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She gathered her laptop bag and stood. Tague straightened as well, still holding her pictures.
L.L. said, “I create customized adult toys for the rich and famous. Vibrators, dildos, anal stimulants, clit massagers, nipple clamps…you name it. Artistically designed and elegantly packaged to fit individual preferences and personalities. All extremely classy and upscale, I assure you. My clientele is as distinguished as Meg’s. Celebrities. Rock stars. Royals. Politicians. Millionaires and billionaires. In fact, a number of my customers are also her members.”
He whistled under his breath. Admittedly, Tague was a little shocked. This woman never failed to throw him for a loop. And he liked it. Couldn’t even help the grin.
“Didn’t see that one coming.”
The sentiment applied to her choice of careers as much as it did to her unpredictability.
However, he did wave the stack of photos as he added, “This is a little difficult to compete with, when you know exactly what pleases you and can design it yourself.”
“I haven’t designed anything for myself yet.” She beamed up at him as her fingers glided over his silk tie. “And something tells me you have plenty of tools in your toolbox to keep me coming. Those wicked kisses of yours alone could do the trick, remember? Then there’s what you did to me in that dark corner…”
He groaned as the sexual tension returned full force. Lowering his head to hers, he murmured, “Tip of the iceberg, baby.”
She took the sheets of paper from him and stuffed them in her bag. Folded over the flap.
Tague slid an arm around her waist and aggressively pulled her to him. “You have no idea how badly I want to own this body.”
“Tague.”
His lips swept over hers. “Soon.”
He released her. Took a few steps back, needing the distance so that he didn’t ravage her right here and now on the Avenue of the Americas.
As they resumed walking, he said, “I have client dinners tonight and tomorrow, otherwise, I’d take you out on the town.”
“It’s probably for the best,” she reasoned. “Slow this down a bit.”
“That’s not exactly what I’m inclined to do. I’ll get your number from Chip and will call you this afternoon for your address. I’ll pick you up on Friday at six-thirty. The cocktail reception starts at seven-thirty.” His gaze didn’t waver as he suggested, “Why don’t you pack an overnight bag?”
She nearly missed her footing again.
Tague chuckled. Now he’d shocked her. “Let me amend that. Pack an overnight bag, L.L.”
They reached her building.
She still hadn’t uttered a word. So Tague said, “I’m sorry I’ve got other commitments right now and have to run.”
“Don’t think twice about it. We have our careers to focus on. Whatever this is…” She swirled a finger in the air, indicating the strong vibe between them that never diminished. “Came out of the blue. I don’t expect you to drop any balls for me. As much as you claim to understand me—and I really think you do, Tague—I have no delusions about the pressures weighing on your shoulders and all the responsibility you bear just by being a Mason. Add to that your own personal aspirations, and I’m pretty sure your hands are more than full.”
“There are some complications,” he confessed.
“I don’t want to be one of them.”
He gave a half-snort. “That’s unavoidable. From the moment I met you.”
She gnawed her bottom lip a moment. The nervous habit an endearing one. “I’m not crimping your style?” she inquired.
“Not in the least. But that doesn’t make this all cut and dried.”
“Right. So… You need to go. I don’t want to keep you from your work.”
He stared down at her a few seconds more, then said, “If anyone could keep me from my work, it just might be you.” He kissed her. Deeply. Passionately. Somehow not backing away from the complexity of this budding romance.
Eventually, he released her.
Though her fingers grazed his cheek as she asked, “What do you think the odds are, when you’ve been back in town, that we’ve both stood at our office windows at the same time and stared at each other—without even knowing it?”
