by Joanne Rock
Hands smoothing over the napkin beside her cooling cup of darjeeling, Tempest’s gaze dropped to the expanse of shiny mahogany conference table while Kelly Kline, VP of global development, found one excuse after another for why Boucher should look internally for a CEO.
The general consensus among the board was that Kelly wanted the top slot for herself—a feat that wouldn’t happen as long as Tempest had any input. Kelly thrived at her job as a public relations guru who spoke three languages and made frequent trips abroad. But she seemed a little too calculating for Tempest’s tastes. Kelly had proven to be a corporate shark and a bit of a tyrant in her department, yet extremely effective.
Allowing the woman to have her say, Tempest’s thoughts ran to having Wes Shaw at her mercy on the mahogany conference table. She could envision the dark, strong wood as a perfect backdrop for the detective’s lean, sculpted muscles.
The private conference room was her stronghold, the one place in the world where she reigned supreme. Because even if Tempest didn’t enjoy her stressful job all the time, at least her personal meeting space was familiar terrain and she could be in control here. The sensation was a welcome one after she’d felt so helpless during the weekend with her apartment trashed and her sculptures destroyed. Wes had practically taken over the place with his big, I’m-in-charge presence and his knowledge of catching criminals.
If he set foot in this facet of her world, he would see a very different woman. And next time, Tempest wouldn’t give him the upper hand over her again. She might lick every delicious inch of that primo male form of his, but she’d be damn sure to remain in control of the situation.
Remembering his horror at holding the broken clay penis in his hand, Tempest wondered how her artwork measured up to the man. Was he as impressive as her fanciful imaginings? Judging by the eyeful she’d got ten Saturday evening, she’d have to answer with a re sounding yes. And if she ever had the man at her disposal on the conference table, she would damn well find out for sure. If he started getting naked with her again, she would make certain he finished the job.
“Tempest?”
Kelly’s voice intruded in her fantasies, an unwanted female in the middle of a very hot daydream.
Frowning, Tempest blinked. Remembered she was supposed to be listening sympathetically to Kelly’s reasons for why the board shouldn’t interview the latest CEO candidate someone had suggested.
“I think we need to come up with a solution before the month is out,” Tempest offered, deciding the time had come to put her foot down. The longer she allowed the board to waffle, the longer the company stayed in limbo. And seeing all her artwork destroyed this week end had made her realize where her real priorities lay. She should be working on her statues and honing her craft instead of operating in survival mode at Boucher. “I’d like to take a private ballot one month from today for who we should interview and I’ll pull three candidates from the pool. We’re long overdue settling this.”
Amid a flurry of protests, Tempest ended the meeting, feeling more sure of herself than she had in a long time. She should have set a deadline and stuck to it months ago. Perhaps her weekend intruder had done her a little bit of a favor in spite of the threat and the ram pant wreckage. At least the incident had strengthened her resolve to get her life in order.
The board members filed out while she dumped her cup of tea in the sink at a wet bar. For a minute she thought she’d given herself a shock when a sizzle of electricity shot through her with a definite jolt.
“Knock, knock.” The unanticipated masculine voice behind her made her realize that the shock had been of the sexual variety.
Turning, she found Wes framed in the doorway between her office and private conference room. A dark khaki trench coat hugged his shoulders, the stiff fabric dotted with raindrops. The overcoat appealed to her daydreaming mind, making her realize how much she’d like to play cloak and dagger with this man.
Not just any man, curse his hide.
Only Wes.
How had she ever thought she could work up the nerve to accept a blind date with anyone else when Wes seemed to be the only man appealing to her unexpectedly ravenous libido?
“Isn’t my assistant out front?” She fumbled with her teacup, spilling a few last drops on her thumb.
“That’s a hell of a welcome.” He stepped inside the room, taking the long way around the oversize conference table to peer around the meeting space. He took in the long windows looking out over the city, the sky scraper climbing higher than any of the buildings around it so that her window didn’t look into another office, the way that so much Manhattan real estate did.
He ran his hand along the conference table as he approached, whistling appreciatively under his breath. “Nice place you have here.”
His hand on the mahogany surface called forth images from her bold fantasies. The daydreams taunted her now, sending a rush of desire through her. Funny how she could picture being brash and brazen with Wes so much more easily when he wasn’t actually in the room with her.
Coward.
Her conscience railing at her, she washed the tea off her hands and steadied herself. He was just a man, after all.
Just a sexy, appealing man who could kiss her into a near-orgasmic state.
“Thanks.” She tugged at the silk scarf around her neck, feeling a bit warm. “I’m just surprised to see you here since Rebecca usually fields all my appointments for me.”
“I arrived bearing doughnuts and coffee. Maybe she forgot.” He flashed her a disarming smile that would surely fluster the most dedicated of assistants.
Or maybe Rebecca simply thought she’d be doing Tempest a favor by providing her with a mouthwatering diversion to chase away the Monday morning doldrums.
“Can I get you anything?” Tempest opened the door of the minirefrigerator under the wet bar to reveal a wealth of soft drinks and flavored spring water. She might as well be civil, even if he had made it clear the other night that he wouldn’t get involved with someone commanding such a prominent public profile. “I’ve got tea, if you like.”
“No, thanks. That’s not what I’m here for.” Shrugging out of his coat, he folded the garment over one chair and then made himself comfortable in a large swivel seat at the head of the conference table.
Her seat.
“No?” She curbed her annoyance along with her lust, determined not to let either one show. Dropping into a chair midway down the table, she peered into her office and noticed the outer door had been shut, sealing them in complete privacy.
Had that been Rebecca’s way of offering Tempest a few moments alone with Wes? Or had the gesture been Wes’s attempt to sneak another kiss when he had no intention of giving her anything more substantial?
Neither answer soothed the increased tempo of her heart. She settled for simply casting him a level look and giving him her most businesslike boardroom face. “Then how about you tell me what brings you here.”
AN OVERWHELMING DESIRE to get you naked?
Somehow Wes didn’t think she’d appreciate the answer after the way he’d lit out of her apartment Saturday night. Thankfully, he had another reason for showing up in her penthouse office this morning.
“I wanted to make sure you were having additional security installed in the Chelsea apartment. Whoever broke into your apartment used some finesse to pick your lock in a way that didn’t damage the door at all. You need something more sophisticated to keep out to day’s crooks.” It was a legitimate reason to see her again, right? He’d mentioned security to her over the weekend, but she’d been jittery on Friday and he hadn’t trusted that she fully comprehended the importance of the message.
Then by Saturday he’d had more on his mind than safety, a professional error he wouldn’t be making again. He’d even taken the liberty of locking her office door behind him on the way in. Not that he really anticipated anyone coming after her on the most elite floor of corporate offices in the building, but it couldn’t hurt to be saf
e.
Private.
Ah, hell, who was he kidding? He’d bolted the door in case she had the urge to take up where they’d left off on Saturday. He might not like the idea of her high-profile career and status as a social figure putting him in the public eye, but he didn’t stand a chance at getting her out of his head. By Sunday night he’d realized he just needed to find more creative solutions to their problem of too much publicity because he wanted her too much to concern himself with the inconvenience of his mug in the paper on occasion.
Locking doors behind them seemed like a good place to start today.
“I called a security company this morning. They’re going to come by tomorrow to install something.” She shifted in her seat just enough to make the leather chair squeak.
And remind Wes of the restless way she’d brushed up against him when they sat at her computer together over the weekend. His body revved at the memory of her scent. Her nearness. He couldn’t deny he wanted that again along with a whole lot more.
“They couldn’t come out today?” He’d driven by her building twice last night, uneasy with the idea of her alone in apartment 35, guarded only by Eloise. And if he’d entertained a few fantasies involving Ms. Boucher while he was at it, that was his business.
“They already juggled around their schedule just to get out tomorrow.” Sitting straighter, she folded her hands together as if to keep herself still. “Is there any thing else I can help you with, Detective? I have a busy schedule today.”
Her tone verged on frosty, but not nearly chilly enough to cool him off. Memories of their shared kiss had him in a state of perpetual simmer ever since he’d walked out of her apartment.
She looked different today in her executive suite than she had in her Chelsea apartment. She wore a vivid blue suit with a yellow silk scarf tucked into the neckline of her buttoned jacket. Tailored and sophisticated, the suit screamed high-powered exec, but Wes’s eyes kept straying to the scarf as he speculated about what she wore beneath the jacket.
A blouse? Some kind of lingerie top like he’d seen strewn all over her apartment? Or nothing at all?
Aside from the sexy mystery of the jacket, her clothes now weren’t all that unlike the ones she’d been wearing when they first met. Maybe it was the setting today, or just her attitude that seemed more cool and in-control. But there was a definite difference in her.
“I wanted to see if anything had turned up missing at your place now that you’ve had more time to look around.”
“Nothing.” She crossed her ankles beneath her chair, her weekend running shoes replaced by camel-colored leather pumps. “I don’t think anything was stolen. All the intruder’s effort seems to have been geared toward destruction.”
Wes didn’t like that one damn bit. “All signs point to the break-in being a threat, probably perpetrated by someone who has a particular beef with you. We didn’t find any prints but yours around the apartment, so who ever trashed the place took time to cover their tracks.”
Perhaps he’d finally succeeded in scaring her be cause she nodded with jerky movements, her fingers smoothing the scarf at her neck.
“I won’t work at the studio anymore until the security is installed. I usually sleep at the family house during the week anyway.”
“Good.” He hated upsetting her, but there could be no help for it. “And hopefully we’ll have some answers soon on MatingGame. I’m trying to set up a time to meet a date tomorrow night and we’ll see if the service works as advertised.”
“You’re going on the date?” Color returned to her cheeks, her twitchy fingers stilling over her scarf.
“Since your Web mistress never got in touch with me, it’s the fastest way to get the answers we need.”
“Apparently Bliss Holloway’s mother has been in poor health and Bliss is out of touch. I’m sure we’ll hear from her soon.” Tempest sounded aggravated and looked downright mad.
She couldn’t be upset about the date? Maybe she was just annoyed he continued to check into her company, because his brain refused to consider that she could be…jealous?
The idea fanned the slow heat that had been building inside him all weekend long.
“Until then, I guess I’m going on a blind date.” He looked back through her office toward her locked door. They were utterly alone, the conference room inaccessible to anyone else. Wicked thoughts came to mind. “Too bad we couldn’t have enjoyed that kind of anonymity.”
She stared back at him blankly for a moment until her honey-colored eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, wouldn’t it have been fun if we could have met under different circumstances?” He eased out of his seat at the head of the table and closed the distance between them, propelled toward her by a deep hunger he didn’t fully understand. Halting a few inches away from her, he dropped into a swivel chair right next to her. “What would it have been like between us if I wasn’t the cop investigating your company and you weren’t a woman I needed to protect?”
Her fingers splayed on the mahogany conference table, her red nails as shiny as the richly polished wood. She stared down at her hand on the table for a long moment before meeting his eyes.
“It might have been very interesting,” she admitted, voice soft with sensual promise.
Or was that hopeful thinking on his part?
The air around them turned warm and heavy. The raindrops that had soaked his hair and his coat seemed to evaporate in a slow hiss of steam as their bodies inched closer.
He reached for the length of yellow and blue silk around her neck, gently tugging the scarf from her jacket in one smooth, deliberate motion. She sat perfectly still as he watched the fabric uncoil from her skin.
No blouse beneath.
Just incredible cleavage and creamy smooth skin. Savoring the warm scent of the scarf that had shielded her breasts, Wes rubbed the fabric between his fingers and allowed a darkly erotic idea to take shape in his mind.
A way to accommodate their wish for anonymity.
“Maybe we can still have our own blind date,” he whispered the suggestion that had been hovering around his brain, urging him to find a way to be with her. Skimming the silk up her cheek, he twined the material around her eyes. “A few stolen moments with no identities attached if your schedule allows.”
When she didn’t move so much as a muscle, he al lowed himself to secure the cloth behind her head, tying it in a lazy knot.
While he waited for the full import of his suggestion to sink in, he studied the way she looked with the impromptu blindfold wrapped around her eyes. Wild brown curls escaped from beneath the fabric, the bright color of the scarf highlighting the pale perfection of her cheek. But as he watched, a tinge of hectic color brightened the exposed portion of her face. A rosy blush? Or the sensual flush of a woman slowly becoming turned on?
Her lips worked silently for a moment, as if she couldn’t quite come to terms with what she wanted to say. The gesture drew his gaze, and sent a rush of heat southward. He thought about what it would be like to personally lick off every last bit of her lipstick before he explored her mouth, the unique taste of her, for hours on end.
“I’ve got appointments today,” she finally managed, although the sighed sentiment didn’t sound much like a protest. She wound her finger in one loose end of the scarf that draped carelessly over her shoulder.
“I warned your assistant my business with you might take precedence over everything else.” Laying his finger along her lower lip, he stroked the soft fullness of her mouth. “And I locked the door.”
The nutty almond fragrance she wore seemed all the more intense as the heat between them cranked up. Tempest nipped his finger before drawing it into her mouth and swirling her tongue around the digit.
His eyes were already crossing when she finally nodded. “Maybe you’re on to something with this anonymous thing. But you’re not wearing a blindfold.”
Lowering his damp finger to the valley between her breasts,
Wes traced a wet line over her ample curves.
“That’s okay. I’m getting off on watching you wear one.” The trace of moisture on her full lips was killing him. “And by now I’ve already forgotten everything we were talking about except how much I want you.”
A hum of pleasure escaped her lips before she came up out of her chair and landed in his lap, her knees straddling his thighs.
The heat that had been on slow burn inside him all weekend roared into a full-fledged blaze as her compact curves and creamy legs arrived within reach. Her acquiescence was an unexpected gift. A tempting treasure.
An unbelievable freaking moment he wouldn’t ever forget.
And he planned to savor every square inch of her, starting right now.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THERE WAS no stopping her now.
Tempest’s bravado seemed to have increased tenfold the moment Wes wrapped the silk scarf around her eyes, relegating her world to a place of touches and tastes. The scent of his rain-dampened skin, the feel of his hands skating over her hips, drove her to the point of no re turn.
She’d been daydreaming about this an hour ago, and now that he was here, in the flesh, she planned to fulfill her fantasies just this once. Her appointments could damn well wait until another day.
Palms sliding beneath her jacket, Wes smoothed his thumb over her bare waist. She’d always been self-conscious of her curves, even more so after a candid photo of her dancing at a friend’s wedding ran in the social pages with a caption implying she must have really enjoyed the bride’s cake. But her admittedly ample curves didn’t seem like such a bad thing when Wes got hold of them. His fingers sank into her softness, urging her closer to his lap and all the enticing male heat waiting for her there.
“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” Wes’s voice wove through her steamy thoughts, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke. “I don’t want to cause a professional flap for you.”
