Dace sat on her bed, leaning back casually on one hand. The beautifully cut line of his suit fell over his beautiful body like a spread in GC, and she allowed herself to scan him from head to toe. Prime. Choice. His blue eyes narrowed on her, and his brows rose. She supposed he didn’t like being scanned like a piece of meat. Tough.
“We need to talk.” Even his voice turned her on.
“I can’t. I have a date.” Stephanie held up her hand in the face of his immediate refuting of her statement.
“I’m going to be late as it is. If you want to talk, you can pick me up here tomorrow at seven. You, not Frank, although he can drive you if you can’t drive.” She watched, mesmerized as his lips set and firmed. He had such a sensuous, chiselled mouth, even if he was quite annoyed at the moment and it showed. “You can take me out to dinner, not at your place, but somewhere nice. I don’t need expensive.” She gestured around her. “I don’t fit in, as you can see. We can talk over a meal.”
Dace uncoiled to his feet and loomed over her, dwarfing her. She held her ground by recounting the times tables and thinking about pouring rain and ruined navy pumps. The smile he gave her made her nipples elongate into aching points, and she flooded the gusset of her panties.
“I don’t take orders, Stephanie Price. I give them, and not just at my place of work, but in rooms like this as well.” Her breath sawed in and out of her chest at his implication, and her mind flitted to her erotic romance novels. Was he a Dom?
“But in this case I’ll make an exception. One. I’ll see you tomorrow night at seven. Wear that confection you wore the night of the showing at the gallery.”
She shook her head. “I don’t have that dress. I rented it. I’ll be in a suit or casual wear.”
A strange expression crossed Dace’s features, and his eyes darkened. “Fine. Now tell me who you have a date with.”
“None of your business.”
“I’m not leaving until you tell me.”
She shrugged and noted the way his eyes tracked the movement of her breasts. Stephanie quivered at the thought of this man touching her there, with his long, sensitive fingers, or with that talented mouth. “Then stay.”
She flew from the room, scooping up her phone and her purse on her way to the front door. She was through it, and the slamming of the door behind her cut off his enraged shout. The stairwell beckoned, and Stephanie dashed up the steps, revelling in the movement. He could pound sand, the jerk. She made it to Anne’s apartment without Dace tracking her whereabouts, and the other woman instantly let her inside as if she’d been waiting in preparation to save her. Not that she needed rescuing. No, she would walk into a fling with him, her eyes wide open and take what the moment gave her.
“Right on time! I’ve poured us a glass of sherry. Dinner is nearly ready.”
The evening passed enjoyably, if quietly. Stephanie wondered once, and then quit counting the other times, if Dace stayed to wait for her, or if he went home, annoyed. The anticipation kept her in a mild state of arousal all evening, her senses alert, yet acquiescent. She believed what Dace told her was absolutely true. No one was the boss of him, and that was how she wanted it. If only he knew how much she longed for someone to take charge of her, even in some aspects. She was tired of being independent and self-reliant. Twenty years took it out of a girl.
“Are you seeing anyone?” Anne’s innocuous question shouldn’t have brought the feeling of hectic color to Stephanie’s face, but it did, and the older woman’s forehead creased in interest.
“Not really,” Stephanie mumbled. “We aren’t getting along very well.”
“Oh well, that’s to be expected at times, dear. All relationships take work.”
Stephanie blinked. Anne showed a small smile.
“My Robert died young, Stephanie. Makes me wish I hadn’t, what do they call it now? Sweated the small stuff. One never really knows what lies around the corner, tomorrow.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes following that significant pronouncement before Anne got up to share a few pieces of Scottish shortbread out onto a plate and pour some tea. Stephanie devoured the dessert and gave her host highest praise. Her own larder was full now, but she wasn’t inclined to cook these days.
Anne refused any help with the cleanup, and Stephanie excused herself. She agreed to return the following morning around ten to install the dead bolt, rather than put it on that night. She was restless now and needed some time to herself to process. Her apartment was quite empty, although she instantly checked the bathroom. Stephanie experienced a sense of loss, her belly cramping a little in disappointment, although she’d doubted he would remain. Not that she wanted him to, really. Dinner the next evening would hopefully clarify their relationship. She supposed she could use that word. They had something going on.
* * * *
Dace stalked out to the limo and didn’t wait for Frank to open his door. He did the honors himself and ducked inside. He was in a state. He flinched at the description, more appropriate to a hysterical older woman. A state. Goddamn that little upstart. He bit back a chuckle. He kept alternating between being amused and amazed. And aroused. Shit, seeing her standing in her kitchen, beautifully naked, exposed, that butcher knife in her hand… How had he reined in the insane urge to bear her to the floor under his weight, disarm her, and fuck her into submission? Well, he didn’t know how he restrained himself, but he’d acted the perfect gentleman, looking her straight in the eyes. Not that he needed to look at her body again. Her sweet form was emblazoned on his retinas, the scrap of fabric only serving to draw attention to what it attempted to cover. He had looked again, but only because he became aware she’d been soaked through by the rain and chilled. His need to protect her, shroud and warm her delicate form, pushed him to find her robe, although it killed him to cover her. He was amazed his trembling fingers allowed him to fasten the sash. And then she faced him down before fleeing. His cock was still pissed at him for covering her, let alone letting her get away.
He threw himself back against the leather seat. “Take me home, Frank. Ms. Price indeed had a date. Just not with whom she suggested.”
Frank raised his brows in the rearview then pulled away into traffic. The car’s warmth felt significant against the inclement weather. And his little Stephanie needed her sweet fanny paddled red for refusing safe transport and for lying to Frank. Dace would administer her correction however, once he figured out a way to introduce her to his expectations and accept them. She was absolutely nothing like her sister, and Dace realized he hadn’t thought about Sophie for days. Oh, his investigators had reported back to him. There was nothing significant. Stephanie appeared to be who she said she was. Her educational credentials checked out, and she was doing a bang up job for Reginald. She was living a pauper’s existence, however. She’d incurred considerable student debt, and she appeared to have no savings. And she thought he looked down on her because she wasn’t wealthy. Her self-deprecating statements tonight enraged him, because they inferred she wasn’t as good as others. Something else to correct. Shit, he was getting in deep with her, at least in his own mind. He knew she was attracted to him, but she didn’t seem to like him. Dace’s snort snagged Frank’s startled attention and made him grin. Of course she didn’t like him! What reason had he given her? Well, tomorrow night would be very different. He would be charming and thoughtful. Sex would be the last thing on his mind.
He told Frank to stay in the car and got out himself, nodding to his driver before entering his building. Dace made his way up to his suite and headed for the shower. If sex was to be the last thing on his mind, then he’d need to take care of himself tonight. He threw his clothes over the handiest surfaces in his bedroom before striding to the shower. He debated about a cold one before bowing to the inevitable. There wasn’t much that would ease his throbbing cock and balls.
Bracing one hand against the tiled wall, his head bowed beneath the stream of hot water, eyes squinting as he visualized one Stepha
nie Price, clad only in a dish towel. His other hand grasped his shaft, the cockhead rising purple and angry, its little eye pulsing with pre-cum. He squeezed with intent, shuttling his fist in ever-lengthening movements over his length. Mind’s-eye Stephanie sank to her knees, her sweet, sassy mouth closing over him, engulfing him in liquid heat, pointed tongue laving the sensitive underside, tracing the vein— His ejaculate spurted forth, taking him by surprise, the usual telltale warning signs somehow having escaped his notice. Heart pounding, mouth suddenly dry, Dace closed his eyes against the fact she stole his control even in his fantasy. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
Chapter Six
“What?” Dace knew he’d shouted the question. There wasn’t a face in the entire restaurant not looking his way, although maybe the elderly gentleman with the hearing aid missed it. He sucked in some air to control himself. She was going to drive him mad.
The evening started out well enough. He had Frank take him to Stephanie’s just before seven, then went up to her apartment to personally collect her. She opened the door to him, wearing a demure and professional business suit in a brown tweed, a silky, amber blouse relieving the starkness of it. Her gold chain glittered softly around her neck, and the same subdued earrings peeked through the tendrils of hair waving around her head, caught up in a complicated style. It complimented the professionalism, but he had to shove his hands in his pockets so as not to free it to spill over her shoulders. The stuff looked soft to the touch and shone as if spun from fire beneath the lighting in her apartment. A pair of black pumps, the twin of the ones he last saw her padding with newspaper completed the look, and Dace slipped several notches deeper into enchantment. The urge to flee overtook him once again, but he manned up.
Stephanie gravely accepted his help with her coat. It was squeaky clean and sharply pressed, but he regretted the fabric. This woman deserved the best of the best, yet seemed content with her lot. A faint niggle of unease floated on his frontal lobe, but he reminded himself of the differences between her and her sister. He decided to take a chance, while being cautious and mindful. Surely she wasn’t putting on a front, pretending poverty the better to lull him… No, she could hardly have known she would ever meet him.
She was unfailingly polite, and he responded in kind, deciding to leave a discussion about her precipitate flight the previous evening until another time, especially as he’d been in her apartment unsolicited. Besides, Dace was aware of her dead bolt plot from Mr. McTavish, and knew there were no single males in the entire building, unless one counted the landlord himself and the poor old guy with the back problem. The other man had muttered about a Jake, but Dace hadn’t explored the name because the landlord had rushed off to catch his “show.” Dace figured he was more than a match for any specimen Stephanie had met in her short time in his city.
Frank fell all over himself when he saw her, leaping out to open the door, tipping his hat, and essentially smiling so hard his eyes squeezed shut. Dace made himself unclench his fist and plastered an indifferent look on his face, because Stephanie responded to his driver. She treated him with disdain, indifference, or freezing civility, but warmed right up to Frank.
“Good to see you again, Frank. I’m sorry I was rude to you yesterday.”
“Not to worry, Miss Stephanie. I completely understand.”
Not a word to Dace about running out on him, leaving him to wonder where the hell she’d gone. But she was having dinner with him tonight, and they were going to talk.
And talk they did. He took her to a pleasant steak house, a restaurant known for its food and comfort. Stephanie approved of her surroundings, smiling and complimenting him. Something within Dace thawed and privately expressed relief. She approved. She ordered a small meal, and he resisted ordering for her. He assured himself it was because he didn’t know her well enough. Yet. And not because she might have stabbed him with her dessert fork. They talked about art over appetizers, the conversation segueing into more personal things during the main course. Stephanie shared briefly about losing her mom and being presented with her sister and stepmom within a week, and how Sophie pretty much danced to her own tune all her life. Dace grasped that her father had passed on his larcenous genes to his youngest daughter, although he detected wistfulness in Stephanie’s voice when she spoke of family.
“Do you have any other relatives?”
She shook her head gravely. “No. Just the three of us. Douglas divorced my stepmom years ago, and she moved to the East Coast. I don’t think Sophie sees her very often, and I’m not welcome.”
Dace recognized loyalty, no matter how misplaced, and couldn’t fault her for it. He’d deal with that when the time came, because Sophie was going to get what was coming to her, no matter how it offended Stephanie’s sensibilities. All the while he was aware of the chemistry surrounding them. It was tangible, if they both tried to hide it. She felt it, too. He’d look up and catch her staring at him, her sherry-colored eyes darkening to amber, her little white teeth clamping that plump bottom lip. The pulse in her throat gave it away, too, fluttering like the tiny wings of a may fly. His cock was at full stand from the moment he’d helped her into her coat, feeling the simmering warmth of her. Dace was grateful for his own coat as it hid his obvious arousal.
Then it happened. He decided to put it out there when they’d demolished dessert and coffee was served. He cut right to the chase. “I told you something pretty blunt the first time we met. I regret how crude I was.”
Stephanie stared at him for a long moment, and he wrestled with the need to squirm. Something about that look…it was familiar, as if he’d seen it before. She swallowed and nodded.
“I’d like to, er, fuck you, too. We can set a time and place and, um, get it done. I expect once will burn out whatever it is we have going on.”
“What?” The attention his astonished query drew was dissipating, although a few women were staring their way in speculation. Now he placed that look. He’d worn any number of times. An assessing look. How much work it would take to get the woman into bed and erase the need, and she’d just turned it on him. God help him, but he felt offended!
Stephanie’s face was nearly crimson, and he saw moisture glinting in her eyes before her long lashes veiled them. Her fingers pleated the tablecloth, and she visibly shook. Dace reached out to put a hand over hers, but she quickly hid it beneath the table, beyond his reach. The breath shuddered into her lungs, and she visibly sought to compose herself. She faced him, all that color leaching from her porcelain skin, two precious freckles standing out in stark relief on the bridge of her nose.
“I apologize for misreading the situation,” she said in a faint parody of her usual poised voice. “I thought you were still interested in me sexually.”
Dace wanted to howl at the moon, rent his clothes, and run madly through the nearest forest. How at odds were he and this woman destined to be? She picked up her purse and held it against her chest, looking at him expectantly. What did she want? Was he supposed to take out his phone and find a time? Compare diaries with her? She wanted to set an appointment? To fuck him so she could get this thing they had out of her system? Dace fought back a snarl. He wasn’t any better, the way he’d acted.
“I can make my own way home.” Well, there was his answer. She offered, he was mute, and she decided to get the hell out of Dodge again.
“The fuck you can.” Unfortunately, their server chose that moment to arrive with the bill, and the look of outrage and derision on the man’s visage made Dace flinch inside. Stephanie looked the perfect angel, sweet and innocent, and he’d just blasphemed her. Where was Mr. Sanctimonious a few moments ago? When Angel Miss told him she wanted to fuck him. A frisson of mirth challenged his shock and anger. Maybe someone was filming this and he was on one of those candid shows, Prank My Date or something.
“Stephanie. It’s not that I don’t want you… We can’t talk about this kind of thing here. It’s a family restaurant.” It struck him as so bizar
re that the frisson flowered and bloomed, and the need to laugh made him light-headed. He threw some bills on the leather folder, deciding not to wait for a credit card to be dealt with.
“Come back to my place,” he urged.
Stephanie shook her head. “No. I’d prefer somewhere neutral.”
Dace thought. He kept a suite at the Fairmont for visiting business colleagues. He nodded and offered her his hand. She was hesitant but put her much smaller one in his, and he closed his fingers around it, firmly. She’d likely panic and run screaming down the street in the next breath. The electricity between them thrummed, and he felt her touch clear up to his bicep. And right down to his most anxious cock, that appendage begging him not to fuck it up this time. Stephanie quivered. Well. Dace escorted her out to the limo.
Frank actually scowled at him but drove them to the Fairmont. Dace felt carried along on a wave not of his making. Stephanie sat quietly, looking out the window the entire time, but he felt she was as aware of him as he was of her. His heart pounded, and he schooled his features. He kept his hand in the small of her back as they entered the hotel, guiding her to the elevators. She looked at him then, a question in her expressive eyes.
“My business keeps a suite here for people who come to do business or for anyone stuck in the city overnight because of weather or something.” That didn’t sound particularly savory, but Stephanie merely nodded. “I keep a key to facilitate such stays.” And that probably sounded even worse.
The elevator doors slid open, and they stepped inside, along with a few other guests. Dace used his key card to ascend to the penthouse suites, and they flew upward in near silence. The others departed by the twelfth floor, and the soft ping announced their final stop on the twenty-ninth. Dace wondered if Stephanie was second-guessing herself. He knew they needed to talk about this, and not merely act, but damned if he wasn’t anticipating. His cock throbbed, and his brain was robbed of rational thought. He swiped his key card again on the second door to the right and opened it.
The Decision (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 7