Chapter 13
PROPOSAL
Michelle
Michelle: On my way. Had a last-minute session that ran late.
Jack: Better not have been with a devilishly handsome CEO of a lingerie company or something like that.
Michelle: Jealous already, Jack? I assure you, you’re the only devilishly handsome CEO I refuse to treat.
Jack: I’d like to make sure I’m the only one you refuse to treat.
Michelle: That shouldn’t be a problem. Incidentally, do you know any devilishly handsome CEOs who sell sexy lingerie? I’m in the market for a matching pair of white lace panties and a demi-cup bra.
Jack: I’d like to take you lingerie shopping.
Michelle: For the white lace panties and bra? Or do you have something else in mind?
Jack: The dressing room.
Jack: By the way, what color panties are you wearing tonight?
Michelle: I would expect a man such as yourself would simply find out.
Jack: Oh, I will, Michelle. I will.
The red ball rolled along the sand and I waited, waited, waited as tension and competitive hope coiled tight inside me. The ball slowed, and I clenched my fingers into my palms, willing the ball to pass the blue one of Jack’s on the way to the small white ball.
Closer, just a bit closer.
Then the red ball lazily turned once more until it nearly kissed the white one.
I raised my arms in the air victoriously, thrilled to have won this round of the lawn bowling game.
“You’re on a roll today. First, your paper is accepted.
Then you crush me at bocce ball,” Jack said, flashing me a grin.
I’d told him about the end-of-the-day email, and that had called for a celebratory round of drinks, which had then turned into a celebratory game of bocce ball, here on the makeshift court in the back of the restaurant.
I was on some kind of high, and surely that had contributed to my victory.
I’d called my brother, Davis, on the cab ride over to share the news, and he’d been thrilled.
I’d also emailed Carla, my mentor, who’d replied with an all exclamation points email.
She’d heard from me recently about Jack too, when I had recapped for her the conflict of interest situation.
“It’s my lucky day,” I said, thinking it was more like a lucky night and day since it had started twenty-four hours ago when I’d met him.
Jack extended his hand as if we were gracious competitors and he was congratulating my winning game.
But as he took my hand, he surprised me by tugging me in close, then planting a searing kiss on my lips.
One that delivered a red-hot blast of lust right through my body, and sent all that winning glee whooshing out of me.
In its place was a hot new wave of longing.
When he pulled away, I felt wobbly, and I was sure my lipstick had been erased by his lips. “Wow,” I said. “Does losing at bocce ball bring out the beast in you?”
“Maybe it does. Maybe bowling does too. Maybe arcade games as well.”
“In that case, I’m hiring a bocce ball tutor and a bowling expert so I can beat you every time,” I said, with a wink and a sashay of the hips.
“You can beat me at any game any time, as long as I can kiss you like this.”
“Does that mean you threw the game to get a little piece of me?”
“Never. But I’ll take it,” he said in a low, growly tone, then ran his hand along the back of my thigh, his fingertips darting near the hemline.
I wore a simple, sleeveless black dress that fell to just above my knees.
The material was soft cotton, and the skirt was flared, so the material allowed for easy access.
Yes, I was a planner, and this dress suggested possibilities.
“Purple?” he whispered in a question.
I shook my head. Every fifteen minutes or so he’d tried to guess the color of my lingerie.
He’d been wrong. I loved that he kept guessing.
I also loved that he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off me, especially my legs.
I’d worn my strappy black Louboutins. Four inches high, they made my legs look strong and toned.
“Rest assured I won’t stop until I find out what color you have on,” he said.
“I have no doubt.”
“By the way, have I told you how sexy you look in this black dress?” He ran his hand along the small of my back.
I arched into him, like a cat being petted.
I might start purring any second. I wasn’t used to someone wanting to have his hands on me the whole time.
Jack seemed incapable of keeping his hands off me. This was living.
“No. Why don’t you tell me?”
He raked his eyes over me, from my face, to my neck, to my breasts, to my waist. “It’s perfect for you. For that whole sexy-librarian look you have going on.”
I laughed deeply, his comment catching me off guard. “Shouldn’t I have on glasses to complete that look?”
He raised an eyebrow, his lips curving up in a naughty grin. “Do you have some? And can you pin up your hair too?”
I could picture Jack getting into role-play—the boss and the secretary, the teacher and the student, the delivery service. And I could definitely picture me liking it.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer the French maid costume I have back at my apartment?” I posited.
He shook his head, and wrapped his arm around my waist. “I’m sure. Because that sexy librarian look of yours brings me to my knees,” he said, his cool-blue eyes blazing darkly.
I shivered against him, my body responding to every sensual, suggestive, and dirty thing he said.
I ran my hand through his hair, savoring the soft slide through my fingers as I shifted my body closer.
Who cared that we were on a makeshift bocce ball court in the back of an Italian restaurant? I didn’t.
“But maybe I want to get on my knees for you,” I said in my best sexy voice.
His breath caught in his chest. A low rumble sounded in his throat. Then, there was the press of his erection against my thigh. “I want to see that. Soon,” he said.
I gripped his hair harder, moving my lips across the deliciously salty skin of his neck, traveling up to his ear, cataloging every second of his physical response.
Playing into it. Feeding him the images he craved.
“Imagine me with my black glasses, my hair pinned up, my pencil skirt on,” I said into his ear, and he slammed my chest to him, crushing me there.
“Sucking you,” I said, flicking my tongue against his earlobe, leaving him with that image firmly planted in his head.
I wrenched back, enjoying the look in his eyes. Hazy, wild, unrestrained.
“Later,” I added, nodding to our table several feet away. The waitress had just set down our dishes.
Jack
“You have fans.”
I looked up from the chicken parmigiana in front of me to see Michelle casting her eyes in the direction of the bar.
I spotted a pair of young women wearing tops that revealed bare shoulders and holding glasses that held copious amounts of red wine.
The redhead in the pair whispered to her friend when I looked up, the sort of conspiratorial he’s-seen-us warning.
I shrugged as if to say what can you do? Whether from having been involved with somebody like Aubrey, a world-class athlete with sponsorships and Olympic medals to her credit, or from the job I held, I’d grown accustomed to being recognized from time to time.
“It doesn’t bother me. Does it bother you?”
She laughed, and shook her head. “Not really. Honestly? I’m used to it. My brother’s a well-known theater director and his wife is a Tony award-winning actress so I see it a lot with them.”
“Good,” I said, flashing her a grin that I hoped would melt her. “Then you won’t be bothered by the stares as I take you out around town and romance you.”
“You’re presumptuous, aren’t you?”
“You’re the one who mentioned a bocce ball tutor.”
“Maybe I’ve simply been hoping to improve my game.”
I didn’t give her a chance to answer. Instead, I cupped the back of her head and dropped my mouth to her lips, kissing away that first sexy gasp of surprise.
Her lips were divine, soft and full and thoroughly delicious.
I swept the tip of my tongue across the curve of her top lip, then nibbled on her bottom one.
Her mouth was sweet and tasted of the white wine she’d been drinking.
The scent of her jasmine shampoo filled my nostrils, and it was heady, and perfect for her, as all these scents collided in a kiss.
I hardly wanted to break the kiss at all, but I was so tempted to explore more of her, to kiss her neck, her ear, to bite the soft flesh of her collarbone like I’d done last night.
To hear all her sexy responses to every touch. Even the way she responded now, to a simple kiss, was intoxicating. She was a woman who relished kissing, who seemed to let go of herself in the moment from the way I touched her. I wanted more of her physical abandon.
I also didn’t want to have a painful erection throughout the entire meal. I’d been hard the whole night sitting next to her. Then rock-hard when she’d teased me with her delicious blow-job imagery. But the more I consumed her lips, the more trouble I’d be in. Better stop now.
I pulled back, thrilling at the look on her face. Lips parted slightly, eyes closed. Then she shuddered and opened her eyes, as if she were dragging herself out of a trip down Unexpected Lust Lane.
“Who said you’d be romancing me?” she countered as she reached for her fork and dove back into her plate of pasta primavera.
“I say it,” I said, taking a bite of chicken.
“Maybe I’m only going on one date with you.”
“I’ll have to find a way to convince you for more then. I’ll see if I have any tricks up my sleeve.”
She took another bite, chewed, then set down her fork. Her expression turned serious. “Actually, I hate to be blunt, but I’ve learned a thing or two about being upfront, seeing as how I failed to be upfront about something really important for ten years.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, after I finished my bite and took a drink of wine.