Читать книгу Packed With Pleasure - Lori Wilde - Страница 10

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.

“The flowers are for me?”

“Go ahead, read the card.”

Tentatively she reached for the envelope and opened it with shaky fingers.

From one sensualist to another, Alec.

Uh-oh. Because of her unusual profession, Alec had assumed she was much more sexually knowledgeable than she actually was. She hoped he wasn’t disappointed when he learned the truth about her.

If he learned the truth, she reminded herself. Keep things low-key for the time being. Feel out the situation before proceeding. Pretend this is nothing more than a business luncheon.

“The flowers are beautiful,” she said, feeling bowled over by his attentions, and dropped the card into her purse. “Thank you.” The garçon handed them their menus and an awkward silence ensued as they studied the choices.

“The coq au vin here is excellent,” Alec said.

“I’ll have that then.” She smiled and passed the menu back to the garçon. “And a house salad with vinaigrette dressing.”

“Oui, mademoiselle. Et pour vous, monsieur?”

“I’ll have the same,” Alec replied.

The garçon bowed and left.

“It’s too formal here.” Alec made a regretful face. “I went over the top.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she reassured him. “Very elegant.”

“I gravitate toward grand gestures. My sisters say it’s because I’m a show-off.”

In that moment he seemed as vulnerable as a little boy gifting his mother with a dandelion bouquet and holding his breath waiting for her approval.

Why, he’s just as nervous as I am. She was touched that he cared enough to be anxious and the realization relaxed her a little.

“I’m flattered you consider me worthy of a grand gesture,” Eden admitted, while at the same time worrying that things were moving too quickly. “This is a great place.”

“Really?”

“It’s lovely.”

He looked relieved and grateful for her kind words. He wasn’t nearly as cool and suave as she’d first supposed and she found his humanity endearing.

“Why don’t we get down to business while we’re waiting for our food.” She lowered her voice and glanced over her shoulder to make sure the waiter wasn’t still hovering. “Let’s discuss your friends’ secret sexual fantasies.”

“Excuse me?” He blinked at her as if he’d been caught napping.

“Randy and Jill. Their wedding present. The reason we’re here.”

“Oh, yeah, that.”

“Generally, I start the process with a basic fantasy. For instance the fantasy inspiration for your sister Sarah’s Palm Tree Passion basket was Island Girl and Surfer Dude.”

“I’m not sure I want to hear about my sister’s sexual fantasies. Thank you very much.”

Eden chuckled. “Okay, I see what you mean. That was just an example.”

She took the portfolio from her satchel and opened it up to reveal pictures of gift baskets she had created. She scooted her chair closer to his side of the table so they could both see the book.

The warmth of his breath feathered the hairs along the nape of her neck as he leaned in closer. She turned her head to look at him. Lowering her lashes, she shyly issued him a provocative invitation with her eyes. Worst-case scenarios aside, this was turning out to be much easier than she expected.

“Tell me if anything strikes a chord with you.”

“Will do.”

It was a strange sensation, Alec watching her so intently. She found she couldn’t quite lose herself in the moment. His smoky-gray eyes split her focus between the portfolio and her awareness of him studying her.

He made her feel beautiful, she realized, and that unnerved her too. She wasn’t accustomed to captivating a man’s attention so completely. Especially a man as handsome and dynamic as this one. That feeling dared her to act bolder, more confidently, urging her to be everything that he saw in her.

“What’s this one called?” Alec tapped the first photograph.

“Here we have the Professor and the Vixen. That basket might include things like reading glasses, feather boas, classical music tapes, or even a whip.”

The sleeve of his shirt lightly grazed her forearm and damn if a shower of sparks didn’t shoot through her body. Eden blew out her breath slowly to diffuse the stunning heat.

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“The Rock Star and the Groupie?”

“Nah.”

Eden flipped the page. “Master and Slave?”

Alec wriggled his eyebrows at her.

“You think they’d like that one?”

“No, but I would.”

She felt her cheeks start to burn, but then she denied the blush and fought it off. She was a professional. She did this for a living. She refused to be ashamed or embarrassed by frank sexual talk.

“Which do you fancy,” she teased, slanting him a sidelong glance. “Role-playing the master or the slave?”

“Oh,” he said, “I’m totally democratic. I believe in taking turns.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.” Oh my gosh, had she just said that? Eden longed to slap her hand over her mouth, but she didn’t.

His gray eyes crinkled at the corners. “What else you got?”

“Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down?”

“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.”

“Just like his best friend, huh?”

There she was again, reading him like an open book. It was an unsettling talent. He took a sip of water to cool himself off.

“And as for the playboy,” she said. “We’ll need a very sophisticated play toy.” When she pointed to one, Alec just about choked on his water.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Uh-huh” was all he could manage, and he waved a hand for her to continue.

“I could even write out a script for their playacting if you think that’s something they would enjoy,” Eden said. “Some customers appreciate having scripts to get their creative juices flowing.”

Babe, you’ve already got my juices flowing.

“Could you give me an example?” He knew he was naughty for making her describe the script in detail, but he couldn’t help himself. One glance into those scintillating blue eyes and he ached to be a very bad boy indeed.

Would she take the bait? Alec focused on her small, full mouth as she slowly slipped out the tip of her sweet, pink tongue and ran it over her lips.

“Okay,” she said. “This erotic scenario takes place on the playboy’s territory. Somewhere urbane. His penthouse apartment perhaps.”

Alec thought of his own penthouse apartment and gulped.

“Or maybe a hotel in Paris with a view of the Champs Elysee.”

“Uh-huh.”

“The lighting is just right. The music is smooth and sexy.” Her face took on a dreamy expression as if she herself were in that Paris hotel room. “The virgin is oh, so scared but she wants this so badly. Her knees tremble, her pulse pounds, her body heats up as he hands her a glass of champagne and speaks to her in the language of love.”

Eden murmured something very naughty in French and his animal instincts roared through his body. It was all Alec could do to keep from pulling her into his lap and kissing her right then and there.

Seemingly unaware of the physical turmoil she’d generated in him, Eden moved a palm in imitation of a panning camera. “The windows are open. The breeze blows her sheer nightgown against her bare legs. The playboy comes closer, a rakish gleam in his eyes. The inexperienced innocent wants him to teach her everything he knows.”

Eden stopped.

“Go on.”

She glanced nervously over her shoulder. “We’re in a public place.”

“And out of earshot of anyone.”

She softened her voice so he could barely hear her. “In painstaking detail the playboy tells her exactly what he’s going to do to her before it happens. How he’s going to undress her. How he’s going to run his hot hands over her silken body. How he’s going to suck her nipples until they are hard pebbles in his mouth.”

The hairs on the back of his neck raised and so did something far south of his neck. He was going to have to stop her from continuing or embarrass himself.