Packed With Pleasure

Bad-girl glam.

She felt restless and reckless and edgy. And those alien feelings scared her. She wished she’d had the courage to explore her sexuality more fully before the fire, before she had the scars to contend with, but she’d been too chicken. Frightened of catching a communicable disease or of ending up like her mother or of getting her heart broken.

Or all three.

Which was why she was in the situation she was in now. Sexually frustrated, with her creativity stagnant. Dared she hope that Alec Ramsey held the key to her liberation?

She glanced at her watch. Five minutes to one.

“Show time,” she whispered to her reflection, slipped her sneakers into her satchel, took a deep breath and headed for the fourteenth floor.

Controlled chaos greeted her when she stepped off the elevator and pushed through the double glass doors with Single Guy etched into the panels with a bold, masculine font.

Phones rang incessantly. People hurried to and fro squeezing past each other in the narrow corridor at the same time someone was holding an impromptu sales meeting right there at the central credenza.

The walls were bright and splashy, featuring advertisers’ posters hawking everything from imported liquor to expensive automobiles to the trendiest menswear fashions.

Copies of Single Guy were stacked everywhere. Executive toys rested on computers and desktops. Daring alternative rock music blared from a high-tech sound system and a help-yourself popcorn machine filled the air with the scent of freshly popped, buttered popcorn.

The place was energetic, lively and imaginative. A grown-up guy’s playground. And Alec was right in the big middle of the free-for-all.

Eden stood to one side for a moment, watching him.

He wore a black turtleneck sweater and formfitting trousers that showed off his breathtaking physique. His longish hair was sexily tousled. His profile was dazzling—regal nose, rugged chin, high cheekbones.

Her pulse bounded through her veins at a feverish pace as the William Tell Overture galloped crazily inside her head.

He migrated from person to person, pumping his employees up, urging them to give a hundred and ten percent to the job at hand. He brainstormed concepts on the fly, storytelling, networking and motivating with nothing more than a smile and his irresistible presence.

She quickly realized he managed his team with the mental equivalent of chain-saw juggling. He kept a permanent smile hardwired to his chiseled features. He was everything she was not. Witty, inspirational, charming, impulsive.

Without a doubt this mover and shaker would be a dynamo between the sheets. If she slept with him, would some of that high-energy enthusiasm rub off on her? She hoped so.

Eden noticed a serious-looking young man hovering at Alec’s elbow. He was keeping up with everything that transpired, calmly and methodically jotting down notes in a Palm Pilot.

Ah, she thought, the follow-through guy. Alec was the idea man; the younger dude was the one who made it all come together. Alec was smart enough to surround himself with the right people.

In that brief span of two minutes, Eden’s admiration for him doubled. Oh, to be so spontaneous, so unselfconscious, so alive.

Alec pivoted on his heel, spun in Eden’s direction and stopped cold.

The minute he spotted her, his grin widened and his eyes rounded. He looked as if he’s just won an Atlantic City jackpot. The million-dollar expression in his eyes went a long way in repairing her damaged self-esteem and earning him a hundred brownie points toward becoming the lover she finally let see her scar.

“Wow,” he said, low and husky as he stalked closer, “look at you.”

Leisurely, he combed his gaze from the top of her head, down her low-cut red sweater, to the snug-fitting leather skirt, to her fishnet stockings, to the sexy stilettos and back again. Her clothes issued a provocative message Eden feared she could not back up. A long moment passed and she almost turned and ran.

But the appreciative look in Alec’s eyes held her anchored to the spot.

The entire office had followed his movements and now all of his employees were staring at her, obviously intrigued by the woman who’d captured their dynamic boss’s interest.

Eden felt her cheeks flush. Oh great. She was blushing like a schoolgirl. But no man this influential had ever had quite this reaction to her before. She had longed for this very outcome when she’d donned her sexy outfit, but now that she had his undivided attention, she wasn’t sure what to do with it.

She smiled shyly and raised a hand to her throat. “I overdressed, didn’t I?”

“No. Oh, no. You look absolutely gorgeous. Are you ready to get down to business?” His gray eyes smoldered with a sexuality that took her breath away and his full, masculine lips held her mesmerized.

“Pardon?” Eden blinked. She’d been fantasizing about kissing him and his question caught her off guard.

“Lunch, the gift consultation.”

“Oh, yes.” She patted her satchel. “I’ve got everything right here.”

“Yes, you do.” He grinned rakishly, allowed his eyes to take another trip over her body and Eden knew he wasn’t talking about what was in her portfolio.

In that moment, she made her decision. In spite of the nervousness knotting her stomach, in spite of her fears that he was anticipating a femme fatale and there was no way she could measure up to his expectations, in spite of the gamble she was taking by risking his ultimate rejection, Eden knew what she wanted.

Correction, what she desperately needed in order to recover her creative self-confidence.

A red-hot fling with the sumptuous Alec Ramsey.

4

ALEC TOOK HER to Maison Henri, an elegant new French restaurant in Midtown. He opened the door for her, lightly grasped her elbow and guided her in over the threshold.

Eden appreciated his proprietary touch. It made her feel protected. Her pulse accelerated at the casual contact and immediately a half-dozen sexual fantasies tumbled through her mind exactly as they had the day before. The same fantasies that had vanished the minute he’d left her shop.

The more she was around him, the more she suspected this man was indeed her sexual muse. A decidedly masculine version of the mythical Erato. Eden shivered at the fanciful notion.

Careful, Eden.

Starry-eyed romanticism had led her into that disastrous relationship with Josh. She had to be careful. Her fragile ego couldn’t handle another mistake like that one.

The maître d’ greeted them and led them to their table tucked behind a wooden partition draped with artificial grape vines. He pulled out her chair for her and then, with a flourish, settled a white linen napkin in her lap.

“Thank you,” Eden murmured, and glanced over at Alec.

His eyes were on her face. “This place is a little extravagant, but I thought perhaps you might enjoy something special.”

“It was very thoughtful of you.”

Eden felt like a powerful politician’s mistress meeting her lover for a clandestine tryst in the dimly lighted, quaint bistro at one-thirty in the afternoon. Only three other couples were in the restaurant and they were seated at the far end of the room. The isolated privacy, the decadent aroma of mouthwateringly rich food scenting the air and the flickering candlelight heightened the romantic mood.

Their garçon, efficient and ghostlike, waited at the ready with two menus and a wine list in his hand. A bottle of shockingly expensive champagne sat chilling in a bucket beside Alec’s elbow.

A nosegay of pansies graced the center of the table. Eden loved the delicate, colorful flowers and was surprised to see the card propped against the small bouquet with her name on it.

Oh, my.