Not Your Average Reunion

"Jesus, could my day get any worse?" Sylvia muttered to herself as she sat on the arm of a black leather couch in the sumptuous living room of one of Devlin & Payne's top executives. She'd spent hours getting ready for this. Shower, hair, makeup, everything. And she's agonized over what to wear. She didn't have a huge selection to choose from given her salary and the cost of living in the great city of New York, but she'd saved for the last few months and had finally managed to find the perfect dress. Deep green with a fitted bodice top, the satin material clung to her skin like a lover's hand and swept down from gently rounded hips to her ankles. There were no sleeves, but the straps that held it on her shoulders were wide enough to frame in her face and hair. She'd fallen in love with the dress as soon as she'd seen it. The only lamentable thing about it was that it had taken her nearly three hours to find it. Who knew JCPenney had that many clothes to look through?

Five inch heels encased her feet in a death trap of feminine fashion and though her toes were absolutely killing her, the shoes were the perfect match to the dress. Oh, and not to mention the fact that she would have to skimp by on Top Ramen and Macaroni and Cheese for another few weeks to pay for them. All this trouble and expense for the annual Christmas party of Devlin & Payne, the law firm in which she was a secretary. Oh alright, executive assistant. It sounded prettier, but the sad truth was that she was nothing more than a secretary who happened to be able to type at 120 words per minute and could dictate in shorthand.

In short, no one actually worthy of the rest of the guest list.

Re-crossing her legs for the umpteenth time, she twisted the champagne glass in her hand again before taking a sip. She'd been given the glass when she'd first arrived and was barely halfway through it almost an hour later.

Despite the classy updo she'd swept her hair into and the diamonds she'd put in her ears -- a high school graduation gift from her mother -- she felt so out of place. Everyone here was some sort of lawyer or manager or VIP from their most important clients. And she was the lowly secretary that no one noticed because she did her job quietly and efficiently.

Not the best end to an evening.

Sighing, she figured an hour was enough time to spend perched on a couch in the back corner watching everyone walk by and she rose from her seat. Careful not to catch her shoes on anything -- walking around in high heels on the thick carpet was NOT her idea of a good time -- she stepped away with the resolve to make her goodbyes and go home to soak her feet and watch Star Trek re-runs.

Fate, as it seemed, thought differently.

No sooner had she moved from her corner than she was promptly plowed into by a large, very hard, masculine body. The champagne left in her glass flew out and she was certain that every single drop of it ended up on her chest.

Great. Just great.

Without bothering to curse -- what good would it have done anyway? -- she reached around the man for a stack of napkins and began dabbing at the growing wet stain.

"God, I'm so sorry," the voice that went with the body said. She didn't look up just yet, mostly because if she did she'd be far too tempted to light into him like a bulldog with a cow bone, and instead just shook her head.

"Don't worry. It's just champagne. I won't melt." She couldn't keep the faint southwestern accent out of her voice, but she was too tired and upset to do much about it. Besides, if the man was uncoordinated enough to walk right smack into her, then he was probably too drunk to remember anything that happened anyway.

"You sure about that?" the man asked. There was a kind of male amusement in his voice that never failed to raise her hackles. Carefully colored lips pressed into a very displeased line as she continued with the napkins that sadly weren't helping much.

"Yes, I'm quite su—-" Looking up, her tirade stopped mid-sentence. Good god, it couldn't be him. It just couldn't. Because if it really was Mr. Kyle Harper, then God must truly hate her.

* * * * *

Kyle was bored. The party was just like every other function he'd attended this week and quite frankly, he wished he would have declined this invitation. But he couldn't afford to alienate the firm that took care of his business' legal needs so he'd attended. Well, actually, he could afford to alienate them, but he didn't want to. Devlin & Payne was a law firm to trust and he held their reputation in much higher regard than his own personal comfort for a few hours.

Which meant he was bored.

Really bored.

Out-of-his-mind bored.

But he pretended to be interested in the conversation about merging markets and rising inflation anyway until he just couldn't stand it anymore.

"I'm sorry gentlemen. If you'll excuse me." He smiled that famous Harper smile and shook a few hands before stepping away...and straight into a deftly moving female body. Maybe if he'd been paying more attention he would have missed her, but the woman just came out of nowhere.

With ash blonde hair and creamy skin that lacked that golden tan that so popular nowadays, she looked striking. Especially in that dress. A dress that he had obviously ruined now due to his own inattention.

He apologized and was about to offer to replace the thing for her when she spoke. There was something oddly familiar about that voice though he couldn't quite place it. But he could place how he reacted to it. It was a voice meant for sex; smoky and low with a hint of wildness beneath the professionally polite tone. His forehead wrinkled as he tried to place why it was so familiar. And then she looked up. Only one woman he'd ever known had had eyes like cornflowers and lips meant to tempt a man to death.

"Syl?"

* * * * * *

Jesus Christ in Heaven it was Kyle. She couldn't believe she hadn't known it the moment they'd hit each other. For an instant everything froze. She stopped dabbing at her chest and they both stood utterly still. She tried to think of something witty to say. Something glib and chic and completely worthy of a professional woman, but the only words she could of think of were "Holy shit." And no, she was not going to act the stupid hick girl in front of him again.

Memories flooded back, memories she'd tried to bury deep. Hot, Texas nights in a convertible 'Cuda with the stars and the moon as their light. Long, drugging kisses filled with the taste of homemade ice cream and lemon drops. The feel of those long fingered hands running over her skin, underneath her shirt, teasing at the edges of her bra.

And then he'd left.

Blinking, her trance broken by the harsh reality of dreams shattered, she realized her mouth was hanging open and shut it with an audible click as her teeth snapped together. Then she turned around and left him standing in the middle of the room.

This couldn't be happening. She'd finally gotten over him and gone on with her life and here he is, showing up at this party of all places. Ok, so never mind that she'd only dated twice since moving to New York and neither one had ended up in anything remotely sexual. She was over him. Done Finito. Ended.

God, she was so NOT over him.

She had nowhere to run to really, and it would seem really suspicious if she just stormed out of the house so she aimed blindly for the kitchen. At least she could hide in there for a while and pretend to be cleaning off her dress before leaving. People would accept that.

The instant she closed the door behind her, the noise of the party cut off dramatically. The kitchen itself was huge. An island stood in the middle of the room, but there was still enough space around it to comfortably work with at least six other people. Trays and bowls sat on the counters in neat rows and she took a quick moment to marvel at whoever could keep a kitchen clean like this in the middle of a dinner party. Moving to the sink, she reached for some paper towels to dampen, but that was as far as she got. The doors opened again and as the noise level rose then fell back to near silence, she turned around and watched as Kyle stalked her.

There really wasn't another word for it. He moved so quietly, that lean body of his so controlled. He'd let his hair grow out and in the drop lights she could see the deep red inside the sable brown. Tonight he'd tied it back at the base of his neck and she remembered how it felt to run her fingers through it. It was so soft and thick and always smelled like sandalwood.

"What do you want Kyle?" She winced slightly, not having meant to sound quite so bitchy, but she didn't want to want him anymore. It was too hard to wake up from dreams that left her aching and hot when she knew how easy it had been for him to leave her.

"What are you doing here, Syl?" She hated that he called her Syl. Only her family had ever called her that and though she loved to hear it in his rich, deep voice, it reminded her too sharply of other things he'd said. Other things she'd been naive enough to believe.

"I work for Devlin & Payne. What are you doing here?" Because she couldn't stand to look at him standing so handsome in front of her, she turned back to the sink and began vigorously rubbing at her dress. She knew the thing was ruined, but she didn't care. It gave her a great excuse not to look him in the eye.

Kyle didn't know what to say. He'd never expected to see Sylvia Newton again, but here she was. Gone was the delightfully honest country girl from Texas that he'd fallen in love with that summer 6 years ago. Instead stood a modern, chic woman who still had the power to take his breath away with nothing more than a look. Even if that look clearly said she'd kill him where he stood if only she could find a knife. The fact that they were in the kitchen, the typical resting place of very large knives, didn't make him feel very safe. But then again, he'd never felt safe around her. He'd always felt on edge and a little dangerous because he could never seem to catch his balance with her. He'd always felt that every step he took was a gamble though the prize was beyond wonderful and it made that summer even more of a whirlwind.

But then his father had died and he'd been forced back to New York on less than a minute's notice. By the time he'd gotten himself back onto solid ground, he figured it was way past trying to apologize and make up. So he'd relegated that summer to the kind of wishful dreams a man could look back on fondly and tried to exorcise her from him.

He thought he'd succeeded.

"I'm here because..." Even pissed off she was beautiful and as he looked down at her, he couldn't think. The champagne had soaked well and truly into the fabric and it was more than obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra.

"Because why, Kyle?"

"Because...God you're beautiful." Sylvia's head snapped up and she set surprised eyes on his face. She recognized that look in his face and though she wasn't done hating him yet, her body responded. The room was suddenly too warm and the nipples that pressed against wet satin grew hard and sensitive. She had to stop with the paper towels and take a deep breath, but that didn't help. It didn't help at all.

"Right. Fine. So I'm beautiful." She didn't try to debate that fact with him though she was fairly certain he was just saying it to keep her from doing anything destructive to him. Yeah right, like that would help. "That still doesn't tell me why you're here."

"Devlin & Payne are my new legal department."

"For what?"

"Harper Electronics and Technology." The name made her stop again.

"HE&T? As in the multi-million dollar company my boss has been pulling his hair out for the past four months over?" Ok, so maybe she shouldn't have said that. It wouldn't do Kyle's ego any good to hear how much the company wanted his business.

"Yes, as in that HE&T. I own it." She dropped the paper towels and if he hadn't been so distracted by her, he would have laughed. In retrospect, they hadn't talked much about their families or future dreams when they'd been together and he couldn't remember telling her about his family's company.

"Listen, Syl, I have to explain something." He reached for her, just to hold her shoulder, but she jerked away and those lips that had driven him crazy for three months pressed into such a thin line that he wondered if this was the same woman.

"No, you don't. I get it. Country Girl meets City Boy, Girl falls for Boy, Girl and Boy have incredible sex, Boy leaves town. Do I have that right?" Kyle cursed roundly and Sylvia stood up straight, a small measure of triumph sneaking through her.

"No, you don't. You have to believe me, I never wanted to leave." God, that sounded cliché. So damned cliché, but he couldn't think of anything better to say.

"Yeah, sure. You didn't want to leave, but you had to. You know what? I don't even care why you left. The least you could have done was call or write or somethi--"

"My father died." That stopped her in her tracks. Again. She felt like she was on a train that just kept wrecking but she couldn't get off it. Immediately her face softened and she linked her fingers together as if to keep from reaching out for him. An uncomfortable moment of silence stretched out between them.

"I'm sorry, Kyle." Her attitude was enough to make him want to spit nails, but the quietly spoken apology took the bluster right out of him. He didn't have to look at her to know it was sincere but he looked at her anyway. And knew without a doubt that was a huge mistake.

"Yeah, me too." She wanted to retreat from the knowledge in those hazel eyes, from the heat they promised, but they stunned her into stillness.

"I'm sorry I didn't call. It's just...things got so crazy. And then after...." He couldn't finish because there really wasn't an excuse for his lack of communication. That and if he didn't touch her now, he'd die. Stepping closer, cornering her against the countertop, he cupped her face in his hands.

Instantly her hands rose, delicate fingers wrapping around his wrists. For an instant she thought of pushing him away. She didn't need this, not again. But his hands felt so good and the gentle way his thumb moved over her cheekbone was driving her slowly mad.

Neither was sure who leaned into who, but the kiss was electric. Her skin tingled from the top of her head to the tips of her toes and she had to hold her breath. When she let it go, it shuddered out of her and in it was her surrender.

He knew the exact moment she gave in and he made a deep, rumbling sound in his throat before he took over. The kiss grew ravenous and hot and whatever resistance either one of them had was gone. She was like a drug and he wanted all of her. Wanted to sink into her until he lost himself.

The hands on his wrists tightened for a moment. Then she slid them up, fingers testing the muscles in his arms before spearing into his hair. The elastic band he'd used to hold his hair back was ripped out and she moaned into his mouth.

God how had she lived without this for six years?

Of all the things he'd imagined doing to her if he ever saw her again, it wasn't going off halfcocked in someone else's kitchen. But the chance for slow and romantic was dwindling at roughly the same rate as a snowball's life span in Hell.

He didn't care. She protested wordlessly when he took his lips from hers and if he hadn't already been rock hard and ready, that would have made him so.

He couldn't get enough of her and his hands roamed like desperate things over her body. He cupped her breasts in his palms and the thin material was warm from her skin. His lips pressed to the delightfully exposed skin at her throat and he licked away the residue of champagne as his thumbs rubbed over her nipples.

She let out a strangled cry and dropped her head back, her spine arched toward him while her fingers fisted in his hair. It was almost embarrassing how ready she was for him, how badly she wanted this, but she didn't care.

"Kyle...oh my god." She managed only a whisper and then she couldn't think at all. She didn't know what his fingers were doing to her nipples, but it was driving her insane. Her body moved against him restlessly, her hips pressing against him and he pushed himself into her further in response.

He wanted more. Always more. The sounds she made and the way she moved against him were so sexy and he wanted nothing more than to bury himself deep and never come out. With hands that trembled lightly, he took hold of the zipper at the back of her dress and pulled it down to her waist. Capturing her lips again, he kissed her as he pulled the bodice down, tongue pushing forward in a mimic of the kind of invasion he really wanted to do.

Sylvia moaned as air hit her bare skin and she helped Kyle rid if her of the top half of her dress. She was beyond remembering where they were and she was like an alcoholic who'd just been given an entire liquor store.

He had to peel the fabric away, the champagne sticking it to her skin. When his hands reached her waist, he took hold and lifted her, settling her atop the counter without breaking the kiss. His thigh pressed between her legs, spreading them so he could stand closer. And she wanted him closer. Pushing the skirt of her dress up to her hips, she latched her legs around his waist and pulled him closer, her hands reaching now for the buttons of his dinner coat, then for his shirt. She wanted -- no, needed -- to feel his skin, to rub her palms over the springy bed of hair on his chest, to feel the crashing beat of his heart.

His hands moved up from her waist and settled in her hair, bobby pins and barrettes popping out as he ruthlessly destroyed what had taken her an hour to perfect. But Lord Almighty, he could destroy anything he wanted right now and she would ask for more.

Again his lips trailed down, hot breath fanned over champagne flavored skin and he blazed a hot, wet trail to her nipple before taking it in his mouth. A blast of pleasure shot through her core and she would have cried out if she'd had the breath. Oh, and they were in the kitchen. Yeah, good idea to stay quiet.

His other hand paid homage to one breast while he fed at the other and she could only take so much before delicious shudders ran through her, each wave beating stronger and stronger.

Then his hand was between her legs, ripping aside that little bit of black lace and she could hear his belt buckle clink against the counter.

"Syliva." She opened her eyes and looked at him, her mind barely able to comprehend what he asked in the uttering of her name. Her hands once again took hold of his head and she pulled him close, speaking against his lips.

"Yes, Kyle. Yes, yes, God, yes." With a single move of his hips, he was inside her and she clung to him, body screaming for release. He filled her, stretched her, pulled at the very core of her and she began to move around him of her own accord.

God she was so tight. Tight and hot and wet and so very ready. He nearly lost it right then, his body poised at the very edge of release. He needed a moment. Just a few seconds to get control back.

"No, honey, Sylvia, don't move. I can't...I can't..." But control was a fond memory now and he grabbed her hips in both hands, his body taking over with quick, hard thrusts.

Sylvia held on for dear life, mouth pressed into his throat as the orgasm ripped through her. Her scream was muffled against his skin and his answering shout against her shoulder set off another chain of ecstasy as she felt him pulse inside her.

For a long minute they tried to remember how to breathe, their bodies still locked together. Sylvia raised her head and looked through thick lashes at him, blue meeting amber. Heat shimmered between them and her eyes widened as she felt him grow harder inside her again.