“You’re not taking it seriously enough.” When it came to any type of interaction with men, she always took things seriously. She had no other choice. She’d been caught off guard before, and she wasn’t about to be in the position of having no control again.
Maurice shook his head quizzically. “Why should I? So what, we chatted on some message board for three months. That’s our private business, and we don’t have to answer to anyone for what we do in private. If we want to take those conversations to another level, same goes. It’s our decision.”
“I work for your father,” she said as if he didn’t already know. “And you’re just three steps shy of being called a manwhore across all media outlets. If anybody caught wind of the fact that we spent a weekend having freaky sex at a ski resort, we’d both be in for a whole lot of scrutinizing and questions. Is that what you want?”
His smile vanished and was replaced by a pensive look she rarely saw on him. All things considered, Maurice was a really good, down-to-earth guy. He was a fine-ass millionaire with an MBA in business and public relations, who loved his mother—and his whole family—profusely. Laughing was his favorite pastime, and hot ’n’ spicy was his favorite food group. They’d worked well together, which was great because a lot of times their roles at RGF in marketing and PR overlapped. Even knowing all that, there’d never been a day or a moment that she’d ever considered sleeping with him.
Until now.
“You know me better than that, Des. I’ve never moderated my steps to appease anybody, and I’m damn sure not starting now. You’re the woman I’ve been having very intimate conversations with. That makes you the woman I want to spend this weekend getting to know a whole lot better.” His tone remained serious, his gaze holding hers. “What we decide to do on Monday morning will be our decision, and that’s it. An option that’s not on the table is keeping secrets. Now, I’m not saying we take out a front-page ad describing what we’re doing, but I’m not going to hide from the world the way Riley and Chaz tried to do.”
Riley Gold was the chief executive of market research and product development at RGF and Maurice’s younger sister. Chaz Warren was the social-media guru turned brand manager at King Designs, RGF’s biggest competitor and former rival. Earlier this year, they’d hooked up in Milan for a hot weekend and returned to New York intending to keep their affair a secret. Long story short, word got out and drama ensued. Desta would reluctantly have to side with Maurice on this one: a secret affair wasn’t the way to go.
“You never stay with a woman past three dates, anyway.” The words sounded much saltier than she’d intended and implied that she’d paid more attention to his personal life than she had.
“You’re not a woman I would’ve ever asked on a date.”
That was a sharp retort, and for a few seconds she wondered how she should reply. “Because you know I’m not as gullible as the women you date, and I would never fall for thatnow is now and later is whatever I say it isspeech you like to give them.”
He raised his gloriously thick and well-maintained eyebrows, giving her a barely amused look. “Stating my terms up front is safer for all involved.”
This man really was way too handsome and charming for his own good. His tawny-brown complexion was just a shade darker than her own creamy, light brown skin tone. His thick wavy hair was jet black, cut close on the sides, and his walnut eyes had the power to assess with scrutiny or melt with desire. She was somewhere in the middle of those sensations right now as he stared at her.
Her gaze didn’t waver even when she leaned forward again. “Then, I’ll be the one to state my terms first this time, so there’ll be no confusion.”
With a smirk he raised open arms and said, “Be my guest.”
Smug and sexy was a deadly combination.
“We’ve paid for this weekend and come all this way, so we might as well stay. Participation in any of the items on that agenda have to be discussed and mutually agreed upon. Before we leave on Sunday, we’ll talk about next steps. I don’t make it a habit of flaunting my personal business at work, but I’ve never been one to hide my truth, either.”
The latter wasn’t totally honest. There’d been a time—way too long ago, now that she thought back on it—that she’d lost herself and hadn’t known which way to go to save whatever part of her was left. But that time had passed, and she’d be damned if she’d start down that road ever again. To prove that point she’d decided to spend this weekend with Maurice, but that decision was in no way acquiescence to his wants. She fully planned to call the shots concerning whatever they did for the next two days. If she wasn’t feeling it, she wasn’t doing it, no matter what Maurice said or did. She wasn’t operating under his thumb anymore, doing whatever he said just to keep the peace or to keep him from... With an inner shake she reminded herself that Maurice wasn’t her ex-fiancé.
“Sounds good to me.” A nod followed his quickly spoken words. “You wanna know what else sounds good? The BBQ ribs and homemade potato salad I saw on the menu for a little restaurant just down the road. We can be there in ten minutes.” He stood as if he were about to get his coat and head out, with or without her.
Desta stood, too. “I could eat.” She’d worked right up until leaving her house a little after three this afternoon. It was almost seven thirty now.
“Then, let’s go, Dear Lover 1288.” Offering her a bent elbow, he smiled bright like he’d just won the lottery.
She certainly wasn’t worth millions of dollars, nor did she like thinking of herself as any type of prize, but she did hook her arm in his. “I think we know each other well enough to forego those usernames now.”
“We probably know each other better than any of those people in that room.” He’d started walking toward the coat-check desk.
“I guess you could say that.” Maurice moved quickly, turning to face her, cupping a hand to her chin.
His gaze held hers as if they were both searching for something they’d never seen before. A tingle began at the base of her neck, moving quickly throughout her body until she felt alive in a way she never had before.
“I might not know the exact odds of this happening, but I’d say they were definitely in our favor.” He moved in slowly, like he wanted to give her time to decide if she wanted what was certainly coming next.
Did she want it? And from him, no less?
Her answer was to remain still, to wait and see how this would play out. It began with a warm brush of his lips over hers, and the desire she’d felt upon first seeing him expanded. It flooded her mind and her body until she couldn’t help but lean into him. His eyes remained open and fixated on her as he eased back slightly, then came in again, touching his lips to hers once more. This time there was no retreat. He slipped his tongue inside next, and all thoughts of odds, words and champagne flutes fled her mind.
He’d planned to wait. Tonight was supposed to be for getting to know Dear Lover 1288 better on a face-to-face basis. Did she fidget when she talked? Was she as pleasant in person as she’d been via email? Did she talk while chewing? That kind of stuff. But then, when he’d learned it was Des...well, he was counting that as a win. He already knew she had perfect table manners, almost to the point of being annoying, especially when she dabbed her napkin at her lips so daintily. She was always composed, so no fidgeting. No tripping over her words, just concise statements, eye contact and an air of confidence that he admired. All of that meant there was no need to wait a polite amount of time before getting his hands—and lips—on her.
Especially not when she’d laced her arm in his, standing so close the heady sophisticated scent of her perfume permeated his senses. Coupled with all those words they’d shared via email, it was a wonder he hadn’t actually pushed her dress up and buried his face between her legs the way he’d written he was going to do.
For now, the kiss was enough, especially since she’d leaned into him with as much anticipation as he felt swirling around the pit of his stomach. Craving more of her, he let his hands slide until they were at her waist. Then he eased them down to grip her hips and hold her steady against his unabashed erection.
