Packed With Pleasure

“Another intriguing prospect.”

In her mind’s eye she vividly saw Alec laying buck naked tied to a poster bed in four-point restraints and instant moisture dampened her panties. Her body ached all over with sudden need. How was it possible that a virtual stranger made her feel so recklessly intense? She swallowed hard and struggled to appear composed.

“More.” He waved a hand.

Eden shook her head to dispel the visual pImages** that didn’t want to leave. “The Biker and Lady Godiva. We’re talking leather and chains, long blond wig for Lady Godiva, that sort of thing.”

“Good one, but let’s keep looking.”

“The Chauffeur and the Countessa?”

“Perhaps.”

“The Playboy and the Virgin?”

Alec snapped his fingers. “There. Now that sounds perfect for Randy and Jill. What sort of items do you see in that one?”

Eden sucked in her breath. He had chosen her favorite fantasy. The uninitiated virgin’s sexual awakening at the hands of a master seducer thrilled Eden to her core. Her mind, which for the past few weeks had been completely sluggish when it came to new and sexy ideas, filled with a hundred intriguing possibilities.

“W-well,” she stuttered, and wondered why she was stammering. “In my creations I appeal to all five senses. We start with the crucible. The basket is not always an actual basket, you know. It can be anything from a motorcycle helmet to a briefcase to an Igloo cooler.”

“Ah. So in the case of The Playboy and the Virgin, we might use a champagne bucket instead of a basket.”

“Exactly. Let me make some notes.” She started to reach for her satchel again, but he pulled a pen from his coat pocket and held it out to her.

“Oh, thank you.” Tentatively she reached out.

Her fingertips brushed his and she nearly came unraveled. She took the pen, still warm from his body heat. The longer she held it, the warmer it grew against her skin. She gulped.

Excitement, along with a good deal of fear, sizzled through her veins. Hurriedly she scribbled on a yellow legal pad that she kept tucked in her portfolio and didn’t dare look up.

“Okay,” she said, after she’d jotted down what they had so far and passed that volatile pen back to him. How a simple writing instrument could evoke such tumultuous emotions in her she had no idea, but she couldn’t get rid of the pen fast enough. “I usually line the baskets with something. It can simply be a piece of fabric, or it can be a garment. Like a negligee or scarf. I’ve got fabric swatches.”

She flipped to the back of the portfolio, where she had glued small squares of sensual fabrics, and held her breath. Did she have the courage to continue the sensual exercise she performed with a client when helping them pick out the right cloth?

What if the erotic little exercise turned into a best-case scenario and led back to his apartment for some afternoon delight as Ashley so succinctly put it? What if she got what she wanted only to discover too late she wasn’t the kind of woman who could separate love and great sex?

Eden hesitated a long moment.

Go on. It’s your job. Just do it.

“Have fabric swatches, will design?” he quipped, gave her a friendly wink and a lopsided grin.

Whatever happened, whichever way it went down, at least she’d have fun with this guy. Besides, there was only one way to break out of her rut—plunge ahead. Bolstering her courage, Eden made her move.

“Close your eyes,” she whispered.

“Hmm,” Alec closed his eyes. “I like the sounds of this.”

“Give me your hand.”

Obediently he held out his hand and almost groaned aloud when her skin seared his. The pure charge of electrical passion that raged up his arm turned his world topsy-turvy.

She used his fingers to trace the material. The soft brush of velvet sent a bolt of desire blasting through his hard body.

“Velvet,” he murmured.

“Now,” she whispered. “Imagine your naked skin immersed in these materials.”

Dear God, did the woman have even a remote idea what she was doing to him?

She guided his fingertips over lithe silk, smooth satin, plush mink, glossy taffeta, nubby corduroy, scratchy tweed. She sauntered his fingers on a trip around the world with luxurious chenille, stiff Irish lace and sumptuous angora. Together they stroked rich cashmere and supple suede and stonewashed denim.

And with each touch, each journey, easy smooth glide, he grew more and more aroused. He would feel the imprint of her hand on his for days. He had to bite down on his tongue to keep from groaning.

He was dying to open his eyes and gaze into her face. He wanted to see if she’d been as deeply affected by their connection as he. He wanted more. To see more of her, touch more, feel more. He wanted to rip off her clothes and ravish her right here on the restaurant table while he licked and sucked and tasted every inch of her. What would you call that fantasy? The Caveman and the Epicurean?

“So which material do you think they will like best?” she murmured.

“Who?” he asked, opening his eyes and blinking away the dazed fog of sexual fantasies clogging his brain. Thank heavens Eden had no idea what he’d just been thinking.

“Randy and Jill.”

Oh yeah, them. “Too many choices,” he said.

“Focus on our theme. The Playboy and the Virgin.”

“If the champagne bucket represents the playboy, the liner should represent the virgin.”

“Exactly. We need something soft and pure and delicate.”

“Angora,” they said in unison.

“Hey.” Eden laughed. “You’re pretty good at this.”

“Line the champagne bucket with an angora sweater. Jill’s favorite color is blue and she wears a size six,” he said.

“Next,” Eden said, as she chuckled huskily and flipped the page, “come the sex toys.”

Lordy. The page was filled with every erotic gadget known to man. And Alec had thought he was stiff before, as he imagined a dozen different ways of trying out those gadgets on Eden.

“I was thinking a chastity belt.” She tapped a picture of the sex toy version of a chastity belt complete with a red heart-shaped lock and matching skeleton key.

“If Jill wears that, Randy will be steamed up in nothing flat.”

“That’s the idea.”

“He’s a man who can’t resist a challenge.”