She crossed her arms and tapped her foot, waiting.
He grabbed the apple, tossed it high, then threw the oranges and juggled them round and round for at least a minute, his full concentration on keeping the quartet in the air, and impressing her with this skill. He slowed, ending the whirl, taking a bow and returning the oranges to the counter. He dropped the bruised apple into the basket, grabbed another one, and walked to Casey. He tugged her arm, and gestured to the couch. They sank into the cushions, next to each other on the lounge section.
“Say it. Say you’re impressed with my skills,” he said.
“I am so impressed with your skills,” she said as he crunched into the apple. He offered it to her next, and she bit into it, passing it back to him. He draped an arm around her shoulder, and she snuggled in close as they finished off the apple. He stretched across her to set the core down on the table, the same one that held the tickler and blindfold. The crop was still on the floor.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
“For you? Yes. For food, the answer is also yes. What do you have in mind?”
“Food first. Want to order from the House of Nanking around the corner? I’m craving their moo shu pancakes.”
“Of course. And you know what I like.”
“I do,” she said, grabbing her phone.
That’s what was so odd between the two of them right now. As she ordered his favorite dish, sesame chicken, it occurred to him that she knew so many things about him. She knew bits and pieces of his past with Joanna, she knew his challenges and his triumphs in business, she knew what he liked to eat, to read, how much he enjoyed watching the Yankees, and she knew what he liked to do on the weekends. Oftentimes, the answer was work. They both had admitted how much they actually did love the siren call of the deal, the decision, and the chance to increase the profit margin. “I like working late,” she’d once confessed. “I can’t resist it either,” he’d seconded.
Except now.
He had no desire to be anyplace but here. When she ended the call, he gestured to the artwork on her brick walls.
“You got a new print of one of Lichtenstein’s kisses?”
She nodded. “Yeah, but it’s not an original.”
He laughed. “I know. I didn’t think it was an original one. They’re kind of pricey. I think one of them went for $6 million at auction.”
She arched one eyebrow, giving him a curious look. “Since when do you know the prices of artwork?”
“There was a Lichtenstein lithograph next to one of Joanna’s early sculptures at an exhibition years ago. I wound up knowing all about him.”
She cringed, squeezing her eyes shut, saying, “Shit, I’m sorry. I should have known that would be the connection.”
He placed his hand on her arm. “Hey, it’s okay.”
She shook her head. “Well, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“I swear, Casey. It’s okay. I’ve gotten over it. It’s not as if I can’t be surrounded by the art world because of Joanna,” he said, and that was mostly true. Joanna’s star had risen quickly after she finished her MFA. Her works were featured, bought and sold at top galleries in Manhattan and London. He couldn’t insulate himself from the imprint of her.
“I’m glad she hasn’t totally ruined it for you. That woman did a number on you, though.”
He simply curved up the corner of his lips in acknowledgement. “I won’t deny that. But I also like to think I’ve moved on,” he said, and that was true too. He had moved to a better place. A spot where he could never be hurt like that again. Trust no one, let no one in, and you’re safe.
“I’m glad you feel that way, for you. And because it also means I can tell you that I’m going to an auction in London when I go there later this month to meet with my clients at Sofia’s Pharmacy. I’m so excited,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “I have my eyes on a few items in the lot.”
“What are you hoping to bid on?”
“Nothing too fancy. I’m still just a working girl,” she said, jokingly. Then, she turned serious. “There are some gorgeous paintings from a newer artist, Miller Valentina, and I want to get them to finish out my collection of kisses. But I suppose, if you think about it, you don’t really ever need to finish a collection of kisses. They can keep going on.”
He looked at her, and she was gazing at the images on her wall—an image of a couple in the rain curled together in an embrace, then a black-and-white photograph of a sailor kissing his girl, and also a movie poster of Rhett locking lips with Scarlett from Gone With The Wind. “You are such a romantic,” he said.
“Yeah, I am,” she said, nodding, and owning it. “I completely am. All the more ironic, considering my parents are anti-romantic, isn’t it? They couldn’t wait ’til I left the house for college so they could finally divorce.”
“I like that they didn’t sap the desire out of you.”
“But aren’t you glad you don’t have to worry about tending to the overly romantic side of me? You only have to think about this side,” she said, gesturing to her body, as if she were presenting him with it.
Admittedly, there was a part of Nate that was immensely glad he didn’t have to worry about the romantic side of her. The evidence of her heart’s true desire for love was displayed on her wall for all to see—proof that she was the opposite of him. And she didn’t hide it. She didn’t try to deny it. She simply tried to live by it. Of course, now she was trying to both live by it and add a few new tricks to the mix in the proverbial quest to have it all.
But some small part of his heart lurched in sadness that he could only serve the physical. He didn’t have it in him to be more. He wasn’t prone to romance, or to the kind she wanted. He’d made a choice to live on the other side, and that was a damn good choice that had served him well, and protected him. He’d stand by it, come hell or high water. And since they didn’t see eye to eye on this front, it was best for their friendship, and their future, that they be able to do precisely what they were doing right now—safely return to the friend zone after a session in the lover’s lane. So he did what he’d done before, even if it pained him to bring up an ex.
“Did Scott tend to that side of you?”
She shrugged, a defeated look in her eyes. “As much as I hate to admit it, he did. I mean, it’s not like he’s some paragon of how to be a good boyfriend, but he was attentive, and took me to dinner, and bought me flowers and gifts, and candy on Valentine’s Day. So really, it was clearly the other side of me he didn’t like. He didn’t like me in the bedroom.”
Nate’s jaw clenched. The guy was such an ass. “That’s not romantic,” he muttered.
She propped herself on her elbow. “Oh yeah, Mr. Not Romantic? Tell me what’s romantic then?”
“You think I’m not romantic just because I don’t get serious?”
She scrunched up the corner of her lips. “Well, kind of.”
He grabbed her hip, playfully pulling her closer. “I’ll have you know, Miss Casey, that I am excellent at buying flowers. I can whip out my platinum card like that,” he said, snapping his wrist and mimicking slapping down a plastic card. “I can also—wait for it—use that same card to buy gifts. In fact, I did,” he said, gesturing to the box.
“I know, and I liked your gift. But you know what I mean.”
“I can do candlelight dinners too. Let me tell you, the way I book a restaurant is inspired. Only to be topped by my ability to order champagne and have chocolate delivered on Valentine’s Day. ”
She held up her hands in defeat. “Fine, fine. You win. What is romantic to you then?”
“Romantic,” he said, lingering on the word as he stopped to finger a strand of her hair, “is taking care of a woman. It’s being attuned to her needs. It’s listening to her. It’s making her feel beautiful, inside and out, because she is. It’s knowing her favorite dish, and picking it up on the way home. It’s giving her your coat when she’s cold, and holding open the door, and it’s makin
g sure she has everything she needs before a big meeting,” he said, and a flicker of recognition flashed in her mountain lake blue eyes.
It was as if they existed in a bubble right now, a sealed cocoon where they were dancing perilously close to admissions they should never make. The moment fueled him, spurring him on. “It’s knowing what matters to her, whether it’s her collection of kisses, or the way she likes to be kissed.”
She brought her fingers to her lips, as if recalling a kiss. He couldn’t resist. “Sometimes, it’s just kissing her because she needs to be kissed, and because you can’t help yourself when it comes to her,” Nate said and kissed her once more. A soft, slow kiss. An unhurried one, as he explored her lips with tender moves, tracing her mouth with the tip of his tongue, gently brushing his fingertips along her face. Their bodies drew near to each other inch by inch, as if an invisible thread knit them together. The kiss became a sensuous journey across her mouth and her lips and her tongue. It was her melting into his arms, and him melting with her. Because he kissed her with all he had and she kissed him back the same way, spreading her hand across his chest, and hooking her leg over his. It was a full body kiss, heady and intoxicating, and it pulled him under, like a wave. He barely wanted to come up for air.
Then he stopped and looked her in the eyes. “Is that okay?”
“Is what okay?” she asked, sounding dazed. Looking dazed too. He loved that kiss-drunk look she wore so well after he’d touched her.
“If I just kiss you like that? For no reason? Or is that crossing a line in our agreement?”
“Oh, right. Yes, our agreement,” she said, smoothing her hands down her shirt, looking away from him. She seemed to be . . . rebooting. When she returned her gaze to him, she had on that business-like face.
“I think as long as we know that there are lines we’ll be fine,” she said, in a cool and measured voice.
“Absolutely. The lines are clear. Hell, if you want, I can keep my hands off unless we’re practicing a lesson,” he said, perhaps more gung-ho than he intended. But he couldn’t stop. He needed the reminders too. He laid on the bravado reassurances that he was cool with it all. “It’s not a problem. I can easily just take a step back when we’re not in the middle of things.”
“Don’t you worry,” she said with a cheerful smile. “I’m not going to get confused and think the sex, or the almost-sex, or the kissing for no reason, means anything more than it does. We’re still friends, and these lessons aren’t changing that,” she said, so damn matter-of-factly that she could be teaching a course on nonchalance.
His chest tightened, and he tried to ignore the way those words gnawed at him. They shouldn’t annoy him, because this was what he wanted. To stay friends with her, and to be the one to help her in her quest.
The friendship mattered too much to him to let this momentary irritation win.
That was why he stayed. That was why he ate sesame chicken and moo shu pancakes and broke fortune cookies with her, handing her his—now is the time to try something new—and saying, “I believe this one was meant for you.” She gave him hers, as she said, “Then, this must be yours then. Your fondest dreams will come true this year.”
“I am going to open a hotel on the moon,” he said in an awed voice, and she laughed, then danced her fingers across his chest.
“Here. Right here,” she said, tapping his left pec. “I’m going to write that on your chest like a tattoo.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That I’m opening a hotel on the moon?”
She shook her head. “No. That you’re a good teacher of tricks.”
“Trick teacher,” he said, with a laugh. “Yeah, that’ll be my first tattoo.”
“I’ve always wanted to brand you,” she said.
They were back to being friends. They were back to the zone where he’d always have her in his life. Because there, she could never break his heart. She could never hurt him. He could always be happy with what they had.
Besides, he was getting every man’s dream. Sex, and no expectations of more.
Or sex soon, he should say.
As she gathered up their empty cartons, she tossed out a question. “Do you think Jack would care? If he knew what we’re doing?”
“Eating Chinese?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do know. And I don’t know how it could matter to him, because we already agreed that nothing has changed, and that nothing is going to change.”
She nodded several times, as if reassuring herself. “Right. Absolutely. Everything remains the same.”
After he put on his shirt, tie and shoes, she walked him to the door.
“Thank you. For the lesson. I really enjoyed it.”
“So did I,” he said. “As you saw the evidence of on your chest.”
She laughed, but then looked nervous as she fiddled with the neck on her shirt. “So,” she began, clearing her throat. “When will I see you again? You know, for my next lesson.”
“Such an eager little student.”
“We’re going to the Yankees this weekend, right? After you get back from Miami?”
He nodded. He was taking off tomorrow to visit his property on South Beach. “I got the good seats and Kat and Bryan arranged for a sitter so all four of us can go.”
She pumped her fist in the air. “Yes! But we’re not doing a seduction lesson at the ballpark with your sister and her husband.”
“Obviously. So after that. The next day. Which territory should we conquer then?” He stroked his chin as if in deep thought. “I feel like that would be a good time to spank you.”
Her eyes sparkled with desire. “I like spanking.”
He lifted his hand and swatted her ass, and instantly he was erect. Then he grabbed her waist, pulling her close, and whispering in that rough, commanding tone she seemed to love, “If I stay here, I’m going to have to fuck you now.”
She grabbed his collar. “Stay.”
A tremor of lust slammed into him, threatening to obliterate his self-restraint from earlier. But he remained steadfast. Instead, he left her with something he hoped she could take to bed and feed her fantasies.
Of him. Fantasies of only him.
He threaded his fingers through her hair, and said, “The next time I’m alone with you, I will be fucking you. That’s a promise.”
CHAPTER TEN
Cyberspace
from: [email protected]
to: [email protected]
date: June 10, 8:07 PM
subject: Three Days in Miami
I might have melted. Remind me not to schedule a trip to South Beach in June.
from: [email protected]
to: [email protected]
date: June 10, 8:14 PM
subject: Here’s your reminder
Don’t schedule a trip to South Beach in June. So, how are you beating the heat? Walking around town in your Speedo?
from: [email protected]
to: [email protected]
date: June 10, 8:20 PM
subject: A Red One
Do you think that’s why everyone in the lobby is giving me funny looks right now?
from: [email protected]
to: [email protected]
date: June 10, 8:23 PM
subject: Try pink next time
Absolutely.
from: [email protected]
to: [email protected]
date: June 10, 8:27 PM
subject: Benefits to Broiling
On the plus side, I can personally vouch that the air conditioning in The Luxe properties is top-notch. Chilled to arctic perfection.
from: [email protected]
to: [email protected]
date: June 10, 8:31 PM
subject: Island Heat?
How are you going to survive Jack’s wedding? Pretty sure it’s hot in the Maldives in June, is
n’t it?
from: [email protected]
to: [email protected]
date: June 10, 8:33 PM
subject: My classy clothing plans
You don’t think he’ll mind if I wear a Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts during the ceremony?
from: [email protected]
to: [email protected]
date: June 10, 8:39 PM
subject: Another sartorial choice . . .
Go shirtless. I won’t mind that.
from: [email protected]
to: [email protected]
date: June 10, 8:42 PM
subject: Back 'atcha
I would say the same thing about you, but I can’t stand the thought of anyone else seeing you naked. Save the naked for me, will ya?
from: [email protected]
to: [email protected]
date: June 10, 8:49 PM
subject: Island Attire
I believe I can do that. By the way, want to see the dress I’ll be wearing? I was sending Michelle a picture so I have it on.
from: [email protected]
to: [email protected]
date: June 10, 8:50 PM
subject: Send Now
Yes.
from: [email protected]
to: [email protected]
date: June 10, 8:52 PM
subject: Attachment
Here’s me.
Nate slid his finger across the message, clicked on the attachment and waited as it downloaded. The image opened, revealing her legs first, then the rest of her filled the screen. His heart tripped when he saw the picture. She was standing by the open window of her apartment wearing a simple yellow dress. A gorgeous, summery dress that did amazing things for her breasts, and her legs, and her waist, and her hair, and her face. Hell, the whole image was female perfection. Her body was lush and inviting, her hair was soft and falling loosely around her shoulders, and she smiled that fresh, bright smile that lit up her beautiful face. He wished he were looking at her right now. Kissing her. Touching her. Telling her to turn around for him, then dropping to his knees, sliding his hands underneath the skirt and worshipping her body with his mouth.
Forbidden Nights Page 9
