Seduction By Chocolate

by Nina Bangs, Lisa Cach, Thea Devine

  Well— it was Jess's call, she decided. The timing, the budget, the client, all that went into the decision-making process. Jess would be learning that now. All Donna had to do was come in afterward and make it all work.

  She took a tentative sip of her hot cocoa, which was now rather lukewarm.

  There's a metaphor for a person's life, she thought mordantly. You immerse yourself in something rich, luscious, and burning hot and it turns cool, stale, and tasteless.

  And that makes it that much easier, in the end, to just toss it all away.

  Everything had started out so innocuously with her very first job: she had volunteered to put together the office Christmas party when she was too young to know better. Or maybe she had subconsciously known that she had a talent for organization, planning, and presentation.

  Whatever it was, Donna had turned an office conference room into a Victorian wonderland that was talked about for months afterward and became a significant turning point when coworkers began consulting her whenever they wanted to plan a party.

  Not too long after that, Human Resources recruited her for the events-planning department of the corporation. There she was allowed to give full rein to her ideas and her skills in planning sales meetings, holiday parties, banquets, and convention dinners.

  And it was there she'd met Paul.

  Ah, Paul. A man very much like their potential new client, who was sitting and listening so attentively to Jessica right now. She peered out at him. He looked just like a man on his way up, wholly conscious of his image and his position, who had definitive ideas about what he wanted in every area of his life.

  Like Paul.

  She'd taken one look at Paul and she'd wanted him. It had taken him a little longer to want her, but she'd been patient; she'd gone after him with the same persistence and single-mindedness with which she approached a potential client— until he'd come to her.

  She'd learned later that it had all been a mistake— after she'd thought she found happiness, after the bells and whistles, and the scorching passion that had burned down too quickly into embers and ashes. Even though she'd tried valiantly to fan the flames back to life.

  Taylor Markham, the well-known socialite, had swooped in and taken over Paul's life, a true and proper consort for a rising star.

  Ah! Donna had learned, after a painful year of trying to win him back, never again to let a negative thought about him disrupt her hard-won peace of mind. Never to think about how far she'd gone to try to keep his interest, his passion, his sex.

  Nothing had helped; nothing had worked. In the end, the expensively schooled and properly trained Taylor Markham, with her bred-in-the-bone combination of aggression and disdain, had just stormed in and walked away with everything.

  It was a love lesson that went with the territory. That was how she'd come to view it. Don't trust power-hungry men or social-climbing women. And she'd followed it, except for Jessica. But Jessica was nothing like Taylor Markham. She was good-hearted and a good sport. Even if she loved men. She just loved men and adored the chase— and any guy who looked good was fair game.

  And Matt Greer definitely looked good. Better than good.

  But Jessica also had priorities. At work, she was a businesswoman first and foremost, and she would never do anything to jeopardize a potential client. And she wanted to land Matt Greer's business— whatever it was— badly. Donna could tell that from the body language right through the connecting window wall.

  Jessica wasn't flaunting anything; she had tucked her long legs under the desk, and she was leaning forward, listening as intently to Matt Greer as he was to her.

  So she'd already fostered a connection: Mr. Greer liked her, liked what she was saying, and that was always the first step toward clinching the deal.

  Looking at Mr. Greer, Donna had the feeling that he was mentally juggling a half dozen other balls simultaneously, and while he seemed focused on Jessica, his mind was likely racing around in different directions.

  He was that kind of man, in control and in command, multitasking as second-nature as breathing.

  He was probably married, too. Men like that always were, and invariably to the Taylor Markhams of the world.

  But she was being fanciful.

  Matt Greer was nothing more than a striking man with a problem that Cavalero and Demont was going to solve.

  Anything else was the product of her overheated imagination.

  "Whew!" Jess dropped her long, lean body into the chair next to Donna's desk, waving her notes like a fan. "That man is hot."

  "Forget that," Donna said stringently. "Does he want to be front burner or do we have some leeway with him?"

  Jess opened her mouth to leap on the double entendre— and closed it. Donna was in crunch mode, already shifting and delegating in her mind to accommodate whatever Matt Greer wanted them to do.

  That was good enough for Jess. "Front burner. There's a potential mayoral candidate. You know the name. They're just starting to build him, so they're not positioning anything they do as a fund-raiser. This is just a testing-the-waters kind of thing, their dime. No glam jam either. He wants the best room, the best food, china, silver, the most elegant surroundings. Discreet, restrained, high-end. He gets final approval of everything. Wants site selections, menu, decoration proposals ASAP. They want to mount it at the end of the month. With that time frame, we're their first and only choice."

  Donna had been taking notes. "Discreet and restrained, huh? I guess I'll be doing the cost-out and the proposal."

  "I can do restrained," Jess protested. Or rather, she wanted to show Matt Greer she could. But this was something she shouldn't joke about. This was potentially something big. Something apart from the one-shot splash and their usual corporate clientele.

  "I'll do the proposal; you can present it," Donna said.

  Jess straightened her shoulders. "That's fine."

  "But you have to take over… let's see… the MondesCo banquet. That's Friday. And the Schoolhouse Publishing sales meetings next week."

  "You've got it."

  "When does he want the proposal?"

  Jess grimaced. "Tomorrow wouldn't be too soon."

  "Okay. Then I'd better get started. I can probably give you a preliminary, depending on what's available at the hotels. That's the sticking point."

  "That's why he came to us. He knows what short notice it is. But… three weeks to pull this together? With the kind of ambience he wants? I tell you, Donna, I wasn't really sure what to say to him." Except yes. Yes to anything he wanted, Jess thought, but she wasn't going to say that out loud. Even Donna, as reserved as she was, would have said yes to him.

  "We can do it," Donna said confidently. "Don't forget my secret sources."

  "I depend on them."

  "Me, too." Donna grabbed her bag. "I guess I'd better get started."

  She was back at the office by four o'clock, a big fudgy brownie in hand to reward herself for her clever thinking.

  "We can have the Hawley town house," she crowed as she swept into Jess's office. "We can have everything!" She dropped a second tissue-wrapped brownie on the contracts that Jess was revising. "You can have one of these…."

  Jess shuddered. "Oh, no. No, no. My metabolism would have an aneurysm. Take it away, and give me the gory details."

  Donna perched on the edge of the desk and took a big, luscious bite of the brownie. "Mmm." She rolled her eyes. "This is to die for, Jess. Honestly. Anyway"—she set it aside to tick points off on her fingers—"Hawley town house— it's just off Fifth Avenue— we can have the thirtieth of the month— that's Thursday night, which doesn't kill people's weekend plans.

  "There's a double parlor, library, and atrium. Food service from the kitchen. There are fireplaces in each parlor, chandeliers, mirrors, beautiful moldings on the walls, old paintings— oh, it's wonderful. We'll have background music piped in. Mozart— isn't that supposed to stimulate the brain waves or something? Exactly the right tone to attract the kind
of contributors his client will need."

  She dug in her bag for some papers. "Contracts are here. I've got everything lined up if your Mr. Greer gives the go-ahead. And frankly, I'm rather shocked that we got Hawley so easily. It's usually booked up a year in advance. And is. Except for that one night, for some reason. I love that place. I think it's perfect. You might take Mr. Greer down there, Jess. Maybe at night, so he can get the feel of that old New York elegance." She picked up the brownie, took another bite, and sighed with pleasure.

  Jess made a note. "I'll call him."

  "Don't bother."

  Donna froze at the sound of the male voice. Oh, God. This was the last place she wanted to be caught by a client: after hours in casual conversation with Jess, and feeding her chocolate fetish.

  And then there was his voice. It was as rich and smooth as the rest of him. Just those words, and the expression on Jess's face. As if he were a god. Why did her back have to be to the door? There was no way around it; all she could do was ease off the desk with as much grace as she could muster, and try to flick the stray crumbs from her mouth as surreptitiously as possible.

  "Mr. Greer." Her voice choked; clogged by chocolate frosting and dismay. She wondered how much he'd overheard. Not that there was anything he shouldn't have, or couldn't have.

  But still…

  "We haven't met," he said, holding out his hand. She gave him hers, following his eyes, knowing he was aware of her rumpled suit, her crumb-caked hands, her mouth— Oh, Lord, did she have chocolate smeared on her lips?

  His intent gaze suggested she did, and there was no subtle way to lick the residue away.

  "Mr. Greer," she murmured. "I'm Donna Cavalero. We didn't expect to see you back this afternoon."

  "I was curious to see how fast you worked."

  He wasn't joking. And it was obvious how fast he worked.

  She sucked in her lips imperceptibly, tasted a streak of chocolate frosting, and answered, "Very fast. Jess can fill you in, unless you overheard my enthusiastic rundown about the Hawley town house."

  "Some of it. The tail end. Hawley's a good choice."

  "One of almost none," Donna said gently. "This is a rough time of year to get space in a tough town. We're damned lucky that night wasn't booked."

  "And what we like about it especially," Jess put in, "is that it will be like your client is entertaining at home. There won't be that convention or banquet feel to the dinner. No podiums. No microphones. Intimate and elegant."

  Donna grinned at her. Trust Jess to get to him first with all the good points she'd enumerated. Jess was a real saleswoman, she truly was.

  But Matt Greer for some reason was still holding Donna's hand.

  She withdrew it gently as Jess went on, "Everything pristine, discreet, elegant. Especially with all the antique features of the house. The fireplaces, the chandeliers, the mirrors. Intimate dining around small tables. We'll have a waitstaff in place who will serve the wine as well. Lots of candles against white. Flowers. Music in the background— Mozart or Vivaldi, perhaps. Silver and bone china. We'll bring in the caterer. I think Donna has a couple of choices for you."

  He nodded. "I need numbers."

  "I just got back," Donna told him. "Give me an hour to rough out the proposal."

  "I'll wait."

  Oh, hell. Pressure. "Make yourself comfortable." She motioned to the reception room and then she looked at Jess, shrugged as if to say, He's all yours, gathered her notes, and went back to her office.

  Oh, my… She took a quick peek in her coat-closet mirror. Disheveled and bloated with pure chocolate pleasure. Not quite the image she'd wanted to present.

  But not a setback either. Matt Greer had obviously liked what he'd heard. Now she had to sell it on paper. She logged on to the computer and went to work.

  Chapter Two

  He had known it was going to cost, so the precisely enumerated numbers on the proposal in his hand didn't surprise him.

  But Jessica Demont and Donna Cavalero did. Matt had called them purely on the recommendation of several organizations that had used their services and rated them highly, but they weren't the old-hand, experienced, forty-plus executives he had expected; they were thirty-something, and full of spit and glamour.

  Everything about them and their office was up-to-the-minute, from their short-skirted suits to the paneled walls of the outer office to the avant-garde artwork and polished antiques within.

  Everything was elegant, well meshed, and well thought out, but not, he noted, by any interior designer. Rather, a loving and logical hand— whose hand? he wondered— had shaped the environment to suit the personalities of the partners.

  And they were so totally different. Jessica Demont was seated next to him, discussing the fine points of the proposal in a brisk, businesslike tone that belied the trim red suit, the short skirt, the long legs, the flirtatious wisps of red hair that grazed her cheeks.

  Jessica was the outgoing one, who dressed flamboyantly and smiled a lot. And Jessica was interested in him; he felt it in his bones. But he was used to that.

  It was Donna on whom he focused, seated behind the desk, her expression intent, taking notes, and nodding once or twice as Jessica made a point.

  What was it about Donna Cavalero that drew his attention? She sat straight and tall and very still, and he liked those qualities. She didn't talk a lot, at least in meetings. She had a no-nonsense way of looking you directly in the eye with those cool, unexpected gray eyes, and he liked that, too.

  And her mind was totally on the business at hand.

  There was nothing about her that was out of place or suggestive. She wore a prim black silk suit and a matching blouse in a subtle pattern, discreet gold jewelry, everything expensive but understated and not ostentatious.

  What he had been told to expect; what he wanted for his client.

  But what was it about her?

  Brownies…?

  "Do you know the Hawley house?" Jess was asking. "We could drive downtown—"

  "There is an event being hosted there tonight," Donna broke in. "So if you want to see the space, Jess could take you tomorrow morning, if you're free."

  "I think we'll do both," Matt said decisively. "Can either of you do it now?"

  "I can," Jess said, her voice neutral.

  But Matt sensed the expectation there. He nodded, hiding his disappointment, because he couldn't very well demand that Donna accompany him instead of Jessica.

  But he wanted to. "Good. And tomorrow— what time?"

  "Ten," Donna said, making a note. She stood and held out her hand. "Mr. Greer."

  "Ms. Cavalero." God, she had a firm grip. He liked that, too.

  He was just a step behind Jessica out the door when it hit him what it was about Donna Cavalero that so intrigued him, and it was so simple, and so definitive of the age-old battle of the sexes that he almost laughed out loud.

  It was so clear— while her partner was both efficient and attainable, Ms. Donna Cavalero hadn't once responded to him as a woman to a man.

  The undercurrents threatened to swamp her. Donna rubbed her forehead tiredly. Jess was ready to jump out of her skin at the chance to be alone with Matt Greer, and she didn't have a clue that he wasn't receptive.

  Yet.

  He wasn't trolling. But Donna would have bet he was aware of Jess's interest. And she felt bad that Jess was doomed to failure. Matt Greer just wasn't looking.

  But Jess had to find that out for herself, she supposed. And she found herself wishing that sometimes Jess would just tone it down. Although Jess never did anything overt, anything out of order. It was just that she exuded sensuality from every pore. It was in the ether, as potent as sex, signaling her availability, her willingness.

  And with that, her determination to go after what she wanted full tilt.

  Donna knew the symptoms well; once, she'd been just like that, the original take it if you want it girl.

  She'd been just like Jess, right on the spot in t
he trendiest places, pulsing in the midst of the too-frenetic dating and mating scene.

  But that had been before Donna had learned to slow down and let things come to her. Jess, however, still revved herself higher and higher, her expectations flying until she plummeted, as usual, back to reality.

  Tonight's little junket with Matt Greer would probably be no exception, except that Jess would be circumspect and proper, but with all her flags waving in the wind.

  Well, she'd hear about it soon enough. Jess was smart enough not to try to make a move until after his client's event. But after that, all bets were off.

  Poor Matt Greer. Maybe. She wouldn't want to bet that Jess wouldn't get him— even for a night— in the end. It was the after that part that was Jess's problem. And the fact that she hadn't yet learned you couldn't get there from here, not in the space of a night's conversation, a sweaty coupling in the dark, and a promise to call in the morning.

  But that wasn't Donna's concern. She had already fought her battles and won. All she had to do was work on the proposal and have a nice, leisurely dinner with the best company in the world: herself.

  He was the yummiest man. And it was a long stop-and-go ride downtown in his car, with those capable, confident hands on the wheel, some light, jazzy music playing low, and minimal conversation.

  Almost romantic, except for the fact that Jess felt uncomfortably constrained.

  It was the minimal-conversation part that she didn't particularly like, but since this was a business appointment, she had no choice but to follow the client's lead.

  She knew how to do that. She knew every technique in the book, and she found it somewhat amusing that she was in this close, confined space with this amazing man and there wasn't a topic she could think of to open a conversation.

  Boy, the traffic is a mess…. But it always was at five-thirty on a weekday afternoon. Watch that cab on your left!…Sure. Impugn his driving skills. Streets sure are crowded…. As if they ever weren't? Why don't you turn left there?…Right. Big mistake to try to give this man directions.

  Jess leaned her head back against the luxurious leather.