Seduce Me

by Jo Leigh

  He pulled her tight against him as he guided her back and back until she was against the wall. They kissed as if they’d been practicing for ages, the ebb and flow, small partings that led to different angles and stolen breaths.

  When his hand moved to her shoulder, on its way to the silk of her breast beneath that red dress, he stopped. Not just his hand, but his kiss, the way he pressed his half-hard cock against her dress.

  She blinked up at him.

  He studied her eyes in the light from the overhead lamp before he stepped back. He couldn’t see much of the house from this small foyer. A staircase with a dark wood banister, green-and-white fleur-de-lis wallpaper that seemed exactly right for the woman still in his arms. A light-year away from anything in his world. “I’m gonna...” He gave a nod at the front door.

  She smiled, and her cheeks pinked up. “Please be careful on the way home. In fact, take a cab. You can get one easily on Houston.”

  “Thanks. I will.” He let her go, and after the door closed behind him, he let the night go. It had been an interesting detour, but now he was on back on his own road.

  * * *

  NATALIE KNOCKED TWICE. “You can come out now.”

  Fred’s door opened so fast it made her jump. He had to have been standing there with his ear pressed to the wood. “Jesus, woman,” he said. “When you decide you’re not going out with anyone like Oliver Feinstein, you don’t mess around.”

  She sighed. “There’s no way I’m falling asleep yet. Come up and have Italian cheesecake with me.”

  He turned his head to look back at his room, and then marched right by her to the stairs. “You still have that bottle of Crown Royal you got for Christmas last year?”

  “I do, although I shouldn’t give you any. I saw you steal my beer.”

  “I’ll buy you more when I go to the store. So tell me how this all came about.” He reached her floor and waited impatiently for her to open it, peeking inside the box she thrust in his hand.

  Once inside, Natalie flicked on the light and dropped her shoes by the coatrack and went straight into her long galley kitchen. She gathered the whiskey, two glasses and two forks, and met Fred at the table parked at the end of the room. After shoving everything but her fork toward him, she stared at what was left of the decadent cheesecake and knew she wouldn’t be able to eat a bite. That alone told her she might be in for trouble. Even worse, if Fred noticed... She tried not to whimper.

  “Okay, now you’re making sex noises, and I thought we agreed never to do that.” He’d poured the whiskey and was digging in to the dessert.

  She simply waited, taking a small piece of cake to avoid unwanted questions.

  Fred was making yummy noises, but then he pointed his fork at her and said, “Enough foreplay. Tell me what happened tonight.”

  She began at the beginning. The restaurant, the revelation, the aborted escape. On to restaurant two, the conversation, the dessert invitation...

  Fred knew her well, and when she stopped talking, he stared at her with equal parts disbelief and oh, my God. “You didn’t.”

  She pressed her lips together.

  “Holy shit!” His gaze still locked on her, he shoveled in another forkful. “It’s too late to play coy now,” he said. “What’s his place like?”

  “Sort of what you’d expect.” She shrugged, deciding how much she wanted to tell him. “Giant TV, masculine colors. Big, but nearly empty. It’s a loft, a nice one. Had to have cost a bundle even if he’d bought it during the days of real-estate bingo.”

  Fred looked at her as if the debate team were having it out in his head. “I can’t express how much I never wanted to know anything about your relationship with Oliver. There simply aren’t words. And since I’m not actually your best girlfriend, it’s probably inappropriate as hell for me to ask now. But was he amazing? He looked like he’d be amazing.”

  She felt herself blush for what had to be the hundredth time tonight. She and Fred were really close. He was like the brother she’d always wanted. But they’d never gone into details about intimate things. Of course she knew his history, that although he’d been single for a couple of years, he wasn’t anymore. His longtime friend Tony had become something more.

  Which didn’t change the fact that she and Fred filled the void for each other where more outgoing people would have a bunch of friends, people they’d call to go shopping or to movies or concerts. She knew a lot of librarians and archivists, but the only one who came close to being a real friend was Denise. They saw each other at book and film events and sometimes socially. But they were content to catch up with each other when it felt right and not just for the sake of touching base.

  It would cross a boundary, telling Fred more than she had. But this was evidently her night to leap. “Amazing doesn’t even come close,” she said, her cheeks reheating epically. She could have roasted marshmallows on them.

  “Good for you.” Fred squeezed her hand and smiled his real smile, the one that was a little asymmetrical, but endearing. The one he rarely showed in public.

  “It was terrifying. I hardly believed it was me.”

  “I’m so glad. You had to get Oliver’s fingerprints off you once and for all. Not just Oliver. You don’t need to settle. You’re a fantastic person. You don’t think enough of yourself, Nat, and it’s a shame.”

  “Look who’s talking.”

  Fred wasn’t grinning any longer. “I know. It’s how I can recognize it clearly in you.”

  “Well, this got awfully deep, awfully fast.”

  “Sorry,” he said, pushing the remaining quarter of the cheesecake toward her.

  “It’s fine. I honestly don’t mind. But you do realize this was a one-night thing. I’m not going to see Max again.”

  Leaning back in his chair, Fred shook his head as he pulled out his oft-used puzzled expression. “That’s not the vibe I got.”

  “It’s the vibe that was there. Trust me. The only reason I was able to go for it was because I’d never see him again. Seriously, he’s into one-night stands and staying single.”

  “Please, please tell me this wasn’t sleazy. He wasn’t condescending or acting like he was doing you a favor, was he?”

  “God, no. Not even. I wasn’t kidding when I said we had a great time together. It was the best date I’ve ever had, bar none. Because we were honest with each other. We both had plenty of opportunities to walk away with no regrets. He was a gentleman, and he was quite attentive.”

  “Okay. Just checking. It’s a rough city out there.”

  “Thanks for worrying, but no. It was inspiring and illuminating and he’s probably ruined me for other men. At least for a while. I don’t mind, though. It was worth it, if for nothing else but to show me what to ask for. What to reach for.”

  “An attorney with a big loft?”

  “A man who gets pleasure from giving it. A man who pays attention and goes out of his way to be careful. Who listens.”

  “Okay.” Fred got up, pushed his chair in and finished the last dregs of his whiskey. “Does this trading-card thing have a gay edition?”

  “No, but that’s a fabulous idea. You should start one.”

  “Yeah. I’ll get right on that. Think you can sleep?”

  “Nope. Maybe. But I don’t have to get up until ten-thirty. If I’m willing to have the quickest shower in history.”

  “I hate to tell you, sweetheart, but even if you conk out when your head hits the pillow, you’re not going to get your regular eight.”

  “Regular eights are for ordinary days. I’ll live.”

  He kissed her cheek. “You did good tonight. That inspiration thing is catching. Although I’m happy with Tony for now.”

  She looked up at her friend. “I’m glad.”

  Fred eyed the cheesecake and
her clean fork with a worried look. Thankfully he just smiled and headed for the stairs. Cleanup was a snap, but when she finally crawled between her sheets, the night and alcohol caught up with her, and before she’d even finished reliving the way Max had looked at her over dinner, she slipped into sleep.

  * * *

  ON SUNDAY, MAX was still in recuperation mode. At least today he wouldn’t be fielding phone calls from his office, headhunters trying to convince him to jump ship. Not that he minded the second category of calls.

  He’d planned on going to his local bar, but his couch had proven too comfortable. Surprisingly, his inertia had more to do with his night with Natalie than laziness. The odds of meeting someone as interesting were not in his favor.

  As often as he’d daydreamed about having time to himself without the crushing pressure of the tort case, unstructured down time wasn’t his friend. He should have realized it. He was a planner, always thinking about the next move, the next angle. He was damn good at scheduling his life so he didn’t get overwhelmed.

  Until the second year of the case, that was. His enormous workload didn’t leave him with a spare moment to do anything besides sleep, eat and work out—and he’d finally hit a wall. The workouts were the only thing that saved him.

  That was probably why he felt so out of sync now. Tomorrow he’d go back to the gym, get his blood pumping and his muscles straining. It wouldn’t take him long to find his rhythm again. While he didn’t regret spending an idle week in recovery, the next two weeks were earmarked for getting serious about his future. In the legal arena, he was the it guy of the moment, which was great for his ego, but he couldn’t let it get to him. A man who let his ego call the shots was looking for trouble. Luckily for him, his inherent need to plan and control his own destiny would keep him in check.

  He’d always known there was the potential for a top-notch lawyer in a prominent firm to make big money. He simply hadn’t realized how big. Not until he’d earned a spot at the heavy hitters’ table. The dollar figures being thrown around were ridiculous. Enough to tempt anyone. Whether he stayed with his firm or went elsewhere, he’d have it made financially. But he’d be expected to work his ass off. Normal people didn’t stay at the office past ten every single night. He shuddered to think of the divorce rate in the legal community. And that was the other thing. Someday—not soon, but someday—he wanted a family.

  For now the hard work wasn’t a problem. That didn’t mean he was willing to trade the rest of his life for a fat bank account and a corner office. His love of the law had always been his motivation to become an attorney. And making good money and having nice things, like his loft, his expensive suits and a great wine collection, sure helped.

  It was a great deal, actually. He’d become accustomed to nice things. Between the cash and the flattery, it was tough to stay centered and make the right decision. If he got a bad vibe from a firm, no sweat, he’d turn down even the most extravagant offer. But whether he should stay with Latham or jump ship was a lot more complicated. He’d be dealing with some of the smoothest talkers in the world. Despite the treacherous road ahead, he was ready to get off his ass and start the ball rolling. Talking himself up wasn’t his favorite thing, but he could do it when it counted. Hell, he’d had the perfect opportunity to brag about his accomplishments to Natalie. After all, the case had been all over the papers. But he hadn’t said a word to her about it.

  Natalie.

  He thought about her quite a lot. He’d discovered that a film she’d talked about was on the tube tonight. It was called M. Just M, and it was about to begin. Although he’d known it was shot in black and white, he hadn’t realized it was in German with subtitles. That would mean paying attention, and he wasn’t sure he had it in him. But he’d give it a few minutes.

  A few minutes was all it took to get him hooked. The opening scene was more ominous and gripping than anything he’d seen in ages. The only thing missing was popcorn, and wait, he had some microwave bags in the kitchen.

  It took him twenty minutes to find a place he was willing to pause, and as he pressed the magical popcorn button on his built-in microwave, he thanked whoever had invented the DVR.

  Then he thought about Natalie again. About how he’d gotten off to the memory of her doing that crazy little dance for him. And how he’d felt when her legs had wrapped around his waist.

  The microwave beeped, and he didn’t bother with a bowl, but he did grab a beer. It would have been fun to watch the movie with her. He considered calling her, but that wouldn’t be smart. Not in the long run. She was actively looking for a husband, and he didn’t want to mess with that.

  He’d been an experiment and now she was back in her own orbit. The end. Pity, though, because he’d enjoyed her company. He didn’t have many people in his life he could say that about. Not anymore.

  On the other hand, Natalie was a grown-up and she could make her own decisions. He might call her, although not this minute. Maybe after the movie. He wouldn’t mind watching it a second time with her.

  The popcorn was good, but it wouldn’t hold him. Max left the movie on pause so he could order takeout curry from Spice Thai on Astor. Just as he picked up his phone, it rang. It was his cousin Paula. He’d left her a message on Saturday about the mix-up with the cards.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said after they’d exchanged hellos.

  “It’s okay. It turned out fine.”

  “This shouldn’t have happened,” Paula said. “The woman who runs the printing company has already made new cards—with the correct pictures this time—but listen, how would you feel about me preemptively setting you up with someone? I really think you’ll like her, and vice versa. She’s not in the market for a relationship, she’s hot and she’s smart. She looks a little like Rihanna. You know, the singer?”

  “Yeah, I know the singer. You’re not messing with me, are you?”

  “Nope. Her name is Gabbie and she’s joining the Trading Card group because she wants someone who won’t turn out to be a whack job. So if you do this thing, you’d better be on your best behavior.”

  “I’m always on my best behavior,” he said.

  Paula’s laughter was kind of insulting, but he let it pass. Because this was the real beginning of the buffet he’d been promised. Rihanna was smokin’ hot, and Paula wasn’t the type to exaggerate.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll give her your cell number. She’s set Tuesday night aside, so you’ll just have time to make a reservation. Someplace good.”

  “You want to come over and pick out my clothes, too?”

  “Ha-ha. Just remember, this one’s going to be the last one until the next meeting, which isn’t for almost a month.”

  He smiled at her concern and wondered if she’d mentioned the trading-card business to Mike, or her folks, because yeah, this was the kind of thing that could end up in his aunt Ellen’s Christmas newsletter if they weren’t careful. “I’ll buy you lunch next week. You’ve gone to a lot of trouble for something that wasn’t your fault.”

  “You’re right. Call me.”

  He hung up, figured he’d get moving and go to Spice. Despite the lack of structure in his life, things were going pretty damn well. He’d just received an invitation to a cocktail party at one of the top twenty law firms in the country. Which was a very big deal. Then there’d been the date with Natalie, and that had turned out to be great. Now this.

  He hoped Gabbie turned out to be as advertised, because it might have been an error, but Natalie had set the bar pretty high. At least he knew that his next date wouldn’t want anything he couldn’t provide.

  8

  MONDAYS AT OMNIBUS Film Archives were always busy, but with two back-to-back tours and an afternoon screening of Buñuel’s L’Age d’Or for a class of film students, Natalie would be lucky if she got any kind of a break at all.

>   She’d had to fight the urge to daydream about Friday night, but both her coworker Veda, and her boss, Rick, had given her funny looks, so she knew she wasn’t exactly winning the battle. Of course she wouldn’t even give them a hint as to her thoughts. Everyone who was on staff, all dozen of them, knew that she’d been with Oliver for three years, and Natalie hadn’t told anyone they’d split up.

  It was a friendly group, constantly busy because they could have used at least a dozen more full-timers, with a budget that barely paid the ones they had. So they hired interns and part-timers, almost exclusively students from colleges and universities around the city.

  Their days were packed and they traded workdays and hours, especially evenings and weekends when they held screenings, fund-raisers and classes. When the staff socialized, they tended to talk shop. There wasn’t much gossip at Omnibus. This morning’s tour was part of a program offered by the American Association of Retired Persons. There were also a few other people taking part, including Elizabeth Carter, a PhD student who researched there often. Elizabeth loved the tour, but mostly she liked to play Stump the Librarian when Natalie was leading the group, which was fine because Natalie enjoyed the game, as well.

  They were standing outside the basement lab at the moment, crowded around the large window to watch the work going on inside. Once all eleven people on the tour were as well situated as possible, Natalie began her spiel. “Sadly, movies aren’t made to last. Almost all old films were made of perishable plastic, which decays within years if not properly stored. Only twenty percent of U.S. feature films from the 1910s and 1920s survive in their complete form. We make sure that movies will be here to be studied and enjoyed for years to come.”

  As always, she met the gazes of as many people as she comfortably could to keep the conversation engaging even through the technical parts. But a motion from down the hallway caught her attention. At first she thought she saw Max, but that wasn’t possible. A second look proved her wrong.