Just Toying Around… Page 7

  “Okay.”

  Nick met Desiree by the door. “You pick where we go. You’re the expert.”

  “So you’ve said.” She sighed as she gazed up at him.

  “Well, you are.” Nick paused and traced a half-moon on her smooth cheek. “You’re every man’s fantasy. You know your food and your sex.” He smiled. “If you’re an armchair quarterback as well, I’m in trouble.”

  She returned his grin, thankful for once that her father had drilled the sport into her practically since birth. “How does it feel to be in trouble?”

  “Dunno,” he said huskily. “But I bet it tastes good.”

  Though he knew he shouldn’t, knew where it would lead, Nick lowered his mouth to hers. An intense mind-numbing heat swept him from head to toe as her sweet tongue tangled with his. Blood rushed to his groin, stiffened to the point of pain. Dammit. Kissing her would never be enough.

  Nick heaved an internal sigh. Regrettably, it would have to be.

  He had to preserve some part of his honor, and taking advantage of her by sleeping with her was simply out of the question. Desiree didn’t know why he was here, didn’t realize that she’d essentially brought the enemy into her camp. She was simply a beautiful, vibrant woman acting on instinct. She had no idea that Nick had ulterior motives for befriending her, that if she wasn’t who she claimed to be, he’d be responsible for getting her fired from Foreplay.

  No matter how desperately he might want to, he could not sleep with her.

  The thought rang with more futility and less conviction than Nick would have preferred.

  6

  MEG DIDN’T KNOW what had prompted Nick’s invitation to go out to dinner, her critique of the room service perhaps. Whatever the reason, she found herself secretly pleased at the impromptu request.

  Now came the tricky part—picking a fine restaurant in Atlanta where she wouldn’t be recognized by either an owner or a chef.

  For all intents and purposes, for the rest of the week, she was Desiree Moon. In order to truly delve into that character, Meg couldn’t risk Nick finding out her true identity. She wanted to simply be Desiree for the next few days and then just disappear.

  Furthermore, though chances were slim of Nick inadvertently letting her critiquing job slip in front of someone who really knew her, that was also a chance she didn’t want to take. Renauld was a fanatic about appearances and would consider Meg’s Foreplay job horribly scandalous. Though she’d been nothing but an asset to him for the last four years, he still nevertheless wouldn’t hesitate to fire her.

  So where could they go?

  Fine cuisine was a specialized business, resulting in a small, intimate circle of competitors. Restaurant owners made it a point to know the competition—to learn the reputations of the chefs at competing restaurants. The information they gleaned served them in several capacities. It kept the menus fresh and up-to-date, it indicated trends in service and customer relations, and occasionally, it led to offers of employment for a particularly talented chef.

  Meg had had several such offers during her four years of service at Chez Renauld’s. She’d always refused. She’d been part of a team that had literally put Chez Renauld’s on the Who’s Who list of haute cuisine. She’d created her niche at the intimate restaurant and had no intentions of leaving.

  Ever. All the more reason why she had to be so careful.

  Once she had Pierre’s course under her belt, she’d be one of the top pastry chefs in all of Atlanta. She’d be on her way to truly establishing herself in a splendidly specialized art of cuisine.

  Her adamant refusal to play the rotating game—despite staggering incentives—had earned her unparalleled recognition among her peers. As such, she knew most everyone associated with the business—and they knew her.

  Getting out of a restaurant without having someone blow her cover to Nick would be next to impossible.

  Her gaze strayed to where Nick’s fingers rested on the steering wheel. His hands were beautiful. Big and square with long, surprisingly graceful fingers. Meg remembered the feel of them skimming her ribs, kneading her rump. Imagined them dancing up her spine, leisurely tracing the seam of her panties, slipping between her legs… Warmth cascaded through her, fizzed up her thighs.

  Yes, getting out of the restaurant without having someone reveal her identity to Nick would be next to impossible—but unquestionably worth the risk.

  “So,” Nick said, “where are we headed?”

  “Have you ever been to The Matador?”

  Nick shook his head. “I’ve heard of it, seems like my partner has taken clients there, but I’ve never had the pleasure. Is that where you’d like to go?”

  Meg nodded.

  Nick cocked his head in her direction, smiled one of those intimate come-hither smiles of his that turned Meg’s insides to pudding. “Then The Matador it is.”

  Nick seemed more relaxed, Meg noted. Less troubled, for lack of a better description. The taut lines she’d noticed around his mouth had eased and he appeared to be more confident with each mile they put between themselves and the hotel.

  Poor Nick, Meg thought. Though she’d tried to warn him, he obviously hadn’t been able to truly grasp what would be required of him in his role as her critique partner. Seeing all those vibrators, all those sex toys, had apparently been too much for his Insert Tab A into Slot B mentality. He’d seemed fine for a while—eager even, before they’d gone up to her room—but as the lesson had progressed, as she’d proceeded from one vibrator to another, Nick had become increasingly agitated. Uncomfortable.

  Obviously, Nick had let his attraction for her propel him into a situation he didn’t quite know how to deal with and he was too much of a gentleman to back out. Meg knew she should let him off the hook. Knew that she should come up with an alternate plan.

  But she desperately wanted to play. With him.

  She wanted to explore every sensual possibility and she couldn’t dream of asking for a better partner.

  Besides, adult toys were meant to be only that. Toys. Primarily for couples to enhance their sexual relationship. While it was true that some single adults used them for other recreational purposes, they weren’t designed to take the place of a partner. More so to complement that partner, to enhance their sexual experience together.

  That’s what she wanted to show Nick, to do with him. Learn, experience, play.

  True, she was practically a virgin. She had more experience with adult toys than with men.

  But something told Meg that this was a lesson Nick Devereau desperately needed to learn. Somehow, before this week was over, before they returned to their normal lives—a pang of regret struck her at the thought—she’d make him understand that things weren’t always as black and white as he believed. Some things could only be seen in shades of gray. That would be her gift to him for going along with this scheme, for helping her with Marcus Kent.

  She’d help him see the grays.

  WHY ON EARTH had he thought taking her out of the hotel—specifically, out of the bedroom—would help him regain control?

  Clearly, Nick had deluded himself.

  During the twenty-minute drive to the restaurant, he had managed to convince himself that getting Desiree into neutral territory would somehow give him the upper hand. Put him back into the driver’s seat, so to speak. He’d be protected from her beguiling charm, wouldn’t find her as sexy. He mentally snorted. Nick had actually believed that he’d regained control of this situation. After all, he was supposed to be all but seducing her—not the other way around.

  Just over an hour later he knew the truth.

  He’d been wrong. So totally wrong.

  He’d simply traded one form of torture for another. Watching her fondle sex toys had been a cakewalk next to this.

  Watching this woman eat had to be the single most erotic thing he’d ever witnessed.

  Desiree didn’t simply eat—she savored every bite, every aspect of the meal. She’d requested a sec
luded table near the back, ordered the wine and then asked Nick if he would do her the honor of letting her order for him. Nick had agreed and had to admit, she had exquisite taste. Though he’d been exceedingly distracted during the course of their dinner, his meal had been delicious.

  Desiree popped a cherry tomato into her mouth and groaned with pleasure. Her pink, facile tongue darted out and captured a drop of creamy Parmesan sauce from the corner of her lip. Her eyes fluttered dreamily. “Mmmm. This is heavenly.”

  Yeah. Whatever, Nick thought. If she didn’t keep that clever little tongue of hers in her mouth, the strength of his erection would upend the table.

  She took up her glass and slowly sipped her wine, regarding him above the rim of the flute. Her eyes held a sated, dreamy quality Nick found every bit as arousing as watching her eat. He imagined she’d look like that when she came.

  “How’s yours?” she asked.

  “Excellent,” Nick managed.

  Her bottom lip glistened with leftover wine. The pool of candlelight centered in their table cast a golden glow over the vibrant tone of her smooth skin. God, she was gorgeous. Art in motion, and completely clueless as to how utterly captivating she was.

  For instance, she couldn’t possibly know that at this very minute she was in extreme danger of having her rear planted in his lap, having that sexy little dress hiked up to her waist. This act would coincide with the swift elimination of her panties and the swifter addition of himself buried into her heat.

  Nick set his teeth so hard he feared they’d crack. If he didn’t regain some semblance of control—and soon—he’d undoubtedly embarrass himself by exploding in his pants like a randy teenager in the middle of a wet dream.

  Nick braced himself as she took up her utensils again. He stared as she expertly carved a small piece of chicken from the breast on her plate, tracked the slow progress of the morsel to her mouth.

  Watched the fork disappear between her lips.

  Watched it slide back out.

  To his immense discomfort, she moaned again, a little mewl of pleasure that sent another rush of heat straight to his crotch. He twitched again, felt his erection straining against his pants.

  She took her time chewing the bite, obviously relishing each individual spice as it caressed her palate. She swallowed, causing the delicate muscles in her throat to work in a sensually intriguing pattern.

  Nick looked at her plate. More than half of her meal remained. He wouldn’t make it. Couldn’t.

  “I can’t get over how hungry I am,” she said, smiling. She glanced at his plate and noticed the majority of his entrée still remained. A line emerged between her delicate brows. “Are you finished?”

  “Er, no,” Nick said. Actually, he’d been too distracted to eat his meal—one appetite had been replaced with another. Still, maybe if he concentrated on eating his own food, he wouldn’t be so preoccupied with how she consumed hers.

  “Good,” she enthused. “Because they make the most wonderful desserts here. Their pastry chef is particularly talented with chocolate. He makes this Raspberry Chocolate Dream that is to die for.” She shuddered, purred with pleasure. “Mmmm. I can’t wait.”

  His sex wept a single tear of desire in warning. Bloody hell.

  Nick tossed back the rest of his drink in a single gulp. Dove into his remaining meal with gusto. She chuckled softly, drawing his attention.

  “So you do like it,” she said. “I was afraid you were only humoring me.”

  “No. It’s excellent,” he admitted. “The best steak I’ve ever had. I’ve just been too busy watching you to enjoy it.” The confession slipped out before he could check it.

  She lowered her lashes, blushed. “Watching me? Why?”

  “Do you do everything like this?” Nick asked, curious about this facet of her personality, despite the hard-on. “So wholeheartedly?”

  She mulled it over. Absently stroked the stem of her glass. “I guess so. What’s the point of doing something unless you do it wholeheartedly?”

  It was a good philosophy, Nick thought, but he’d never met anyone who actually succeeded in applying it to their life. What other things did she do? he wondered. What other aspects of her life received such unqualified attention to detail?

  For the first time since he’d started this mission of mercy for his brother, Nick wondered if Desiree had someone waiting for her at home. Someone whom she loved…wholeheartedly.

  For reasons he couldn’t explain, call it a sixth sense or whatever, Nick just knew that wasn’t the case. If some lucky bastard owned her heart, was the recipient of her wholehearted affections, she wouldn’t be wasting her time with him. She didn’t seem capable of the duplicity, Nick decided.

  Which made him wonder again why he was even here. If she weren’t capable of duplicity, then why had he picked up on a couple of little inconsistencies that lent credence to Ron’s theory? Like Antonio, for instance. If there really was an Antonio—and Nick truly believed the man was nothing more than a figment of her imagination—then where was he? Why wasn’t he here? How was she critiquing the partner-oriented toys when she evidently had no partner? Things simply didn’t add up and Nick needed more information before he could make an educated assessment.

  After this week, he’d probably never see her again, Nick realized. He didn’t know why, but he intuitively knew that Desiree had no intention of giving him her real name. She didn’t want him to have it. She’d had the opportunity to give him her real name the first day they’d met and she hadn’t even hesitated when she’d said Desiree Moon. Hadn’t turned a hair at the lie.

  This woman had an agenda of her own for this week and for whatever reason, it didn’t involve her being anyone but her alter ego. This week she was Desiree Moon and that was all she planned to show him. Nick knew it as well as he knew his own name. True, he might slide a few questions under her radar, might glean a few personal insights. She might even invite him into her bed. But she wasn’t going to give him anything she didn’t want to.

  Nick could wrestle her for control all he wanted, but he grimly suspected it wouldn’t do any good.

  She was the one in control.

  And the hell of it was, she didn’t appear to even know it.

  Desiree licked her lips once more. That slow flicker of her tongue was all it took to put him at the bursting point again. She expelled a soft, satisfied sigh. “That was scrumptious. Do you have room for dessert?”

  Not if you asked his pecker, Nick thought. “Sure.”

  “I’m too full to eat a whole portion by myself. Why don’t we share that Chocolate Raspberry Dream I told you about?”

  Nick nodded. “Sounds great.”

  Actually, Nick would rather have his testicles removed with red-hot pincers than share a dessert with her because he knew that he wouldn’t survive the experience without embarrassing himself. But he couldn’t tell her that, now could he?

  Nick ordered the dessert and asked for two spoons. It was delivered in short order. It was one of the prettiest dishes he’d ever seen, and he recalled Desiree’s comment about the plate being a chef’s canvas. That was certainly the case with this particular confection. It could have graced the cover of a magazine.

  Chocolate sauce had been drizzled around the plate, cocoa sprinkled haphazardly around the edges. In the middle of the dish sat an ultra-moist dark chocolate square of cake topped with a light chocolate mousse. Two chocolate wafers had been positioned on top and a single raspberry crowned the dessert. Chocolate shavings and two mint leaves completed the look.

  “Isn’t it pleasing to look at?” Desiree asked. “This dish has harmony.” She loaded a spoon and held it up to him. “Here, try a bite.”

  Oh. This wasn’t a good idea. In fact, this was a really bad idea. “I, uh—”

  “Go ahead,” she urged. “You do like chocolate, right?”

  Nick’s throat constricted. “Yeah.”

  “Well.” She gestured with the spoon. “Go ahead. Open up.”<
br />
  Nick reluctantly opened his mouth and allowed her to feed him. The chocolate taste melted onto his tongue, the varying textures from the cake, mousse and thin wafers mesmerized the senses. It was dark and rich and unequivocally the best-tasting dessert he’d ever put into his mouth. Nick was surprised when he heard a moan and realized it had come from his own throat. “It’s wonderful,” he murmured thickly.

  Desiree chuckled. Delight sparkled in those gorgeous mossy-green eyes and her smile struck a chord in him that resulted in another tidal wave of lust. “I’m glad you like it.”

  She loaded the spoon again—the spoon she’d just fed him with—and lifted it to that unbelievably sensuous mouth. The morsel disappeared as her lips closed around it. Her eyes fluttered shut, and another orgasmic groan vibrated from deep in her throat. It was intimate and erotic and simply more than he could bear. Her tongue snaked out. She licked the spoon.

  Nick shot up from the table. “Excuse me.”

  Desiree’s startled gaze swung to his. “Ok—”

  “I’ll be back in a moment.”

  It took ten to walk it off and when he returned he felt like the biggest ass that had ever walked the earth. She’d pushed the plate away, disappointed and obviously bewildered at his abrupt departure. The smile he’d grown so accustomed to seeing seemed a little too bright, more manufactured than real. The sparkle had died from her eyes and a dejected slump rounded her small shoulders. He swallowed. His fault, Nick realized.

  He couldn’t take that.

  “I have a confession to make,” Nick said softly.

  “Oh?”

  Too bright, but he gave her credit for trying. She’d been giving him her wholehearted attention all night. Much more than he deserved. He’d inadvertently hurt her feelings, yet she still seemed determined to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  “I know I’ve acted a little strange tonight, but there’s a perfectly logical explanation.”

  “There is?”

  Nick blew out a breath. “Yes. I’m in lust with you.”