, along with Sugar.

But what if she’d made a date with Mr. Armani? What if he was heading to her room this very minute for a quickie?

She hadn’t been seeing anyone for a few months, Gage knew, but that wasn’t typical. Sugar kept busy to avoid the quiet. Unlike himself, who always took his time. He was too careful, dammit, too slow to act. Look at all the time he’d wasted, without even knowing what he wanted. He’d been doing the breaststroke down the biggest river in Egypt for years and, man, were his arms tired.

It hurt to laugh at himself.

He was done with denial and done with waiting. And at the moment, he had no intention of letting some ass-passing-in-the-night get between him and the woman he…loved. Yeah, that’s right. He loved Sugar.

The idea made his head spin. This wasn’t how falling in love was supposed to work. You were supposed to gradually realize the depth of your feelings, not get clubbed over the head and dragged down the hall.

But that was what had happened. And he was too much of a pragmatist to deny it. No, the practical thing was to go for it.

Flooded with adrenaline and determined as hell, he barreled down the hall to Sugar’s room. He had the fleeting thought that he’d completely lost his mind, but he pounded on her door anyway. He wasn’t himself and whoever he’d turned into wasn’t backing out now.

In a few seconds, Sugar opened up, her eyes startled. “Gage? What are you doing here?”

“This.” He cupped her face between his palms and kissed her, kicking the door shut behind him with one heel. He threw everything into that kiss—all the heat and need—holding her face the entire time.

She made a little whimper, stilled, then softened against him for a few seconds as she’d done on the water bed.

Then she yanked away. “Hold it…. Stop.” She sagged, bracing her hands on her thighs, struggling for breath. “Wait.”

What about his plan? Be casual and easy and fun? Okay, not too late. Slow down, give her a second, start over calmly. Instead he said the worst possible thing. “Sugar, I’m in love with you.”

“I HAVE TO SIT.” Sugar felt as though she’d been dumped into a washer and tossed around the drum until her brain rattled in her skull. She backed to the closest bed and sank onto the spread, the satin cool against her stocking-covered thighs. She’d only managed to get her jacket and shoes off when Gage began pounding on her door like the hotel was burning down and her room was next.

She couldn’t catch a solid breath and her whole body trembled. Much worse than the Water Bed Moment. She dug her toes into the thick carpet, pressed her soles flat, desperate for solid footing. “What did you say?” She lifted a hand to stop his answer. “Never mind. I heard. Give me a second.”

Her sensible partner had just come at her like an avenging angel or an EMT giving her the breath of life.

And what a breath it had been. That kiss had you’re mine force combined with how do you want it? tenderness. He’d held her face between his palms, adoring her, making her feel every millimeter of his mouth—strong lips, coaxing tongue. Now her sex felt like an overwound rubber band about to snap.

And then he’d gone and said it. The L word.

“You love me?” she asked weakly. He couldn’t, could he? The possibility made her feel two things at once: Oh, hooray and Ah, shit.

Gage dropped onto the bed beside her. Taking her hands in his, he laced their fingers together and rested the clump on his thigh. “That wasn’t how I wanted this to go.”

“It wasn’t?” Maybe they could erase it and start over. Hope rose.

“It’s true, though,” he said. “I do love you.”

Damn.

“I don’t know what to say, Gage.” Her head was still in the washing machine, banging into the sides so that her ears were ringing and her mind was mush.

“You’re saying it.” He managed a wry smile. “You’re freaked. If it makes you feel any better, so am I. I mean, we worked this all out, right? Way back in college.”

“Exactly.” They were still on the same page, at least. She’d almost gone for him back then—his quiet solidity had attracted her—but she’d been with Dylan, who was hot, also Riley for a while, and others. The great thing about college was that no one got serious. Except Gage. And he hadn’t approved of how actively she dated. She’d concluded he was kind of a tight ass, but forgave him because he’d been a dependable friend. “And when we started the resort, we talked it out, right?” she added.

“Right.”

“So this is just chemistry?” she asked weakly. More like the Fourth of July, nuclear fission and an exploding comet all rolled into one.

“Chemistry?” He wasn’t buying that, either.

“The important thing is our partnership. And we’re friends. Don’t forget that.”

“Couldn’t forget that.” He sighed and squeezed their fingers together. “Maybe if we’re good at being partners and friends, we could be good at…more.”

“It was that water bed!” she blurted. “I mean, shaking and bumping and rocking like that.”

He shook his head.

“I guess not.”

“I think it’s always been there. For me.” He leveled his gaze at her. “I just blocked it.”

This isn’t fair, she wanted to whine. They’d figured this all out. They knew what mattered. How could a giant quivering mattress full of water make them forget?

She had to get them back on track. “We’re so different, Gage.” That’s what she told herself whenever she had hot thoughts about him. She liked variety, action, late nights. He was Mr. Same Old, Mr. Rut, Mr. Early To Bed, Early To Rise. Probably predictable in bed, too—all missionary, all the time.

“We can work that out….” The tiny hesitation in his voice told her she’d made some headway, so she kept going.

“I don’t do permanent, remember?” Gage was the kind of guy who got married for good. In fact, she was surprised he wasn’t already ringed up.

His eyes held hers. With me you could.

She knew better. She’d let a couple of guys get serious on her. They’d wanted to spend every minute with her until she felt smothered. The breakups were dreadful. She’d felt as though she’d led them on. She’d been in love with love—the guys, too, no doubt—and she’d vowed to never put anyone through that again. She was just better off sticking with short-term sex.

Plenty of women were built like her, though many refused to accept it, got married and made themselves—and their husbands—miserable when it fell apart.

Sugar wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t. And certainly not with a man she cared as much about as Gage. “We don’t see relationships the same. Look at how we reacted to our parents’ divorces.” Gage thought his parents quit too soon, while she accepted her folks’ breakup without complaint. Relationships were dynamic systems that could fly apart. Especially for people like Sugar and her parents. It happened. No sense torturing yourself, your spouse or your family over it.

“That’s different,” Gage said. “Completely.”

“I’m not built like you, Gage.” People like Gage knew how to make love work. And when their relationships faltered, Spice It Up got them back on track. She loved being part of that effort. Somehow, that made up for her own lack. Not lack, exactly, but she did get an empty feeling from time to time.

Which she didn’t appreciate being reminded of.

Gage was looking at her with so much hope, she panicked. “I need change, Gage. New furniture, for God’s sake.” That was lame, but she was flipping out, almost getting sucked into Gage’s fantasy.

“We’re talking about couches now?”

“It’s just a symbol. I need variety. You want sameness. You’ve had those shoes since Clinton’s second term.”

“Hey, I had them resoled.” He studied them briefly, then looked at her. “What’s wrong with sticking with quality?”

“Nothing. It’s just not me. I’m cheap, disposable fashion. You’re solid, classic traditions.”

“This is you and me, Sugar, not Better Homes & Gardens. Pretend I didn’t blurt what I blurted. Try this—Hey, Sugar, how about we see what develops? Better?” He gave that self-mocking smile she loved so much.

“Not much, no.” The truth was out. And the fact that he’d behaved so out of character told her how big his feelings were. Shutting him down felt criminal, but what choice did she have? Her stomach joined her head in the churning washer.

“Let it sink in,” Gage said.

But there was no point and too much at stake. She had to sort this out. What would Gage do? That was her mantra when she got emotionally overwrought. Gage was so rational, so sensible. When he wasn’t around to argue her through something, she imagined what he’d say. Now she was using him against himself. But it couldn’t be helped.

“Let’s think this through,” she said. “Why is this happening now? You just broke up with Adrienne, right? So you’re lonely. You and I spend a lot of time together. We’re close friends. Plus, it’s a big birthday for both of us. Thirty-five is time to turn the corner. I know I’ve been thinking about shaking things up. But not…” She hesitated. “Not like that.”

“Shaking things up?” He frowned. “Like how?”

“By doing something different with the resort. I planned to talk to you about it at dinner, but—”

“No, no. Go on. Tell me now.” He folded his arms.

“Maybe later. When we get back home.”

“Let’s have it,” he said wearily. “What are you cooking up, Sugar?”

They needed a change of subject, that was certain. “Promise you’ll hear me out before you start arguing?”

“Go on.”

He hadn’t promised, but she went ahead anyway. “Okay…You know how we’ve been overbooked during busy months?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s revenue just disappearing. There’s growing interest in sex resorts. That’s obvious from this conference. Think of all the travel reviews we’ve had lately. The buzz is that we’ve got a gold mine on our hands. If we don’t get ahead of the curve, we’ll lose out.”

“What are you proposing?” He spoke slowly, considering the idea. Thank goodness. His analytical side had kicked in.

She felt safe to babble on. “At first, I thought we could buy a second location, but that’s capital-intensive and we’d be spread thin staff-wise. Then I read a big trade journal piece on hospitality franchises. The consultants in the article were based in San Diego, so I called them.”

“Franchising?” He lifted his eyes to hers. “You want to franchise Spice It Up?”

“Franchising is the way to go. I was talking to a guy earlier about it. Plus, it’s a cash cow, Gage, and—”

“And you met with consultants? Without talking to me first?”

She preferred Gage’s business bristle to the hurt from before. “It was just a preliminary discussion. No money changed hands. I wanted to tell you about it, share my other research and get your ideas about possible franchisees we could target. It’s all there.” She nodded at her briefcase on the table by the door, ready for her to carry to Gage’s room.

Back before she got dumped in a washer set on heavy-duty.

“A franchise is a package. Spice It Up is too unique to be packaged.” He shook his head. That’s that. A good sign. This was how all their debates started.

She barreled ahead. “I thought that, too, at first. Then I did some reading. There’s a book—Franchising For Dummies, can you believe that?—which has checklists and tips and screening tools. You have to check it out.” She nodded at her case again.

“What about us, Sugar?” His eyes bored into her.

Us sounded sooo good just then. Like a long hot bath with nothing in her mind but the pleasure of it. She sank into that feeling and into Gage’s eyes. She’d never noticed the swirls of caramel in their melted chocolate depths.

Stop it. Enough with the hot baths and candy eyes.

“The only us that counts is us as partners, Gage,” she said. “We got carried away. We have history and attraction. You’re lonely. I’m lonely, too, I guess. And that water bed…wow. Who could blame us?” She was trying to joke, but her throat hurt and she couldn’t make herself smile.

“You won’t even consider it?” He dug at her with his dark eyes. “You don’t feel—”

“We can’t.” She wasn’t sure how she felt, but she wouldn’t lead him on, so she shook her head. “Even if I did feel—Well, anyway, no. Just no.”

“Oh.” Gage released her hands, which fell back to her lap. She stared down at them. Without Gage holding them, they felt numb and empty. Hands were for holding.

Oh, stop. She was so not sentimental.

“Now what?” Gage asked softly, sadly.

She took a deep breath. “Now we do what we do best….” She faltered. “We’re partners. So we’ll debate the franchise idea until we agree and—”

“I can’t do that,” he said slowly. “I can’t go back.”

“What are you saying?”

“Or maybe I just don’t want to. Now that I figured it out.”

“What does that mean?” Her heart leaped to her throat.

She was startled to feel Gage back away. Always when they disagreed about an issue, Gage engaged, fenced with all his might until they were exhausted and the best idea won out.

Not this time. She felt chilled to the bone.

“Maybe I need a change,” Gage said.

“What kind of change?” She felt scared and thickheaded.

“I mean, maybe it’s time for me to go.”

It was as if someone had plunged a hot knife into her chest. “You can’t leave Spice It Up.” This was not the kind of shake-up she wanted at all. “Is it the franchise? Because you don’t know enough yet. Look at what I’ve got before you dismiss the idea.”

She rushed to her briefcase, opened it and grabbed the franchise research folder, Gage’s silence behind her like a wall or a threat. She held out the folder, but he simply looked at her.

“I don’t see how I can stay, Sugar. You don’t really need me anymore.”

“Of course I do. Especially with the franchise, I—”

“Things between us are different now.”

“They don’t have to be.” But they were. She felt it, too. “What would you do instead?” she asked faintly, sinking to a seat beside him.

“I haven’t thought about it. You could buy me out, I guess.” He shrugged.

“I don’t have that much cash. How would that work?” She was flailing for a delay, anything, until she could come up with a fix. The resort was everything to her. And Gage was so much a part of the resort in her mind, she couldn’t imagine going on without him.

“I can be flexible about terms. I’m not in a rush.”

“But I’d need a new partner and everything.” A lump filled her throat, making it hard to speak. “With the franchising…”

“You could take over my work or Oliver could step up to the job. And, as far as the franchise goes…I don’t think that’s wise.”

“Look, we’re both upset, Gage. Let’s not say things we’ll both regret.”

But he looked dead serious, not flipped out, not overwrought. She was the one on the edge of hysteria. Gage seemed…resigned. He stood, as if to leave her room.

She stood, too. “Read over this stuff.” She pushed the folder at him and this time he took it.