Going All the Way (Mills & Boon Temptation)

by Tanya Michaels

  Then again, how reputable could she be? She had strippers on speed dial.

  David shook his head, his tone laced with amusement. “Give it up, Serena. You’re not cut out to be respectable.”

  She flinched inwardly. David had teased her plenty of times in the past and was only echoing what she herself had just been thinking. Yet somehow the joking indictment sounded a hell of a lot different coming out loud from a Savannah Grant.

  HOLDING HIS cell phone for prop purposes, David sat in the lobby where “reception might be better,” on a decorative bench uncomfortable enough to have been used during the Inquisition. Make a guy sit on one of these long enough, he’d confess to just about anything. Like being unbelievably arrogant?

  AGI had sent him here this weekend to check out apartments, but David’s personal goal had been to find out whether the burning attraction between him and Serena was as he remembered, or if his imagination and time had exaggerated it. He’d also wanted to discover if the Happy Wanderer presented any real competition. David’s earlier call as he drove though an exasperating series of one-way Atlanta streets had eased his mind on both matters. Her announcement of the breakup and the breathy, telling pauses in conversation had led him to half hope she’d fall into his arms when he walked through the office door.

  Arrogance.

  Instead of fawning over him, or even pushing him away so he could tell himself she was running from a powerful desire, she’d blinked off her initial shock, then approached for a depressingly casual hug. If it hadn’t been for the way she’d watched his hands while they talked on the couch, her doe eyes becoming heavy-lidded and dazed as if his fidgeting fingers were actually moving over her skin, he might honestly have worried that they were doomed to platonic friendship.

  But the longer he’d sat with her, the more obvious her arousal had become. There’d been no mistaking her dilated pupils, the way she nervously licked her lips or the rapid rise and fall of her chest beneath her soft knit top. Maybe he’d only overlooked her desire at first because he’d been too consumed by his own.

  Even though he’d been the one surprising her, when she’d glanced up at him with those wide brown eyes, the jolt of sensual energy that had shot through him had been like a force of nature—something meteorologists had warned was coming but that still had to be experienced to be believed.

  For instance, who would have believed an ensemble as theoretically conservative as khakis and sweater could be so sexy?

  Serena looked like a bad girl impersonating a businesswoman. The slacks, while the right innocuous color for casual Fridays across the country, fit very snugly across her hips and were slung low at the waist. Only the embroidered hem of her plum-colored top kept him from seeing whether or not she was wearing the bellybutton ring that glinted teasingly in his memory. The neckline of the long-sleeved shirt dipped down in a rectangle that actually laced up over her breasts. Because of her understated curves, the cleavage revealed stopped just shy of being completely inappropriate for the office, but it was plenty to make his mouth go dry.

  Although David knew it was an optical fashion illusion, he couldn’t help thinking that if he pulled the ends of the string bow apart, her sweater would fall away and leave her bared for tasting. He could recall with aching clarity the feel of her velvety breasts and the peach-hued nipples that had been so sensitive to his touch. On the one occasion he’d undressed Serena, peeling off a sodden T-shirt that seemed to leave less to the imagination than actual nudity, she hadn’t been wearing a bra. Was she today?

  Wanting to find out had made him restless enough to drum his fingers and tap his thumb as he sat with her.

  What he really wanted to find out was if she still objected to the physical connection between them. And if so, why. When he factored in everything that Serena meant to him, her newly single status and the timing of this transfer, it seemed fate was handing him this opportunity on a silver platter.

  But Serena was on edge and clearly not about to fall into his lap—delightful as that prospect was. He needed to romance her, convince her, figure out her reservations and overcome them one by one. His desire to handle this with finesse was why he hadn’t simply sprung his relocation announcement on her already. But he had supreme confidence that he could win her over. That was why he was on the business-development side of things at AGI—his specialty was new partnerships, finding or creating opportunities and overcoming any obstacles with various means of persuasion.

  Persuading Serena would be far more enjoyable than, say, persuading the CEO of Digi-Dial, leaders in cell-phone technology.

  Her office door swung open with a gentle creak, and Serena appeared, holding a massive beige purse that looked more like a weapon against muggers than something they might steal. In Boston, she would have needed a jacket, but it was warm here.

  “Sorry I took so long,” she said. Her tone was breezy and her smile even, but she ran her hand through her honey-blond, not-quite-chin-length curls in a self-conscious gesture.

  “Not a problem.”

  She turned to lock up the suite. “If you’d like, I can suggest a place for dinner.”

  “Lord, no.”

  Serena was big on what she called “cultural color,” and while four out of five places she picked were surprisingly excellent (with the fifth being horrific), David desired something a bit more intimate tonight. He didn’t want their conversation to be interrupted by some poetry reading, and he didn’t want to have to worry about exotic herbs in their unpronounceable entrées that might lead to indigestion or unkissable breath. Just because he was prepared for longer-term wooing didn’t mean he couldn’t be optimistic.

  “And what’s wrong with the places I pick?” she asked, glaring down at him.

  He stood. “They usually look like they’re only still in business because someone bribed the health inspector.”

  “But they have fabulous food. Usually.” She sniffed. “A restaurant doesn’t have to have valet parking to be worth eating at.”

  “I know that.” If his tone was defensive, it was because he’d just realized he’d been to at least three restaurants this week that used valet service. “But, tonight I want to take you…someplace nice.” He could tell her they were celebrating his likely promotion, except he wasn’t ready to tell her his news yet.

  They headed toward the building’s canopied main entrance. David reached out to open the door for her, but she’d already pushed it open herself.

  Following her into the early-evening shadows, he felt a ridiculous need to prove she wasn’t the only one who’d ever discovered a culinary treasure in an offbeat hole-in-the-wall. “There was a dive you would have loved in Boston.”

  “Meaning what?” She whipped her head around, impaling him with her narrowed eyes. “That I can only appreciate dives?”

  Nice. Seduce women often, idiot? But he hadn’t expected Serena to be so touchy.

  “Meaning you would have seen beyond the unrefined décor, and you would have loved the live bands and the oyster bar’s creative menu.”

  “Ah.” On the sidewalk, she stopped, glancing between David and her dilapidated decade-old Honda.

  Letting himself bump into her would have been transparent, but he came awfully close before he, too, drew up short. She’d never wear an expensive, trendy perfume, but whatever she had on smelled like spices and rare exotic flowers swirled in one heady, lust-inducing scent.

  “Since you obviously don’t need a recommendation from me, where do you want to go?” Serena asked.

  To the nearest bedroom.

  “In case we get separated in traffic,” she added.

  “Separated? We can ride together.” In light of her apparent skittishness about spending time with him, he appealed to her time-honored sense of thrift. “I have to pay for the rental car whether we use it or not.”

  She sighed. “Let me guess, you’re the Beemer over in the corner.”

  “Not even close.” He gestured toward a sleek yellow conve
rtible. “That’s mine. Temporarily, anyway.”

  Her body tensed as she took in the sexy sports car, then she shot him a look of such unexpected disdain that he wondered if he’d have been better off with the BMW.

  “Men. I suppose it was the flashiest one on the lot?”

  The brightly colored fantasy on wheels had actually reminded him of Serena, but she didn’t seem to be in the right mood to appreciate that compliment. “Well, it is yellow—”

  “Extremely.”

  “—so I figured the pollen that coats everything here wouldn’t show up as much.” He shrugged when she didn’t smile at the joke. “The weather’s been dreary in Boston, and this looked like a great ride for the weekend.”

  “Looks expensive,” she muttered. “What is it they say about men and cars and overcompensation?”

  Without making a conscious decision to do so, he leaned forward, closing much of the space between them. “And what inadequacy do you think I need to compensate for?”

  She blinked up at him. “None. It was a random comment. You…” As she trailed off, her eyes moved downward to the front of his pants, and her admiring gaze took what felt like his entire blood supply down with it. “Nothing inadequate about you.”

  Damn right. Still, he almost wished she’d challenged his prowess in some way. Then they could’ve skipped dinner, leaving him free to spend the rest of the night making his case.

  3

  SERENA was sure someone, somewhere, had put a lot of time and thought into creating the right ambience for the restaurant, but the surroundings were wasted on her. She couldn’t focus on anything outside of the intimate booth she and David shared.

  The table for two was small enough that they could easily hold hands without having to reach for each other, not that they would be holding hands. Or touching each other at all, except for occasional accidents, such as his legs brushing hers under the table as they had just now. She almost jumped, her nerves taut with awareness.

  His knee bumping mine is not sexy.

  No, but the memories she had of their limbs intertwined beneath tangled sheets certainly were.

  David leaned back against the richly upholstered bench opposite hers. “I know what I want. What about you, Serena?”

  As with three-quarters of the comments he’d made on the drive to the restaurant, she couldn’t tell if he intended his words to have a double meaning, or if she simply had a one-track mind. His tone was innocent enough, which in and of itself was immediate cause for suspicion.

  “I haven’t decided.” The menu in its embossed burgundy cover gave her something to hide behind when she worried her one-track thoughts would be revealed on her face.

  After the time she’d taken in her office to adjust to his presence, the ride to the restaurant had been more relaxed than their initial encounter. His cologne was still driving her crazy—to say nothing of her preoccupation with his hands as he’d fiddled with the air vents and shifted gears—but she’d enjoyed being in his company. By the time he’d moved to Boston, they’d been friends long enough to have developed their own conversational rhythm, following each other’s thoughts, knowing when it was safe to heckle the other about something and what subjects were more sensitive. So talking to him in the car hadn’t been difficult. They’d discussed Inventive Events at length, and David’s enthusiasm for her small but spunky business endeared him to her even further.

  Now that she thought about it, her job had monopolized conversation, and she still wasn’t clear on what work-related project had brought David to town. But, after dating an artist who was a minor celebrity in public opinion and a major celeb in his own, it had been gratifying for someone to show so much interest in what she did for a living. Her father, James, firmly believed there were more dignified ways to earn an income—ones that would probably reflect better on him—and certainly steadier incomes to be earned, given her education. Whenever Serena mentioned her company to him, he got a pained look on his face that she recognized from childhood.

  It was the same one he’d always given her mom.

  “Serena?”

  She jerked her head up from a list of pasta entrées she hadn’t been reading. “Still looking.”

  “No, I just wondered if everything was all right.” David frowned. “You seemed…troubled.”

  “My mind wandered for a second. As seldom as I see James and Meredith, you had the bad luck to catch me on a week when I have.” She knew her father was genuinely making an effort these days, but she’d honestly be glad when his early-June wedding to Meredith McPherson was behind them. With luck, he’d just go back to ignoring Serena. “Sorry. Guess not enough time’s passed for me to have sufficiently detoxed from the visit.”

  “Oh.” The lines of worry in David’s expression eased. “That’s a relief.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “Not that I’m relieved by any trouble you’re having with your family, just that I was concerned I might have upset you. I suddenly felt like maybe I’d strong-armed you into dinner.”

  Serena laughed. “You mean because you traveled across all those states, told me you wouldn’t accept no for an answer and wouldn’t even let me take my own car?”

  “Is that all?” He flashed a grin. “It seemed worse in my head.”

  A moment later, he asked, “You want to talk about it? James and Meredith, I mean.”

  “No.” She’d vented to David before, but not usually face to face. Besides, the last time she’d discussed her father with someone—her yoga-instructor friend Alyson—she’d ended up feeling whiny and disgusted with herself. “Big no.”

  David glided to the next logical topic. “Heard from Tricia lately?”

  The mention of her adventurous, live-life-to-the-fullest mother made Serena feel surprisingly wistful, and she shook her head. “She and her latest lover, Miguel, are communing with South American nature far from the nearest modem or cell phone roaming area.” Her mom, who hadn’t had time to visit Serena in over a year, would have liked Patrick—they had the same respect for following “spiritual journeys.” And the same inability to be there for someone else.

  When the waiter arrived, Serena ordered a fettuccine plate. David, the carnivore, selected a New York strip.

  “Very good.” The waiter jotted down notes about side dishes and how to prepare the meat. “And you’re sure you wouldn’t like to see a wine list? We have a fabulous house chardonnay.”

  “Yes!…No.” Serena was a bit too emphatic in her assurance, and she pretended not to see David’s grin at her speedy response. “Yes, I’m sure that no, I don’t need anything to drink.”

  They hadn’t had nearly enough alcohol last summer to blame their indiscretions on impaired judgment, but the last thing she needed right now was something that lowered her already half-mast inhibitions. David’s eyes alone triggered stabs of yearning in her. Would it really be so bad to ditch her inhibitions for the night? she asked herself as the waiter ambled to the next table.

  Ending her dry spell with David, then sending him safely back to Boston with a quick kiss goodbye and a promise to stay in touch was tempting.

  But dangerous, too. How willing was she to risk their friendship? Though she had friends, few had known her as long or as well as David. He was…special. Obviously her family wasn’t ever going to be her main source of comfort and stability.

  Newsflash, her libido informed her. There’s more to life than stability.

  Ignoring the way her inner muscles clenched whenever David happened to touch her, she reminded herself that one night together had already changed their relationship. Her powerful and conflicting emotions now were a perfect example. She didn’t want things to unravel further. Among the many topics they discussed, she and David often mentioned their love lives, and before last summer, she’d never felt jealous. Well, hardly ever. But in the past few months, mention of that Tiffany person had given Serena far more of a twinge than had Patrick staying with an old girlfriend when he’d passe
d through New Mexico.

  A self-sufficient woman, Serena did best in relationships where she and her partner could be alone together, as contradictory as that sounded. Yet, when David had gone back to Boston after his last visit, she’d missed him. A lot. In an uncomfortably needy, vulnerable way.

  So the answer to your question, she told her libido, is yes. It would be that bad to ditch the inhibitions.

  She might not have many, but for tonight she was clinging to them. Even she—a woman who hadn’t been with a man in months, a woman who had listened enviously to the erotic details of Alyson’s tantric sex life—could keep her willpower intact for one night. With any luck, the next time Serena saw David she’d be safely involved with someone who had put an end to her sexual drought.

  She set down the water she’d been sipping; her thirst wasn’t what needed to be quenched. “So, what exactly brings you to Atlanta this weekend? I missed the specifics while we were trying to figure out where to turn.”

  “I saved the best news for last.” He surprised her by lightly brushing his hand over hers. Little pinpricks of heat shimmered up her arm. “You’re looking at Atlanta’s newest resident. AGI’s moving its corporate headquarters here, and I’m heading up the advance team.”

  Moving? To her city? Within driving distance of her bedroom?

  “Y-you aren’t going back to Boston?”

  “Well, yeah, temporarily. This is an exploratory visit. I’ll be here through Tuesday, then go back to tie up all the loose ends. But after that, you may be seeing a lot of me.”

  Did she get to pick which parts?

  Her willpower, which had been prepared for the demanding but blessedly short-lived sprint through a single intimate evening, now cramped at the thought of the endurance required for the long haul. She searched her mind for something that would help. “So…where does Tiffany fall on the ‘loose ends’ spectrum?”

  His eyes widened. “Tiffany? Why would you ask about her?”

  “Friendly curiosity. Isn’t she your girlfriend?”