Mortified by the sudden intrusion into our privacy,
I scrambled up and back into the armrest, yanking
down my skirt.
“…two o’clock appointment is here.”
It took an endless moment to realize Cross and
I were still alone in the room, that the voice I’d
heard had come through a speaker. Cross stood
at the far end of the sofa, flushed and scowling,
his chest heaving. His tie was loosened and the fly
of his slacks strained against a very impressive
erection.
I had a nightmare vision in my head of what I
must look like. And I was late getting back to
work.
“Christ.” He shoved both hands through his hair.
“It’s the middle of the fucking day. In my goddamn
fucking office!”
I got to my feet and tried to straighten my
appearance.
“Here.” He came to me, yanking my skirt up
again.
Furious at what I’d almost let happen when I
should be at work, I smacked at his hands. “Stop
it. Leave me alone.”
“Shut up, Eva,” he said grimly, catching the hem
of my black silk blouse and tugging it into place,
adjusting it so that the buttons once again formed
a straight row between my breasts. Then he pulled
down my skirt, smoothing it with calm, expert
hands. “Fix your ponytail.”
Cross retrieved his coat, shrugging into it
before adjusting his tie. We reached the door at
the same time and when I crouched to fetch my
purse, he lowered with me.
He caught my chin, forcing me to look at him.
“Hey,” he said softly. “You okay?”
My throat burned. I was aroused and mad and
thoroughly embarrassed. I’d never in my life lost
my mind like that. And I hated that I’d done so with
him, a man whose approach to sexual intimacy
was so clinical it depressed me just thinking about
it.
I jerked my chin away. “Do I look okay?”
“You look beautiful and fuckable. I want you so
badly it hurts. I’m dangerously close to taking you
back to the couch and making you come ’til you
beg me to stop.”
“Can’t accuse you of being silver-tongued,” I
muttered, aware that I wasn’t offended. In fact, the
rawness of his hunger for me was a serious
aphrodisiac. Clutching the strap of my purse, I
stood on shaky legs. I needed to get away from
him. And, when my workday was done, I needed
to be alone with a big glass of wine.
Cross stood with me. “I’ll be done by five. I’ll
come get you then.”
“No, you won’t. This doesn’t change anything.”
“The hell it doesn’t.”
“Don’t be arrogant, Cross. I lost my head for a
second, but I still don’t want what you want.”
His fingers curled around the door handle. “Yes,
you do. You just don’t want it the way I want to give
it to you. So, we’ll revisit and revise.”
More business. Cut-and-dried. My spine
stiffened.
I set my hand over his and yanked on the
handle, ducking under his arm to squeeze out the
door. His secretary shoved quickly to his feet,
gaping, as did the woman and two men who were
waiting for Cross. I heard him speak behind me.
“Scott will show you into my office. I’ll be just a
moment.”
He caught me by reception, his arm crossing
my lower back to grip my hip. Not wanting to
make a scene, I waited until we were by the
elevators to pull away.
He stood calmly and hit the call button. “Five
o’clock, Eva.”
I stared at the lighted button. “I’m busy.”
“Tomorrow, then.”
“I’m busy all weekend.”
Stepping in front of me, he asked tightly, “With
whom?”
“That’s none of your—”
His hand covered my mouth. “Don’t. Tell me
when, then. And before you say never, take a
good look at me and tell me if you see a man
who’s easily deterred.”
His face was hard, his gaze narrowed and
determined. I shivered. I wasn’t sure I’d win a
battle of wills with Gideon Cross.
Swallowing, I waited until he lowered his hand
and said, “I think we both need to cool off. Take a
couple days to think.”
He persisted. “Monday after work.”
The elevator arrived and I stepped into it.
Facing him, I countered, “Monday lunch.”
We’d have only an hour, a guaranteed escape.
Just before the doors closed, he said, “We’re
going to happen, Eva.”
It sounded as much like a threat as a promise.
“Don’t sweat it, Eva,” Mark said, when I arrived at
my desk nearly a quarter after two. “You didn’t
miss anything. I had a late lunch with Mr. Leaman.
I just barely got back myself.”
“Thank you.” No matter what he said, I still felt
terrible. My kick-ass Friday morning seemed to
have happened days ago.
We worked steadily until five, discussing a fastfood
client and contemplating some possible
tweaks to ad copy for a chain of organic grocery
stores.
“Talk about strange bedfellows,” Mark had
teased, not knowing how apt that was in regard to
my personal life.
I’d just shut down my computer and was pulling
my purse out of the drawer when my phone rang. I
glanced at the clock, saw it was exactly five, and
considered ignoring the call because I was
technically done for the day.
But since I was still feeling shitty about my
overly-long lunch, I considered it penance and
answered. “Mark Garrity’s—”
“Eva honey. Richard says you forgot your cell
phone at his office.”
I exhaled in a rush and sagged back into my
chair. I could picture the handkerchief wringing
that usually accompanied that particular anxious
tone of my mother’s. It drove me nuts and it also
broke my heart. “Hi, Mom. How are you?”
“Oh, I’m lovely. Thank you.” My mom had a
voice that was both girlish and breathy, like
Marilyn Monroe crossed with Scarlett Johansson.
“Clancy dropped your phone off with the
concierge at your place. You really shouldn’t go
anywhere without it. You never know when you
might need to call for someone—”
I’d been debating the logistics of just keeping
the phone and forwarding calls to a new number I
didn’t share with my mom, but that wasn’t my
biggest concern. “What does Dr. Petersen say
about you tracing my phone?”
The silence on the other end of the line was
telling. “Dr. Petersen knows I worry about you.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I said, “I think
it’s time for us to have another joint appointment,
Mom.”
“Oh…of course. He did mention that he’d like to
see you again.”
Probably because he suspects you’re not
being forthcoming. I changed the subject. “I really
like my new job.”
“That’s wonderful, Eva! Is your boss treating you
well?”
“Yes, he’s great. I couldn’t ask for anyone
better.”
“Is he handsome?”
I smiled. “Yes, very. And he’s taken.”
“Damn it. The good ones always are.” She
laughed and my smile widened.
I loved it when she was happy. I wished she
were happy more often. “I can’t wait to see you
tomorrow at the advocacy dinner.”
Monica Tramell Barker Mitchell Stanton was in
her element at society functions, a gilded shining
beauty who’d never lacked male attention in her
life.
“Let’s make a day of it,” my mom said
“Let’s make a day of it,” my mom said
breathlessly. “You, me, and Cary. We’ll go to the
spa, get pretty and polished. I’m sure you could
use a massage after working so hard.”
“I won’t turn one down, that’s for sure. And I
know Cary will love it.”
“Oh, I’m excited! I’ll send a car by your place
around eleven?”
“We’ll be ready.”
After I hung up, I leaned back in my chair and
exhaled, needing a hot bath and an orgasm. If
Gideon Cross somehow found out I masturbated
while thinking about him, I didn’t care. Being
sexually frustrated was weakening my position, a
weakness I knew he wouldn’t be sharing. No
doubt he’d have a preapproved orifice lined up
before day’s end.
As I swapped out my heels for my walking
shoes, my phone rang again. My mother was
rarely distracted for long. The five minutes since
we’d ended our call was just about the right length
of time for her to realize the cell phone issue
hadn’t been resolved. Once again, I debated
ignoring the phone, but I didn’t want to take any of
the day’s crap home with me.
I answered with my usual greeting, but it lacked
its usual punch.
“I’m still thinking about you.”
The velvet rasp of Cross’s voice flooded me
with such relief I realized I’d been hoping to hear it
again. Today.
God. The craving was so acute I knew he’d
become a drug to my body, the prime source of
some very intense highs.
“I can still feel you, Eva. Still taste you. I’ve been
hard since you left, through two meetings and one
teleconference. You’ve got the advantage, state
your demands.”
“Ah,” I murmured. “Lemme think.”
I let him wait, smiling as I remembered Cary’s
comment about blue balls. “Hmm…Nothing is
coming to mind. But I do have some friendly
advice. Go spend time with a woman who
salivates at your feet and makes you feel like a
god. Fuck her until neither of you can walk. When
you see me on Monday you’ll be totally over it and
your life will return to its usual obsessivecompulsive
order.”
The creak of leather sounded over the phone
and I imagined him leaning back in his desk chair.
“That was your one free pass, Eva. The next time
you insult my intelligence, I’ll take you over my
knee.”
“I don’t like that sort of thing.” And yet the
warning, given in that voice, aroused me. Dark
and Dangerous for sure.
“We’ll discuss. In the interim, tell me what you
do like.”
I stood. “You definitely have the voice for phone
sex, but I’ve got to go. I have a date with my
vibrator.”
I should’ve hung up then, to gain the full effect of
the brush-off, but I couldn’t resist learning if he’d
gloat like I had imagined he would. Plus, I was
having fun with him.
“Oh, Eva.” Cross spoke my name in a decadent
purr. “You’re determined to drive me to my knees,
aren’t you? What will it take to talk you into a
threesome with B.O.B.?”
I ignored both questions as I slung my bag and
purse over my shoulder, grateful he couldn’t see
how my hand shook. I was not discussing Battery
Operated Boyfriends with Gideon Cross. I’d never
discussed masturbation openly with a man, let
alone a man who was for all intents and purposes
a stranger to me. “B.O.B. and I have a longtime
a stranger to me. “B.O.B. and I have a longtime
understanding—when we’re done with each other,
we know exactly which one of us has been used,
and it isn’t me. Good night, Gideon.”
I hung up and took the stairs, deciding the
twenty-floor descent would serve double-duty as
both an avoidance technique and a replacement
for a visit to the gym.
I was so grateful to be home after the day I’d had
that I practically danced through my apartment’s
front door. My heartfelt “God, it’s good to be
home!” and accompanying spin was vehement
enough to startle the couple on the couch.
“Oh,” I said, wincing at my own silliness. Cary
wasn’t in a compromising position with his guest
when I barged in, but they’d been sitting close
enough to suggest intimacy.
Grudgingly, I thought of Gideon Cross, who
preferred to strip all intimacy out of the most
intimate act I could imagine. I’d had one-night
stands and friends with benefits, and no one knew
better than I that sex and making love were two
very different things, but I didn’t think I’d ever be
able to view sex like a handshake. I thought it was
sad that Cross did, even though he wasn’t a man
who inspired pity or sympathy.
“Hey, baby girl,” Cary called out, pushing to his
feet. “I was hoping you’d make it back before Trey
had to leave.”
“I have class in an hour,” Trey explained,
rounding the coffee table as I dropped my bag on
the floor and put my purse on a barstool at the
breakfast bar. “But I’m glad I got to meet you
before I left.”
“Me, too.” I shook the hand he extended to me,
taking him in with a quick glance. He was about
my age, I guessed. Average height and nicely
muscular. He had unruly blond hair, soft hazel
eyes, and a nose that had clearly been broken at
some point.
“Mind if I grab a glass of wine?” I asked. “It’s
been a long day.”
“Go for it,” Trey replied.
“I’ll take one, too.” Cary joined us by the
breakfast bar. He was wearing loose-fitting black
jeans and an off-the-shoulder black sweater. The
look was casual and elegant, and did a
phenomenal job of offsetting his dark brown hair
and emerald eyes.
I went to the wine fridge and pulled out a
random bottle.
Trey shoved his hands in the pockets of his
jeans and rocked back on his heels, talking quietly
with Cary as I uncorked and poured.
The phone rang and I grabbed the handset off
the wall. “Hello?”
“Hey, Eva? It’s Parker Smith.”
“Parker, hi.” I leaned my hip into the counter.
“How are you?”
“I hope you don’t mind my calling. Your stepdad
gave me your number.”
Gah. I’d had enough of Stanton for one day.
“Not at all. What’s up?”
“Honestly? Everything’s looking up right now.
Your stepdad is like my fairy godfather. He’s
funding a few safety improvements to the studio
and some much-needed upgrades. That’s why I’m
calling. The studio’s going to be out of
commission for the rest of the week. Classes will
resume next Monday.”
I closed my eyes, struggling to tamp down a
flare of exasperation. It wasn’t Parker’s fault that
Stanton and my mom were overprotective control
freaks. Clearly they didn’t see the irony of
defending me while I was surrounded by people
trained to do that very thing. “Sounds good. I can’t
wait. I’m really excited to be training with you.”
“I’m excited, too. I’m going to work you hard,
Eva. Your parents are going to get their money’s
worth.”
I set a filled glass in front of Cary and took a big
gulp out of my own. It never ceased to amaze me
how much cooperation money could buy. But
again, that wasn’t Parker’s fault. “No complaints
here.”
“We’ll get started first thing next week. Your
driver has the schedule.”
“Great. See you then.” I hung up and caught the
glance Trey shot Cary when he thought neither of
us was looking. It was soft and filled with a sweet
yearning, and it reminded me that my problems
could wait. “I’m sorry I caught you on the way out,
Trey. Do you have time for pizza Wednesday
night? I’d love to do more than say hi and bye.”
“I have class.” He gave me a regretful smile and
shot another side-glance at Cary. “But I could
come by on Tuesday.”
“That’d be great.” I smiled. “We could order in
and have a movie night.”
“I’d like that.”
I was rewarded with the kiss Cary blew me as
he headed to the door to show Trey out. When he
returned to the kitchen he grabbed his wine and
said, “All right. Spill it, Eva. You looked stressed.”
“I am,” I agreed, grabbing the bottle and moving
into the living room.
“It’s Gideon Cross, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yeah. But I don’t want to talk about him.”
Although Gideon’s pursuit was exhilarating, his
goal sucked. “Let’s talk about you and Trey
instead. How did you two meet?”
“I ran across him on a job. He’s working part
time as a photographer’s assistant. Sexy, isn’t
he?” His eyes were bright and happy. “And a real
gentleman. In an old-school way.”
“Who knew there were any of those left?” I
muttered before polishing off my first glass.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. I’m sorry, Cary. He seemed great, and
he obviously digs you. Is he studying
photography?”
“Veterinary medicine.”
“Wow. That’s awesome.”
“I think so, too. But forget about Trey for a
minute. Talk about what’s bugging you. Get it out.”
I sighed. “My mom. She found out about my
interest in Parker’s studio and now she’s freaking
out.”
“What? How’d she find out? I swear I haven’t
told anyone.”
“I know you didn’t. Never even crossed my
mind.” Grabbing the bottle off the table, I refilled
my glass. “Get this. She’s been tracking my cell
phone.”
Cary’s brows rose. “Seriously? That’s…
creepy.”
“I know, right? That’s what I told Stanton, but he
doesn’t want to hear it.”
“Well, hell.” He ran a hand through his long
bangs. “So what do you do?”
“Get a new phone. And meet with Dr. Petersen
to see if he can’t talk some sense into her.”
“Good move. Turn it over to her shrink. So…is
everything okay with your job? Do you still love it?”
“Totally.” My head fell back into the sofa
cushions and my eyes closed. “My work and you
are my lifesavers right now.”
“What about the young hottie bazillionaire who
wants to nail you? Come on, Eva. You know I’m
dying here. What happened?”
I told him, of course. I wanted his take on it all.
But when I finished, he was quiet. I lifted my head
to look at him, and found him bright-eyed and
biting his lip.
“Cary? What are you thinking?”
“I’m feeling kind of hot from that story.” He
laughed and the warm, richly masculine sound
swept a lot of my irritation away. “He’s got to be
so confused right now. I would’ve paid money to
see his face when you hit him with that bit he
wanted to spank you over.”
“I can’t believe he said that.” Just remembering
Cross’s voice when he made that threat had my
palms damp enough to leave steam on my glass.
“What the hell is he into?”
“Spanking’s not deviant. Besides, he was going
for missionary on the couch, so he’s not averse to
the basics.” He fell into the couch, a brilliant smile
lighting up his handsome face. “You’re a huge
challenge to a guy who obviously thrives on them.
And he’s willing to make concessions to have you,
which I’d bet he’s not used to. Just tell him what
you want.”
I split the last of the wine between us, feeling
marginally better with a bit of alcohol in my veins.
What did I want? Aside from the obvious? “We’re
totally incompatible.”
“Is that what you call what happened on his
couch?”
“Cary, come on. Boil it down. He picked me up
off the lobby floor, and then asked me to fuck.
That’s really it. Even a guy I take home from a bar
has more going for him than that. Hey, what’s your
name? Come here often? Who’s your friend?
What are you drinking? Like to dance? Do you
work around here?”
“All right, all right. I get it.” He set his glass down
on the table. “Let’s go out. Hit a bar. Dance ’til we
drop. Maybe meet some guys who’ll talk you up
some.”
“Or at least buy me a drink.”
“Hey, Cross offered you one of those in his
office.”
I shook my head and stood. “Whatever. Let me
take a shower and we’ll go.”
I threw myself into clubbing like it was going out of
style. Cary and I bounced all over downtown clubs
from Tribeca to the East Village, wasting stupid
money on cover charges and having a fabulous
time. I danced until my feet felt like they were
going to fall off, but I toughed it out until Cary
complained about his heeled boots first.
We’d just stumbled out of a techno-pop club
with a plan to buy me flip-flops at a nearby
Walgreens when we ran across a hawker
promoting a lounge a few blocks away.
“Great place to get off your feet for a while,” he
said, without the usual flashy smile or
exaggerated hype most of the hawkers employed.
His clothes—black jeans and turtleneck—were
more upscale, which intrigued me. And he didn’t
have fliers or postcards. What he handed me was
a business card made from papyrus paper and
printed with a gilded font that caught the light of
the electric signage around us. I made a mental
note to hang on to it as a great piece of print
advertising.
A stream of quickly moving pedestrians flowed
around us. Cary squinted down at the lettering,
having a few more drinks in him than I had. “Looks
swank.”
“Show them that card,” the hawker urged. “You’ll
skip the cover.”
“Sweet.” Cary linked arms with me and
dragged me along. “Let’s go. You might find a
quality guy in a swanky joint.”
My feet were seriously killing me by the time we
found the place, but I quit bitching when I saw the
charming entrance. The line to get in was long,
extending down the street and around the corner.
Amy Winehouse’s soulful voice drifted out of the
open door, as did well-dressed customers who
exited with big smiles.
True to the hawker’s word, the business card
was a magic key that granted us immediate and
free entrance. A gorgeous hostess led us upstairs
to a quieter VIP bar that overlooked the stage and
dance floor below. We were shown to a small
seating area by the balcony and settled at a table
hugged by two half-moon velvet sofas. She
propped a beverage menu in the center and said,
“Your drinks are on the house. Enjoy your
evening.”
“Wow.” Cary whistled. “We scored.”
“I think that hawker recognized you from an ad.”
“Wouldn’t that rock?” He grinned. “God, it’s a
great night. Hanging out with my best girl and
crushing on a new hunk in my life.”
“Oh?”
“I think I’ve decided to see where things go with
Trey.”
That made me happy. It felt like I’d been waiting
forever for him to find someone who’d treat him
right. “Has he asked you out yet?”
“No, but I don’t think it’s because he doesn’t
want to.” He shrugged and smoothed his artfully
ripped T-shirt. Paired with black leather pants and
spiked wristlets, he looked sexy and wild. “I just
think he’s trying to figure out the situation with you
first. He wigged when I told him I lived with a
woman and that I’d moved across the country to
be with you. He’s worried I might be bi-curious
and secretly hung up on you. That’s why I wanted
you two to meet today, so he could see how you
and I are together.”
“I’m sorry, Cary. I’ll try to put him at ease about
it.”
“It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it. It’ll work
out if it’s supposed to.”
His assurances didn’t make me feel better. I
tried to think if there was a way I could help.
Two guys stopped by our table. “Okay if we join
you?” the taller one asked.
I glanced at Cary, and then back at the guys.
They looked like brothers and they were very
attractive. Both were smiling and confident, their
stances loose and easy.
I was about to say, Sure, when a warm hand
settled on my bare shoulder and squeezed firmly.
“This one’s taken.”
Across from me, Cary gaped as Gideon Cross
rounded the sofa and extended his hand to him.
“Taylor. Gideon Cross.”
“Cary Taylor.” He shook Gideon’s hand with a
wide smile. “But you knew that. Nice to meet you.
I’ve heard a lot about you.”
I could’ve killed him. I seriously thought about it.
“Good to know.” Gideon settled on the seat
beside me, his arm draped behind me so that his
fingertips could brush casually and possessively
up and down my arm. “Maybe there’s hope for me
yet.”
Twisting at the waist, I faced him and whispered
fiercely, “What are you doing?”
He shot me a hard glance. “Whatever it takes.”
“I’m going to dance.” Cary stood with a
mischievous grin. “Be back in a bit.”
Ignoring my pleading glance, my best friend
blew me a kiss and the guys followed him. I
watched them all go, my heart racing. After
another minute, ignoring Gideon became
ridiculous, as well as impossible.
My gaze slid over him. He wore dress slacks in
graphite gray and a black V-neck sweater, the
overall effect being one of careless sophistication.
I loved the look on him and was attracted to the
softness it gave him, even though I knew it was
only an illusion. He was a hard man in a lot of
ways.
I took a deep breath, feeling like I needed to
make an effort to socialize with him. After all,
wasn’t that my big complaint? That he wanted to
skip past the getting-to-know-you stage and jump
straight into bed?
“You look…” I paused. Fantastic. Wonderful.
Amazing. So damn sexy…In the end, I went with
the lame, “I like the way you look.”
His brow arched. “Ah, something you like about
me. Is that a general like of the overall package?
Or just the clothes? Only the sweater? Or maybe
it’s the pants?”
The edge to his tone rubbed me the wrong way.
“And if I say it’s just the sweater?”
“I’ll buy a dozen and wear them every damn
day.”
“That would be a shame.”
“You don’t like the sweater?” He was pissy, his
words coming clipped and fast.
My hands flexed restlessly in my lap. “I love the
sweater, but I also like the suits.”
He stared at me a minute, and then nodded.
“How was your date with B.O.B.?”
Oh hell. I looked away. It was a lot easier
talking about masturbation over the phone. Doing
it while squirming under that piercing blue stare
was mortifying. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
He brushed the backs of his fingers over my
cheek and murmured, “You’re blushing.”
I heard the amusement in his voice and swiftly
changed topics. “Do you come here often?”
Shit. Where did that clichéd line come from?
His hand dropped to my lap and caught one of
mine, his fingers curling into my palm. “When
necessary.”
A quick stab of jealousy made me stiffen. I
glared at him, even though I was mad at myself for
caring either way. “What does that mean? When
you’re on the prowl?”
Gideon’s mouth curved into a genuine smile
that hit me hard. “When expensive decisions need
to be made. I own this club, Eva.”
Of course he did. Jeez.
A pretty waitress set two pinkish-colored iced
drinks in square tumblers on the table. She looked
at Gideon and gave him a flirtatious smile. “Here
you go, Mr. Cross. Two Stoli Elites and cranberry.
Can I get you anything else?”
“That’ll be all for now. Thanks.”
I could totally see that she wanted to get on the
preapproved list and I bristled at that; then I was
distracted by what we’d been served. It was my
beverage of choice when clubbing and what I’d
been drinking all night. My nerves tingled. I
watched him take a drink, swirl it around in his
mouth like a fine wine, and then swallow it. The
working of his throat made me hot, but that was
nothing compared to what the intensity of his stare
did to me.
“Not bad,” he murmured. “Tell me if we made it
right.”
He kissed me. He moved in fast, but I saw it
coming and didn’t turn away. His mouth was cold
and flavored with alcohol-laced cranberry.
Delicious. All the chaotic emotion and energy that
had been writhing around inside me abruptly
became too much to contain. I shoved a hand in
his glorious hair and clenched it tight, holding him
still as I sucked on his tongue. His groan was the
most erotic sound I’d ever heard, making the flesh
between my legs tighten viciously.
Shocked by the fury of my reaction, I wrenched
away, gasping.
Gideon followed, nuzzling the side of my face,
his lips brushing over my ear. He was breathing
hard, too, and the sound of the ice in his tumbler
clinking against the glass skittered across my
inflamed senses.
“I need to be inside you, Eva,” he whispered
roughly. “I’m aching for you.”
My gaze fell to my drink on the table, my
thoughts swirling around in my head, a clusterfuck
of impressions and recollections and confusion.
“How did you know?”
His tongue traced the shell of my ear and I
shivered. It felt like every cell in my body was
straining toward his. Resisting him took an
impossible amount of energy, draining me and
making me feel tired.
“Know what?” he asked.
“What I like to drink? What Cary’s name is?”
He inhaled deeply, and then pulled away.
Setting his drink down, he shifted on the sofa and
drew a knee up onto the cushion between us so
that he faced me directly. His arm once again
draped over the sofa back, his fingertips drawing
circles on the curve of my shoulder. “You visited
another of my clubs earlier. Your credit card
popped and your drinks were recorded. And Cary
Taylor is listed on the rental agreement for your
apartment.”
The room spun. No way…My cell phone. My
credit card. My fucking apartment. I couldn’t
breathe. Between my mother and Gideon, I felt
claustrophobic.
“Eva. Jesus. You’re white as a ghost.” He
shoved a glass into my hand. “Drink.”
It was the Stoli and cranberry. I pounded it,
draining the tumbler. My stomach churned for a
moment, then settled. “You own the building I live
in?” I gasped.
“Oddly enough, yes.” He moved to sit on the
table, facing me, his legs on either side of mine.
He took my glass and set it aside; then warmed
my chilled hands with his.
“Are you crazy, Gideon?”
His mouth thinned. “Is that a serious question?”
“Yes. Yes, it is. My mom stalks me, too, and she
sees a shrink. Do you have a shrink?”
“Not presently, but you’re driving me crazy
enough to make that a possibility.”
“So this behavior isn’t normal for you?” My heart
was pounding. I could hear the blood rushing past
my eardrums. “Or is it?”
He shoved a hand through his hair, restoring
order to the strands I’d mussed when we’d kissed.
“I accessed information you voluntarily made
available to me.”
“Not to you! Not for what you used it for! That
has to violate some kind of privacy law.” I stared
at him, more confused than ever. “Why would you
do that?”
He had the grace to look disgruntled at least.
“So I can figure you out, damn it.”
“Why don’t you just ask me, Gideon? Is that so
fucking hard for people to do nowadays?”
“It is with you.” He grabbed his drink off the
table and tossed back most of it. “I can’t get you
alone for more than a few minutes at a time.”
“Because the only thing you want to talk about is
what you have to do to get laid!”
“Christ, Eva,” he hissed, squeezing my hand.
“Keep your voice down!”
I studied him, taking in every line and plane of
his face. Unfortunately, cataloging the details
didn’t lessen my awe even a tiny bit. I was
beginning to suspect I’d never get over being
dazzled by his looks.
And I wasn’t alone; I’d seen how other women
reacted around him. And he was crazy rich, which
made even old, bald, and paunchy guys attractive.
It was no wonder he was used to snapping his
fingers and scoring an orgasm.
His gaze darted over my face. “Why are you
looking at me like that?”
“I’m thinking.”
“About what?” His jaw tightened. “And I’m
warning you, if you say anything about orifices,
preapprovals, or seminal emissions, I won’t be
held accountable for my actions.”
That almost made me smile. “I want to
understand a few things, because I think it’s
possible I’m not giving you enough credit.”
“I’d like to understand a few things myself,” he
muttered.
“I’m guessing the ‘I want to fuck you’ approach
has a high success rate for you.”
Gideon’s face smoothed into unreadable
impassivity. “I’m not touching that one, Eva.”
“Okay. You want to figure out what it’s going to
take to get me into bed. Is that why you’re here in
this club right now? Because of me? And don’t
say what you think I want to hear.”
His gaze was clear and steady. “I’m here for
you, yes. I arranged it.”
Suddenly the threads the street hawker had
been wearing made sense. We’d been hustled by
someone on Cross Industries’s payroll. “Did you
figure that getting me here would get you laid?”
His mouth twitched with suppressed
amusement. “There’s always the hope, but I
expected it would take more work than a chance
meeting over drinks.”
“You’re right. So why do it? Why not wait until
Monday lunch?”
“Because you’re out trolling. I can’t do anything
about B.O.B., but I can stop you from picking up
some asshole in a bar. You want to score, Eva,
I’m right here.”
“I’m not trolling. I’m burning off tension after a
stressful day.”
“You’re not the only one.” He fingered one of my
silver chandelier earrings. “So you drink and
dance when you’re tense. I work on the problem
that’s making me tense in the first place.”
His voice had softened, and it stirred an
alarming yearning. “Is that what I am? A problem?”
“Absolutely.” But there was a hint of a smile
around his lips.
I knew that was a lot of the appeal for him.
Gideon Cross wouldn’t be where he was, at such
a young age, if he took “no” gracefully. “What’s
your definition of dating?”
A frown marred the space between his brows.
“Lengthy social time spent with a woman during
which we’re not actively fucking.”
“Don’t you enjoy the company of women?”
The frown turned into a scowl. “Sure, as long as
there aren’t any exaggerated expectations or
excessive demands on my time. I’ve found the
best way to steer clear of those is to have mutually
exclusive sexual relationships and friendships.”
There were those pesky “exaggerated
expectations” again. Clearly, those were a
sticking point with him. “So, you do have female
friends?”
“Of course.” His legs tightened around mine,
capturing me. “Where are you going with this?”
“You segregate sex from the rest of your life.
You separate it from friendship, work…
everything.”
“I’ve got good reasons for doing that.”
“I’m sure you do. Okay, here are my thoughts.” It
was difficult concentrating when I was so close to
Gideon. “I told you I don’t want to date and I don’t.
My job is priority number one and my personal life
—as a single woman—is a close second. I don’t
want to sacrifice any of that time on a relationship
and there’s really not enough left over to squeeze
in anything steady.”
“I’m right there with you.”
“But I like sex.”
“Good. Have it with me.” His smile was an
erotic invitation.
I shoved his shoulder. “I need a personal
connection with the men I sleep with. It doesn’t
have to be intense or deep, but sex needs to be
more than an emotionless transaction for me.”
“Why?”
I could tell he wasn’t being flippant. As bizarre
as this conversation must be for him, Gideon was
taking it seriously. “Call it one of my quirks, and
I’m not saying that lightly. It pisses me off to feel
used for sex. I feel devalued.”
“Can’t you look at it as you using me for sex?”
“Not with you.” He was too forceful, too
demanding.
A sizzling, predatory glimmer sparked in his
eyes as I bared my weakness for him.
“Besides,” I went on quickly, “that’s semantics. I
need an equal exchange in my sexual
relationships. Or to have the upper hand.”
“Okay.”
“Okay? You said that really quickly considering
I’m telling you I need to combine two things you
work so hard to avoid putting together.”
“I’m not comfortable with it and I don’t claim to
understand, but I’m hearing you—it’s an issue. Tell
me how to get around it.”
My breath left me in a rush. I hadn’t expected
that. He was a man who wanted no complications
with his sex and I was a woman who found sex
complicated, but he wasn’t giving up. Yet.
“We need to be friendly, Gideon. Not best buds
or confidants, but two people who know more
about each other than their anatomy. To me, that
means we have to spend time together when
we’re not actively fucking. And I’m afraid we’ll
have to spend time not actively fucking in places
where we’re forced to restrain ourselves.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?”
“Yes. And see, that’s what I mean. I wasn’t
giving you credit for that. You should’ve done it in
a less creepy manner”—I covered his lips with my
fingers when he tried to cut me off—“but I admit
you did try to set up a time to talk and I wasn’t
helpful.”
He nipped my fingers with his teeth, making me
yelp and yank my hand away.
“Hey. What was that for?”
He lifted my abused hand to his mouth and
kissed the hurt, his tongue darting out to soothe.
And incite.
In self-defense, I tugged my hand back to my
lap. I still wasn’t completely confident that we’d
worked things out. “Just so you know there are no
exaggerated expectations—when you and I spend
time together not actively fucking, I won’t think it’s
a date. All right?”
“That covers it.” Gideon smiled and my decision
to be with him solidified for me. His smile was like
lightning in the darkness, blinding and beautiful
and mysterious, and I wanted him so badly it was
physically painful.
His hands slid down to cup the backs of my
thighs. Squeezing gently, he tugged me just a little
bit closer. The hem of my short black halter dress
slipped almost indecently high and his gaze was
riveted to the flesh he’d exposed. His tongue wet
his lips in an action so carnal and suggestive I
could almost feel the caress on my skin.
Duffy began begging for mercy, her voice
drifting up from the dance floor below. An
unwelcome ache developed in my chest and I
rubbed at it.
I’d already had enough, but I heard myself
saying, “I need another drink.”
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