Intimate Seduction

“So, what do you think?” she asked in an attempt to direct his gaze back to her face. It was slow in coming, and the smile that touched his lips made her wish she hadn’t asked the question since she knew he would read it wrong.

“I personally think they’re a nice pair.”

She frowned, not believing he’d actually said that. “I was referring to my age, Mr. Steele.”

“Donovan,” he inserted quickly.

Ignoring his comment, she said, “You were supposed to guess my age.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right.” A wry smile touched his lips, but not at all apologetic. He studied her face again, and she could feel herself blush under his intense scrutiny.

“I’d say around twenty-two or twenty-three.”

Natalie wondered if he was being truthful or just trying to be nice. Either way she was truly flattered. “I’m twenty-six.”

He took another sip of his beer, and the surprise in his eyes was genuine. “You definitely don’t look it.”

“Thanks, and how old are you?”

“Thirty-three.”

And a very handsome and well-built thirty-three at that, she thought. His sensual chemistry mixed with a hefty dose of raw sexuality, and she was being affected by all that virility. Dragging in a deep breath, she said, “I need to finish everything upstairs and get out of your way.”

A disarming smile touched his lips. “You aren’t in my way.”

But he was in hers, and if she didn’t remove herself from his presence she would continue to think about indulging in things she shouldn’t. Not only was he challenging her mentally, but he was doing physical things to her—things that no man had ever done before, without a touch, caress…or kiss.

At that moment she felt her lips tingle, and she felt butterflies in her stomach. She glanced at her watch. “I need to wrap things up here to be at my next client’s home before two,” she said.

“No problem. I’ll let you get back to work, but first I need to ask you something.”

She stepped into the kitchen and slipped her sandals on her feet. He was watching her every move, staring down at her feet. Then his eyes moved up her legs before finally meeting her gaze again. She slowly arched a brow in response. He had already asked her out, and she had turned him down. She wondered what he had to ask her now. “Ask me what?”

He took another sip of his beer. “I’m sure your aunt explained to you that I’m a man who appreciates my privacy, which is why I want personalized service from the cleaning agency. I don’t want just anybody cleaning my home.”

She lifted a brow. “Are you saying that you have a problem with me being here?”

“No. You’ve explained why you’re here. You’ve also indicated your aunt won’t be able to do any chores for about six weeks.”

She looked at him, wondering where he was going with this. She folded her arms across her chest. “Yes, that’s what I said.”

“In that case I hope you can understand I expect you to be the one—the only one—to handle things here. It would greatly upset me to discover some other person has access to my home.”

She frowned. “We have a number of good employees who—”

“Won’t be coming here,” he said firmly. “Your aunt understood when I hired her agency that I had a problem with a lot of strangers having access to my home, which is why she took on the job herself. Now that she’s not capable of doing it, either you take care of things or no one at all.”

She tried to keep her frown from deepening. He was trying to be difficult. If her aunt didn’t consider him such an important client she’d give him an ultimatum—either accept whatever one of the other Special Touch Housekeeping Agency’s employees she assigned to clean his condo or end his association with the agency.

Instead she said, “Fine.”

“And I want to increase my services to once a week instead of twice a month.”

She had to refrain from glaring at him. His request was ridiculous considering cleaning his home had been a piece of cake compared to the condo owned by Jeremy Simpkins.

He kept his eyes on hers, not for a single second looking away. “Will that be a problem?” he asked.

There was only one answer she could give him. “No, there won’t be a problem. Do you want to keep your Monday appointments?”

“Only if I’m your sole client for that day.” At her raised brow he clarified by saying, “Just in case you accidentally fall asleep again…in my bed.”

Her jaw was set firm when she replied, “Like I said, it won’t happen again.”

He smiled. “But in case it does.”

Natalie inwardly sighed. “It won’t.”

He nodded, lowered his voice and said, “Regardless. I want you to give this place your full attention. And if you can switch from Mondays to another day of the week. I would prefer it.”

“I’ll see what we can do,” she said, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice.

“Thank you.”

“Now I’d like to ask you something,” Natalie said, fuming inside.

He waited a long moment before asking, “What do you want to ask me?” He took another sip of his beer.

“Do you normally hit on every woman who crosses your path?”

He gave her that seductive smile again. “Every woman? No. But I don’t have any qualms about hitting on a woman I’m interested in. Like I told you earlier, I believe in going after what I want so there’re some things I don’t beat around the bush about.”

“Apparently.” And without saying anything else, she moved past him to go back upstairs.

Donovan’s lips eased into a crooked smile. “Methinks the lady is just about ready to box my ears,” he muttered before finishing off the last of his beer and placing the empty bottle on the counter. Boxing his ears wouldn’t be so bad if he got to lock lips with her in the process.

While she was talking, his gaze had been fixed on her mouth. Never before had he seen a pair of lips so deliciously tempting. Just the thought of savoring them, licking them crazy, sent instantaneous heat flooding his insides. Being attracted to any woman was precisely the sort of thing he didn’t need right now.

The matters of SC, specifically the product under development, were enough to occupy his attention. The Steele Corporation had been working on Gleeve-Ware and had hired a renowned chemist, Juan Hairston, to create the formula for a highly durable and flexible tubing of silicone, rubber and fiberglass. In its final form Gleeve-Ware could revolutionize the manufacturing industry and push the transportation industry into the next century by the production of a durable, long-lasting tire.

The research, which had begun over a year ago and had been deemed top secret, had gotten unwanted attention when a rival manufacturing company had learned about Gleeve-Ware. They had gone so far as to try and obtain the formula. A high degree of security was in place since SC had decided not to take any chances.

He and his three brothers—Chance, Sebastian and Morgan—comprised the managing body of SC. Chance, at thirty-eight, was CEO. Sebastian, whom they fondly called Bas, was thirty-six and held the position of SC’s problem solver and troubleshooter. Morgan was thirty-four and headed research and development. His cousin Vanessa worked for the company as head of PR. The board of directors included, in addition to his parents, his aunt and his two cousins, Taylor and Cheyenne.

The Steele family was huge and close-knit. In addition to the Steeles living in Charlotte, there were a number of other Steeles spread out all over the country. They enjoyed getting together every two years for a family reunion.

When Donovan heard the vacuum cleaner start up, he decided to make the peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich after all. He may have been overtaken by lust but in no way did he plan to starve over it.

He reached out to open the pantry at the exact moment his cell phone rang. Pulling it off his belt, he checked the ID screen and saw it was Kylie, his sister-in-law. He immediately clicked on the phone. “Tell me you’re calling to invite me to dinner.” Kylie loved to cook.