Private Sessions

She picked up on the second ring.

“Our meeting was interrupted the other day. I’d like to continue it.”

He waited for Bryna Metaxas to reply. “I’d like that,” she said, a low, groin-tightening purr in her voice. “Next week?”

“A half hour. At Giorgio’s.”

HALF AN HOUR wasn’t nearly enough time for a girl to put on her evening best. But when the invitation was accepted, she was bound by business etiquette to follow through.

But as the taxi pulled up to Giorgio’s forty minutes later, Bryna knew that business had nothing to do with agreeing to meet Caleb Payne at the upscale restaurant.

She adjusted the heel strap of the gold Grecian-style sandals that Ari had brought back from Santorini for her, paid the driver and stepped out, pleasantly surprised to find Caleb waiting for her outside the doors. She’d expected him to be ensconced in one of the plush booths enjoying a drink, possibly even having ordered already.

Instead he’d waited outside.

Every sensation she’d experienced during their meeting the other day returned … tenfold. She felt…. breathless, somehow. Like he was already touching her everywhere she wanted to be touched by him. and she was responding in a greedy, uninhibited way….

Over the past couple of days, she’d tried to convince herself she was overreacting to what had really happened, imagined that he had been attracted to her, shelved any sexual notions with a Post-it that read harmless flirtation.

But now she knew she hadn’t amplified anything…. if anything, she’d downplayed it.

She walked in his direction, watching him watch her. Despite her business argument, she was dressed for sheer pleasure. There was nothing innocent about her choice of little black dress. The clingy material was too intimate, her bare shoulder moist with lotion and perfumed, her hair down from her usual twist and finger-curled around her face.

Bryna hesitated slightly as she drew near enough to speak. In the waning evening light, he looked a dangerous black figure, more shadow than light. And for reasons she was ill-prepared to identify, she felt as if she was walking into a trap. A nicely appointed trap, but one the man across from her had designed to his advantage … and one she fully intended to enter, the hell with the consequences.

Finally, she stopped in front of him, clutching her small purse. Whatever words she might have said dissolved against her dry tongue as Caleb’s gaze lingered on her legs and then slowly made its way up the snug fit of her dress until he finally looked into her eyes. Bryna jutted her chin out the tiniest bit and smiled suggestively, waiting for his thoughts, which she was sure he was about to share.

“Intriguing.”

Bryna shivered. She’d never been referred to as intriguing before; she decided she liked it. More, she was determined to prove herself exactly that.

She asked in a voice she hardly recognized, “Shall we?”

The upward quirk of the corners of his mouth made her own water. “We most definitely shall….”

4

CALEB HAD CERTAINLY KNOWN his share of women. And prided himself on being able to pigeonhole them within five minutes. Who they were. What they were after. How long their liaison would last.

But Bryna Metaxas was proving a charming enigma.

Throughout dinner she was by turns openly flirtatious and smartly businesslike depending on which way he slanted the conversation.

She even seemed to realize exactly what he was doing with each turn, a small, acknowledging smile letting him know that he wouldn’t always get his way.

Little did she know that he always got exactly that, he reflected as he sipped his post-dinner coffee.

“So, tell me, Mr. Payne. Since it’s obvious you didn’t ask me here to discuss business matters—in fact, I’m certain you haven’t even looked at the proposals I left at your office—then why did you ask?”

Direct. Fresh. Another woman might think the reason for his invitation unimportant, instead focusing on what she could gain from it. Not Bryna.

“Is it a sin to want to enjoy the company of a beautiful woman?”

She licked the side of her fork in a decidedly sexy manner that they both knew was done for reasons other than enjoyment of the slice of chocolate mousse torte she’d ordered for dessert.

“I should think you’d have at least a dozen beautiful women you could call.”

Caleb leaned back in the leather booth, his suit pants feeling tight around the crotch at the sight of her tongue darting out of her red painted lips and drawing slowly along the silver. He could think of one place in particular where he’d like to see her do that, and the idea was so tempting it was more intoxicating than the snifter of cognac he’d ordered along with his coffee.

“I could also ask why you were free on a Friday evening.” He hiked a brow. “Or did you cancel something?”

“You’re redirecting the conversation. Again.”

Caleb chuckled and narrowed his eyes as he considered her.

“Okay.” He leaned forward, placing his hands on the table between them. “I recently found myself at the end of six-month relationship,” he said. “And hadn’t thought about not having company this weekend. And, the truth is, I do not like to dine alone.”

She appeared surprised that he’d offered up what he had. She leaned forward, as well, their hands nearly meeting on the table. “I appreciate the honesty, but that still doesn’t explain why you called me.”

“I called you,” he began, turning his hands palm up, aware of the way they itched to touch her, her cheek, her neck, her breasts…. “Because I was reasonably sure that you wouldn’t sleep with me tonight.”

That apparently surprised her as she sat back. But she recovered quickly.

She didn’t appear in any hurry to offer up a response. And he liked that. Indeed, he enjoyed watching her face as she turned his explanation over in her beautiful head, her eyes growing dark, her smile provocatively sexy.

He’d bet she was slowly rubbing her foot against the calf of her other leg under the table.

“Reasonably?” she asked, her voice quiet and loaded with suggestion.

Nice. “Mmm.”

“Because?”

“Because you wouldn’t want me to get the wrong impression.”

She smiled. “Ah, because of our business connection.”

“There is no business connection.”

“Yet.”

He grinned. “Yet.”

“So you think I’m above sleeping with someone for business gain,” she said quietly, putting another forkful of torte in her mouth. A mouth that was driving him to absolute distraction.

“I think you’re very much above it.”

“And if I invited you back to my place?”