Scent of a Woman

“And call her first thing tomorrow morning.”

Lee nodded. Then the crème brûlée captured her attention until the very last bite.

DAVID WALKED DOWN Club Row, 44th Street, in Midtown Manhattan. He knew the street well, mostly because of the Bar Association headquarters, but also from going to the theater. His breath came out in sharp puffs of condensed air, and when he inhaled, it was cold enough to sting. But it wasn’t snowing, and the bitter weather wasn’t severe enough to keep most intrepid New Yorkers at home.

He stopped outside The Versailles. The beautiful old hotel with its green and brown awnings. He tried to remember the name of the hotel that was here before. As soon as he stepped into the lobby the question vanished, replaced by the thoughts that had plagued him most of the day.

What was he doing here? Aside from the fact that he hadn’t made love in an uncomfortably long time. And that the woman in question was stunning and mysterious and bold. And that she’d asked him.

He walked slowly through the inviting lobby with its teakwood paneling, marble floors, and clusters of oversized velvety furniture. The hotel wasn’t big, not near the size of say The Plaza, but it screamed wealth.

It said something about the woman that she’d chosen this place. A certain sophistication. A certain pocketbook. Or not. Oh, for God’s sake, who cared? He wasn’t here to discuss the architecture or the guests. At least he hoped not.

He stopped and glanced at his watch. One minute early. All he had to do was turn left and walk into the bar. She’d either be waiting for him, or she wouldn’t. He wasn’t at all sure which outcome he preferred.

After raking a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath, squaring his shoulders—he exhaled, then cursed himself for a fool. What had happened to him? Had be become so old that he couldn’t walk into a bar to pursue what might be an extraordinary adventure? In college, he’d been a madman. Yes, he’d studied, but that wasn’t the thing. He’d explored. He’d dared. He’d fallen flat on his face.

But it hadn’t mattered. He’d wanted all life had to offer back then. What did he want now? Safety? Security? Yes. But that was the white bread of life. He also wanted spice. Heat. Daring. Dammit, he wanted Tabasco sauce, and plenty of it.

He turned left and started walking. What the hell. The worst that could happen was… Hmm. He had no idea what the worst was. But he could clearly imagine the best.

SUSAN LIFTED HER MARTINI to her lips, pleased that her hand barely trembled. Inside, she was a mess. Scared wasn’t the half of it. But on the outside, in the tradition of her mother and her grandmother, she was cool, calm, collected. It was a hard-won skill, but she’d had a lot of practice.

Her mother had told her over and over that emotions had no place on the negotiation table. And what was the whole man/woman thing but negotiation?

This was her party. She’d extended the invitation, prepared the room, including the party favors, and now, it was up to her to make certain everything went according to plan. No problem. Except perhaps for one detail: she had no idea what she was going to do with Mr. Gorgeous once she got him upstairs.

He’d expect her to sleep with him, but was that what she wanted? A brief, sweaty interlude on a cold winter’s night?

Maybe.

But something told her that she’d be cheating both of them by jumping right into bed. The man, God, how could she not know his name, had something special about him. Nothing she could pinpoint. Not his looks. Something in his eyes, in the way he smiled. She remembered that smile perfectly—how his teeth were very white, but not perfectly even. The small flaw made him infinitely more appealing, although she wasn’t sure why.

The music from the bookstore spun in her head, and with it came an idea. A way to make tonight perfect. Scheherazade. She was the answer. Susan smiled as the evening unfolded in her mind’s eye. It would be lovely. If he went along with her.

Another sip of the cold drink as she looked around the bar. It was very small as far as hotel bars went. But it was comfortable with its dark oak and wine leather booths. This was her turf. Nothing could go wrong here, not in the serious sense. Well, that wasn’t quite true. She could be stood up. Humiliated.

She ran a hand down her dress and forced herself to steer clear of those thoughts. She should have worn the black Prada. No. This one was better. Simpler. A wave of nervous tension hit her in the stomach. Oh, jeez, what if she threw up all over him? What if her plan was foolish and awkward?

This was a serious mistake. Sure, she’d felt reckless, restless, but this was taking things too far. She’d leave, and forget she’d ever thought of such a crazy—

“Hello.”

Susan jerked up to see Mr. Gorgeous not two feet away. Holy… She had to struggle to keep the expression out of her face. It would blow everything all to hell if he knew that her heart thumped against her chest as if it was trying to get out. “Hello,” she said back, thankful for all the years she’d practiced being a bitch. She had the exact right tone. Low, sexy, in charge.

He smiled, held out his hand. “David.”

“Su—”

“Sue?”

She nodded. “For now.”

“Not Scheherazade?”

She slipped her hand into his, and when he closed his fingers, she felt herself slide another inch down the long treacherous slope of pure insanity. “No. But there are similarities.”

David held on to her hand while his left brow arched. “Is the King of Persia bothering you again? Because I’ve told him time and time again—”

She laughed, but not loudly enough that she missed the slight hitch in his breath. When he swallowed, making his Adam’s apple bob, she knew he was just as nervous as she was. My God, he was pretty. Which wasn’t the important part, she knew that. It sure as hell didn’t hurt, though.

“May I?” he asked, finally taking his hand away and sliding onto the stool next to hers.

The bartender came and took his order, a scotch, neat. She shook her head when David offered to refill her martini. This was no time to hide behind an alcoholic haze. Just being near him was a bit intoxicating, and if she threw in the fact that their suite was waiting…

“Are you all right?”

She nodded. Smiled. “I didn’t think you’d be here, either.”

He smiled back, making her want to lick his lower lip. “I’m not sure why I did come,” he said. “I, uh, don’t usually…”

“Go out with women who bite your ear?”

Even in the dim light of the bar, she could see him flush. A man who blushed! What a treat. What a rarity. How delicious.

“I confess, that was a first for me.”

“Me, too.”

“So nibbling on ears isn’t your standard ice-breaker?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Hmm. How did I get so lucky?”

Susan took a slow sip of her drink, stalling for time as she made her decision about the next few minutes. She liked him. The chemistry was undeniable, and he had a sense of humor, too. He wasn’t at all the kind of man she wanted for a one-night stand. But maybe this didn’t have to be. Maybe, if she was a clever girl, this could be a prelude. To what, she wasn’t sure. But, despite the risks, or maybe because of them, she was going to find out.

She put her glass down, then turned to him with her most wicked and enticing smile. “If you think that was lucky…”

3

DAVID FINISHED HIS SCOTCH in one gulp and managed not to choke to death.

Her words still shimmered in the air, their meaning sinking in one vivid image at a time. He struggled for focus, finding it when his gaze met her lips. Full, lush lips. That would look incredible wrapped around his—

“Maybe not that lucky,” she said, her low voice tinged with humor.

He cleared his throat, troubled that his expression had been so unguarded. “Okay,” he said, amazed he sounded somewhat normal. “How lucky?”