Just Toying Around… Read online

  His voice sounded strained, angry almost, making Meg smile. Apparently the idea of Ron Capshaw bothering her disturbed him. Meg had never had a man—besides her father—so blatantly concerned for her happiness, her well-being. She could handle the Rons of the world, but she liked knowing that someone had her back if she couldn’t. She could get used to having a protector, Meg thought, her chest lightening with joy. “Oh, well. I doubt he’ll be heartbroken if I don’t show up. So, where are you going to take me?” she asked.

  “Well, I’m going to take you in the elevator, in the coat closet, in a phone booth, in a cab, in—”

  Meg laughed out loud at his outrageous litany. “That all sounds promising, but I want to know where you are taking me tomorrow.”

  Exaggerated confusion creased his brow. He scratched his temple. “I’m sorry. Isn’t that what I just answered?”

  “Keep it up and you’ll be lucky to take me back to bed,” she teased.

  “Guess again, baby. I have you in bed right now.”

  Meg growled in warning.

  Laughing, Nick surrendered. He kissed her neck, banded her more closely to him, inadvertently setting off another blast of desire. “Where do you want to go?”

  Meg grinned, purposely arched her rump against his semi-hard erection. “Dunno about tomorrow. But right now I’d like a trip to the moon.”

  She felt him harden completely. Nick growled, rolled her round to face him. Planted a long, slow kiss on her lips. “One trip to the moon coming up.”

  He took her to the moon and back again, buzzed by a few stars and gave her a tour of the entire galaxy before finally settling back down to earth.

  Nick was one hell of a pilot.

  13

  “I SAID I’M WORKING on a solution and I am,” Nick repeated patiently. “You’ve just got to give me some more time and let me do things my way.”

  Nick glanced through his connecting door, made sure that Desiree was still in the shower. Despite virtually no sleep, neither one of them had been inclined to linger in bed this morning. They’d both wanted to get the most of the day.

  “What are you talking about, your way?” Ron fired back. “Since when did my plan involve doing things your way?”

  Nick struggled to keep his voice neutral, to quell the instant surge of anger his brother’s typical braggart response incited. Only the knowledge that Ron was truly desperate to see this business succeed kept Nick from blistering his ears with a few select oaths. “Since you asked me to help you, remember?” Nick reminded him tightly.

  Ron laughed without humor. “We both know that if I’d simply asked you to help me, you would have said no. I had to browbeat you into doing it. It’s no wonder you don’t have any respect for me, any faith. You’ve kept a running list of every failure and have never—never—shown the least little bit of faith in me.” Ron sighed. “Just like Dad.”

  That comment was uncomfortably true, Nick realized with a start. He filed it away for future consideration.

  “Are you going to help me or not, Nick?” Ron asked after a beat of tense silence. “Is she a fraud or not? I need to know.”

  Nick neatly dodged the question. “You asked to have her do another Q&A session,” Nick said. “For what reason?”

  “How else am I supposed to discredit her? Send everyone a postcard telling them that she’s a fraud?” He snorted. “I need to put an end to her reviews at this show.”

  “That won’t be necessary, I can guarantee that. Besides, she’s not doing the session because she’s going to be with me.”

  “With you?” Ron swore. “You weren’t supposed to start dating her, you were just supposed to get close enough to her to see if she was on the up and up, to see if she was a fraud. What’s going on, Nick?” Ron asked suspiciously.

  “Nothing. You just need to let me do things my way. Back off and I’ll take care of everything.”

  “Whatever,” he finally huffed. “It’s getting down to the wire here. We’re running out of time.”

  Didn’t he know it? Nick thought, absently rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’ll handle it,” Nick repeated.

  Ron sighed gratefully into the phone. “Okay. I know you will. It’s just, I’m going crazy here, not knowing what’s going on. And she posted those other reviews.” He paused and Nick could practically feel his desperation through the phone. “I’m onto something here, Nick. I’ve got to make this business work! I’ve got to!”

  The sound of running water abruptly stopped, forcing Nick’s gaze back to Desiree’s room. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll meet you in the lobby in the morning at ten.”

  “Ten?” Ron parroted.

  “Yes, ten, and not a moment before.”

  “Fine. I guess that’ll have to work.” Another pause. “The show’s not over until noon. I can…I can handle it. But be prompt,” he warned. “That’s cutting it too close for comfort.”

  “Bye.” Nick ended the call just as Desiree stepped from the shower. She smiled a greeting at him, toweled her hair. Her gaze landed on the phone at his ear and a perplexed little frown wrinkled her brow. “Just clearing my schedule,” Nick told her.

  God, she was gorgeous. Nick couldn’t imagine what had made him think her features were only passable when he first saw her. He must have been out of his mind. High on stupidity. Something. Nick took a moment to drink her in, to commit to memory the way she looked right now.

  Her wet hair hung like a dark chocolate curtain, clung to her slim shoulders. Her skin, flushed from her shower, had been scrubbed clean with some sort of citrusy fragrance he could smell from here. Her nose and cheeks were particularly shiny and that unbelievably ripe, carnal mouth he’d undoubtedly see in his dreams from now to eternity was a luscious natural pink, free of makeup.

  Wet droplets ran down the small indentation of her spine, over her womanly hips and heart-shaped derriere. She turned and Nick glimpsed the dark triangle of curls snuggled at the apex of her thighs. Her womanly frame was firm where it should be firm and soft where it should be soft.

  She had entirely too much meat on her to be considered model perfect, but frankly Nick didn’t care for the skin-over-skeleton look that was currently so popular. Desiree put him in mind of Marilyn Monroe. Soft, curvy and voluptuous.

  She was perfect.

  “I can be ready in a few minutes,” she told him over the roar of the blow dryer.

  Nick nodded. He’d heard that before, but with this particular woman he knew better than to not believe it. Desiree could out-multitask anyone he’d ever known.

  Fifteen minutes later, they were pulling out from under the hotel’s porte-cochere. White clouds streaked across the clear September sky like a slash from a painter’s brush across a blue canvas. The bright sun had already burned the dew from the grass, promising another unseasonably warm day.

  Desiree had dressed for the occasion in a red-and-white gingham sleeveless shirt which hit her just above her belly button, giving him a glimpse of smooth skin above white walking shorts. She wore those sexy little sandals he loved. She’d twisted her curls up again in another claw-clip and wore a pair of designer sunglasses. Small gold hoops hung from her ears. She looked fresh and relaxed and sexy as hell.

  “So, where are we headed?” Nick asked her.

  “What about The High Museum of Art?” she asked. “They’re featuring an Impressionist exhibition I’d like to see.”

  Nick nodded and aimed the car toward Midtown. The area buzzed with activity. Steel, glass and asphalt interrupted by small patches of green and the occasional tree gave the atmosphere a frenetic energy. In recent years, this particular section of Atlanta had seen tremendous growth. High-rise buildings had seemingly sprouted from the concrete overnight. Traffic was heavy for this time of morning. Pedestrians marched up and down the sidewalks as bicycles and scooters zoomed in and out between them in some sort of synchronized metropolitan dance.

  Nick found a parking space several blocks away from the museum. He and Desire
e joined the activity, content to stroll along, pausing every once in a while to look at things that caught her fancy. Having her small, delicate hand in his made Nick’s chest swell with several foreign emotions, all of which made him feel like he could conquer the world, made him feel…happy.

  He wanted to protect her, to know her every thought. Wanted to drag her back to bed and slake his perpetual lust and then start all over again. Mostly he just wanted.

  A blast of cool, climate-controlled air hit them the moment they walked into the impressive architectural structure of The High Museum.

  “Wow,” she breathed.

  “Ditto,” Nick seconded.

  A towering atrium soared overhead, drawing the eye upward where a sleek ramp wound its way along one side. Nick and Desiree opted to take the elevator up and work their way down by way of the ramp. Each floor offered interesting displays, but nothing drew a reaction from Desiree the way the Impressionists exhibit did.

  Nick had never had what one would call a keen appreciation of art, but even his untrained eye recognized the talent, the magic in these bygone artists. Degas’ Two Dancers in Blue, Monet’s Green Reflections, Renoir’s Madam Charpentier and Her Children and Morisot’s—one of the only women dubbed a Master from that period—The Cradle.

  When Desiree had first mentioned going to The High, Nick hadn’t been particularly thrilled, but he had to confess that he’d been pleasantly surprised and had enjoyed himself immensely. She seemed to have read as much on his face.

  She lifted a brow, quirked a grin. “Liked it, did you?”

  “Yeah, I did,” Nick admitted.

  She cast him a sidelong glance. “But you weren’t expecting to.”

  It was a statement, not a question, but he answered anyway. He grinned, pulled the pickle off his chicken salad sandwich. They’d gone to the lower level of the museum for lunch at Alon’s Bakery. “No,” he told her. “I was hoping you’d want to see a Braves game.”

  She popped a chip in her mouth. “But now?”

  “Now I’m glad you dragged me here.”

  “Dragged you?” She laughed, her eyes twinkling merrily. “Oh, that’s rich. You tell me to pick where we go and yet you were ‘dragged.’ Typical male mentality, and I thought you were above it.”

  “You’re right,” Nick said after a moment. “I wasn’t dragged. I was forced to come along by my gesture of selfless diplomacy.”

  She tugged an extra chair from another table and propped her feet up.

  Nick gazed pointedly at her feet, raised an eyebrow in question.

  “It’s getting pretty deep in here and I don’t have on my hiking boots.”

  He laughed out loud. “Very cute.”

  She batted her lashes shamelessly. “I try.” She polished off another chip, took a sip of soda. “Seriously, didn’t you just feel awed by the art? Moved?”

  Nick nodded. Manly or not, he had.

  She continued to eat her food thoughtfully. “If someone said, ‘Here’s the money, you’ve got twenty-four hours. Where do you want to go?’ I’d hop a flight to Paris and spend every minute I could in the Louvre. Just soak it all in.”

  Now this was an interesting tidbit. Personal, one of those rare morsels he waited for. “Paris?”

  “Definitely. Provided nothing goes wrong, I’m going there next summer to study with a master pastry chef named Pierre Roulier. He’s amazing. It’s a six-week course. I’ve been saving for a while, but—” she hesitated, smiled ruefully “—the tuition is steep, plus room and board, travel fees and all that.” She shrugged. “But that kind of training is essential in my field. More expertise, more training equals more money. It’s that simple.” She smiled again. “So now you know what a sex-toy critic spends her money on. Exciting, huh?”

  Yes, Nick thought. It was. He’d never been to Paris. Had never taken a vacation other than a three-day weekend here and there. He’d never made the time to do much of anything besides work. Nick wouldn’t allow himself to wonder why he’d always put work first. Some sort of personal truth he didn’t wish to unearth lay in that emotional tomb.

  But the idea of going to Paris with her… Inwardly Nick smiled. Now that held appeal. That would be something Nick would make time for. Spending a vacation in the most romantic city in the world with Desiree, being swept up in her enthusiasm, sucked into the tornado of her vivacity, that would be incredible.

  Nick half listened as Desiree continued to tell him about her dreams of going to Paris, training under the renowned Pierre so-and-so. Visions of them traveling the world together kept jet-setting across his mind. There were several places he’d like to go, things he would like to do, and he couldn’t help but imagine her reaction to each and every adventure.

  “—and so that’s why I decided to leave the convent, join the circus and become a lesbian.”

  Nick blinked, yanked from his thoughts. “Sorry?”

  “You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said,” she accused playfully. She propped her head against her palm. “What gives? Are my dreams boring you to death?”

  “Nothing about you bores me to death,” he told her, leveling his apologetic gaze on hers. “I’m sorry. I zoned out for a minute.”

  “I gathered that. Anything you want to share?”

  No. Not yet, anyway. There were several things he needed to take care of first. Like Ron. “Oh, it was nothing really. Just—”

  Her lids drooped, she faked a snore and the hand holding her head up gave way dramatically. “Oh.” She blinked as though she’d just dozed off. “Sorry. What was that again?”

  Nick laughed. “Point taken. Hey, I told you I was sorry. What do you want me to do?”

  Without warning, her gaze dropped to his lips, lingered. “To me or for me?”

  Like Lazarus from the dead, lust rose instantly. “Either,” Nick managed.

  She hummed under her breath. “I’ll have to think about it. But, just so you know, I have some special plans for you tonight. Don’t get any ideas about blowing me off.”

  That sounded promising, Nick thought, as heat pooled in his groin. “Just so you know, I have some special plans for you as well. And you can think about blowing me off all you want.”

  Her lids fluttered and she slowly licked her lips. “I’m thinking about it,” she told him. “But I’d like to turn that thought into action. What do you say we go back to the hotel? I’ll need a little time to prepare. My special plans come first.”

  “Fine by me,” he said quickly, eager to heed the come-hither order she’d just issued his penis. “Let’s go.”

  MEG GLANCED AROUND the room one last time, made sure that everything was in order. This was her first attempt at a true seduction and she wanted everything to be as perfect as it could possibly be. Nick still needed a few lessons in Sex 101—in forfeiting control to a partner—and this would be her last night to teach him. Her last chance to show him how wonderful the unknown could sometimes be.

  The thought struck a sharp pang of regret, but she forced herself not to think along those lines. She’d known when they began this week together that this would be the way things played out. She’d known…and yet that knowing had not prepared her for the keen sense of loss. Her heart squeezed painfully and moisture pricked the back of her lids.

  Meg blinked, forcing the sentiment to recede. She couldn’t allow herself to dwell on that now. She and Nick had precious little time left together and she didn’t want to spend it mired in regret. She could weep for what might have been once she got home. Admit her true feelings for him in the privacy of her bedroom armed with a box of tissues and a gallon of ice cream, because she didn’t dare admit them here, didn’t dare let him suspect that what had started out as a substantial physical attraction had grown into something altogether more precious. At least, for her.

  So much for a no-strings affair, Meg thought. Nick had kept the strings, unwittingly cast a net and her poor heart was hopelessly tangled up in it.

  Meg pulled in a shu
ddering breath, summoned composure. She’d sort it out later. Right now, she just wanted to be with him. This was it, her last chance and she wanted to savor each second, relish each minute.

  She’d pulled the drapes, scattered candles all around the darkened room, letting their warm glow barely illuminate the darkness. She’d sprayed the sheets with a neat little item called Sheer Satin, making the cool cotton silky to the touch. She’d loaded her bedside table with her favorite toys, favorite enhancers and a few other necessary items.

  Heat rushed through her limbs at the thought of what she and Nick were about to do. What he would do to her, what she would do to him. Tonight, he would be her life-size toy, his magnificent body her playground.

  Meg checked her reflection in the dresser mirror and was startled at the woman staring back at her. She wore a black-and-red silk teddy with see-through gauzy fabric over her nipples. The garment tied right between her breasts, leaving a deep inverted vee of open skin. Made of a coordinating fabric, the matching thong barely covered her mound and rode high on her hips.

  Meg had taken her hair down, and the long brown waves shimmered around her almost bare shoulders. She looked like a woman ready for her man, Meg decided, pleased with the vampish ensemble. She smiled. Lot of trouble for something she couldn’t wait to take off.

  She knocked lightly on the connecting door. “Nick?”

  He appeared almost instantly. His hot gaze roved over her body, leaving a delicious trail of warm sensation. He blinked. Swallowed. Finally, “My God.”

  Meg felt a cat-in-the-cream grin slide across her lips. She pirouetted. “You like?”

  “Y-yes,” came his strangled reply. He reached for her.

  Meg slid back, beckoned him farther into the room. “Oh, no. Remember? I’m calling the shots this time…and you have to take it.” She punctuated the remark with a bold caress across his groin. Nick’s jaw tensed at the contact.

  Meg frowned, taking in his fully clothed appearance. “To begin with, you’re overdressed. Strip.”

  A laugh burst from his throat. “As the lady wishes.”