Relief washed over him. Deep down he knew it wasn’t solely because he needed her, he was also grateful for an excuse to spend time with her. “I’m delighted,” he said. “However, you do remember there were strings attached.”
Brandi nodded. “I haven’t forgotten the terms.”
“So what changed your mind? Last time we talked you’d all but turned me down.”
Brandi heaved a sigh. “Two reasons. First, it appears school budget cuts are going to cut me right out of a job at the end of the term. Secondly, the space I wanted to lease for my boutique is suddenly available again,” she said. “I’m taking both things as a sign it’s time for me to move Arm Candy forward sooner rather than later.”
“Then we have a deal.” Adam extended his hand.
She paused a moment before taking it, but her hesitance merely delayed the inevitable sizzle of electricity that spiked every time they touched. Adam looked down at their joined hands and back at her. He knew she felt it, too. And like him, she was probably thinking of the kiss they’d shared the other day.
A kiss he hadn’t been able to get off his mind.
He leaned over the counter and touched his lips to hers. Damn. If only he could develop a recipe that mimicked the full-bodied sweetness of her mouth, it would be the hands-down winner of any competition.
Brandi broke off the all-too-brief kiss, but not the sexual tension that lingered in its wake. She leaned back in the chair and folded her arms across her chest. “I’ve agreed to your terms, now it’s time you heard mine.”
He rounded the counter and sat on the seat next to her. “I’m listening.”
“Things between us have to remain strictly business. That means no more kissing and certainly nothing beyond,” she said.
“If that’s what you want.”
Brandi nodded. “It is.”
“Then I’ll abide by your wishes.”
Adam would just have to keep his attraction to her in check, because as badly as he wanted to taste her mouth again—he needed her tasting chocolate more.
Chapter 7
The evening after agreeing to Adam’s proposal, Brandi was having second thoughts.
About their deal and her attire.
She stared in the mirror at the second outfit she’d changed into to meet with him tonight. Dark bootcut jeans hugged her hips and a red sweater with a deep V-neck showed off her cleavage. Ruby earrings dangled from her earlobes while her hair, salon fresh from a standing weekly appointment, had the kind of glossy curls only a stylist could achieve.
A slick of red gloss and a spritz of her favorite perfume added the perfect finishing touches. She looked good.
Too good.
Brandi frowned at her reflection. She’d made hot date effort, when she should be doing everything in her power to put a damper on the fireworks that sparked every time she and Adam exchanged glances.
She kicked off her strappy red heels, and yanked the sweater over her head. Tossing the sweater on the bed, Brandi went to her closet and rifled through the racks of clothing.
She unearthed a faded pink velour track suit, a decade-old throwback from J. Lo’s first fashion collection, and a T-shirt that had seen better days.
Moments later, she surveyed her revamped appearance in the mirror. Age had stretched the pants and hoodie enough so they fit her bigger body. She tissued off the lip gloss and swept her hair up into a haphazard ponytail.
“That’s better,” Brandi told the shabbily dressed woman staring back at her in the mirror. “If Adam has any illusions about being attracted to me—this ought to shatter them.”
She laughed to herself and grabbed her laptop to take over to his place.
Chocolate, the scent even stronger than in her condo, hit her hard as she stood in front of Adam’s door. She’d had an extra-light lunch and skipped dinner in preparation of the delights awaiting her. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation.
The door swung open before she could knock and an angry face blazed down at hers.
“Um…I was looking for Adam,” a startled Brandi told the vaguely familiar man. “Is he here?”
Adam appeared in the doorway behind his obviously annoyed visitor, and she was relieved when a smile lit his handsome features at the sight of her. Still, his disposition didn’t appear any sunnier than the other man’s.
“If this is a bad time, I can come back later,” she said.
“Not at all.” Adam inclined his head toward the other man. “Brandi Collins, meet my brother, Kyle Ellison. Kyle, my neighbor, Brandi. Kyle was just leaving.”
Kyle gave her the once-over with one sweep of his eyes and something in them dismissed her.
“Nice to meet you,” Brandi said, regretting her dressed-down appearance. She’d only expected to see Adam tonight.
His brother wore an exquisitely cut, charcoal-gray business suit and a burgundy silk tie. An overcoat was draped over his arm, and the leather gloves in his hand probably cost more than a full month of her schoolteacher paychecks.
“Likewise,” Kyle said. He gave her a tight, polite smile, before turning back to Adam. “Since there’s no reasoning with you, I’ll leave you to your cakes and your company.”
Brandi wasn’t sure what she’d just witnessed, but the sadness in Adam’s eyes as his brother walked away made her heart go out to him.
She reached out and touched a hand to his arm. “It’s okay. We can do this another time.”
“That’s not necessary.” He smiled and took her lightly by the elbow to lead her inside. “Sorry you walked into that. Like I told you, my decision to pursue this competition hasn’t been very popular.”
Brandi had dealt with discouragement from her family, but not on this level. Then again, she’d always played it safe and tried to please everyone. She’d never taken a big leap of faith in herself and her skills like Adam had. Even now, as precarious as it was, she had her teaching job as backup.
He had nothing.
“Have a seat,” Adam said.
Brandi looked up and was surprised to see a dining room suite occupied the open area off the kitchen that was completely empty yesterday afternoon.
“Ah, I see your furniture’s here,” she said, taking in the contemporary marble table surrounded by six suede chairs. He’d apparently eschewed the traditional china cabinet in lieu of two large bookcases.
“Actually, I bought it this morning, and the furniture store offered same-day delivery,” he said. “I can’t have us working at the kitchen island.”
“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble for me.” She chewed at her bottom lip. “Especially with you not working right now.”
“Don’t worry about me. I have savings.”
Of course he did, Brandi thought. Once upon a time she did, too.
He pulled out a chair at the table, and Brandi sat down, wondering what he had in store for her. Maybe she’d get to sample yesterday’s chocolate tart, which had smelled so good it nearly brought tears to her eyes.
Heather was going to make her pay the price, so she might as well make it worth her while.
“Well, what do you want me to taste first?”
He seated himself in a chair directly across from hers. “Actually, nothing. I thought we’d put you first and focus on your business tonight.”
“Oh,” Brandi said. The disappointment she felt at not walking into a chocolate smorgasbord was overwhelmed by his statement about putting her first. She couldn’t even remember the last time someone had put her concerns over their own.
“Have you eaten?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I wanted to conserve my calories so tonight’s splurge wouldn’t do as much damage.”
“Then have dinner with me.”
His offer was as tempting as t
he aroma of chocolate permeating the room, but it wasn’t a good idea.
“I thought we agreed to keep this strictly business.”
“We did.” Adam’s gaze slid downward from her face to the faded hoodie and rumpled T-shirt before once again meeting hers. “And by the way, nice try.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That getup you’re wearing,” he said. “Sweetheart, it’s going to take more than beat-up sweats and a messy hairdo to make me forget I want you.”
Brandi gulped audibly. She hadn’t expected to be figured out so easily or the clenching of everything in her that was female at the words: I want you.
Adam chuckled softly. “Besides, I’m not asking you on a date,” he said. “It’s simply a business dinner. You know, two people talking business over food. In my old life, I did it all the time.”
“Okay, then,” Brandi said, feeling foolish at having overreacted.
He rose from the table and crossed the open space into the kitchen. “Good. I’ll have it on the table in a few minutes. Hope you like carrot ginger soup.”
Brandi nodded. “It’s my favorite. I pick up a cup every time I go to Healthy Market.”
“Then you’ll love this, because that’s exactly what I did. I bake, but my cooking skills are limited to the microwave and takeout.”
“Good, then you’re not perfect. If you cooked, too, I’d have to wonder why you were still single,” she said. The words tumbled out of her mouth ahead of her brain.
He gave her a pointed look. “Maybe I’ve been saving myself for the right woman.”
Brandi averted her eyes to avoid the intensity of his stare and abruptly changed the subject. “What can I do to help?”
He shook his head. “I’ve got it under control.”
“At least let me set the table.” She abandoned the large table for the kitchen.
Adam nodded and directed her to the cabinets and drawers where he stored dishes and cutlery. They moved through the kitchen and dining areas in comfortable silence, before sitting down to a quick meal of soup, salad and crusty sourdough bread.
No, it wasn’t the orgasmic chocolate experience she’d been looking forward to all day, but it was nice sharing an evening meal with someone. In the months after her breakup with Wesley, her dinners had consisted of whatever she picked up at the gourmet candy store or bakery on the way home from work with only the television for company.
“So what got you into handbag design?” Adam asked.
“It’s a long story,” she said. “Are you sure you want to hear it?”
“Two things you should know about me. One is I don’t say things I don’t mean, and secondly, I don’t waste my time,” he said. “So when I say I’d like to hear it, I mean it.”
His stark honesty and directness were a relief to Brandi, who was used to her mother’s version, which came off as overly critical.
“Well in that case, it started back in high school,” Brandi began. “I saw a pretty floral bag in a teen magazine. It was all the rage, and all my friends had one.”
She told him how her parents thought the trendy fabric bag was overpriced and refused to buy it. She’d whined to her folks for days about how not having the “it” bag was ruining her social life.
Then one day, her grandmother had overheard.
“Grandma told me to quit whining or she’d give me something to whine about.” Brandi laughed at the memory and looked up to see a twinkle of amusement in Adam’s eyes.
“She looked over the magazine and declared we could make a bag on her old Singer sewing machine just as good—if not better than that one.”
“And did you?” Adam asked and from the curve of a smile on his full lips, Brandi knew he already knew the answer.
She nodded proudly. “Not only that, soon I was making them for all my friends. It wasn’t long afterward I began to design and sell my own bags,” she said. “Any free time I had after school or on weekends was spent on working on new designs with Grandma.”
“So why didn’t you pursue it, instead of teaching?”
Brandi sighed. “I’d planned to. I’d even gotten accepted into the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York as an accessories design major.” She couldn’t help the wistful note in her voice as she remembered.
“You didn’t go?” Adam asked.
Brandi shook her head. “My mother was dead set against it. She said it was a pipe dream and insisted I get, what she called, a solid degree in a stable profession. So that’s how I ended up teaching high school.”
“Didn’t your grandmother or maybe your father try to intervene with your mom?”
“I’d like to think they would have, especially my grandmother,” she said. “But she and my father were hit by a drunk driver two months before I graduated high school. My grandmother was killed instantly, and Dad died a week later at the hospital.”
He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “You’d told me your father had passed, but I had no idea you lost your grandmother at the same time,” he said. “What a tragedy.”
Brandi nodded. “Because of how they died, I’ve never touched alcohol,” she said. “I know there are people who drink it responsibly every day, but I could never enjoy it after the devastation it caused my family.”
It had been the darkest period of her life, but she was grateful she at least got an opportunity to say goodbye to her father before he died.
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Again, I’m sorry for your loss. My grandmother is my biggest champion.”
“So she’s not in the contingent of friends and family bothered by your abrupt career change?”
“No, just the opposite,” Adam said. “Like the relationship you shared with your grandmother, she and I have always been close. She only wants me to be happy.”
“You’re lucky to have her,” Brandi said.
“Are you and your mother close?”
Brandi shrugged. “We used to be, but that was a long time ago,” she said. “Everything changed after my father died.”
“Then I feel sorry for her,” Adam said. “From the little I know about you, I think she has a very special daughter.”
Standing, he released her hand, and she immediately missed the warmth and comfort. Brandi had walked through his door expecting to be overwhelmed by chocolate only to discover the real treat.
Adam Ellison had a good heart. Brandi sighed inwardly as she watched him walk toward the kitchen. If she wasn’t careful she might find herself doing something stupider than lusting after him—actually liking him.
* * *
Now Adam knew how Brandi felt.
The scent of her perfume wreaked havoc on his senses as they sat side by side at the table.
He leaned in for a closer look of the business plan on her laptop. Each time he attempted to review the cash-flow statement and break-even analysis, he made the mistake of inhaling and his eyes drifted to the pulse point on the side of her neck.
Adam ached to press his lips to the spot and indulge his senses in the bewitching blend of orange blossoms, gardenias and something uniquely her that stirred a primitive side of his nature he hadn’t known existed. At this moment, he wanted nothing more than to strip that ugly outfit off her sexy body, toss her over his shoulder and carry her caveman-style to his bed.
His groin tightened at the thought of touching and kissing every inch of her, and he was grateful the new dining table camouflaged the fact business was the last thing on his mind.
He blinked to clear the sensual fog from his brain and turned his attention back to the numbers on the screen.
Focus.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Brandi said. “Is it that bad?”
Adam cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “No. Not at al
l,” he said. “In fact, it’s quite impressive.”
“Even with the start-up expenses and rent, I believe I can break even within six months and begin turning a profit within a year.”
Adam opened the folder filled with the research he’d done before she’d arrived. “I compiled a list of potential microloan sources, which I believe are a better option for you than crowdfunding or peer-to-peer lending. The ones I selected are from reputable sources interested in helping small businesses, and they all have low interest rates and reasonable payback terms. I weeded out the ones looking to capitalize on desperation and the economic downturn with hidden service fees and charges,” he said.
Brandi flipped through the stack of papers he handed her.
“I also took the liberty of printing out the online brochures and applications for you,” he added.
“Thank you,” she said.
Adam opened a second folder. “I kept this one separate because it was particularly interesting,” he said. “It’s the non-profit foundation arm of a design house targeted at helping women entrepreneurs with fashion-related businesses.”
Her eyes lit up, and he brushed off an unexpected wave of satisfaction.
“The designer is offering personal mentoring for one business she feels has the most potential,” he said.
“Oh, my God,” Brandi exclaimed. “This is Lina Todd. She’s huge.”
“Is she, now?” Adam asked.
“Of course. She designs everything from dresses to housewares. There’s even talk of her doing a collaboration with Target,” Brandi said, before pausing to take a breath. “Wait a minute, she also has a men’s line. You must have heard of her.”
“There may be a tie or two with her name on it in my closet,” Adam said, knowing full well a visit to the designer’s men’s boutique the last time he was in New York City had left his black American Express card smoking.
Brandi’s brown eyes narrowed, and he burst into laughter under their scrutiny.
“Stop teasing,” she said. “You know Lina Todd is the name at the top of fashion’s ‘it’ list.”
“Okay, okay.” Adam held his hands up in mock defense. “I’ve heard of her. More importantly, I think this could be the perfect opportunity for you, but you’ll have to act fast.”
Taste for Temptation (Kimani Hotties) Page 7