Chapter One
Yvette Samson stripped her curve-hugging Roberto Cavalli dress from her body before the door to her contemporary, midtown condominium even closed behind her. Wearing nothing but a black lace bra, matching boy-short panties and her four-inch stilettos, she walked into her bedroom and tossed the dress over the back of the armchair in the far corner. She crossed to the bed and threw back the crimson-colored duvet, then dragged the satin top sheet off the mattress.
Carrying the sheet into the living room, she draped it haphazardly over the enormous, high-backed sofa that served as the centerpiece of the artistically decorated room. Next, she retrieved a tall, oscillating fan from the hall closet, plugged it in, positioned it to blow on the sofa and cranked it to high. She stood in front of the stream of air for several minutes, letting the wind tunnel she’d created cool her hot, dewy skin. The quick change in temperature tightened her nipples behind the lacy cups of her bra. The breeze from the fan on the moist crotch of her panties was as stimulating as fingers brushing over the sensitive spot, a whisper of a touch along her pussy lips.
The fine layer of perspiration that covered her chest and belly felt less sticky and oppressive as it chilled with the light gust coming her way. Making her skin tingle. She would have turned the air conditioner on, but with all the humidity and rain of late, the built-up condensation had killed the motor. The part was on order, leaving Yvette without air conditioning for the weekend.
The association that maintained the building had informed her the temperature inside her condo was still within a range deemed “appropriate” according to their written bylaws. Therefore, her lack of cool air was not currently subject to their involvement in expediting the repair. She was this close to checking into a hotel, but couldn’t fully justify it when the air conditioning units in the condos surrounding hers helped to keep the building from burning up. In fact, the hallway was downright chilly from the central unit. A Godsend during this massive heat wave that had hit Manhattan following the unexpected rains.
She poured a glass of freezer-chilled vodka from the wet bar and downed a healthy gulp. The frigid liquid helped to cool her insides a bit. She set the glass on the tall end table next to the sofa, went out into the foyer and propped the door open. Just enough so she could leave the security chain in place. The brisk breeze from the hall was welcome, but it’d take awhile to bring the temperature in her condo down a couple degrees.
Perhaps a cold shower was a better alternative to the fan, but she suspected the respite would be fleeting. She’d need another one five minutes later, so what was the point?
Instead, she retrieved a spray bottle from under the kitchen sink, filled it with cold water and returned to the living room. She flipped on the CD player, already loaded with sexy jazz tunes, and then sank onto the plush sofa. She’d covered it with the satin sheet, knowing the lightweight, slippery material would be a hell of a lot cooler than the velvet.
Finally feeling the relief from her efforts, she reached for her cocktail and sipped it as she spritzed herself with water, the air from the fan turning the mist chilly. She leaned back against the rolled arm of the sofa and spread her long, blonde hair over it, letting the air and the spray of water cool her neck.
She’d just finished her first glass of vodka, certain her internal temperature was no longer in the triple-digit range, when the doorman rang her, announcing Finn Griffith’s unexpected visit. Perking Yvette up considerably.
“Send him up!” she said into the phone receiver she’d left on the coffee table.
Finn was a renowned artist who was also devilishly handsome. A bit broody, as most creative geniuses were, yet definitely a tall, dark and hunky fantasy come to life. She wondered what had brought him by this evening.
A thrill of anticipation shimmied down her spine at the possibilities that ran rampant through her mind.
Climbing off the sofa, she refreshed her beverage and poured one for Finn. Leaving the cocktails on the smoky glass-top of the wet bar, she strolled to the foyer, just as she heard the elevator ding. She unhooked the security chain and pulled the door open just enough to peek up and down the hallway to ensure her neighbors weren’t out and about. Seeing only Finn, she yanked the door open and filled the doorway with her nearly naked body as she propped a hip against the frame.
Finn drew up short, staring at her, a wicked grin on his perfectly sculpted face and lust flashing in his melted-chocolate brown eyes.
“Jesus,” he said. “You could give a grown man wet dreams.”
She smiled. “How sweet of you to say.”
“Do you always answer the door in your underwear and high heels?”