“You still look hot,” he said. “You’re welcome to strip down to your panties if it’ll help you cool off some.”
“But then you’d be the one overheating,” she countered without missing a beat. “How about you turn up that air conditioner over there instead of trying to sweat me out of here.”
He grinned. “But I like watching you sweat.”
She stood up from her chair, quickly skirted his knees and headed for the door. “I think we’re finished for now,” she said as she tugged her jacket back on.
“Did I do something to offend you?”
She smiled a slow, sultry version of her perfect smile. “I’m not that easily offended. I just want to give you some time to think about what we’ve talked about. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Sure. And wear that top again, okay? I really like it.”
“I’ll hand out the fashion advice, and you stick to what you know how to do best.”
That was exactly what Zane intended to do.
5
NAOMI GOT INTO HER CAR and stripped off her jacket in the stifling heat, turned the air on full blast, then checked her day planner for her next appointment. She had a manicure and facial scheduled for five o’clock, but until then, she was free. She flipped the page to her to-do list and scanned it for something that would fit into her free time.
Before she could settle on anything, her cell phone rang.
“Naomi Tyler,” she answered.
“It’s Talia. Where are you?”
“Just finishing up with a new client. Why?”
“Good news. I’ve talked to Booty Call Ken, and he’s agreed to do you.”
Naomi took a deep breath and sighed, unsurprised that Talia was moving ahead with her crazy idea. She glanced up at Zane’s apartment. The window was empty, thank goodness. The last thing she needed was him staring down at her with that predatory gaze of his, making her feel as though he’d already eyed her as the next sheep to fall from the flock.
Even worse, he made her feel as though she wanted to fall.
“Naomi? Are you there? Can you hook up with him tonight?”
“I’m not going to need his services,” she said. “I’ve found someone else.”
“Who?” Talia demanded, sounding as if she didn’t buy the story for a second.
“It’s not anyone you know.”
Could Naomi really have been deciding to sleep with a client?
“You’d better not be stringing me along. It wasn’t easy getting Ken nailed down for you.”
Yes, she could. Anything was better than sleeping with some guy named Booty Call Ken.
But Zane was more than just a booty call. He was the hottest guy she’d ever seen, and something about him called out to her in a way she’d never experienced before. She’d reacted to him like she’d never reacted to any other man in her life, and that had to mean something.
It was as if her instincts were telling her he’d play some part in her destiny, hokey as that sounded. Definitely not something she’d be repeating to Talia.
“I’m dead serious. This time tomorrow, I’ll know for sure if I’m orgasm-impaired or if all my past boyfriends were clueless.”
“Well, if you’re sure you don’t want Ken—”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay, I want all the lurid details tomorrow. I’ve gotta go,” Talia said, sounding distracted. “Bye.”
Naomi hung up the phone, frowning at Talia’s odd behavior.
Hell, forget Talia’s behavior—how about her own? She’d somehow lost her mind since her fallout with Jackson. Lost her mind and let her brazen hussy side take over and start calling the shots.
Well, her morally uptight side had been calling the shots up until a few hours ago, and look where that had gotten her.
She glanced back down at her to-do list and spotted an item she could complete in the neighborhood of the day spa where her next appointment was scheduled. Deliver business cards to Dad.
Her father wanted to have extras on hand to give out to potential clients, and since he was her biggest promoter, she couldn’t turn down his help. She had cards in her purse, so she headed out of Zane’s parking lot toward her father’s Atlanta office, where he was in town from Washington working this week.
The monotony of driving led her thoughts back to Zane, though, exactly where she didn’t want them to be. He’d tested her this afternoon, left her aching and imagining and wanting in a way she never had before.
And the closer she got to her father’s office, the more all her desires began to bump up against her damn moral conscience again. So she waffled back and forth, horny-guilty-horny-guilty, until she decided maybe delivering the business cards to her father was a bad idea.
Could she face him in this state? She sure as hell didn’t want to. Knowing her father, he’d be able to see the guilt in her eyes.
But if she couldn’t face him, then what did that say about her as an independent woman? Not much. She wasn’t going to let anyone else’s opinions guilt her out of doing what she had to do, and she wasn’t going to let her parents intimidate her into being the version of herself they thought she should be. She lived by her own rules, not theirs.
Ten minutes later, she pulled into the parking lot of Atchison Tyler’s office building and parked, took a deep breath, grabbed her jacket and tugged it on before anyone could spot her in the lace camisole.
Inside, bathed in the cool, unscented air of the office building, she started feeling more like her old self and less like her sweaty, wanton alter ego. She straightened her jacket, smoothed back her hair, and flashed a wide smile at the receptionist.
“Miss Tyler, what a nice surprise,” the receptionist said when she looked up from her desk.
“Hi, Stella.”
“You can go on in,” she said. “He’s just answering e-mail right now.”
Her father’s reception area was warm and inviting, from the gleaming cherry furniture to the homespun Norman Rockwell prints on the walls. Everything was meant to project the values Atchison Tyler stood for—family, community, traditionalism and America.
Naomi braced herself and knocked quickly, then opened the door when she heard her father call, “Come in.”
When he saw her, his expression transformed into a wide grin, and he stood up. “Hello, sweetheart!”
“Hi, Dad,” she said, trying her best not to look guilty.
She entered and closed the door, then allowed herself to be enveloped in her father’s enthusiastic hug.
If his reception area advertised his public politics, his office screamed more of the same, but on a personal level. Certificates and degrees adorned the walls, along with carefully chosen family photos that her father never would have admitted were there to further his political image.
He’d even managed to make her mother’s missionary work—a touchy subject if ever there was one—a symbol of his politics, with a photo of her in Venezuela proudly displayed on his bookcase.
“Now what brings me the pleasure of this visit?” he said as he settled back into his chair.
Naomi produced a small box of business cards from her purse and set them on the desk. “My cards that you asked for.”
“Oh, good. How’s business going?”
Naomi shrugged. If she didn’t tell him about Zane, she wouldn’t be able to respect herself. “Not bad. I think I’ve got a client who could create a lot of buzz in my favor, if I can get him to cooperate with me.”
“A client who doesn’t want your services?”
“It’s a journalist—Zane Underwood—and this is a Mediacom-mandated consultation. They’re not happy with his renegade image.”
Her father made a face at the mention of Zane’s name. “If you can turn that joker into a respectable journalist, I’ll be impressed.”
“I’m not getting my hopes up. Like I said, he’s not cooperating. But I think he’ll come around if his job really is at stake.”
As if her father sensed th
ere was some danger Zane posed to her, he frowned.
Naomi decided to change the subject quickly before she had to answer any difficult questions. “So have you heard from Mom lately?”
Naomi’s mother had experienced what must have been a midlife crisis three years ago when she’d up and gone on mission to Venezuela. She’d claimed to have been putting her own dreams on hold for too long and, ignoring everyone’s protests—most notably Naomi’s father’s—she’d taken off.
The frown disappeared. “Just yesterday, actually. She’s helping build a school in the village.”
“Oh, I think she mentioned that to me in her last letter.”
Her father had mellowed over time about the subject of his wife being on the other side of the world. There was nothing he could do to bring her back, so he seemed to accept with grim approval the occasional visits they had, along with her mother’s vague answers about when she planned to return to the U.S.
“She asked about you, wanted to know how you and Jackson are getting along.”
This was her father’s roundabout way of prying for information he actually wanted to know.
Naomi swallowed. Her father hadn’t expressed any strong opinions one way or another about Jackson, which was about as close as he was likely to come to granting his approval.
“Actually,” she said, “we broke up.”
“Oh, sweetie, what happened?”
Now there was one conversation she absolutely was not going to have with her dad.
“Long story. We just didn’t have the same priorities, and it was time for us to part ways.”
The frown returned. “Well, that’s actually a welcome bit of news, because Marc Atwell has been asking about you, and I think the two of you would make a fine pair.”
Oh, Lord. “Dad, matchmaking is not one of your more notable skills. I can find my own dates, thanks.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Just thought I’d make the suggestion. It’s not every day you meet a man of such notable character as Marc.”
She didn’t have the heart to tell her father his noble and admirable Marc Atwell was the very same loser who’d cornered her at a political rally years ago and invited her to the public restroom for a little down-and-dirty action. He’d used much cruder terms, though.
Her father wanted to believe in the good in people and was easily angered by the bad. Naomi had learned long ago to avoid pointing out people’s flaws to him.
He’d be absolutely furious if he knew what a bad girl she’d been fantasizing about being.
“I’ve got an appointment to make,” she said, edging toward the door.
“Oh, before I forget, your mother said to keep the letters coming. They really help her keep her mood up when the going gets tough.”
Sure, Naomi would be a good daughter and write. Though it took all her willpower not to ask the burning question—why did you just up and leave, Mom? And why won’t you come back?
“Okay. Are you heading back to Washington soon?”
“In another week, after I take care of some business here.”
She gave her father a goodbye hug and walked out the door, her shoulders straight, her posture erect. Naomi was proud of herself. She’d faced her father, and while that may not have seemed like any monumental accomplishment to the rest of the world, it was a respectable one to her.
Before long, she’d be able to do something really bold. Something wild. Something completely out of character for the good girl she’d been raised to be.
TALIA SANK ONTO THE SOFA and eyed her cordless phone, willing it to ring. She’d tried calling Ken after she’d spoken to Naomi, but there was no answer at his place. And now Talia was restless, hung up on the idea of having Ken for herself tonight, frustrated that she had no way of sealing the deal.
She’d made plans to go out with the girls, but those plans easily could be broken if it meant getting laid. Her friends would understand that a night with Booty Call Ken superceded all other engagements.
But without a cell phone or pager number, there was little she could do but hope he got her message to call. And wait.
Talia was no good at waiting. She detested it, in fact. She hadn’t made partner at her law firm at the age of thirty-three by sitting around waiting for things to happen, and she certainly didn’t think anything positive would come from waiting for her social life to get interesting.
She’d taken off from work early to make sure she had plenty of time to get ready for a much-needed night of fun, and if the fun wasn’t going to happen on its own, she could sure as hell make it happen.
The latest issue of Erotica Journal lay on the coffee table, neglected, so she grabbed it and flipped through until a story caught her eye. It was about a woman whose fantasies led her to anonymous encounters in dark alleys and on elevators, in seedy motel rooms and in the back seats of cabs—wherever there was a willing male and a semiprivate place.
Talia’s kind of girl, and also her kind of story.
Having just gotten out of the shower fifteen minutes ago, Talia was still dressed in her robe with nothing on underneath. She let the robe fall open as she sat leaning back on the couch, and a delicious pressure began to build between her legs as she read.
Without the promise of a night with Ken, what else could she do but get rid of some of her nervous energy?
Her hand traveled down her own abdomen to her slick, already wet center. Dipping her fingers inside, she rubbed the dampness around on her clit and began to massage.
She imagined a gorgeous stranger’s cock inside her in some dark, stalled elevator, pumping into her, his hands gripping her ass, his mouth against her breasts….
And as the sweet tension built inside her, she closed her eyes, got lost in her own body—
Then the phone rang.
Talia tried to block out the sound and keep going, but a moment later, the answering machine picked up. “Hi, Talia, it’s Ken. I got your message—”
She lurched across the couch and grabbed the phone. “Hi, Ken. You have awful timing.”
“Oh, sorry. You’re busy? I can call back.”
Talia bit her lip. She hadn’t slept with Ken in probably six months, but she could still remember how amazing he’d been as if it were last night. “I was just getting myself off, actually.”
Silence on the line, and then, “You mean you were touching yourself.”
“Mmm, hmm.”
“Are you still?”
“Do you want me to be?”
She heard his breathing on the phone. And then, “Yes.”
“Okay,” she said.
She could do this. She’d never actually had phone sex before, though she’d done her share of talking dirty, and Talia was always game for new experiences.
She reclined back on the couch, spread her legs, and started massaging herself again. “Now I am,” she said.
“Want some help?”
“You mean phone sex?” she said, smiling.
“Yeah,” Ken said, his voice dropping an octave.
Was it wrong to have phone sex with the guy she’d been trying to arrange a booty call for her best friend with? Was there some unwritten rule about this kind of thing? Talia stopped mid-stroke.
Naomi had insisted she’d never be interested in Ken, so it was a nonissue, really.
Besides, Ken was sort of a public-property male…wasn’t he?
Talia sighed, her state of arousal dampened by even the idea that she might somehow be betraying Naomi. “Listen, I hate to bring this up now, but I was calling to let you know that my friend changed her mind. She’s not interested.”
“Oh, good. Because I wasn’t, either.”
“Then why’d you agree to meet her?”
“I was trying to figure out some way to get an in with you, actually.”
Talia smiled at the phone. This was a very interesting development. So long as by “in,” he meant inside her. She didn’t have the time or the inclination for any
thing more complex, and Ken had always seemed like the kind of guy who could understand her sex-not-love philosophy.
“By sleeping with my friend?”
“No, I was just going to talk to her, find out if you were seeing anyone.”
“Wouldn’t it be a hell of a lot easier to just ask me?”
He laughed. “Probably, but I was a little intimidated, and you called for your friend, not yourself.”
She’d intimidated him? Ken, with the do-me body and the to-die-for cock, was capable of being intimidated by a woman?
The whole idea seemed both preposterous and charming.
Talia had intimidated her share of men, but usually it was with her stature—nearly six feet—or with her court record—nearly flawless.
“Why on earth would you be intimidated by me?” she purred.
“Because you’re not like any other woman I’ve been with.”
Now that was the right answer.
Talia laughed. “How can you know that when we’ve barely talked outside of bed?”
“It’s just a feeling.”
This conversation was getting slightly weird, and she wanted to get past the talking and move on to the action.
“Well, I’ve got a feeling about you, too,” she said, smiling. “And mine’s based totally on the fact that you’re one of the best lays I’ve ever had.”
“You know, I’ve settled down some recently. I don’t sleep with everything in a skirt like I used to.”
“How about girls who aren’t wearing skirts?”
“Does that include you?”
“Mmm, hmm.” She felt the warm, tingly tension building inside her again.
“Why don’t you tell me what you are wearing right now.”
The delicious buzzing resumed between her legs. She smiled. “Just a white satin robe, open in the front. I’m lying on the couch, and I’ve got my hand between my legs.”
He breathed hard into the phone. “So you’re naked. No bra, no panties?”
“Yeah.” She was fully aroused now, so very ready to go.
She just needed him there with her. At least in spirit.
“I remember that little rose tattoo you have right above your ass. That was sexy as hell.”
Sexy All Over Page 5