Darkest Ecstasy

by Tawny Taylor

  “I didn’t look for one,” Michelle admitted, feeling a little stupid for not having thought of it. Here she was, all this time, trying to talk herself into speaking with him, and he could be married. But if he was married, why would he ask her to dinner? And if Angela knew him, why didn’t she know if he was married or not? Clearly she didn’t know him well.

  “That’s okay.” She flapped a hand. “I’ll do my own detective work.”

  Michelle merely nodded, not bothering to tell her new friend about her dinner date. For one thing, it was only dinner. It could lead to something. Or it could not—especially if he was married. She was not interested in being the other woman.

  She fished her phone out of her purse, then she put it away in the cabinet above her desk.

  Angela shouldered the half-wall and crossed her arms over her ample chest. “I didn’t realize he worked in this building. You said he works on the tenth floor, right?”

  “Yes,” Michelle answered as she powered up her computer.

  “Did he tell you his suite number?” she pressed.

  “No. Um, how do you know Tage?”

  “I . . . just recently met him.” Thrusting out a hip, she tossed her glossy blond waves over her shoulder. There was no missing the determined look in her eye. “I’m sure it won’t be hard tracking him down.” She sauntered off, a girl on a mission.

  A little wave of defeat washed through Michelle. Angela White wasn’t just any girl. She was beautiful. She was intelligent. And she was damn good at everything she did. No doubt she’d be just as accomplished at seducing a man as she was at everything else.

  Unlike her.

  At least she would have tonight. She hoped.

  Shoving aside thoughts about what might happen later, she forced herself to concentrate on work. After that terrible screwup with Quadtex, she needed to stay focused. Her job was her first priority.

  Her family was second.

  Her love life was, and had always been, last.

  At ten to seven, Michelle had a mini panic attack.

  Her hair was a wreck. Her makeup wasn’t much better. Her clothes were wrinkled (why, oh why, had she worn linen to work today?). And she was so freaking nervous, she felt sick to her stomach.

  In the bathroom, she did her best to sexy herself up a bit. There was no getting her mouse-brown waves back into the neat French twist she’d had it in, so she pulled out the pins, tossed her head back and forth a few times, and opted for the disheveled look, hoping she would pass for sexy instead of just plain messy. A quick dig through the depths of her purse scored her an eyeliner pencil and a lipstick she hadn’t worn in ages. She darkened her eyes and smoothed on the lipstick.

  The result was acceptable.

  Now, what to do about the clothes?

  Her linen skirt was what it was. A wrinkled, creased mess. There wasn’t much she could do about that. So she focused her efforts on the garments from her waist up. For work, she’d worn a crisp white blouse. And over that she’d buttoned on a cardigan sweater. Then she’d buckled a narrow leather belt around her waist. The belt was the first to go. Then the sweater. Finally, she unfastened a couple of buttons to give her date just a little peek at her cleavage.

  She took a step back, sighed, then turned to head out of the bathroom. She was practically slammed off her feet by a blur of blue as she pushed open the door.

  “Ohmygod!” the blue blur said. “He’s here.” Angela stopped in front of the mirror, dropped her purse on the counter, and started digging through its contents with one hand while popping open buttons on her blouse with the other.

  Michelle had to give it to her, Angela was quite the multitasker.

  Hurrying out, so she could get him out of the office before Angela made her appearance, Michelle sucked in a deep breath.

  It left her lungs in a huff the minute her eyes met his.

  He smiled.

  She practically melted.

  “Hello,” Angela said as she sauntered past her, hips swaying, hair bouncing, smile beaming. “Do you have an appointment with someone?”

  “Yes, I do.” He motioned toward Michelle. “With her.”

  Angela’s perfectly plucked brows scrunched. “You do?” She swung around to look at Michelle. “She didn’t mention it.”

  “I was a little busy at the time,” Michelle explained.

  Angela’s scrunched brows pulled in closer. “Is that so?” Her expression changed in a blink, from confused to happy. “Well, that’s okay.” She thrust her hand out, offering it to him. “I’m . . . Angela. Michelle’s supervisor. We can all sit down and discuss your needs together.”

  Supervisor? Since when?

  Tage’s puzzled look bounced from Angela to Michelle and back again. His lips twisted. “Um . . . this is a private meeting.”

  Angela’s lips formed a perfect O as she jerked her head around to look at Michelle. A little muscle in her jaw clenched as she measured up her competition. “I see.” She stepped back. “Sorry for the misunderstanding.”

  “It’s okay.” Tage motioned to Michelle and, feeling as though she had won some kind of contest, she stepped up to him, then preceded him out the door. The skin on her back burned as she walked out. She wasn’t sure if it was the awareness that he was behind her that made it sizzle, or the heat of Angela’s furious stare. Either way, she did her best to ignore it and stepped inside the elevator. For the first time, she rode it down with him.

  Down, to the parking structure. And out she went, walking beside him.

  At this time of year the sun hung low in the western sky by 7 P.M., the angle creating long, cool shadows in the structure. Michelle hugged herself as she followed Tage’s lead through a long row of parked cars. He stopped in front of a Range Rover, circled around to the passenger side, and opened the door.

  Her arm brushed against him as she moved between his bulk and the car. A bolt of heat blazed through her at the brief (much too brief) contact. Her face warmed. “Thank you,” she said softly. Her gaze lifted to his face. A powerful face. A stunningly masculine face.

  “You’re welcome.” With long, land-eating strides, he wound back around to the driver’s side. Within a second or two he was seated beside her, his hands on the steering wheel, his gaze once again locked on her face. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then closed it. The car’s engine roared to life, and in a blink, they were zooming down the road. “Your coworker thought I was meeting with you for business.”

  Coworker? He wasn’t going to admit he knew Angela? “Yes. My personal life is none of her concern.” She tried to smooth her skirt over her thighs.

  “Then she’s not a friend of yours.”

  “No,” she responded flatly.

  He chuckled, and she immediately decided she liked the way it sounded. A deep, vibrating rumble that echoed through her body. “Is she an enemy, then?” he asked.

  “I wouldn’t go that far, no. I don’t have many enemies.”

  “That’s a good thing.”

  “What about you? The way you said that... ?”

  “I have my share, I suppose.” His gaze flicked to the rearview mirror as he steered the car onto the freeway. “But it comes with the job.”

  “Which is . . . ?” she asked as she studied his (stunning, drool-worthy, extremely attractive) profile. His features were so classically beautiful. They reminded her of the world’s most treasured sculptures, Michelangelo’s David, Cellini’s Perseus, and the Antinous Mondragone.

  “Computer programmer.”

  “Computer programmer? Enemies? Really?”

  “You’d be surprised,” he said.

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “I see you work for an advertising agency,” he said as he eased the car toward the exit ramp.

  “Yes. I’m a junior account representative. I haven’t been with the agency for very long. So far, I like it, though I was hoping I would be more involved with the creative side of things. That’s where my true s
trengths lie. I hold two bachelor degrees. One in commercial art and one in creative writing.”

  “Interesting. My strengths lie in my creativity, too.”

  The car rolled to a stop at a red light, and he turned to look her way. Again, their gazes tangled and a zap of electricity buzzed between them. It felt like the charge was zinging across her skin, energizing her nerves. She’d never felt that way with a man before. It was strange. And thrilling. Both. She decided Angela was a non-concern. Clearly Angela was interested in him, but he wasn’t in her. Too bad. So sad.

  “Yes, I suppose it would be, considering what you do,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  A honk jerked her out of her haze.

  Tage’s head snapped to the front and he hit the gas. The car surged forward like a jet.

  She inhaled deeply, exhaled. This was the oddest date she’d ever been on already. And it had hardly started. The chemistry was insane. Staring straight ahead, she tried to decide if she should break the silence that had fallen between them with more small talk or not.

  “I was thinking,” he said, doing it for her. “I have been wanting to look into some advertising for my company, maybe some color brochures.”

  “Sure. That would be great.”

  “I would insist on working with you. And I would also request you do the layout.”

  She couldn’t help giggling. “You say that without even seeing any of my work.”

  “Something tells me you’re not the boastful type. That you are truly talented.”

  “I’d like to think I am,” she said, face burning with embarrassment. She really did hate talking about herself, and she truly wasn’t the type to brag about her gifts. “I tell you what, you can come over anytime you like and determine that for yourself. I’ll show you my portfolio.”

  “I’d like to see it.”

  “Just say the word. Anytime.”

  “Okay.” He pulled into a grocery store parking lot and shifted the vehicle into park. There was no restaurant in sight. Not one.

  She gave him a questioning look.

  “You’ll have to tell me where you live,” he said.

  Did he mean . . . now? “Oh. We’re going to my place first? I thought we were going out to dinner.”

  “You said anytime.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “We can order in. Unless you had your heart set on sitting in a restaurant.”

  Slightly shaken at the sudden change of plans, she took a moment to think. She determined, rather quickly, that things were going very well. “No, of course carryout is perfectly fine. I live on Third Street in Maineville. Are you familiar with the area?”

  “No. I just moved into town a few months ago. You’ll have to give me some directions.”

  “We’ll need to head back north.”

  “Okay.” He steered the car around and turned onto the road, heading in the opposite direction from which they’d been driving. “What kind of food do you like?”

  “Anything.”

  “Anything?”

  “I’m a total foodie.”

  “I like you already.” The light turned red, and once again they were waiting, gazes tangled. Her breath lodged in her throat, and her heart pounded hard against her breastbone as she stared into the darkest eyes she’d ever seen. The longer she looked, the more lost she felt in the shadows she saw there. And she couldn’t help wondering what his story was, where he’d come from, what kind of life he’d led up to this point, and what he dreamed about.

  “I like you, too,” she said. The light changed, and she pointed. “Someone is going to honk.”

  “Let them.” He reached for her head, slid his hand across the back to cup it, and pulled while leaning toward her. His gaze, which had been fixed on her eyes, slid lower, to her mouth.

  He was about to kiss her.

  Kiss her!

  A flurry of butterflies launched in her belly.

  6

  What the fuck was he doing? What. The. Fuck?

  This woman wasn’t his type. The one he’d left behind, Angela, she was his kind of woman, the type he’d told himself he would marry. What the hell was this he felt with the little meek Michelle? It was as if he were being drawn in, ensnared.

  Was she Chimera?

  Think with your brain, dickhead, not your cock.

  He closed his eyes and dug deep, searching for the strength to pull away.

  Then she sighed. The sound was so enthralling, so enticing, he leaned closer. He inhaled, drawing in the sweet scent of her skin. She smelled so good. His heavy eyelids lifted. She had closed her eyes, those mesmerizing eyes. Her full lips were waiting for him, pursed ever so slightly for his kiss.

  One taste. Only one. That wouldn’t kill him. He’d always been able to maintain control, even while white-hot need was thrumming through his veins. It would be no different with this woman.

  Using the hand he’d cupped around the back of her head, he pulled her toward him and lightly brushed his lips over hers. A tiny gasp filled the silence. Her gasp.

  Her reaction pleased him. It made him hard, ready. Hot. He wanted her. Wanted to possess her. Now. Right there. In the car.

  A horn blared behind him.

  Fuck them.

  It honked again.

  Oh hell.

  He couldn’t get to her house fast enough. Yanking himself back to reality, he stomped on the accelerator. Until he was parked somewhere, he was going to have to keep his hands off her. And his lips, too. His tongue darted out, swept across his lower lip. Her sweet flavor still lingered there. It was delicious. He couldn’t wait to taste her again. He couldn’t wait to hear another sigh, too.

  That was one sound he doubted he would ever tire of.

  Had she died? Was she in heaven? In hell? The way she felt at the moment, it could be either . . . or both. Her body was burning, from her scalp to the soles of her feet. Agonizing blazes of need were rushing through her system, and she couldn’t quite catch her breath. Between her legs her tissues were moist, warm, pulsing.

  How was it that one tiny kiss could do all of that to her?

  Staring out the window, she concentrated on breathing. Innnn. Outttt. Innnn. Outttt. Her head was a little less swimmy after a few deep breaths. But her body was still as hot and tight as ever.

  And she was about to spend the next... who only knew how much time . . . alone with this man. Alone. In her apartment. And he wanted her. She could see it in his eyes.

  I’m going to sleep with him.

  A bolt of energy charged through her, knocking the air from her lungs again. Her face and neck heated. Yes, she was going to sleep with this gorgeous, sexy man.

  Her voice was very quiet and small as she delivered directions to him. She could hear the nervousness in it. She wondered if he could, too. If he did, he said nothing, just quietly followed her directions. He drove skillfully, following the speed limit. Even though there was little to no small talk during the rest of the drive, she found herself gradually relaxing. They stopped at her favorite Italian restaurant on the way to her place. She ordered her usual, a pasta dish that she’d never had anywhere else. It was rich and decadent and delicious. He followed her advice and ordered the same. While they waited for their dinners to be cooked, he suggested they sit at the bar and have a drink.

  His gaze was locked on hers when he asked, “What would you like?”

  Another one of those kisses would be great. Her heart pitter-pattered . “A glass of wine would be nice.”

  He ordered two and while the bartender filled their order he swiveled his stool to face her. “Are you nervous?”

  Oh God, her face was going to ignite. “Is it that obvious?”

  “No. I’m just . . . I notice those kinds of things.”

  The bartender set the glasses on napkins in front of them. Michelle appreciated the bartender’s timing. It kept her from having to explain her jittery nerves to a man who had probably never felt nervous on a date.

 
; Tage pulled out his wallet, fished out a couple of bills, and handed them to the bartender, telling her to keep the change. She responded with a wide smile and a “Thank you” and moved to the man on the other side of Tage.

  His attention focused, Tage waited for Michelle to pick up her glass. “Shall we?” He tipped his glass.

  “Sure.” She raised hers and gave him a go-ahead nod.

  “To . . . fortunate coincidences.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” She tapped her glass against his, then sipped. Delicious. Smooth. As she swallowed, she could feel her nerves untangling a little, the tightness in her neck and shoulders easing. She took a few more swallows.

  “Why are you nervous?” he asked as he set his glass on the bar.

  Shit. “Oh. Um.” She took another big gulp. She couldn’t tell him everything. Some of it was just plain embarrassing. “I haven’t been on a date in . . . a while.”

  “Really? That’s hard to believe.” He set his left hand on the bar’s polished top.

  No ring. Definitely no ring. Or tan mark. That didn’t guarantee he wasn’t married, but it made it more likely.

  “It’s the truth.” So much for her pride. “Lately I’ve been so focused on work, I haven’t had much time for anything else,” she explained, deciding that rational excuse would make her less pathetic than the truth.

  “Hmmm. I understand that. I’ve been there before, too. But I’ve learned more recently that it’s one thing to work to live; it’s another thing to live to work. I love what I do, but I don’t let my work be everything anymore.”

  His confession intrigued her. If what he said was true, it explained why she didn’t see a ring on his left hand. “I would like to get there, myself. I will. But I have some things to prove to my boss right now. So, it’s mostly work and very little play for this girl.”

  “I see.” He scooted a little in his seat, sliding his arm along the bar top and leaning closer to her.

  Her nerves sizzled at his nearness. She explained, “I kind of screwed things up with a huge client, and the client cancelled the contract and went with another company.”