There was a beat of silence, then he gave a chuckle. "Is that where you were going just now? Lunch?"
Sitting down like that, he looked almost approachable. Janey wiped her cheeks with her arm. "No, I was providing it. I'm catering a lunch on seven. What about you?" she asked shyly.
"Dentist appointment." He grimaced. "Not that I was looking forward to it, but I wanted it over with."
Well, that was very human and normal. "I'm, uh, I'm Janey. Janey Pankowski." She reached into her bag and fished out a business card and handed it to him.
"Nyall Anderson."
Janey didn't fail to notice that he tucked her card away without looking at it, and he didn't reciprocate with his own business card.
"How much time do you think has passed?" Janey said.
"An hour and a quarter," he said after checking his phone.
"That long? Oh, my God. We're really stuck in here." The fact that there hadn't been a peep from anybody outside boded ill in her mind.
"It's looking like we'll be here a while," he agreed. "You might as well tell me why you were crying."
Just his mentioning it made it start happening again. Janey didn't understand it. She was sitting here with a man that she had nothing in common with and he was inviting her to confide in him.
"Why do you want to know?" she said. "Do you like listening to strange women tell you about their miserable lives? Are you a psychiatrist or something?"
"Lord, no." He sounded repelled. "Curiosity, I guess."
Well, that fit in with the calculating businessman image, at least, she thought. "I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. It's nothing exciting. I just asked a guy out on a date and he said no."
"That's it?" He didn't seem impressed. "That makes you cry on elevators?"
She swallowed. "No, that's not it. It's the story of my li-ife. Nice guys look right through me. It's only the cheating sleazeballs who ever come on to me."
Janey heard her own words and winced. She couldn't believe she was sitting here complaining to this guy about her lame love life.
His gaze moved over her again, this time more speculatively. Of course, her legs and arms blocked most of her body, but he seemed to see through them. "I can see why the sleazeballs, but I'm not getting the nice guys part."
Janey's jaw dropped. Had she just been insulted? "Thanks a lot," she said.
His eyes narrowed. "Did that offend you?"
"You just said you think I'm perfect for scumbags."
"You have a voluptuous body," he said. "Men want to fuck that. But I don't know why decent guys wouldn't, too. They're basically the same animal, with different shirts."
For a moment Janey couldn't breathe or talk. When she finally managed it, she said shakily, "You couldn't be more wrong."
"About what?"
"About guys wanting to…uh…be with me. I'm a virgin," she said bluntly. "I'm twenty-nine and I've never had sex with a man."
"You're gay?" His brow rose. He asked the question in that bemused way a person might say, "You've really never been to Canada?"
A laugh burst out of her. "I wish! I got so frustrated with the whole thing one time I tried to psyche myself up to become lesbian. That was a fail, too. My fantasies just wouldn't go there. It's males I like."
There was a minute of silence where she couldn't read his expression.
Then:
"You don't want to be a virgin?" he said.
"I don't care if I'm a virgin or not exactly. I just want to—" She blushed. "To know. What it's like. To feel—uh—"
"You want sex," he drawled. "With someone you won't catch a disease from."
"I could go off with one of the sleazeballs, I guess. I just haven't gotten that desperate yet."
His mouth slanted sardonically. "So why not ask some guy you know to fuck you?"
"They don't want to. Seriously," when he looked disbelieving. "Look at me!" She moved her legs down and spread her arms out. "I'm the classic girl next door. I'm the sister. I'm platonic city, Nyall. I'm not imagining it. Believe me. It's dogged me all my life." The tears were starting again. "I don't usually act this pathetic, but it's starting to get to me, you know? I don't understand your gender at all and I'm pretty sure at this point it's too late for me to ever be able to."
His lips twitched. "We're pretty simple."
"Yeah, right. I can't believe I'm talking to you about it, anyway," she muttered.
"You don't tell people about it?"
"Oh, sure, friends. But you're a stranger. Some strangers might be okay to talk to. But you're my last idea of a good confidante."
His amusement broke through in a laugh. "Why do you say that?"
"Oh, you know." She waved her hand dismissively. "Gorgeous. Sexy. Successful. Smooth. Out of my league."
As if to prove his popularity, his cell phone went off. He withdrew it from his pocket, but after one glance he put it back.
"Now, what were you saying?" he prompted, looking at her narrowly.
"Out of my league," she answered.
"Right. I take it you've heard of me?"
Her eyes widened. "No. Heard of you? Why, are you famous? Nyall Anderson," she said to herself. It didn't sound familiar.
He frowned, studying her. "No," he said finally. "I'm just a businessman."
She snorted. "A posh one, though, right? What do you do?"
"Start-ups," he said. "Starting them. Then selling them."
"I see," she said. "I have a small local catering business. Oh, I told you that already, didn't I? My specialty is allergy-friendly baking. Nut-free cookies. Seed-free bread. Dairy-free, egg-free donuts."
"I see." He stared at her.
She grinned. "Now you're hungry, aren't you, with all that food talk?"
"No, unlike you, I had lunch already. But you were saying about my being a bad confidante…"
"Oh, yeah. I'm talking about the whole package." She gestured vaguely at him. "The way you dress, the way you look, the way you live."
His tongue poked his cheek. "I see. Amazing what you can tell from first impressions," he drawled. "But what does all that have to do with who you talk to about losing your virginity?"
"I don't know. Just that if I were in a room full of people and had to pick someone to spill my soul to, you'd be the last person I'd approach. You're in a different universe from me."
"We seem to be in the same elevator."
"Purely by accident." She paused. "Although now that I think about it, you might actually be the perfect person to talk to. Especially if you're married. Or have a girlfriend. Or are otherwise unavailable."
He leaned forward and tilted his head. "Why do you say that?"
"Because then you could tell me why your type makes sleazy passes at my type."
"Oh, I can tell you that in any case." His gaze lowered pointedly. "It's probably your tits. They're sensational. And your ass isn't bad, either."
Janey gaped. Instinctively her arms crossed over her chest and her whole body suffused in a blush.
His lips quirked, but he went on. "But as to being committed to anyone…sorry to disappoint. I don't do girlfriends or wives these days."
"You're gay?" Her eyes popped.
"No," he said with forced patience.
"Then why…"
"I do sex," he said deliberately. "Not relationships."
"Oh." Get a grip, Janey. This is unreal, but you can handle it. "Anyway, you're not the kind of man I usually associate with. You're the right age, just…a different lifestyle. And you're hot. I don't usually go around with studly guys who belong on the covers of men's magazines."
He sighed. "I'm getting the point. I'm a god. You're a peon."
She blinked. Frowned. Then sighed wistfully. "Yeah. I just wish I could meet somebody nice and normal who wants me and wants to be my boyfriend. Everyday stuff. Somebody I'd trust to lose my virginity to. Who'd…"
"What?"
"Teach me all about sex. What the big deal is."
He shook his
head. "You're doomed for failure."
Again, his words managed to bring the tears to the forefront. "That's what I thought."
"Not the way you're thinking." He sounded impatient. "You're looking in the wrong place. If you want someone to teach you how to enjoy sex, you don't look look to nice guys."
"I'm not having sex with a sleazeball," she said emphatically.
"I didn't say you should."
"Yes, you did. I mean, if not sleazeballs and not nice guys, what kind of guy should I seek out to teach me about sex?"
He shrugged. "That's easy. Me."
Chapter 2
Before Janey could respond to Nyall Anderson's unsettling answer, the intercom sounded. It was a bit of a shock; Janey didn't realize contact could be initiated from the outside.
"All right, people," a tinny male voice said through the static. "The crew's out and you should be out of there soon."
"Oh!" Janey said. "Yes, I can hear them."
Nyall said, "Great. How soon is soon?"
"Forty-five, maybe an hour."
That's soon? Janey thought.
"Thanks." Nyall leaned back against the wall, shifted his legs, and looked at Janey calmly.
She knew her face was still red because she could feel the heat in her cheeks. She looked up at the button panel until the static of the intercom ceased, then back at Nyall.
"Uh, did I just hear you say…"
"A guy like me," he said, and smiled. The smile was breathtaking. It didn't exactly soften his angular features, but it made his brown eyes not exactly warm up, but go smoky. "Who does sex just fine. Isn't attached. And isn't a half bad teacher."
"Are you…applying for the job?" Janey's voice ended in a squeak.
"Sure, why not?"
"But why? Why would you do that?" She was suddenly suspicious. "Are you sure you're not married?"
His eyes narrowed. "I'm not married or committed in any way. Five years divorced, if you must know, and paying alimony. No kids. As to why I'd do that…maybe I'm just noble that way."
She shivered, this time with a distinct chill. "You don't seem the noble type."
"Got me pegged again," he said. "What can I say? Tell you what, hand me your jacket, Jane."
"Janey. My name is Janey." Disconcerted, she reached into the tote bag where she'd stashed it and tossed it over to him.
"Right. Janey. Why don't you scooch over here?"
"Uh…"
"Come on. We'll do an experiment. See if you're interested. If you are, I think we can come to an arrangement that will satisfy both of us."
"What do you mean, an arrangement?"
"I've got a week's vacation coming up. I have travel plans, but plans can always be canceled. If you can manage to tear yourself away from your business for a week, you could stay at my place. We'll spend the week educating you. By the end, you'll be free of the hindrance of your virginity."
Was the man mad? Thinking she'd go over to some stranger's place and let him have his way with her? She decided to humor him. "And what would you get in exchange for this mitzvah?" she asked.
He shrugged. "I occasionally employ cooks and caterers, but I'm not particularly happy with any of them, and frankly, I like good food. You could cook for me."
"Cook for you?" She shook her head. "It's a vacation. I could probably manage a week away, it's the off season. But no way am I going to spend my time cooking for somebody on my vacation."
His jaw jutted out.
She relented. "I might, however, consider instructing you how to cook some dishes you like."
"I don't cook," he said tersely.
"What, not at all?"
"I can make tea and scrambled eggs."
Her jaw dropped. "Seriously? You're that useless?" She blushed. "In the kitchen, I mean."
He didn't like that, she saw.
"Have you always been rich enough to have people cook for you?" She couldn't imagine what that must be like.
He shook his head. "Only in the last few years. Before then, I ate out, ate frozen meals, or my mom or girlfriend did the cooking."
"Ah. I get it now." She almost felt sorry for him. "I don't imagine there's much point in your learning to be independently fed at this point."
"I'm not too sure about that. Hey, didn't I tell you to come here?"
Janey started. "What?"
"Over here, Janey." He patted the floor. She found herself doing what he said, rising to her feet and walking over to him and then sitting down beside him.
"No. In front of me. There." He moved her by the waist with disturbing ease until Janey felt his warm, hard body behind her through his clothes and hers. He spread her suit jacket out on her lap and wrapped his arm around her waist. She could smell a faint spicy aroma of male. It made her flustered. She leaned back against him and gazed unseeingly at the wall on the opposite side of the elevator and squirmed a little.
"Settle down. There's a camera up there and security guys outside. You're not in any danger."
"I'm not scared," she said hotly. "I just don't know what you're doing."
"An experiment," he said. She felt him move and then his breath blew warmly in her ear. "How would you like an orgasm right now?"
Janey went rigid. "What?" She stopped herself just in time from shrieking the word. It came out more as a squeal.
Still speaking into her ear, he said, "I'd estimate we have at least twenty minutes before the doors open. I should be able to easily give you an orgasm before then. Let's give it a try, anyway. Then you can decide what to do."
She craned her neck to look at him, pretty sure her face must look like a lobster right now. "You can't be serious. You want to have sex right here in this elevator? In front of the camera? You're a sicko."
He didn't seem to get insulted by that. In fact, he appeared to be biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. "Not have sex. Just give you a little orgasm. All you have to do is sit there and look normal for the camera. Don't give any indication of what's happening and nobody will be arrested for public indecency."
"That's perverted."
"Really? Okay, well, then it was a bad idea. Forget it." He let go of her waist and leaned back. He seemed pretty casual about the whole thing, regarding her with one eyebrow arched.
She turned back around and stared into space.
Of course it was a bad idea.
Too bad her body wasn't agreeing. A rush of excitement was heating her blood all the way from her feet to the top of her head. The idea of doing what he said actually tempted her a lot. She'd never even thought of doing anything so daring or risqué in her life. Of course, it was ridiculous to think he could actually give her an orgasm. Here. In the elevator. Essentially in public.
Her eyes darted nervously to the security camera on the ceiling.
Twenty minutes.
More like eighteen now.
"I guess this is what I get for whining and feeling sorry for myself," she babbled, thinking aloud as much as talking to him. "It would be stupid to say no. I mean, here you are not being a total slimeball and offering me a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Are you sure you're not a total slimeball?'
She heard him snort. "Did I ever promise that I wasn't one?"
"I guess not." She said glumly, "My record's not real good here. I thought Vince wasn't a slimeball and it turned out I was wrong."
She was just wasting time now, she realized. Too much thinking and the decision would be over for her. "Um. Okay. I'll put my money where my mouth is." She waved her hands around. "You can go ahead and do whatever it is you do. But if they do decide to arrest us, you are going to have to pay the bail money. And I'll probably sue you for ruining my reputation."
He laughed. Then she heard him shift and he pulled her back and tucked her up against him cross-legged. As far as the camera was concerned, he was just a guy comforting a nervous girl in a broken elevator.
Probably nobody was even monitoring the surveillance footage, she told herself. And if they w
ere, they couldn't see the masculine hand slide discreetly along her hip and under the bunched-up suit jacket lying haphazardly across her lap. She was the only one aware of it.
Well, and Nyall too, of course.
She shifted a bit. She felt his chest rising gently behind her with the normal rhythm of breathing. His heart wasn't pounding like a freight train over rusty tracks.
"I'm just going to slip my hand down your pants and into your panties," he whispered in her ear. "It's elastic all around right?"
Janey swallowed. "Yes," she said inaudibly, then tried again after clearing her throat.
Without further delay, the hand at her waist burrowed inside her pants, crossed the barrier of her underpants, and spread out underneath the cotton fabric. Janey looked down at her lap and was impressed. He did it so smoothly the suit jacket concealing her didn't even move.
Things were starting to get seriously surreal. Janey registered the feel of Nyall Anderson's hand lying on top of her pubic mound. It just lay there not doing anything. She figured he was giving her time to absorb what he was doing.
"Not freaked out so far?" he said.
"Oh, I'm freaked out all right," she said in a tiny voice.
He chuckled. "It'll be fine. Just remember to look casual. Yawn. Look up at the ceiling. Like you're utterly bored."
"Okay," she gulped.
"Relax, Janey. Try counting by fives."
"The waiting is what's killing me," she said through gritted teeth.
"Remember," he said. "Bored. Like you're on a bus in heavy traffic."
Inside her pants, Janey felt one finger move. Just a tiny bit, but her whole body jumped and a whimper escaped her lips before she could think about it.
The finger stilled. "Careful," he cautioned softly in her ear, then lifted his head away and leaned back against the wall, one leg bent at the knee along her side. He pulled her imperceptibly back as he moved.
She glanced around at Nyall and saw that he had his eyes half-closed, his lips were smiling slightly, and he looked lazy. From his indolent pose, nobody would suspect his long arms and body were strategically placed for perfect access to her.
That's how I'm supposed to look, she thought. She gave it her best shot.
Heat Exchange (The Alpha Billionaire's Virgin Book 1) Page 2
