Sultry Pleasure

by Lindsay Evans

  He winced. “About that…”

  There was no way to soften the blow and make himself look like any less of a fool or coward. “The deal. It went through.”

  She leaned back from him. “What?”

  “I tried to stop it, but I was too late. My father pushed the deal through.”

  He saw the shock come over her face. The realization of what that meant.

  “But you told me you were going to take care of it,” she said.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Her warmth in the sofa beside him suddenly became stone-cold. “I had a suspicion you wouldn’t allow yourself to lose money on this. You’re a businessman before anything else. I shouldn’t have let myself believe you’d let money slip through your fingers just because I asked you to.” She pressed her lips together, lashes fluttering in agitation. A hand clenched into the edge of the sofa, the knuckles turning gray. “Please leave.”

  The pain in her eyes slayed him. “Diana, I tried to make this go away.”

  “Now you can do the next best thing and make yourself go away.” She abruptly stood up and backed away from him. Her gaze speared down at him. “I’m sure you won’t mind that I don’t see you out.”

  Marcus was used to volatile women who threw things. Who yelled and screamed in the throes of their anger. Diana was frozen. An icicle straight to his chest.

  “You have to believe I did everything I could,” he said.

  “Obviously you didn’t. Please. I’m finished with this conversation.” She turned her back to him and walked to her desk. “Just leave my office. Leave this building. I think you’ve done enough for us.”

  His whole body groaned with regret as he levered himself up from the couch. “For what it’s worth, I really am sorry about this.”

  “It’s not worth the dirt under your shoe.” She sat in the chair behind her desk.

  He watched her, feeling bereft. Angry at himself for allowing things to go this far when he could have taken care of it all before the fund-raiser at his house. Now he had lost her. And lost the regard he once had for his father. Marcus turned to leave.

  “Tell me.”

  He paused at the sound of her voice.

  “Why did you fix our porch and do all these things for us if you planned on demolishing the building anyway?” Cold voice. Granite eyes. Hands flat against the top of her desk. Unmoving. As if more hinged on his answer than he would ever imagine.

  He didn’t bother denying that he had been the anonymous donor who sent the contractor over to fix the hurricane damage. “I did it because I wanted to make you happy.”

  A bitter smile stretched the corners of her mouth. “I guess you’re no longer interested in making me happy.”

  Before he could reply, she looked down at her computer and tapped the keyboard, effectively dismissing him. Marcus’s chest felt encased in ice, his body numb and cold from her complete dismissal. He wanted to say more. He wanted to get her to look at him again. He wanted the world.

  But she only tapped at the computer keys as if he was no longer standing there. As if he didn’t exist. Feeling loss like he’d never known before, he turned and left her office. As he walked through the narrow hallway and toward the door, he felt the eyes of Diana’s colleagues on him. He forced himself to walk at the same pace when he wanted to rush away from their looks of condemnation.

  “That was a short visit,” Carla chirped as he approached the vestibule.

  He smiled tightly. “Every good thing must come to an end.” He tapped fingers to his forehead in a casual salute. “See you some other time.”

  “Have a good afternoon!” She smiled back.

  Out on the street, he stood still for a moment, watching the light traffic wind past his car. Young men stood on the street corner. A woman pushed a stroller while a boy skipped at her side. A grandmother sat on her porch listening to gospel music on the radio at her side.

  All this was changing. Because of him.

  He drew in a breath and pushed it out. He tried to think like his father in that moment—no regrets—but couldn’t. Marcus sighed again, then got in his car and drove away.

  Chapter 25

  Diana wasn’t sure she wanted to go to Bailey and Seven Carmichael’s party. It had been weeks since she and Marcus had talked. Since that disastrous morning he had come to see her in her office. Her office that was now packing up in preparation to move to a higher-rent office miles away from her house and from the city.

  She hadn’t done much socializing, either personally or for Building Bridges, afraid that she would run into Marcus. Diana had spent nearly nine weeks keeping mostly to herself, going on occasional spa dates with Trish, rebuilding her relationship with Jason and spending more time with her mother.

  She’d tried to allow the truth of her mother’s words to manifest itself. That if Marcus belonged with her, he would make his way back. But in these past two months, she hadn’t seen or heard from him. The pain of his absence had brought her to tears on many nights, leaving her sobbing in bed, unable to catch her breath.

  Still, despite the way things had ended between them, whenever she remembered Marcus, she remembered how good it felt to be with someone who didn’t demand, who only gave and loved and cherished her and made her feel more desirable than she ever had in her life. But she had to get over that. She had to allow those memories to fade and lose their power over her.

  It was Bailey Carmichael who pulled her out of her funk. Her new friend had come to her office with cupcakes to share the news that she was pregnant. She wanted Diana to come to the baby shower. But before that shower, she wanted to throw a party.

  Glowing in a white pantsuit that fit her still-slender frame perfectly, Bailey told Diana she would love to have her over.

  “But I don’t want to run into…anyone,” Diana said.

  “You won’t. I haven’t seen Marcus in ages. I think he’s out of the country. Seven knows for sure, but I haven’t asked him.”

  And so Diana agreed to go to the party, and she brought Trish with her as her plus one. The party was a lavish affair in the penthouse apartment Seven had recently acquired through a bizarre trade for a sculpture from a businessman in Dubai. The apartment was even grander than the one they already owned. It was on the bay, overlooking the glittering lights of downtown. Stepping out on the balcony of the fiftieth-floor apartment made it seem entirely possible to touch the stars.

  Diana stood on the balcony, looking up at the sky. And wishing. She had a drink in her hand, something sweet and frothy Seven had given her with a gentle smile. Diana had nodded her thanks, knowing he probably thought she was pathetic for still pining over Marcus. A man who had broken the simplest of promises to her. Promises he hadn’t even had to make. She tasted the drink, swallowed the sour and sweet concoction and sighed.

  “Stop blowing all that air over there. You’re making my chest hurt.”

  Trish walked onto the balcony carrying a glass of champagne, always her drink of choice. She wore a clinging red dress, her new waist-length hair draped over her breast as she slid the door closed and joined Diana under the stars.

  “I can do what I want,” Diana said petulantly.

  “It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to?”

  Diana made a sound that could have been a laugh. “It’s Bailey’s party, you know.”

  “Hmm. I’m sure you’ve done enough crying for both of you.” Trish came to stand beside her. The smell of her perfume surrounded Diana with its sticky sweetness. Her friend rested her arms against the railing and leaned over to look down. The crystal-blue pool. The bay. Other apartments. Beautiful Miami. “Why don’t you at least try to find Marcus?” At Diana’s poisonous look, she threw up her hands, sipped her champagne. “Or you could at least try dating again. I know you got used to that good sex with him. Find a replacement. Live your life.”

  If only it were that easy. She’d never met a man as generous in bed, as funny, as easy to be with as Marcus. Every time she h
eard Johnny Hartman sing, she thought of him. Every time she imagined stepping out of her day-to-day routine, she imagined doing it with him.

  The week before, she’d taken off an impromptu weekend and flown to a small mountain town in Mexico with beautiful doors and bougainvillea draped throughout the landscape. She went alone, spoke the decent amount of Spanish she’d learned from living in Miami and surprised herself by having a good time. She’d thought of him, imagined him, watched the sunrise and wanted him by her side.

  She wouldn’t have gone if she hadn’t known Marcus. He made stepping outside of her comfort zone seem so easy. And it had been easy. All she had to do was buy the ticket and arrange for her temporary rooftop casa, and that had been that.

  “I wish I could do that, Trish. I really do.”

  Her friend pursed her lips. “Well, the least you can do, then, is come inside to this party with me and enjoy yourself instead of standing out here and moping. The music is great, the champagne is divine, and every hot body in there is gorgeous enough to make me think of going bisexual.”

  Diana chuckled weakly. “Really, Trish?”

  “Come on. You’re not getting any younger, and you’re not going to get laid by standing out here alone.”

  “But I don’t want to get laid.”

  “Ha! You say that now, but wait until you see the thick and tender meat that walked in while you were out here doing your solo Romeo and Juliet act.”

  “What?”

  “Come on.” Trish tossed back the last of her champagne and tucked her arm through Diana’s. “The night is young, and you’re too beautiful not to share it with a hot and hung stud.”

  She opened the balcony door, and the sounds of the latest hit song by Beyoncé poured out over them. Trish was right. The party was lively, and just about everyone was gorgeous. She recognized a few people from the dinner parties she’d attended at Bailey and Seven’s place in the past. Many were artist types with interesting hair and beautifully patterned and bright dresses.

  “See what I mean?” Trish squeezed her hand and jerked her chin toward the room full of hotness.

  Diana had to smile. With a carefree smile, Trish tugged her toward a circle of people gathered not far from the door—three impressive-looking men and two women. Diana could already see how Trish’s mind was working.

  The five-some glanced their way as they joined them, the men bowled over by Trish as usual, the women giving both her and Diana interested smiles.

  “We want in on this conversation,” Trish said with a laugh as they walked up.

  One of the women laughed, too, looking Trish over with more than platonic interest. “Come on in, beautiful ladies. There’s always room for more.”

  The others apparently agreed because in moments, they absorbed Diana and Trish into their discussion about the cliquish nature of the Miami art scene.

  “What do you think?” one of the men who’d introduced himself as Alfonso asked. His brown eyes were warm and familiar as he checked out Diana’s body.

  Although she wasn’t by any means interested in him, she was glad she’d made an effort and put on the vintage Dior, a pale pink dress that hugged her torso and flared out around her knees, emphasizing her curves and downplaying the weight she’d lost in recent weeks.

  “I don’t know much about the art scene here, I’m afraid,” she said with a shrug. “I work in nonprofit.”

  “Oh, really? I’d love to show you around and show you what I like.” Alfonso’s smile was even warmer now. “And of course, you can tell me all about your work.”

  Trish directed a Cheshire cat grin at her, although her friend seemed to be busy negotiating something with the woman who had called her beautiful.

  “That would be nice,” Diana said. “I love—” Her voice trailed off as familiar wide shoulders caught her eye. The rest of her words dropped back down her throat. She swallowed. Looked again, but the shoulders had disappeared. No. It couldn’t be him. Bailey said he was out of the country.

  “Are you okay?” Alfonso asked the question the same moment Trish touched her back in concern.

  “Honey?”

  Diana shook herself. “Oh…I’m fine. I just thought I saw someone I knew.”

  Trish’s expression cleared. She looked up and around the room, eyes narrowed. Diana cleared her throat and refocused on Alfonso. “I’m sorry. What was I saying?”

  A quick smile flashed across the man’s face. “You were saying you’d love to go out with me to Miami Art Walk tomorrow evening.”

  Diana curled her cold fingers into the hem of her dress and tried to match his expression. “That would be—”

  “She’ll be busy tomorrow night.”

  The entire circle turned to see who had spoken. But Diana didn’t need to look. Her mouth silently formed his name. Not in surprise, but relief. She realized then that she had been waiting for him. Ever since she’d arrived at the party. Ever since he’d walked out of her office all those weeks ago. She had been waiting.

  “Listen, man—”

  But Trish put a hand on Alonso’s arm and shook her head. A warm hand touched Diana’s back, burning into her skin through the dress. She smelled him, like the breeze of the ocean. Marcus.

  She turned. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

  Or at least that was what she started to say. But the sight of him stopped her. His cheekbones were more pronounced than when she’d seen him last. But he looked incredible in a dark vest buttoned over a plaid, long-sleeved shirt rolled up to reveal muscular arms, faded jeans with a wide leather belt that emphasized the masculine heaviness of his crotch, and leather boots. Delicious. She felt like a woman lost in the desert for days suddenly faced with an oasis. A fountain. Green palm trees overhead. Water to slake her long and undeniable thirst.

  She flinched away from him, unable to bear the way her body melted and tingled at his touch. Hurt flickered in his eyes but made him seem more determined that ever to say what he came to.

  “Step outside with me for a minute?” He watched her as if nothing else in the world mattered.

  Diana felt the interested eyes of the others in the circle on her, on Marcus. Their curiosity. Even Alfonso was staring from her to Marcus with fascination.

  “I have nothing to say to you, Marcus.” It’s been over two months, she wanted to scream at him. Two months where part of her had hoped he would come back and try again, say something else to her. “I—”

  Trish squeezed her hand. “Why don’t you go somewhere more private, honey?” Her best friend’s words were soft, a gentle warning in her ear.

  It was only then Diana realized that it wasn’t just the circle that stared at her and Marcus. Almost the entire room had grown quiet to watch and see what would be the outcome of this unexpected drama. Hot color rushed under her cheeks.

  “No,” she said. And the word was loud. Louder than she’d intended. And those who hadn’t been looking at them freely stared now.

  Marcus only watched her with infinite patience. His body was still and quiet, as if he would wait for her until the end of time.

  “You’ll regret it if you don’t,” Trish said softly.

  And suddenly, Diana knew her friend was right. She had been waiting for Marcus, and now he was here. Had she been waiting only to turn him away? Or was this her chance to release the sadness that had lingered around her life like stale perfume?

  Diana walked away from the circle of eyes and went out toward the balcony. Marcus followed silently, then stepped easily in front of her to open the sliding glass door. The door whispered closed behind her as he pulled it shut. She was more than aware of the clear glass and the eyes still on them, but she thought of the dangers of being in a private room away from the others, the strong possibility that he would use her weakness against her and she would end up on her knees, her love for him a thudding heartbeat against her tongue.

  But was this worse?

  He turned to look at her. A beautiful man. A man beyond compa
re.

  “I’ve wanted to see you for weeks.” His voice was rough. In need.

  “I didn’t want to see you,” she lied.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. She watched his fists clench through the thick material of his jeans. “Diana. I never wanted things to be like this. My—I made a miscalculation.” He clenched his teeth, as if trying to prevent himself from saying something terrible. “I shouldn’t have gone into business with my father.” Marcus shook his head. “That partnership is over now.”

  She felt a hitch in her throat. Was that the truth? Or was he saying whatever he needed to get back into her bed? But even as the question tripped through her mind, she realized he had never lied to her. He’d left things out, but he’d never lied.

  “My father is not a bad man,” Marcus said. “He—”

  Diana clenched her back teeth. She hadn’t come out to the balcony to talk about Quentin Stanfield. She already knew where she stood with him. “What is it that you have to say to me, Marcus? I have to get back to the party.”

  “You mean get back to that prick with the goatee who probably couldn’t get it up enough to satisfy you?” His face became hard then, its naked jealousy a dangerous and exhilarating thing.

  “Yes.” She propped her fists on her hips, challenging him with her gaze.

  His face spasmed in pain. Her breath caught. “Don’t do that,” he said. Voice tortured. Pain naked. His hands left his pockets. “Please don’t.”

  She swallowed. “Why not?”

  “Because even though I messed up, I love you.” He blew out a harsh breath. “You have to know that.”

  She didn’t. How could she? “You only want me in your bed. That’s all you’ve ever wanted. And you kept things from me to keep me there.”

  “That’s not true. I was going to tell you about the deal, but I was too afraid of your reaction. I was afraid of this. Forgive me, please.” He dropped to one knee and she gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. “I need you, Diana.” His other knee met the ground. “I’ve been a wreck over this for weeks.”