Turning back to her, he looked down into her beautiful eyes. “Okay, so you want to reserve my time for the next week, including the wedding.”
Her gaze shot up to his as her heart sped up once again. Did his question mean that he wasn’t rejecting her? The hope that soared through her chest almost made her dizzy. Looking up into his eyes, she searched his features, trying to interpret what he was saying. “If that’s possible,” she replied.
“And I doubt you’ve ever paid for a man’s time before, have you?”
“Of course not!” she gasped.
He laughed. “There’s no ‘of course’ about it, Becca. You’re here asking to pay for my time over the next week. And you sound incredibly confident about your requests.”
Immediately, her shoulders sank. “I’m not confident, Alex, I’m terrified.”
“Terrified of what?” he asked gently, taking her hands. “What could you possibly be nervous about?”
“You!” she said, trying to pull her hands away but he held them firmly and so she simply allowed it, absorbing the warmth from his touch. “You’re an intimidating man, Alex.”
“How am I intimidating?” He asked, but he’d heard that from others. When they’d said it, he’d shrugged it off as irrelevant. His job was to run his hotels and businesses in the most efficient manner possible. If people were intimidated, then that was their problem.
With Becca, he didn’t want to intimidate her. He wanted to make love to her until neither of them could breathe. A totally different goal.
“You’re so…male!” she said as if that explained everything.
His eyes widened and he looked at her, waiting for more. When he realized that was all she was going to say, he shook his head slightly. “Becca, do you want a man who isn’t male?”
She laughed and the sound seemed to ease some of the tension. “No. You’re missing the point.”
He led her deeper into the pretty room, then turned so they were facing each other. “Explain it to me, then, because you’re right, I am missing the issue here.”
She ducked her head, knowing she was making a muck of this situation. And no, she wasn’t very clear. It had seemed so straightforward when she’d thought of the idea earlier. “I’m not sure I completely understand myself, Alex. But…” she looked at him, trying to figure out how to explain. “Alex, the men I normally date aren’t…they have…” she floundered, then blurted out the words. “They aren’t you. They aren’t strong and capable. You project confidence and authority. It’s…appealing.”
He chuckled and turned her hand over so that his thumb could trace patterns on the palm of her hand. “And the men you have dated in the past aren’t confident.”
“No. They are pretty insecure.” She looked at his broad shoulders and tanned neck. Even his Adam’s apple was sexy to her for some strange reason. “And you smell good.”
Alex looked down at the woman, thinking she was reading his mind. But towards her. “You probably have no idea of this, but you project your own sense of confidence. Anyone watching you walk across the lobby or down the street would think you were tough and strong.”
She snorted and shook her head. “That’s just the New York City attitude.” She smiled up at him through her lashes. “Or maybe it’s a bit of arrogance.”
“Whichever is nicer at the moment, right?”
She chuckled. “Exactly.”
“So what are we going to do about this attraction?”
She blinked. “Aren’t we going to…?” Becca hesitated as she looked into his eyes. “I mean…I thought you’d agreed to let me,” she hated the word but there wasn’t really an alternative, “pay you for your time over the next week.”
He shook his head. “No. I’m not going to take your money. But I will spend whatever time with you that you can spare and consider it my vacation. How does that sound?”
It sounded incredible, but she wasn’t sure she could handle him without the strictures of her being in charge. “What about…”
“This isn’t sexual,” he told her, then chuckled when he saw the disappointment flash in her eyes. “Unless you want it to be.”
“That isn’t really…”
His features hardened and he interrupted whatever she was about to say. “I want you, Becca. Never doubt that.” He took her hand and pulled her closer, his hands resting on her hips as he pressed her softness against his obviously aroused body. “This is what you do to me.”
She gasped when she felt his impressive erection against her belly. “I do that to you?” she whispered, amazed and intimidated all over again.
“Yes. But if you don’t want anything to happen, then it won’t happen. I won’t allow you to rent me,” he teased, “but you are still in charge of everything.”
Her smile started out small, but as his words sank into her jealousy-singed brain, her smile grew wider. “I think I might like that,” she told him.
He watched her expression change, the sweet, sexy excitement enter her eyes and laughed as he shook his head. “I think I might have given you a bit too much power,” he told her. “Would you mind very much if I finally kissed you again? That last time is still in my…”
He couldn’t finish whatever he was about to say since she lifted up, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him first. It was the first time she’d initiated any sort of intimacy between them and his body hardened to an almost painful throbbing.
When he lifted his head, they were both trying to gulp air into their lungs. He looked down at her, knew that the door was closed and, unless the hotel caught on fire, no one on his staff would interrupt him. He knew that he could take her on the table behind him, but…this was Becca. From the first moment she’d walked into the hotel, Alex knew that she was going to be different from the other women in his past. There would be no table sex. Not with Becca.
At least…not the first time he made love to her, he corrected mentally.
“What’s on the agenda for tonight?” he asked.
Becca thought carefully, trying to remember what the others said they were going to do. “We were all pretty much on our own tonight, but I suspect that the others will try and meet up for dinner together.”
He shifted against her. “Any chance you could bail on that and come with me? I know of a great place down the street with a jazz band that’s pretty good.”
“I don’t like jazz.”
He pulled back slightly and groaned, shaking his head. “You haven’t listened to good jazz then.” He shifted their bodies slightly, almost as if they were already dancing even without the music. “Come with me tonight. Let me show you the appeal of jazz. If you don’t like it after tonight, we won’t go back.”
Becca was intrigued. “Fine. Jazz tonight.” He kissed her one more time and then pulled back. “Meet me back down here at six o’clock tonight. I’ll take you out to dinner first. I’ll bet you’ve only had Lillian’s mother’s cooking so far.”
Becca laughed. “What is it about food and the people of New Orleans? They seem to think that…”
“Don’t even start, woman,” he growled and whipped his arm back around her waist, pulling her right back into his arms. “You might think you’ve eaten good food in New York, but you haven’t lived until you’ve tried Gerty’s jambalaya. So just shut up and,” he kissed her fast and hard, “be down here, in something sexy by six. Understood?”
She laughed when he pulled back again. “What happened to me being in charge?”
All she got in return was a look that told her he’d completely lied about letting her be in charge of anything. “You’re in my city now. And in my hands.”
With that, he walked out of the small room and Becca watched him as he slowly disappeared into the crowd milling about in the elegant, festive lobby. Everything about the man was enticing, even his walk. People literally moved out of the way when he walked through. She doubted that he even noticed it was happening, but the guests and employees took one look at him an
d knew to shift out of his way.
With a sigh of happiness, she pushed away from the wall, straightened her clothes, smoothed her hair back into place and walked out of the room. She might have smoothed down all of the places that he’d mussed, but Jane and Tallia would know exactly what was going on, so she hurried to her room, not wanting to run into anyone she knew for fear of them discovering her secret romance with an incredible man.
Chapter 5
He was right.
Becca sighed with happiness as she took another bite of the spicy, tangy jambalaya. “Oh, this is good,” she sighed, closing her eyes as the different tastes hit her. Fire. Tomatoes. Something smoky…it was all there and fabulous! “This is amazingly good!”
He laughed. “I won’t say it,” he replied.
She looked at him and rolled her eyes. “By not saying anything, you’re saying it.”
One dark eyebrow lifted with her argument. “How am I saying something when I’m not saying it?”
She leaned back, taking a sip of her Sazerac, a strong, sweet cocktail Alex had ordered for her. Becca wanted to ask what was in the mix, but she suspected that she was better off not knowing. A smile curved her lips as she stared across the table at him. “You’re an incredibly handsome man, Alex Beauchamp,” she observed.
His strong, sexy lips curled up into a smile as well. “You’re changing the subject. But that’s okay. I’ll allow it since you’re looking a bit rosy.”
Becca laughed. “Yep. I’m not used to your city’s strong cocktails. The bartenders of New Orleans don’t mess around when they mix a drink, do they?”
He chuckled. “It would be a crime to waste alcohol on sub-par efforts, don’t you think?”
She twisted her cocktail glass around slightly. “Your southern accent comes out a bit more when you say certain words. Did you know that?”
“What words?” he asked, a dark eyebrow lifting as they stared across the table at one another. Both of them were leaning forward and, in Becca’s case, the rest of the noisy restaurant was blocked from her consciousness. It was only she and Alex. Alone. The intimacy of the table and their conversation excluded the rest of the world.
Becca tipped her head slightly as she looked across the table at him. “I don’t really know which particular words. The drawl just comes out. It’s subtle and…” she grinned, “very sexy.”
“Well, I’m glad that you approve,” he replied, taking her hand and lifting it up so that their fingers intertwined.
Becca saw the waiter approach and tried to pull her fingers away, but Alex only tightened his hold, daring her to pull back.
“How is your meal, Mr. Beauchamp?” the waiter asked politely.
She noticed the way his lips pressed together at the interruption and covered her mouth to stop the giggle at his reaction. It was small, barely anything at all. If Becca hadn’t been looking into his eyes, she might have missed it. But he was holding her hand and she was always self-conscious of public displays of affection. So, she’d been looking directly at him and saw the subtle way his eyes hardened and his lips tightened.
But he politely pulled back, lowering their hands but not releasing her fingers and nodded to the waiter. “Everything is excellent. Thank you. We’ll take the check now.”
The waiter bowed ever so slightly, lifting his hands, and shaking his head. “Your dinner is compliments of the house, sir,” he replied. A moment later, the waiter bowed again and Becca had to stifle another burst of humor, especially when Alex sighed with obvious disgust.
“You don’t like an attentive waiter?”
He grumbled. “I don’t care for obsequious service.”
She tilted her head slightly. “You get a lot of that around here. You must be a frequent patron for everyone to recognize you.”
He tossed the linen napkin onto the table beside his plate. “It’s complicated,” he replied, barely able to hide his irritation. “Shall we move on to your next introduction of the pleasures of New Orleans?” he asked, tossing some money on the table to tip the waiter and extending his hand to her.
Becca smiled and placed her hand in his, standing up and carefully tugging the material of her dress down over her thighs. She’d borrowed the flowing yellow dress from Tallia and it was a bit more risqué than she was used to, but it definitely made her feel beautiful as the chiffon material fluttered around her legs. She’d also noticed Alex admiring the low neckline several times. Tallia was a bit bigger in the chest area than Becca, and her friend’s boobs most likely filled out the material more fully, keeping everything in place. With Becca’s smaller breast size, the material had a tendency to gape a bit.
It might be a problem if Becca didn’t like the way his eyes darted to the neckline every time she leaned forward. Becca loved the attention. It was her way of giving him the signal that she wanted more from him tonight than just a goodnight kiss. Her heart pounded at the idea. She was nervous and excited, thrilled and shocked at her daring.
Never in her life had she actually pursued a man. She’d dated several in the past, but none had caught her eye and tempted her as Alex did. He was bigger and larger than life in so many ways. Alex was the kind of man that women turned their heads to look at as he passed by. Becca knew this because she’d done so herself. Trying to be inconspicuous about her attraction to the man over the past couple of days had only caused her to notice things about him that literally caused her head to spin.
He stood up and took her hand, pulling her out of the chair and into his arms. “What are you doing?” she whispered, her hands plastered against his hard chest.
“I’m taking you to a jazz club,” he told her, but for a long moment, they simply stood there. She was painfully aware of him, of his body against hers, of the pulse pounding against her wrists. And he knew it too. He was the kind of man who noticed things like that. She knew that he recognized all of the signs of her awareness of him by the slow, seductive smile that curled the corners of his mouth.
“Don’t fight it, Becca,” he purred, and that was another indication. When he was aroused, his accent deepened. The southern drawl flattened out his words, the sounds coming out more melodic and emphatic. It was mesmerizing.
“We’re in the middle of the restaurant,” she told him, but she wasn’t thinking about the other patrons or the waiters or anyone out on the street that might be looking through the tall, glass windows of the restaurant. Passersby were walking along the sidewalk just a few feet away. If Becca were to look though, she’d notice that those passersby were focused on their own world and unaware of the two of them. Just as she was more aware of him, of the way she wanted him to pull her out of here and take her back to the hotel where they could make love to each other.
Did she say that? No way! She’d known the man for only two days and that definitely wasn’t long enough to know a man well enough to have sex. Her friends would be horrified if she told them that she was having sex with a man she’d known for such a short period of time. Especially Jane.
The thought of Jane and her sweet, non-judgmental image caused her to pull away. “Jazz?” she asked, her lips struggling to find the words that would break the spell.
His eyes moved slowly over her face, feature by feature. “Do you really want to listen to jazz, Becca?” he asked as he picked her purse up from the table. He was holding her hand as he led her out of the restaurant.
Did she? No. She’d already admitted that she wanted this man. But two days!
“Jazz,” she repeated as he pushed open the door. The earthy, sexy sounds of New Orleans slapped her in the face and she smiled up at him as they stepped out. The night air was a bit chillier than she’d anticipated. Immediately, he pulled his jacket off and wrapped it around her shoulders. “The weather here in New Orleans is a bit dicey around this time of the year. It’s hard to anticipate when it will be chilly and when it will be sweltering hot.”
She smiled up at him, pulling his jacket closer as they walked down the street. Becc
a buried her nose in the material, breathing deeply of his scent. The man smelled incredibly good! She had no idea where he got his cologne, but she decided she was going to find out and bring some home to New York City so she could bathe in it.
Well, maybe she’d just spritz it on her pillow every night so she could smell him over the long, cold winter months when she was lonely.
Looking up at him, she thought about those cold months. Would cologne spritzed on her pillow be enough? Was she wasting her time with him by holding off? Should she embrace her time with him and forget about all the rules that defined how long a person needed to know another before they entered into a sexually intimate relationship?
The music coming from the open doorway down the street distracted her from that mental argument and she looked around, trying to find the source of the music. It was loud and smooth, causing a body to want to sway to the beat. She knew immediately that she was going to love this place. It wasn’t anything like the jazz she’d heard on the radio. It had a bit more pizzazz to it, more swing, a rhythm that called to her.
“This is great!” she gasped as she stepped into the dimly lit bar or pub or whatever the people from New Orleans called a small bar like this one. The walls were painted black in some areas, but the old brick was still visible in others. The jazz quartet was up on a small stage in the back with an elaborately chiseled wood bar off to the side closer to the front. Other than the bar and the stage where the jazz quartet was playing, there were tables all over the place. The place was packed! The lucky ones had tables, but more people were leaning against the wall with a small ledge set up to hold their drinks.
He pulled her against his chest and lowered his head so that he was speaking into her ear, the only way she could hear him above the noise and the music. “Okay, now I’m going to say it. I told you,” and he ended that audacity by nipping the shell of her ear, which had her shivering against him. She was positive that he felt her reaction because his arms tightened around her for a moment before he released her, but he took her hand and led her through the mass of bodies that were drinking, laughing and swaying to the music. “This way,” he yelled out and lifted their connected hands up higher, over the others. She followed him, smiling her apologies to the others in the bar as they headed towards the band.
Passionate Mystery Page 5