Just One Taste...(17)

6



STUNNED, VANESSA FOLLOWED HIM to the door. "You're leaving?""You're  exhausted, and I've thrown a lot at you." Still holding her hand, he  leaned forward and kissed her cheek. Heat sizzled in his wake. "I'll see  you tomorrow. About noon?"

"Sure, but-"

He smiled. Distant. Calm. "But what?"

"After last night, I thought you'd want to … "

"Screw you blind?"

How did he always manage to surprise her, knock her off balance? She blinked up at him.

He pushed her against the door. Not with violence, but with force. And  command. "Oh, I do, chère." He pressed his rock-hard erection against  her hips to prove his point. "Very much."

The bubble of confident recklessness that had served her so well over  the past several years burst. Being this close to him again reminded her  of the addictive heat they created together. Ever since the moment  they'd parted, she'd been confused, but now she knew just what she  wanted. "Prove it," she said, lifting her chin.

He stared at her for a moment, his green eyes glittering. Then his mouth captured hers.

As he thrust his tongue past her lips, she braced her hands against his  chest. His heart hammered beneath her palms, even as her own pulse  skipped a beat.

When fire exploded inside her, she forgot about who he was, who she was  and why being together was never going to work. She had no reason to  trust him, but she did. She craved his touch as much as she craved to  understand why he, of all people, fascinated her.

Hunger and need flowed through her veins as easily as her blood. The  urgency she felt inside was matched by his arousal. His hands cupped her  butt, pressing her tighter against the hardness between his legs. Her  knees went weak at the prospect of pleasure, of possessing him again.

Her nipples tightened and tingled. Warmth flowed between her legs. Just  as she started to reach for the zipper on his pants to end this  delicious torture, he stepped back.

Breathing hard, he stared at her. "I need to go."

"You what?"

"You need time and space to consider me. To consider us." He rolled his  shoulders, making an obvious effort to gather himself. "Until tomorrow,  chère?"

"Yeah. Sure." Aroused and frustrated and seeing her best chance of  satisfaction opening the door, anger seemed like the best comeback.  "What did you even come to see me for? What are you doing here?"

He glanced back at her, his eyes bleak and sardonic. "Atoning."

He was gone before she recovered enough to ask any more questions.



JOSEPH DOUGLAS PUSHED BACK from the table and nodded at his housekeeper. "Excellent dinner, Alice."

Alice inclined her head and cleared his plate.

"I'm going to work in the office for a while, Elise," he said to his wife as he walked from the room.                       
       
           



       

"Do you mind if I join you for a few moments?" she asked, following him.  "I need to show you some financial figures for the foundation."

"Sure." It had been a long damn day, though. What he really wanted to do  was pour a scotch, read the newspaper, then go over a few case files.  Alone.

As he pulled the door closed behind Elise, she said, "I'd love a drink."

"I'll have Alice bring you some wine."

She laid her hand on his arm. "I'll have scotch. You do have some in here, don't you?"

Elise never drank liquor. He struggled to hide his surprise. "I do." He  retrieved the bottle and two heavy tumblers, added ice, then poured them  each a healthy measure before sitting in his chair. His wife sat on the  other side of the desk. "I hope the financial state of the foundation  isn't what's driven you to whiskey."

"Everything's fine there. Well, except that Angelica jumps every time  the phone rings. If only she had a little of Vanessa's backbone." She  sighed. "And Vanessa had her decorum." She waved her hand vaguely, then  sipped from her glass. Immediately, she began to choke.

Joseph raced around the desk to pat her on the back.

"I'm … okay," she gasped, pounding her chest with her fist.

He returned to his seat, feeling his eye begin to twitch. He'd never  been a star in the courtroom, but he was an excellent analyst of the  behavior and physical cues of others. He'd made the firm another fortune  by launching his jury examiner panels.

"God, that never gets any better, does it?"

"That's forty-year-old scotch," he said, indignant. "And when have you ever had it?"

"I snuck some out of my parents' liquor cabinet once."

He nearly choked on his own sip. "You did?"

"Once." She tossed back the rest of the liquor, coughed, then set the glass aside.

Joseph simply gaped at her.

Before he could begin to recover, she asked, "Are you having an affair with Millicent Switzer?"

He sighed. He didn't like explaining himself twice. He'd done nothing  wrong. "No, Elise. I told you earlier Millie is naturally upset about  Gilbert's death. She's worried about the boys. She turned to me as a  friend. Nothing more."

"Maybe on your part. She looks at you much differently, however."

He'd never thought that himself until today. But he'd seen a look in  Millie's eyes earlier that wasn't about friendship. "Don't be  ridiculous," he said to his wife, knowing Millie would get past  her … whatever to him. He didn't want this brought into his house.

"She wants you."

His face heated. Where had Elise gotten this frank talk? "She's a friend. Nothing more."

"You dated once."

"Are you implying I never got over her, or I want to see her again?"

"Either. I won't have this family go through the kind of humiliation Gilbert brought down on his."

"Which is all the more reason why I would never do anything like that!"  He rose, deliberately using his height to intimidate her. "I don't have  any feelings for Millie beyond as a friend and client. I married you. We  made a life and a family together. I have no regrets about the choices I  made."

"Then prove it."

"Prove-" He swallowed his anger, as new, unfamiliar emotions pushed  against him. Doubt. Worry. Could Elise actually be jealous? And what  would she do if these unfounded thoughts festered? "What do you expect  me to do?"

"Stay away from her. She can confide in her priest. She can-" she bared her teeth "-hug another friend."

"We've been friends for more than thirty years. You've been friends for almost that long."

"And we will be again … once she finds another man to hug."

"I'm processing her husband's will. I can't not take her calls." Not to  mention she was one of only two people besides himself who knew the  details about the second will. Unless you counted the possibility of a  stripper from Daytona Beach. Which he didn't.                       
       
           



       

Elise leaned across the desk, her eyes bright with fury. "Calls, fine. Visits, no."

"I won't have my wife dictating my professional obligations."

"Then you can make other plans during our usual Wednesday-night appointment."

She was withholding sex? What the devil had gotten into the woman? "Are you threatening me?"

"No, Joseph. I'm telling you. Get rid of that woman." She turned and  strode from the office, closing the door behind her with a decisive  snap.

Incredulous, he sank into his chair. He tossed back the drink he'd  poured, then winced at the burn down his throat. Scotch was to be  sipped, savored. Like life.

His life had been perfect a few weeks ago. Exactly as it should be. Damn  Gilbert Switzer for dying. This was all that bastard's fault. Why  couldn't he have hired an upscale escort service, like every other  normal man? Though Joseph had never availed himself of their services,  he had several on file in case a visiting colleague or client had the  need.

How many empires had fallen because of somebody's stupid dick?

As much as he wanted to call Elise's bluff, he knew he wouldn't. She fought dirty. He ought to know; he'd taught her.

Though he wasn't overly demonstrative, he loved his wife, the comfort  and companionship she gave him. She was reserved herself. Their goals  and personalities suited each other. Their life together was important  to him, and he wasn't going to let anyone or anything threaten that.

Come to think of it, Millie's over-the-top emotions were another reason he'd broken off their relationship.

He looked at the grandfather clock against the wall. After ten. Too late to call. He'd leave it till morning.

Somebody had to help him out of this mess. And he had the ideal person in mind.