by M. S. Parker
“Heat of the Sun isn't exactly my preferred genre,” she said.
She'd squared her shoulders, her posture as stiff as her statement. Hmm. Despite that, I was sure she wasn't being a snob like a lot of people in the literary world, the people who'd spend hours pontificating about the virtues of War and Peace or Grapes of Wrath because those were the only true form of literature. The closest they'd get to erotica was Lolita or Lady Chatterley's Lover. And that was only okay because they were 'classics.' They based their opinions on the books their English professors had told them were appropriate rather than what they actually enjoyed. I had nothing against the classics. I just wasn't of the opinion that they were the only books worth reading.
“Let me guess,” I said. “You mostly read authors like Jane Austen and Nicholas Sparks?”
Her mouth twisted into something too sardonic to be a smile. “Try Terry Brooks and Phillip K Dick.”
I gave her a surprised look. “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?”
She looked impressed. “To be fair, I do like Sparks and Austen, but they're not as high on my list as science fiction and fantasy.”
Interesting. She was in the right demographic for my genre but didn't have the usual alternate preferences of sweet romance instead of the more sexual kind of books. I wondered if that was because her own experiences had been completely vanilla. It would mesh with what else I'd seen of her personality.
My cock hardened even more at the thought of being the one to introduce her to the pleasures of my world.
I stretched my hand out to touch hers. I didn't bother with any pretense this time. I wanted to feel her soft skin under my fingertips, and her hand was as much as I was going to get at the moment.
“I'm glad you enjoyed it,” I said. “Especially since the majority of those interesting scenes are based on personal experience.”
Her lips parted, eyes going wide, the expression making me wonder what she looked like in the throes of passion.
Before I could follow up with an offer to show her exactly what I meant, we were interrupted by a tall, exotic looking woman. The moment Tanya saw her, all the color drained from her face, and she yanked her hand back, dropping it into her lap.
“Miss Lacey.” The other woman wore the sort of predatory expression that made me want to put myself between her and Tanya. “I believe your lunch break is almost over.”
“Excuse me,” I cut in before Tanya could run off. “I wasn't aware that companies put a clock on a business lunch.”
“I'm sorry, Mr. Sanders.” She held out her hand. “I'm Jai Foxe, editor at Branch Publishing. My assistant neglected to mention that we had a meeting today, or I would have been here to talk to you personally.”
I glanced at Tanya, but her face was blank. I could only guess what was going on in her head.
“That's quite alright, Ms. Foxe. Your assistant has been quite capable.” I made an unusually impulsive decision. “In fact, I think she's in tune with the sort of representation I'm looking for, so if Branch Publishing wants my book, I believe I'll continue working with Miss Lacey.”
Jai opened her mouth to argue, then snapped it shut again.
“Now, if you don't mind, Miss Lacey and I were in the middle of discussing the inspiration for some of the chapters in my book.” I turned back to Tanya, who was staring at me as if she couldn't believe what I'd just done.
I understood how she felt. I wasn't entirely sure why I'd done it either. Only that I was as turned off by Jai Foxe as I was turned on by Tanya Lacey, and I knew that only one of them was going to be right for my book.
And she was sitting right across from me.
Eight
Tanya
I had to be dreaming. This had to be a dream. There wasn't any other plausible explanation for the fact that one of the best-looking men I'd ever seen had basically told my boss that he wanted me and not her.
Well, not wanted wanted. That would just be crazy – crazier, was the more accurate word I supposed – since Erik sincerely wanting me to represent his book after he found out I was an assistant was crazy in and of itself.
Which was why this had to be a dream.
Or a hallucination. I could get this being a hallucination rather than a dream. That could explain...actually, it couldn't explain anything. None of this made any sense.
Especially not the fact that, until Miss Foxe had shown up, I'd been enjoying the conversation about...yeah...that. Dammit. I was so in over my head.
“Now, where were we?”
Damn, his eyes were gorgeous. Then he smiled and my stomach twisted. The rest of him wasn't bad either. I told myself to ignore all of it. Because he hadn't meant anything by what he'd said. We were just talking about his book.
His fingers brushed mine, sending little electrical tingles across my skin. “Right, we were talking about personal experience.”
Shit. I blurted out, “I think maybe you should consider letting Miss Foxe take things from here.” I looked over to where my boss was stalking out of the restaurant.
He went still, his gaze searching. “Do you want to represent my book? Because if you don't, I'll find someone else, but I won't be asking your boss. Not after the way she spoke to you.”
A wave of warmth washed over me. I wasn't used to people caring about how I was being treated.
Or caring about my opinion.
“Tanya?”
“I love the book,” I admitted. I needed to be completely honest with him. “And I'd love to represent it, but I'm afraid I wasn't entirely forthcoming in my email.”
His eyes sparkled as he curled his fingers around mine. “Is that so?”
I knew I should pull my hand back because this was supposed to be business. But I liked the way my hand felt in his. Since he was probably going to fire me, and then Miss Foxe was definitely going to fire me, I might as well let him keep holding my hand during the process.
“Miss Foxe gave me a stack of manuscripts, and when I read yours, I told her that it was great, except she didn't do anything with it, and I didn't want it to get lost in the shuffle because it was so good.” I was vaguely aware that I was babbling.
“So you believe in it?”
I nodded. “I do.”
“Then I think you're the perfect person to handle it.” He made it sound so simple, so matter-of-fact. “So what's next?”
I was pretty sure that what was next for me was clearing out my desk and looking for a new job.
His fingers tightened around my hand. “If you're worried about the fact that Miss Foxe walked out of here looking like she had a stick up her ass, don't. One of the reasons I didn't include my actual name on my manuscript is because I didn't want someone thinking of marketing me as Erik Sanders simply for shock value. But an official contract would have my name on it.” He gave me the sort of grin that made my stomach flip. “And I have no problem using my name to get what I want.”
“Oh.”
Eloquent.
“Now, Miss Tanya Lacey, shall we give dessert a shot?”
He flipped my hand over and traced along my wrist with a fingertip. I shivered, wishing that I could believe that what he wanted was me.
“No, thank you.” The words came out more breathless than I intended.
He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. I fought the urge to squirm. This was so not what I'd come to this meeting expecting. I was confident in my ability to see a book from submission to release, confident in my language skills. But him? I'd never been good with people, especially men, even before Aunt Lolly dumped me into the system.
“My treat.” He gave me a charming smile. “As long as you answer a single question for me.”
I pulled my hand back, suspicion giving me strength. “What question?”
“Did the company give you a card for lunch, or were you planning on paying for the meal yourself?”
Dammit. I didn't want to answer his question, and I really didn't care about dessert, but I couldn't lie to him.
Not if I wanted him to trust me with his book. I wasn't a writer, but I knew that writing was deeply personal, no matter the subject matter, and him trusting me with it had to be built on an honest foundation.
I shrugged. “I wasn't given a company account, but that doesn't matter.”
“I'm not letting you pay,” he said, his eye sharpening, nearly piercing into my skin. “And don't bother arguing with me.”
I ignored his second statement. “I can't let you do that.”
“You will.” He gestured for the waiter to come back. “One piece of the Death by Chocolate cake, and two forks.”
“Mr. Sanders.”
“Erik.” Something in his voice shifted. “I don't want to be Mr. Sanders to you.”
Fuck me. I was in trouble.
“Now, we're going to eat that amazing dessert, and then you're going to go back to work where you'll get together a contract for me. And then you can give it to me tonight.”
“Tonight?” My eyebrows shot up. “What's tonight?”
He just grinned at me, looking more like a mischievous boy than a wealthy businessman. The waiter set down a plate between us, and the cake was definitely distracting enough for me to wait until I'd taken a couple bites before I asked again.
“Mr. San – Erik,” I amended, “what's tonight?”
I was pretty sure that no one should be allowed to make eating cake that hot, but it was entirely possible I was the only one thinking that way.
“Tonight is when I plan to give you a taste of what you need to understand my book better.”
Judging by the heat in his eyes, I didn't think we were heading to a surf shop.
I was so in over my head.
Nine
Erik
Wanting Tanya to represent my book instead of Jai Foxe made good business sense. If I'd learned anything working over the last few years, it was that a person who believed in something was usually better at promoting it than someone who was just paid to do it. And she said she believed in my work, so she was logically the best choice for it. Especially since I had my own business expertise to contribute.
Plus, my gut said she was the one to go with, and I trusted my gut when it came to business choices.
The decision to flirt, to touch her, to ask her out...I wasn't entirely sure what had made me think any of that was a good idea.
It wasn't a date, I reminded myself. I hadn't asked her to go out with me. I told her that she was coming with me and I'd give her some insight into my book. And the flirting was just me being charming and trying to put her at ease. It hadn't meant anything overtly sexual.
If I kept telling myself that, maybe I'd believe it by the time I arrived at her place.
It was what made the most sense, after all. I fucked tall, long-legged women who were experienced Subs after a few hours of fun. I didn't know anything about Tanya's sexual history, but I felt fairly certain in my assessment that she was quite innocent. And that definitely wasn't my type.
Which was what I told myself as my driver made his way through the city traffic.
I'd lived here my entire life, and I didn't think of myself as a snob, but I'd never been to this neighborhood before. It wasn't in the worst part of the city, but it wasn't the best either. I directed my driver to the correct building, then instructed him to wait. I didn't intend to linger.
I scowled when I realized I didn't need to be buzzed in but pushed that thought to the back of my mind. Her safety wasn't mine to worry about, no matter how much I wanted her.
The stairs were steep, and by the time I got to the third floor, I was frowning at the cracks in the walls and the rips in the carpet. The building was narrow, and as I walked down the hall, I confirmed my suspicions by counting the number of doors crammed onto each side. The apartments here had to be one room and a bathroom, probably barely a few hundred square feet. I could probably fit one of these places inside my master bathroom.
I reminded myself that the size of Tanya's apartment wasn't any of my concern, and then I knocked on the door. A moment later, it opened, and I forgot all of the reasons why this wasn't a date.
She was wearing one of those little black dresses in the classic style that could stay in fashion for years. It wasn't anything fancy or daring. Mid-thigh hemline, neckline that revealed just a hint of cleavage.
But it hugged those curves perfectly, and I found myself wondering what she was wearing underneath. Her heels were only a couple inches, so she barely reached my shoulder. Her hair was twisted up behind her head, and she wore such little makeup that I could barely tell she had it on. Everything about her outfit screamed that she wasn't sure if this was a date or a business meeting.
That made two of us.
“I hope this is all right for where we're going.” Her voice was softer than it had been at the restaurant, more uncertain.
“It's perfect,” I assured her. “You look lovely.”
I didn't think I'd ever used the word lovely to describe a woman. It was usually hot or beautiful or something like that. While those words fit her too, lovely was far more accurate.
“So do...” She flushed, the color moving across her chest and neck as well as her cheeks. “I mean, you look...nice.”
I would've loved to ask her if she got this flustered every time she went out with someone, but I had a feeling that would just make her more nervous. While I enjoyed testing what made her blush, I didn't want to do anything that would make her change her mind about coming with me. If she wasn't comfortable with me, she'd bolt as soon as she saw what sort of club Gilded Cage was, and I really wanted to take her there.
“Thank you,” I said and held out my arm. “My car's waiting out front.”
As we walked down, I tried to think of something to say, to ask, anything that would distract me from the heat of her hand on my arm. It was warm enough outside that I'd gone with short sleeves, but I hadn't considered what it would be like to have my skin against hers. I'd never felt this hum of electricity with someone before. It was always pleasure or nothing, not this half-way between state that made me want to keep touching her, even as I opened the door for her.
My driver already knew where we were going, so as I settled into the seat next to Tanya, I was able to focus all of my attention on her.
“Have you lived here long?” I almost rolled my eyes at the question. I was better at small talk than that.
“In New York or in my apartment?”
“Both.”
“I grew up in Albany.”
A shadow passed over her eyes, telling me there was more to the story than that simple statement, but I didn't push it.
“I came to New York for college,” she continued. “NYU. After I graduated, I moved into my own place.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask about her family when I realized she was bracing herself for what came next. Since the logical question to follow up with was the one I'd been about to ask, it didn't take a genius to figure out that family wasn't something she wanted to talk about. So I shifted the conversation and asked about college instead.
The relief on her face was evident as she seized onto the subject. She relaxed even more as I kept the conversation on work and school rather than anything personal. When it came to this part of things, the shy young woman I'd seen just a short while ago vanished, and in her place was the confident, hard-working woman I wanted to represent my book.
By the time we reached the club, she didn't look quite as nervous as before, though her cheeks turned pink when I took her hand to help her from the car. I didn't relinquish it as we walked toward the door. The best thing about Gilded Cage was that it was a private club, so no lines or bouncers or anything like that. All I had to do was show the man at the door my membership card, and we were in.
I'd tightened my grip on her hand as we walked inside, but she hadn't tried to pull away. Instead, she simply stared, mouth open, eyes wide. I'd taken her upstairs then, leading her to my favorite alcove where we could have pri
vacy but also enjoy what the club had to offer.
One of the reasons I'd wanted to bring her on a Friday night even though I knew it'd be packed was because Friday and Saturday nights were performance nights. Some of the performers were employees of the club, others were volunteers from the membership, but I'd never seen a disappointing scene played out on the club's stage.
Now, Tanya was sitting next to me on the love seat, her body tense. She'd been people watching from the moment we'd arrived, not saying a word as she'd taken in the array of attire: everything from leather to lace to chains to silk. We fit right in, but so did the couple making their way to the stage.
The woman was about Tanya's build, with short dark hair and coffee-colored skin, while the man was well over six feet tall, broad-shouldered with the sort of defined muscles that made me think he was into bodybuilding. The tiny shorts he wore were also a clue. The woman wore a wispy dress, filmy white material floating around her that left very little to the imagination. I hadn't seen them perform before, but I'd seen them around the club, and they had the sort of chemistry that screamed.
I pulled Tanya back against me, easing my hand out of hers so I could put my arm around her shoulders.
“Put your feet up,” I said. “You'll enjoy the performance more if you're comfortable.”
“Performance?” She looked up at me but shifted so that her legs were up.
The fact that she obeyed sent blood rushing to my cock.
I moved too, arranging until her back was against my chest, my arm across her stomach, just under her breasts. I'd been dying to touch more than just her hand, and knowing that she was going to experience one of the voyeuristic aspects of this lifestyle for the first time, I couldn't resist.
I put my mouth next to her ear even though the music wasn't loud enough to warrant it. “They're going to do a scene for us. Sometimes that means just some bondage or flogging, sometimes it's sex. All depends on what the couple wants to do.”
