Sleeping With Her Rival

Enjoying himself, he bit back a grin. “That was pretty good, but it wasn’t quite right. You need to moan after you say my name, like you did after you ate the bread.”

Finally aware of his little joke, she shoved the basket toward him. “Stuff it, Flint.”

He flashed the grin he’d been hiding. “I couldn’t help it. I mean, here’s a woman who gets orgasmic over bread and butter.”

“I wasn’t orgasmic.”

“Yes, you were.”

“I was not.”

She glared at him from across the table, but her haughty expression fell short. When he stared at her, she became flustered, toying with the napkin on her lap.

“Don’t,” she said.

“Don’t what?”

“Look at me like that.”

He studied her features, struck by those violet eyes and that full, lush mouth. “But you’re beautiful, Gina.” And he couldn’t stop the attraction, the heat, the sexual spontaneity rising in his blood.

She drew a ragged breath, and a shimmer of silence ensued.

Rain pounded against the building, and the flame on the candle danced between them, intensifying the moment.

Flint sent her a small, sensual smile. She was perfect for the scandal he had in mind.

Three

Two days later Gina entered the impressive high-rise that housed Kingman Marketing, a global advertising, public-relations and marketing agency.

Flint had called her this morning, demanding a meeting. Gina had tried to talk him into coming to her office, but he’d refused. For some unexplained reason, he wanted her on his turf.

She suspected that he’d devised a scandal and intended to make a presentation of some sort.

Standing in front of the elevator, she waited for the doors to open. She’d done some research on Kingman Marketing and learned that the company had built its stellar reputation on a high-profile clientele, which included well-known corporations, politicians and celebrities.

Like Tara Shaw, she thought. The actress Flint had bedded all those years ago.

The elevator opened, and Gina entered the confined space. Alone with her thoughts, she pressed the appropriate button and released an edgy breath. She wasn’t comfortable seeing Flint again, especially after that awkward “business” dinner.

They’d stared at each other half the night like sex-starved teenagers on a first date. She’d hated every minute of that warm, woozy, he’s-so-gorgeous feeling. She’d struggled through the meal, the food melting in her mouth like an unwelcome aphrodisiac. And he kept smiling at her, teasing her in that playful manner of his, which had only managed to make her more nervous.

The elevator stopped, and Gina stepped into the hallway and faced a set of smoked-glass doors, knowing it was the entrance to Flint’s domain.

The sixth floor was dedicated to the public-relations department, and she’d heard that he ran his division with strength, strategy and creativity.

She stalled for a moment, battling a bout of anxiety. Smoothing her jacket, she told herself to relax. She didn’t intend to let Flint eye her the way he’d done at the restaurant. Today she wore a camel-colored pantsuit, a ribbed turtleneck and conservative boots. Aside from her hands and face, she was completely covered. This outfit couldn’t possibly turn him on.

Ready to do battle, she went inside, and then she stood and gazed around the massive reception area.

Antiques from every corner of the world made an incredible display, and so did modern works of art. She knew instantly that Flint had worked closely with the decorator.

“Are you Gina Barone?”

She turned to see a slim, chic woman rise from a birch desk—a unique piece of furniture that fit her vogue style. Alabaster skin showcased cropped black hair and trendy black glasses, making her look fashionably efficient.

“Yes, I am.”

The woman came forward and extended her hand. “I’m Kerry Landau, Flint’s assistant.”

Gina smiled. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Kerry lowered her glasses and peered at Gina with exotically lined eyes. “I couldn’t help but notice that you were admiring the decor.” She pointed to a table-high statue—a depiction of a long, lean, naked lady. “That’s my husband’s work. He’s still a struggling artist. But he’s exceptional.”

“Yes, he is.” Gina studied the piece. The marble lady stood there, one hand draped between her thighs, her other arm barely shielding her aroused nipples. She seemed sensuously vulnerable, innocent yet erotic.

Gina turned to speak to Kerry and caught sight of Flint. He’d appeared out of nowhere, and he leaned against the doorjamb that led to his office, his head tilted at a curious angle.

“Ms. Barone is here,” Kerry announced.

“So I see.”

Flint’s gaze roamed over Gina’s carefully clothed body, and suddenly she felt as naked as the statue. And just as vulnerable.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

To enter the wolf’s private den? No, she wasn’t the least bit ready. “Of course.”

“Good.” He escorted her down a brightly lit hallway and into his office.

Offering her a seat, he gestured to a comfortable yet elegant sitting area. He’d spared no expense in decorating his domain, and she suspected his family was as wealthy as hers. But that was where the similarity ended.

Flint was an only child—the prince, the heir to the Kingman throne. Gina, on the other hand, struggled with being a middle child, the one her parents overlooked, the one who had to work twice as hard to get noticed.

Gina sighed, then glanced up and caught Flint watching her.

Uncomfortable, she folded her hands on her lap.

He moved to stand in front of his desk—a rich, intricately carved block of mahogany.

“You have exceptional taste,” she said, struggling to fill the silence.

A small smile curved his lips. “In women?”

She shifted on the sofa. “In furniture.”

“Thank you.” The teasing smile remained. “Would you like a drink? Coffee, tea, a soft drink?” He walked to the bar. “A glass of milk?”