If You So Desire

by Yahrah St. John

“Fine. Consider it done.” Jeffrey closed his organizer. He knew when to back off.

  “Please schedule to have my Armani suit pressed and ready for me by six-thirty sharp,” Ian replied.

  “Will do,” Jeffrey said, taking his leave.

  Ian had no intention of altering his plans, not when he had someone as intriguing as Sage Anderson just within his reach.

  Sage nervously put down the receiver. When she’d called Jeffrey, she’d anticipated a business meeting with Ian at her office. Instead, Jeffrey had informed her that Ian was busy for the duration of the afternoon and would only be available for dinner tomorrow.

  Dinner was exactly what they didn’t need. It was impossible to deny that when they were in the same room there was a spark between them. She’d felt it yesterday afternoon when he’d personally stopped by to inform her he’d like to retain their services. It was something his assistant could have easily taken care of, but instead Ian had taken the time to personally come and hire them.

  Sage needed to interview him in order to get started on the case. So she had no choice but to accept his dinner invitation to Jean Georges.

  When Friday arrived, she purposely did not go home to change because she wanted to reiterate this dinner was not a date. It was a business meeting. Her pearls, cream-and-black knee-length pleated dress and matching jacket would have to be suitable enough. Ian needed to know that their relationship had boundaries.

  When security rang her office to let her know that his car was downstairs, Sage grabbed her briefcase with trepidation. Breathe, just breathe, she told herself. She didn’t need another asthma attack. He was just a man after all. One fine-looking man.

  The short elevator ride was interminable as Sage reminded herself to forget the man and remain professional. It was easier said than done when the chauffeur opened the door and she found Ian Lawrence sprawled across the backseat of his Bentley.

  “Are you getting in?” he asked when Sage paused at the door.

  “Of course.” She smiled as the chauffeur helped her inside.

  “I’m looking forward to dinner with you.” Ian turned to Sage and his eyes roved her up and down. She was wearing another suit and some black pumps. He’d hoped she would have changed so he could see more of her figure.

  Sage noticed Ian staring and replied, “I hope what I’m wearing is sufficient? I didn’t have time to change.” She lied.

  “You’re fine.” Ian patted her knee.

  At the touch of his hand, Sage could swear an electric charge passed between them. As soon as she had what she needed, she intended to end the evening as quickly as possible.

  The maître d’ at Jean Georges on Central Park West seated them quickly. Clearly, he knew who Ian Lawrence was.

  “Do you like?” Ian asked, once they were seated.

  “It’s lovely.” The restaurant was bright from the large windows with glimpses of Central Park and done in a beige palette that was unobtrusive.

  A bucket of champagne was sent over almost immediately as if there was some cue between Ian and the staff. The waiter poured each of them a glass. When he was finished, he handed Sage one. She didn’t recall mentioning she was thirsty, but then again, this was probably how Ian lived, champagne and caviar every night. It was very far from Sage’s humble beginnings although she had acquired a taste for the finer things in life over the years. She’d even made significant strides in paying off the huge student loan from law school hanging over her head; if she made partner soon, she would be able to pay it off in full.

  To keep things professional, Sage pulled out her recorder. “Tell me about Lucas Johnson.”

  “You don’t waste any time,” Ian replied. She’d barely tasted her champagne and was all ready to jump in head-first into the deep end. “But I think the waiter needs our order first.”

  Sage glanced up and saw the waiter patiently standing by their table and turned off the recorder. After he’d taken the first and second course orders, Ian filled her in on Lucas.

  “Lucas was always ambitious. He and I started out at Lawrence Enterprises at roughly the same time. My father was determined that I would learn the business from top to bottom, so he put me in a low-level position. I had to work my way up, the same as everyone else.”

  “And Lucas?”

  “Was in the same position, our rise was almost tandem. If one of us got a promotion, the other was right around the corner.”

  “So it was a competition?”

  He paused a moment. “You could say that.”

  Sage noticed how Ian chose his words carefully. “You didn’t care for Lucas, did you?” she inquired.

  “No, not at first,” Ian responded. “I was bitterly upset that my father was treating me like the average employee after all he’d paid for my Harvard education. Plus my father lavished attention on Lucas, something he never gave me, so there was some resentment there. But Lucas was always a hard worker. I saw him in the trenches and we became friends. When my father passed away, I promoted Lucas to the executive level.”

  “What went wrong?” Sage inquired. “Do you have any idea where the racism that Lucas has mentioned came from?”

  “I do. Bruce Hoffman, my bitter opponent on the L.E. board, is the culprit. He’s a shareholder stationed in Los Angeles and despises me.” Ian should have gotten rid of Bruce years ago, but he had too many friends on the board and Ian couldn’t run the risk of alienating the board. Although Ian held a great deal of the stock, it wasn’t majority interest. “Hoffman’s hated me since the day I took over the company. Called me an upstart. Back to the case at hand—Lucas never reported the harassment, he let it escalate, but it doesn’t matter. I will not let Lucas destroy my company.”

  “I see,” Sage replied. The fact that Lucas never reported it was definitely in their favor. However, if there was harassment, Ian could still be liable.

  The waiter returned and set her sea scallops with caramelized cauliflower and his sesame crab toast in front of them. “Please dig in.” Ian nodded to the food.

  Sage didn’t care about the amuse bouche. She was dying to know what went wrong between these two respected colleagues, but she relented and took a forkful. “Go on.”

  Ian didn’t respond because he noticed his deceased father’s former girlfriend Gia Smith and another colleague walking toward their table. He hadn’t seen Gia since she’d come onto him after the funeral and he’d thrown her out of his house and out of the company. He’d thought she was overseas. When had she returned?

  Sage followed Ian’s gaze and looked up at the beauty. Dressed in designer duds that must have cost a fortune, the woman carried herself with a regal air.

  “Ian, what a surprise to see you,” Gia spoke first.

  “Gia.” Ian rose and pushed back his chair. “What brings you back to Manhattan?” Truth be told, he was glad she’d been on the opposite side of the Atlantic in London. There had been less friction between him and Lucas without her presence.

  “It’s good to see you, too.” Gia chuckled as she kissed both of his cheeks. “How are you, darling?”

  Sage noted the familiarity with which Gia spoke to Ian. Clearly, they knew each other well.

  “Well. And you? How long have you been back in town?” Ian asked again as he sat back down and perused her face. Time had been good to Gia; she looked as put together as the first time he and Lucas had seen her in the Lawrence Enterprises cafeteria all those years ago.

  “I’m great. I’ve been back a few months. I’m working for Bob’s firm.” She motioned to her companion. “Bob McNamara, this is Ian Lawrence.”

  “We’ve met before,” Bob responded and offered his hand. “Good to see you, Ian.”

  “You, too.” Ian glanced in Sage’s direction. “Gia Smith, Bob McNamara, this is my attorney, Sage Anderson.”

  “Your attorney?” Gia raised a brow. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  Sage noticed that Ian didn’t answer the charged question, so she extended her hand. “It
’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise.” Gia returned the handshake.

  “Enjoy your dinner.” Bob nodded at Ian and Sage before escorting Gia away.

  “Who was that?” Sage asked even though she would have preferred to ask if that was another one of his lady friends.

  “Gia, Lucas and I go way back,” Ian commented.

  “Oh, really?” Sage asked. Now her curiosity was definitely piqued. “That’s very intriguing, indeed. Maybe she can help your case.”

  “I highly doubt that,” Ian returned. Although he knew they needed to discuss the case, it wasn’t the reason he’d asked her to dinner. “You know the basics of the case, now I’d like some information. How long have you been at your firm?”

  Sage wondered what about Gia had upset Ian so. She’d be sure to find out another time. “C’mon, like you don’t already know,” she said with a tease in her voice. She was sure Jeffrey had investigated her before Ian hired the firm.

  Ian grinned. “Humor me. I would like to get to know the attorney who is representing me and whose shoulders millions of dollars are resting on.”

  “Okay,” Sage conceded. “I’ve been at G.H.W.A. for nearly six years, I started clerking for the firm during the summer while I was at NYU and when I graduated, I was offered a position.”

  “So everything fell into place for you.”

  “Life hasn’t always been roses for me,” Sage replied. She reached for her champagne flute and sipped liberally. “Unlike you, Ian, I grew up with nothing.”

  “So you think I’m spoiled?” Ian asked. “Because of all this?” He waved his hand around.

  Sage paused. “Spoiled has such a negative connotation. I would say you’re—privileged.”

  “I would agree.” Ian nodded. “But I have worked hard for the success I’ve achieved, as have you.”

  “True, but my success was a lot harder to come by,” Sage argued. “Being one of the few African-Americans in law school and one of the few women at my law firm has forced me to work harder than the average male.”

  “I have a feeling that you thrive on it,” Ian responded. Sage struck him as someone who wouldn’t take no for an answer. When he’d finally read the dossier on her, it had detailed her successes in the courtroom. “I think we should toast to your success.” He lifted his champagne flute.

  “To success.” Sage clicked her flute with his. “I suppose you have a point. When someone tells me I can’t do something or a case is not winnable, I work extra hard to prove them wrong.”

  “Like when your boss thinks you can’t secure a certain high-profile lawsuit?” he offered.

  Sage couldn’t resist smiling.

  “Your moxie is what got your firm the case, but it’s not why I chose you to head my team.” Ian focused his intense gaze on Sage and she swallowed hard. Tension formed tight in her belly.

  “You must know the reason I chose your firm was because of you, Sage.” Ian looked her directly in the eye.

  “Look, our food is here.” Sage nodded to the waiter who was holding his grilled beef tenderloin in a horseradish puree with crunchy potatoes and her parmesan crusted chicken with artichokes, basil and lemon butter in his hands. “Hmm, doesn’t it look delicious?”

  As soon as he set it down, Sage avoided eye contact with Ian and went straight for her knife, but Ian reached across the table and put his hand over hers. “I find you extremely attractive, Sage, and I think we would be great together.”

  The touch of his hand on her sent a strong current coursing through Sage’s body and she quickly moved her hand away. “Ian, don’t.” She glanced around to make sure no one had seen him.

  “Why?” Ian’s brow rose. “We’re both consenting adults.”

  “Because you’re my client and it would be completely unethical,” Sage returned.

  “I’m not the only one feeling the pull. A moment ago when I touched you, I felt a connection and I know you felt it, too.”

  Sage shook her head. Despite how she was feeling she had to draw a line in the sand. “I don’t get involved with my clients,” she said more firmly, more so to convince herself than him.

  “Then I’m just going to have to convince you otherwise,” Ian said, cutting into his beef tenderloin.

  “You think you’re going to change my mind?” Sage asked. “You’re dead wrong. Once I make my mind up, that’s it.”

  “Quite frankly, I don’t think you’ll be able to help yourself.” Ian took a forkful of tenderloin into his mouth.

  Sage’s brow furrowed into a frown. “Are you always this arrogant?”

  “I would say I’m confident.”

  “I’m sure a man like you is used to women more than willing to join you in bed, Ian, but I will not be one of them.”

  “Not yet,” Ian said. “But you will be.”

  His comment lingered long after they’d finished dinner and dessert and moved on to safer subjects like politics, business and Craze magazine, Lawrence Enterprises’ latest acquisition. Eventually, Sage glanced down at her watch. It was getting late and she needed to get away from Ian for her own peace of mind.

  “Don’t tell me you’re ready to call it a night?”

  “It seems we’ve discussed everything relevant to your case. So I kindly ask that you take me home,” Sage replied.

  “Come.” He rose from his chair and held out his hand.

  “I won’t take no for an answer.” He grabbed Sage by the hand and led her to the door. The Bentley was outside waiting for them. When had he had the time to call? Sage wondered as she climbed inside the car.

  A short while later, the driver stopped in front of the 60 Thompson Hotel in Soho. “You’re taking me to a hotel?” Sage asked when Ian escorted her out of the Bentley. She couldn’t believe his audacity or arrogance that she would sleep with him after one night in his company. She snatched her hand out of his and started for the car, but Ian stopped her.

  “That’s not why I brought you here.” Ian reacted quickly and held a hand over the door. “Come with me.”

  Sage regarded him suspiciously.

  “Cross my heart.” Ian mimicked his words with his fingers.

  Reluctantly Sage followed him and was surprised when the elevator took them up to the roof. The roof was completely empty save for a single couch and cocktail table while dozens of flowers and candles of all shapes and sizes adorned the ledges. A small stage had been set up in the middle of the roof and a band sat waiting.

  The Manhattan skyline served as a beautiful backdrop on this mild spring evening. The sky was clear and Sage swore she could see a hundred stars. “Is this all for me?”

  Ian nodded. “I reserved the entire roof. I didn’t want any interruptions.”

  “And they just let you have it for the entire night?”

  “For a price, plus I know the owner and he owes me,” Ian returned. “But that’s not all. Here’s your real surprise.” He motioned to the stage just as Robin Thicke appeared.

  “Ohmigod!” Sage’s hand flew to her mouth. Ian had brought Robin Thicke to serenade her? “I can’t believe you did this.”

  Ian grinned broadly. “What’s money if it can’t buy you a few perks?”

  “And you just happen to know Robin Thicke?”

  “I know a lot of celebrities,” Ian replied. “I am in media. Now are you going to stand there gawking or are you going to have a seat?”

  As much as she wanted to say no, Sage wanted to hear the R&B crooner, so she allowed Ian to lead her to the plush patio couch with half a dozen pillows and a cocktail table with a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

  Once he’d helped her onto the couch, Ian popped open the champagne bottle and poured Sage a generous glass. “To romance.”

  “Is that what you call this?” Sage raised a brow because no sooner than the first strain of the music started, Sage recognized the song Robin Thicke was about to sing, “Sex Therapy.” “I would call it seduction, plain and simple.”

  Ian s
hrugged. “Call it what you will.” He sipped on his champagne. “But I play to win.”

  “And that is all I am to you, Ian. A conquest. And once you’ve conquered me, you move on.”

  “I doubt I would move on so quickly.” Ian’s eyes roamed her face. “Why are you so busy trying to hold all that passion inside? I think you have a lot of pent-up frustration inside that you need to let loose.”

  As if on cue, Robin sang the lyrics “stressed out, uptight, overworked, wound up, unleash what you got, let’s explore your naughty side…”

  “You don’t know the first thing about me, Ian,” Sage replied, taking a sip from her glass. “I know how to let go.”

  “Good.” He rose to his feet and grabbed her hand, forcing her to her feet. “Dance with me.”

  When Sage paused, Ian replied, “Are you game?”

  Never one to walk away from a challenge, Sage didn’t hesitate for a second to remove her suit jacket and lay it over a nearby chair. “Let’s go.” She sashayed toward the stage and stood with her arms crossed waiting for him.

  “All right.” Ian smiled and confidently walked toward her. Sage steeled herself for the effect of having Ian’s hands on any part of her body. His large hand reached out and grasped hers while the other gently placed her left lightly on his shoulder before sliding around her waist to rest just above her spine. He was tender in the way he held her, but possessive all the same. He slid closer until their torsos touched. Sage willed her betraying heart to calm down; she didn’t want Ian to know how deeply he was affecting her. Could he hear her frantic heartbeat?

  It didn’t help that the lyrics to Robin’s song “Sex Therapy” were so seductive. “It’s your body, you can yell if you want to. Loud if you want to, scream if you want to. Just let me love you, lie right there, girl, don’t be scared of me. Give you sex therapy, give you sex therapy…”

  Ian swayed his body to the music and Sage easily slid into a comfortable rhythm with him. As Robin’s voice swelled, Ian tightened his hold as if she was his most prized possession. Sage glanced up to look at him and came into direct contact with Ian’s appreciative male gaze. Her breath caught in her throat and she had to force air down her lungs as he kept his cobalt eyes fixed on hers throughout the dance. He continued to lead her across the floor and in one swift moment dipped her.