One Perfect Night

by Rachael Johns

  He was gorgeous. And he was hers…at least for one more night.

  “Hi there.”

  Cameron lifted his head to that melodic voice and the debate he’d been having with his conscience all afternoon ended. Flings were one thing. Flings with employees were quite another. Suddenly he didn’t care.

  Almost skipping toward him was Penelope, in a shimmery silver halter-neck dress that clung to every single curve on her lusciously female body. The sight was enough to send any red-blooded male into a sensual spin. His gaze trailed down to indecently high and indecently sexy, matching silver stilettos and he almost swallowed his tongue. His temperature soared as he noticed the thigh-high slit in her gown. He shook himself and managed a satisfactory greeting.

  “Evening, Penelope. You look sensational.”

  Her cheeks flushed a sweet pink as she replied, “You too.”

  “What—this old thing?” He gestured to his best evening suit.

  They laughed and any tension that lingered in the air between them burst.

  “You ready to go?”

  “Sure am.” She smiled the kind of smile that could set kindle alight and tapped the evening bag that hung over her perfect shoulder. “Where are we going?”

  He blinked, trying to recall the name of the restaurant where he’d booked a table. He’d been there on numerous times with important clients and it wasn’t like him to be bewildered by a woman but for the life of him he couldn’t remember the name of the place. He hoped to God his memory would kick in when he started the car. “It’s a surprise. Do you trust me?”

  She cocked her head to one side, a heart-shaped pendant knocking against her breasts. “Should I?”

  “Hell no,” he answered truthfully.

  Her eyes twinkled at his blatantly honest response. “Good, then at least we both know where we stand.” She stepped toward him and offered her hand. “Lead the way.”

  Like a princess with her prince, Peppa followed Cameron as he led her out of her building and down the pathway to his Lamborghini—already pristine perfect again. He drove to Darling Harbor and parked in a ridiculously expensive security car park before leading her to the renowned and trendy Wharf, Wine and Tapas bar. The ultra-chic venue was already abuzz with twenty-and-thirty somethings, all beginning their night with good food, wine and company. Many a female head turned as the maître d’ led her and Cameron to a table. Turned and practically drooled at Cameron’s commanding presence, sexy to the extreme in a dark suit and simple white cotton shirt.

  She couldn’t blame them. Her heart was beating like a trapped butterfly in her chest and she practically had to glue her lips together to stop from drooling herself. It had been easier than she’d imagined forgetting he was her boss. But it was near impossible to forget that he was a guy and she was a girl.

  They arrived at a table, quite cozy in the corner. Cameron ordered a cocktail for Peppa and a beer for himself. She hoped it wasn’t too potent—lord knew she needed to keep her wits about her. Once the waiter had arrived with menus and they’d perused them long enough to make a decision, Peppa pushed hers aside and looked at Cameron.

  “So, an official date. What shall we talk about? Sex, politics, religion?”

  Their drinks arrived and he took a long sip, staring at her in a rather disconcerting manner. She took a sip of her peach daiquiri and waited.

  “I think talking about sex is overrated. It’s much better in action. Politics? As much as my friends berate me for it, I’ve never really paid much attention. And religion, it’s something else I can do without.”

  He took a long sip of his drink while she laughed at his quick summary.

  “Your turn,” he said, wiping a little beer foam from his upper lip.

  “Or we could talk about something else?” she suggested, her cheeks burning at the mere mention of her thoughts on sex. Right now she had a one-track mind where that activity was concerned.

  He smirked as if he could read her mind and liked what he saw. But he humored her nonetheless. “Good idea. Tell me, what does Penelope get up to when she’s not recording audio books for a living?”

  She laughed, his easy-going tone putting her at ease.

  “Do you find much time for pleasure?”

  “Sure. If life’s not about having fun, it gets too depressing.” She hoped he didn’t notice the lump crawl down her throat. During the last six months with Tim they’d become obsessed with trying for a baby and fun had flown the coop. Now, she was trying to reclaim herself and the fun she missed in her life.

  “Agreed.” He reached for his drink and took a long sip. She guessed he was thinking about his wife.

  Hoping to deflect any negative thoughts, she continued, “I have a rooftop garden. I go to the beach. I do aerobics and, if my best friend Izzy can twist my arm, I occasionally join her at yoga.”

  His eyes widened. “All things that have me picturing you semi-naked and in compromising positions. Not necessarily a good thing this early in the evening.”

  Her insides quivered at his words. Coming from the mouths of some men such a comment may have sounded seedy. From him, it only worked to feed the fire burning deep inside her core. Not really sure how to answer, she added, “And I lead a kid’s choir which takes a fair chunk of my free time.”

  “I see.” Cameron had almost forgotten about Penelope’s Pied Piper tendencies. In her effervescent, attractive presence it was hard to keep track of such things. “And do you do it for the kids or the singing?”

  She answered immediately, “Both. Music makes me feel good. Did you know that singing stimulates natural pheromones to kick off in your body?”

  “Really?” He smiled and knowingly, cheekily, let his gaze rove freely over her body. He couldn’t help himself. She really was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met. “You learn something new every day.”

  Her nipples pebbled visibly beneath her top, but to her credit she continued speaking. “But I enjoy singing the most when I’m with my choir. I love kids. There’s something so vibrant, so unhindered, so magical about them, don’t you think?”

  “I guess that’s one way to look at it.”

  “Oh yeah? And what’s the other way, Mr. McCormac?”

  He raised a brow at her use of his surname. “They’re whiny, snotty, usually dirty, expert at throwing tantrums over absolutely nothing and they change normal, sane people into neurotic monsters.”

  “You sound like you speak from experience.”

  “I do. You forget I have nine nieces and another one on the way. My cousins were all normal folks with diverse interests and hobbies, now they alternate between waxing lyrical about how amazing their children are and complaining about not having any control over their sleep.”

  “So you don’t want to have children?” she asked as if he’d confessed to a belief in UFOs.

  “Me?” He shook his head. “No thank you. I like my sleep. I like being able to eat dinner in peace, go out when I please, where I please and I love being able to walk through my house without fearing I might trip on a toy and break my neck.”

  She laughed. Loudly. Yet she still managed to do it in an attractive manner. “You do realize that is the most ludicrous argument I’ve ever heard for not wanting a family.”

  He held his hands out in surrender and shrugged. “Just may be. But it’s my argument and I’m sticking to it.”

  “Did your wife want them?” Her tone was suddenly serious.

  Oh no! His skin sweltered at her question. Talking hobbies was one thing but he didn’t talk about Kristen and their dreams for a family with anyone. Their shared desires were special, and private. He wanted to tell Penelope this but he didn’t want to ruin their evening, didn’t want it to turn cold and awkward.

  Thankfully he was saved by the arrival of a platter full of tapas. He thanked the waitress and picked up a tiny squid, battered and fried. He held it toward her lips. “Do you like seafood?”

  She grinned and leaned forward, licking her
lips before she spoke. “I do when it’s served to me by a handsome man.”

  Then she took a bite.

  He couldn’t help staring as she chewed and swallowed. Watching someone eat wasn’t supposed to be arousing but there was just something about Penelope. Whatever she was doing—even when she was working with the children—he found himself fighting an intense urge to lose himself in her embrace. But he’d promised her a night out, a bit of food, maybe some dancing. And he wasn’t a man to go back on his word.

  “Now, your turn.” She surveyed the table and finally selected a petite meatball, dipping it in some kind of red sauce before lifting it to his mouth. He took a bite of the meatball, licking the sauce but careful not to lick her fingers. One taste of that skin and dinner would be a waste of money.

  Shuffling to try and make himself more comfortable when his trousers were growing tighter every second, he fed himself this time. As they continued to eat, somehow conversation flowed despite the sexual tension that almost visibly zapped between them. By the time the food was devoured, Cameron felt he knew Penelope better than almost every woman who’d graced his past. Strangely the thought didn’t leave him cold. And it didn’t lessen his desire either.

  “So, how long have you worked at Lyrique?” he asked while they waited for the dessert menu.

  “You’re the boss. Shouldn’t you know?” she quipped with an impish grin.

  “Probably.” He shrugged. “But I make it my business not to know too much about my prettiest employees. I told you I don’t believe in mixing business with pleasure.”

  “But you want to know about me?” Her gaze was intense, her tone wary with a tinge of excitement.

  He looked her straight in the eye. “Yes, Penelope. I want to know about you.”

  She picked up her glass, sloshed the liquid about and then downed the last few droplets of her wine in one gulp. “I’ve been at Lyrique just over two years. An ex-boyfriend of mine works there. When I was made redundant in my PR job, he suggested I try voice-work because I was a good singer. I never looked back.”

  “From what I hear, we’re very lucky the PR world couldn’t see your worth.”

  She lowered her lashes slightly and smiled. “Thanks.”

  But he was curious. “So, what happened to the boyfriend? Not good enough for you.”

  “Actually it was the other way around.”

  Cameron snorted at her immediate, sharp response. No way! He stared at this attractive, funny, easy-to-be-with, smart and witty woman and couldn’t understand how any man in his right mind could find fault with her. “You can’t be serious?”

  He sought answers in the depths of her deep green eyes. The pain he saw as she nodded tore at his heart. “Then he was a fool.”

  And Cameron knew then that although he might not be able to offer Penelope long-term or happily-ever-after, he could show her how special, how beautiful she was. He could help give her back her self-esteem.

  At Cameron’s words Peppa’s stomach flipped. The conviction in his voice when he’d christened Tim a fool worked wonders toward rebuilding her self-esteem. But no words could be as convincing as what happened next. As if to prove a point, his hand caught hers across the table and he bought it up to his mouth, bestowing upon her wrist the sweetest yet most sinful of kisses. His hot breath caressed her skin. “You are absolutely sensational in every way.”

  “Oh…” Languid warmth flushed her body as her gaze skipped down to where his mouth was only millimeters from her skin.

  “Will you dance with me?” he asked.

  Peppa swallowed, knowing that the moment she stepped onto the dance floor with him she’d be lost. She glanced toward the other couples already dancing and imagined her body pressed up against Cameron’s, all that hip and pelvis movement.

  “Okay. But I must warn you, I have a serious case of left feet syndrome.”

  He chuckled warmly as he slid off his seat and, still holding her hand, pulled her up toward him. “I promise I won’t notice. I won’t be looking at your feet anyway.”

  Fire flared in her belly again at his words. She wanted to pinch herself. Was this real? Was he serious? His family wasn’t anywhere near them. She had to concede his flirtation was a hundred percent the real deal.

  Without another word he tugged her to join the other couples on the dance floor just as the tempo slowed. A romantic, soft song filled the air.

  Peppa sought Cameron’s gaze for direction. Two seconds ago the music had been fast and fun, but now it sounded like something from the seduction scene of an old classic film. Would he still want to dance?

  He smiled, dark intent in his eyes as he pulled her tight against his rock-hard body. Despite the satin of her dress and the cashmere of his designer tux, she could feel every inch of him. Somehow she managed to reach up and slip her arms around his neck, resisting the urge to creep her hands upward and meander fingers through his curls.

  They didn’t speak but it was like their bodies communicated in their own intimate language—whispering desires, wants and sweet nothings with each and every sway of their hips.

  His hands were firm and hot against her back, branding his prints into the bare bit below her shoulders. His face was centimeters from hers. His mouth within kissing distance. And kissing was all she could flippin’ well think about.

  “Hot?”

  If Cameron’s warm breath hadn’t tickled her cheek as he spoke, she’d have sworn she imagined his question. But one look at the fire in his eyes as he slid his hands even lower and pulled her tight against him, told her she hadn’t.

  “Smokin’,” she panted. “You?”

  “Something like that.”

  She racked her mind for further conversation, but as his muscular thighs brushed against her legs, her nipples tightened so he had to be able to feel them through his shirt and the formation of sentences seemed impossible.

  She could dance this way forever and never need for anything else ever again.

  And then the music stopped.

  She wanted to scream and shout and throw her limbs about like a raging toddler. How she’d mourn the loss of his thighs against her thighs, his chest against her raw, aching nipples.

  He bowed his head slightly, disentangled their bodies but kept a tight grip on her hand. She clung to it for support, willing her heart rate to settle and her body to stabilize as she forced her head high and tottered after him toward their table.

  But he didn’t lead her to the table. He walked straight past the maître d’, mumbled something about charging his personal account and swept her out into the sweet evening air. The harbor was busy with people out for a post-dinner stroll but Cameron only had eyes for her.

  He stilled and, clasping both her hands, turned to face her. “I’m going to kiss you,” he said. “And while I do, I want you to think about where you want this to go. Me?” He paused and cocked his head for a moment. “I’d like to go back to your place and take you to bed again. I’d like to do all the things I’ve been fantasizing about doing since Christmas Day.”

  Peppa gulped, her bones feeling as if they had turned to molten lava.

  And then he did as he’d promised. His lips, his whole body, pressed against hers as he used his mouth to take her places she’d never even imagined before. Within moments every nerve in her body was alight. She opened her mouth, inviting him inside. She kissed him back, sliding her silky palms up over the fine cotton of his shirt, relishing in the feel of his chest muscles tightening beneath her touch.

  Torn between wanting this moment to last forever and needing to come up for air, she let out a tiny whimper when he finally pulled back.

  “So?”

  “So what?” Peppa was totally flummoxed.

  He smiled, obviously amused at her appalling concentration. “Where do you want to go from here?”

  “Um.” Would she sound like a floozy if she told him she didn’t care, that right now all she wanted to do was let him ravage her and vice versa? The moment
his lips had touched hers, her pheromones and carnal reflexes had taken over. She’d been a goner. Any question about whether the molten magic they’d shared that night was a one-off had flown out the window this evening. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to experience those rapturous pleasures again.

  “Well?” His lips came dangerously close to hers. He wasn’t playing fair. Stepping even closer, he cupped her face, his thumb doing tantalizing things to her ear lobes.

  A coil of pure desire spiraled throughout her body and she actually shuddered. If hormones could talk, hers would be screaming like wild wanton banshees right about now.

  That’s what this man can do simply by caressing your ears. Remember what he can do when he ventures lower. With his hands, with his tongue, with his…

  “Yes.”

  There she’d said it. To hell with the consequences and to hell with her heart. She knew he wasn’t offering anything long-term but something about Cameron made her want to do things she’d never dreamed before. As out of character as it might be, this could be just what she needed. Something crazy to make her feel good about herself. Something extraordinary to help her begin to forget her miserable experience with Tim.

  She swallowed in an aim to revive her mouth of its moisture. “I mean, take me home. Please.”

  He stole her lips in a sweet but firm kiss as if he were trying to stake his claim, to prove a point. Her mouth opened to him as she helplessly welcomed his tongue. Dueling, dancing, there was a fine line but his intention was clear and the effect was as he desired.

  Just the taste of him…the strong flavor of citrus, a sharp shot of alcohol and the slightest hint of toothpaste combined to form the most illicit drug. She needed more of these kisses. She needed more of his touch. She needed him.

  This kiss was a promise of more to come, of what she could enjoy if she just let herself live for a bit. All her life she’d wanted a man like him. A strong, independent, sexy and successful man to help create the warm, loving brood she’d always desired. Yet Cameron wasn’t offering to give a relationship a shot.