Julian gave a short laugh. "Figures. That's what I get for sending her to you."
"Of course she was going to seize the opportunity. I've only known Nikki a short while, but within five seconds I saw that she's no shrinking violet."
"I'll discuss it with her."
Mia tugged his tie. "You're cute when you get all stern and fatherly."
He angled toward her. "You think?"
She pulled the tie taut, reeling him in finger by finger. "I must have one of those Greek complexes because I find myself very attracted to you."
"Considering your father really is a Father…"
"Methodists are ministers, but I get the reference. Too Freudian for me." She touched her lips to his. "I'm a simple girl. I like meat and potatoes, honest answers and uncomplicated sex." How often she got them was another matter.
Julian's nose bumped into hers; her hand was gripping the knot of his tie. "Then ask me a question."
Her heart seemed to be beating in her throat. Given her earlier revelation, she had to know. "Why did you bring me champagne and roses?"
His head tilted sideways and his mouth found hers. One searing stroke of his tongue over her lips and she was moving into his arms, kissing him with a sweet rush of need. "For this," he whispered, and licked his tongue across the roof of her mouth. "For you." Deeper now, a sucking kiss. "All of you." He slipped a hand under her baby-doll tee and thumbed her nipple, tweaking it into hardness. "And the us that's just beginning."
She was breathless. "Oh—ohhh my goodness…" A stark-naked hunger burned inside her. "That's what I hoped you'd say."
"Then why didn't you tell me earlier so we didn't waste so much time?"
She blinked. "It wasn't a waste, being friends first."
"No—of course not. Just…" He cupped her breast and squeezed, holding the bottle of champagne at the small of her back. "We could have become friends afterward instead."
But then it wouldn't have happened at all, she wanted to say, but stopped herself. How was she to know? While she'd gone into this assuming he was a love-them-and-leave-them type, she now believed there was more to Julian than a relentless male desire to score. What she still couldn't grasp was that they were meant to be together forever.
Fine. There is no reason to pretend that this is a lasting love. Take your pleasure in him—and let that be all.
"Put down the champagne," she directed. "We don't need it. I'm already high as a kite."
He did, ducking beneath her hands. She let them run through his hair, raven-black and silky short, across his expensive suit, the fabric so fine and smooth she caressed it as if it were his skin.
"Dance with me," she said when he'd straightened.
Except for the camera on its tripod, the untouched ballroom waited for them, gilded and polished, sparkling like a jewel, a Cinderella fantasy to make any woman melt.
"We have no music," he said, but then he started to hum. "Cheek to Cheek."
Heaven, she thought. Oh yes. I'm in heaven. Delight bubbled in her laughter as Julian took her with a gentle, firm touch, guiding her in the first sweeping swing across the glossy marble floor. She'd been right; this was an intoxication beyond champagne.
They danced, moving in swaying circles that slowed as their lips met and the humming became an incoherent murmur of pleasure. Too heavenly, too perfect. Mia closed her eyes tight enough to make them water. If she didn't bring her feet back down to touch the ground, she was going to lose her practicality and wind up like the rest of Julian's conquests—too dazzled to protect themselves.
The only way to hold her own was to show him that she wasn't a prize to be won or a body to be seduced. She was the mistress of her own love affairs.
It was time to get serious about not being serious.
She gripped him tightly and leaned in to whisper seductively, "Julian? Can you come to my studio tonight? I'll be experimenting with flavored paints for my new ad campaign and I could use a fresh set of taste buds."
He groaned. "Ah, Mia, what you do to me."
She laughed with a crazy, rising, leaping, soaring joy that was not at all what she'd intended. "Lover, you ain't seen nothin' yet."
"This is one of the rare occasions when I cook," Mia called to Julian from the kitchen area when he walked in her open door eight hours later.
He'd hoped for some kind of glowing candle, lace and satin scene keyed for seduction, but of course, that wasn't Mia. Her place was the same as always—bright lights, background music, colorful atmosphere. The photo set was ready for action, with the camera on its tripod.
But there was one glaring exception that gave him hope. Her friends were not included. Unless Fred was hiding in the shower stall, they were alone at last.
Julian was hugely relieved, even without the romantic scenario. However, he realized, approaching the kitchen area where she was stirring one of her edible paint concoctions, she did intend to work.
He looked into the double boiler set atop her miniature range. Melting chocolate, dark and silky. "What are you making?"
"Bittersweet ganache," she said. "I think. There are several varieties here, ready for testing." Dishes, spoons and measuring cups littered the counter. "Don't get me wrong. I'm no culinary genius. A friend came by to help me with the blends."
Julian glanced around the studio. Who'd he miss?
"Don't worry, she's gone," Mia said.
He put his arms around her. "Thank God."
"You don't like my friends?"
"Sure. But I like them better when they're not always here." He reached a finger toward the chocolate mixture.
She tapped him with a wooden spoon. "I don't do orgies, despite what Lance, my downstairs neighbor, thinks."
"I was only worried about observers."
"Critiquing your technique?"
He chuckled. "My technique is beyond reproach."
"I'm sure. But we'll see how you do, covered head to toe in chocolate like an Easter bunny." Her bottom moved against him, acting like a magnet and pulling his blood south to thicken in his groin. She laughed softly at his purring response, and suddenly the close confines of die kitchen nook seemed all the seduction setup he needed.
His fingers spread over the soft curve of her stomach. "Ah, sweetheart. Double dip me and find out."
She gave another of the flirtatious little booty wiggles. "Why do I get the feeling you're not taking my experiment seriously?"
Maybe because he was already so hot for her that he'd bust a thermometer. "I'm serious," he vowed. "Say the word and I'll get straight down to business."
Taking him seriously, she moved the double boiler off the burner and shut it off. "Pour this chocolate into a bowl." She ducked under his arm. "I'll get the set ready."
"You're planning to take photos then. This is for real."
She was kicking the scattered floor pillows into a pile, but stopped and dusted curls off her forehead, sending him a slanted glance beneath her palm. "I told you it was. I have that job with the cosmetics company. I need to test my edible paints."
"I was hoping that was only an excuse to get me naked."
"Nope. My intentions are pure."
"Mine aren't," he muttered, scraping chocolate out of the pan. "But I'll do whatever you like, as long as it's just between you and me. And you burn the negatives."
"Then it's the test shots that bother you." She wrinkled her nose. "Sorry. Of course they're private. But, really, I'm surprised you care, after being featured in that magazine and showing up in so many gossip columns…"
"I didn't ask to be in Celebrity Gossip."
"They had a personal photo, didn't they?"
"Not one I gave them." He carried the dish of melted chocolate out of the kitchen to her photo set. "They bought a snapshot from someone who I thought was a friend. Except for the business portrait that's in the public domain, the others were paparazzi shots."
"A friend sold you out?" Mia took the dish, set it aside and then turned back to twine her
arms around his waist. "That's a terrible invasion of privacy. All along, I've been believing that you enjoy the notoriety of being Bachelor Seventeen. Doesn't everyone want to be a celebrity?"
"Not me." He concentrated on her face, trying to keep serious even with her breasts pressed to his chest and distracting him badly. "There are a few younger people involved with Silk Publishing who think it's an advantage, but just as many from the old school who say my current reputation hurts our image. I haven't aligned with either side, although I have to respect my board of directors. And they've asked me to keep out of the limelight."
Julian stroked Mia's back, contemplating the predicament. His father would have frowned on the excessive publicity. On the other hand, the launch of Hard Candy would not have been as successful without the extra attention Julian had garnered as a playboy. His board was touchy about possible scandal, but very, very happy with the bottom line.
Mia was looking up at him with her forehead creased by an adorable concern, as if she'd forgotten about their plans for the evening. He turned the conversation back to the here and now. "I can't believe we're really alone. Are you sure there'll be no interruptions? Where's Cress?"
"Cress is out buttering up Angelika, the model from the cover shoot."
"Literally buttering her up?" Julian was bemused by the possibilities. "With your crowd, I can't be sure when you're serious."
"No foodstuffs involved, I assure you. Angelika's a macrobiotic model who weighs about sixty pounds." Mia gave his chest a pat and resumed straightening up the studio area. "Cress is coaxing her. She wasn't crazy about the head-to-toe mess of the Hard Candy shoot, but I want her for the perfume ads, exorbitant fee and all. She has the best skin for chocolate. Smooth as satin, no flaws, no unsightly lumps or bumps."
Julian was watching Mia bend over. "I like a few lumps and bumps. In the appropriate places."
She straightened, holding a full ashtray. Her eyes were bright. "Good to know you're not one of those guys who's forgotten what a normal female body looks like. I don't come airbrushed."
He raised his brows. "But you will come."
Laughing, she went to dump the cigarette butts and briskly wash her hands. "Couldn't resist, huh?"
"I'm a sucker for a bad double entendre."
She gave a hand clap. "Well, if we're going to do this, let's get the show on the road. Strip down."
Taken aback by the matter-of-fact command, he watched her disappear into the bathroom. This might be business, but it was also still an evening of seduction, right? He hadn't expected her openness to translate into such a straightforward approach. What was wrong with a few soft words and slow kisses?
Oh well. He was down to his boxer shorts when Mia walked out of the bathroom carrying an armful of clean towels.
She scanned him. "You can leave those on." Her tongue darted across her lips. Her lashes lowered. "At least for now."
That was more like it. His trousers dropped to the floor with a clunk of the belt buckle.
"I don't think I've explained about my new client," she said, reverting to briskness as she shook out a few of the towels and draping them close at hand. She straightened the edge of a tarp that bore traces of recent experiments with chocolate paint.
The new client with the big-bucks ad campaign, the one she'd been so excited about that morning in the ballroom. He knew more of the details than she was aware, but he was certainly interested to hear what she intended to do with him. And to him.
"A major cosmetics company is launching a new scent called Sweet. It's supposed to smell like chocolate, though I haven't received a sample yet. Their advertising agency heard about the work I did for Hard Candy, and they want me to create the images for the Sweet campaign. I was working on those with Leslie earlier today. I want you for taste experiments."
"Taste experiments," he repeated. "Sounds intriguing."
"I'm being serious, Julian."
"Then why did I strip?" He gestured as if he were going to retrieve his pants.
"No, no, keep your clothes off. I need your skin."
He shook his head. "You said you wanted my taste buds. You said—"
"Oh, I need those, too. See…" Mia stood over her table of supplies, stirring and arranging paintbrushes. "There's going to be a launch party—a media event. You've been to that kind of thing, so you know how lavish and often outrageous they can be. The wilder, the better. My employers want a rotating display of models wearing edible designs, in chocolate and other sweet flavors. So I need to come up with paints that will taste good, not melt, and stand up to—" finally, she looked at him, her eyes revealing that she was feeling less businesslike than he'd thought "—wear and tear."
"Exactly what kind of wear and tear?"
"The models will be striking many different poses throughout the evening. The client is even considering whether the guests should be encouraged to sample the paints. So I have to be prepared for anything—moving and touching and tasting and rubbing and—" She ran out of breath and when she took another one, her breasts swelled, round and full inside her skimpy tank top with spaghetti straps. "You get the picture."
"You're saying you want to paint me."
"Sort of…" With a bashful grimace, she took him by one arm and led him to the tarp. Her gaze rose to meet his, her face glowing with an arousing mixture of shy anticipation and outright seduction. The tip of her tongue touched her lip. "I also want to taste you."
"Taste me?"
"To see if I've gotten the flavors of the body paints right."
He imagined her working on him, dabbing the candy paints across his bare skin, serious with concentration as she stuck out her tongue and licked a clean path straight to his—
Raise the Big Top! His shorts were tenting.
"Uh, I hate to be a party pooper, but can't you just use a spoon?"
She shook her head, looking like an overgrown poodle with her curls bouncing every which way. "The paints taste different on skin. Plus, there's the wearability factor. They must hold up to a lot of action. The models may even be expected to dance."
"And how will we…" He ran a finger along the neckline of her top, following the curvaceous contours into the warm hollow between her breasts and then out again. Her nipples peaked gratifyingly. "How will we test that?"
Her mouth tipped up into a wry grin. "I could put on some Madonna and make you vogue for me, but I can think of more enjoyable activities that would do as a demonstration."
"So can I." He moved in to kiss her, but she stuck a paintbrush between them, making a broad swipe of glistening red paint across his chest. He flinched. "That's cold."
"Here, let's try the chocolate." She picked up another brush and layered a stripe of the warm midnight-dark liquid next to the red. "Bittersweet chocolate and strawberry. Always a good combination."
He glanced down. "I'm dripping."
She shot an amused glance at the obvious erection straining against his shorts. "Already?"
"Not me, the chocolate," he said with a moan, although she was probably right. He was ready for action. If she insisted on drawing out her experiment, he would soon be in desperate need of the towels she'd so thoughtfully supplied. There'd be much less mess if he could lose himself in her.
Mia, of course, was not averse to a mess. She plopped another full load of the bittersweet paint onto his chest, layering it thickly and watching with an almost scientific interest as a rivulet ran across his stomach to pool at his navel just inside the waistband of his shorts.
"Maybe you should take them off," she said, gesturing. Her round cheeks pinkened. "In the name of science."
"Maybe you should take them off," he said. His voice dropped, grating in his tight throat. "In the name of sex."
* * *
9
Mia clenched her fingers around the shaft of the paintbrush and swallowed. "Take it easy, cowboy. I have serious work to do before we reach that point."
She didn't know why she insisted on continuing the c
harade. While everything she'd said was true, experimenting with Julian could never be anything but personal. The sight of him stripped down to his skivvies was making her brain freeze. Add in an erotic painting session and all she wanted was to quit pretending and have her gluttonous way with him until they were both satisfied.
She'd never been good at keeping control of herself. Luckily, the life she led required a noticeable lack of restraint.
"We need the table," she blurted. "Would you…?" She pointed. "Put it there."
Julian retrieved the rolling table, muscles flexing as he pushed the wheels onto the tarp. "You want me…" He slapped the padded surface. It was a massage table, a handy height for her work, and comfortable for the models, especially when she was perfecting a design that required them to remain still for hours at a time.
She nodded. "Jump aboard."
He hopped on, sitting with his legs dangling. "Horizontal?"
"Not for now. I want to test the thickness of the paints when you're upright."
The globule of edible paint at his navel had coagulated, halting its downward path. Her mouth watered at the sight, especially when she lowered her gaze to take in the arousal that bobbed inside his boxers whenever he moved. With her previous male models, she'd never been anything but professional, but with Julian she wanted to dip the engorged head of his penis in candy-apple red or ripe-plum purple, paint stripes and swirls below that and then suck on him like a lollipop, no restraint, no concerns…
She shuddered, turning to focus on her paints. Her hand shook as she reached for the glossy lime color.
Julian was watching, "Do I get to taste?"
Oh boy, here we go.
"Sure." She dabbed the paint onto the back of her hand and held it up to him. "What do you think?"
He took her hand and licked. "Mmm. Sweet."
"It's time. It's supposed to be sour."
He grinned, his eyes bright like high-intensity spotlights. "Then it must be your skin I'm tasting."
"Oh please. Stop with the cheesy compliments." She laughed anyway, glad to break the tension. "So … ahem. The lime paint was troublesome at the Hard Candy shoot. I should load the airbrush, because spraying it on will probably work better with this glossy texture—"
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