Читать книгу Twice the Temptation - Rochelle Alers, Rochelle Alers - Страница 8

When Denise left Rhett standing on the curb, she hadn’t expected to see him again until Saturday. Less than twenty-four hours later he had surprised her again.

“Have you come to renege on our deal?”

Denise had spoken so softly Rhett had to strain to hear what she was saying. “Is that what you want?” he asked. “You want out?”

“Did I say I wanted out?” Denise found it hard to breathe. She was standing in a hallway, less than two feet from Rhett Fennell, whose presence seemed to suck the air from her lungs. She lowered her gaze rather than let him see her lusting after him. And that was exactly what she’d fantasized about the night before. She’d gone to bed thinking of Rhett, which was enough to trigger an erotic dream. When she awoke, it was to a pounding heartbeat and a pulsing between her legs that left her wet and moaning in frustration.

“Come to my office, and we’ll talk.”

Denise had invited Rhett to her office when what she’d wanted was to show him the door. They had struck a deal to see each other on weekends only.

Rhett noticed the gentle sway of Denise’s hips in a pair of black cropped stretch pants. He knew she was tense because her back was ramrod straight and both hands at her side were balled into fists. The casual slacks, sleeveless white blouse and black sandals with a wedge heel made her look more approachable than she had the night before. The blue dress reminded him of an ice queen—look but don’t touch. And he hadn’t touched her except to cradle her elbow.

Even her hairstyle was different. Instead of the bun, which he’d found much too severe for her age and delicate features, a narrow headband pulled her glossy curls off her face. When they were in school together she’d always worn a short hairstyle.

Rhett felt the flesh between his thighs come to life when the image of her hair spread across his pillow popped into his head. Just as quickly, it went away, leaving him breathing heavier and with an ache in his groin. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. Fortunately for him, Denise was in front of him or she wouldn’t have been able to miss his hard-on straining against his fly. As surreptitiously as he could, he buttoned his jacket, concealing the bulge.

“How much work did you have to do to this place before you were able to open?” He had to talk. Say anything to keep his mind off Denise’s slim, yet curvy body. They walked past closed doors to offices for the center’s social worker, dietician and business manager. Nameplates identified each person and their position.

Denise slowed when she came to an open area with eight round tables, each with seating for six. As in the reception area, she’d decided against chairs, opting instead for benches. Several skylights, potted plants, ferns and ficus trees provided a parklike atmosphere.

“Not too much,” she threw over her shoulder as she opened the door to her office. Her name and position were etched on the nameplate affixed to the door. “The contractor had to patch up a few holes before he could paint. The previous owner had replaced the roof three years ago, so that saved me at least thirty grand.”

Stepping aside, Denise let Rhett precede her into the room that at one time had been her second home. She’d come in at dawn to let the workmen in and occasionally slept on an inflatable bed she’d put away in a closet. The center was equipped with three full bathrooms, each with a shower and two half-baths in the nursery and classrooms for children, ranging in age from two to five.

“Please sit down, Rhett.” Denise gestured toward a love seat in a soft neutral shade. She sat in a matching one facing him. She crossed one leg over the other, bringing his gaze to linger on the rose-pink polish on her toes. “Would you like something to eat or drink? We’ve just finished giving the children their lunch, so the kitchen is still open.”

“No, thank you. I just ate.”

He glanced around Denise’s office. It reflected her personality with plants lining a window ledge. Her desk was an old oak top from another generation, a Tiffany-style desk lamp, a fireplace mantel filled with different size candles. Three of the four walls in her office were brick, the remaining one covered with framed prints of children from around the world.

Denise stared at Rhett through lowered lashes. To say he looked delicious was an understatement. Today he wore a dark blue suit with a maroon-colored silk tie and white shirt. He looked nothing like the college student who’d favored jeans, pullover sweaters or sweatshirts. At that time, Rhett owned just one suit, which he only wore on special occasions.

“How old is that desk?”

Rhett’s question caught Denise off guard. She didn’t know why he’d come to the center, but she was willing to bet it had nothing to do with the furnishings. “It’s quite old.”

He smiled. “How old is quite old?”

“I’m not selling it, Rhett.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Why don’t you wait for me to make an offer.”

“Offer all you want, I’m not selling.”

Rhett angled his head, staring at the antique desk. “Have you had it appraised?”

She nodded. “Appraised and insured. It belonged to my grandfather who got it from a client who’d lost all of his assets in the crash of ‘29. The desk and several other pieces of furniture were payment for a criminal case my grandfather had taken on and won for him. My father inherited it from his father. He gave up his practice once he was appointed to the bench, and I quickly put in my bid for the desk.”

“Who else wanted it?” Rhett asked.

“Every lawyer in the family pulled out their check-books, claiming it should go to someone practicing law, not a schoolteacher.”

“Ouch,” Rhett drawled, smiling. “That’s definitely a shot across the bow.”

Denise sucked her teeth. “Yeah, right. I was quick to tell them the desk belonged to my father, and as his baby girl I was entitled to it.”

“No, you didn’t pull the baby-girl card.”

“Whatever works, Rhett.”

He sobered. “Speaking of whatever works, I’d like you to give me a tour of the facility.”

“Why?” she countered. “Are you thinking of becoming an investor?”

Denise regretted the question as soon as it rolled off her tongue. It was enough that Rhett owned the building and the land on which New Visions Childcare sat, but she didn’t need him to own a percentage of her business.

“Do you need an investor, Denise?”

“No,” she said much too quickly. “My revenues are enough to support the day care operation.”

“Do you have money put aside?”

“Yes.” And she did. The monies she would get from the sale of her co-op would become her emergency fund. Denise had promised herself that she wouldn’t use her personal funds unless it was a dire emergency. So far, she’d been able to keep that promise.

“Good for you.” Rhett stood up, extended his hand and pulled Denise gently to her feet. “My initial reason for coming was to talk to you about this weekend.”

“You could’ve called me, Rhett. After all, I did give you my number.”

“I was in the neighborhood, so I decided to drop by.”

He hadn’t lied to Denise. He’d come to this section of D.C. to tour the neighborhood and see what was needed to upgrade the quality of life for the people who lived there. His company owned four square blocks designated for commercial use; the urban planner on his staff had suggested he drive around the neighborhood to survey the area before he made his decision about redevelopment.

“What are you doing, Rhett? Taking stock of your assets?”

Rhett knew Denise was spoiling for a confrontation because he’d coerced her into being his escort for the summer. She could’ve called his bluff and said no, but she hadn’t. Despite their very intimate past, she still hadn’t known him that well. If she had, then she would’ve believed him rather than Trey when he’d told her that he hadn’t been sleeping with other women. And if she had truly believed him when he confessed to loving her, she wouldn’t have ended up in bed with Trey.

He hadn’t purchased the real estate to jack up the rents, as he’d threatened to do with New Visions, but to improve the property and the quality of life for the residents.

Rhett wasn’t that far removed from the neighborhood in which he’d grown up not to recognize the importance of adequate child care. It provided a safe haven for the children of working parents and those who were trying to pursue their education and thereby better themselves and their families. However, Denise had fallen into a carefully planned trap.

He took a step, bringing him close enough for her chest to touch his. “Which assets do you speak of?”

Denise hadn’t realized the double entendre until it was too late. Her lips parted at the same time Rhett angled his head, brushing his mouth over hers. His hands came up and he took her face, holding it gently as if he feared she would shatter if he let her go.

Slowly, deliberately, he caressed instead of kissing her mouth, seeking to allay her fears that he wanted to dismantle what she’d worked so hard to establish. He kissed her because it was something he’d wanted to do the moment he saw her walk across the lobby of the Hay-Adams hotel.

Tiptoeing, Denise pressed her lips closer. Rhett’s mouth brushed hers like a butterfly fluttering over her lips. She wanted more, much more, but she knew they couldn’t and wouldn’t go back in time.

She and Rhett had been caught up in a magical world where love and passion were indistinguishable. They’d eaten together, studied together, made love to each other and spent countless hours planning a future that included marriage and children.

However, four years of togetherness ended abruptly when the rumor floating around the university that Garrett Fennell was sleeping with her and another student was no longer a rumor but real when Denise opened the door to her boyfriend’s dorm room to find a naked woman asleep in his bed. In that instant, the love she’d known and felt for Rhett disappeared. She’d left as quietly as she’d come, walking out of the building and out of Rhett’s life.

“Don’t! Please, Rhett.”

Rhett froze, his gaze meeting and fusing with Denise’s. There was something in her eyes he recognized as fear and he wondered whether he’d put it there. He dipped his head to kiss her again, but her hands pressed against his chest stopped him.

“What’s wrong, Denise?”

A rush of heat singed Denise’s face and body when she realized the enormity of what had just taken place. “You coming here unannounced and then kissing me when someone could’ve walked in on us. That’s what’s wrong,” she spat out.

Smiling, Rhett pushed his hands into the pockets of his suit trousers to keep from reaching for her again. Anger had replaced the fear, and he remembered Denise being most passionate whenever she was angry. Memories of their makeup sex were permanently branded into his head.

“The next time I come I’ll make certain to make an appointment beforehand. And I promise never to kiss you again in your office.”

Denise saw the beginnings of a smirk. If she was going to be angry at anyone, then it had to be at herself. She’d learned never to challenge Rhett Fennell because he would accept the challenge and win.

He’d waged a silent and bloodless battle when he’d outlined the conditions for renewing her lease—leaving her with little or no recourse, and she was forced to accept his terms. Rhett had called it negotiating, while to her it was still a subtle form of blackmail.

The residents in the neighborhood needed the child care center, she wanted to make certain it remained open, and it wasn’t as if she had a horde of men lining up outside her door to take her out.

What Denise hadn’t wanted to think about was if she had had a boyfriend would Rhett have proposed the same game plan. Then she’d recalled him saying, “I need someone who will stand in as my date and hostess, provided your boyfriend doesn’t object,” and she’d answered her own question. It would not have made a difference.

“Please give me a few minutes, and I’ll take you around to see the facility.”

Walking on stiff legs, Denise went into the private bathroom and shut the door. The image staring back at her in the mirror over the sink was one she didn’t recognize.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispered. If Rhett hadn’t ended the kiss when he did, she probably would’ve asked for more—and more translated into her begging him to make love to her.

When she and Rhett shared a bed for the first time it had been her first time. Denise knew she’d shocked him, because she hadn’t told him she was a virgin. What she hadn’t wanted was for him to feel guilty and continue to see her out of a perverse sense of obligation.

However, he did continue to date her. It was another month before they made love again, and she’d experienced her first orgasm. Making love with Rhett was always good. Makeup sex was even better. It was the memories of their lovemaking, the plans they’d made for a life beyond college, that had lingered with her after she’d graduated and returned to Philadelphia.

It had taken more than a year for her to acknowledge what she’d had with Rhett was over and she had to move on with her life. She’d gotten back into the dating scene when she and several teachers at the school where she’d taught met regularly at a downtown Philly club on Friday nights. Denise had refused to date any of the male teachers with whom she worked, but she had met a software analyst at one of the weekly social mixers. They’d played telephone tag for several weeks before connecting.

Denise had liked Kevin enough to go out with him for three months. They’d slept together once. Days later she had been filled with guilt because she’d compared Kevin to Rhett, and the former fell far short of satisfying her. Kevin had seemed to get the picture without her having to connect the dots, and they had mutually agreed to stop seeing each other.

“Denise, are you all right in there?” asked Rhett outside the closed door.

“I’m good. Just give me a few more minutes.”

When did you become such an astute liar? Denise mused, as she splashed cold water on her face. She patted her face with a soft towel, then opened the chest over the sink and took out a small jar with powder that matched her skin tone. She shook out a minute amount on a brush and applied the powder to her face. Within seconds her face had a rich, healthy glow. A coat of mascara to her lashes and lip gloss rounded out her mini-makeover. Denise ran her fingers through her hair, fluffing up the curls before she washed her hands.

It’s amazing what a new do, a new outfit and a little makeup can do to lift a woman’s spirit. Denise smiled in spite of the situation in which she’d found herself. “Thank you, Mom,” she whispered.

Paulette Eaton’s manifesto had served her well on many occasions. She didn’t have a new do or outfit, but a little color on her face had done the trick. When she emerged from the bathroom she was emotionally ready to deal with the likes of Rhett Fennell.

Her eyes were smiling and her step light as she reached for a lanyard with her picture ID, then led him out of her office. “This area of the center is called the administrative section. Whenever we have staff meetings, or something when we invite the parents and siblings of the children enrolled here, we hold them out here.”

“It looks like a park,” Rhett said.