Intent to Seduce & A Glimpse of Fire(65)

He licked the spot. “Not anymore.”

“Oh, God, don’t start.”

He breathed deeply. “Yeah, I know.”

“We’re headed that way, right?” she said, pointing toward Amsterdam Avenue.

“Yep. The red door.”

“Here’s your jacket.”

“Keep it until we get inside.”

“Okay, and then I’m going straight to the ladies’ room.” She smoothed her dress over her hips, and he had to look away. “I’ll find you after that.”

“I’ll be waiting right outside. Ready?”

“Let’s go.”

He took her arm and steered her around a crack in the sidewalk. Selfishly he liked that she wore the sexy shoes, but he didn’t want to see her break any limbs. Even a small nick marring those incredible legs would be a crime.

They got to the door, which was promptly opened by a doorman standing discreetly off to the side. With a sweep of his hand he directed them toward the right, and they followed the strip of red carpet that obviously had been laid for the occasion.

Good thing. Or Eric wouldn’t have known which way to go. The brownstone had once been a mansion belonging to one of New York’s rich and prominent families, but the building had been gutted and divided into several exclusive shops and a pricey art gallery.

“I haven’t seen a restroom, have you?” Dallas whispered.

“Nope, but we’ll find it.”

“This place is huge. You’d never know it from the outside.”

“There it is.” He heard classical music coming from the end of the hall and figured that’s where they were ultimately headed. “I’ll wait right outside.”

“I won’t be long. Unless damage assessment proves otherwise.”

He frowned, not getting it at first, and then he grinned and snatched her hand before she got away. “Come here.”

“Why?”

He pulled her close enough that she had to tilt her head back to look at him. “You still have some lipstick on that I haven’t licked off.”

She laughed and started to pull away, but he captured her mouth with his and, taking advantage of her soft gasp, slid his tongue between her lips. Without hesitation she looped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him.

Ridiculous how quickly and how hard he got. A smart man would back off. He pushed his tongue deeper into her mouth, exploring the soft, wet flesh, her perfect teeth. He drew his palms down each side of her body, outlining her seductive curves.

Voices coming from the hall behind them brought him to his senses. He broke the kiss, his breathing al ready out of control. “Go,” he said. “I’ll be here.”

She nodded, her lower lip quivering slightly, and then she disappeared inside. The voices got closer and he realized he needed a quick adjustment himself so he ducked into the men’s room.

What the hell had happened to his focus? What the hell had happened to him? This was absurd. Acting like a kid at a client’s function. He knew better. He should never have brought her here.

After finishing his business, he left the restroom to find her already waiting outside. Her frown immediately turned into a smile when she saw him, and all his misgivings vanished just like that.

“I thought maybe you’d decided to go on inside,” she said, her lips tinted peach again, some of the stray tendrils of hair tucked back into place.

He liked the wild look better. Reminded him of the way her hair had fanned out against his sheets. There he went again…shit! “Let’s go mingle.”

She unnecessarily clutched the tiny black bag that hung from her shoulder, as if unsure what to do with her hands. Wisely he kept his to himself. Obviously he couldn’t be trusted to touch her. Once they joined the party it would be easier to get through the evening. Especially since he had no intention of staying long.

They entered the large reception area bordering the art gallery and a well-known jewelry store that sold unique baubles that Eric’s annual salary couldn’t cover. The room was attractive but staid, furnished with over stuffed chairs and sofas, antique rugs on the floor and rich dark wood paneling on the walls.

In the corner was a humidor with a collection of expensive cigars and floor-to-ceiling racks of wine, probably French and cost prohibitive. At least for Eric. The place looked more like an old gentleman’s club from the seventies, when they could still exclude women with out ending up in court.

Apparently the rain had either scared some of the guests off or else they were delayed. Less than twenty people stood talking and sipping from martini glasses or champagne flutes. Lawrence’s “little” bashes were known to include a hundred or more guests.

“Amazing, isn’t it? From the street you’d never know this place existed,” Dallas whispered.

“Not really my thing,” he whispered back. “But I had to make a showing. I promise we won’t stay long.”

“I’m not complaining. Really.” She looked at him in surprise. “I understand you have to be here. I’m glad you included me.”

Eric blinked. It just occurred to him that he’d done exactly what he never did. Never wanted to do. He’d brought a date to a business function. Of course, this was somewhat different from a company party, and Dallas…well, Dallas was certainly different from his other dates.

The thought stopped him. Where had it come from? Why was she different? How? He barely knew her. Yet he felt it deep down in his gut. She was different.

“Eric? What’s wrong?”

He stared into her concerned eyes. “Nothing. I was just— Who are you?”

Her face turned guarded. “What do you mean?”

“I know Tom set up Saturday night.” He looked closely for her reaction, but she kept her expression neutral. “We saw you in the window.”

“What window?”

He smiled. “Come on, Dallas, the joke is over.”

“Eric.”

At the sound of Lawrence Horn’s voice Eric reluctantly broke eye contact with Dallas, and turned to his client—his long-standing, major-revenue-producing client, to whom Eric would do well to be paying attention.

The guy had over a dozen thriving businesses in the New York and New Jersey area and had used Webber and Thornton for two decades, long before Eric had joined the company. It had been an honor for Eric to be entrusted with the account. He wasn’t about to blow it.

“Lawrence, good to see you.” Eric extended his hand. “Thanks for the invitation.”

Short, balding and with a penchant for bright colors, the man had to be older than Eric’s father, yet he sported a diamond stud in his left earlobe. “Thanks for the invitation,” he mimicked, laughing. “Can you believe this guy?” Lawrence looked over at Dallas. “Modesty doesn’t get you anywhere in this city. This man is a publicity genius. A little more arrogance is in order, don’t you think?”

Dallas only smiled.

His gaze still fastened on Dallas, Lawrence took her hand. “Who do we have here?”

“This is Dallas.” Annoyed that he couldn’t even introduce her last name, Eric forced a smile. “And this is our host, Lawrence Horn.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Horn.”

Lawrence raised her hand to his lips, his gaze staying on her face.

Amusement twinkled in Lawrence’s pale blue eyes as he continued to study Dallas with an odd fascination. “Do I know you?” he finally asked.

She blinked and darted a nervous glance at Eric. “I don’t believe we’ve ever met.”

Lawrence squinted at her. “I know this face.”

Eric didn’t say a word. He was enjoying this way too much. Let her try to wiggle out of this one.

She shrugged a shoulder and casually withdrew her hand. “I guess we blondes all look alike.”

Lawrence laughed heartily. “No, my dear, not all blondes are created equally.”

A waiter appeared with a tray of canapés, and Dallas took an exceptionally long time to choose one of the morsels. Not that it mattered. Eric had faith in Horn. The guy was like a dog with a bone when he wanted some thing. And Dallas had clearly piqued his curiosity.

“I know.” Lawrence nodded knowingly once the waiter had gone. “You’re a model in Eric’s ads. That’s where I’ve seen you.”

“No,” Eric promptly offered. “She’s never worked for me.”

“Come now.” Lawrence frowned. “It’ll annoy me until I figure this out. You are a model, yes?”

Dallas chewed thoughtfully, and then said, “I used to model, but it’s been quite a while.”

“Hmm…” Lawrence shook his head, looking con fused, and then started to say something further, but Dallas interrupted him.

She put a hand to her throat. “I’m sorry but—Eric, would you mind getting me something to drink?”

“Stay.” Lawrence put his hand up to forestall Eric. With his other he snapped his fingers in the air and a waiter came running. That kind of behavior Eric despised. But Lawrence had other good qualities. Besides, he alone was responsible for about twenty percent of Webber and Thornton’s revenue. And most of Eric’s annual bonus.

They all gave the waiter their orders, and after he left, Lawrence said, “Please forgive my poor manners. I practically ambushed you at the door.”