Taste of Temptation

by Moira McTark

  "Umph..."

  "Shit—shit!” she squeaked, digging through cake and clothing. Jason's warm hand pressed against her back as he pulled her down to lave a wet kiss over her nipple before sucking the rosy tip into his mouth. “Shi—mmm,” She arched back and her nipple escaped the suction. “Jason, damn it, I need that phone. It's Connie calling. I have to explain."

  "Okay, okay. Find your phone. Talk to Connie.” Jason sat up and helped Laine get off him. “Sounds like it's coming from that pile of mush next to the cart."

  Laine crawled through the soggy mess and felt her way until she encountered the slim phone. She flipped it open with a small spray of sugar sludge and answered breathlessly. “Connie, I'm here. Sorry, I couldn't—"

  Connie's smoke-worn voice snapped through the phone with more force than her two-pack a day Virginia Slims habit should have allowed. She wasn't happy and she wasn't mincing words. This was a fuck-up in her book, and she had a strict policy of three strikes and you're out. This was Laine's second.

  After a few minutes of listening to Connie's tirade, Laine swallowed hard and found her voice. “Connie, you are absolutely right, and I take full responsibility for dropping the ball here. I should have been on him more. Okay, I'll see you in—” She looked down at her body and the tendrils of hair smeared with frosting. “Tomorrow ... Yes, it's going to take me a while to clean up a few details here ... Okay, see you then."

  Looking back over her shoulder, she saw Jason reclined against a toppled chair—his chiseled body streaked with soggy cake and frosting. He was so perfect. She wanted to crawl over and lick him from head to toe, detouring in the middle until he came in her mouth. How could a man with a glob of buttercream above his ear look so damn sexy?

  Shaking her head clear, she smiled and, working at a casual sound, winked at him. “Thanks, I needed that."

  Jason's brow furrowed a bit, and then he shrugged his shoulders in dismissal. “Welcome. So how about a shower and something in a size six, maybe, from the boutique?"

  "Wow, you really are full service. I don't suppose you have any idea how I might get to a shower without being seen by the staff?"

  "Sorry, can't guarantee that for you, but the elevators are just around the corner. Let's get the table drape from under the cake here, and we'll wrap it around you. Do you want the dress and shoes on or are you going buff underneath? Buff is my preference, but I'd keep you that way every minute of the day if I could, so you might want to decide for yourself."

  The way he looked her over had her body responding with a renewed pulse of need. She wanted to feel him buried inside her again, and maybe again after that. God, every touch had been perfect, intense. “I'll wear the shoes. It's more dignified, don't you think?"

  He laughed and, leaning forward, grabbed the sapphire blue strapped heels and reached out for Laine's leg. Pulling her toward him, he caressed the ball and arch of her foot, stroked the heel, circled her ankle with the tip of his finger. He slipped on the sparkly shoe, carefully buckled the thin strap and ran his palm up her calf.

  Under his spell, she let him move her leg so that her heeled foot was planted on the carpet, her knee bent, offering Jason an unobstructed view of her frosting-smeared thighs and sex. He took her other foot into his hands and rubbed it briefly before working the tiny buckle into place. With a soft caress, he planted her other foot wide apart, leaving him access to her wet center.

  Looking up at him with wonder at the sensuality he infused into every act, she whispered, “Okay, maybe just one more time."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter TwoSaturday, the twelfth of June

  "You're an asshole,” Laine accused, straightening the white silk guest book with a ballpoint, plumed pen.

  "So you tell me. Keep it up, and I might develop a complex.” Jason had been following her around while she neatened the place cards for the reception, worked with the florist and checked in on her security detail—a guy on payroll assigned to be ever-present in the groom's company. There would be no opportunity for dalliance. There would be no third strike. Of course that meant keeping fuck-ups that stressed out brides to a minimum, which meant keeping her mind off Jason, the incredible, confusing lay from last week.

  "I can't believe you partnered with Connie, had me assigned exclusively to your hotel, and didn't even have the courtesy to speak to me about it first."

  Grabbing the box of Jordon almond bundles in pink tulle, he followed her from setting to setting as she distributed the favors to the parents’ table. “I called you three times this week. I tried to talk to you when you were here on Wednesday and yesterday. Not my fault you're too chicken to spend five minutes alone with me. Besides, you were already assigned to the Henley brides. Connie and I just put a few details down in ink."

  Dragging a long breath in through her nose, Laine tried to rein in her emotions. “Why would you need to do that? And I am not chicken, so get your ego in check. I'm busy. You might have noticed it's June. High season. I don't have a lot of free time right now.” She paused her bustling and glanced up at Jason. “Besides, we work together. This can't be a good idea."

  "There are more important things than business. But you're busy now, that's fine, we'll find time where we can and then in July I'll take you up to the cottage—"

  "Okay, Jason ... this is how each setting should look ... exactly. I've got to run up and see Gloria to make sure the buttons on her dress got fixed. Make sure your people get every spot exactly the same."

  She offered her most professional, insincere smile, knowing he would see through it in a second flat, and sprinted out of the reception hall for the main lobby. There wasn't time for chit-chat, and the last thing she needed was another distraction. The job was important. The career was important. More important than whatever fling Jason had in mind.

  He was a world class player, everyone knew it. Laine had no problem with it either. If she went into the relationship with a no strings attitude, she wouldn't get hurt. But that meant keeping her emotions from spiraling out of control. So long as she played by her rules, got out fast and didn't let some little thing like a crush get the better of her, she would be all right. Life was about choices, and she was making her own.

  Of course, it surprised her to no end that Jason had actually called throughout the week, and she was doing her damnedest to keep her heart from fluttering into overdrive each time she saw his number on the caller-ID display. She'd given in the week before, without thought of consequence, because the temptation had been too great. But when their sexy tryst was over, she'd expected he'd never mention it again. Only Jason hadn't brushed her off. He hadn't dismissed her to work with some flunky manager at the hotel. He'd called, and when he hadn't gotten her on the phone, he'd waited until today and spent the better part of the morning not taking no for an answer.

  She had to keep her distance from him if she had any chance of getting through the wedding without giving in to whatever tawdry suggestion he proposed. He'd probably try to drag her off to the coatroom during dinner. Make a bed of fur coats and run his big heavy hands up her thighs ... No. It was June, so there wouldn't be any fur coats, and she was a professional, so there wouldn't be any coatroom nookie either. Today, she was all business, and there would be one happy bride and groom at the day's end to attest to it.

  * * * *The sunset ceremony went off without a hitch. Laine stood back and watched as the photographer snapped the last group shots of the wedding party in the rose garden. Everything was perfect. She'd checked the reception hall a half hour ago, and Jason's team had come through, delivering immaculate presentation. This was the kind of day that lured the romantics into the wedding industry. The kind of day where it was easy to believe in true love and forever.

  The bride and groom stared at each other with utter adoration, and Laine felt a sudden pang of envy. These two wouldn't have cared if the cake had been a Sara Lee. They wouldn't have cared if the flowers smelled like swamp. All they cared about was being
together. Couples like this made romance contagious. Laine surveyed the guests milling in the background and wondered how many of them would sign up for their own big show next June. Quite a few, she suspected.

  Everything was perfect, and yet something gnawed at her. She felt off. Distracted, disjointed.

  "Looks like you've got a winner this week."

  Laine smiled over her shoulder as Jason walked up to her, suddenly aware of what she had missed. “Yep, so far so good. Just keep your bellboy away from the cake. These two deserve the one they ordered."

  "Well, I'll admit that a part of me wants to sabotage it, just so we have one to play in, but something tells me the same excuse wouldn't work two weeks in a row."

  Her cheeks flushed warm at the mention of their icing escapade. Trying to hide the effect of his reference, she shook her head. “Excuse? What could you possibly have said—?"

  "Seizure. The staff is worried about you, but I told them to be kind. You were embarrassed enough as it was."

  "You didn't tell them I had a seizure."

  "They were really concerned. Good people I have."

  Laine couldn't help but laugh. God, she'd almost died of embarrassment sprinting into the elevator to Jason's apartment. Then two days later, at a tasting, she'd almost orgasmed when they served her a slice of coconut cake with buttercream frosting. She'd been tempted to order a slice to go, but it seemed wrong to partake without Jason, and there was no way she'd chase him down for another go round.

  Brushing a strand of her hair back, Jason stood behind her and leaned close to her ear. “These two have got it right. Today's about love for them. These are the couples I like to watch."

  Her heart stuttered as her shoulders warmed with the close proximity of Jason's chest. She leaned back into him and watched the bride and groom ruin a picture by falling into a kiss that spurred a round of cheers from the wedding party. “Yeah, me too. They didn't stop smiling through the entire ceremony. I even saw them laugh at one point, some small joke between them. Made everyone feel like falling in love."

  "Maybe everyone should."

  She blinked twice, swallowed hard. Turning her head slowly, she met his gaze. “Maybe."

  The photos were done, and the bride and groom were walking toward them. Jason gave her bottom a little pat and turned to head back inside, letting Laine direct the happy couple in their next activities. Cocktails on the sixth floor balcony, and then across to the reception hall for dinner and dancing.

  * * * *Jason leaned forward in the chair in his office, elbows resting on knees, one hand yanking at his hair, the other fisting the phone against his ear. He didn't want to make this call. Didn't want to have to think about the woman whose slow sultry voice poured through the line like acid into his ear.

  "What do you want?” came her lightly-accented demand.

  "You know what I want, Sophia. Don't play games with me."

  "Well ... you knew what I wanted, but I didn't get it, now did I?"

  Jason sat up and spun in his chair so it faced the back wall of his office. “How's Enrique?"

  "Who?"

  A long pull on a thin cigarette filtered through the line, conjuring a million unwanted memories. He waited her out.

  "Oh, of course. Enrique. I barely remember his name. It seems he meant more to you than to me."

  His hand balled, his lips pressed together in a hard line. “Sophia, think of this as a business opportunity."

  Another drag and a short laugh. “But, Jason, I always have."

  Gritting his teeth, he berated himself. Even now she had power over him. It infuriated him that she maintained that control—that she could influence his emotions in the slightest. Young and stupid, he'd blindly given her that control and, when she'd abused it, he spent years defending himself against any such marauder again. No one got close enough to touch his heart. No one mattered.

  And then Laine strolled into his life on her four-inch heels with wild demands and sassy attitude, and, bit by bit, unwittingly, she chipped away his resolve. He'd fought against it, told himself it was too late, but in the end all she had to do was walk into a room and he was smiling. All he had to do was think of her, and everything seemed better.

  Everything was better.

  Laine.

  His fists relaxed, and he leaned back in his chair, letting go of his anger. “Good, then, Sophia. If it's business, we should have no problem coming to an agreement."

  Following some debate, they worked out a time and set up a meeting. Jason hung up the phone and pulled open the center drawer on his desk, slipping out a single photo that lay atop the clutter. It was Laine, leaning against a pillar in the lobby. She was watching one of her brides kiss the groom before they left the hotel. Jason had seen the photographer snapping photos that day and paid him for the shot. It was money well spent.

  Jason stared at the sweet smile on her face. He was a fool for waiting so long to go after her. From the beginning, she was the woman he coveted, the one who stirred feelings he was unwilling to act on. For so long he thought he could be satisfied with a relationship that didn't breach the professional barrier between them. Being close to her made him feel alive, challenged, interested. And under the pretense of building up the nuptial business, he was able to spend time with her without the risk of getting in too deep. He'd gone on like that for nearly a year, fantasizing about her, but refusing to move. Pretending that he didn't need more. That he hadn't fallen completely in love with her.

  But when she'd been threatened by that asshole in the kitchen, something snapped inside him, and he couldn't pretend anymore. He wanted to be the man she ran to, the man to comfort her, to hold her, to make the jackass who thought he had the right to touch her pay.

  He wanted her.

  She hadn't taken him seriously last week when he'd asked her out. And even after they'd made love, she didn't seem sure of his intentions or her own feelings about them. But Jason knew what he wanted. He wanted Laine, and he was going to do whatever it took to convince her that he was worth taking a chance on.

  * * * *The cake was served, the band played and the mandatory dances and events had been accomplished without a single snag. In short, Laine's job was complete. She slumped back in her chair and reached for the flute of champagne that had been waiting for two hours. It was flat and warm, but it didn't matter, she was ready to toast herself for a day without flaw.

  Her fingers no more than grazed the glass when it was swept out of her reach and another fizzing flute presented. She looked up into Jason's face.

  "Nothing worse than flat champagne.” He was staring again, that possessive, sexy, blue-eyed stare.

  "I guess you're my hero, then."

  "You've finally noticed. Have a sip of that bubbly and take a spin around the dance floor with me. They're playing our song."

  Laine paused with the flute halfway to her lips. She had no idea what kind of dancer Jason was, but the song was slow and smooth, and she didn't think she'd get her feet stepped on too much since it was already half over. What the hell.

  After savoring a long, sweet sip of champagne, she offered her hand to Jason and allowed him to escort her onto the floor. With a smooth sweep of his arm, he circled her into his chest and proceeded to lead. He was easy to follow and, though it wasn't anything flashy or complicated, dancing with Jason made her feel like Ginger Rogers. He was good. She could get used to the solid feel of his body against her own, the gentle press and pull of his warm palm against the small of her back, the rub of his thighs against her hips.

  Moist breath swirled around her ear as Jason bowed his head toward hers. “So in July, when I take you to my cottage, pack light. Or don't bother packing at all. I'm planning to keep you naked for the entire Sunday to Wednesday stay. No worries, you won't miss a single Saturday. You can bring a suitcase filled with those high heels I love so much. Wear them when you're feeling formal. But I want to see you naked every second I'm with you."

  Laine's smile froze in place.
Heat pooled in her belly and swirled lower as she listened to the promise of things to come if she accommodated his desire to keep her naked for a little trip. He knew what to say and how to say it. He was so confident. Like he knew she wanted to comply, to strip for him that very minute to see what reward there would be for pleasing him.

  Damn he was so good, too good. Dangerously good.

  She tried to pull away, but his hold on her was firm.

  "No way, I've been waiting all week to get this close to you. You're done for the night. I think it's time you said your goodbyes and got on with your own plans."

  Her heart beat faster, and she felt the skin across her chest heat as her nipples tightened and rose against the peach silk sheath she wore.

  "Jason...” What did she want to say? Maybe it was just the need to have his name on her lips, but it was all she could get out.

  The hand that held hers between their chests slipped free, Jason's fingers traced over her collarbone, lower to the deep neckline of her dress. His touch was electric.

  "I want you,” he whispered, his lips grazing the outer ridge of her ear. “I can't stop touching you. I want to stroke the softest parts of you, taste your sweetness."

  Laine shuddered in his arms. She sounded breathless to her own ears. “Let's get out of here."

  The elevator doors swooshed shut, and Jason pulled her into his arms, his mouth crushing against hers as he backed her against the mirrored wall.

  "What if the doors open?” she gasped, not really caring if some geriatric tourist was in the elevator with them that instant, so long as Jason kept touching her.

  "It's going to the penthouse,” he murmured against the tender skin beneath her jaw. “No stops until the top. No security."