“I see I have your attention.” Lauren grinned and set her platter down. “I’ve been following along, listening to the main dilemma of bio-diesel. Which seems to be to get people to try it. The you-can’t-have-just-one potato chip effect.”
“What do potato chips have to do with kiwano and cherimoya?” Professor Volk asked, his eyes twinkling. Lauren’s smile widened, relieved she had a cohort in this experiment.
“There are hundreds of fruits in the typical grocery store, yet we usually grab apples, oranges, bananas, and the occasional pear, because they are easy. Sometimes, the rewards of looking beyond the surface, of having one amazing experience, can change our entire outlook.”
“Like our engine converter.” Henry Moss sat up straight for the first time all night.
“That depends on if everyone here is willing to keep an open mind.” Lauren leaned forward, clutching the golf ball sized purple fruit in her hand and shaking it to hear the juice sloshing around inside. “This is a passion fruit. Who would like a little more passion in their lives?” Lifting a plate with shot glasses of passion fruit from the tray, Lauren took one and passed it around the table.
Cameron swallowed hard before drinking his, but didn’t make a face. Taking the small victory, she continued.
She explained about papaya, mango, and carambola or star fruit quickly, learning most everyone had at least seen them before. She lifted the fruit Cameron referred to as a green pinecone and took a deep breath. How would she react if her hated her favorite fruit?
“This is a cherimoya, or custard apple. You can slice them in half, scoop out the seeds, and eat them with a spoon.” She passed the wedges around the table, intent on Cameron’s reaction. He took one tiny bite, as he had done with everything else. Though his face registered nothing, his fork went back to his plate and he ate the whole piece.
Another night, saved by Lauren. Cameron shook his head and climbed the stairs to his bedroom, wishing she hadn’t left with the rest of the guests. As they’d tried the exotic fruits, they’d brainstormed ideas to introduce the product to consumers. With the backing of a former automobile CEO, the company would have the connection it needed to flourish. One investment down in his renewable energy fund.
Only about ten more to go. A thrill shot through him knowing the fund he would soar, and his reputation along with it. The technology fund he’d created with Anders fared well in the chaotic economy because of risks he’d taken. Learning beside Anders had him on the cutting edge of venture capital investing, kept his finger on the pulse of the economy. But this fund was his alone. A managing partner answered only to the investors, and then, just barely.
With a grin he stepped inside his bedroom and pulled his sweater over his head. His pants and socks joined it in the hamper.
Through the window the clear night sky twinkled with stars. Outside, maple trees danced in the slight breeze. A smile lifted his lips. His bedroom in New York looked at a concrete wall. The privacy of it had been a selling point. Seattle had a few perks. Huge house, fast car, landscaped yard, view of the mountains, and Lauren Brody.
He liked the way she talked, walked, thought. And she was willing to have a business engagement instead of an emotional entanglement. He’d never met anyone so attuned to his interests. In every way but food. She seemed to take it personally whenever he didn’t eat something she made.
Thinking of food reminded him he’d barely had more than fruit all evening. He headed out of the bedroom and downstairs to the kitchen, wondering what he’d find in the fridge.
Halfway down the stairs he paused. The lights of the dining room shone through the alcove. He’d turned them off, but he hadn’t set the alarm. His eyes widened, his breath grew shallow as he inched toward the room in silence.
Soft humming sped up his already racing heart. Lauren came back. He ran a hand across his bare chest and glanced down at his black boxer briefs.
Step by step he inched closer to the room, wondering where she’d gone, why she’d returned. Standing to the side of the curved entry to the dining room he realized how addicts felt. He knew she could destroy him, and everything he’d worked for. Reduce him to nothing and ruin his reputation. And yet with a promise of pleasure so great, he couldn’t resist.
She’d changed from the golden dress and now wore tiny terry cloth white shorts and a plum lace-trimmed tank. Every time he saw her she wore a different color, and intrigued him in a new way. He still couldn’t get a handle on her motivations or her beguiling proposal to move from a business agreement to an intimate arrangement, but with every second in her presence, he cared less about why and more about how to make it happen.
She arranged the poinsettias down the center of the table, alternating the red, white, splotchy pink, and purple plants. Before tonight he only thought they came in red. She made him want to know all the secrets she knew. From exotic fruit to plants to how she affected him so.
He knew he needed to make a noise or clear his throat, do something to alert her to his presence so she wouldn’t be startled. But he couldn’t bring himself to break the moment, he simply wanted to look at her. Her casual clothes, tousled hair, and perfectly sculpted features. As if she belonged here.
“Are you going to stand there all night?” She glanced over her shoulder, a hint of amusement flitted in her gaze. Placing the last plant at the head of the table she turned, the awareness simmering between them heated to a boil. The suggestion of sex hung in the air like an unspoken thought.
“I made you a sandwich.”
Or not. Cameron blinked, doing away with his lustful thoughts. At the opposite end of the table sat a sandwich, chocolate candy bar, and a bottle of beer. His eyes widened as he stepped to his prize.
“We need to do a tasting so tonight doesn’t happen again.”
Cameron chewed quickly, washing the bite down with a swig of beer. “Tonight was great. And so is this beer.” He turned the bottle around in his hand, looking at the label.
“You didn’t eat a thing tonight!” She squared her shoulders and put her hands on the curve of her hips, baring a thin strip of creamy skin below her navel.
He took another swallow of beer to help him focus on talking and not the skin beneath her clothes. “I ate pinecone.”
“Cherimoya.”
“Tastes like a creamy pear.” It tasted like she smelled in his dream. “Good stuff.”
“Cam, you said you liked all fruit.” She twirled the hem of her tank top with her finger, exposing more smooth belly. “I served a dozen tonight you hated.”
He held up a hand. “In my defense, no one likes grapefruit. And I tried everything else.” He returned to his sandwich. After a week of her turkey sandwiches, he doubted he’d ever be satisfied by a deli again.
“I like grapefruit.”
“You like everything,” he mumbled around his sandwich.
“I had to do something. It was a conversational circle jerk, all the experts trying to out do the others.”
He nearly gagged on his sandwich. “Did you just –”
“Describe dinner as masturbation? You bed. Bet. Freudian slip.” Her cheeks pinked and she began to giggle. Her laugh had an inherently sexual quality. Even with as forward as she’d been, she maintained a fresh wholesomeness that captivated him.
He laughed with her, finishing his beer. “Psychology aside, you made your point with the dessert. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Her soft breathy voice caressed his skin, though she kept the table between them.
“But I’ll warn you, these dinners are always boring. I’ve pretty much made up my mind on what companies I’m investing in. These are mainly to make sure what they’ve presented on paper and in meetings works in the real world, hence the experts in the field. And I can’t take the time to eat much because I have to keep things moving.” Cameron stood, taking his plate into the kitchen. When he returned, the dining room stood empty. “Lauren?”
“Down here,” she called out. Cameron t
urned, looking down into the sunken room containing his refuge. She arranged more poinsettias atop the white grand piano, all red this time.
He rocked on his heels, unsure if he wanted to join his two indulgences. It had been ages since he’d played for anyone. His apartment in New York had an old upright where he decompressed every day after work. Having such an amazing instrument at his disposal was his favorite thing about the house. The only reason why he hadn’t opted for an apartment in the city.
“This is the most pretentious thing in the entire house. Every time I’m here, this room irritates me. It’s wasted space to have an entire room dedicated to a piano everyone only stares at.” She turned to face him, her bottom lip between her teeth. “Sorry. I know you didn’t decorate. Every time I step in here I see a million better choices.”
“I don’t.”
“If you want, I could mock up a few. This room irks me.” She sighed, and turned around, pushing the plants to one end of the piano.
Cameron slid his hand against the wall, turning off the light, the room now dimly lit by the light filtering in from the dining room. Lauren turned at the action, a sinful smile spreading across her face.
Sliding onto the bench he dared not look at her. Something came over him when he played, the walls he lived behind disappeared and everything went into the music. His fingers stretched over the keys, itching to release the tension of the night.
He stopped thinking and just played. A lively Dvorak piece chose him, the music singing through his fingers. Visualizing the song in his mind, he concentrated on the chord progressions and scales. The notes turned to colors behind his eyes until his muscles relaxed and he could feel the first time he’d played this piece. Alone at his grandmother’s, trying to plunk through the sheet music to surprise her. He breathed deep, the smile taking over as he finished and looked up at Lauren.
Nine
Hot damn. Who would have guessed Mr. Buttoned-Uptight had magic fingers? The way Cameron gazed up at her rocked Lauren to the core. Listening to him play was like watching him exorcise his demons. He looked at her with such yearning, eyes so lonely. His piercing blue gaze bore into her soul and made him impossible to resist.
Already off balance by his ability to play as well as any concert pianist she’d ever heard, she only managed a weak smile as he stood and stalked his way to her. His fingers were so nimble on the keys, his entire soul captured by the moment, and all she could think about was whether he could play her as well as he had the piano.
“That turns you on?” His velvet voice rolled through her. He stepped closer, the heat of his body spiking her temperature.
Lauren bit her lip. “How can you know?”
One nimble fingertip circled her beaded nipple, straining against the cotton of her top. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak, but she couldn’t wait. She had to kiss him now, while magic still hung in the air.
Pressing her body against his to quell the ache pulsing through her, she wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers. No uncertainty about his reaction, nothing coy and flirty about her kiss. Just sizzling carnal pleasure.
She tried to push faster, harder, making her desperation apparent, but he slowed every move, drawing each taste, press, lick out as long as possible. Giving in to the inevitable, she sampled and savored, unleashing the desire she’d suppressed.
The tenderness of his kiss made her want to believe in something more, but she squelched the hopeful thought, letting her inhibitions fall away and dance with the sexy shadows they cast on the walls.
A rampage of sensations crashed against her with each brush of his firm lips against hers. The crisp ends of his short hair tickled her fingertips as she pressed him closer. His clean smelling cologne wafted through her, mixing with a musky maleness laced with need.
Two seconds before she knew she’d go crazy from frustration, his hands found the hem of her tank top and slipped underneath, scorching her with the fervor of his touch. She responded in kind, allowing herself to feel the power in the lean muscles beneath the smooth skin of his chest, arms, back.
His warm hands framed her face as he broke the kiss and pulled away, staring into her eyes. There couldn’t be much he could see, with all the light coming from behind her. But she saw more in his bright blue gaze than she expected. Pupils so dilated and dark opened the window to his soul and she recognized the fear embedded there. He’d trusted and had it turned against him, just as she had. Intrinsic and unexplainable, the way she knew him without facts or dates.
She felt herself sinking as she stared, the only sound his labored breath, or was it hers? Adrenaline surged through her, arousal and awareness building, though he didn’t touch her. His eyes, usually bright blue like the center of a flame, darkened and deepened like the middle of the sea, pulling her under his spell.
His head dipped, breaking the eye contact, but not the spell as his lips traced across her jaw, down her neck with such precise slowness she had to shudder. Her hands drifted to his tense shoulders, urging him closer as she ran her hands against his firm flesh.
The warm wetness of his mouth lingered against her neck, while his hands roamed her back, ribs, stomach. When he slipped his fingers beneath the elastic cotton waistband of her shorts, she braced herself for the whoosh of air as he pulled them over her hips. She expected him to do the same for himself, but instead his hands wrapped around her ribcage and lifted her off the floor.
“On the piano?” She gasped as he set her down. She leaned back slightly, getting used to the cool lacquer of the baby grand.
In response he parted her knees with his hands and stepped between them, running his palms up the inside of her thighs. Before he reached where she needed him to, he rounded her hips, crept up her rib cage, a light sweep along the side of her breast as he reached up and gently stroked her hair.
He touched her so tenderly her heart swelled, because she knew that a part wanted to feel what she felt, wanted to love her. He just didn’t dare give more than he could afford to lose. She’d learned that was no way to live. She hoped he’d learn the lesson without all the loss she had to endure. He palmed her bare breasts, squeezing her aching flesh in his hands.
Hot and wet, her mouth connected with his. He huffed a breath and began to chuckle as he pulled away and opened his eyes. Light blue, like everyone got to see.
“For once, we disagree.” His rich baritone vibrated through his hands still on her breasts, throbbing through her body.
“What?” She barely had time to gasp as he bent his head and traced his tongue across her puckered nipple.
A quick puff of air against her wet, sensitive skin made her mew. He treated the other nipple to the same teasing flick of his tongue, followed by the cool gust of his breath. All of her nerve endings fired as quickly as a bolt of lightning.
His teasing enhanced the nagging throb between her legs, but she didn’t stop, urging him forward again. In so much of her life Lauren took the lead, and for once she reveled in knowing all she had to do was follow.
He turned his head, scraping the stubble of his cheek against her sensitive nub and her moan rang through the room. She grabbed his hair, arching against him. But he wouldn’t be swayed. What she wouldn’t give for a mirror to watch as his fingers massaged and pinched, his mouth kissed and nipped.
Thinking of what it would be like to have that kind of attention played to her clit had her widening her legs as the space between them ached and spasmed. Her heart hammered out a rhythm all its own, faster and faster until her body felt like a live wire, every inch of her skin sensitized to his every move. Anticipation coiled inside, ready to break free at the slightest touch.
Except to get what she really wanted, she needed him to lose the shorts. She found it hard to concentrate on touching him with him working such magic on her body, but she rose above it enough to inch her hands across the firm muscles of his chest, down his rippled abdomen.
“Not yet,” he growled, gripping
her wrist and placing her hand back on the piano.
“But I want –”
“I want enough for both of us right now.”
Lauren found it hard to pout and breathe at the same time as he pressed her breasts together, flicking his tongue against one tip and then the other.
“I want to know every inch of you.” His words were hot puffs of air against her slick, sensitive skin. “Your body is flawless, I want to touch you everywhere.”
She smiled at his words, thankful for the low lighting. Let him think she was perfect. She felt that way right now, as if she’d been molded for his hands to roam her every curve. The narcotic pleasure of his caresses left her dazed, in a dreamlike trance.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he rasped.
“Then take more.”
And take he did, leaning her back further on top of the piano, continuing his attention to her breasts while his hand went to her damp core. He traced her with his fingertips, slow but firm, exploring her nuances. She purred as he pressed his thumb against her clit as his fingers continued to stroke.
Each time she neared the edge he varied his touch, changing the pressure and strumming her to all new levels of arousal. She hissed and moaned, digging her fingers into his shoulders. Her hands crept down his body again, this time slipping beneath his waistband and catching her prize. She purred involuntarily, imagining how full, how complete she’d feel when he was finally inside of her.
Pulling his hand from her, and her hand from him, Cameron shucked his shorts and kicked them in the direction of hers. Standing bare before her, she couldn’t look away from the desire smoldering in his gaze. When he looked at her like that her mind thrummed, her stomach fluttered and he shook her to the foundation of her soul.
Before she could examine that too closely he spread her legs farther, opening her to him with his thumbs against her nether lips. The air was cool against skin so wet and slick. But the chill vanished as he bent down, pulling one of her knees over his shoulder, and licked her center from her entrance to her clit.
Cooking Up A Seduction Page 11
