Nora’s lush figure was downplayed in the severely cut dress, but it was still apparent why the newspapers often called her one of the sexiest women in nonprofit. Her frosted gray hair was cut in a sleek natural style that showed off her long-lashed bedroom eyes and pillowy lips. Her still-youthful body and the way she spoke with someone as if they were the only person in the room made her irresistible to many.
Despite her boss’s call for her attention, Diana couldn’t resist a last look over her shoulder toward Marcus. Then she deliberately pushed him from her mind and concentrated on the event at hand.
The Prism Award Ceremony and Gala was one of the best attended and most prestigious charity events in Miami. The award honored business people and philanthropists in south Florida for the outstanding charity work they had done for the local community. Although Building Bridges had been doing its work for more than eight years with Nora at the helm for three of those years, this was the first time the organization had been invited to the Prism gala.
It was a well-known fact that when an organization’s head was personally invited to the Prism gala, it meant the organization was either being awarded or considered for an award the following year. Either way, Nora and the Building Bridges family were ecstatic. It meant more notice to their small nonprofit, which hopefully would translate into more donations, more interest and more work being done for the children they helped place in loving and safe homes.
As assistant executive director, in addition to her regular duties, Diana had to also be her single boss’s “work wife.” That included supporting Nora at events like this. She brushed a bit of lint from Nora’s shoulder, then sat down at the table they shared with Trish and two other members of the Building Bridges staff.
The round table was set up with a beautiful floral centerpiece, full water glasses in front of each of the five chairs and the proper utensils for the meal to come. They were seated near the middle of the room, not so far to the front as the Gates Foundation but definitely not by the kitchen, either. Diana knew Nora would care about that. She nervously touched the back of her ear, then forced her hand to her lap.
“How was the dance?” Trish appeared at Diana’s side. She sat down at the table, sliding both their purses near the table’s centerpiece. Her amused whisper was for Diana’s ears only.
She bit the inside of her lips to prevent a smile. Her friend was always trying to save her love life, usually with mixed results. “It went well,” she said. “He’s a good dancer.”
“Who’s a good dancer?” Nora looked up from her prepared speech, tapping the index cards briefly against the table.
“A man Diana just met.” Trish grinned wickedly. “He took her off to the dance floor earlier. I thought he was coming my way, but when he latched on to our sweet girl, I was tickled.” The look on her face suggested she wanted to say much more, but she contented herself with making kissing faces when Nora wasn’t looking. Diana rolled her eyes, hiding a smile.
“What’s his name?” Nora asked.
When Trish told her, Nora’s brow furrowed.
“That name sounds familiar.” Nora adjusted her pearls at her throat, eyes looking into the middle distance as she thought about who Marcus was. “Ah, yes. That most enterprising young man who owns the boat my friends and I always see sailing the bay early Sunday mornings. The Dirty Diana, I think it’s called.”
Trish chuckled. “Sounds like a match made in heaven.” She winked at Diana.
Diana kicked her friend under the table, then deliberately turned to Nora. “He seems interesting,” she said.
Nora laughed. “Of course, dear. Even I can see what a lovely piece of man candy that is.”
Trish guffawed. “Man candy, for sure. Something for you to suck on, Di?”
Nora cleared her throat, subtly letting Trish know she had gone a little too far. Trish only grinned, unrepentant.
As the women talked, the room quickly filled with some of the wealthiest and most influential citizens of Miami. Their voices rose and fell in conversation and in laughter as they found their seats. Then the clink of water and wineglasses. The faint strains of Tchaikovsky leaked from the speakers overhead while the host from the Prism Foundation, Sheila Beck, stood at the podium, checked the microphone, then gestured to someone Diana couldn’t see. Before long, everyone was seated at their respective tables, the conversation and music lulling. Unable to help herself, Diana stretched her neck, looking for Marcus. But she didn’t see him.
*
Marcus stood at the entrance to the ballroom, watching the crowd settle into their seats. From across the room, he saw Diana at the table with her friend, Trish, and three other women. He shook the hands of several men and women he’d done business with over the years and congratulated them on the good work they had been doing.
Although he was supposed to be at the table with Reynaldo and representing his company and his father at the award ceremony, an event where a bunch of rich men and women congratulated each other on the amount of money they were able to write off by tossing peanuts to one cause or another, Marcus was exactly where he wanted to be: watching Diana.
Why did he find her so damn interesting? Marcus asked himself the question as he took in the slender shape of her inclined in a listening pose toward the older woman seated at her table. It could have been that air of innocence about her. The way it made him want to pull her into a dark corner and find out if her lips were as soft as they looked.
“Marcus!”
Reynaldo’s voice pulled him from his reverie. The slender, dark-haired man appeared at Marcus’s side in his tuxedo, black bow tie against his gleaming white shirt. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it.”
Marcus hadn’t been sure he’d make it either. After a long night and morning at a party in Coconut Grove, he hadn’t been in the mood for anything more than his bed. But responsibility had kicked in. He shrugged off his exhaustion, showered and looked over his secretary’s notes about what was supposed to happen at the event. The Prism Gala was a good PR opportunity for Sacrum Holdings. His donations to their various charities made his company look good and made him look good.
“The committee appreciates your presence,” Reynaldo said. “And I do as well.”
“Of course.” Marcus nodded and shook the man’s hand. “Where are we sitting?”
The VP showed him to a table near the front of the room, a brief walk through the large ballroom that felt like a parade. How many CEOs had shown up to see one of their executives honored? Marcus knew he was one of the few and was being looked at positively as a result. The members of the Prism committee may be a tight-assed lot, but they were also very powerful. You never know when you might need a favor, Marcus thought as he unbuttoned his blazer and sank into the plush chair at Reynaldo’s side.
The ceremony began shortly after they sat, with the music winding all the way down and the conversations tapering off as the host, an excited-looking woman in her mid-forties, Sheila Beck, made her way to the stage and took the microphone. Marcus relaxed in his seat, bracing his elbows on top of the table as he looked around the crowded ballroom.
It was a sea of sameness. Tuxedos, gray dresses and black dresses, pearls, jewels, the occasional flare of a pale blue or green dress, the women for the most part keeping to the traditional muted tones, even though this was Miami. Marcus had no respect for such boring presentation.
Instead of traditional black tie, he wore what he wanted. A red handkerchief in the pocket of his black blazer, the white button-down shirt open at the collar. Black jeans and high-top Jordans. Needlessly rebellious, he knew, but it made him feel better about being trapped indoors for something like this when he’d rather be out making money or playing on his boat.
His eyes found Diana a few tables back. She was watching him. He grinned but she quickly looked away, fiddling with her earring. When he failed to compel her to look at him again through the power of his stare alone, he turned his attention back to the ceremony.
Sheila Beck and her fellow committee members put on a good show. Lively and fast. Reynaldo received his award to much applause while Sacrum Holdings was unexpectedly honored as one of the most environmentally sound companies in Miami. Instead of leaving like he’d originally planned, Marcus sat in his seat, held prisoner by the slim possibility that Diana would go somewhere with him after the ceremony.
Applause. Speeches. The apparent surprise award to one of the women sitting at Diana’s table—a gray-haired woman with more style than half the women in the room, although she did wear the least offensive color imaginable. Marcus took note of the organization, the woman’s name and the fact that she took her time as she grasped the crystal statuette in hands that shook. The woman was gracious on the stage, and brief. She thanked each of her staff by name, including Diana Hobbes, who was apparently the assistant executive director of Building Bridges. Interesting.
Building Bridges was one of the nonprofits he donated to every year. Small world.
As soon as the ceremony was over, Marcus made his way over to Diana’s table. Most of the gala’s attendees still lingered in the ballroom, grabbing one last drink from the open bar or rabidly shaking as many well-connected hands as they could.
Diana was still seated and talking quietly with her boss. As Marcus moved toward her, he was struck again by how delicate and delicious she looked. His imagination easily conjured what it would be like to walk up to her and kiss the back of her neck, inhale the evocative scent of her perfume, peel that ice-blue dress from her body. He stopped just behind her chair and greeted the other women around the table with a nod and smile.
“How about that midnight walk on the beach?” he asked, resting his hands on the back of her chair.
Diana drew in a breath of surprise but did not bother to look at him. She glanced instead at her boss and then at her friend Trish, who smirked up at Marcus.
“I can’t,” Diana said. “I have to wrap things up here with Nora,” she said.
Her boss waved a dismissive hand. “No, you don’t. Take a little time to yourself this evening. It’s been a long and hard road to get here. Enjoy yourself.” She gave a naughty grin of her own.
“Yes, please do,” Trish said, staring pointedly at her friend.
“Well, Diana, it looks like the only resistance is you,” he said, finally able to meet her eyes, which were a deep, velvet brown. “I would really enjoy your company tonight.”
“Go ahead, Di,” Trish said. “A night with this one won’t bring an end to your carefully constructed world, I promise.”
Diana flinched as if her friend had touched a nerve. She bit her lip. “Okay,” she said. “But I don’t do the beach.” She allowed him to grasp her hand and help her to her feet.
Marcus smiled at Diana’s boss and at her friend. “Thank you for the encouragement, ladies. Have a wonderful night.”
“You, too,” Trish said with a wink.
Diana made a strangled noise. “I’ll see you on Monday, Nora. I’ll be in early to make sure the photos from tonight are up on the website and the copy is ready for the newsletter and press release.”
Her boss waved her off. “Of course you will.”
Trish stood up and slapped Diana on the butt. “I’ll expect you to give me all the details tonight.”
Marcus laughed. “You ready?”
“Yes,” Diana said, giving her friend the side eye.
He offered her his arm and, after a moment’s hesitation, she took it. With her purse clutched in her hand, she walked out of the ballroom with him.
Plums, he realized after a few moments walking at her side through the thinning crowd. She smelled like rosemary and plums. A delicious and fresh sweetness that he had the sudden urge to sink his teeth into. Marcus licked his lips.
“So,” he said to distract himself from her scent and the imagined flavor she would leave behind on his tongue. “Why don’t you do the beach? You can’t swim?”
“I can swim,” she said. “I just choose not to.”
“Why?”
“I think it’s too early yet for that kind of conversation, don’t you?” She looked at him sideways.
“Not at all,” Marcus said. “The sooner I know what you don’t like and why, the better I can plan our next date. So now I know not to plan a romantic dinner for you on my boat.”
“Oh, God, no!”
A man and a young woman who looked like his mistress were already waiting for the elevator when they got there. The woman was beautifully put together in her tight white dress and red heels, her shoulder-length brown hair the same shade as her skin. But there was something almost desperate in the way she clung to him. Marcus nodded in greeting to both while Diana exchanged smiles with them.
“What about an afternoon on the sand?” Marcus asked, continuing their conversation. “No water, just a picnic and a bottle of wine.”
“No.”
He tipped his head to look down at her in curiosity. “Really?”
When the elevator arrived, Marcus held the door open and waited for both women to get into the car ahead of him. After the other man got in behind him, he pressed the button for the lobby. Classical music played as the car descended toward the main floor. The elevator’s mirrored surfaces reflected the two couples studiously avoiding each other’s eyes.
“So what do you like?” Marcus asked.
“Simple things,” Diana said after a brief glance at the other occupants of the elevator.
Marcus took the opportunity of the silent ride to properly look his fill of Diana Hobbes. The skin like silk. Her large eyes, high cheekbones and sensuous mouth in the face that was straight from his boyhood dreams. Angelic. Kind. But Diana seemed serious. More serious than anyone he ever thought he’d be interested in. But there was something about her wide mouth, about the way she seemed to want him but didn’t want to want him.
The elevator bell announced their floor just before the doors slid open. Marcus guided her toward the front of the hotel and the valet. He gave the blue-jacketed boy his valet ticket and stood aside to wait with Diana while his car was brought around.
It was another warm Miami night. Already, Marcus felt like shrugging off the blazer, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and getting comfortable. In her pale blue dress, Diana already looked comfortable in the heat, even relieved to be out in it.
Inside the hotel, she had been cold. It had been impossible for him not to notice her tight nipples under the thin dress. The hard points had drawn his eyes more than once. And he had hoped she wouldn’t think him rude or a complete pervert for staring at her breasts when he should have been meeting her eyes. His initial impulse had been to give her his blazer, but the primitively male part of him didn’t want to deny himself the sight of her, an ice queen in her glacier-blue dress, with her vulnerable nipples pressing against the cloth.
“So why no water?” he finally asked after they waited in silence for a moment.
“I’ll tell you when we know each other better,” she said with a faint smile.
“Fair enough,” he said. “I look forward to that deepening relationship.”
She looked up at him, meeting his eyes with her cool brown gaze. Something moved in his chest, but he forced himself not to look away.
“Here you are, sir.” The valet appeared beside them, eager and smiling.
“Thank you.” Marcus slipped him a twenty-dollar bill.
He guided Diana toward the passenger side of the silver Mercedes SLR, which already had both doors open. She climbed in with barely a glance at the car, and he shut her door before getting behind the wheel.
“Thank you for coming out with me tonight,” he said. “You won’t regret it.”
She looked at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling faintly. “Is that a promise?”
“Absolutely.” The car started with a delicate purr and slid away from the curb.
Chapter 2
It was late. After the light dinner she’d barely touched at the awa
rd ceremony, and after not eating anything prior to the ceremony because she’d been too busy preparing for it, Diana was starving. She snuck a peek at her watch and saw it was already past eleven. Much later than when she would normally eat, but that didn’t make her hunger any less urgent.
In the seat next to her, Marcus looked like the kind of man who lived most of his life after dark. He seemed all energy and sophistication. One of those men she’d heard about who populated Miami like sand on the beach. But despite living in Miami all her life, this was her first chance to meet one of his breed.
“Are we going out for food?” she asked with a touch of eagerness.
“Yes,” he said, briefly moving his eyes from the road to flash her a smile. “A simple place.”
She raised an eyebrow, remembering the words she had said to him while at the hotel. Yes, she liked simple things. But she sensed a man like Marcus did not. His money afforded him the world—what could he know about the plain ways to make a woman like her happy?
She was counting on that to kill her attraction to him even though, as she sat in his car rich with the smell of new leather, her skin felt nearly electric at his presence. She watched him without him being aware of it, noting again his luscious deep-brown complexion, sculpted mouth, golden eyes that were narrow and short-lashed beneath his prominent brow. His hair was neatly cut, an attractive and undoubtedly expensive style, and his clothes screamed money.
And he was going to take her somewhere simple? Diana’s mouth twitched as she wondered if he even knew what simple was.
Marcus skillfully navigated the car through the streets of downtown Miami, across the bridge that afforded an incredible view of the water lit with lights. Diana sighed. Although she hated the water, the view of Miami at night never ceased to awe her. It was one of the most beautiful cities she’d ever seen, packed with gorgeous people, good food and wine and incredible experiences just waiting to be sampled.
Sultry Pleasure Page 2
