Project Seduction

by Tatiana March

  "Christ, Georgina.” He kept staring at her, unable to look away. “You could have stopped me before we got this far."

  "Why?” she snapped. “Why should have I done that?"

  "Because it's too great a responsibility."

  "Are you telling me that you're afraid to sleep with me?"

  Rick tore his gaze away from her. He picked up his shirt and began to pull it over his arms. “I've never been anybody's first before,” he said. “I'd be terrified of hurting you."

  "Why are you putting your shirt on?"

  Rick lifted his hands, palms up, as though he wanted to ward off some kind of attack from her. “I think we need some time out."

  "This is not a bloody management meeting,” Georgina yelled.

  "What?"

  "Time out. That's a management term. When someone decides a meeting is heading to a wrong direction and needs to refocus."

  "That sounds about right,” Rick said.

  "Oh, piss off."

  "I'm sorry. I think it's better for both of us if I leave now. I'll call you, all right?"

  "Coward,” she yelled after him. There was some kind of thud against the bedroom door after he'd closed it behind him. He assumed it was nothing worse than a pillow.

  Jesus. He rolled his shoulders as he bolted through the front door and down the stairs. What a close call. A virgin. Georgina had no idea what that did to a man. Gut-wrenching excitement at being the first to possess her, combined with the overwhelming burden of setting a standard that others could never match.

  But what really made him scared was all those things he'd said and done. All those soft touches and soothing words.

  Tenderness.

  Georgina had no idea that he had just shared with her a piece of himself he had never shared with any other woman before.

  Had not been able to, because he hadn't known about tenderness until his child had taught him.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Nine

  When Georgina awoke the following morning she wasn't sure which part of her hurt the worst: her head, her heart, or her pride. She threw her silk robe over her shoulders and trundled into the kitchen, where her access to the sink was blocked by an enormous bouquet of flowers. She hoisted them out of the water and shoved them into a black garbage bag. She'd go down to the basement and dump them in the trash, leaving them right at the top where Rick was bound to see them.

  What was she going to do? If Rick wouldn't sleep with her, she'd never complete her project, and failure wasn't an option for Georgina Coleman.

  She stalked to the hall, where she retrieved the flowchart out of her briefcase. She studied it for a few quiet moments.

  Perhaps it wasn't such a disaster after all. Five milestones achieved in one night. Georgina ticked them off with her fingers to make sure. And she hadn't even done anything to learn about sex. No need. That had been a surprise. Her body knew what to do, even if her brain didn't.

  She folded the flowchart and stored it away with renewed determination.

  Seductive behavior.

  She'd work on that one, until Rick had no choice but to capitulate.

  * * * *

  "What's up? You look frazzled,” Annabel said to Georgina on Monday morning.

  "I got drunk on Saturday night. I spent most of yesterday huddled up in bed with a terrible hangover."

  "Drunk? You?” Annabel said in disbelief. “What on earth brought that about?"

  "I was working on my project. Alcohol seemed to speed things along."

  Annabel's eyes grew wide. “That stupid project. How did it go?"

  Georgina missed their earlier closeness, and decided to sacrifice her dignity. Perhaps a tale of her Saturday night's disaster would break the ice between them.

  "It's going brilliantly.” She held up her hand, fingers splayed. “Five milestones in one night."

  "What,” Annabel cried. “Did you..."

  "Almost.” Georgina bit her lip. It wasn't easy to disclose her intimate failures. “We would have, but Rick panicked when he found out I was a virgin."

  "You're a virgin?” Annabel blurted out.

  "But surely you knew?"

  "No.” Annabel stared at her. “I mean, I knew you were ... inexperienced. I thought, perhaps you'd been in a bad relationship. But I never realized you..."

  "Enough,” Georgina said dryly. “I get the drift. I'm a freak."

  Annabel reached out to touch her arm. “That's not what I meant."

  "Rick certainly freaked out.” Georgina pulled a face.

  "What did he do?"

  "He bounced off the bed, threw on his clothes, and bolted out of the door."

  "Did he say anything?"

  "Yes. He said ‘I'll call you'."

  Annabel tittered. “You've got to be kidding."

  "No.” Georgina shook her head. “I swear, that's what he said."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "I'm going to do exactly what I planned to do,” Georgina said firmly. “What this project has been about from day one. I'm going to seduce the bastard, even if it means I have to dance naked in front of him in the streets."

  "That might not be a good strategy,” Annabel pointed out.

  "I'll think of something.” Georgina's face furrowed. “Trust me. Rick won't stand a chance."

  "No,” Annabel said thoughtfully. “I don't think he does."

  "Good.” Georgina gave a determined nod. “Let's get on with the day. What do we have in the diary?"

  * * * *

  For the next three days, Georgina immersed herself in her work. Due to the growing problems with identity theft, the bank was introducing tighter security systems for online account access. Georgina had to coordinate between the IT department, Compliance, Client Services, and Finance.

  The IT geeks wanted the best technology. Compliance wanted the biggest firewalls and a million passwords. Client Services wanted the minimum inconvenience for the end users. Finance wanted it all done at the lowest possible cost.

  By Thursday, Georgina had relegated Rick Matisse into the category of a minor irritation.

  Shortly after ten that morning, Annabel's voice crackled over the intercom. “You have a Ricardo Matisse on line two. Do you want to take the call?"

  Georgina glanced at her watch. Sure. She could spare five minutes to find out what the jerk had to say.

  "Put him through,” she instructed Annabel. When the line clicked, she barked her name into the receiver.

  "It's Rick Matisse."

  "What do you want?"

  "And good morning to you too."

  "I'm busy.” Georgina paused and waited.

  "I have a question,” Rick said, his voice terse.

  "Then ask."

  "Why me?"

  Georgina listened to the silence that fell between them. What could she say that didn't include at least half a lie?

  Then Rick spoke again. “Is it just because you've decided it's time, and I'm convenient?"

  "No,” she said slowly, twisting the telephone cord in her hand. “It may have started like that, but then I got to know you. That changed things."

  "How?"

  "The way you are with Andy. The way you were with me on Saturday night. Gentle. That's what I want. I want it to be you. If someone else offered, I'd tell them no, because I want it to be you."

  "Good. That's what I needed to hear.” The background noise grew louder and Georgina guessed Rick was on a mobile phone in some public place. She heard him speak a few words in rapid Spanish. Then he came back on the line. “I've got to go."

  When she tried to ask him where he was telephoning from, she realized he was already disconnected. Glancing at her watch, Georgina gathered up a pile of papers. She was already late for a meeting with the IT architects.

  On her way back two hours later, Georgina hurried through the open-plan area outside her office. Annabel sat at her workstation, flicking through some sort of a brochure, eating with a plastic spoon
from a large tub of plain yoghurt. When she heard Georgina's footsteps, she looked up.

  Annabel was grinning at her. A big grin that split her face ear to ear.

  "What is it?” Georgina asked. “Did you win the lottery, or has your ex-husband been hit by a bus?"

  "Neither, regretfully. But you might like to look in your office."

  "What?” Georgina darted a glance at the firmly closed office door. “Is there someone waiting for me?"

  "No. But take a look. There's something waiting for you.” Smiling broadly, Annabel went back to turning the pages of her brochure.

  "Are you going on holiday?” Georgina asked, craning her neck.

  "No. I'm thinking of taking a real estate exam, to get a broker's license.” She glanced up at Georgina. “You're stalling. Go on. Go inside. It won't bite.” Annabel chuckled. “It might sting, but it won't bite."

  "What?” Georgina smiled, happy that Annabel's lust for life seemed to have returned. Then she pivoted on her heels and flung open the office door.

  Roses. A dozen long-stemmed red roses in a clear glass vase stood in the middle of her desk. Georgina took a few careful steps until she was close enough to touch her finger against a satiny petal.

  "If you touch them, it will make their heads droop.” Annabel's voice came from behind her. “Have you read the card?"

  Georgina glanced at Annabel over her shoulder. “No, but by the sound of it you have."

  "Oh my.” Annabel shook her head. “Someone's touchy today. This guy must be dumb, not to run a mile from you."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Read the card,” Annabel said. Then she closed the door softly between them.

  Georgina searched. In her impatience, she pricked her finger on a thorn and drew a drop of blood. She found the card tucked low between the stems.

  'Friday night, 8 pm.’ That's all it said.

  Georgina glanced at her wrist. Her hand was unsteady as she pressed the intercom. “Annie, can you cancel the meeting with Compliance this afternoon. Tell them I need more time to review our response to the Money Laundering Threat Assessment that the US government is working on."

  Then she tidied up her desk, walked out of the building, and drove down to the mall, where she spent eight hundred dollars on handmade underwear.

  * * * *

  Georgina stood in front her open wardrobe, dressed in nothing but a pair of pink panties and a matching camisole, stitched together from scraps of silk and antique lace. Her mathematical mind had worked out the price of the outfit per square inch of material. The result had almost made her faint.

  She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Sod the expense. She needed all the help she could get.

  The clock on the wall approached eight. She'd been late getting away from the bank, and Friday night traffic was always murder. Then she had lingered too long in the bath. Now she struggled to decide what to wear, and she was out of time.

  She'd keep it simple. Georgina yanked out the robe in ivory satin she'd worn on that first day when Rick had scared her through the balcony window. What was the point in getting all dressed up, when it would all come off soon anyway?

  The doorbell buzzed as she slotted her arms into the wide sleeves. Georgina froze. Either he was early, or her clock was late. She took a deep breath, and made her way into the hall.

  "Sorry,” she said as she stepped aside to let him through. “I'm not dressed yet."

  "Not a problem,” Rick replied with a nervous smile. “It will save time later.” He stood on the landing, making no effort to come inside. His outfit was the usual jeans, but teamed with the same white shirt he'd worn to the restaurant. Georgina imagined Andy washing and ironing it for him. The shirt was already getting creased where he'd rolled the sleeves up to his elbows.

  "It's going to make things complicated if you don't come in,” she told him.

  Rick cleared his throat. “I thought we'd go down to my place."

  "Oh.” She stared at him, speechless. Leave her apartment? Get out of her comfort zone, at time of such high anxiety? Did the man have no sense at all? She'd rather be dragged to the guillotine, kicking and screaming, than leave her apartment tonight. “I think I'd prefer to stay here,” she said with an effort to remain calm.

  "Come on.” Rick reached out to take her hand. “At least give it a try. If you're not comfortable there, we can come back."

  The only reason she agreed was because she became curious over why he had made the suggestion. On the stairs, she tripped over the long robe. Without a word, Rick scooped her up in his arms and carried her. She pressed her face into his shoulder, praying that none of the neighbors would happen past.

  Georgina had no idea how Rick managed to unlock the door while he held her. “Where's Andy?” she asked, as she caught a glimpse of the stark living room.

  "At Mrs. Donati's. With strict instructions not to come home until ten in the morning."

  "Oh my God. Do you think she'll figure us out?"

  Georgina rocked up and down in Rick's arms as he shrugged his shoulders. “I have no way of understanding what that child knows. She must gather information through some kind of osmosis. I can't seem to hide anything from her. It spooks the hell out of me."

  Georgina covered her face with her hands. “Oh my God. I'm going be scolded by a twelve year old for messing with her dad."

  Rick laughed. “She won't scold you. She likes you. But she'll press for details. Nosy little brat."

  "Oh my God.” Georgina dropped her hands from her eyes and laughed up at him. “This is crazy."

  "The best things in life are all crazy,” Rick said as he laid her down on her feet at the bedroom door.

  Georgina's mouth fell open. Her eyes roamed, taking in the room. Candles. Candles burned on every surface, including the pair of kitchen chairs that had been dragged in and lined up against the wall. Tall tapers and half melted stubs mingled with thick cylinders with triple wicks. A scent of vanilla hung in the air, underlined with something sharper. Perhaps pine.

  "You left the apartment empty with dozens of candles burning?” Georgina asked, aghast as she stared at the forest of flickering flames. Rejoice, Grandma Ethel, she thought fleetingly. See how well you taught me.

  "They're on metal trays,” Rick told her. “It was safe enough for a few minutes. I'd have come down to put them out, if you'd insisted on staying upstairs.” He picked up a remote, pointed it toward the living room, and pressed a button. A few seconds later, the voice of a haunting soprano drifted through.

  "This is lovely,” Georgina said. “Thank you."

  "I thought of getting a bottle of champagne, but then I decided against it. Better if you are clear headed."

  "I'm not so sure about that."

  "I am."

  He laid his hands over her shoulders and bent to kiss her, another slow lingering kiss that made no demands.

  When he lifted his head, Georgina took a small step back. “I think it was easier with champagne."

  He laughed softly. “That's why I don't want you to have any tonight."

  "What? So that you can make it difficult for me?” She stared up at him. “When I was drunk, my body took over and told me what to do. Now my brain is going to get in the way."

  He ran a finger down the front of her robe, dipping low between her breasts. “If I do my job right, your body will take over soon enough.” Reaching for her belt, he tugged it loose. “I wanted to do this that first night, when you invaded my apartment, screaming with fury like Queen Boudicca."

  Georgina swallowed. How could she ever have presumed him unintelligent?

  Then she forgot everything, because he pushed the robe open, and lowered his head to nibble on her neck.

  Rick slid the slippery fabric down Georgina's shoulders. She couldn't have worn anything that would have turned him on more. It made him think of how he'd held her that first night, struggling against him, spitting with rage. He pulled her arms from where they twined around his n
eck. The robe fell down, only held up by the sleeves that gathered over their joined hands. He let go. Georgina shook her wrists. The robe slithered the rest of the way and pooled on the floor behind her.

  "This is pretty,” he said, stroking the back of his hand over the flimsy sheath of pink silk and lace.

  "I'm glad you approve,” Georgina said. “I bought it yesterday afternoon."

  "For me?” His voice was husky. “You bought this for me?"

  "Uh-huh."

  Rick gathered her up and strode over to the bed, where he laid her down. Then he stripped off his clothes and joined her. He stretched out, propped up on one elbow, and let his eyes roam and feast.

  God give him the patience to go slow now.

  He ran his fingers over the little garment, wondering what it was called. “I guess this thing cost a fortune. You'd better take it off before I ruin it."

  "Doesn't matter,” Georgina said. “I bought lots."

  He groaned, pressing his face against the lace that covered her breasts. If he didn't know better, he'd suspect she was doing it on purpose. Setting him up for a fall. But this was sweet and innocent Georgina, so he had no need to worry.

  Rick inched up along her chest, until he found the hardened nipples straining against the silk. He teased them through the fabric with his hungry mouth. Georgina let out a stifled moan. Her fingers tangled in his hair. When he looked up, he saw her face twisted into a frown.

  "I'm too nervous,” Georgina said, meeting his gaze. “Can we just get on with it?"

  "Hush,” he said. He leaned in and kissed her mouth. Then he pressed his lips against her neck and begun a slow journey down her body. By the time he reached her pelvic mound, he could feel her trembling. He brushed his fingers around the high arches of her panties. “I'm going to take these off now. Is that all right?"

  She nodded at him, her eyes dark pools in the candlelight.

  Inch by inch, he dragged the material down her legs, caressing the smooth skin as he worked his way to her toes.

  "There,” he said, tossing the panties on the floor. He'd felt a telling dampness between her legs. Just as well, because he couldn't wait any longer.