About That Night...

“The orchestra is downstairs partying,” she said breathlessly. “Or maybe not. It’s gotten late.”

The instant her foot touched the stage, he swung her into his arms. “I’ll provide the music. I can’t really sing, but I’m a helluva hummer.”

Jules giggled, and his last glimpse as he bent his head low to her ear was of her eyes alight with laughter. Then he began humming some show tune that had stuck in his head from tonight’s performance and she melted against him.

The dark auditorium faded away and Nick knew only the sound of his voice and Jules—her scent, her graceful movements and the way her body molded his. She fitted against all his pressure points as if her incredible body had been designed for his pleasure. He could rest his chin right on the top of her head. Her shoulder fit snugly beneath his arm. Her breasts pressed against his chest, full and perfect in their red leather prison, taunting him to offer escape. And by flexing his arm around her waist, he held her close, imprisoning his erection against her warm stomach.

He sighed. She sighed.

Two bodies in perfect accord, the fact they’d just met of little concern. This woman was meant to be in his arms at this moment. Nick knew on a primitive level, knew with every inhalation of her subtly spicy scent and the way that scent filtered through his senses, priming his libido, making him forget everything but how much he wanted her.

Eventually his humming gave way to the sounds of their breathing and the soft shuffle of their feet across the wood-beam stage floor. Any sense of time vanished beneath an insistent need to stroke his arousal against her, take advantage of the way she parted her thighs and gently rode his thigh as they danced.

Nick even forgot they were in a theater, a public theater where a hundred people partied in the basement directly below. Apparently Jules was also so caught up that she forgot, too, because when Dale’s voice echoed through the empty auditorium, “Hey, buddy, are you in here?” she appeared as surprised as he.

Fortunately they were close enough to the wings to disappear offstage before Dale caught them. Drawing her behind the main curtain, he held her close, his pulse quickening with adrenaline matched by the sudden hammering of Jules’s heartbeat—hard, even beats he felt right through his tux jacket.

“I think you lost track of time because the party’s over.” Dale’s voice rang out, louder as he approached the stage. “Time to go home. The caterers are done cleaning and they’re locking up. Madam President thinks you took off without saying goodbye, and she’s miffed. Better have Betty send her some flowers tomorrow.”

Silence. Nick wasn’t leaving, not when he had Jules in his arms and this theater to himself.

“If you’re still in here, I hope you can get back out again,” Dale tried again. “If you don’t show your face for coffee in the morning, I’ll send out the posse.”

The footsteps receded, then finally faded into silence.

“Can we get back out again?” Jules whispered.

Nick seized the opportunity to reassure her with a kiss. “I’ve got a key, beautiful. But I won’t use it until I’m done making you sigh with pleasure.”

4

NAUGHTY GIRLS love to sigh with pleasure.

Julienne mentally chanted that key phrase while her breath fluttered somewhere between her lungs and her nose. Nick held her anchored against him, his dark gaze searching, holding her rooted to the spot.

Could she do this? Could she really let this sexy man make her sigh with pleasure? She’d come to the Risqué tonight to test her skills, to attract his attention and flirt outrageously. Sure she’d thought about seduction, but within hours of becoming acquainted? Julienne hadn’t considered that.

Could she really take the next step? Could she rise up on tiptoes and press her mouth to his in a delicious kissable yes? Or could she be even more bold and slip her hand between them to stroke that rock-hard erection pressing stubbornly against her?

Her body pleaded with her to say, “Yes. Yes.” The moist throbbing between her legs had grown distracting, resolute, urged on by riding his hard thigh while they’d danced.

But a more rational part of her brain kept insisting, Sleep with this man on the first night? What would he think about her? Would he ever respect her?

Naughty girls take advantage of the moment. That inner voice cried. Have a one-night stand. He’ll respect a sexy memory, so make your sex scrumptious, for yourself and him.

Her self-hypnosis seemed to be working. Julienne was pleased because when she slipped her hand between them, laid her palm full length against that awesome erection, the pleasure on Nick’s face made her just dissolve into sensation that coiled through her veins and pumped her full of daring and adventure.

The Risqué would be theirs tonight. The empty audience beckoned, called out that the theater was empty—allegedly empty, because they really couldn’t be certain, could they?—and inspired her to an audaciousness Julienne hadn’t known she possessed.

She had one night to act out a fantasy. Her fantasy man was willing, so shouldn’t she jump at this chance?

Naughty girls love to sigh with pleasure.

She’d sigh and make no apologies. She wouldn’t think about tomorrow. Nick didn’t know who she was, so why shouldn’t she make the most of the moment?

Watching you dance tonight turned me on.

Inspiration struck and Julienne sprang away from him in a burst of unfamiliar excitement, could barely catch her breath when she met his questioning dark gaze.

“Will you hum for me again, Nick?”

He gave her an obliging smile. “Beautiful, I’ll do anything for you. Just say the word.”

This man was a naughty boy, a kindred soul—at least for the night. She scanned the set, where props from the futuristic finale still crowded the stage, and found what she was looking for instantly.

Taking Nick’s hand, she led him across the stage. “Sit here.”

His smile widened as he took in the love swing hanging from fly lines above—a contraption made of nylon straps and soft padded stirrups where actors had mimed a weightless sex act to depict a lusty high-tech future for the Risqué.

“Taking me for a ride, beautiful?” His voice was deep, the echoing quality of the auditorium making his whisper resound through the dark quiet, making it resonate through her.

“A ride I promise you won’t forget.”

Bold words spoken by a bold stranger. He was obviously willing to take her at her word, because he struck up a lively tune, eyes heavy lidded with expectation as he stripped off his jacket and vest, loosened his collar, then grabbed onto the balance bar and maneuvered his attractive backside onto the padded seat. Leaning back, he hooked his hands behind his head.

The moment of truth.

Julienne headed toward center stage. Inhaling deeply, once, then again, she envisioned people down in the orchestra pit, in the first rows of the audience, in the loge.

Using a technique she’d devised when overcoming her nerves in the classroom, she imagined her audience’s faces—a man with inky black hair, a fresh-faced woman who looked a lot like Mary Ann from Gilligan’s Island.

Then Julienne envisioned what they’d look like in the throes of orgasm. She saw the man squeeze his eyes tightly shut, his mouth parting with gusty breaths. She heard the woman’s pleasured moans, imagined her sighing to the sounds of her lover’s thrusts.

Then she pictured Nick, how he’d looked when she’d first kissed him, the chiseled angles of his handsome face sharpening with excitement, his deep eyes growing heavy with pleasure. The tune he hummed filled the stage, filled her senses, some vaguely familiar melody she couldn’t place.

And she began to dance.

The music immediately glitched as her orchestra choked on a gasp, but resumed quickly. Julienne smiled. With her feet braced apart and her knees slightly bent, she moved to the sound, arms relaxed and head bent backward so the ends of her hair brushed her waist, lured his attention to the motion of her swaying hips.

She could feel his gaze upon her, wondered if he wanted her to turn around and face him. Working her movements upward, she included her waist, her breasts, and her shoulders in the dance. She swayed with a languorous rhythm, a steady motion that hypnotized her, aroused her senses until she felt each pass of her hair sweep softly against her waist, felt the lace of her corset graze nipples that gathered tight, felt the air caress the exposed skin above her bodice, skin that grew damp with her exertions, with arousal.

And still Nick hummed, though his tempo had picked up, a change she guessed hinted at his own escalating excitement.

She shared his excitement, too. This sexy man placed himself at the mercy of her whim, followed willingly where she led, eagerly accepted what she offered.

This feeling was power, a provocative sensation heightened by the vastness of the theater around them, dangerous for the darkness she couldn’t penetrate. The feeling captured her, flushed her skin, urged her to indulge in this newfound need to titillate, and be titillated.

Slowly circling her head, first a tiny spiral that she widened slowly, Julienne shrugged the jacket from her shoulders, a slight movement she didn’t think Nick could have noticed beneath the fall of her hair.