Her Foreign Affair

by Shea Mcmaster

  Because the suspense would work on her mind every bit as much as his plans would work on her body, he let her wonder, giving her no inkling of what lay in store.

  One side of the robe slid off her shoulder, revealing white skin and the upper swell of a generous breast. God, she’d never looked more beautiful. Fighting for air, he did his best to hide his reaction, not that she missed the twitching of his cock beneath his trousers. Another shifting of cloth and the other shoulder slid into view. In the background, the sax wailed mournfully while a drum added a sensual backbeat Randi swayed to as the robe slid down her back, her two small hands holding the front close to her breasts.

  “That’s it, baby. Feel it,” he encouraged her. “Good heavens, you’re so damn gorgeous.”

  Heat flared in her eyes as candlelight danced over her skin. The robe draped down to her hips in the back, yet didn’t reveal more than the soft upper slopes of her breasts. Moving with the music, she turned, showing him the long line of her spine, the dimples between her hips. Unable to resist, he reached up and touched her with a single finger. Starting at her nape, he trailed it down the shallow valley of her spine, feeling each slight bump of vertebrae. A quiver rippled across her skin leaving small pleasure bumps behind. Goose flesh. At the base of her spine, his finger caught on the robe, and he tugged it down, his nail lightly skimming her skin. Following the valley between her buttocks, he dragged the robe down her arms, past hands that no longer held onto the cloth. The filmy material settled in a soft heap around her feet.

  With her back to him, she took tiny steps over the robe until one leg rested against his crotch. Using just the one finger, he skimmed up her inner thigh, then traced the lower curve of her bottom outward and around her hip. The finger continued across her lower back to the other side, out and down around the other hip and under the curve of her other cheek.

  “Absolutely fucking gorgeous,” he whispered.

  “Is this all you plan to do? Tease my rear and call it beautiful?”

  “No. I’m going to take your ass tonight. But first, our spicy shrimp is getting cold, and I know how you like your dinner hot.” Before she could escape, he leaned forward and gently bit her, leaving just a tiny mark.

  “Oooooooh,” she cooed. “I hope there’s more where that came from.”

  Bloody hell. If he didn’t get her to the table, he’d take her right here and the food could go hang. He stood and reached around her, his hands moving from her waist up over her ribs to her breasts. The belt from the robe was still wrapped around his left hand, and he used it to rub over her nipple. “There’s plenty waiting for you tonight. Be a good girl and you’ll get to enjoy every bit of it.”

  “I’m good.” Sultry eyes gazed over her shoulder. “I’ll be even better by the time the night is over.”

  “You’ll be exhausted by the time the night is over.” If he could last that long himself. But then again, he’d gladly die trying. Heat from her soft skin penetrated his shirt when she leaned against him. “Let me show you the first of many wonders in store. We’ll start with dinner.”

  “I’m starved.”

  He led her to the table, a large circle of mahogany set on a sturdy polished steel base with six steel and wood chairs set about it. Beyond, a large window framed just one nighttime view of the city. “Up you go.” Hands on her waist, he helped her onto the cleared surface.

  “No towel under me?” She lay back and shivered at the cool touch of the polished wood.

  “I’ll lay them about to catch any drips, but no, you get to feel the table under you. Cool, hard, impenetrable.”

  He watched as she shivered, but her eyes never left his.

  “Hands over your head. Can’t have you trying to rearrange the dinner once I get it served up,” he told her. Obediently, she lifted her hands and clasped them at the top of her head. He moved around the table and used the belt to gently tie her wrists together with one end and secured the other end to a chair. “Okay?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  Arranging the food on her body was almost as much fun as eating it off her would be. The large shrimp they both loved circled each breast. Potstickers fanned out around her belly button filled with dipping sauce. “Don’t wiggle too much, or you’ll spill it all,” he cautioned. He spread her legs wide and arranged long noodles down her thighs. “You look positively delicious, darling.” Peapods and wontons lined her ribs.

  “Smells good. When do I get a bite?”

  “A bite?” He leaned over, and with his lips, plucked a shrimp from her breast. “I get to do the biting, love.” With the shrimp, he brushed her nipple until she moaned. “No wiggling,” he reminded her. A pair of chopsticks worked particularly well for tweaking her other nipple before he lifted another shrimp and held it to her lips. “Open up, darling, and show me how you’ll take care of me later.”

  What the woman could do with a prawn… He nearly scraped the food from her body right then. Instead, he watched her chew it while he removed his shirt. Not once did her gaze leave him as he stripped, not quite as provocatively as she had. The music still flowed from the speakers, and Randi’s eyelids drooped with lust as she hummed along. He didn’t think she even noticed.

  Once bare, he picked up the chopsticks again. For each bit of food he ate from her body, he dropped a bite into her mouth. His tongue lapped up the drips and shared them with her in deep kisses. When he reached the noodles on her legs, he used his mouth on her beautiful pussy, drenching the noodles in her juices, then sharing with her. With the last noodle, he teased her, using the chopsticks to lightly hold her clit while he licked and suckled on her flesh. Each tiny pinch brought a moan and more wetness from her until she panted and begged him to finish. The ability to hold back was beyond him. He climbed onto the table and kneeled between her thighs. Spreading her legs on top of his thighs, he admired her body while guiding himself into position.

  Their eyes met, and he could nearly see the sparks fly between them.

  “I love you, Randi,” he said. “I’ll never let you forget it.”

  Not giving her a chance to answer, he relished her gasp as he pulled her onto him, fusing their bodies. The gasp turned into a cry, and as she shuddered around him, his control fled. He pulled back once and immediately reversed, thrusting into her body. Nothing had ever felt this good. Shouting her name, he released deep inside her, his name a sweet cry from her arching throat.

  Chapter 18

  A long night of lovemaking notwithstanding, Randi felt energized the next morning. And grateful she’d brought her most formal business clothes, which she imagined were still casual by New York standards.

  “Where’d my California girl go?” Court fit his body against her back as she fastened a pearl stud in her earlobe. His lips on the opposite side of her neck brought back every sensuous memory of the night before. “I can still taste the ginger sauce on your skin.”

  “Mmm, that’s my perfume, and I can’t imagine it tastes so wonderful.”

  “You actually bought perfume that smells like Chinese food?”

  Randi laughed softly, feeling softer and younger than she had in years. “It’s from Hawaii, and I bought it in Chinatown.”

  “Better order more Chinese for lunch.” Court’s warm breath tickled her neck and weakened her knees.

  “Don’t you have plans to meet all day? And shouldn’t Larry be here soon?”

  “I think we can call it a day by noon. It’ll do the man good to stew over-night.”

  “Mmm, what about my beauty treatments appointment? Ah, Court, you need to stop.” She wiggled her hips in a vain attempt to shake him off. “At this rate, you’ll be eating your eggs and bacon…”

  “At the table, but with you as my plate. I’m suddenly ravenous.” Court’s hands traveled from her wool clad hips to her silk covered breasts.

  She moaned, arching into his hands. The thought of him eating his food off her body… Lord, what a wonderful way to en
joy a meal. “Now I’ll have to wear the jacket all day.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  “Everyone will know where your hands have been.”

  “Perfect.” Court tipped her head and ravaged the other side of her neck. “Delicious.”

  The gentle sound of a bell ringing and the ping of the elevator interrupted, and Court sighed heavily. “I suppose it’s time.”

  Randi turned and raised her arms to drape over his shoulders. “Yes. I asked for breakfast by eight fifteen.”

  “A mite early, love.”

  With a sigh of soul deep contentment she accepted his light kiss on her powdered nose. “I like a leisurely meal.”

  “Tell me you weren’t joking about the bacon and eggs.”

  “What?” Randi stepped back and straightened her clothes with the help of the mirror. Shaking her head, she reached for her jacket to pull over the ivory silk shell she wore.

  “Leave it off for now.” Court took the jacket from her hands. “Why on earth are you wearing black? You wear far too much black.”

  “It’s classic and easy to accessorize. Please, my blouse is wrinkled. I’d like my jacket.”

  “It’s hardly wrinkled at all. I doubt anyone else will notice. Besides, you don’t belong in stuffy suits.”

  “It’s a classic.”

  “You belong in green, love.” Her jacket held by the collar, Court wrapped his other hand around her waist and guided her from the bedroom. “A flowing gown that clings to your body. Nothing fussy or stuffy for you.”

  “Cliché. Redheads in green is overdone. Besides, haven’t you heard about this little time period called mourning? I believe it was made popular by one of your monarchs.” She glanced up at him through her lashes as they took the stairs down. “Victoria? Name ring a bell?”

  “So century before last. And if you were following the fashion, you’d be wearing pale lavender by now, but I think it’s safe to say you can throw off the colors of mourning completely.”

  “I look horrible in lavender.” At the bottom of the stairs she stopped and straightened his tie. Any excuse to touch him.

  “All the more reason to toss away the widow’s weeds.” Careless of the suit jackets he carried, Court wrapped his arms around her. “I don’t smell bacon, darling. What did you order for breakfast?”

  “Yogurt, grapefruit, oatmeal, wheat toast, and orange juice.”

  “Hell’s bells.” Court groaned. “We had this discussion in California. That is not a proper breakfast. It won’t hold me until lunch.”

  “You have your choice of coffee or tea, of course.”

  “I thought we agreed to a full English breakfast.”

  “You agreed. But then you put me in charge. I believe the only requirements were coffee and tea service during your meetings.”

  “Ahem.”

  Court looked up and over Randi’s head at the feminine sound from the dining area. “Martha. You made it in time. Good.” Court released Randi on one side and turned her. “This is Ms. Ferguson. Randi, this is my secretary, the ever indispensable Martha. Anything Fiske can’t handle, turn it over to Martha.”

  The indispensable Martha was a revelation. In fact, the woman looked an awful lot like Randi herself had twenty years earlier. She smiled to cover the ice that suddenly dropped her stomach to her toes. “Martha, thank you for handling the last minute change of plans in moving the meeting stateside.” Randi extended her hand. From the way Martha’s gaze raked her from head to toe, she wondered just how indispensable Martha felt herself to be. The returned handshake was firm and brief.

  “My pleasure, ma’am.” The tight smile from the younger woman came nowhere close to reaching the icy green eyes. Green eyes enhanced by the forest green suit which perfectly showcased shoulder length golden red hair and shapely legs displayed to advantage by matching green leather pumps. Had Randi worn formal business wear at twenty-two, she would have been a dead ringer for this woman. Apparently, Martha also recognized the similarities and wasn’t amused.

  “My goodness, Court, it’s almost like looking in a mirror from the past.” At least Randi had the dubious pleasure of seeing Court do a double take, his head swiveling between one woman and the other.

  “Blimey, you’re right. I never noticed it before, but Martha could be your sister.” Oblivious to the tension in the room, he took Randi’s hand and tugged her toward the dining table. She could almost hear Martha’s thoughts. No way did the younger woman buy the sister line. “Morning, Fiske. Tell me she doesn’t have me on a starvation plan.”

  Fiske held a chair for Randi as he answered. “The heart healthy breakfast, sir. Complex carbohydrates, fruit, low fat dairy, and low cholesterol protein.”

  Court tossed their suit jackets over the back of the sofa before pulling out his own chair. “Low cholesterol?”

  “Egg white omelet, sir.”

  Court groaned and hauled Randi close to his side. “Darling. Egg white omelet?”

  “With onion, tomato, ham and cheese, and only half egg white. Now unhand me and fuel up.”

  “Martha, better come sit with us and keep my mind off this dire food by going over the schedule.” Court pressed a kiss on Randi’s lips and released her to shake out the white linen napkin. The chill around her intensified as she watched Court morph into mogul. It was an amazing transformation.

  Not pleased with the sudden business tone that filled the air, Randi dug into her cup of yogurt, eating silently while Martha opened her leather planner and began flipping through documents as if they sat in a boardroom instead of at the breakfast table.

  “The cards you requested arrived this morning,” Martha said, and handed over two plastic credit cards. Court glanced at them, then set them down next to Randi’s plate while his secretary next delivered a sheet of paper. She barely noted their existence as Martha plowed onward. “These are the notes you forwarded regarding the first part of today’s meeting with Larry. He’s particularly interested in items one through five and wants them to start arriving in his stores within the next three weeks. He’s already late for the Christmas rush, but has an intense advertising campaign ready to go the moment the first shipments arrive.”

  “And the supplier in South Africa?” Court lifted his tea cup and drank while reading down the list.

  “They have an ample supply of the Rooibos in a dozen blends. Shipment by the usual methods will be slow, but as the product is light in weight, we could guarantee delivery by air freight.”

  “Upping the cost significantly,” Court said.

  “Of course, however…”

  “Yes, he waited until the last moment—again—and expects us to pull a miracle out of our hat. Good thing I anticipated him, and we have enough to get a minimal supply to him within a week if he agrees to the terms.”

  The business talk continued as Randi ate a few bites of each dish Fiske placed in front of her. Court ate without paying particular attention to the food, neither complimenting nor complaining, until he reached the grapefruit half, which he merely waved away.

  If Martha wasn’t handing him papers, Court ate with one hand and rested the other on Randi’s thigh. She understood the significance of preparing for the day’s meetings, but she objected to breakfast as the time to do it, and she was about to speak up when a stack of letters requiring Court’s signature appeared from the leather folder.

  Court spared Randi a rueful grin. “After all, I was out of the office for the entire week.”

  “Of course.” She hid her grimace by sipping from her tea cup.

  Martha briefly met her gaze with a look that voiced disapproval as if she’d shouted it from the roof top, but Court missed it entirely.

  “What do you think of the tea?” he asked Randi.

  “I’ve always enjoyed this blend. Of course, this particular Emperor’s Puerh is distributed from the Bay Area. Not far from my house, as a matter of fact.”

  Court laughed and leane
d over to kiss her cheek. “I knew all those teapots meant something more than a casual tea drinker.”

  With a slight shrug, she tried to dismiss his curiosity.

  “Come now, tell me how deep your knowledge goes.” He rested an arm on the back of her chair and reached for the teapot to refill her cup. “How did the collection get started?”

  “It started when Mother gave us the large silver tea service for our wedding. From there it became a tradition.” The collection had grown with each anniversary, some years a small whimsical tea pot had caught Wyatt’s eye, others an elaborate set. Then a friend had noticed and bought her a tea-for-one set for a birthday. From there, the gifts had exploded to the point Randi had wistfully admired the diamonds and gold the husbands of her friends purchased each year. Randi got tea pots and tea sets.

  “You should see this assortment, Martha.” Court set down the pot and relaxed, leaving his arm loosely embracing Randi’s shoulders. His body heat comforted her. “Close to a hundred sets if I’m not mistaken. Everything from Royal Doulton to some of the funkiest artist renditions you’ve ever seen. Cast iron, silver, bone china, ceramic, yixing, new, old, antique; I think I even noticed a Tony Carter in one cabinet and something hand carved in wood in another. I don’t think I’ve seen such a collection outside a museum before.”

  “Amazing,” the indispensable Martha murmured, clearly not impressed.

  “I still can’t get her to own up to her favorite tea after all this time.”

  “I don’t have a favorite,” Randi said.

  “Used to be Earl Grey. What happened?”

  Like she would really tell him the truth about that? “I decided to be eclectic and broaden my horizons.”

  “I’m curious to see how your palate has developed. I also want your opinion on a selection of Maté blends. In the meantime, these cards are for you. I know how much women like shopping, so I don’t want you to feel restricted. One is for you and one is for Birdie. I hope she uses her legal name for things like credit cards because I used Courtney on the card.”