by Desiree Holt
“Right,” he interrupted. “Don’t think. Let’s just do it. Tonight,” he said on impulse. “And I know just the place.”
She lifted an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. “And where would that be?”
He shook his head. “It’s a surprise. But I promise you’ll like it. No pressure. Just an evening out with a friend.”
He held his breath, waiting for her answer. Maybe it was the wine she’d had, or maybe it was the relaxed environment. Whatever the trigger was, she finally nodded her head.
“All right. Tonight.” She gave a breathy laugh. “Before I change my mind.”
“Excellent.” He wanted to pump his fist in the air. Instead, he looked at his watch. “It’s almost five. Why don’t you go home, change into something that’s not your work clothes, and I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“I’m afraid everything I have looks like work clothes.”
“Then just something different. Give me your address, and I’ll see you at seven.”
***
I have to be crazy. That’s the only answer for this.
Grace repeated it to herself over and over again as she drove home from the Paradise Ranch site. What would Ben Randall think if she told him she hadn’t been out on a date in twenty years? Oh, she didn’t count the public events she’d attended for business where she’d been able to snag some business associate as an escort. She usually asked someone on the back end of a bad divorce who was happy to have someone’s shoulder to cry on for an evening. Less danger for her that way.
Grace could have given them all chapter and verse on a bad divorce. More than that, on a bad marriage. Or what happens when you choose unwisely. Been there, done that, got more than one T-shirt to show for it.
For a brief moment, Alan Vaughan’s face flashed across her mind, lips twisted in that supercilious smile he always had, eyes flashing with contempt. She had been so swept off her feet by him, thrilled at the age of twenty-two that an older man, handsome and rich, seemed to be so besotted with her. By the time she hit her twenty-fifth birthday, she had realized her appeal to him—she was young and malleable and easy to get under his thumb.
Finding her own spirit and grit had been an arduous journey, and painful. Three more years had passed, years that almost destroyed her, before she had arranged things so she could walk out and leave him. But her confidence in herself as a woman had taken a big hit that she’d never recovered from. She had also made a vow that no man would ever have an impact on her life again.
She had her work to stimulate her mentally and her trusty toys to satisfy herself sexually. By the time she hit her fiftieth birthday, she had firmly entrenched her life in a pattern she had no desire to break.
Then along came Ben Randall, six feet of physically fit man, with thick, steel-gray hair, a deep tan, and brown eyes like melted chocolate. She could almost see the pheromones floating in the room whenever she was around him. After every meeting, her toy box got a strenuous workout because it required a lot to take the edge off the desire Ben aroused in her.
Desire!
Hell, she hadn’t felt sexual vibes for a man in so long, she’d begun think she’d buried them for good. Then Ben walked into her office, and arousal slammed into her like a speeding car. She had even taken to wearing a tailored jacket when they were together, to hide her hardened nipples that stood at attention at the sound of his voice. Today, she’d just been so warm she’d had to take it off. Had he noticed her reaction to him?
She had done her best to hide her reactions from him, to send her Keep Off signals. Although he’d respected them, it wasn’t hard to spot the latent hunger that flared in his eyes whenever they were together. What stunned her was how tempted she was. No man had excited her even a little bit in all these years. After Alan, she’d shut that door so firmly no one had been able to open it.
So what was she doing, going on a date with Ben Randall? A date, for god’s sake! Did she even know how to behave on one anymore?
The whole situation rumbled through her mind as she drove home, pulled into her garage, and carried her briefcase into the house. It bedeviled her while she stripped off her clothes, tossing them in the laundry hamper or the one for dry cleaning. And as she turned on the shower in her bathroom and prepared to step under the spray.
Ben Randall. He’d set her nerves buzzing from the first moment she’d seen him. At the time she’d told herself to turn him down as a client, but the lure of decorating such a massive project was too strong to resist. The unexpected attraction had grown over the many weeks they’d worked together until, now, it lurked constantly at the back of her mind. And made her body hum with desire whenever they were together.
She was afraid, plain and simple. Afraid of her feelings, afraid history might repeat itself, no matter that he and Alan were totally different people. Afraid of letting herself get out of control. Yet, here she was, preparing to have dinner with him.
She paused for a moment and took a hard look at herself in the mirror over the sink. Not too bad. She did her treadmill almost every day and tried to fit in an exercise class once a week. Her skin didn’t have quite the elasticity it once did, and her breasts, while round, were a little less firm. But, all in all, not too bad.
Wait! What am I doing? We’re going out to dinner, not getting naked.
Damn straight. That part of her life was long over. But, as she stood under the water, her body humming with need, the image of Ben rose unbidden. A pulse throbbed in her pussy and her nipples tingled. She poured body wash into one hand, worked it into a lather, and slid that hand along the slightly curved slope of her tummy to the folds of her sex. Nobody’s hands except hers had explored her there in all these years. By now, she’d learned exactly how to touch and stroke to give herself satisfaction. How to tug and pinch her clitoris to push herself up the slope of need. Bracing one foot on the built-in shower bench, she slid two fingers inside her body, feeling the clasp of her wet inner walls.
What if these were Ben’s fingers? What if he were in the shower here with me? What would he look like naked?
As soon as the thought intruded, she made a deliberate effort to banish it from her mind. The mind she was obviously losing. She should just stop this, finish her shower, and get dressed. But there was no way she could go out with Ben while still riding the edge of arousal. No, she needed to take care of this first so she could be her usual composed, together self. Gritting her teeth, she accelerated the rhythm of her fingers, dropping the other hand to play with her clit at the same time. Her climax uncoiled from deep in her womb until finally—finally!—her cunt clamped down on her fingers and her body shook with her release.
She withdrew her hand, slightly breathless and weak in the knees, and dropped her foot from the bench. Leaning against the wall, she waited for her pulse to slow, aware that she really hadn’t taken the edge off at all. In fact, if she were truthful, she was more aroused than before. How was that possible?
She needed to get her act together, or she’d be a hot mess when Ben showed up. Finishing her shower quickly, she turned off the water, stepped out, and wrapped herself in a large bath towel. A glance at the tiny clock told her she had an hour before Ben arrived to fetch her. More than enough time to lock away all those unwanted impulses and ideas and put on her public face.
Letting out a slow breath, she set about her task.
Chapter Two
From the moment Ben picked up Grace, she was skittish as a kitten, and he wished he knew why. Surely, she had at least a decent social life. A woman as appealing as she was couldn’t possibly spend all her evenings alone. Maybe during dinner he could coax it out of her.
The restaurant he chose was just outside the city on the northwest side. Off the beaten path and set back in the embrace of mature oak trees. He loved the Spanish design of the exterior and the thick carpets and crystal chandeliers of the interior. The food was excellent, and they also had music in the evening. He hoped to c
harm her into dancing with him, his best opportunity to get his arms around her and hold her body close to his.
“What would you like to drink?” He smiled at her after they were seated. “Wine? Or something stronger?”
“Wine would be nice. A reisling, I think.”
“Same for me,” he told the hovering waiter.
She looked very nice tonight, he thought. Of course, she always did, but, tonight, her skin seemed to have a special glow. Maybe it was the deep-rose blouse she wore, its color enhancing her skin. Or the antique pendant on her neck that reflected the light from the small lamp on the table. Whatever it was, he was gripped by an unexpected desire to take her off somewhere private and strip off all her clothes. Let himself explore her body at leisure.
Yeah, like that was going to happen.
The waiter set their wine glasses before them, and Ben lifted his in a toast. “To a wonderful evening.”
“I hope so.” She nodded then took a small sip of her wine.
He thought her hand trembled slightly, but maybe he was mistaken. What would she be so nervous about?
“Grace.” He made his voice as gentle as possible. “Is something bothering you? Was this a mistake? It’s just a dinner between two…colleagues. Surely, you do that a lot.”
Her laugh had a slightly thready sound to it. “I do, but somehow this has a different feel to it.”
“Would it make you more nervous if I said I hope so?”
She rubbed the tip of one finger around the rim of the glass, staring into the liquid. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, but it’s been years since I spent a purely social evening with a man.”
He felt as if a fist thumped his chest. “Is there a particular reason?”
She was silent for so long he wasn’t sure she’d even answer him. When she did, she never lifted her gaze from the wine.
“I discovered, years ago, that I didn’t do relationships very well, so it’s just been easier to avoid them.”
Ben took a chance and reached for her free hand, lying loosely on the tablecloth. “I find that very difficult to believe. You’re a lovely, vital woman, with grace and charm and a warm personality—”
“All for business,” she interrupted.
“But not tonight,” he guessed.
“No.” She actually blushed. “Not tonight.” She lifted her gaze to look at him. “I don’t even know why I’m here, Ben. You put me off my game. Unsettle me.”
“I don’t mean to.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “But I enjoy your company, Grace. I thought it might be nice to spend some time together not discussing business. But, if you’d rather, I’ll just take you home. Although, I must admit I’d be disappointed.”
For a moment, he thought she might actually take him up on it. Then her lips curved in a tiny smile. “It would be a shame to waste this good wine and the excellent surroundings, don’t you think?”
He relaxed, sitting back in his chair. “I completely agree.”
He was determined she enjoy the evening, and, as it turned out, she relaxed more over dinner than he’d expected. She told him about some of her funnier business experiences, and he related anecdotes about raising his sons without a mother. They talked about movies and books and all the little things that make up a getting-to-know-you conversation. All the things that never fit into a business discussion.
“I’m surprised you never remarried.” She startled him with her comment.
“I was busy with the boys and the Crooked R for so long I didn’t have time to be interested in anyone.” He shrugged. “Oh, I dated, but I never met anyone I was interested in enough to pursue.”
“So, nobody in your life at all?” Pink suffused her face again.
Ben swallowed a chuckle. “Is that your subtle way of asking me if I’ve been without a woman all these years?”
She ducked her head, concentrated on patting her lips with a napkin. “Not at all.”
“It’s okay.” He grinned. “I may be single, but I have a healthy sexual appetite. I try to feed it when I can.” He studied her face. “Does that make you uncomfortable?”
“I don’t know how we got into this conversation. Do you think we could get a cup of coffee?”
But, just at that moment, the three-piece ensemble that had been setting up on the small stage swung into its opening number. Ben pushed his chair back, stood, and held out his hand.
“Dance?”
“I don’t…. I haven’t….”
What on earth? “Just a dance, Grace. In a room full of people.”
She gave him a tremulous smile. “Yes, all right.”
She was stiff at first, and he did his best not to crowd her, but, before long, she relaxed into the rhythm and followed him easily. She felt so good in his arms. He loved the feel of her soft breasts against his chest and the curve of her buttocks where his hand rested just below her waist. He closed his eyes, imagining her naked, legs splayed, her body his to touch and kiss and lick. He would nibble on her nipples, the ones she probably didn’t think he saw today beneath the fabric of her blouse. Then he might let his tongue trace the curl of her navel before sliding farther down to taste what he was sure was a delectable pussy.
Jesus, Ben!
He had to move a fraction away from her so his suddenly engorged penis didn’t poke her in the stomach. But, when she stopped dancing, he thought, uh oh. Too late.
“I think I’d like that coffee now.” She moved gracefully back to the table.
He followed her, sure he’d blown it all. He was even more convinced when she was silent while the waiter filled their cups and took their orders for dessert. Tension coiled low in his belly as she took a slow sip of her coffee, set the cup down, and looked directly at him.
“I never discuss my past with anyone,” she began, “and for very good reason.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he said quickly.
“It’s all right. I think you deserve to know. I know you feel something for me.” She huffed a sigh. “And, I must admit, I reciprocate. Much as I’ve tried to deny it. So, I want to share something with you, so you’ll understand why I’ve deliberately missed all the signals you’ve been sending me.”
She fiddled with her coffee cup, obviously choosing her words.
“I was married at twenty-two to a much older man. Very wealthy. Extremely good-looking. You know the old expression, swept me off my feet?”
“I do.”
“He overwhelmed me. I was so flattered he wanted me. It wasn’t until after we were married that I discovered he chose me because he felt he could control me completely.” She looked down at the table. “He destroyed my confidence, everywhere, including in the bedroom. Our divorce was bitter and took a long time to complete.”
“But that was years ago,” he protested. “Look what you’ve done with your life since then.”
“I know, but— I didn’t handle any of it well. I just shut the door on part of my life. I swore I’d never let another man have any power over me, and I haven’t.”
“Grace, we can just forget tonight happened. I’ll take you home, and we’ll go on as before, strictly business.” God, the fact someone had treated her so badly that she’d shut sex and love out of her life made his heart hurt.
“No.” Now she was the one who reached for his hand. “You’re the first man I’ve ever felt anything for in all these years, Ben. I’m scared, but I’d…I’d like to see where this goes. If I hadn’t been in cold storage for so long, I might even ask you to come in when you take me home.” She lifted a shoulder. “But—”
“But you shouldn’t go from zero to sixty in under a minute. And I don’t want you to.” He looked at her for a long time, trying to read what was in her eyes. “How about this? If we’re going to do this, let’s do it right.”
Her tiny laugh had a slightly hysterical edge to it. “I’m not sure if I know what that is.
Alan destroyed any confidence I had as far as sex was concerned.”
“I want more than just a few hours in your bed, Grace. I’ll take you home, but tomorrow we’ll do something special.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”
“Leave it to me. You won’t be sorry.”
He had made up his mind to be very circumspect when he delivered her back to her house. Walk her to the door. Maybe a chaste kiss on the lips. Her revelation had stunned him. He’d wanted her for so long, and, now that the opportunity for something might be there, he didn’t want to make a mistake.
He did walk her to the door and waited while she took out her keys and unlocked it.
“Thank you for a lovely evening.” She smiled. “I really did enjoy myself. And….” She ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip. “I look forward to tomorrow.”
He couldn’t help himself. He cupped her face with his palms and pressed his mouth to hers. Her lips were just as soft as he’d imagined and tasted faintly of wine and chocolate cake. She opened her mouth on a gasp, and, without thinking, he slipped his tongue inside. When she wrapped her fingers around his wrists, he thought she meant to push him away, but she surprised him by running the surface of her tongue over his.
The kiss was sweet and sexy at the same time. Their mouths fit perfectly, and their tongues dueled in an exploratory dance. Back off, he told himself. But his hands, as if they had a will of their own, slipped down to stroke her shoulders and her arms then find their way around to cup the breasts that had been teasing him all night. He molded his palms to them in a tentative gesture, still waiting for her to push him away.
She surprised him again by leaning into him.
His thumbs brushed across those nipples he’d dreamed about, his shaft hardening in response and his balls sending him urgent messages. He wanted to suck those luscious nipples into his mouth, to press his cock against her body, slide into her wet warmth.
Jesus. I can’t remember the last time I wanted to fuck a woman this badly. A lot of years ago.