“I figured it would be easier to reach everything if I sat here,” David said.
Blinking away the image of his reaching for her breasts, she conceded he probably had a point. The miniature dessert servings were arranged on rectangular pieces of crystal, each in a dish on its own lace-edged doily. It was a scale-model feast for the senses—tiny but scrumptious rations of fruit-garnished crème brûlée, dark chocolate mousse cake, raspberry sorbet, tiramisu, carrot cake and key lime soufflé.
Serena’s mouth watered at the tantalizing variety. “Wow.”
“Enjoy.” The waiter handed them each a set of silverware wrapped in cloth napkins and left them to their gourmet orgy.
“If anyone ever asks me my favorite part of the job, this is definitely it,” Serena added.
“So, what do we attack first?”
He had to ask?
“Chocolate. Definitely the chocolate.” She’d barely placed her individual portion on her plate before raising a big forkful. Moist, spongy layers of sweet and semi-sweet cake surrounded rich mousse so dark it verged on bitter. The contrasting flavors exploded in her mouth in a decadent taste that made her moan.
David watched her, looking hungry but not touching any of the food. “That good, huh?”
“You hafta try this,” she muttered, running her index finger over her bottom lip to catch any of the filling she might have missed, and wolfing down the rest of her piece.
It was gone too fast, and she shot a covetous glance at the remaining sample.
David clucked his tongue. “You didn’t savor yours and now you want mine?”
“Just one more bite,” she lied.
“That’s really going to be enough to satisfy you?” he asked.
No. Not even close. “You know what, you take it. There’s plenty more here.”
He lifted his serving of the soufflé from a plate drizzled with kiwi syrup and powdered sugar.
She couldn’t believe he’d passed over the cake. “Aren’t you going to try the chocolate?”
He laughed. “Some of us enjoy saving the best for last and taking our time.”
“I like instant gratification,” she muttered.
His clear eyes turned smoky with intensity. “There are times when that’s pretty good, too.”
She swallowed. “Speaking of good…how’s the soufflé?”
“Not bad.” He finished it, but he didn’t seem rapturous about the dessert.
“I assume it didn’t make the cut for our guests?”
“Definitely not. I mean, it was okay. Just not that special something, you know?”
She knew. What happened when you knew exactly what special something you were yearning for, but couldn’t have it? At least, not beyond the short term.
Move on. She took a bite of the raspberry sorbet, mostly to cleanse her palate before she inhaled one of the other desserts. But it was surprisingly delicious. Sharp, tart, addictive. As each spoonful liquefied on her tongue, she found herself immediately craving more.
“We should make this one of the two choices,” she advised David. “A good light dessert women especially can enjoy without guilt. But more than that, it’s fantastic. Here.”
She lifted her spoon, and he cupped his hand under hers, guiding her to his lips instead of simply taking the piece of silverware. His fingers slid softly against hers, and a small spasm of desire pulsed in her stomach. His warm breath against her skin had her melting faster than the sorbet.
“Incredible,” he pronounced.
With a soft breathy sigh, she pulled her hand away, as disappointed not to be touching him anymore as she was relieved.
“You know what I just realized was missing?” David asked, surveying the desserts with a critical eye.
“Missing?” Was he kidding? She glanced at the table. Throw in a harp and some halos, this was her idea of heaven.
“Come on, you grew up in Georgia!” He grinned at her. “Pecan pie. We had a housekeeper who used to make the most amazing recipe. You would’ve loved it. It had a touch of chocolate in it.”
“I can’t believe with all this in front of you, you’re thinking about pie.”
He met her eyes. “Tough to settle for substitutes when you know what you really want.”
“I…” Pretend he’s any other client, and not someone who causes you to wake up sweaty and aroused in the middle of the night, twisted in your own sheets.
“Never mind. I’m not trying to be one of those difficult customers demanding more. Guess I just had a moment of nostalgia for pie. The simple things in life, right?”
Sure. Except that his “simple” life had included servants, a guest house and stables.
He tried the carrot cake, declared it marred by the unfortunate presence of raisins, and shared her admiration for the crème brûlée. She tried to follow his suggestion of savoring the delicate crunch of caramelized sugar, but it dissolved away into nothingness too quickly. After he’d taken a cursory bite of the chocolate cake, he gallantly pushed the plate toward her, giving up the rest of his piece. Savoring, shmavoring, she told herself as she greedily consumed it. Why deny herself what she wanted?
She glanced over to where David had closed his eyes as he enjoyed the tiramisu. Why, indeed?
“We have a winner,” he murmured huskily, sounding like a man overcome with ecstasy. He gestured to the other serving with his fork. “Try yours.”
“I don’t know.” She’d been a little nervous about spending the afternoon with David and hadn’t eaten much for lunch. Mini-portions or not, this was a hell of a lot of sweets on an empty stomach. Turns out you could have too much of a good thing.
“You don’t have to finish it. But, as my official consultant on the dessert matter, would you just taste a little bit?”
“All right, but only because you’re paying me.”
As she’d done earlier, he lifted a fork to her mouth, and she dutifully tasted the sweet delicacy. Mmm. Wow. The full-bodied creamy dessert with just the right bite of espresso was indescribable. She ran her tongue over the metal tines, making sure she got every last bit.
When she finally managed to speak again, she raved, “I’ve found my bliss.”
David chuckled. “So, this and the sorbet are our final choices, right?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “This is…this is beyond words. I can’t believe it’s better than the chocolate cake. I didn’t expect to like anything better than the cake.”
It surprised her that even as well as she knew herself, without David’s prompting, she would have made the wrong choice. Even though she’d acknowledged moments ago that she’d probably had enough dessert to last a lifetime, she couldn’t resist finishing the last morsel of tiramisu. But then she really did groan. Good thing she hadn’t worn slacks—the zipper would have self-destructed two bites ago.
“No more,” she declared.
“Don’t worry, there isn’t any.” He indicated the empty plates, bare except for the decorative drizzles that served as memorials.
“I meant no more ever. I may have cured my sweet tooth once and for all.”
“I know what you mean. I think I did the same thing with root beer when I was younger.”
“Think you could ever have too much pie?”
He brought his finger to his chin, considering. “Hard to imagine ever having too much, but yeah, I guess maybe I could if I gorged myself.”
Perhaps that was the secret. Instead of denying yourself, indulge in what you wanted until you no longer wanted it. Could it really be that simple?
Why not? She clung to the idea with the frantic optimism of a desperate woman. Nothing else had worked.
CHAPTER 10
“WANNA TAKE the stairs?” David asked, his body feeling restless and on edge.
“To the eighteenth floor?” Serena slanted him a look as the elevator doors opened onto his building’s lobby. Though she didn’t actually call him a raving lunatic, she might as well have.
“Right.” He fo
llowed her inside. “Just a thought. You know, to help burn off the desserts.”
The desserts—twenty minutes of the most excruciating torment of his life. Did she know what the tasting had been like for him? Listening to her little murmurs of delight, watching her eyelids flutter closed as she all but purred in satisfaction? The image of her running her tongue over her lips in greedy enjoyment was vivid in his mind.
The doors parted again in the AGI suites, and David and Serena almost ran smack into Larry Bell, a fellow Boston transplant who worked in finance and was walking with his head down as he read a report in a green folder.
“Oh, sorry,” Larry muttered as he glanced up and stepped to the side. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be getting off on this floor. Most everyone else is headed home. But I guess if anyone was going to come back after hours, it would be you, boss.”
David stiffened, aware that Serena already thought he was a good candidate for workaholics anonymous. “I’m just ducking in for a few minutes, to show Serena the new offices. Larry Bell, Serena Donavan. She owns Inventive Events.”
“The company arranging the benefit? A pleasure to meet you.” The tall blond accountant closed his folder and beamed at her, his smile revealing a bit too much appreciative interest. “I can certainly see why David volunteered to put in so much extra time on this.”
David’s jaw clenched at the man’s flirting. Didn’t Larry know bean-counters were supposed to be reserved, quiet and—when at all possible—geeky introverts?
“Thanks,” Serena said. “But I think David’s just dedicated to making this auction the best it can be, as am I.”
“Well, I’ll do my part. I’m one of the bachelors,” Larry clarified for her. “Representing ancient Greece, so next time you see me, I’ll probably be in a toga and wreath, carrying an abacus.”
“A number cruncher no matter the time period, eh?” David gave his colleague a tight smile. “We should stop holding you up before the elevator goes back down without you.”
Larry nodded, a dawning understanding in his green eyes. “Sure thing. I look forward to seeing you at the auction, Ms. Donavan,” he added from behind the closing doors.
“He seemed nice,” Serena said.
“Oh, yeah. Larry’s a gem.” David took a deep breath, but it did nothing to ease the knot of possessive tension in his stomach. Maybe he should get Serena to his office before she ran into any other bachelors who made David want to gnash his teeth. “This way.”
Larry was right—most employees of the not-fully-staffed future headquarters had gone for the day. Cubicles were deserted, and lights were off in all but one or two offices. The floor was quiet, except for the murmur of a few behind-closed-doors conversations and someone running copies on the machine.
He stopped at the corner office and pulled the keys out of his jacket pocket. “This one’s mine.”
“Wow.” Serena passed him as he flipped the lights on and shut his door.
He grinned, knowing that the view from the floor-to-ceiling window was impressive and glad he’d been able to talk her into coming up to see it. “Nice, isn’t it? I’m getting so spoiled that I’ve started looking at penthouse apartments.”
She turned away from the skyline just enough to smirk at him over her shoulder. “Oh, so you aren’t planning to live in a corporate efficiency suite indefinitely?”
Her wide-eyed sarcasm made David feel a little defensive. His mother had given him a similar minilecture about his “homeless” situation when he’d called his parents last week. And Serena didn’t think she’d have anything in common with my family.
“Hey, getting this office up and running smoothly was a big task. Until Richard moves down next month, everyone comes to me with their questions, and preparing for the transfers from other offices was like a full-time job itself, on top of the new client solicitation they actually pay me for and the necessary extra schmoozing like the benefit. But you’ll be happy to know I’ve got appointments this week at a couple of buildings with new vacancies.”
“Good.” She gave a quick nod of satisfaction. “I hope you find a home soon.”
So did he. What he was paying in storage was ridiculous.
The thought gave him pause, as convenience was generally a higher priority for him than cost. Serena must be rubbing off on him. He hung his jacket on the coat tree and crossed the room, the largest office he’d ever had. Mahogany bookshelves matching his desk lined the far-side wall, and slate-blue carpet covered the floor. He just hoped that when Lou Innes arrived next week to look things over on the partners’ behalf, he’d think David was doing a good enough job to warrant the great office and increased responsibilities.
Stopping next to Serena, he glanced out at the buildings that reflected the golden glow of a gradually descending sun that wouldn’t truly set for another couple of hours. “You should see it at night,” he told her. “The view’s more amazing then.”
Almost immediately, he wished he hadn’t pointed out that he was here after dark, which didn’t come until eight or nine around this time of year.
“Really?” She pressed her hand lightly to the glass. “Hard to imagine it being any more spectacular.”
He glanced at her profile—her warm brown eyes, stubborn chin, lips that haunted his dreams. “It’s just buildings. There are all kinds of things I’d rather be looking at.”
Inhaling sharply, she angled her face up toward his. He leaned forward reflexively, wanting so badly to kiss her. You gave her your word. That’s right—he wasn’t going to make a move in her direction for two more weeks. And if she didn’t make one in his…Maybe he’d been an idiot to spout that ultimatum, but he was geared for problem-solving strategies that got results and that had been what he’d come up with in his frustrated-as-hell state.
Needing space between them, even if it was only a few feet, he walked toward his desk and dropped into the expensive swivel wing chair, then spun around to face her.
Lifting her arms in a quick stretch, she moved away from the glass and followed after him, apparently not understanding that he’d walked away for her own good. He was attempting to respect her “professional boundaries,” instead of making love to her in a way that proved she was off-limits to moon-eyed accountants and any other men drawn to her. Her standing in front of his chair wasn’t helping.
“Like what?” she asked with a sassy smile.
“Excuse me?” he asked, too busy with his struggle to keep his hands off her to process her out-of-the-blue question.
“You said there were other things you’d rather look at,” she prompted. “So I was asking for an example.”
He blinked. Serena might have been blissfully unaware that the entire time they’d savored dessert samples, he’d been thinking about the way she tasted or that he’d had an irrationally possessive moment when he could have smacked affable Larry Bell upside the head with this year’s tax code, but Serena wasn’t an idiot. Is she flirting with me?
The woman who’d repeatedly told him to keep his distance? Probably not. But it was worth exploring.
“Artwork’s always good,” he said slowly. “There’s a specific piece I wouldn’t mind looking at every day while I was in my office…but I doubt I’d get much work done.”
Her breathing quickened. “Did it bother you? My sitting for those pictures?”
“Those? You mean there was more than one! Hell yes, it bothered me.” Concrete evidence of her sitting naked in a room with another man was a particularly sore spot at the moment, since she was so adamantly opposed to getting naked with him.
“Forget I asked,” she said, a brief cloud of sadness passing over her face before she grinned. She sauntered toward him, adding a little extra swivel to her hips. “Why worry about a picture when you could have the real thing?”
Okay, this went way beyond flirting.
The woman was seducing him! Hot damn. He couldn’t have felt luckier—or more shocked—if he’d won the lottery.
As soon
as she was close enough, he reached forward to encircle her wrist in his hand. “You’ve changed your mind?” What had finally won her over?
The playful light in her eyes flickered. “Not my mind, David, just the rules.”
Something sharp grated against his insides—dread and a rusty, unfamiliar sense of defeat replacing the bright burst of optimism. “What do you mean?”
“You gave me until the night of the auction, and that’s what I’m willing to give you. A hot, short-lived fling that ends after we’re not working side by side anymore and you won’t be driving me so crazy I can’t sleep at night.”
“Serena.” He had no idea what to say. The part of him that realized he’d just been given the green light to have sex with her wasn’t all that interested in the part of him that was surprisingly irritated. And hurt. He’d had meaningless affairs before. That wasn’t what he wanted from her.
“It wouldn’t work between us,” she said. “Not for long. But you want me and despite everything I’ve tried or told myself, I want you. Badly. This was the only way I could think of to have my cake and…well, you know. Let’s just say I’m hoping that indulging myself helps me kick the craving.”
Did she honestly believe that two and a half weeks would be enough to slake the passion between them?
She ran a palm along his cheek, her smile rueful. “You’re not used to having to compromise on your goals, I know. But this is all I can offer you and still protect myself.”
Protect herself from what—him? “I wouldn’t hurt you.”
“That’s not a guarantee anyone can make. Two people can start out with the most sincere, passionate intentions, and still…” She started to draw back. “Take it or leave it.” His hold tightened involuntarily. He wasn’t about to give her up, even if the only way he could have her right now was to agree to this ludicrous proposal. He’d negotiate the fine print later.
He pulled her down toward him, meshing his fingers in her hair as he ground his lips against hers. His hungry kisses held a slight edge of anger. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, wanting to make her desperate for him, telegraphing his own arousal and willing her to share its intensity. She moaned, and he tried to drag her into his lap. The confined shape of the wing chair made it difficult for her to straddle him the way they both would have liked.
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