Billionaire's Contract Engagement(21)

Evan guided her in to the rustic cedar building with its quasi-southern  charm mixed with California décor. It was an odd blend that, to her  surprise, worked well.

The two sat in the far corner where the lighting so was so dim a small  kerosene lantern sat in the middle of the table to offer ambience.

"I feel like I'm on a first date," she said ruefully after Evan had ordered the wine.

He smiled and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Would it make me less  of a jerk to be up front about the fact I plan to have you in my bed  tonight?"

She sucked in her breath until she felt curiously lightheaded. She  suspected of course, but to hear him say it outright was way sexier than  it should have been.

"I have to go back to work," she murmured.

He nodded. "Of course. I didn't intend to spirit you away for an  afternoon tryst, though the idea has merit. I wonder if your coworkers  would call the police?"

She glared at him-determined not to laugh. But even her scowl twitched. Irreverent bastard.

The waiter appeared with food, and she blinked because she hadn't  remembered ordering. She glanced at the half-empty wineglass and  couldn't for the life of her remember drinking so much as a sip. Evan  was bad, bad for her brain. He was as bad as some wasting disease. She  wouldn't survive, either.

"Evan," she began again, and promptly shut up when it came out more as a plaintive wail than a protest.

"I'll send a car for you, Celia. No one needs to see you getting into a  vehicle with me. I'll have my driver pick you up from work, or if you  prefer, you can drive your car to your apartment and I'll have him pick  you up there. And I'll have him take you home in time for you to prepare  for work."

Why wasn't she immediately shutting him down? Instead of telling him  that in no uncertain terms would she agree to such a thing, she found  herself contemplating how decadent it would be to dash off to an elicit  rendezvous with her lover.

She shivered at the word lover. Evan was a superb specimen of a man. He  was fantastic in bed and insatiable to boot. He knew how to pleasure a  woman and was as unselfish a lover as she'd ever had. The mere idea of  spending the night with him had her tied in so many knots it would take a  team of massage therapists to work them out.

She chewed absently at the food, not registering the taste or even what  she ate. Her throat was as dry as the desert and her tongue was swollen  and clumsy.

"You act as though it's a crime for us to make love," he said in an oddly tender voice.

If it had been coaxing or wheedling, she could have been cold to him.  But she could swear he was reassuring her and attempting to allay her  fears.

She licked her lips and raised her gaze to meet his. Awareness hit her  square in the chest. In his eyes she saw undulating bodies. Hers and  his. In perfect rhythm. So beautiful and so pleasurable that she closed  her eyes to further immerse herself in the memory.

"Say yes."

His voice stroked her as surely as his fingers had done. A prickle of  goose bumps spread rapidly over her shoulders and down her chest until  her nipples tightened into two painful knots.

"Celia," he prompted.

Finally she opened her eyes and fixed him with her unfocused gaze.

"Yes," she whispered.





Thirteen


Celia entered her office with a heightened sense of anticipation. She  already knew she'd be clock watching until it was quitting time and then  she'd race home so she could change and look her best for her naughty  escape to Evan's.

Her mouth curved into a naughty smile to match the naughtiness of her  and Evan's plan. It was wicked, forbidden, and she was so turned on that  she was ready to fidget right out of her shoes.

With a sigh, she sank into her chair behind her desk, kicked off her  shoes and logged on to catch up on e-mail. She hadn't planned to go out  for lunch at all and had, in fact, brought food from home, planning to  eat at her desk. After missing Friday, she'd spent the morning getting a  report from Jason on her client meetings he covered and then she'd gone  through messages.         

     



 

She groaned as her in-box stacked up with e-mail after e-mail. She  started at the bottom and worked up, deleting several after cursory  glances. Those requiring a lengthy response she flagged to respond to  later and the ones she could just do a one-line response to she typed  furiously and sent on their way.

She was nearly to the end when her gaze flickered over the name Lucy  Reese. She did a double take. Evan's mom? Why would she e-mail and how  had she gotten Celia's address?

Her stomach fluttered a bit, and guilt crept over her all over again.  Lucy was nice and Celia hated lying to her. She hated lying as a rule  for any reason but especially not for such a frivolous endeavor.

She braced herself and clicked on the message. It began as cheerfully as  Lucy herself was in person. She said again how thrilled she was that  Celia and Evan had found each other.

Talk about another shot to the gut.

She expressed her desire to see Celia again and hoped Evan would bring her to Seattle for a visit.

Could this get any worse?

Her message ended with a short note that she'd attached some pictures from the wedding that she thought Celia would enjoy.

Celia opened the attached JPEGS and couldn't help but smile. The  pictures were of her and Evan at the wedding reception. They looked  happy and  …  in love.

There was one of them dancing, another of Evan looking down with a  tender expression and the last was when Evan had kissed her. Celia's  hand rested on his chest and the glitter of the ring contrasted with the  black of Evan's tuxedo. Their mouths were fused together, and it was  obvious to anyone looking at the picture that they were in danger of  combusting right there in the middle of a crowded reception.

For several minutes, she debated whether or not to reply to Lucy's  e-mail. It seemed rude not to, but it was also a terrible thing to  prolong the charade.

Finally, she settled for a brief thank you and that she'd enjoyed  meeting Lucy, as well. It was true and didn't delve into any part of her  nonexistent relationship with Evan.

Stealing over to the man's hotel room after work hours certainly couldn't be considered a relationship.

Her intercom beeped, startling her from her thoughts.

"Celia, I have a cleaning service willing to take over Noah Hart's house."

"Brave," Celia muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Do you have details on when they'll start? Can you e-mail me  that and the agency name and contact info so I can forward it?"

"Sure."

There was a distinct pause and then Shelby's hesitant voice filtered through the intercom.

"Sooo, are you going to give me the dirt on Noah Hart? Like how you know him and why you're arranging his maid service?"

"No," Celia said shortly.

She punched the button to end the conversation and hoped Shelby would  get the hint. True, Shelby liked to gossip but she wasn't overtly  intrusive. She backed off when people wanted her to.

She checked her e-mail and then forwarded the information to Noah. After  closing her e-mail program, she stared at her phone and sighed. Noah  was a disaster when it came to e-mails. The man just didn't care about  advanced methods of communication. If it couldn't be said on the phone  or person, he wasn't much interested. It drove his agent nuts. Simon  Blackstone much preferred the impersonal methods of e-mail and text  messages to actual conversations, but if he wanted to talk to Noah, he  had to pick up the phone. Celia was convinced Noah did it just to torque  his agent's jaw.

At any rate, she'd better call and leave a message on Noah's cell or God  knows what the cleaning lady would come across when she went to his  house.

She'd hit the end button after leaving him a nagging, sisterly message  when it hit her square in the face that she had neglected to mention the  game to Evan.

How could she be so stupid? With everything else that had gone on in the  weekend, the game had slipped her mind. Even when she'd done the pitch  and specifically dangled the Noah carrot in front of Evan's nose, she'd  flaked on the season opener.

He was probably already booked solid, if he was even going to be in  town. The game was the night before her scheduled pitch session and he'd  probably just fly in on the morning of their meeting.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she muttered.

Would it be crass to mention it tonight? During their little sex  getaway? If she wanted to get him in front of Noah in a casual setting,  then she was going to have to move fast and hope he hadn't locked up his  week already with other obligations.

She looked up when a knock sounded at her door. Brock stood against the  door frame, a smile easing the newly developed lines at his eyes and  mouth.         

     



 

"Hey, we wanted to get together at Rosa after work today. You're the  star and we want to toast with copious amounts of alcohol. It will be a  good pep rally for the presentation on Friday."