Going All the Way (Mills & Boon Temptation)

by Tanya Michaels

  “I have a murder mystery event in midtown,” she said, sounding genuinely regretful. “It could easily go past midnight. But we’re still on for Friday, right?”

  He closed his eyes. “Very on. I plan to get you out of that restaurant as soon as possible.”

  She chuckled, then adopted a Marilyn Monroe-like tone of whispery naïveté. “But you said this dinner was important. Why on earth would you want to rush through it?”

  “To get to dessert.”

  “They probably serve that.”

  “Honey, my idea of dessert would get us kicked out of just about every public place in Atlanta.”

  Her breathing quickened. “That didn’t stop us at the park. Or your office. Are you sure you’re not one of those people who gets more turned on by the risk of being caught?”

  “I don’t need to get more turned on when I’m with you. You’re quite enough for me.”

  “Even my breasts?”

  He groaned. In the years he’d known her, she’d never seemed bothered by not being more endowed, so he could only assume she mentioned them now to torture him.

  “Especially your breasts. I could touch them all day. Your nipples are the same color as apricots when you’re aroused, but taste much sweeter. I like the way they get stiffer against my tongue, the sounds you make when I suck on them.”

  A small moan caught in her throat.

  He was very aware of his own demanding desire, his hard-on bulging at the thought of seducing Serena. “Are you touching your breasts right now?”

  “Would you think less of me if I admitted I was?” Her tone was breathless with naughty humor.

  “I’d be devastated if you said you weren’t. Do something for me—rub your thumbs around your nipples, in slow circles.”

  The brief silence was so suggestive it almost rang in his ears.

  “Then over them,” he commanded. “Back and forth.”

  “And if you were here right now…?” Her voice was husky with expectation. “What would you do next?”

  If he were there, he’d be devouring them, suckling while his hands explored her body, but it was no strain to come up with an alternative course of action. “I’d pinch one lightly, just enough to make you gasp, and roll it between my fingers.”

  She did gasp, and his erection moved with a life all its own.

  “It’s only fair,” she murmured, “if I get to touch you, too.”

  “By all means,” he told her, dying for her touch now.

  “You have a great body,” she said, wistful longing in her voice. “Broad shoulders, sexy arms, a chest that’s manly but not too hairy. I’d probably start there, and work my way down.”

  It was easy to imagine Serena’s hands on him. Her touch was soft, but never tentative. Occasionally, she’d be seized with mischief and tantalize him with light caresses designed to drive him out of his mind, but mostly, she went for what she wanted with no hesitation. In bed, anyway.

  “I wouldn’t be able to wait long,” she told him. “I’d want to feel how hard you were, how much you wanted me.”

  “More with…each passing moment.” He wished it were her fingers stroking him now, curving tightly around him, slipping up and down over the taut skin as she found the rhythm that was just right for making his body burn. “It’s not the same as being inside you, though.”

  “I love the feel of you inside me.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Whether it’s just the tip of you, teasing me, or all of you beneath me as I sink down on you or you pounding into me from behind.”

  He clenched his teeth, forcing himself to slow down, wanting to keep the unexpected conversation going. “Which is your favorite?”

  “Any position that allows us to kiss and make love at the same time,” she said after a moment’s consideration. “So I can plunge my tongue into your mouth while you plunge inside me.”

  His erection quivered in his hands. “I wish I could kiss you now. But I don’t think I’d be content with just your mouth. I’d want to taste all of you. Kiss my way between your legs while I touched you there. Move in and out of you with my fingers.”

  “Yes.” Her breathing had practically become panting.

  His own hand followed the tempo of her respiration, faster and harder, and her hoarse cry sent him over the edge. His head fell back against the headboard with a thud that probably hurt, but he barely felt it.

  A few moments later, she spoke first. “Good night, David. Dream of me.”

  “Sweet dreams, yourself.”

  Then she was gone. But he was buoyed by her call and her need to reach out to him. She clearly had no qualms about sharing her body with him. Maybe with a little more encouragement, she’d soon share her heart.

  DAVID HAD LOST his mind. That was the only explanation for him being on his cell phone, talking to company partner Richard Gunn, while distracted by dresses. He paused on the sidewalk outside the display window of a Buckhead boutique he’d been passing. “Richard, the reception here is awful. I’ll call you back, okay?”

  He barely paused long enough for his supervisor to answer before disconnecting the call. If it was something important, surely Lou would bring it up at dinner tonight. The visiting partner had spent yesterday in meetings at the new location, but had taken today off to do some day-spa thing Donna had insisted on.

  If Serena had been free, David might have played hooky for a few hours himself. But she had a lunch meeting and several client appointments this afternoon. Seeing her at the restaurant this evening should be soon enough, but after not being with her for almost an entire week…

  She so dominated his thoughts that now he was noticing women’s clothing, for crying out loud! His gaze darted back to the dress in the window that had caught his eye. Three black evening dresses were on display, one with a halter top outlined in turquoise beading that made him think of those earrings she loved. The cut suggested the dress was backless, and it was easy to imagine peeling it off her, finding her body bare beneath.

  She’d look stunning in the dress. And out of it. Something she’d said weeks ago, as she’d recounted their differences, drifted through his mind. And I buy my formalwear at a vintage dress shop. Maybe he could help her see that some of the disparity she saw between them was just superficial.

  SERENA SHOULD feel relief—summer had arrived, and bookings were rolling in. A Fourth of July midnight cruise, a folk festival and a large reunion picnic for a dysfunctional family that needed an outsider to handle the specifics because none of the relatives thought they could plan together without bloodshed. Next to the winter holidays, this was her busiest season, and it had arrived just in time that she could stop imagining dire worst-case scenarios, such as needing to sell her computer to pay Natalie’s layoff severance.

  But between her impatience to see David again and her anxiety over the dinner tonight, she was finding it difficult to relax. She was more comfortable at outdoor international-food fairs than she was in five-star restaurants. She supposed if she’d lived with James instead of Tricia, she might feel differently…although it was hard to really imagine that.

  This is for David. And he was going with her to the wedding, which would score big points with Meredith. Having David on her arm might even make Serena feel a little smug in front of the soon-to-be step-siblings. Not that she encouraged herself to indulge in petty emotions.

  Back to work, she told herself. Just as she was reaching for her phone to call a pyrotechnic group who had helped her arrange some fireworks displays last year, it rang.

  She picked up the receiver. “Inventive Events, Serena speaking.”

  “Is this the same Serena Donavan who’s doing the AGI auction?” a man with a gravelly voice asked.

  “One and the same.”

  “Wonderful! I got your number when I played racquet-ball with David Grant a couple of weeks ago. My name’s Kenneth Cage, with Cage Cellular, and I wanted to talk to you about a retirement party for our chief financial officer. David said you wer
e the best, and I want the best to send Fred out in style. If you’re not already too booked…David mentioned that in a few weeks everyone in Atlanta was going to be fighting to hire you.”

  Serena managed not to laugh at the embellishment as she got specifics from Mr. Cage and agreed to e-mail him some preliminary ideas and fee schedules.

  “Send me whatever you come up with,” the man said at the conclusion of their call. “Just no luaus. I’m not about to wear a damned grass skirt, even in Fred’s honor.”

  This time she did laugh, deciding she rather liked Kenneth Cage.

  She was still smiling when she hung up the receiver. David was telling people she was “the best”? Well, of course he was. He was her friend, and he wanted to help. Still, he was getting a big kiss for this. Well, more than that, but a kiss worked to get things started.

  “What are you grinning at?”

  Serena glanced up to find Natalie standing in the doorway with a large rectangular box, her eyebrows raised.

  “We just got a prospective new client who will help fill the coffers around here,” Serena explained.

  “Outstanding.” Natalie tossed her long brown hair. “Does this mean I’m getting a raise?”

  “One thing at a time.” Serena cocked her head. “What have you got there?”

  “Delivery. Came for you.” Natalie approached the desk to set down the white box with the silver embossed lettering and bow. “I recognize the name of this place. Very chic. I covet their clothes, but I’ve never actually splurged. I could barely afford pantyhose from a store like this.”

  There was a small envelope tucked under the tied bow, and Serena opened the card.

  A gift for tonight. Thank you for coming with me. Yours, David.

  Serena just stared at the unexpected box, recalling the racy phone call Tuesday night and wondering if this store sold lingerie. Her lips curved into a smile. She would be more than happy to wear something special for David tonight.

  “Well.” Natalie had her hands on her hips. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

  Serena bit her lip. What if it was something naughty and lacy? Or leather? Oh, what the hell. Natalie was a grown woman with a love life of her own. Maybe she could suggest accessories.

  She popped off the elastic ribbon that was around the package and pulled the lid off, then parted the silver tissue paper beneath.

  “Whoa.” Natalie expelled her breath in a sigh of admiration.

  Inside the box, a dress—except that seemed too mundane a term for inky fabric so fluid it shimmered beneath the overhead light—was neatly folded. Serena stood, lifting the cocktail dress. It had an empire halter top with delicate blue-green beading around the deep V-neck and bustline. A slightly thicker row of beadwork edged the knee-length skirt. Forget hocking her computer, Serena thought as she ran the silky material between her fingers. She could probably sell the dress to pay Natalie’s salary.

  “Who sent it?” Natalie demanded.

  Serena hadn’t found her voice yet, but her nosy friend had already picked up the card anyway.

  “David? As in he-wasn’t-a-date David?”

  “He’s grateful for the work we’re doing on the auction,” Serena said weakly.

  “Really. Where’s my dress?” Natalie waved the note in her hand. “This says he’s grateful for ‘tonight.’ What’s tonight?”

  “Dinner with one of his bosses.” Serena sat back in her chair, pulling the dress into her lap and experiencing waves of dread again. “David thought it would be good for some of the people actually bankrolling this charity banquet to meet me.”

  Apparently, David had also thought it would be good to send her something appropriate to wear. The dress was undeniably elegant, but something of a shock. She’d never owned the little black dress recognized by conformists as a wardrobe staple. But he’d changed that, hadn’t he?

  “Try it on,” Natalie urged, fidgeting in near-giddy excitement. “Your next appointment isn’t for another hour and I’ve got the phones covered.”

  Serena could’ve changed in her office, but there wasn’t a mirror, so she ducked down the hall to the empty ladies’ room, with its jaundiced lighting and vanilla-scented bowls of potpourri. David had never asked her for her size, but apparently he knew her body well enough to pick out clothes, because the dress fit perfectly. Her yellow sandals didn’t match, and she had to shrug out of her bra because of the halter style, but that was okay since the dress boasted built-in “invisible” support. Not that she needed much. Carrying her clothes and sandals, she felt very much like a kid playing dress-up as she walked barefoot back to her office.

  Natalie gave a squeal of delight when she saw her boss. “Just figures that you’d meet the man with smashing taste and enough money to buy you something like that. I think the last time a guy bought me something to wear, it was meant strictly for the bedroom.”

  Hmm. Then maybe Serena shouldn’t mention she’d been hoping for something meant to be seen by David’s eyes only. The sexual part of their relationship was the area with which she was actually comfortable. No doubts about their compatibility. No concerns about letting him down, no worries that he would want her to be someone else, no real thoughts at all.

  Standing, Natalie studied her friend. “Here. I’ve got…” She rummaged through her purse and came up with a toothy tortoiseshell clip. “A shame I don’t have shoes, too.”

  Serena wasn’t sure she had the right shoes to wear with it. But men never thought about stuff like that. Natalie came around the desk to help with Serena’s hair. She took a handful of the short wavy curls and twisted them upward before securing them. Then she handed Serena a makeup mirror so big Serena laughed.

  “That is one deceptively roomy purse you carry.”

  When she glanced in the mirror, her laughter faded. All that was visible of the woman in the reflection was a sophisticated updo and the neckline of an expensive black dress.

  If Meredith could see me now, she’d do back flips.

  Her stepmother-to-be had impeccable fashion sense, even if she did lean toward neutral tones and firm rules, such as “no wearing white” after whatever day that was. Tricia had her faults, but she was a free thinker who went with what she wanted and had encouraged her daughter to do the same. Serena could recall her dad asking on more than one occasion, with aggravation in his voice, “That’s not really what you’re wearing, is it?”

  No, Serena thought, squaring her shoulders. No, it’s not.

  DAVID ACCEPTED that, being a man, he might never truly have women figured out. But he knew enough to realize, regardless of her earlier protestations when she met him in the lobby, something was bothering Serena. Half listening to Lou’s wife, Donna, extol the virtues of Atlanta shopping, he cast a sidelong glance at Serena, who was sipping her white wine with an expression that suggested it was laced with strychnine.

  Despite her near-scowl, she was still beautiful in the soft combined glow of candles and the pear-shaped sconces spaced across the dining room’s rich wood walls. Appreciating the way she looked in her red sheath dress didn’t stop him from being disappointed that his gift hadn’t fit. Ah, well. It didn’t really matter what she was wearing, since he planned to have it off her at the earliest possible moment.

  But first, he had to get through this dinner with Lou, Donna and the Filchers.

  In that spirit, he grinned when the tuxedo-vested waiter appeared to take their orders. Let’s get this rolling and over with. He was really just a facilitator, anyway. Now that Lou was in town, he would focus on convincing Nate Filcher to sign with AGI. Lou had the power to offer on-the-spot incentives that were outside David’s authority.

  “I’ll have the chateaubriand with the shiitake glacé,” Nate began.

  “The chateaubriand for two.” The waiter nodded. “It’s excellent and carved right at the table.”

  “Oh. For two, is it?” Nate glanced back at the menu.

  “Sorry, darling.” Penny Filcher, a plump cheerful woma
n with a navy dress and thick Southern accent, shook her head. “I have my heart set on rack of lamb.”

  “I would love to split an order,” Lou said mournfully, “if the darn doctors hadn’t asked me to back off the red meat for a while. Tuna steak for me, I suppose.”

  “The osaka salmon,” Donna Innes chimed in.

  Nate looked between David and Serena. “No takers?”

  “Chateaubriand sounds perfect to me,” David said, making the client happy. It was a sure bet Serena didn’t want the steak. In fact, now that he scanned the menu again, he wasn’t sure what she would order. The entrées didn’t include any pasta dishes.

  Since Serena was the only one who hadn’t voiced a dinner preference, the waiter glanced expectantly in her direction. “Miss?”

  “The veal here is supposed to be wonderful,” Nate offered.

  Serena winced. “I’ll have the mesclun salad.”

  Penny Filcher clucked her tongue. “You young women, starving yourselves.”

  “And the marinated mushroom appetizer,” Serena added.

  “Serena’s a vegetarian,” David explained helpfully as the waiter was walking away. At least, he thought it was helpful until Serena discreetly glared in his direction.

  “Well, no wonder you’re such a scrawny little thing,” Lou said, drawing a glare from his own dinner partner, whose beige pantsuit was probably a size two. “Bodies need protein.”

  Serena might not be the curviest woman in the peach state, but David thought she was perfect the way she was.

  Smiling thinly, Serena responded, “Absolutely. That’s why I eat plenty of cheese, legumes and whole grains. All chock-full of protein.”

  Innes reddened, and David figured it probably wouldn’t be good for his career to add that Lou’s own doctors had recommended the man acquaint himself with that little food group known as “fruits and vegetables.” Better to change the subject. And no one David knew liked to talk more than Donna Innes.

  He turned toward the woman, a well-preserved blonde in her fifties, with skin so tight around her face that he would have guessed she’d had help with the preservation even if Lou hadn’t complained about all the money that went into Donna’s desired “maintenance.” “So are you on the board for Boston’s summer theatre program again this year?”