Instruction in Seduction

by Judy Jarvie

  Was that ever enough?

  Trouble was Nick knew of old that one night of chemistry could lead to a whole heap of unwanted trouble later.

  Ailsa threw him a glance that burned with intense heat. “You don’t need to know about me. You just have to be open to adventure and experimentation.”

  He gulped. You’re so out of practice at this. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

  “Nick?” Ailsa asked him now, her voice smoky. She watched him, then her gaze flicked away, the tip of her tongue licked her lip. “Just for the record, you can stay tonight. No strings. One night only. Sound okay to you?”

  “That’s direct,” he answered. He’d never been quite so overtly and matter of factly propositioned before. He suddenly felt like a second hand car with a sticker on his windscreen.

  Nick narrowed dark eyes. Watched her, noting she flicked her eyes to her boots. “Is that really what you want; strangers who collide then walk away?”

  “I’m feeling in a direct mood.”

  “Too many New Year beers?”

  “Two bottles all night.”

  He stared at her. She stared right back.

  “Ailsa. You don’t want to sleep with me.”

  She stood still and just watched him with dazzler green eyes that now held fire. “What?”

  He’d give her her dues; she was provocative. Blatant. Further out there than Galactic Exploration. But he wasn’t buying these lines. And if anything was going to put him off a one-night stand then talking through the deal first was a guaranteed arousal dampener.

  “Direct and rebellious is my New Year’s resolution,” said Ailsa. She looked mad now. “I’m going to get what I want. So is it a yes?” Ailsa asked, brows now wrinkling at double speed.

  He liked her better now that there was passion there.

  He’d hacked her off; made her angry. He liked her spirit. He itched to fire her up some more.

  “I’m not so sure I want to be hired out for the night.”

  “Isn’t this supposed to be what all men dream of?”

  “It’s the morning after feeling of being treated like the throwaway litter of one night’s lust that makes my conscience squirm.”

  “If I’m okay with it, surely you are too?” she defied him.

  Her brows looked rumpled now. He itched to reach out and smooth them, to kiss that look away.

  “Good fun in the sack and no strings is all I’m suggesting,” she said, her tone testy now.

  He took in the full kissable lips, sexy nose with the hint of freckles. That stray tendril of hair that hinted at – dare he hope – russet red? A long held private weakness banged him on the head for his bad-timed ethical uprightness.

  “You often proposition men this way?” he asked her.

  She smiled, “When they excite me as much as you.”

  “I’m really not that exciting,” he scoffed, rumpled his hair. Was she kidding?

  “You aren’t doing a very good sales job,” she answered.

  “Unlike you. I feel like I’m being hoodwinked into double-glazing. Your sex offensive is making me twitchy, Ailsa. As much as your kisses knock me out. I’ve never liked hard-sell. It always smacks of con-job somewhere.”

  She blushed. Then looked awkward. Then looked away.

  “So now I’m a con artist? I thought you liked kissing me,” she challenged.

  “You have to ask? Yes. I more than liked it.”

  This is what he got for kissing in the street. Leading the woman on. Acting like he was something he wasn’t. He should’ve known better.

  Or was he crazy for arguing here? Should he just be nodding and consenting to wild sex without heed of consequences and tomorrows?

  What deserved that jackpot hit? Or was it a booby prize?

  For his own conscience, yep, definitely a booby prize in the morning. And now a ‘bad guy, poor show’ award for her evening’s entertainment too.

  “I think you deserve more than a quick good time. A roll in the hay and then separate ways, isn’t that kinda tacky?” he told her.

  “Believe me. It’s exactly what I need,” Ailsa told him breathily. She looked utterly crest-fallen. “It’s no good is it? I’m still hopeless at this. I’ve turned you off and I don’t know why. All I wanted to do was ensure you knew ground-rules and that I’m okay with this being free and easy.”

  “It’s not you. I just really, really don’t think we should sleep together just like that,” he said and closed in to her.

  Ailsa, embarrassed, regretful, blushed fully. Then she stepped back and away.

  Then shock of shocks, she took off the winter hat and shook her head. A knot of fiery copper silk hair slid over her shoulder and he felt the blood in his veins turn to lava.

  Now he knew what it must have felt like seeing Lady Godiva starkers on that horse. Red hair, even better than his fantasy version. And how he wished his ethics were kaput.

  He wanted to see her naked. All palest alabaster skin and that hair. It almost made him shiver with wanting it.

  “Since we’re being honest,” said Ailsa. “I temped as a secretary for you in London eight years ago. You probably don’t remember me. I was office geek. So I’m not really a stranger and that’s why I came on so strong.” She looked at him all gutsy gaze.

  “No way.”

  “Yes way.”

  “Ailsa? As in Ailsa Murray; always in a hurry?” Nick exclaimed, stood back a few paces and then laughed.

  She looked crestfallen and defeated.

  “You barely met my gaze then. Ran by my desk so fast I figured you were allergic to my aftershave. Or me.”

  “Walking in a straight line when we were in the same room was tricky then. I was only nineteen.”

  “I wasn’t worth the lust.” Nick shook his head.

  “Believe me. You were.”

  Nick watched her and then laughed again.

  “Well, I’ll be blowed.”

  That hair down gesture thing blew him away and he was still reeling from the revelation. Now that he recalled a pair of unforgettable tight suit trousers and a long ponytail sprang to mind like some weird jigsaw. Big spectacles and a very shy girl who was the most organised temp he’d ever known.

  He experienced a brief memory replay featuring short skirts one hot London Summer and him having to work to keep his gaze averted. Girlish fruity perfume that wafted as he visited her desk.

  But back then he’d been too busy sorting out the crazy minefield of his life. An ex-girlfriend with no designs on a future with him; a baby bump surprise. The scary reality of no strings sex.

  Another reason why he now erred on ultra safe. He’d learned it the hard way.

  Ailsa watched him, green eyes cagey. “Now you think I’m an idiot. Nice New Year surprise. You’re welcome to come back to the house and call a cab or whatever. Maybe you just want to spend the night drinking with your pal Andy?” She didn’t meet his gaze and instead she just stuffed her hands deep into those pockets. The ones she’d held his hands in. And the memory of that brief, heated, exciting intimacy made something inside him melt and feel bad that their brief dalliance fizzled into nothing.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t like her.

  He just liked her too much to treat her like a throwaway good time. She deserved better. And so did he.

  In that look Nick knew he definitely couldn’t do it. Sleeping with her tonight was not on the cards. These days he didn’t do crazy impulse sex; as much as his loins might beg otherwise.

  If he’d learned something from back then it was when sex didn’t have strings, it usually wasn’t worth the risks.

  How did he keep his distance back then? How was he to resist Ailsa now?

  Especially when he’d been deprived of good sex in a long time. A seven-year-old son living with him tended to spoil opportunities and add an extra barricade to such endeavour.

  But Nick wasn’t just sure he wished things were different with Ailsa, he was more sure than he’d ever been of
anything. He wished he really could cast it all aside and just say yes.

  “Ailsa, I’d like to take you out to dinner,” he told her. Voice calm, tone sensible.

  She reminded him of Sally his sister too because the brave stuff was an act. And right now Sally, the reason he was here in Edinburgh at all, was back in her hotel room alone. Sally probably spent the evening curled up with an extra large box of Kleenex littering the bed in giant moist paper snowballs. Pining for a waste of space husband who’d left her and their business falling apart and ready to rip at the seams.

  He’d pull her through, sell the restaurant and ultimately he’d get her back on course.

  And now he was out on a frosty Edinburgh street trying to convince himself not to have fantastic throwaway sex with a women who’d once unwisely worshipped him.

  “Sorry Ailsa. Please say yes to dinner instead.”

  Her eyes slashed him to shreds. “Thanks for the ego smash. But no.”

  He held up a hand. “Let me finish. As much as I appreciate the offer, as much as I’d like to stay tonight. And I really would. It’s just bad timing and I can’t.”

  Her face was a conundrum of emotions; all of them negative. Red hair framed it beautifully.

  Nick added, “My ethics would crash and burn. And I have obligations that make spending the night with you tricky.”

  And he saw in Ailsa’s eyes that her forced sense of sexually liberated courage had already taken a sure route to the scrap heap. All because of him. He’d have to do something about that.

  Even the way Ailsa Murray looked at him was trouble. She was too good looking and yet she played it down. He took a last look at those full, expertly crafted lips and then pushed himself away.

  “I have to go. Can’t I call you? Andy will give me your contact number if I ask him.”

  “Forget it,” she answered. “The opportunity’s lost.” Ailsa stared at him like he’d just stolen her purse then asked her to sign his left buttock.

  He’d blown this already and he may as well just walk away while he was ahead. But he couldn’t. Something about Ailsa hooked Nick flailing like a trout on a line. It felt like some force was guiding him; spurring him on not to take no for an answer.

  Nick walked up to her, caught up her fingers in his and put his face where she could no longer evade him. His gaze speared hers. Seconds later he stole a kiss from her. The barest softest kiss. Then he pulled back then stole another kiss. This one an atomic version that plundered and demanded and made her kiss him back harder.

  Still he kissed Ailsa, persuaded with his mouth. Cajoled and pleaded. His tongue did the work for him and he didn’t utter a word. And she responded with a touch of resistance. Then fleeting hesitation that fast turned to gentle submission followed by full on consent and approval.

  Her hands grasped his jacket.

  Her tongue told him she needed this too.

  Her eyes were ghosted shut when he pulled away and her lips were bee stung. He’d never wanted her more.

  “Let’s have dinner and do this whole you fancy me and I fancy you thing properly? Tomorrow I’m free all night long and I want to spend it with you. See where this goes but take it slow and steady. Enjoy the ride without the fast-track.”

  She opened her eyes and stared at him. He smiled hoping for kindness and a reprieve on the mess he’d made.

  “Yes,” she answered. “Tomorrow. One last chance.”

  Chapter Three

  But even as Ailsa told Nick Palmer she’d give him another chance, she waivered. Even though her body screamed to accept his promise of an alternative date for desire; even though she badly wanted to agree, Ailsa Murray couldn’t say yes.

  She had to stay firm.

  Her sister decreed this was exactly how she was going wrong;

  letting others take the lead was compounding past errors. Nick Palmer had just turned her down. Hadn’t Kirsty’s letter taught her anything?

  Ailsa firmed her resolve then stood back a pace and forced her eyes to stay firmly on Nick’s. “Actually, tomorrow’s out for me,” she said slowly. “I’ve remembered I have other commitments. So this window of opportunity has evaporated. Sorry but there it is. Goodbye.”

  She turned on her boot heels and left him behind. Feeling like Anne Robinson after a gripping round of The Weakest Link and Nick Palmer was the one doing the walk of shame.

  Inside Ailsa was punching the air. Knowing that this is what Kirsty would have done. She’d finally done it right. She needed to be in control and it was even more rewarding because Nick looked completely blind-sided at her words.

  Ailsa really needed to quash the urge to relent. Especially when she saw the dawning disappointment on Nick Palmer’s handsome features. But this time she suppressed her ‘Doormat Ailsa’ leanings.

  Nick caught up, then caught her arm. “Really?” Nick asked, his eyes looking meek. He was adorable this way. “You can’t not see me again. I won’t let you.”

  “I’m sorry but you’re just not the one with the casting vote here,” she answered sharp as a school mistress with pique. “Perhaps you need to realise that?”

  A tiny secret feeling of power curled inside Ailsa.

  Was Kirsty right all along?

  And my but this felt empowering and fantastic.

  “Please reconsider, Ailsa,” he asked with a husky voice and searching eyes.

  “Sorry too late, Nick.” She shrugged off his hand.

  “But I meant what I said.” His hand was tousling his hair now. His face looked spooked. “I have to see you.”

  “Then you’re going to have your work cut out,” Ailsa answered back. Feeling that if she’d known Kirsty’s advice could have this much impact she’dve tried this years ago. Maybe she’d be dating Johnny Depp by now?

  “I’m going to need a lot of persuasion and proof that you’re worth it,” she answered. “Plus if I have to cancel my arrangements then I expect you to live up to my hopes.”

  “Hopes?” he asked tentatively.

  Ailsa stuck her chin out. “Not just a date. We spend the night together and I’m in charge. That’s my deal, take it or leave it.”

  How could she possibly become an expert in seduction and getting what she wanted if she started taking orders now? She had to take the reins and keep the power fully harnessed.

  Ailsa vowed to stay firm. Even when he looked shocked. Even when he stood back and shoved his hands deep in his pockets.

  But Kirsty’s instructions said she needed to seize the offensive. A whole new approach of assertiveness with men.

  She thought back to Kirsty’s letter, stored in her memory.

  “Dear Sis,

  You know I love you more than any fantastic best friend I could ever hope for, but I have something to tell you that’s hard to say to your face.

  You’re smart but you’re uncertain. You’re beautiful but you’re shy. You have a great figure you never show because you opt for baggy over brazen. And you badly need to start taking the lead and harnessing your Inner Diva of Desirability now. Or you’re going to end up single and suppressing your true potential and that would be the biggest waste of all.

  So here’s what I want to tell you - you need to realise how great you are and start living life like you mean it. Take tonight; we went out for pizza and the waiter gave you ‘interested signals’ but you didn’t even look at him. When he handed you a napkin with his phone number you assumed it was meant for me. This has to stop! You need to take the lead with men. Be assertive and confident and hard to please, take control. Insist on being Numero Uno. And start harnessing your inner vamp.

  Men want to work hard for the chase. So I’m sending you a list; it’s time to begin your Instruction In Seduction. I want to help you find the man you deserve and who brings out your sexy and wild side. You’ll love it when you realise that being the one with the power feels liberating. I want you to find men who worship you and know how good that feels.”

  So this time, with Kirsty’s m
antras on her side, Ailsa said with conviction, “You lost the chance to take the decisions when you turned me down, Nick. You didn’t give me a good reason for cancelling. So you accept my terms or it’s off. Now I really have to go.” Ailsa turned and swiftly stalked off.

  His voice sounded puzzled when he answered, “I do have good reasons for tonight; family matters. Your terms are accepted but you need to have faith in me.”

  Ailsa was trying not to smile but she didn’t even look behind her. “I’m going home. It’s late and your lines are getting tired.”

  She didn’t dare turn around. Kirsty’s instructions were spinning fast circuits around her head. Playing the ‘won’t back down vamp’ might be empowering but it was also unsettling like strong wine and too much dancing on stilettos.

  Nick moved fast; like a panther. He sprinted to her and pulled Ailsa to a stop then forced her to look at him. She gasped at the touch and the speed of his movements. He was so close he could kiss her with ease. And what would she do if he did? Buckle?

  “Sofa Girl,” he whispered, eyes glinting. “Don’t run out on me with a crushed ego until you hear why I’m saying no to the best good time of my life. I want our time to be as special as it can be. And if that means promising you a night now rather than seeing how things go, then yes. I agree.”

  Rewind. Had he said that?

  “So you know about the Sofa Girl thing; you and half the country.”

  “Andy told me about your fame as sofa queen; the femme fatale of soft furnishings. I’m only going tonight because I don’t think spur of the moment impulse does credit to either of us. I don’t want to have to walk out and leave either. And I honestly can’t stay. So tomorrow we’ll meet - have dinner like calm, rational grown ups not hormone crazed teenagers. And yes we’ll spend the night together as you wish. Want me to sign something?”

  As much as Ailsa resented backing down, he was right. He did make her feel like a hormone-crazed adolescent and perhaps her ‘I want you tonight’ line wasn’t her subtlest tack.