Zoe. An unusual name that somehow suited her. A name to be whispered in the dark.
The bio in the program told him everything he needed know. She was director of materials for a metals consigner in the Bay Area. West Coast had used them once upon a time, but there’d been problems with impurities in the target. They’d chosen another vendor.
He could have raised his hand and mentioned that a great tracking program didn’t matter if the product sucked, but he wouldn’t embarrass her in the middle of her presentation. No, he’d seek her out later. Over a drink perhaps. In the evening.
He was sliding down that slippery slope. And fast.
Chapter Two
He found her in the hotel bar just after the dinner hour. She’d changed out of the red power suit into a flowered strapless sundress fitted tightly to her breasts. Seated in a comfortable wing chair, there were two glasses of wine on the table, one empty, hers with an inch of white wine left.
He leaned his hands on the back of the chair opposite. “I attended your workshop today.”
“Thank you. I hope it was informative.”
“I have a few questions. May I join you?” He didn’t ask if she already had a guest.
“Of course.” She flourished a hand.
Sitting, he introduced himself. “Spence Benedict.” He handed her a card.
“I’m Zoe, but you already know that.” She glanced at the printed copy. “West Coast. I’m very familiar with you.” She slipped the card into a front pocket of the large purse at her feet.
Though the bar was doing a brisk business, the cocktail waitress arrived quickly. “What can I get you, sir?” She cleared away the empty wineglass.
“A beer. Something German.” He looked at Zoe. “Can I get you another?”
“Actually, it’ll be my treat,” she told the waitress. “I’d like the same chardonnay.” She finished the last of her wine and handed the glass back, leaving behind a faint lipstick print. When the woman was gone, she added, “It’s only fair the drink is on me when you sat through my sales pitch this morning.” She smiled at him. “Now, what can I tell you?”
She could tell him everything about herself. Did she have kids? How long had she been married? Was she happy? Spence wasn’t one for self-delusion. He knew that’s why he’d come in search of her. But he kept those things to himself. “Bay Metals used to be one of our suppliers.”
“The impurities,” she said before he could describe the problem.
He shrugged in answer. “It wasn’t just one or two targets.”
She leaned forward, touched his knee, sending an electric jolt straight to his core. “We worked for months. The engineers simply couldn’t pinpoint the issue.” Sitting back, she shook her head. “In the end, it was one tiny corroded part in a machine. Took five minutes to replace. We’ve been rebuilding our reputation ever since.”
Bay Metals had almost gone out of business because of it. “Is that the reason for the new accounting program?”
She laughed. Christ, he could feel the sound in his chest.
“I said it was for our customers, but the truth is I put it together for my benefit.” She put a palm to the swell of breast above her sundress. “It solves a host of problems we had in shipping, receiving, and production planning.” She lifted a brow. “My programmers were a marvel at figuring out how to integrate it with our customers’ systems. It’s not invasive. There are a lot of checks and balances against hacking into proprietary information. My trip here is mainly about finding beta testers.” She waved a hand to encompass the hotel and the conference itself. “I don’t attend a lot of these conventions and trade shows.”
That would explain why he’d never seen her before. He definitely would have noticed her. “But you’re enjoying yourself despite the humidity?”
She rolled her eyes, smiling again. “As long as I stay inside during the middle of the day.” She crossed her legs, her sandaled foot swinging, mesmerizing him. “My walk this morning was fabulous. I got some great sunrise photos. A flock of pelicans streaking across the ocean just below the horizon as the sun rose above them.”
“You’re a photographer?”
Again that smile. She even seemed to smile with her deep brown eyes. “Just for fun.” Tipping her head slightly, she asked, “So, would you like to be one of my beta testers?”
The wealth of meaning in the question made him hard. Hell, yes, he’d do anything she wanted. “I’ll bring it up with my manufacturing people. No guarantees, but one thing they’ll like is the potential cost savings on freight.” Right now they were using a vendor out of Ohio.
Fishing in her purse, she laid her card on the table, tapped it. “I can put you in touch with my team. We’ll give you a lot of TLC.” She flipped her hair behind her ear.
He was aware of her signals. He wondered how messy things could be. He also wondered if he was past the point of caring.
The waitress returned, setting the beer and a frosty glass on the table, then Zoe’s wine. “Shall I just add it to your tab?”
Zoe nodded, and the woman left them again.
“Thank you,” he said. He didn’t generally let ladies buy, but she was different. In so many ways. After he’d poured, forming only a small head of foam, she clinked glasses with him. Olive-skinned, toned muscles with all that walking, he had a hard time tearing his eyes away as she recrossed her legs. He wasn’t sliding down the slippery slope, he’d already reached the bottom.
“I believe in being totally up front,” she said, settling back into her chair, her leg bouncing lightly, a bead of moisture falling from her glass to her chest, rolling into her cleavage. He wanted to lick it away. Thank God she set her wine back on the table after taking a sip or he might not have been able to concentrate on anything she said.
“I find you very attractive.” She kept her voice low in deference to the other patrons.
He pulled his gaze up to meet hers. “The feeling’s mutual.”
She laughed again. “I must admit I’ve noticed you watching me a time or two.”
It was a hell of a lot more than that. “Guilty.”
“I’m married”—she twisted the ring on her finger—“but my husband and I have a special kind of relationship.”
“An open marriage?”
She shook her head, her hair falling over her ear. She tucked it away again. “Not exactly. He doesn’t see other women, but when I’m on a business trip…” She tipped her head, shrugged slightly.
He caught her drift. “You play. And he knows?”
She nodded with barely more than a tilt of her chin. “He likes to hear all about it. If the man I’m with is adventurous, he likes a photo or two.” Her smile widened. “Even a phone call while we’re”—she raised her hands, waggled her fingers—“right in the thick of the action.”
For a moment, he didn’t have a word to say. A couple of weeks ago, Ward Restin had asked him to be a third party in a hot little scenario with his girlfriend Cassandra. Wasn’t that a bit like this thing Zoe had going with her husband? There’d also been those rumors at work about Clay Blackwell and the things Ruby used to do for him. But now Ruby was with Holt, their CEO, and…Spence didn’t know anything for a fact. But it sure as hell sounded like what Clay and Ruby had going bore a marked similarity to what Zoe Hudson was describing.
“That’s pretty kinky,” he said, putting it mildly.
“Yes,” she said, that seductive smile creasing her lips. “We call it hotwifing. It takes a very special kind of man to be involved. To be the other man for us.” She breathed deeply, her breasts rising, falling, dragging him deeper.
“What about your kids?” He was curious how she handled that. Intrigued. Hard. Hoping he had an excuse to break any rule standing in his way.
“His children with his first wife are grown.” Hesitating, she added a moment later, “We don’t have any together.” She leaned an arm on the chair, rested her chin on her hand.
“So you think I’m”—he li
“You look like you know how to play games. And that you enjoy them.”
He did. But did he want to be the other man in the middle of her marriage?
* * * * *
Zoe let her leg swing back and forth, watching as his eyes followed the movement like the hypnotist’s victim tracking a crystal dangled before him.
He wasn’t traditionally handsome, his hair a dark red, vibrantly green eyes, a wiry, muscled body, and a nose that had probably been broken in the distant past. She liked tall men, and he wasn’t, only a couple of inches over her when she wasn’t wearing heels. But his compact form filled space and time, dominated, and she liked that. A lot.
She’d done it, jumped in, gotten the worst part over, broached the subject. Most of the time she could get the man to make the first move. She’d talked about making him one of her beta testers. About giving him TLC. But Spence Benedict hadn’t taken her up on any of her innuendos. She’d been forced to get blunt.
He tipped his head, regarding her a moment. “Isn’t this mixing business with pleasure? If I’m going to be your beta tester?”
Perhaps that was his hesitation in making the move. Except there was something about the way he referred to himself as her beta tester, with a slight rise of his brow, as if they were talking about more than her metals tracking program. Oh yeah, he’d gotten her innuendo, but she answered the question he asked. “I won’t have anything to do with that. It will be between your production control and purchasing group and our sales people and programmers.” She tipped her head. “I’ll simply be your reference.” She raised her brow, adding the double entendre to what she’d said.
His mouth twisted in a wry smile. Gotcha. “How long have you and your husband been doing this?”
“About three years.”
“And how did it come about?” He pulled back a bit. “I can’t imagine how you’d even bring up something like that.”
“It started out as a fantasy.”
“Yours? Or his?”
Funnily enough, most men didn’t ask for those kind of details. Men generally fell into three types: the ones who excused themselves and ran like hell, the ones who wanted into her bed but didn’t want any phone calls or photos—in which case she waited until they were gone before she contacted her husband—and the ones who were totally into cuckolding another man, getting off on the phone calls and the pics. Of course, no one besides Keith ever had possession of the photos. One gentleman had actually let her make a video that Keith still liked to watch, though he complained that it was one long scene, no camera movement. Well, hell, all she’d done was set the camera on the bedside table. What else was she supposed to do?
But really, how had all of it started?
“It was his fantasy.” They’d used fantasy a lot during their marriage. Keith had always gotten extremely excited when they made up a naughty role play.
“I’m not surprised. It doesn’t seem like something a woman would come up with.” Spence looked at her a long moment. “At least not usually.”
“It was pretty hot. As a fantasy. Then”—she raised a brow—“I imagined what it would be like to do it for real.”
Of course, she was skipping a lot. Keith’s interest in sex had waned, while, being fifteen years younger, her libido had been on the rise. The fantasies about her with other men had been an attempt to get their sex life back on track, until they’d finally had to admit things had changed physically. He’d tried the various remedies, Viagra et al., but he couldn’t handle the massive headaches that were a side effect for some men. So what was the solution? Marriage wasn’t just about sex, there was so much more, but she had needs. So did Keith, for that matter; his need for kinky stuff grew even if he couldn’t perform the way he used to. The extracurricular activities were an answer for both of them. She actually believed it kept them together.
“And so,” she said, cutting out all the justification, “when I went on a business trip, he told me to do it.”
“How did that feel? Emotionally. Mentally. The whole bit.”
Now that was a question no one had ever asked, not even Keith. She rolled her lips between her teeth despite the effect it would have on her lipstick. Then she gave him the truth. “It was incredibly exciting. And terribly frightening. For some reason, I couldn’t have an orgasm. Afterward I just wanted to get out of there as fast as possible.” She always went to the man’s room, never took him to hers. “I didn’t call my husband until it was over.”
“And then?”
She never got this in-depth. Most men didn’t ask. Most of them didn’t care; they got some hot nookie on a business trip, then they were gone. That was fine with her. She didn’t ask if they were married, but she did choose men who weren’t wearing wedding rings. But how much to tell him? This wasn’t dirty talk. It was deeper, revealed more about herself. “I made myself come while I described every detail for him, and it was the hottest thing I’d ever felt. I’ve discovered the best part is when I tell him about it, his reactions, and then it’s really all about us and not the other man.” Maybe that was saying too much. She smiled, trying to take the bite out of her confession. “Does that make you feel like a sex object?”
A low laugh rumbled in his chest. “I’ve never been a sex object before. It might be interesting to try.” He paused to drink his beer. “How many men?”
“Only ten.” Ten one-night stands in three years. It felt kind of slutty.
“You do this only on business trips? Never at home?”
“Just on trips. That way there are no complications. It becomes an event.”
“I’ve never been a woman’s event.”
She’d always thought green eyes were especially expressive, but she could read nothing in his. And nothing on his face. “There’s always a first time,” she quipped, sorry the moment the words were out. It sounded ingratiating. Or flip. Or…hell, she didn’t know how it came off to him, except that she was growing more self-conscious. Perhaps this discussion was a bad idea.
“Have you ever done it with more than one man at the same time?”
“No.” Nor had she played around on every trip. Sometimes she didn’t meet anyone who excited her. She traveled mostly to meet with suppliers, sometimes with customers, and she didn’t cross that boundary. It was usually someone she encountered in a hotel restaurant or bar, or if she was sightseeing in a city that interested her. Men seemed to love approaching a woman who was eating alone. But she’d never had two men hit on her at once.
He tipped his head, gazing at her steadily, and now there was definitely a blaze in his eyes. “That would be amazingly hot. To call up your husband and describe everything to him. All that down-and-dirty visceral language only one man can use with another. Maybe I’d have to send him a video.”
Zoe had to wet her throat with a long sip of wine. “I don’t think I’m quite ready for that.” And yet…
He dropped his voice. “But it intrigues you, doesn’t it,” he said softly, not questioning, knowing.
Beneath the bodice of her dress, her nipples tightened. “Yes.” The word was little more than a whisper.
“We would search for the man together. Not this conference.” He waved a hand. “Another hotel. I would already know your likes and dislikes. I would instruct him, make sure he did it exactly the way you want it.”
Her breath caught in her throat. It was like all the nights she’d fantasized with Keith. When she was planning a trip and while she was gone were the best times between them, better than when she returned home and Keith secreted himself in his den to look at her photos. He’d work her up before she went away, to the point where, upon her arrival in whatever city she was visiting, she’d start scoping out available candidates. But she’d found this man on the plane. Suddenly, she had to tell him the things Keith had said the night before she left for Daytona.
“My husband made me bring my vibrator. He wants a man to use it on me. To take me that way the first time.”
“Where? In front of the window overlooking the ocean? Or on the bed?”
“Anywhere. Both.” Somehow they were leaning in to each other, their faces close enough for her to smell the yeastiness of beer on his breath. She wanted to kiss him, right here, taste him, sip the beer from his lips.
“What else does he want?”
“A picture of your cock in my mouth.” She didn’t usually get so explicit, but no man had ever gotten her to this point so quickly.
He smiled slightly. “I guess not having kids at home saves the hassle of someone stumbling across any photos.”
“It certainly does,” she agreed, breathless that he was willing to play the game.
“I’d have you on your knees,” he described for her, “my hand fisted in your hair.”
“He’d love that. Keith likes humiliation pictures.” She’d acted it out for Keith, posed in ways he wanted. He would love what this man described. “I want it,” she whispered without meaning to say the words.
Chapter Three
Spence wanted her more than any woman in a very long time.
“Your room or mine?” Then he answered himself. “Mine. It’s on the twentieth floor. I can have you in front of the window.” He didn’t wait for her to pay the check but threw some bills down on the table.
“But—” she started.
“Is it enough to cover it?”
“Way more than necessary.”
He rose, held out his hand. “Are you game?”
She’d propositioned him, but he’d taken over. Now she was the one who had to agree.
Without uttering a word, she placed her hand in his. He didn’t care if anyone he knew saw them. He wanted what she offered. Badly.
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