Harley swung open the door and was surprised to find Wilder standing there, wearing another gray suit, a darker one, with a pinstriped tie. He’d come from the office, she guessed. He reached up and loosened the knot of his tie. The symmetrical perfection of his face hit her like a punch to the stomach. Why did he have to be so damn fine? Even when she was angry at him, she still could register the man was off the scales sexy. How was she supposed to keep her thoughts lust free when he looked like a walking heartthrob? There were those electric pulses in her brain again, the ones demanding that she sample, just one more time, the man’s lips. God, the temptation was strong, a craving like none other she’d felt before. But, wait. No. She was angry with him. Annoyed.
“Yes?” There, her voice sounded clipped, restrained. Good.
His eyes widened in surprise as he took in her skin-tight skinny jeans, stiletto heels and halter, along with the gold bangles on her wrist and the earrings. His gaze rested on her bright red lips. She’d also put on extra mascara, not that he’d gotten that far. He was staring at her lips as if he craved them. The heat of his attention warmed her from the inside.
“You look good enough to eat.” His voice was low, a hum in her belly. “Where are you off to? A date?”
His voice sounded slightly pinched. Was that...jealousy?
“You told me I couldn’t be a sex columnist without getting more experience, so...” She shrugged one tanned bare shoulder. “I’m going to get some more experience. The first man who offers. I’ll just jump into his bed.”
Wilder looked like she’d punched him in the face. All the color drained from his cheeks. He loosened his tie further, as if it was suddenly choking him, showing the hollow of his neck. She suddenly wondered what it would be like to kiss him, right there, below his Adam’s apple. Maybe even, she thought devilishly, lick him there. Lick him...all over.
“I’m kidding,” she said, delighting in the relief that flooded into the man’s eyes. “I don’t do that. Pick up men in bars.”
“Good.” The relief was evident in his voice. “The only man I want you to sleep with is me.”
“Hard to do when you’re not around.” She tapped one toe on his carpet. She felt impatient. She had plans, plans to go out, and she wasn’t going to be derailed. Wilder couldn’t just make her wait around his penthouse and expect her to jump up, happy to see him when he finally returned, like some Labrador retriever.
“I know. I’m sorry. It was a work emergency. Lucinda was trying to steal the company from me. She was trying to figure out a way to get controlling shares.”
Harley felt a little bolt of panic. “Did she?”
“No. But, I had to... Well, I had to keep an eye on things. To make sure. I had to twist a few arms.” He let out a long breath. “Turns out it was some of my own executives, if you can believe it.” He shook his head. “They don’t like me propping up the magazines. They think it’s bad business, since those takeovers don’t make a profit. I just had to convince them that profits aren’t everything.”
She laughed, deep in her throat. “You’re pretty persuasive, if I recall.” Then she had a flash of memory: his hands on her ass, the way he’d grabbed her possessively, promising to teach her all about sex with a stranger. Yes, the man was damn persuasive. She was beginning to see his logic. How could she write about sex if she didn’t have that much experience? And, she had to admit, he wasn’t all egotistical billionaire. As she got to know him better, she knew he was a dedicated brother, a business owner who did care about his employees, or at least saving the jobs he could save. She’d overheard countless business calls where he’d been stuck between a rock and a hard place. She was still a little resentful about Femme, but she was beginning to understand his reasoning better. All the barriers to saying yes to him were falling, one by one, in her mind.
“I’m sorry I disappeared on you. Believe me, it wasn’t my plan.” He flashed her an apologetic smile and her stomach twisted. Perfect smile. Easy charm. That magnetism in his dark eyes, his perfectly combed, thick nearly black hair rolling back from his forehead in perfect waves. Why did he always look so damn delectable? “I’d like to make it up to you by offering you dinner. Would you join me?”
Her first instinct was to shout no. She was dressed up, ready to go out, sip wine all night with her friends and forget all about Wilder Lange. Except now the man was standing right in front of her, tie askew like some ruffled dark-haired James Bond. There was no forgetting about him. Besides, her stomach was in rebellion from hunger, and the half smile on Wilder’s face made it seem as if no was simply an impossibility.
Not to mention, there were other parts of her anatomy other than her stomach that were casting a vote to stay.
“I...” She hesitated.
“The cook is making steak medallions and mushroom risotto. If you say no, it’ll be a wasted steak.” He moved a little closer, touched her fingertips with his, the jolt of contact zapping her to attention. What were the reasons she didn’t want to stay? She forgot them all in that instant, as he carefully picked up her hand and kissed it. “You’d be doing me a great favor if you do join me. I’ve had a long couple of days. I could really use the company.”
She could see that, his bone weariness. She could see he needed her. How she loved to be needed.
“And I just want to see a friendly face.”
She laughed at that. “I’m a friendly face in your world?”
“As crazy as it sounds, yes. You are.” He let her hand go. “More than you know.”
Now, she was truly torn. He really needed her. Not just her body, it seemed, but also her mind. She was curious about how bad the two days had to have been for him to want to open up. Since when did he ever open that vault around his mind and let her in?
“I want to thank you, too, for being so patient with me. If I overstepped any lines, I apologize,” he said, and it seemed heartfelt. “I was thinking about what you said about past and trauma. I think... I just think you were on to something. About my past.”
And there it was, the bait for her brain. Her body wanted his body, but her mind... Well, her mind wanted to dig up all his dirty secrets. She wanted to find out how Lucinda now plotted against him. Why she did it in the first place. The nugget hung there, the temptation to find out more about this enigmatic billionaire. Of course, this is where it could get dangerous. This was where those electric pulses in the brain moved from the craving centers to the more complex, thoughtful, deep bonding centers of the brain. This was where true connection happened.
Still...if he were open to talking more about his past, then they could make real progress with his issues. And she wanted to do that. She wanted to help him heal so she could get the heck out of his penthouse, and far away from the troubling thoughts and feelings he drudged up in her. Yes, maybe dinner was the way forward.
Was she really so scared of her own desires that she didn’t think she could handle a single meal with the man? Surely, she could. Besides, she’d never eaten a meal cooked by a private personal chef, and it would no doubt be amazing. And a simple meal didn’t mean she’d have to sleep with the man. That, of course, was only if she wanted to.
“All right,” she said, trying to ignore the little flicker of excitement in her own chest. She was already looking forward to a night alone with Wilder Lange a bit too much. She’d have to control her feelings if she wanted to get out of the night unscathed. The question was, did she want to be unscathed?
CHAPTER TEN
HARLEY FELT UNDERDRESSED for the massive dining room she found herself in. The dining room was practically bigger than her whole Brooklyn apartment and she wondered, again, how anyone could afford this much real estate in Manhattan. The cost of the penthouse must be mind-boggling. She tiptoed on her sky-high stilettos, noting that even in her tallest shoes she came nowhere near to Wilder’s height. The man was a pure wall of muscle, muscle in a six-
thousand-dollar suit from Barneys. He pulled out her plush dining room chair and then sat kitty-corner from her at the end of the sleek table that sat twelve, easily, not far from the big silver chandelier in the middle of the white-and-chrome room. Harley glanced down at the many pieces of cutlery on either side of her gold-rimmed plate and struggled to remember what her mother had taught her about fancy table settings. Outside, in, she thought. She eyed the far fork and picked it up to delicately take a bite of her beet salad in front of her. Harley tried not to worry about the tiny fork laying just north of her plate. She had no idea what to do with that.
“This is...” Harley struggled for the words “...formal.”
“I don’t eat in this room very often,” Wilder said. “But I asked the chef to make something special tonight. To make up for my bad behavior. So that meant breaking out the good china.”
“I doubt you have any bad china.” She eyed the white plates with the no-doubt-actual-gold rims.
He grinned, a bright white dazzling smile and his dark eyes lit up a bit. “Do you like wine, Ms. Vega?”
“Occasionally,” she said.
“Red or white?”
“Red.”
As if poised with an ear to the door, a servant came then, and filled their stemless wineglasses with a big bold red. From the look of the label, the wine was as old as the table, or more so.
“A good vintage,” he told her, as he inhaled, his nose poised on the rim of the glass.
She did the same and inhaled a fruity bouquet of rich goodness before she tasted the complex juicy wine. She swallowed and thought this might be the best wine she’d ever tasted. Probably one she could never afford. She felt herself suddenly relieved to have the wine. She was uncharacteristically nervous and thought the wine might help calm her. She tried to do a quick scan of her feelings and realized she was genuinely nervous to be alone with the man, in a setting where she couldn’t use her notepad as a shield. Maybe she should’ve gone to meet her friends. Maybe this had been a mistake.
“Amazing,” she said, taking another sip.
“Glad you like it.” A warm fuzzy feeling filled her stomach, and she wondered if it was the wine already or the half smile on Wilder’s face.
“So what happened? With Lucinda?”
“She’s trying to steal the company from me. I had to be at the office to stop a few of the sales going through,” he said, frowning. “I had to call in a few favors, but I think I’ve stopped her for now.”
“Why is she so determined to take the company?”
“Greed. Pure and simple,” he said. “That, and she’s hated me my whole life. Can’t stand to see me successful.” He swirled the ruby red wine in his glass. “She tried to take the estate and the business from me. She’s still trying. She doesn’t believe I’m a...rightful heir. Because I came from his first wife.” He shook his head, sensual mouth thinning into a grim line. “It’s always a battle. It has been since my father married her when I was eight and everything changed.”
“How so?” Harley felt like she was treading on dangerous ground.
He laughed, but it came out sounding thin and brittle. “Once, when my father was on a business trip, I failed to finish the broccoli on my plate. For that small offense, Lucinda locked me in a closet for one week straight. Wouldn’t even let me out to use the bathroom. Made sure the servants didn’t, either.”
Harley felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. “That’s child abuse.”
“That was the idea,” Wilder said grimly, taking another deep drink of his wine, as if even talking about her reignited all that old pain. Harley’s heart welled up with empathy. She tried to imagine Wilder as a scared little boy, having just lost his mother and now dealing with a stepmother who not only didn’t care for him but actively sought to hurt him. “And believe me, the abuse got worse.”
Harley wanted to comfort him, wanted to wrap her arms around him, but instead, she forced herself to remain in her seat.
“My father was furious when he found out. Cut his business trip abroad short and came home. After that, it was pretty clear that when he was in the house, I was safe, but when he wasn’t, all bets were off.” Wilder shook his head grimly.
“I’m sorry that happened to you.” Harley’s voice sounded hoarse to her own ears. The anger at his unjust treatment growing inside her.
“That’s the first time anyone’s said that.” He glanced at her, dark eyes suddenly intently focused on her. “Granted, no one knows about Lucinda except my half brothers.”
“How do they feel about it?”
“They weren’t immune from the abuse, either. At least, not until I got big enough and she got scared of me.” Wilder shook his head. “I made sure she never did anything to those boys again.”
“What about your father?”
Wilder hung his head. “He didn’t want to believe it. He lived in denial.”
“Did you try to tell him?”
“Most every chance I got. He blamed the alcohol. He kept trying to find her treatment centers, but they all failed. Sometimes, she was better when she was on the wagon. At least, less psychopathic. But, eventually, she always went back to drinking. And her old habits came back.”
“I’m sorry.” She reached out and grabbed his hand. He froze for a moment, but then squeezed her hand back. She almost felt as if she could sense his pulse in his hand, the thrumming of his heart. He shook his head as if to free himself from the bad memories. “I don’t usually talk about this. With anyone.”
She felt giddy at the compliment and even more at the fact that he’d shared a secret with her, one he didn’t share with anyone who wasn’t family. She was making progress; she was lifting the veil. And the more she dug into his brain, his heart, the sexier the man became. She noted again how striking he was, how he could be a poster child for attractiveness of a scientific scale, his features perfectly symmetrical.
“You’re staring at me,” he pointed out. His shirt was now unbuttoned to the third button and the white sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He’d discarded the tie and jacket, but somehow he still seemed sexy as hell. Maybe more so. His dark hair a little ruffled, stubble on his chin.
“I’m not.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“I was thinking that your features are symmetrical.” She took another sip of her wine. Why had she said that?
“I hope that’s a good thing.” A teasing smile flitted across his face.
“It means...that you’re healthy, according to scientific research on symmetry and genes and...” Despite the fact she was talking about science and theory, Harley felt her cheeks grow warm. What about the presence of this man made her lose all her bearings? “...and that you’re good-looking.”
“You think I’m good-looking?” Now, his grin turned wolfish. The man already knew he was off-the-scales attractive. All he needed was a mirror to figure that out. “What was that pro again? That I’m sexy AF?”
“Don’t forget the con.”
“Oh, I haven’t. As I recall, you wrote more of them. Somehow, trying to convince yourself it’s a bad idea. Just goes to show that you actually really want to do it.”
She took another gulp of her wine and suddenly her palms felt clammy. What was she doing? “I haven’t said yes, yet.”
“No,” he admitted. “Not yet.” His dark eyes were playful. She almost felt uncomfortable under the weight of the stare. She cleared her throat.
Then, his phone, somewhere in his pocket, dinged, a notification of an incoming message. He tugged it out, glanced at the phone’s face and frowned. She wondered what message might lay there. Business-related? Personal? The thought of one of his many girlfriends messaging him while they had dinner sent a little wave of annoyance through her. She noted the feeling and tried to talk herself out of it. She shouldn’t be annoyed by the man’s love life
. She was here to help him get back to it. She needed to focus on that. Not on the fact that the man’s full sensual lips looked kissable in the soft light of the dining room. That he looked every bit the part of a man in control: of his life, his wealth and his position, and a man who broke hearts in his spare time. He tucked his phone away silently and focused on her again.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Fine,” he said, but offered no more. Was the veil coming down again? Was she losing her window into his mind?
“So, before we talk about your...” she swallowed “...proposal, I think it’s my turn to ask you questions.”
“Go on.” There was a challenge in his voice.
“Are you...seeing someone at the moment?” She told herself she asked the question in order to further his treatment. Not because if she planned to jump into his bed, she wanted to make sure she wasn’t betraying someone else.
He cocked an eyebrow. “No.” She felt relief flood through her, and she hated herself for it. This wasn’t the way to be professional. A hint of a smile tugged at his full lips. His dark eyes studied her. “Does that please you?”
“It makes me feel better that you offered me casual sex.” She coughed. “And how many lovers...have you had?”
She almost didn’t want to know the answer. But she thought it was only fair. He knew she’d had two. How many had he had?
“I’ve lost count,” he said, as the maid, Vanka, whom she’d met the day she moved in, came into the room, carrying two small plates of salad. She was a tall thin woman in her fifties, with a perfect streak of gray in her hair. The first course, Harley guessed.
“You can’t have lost count.”
He shrugged one mischievous shoulder.
Harley stared. “Ballpark, then. Twenty?”
The Sex Cure Page 9
