Just One Taste...(23)

"But Tonya and her pink thong-"                       
       
           



       

Vanessa grabbed him by his tie. "Will be wrapped around your neck if you complete that thought."

"I'm crazy about commanding women," he said, spinning Vanessa around so  she could fill the glasses with the seductive blue liquor. From behind  her, he added the lemon wedge garnishes.

The heat emanating from his body made Vanessa want to push against him,  made her wish for privacy and endless hours to indulge in fantasy and  lust. For a moment, she closed her eyes and breathed in the enticing,  spicy scent of him.

"If we get drinks out quick," Mia said, "we might not have a revolt."

Vanessa felt her face flush. She was getting too wrapped up in Lucas.  After she filled the tray, she handed it to him. "You're walking home if  you flirt with those women."

He winked. "Yes, ma'am."

"You're enjoying this way too much."

"Oh, no, chère," he said as he walked toward the door. "This is really hard work."

With another wink and a smile, he sailed out of the kitchen.

"God, he's beautiful."

Vanessa eyed her partner. "Don't think I won't put the whip on you either."

"Just promise me I get your outfit for my date with Colin on Tuesday."  Her eyes danced. "It clearly has an intoxicating effect on men."

"I guess the lake trip went well." With the flurry of catering prep, she  hadn't had the opportunity to ask about the big boating date.

Mia wiggled her pink satin-clad hips. "Ooh, la, la." Dressed in the  good-girl outfit-a tight silk dress, gathered on the sides and boosting  her friend's bosom to new heights-Mia embodied cheeky fun. The big pink  bow holding back her ponytail did nothing to spoil the I'm good, but not  really innocent costume.

"How did you get Lucas to trade a date for work?"

"He volunteered."

Mia's jaw dropped. "Maybe it's true love. I mean, who would trade dinner  and clubbing for this?" As she flung her hand out, a cheer rose from  the other room.

No doubt the stripper their client had requested they hire had dispensed  with another piece of clothing. Vanessa only hoped Millie was keeping  her clothes on.

At the start of the party, Vanessa had shamelessly pressed a cocktail  glass in her hand, introduced her to the hostess, then darted off to  deal with the appetizers.

Millie had gotten into the spirit of the party. After a woman had  suffered through a cheating husband, then a dead husband, Vanessa  figured she deserved any fun she could get.

So far, Millie hadn't pulled a Tonya routine, but Vanessa still hoped  the woman didn't give details about the night to her father.

Focusing on Mia, Vanessa considered true love. She was hot for Lucas,  enjoyed being with him, but love was way in the future. She had a  business to keep afloat, and, hopefully, a family to repair.

She was having fun with Lucas and counting on nothing else. No matter  how many times she had to tell her fluttering heart of that simple fact.

Mia snapped her fingers in front of Vanessa's face. "He volunteered."

"He wanted to see what my work was like," she said as she loaded a tray of chocolate-covered strawberries.

"He wanted to see your ass in that leather skirt."

Vanessa hefted the tray over her shoulder and headed toward the door. "Oh, no. I kept that a surprise."

"Don't forget it's mine on Tuesday," Mia called after her.





8



VANESSA ENTERED the living room and found the stripper down to his silky  black shorts and half the women too busy fawning over Lucas to notice.  The next time her lover came to work with her, it was going to be at the  Sister Mary Katherine retirement party.The stripper, on the other hand,  was not heading toward a potbelly. Vanessa wished she could fully  appreciate him, but with Lucas nearby to appreciate, the stripper didn't  even come close to comparing.

He continued with his teasing, hip-swiveling dance as Vanessa set the  tray of strawberries on the coffee table. Her body throbbed for Lucas,  but she made polite conversation with several guests.

Conflicted desire consumed her thoughts. She wanted him alone, but she  enjoyed watching him interact. She needed to touch him, but she liked  reveling in the anticipation.                       
       
           



       

She loved the crinkles that formed at the corners of his eyes when he  smiled. She was crazy about the way he watched her when she talked. He  was genuinely interested in what she thought. He wasn't just waiting for  her to be quiet so he could make his own point.

He'd swung into the role of server so easily she remembered he'd done it before, working his way through school as a bartender.

His smile drove her wild. Beneath that serious lawyer there was a  fun-loving guy, one who might not get out too often, but who clearly  wanted to run free. His desire to be with her, his instinct to protect  her made her sigh, her heart flutter.

Though her practical side was reserving judgment, most of the rest of her was cheering in unison.

This guy is special.

As another cheer rose, she focused again on the party. Millie's eyes  were a bit glazed as she smiled vaguely at Lucas delivering a fresh  drink, but hopefully she wasn't brooding over her cheating husband.

After he made his sweep through the guests, Lucas swung his empty tray over his head and walked toward Vanessa.

She watched the stripper execute a hip swivel.

"He's gay," Lucas said.

"He's not. Mia asked. Though who'd care. He's really hot."

Lucas cast a sideways glance at her. The challenge in that look made her shiver. "He is, huh?"

She tucked her arm through his. "Well, pretty hot."

"Thanks for letting me come tonight."

"Thanks? Catering is exhausting, before, during and after a party. Don't you want to go back to your cushy office?"

"God, yes." He laid his hand over hers. "But I like watching you-and not  just because of the black leather getup. You and Mia are experts at  making things happen, at including everyone, making a gathering an  event. I can't wait to see what you do for my party."

She glanced at him. "What party?"

"The one I'm giving at my apartment that you're catering."

"Have we signed a contract on this?"

"I think it was more of a handshake deal." He paused, then grinned. "Or maybe a kiss."

"Just where was this kiss?"

"You mean where did it take place, or what body part was involved?"

He was too much. But then she'd always been an advocate for excess. "Both."

"In my office earlier today, I said I wanted to hire you. The details on  what I kissed afterward are a little fuzzy, though. Maybe we should  have a reenactment?"

Vanessa glanced around at the cheering, singing, dancing women. They  seemed content. "I think that can be arranged." She headed down the hall  to the spare bedroom where the women had stored their purses.

Obviously getting into the spirit, Lucas shut and locked the door. "You are a naughty lady."

She laid her hand in the center of his chest, pressing him back against  the door. "I'm the dominatrix-lady tonight, and you'd better behave."  She stepped close, flicking her tongue across his bottom lip, then  sinking her teeth in lightly. "You're only getting a taste," she  whispered. "I have other business to finish."

He moaned like a man in pain. "As your lowly assistant, I only deserve a taste."

Pleased, she laid her mouth over his, pushing her tongue lazily past his  lips. He tasted like icing, and she smiled inwardly at the picture of  him dipping his finger into the cake he'd served. The heat between them  roared to life. She curled her fingers into his shirt as need invaded  her body.

He molded her against him as he seduced her mouth. She tried to maintain  her playfully dominant role, though she felt the urge to let him enfold  her in his warmth. Her sense of independence would never let that last,  but the impulse was still there.

Sometimes she felt in awe of his interest and pursuit. Why her? How had  she gotten involved with this fascinating man? Was it possible their  attraction could last?

He'd shown no desire to change her, to always put his needs ahead of  hers, as others had in the past. Would he someday? One day, would he be  embarrassed to tell his friends and colleagues that her profession  involved wearing a leather bustier from time to time? Would his desire  to be respected among the wealthy and successful force him to someday  apologize for her catering?