He had been so relieved to be finished with school, so ready to embrace success and all of its perks he’d indulged himself and taken what was offered. A lot. He’d always been a man with intense sexual needs and the opportunity to feed his appetites on a larger scale had been a temptation he couldn’t resist. But Brian’s little foray into the wild side had been a big mistake and nearly cost him a career he hadn’t even really begun.
He rocked back and forth in his chair. Squeak, squeak. He picked up a black pen and tapped it on his desktop. Tap, tap. He wanted to call her. He wanted to, but he probably shouldn’t. Tyanna had set them up and the fact that she was a co-worker was enough to stop him in his tracks. Definitely shouldn’t call her. Tap, tap. Hearing Tyanna come right out and say it was a sex-date and that she’d heard of his reputation should have been enough to send him into a full-on damage control counter attack, but it hadn’t. He had gone on the blind date, albeit reluctantly.
He was weak, no doubt about it.
After cutting his losses and leaving Walters & Browning when he felt the fallout from his extra-curricular activities was a credible potential threat, one that could permanently damage his career, he’d come on board this smaller firm with a new attitude. He was going to focus on his career, not his sex life. Build a name for himself and the firm. So Brian had been celibate for more than three months. Three long, long months. It wasn’t that he believed celibacy was inherently important—far from it—it was just a means to get himself under control and get his priorities straight.
His self-imposed celibacy must explain his odd attraction to Taylor—awkward Taylor with the tight skirt and plump ass. He felt his groin tighten and groaned inwardly. Enough, nothing had happened. The sex-date set up had not foiled his plans. His new and improved reputation was still intact and his tenuous grasp on celibacy was sound.
Still, Taylor had been intriguing—different—and he found himself rationalizing reasons he should call her. People dated, after all. If he called her and asked her out, it wasn’t going to spoil his long term life plans. And he had never intended to be celibate for the long term. Hell no. Three months was bordering on long term. Maybe he should rethink the plan. So Tyanna had set them up, so what? People arranged dates for co-workers all of the time. It was perfectly acceptable.
Absolutely.
It wasn’t as if he and his assistant Tyanna were dating. No, this was completely different.
Politically correct.
He dropped the pen he’d been tapping and steadied his chair as he reached for the phone. He glanced at the yellow post-it note with Taylor’s work number on it and dialed. He leaned back in his chair and swayed back and forth. Squeak, squeak.
She answered on the third ring. “Taylor Anderson.”
His groin tightened at the sound of her voice. It was light, feminine. “Taylor. This is Brian Jackson.”
“Oh, right.” She sounded hesitant, uncomfortable. “How are you?”
“Fine. Look, I don’t know what to make of our little Taste of Cincinnati...uh… experience yesterday, but I’d really like to see you again.”
There was a long pause. “Oh, well…It’s nice of you to ask, but I… Blind dates just aren’t for me.”
“Taylor, blind dates aren’t for anyone. They make everyone uncomfortable. But luckily, our blind date is behind us. Now that we’ve met, our next date won’t be blind.” He switched the receiver to his other ear and sat up a bit in his chair. “Let me take you out to dinner.”
Another pause. Brian went back to squeaking his chair, strangely comforted by the annoying noise.
“Um, I don’t think so. I’ve sort of decided not to go out with anyone just now.”
“Okay, so we’ll stay in. I’ll make you dinner.” Squeak, squeak. Another pause, and damn, they were getting longer. “Taylor?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
Brian chuckled. Why he found this woman’s reluctance so amusing, he had no idea. “Let me make you dinner. It won’t be a blind date and it won’t be going out, so it will meet all of your current lifestyle requirements. We won’t even call it a date—how ’bout that?”
Another familiar pause, then a sigh, one that made his cock jerk.
“Okay, I guess so.”
“Great. Give me your address and I’ll pick you up around seven—how’s that?” Brian grabbed his pen.
“Fine. Wait. Is Tyanna putting you up to this? Because if—”
Brian interrupted, “No, Taylor. No one is putting me up to this. We met, I like you and I want to get to know you.”
“Oh, well, all right then. I guess dinner would be nice. But—” Another brief pause. “Could you give me your address? That way you won’t have to pick me up.”
Of course, so she would have a means of escape. Little rabbit. “Sounds good. Have a pen handy?”
Chapter Two
Taylor pulled her old Mazda into an open spot and moved the gear shift into park but left the car running, the air vents blowing in her face full blast. She left the music playing as Alicia Keys sang A Woman’s Worth. She loved that song. If only she could really believe those lyrics, feel that confident inside.
She flipped down the visor over her head so she could check her make-up. Shoot, she was already a little splotchy. She grabbed her powder compact out of her purse and blotted her cheeks.
It was so blasted hot outside her make-up would probably melt off as soon as she set foot into the humidity. And the heat just made her look all the redder. When would this heat wave dissipate? The summer was dragging on endlessly. Summers were always a humid mess in Cincinnati, but this year had been unbearable. No rain and temperatures had soared for weeks and weeks.
She probably shouldn’t have agreed to this. It would likely be an awkward repeat of their first date, but Brian had been so charming over the phone. His voice was rich and deep. The sound had filled her and made her feel warm from the inside out. She tried not to think about how good looking he was—it would just make her feel even more nervous.
She grabbed her purse, tossed her keys inside and got out of the car.
Taylor had debated about what to wear forever and had picked up the phone twice to consult Tyanna. But she had stopped herself. She didn’t need the third degree; she only needed a little fashion advice.
After leaving Brian at the Taste of Cincinnati, she had called Tyanna to rail her over her choice of men. Tyanna had ignored Taylor’s complaints and had nagged her for every detail of the brief date, turning the entire conversation around and railing Taylor for bailing on the date, saying she hadn’t even given the guy a chance. And, after steadfastly disagreeing and attempting to lecture Tyanna on why gorgeous men are a mismatch for conservative research assistants, she’d hung up and realized that maybe, just maybe, Tyanna had been right.
As soon as she’d seen Brian with his chiseled good looks and natural confidence, she had started mentally plotting ways to end the date. And then the next day, Brian had called, with his smooth voice and cute rationale about their blind date being behind them and his insistence they stay in instead of going out.
She’d given in, unable to come up with any viable arguments to decline, probably because her thoughts were focused on the deep timbre of his voice, not viable arguments.
After hanging up, she’d been completely unable to work the rest of the day. She contaminated not one, but two test samples in an ongoing experiment she was conducting. Silly mistakes she hadn’t made since her first year in college. Thank God she’d been alone in the lab. The experiment took several hours to run and had multiple steps. When she realized her samples were contaminated and useless, it set her schedule back by hours. The day’s productivity was basically shot.
In the afternoon, she had attended a departmental brainstorming meeting in which her brain refused to storm. The weekly meetings were typically her favorite event, but today she couldn’t focus, her mind drifting to the evening ahead. She’d been so fidgety and quiet, her boss, Scott, had actua
lly asked if she was sick and had given her permission to take the rest of the day off.
Taylor had finally given up and left work early to prepare for the evening. She showered until the hot water ran cold, shaved everywhere until she was as smooth and soft as possible. Taylor refused to think too much about why she took such care to ensure she was so well groomed, telling herself she simply wanted to feel sexy. Attractive.
Not calling Tyanna had been difficult. She’d needed fashion advice in the worst way and Tyanna always told her the truth about what looked good and what didn’t. But calling Tyanna would have opened a can of worms that was best left unopened. She’d meet her next week for lunch and fill her in on all of the not-so-juicy details. Taylor had stressed over what to wear, eventually deciding that when in doubt, basic black pants and a generic blouse were the way to go.
Taylor glanced at the paper in her hand for Brian’s address. He lived in a condo complex about three miles from her. She saw the number and scanned the buildings, realizing she was basically right in front of his place. She walked up the little stone sidewalk to his front door, clutching her purse until her knuckles turned white. There was a hot breeze blowing, but strangely, even in the scorching heat, she felt slightly chilled. She knocked on the red door and waited, shifting back and forth in her plain black pumps. The door opened and she was hit with a gust of cold air from the cooler interior.
“Hi,” Taylor managed. God, he looked good. He was wearing light colored dress pants, a white polo shirt, and what looked like Prada loafers. Taylor always noticed a man’s shoes, likely because she was usually looking at the floor while in a man’s presence. Brian’s choice in footwear was better than good. The man clearly had taste.
“Hi yourself.” He smiled warmly, revealing perfectly white, perfectly straight teeth. He opened the door wide and gestured her in with his arm, saying, “Come in.”
Taylor stepped in cautiously, suddenly aware that she hadn’t brought any wine. She should be gripping a bottle, not her purse, and alcohol might have relaxed her. “Thanks.” She inhaled, a wonderful aroma filling her nostrils. “Wow, it smells great in here.”
The foyer opened to a large living room, probably big enough to swallow her entire tiny condo. The walls were a soft gold, adorned with a few framed black and white prints, and there were large black leather couches situated in front of an impressive floor to ceiling fireplace, also black, and it looked like marble.
“I’m glad you think it smells good. I’m not the greatest cook, but I consulted my brother and he gave me his famous lasagna recipe.”
“Famous?”
Brian chuckled. “Well, ‘famous’ is a relative term. It’s famous in his mind at least. My brother, Anthony, has an ego the size of North America. If he makes lasagna, he’ll think it’s the best lasagna on the planet.”
“Oh, so it’s really not that great?” He had nice carpet, shaggy beige with a loose weave.
“No, actually in this case, he may be right. Anthony is a great cook. Of course, I probably shouldn’t have said that since I’m not sure my version is even going to turn out. It seems like it’s been in the oven an awful long time.” He glanced at a chrome clock on the wall. “We may be eating crunchy lasagna.” Brian winked.
He was obviously trying his best to make Taylor comfortable. She knew she was stiff, and she probably looked like she was ready to bolt any second. She hadn’t moved to sit down and they were both standing in on the edge of his living room, rigid as boards.
He gestured toward the couch. “Sit down, please.”
“Okay, thanks.” Taylor sat on the couch. It felt firm, a contemporary style not made for comfort.
“Wine?”
“Sure.”
Taylor watched Brian as he disappeared into the kitchen, trying not to notice that he had a really nice backside. She turned her attention to the black and white framed prints on the wall adjacent to the kitchen. They were shots of nature, but taken at odd angles. One was of a tree branch, or maybe the bark was really the subject. Another was of a boulder, with a large tree outlined in the background.
“Is red all right?” Brian asked from the kitchen.
“Sure,” Taylor answered as Brian re-entered the room with two stemmed glasses of red wine. “I like your prints.” Taylor gestured with her head toward the black and white pictures.
Brian sat beside her on the couch and handed her a glass. “Thanks. I took them in college. Photography class.”
Taylor gripped the glass and took a fortifying gulp.
Brian chuckled. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”
Taylor felt her cheeks heat up, knew it meant she was splotchy. “Um, no.” She looked up from her lap and into his eyes, saw amusement. “Well, it’s not you. It’s sort of the whole dating thing.” She took another gulp of wine. Too bad the glass wasn’t bigger. “I’m just on the shy side, I guess, and dating in general brings it out in me.”
Brian leaned back on the couch and sipped his wine. He was a large man and his form took up a good amount of the couch. He was wearing a cute smile and making an effort to ease her shyness. The combination of his gentle manner and big body was so appealing. Sexy.
Taylor tried to relax, at least outwardly, but her hot cheeks and shaky hands were not on board with the plan.
“But we’re not on a date, remember? So there’s no need to be nervous.”
Taylor reddened further. “Oh, right. Sorry, this just seems really date-like to me.”
“Well it’s not. Not at all. We’re just two people getting to know one another. Friends.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Friends?”
“Yes, friends.” Brian leaned in and rubbed his index finger along her forearm seductively. “You’ve heard of friends, right?”
Taylor snorted, her eyes transfixed on his finger. Her friends never touched her skin erotically. Not that she had a lot of friends, but still. She was getting goose bumps wherever his finger touched. “You want to be friends… Just friends?” The question came out as a confused whisper.
“Taylor, I want to get to know you and yes, I want to be friends.” He moved his finger up her arm. Applied slightly more pressure. “And yes, I am really attracted to you. Let’s just take things one step at a time. Relax.”
Taylor took a deep breath and looked up from his hand, into his eyes again. His eyes were so warm, engaging. God. Apparently she was a sucker for dark eyes, and she’d just never realized it before.
“Okay, relaxing sounds good.” Relaxing and maybe getting drunk. His roaming finger had done more than give her goose bumps. She was wet, right through her sexy lace thong to her sensible black slacks. The knowledge that she was sexually aroused, less than ten minutes into this little non-date, only increased her anxiety.
A buzzing sound from the kitchen made Taylor jerk, sloshing her wine in her glass and nearly spilling it.
“The lasagna,” Brian said as he stood. “Care to help me in the kitchen?”
“Sure,” Taylor answered, grateful for any activity to take her mind off of her increasing arousal.
She followed him into the small kitchen and tried her best not to stare at his backside again. It was no use, the man was seriously toned. He probably worked out faithfully. What woman could resist watching those muscles flex?
Brian grabbed a couple of silicone mitts from a drawer and lifted the steaming lasagna pan out of the oven, setting it on the stovetop. He gestured to the stainless refrigerator. “How ’bout if you get the salad from the fridge and I’ll stick the bread in to warm it?”
Taylor put her wine glass down on the speckled granite countertop and opened the fridge. Everything inside was neat and orderly. He even had little plastic containers stacked in rows.
“Wow, this is the cleanest refrigerator I’ve ever seen,” Taylor remarked as she grabbed the large crystal bowl full of salad off of the top shelf.
“Yeah, I’m sort of a neat freak.” Brian opened a drawer, pulled out a pair of salad tongs, and ha
nded them to her. “The dressing is in the carafe on the top shelf. Do you mind tossing it together?”
“Not at all.” Taylor poured the dressing over the lettuce and began gently tossing the leaves and vegetables, coating them with the vinaigrette. Brian seemed so relaxed and had such an easygoing manner, Taylor felt her nerves subside. Why should she be nervous? They were just two adults sharing a meal together, and this was probably their last encounter, so she could be at ease.
“And you?”
“Sorry?” Taylor asked, confused because she’d been absorbed in her own thoughts.
“Are you a neat freak?”
“Oh, no. Well, at least not at home. I have to be really precise in my work. Cleanliness is like an obsession in the lab environment. I do research and I have to follow sterile procedure and endless cleaning protocols, which takes up a lot of my time everyday. So at home, I try and let it go.” She looked around the kitchen. It hardly looked as if anyone had ever cooked there. “You would think my house was a major mess.”
“Would I?” Brian asked as he placed the lasagna on a trivet in the center of the wood and wrought iron kitchen table, which he must have set earlier.
“Yes. Compared to this,” Taylor gestured around the spotless room with her hand as she spoke, “my place is, well…The word ‘cluttered’ comes to mind.”
Actually, compared to Brian’s home, her place was sort of a dump. She decorated for comfort mostly, comfort and a tight budget. The only nice furniture she owned she had inherited from her grandmother—a cherished antique bedroom set. She loved it, but it was probably in need of a good dusting and polishing.
Brian pulled the bread out of the oven and tossed it quickly into a waiting basket. Taylor placed the salad on the table and searched for her wine glass.
“Please, sit,” Brian said as he left the kitchen. “I’ll get the wine from the living room.”
Taylor's Tryst Page 2
