The Tycoon's Temptation (HQR Silhouette Desire)

by Katherine Garbera

  She didn’t say anything.

  “Why worry about the future? Let’s take this one moment at a time. I’m only asking you to eat with me.” Even though he knew he was planning to do more than eat. He was planning to seduce this sassy woman into his bed so that he could experience her fire and verve with every part of his body.

  “One moment at a time,” she said.

  “Exactly.”

  “Okay, dinner, but at my place. Dress casually.”

  Preston nodded and waited until she climbed inside the cab of the old truck. She looked out of place in her vehicle, but it had been lovingly restored. It made him realize that she was the kind of woman who cherished the past. He’d been running from it all of his life.

  She rolled down the window and handed him a business card. “My home address is on the back, come by around seven.”

  Preston watched her drive away and didn’t like the feeling. His mind raced ahead as he plotted a way to have her without giving up himself.

  When Lily had called Preston to say she couldn’t keep their dinner plans, Preston’s first instinct was to spend the night working as he usually did. But he finished early on the job site. He was one of those workaholic hands-on bosses. Jay had told him he worked too hard and to enjoy some of the sin in the Crescent City. Though she’d done nothing to encourage it, the image of Lily appeared in his head.

  He had his secretary call Christian’s Restaurant on Iberville and had swung by to pick up dinner. He told himself it was just good business to stop and see how the work was progressing on his resort, but he wanted to see Lily again. Wanted to prove to himself that she wasn’t as sassy and sexy as he remembered. Wanted to prove to himself that she was nothing more than a subcontractor.

  He pulled into the parking lot behind Sentimental Journey. Her shop had Old World elegance and New Orleans charm. Priceless antiques sat next to Mardi Gras masks and beads. It reminded him a little of the lady who owned and operated the place.

  He sat in his eighty-five-thousand-dollar car listening to Mozart and doubting his actions. He’d always steered a true course to his destination, and this was an unplanned side trip. One that made no sense to the bottom line.

  He thought about leaving, but that felt cowardly to him. He was a man’s man. A man of action. Not someone who turned tail and ran. He could handle this situation and this woman.

  He exited his Jaguar and pocketed the keys. The spicy Cajun food smelled aromatic. He figured she’d let him in for the food, if for nothing else.

  He knocked on the screen door at the back. Harry Connick, Jr., played softly in the background. Lily glanced up and froze. He’d caught her off guard. Something he would wager not many people did.

  “I brought dinner.” Great. He sounded like some lame guy from a computer-dating service.

  “I…uh…thanks.”

  “Can I come in?”

  “Sure. Let me finish with this varnish, and I’ll get the door.”

  He watched her through the mesh screen, feeling the way he had as a boy when he’d scored an unexpected soccer goal against an especially fierce rival team. The only thing he could imagine that would equal the sensation would be to kiss her. To feel her energy and passion up close and personal.

  Three

  “Thanks for bringing dinner,” Lily said, as she opened the door for him.

  “No trouble.”

  Her workroom was cluttered with antiques, most of them in a sad state of disrepair. “There’s a table upstairs where Mae and I usually eat lunch.”

  “Lead on.”

  Lily was aware of how faded and worn her jean overalls were as she preceded Preston up the stairs. Though she knew it was probably only her imagination, she felt his gaze on her backside as she climbed the stairs.

  The attic was large and spacious, sometimes serving as a guest room for her family when they all visited for Mardi Gras. There was an old butcher-block table that Lily had found at an estate sale three years ago and some ladder-back chairs she’d bought from a wholesaler last winter.

  The kitchenette had a small refrigerator and microwave, and there was a tester bed pushed against one wall, covered with the first quilt Lily had ever made. Two wide windows let in the early-evening sunlight, and a big paddle fan kept the hot air circulating.

  “Sorry there’s no air-conditioning up here.”

  Preston removed his suit jacket and tie and rolled up his sleeves. There was a sprinkling of dark hair on his arms and at his neck. Lily wanted to touch it and see if it was as springy as it looked.

  She took the dinner bags from Preston and began to set the table with mismatched plates. Preston took a bottle of French wine from one of the bags.

  “Do you have a corkscrew?”

  “In that basket by the microwave.”

  “I picked this up last summer at the vineyard in France,” he said.

  “I’ve always wanted to do one of those wine-tasting tours in Napa Valley.”

  “You should. Napa is beautiful.”

  “Maybe someday.”

  Lily and Preston took their seats, and the mournful sound of a saxophone from the street drifted through the open windows. Lily closed her eyes, enjoying the music and the scent of the food Preston had brought.

  “I really needed a break. Thanks for doing this.”

  “I didn’t mind. I’d been looking forward to seeing you again.”

  “Too bad you didn’t meet me sooner. Then I wouldn’t have been postponed on your calendar twice.”

  He smiled ruefully. “I am a busy man.”

  “When it suits you to be,” she said.

  “True.”

  Preston wasn’t the type of man to bring a pizza and beer, Lily thought as she bit into the shrimp Marigny he’d brought from one of the city’s most expensive restaurants. The food was delicious, and Lily waited until Preston was halfway through his meal before bringing up the challenge he’d issued her the night before.

  “I think I found a couple who married only for love.”

  “Really?”

  “My friend Kelly. I believe you mentioned you know her husband, Brit.”

  “What makes you believe they married for love?”

  “Kelly wouldn’t marry a man she didn’t love.”

  “Brit would marry a woman he didn’t love.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No. He married her to arrange financing for the mansion. Her family has the connections he needed.”

  Lily knew what he’d said was true. Kelly was the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in America, but she was also a dreamer. She and Kelly had spent many a night talking about the white knights that would ride up and rescue them.

  “But they love each other now.”

  “Who’s to say what’s in another man’s heart. He does seem to care deeply for her.”

  “I know it’s more than caring.”

  “How do you know that, Lily?”

  “Because he has a picture of her on his desk.”

  “That proves nothing. I know adulterous men who keep their wives’ pictures on their desks.”

  “There was something in his eyes and in his voice when Kelly was in a room with us.”

  “Passion.”

  “Love,” she countered.

  “I’m not convinced,” he said, abruptly.

  “I guess I’ll keep looking.”

  “Futilely.”

  “I’m going to prove you wrong.”

  The rest of the meal passed in silence. She cleaned the plates while Preston poured the last of the wine into their glasses and sat down on the sofa in front of the window. Lily put on an old Dizzy Gillespie record and joined him to watch the sun set over the city. The night sounds accompanied the sounds of the jazz trumpet.

  “How did you end up raising your brothers?”

  “My parents died when I was eighteen. My grandmother couldn’t handle the boys, so that left me,” Lily said. It still hurt to think of her parents gone. She missed t
hem more than she’d ever imagined she could.

  “How old were the boys?” he asked.

  Lily settled back against the cushions of the old sofa and slid toward Preston. His body heat engulfed her. Knowing she was too close for comfort, she started to move away. She placed her hand on Preston’s thigh to scoot forward.

  His sharp intake of breath made her look up at him. He watched her with narrowed eyes. Lily longed to be the kind of woman who would say something witty, but she wasn’t.

  Her pulse beat furiously from her closeness to Preston. Maybe it was the wine. She rarely drank. She only knew her skin felt too tight, and the heat of the evening seemed cool against her skin.

  “Sorry,” she said. Where had this achy feeling come from?

  “No problem, angel,” he said, picking up her hand, brushing his lips against the back of it.

  Shivers rushed through her, making her squirm. Her blood seemed to run heavier, pooling at the center of her body. Her nipples tightened under her T-shirt and denim overalls.

  What had he asked her? Something about the boys ages?

  “Beau was fifteen and Dash thirteen.”

  She had to keep her impulses under control, because she wanted to give into the forbidden sensuality his eyes promised, but couldn’t. Preston Dexter wasn’t a man who’d settle down. More than anything in the world, Lily wanted a husband to share her life and to give her babies.

  She stood and paced to the window, unable to sit by Preston any longer. She wanted to give in to her wild impulses and fling her leg over his lap, straddle his hips and pull his mouth to hers for a deep kiss. But he wasn’t the man for her, and her soul warned that heartache would follow.

  “What are you afraid of, Lily?”

  She glanced at the dark man sitting on her sofa. The man who’d experienced more of life than she even knew existed. A world outside of her beloved antiques and the past that she liked to bring to life.

  “You.”

  “Not me. I represent nothing for you to fear.”

  She could have hedged. Her gut instinct urged her to, but the raw need in his eyes compelled her to speak honestly. “You make me want to be bold and daring when I never have been.”

  He smiled slightly, just the tiny curve of his firm mouth. She watched him closely, wishing she were a different kind of woman. The kind who’d really be able to handle the sophistication of Preston.

  “Then isn’t it time you started living?”

  She knew what he wanted her to say, what her body wanted her to say, but her mind wanted self-preservation. “I need more than a summer fling.”

  He stood and walked to her—a man out of place in this environment but sure of himself in the world. “So do I.”

  He slid his hands into her hair and tilted her face toward his. The soft exhalation of his breath brushed across her mouth. Her lips tingled. She wanted to taste him and see if that strong sensual mouth would live up to her fantasies.

  “Isn’t it time you started living life for yourself, Lily?” he asked, and slowly lowered his head.

  Unable to believe he had her in his arms, Preston barely brushed his lips against her eyelids and her cheeks. She was sweet and tempting, making a mockery of the control he’d always exercised over his libido.

  Gently, because she seemed innocent, he traced her full lower lip, as he’d wanted to since he’d seen her nibble on it nervously in his office. She tasted of the expensive French wine they’d drunk with their meal, bold and rich, but also of the spicy Cajun spices, promising an embrace that would exceed his fantasies.

  “Are you going to kiss me?” she asked, breathless. Her breasts brushed his chest lightly with each breath she took. He wanted to crush her to him. To feel the feminine mounds pressed against his chest. To rip away the layers of cloth that separated them and be together the way nature intended for man and woman to be.

  “Do you want me to?” he countered. Tracing his tongue around her bow-shaped mouth. He loved the fact that she’d worried her lipstick off again. He was able to taste the very essence of Lily instead of some manufacturer’s illusion of what a woman should be.

  “Yes,” she said on a sigh, her hands closing gently around his shoulders and pulling him closer.

  He waited to see if she’d attack his mouth the way most of his dates did, but she didn’t. She hesitated, her eyes half-closed and her breath held. He felt the tension vibrate through her.

  He bent to her ear and brushed the softest kiss he could right below her lobe. She smelled faintly of flowers and the earthy scent of woman. There was something real about Lily, almost too real. He realized he didn’t want her to watch him kiss her.

  “Close your eyes,” he said.

  “Okay.” She closed them. He let his gaze trace over her features. They were soft and ladylike. She was so feminine she made him feel like a big brute. The lessons he’d learned from faceless women in the past deserted him, and he could only react with instinct. He had to have her. Had to assert his will over her even if just in this small way.

  He took her lower lip between his teeth and suckled there for a moment. The need to know all of her was a dangerous fire in his blood. The plump flesh tasted sweeter than he’d expected. She moaned, and her hands moved restlessly from his shoulders down his back.

  He thrust his tongue into her mouth just the tiniest bit, teasing her with the flavor of him. She returned the foray with a tentative thrust of her own. His appetite whetted, he took her mouth deeply, her opened lips inviting him to do so. She held him tight as if afraid of where the embrace was leading.

  Preston gave up thinking and reacted. His body ached to feel her softness beneath his. His mind supplied images of what she’d look like naked on that damned tester bed with the twilight spilling in through the windows and the seductive sounds of the saxophone and jazz trumpet filling the air.

  She was every temptation he’d ever known. He wanted to act on those desires, but there was also something very sweet and trusting in the way she held him. As if she wasn’t sure where things would lead next and he knew that she wasn’t very experienced.

  He’d suspected it yesterday when she’d kept tugging at her skirt, trying to conceal those long sexy legs. One of which was sliding between his own. He slid his hands down her back, cupping her behind in his hands. Her cheeks were firm and generous as he sank his fingers into her and pulled her closer to his aching flesh.

  She rubbed against him without any true rhythm, just the demands of desire coursing through her veins. He had to stop now or her innocence wouldn’t matter. They’d be twisting on that old mattress in the deepening night as his instincts urged.

  He pulled back, brushing her wet, full lips with a lingering kiss and cradling her close to his aching body. He held her until his pulse stopped racing and his blood no longer rushed in his ears.

  “That was one hell of a kiss, Lily.”

  She twisted in his arms, looking up at him with deep blue eyes that asked for honesty. “Why did you stop?”

  “It was either stop now, or stop later on the bed after I’d buried myself deep within you.”

  “Oh.”

  “Don’t worry, sweet Lily, you’re safe with me.”

  “What if I don’t want to be?”

  “Don’t tempt me, angel, because I’m hanging on to my control by a thread.”

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. I said I didn’t want a summer fling.”

  “You deserve more than that from me, and I don’t know if I have it to give.”

  “How about if I prove that love exists in your life instead of in someone else’s.”

  “Do you think you can?”

  “I know I can.”

  “And if you don’t.”

  “Then we’ll both have had something rare and beautiful that we wouldn’t have experienced otherwise.”

  “What is that?”

  “Each other.”

  “You think I’m special?” he asked. No one ever had. He’d always been one
of many spoiled rich prep-school boys who’d been given too much too soon.

  She smiled and her eyes lit like a child being given a treat. “Yes, I do.”

  He thought she was special, too, but wouldn’t tell her. Lily was the kind of girl who cared too deeply, and he was beginning to realize that if she couldn’t teach him to love, then he’d teach her to doubt in love. He didn’t want to destroy the part of her that still believed in fairy tales.

  Lily knew after that soul-shattering kiss that she’d taken a hell of a gamble, but she couldn’t help herself. She felt as if Preston had reached past the barriers she’d used to protect herself all these years. For once she was totally in the present instead of reliving the past as she repaired a walnut, gateleg, William and Mary table. She knew she should focus on her work but all she could remember was his kiss.

  He’d seduced her mouth slowly, taking control of her senses and making her willpower seem like a distant dream instead of something she’d clung to while raising her brothers. She’d never been intimate with a man. Never desired to do so, because most of the men she’d dated didn’t want the responsibility of raising two boys even if they were almost grown.

  Lily had been testing the boundaries of her new-found freedom. She’d dated two men since Beau had left for school last fall, but had found that she wasn’t a woman for casual relationships. All these years she’d thought it was the boys keeping her from committing herself to a man, but she’d soon realized it was her own dreams.

  All her life she’d been the mother hen. Taking care of those who needed caring, and she’d never met a man with more need than Preston Dexter. He’d stayed in her shop to keep her company and help her finish her work on a wrought-iron bedstead that would soon be gracing a lovely Creole cottage just off Bourbon Street.

  She’d found the piece in a salvage yard outside the city earlier in the week, and the new owners of the cottage had paid double her fee for a rush delivery. Greedily she’d agreed to do the work, but now she was questioning whether it was worth it.

  Nearly 10 p.m. and she was still dusty and dirty. It beat returning to her lonely, silent apartment. She hadn’t realized how isolated she’d become from her friends in the years she’d been raising Dash and Beau. They’d all either moved on or married and now she spent most evenings at home reading or working late in her shop. On the plus side, Preston was still here with her, proving to her that he wanted more than her body.