Temptation

by Inara Scott

  Even if it had been incredible.

  Even if he was itching to touch her right now, logic and reason be damned.

  So he hadn’t said anything at all and had spent the past two days wondering when he was going to get a text from her saying, “I’ve been thinking about it and we should call off the whole deal.”

  Given the circumstances, it’s probably best we don’t see each other again outside work. That, of course, was what he should have said. That would have been the smartest move of all.

  But he hadn’t said it, and neither had she. As far as he knew, she was still in.

  For bridge, he reminded himself. Not sex.

  Bridge.

  They’d been clear with each other that they couldn’t repeat the mistake of Tuesday night. The question was how, exactly, he was going to manage that, now that he knew what it felt like to touch her, and now that he’d experienced the explosive chemistry between them.

  That kiss. He couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss.

  With Zoe, there was none of that awkward first kiss moment; none of the time you had to spend getting to know what the other person wanted or expected. Nope, with Zoe it had been incredible right from the start. It was as if they had done this a million times before and it was just a matter of letting their bodies pick up where they’d left off.

  But there could be no more thought of kissing. Tonight was about bridge.

  The ferry building was a short walk from the Livend Capital offices. During the summer, the main terminal building was packed with tourists and fair-weather riders making their way back and forth from the downtown area to Oakland and Sausalito. Now, in early November, with the holiday tourist season not yet begun and the beautiful fall weather gone, it was mainly the regulars who used the ferry for their daily commute. Everyone wore thick winter coats to stave off the inevitable wind and fog.

  Connor was waiting next to the ferry ticket shop when he saw her walk in. She wore a long black coat belted tightly around the waist and had traded the strappy shoes she’d been wearing at their meeting for a pair of absurdly sexy high-heeled leather boots. A soft-looking hat tumbled to one side, covering her head and ears. Her lips—full and glossy, in some shade of lipstick that made him think of late-summer cherries—hit him from across the room, just like they had when she’d walked into the conference room earlier that day.

  He wanted to kiss her.

  No, he needed to kiss her.

  But he was absolutely, positively not going to kiss her.

  He watched her walk toward him, fighting to conceal the desire in his gaze. He could tell the moment she recognized him. She straightened and nodded in greeting, neutral and friendly. But as the weight of his stare reached her across the room, her entire gait changed. Her lips softened. Her eyes filled with anticipation.

  And then he knew. She wanted this. She wanted him. No matter what they had said, whatever was happening between them hadn’t ended that night at Temptation.

  It had only just begun.

  She stopped in front of him. Her eyes were hungry as they flicked across his face and body. Her tongue darted out and slid across her bottom lip. “Connor.”

  “Zoe.” He didn’t reach out. Didn’t touch her. No matter that his entire body had gone rigid the moment he saw her.

  “I have one question to ask you,” she said.

  “A question?” His brows drew together in surprise. “Okay, go ahead.”

  She leaned slightly forward and took a hold of his lapel. “Were you looking at my lips today?”

  “Fuck, Zoe,” he muttered. “You know I was.”

  Helplessly, he circled her waist with his hands. Her heels brought her height closer to his, and he drew her into his arms. She held on tight, tugging his coat until their bodies were touching.

  His nerves went into overdrive at the feeling of her snugged against him. He’d never experienced this kind of need before. It was primitive.

  Primal.

  “Were you thinking about this?” she asked. “Were you thinking about kissing me?”

  “I haven’t stopped.” He took control then, accepting the invitation she had extended to drag his lips across hers. Her flesh was sweet spice, hot and needy. He explored her lips, caressed them, then sought entry, tracing the seam with his tongue before plunging inside.

  Heat pulsed through every inch of his body. There were people all around them. It was rush hour, and the chance that they’d be recognized was too high to contemplate. Yet that knowledge did little to dampen the need that had been unleashed. They consumed each other, breathtaking desire slamming into him like a runaway train. His world was her lips. His universe, her body.

  He didn’t know which of them pulled away, but when their lips parted, reluctantly, he traced a hand down the side of her jaw. Need still gripped him, and he had to fight to loosen his hold. Her eyes were liquid, pupils dilated. She clung to him like she might topple over.

  “Zoe, I…”

  She stopped whatever he might have started to say, slapping her open palm lightly on his chest. “We aren’t talking about this,” she said fiercely. “Don’t you dare talk about it.”

  “But…”

  “I mean it. Talk to me about bridge. Tell me about whiskey and motorcycles. But don’t you dare talk about this.” She gestured back and forth between them. “Whatever this is.”

  He lowered his mouth to cover hers and nipped lightly at her lower lip. “Can I tell you what I want to do right now?” he whispered. “Can I tell you something that has nothing to do with bridge or whiskey, but could involve my bike?”

  Her eyelids fluttered, and she gripped the lapel of his coat. “Not if you want me to stay upright,” she said.

  He chuckled softly, the desire in her eyes headier than any drug could be. “What makes you think that’s what I want?”

  A tiny groan escaped her, and she tugged at his coat. “This is madness,” she said as his lips claimed hers again.

  No more perfect words had ever been said.

  …

  The ferry ride lasted about thirty minutes. Despite the cold wind and foggy night air, they made their way to the upper deck of the boat. Zoe was glad she had grabbed her hat that morning and found herself a loose coat that could slip over her cast. The boat launched just after sunset, and as they sailed over the water, the twilight turned to night, until she could barely tell where the dark ocean water turned to sky.

  Connor produced a flask and instructed her to take a sip. She did, finding a whiskey that was smooth and peaty, with the deep, rich taste she now recognized as scotch.

  “Should I ask what I’m drinking?” She handed him back the flask and watched as he took a drink, staring helplessly at his lips.

  Had she ever felt so wanton? So needy?

  “It’s a single malt. One of my favorites.”

  He named a brand she didn’t know, and she realized she had more work to do. He handed her back the flask, then leaned forward on the deck rail to contemplate the approaching lights of the Sausalito harbor.

  “When did you start drinking whiskey?” she asked, unscrewing the top to take another sip. The alcohol warmed her from the inside out, taking the edge off the chill of the wind.

  He turned and leaned his back against the rail. “I tried wine first. The science of it appealed to me—trying to figure out which wines would match which foods. But I never really enjoyed it the way that other people did. Then a few years ago, Mason took us to a craft distillery. It was the first time I’d done a tasting. Somehow, once they laid out all the flavors in front of me, I realized the potential of it.” He spread out his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I fell in love.”

  She giggled. “I had no idea alcohol could be so romantic.”

  His mouth quirked. “I have twenty different whiskeys at home now. It’s ridiculous.”

  “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

  Even in the dark, she could see his eyes gleam. “That can be arranged.”
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br />   She took a deep breath at the thought, fearing that she might go boneless the way she had in the ferry terminal. “So what’s the plan for tonight? How did you convince them to meet with me?”

  “To be honest, it wasn’t as hard as I’d thought,” he said. “I called my mother, told her that I knew a really smart lawyer who had a habit of counting cards and wanted to learn to play bridge. She asked if you’d take it seriously.”

  “And what did you say?”

  He laughed. “I said, in the three years that I’ve known her, there’s one thing about Zoe that has never changed. She’s the most competitive person I’ve ever met. If she’s playing, she’s playing to win.”

  She acknowledged the truth of his statement with a slight incline to her head. “I see. And she liked that?”

  “Apparently.” He shrugged. “I don’t know how the others felt, but she called me back last night and said they wanted to meet you.”

  “So here we are.”

  “We’re meeting them at my mother’s house at seven. That should give us time to get something to eat first. We can talk basketball if you’d like.”

  She gave a short laugh. “I can see the next couple of weeks are going to test me.”

  “I think you’re up for it.”

  “I’m up for anything you can dish out,” she said with a naughty grin.

  He groaned and reached for her, and the darkness of the night cloaked them.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Zoe had just finished touching up her lipstick when the car stopped in front of a small house. They thanked the driver and stepped out into the driveway.

  Connor stopped. “Remember,” he said. “They’re a little intense. But they mean well.”

  She shifted her weight, trying to get a look into the house, but the windows were all blocked by curtains. Bright lights lit the porch, which was cluttered with boxes and debris.

  “You sure you want to do this?” she asked. Surprisingly, her heart was starting to race with a wave of nerves. “They might not like me. Things could go badly if your mother suspects the truth.”

  “I’m sure,” he said. He’d grown increasingly serious as they’d neared the house. Over dinner, by mutual, unspoken agreement, they’d stuck to neutral subjects like sports and the special magic Southcycle had that make their bikes so special. They hadn’t touched since they’d left the boat. It felt necessary to preserve whatever sanity they had left.

  As they approached the front door, they made their way past stacks of equipment and boxes that had Zoe itching to investigate. Had she been with anyone other than Connor, or had she not read more this week about the importance of his mother’s previous research, she might not have taken his concern all that seriously. After all, what rational adult tried to build a cold fusion reactor in their garage? But this was Connor, the smartest person she’d ever met, and his mother, who had been a force in energy research for over four decades. A nuclear reactor didn’t seem all that impossible.

  When they got to the front door, a voice called out from overhead, startling Zoe.

  “Please identify yourself.”

  “Mom.” Connor sighed deeply and gave Zoe a See? I told you so look. “It’s Connor.” He moved Zoe more toward the middle of the doorway and waved toward the top of the doorframe. “And this is my friend Zoe.”

  She shot him a questioning look. If there was a camera, why did he have to say his name? Didn’t his mother recognize him? Filing the question away for later, her eyes found the tiny spot Connor had gestured toward and she waved. “Zoe Riva.”

  The door opened a moment later. The woman who greeted them did not, in fact, resemble Christopher Lloyd. Instead, she looked more like an older Katharine Hepburn, with a cloud of thick white hair loose around her shoulders and a patrician, almost regal beauty. She wore a silk top and pants in earth tones that perfectly suited her lean frame.

  After giving Connor a quick hug and a kiss, she turned to Zoe. She cocked her head to the side, and Zoe felt herself being thoroughly analyzed. As she fought the urge to cringe under the fierce regard, the sheer folly of trying to trick this woman overwhelmed her.

  “Leticia Ashton,” she finally said, extending her hand.

  Zoe considered dropping into a curtsey, but that seemed a bit much. Instead, she gave a quick, professional shake and smiled. “Zoe Riva. Nice to meet you.”

  “Come inside,” Leticia gestured. “The alarm is on a timer.”

  The reason for Connor’s subterfuge was becoming clearer by the moment. Leticia Ashton was not fooling around with her security. This wasn’t some sweet grandma who needed someone to pop in and check on her safety. This was a woman who would use her considerable brainpower to ensure no one had any idea what she was doing.

  They followed her down a short hallway into the open kitchen. The room was bright and modern, with white cabinets, splashy white counters flecked with spots of color, and an aqua glass tile backsplash. Three other women crowded around a circular table on the other side of the room, and they approached as Zoe entered the room.

  “Ladies, this is Zoe,” Leticia announced.

  Zoe noticed that Connor hung back behind them. This was clearly a women’s space.

  “Welcome, Zoe, I’m Minnie.” A tiny, black-haired woman extended her hand first. She pumped Zoe’s hand once in a surprisingly strong grip before dropping it. Zoe tried to remember what she’d heard about each woman. Minnie, if she remembered correctly, rode a scooter and did yoga.

  The next woman who stepped forward had a mischievous smile that seemed to promise trouble. Long pendants hung around her neck, while turquoise adorned her fingers and ears. “Clara. Lovely to meet you.”

  The last woman to introduce herself was round and soft, with sweetly curled white hair framing rheumy blue eyes. Her carriage was slightly bent, and she moved slowly but deliberately. She took Zoe’s hand between both of hers and squeezed gently. “I’m Shirley. It’s so kind of you to offer to sit in for me.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Zoe said, struck by a moment of pure guilt at the very thought of spying on these women. “I haven’t played for a long time. You’re the ones doing me a favor.”

  Leticia pinned her with another one of those long, measuring looks. “Connor mentioned that you were one of his lawyers. Why would you want to play cards with a bunch of old biddies? Shouldn’t you be out on the town instead?”

  Zoe sucked in a breath at the directness of the query. Apparently, they were skipping right past the small talk and going for the full cross-exam.

  “Never been much of a party girl,” Zoe said. She held up her briefcase, which contained the extra files she still had to review later that night. “This is my usual nightlife.”

  “Oh dear.” Shirley, who had continued to hold her hand, gave it another squeeze. “That’s not a good idea, sweetie. Too much work isn’t good for a young person like you.”

  Zoe smiled. “I think I’ll survive. Anyway, I heard you were all scientists, and I couldn’t resist the chance to meet you. Especially you, Ms. Ashton.”

  “Please,” she interrupted graciously. “Call me Leticia.”

  “Why would a lawyer be interested in her?” Minnie asked, directing her head toward Leticia, her dark eyes snapping with curiosity.

  “I work in patent law,” Zoe said. “But I also have a degree in engineering. Part of my job is being able to understand and describe my client’s work. I’ve got a few clients that have patents in the battery-storage field, and they all build on Leticia’s work. She’s a bit of a legend, you know.”

  “Don’t encourage her,” Clara said. “Her head is big enough as it is.”

  “Can you tell me more about your work?” Zoe asked Clara. “I always loved physics. Isn’t that your field as well?”

  Clara snorted. “Used to be. We’re all retired now. Except for dear Leticia, who can’t stop puttering around in her garage.”

  Leticia sniffed. “I’m fairly sure I don’t putter.”
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  “You’re almost seventy, a woman, and retired,” Minnie observed archly. “What else would you be doing?”

  Clara rolled her eyes. “Ignore them,” she said to Zoe. “Minnie likes to yank Leticia’s chain.”

  “It’s just so easy,” Minnie said. “But Zoe, tell me, are you really prepared to spend all your free time with a bunch of geriatric physicists?”

  “Geriatric physicist grannies,” Shirley corrected. “Except for Leticia, of course. She’s our holdout.”

  “Don’t look at me,” Leticia said. “It’s his fault.” She indicated over her shoulder in Connor’s direction, and the other three women all turned to look at him.

  “Poor thing really needs to get out more,” Clara said in a stage whisper.

  Shirley sighed. “We tried to set him up with my niece Becca. Unfortunately, he forgot their date and left her waiting for an hour. Never answers his phone, you know.”

  Connor made a strangled sound.

  “And you remember that young woman from my old lab at Stanford?” Minnie asked.

  “Oh, she had it bad,” Clara said. All four of them nodded sympathetically. “Scared him off, I think. He gets nervous when they start expecting things from him.”

  “I’m standing right here,” Connor said. “Honestly, ladies.”

  His disgruntled look made Zoe laugh out loud, which drew the attention of the group. “Do you have a nice young man?” Shirley asked her.

  Clara gave her hips a waggle. “Let’s hope not. Last time I checked, Shirl, the nice ones aren’t much fun.”

  “How would you know?” Minnie asked. “You haven’t dated a nice one for years.”

  “Try decades,” Leticia put in.

  “This might have been a bad idea,” Connor said to Zoe. “I’m not sure I should leave you alone with them.”

  “You know, that sounds like a great idea,” Minnie said. She turned to Clara. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”