Sinful Desire Page 11
Sophie had other ideas about what made a good match. Besides, who said she was looking for something serious? She was quite content with her life as it was, thank you very much. If she wanted anything right now, it was passion. It was sparks and fire.
It was Ryan Sloan, and the way he commanded her pleasure.
Oh God, just his name in her head sent heat flaring in her body.
Which meant it was time to nip this thing with Clyde in the bud. She’d run a multi-million dollar company for several years, and she hadn’t gotten to that position by letting the men she worked with try to set her up.
She touched Clyde on the shoulder with her fingertips. “Clyde, you know I adore you. And I could humor you right now simply to stay in your good graces, but I want to be totally honest. Your grandson is lovely. However, I’ve started seeing someone, and it’s going quite well so far. So I’m not really on the market at the moment.”
He frowned. “Is it serious?”
“Clyde,” she said softly. “It’s not a matter of whether it’s serious. It’s a matter of choice. I’m choosing to see someone right now, and likely I’ll be bringing him to the benefit. I hope this won’t affect your support of the center, but it’s important to me to be honest with you.”
Clyde took a deep breath and nodded, as if he were processing this news. She mentally crossed her fingers, praying she hadn’t messed up by being frank. She held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t snatch away his funding.
“I’ve been too presumptuous,” he said, contrition in his tone. “And I respect you for saying that. And of course I remain a committed supporter.” Then he fixed on a cheery smile. “And I look forward to meeting this man at the event.”
Oh shoot. There was that little matter. Now she had to deliver Ryan in the flesh to back up her thanks, but no thanks. To prove she was an honest woman.
“You will definitely meet him then,” she said, her businesslike bravado hiding her worry that she’d been too bold to think Ryan would be her arm candy.
She was going to need to ask Ryan to be her date. The possibility thrilled her, but he seemed to be playing it day by day. Would he even want to plan that far ahead?
As she drove to her next meeting, she ran through the best ways to invite Ryan to the event. What was happening between them was new and tender, and she didn’t want to ruin it by asking for too much. Would this type of date imply they were more than merely lovers? Was she ready to state that so boldly?
She shut off the questions momentarily when she arrived at the community center, parking behind a brown Buick. She rushed inside for a quick visit with Elle, who ran the center, updating her on the status of the fundraising.
“So glad it’s going well. We are lucky to have you behind this,” Elle said, gesturing broadly to the broken-down building and the basketball court with its cracked concrete surface, badly in need of the repair and revamp that they hoped would soon be possible.
“It thrills me to help,” Sophie said, as the dark-haired and insanely gorgeous Elle walked her back to her car, passing the basketball courts on the way, where teenage boys played hoops. A few of them stopped to stare at Sophie, and one even catcalled.
“Sweet blonde ass,” the guy said with a whistle. She couldn’t tell if it was the guy with ink all over his arms or someone else, and it didn’t bother her terribly.
But it bothered Elle.
Elle called the guy’s name then admonished him. “Watch it. Show a little respect, like we’ve talked about,” she said in a strong voice, and he muttered a low “Sorry.”
Elle turned to Sophie. “They’re works in progress.”
Sophie smiled. “Aren’t we all works in progress?”
Elle laughed lightly. “That we are. Lord knows I certainly am.” Then she turned more serious. “Thank you again for everything. I know we can do so much more for these kids when this comes together.”
“We have great donors behind this. It’ll happen.”
As she said goodbye, backing away from the Buick then heading in the direction of the Strip, her damn brain went haywire again, trying to figure out what was happening with Ryan. She muttered a curse as she turned onto the highway, dropping her shades over her eyes to shield them from the sun. She gripped the wheel tighter, trying to focus solely on driving. But still her mind whirred and raced as she played out scenarios and cycled through relationship permutations, just as she had with computers.
The questions rattled her brain and drove the tension in her body sky-high.
When she returned to her building, she felt like a radio station tuned in badly—all warped, fuzzy, and off-kilter. She’d been frazzled by what she needed to do next—push Ryan into something that might feel more serious, when he hardly seemed the type.
But then she shoved all those feelings aside once the front desk attendant told her there was a delivery for her. He handed her a silvery gift bag with slim handles, and instantly she was sure it was from the man she had a third date with. Desperate to open it, she clutched it tightly as the elevator shot her up to her floor.
The second she opened her door, she tore in and found a small white box, tied with a white bow, resting inside the red tissue paper. She pulled off the bow and removed the lid.
Wow. She lifted the satiny fabric. The panties were dark pink with sheer lace in front. But it was the back that knocked the breath out of her. The rear was comprised solely of crisscross satin pieces of fabric that would leave most of her bottom exposed. A cage-open panel, it was called, according to the tag.
She called it a prelude to multiple orgasms.
Sophie owned many pairs of pretty panties, but this was by far the most alluring. This took sexy to new heights. Moments later, her phone pinged with the notification that a message had arrived.
from: guywithgreentie@gmail.com
to: Sophiefashionista@gmail.com
date: July 16, 3:48 PM
subject: Delivery
I hope you’ll forgive me that they aren’t pale pink.
from: Sophiefashionista@gmail.com
to: guywithgreentie@gmail.com
date: July 16, 3:54 PM
subject: Forgiveness granted
I do forgive you. I forgive you so much I promise to be wearing these next time I see you.
from: guywithgreentie@gmail.com
to: Sophiefashionista@gmail.com
date: July 16, 3:57 PM
subject: Don’t test me like that
See you in five minutes then.
from: Sophiefashionista@gmail.com
to: guywithgreentie@gmail.com
date: July 16, 4:04 PM
subject: Don’t tease me like that
Good things come to those who wait…
from: guywithgreentie@gmail.com
to: Sophiefashionista@gmail.com
date: July 16, 4:07 PM
subject: Not teasing…
How’s 7:00 tonight? If that’s presumptuous, I can wait ’til 7:30. But no later.
from: Sophiefashionista@gmail.com
to: guywithgreentie@gmail.com
date: July 16, 4:12 PM
subject: Presume…
You can take me for that drive in my car that you wanted. I’ll be out front at seven-thirty.
Looked like that third date would be happening sooner than expected.
Chapter Thirteen
It didn’t matter where they were going tonight or what they were doing.
She was wearing a dress. She was not toying with him today because she wanted what he wanted.
Access.
She adjusted the slim orange shoulder straps as they curved into a tight white bodice that was practically fused to her breasts. Just enough cleavage ensured his eyes would pop out of his head, and then the skirt itself would pretty much blast all his brain cells away. Full and gathered, the white skirt with oranges printed on it swished as she walked. The waist cinched with a slim belt, and she wore matching orange pumps with a strap over her instep. The
cotton sateen fabric of the dress wasn’t see-through, so she could wear the pink panties he’d sent, no problem.
As if she’d wear anything else right now.
This was a sex date, wasn’t it? Sophie’s lips twitched up as she answered the question herself. It was. Oh yes, it was, and she wanted it, needed it, and was damn eager to have it.
Ryan was an enticing mix of enigmatic and open, of caveman and gentleman. The combinations she saw inside him intrigued her, body and heart. His quickness with words and the ease of his flirty banter ignited her mind. There was something else in him, too, that simply gripped her—the man had a magnetic intensity. It drew her to him, lured her under his spell.
That was where she wanted to be tonight.
She grabbed a small white handbag, swapped her wallet, lipstick, and phone into it, then realized she didn’t have a condom. She laughed when she couldn’t even remember how long it had been—not only since she’d needed one, but also since she’d bought one.
It would be up to Ryan, and he sure seemed like the kind of man who came prepared.
One more check of her reflection told her everything was neatly in place, including the soft curls she’d styled into her hair after she showered. She ran a shimmery red lip gloss wand over her lips, then tucked that into her purse, too.
She tapped her chin, cycling through her mental to-do list. She’d been to the office, she’d seen Clyde, she’d visited Elle, she’d confirmed some items for the concert, and then made a number of phone calls for other fundraisers she was working on. There was so much in motion, but right now her plate was clear. Her list was emptied. Time to have fun.
She left her room, swinging her purse in her hand as she headed for the kitchen to grab a glass of water and go. Ten minutes until he’d be downstairs waiting for her. As she drank the cool liquid, she dialed the valet service in her building and asked them to bring her car around.
The sound of a lock in the door caught her attention. John walked in with the weariest look on his face, but the second he spotted Sophie in the kitchen, his tired eyes lit up. “Hey Soph,” he said.
“Hey you. Long day?”
He nodded, dropped his keys on the table by the door, and headed to the kitchen. “Too long a day. Got the run-around from everyone.”
“The life of a detective,” she said, then held up a finger in the air. “But I have just the cure for a long day.”
He arched an eyebrow, as she walked over to a black marble table at the edge of her kitchen and held up a sturdy glass bottle. She removed the stopper and poured some amber liquid. She grabbed an ice cube from the freezer, dropped it in, and handed him the glass. “There’s never been a long day in the history of the whole world that Macallan can’t make better.”
John raised the glass and knocked half of it back. “Ah,” he said with a satisfied sigh as he set the drink on the counter. “That does make my day suddenly shorter.”
She laughed. “See? I told you. Are you still working on that case?”
He nodded. “That one and a few others. Today was like a goddamn puzzle. You know the math problems you can’t solve? If a train is going at the speed of—” Then he stopped and shook his head, bemused. “Look who I’m talking to. You never had problems solving math puzzles.”
She laughed. “True. So if you ever run into any math or code-breaking with your cases, just let me know.”
He took another drink. “And this was over addresses. Fucking addresses from years ago.”
“Sounds more like cartography than math,” Sophie said.
“Well, both are vexing my partner and me,” he said, then furrowed his brow as he glanced at her outfit. “What’s with the dress? Wait. You’re probably just going grocery shopping like that. Am I right?”
She made a funny face. “Ha ha. And yes, I would wear this grocery shopping. But if you must know, I have a hot date.”
He covered his ears. “La la la. I don’t want to hear it.” He took his hands off his ears.
“Why’d you ask then?”
“Like I said, long day. It fries my brain. Who’s the date with?”
“As a matter of fact, it’s someone I met—”
But her words were cut off when his phone bleated loudly from his back pocket. “Manny,” he said. Manny was his partner. “Got to take it.”
She waggled her fingers. “Toodle-loo. Don’t wait up for little old me.”
He rolled his eyes then pressed the phone to his ear. “What’s the latest?”
Sophie left for the elevators, headed to the lobby, and walked out the front door into the hot July evening that had coasted into Vegas.
Her breath fled her chest when she saw Ryan leaning against one of the stone columns in the portico, his sunglasses on, a tailored shirt tucked into crisp pants, and a suit jacket tossed over his shoulder. The second he saw her, he strode over and surveyed her from head to toe.
She waited for him to speak first.
“You,” he began, and his voice sounded dry. “Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Are you wearing them?”
She leaned closer, her lips mere millimeters from his as she grasped his hand and pressed her keys into his palm. “Take me somewhere and find out.”
Chapter Fourteen
The car hummed. Adrenaline surged through him as he drove into the dusk, heading for the mountains southwest of the city. There was still unchartered land in that area. Building had just begun, which meant miles upon miles of roads were still bare.
As he shifted on an uphill stretch, the engine roared. The feel of the luxury automobile she owned was absolutely extraordinary, blurring into some kind of gorgeous harmony between car and driver and road.
Not to mention the incredible woman in the passenger seat.
As he accelerated, his chest vibrated with a purpose—find some place and fuck her.
He stole glances at Sophie during the drive, wishing it were possible to stare at her and keep his eyes on the road at the same time.
“Have I mentioned you look good enough to eat?”
“It’s the oranges, isn’t it?” she asked, running her fingers along the pattern on her dress.
“You had cherries on your dress when I met you. Now oranges. What will it be next time?”
“Do you like peaches?”
“I love peaches. I love peach ice cream. I especially love peach pie.”
“Then maybe I’ll have peaches on me next time,” she said with a sly look in her eyes.
He laughed then tapped the steering wheel as he turned onto a two-lane road at the base of the mountains. “So what’s the deal with you and this car?”
“What do you mean?”
“Is this like a James Bond thing you have going on?”
She laughed and shook her head. “He doesn’t drive this model. Lately he’s been driving the DBS. This is a Vantage GT.”
“I know. It just seems very Bond.”
“Maybe I’m a spy,” she whispered in a sultry voice, winking as she spoke.
“Are you a good spy or a bad spy?”
“I’m whatever kind you want me to be,” she said, and the innuendo in her words heated him up. The notion that she’d play whatever role he wanted intoxicated him.
But then, everything she did turned him on, it seemed. His attraction to her ran red-hot, and burrowed deep into his body. It operated on some kind of elemental level that at times he felt powerless to resist or deny. His fingers gripped the wheel harder as lust thrummed through him.
But even so, he remained curious about her. The woman who generated all this heat in his blood. He wanted to understand her. “What I mean is,” he said, trying again, “what’s the story with you and this fancy car, and the gorgeous building you live in, and the way you dress like you stepped off the pages of a magazine?”
“The answers are simple. I give a lot of my money away, and I give all my time away. But I still like having nice things. And I like to reward myself for
hitting milestones in charitable fundraising. Like this car—it was a gift I gave myself after my first big event. And this dress I picked up when I started working with the children’s wing. Besides, I like dressing nice. Is that a crime?”
He shook his head. “Hell, no. You wear it all well. Do you like being pretty?”
She laughed lightly. “I’m glad you think that about me.”
“Answer the question,” he said firmly, since she’d just danced around what he considered an immutable truth of the universe—she was beautiful.
“Ryan,” she said, and he heard her embarrassment in her tone. He was having none of that.
“Sophie,” he said in a firm voice. “You’re gorgeous. Don’t deny it. Now tell me, do you like being so gorgeous?”
“To you—yes,” she said, managing once again not to answer completely. But her answer was completely satisfying.
Briefly, he ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “Stunning. You are fucking stunning.” He turned his eyes back to the road that curved up into the hills. “Even in that hoodie and hat picture you sent me.”
“I told you I was a nerd in college. I mean, total nerd,” she said, slicing her hands through the air for emphasis. “I had a weird haircut. I died my bangs blue. I was bent over a desk coding all the time.”
“I wouldn’t mind seeing you bent over a desk.”
She shot him a naughty grin. “Why does that not surprise me?”
“Did you like having blue hair?”
She shrugged. “I did it to fit in. There’s a certain geek culture, and I had to work hard to conform to it. Already I had a strike against me being a woman, so I tried to at least look the part of a computer nerd.”
If she hadn’t sent that photo he’d never have believed it. “And now that you’ve left that part of your life behind, you embrace this other side of yourself,” he said, gesturing to the pinup dress and high heels and the styled hair.
“Exactly,” she said, her eyes lighting up.
“Was that part of you untended to? The woman in you?”
She scoffed. “For many years,” she said, almost to herself. He was about to follow up and ask what she meant, but she kept talking. “But there are always parts of ourselves that we don’t take care of. I could ask you the same. Are you the same person you were when you were in the army?”