Tempting Taylor

by Beverly Havlir

  Emily smiled. “Ever since I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you act this way over a man. Between you and me, you were the one who dealt so confidently with men. This is new to me.”

  “You and me both.”

  “The Taylor I know wouldn’t be scared. Why not enjoy it for what it is and not overthink things? And when it’s over, it’s—”

  “Over,” Taylor finished.

  “The question is, are you brave enough to go after what you want?”

  Chapter Four

  Taylor perused the clothes hanging inside her closet. She bit her lip, dismissing one after another. “Too slutty,” she muttered as she examined a gold dress with a sheer top and a too-short skirt that barely covered her butt. “What was I thinking?”

  She moved on to the next one. “Boring.” With impatience, she flicked through the garments and groaned in frustration. She had nothing to wear. This was impossible. She glanced at her bed, already piled high with outfits she’d decided against, and sent a despairing peek at the clock. She’d have to get ready soon or Cooper would be on her doorstep. And she’d bet her right arm that he was the punctual type. “Damn, damn, damn. Pick one and stick with it.”

  Maybe she should go with black, which was appropriate anywhere. This was business. She was going to interview him. At the same time, feminine pride dictated that she looked good. If only to mask the unbalanced, unsettled feeling that she always felt whenever he was near.

  With precious few minutes to spare, she decided on a black halter with a full, flirty skirt that ended at her knees. She examined her reflection in the mirror. It struck the right balance. The dress wasn’t in-your-face sexy, but at the same time, it was flattering. The fitted bodice wasn’t cut too low and showed the amount of skin she was comfortable with.

  She’d washed and dried her hair earlier, and it hung down to her shoulders. Oh well. It would have to do. If she bothered with her hair, it was just going to take longer. She put on a minimum of eye makeup and swept mascara on her lashes, finishing up with lip-gloss. As soon as she capped the tube, her doorbell rang.

  A glance at her watch showed eight o’clock sharp.

  Seriously, the man must operate on a strict schedule. With a huff, she picked up her clutch and checked to make sure her little notebook and pen were inside.

  She sent a quick glance around her living room before she peered through the peephole. With a deep breath, she pulled open the door. “Hello.”

  “Good evening.”

  Her smile froze in place. Cooper was always impeccably attired in tailored suits and silk ties. Tonight he wore a long-sleeved button-down shirt paired with jeans. Who knew he even owned a pair?

  Feeling overdressed, Taylor lifted her chin. She’d just have to make the best of the situation.

  “Ready?”

  She nodded and pulled the door closed behind her. She was acutely conscious of the warmth of his palm on her back as he escorted her to his car. He opened the door and saw her inside like a perfect gentleman. Score one for Cooper. Taylor had been on dates where the guy didn’t even bother to hold the door open for her.

  Cooper navigated the evening traffic with ease. Soft, jazzy music played in the background. It wasn’t something she would ordinarily listen to, but was pleasant and easy on the ears. It helped to at least calm her nerves. She glanced out the window and realized they were heading toward Beacon Hill.

  “May I ask where we’re going?”

  “You may.”

  She looked at him and waited expectantly. When he didn’t volunteer any more information, she asked, “So where are we going?”

  “Dinner.”

  She gritted her teeth. “Is it a secret?”

  He chuckled. “Scared?”

  “No. I just feel a tad overdressed.”

  Cooper stopped at a red light and turned to her. The look he gave her sent heat spiraling through her body to coalesce at that spot between her legs. “You look beautiful.”

  Just like that, her pulse went into overdrive. She couldn’t look away and sat utterly still until he broke the spell when the light changed. Releasing the breath she hadn’t been aware of holding, she gazed out the window, blind to the passing scenery. What did one say to that? She should have smiled and murmured thanks, acted cool, calm and collected. Instead she’d been tongue-tied. God help her.

  Taylor kept her face averted resolutely. No more locking eyes with him. He was absolutely dangerous. She needed to get her emotions on an even keel if she was going to conduct this interview with a modicum of sanity.

  Cooper halted in front of a large, three-story residence in the pricey Flat-of-the-Hill section of Beacon Hill. With a flick of a button, metal doors rolled up to reveal the private basement-level garage of the brick-front structure.

  “You live here?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought we were going somewhere public, like a restaurant,” she remarked, striving for a normal tone. Somehow the thought that the notoriously private Cooper Hathaway had taken her to his home was a bit overwhelming.

  “I hope you don’t mind. I’m really not in the mood to sit in the middle of a restaurant. I prefer a relaxing dinner here.”

  Relaxing? Ha!

  “Would you rather go somewhere else?” He gave her a disarming grin. “Although I have to tell you, my housekeeper prepared dinner and I’d hate to disappoint her.”

  God, why did he have to be so charming? “Well, we can’t have that, can we?” she managed to say through stiff lips. Please, please let me get through this without losing what little composure I have. Dinner at his home while she interviewed him surely was harmless enough.

  The satisfied smile he gave her had alarm bells going off in her head. Warning! But she didn’t have time to dwell on it as he slid the vehicle to a smooth stop and shut the garage. Parking was a premium in Beacon Hill, with most street spaces regulated for residents only and requiring permits. Cooper Hathaway had his own garage, which a quick assessment told her could fit three cars. Of course.

  He led her through the basement entrance. Taylor glimpsed an indoor swimming pool at the end of a long hallway before he gestured for her to precede him up a flight of hardwood stairs. Her skin prickled in awareness as she walked by him she swallowed the lump that lodged in her throat, trying to steady her breathing and calm her frayed nerves. She stopped as she emerged in what appeared to be a formal living room. Large picture windows were currently covered by heavy drapes, but she could just imagine the immense amount of sunlight that would stream through them in the daytime. The walls were painted a light-cream color, offset by some dark pieces of furniture scattered about. It was impeccably decorated but exuded a warm, homey feel.

  “You have a lovely home.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” He put a hand on her back and led her through to another area, which turned out to be a smaller, less formal living room. “You look surprised.”

  “I guess I just imagined you living in a high-rise or something.” She flushed. “I mean, you know—”

  “I like my space. I’ve lived in enough apartments to last me a lifetime. Drink?”

  She was tempted to ask for a shot of something that would bolster her courage and calm her down, but with her luck, she’d get drunk and make matters worse. “Wine, please.”

  He strode to the bar and poured wine from a decanter. Their fingers touched briefly when he handed it to her. She murmured her thanks and took a sip.

  A woman showed up under the arched doorway. “Dinner’s served.”

  Cooper nodded. “Thanks, Greta. This is Taylor Sanders.” He grinned. “She’s here to interview me.”

  “Hello,” Taylor smiled.

  “Greta and her husband Eamon have been with me for years. They worked for my mother,” he explained briefly.

  Greta smiled. “You write nice things about him now, miss. He’s a good man.”

  With a chuckle, Cooper led Taylor through the doorway and a small, informal dining room. The
round table was set beautifully with two place settings and an artfully arranged bouquet of flowers flanked by candelabras. Greta moved ahead of them and went through swinging doors to what Taylor assumed must be the kitchen. She emerged moments later with plates. Next she brought out a small bowl of potatoes with steamed vegetables on the side.

  “Looks delicious,” Taylor commented as she sat on the chair Cooper held out for her.

  “Cooper prefers to relax at home whenever he gets the chance,” Greta stated as she stepped back and wiped her hands on her apron. “I like to cook his favorites.”

  Cooper took the chair next to Taylor. “Thank you, Greta. We can manage here.”

  “Are you sure now?”

  “Positive. Now enjoy your nightly brandy with Eamon and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Very well. Good night.” She disappeared through the kitchen door.

  With the housekeeper gone, Taylor was acutely aware that she was alone with Cooper. The setting seemed much too intimate, the round table afforded little distance between them. Was it her or was he sitting way too close for comfort?

  “Greta and Eamon have an apartment downstairs,” he explained briefly. “Dig in. She would be very hurt if you didn’t enjoy the food.”

  Quelling the nerves attacking her sanity, Taylor cut into the filet mignon, took a bite and nearly moaned. The meat was tender and flavorful, with just the right amount of seasoning to complement the natural taste of beef. She sipped her wine and caught him looking at her. Her heart skipped a beat. She shifted, fixing her stare on her plate. Had the temperature suddenly risen? Insidious excitement seeped through her skin and ignited her nerve endings.

  “Greta’s a wonderful cook,” she said, desperately making light conversation to distract her wayward thoughts. “You’re lucky to have her.”

  “I’m very fortunate, yes.” The huskiness of his tone was in keeping with the veil of intimacy that surrounded them. Cooper scooped some potatoes on his fork. “Taste.”

  Taylor hesitated. Control was a fragile thing that threatened to slip from her entirely. She took what he offered and sat back, murmuring her thanks. The food, the cozy atmosphere, and the warm glint in his eyes bombarded her senses, battering her defenses. He wasn’t even saying much, but the silence wasn’t awkward. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t quell the hot anticipation that hung in the air.

  All her efforts to relax were blown to bits when she glimpsed the hunger in Cooper’s eyes, a look he wasn’t making any effort to hide.

  Cooper stared at Taylor over the rim of his wineglass. The pale glow from candlelight accented the smoothness of her skin. Her hair, which she’d left down, looked sexy and tousled. Tonight Taylor had on a black dress with a skirt that ended at her knees. The neckline showed just a hint of cleavage and wasn’t in any way revealing. She looked perfectly respectable, showing no hint of impropriety in her attire. But to him, the picture she made was sexier than if she had on a skintight get-up that left nothing to the imagination. She made him want to peel off the dress, slowly revealing what was underneath. His cock sprang to life under his jeans. Damn. His dick had a mind of its own whenever Taylor was near. Hard and ready to fuck.

  He had her where he’d wanted her for a long, long time. Here.

  Alone.

  Even if the reason had to be the damnable article that she wanted to write about him. He bit back a sigh. Taylor Sanders had been monopolizing his thoughts and fantasies for the past year, and the fact that she wasn’t immune to him was a major coup.

  “Will you tell me about your mother?” she asked softly.

  “She was a wonderful person who died too soon.”

  Taylor blinked and took a sip from her glass.

  Cooper’s eyes locked on her lips, aching to feel their softness under his. When a drop of wine lingered on her lower lip, he reached out and swiped it with his thumb.

  She inhaled sharply and drew back.

  It felt as soft as he’d remembered. Tonight she’d put something on that made her lips shiny, emphasizing the pouting fullness. An image came to mind of her lips wrapped around his cock, taking him in her mouth, giving him a long, slow suck. He’d fuck her mouth and watch her take all of him inch by inch. Biting back a groan, he banished the image from his mind. Everything about Taylor brought up x-rated thoughts.

  “Oh-kay. I’m guessing the topic of your mother is off limits.”

  “Ask me something else,” he said gruffly.

  “Will you talk about John Callas?”

  “He’s a very important person in my life. A mentor.” As well as other things, he thought to himself. “Tell me about yourself.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “I’m interviewing you, not the other way around.”

  “I’ve just decided that it’s only fair that if I’m going to answer your questions, you should answer mine.”

  “I doubt I’m half as interesting as you are.”

  “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

  “John Callas was your business mentor?” she pressed.

  He nodded. “He gave me a job, started me at the lowest level. He wanted me to learn how everything worked from the ground up. Tell me about your family.”

  “Divorced parents, living on opposite coasts. You worked for Mr. Callas while going to school.”

  “Yes. Siblings?”

  She bit back a sigh and he almost chuckled. “No. I was an only child. You had a very close relationship with Mr. Callas?”

  “Still do. Aegis, Inc. was his company. I worked my way up and took over when he retired. I grew and diversified the business.” It had been a great deal more complicated than that, but he didn’t expound on it. He’d worked his ass off to make Aegis one of the biggest companies in the country.

  She fiddled with her fork before putting it back on the plate. “The gossip magazines delight in featuring your latest arm candy.”

  He shrugged. “Pure speculation on their part. It gets old.” The flickering candlelight highlighted the deep green of her eyes. “I’m curious, why did you even think of going the friends-with-benefits route?”

  A flush spread over her cheeks. “That’s a bit personal, don’t you think?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Fair trade-off.”

  She didn’t answer immediately, seemingly weighing the importance of answering. “I haven’t had much success in dating lately,” she finally replied.

  Now that was unbelievable. Taylor was too hot not to have men swarming around her. Hard on the heels of that thought was satisfaction that she’d been unattached for a while. “So not having much success in dating made you decide to just find a ‘friend with benefits’?”

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” She sounded defensive. “It’s hard to constantly date and find them—”

  “Lacking?”

  “For one reason or another, I just haven’t meshed with anyone,” she corrected. “You’re a serial dater.”

  “Serial dater?” he repeated. His gaze was riveted by the top of her dress, which showed a shadow of her cleavage. His imagination went into overdrive. His mouth watered. He’d love to lick her over and over, give special attention to her nipples…

  “You haven’t been in a serious relationship with anyone.”

  Cooper stared at her lips long enough for her to nervously run her tongue over them. “I’ve been rather preoccupied.”

  She nodded. “With business.”

  With an abruptness that earned a squeak from Taylor, Cooper pulled her chair close, caging her between his legs. “With you.”

  Her green eyes widened with shock. “M-Me?”

  “You.”

  Taylor froze, unable to look away. Cooper stared at her, unblinking, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell. Preoccupied with her? Desire she thought she had successfully banked spread like wildfire to her breasts, tightening her nipples to painful hardness before dampening the folds of her pussy. It wasn’t fair how he could reduce her to a quivering mass of
pure need in a split second.

  “Impossible,” she retorted, wincing at the breathlessness in her voice. She pushed her chair back and stood up, desperately trying to quiet the inner voice in her head screaming, “Yes! Yes! Take me now!” Trying to get herself under control, she sought to put distance between them. She was torn between wanting him and dreading the consequences of being involved with Cooper Hathaway, Mr. Most Eligible Bachelor and media favorite.

  His chair scraped the floor as he rose. Taylor braced herself, tensing as he drew near. She held a hand out. “Listen. I-I know there is this thing between us.”

  “Thing?” he repeated softly, stopping a couple of feet away from her, still not far enough for her peace of mind.

  She swallowed. “Okay. We’re attracted to each other, but I have to—”

  He reached out and drew her hair away from her cheek. She couldn’t think while he was touching her. “Will you please just listen to me?” she asked desperately.

  “I’m listening,” he murmured, taking another step, driving her closer to the edge of insanity.

  She made a grab at whatever rational sense she had left. “You need to know something about me, why things would never work between us.”

  No more than a few inches separated them. His gray eyes were unwavering, his square jaw tight with determination. “When I was ten years old, my parents were involved in a very nasty, very public divorce. They’re both surgeons, you see, active in several charities, well known in the city where we lived. They used me as a pawn to hurt each other, hurling accusations openly. The media had a field day. Photographers followed us everywhere. Desperate to win the custody battle, my mother took me across state lines and the FBI got involved.”

  Cooper rubbed his thumb on her cheek gently. Taylor could remember everything vividly. She told him of the FBI ramming the door down with guns drawn. The terror she had felt as a young girl came rushing back. “That only made the whole scandal juicier. My mother tearfully confessed to the judge that she did it only to hurt my father. I don’t know what exactly happened, but they let her go. For weeks afterward, the press followed the story faithfully. I stopped going to school and locked myself in my room. I hated, hated the whole thing. It was a mess.” She pulled in a shaky breath. “Things only settled down when the divorce became final and charges were dropped against my mom. So you see, I detest media attention of any sort.”