3 Seductions and a Wedding

by Julie Leto

  Mallory gulped down her anticipation and hoped Bianca didn’t notice. She was not surprised her friend was warning her off. Bianca had no way of knowing that the qualities that might make Ajay undesirable to a woman like Bianca—one who treasured loyalty and devotion above all else—made the man perfect for Mallory.

  She’d just gotten off the roller-coaster ride of a so-called exclusive relationship, which had ended when her fiancé had told the world he was marrying someone else before he’d bothered to tell her. Ajay’s proclivities away from commitment made him the ideal candidate for helping her get over the heartbreak.

  Six months had passed since Carlo’s betrayal, but his actions still haunted her. No matter what she saw when she looked in the mirror or heard from her very small circle of friends, she felt like the most undesirable woman in the universe.

  But Ajay always made her feel beautiful. He was a shameless flirt, a devastatingly handsome charmer who gave her his full and undivided attention whenever their paths crossed. When they’d met again at the pizza parlor, he’d spent a considerable time attempting to seduce her with his eyes. In the crowded restaurant, she’d been too overwhelmed by her own anxiety to respond and spent the rest of the night kicking herself for not even giving the poor guy a smile.

  She was tired of it—tired of living her life with little but regret and what-might-have-beens. She’d wasted so much on Carlo. She needed a boost to her confidence. She needed a man who would, temporarily, make her feel whole.

  Then, maybe, she could move on—and just as Bianca warned, so would Ajay. She could walk into this weekend with no expectations except to thoroughly enjoy herself with a man who obviously knew how to please a woman. He might have the attention span of a gnat when it came to lovers, but he never had to look very hard to get one.

  Mallory pasted on her most convincing expression of exasperation. “Ajay’s only interested in me for business,” she insisted. “We’ve known each other for a long time and he’s never made a real pass at me. Why would this weekend be any different?”

  Because this time, I’m going to be the one making the passes.

  “Ajay doesn’t pursue women who are spoken for,” Bianca explained. “Until six months ago, you were with Carlo. Off-limits.”

  Mallory knew what her friend wanted to hear. She needed Mallory to declare that despite her unexpected breakup with the man she’d been engaged to for over three years, she was still out-of-bounds to Coop’s playboy boss.

  “I’m a big girl, Bianca,” Mallory offered. “I know what I’m doing.”

  Bianca’s eyes narrowed. “What project does he need help from you on? I could have Coop call him and ask for more details—”

  Mallory cut her off. “I don’t care about the particulars. I just want out of this condo.”

  Bianca’s mouth curved in a compassionate frown. Mallory hated to use the sympathy card, but she had to keep her friend from digging too deeply. Coop’s best friend, Leo, had forbidden them from talking with Bianca or Coop before they returned to Tampa, but Bianca had just finished the translating assignment Mallory had arranged for her in Central America, and with Mallory, business always came first. And besides, not having their post-assignment recap would have sparked Bianca’s suspicions.

  “Coop and I will be home early tomorrow morning,” Bianca replied. “We could do something fun this weekend. Maybe drive down to Captiva?”

  “Thanks, Bianca,” Mallory said, “but you need to spend some time with your family. In the meantime, I’m going to concentrate on keeping one of my biggest clients happy.”

  And hopefully, vice versa.

  “Mal, you need to be careful. You’re still hurting. You’re vulnerable. Ajay isn’t one to prey on defenseless women, but he’s always thought you were beautiful and—”

  “I’m not defenseless,” Mallory argued, though the words sounded hollow after all she’d been through. “Admittedly, it would have been nice if Carlo had broken things off with me before he announced his upcoming marriage to the Italian newspapers, but I’m going to be fine.”

  “But you’re not fine now,” Bianca insisted. “You shouldn’t run headlong from one bad situation into a worse one. Ajay’s a great guy, Mal, but he’s not…your type.”

  “And what is my type?” she asked, her voice snapping. “Let’s see, I’m attracted to men who are incredibly intelligent, charismatic and, apparently, are users who will dump me the minute someone better comes along.”

  Bianca smirked. “Well, then maybe Ajay is your type.”

  Mallory snorted. “Exactly.”

  Mallory had met Ajay through Bianca and Coop. Their introduction had led him to hire Mallory’s company, Tedesco Global Communications, to provide translators and interpreters for his maverick technology firm, Singh Systems, for which Coop was a primary designer. While on the arm of Carlo Brunori, her former fiancé, Mallory had encountered Ajay at charity events in Paris or high-profile holidays on the Isle of Capri. Even when she was supposed to be infinitely happy and in love, he’d caught her eye.

  He caught every woman’s eye. He epitomized tall, dark and handsome. Self-made and smarter than a few Nobel laureates, Ajay had an undeniable appeal.

  But she’d had Carlo.

  Or so she’d thought. Turned out, she’d never had him at all—but he’d had her, wrapped around his slimy, double dealing fingers.

  “Don’t worry about me,” she told her friend. “Just tell me about Costa Rica.”

  Bianca filled her in on all the details of the assignment, which, as usual, had gone off without a hitch. As she spoke, Mallory completed the file for the American real estate firm who had hired Bianca to comb through the Costa Rican contracts with the firm’s lawyers to ensure their multimillion-dollar deal went smoothly.

  Bianca also hinted that she and Coop had had a little tropical adventure along the way, but Mallory didn’t ask for details. She loved Bianca like the sister she’d never had, but she was in no state to endure yet another steamy tale of utter devotion and incredibly hot sex. Bianca and Coop had a million of them.

  “So we’ll see you tomorrow night?” Bianca asked.

  Mallory pasted on her most innocent smile. “Of course.”

  “Mal, what aren’t you telling me?”

  “I’m just thinking about all the things I need to get done. I’m supposed to meet Ajay in an hour and I need to pack.”

  “Pack?”

  Oops.

  “Just a few things from the office.”

  And the bedroom.

  Bianca turned the full force of her suspicious gaze on her, attempting, no doubt, to utilize her unique combination of intuition and street smarts to ferret out the truth. Like her friend, Mallory had lived all over the world, but she had never put herself out on the street long enough to get smart about it. In the battle to separate truth from fiction, Bianca was better armed.

  Luckily, Mallory had more finesse with her computer.

  Three keystrokes later and their connection started to zigzag.

  “Bianca, you’re breaking up. Fly safely. I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Mallory said and before her friend could question her further, the signal zapped.

  Her apartment, yet again, was quiet as a tomb.

  Mallory gazed at her luxury digs with disgust. Filled with furnishings from around the globe, the space was designed specifically to make clients confident in her abilities. Combining her working area with her living area made perfect sense—Mallory had no life outside of her business. Even her affair with Carlo had started when she’d acted as his interpreter during a weeklong marathon of business meetings between his Italian motorsports company and Japanese investors.

  He’d been so irresistible to someone like her. She was brainy, but Carlo was clever. She appreciated sensual pursuits, but Carlo turned all things sexy into a full contact, no-holds-barred sport—from food to drink to gambling and of course, sex itself. He’d overwhelmed her, swept her off her feet. Made her forget, at least for bri
ef spells, that public appearances gave her panic attacks that had, twice in her life, landed her in the hospital.

  Carlo had seemed so understanding and accommodating. He’d never forced her to attend crowded premieres or schmooze through overpacked throngs while he glad-handed people whose money he loved to spend. He found quiet, out-of-the-way restaurants for them to share a meal, then took her back to their hotel, made love to her until she fell asleep, and burned off his excess of energy by partying the rest of his night with friends.

  While he slept off his hangovers, she’d built her company into a premier supplier of language specialists. For three years, she’d allowed herself to believe that even though Carlo was her polar opposite in every way, their differences complemented one another. She’d provided the quiet he so desperately needed. He’d introduced her to the vast array of pleasurable pursuits available to those with enough clout and money to find them.

  But he hadn’t really needed her. He’d enjoyed having her, though, up until he’d found his new fiancée. Mallory couldn’t bear to remember the nastiness he’d unleashed in not one, but two languages, once his new relationship had been revealed.

  Thanks to Carlo, Mallory was now also fluent in heartbreak. The confidence she’d carried into the business world had been reduced to ashes. Since that night, she’d been operating on automatic, rarely leaving her condo, relying on repeat clientele rather than soliciting new business. She probably wouldn’t have even gone out on Tuesday night, but knowing she might balk at a trip to a crowded pizzeria, Leo had told her his plan ahead of time.

  Mallory couldn’t say no. And she was glad she didn’t, because one lingering stare from Ajay Singh had given her an idea that might turn her world upside down, but in the end, could have it spinning again for the first time in six long months.

  Only three nights ago, she’d nearly melted under the heat of Ajay’s not-so-furtive glances—and could only imagine what fire they might generate together with no pretense between them. So when both she and Ajay had been unsuccessful in contacting Brock Arsenal separately, he’d suggested they work together. He’d reserved a suite at the hotel where Arsenal was staying before his concert and invited her to join him.

  She’d accepted—and hoped she was doing the right thing.

  Or better yet, the wrong thing.

  Trusting her own judgment no longer came easy. She’d loved Carlo and had believed he loved her. His declarations of undying devotion had sounded like poetry, though the echoes of his lies now clanged like a bell until her temples ached and her eyes burned. She needed to cleanse her memory of him. She was desperate to replace the feel of his hands and lips with those of a new man.

  A better man.

  A man who reveled in his capricious lifestyle and never pretended to be any more than he was.

  And luckily for her, she was forty-five minutes away from spending the weekend with the perfect specimen.

  She closed up her laptop and then went to her bedroom to toss the last of her personal items into her suitcase. She’d taken care of her toiletries, makeup and hair care products. She was all set until after the wedding on Sunday night. What she needed now was a wardrobe.

  What exactly did one wear to seduce one of the world’s most famous seducers?

  To the old Mallory—the one who hadn’t had her heart trampled on—this question would have sounded insane. She’d never gone out of her way to seduce anyone. She’d always clung to the fantasy of being swept away by a man. Sought-out and pursued, wined, dined and cascaded with flowers until she’d have no choice but to submit to his passionate whims.

  Well, she’d been there, done that and ended up heartbroken and alone. And she’d wallowed long enough. Her closest friend was getting married this weekend and, damn it, she was going to enjoy the spectacle.

  But to fully appreciate the event, she needed to leave the old Mallory behind. She needed to stop taking life and love so seriously—she needed to take her hardened heart into a temporary affair and come out the other end invigorated and renewed.

  Red. She needed to wear red.

  And with that critical decision made, she dug into her closet. In less than an hour, her transformation would begin—and poor Ajay Singh wouldn’t know what hit him.

  2

  AJAY NEARLY dropped his bag. Never mind that it contained a state-of-the-art laptop, a prototype cell phone that utilized radiotelegraphy technology or the expandable flat screen monitor his R&D team wanted him to test this weekend. His toys could break into a thousand pieces and the aftermath wouldn’t slam him nearly as hard as witnessing Mallory Tedesco sashay across the hotel lobby in a hot red dress.

  All moisture evaporated from his mouth. He might have started to pant if the overattentive manager hadn’t just appeared beside him with an ice-cold drink.

  “Sir, is there anything else we can get you?”

  He gulped down two mouthfuls of tea. “Is my room ready?”

  Why in the name of Krishna had he arranged for a suite with two bedrooms? He certainly hadn’t suggested this weekend get-together with hope for a tryst with Mallory—not after the cool reception she’d given him Tuesday night. But a woman did not put on a dress that shade or shape—body-hugging, thigh-high and with a neckline that didn’t reveal an inch of skin and yet showed everything of importance—without intending to seduce the man she was coming to meet.

  Unless she only intended to torture him. If that was her plan, she’d already succeeded.

  “I can take you upstairs immediately,” the manager replied.

  “Then, no, there’s nothing else you can get me. All I need is coming my way.”

  Mallory, who had not spotted him when she entered the lobby, made eye contact. Her step, so bold and swinging until that moment, faltered. Ajay gave her a nod and in that split second a bellman dashed to her side.

  He doubted he’d need to tip the guy for the instantaneous service. Mallory had provided him with what might be the biggest payoff of his entire morning. The normally cool, endlessly serious woman Ajay had always considered off-limits had drawn the attention of every single man in the lobby—and quite a few of the women. Luckily, the boutique hotel was not large. He didn’t want competition.

  He took one last sip of the glacial tea, handed it off to the manager and then started toward Mallory. “Mallory, you look—I’m afraid I don’t have adequate words.”

  That was a lie. He had a whole cadre of adequate words. Hot. Sexy. Spectacular. Delicious. Amazing.

  Her lashes fluttered low. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

  Ajay felt a rumble low in his belly, like hunger, but inherently more powerful. Food he could have any old time. What he wanted was a bite of Mallory—which, unfortunately, was not unlike craving forbidden fruit.

  “You’re going to eclipse the bride if you’re not careful.”

  Her laughter was light and just a tad cynical. “Your reputation as a practiced charmer is not apocryphal, I see.”

  He pressed his hand to his chest, as if she’d wounded him. “I have a reputation?”

  “You do, and you know it. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were the one who started the rumors in the first place.”

  He leaned in close, intending his reply for her ears only. “For a woman who hardly knows me, you seem to know me fairly well.”

  “And I hope to know you better by the end of this weekend,” she murmured.

  Had he not been so near, he might not have believed she’d be so daring. Coupled with the intoxicating scent of her perfume—a light fragrance laced with deep, warm amber and sharp, exotic jasmine—he wondered if this was the same Mallory Tedesco he’d known for three years or if her body had been snatched by some sensual alien creature.

  Though she usually wore her thick hair pulled loosely away from her face in a simple, no-nonsense style, today she’d let the brunette waves flow over her shoulders and down her back, which he’d just realized had none of the red material that covered her so perfectly in front.
Her skin was bare, tanned and perfectly curved, leading to a backside he wanted to wrap his hands around so badly his fingers ached. She turned again and looked directly into his eyes—just as she had Tuesday night, only this time, she actually seemed to welcome his stare. Her smoky, dark eyes and her cranberry-stained mouth begged for his attention—and Ajay wasn’t one to let a woman beg.

  He held out his arm, his muscles twitching in anticipation. “So, ready to work?”

  Her tongue darted out and smoothed over her lips. Again, his grip on his bag loosened as blood rushed away from all of his extremities except the one in his slacks. Had she come here to help him lure Brock Arsenal to sing at Bianca and Coop’s wedding or to torment him to madness?

  “I suppose.” With breathless nonchalance, she slid her palm over his biceps.

  Air released from his lungs with a sizzling hiss. He thought, though he wasn’t sure, that he spied her quick smile. She was enjoying tempting him and he would have bet his portfolio that a woman like her knew better than to play with fire.

  They followed the manager to the private elevator that led to one of two suites atop the only five-star hotel in Tampa’s historic district. Brock Arsenal had already booked the larger one. He and Mallory would share the other.

  “Are you sure he’s staying here tonight?” she asked.

  The guest relations manager, who’d joined them in the lift, glanced at them, surprised. If they followed usual protocol, the hotel would try to keep Arsenal’s presence at their hotel a secret. The last thing they needed was to be overrun with fans.

  “According to his concert promoter,” he replied. He’d worked all week to find a connection to the rock star, and a contact with the group that was sponsoring his appearance was the best he’d come up with. He had little information beyond the guy’s hotel, however, but Ajay figured that was enough. He’d certainly made more out of less.