by Calista Fox
Not an appropriate time for those thoughts, man.
He let out a low growl. Shoved a hand through his hair in agitation. Or sexual frustration—likely the true culprit.
“Look,” she said in her somewhat reasonable-sounding tone, though she was a bit breathy. “I’m not one for letting the cart fly of the rails when it comes to relationships, but I’m not going to renege on our date. I want to go. However, before anything gets too crazy between us—”
His brow jerked up again.
She sighed. “Okay, last night was a little wild. But I’m talking about whether or not we go all the way.”
He studied her carefully as the line slowly inched forward. Today, the patrons surrounding them were more engrossed in their own conversations or their smartphones than what L.L. quietly said. So Tague didn’t feel the need to temper his response.
“You don’t think it’s inevitable?” he challenged.
“Nothing is inevitable,” she countered.
Tague’s gaze narrowed. “You can say that after what happened at the club?”
L.L. gnawed her lower lip a moment, then released it and gave a sharp nod. “Good point, counselor.”
He smirked. “I’m not debating a point, but arriving at a critical juncture. I know what I want.” He leaned in close and asked, “What do you want?”
She was rendered speechless for several seconds.
His gaze didn’t waver as he waited patiently for her to answer.
Finally, she said, “I feel as though I should repeat that I need to know you better first. But now that feels hypocritical or something. I don’t know. I was willing to give into a lot more last night than I imagined I would and that makes me a little nervous. Again…like I—we—should be sensible about this.”
“Is there such a thing when two people are this hot for each other?”
She sighed. “Why am I suddenly certain you never lose a case?”
“I do. But only when there are circumstances I have absolutely no control over mitigating.”
Staring up at him, she asked, “And because you’re Tague Mason, you think you have control over this?”
With a pointed look, he told her, “I’m interested in more than just a one-time hookup with you. I’m interested in doing a hell of lot more to you than I did at the club.”
She pulled in a deep breath.
Tague continued. “I don’t need to know you any better to accept how incredible we’ll be together. But I also see how there could be some concerns, given how powerful the attraction is between us. So the fact that we aren’t all that well acquainted could pose a problem. I, for one, am willing to tackle that issue.”
He had Japan to consider. Definitely an issue that would have to be reconciled between them. He’d be leaving New York shortly. And though he’d be returning every quarter at a minimum, if the office became a permanent mainstay for the firm, he wouldn’t be in Manhattan on a regular basis…or when she might need him.
Tague didn’t shy away from the possibility of something more serious with L.L.—not after what they’d experienced the previous evening. Not just how sexually charged they’d been, but how emotionally connected they were because of their past pains and current ambitions.
At the same time, he had dreams and plans he wasn’t willing to alter, so he wasn’t wholly sure of the concessions to be made, beyond making a conscientious decision to fly back here at least once a month, instead of three.
Which prompted him to tell her about his impending trip to Tokyo. Lay all his cards on the table so that he didn’t blindside her.
He opened his mouth to speak, but it was their turn at the counter.
Tripp gave L.L. his undivided attention as she asked for her usual.
Before the barista could get a word in edgewise, Tague recited the order, not missing a single ingredient.
L.L. stared up at him, her jaw slack.
He gave her a cocky grin. “Don’t think for a second that I don’t hear everything you say, baby.”
Her eyes grew wide.
“I understand,” he told her with conviction, indicating her need to know him better before she slept with him, before they got in too deep with each other. While she visibly reeled, he shifted his attention to Tripp. “Regular coffee for me.”
Tripp looked duly taken aback, but managed to snap out of his shocked state in order to ring them up. Tague paid and then guided L.L. to the condiment station with his hand on the small of her back. He retrieved napkins for her, stuffing them into her pocket.
He asked, “How are you on sweetener?”
“Fully stocked at the moment, thanks,” she said in a voice that sounded a bit befuddled.
Tague reached for a straw and unsheathed it, handing it over.
“That’s nice of you.” Her gaze remained on him the entire time, scrutinizing.
He collected a wrap for his cup and then gave her a challenging look. “Evidently, neither of us wants to openly address the elephant in the room. You got burned. I got burned.”
She sighed with obvious resignation. “Third-degree over here.”
“Same for me. The double whammy was that my parents were involved in the split. Orchestrated it, to be specific.”
Loralai’s head snapped back. “Whoa…what? That’s downright vicious.”
“Yes,” he said, not really wanting to delve any deeper. Tague had learned long ago that keeping the past in the past was the key to not getting mired in the muck. It was how one continued to move forward, stronger and smarter than before.
“Tague.” She placed a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry for you, too.” His eyes searched hers, but she wasn’t giving anything away. Maybe because they were in public? Maybe because she wasn’t ready? Maybe because she shared the same philosophy on cutting the cord so it didn’t strangle her?
He didn’t know for sure, and wasn’t interested in hashing it all out any more than she was.
So, yes. He really did understand where she was coming from.
Their coffees arrived and he followed her out, then led her along the sidewalk, his hand at her back again. He’d leverage any opportunity he could to touch her. And because he truly was alpha.
She sipped before asking, “You and your parents aren’t close, then?”
“Not since I was nineteen. They’ll be at the dinner on Friday.” He could at least set the stage for her. Forewarn her. “My father, Harper Mason, has a brilliant legal mind. But he doesn’t practice, he manages. Or, rather, dictates.” Tague gave a sharp shake of his head at how forcefully his father wielded his authority.
“Why doesn’t he practice?”
This was part of the complication in Tague’s life.
In a grim tone, he said, “My father had a stroke when I was seventeen. A serious stroke. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t walk, had minimal functionality of his hands. It was incredibly painful to witness this once dominating man reduced to a shadow of his former self and confined to a bed and then a wheelchair for several years.”
“My God. That’s awful.”
“He could still process thoughts. Was able to scribble them out in a fairly cogent way. Enough that we could comprehend for the most part. It might have been easier to dissect his notions if he wasn’t so enraged, twenty-four-seven. But I suppose I’d be pretty damn pissed off, too, to suffer the same fate at forty.”
Gazing up at him, she said, “His stroke clearly affected you.”
“He was an angry son of a bitch to begin with,” Tague contended. “It only got worse. But…I do appreciate your empathy.”
“I’ve never even met my father. Disappeared as soon as he found out my mother was pregnant.”
“His loss,” Tague vehemently contended. “He’s definitely missing out on something incredible.”
L.L. gave him a sweet smile. “Thank you. I try to keep that in mind whenever I wonder how he could just walk away from his own kid.” The smile faded and she added,
“Walking away seems to be a pattern in my life.”
“The ex?” he ventured. “Pre-Meg?”
“He’s not worth discussing,” L.L. said in a prickly tone. She was quiet a few moments, as though composing herself, calming herself. “My friendship with Meg has been hugely helpful in moving me far beyond the heartache. And on the father-front…I have been blessed with connections to some astounding men, including Jace’s dad and Chip’s. So it’s all good.”
This time, her smile was the dazzling one that revealed the dimple. Tague’s groin tightened.
“You could bring speeding traffic to an instant standstill when you smile like that.”
She sucked on the straw, making his body even more rigid with wanting her. Wanting her tongue trailing along his shaft, wanting her lips closing around the head of his cock. Wanting her to suck him—hard.
15
Only slightly distracting him from those thoughts, she said, “We don’t get much speeding traffic in this city.”
“You know what I’m saying.”
Her expression turned coy, giving her emerald eyes a seductive glow. “I wouldn’t take you for the flattery type.”
“I’m just stating the truth.”
L.L. gazed up at him, now appearing deeply appreciative. It tugged at his heartstrings, catching Tague off-guard. There was something about pleasing her in any form that made him feel good.
She asked, “So on a scale of one to five, what’s the projected tension level of this dinner we’re attending?”
“A solid ten.”
“Oh, wonderful.” She sipped some more.
Tague chuckled. “Here’s the truly great part.” Spearing her with another intent look, he said, “You and I don’t give a fuck. Got it?”
She studied him a few seconds too long. Missed the thin patch of ice in their path and slipped, the tall heel of one boot shooting out from underneath her.
“Oh!” she cried out as her latte and laptop bag went flying.
Tague was quick to react, though, and yanked her upright before her butt hit the ground—even sparing his own coffee.
When she was steadily on two feet, her head whipped in his direction, a bewildered expression on her lovely face.
She needed a minute to catch her breath. Then she said, “Christ. Is there anything about you that doesn’t scream alpha hero to the extreme?”
His jaw clenched briefly. “Plenty, I assure you.”
He still hadn’t told her about Tokyo, after all.
And now didn’t seem like the appropriate time. He scooped up her cup and tossed it in a trash bin outside the Hilton. Returning to her, he asked, “Want to go back for another?”
“No, thanks. Serves me right for ordering cold drinks in the winter.”
“Why don’t you put my overcoat on? Your legs must be freezing.”
With a flirty smile, clearly having bounced back from her potentially disastrous slip on the ice, she said, “Actually, I stay pretty toasty in your presence.”
Then she bent down to retrieve her bag and the contents that had spilled out. He helped her.
Tague reached for several eight-by-ten photos. He eyed the pages curiously. Then glanced at L.L., who was biting back a grin.
“Sex toys?” His brow arched. “Doing some shopping?”
“Not exactly. They’re my creations.”
The other brow shot up.
“When I told you I’m a graphic designer,” she explained, “what I really meant was that my designs are graphic.”
She gathered her laptop bag and stood. Tague straightened as well, still holding her pictures.
L.L. said, “I create customized adult toys for the rich and famous. Vibrators, dildos, anal stimulants, clit massagers, nipple clamps…you name it. Artistically designed and elegantly packaged to fit individual preferences and personalities. All extremely classy and upscale, I assure you. My clientele is as distinguished as Meg’s. Celebrities. Rock stars. Royals. Politicians. Millionaires and billionaires. In fact, a number of my customers are also her members.”
He whistled under his breath. Admittedly, Tague was a little shocked. This woman never failed to throw him for a loop. And he liked it. Couldn’t even help the grin.
“Didn’t see that one coming.”
The sentiment applied to her choice of careers as much as it did to her unpredictability.
However, he did wave the stack of photos as he added, “This is a little difficult to compete with, when you know exactly what pleases you and can design it yourself.”
“I haven’t designed anything for myself yet.” She beamed up at him as her fingers glided over his silk tie. “And something tells me you have plenty of tools in your toolbox to keep me coming. Those wicked kisses of yours alone could do the trick, remember? Then there’s what you did to me in that dark corner…”
He groaned as the sexual tension returned full force. Lowering his head to hers, he murmured, “Tip of the iceberg, baby.”
She took the sheets of paper from him and stuffed them in her bag. Folded over the flap.
Tague slid an arm around her waist and aggressively pulled her to him. “You have no idea how badly I want to own this body.”
“Tague.”
His lips swept over hers. “Soon.”
He released her. Took a few steps back, needing the distance so that he didn’t ravage her right here and now on the Avenue of the Americas.
As they resumed walking, he said, “I have client dinners tonight and tomorrow, otherwise, I’d take you out on the town.”
“It’s probably for the best,” she reasoned. “Slow this down a bit.”
“That’s not exactly what I’m inclined to do. I’ll get your number from Chip and will call you this afternoon for your address. I’ll pick you up on Friday at six-thirty. The cocktail reception starts at seven-thirty.” His gaze didn’t waver as he suggested, “Why don’t you pack an overnight bag?”
She nearly missed her footing again.
Tague chuckled. Now he’d shocked her. “Let me amend that. Pack an overnight bag, L.L.”
They reached her building.
She still hadn’t uttered a word. So Tague said, “I’m sorry I’ve got other commitments right now and have to run.”
“Don’t think twice about it. We have our careers to focus on. Whatever this is…” She swirled a finger in the air, indicating the strong vibe between them that never diminished. “Came out of the blue. I don’t expect you to drop any balls for me. As much as you claim to understand me—and I really think you do, Tague—I have no delusions about the pressures weighing on your shoulders and all the responsibility you bear just by being a Mason. Add to that your own personal aspirations, and I’m pretty sure your hands are more than full.”
“There are some complications,” he confessed.
“I don’t want to be one of them.”
He gave a half-snort. “That’s unavoidable. From the moment I met you.”
She gnawed her bottom lip a moment. The nervous habit an endearing one. “I’m not crimping your style?” she inquired.
“Not in the least. But that doesn’t make this all cut and dried.”
“Right. So… You need to go. I don’t want to keep you from your work.”
He stared down at her a few seconds more, then said, “If anyone could keep me from my work, it just might be you.” He kissed her. Deeply. Passionately. Somehow not backing away from the complexity of this budding romance.
Eventually, he released her.
Though her fingers grazed his cheek as she asked, “What do you think the odds are, when you’ve been back in town, that we’ve both stood at our office windows at the same time and stared at each other—without even knowing it?”
His gut and his groin clenched. Maybe even his heart?
“The possibility exists,” Tague said. He gave her a quick kiss, then continued on his way, dumping his cup in a trash bin.
L.L. called after him, “Hey! That was probably
still hot!”
Glancing over his shoulder, he told her, “I don’t drink coffee, baby.”
Her sultry laugh seeped inside him. Stayed with him. Because she was damn alluring.
And highly addictive.
Perhaps too addictive?
16
More briefings and presentations ensued for Tague. He had a lot of catching up to do relative to the goings-on in the New York office, and quite a bit to discuss regarding his Tokyo ventures—and the plans he intended to pursue.
Following a routine staff meeting, he and Chip stepped into Tague’s office, Chip clearly chomping at the bit to inquire about Tague’s evening at the club.
“How’d things go after I left you?” he eagerly asked as Tague closed the door behind them.
“Loralai was extraordinary last night,” he confessed. “And L.L. was irresistible this morning.”
“This morning, you say?” His eyes widened. “She actually slept with you? Christ, you work fast.”
Tague snickered. And suddenly recalled the clean bill of health he’d told her he’d provide. And because he was determined to make love to L.L. with absolutely no barriers or restrictions, he reached for the phone on his desk and asked his assistant to schedule an exam for him ASAP—if not sooner. Friday was right around the corner, after all.
He hung up and told Chip, “I did not sleep with Loralai last night. But I did make my intentions crystal clear. However, there are some nuances to consider.”
“She seems equally taken with you.”
“As perfect a match as I could imagine,” he admitted. “Thank you.”
“Always happy to help, buddy.” Chip clasped him on the shoulder. “I owed you anyway. By a lot.”
“Consider the debt paid.”
Chip’s hand slid away. “With just a coffee date and an evening at a private, top Michelin-rated dining club?”
“Two coffee dates,” he corrected. “And while I’d thought otherwise previously, you might as well add me to your membership until I secure my own.”