Going All the Way (Mills & Boon Temptation)

by Tanya Michaels

  The thought gave her a twinge of painful déjà vu, and she blinked. She wasn’t a kid anymore, wishing someone would pay her more attention. She was self-sufficient and had plenty of her own concerns to keep her busy, such as the promotional efforts she’d been coordinating to grow her company and the surprise party she was supposed to be planning for Alyson’s twenty-seventh birthday. So why the restless annoyance and confusion because David had given up?

  Not that she wanted him to try to change her mind—no, the safe distance was much, um, safer—but she didn’t think she’d ever seen him concede defeat so easily. Come to think of it, she’d never seen him concede defeat. Then again, why would a man who could have his choice of women much better suited to him continue pursuing one who claimed not to want him?

  Claimed being the key word. Because just the sound of his voice on the other end of the phone was enough to spark tremors inside her.

  Funny, when Meredith had once proposed introducing Serena to some “nice young businessmen,” James had interrupted with a disappointed, “I think you’ll find the young men we know aren’t Serena’s type.”

  That was probably true, although she wondered just exactly what her father deemed her “type.” He’d be stunned to learn David Grant, consummate businessman and grandson of a congressman, was the one who dominated her thoughts. Thoughts, fantasies…

  Could she really turn David away if he suggested their going to bed again? Her eager body quivered at the thought of making love to him. No, no, no. You are not going to sleep with him. If she was smart, she wouldn’t even get within twenty feet of him. So it was good that he was too busy at work for them to see each other. Besides, she had her own job to do.

  “Hey, boss?” Natalie’s voice came through the speaker-intercom on Serena’s phone.

  Serena sighed, grateful for the interruption. “Yes?”

  “You have time for an appointment at ten-thirty?”

  “Depends on whether or not it would take longer than about twenty minutes.” Serena glanced at her day planner. “I should get out of here by eleven if I’m going to get to that caterer’s on time.”

  The intercom line went dead, as Natalie presumably returned to her phone call and relayed news of Serena’s schedule. Serena exhaled, thinking that a meeting with a new client would be a very good thing.

  She’d recently sunk a large chunk of change into advertising, knowing that in business you had to spend money to make it, but now she was waiting nervously to see if the investment would pay off. She couldn’t afford to be thinking about David instead of her customers and what she could do to make each of their events memorable and flawless. With that reminder, she got back to work, making calls to a local deejay, a small airport—for a couple who wanted a sky-diving wedding—and a hotel with an outdoor patio she’d reserved for a client’s “Midsummer’s Night” bash.

  Ten-thirty arrived before she knew it, and she was just pulling out her compact and some lip-gloss when someone knocked on her door. Natalie. The receptionist wasn’t at her desk and hadn’t announced anyone’s arrival. Surely she wouldn’t have ducked out when they were expecting a client.

  “Come on in,” Serena called, pursing her lips in front of the small handheld mirror.

  “Hope you’re not applying makeup for my benefit.”

  At the sound of David’s voice, she jumped. Her tube of Really Rum Raisin rolled beneath the desk.

  “Because I’ve always thought you looked just as beautiful without it,” he added as he walked toward her.

  “Hey. Y-you startled me.” But her accelerated pulse had as much to do with the way his pale-blue shirt made his eyes glow as it did with her surprise at seeing him.

  He bent down for a moment, then straightened. “I believe this is yours?”

  “Thanks.” Serena reached out to take the gloss, trying not to brush his fingers with her own but failing. Waves of warmth coursed through her, and she was grateful for the piece of furniture separating their bodies. “I’m glad you dropped by, but I’m afraid I have an app—”

  “I’m the appointment, Serena. Meet your ten-thirty.”

  Serena narrowed her eyes. Natalie was a dead woman. “By any chance, did you pass my receptionist on your way in?”

  He nodded, taking a seat in one of the visitor’s chairs. “She said she was running down the hall to fill the coffeepot with water.”

  Serena sat, too, wishing she was depressed over the lost business instead of so happy to see him. “She led me to believe I’d be meeting with a new client.”

  “You are.” He grinned. “I have a proposition for you.”

  “I’ll just bet.” What was the man up to now?

  “A business proposition. On behalf of AGI, I’d like to hire you for a large charity fund-raiser three weeks from this Saturday.”

  Three weeks? Was he insane?

  He gave her a moment to let his offer sink in, but the pause only confused her, allowing time for conflicting thoughts and emotions. How often had she thrown business Craig’s way, buying an extra painting to help fund his groceries—primarily canned soups and produce on sale because the sell-by date was approaching? Was that what David was doing, friendly charity? She’d told him profit had been low recently, which sounded better than nonexistent. She was partly relieved, partly flattered by his offer. Still…

  “This is, um, unexpected. It’s nice of you to consider Inventive Events, of course, but—”

  “It’s not a personal decision. A lot of the bigger services would have required my booking them months ago, or, if they squeezed us in, they wouldn’t have the time I’d like devoted to this. I was hoping, if things have been slow for you, that you’d fit us in. I know that’s a hefty favor to ask, but a job this size could get the word out about your company. And I know I can work with you, which is important, because I intend to be very hands-on.”

  Her undisciplined gaze fluttered down to his fingers, and she easily recalled the way they’d played over her skin, the way he’d known exactly when to touch her softly, teasing, and when to be more forceful. Business, Serena. Focus.

  Her mind was too blank to add anything professional, so he continued his pitch.

  “I have a lot on my plate right now, and one of the things AGI wants is for me to announce our presence with a splash and network within the business community. A coalition of local technology companies has been sponsoring an annual fund-raiser to fight breast cancer, with all of them contributing cash but one group acting as the ‘host.’ They rotate the bulk of responsibilities, but this year’s scheduled host company sank its money into a huge software project that flopped. They’re pretty busy just trying to avoid bankruptcy and only recently bothered to let the partner sponsors know the ball had been dropped. No one else was excited about trying to take it on last-minute, but the timing of the event is exactly the networking opportunity I want for AGI, if I can put together something smashing in time.”

  David spoke with a rapid, almost breathless enthusiasm, and she could see how much this opportunity meant to him, how determined he was to make the most of it.

  Then he grinned at her, his expression becoming more personal. “Naturally, when I thought ‘smashing,’ I thought of you.”

  She laughed at the unnecessary compliment. “Isn’t the flattery-will-get-you-everywhere approach a bit clichéd?”

  “I prefer to think of it as tried and true.”

  “My dad’s wedding is the weekend before,” she hedged, wondering what her stress threshold was for early June. “This really isn’t great timing.”

  “I know. But it won’t be for anyone else I try to get last-minute, either. And this will help you out. In return, you get to help me wow Atlanta and raise money for a good cause. So how ’bout it? Say you’ll do this, Serena.”

  She pressed her fingers to her temples, knowing she’d be nine kinds of idiot to turn down the potential word-of-mouth, which would do more than any advertising she bought. “Don’t your bosses need to see
some kind of proposal first, my ideas or estimated costs?”

  “Normally, yes. But there’s barely time as it is.”

  True. “What kind of event did you have in mind?”

  “A dinner. The theme is Time to Find a Cure.”

  Her heart sank. Certainly the cause was a worthy one, but her forte wasn’t exactly black-tie charity banquets where people paid three hundred a plate for chicken kiev in a hotel ballroom and schmoozed for a few hours. He was offering her a unique chance to spread the word about her company, but if she was going to build a reputation, she wanted it to be an accurate one. “David, I know this is important to you, and I want to help. But I specialize in events a little different from the norm.”

  He frowned. “How different did you have in mind?”

  She bit her lip. “I’m not sure yet. But if you wanted to go the traditional route, an arts-and-antiques auction or—”

  “Serena, I don’t want traditional. I want you.”

  Her gaze flew to his, and her heart pounded at the warm assurance in his voice. The lust she’d been fighting reflected back at her from his eyes. But there was more than just desire there. There was understanding. Affection. Acceptance.

  The giddy rush it gave her was so potent her eyes actually welled with tears she rapidly blinked away.

  “Obviously I have to be able to sell everyone on it,” he added quickly, “but I want it to have your personal touch. To be fun.”

  “All right,” she agreed. “I’ll do you.”

  His eyebrows shot up.

  “Do this job for you, I meant.” Brilliant. Just the Freudian slip she’d needed to keep things professional and platonic.

  “It doesn’t have to be an either-or situation,” he said with a broad grin. “I’d be happy to let you do both.”

  She cleared her throat. “You know what, an auction might be good, now that I think about it. I’m picturing…men.” Actually, she’d been picturing him. Naked. But she tried to use that to springboard to something more productive.

  His wary expression reminded her of someone who’d stepped off the high-dive and had only just noticed the drop. “Men? I’m not sure where you’re going with this.”

  “A bachelor auction!” Why not? That wasn’t even far out in left field. “A gladiator, a cowboy, a firefighter—”

  “I’m picturing the Village People,” he interrupted, his scowl having gone past caution straight to discreet panic.

  She glared. Sure, he said he trusted her, but he’d have a completely different tone of voice right now if she’d just suggested the chicken kiev and a silent art auction. Disappointment cramped her belly, and the skeptical expression in his eyes reminded her unpleasantly of her father. And that one well-meaning business professor who’d kept insisting she had the brains to succeed if she’d just change her approach.

  But this is David. He knows you, and he asked for your personal touch. If he was serious about giving her a chance, then she owed him the same.

  She took a deep breath, exhaling away the negativity and the initial excitement that had kept her from articulating the idea better. “You said the theme is Time to Find a Cure, right? And there are a coalition of companies that will be listed as sponsors? Then we should have a decent pool of eligible men to use from the different businesses. The evening’s host—you?—can start with a prepared statement about all of the things mankind has managed to do since time began. The invention of fire, going to the moon. And, soon, we hope, with the generous donations of people like yourselves, a cure for cancer.”

  David crossed his arms. “Not bad so far. Go on.”

  “Admission will be one way to raise money, but after the dinner, we’ll auction off dates for charity. Each bachelor can be in costume, representing a different period. Vikings, knights, swashbucklers, cowboys…all the basic female fantasies.”

  “Hmm. Might take some cajoling, but in the end, I think most of the guys will be won over by the chance to be a woman’s living fantasy.” His blue eyes took on a speculative gleam as he sat forward. “So, what’s yours? Fantasy, I mean.”

  “I, uh…” She tried to come up with something that was David’s total opposite, something that would thwart his advances, discourage him from coming around the desk, leaning her back in her chair and laying siege to her willpower with hot breathless kisses. Right. Because that would be bad. “Bikers. Yeah, that’s it. Leather-clad bad boys.”

  His eyes widened, then he laughed. “So you’re a Hell’s Angels kind of gal?”

  “All the way.” Sheesh. “Can’t resist a guy with a pig.”

  “It’s possible the word you were looking for there was hog.”

  “That’s not what I said?” She glanced pointedly at the day planner on her desk. “Did I mention I have to be going soon?”

  “Natalie warned me when I set up the appointment.” He sighed, then resumed his no-nonsense demeanor. “Actually, you gave me an idea with the motorcycles. Maybe we should auction off something macho and high-dollar. Let’s assume that most of the men attending won’t be bidding on the bachelors.”

  Serena nodded thoughtfully. “We could have an ongoing silent auction throughout the evening, where prospective buyers, men and women, could write down bids on props.”

  “What kind of props?”

  “Something that corresponds loosely to each of our themed bachelors. A collector’s edition pistol for the cowboy, state-of-the-art fishing equipment for a buccaneer. I did say loosely. This is all off the top of my head.”

  He laughed. “No, I like it. Let me present this to the investors. Damn, I wish we had more time. The good news is, the venue’s already booked, so we don’t have to worry about where we’re going to have this thing. But the details are all up in the air, thanks to the jokers who let it slide. I’m doing final interviews tomorrow morning for my receptionist, but how about I pick you up for lunch? That gives us both tonight to jot down thoughts and you time to outline what might need to be done.”

  Good to be back on steady, impersonal ground. “It would have to be a late lunch, but that sounds perfect. Let’s nail down specifics as soon as possible, and I’ll take it from there.”

  “We’ll take it from there,” he corrected. “Don’t worry, I have no intention of getting in your way, but I do plan to be very closely involved in the decisions on everything. I’m being entrusted with funds from a number of people, and after the way this was disastrously mismanaged the first time, I want to be able to report back to everyone with concrete explanations of what’s being done.”

  He flashed her a wolfish grin. “So you and I will be spending a great deal of time together.”

  dpg

  7

  “THIS IS your idea of a business lunch?” Serena stood in the parking lot with her hands on her hips.

  Her first surprise had been when David walked into her office in a green polo shirt and jeans, unusually casual for a Tuesday afternoon meeting. Then he’d ushered her out to his newly leased convertible—he’d really liked the model he’d rented on his last trip—and showed her the basket of chips, sandwiches and fresh fruit.

  “A picnic,” she said incredulously. Not that spending the afternoon rolling around on a blanket with this man didn’t sound appealing. “I thought this was strictly professional.”

  He pressed a hand to his heart, his eyes wide in unconvincing fake surprise. “I can’t believe you of all people are so incapable of thinking outside the box. I just moved back down South and would like to take advantage of the gorgeous environment. Is there any reason we can’t talk about dinner arrangements and sound systems while eating outside?”

  “No.”

  But she wasn’t buying his act, either. He reached past her, brushing her body just slightly, to open her car door. Somehow, he seemed like a man with more than just sound systems on his mind.

  “I can’t shake the feeling I’ve been had,” she muttered.

  He chuckled as he pushed the door closed. “Honey, if you’d
been had, you’d know it.”

  Her suspicions about the afternoon outing were heightened when he drove them to a park. They passed a parked truck and a jogger, but with kids still in school and the forecast calling for rain later, the grounds were fairly deserted. They followed a winding road around a man-made lake and up a little ridge that led to the back of the park, and David stopped beneath some trees that overlooked the water. In a couple of weeks, the area would be packed with swimmers and people wanting to take out their boats, but today it was breezy and subdued.

  “Secluded spot you picked,” she observed as David unrolled a thick fleecy blanket under some trees.

  “I thought the shade would be nice,” he countered.

  “Convenient.” Never mind the fact that the sun kept disappearing behind clouds.

  He plopped down between the basket and the small well-stocked cooler he’d brought along. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

  His intentions aside, the veggie sub on whole wheat he’d brought her would definitely hit the spot. She kicked off her shoes and placed them on the corners of the blanket, which kept rustling in the wind. Despite her misgivings, he really did want to discuss business. She’d spent yesterday evening putting together a summary of her ideas and everything that needed to be done, and he leafed through all of them, asking rapid-fire questions and sharing his own suggestions.

  In seemingly no time, she’d devoured her sandwich, followed by a bag of chips, and they’d filled three pages of notes. David finished off the contents of a container of fresh fruit and packed the trash into the basket, away from the steadily increasing breeze. Then he stretched out on the blanket, lying on his side with his weight supported on his elbow. When she asked for a tentative head count of auctionees, he rattled off names of eligible bachelors in his office.

  Serena, sitting near his feet with her legs bent to the side, flicked his calf with her pen. “What about you? You’ve conveniently left yourself off this list,” she teased.