Whatever You Like

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Whatever You Like Page 6

by Maureen Smith


  “I did. It was excellent. Very comprehensive and well written. I had no follow-up questions or suggestions for improvement.”

  “What about your funding team?” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Do you even have a funding team?”

  “I do now.” His mouth twitched. “But I haven’t had a chance to meet with them yet.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Torn between exasperation, disbelief and anger, Lena glared at him. “Have you lost your mind?”

  He grinned unabashedly. “Not at all.”

  “I beg to differ. First you buy a foundation that was established to give away money, when you’re in the business of making money. Then you show up at my workplace to personally offer the grant funds, but only on the condition that I make revisions—revisions that you don’t really want! Doesn’t any of that strike you as crazy?”

  “Not crazy,” Roderick countered silkily. “Determined.”

  Lena’s stomach clenched, and a flush stole over her body. She was spared from responding when the waiter returned with their meals. She waited until he’d settled their plates on the table, topped off their wine, draped a linen napkin across her lap and left the room before she returned her attention to Roderick.

  “What do you want?” she asked tightly.

  “I think you already know what I want.” A hot, possessive gleam filled his eyes. “I want you.”

  A shiver raced down Lena’s spine, and her nipples puckered against the silk of her bra. She swallowed with difficulty. “Look, I don’t know what you have in mind, but—”

  “Let’s eat first,” Roderick suggested smoothly. “Then we can talk.”

  Eat? How could he possibly expect her to eat at a time like this? Food was the absolute last thing on her mind. But she’d ordered the most expensive entrée on the lunch menu—out of pure spite—so it’d be a shame to let it go to waste.

  Drawing a deep, calming breath, she picked up her fork and cut into her braised lobster. As the smoky, succulent flavor burst in her mouth, she couldn’t help sighing a little.

  “Good?” Roderick murmured.

  “Very.” She nodded at his steak. “Yours?”

  “Top-notch.”

  They ate in silence for a few minutes. When Lena glanced up again, she found Roderick watching her thoughtfully.

  “What made you leave Los Angeles?” he asked curiously.

  She gave him a mocking look. “You mean you didn’t learn everything there is to know about me when you conducted your background check?”

  He smiled faintly. “Sweetheart, I barely even scratched the surface.”

  That disarmed her. She hesitated, then answered, “I grew up in L.A., but I wanted a change of scenery. I moved to Chicago after landing a job at the college.”

  Roderick nodded slowly. “Do you ever miss home?”

  “Sometimes.” She smiled wryly. “Mostly during the winter.”

  He chuckled. “Our winters take some getting used to.”

  “That’s what people keep telling me.”

  “They’re right.” His eyes glinted with mischief. “You just have to find someone to keep you warm during those cold, windy nights.”

  Lena’s stomach quivered. “I’m sure you have no problem finding volunteers.”

  “Nor should you.” His voice deepened seductively. “I’m more than ready, willing and able to keep you warm, Lena. And not just during the wintertime.”

  She flushed all over, heat gathering beneath her clothes, inside her pumps, between her thighs. She glanced toward the fireplace, half wondering if she should summon the waiter to put out the flames before she overheated.

  Resisting the urge to fan herself, she reached for her glass and took a long sip of wine.

  Roderick watched her, his eyes dancing with amusement. He enjoyed rattling her, damn him. To prove her point, he announced casually, “We’ve been invited to Japan.”

  Lena nearly choked on her wine. Coughing, she gaped at him. “We?” she croaked.

  “Yeah. You and me. When I was in Japan last week, I had dinner with Ichiro Kawamoto and his wife. They asked about you, told me how much they’d enjoyed meeting you at the party. They made me promise to bring you during my next trip to Japan. They even invited us to stay at their home in Tokyo.”

  Lena arched a brow at him. “Do they know that I was your paid escort, not your girlfriend?”

  “Kawamoto figured out our arrangement,” Roderick admitted.

  “Really? How?”

  “He sensed a certain restraint between us. Even though we were clearly attracted to each other, he could tell that we were, ah, holding back.”

  Lena snorted derisively. “Some holding back. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other.”

  Roderick smiled a little. “He also said that you referred to me as ‘Mr. Brand’ throughout your conversation with him.”

  “Oh.” Lena grinned wryly. “Yeah, I suppose that would be a dead giveaway.”

  Roderick chuckled. “He came right out and asked me the nature of our relationship, so I told him the truth. He called you my beautiful American geisha.”

  “He did?” Lena smiled. “Well, geisha were once celebrated in Japanese culture, so I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “You should. He definitely meant it as one.” Roderick held her gaze. “So will you go with me?”

  “Where?”

  “To Japan.”

  She stared at him. “You were serious about that?”

  “Very serious.”

  She frowned. “Roderick—”

  “I’ve already sent my transition team over there to evaluate Kawamoto’s company and begin the restructuring process. I’ll be joining them in a few weeks to check their progress. I’d like you to go with me.”

  Even before he’d finished speaking, Lena was shaking her head emphatically. “I can’t, Roderick. It’s out of the question.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” she echoed in disbelief. “Do you even have to ask? First of all, we’re not a couple. And even if we were, it’d be hard for me to just drop everything and go flying halfway around the world with you. I have responsibilities. I have a job. Speaking of which,” she said, glancing pointedly at her watch, “I should really be getting back to the office. I’ve been gone over an hour.”

  Roderick gave her a look of exaggerated patience. “Didn’t we already establish that your boss won’t care how long you’re gone?”

  “Well, I care. I have a lot of work to do.”

  He smiled indolently. “Securing this grant is supposed to be your top priority,” he reminded her.

  He had her there. “Fine,” Lena conceded, heaving a resigned breath. “Name your terms.”

  “You’re ready to negotiate?”

  “Yes.” Even as the word left her mouth, her nerves tightened. Why did she have a feeling that negotiating with Roderick Brand would be as dangerous as negotiating with the devil?

  “All right. Here are my terms.” He leaned forward in his chair and pinned her with his dark, penetrating gaze. “I’ll approve the grant on one condition.”

  “What is it?” Lena’s voice was barely above a whisper.

  “You have to agree to spend the next three weeks as my personal companion.”

  His meaning didn’t register at first. “Your…companion?”

  “Yeah.” He smiled, slow and sinfully wicked. “To put it bluntly, Lena, I’m asking you to be my sexual companion—one who will fulfill my every need.”

  Chapter Seven

  As Roderick’s words sank in, fury erupted in Lena’s chest. Fury combined with a nauseating sense of déjà vu.

  With as much dignity as she could muster, she rose from her chair and stared down at Roderick with a look of icy disdain. “I think you’d better take me back to work now.”

  He shook his head. “We’re not finished yet.”

  “Oh, yes, we are!” As she spun away from the table his hand shot out, seizing her wrist.

 
“Let go of me,” she hissed furiously. She tried to yank her arm free, but his grip was too strong.

  “Wait,” he said, jumping to his feet. “Just hear me out.”

  “I don’t need to! You’re out of your damn mind!”

  The waiter appeared, took one look at them and beat a hasty retreat, closing the curtained doors behind him.

  Roderick rounded the table and pulled Lena roughly into his arms. She struggled against him, but she might as well have been wrestling an eight-hundred-pound Siberian tiger. Even in her anger she was no match for Roderick’s strength or his fierce, focused determination.

  “Listen to me,” he growled, cradling her face between his big hands. “Let me explain—”

  “I’m not a damn prostitute!” Lena raged.

  “I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to offend you. I just—hell.” He lowered his head and fastened his mouth to hers, smothering her startled gasp.

  When she put her fists between them his arms went around her, holding her so tightly she couldn’t escape. His warm, delicious taste invaded her senses as his tongue sank into her mouth. Her entire body shook, an explosive combination of anger, adrenaline and arousal pounding through her veins. She’d expected the kiss to be urgent and bruising. But Roderick kissed her with a slow, deep hunger that was just as powerful, just as devastating. Even as her mind rebelled, she felt herself weakening against him, drowning in sensation and need.

  She almost whimpered when he broke the kiss, dragging his mouth along her throat. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he muttered raggedly, his hot breath on her skin sending jolts of pleasure to her groin. “Ever since that night, you’ve been on my mind twenty-four seven. I don’t blame you for thinking I’m crazy. The thought’s crossed my mind several times over the past week. I’ve never wanted another woman as badly as I want you, Lena. I’ll do anything—anything—to have you again.”

  Oh, God. Lena closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, struggling to get her choppy breathing under control. No man had ever talked to her this way before. No man had ever wanted her with this kind of raw, primal intensity that left her reeling with frustration and desire.

  “Say yes,” he coaxed huskily. His lips reclaimed hers, parting them so that their breath mingled hotly. “Say yes, Lena.”

  Reaching deep, Lena summoned her last ounce of willpower and wrenched her mouth away from his. “No. No.”

  He swore under his breath, then reluctantly released her and stepped back. He looked dangerously aroused, and frustrated as hell.

  “I’m not for sale, Roderick.” Lena fought to sound resolute when her insides were quaking uncontrollably. “You can’t just acquire me the way you acquired Midwest Arts Foundation.”

  He blew out a ragged breath. “I know that.”

  “Do you?” she challenged. “You just tried to bribe me for sex in exchange for a monetary donation. Obviously you do think I’m for sale.”

  He scowled. “I don’t, damn it.”

  “No? Then what do you call it?”

  “I call it proposing an arrangement that’d be incredibly beneficial to both of us. Your college gets the funds it desperately needs, and I get—”

  “A sexual companion to be at your beck and call,” Lena said caustically.

  He paused, his mouth quirking at the corners. “Maybe I could have phrased it differently.”

  “Why?” she taunted. “A sex slave is essentially what you want, isn’t it? Someone to cater to your every sexual whim, to give you blow jobs on demand and call you master at the crack of a whip.”

  Roderick smiled lazily. “It doesn’t have to be that one-sided.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “I’m serious.” His eyes darkened with illicit promise. “Believe me, Lena, I have every intention of giving as much pleasure as I receive.”

  Her nipples tightened and heat swelled between her legs at the memory of just how much “pleasure” he’d given her the night of the party. The thought of being his sex slave was so damned tempting, it was all she could do not to pounce on him and rip his custom-made suit from his sexy body.

  Keeping her voice and expression neutral, she said, “Sorry. I’m not interested.”

  “The hell you aren’t,” Roderick growled. “You sure as hell seemed ‘interested’ when I kissed you a moment ago. If I’d lifted your skirt and spread you out on that table you wouldn’t have uttered a word of protest. Deny it all you want, Lena, but I know damn well you want me as much as I want you. So why are we standing here arguing when all we both want is to fuck each other’s brains out?”

  Lena congratulated herself for not flinching at his deliberate crudeness. “You have a real problem taking no for an answer,” she said coldly.

  His expression darkened. “Damn it, Lena, what are you so afraid of? It’s not as if we haven’t already made love. We have, and it was—”

  “A mistake,” she said sharply. “One that I don’t intend to repeat.”

  He regarded her in silence for several long, tense moments. Lena held her ground, staunchly resisting the urge to squirm or adjust her blouse, which suddenly felt too tight.

  When her nerves were stretched to the breaking point, Roderick pulled out his cell phone and pressed a button. “Send the car,” he instructed someone on the other end.

  He disconnected and shoved the phone back into his breast pocket. Without sparing Lena another glance, he rounded the table, picked up his glass and drained the rest of his wine.

  As if on cue, the waiter returned to clear away their dishes and settle the bill. He made a point of avoiding eye contact with Lena, even when she asked him for directions to the restroom. She wondered how much he’d overheard of her confrontation with Roderick. The convenient timing of his arrival made her suspect that he’d been eavesdropping at the door.

  When she and Roderick emerged from the restaurant minutes later, a gleaming Rolls Royce was idling at the curb.

  “My driver’s taking you back to work,” Roderick told her.

  “Why?”

  A small, crooked smile curved his lips. “I don’t trust myself to be alone with you anymore.”

  Lena blushed.

  He walked her to the car and helped her into the luxurious backseat. Before he could shut the door, she blurted, “What am I supposed to tell Ethan about the grant?”

  “That’s up to you,” Roderick said mildly.

  She bristled with anger. “I hope you realize how wrong you are for waltzing into my workplace, meeting with my boss and getting his hopes up about money that came with strings attached.”

  “I regret that,” Roderick murmured. “I had really hoped we could work something out. But you made your choice, Lena, and I have to respect that. I guess it’s a good thing you submitted the proposal to other companies, huh?”

  When she just glared at him, he grinned. He knew as well as she did that no other company would offer an additional five hundred thousand, as he’d done. Given the economy, she’d be lucky to get any takers at all.

  “If you change your mind about my offer,” Roderick drawled, passing her a business card, “give me a call.”

  Lena scowled. “When hell freezes over.”

  Chuckling softly, he glanced up at the drab gray sky. “Speaking of freezing, it’s supposed to be a brutal winter this year. Even worse than usual. I hope you’re prepared.”

  Remembering their earlier conversation about Chicago winters, Lena said coolly, “I’ve stocked up on electric blankets. But thanks for your concern.”

  Roderick gave her a slow, knowing smile. “When you’ve had enough self-deprivation, you know where to reach me.”

  Before Lena could respond, he closed the car door and stepped away from the curb. Holding her gaze through the window, he mouthed, I’ll be waiting.

  Chapter Eight

  “How was your date last Friday?”

  Reclining on a plush suede bench, Lena watched as her younger sister pulled on a knit jumper dress and smo
othed the fabric over her slim thighs. “That looks really good on you,” Lena remarked.

  “Think so?” Standing in front of the dressing room’s three-way mirror, twenty-five-year-old Morgan Morrison twirled around to get a better look at herself from all angles. A slight frown tugged at her full lips. “It doesn’t make me look chunky?”

  Lena chuckled dryly. “Considering that you’re all of a size four, I don’t think that’s possible.”

  Morgan stuck her tongue out at her. “Not everyone can be a voluptuous bitch with D-cup titties and an apple-bottom ass that men drool over.”

  Lena laughed. “Don’t hate. You’ve never had to worry about your weight or had your food rationed for you at Thanksgiving dinners, so just hush.”

  Morgan grinned sheepishly, flashing dimples in a pretty, caramel-toned face. It was the first time she’d smiled since Lena had picked her up that morning to go shopping. Morgan had just returned from a public relations conference in Baltimore, where she’d apparently bumped heads with some of her coworkers. She’d called that morning to vent to Lena, who’d suggested lunch and a day of retail therapy along Chicago’s Magnificent Mile.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” Morgan said, her voice muffled as she tugged the dress up over her head.

  Lena feigned ignorance. “What question?”

  “I asked how your date went last Friday. You know, the one you were racing off to when I called you from my hotel room.”

  “You mean we haven’t spoken since then?”

  “No.” Morgan’s face emerged, her dark eyes narrowed. “And why do I get the feeling that you’re stalling?”

  “I’m not,” Lena lied. “I just thought I’d already told you about it.”

  “Nope. You were rushing to get ready that night because you’d stayed late at work, so you promised to call me during the week to tell me how the date went. You never did.”

  “Oh. Well, I meant to.” Another lie.

  “So?” Morgan prompted, reaching for another garment on a hanger. “How’d it go?”

  “Great. I really enjoyed myself.”

 

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