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Sultry Pleasure Page 3


  The car pulled up in front of a restaurant that had a line of people waiting to get in that extended halfway down the block. A valet approached the car, opening Marcus’s door and then Diana’s. They got out and he gave the slim woman in a fitted tuxedo outfit the keys to the Mercedes.

  Marcus slid the valet ticket into his pants pocket. Then, almost as an afterthought, he shrugged off his blazer and threw it in the backseat of the car. He thanked the valet, then walked with Diana to the back of the long line.

  *

  As Marcus joined her in line, Diana looked at him in surprise and admiration. She’d expected him to approach the front of the line and demand to be seated immediately. Her estimation of him rose.

  “What is this place?” she asked

  “This is Gillespie’s,” he said. “A nice and simple lounge where we can have a bite to eat, get to know each other and spend the evening together without being on the water.”

  She didn’t rise to the teasing bait in his voice. “Sounds nice,” she murmured, amused despite herself.

  “I hope you’ll think so when we get in.”

  As they waited in line, Diana noticed that a few newcomers left their expensive cars and headed directly to the door, expecting star treatment. But they didn’t get it. People already waiting gave each other knowing looks as the newcomers were directed to the back of the line.

  A couple of D-list movie stars were up ahead of her and Marcus. A musician whose song was on rotation on Top 40 stations. And many women who looked like models, tall and haughty with beautifully applied makeup and rich-looking men on their arms.

  The line moved quickly, and it wasn’t long before they were inside. Gillespie’s turned out to be more than a restaurant; it was also a lounge and jazz bar. A moody piano played over the speakers, audible through the voices riding the air, setting a sophisticated and mellow mood. Diana liked it right away. The hostess, a gorgeous brown-skinned woman with her long hair twisted in a bun, showed them to a table upstairs that overlooked the stage.

  The delicious smell of food wove through the restaurant. As Diana opened her menu, a waiter walked past with a cast-iron skillet sizzling with a mixture of green peppers, onions and shrimp. Diana’s stomach growled. She blushed and looked up at Marcus. He was watching her.

  “You’re not looking at the menu,” she said.

  “I already know what I want.” His steady look made it clear exactly what he was talking about.

  The heat in her face burned even hotter, but she kept her voice level. “The only thing you’ll have in your mouth tonight is listed right there.” She dipped her head toward the closed menu in front of him.

  “That sounds very discouraging,” he said with a low laugh.

  “I’m just letting you know not to expect anything more than dinner tonight.”

  He shrugged. “The pleasure of your company is all I need.”

  She rolled her eyes and lifted the menu to look at the offerings. It wasn’t long before their waitress appeared. Marcus placed his order still without looking at the menu. After a hesitating moment, Diana ordered something that looked decent but wasn’t too expensive.

  She didn’t want him thinking that just because he paid for a fifty-dollar steak, he was entitled to lay her on her back at the end of the night. Although she worked in the nonprofit world and often relied on rich men and women to keep the good work of the foundation going, she knew all too well that most of them would commodify any woman if given the chance. If they wanted her, those rich people assumed she had a price. Granted, she’d never felt the delicate thrums of attraction for one of them before.

  “Why don’t you trust me?” he asked.

  “Who said I don’t trust you?” She looked at him with studied innocence.

  He chuckled, tilting his head to look at her with his brilliant eyes. “I like you, Diana. I enjoy your company. If at any point you don’t like what’s going on tonight, you can just get up and go. I’ll call you a taxi and that will be that.”

  His kindness suddenly made her feel ridiculous. She took a sip of the champagne he’d ordered for them and looked around the restaurant. On stage, a woman had joined the pianist, singing a soulful version of Nina Simone’s “My Baby Just Cares for Me.”

  Looking down at the performance, she realized that most of the crowd was actually paying attention to the music, pausing their conversations and their meals to watch the woman with a head of blazing red hair vamp it up while her husky and sensual voice made an invitation out of the song.

  “I like it here,” she said after a few minutes watching the singer. “Thank you for bringing me.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  After their meal came, they sat in a comfortable quiet, allowing the music to fill the spaces between them. The food—a creamy onion soup rich with the taste of butter and garlic, and seared scallops simmered in orange butter and served on a bed of edamame and quinoa—was delicious, probably one of the best meals she’d ever eaten.

  Marcus offered to share his braised lamb shank served with red cabbage and gorgeous golden polenta. She declined but watched him eat his meal with obvious pleasure, slowly savoring each bite and licking his lips before taking a sip of the wine.

  After the waitress took their dinner plates away, they sat back with drinks to enjoy the performances on the stage. Diana sipped her champagne, sweetly relaxed in her chair as she turned her head to listen to the delicate, intertwined voices of the twin girls, no older than teenagers, who were singing now. She felt Marcus’s eyes on her, a gentle weight, but she did not look up.

  “Dance with me,” he said.

  In that moment, she couldn’t imagine saying no to him. He guided her to the dance floor near the main stage, where there were only a dozen or so people already dancing. Marcus opened his arms, and she stepped into them.

  The twins sang a slow and lulling version of “Blue Gardenia,” one of them sitting on the edge of the stage with her cordless microphone while the other swayed on her feet in front of the corded mic, her voice wrapping the room in a velvet curtain of sound. Their voices were low and deep, surprising for such small girls. Diana tried to focus on them instead of the man whose arms were wrapped around her.

  Unlike the last time they danced, she felt an intimacy between them, their bodies moving in slow communion to the strains of the jazz song. He smelled solid and warm, spicy, like cedar and sandalwood.

  She pulled his scent into her, unable to help herself. He didn’t pull her into him and force his crotch into hers, only held her delicately, allowing their bodies to come close during the song, then drift back apart. They swayed, and she smelled him. They turned, and his warmth flowed over her. His hand pressed into the small of her back while his thighs brushed against hers during the dance. A whisper of his breath moved at her ear.

  “You are beautiful,” he murmured.

  And God help her, she believed him.

  She slipped her arms around his neck and moved closer, a little horrified that she was so susceptible to flattery. But it felt good that this handsome man thought she was beautiful and wanted to spend time with her. She was enjoying his company. When the song ended, they kept dancing by silent agreement, moving even more slowly as the singers took on a Sade song, “Lover’s Rock.”

  Their hips swayed together. Flutters of arousal moved through Diana’s belly, made her skin tingle whenever it touched his. She knew she should be worried, that she should move away from him and regain control of herself, but it felt too good. His touch. The music. The desire winding around them like a silken ribbon.

  The song ended and Marcus slid his hands around her waist, pressed his mouth to her forehead.

  “I want to kiss you,” he murmured.

  She trembled at the urgency in his voice. Her hands tightened for a moment on his shoulders. Her body was hot with the need for that kiss. “Not here,” she said, not sure how she would react to his touch in front of all those people.

  He pulled back, to
ok her hand and drew her through the thin crowd of dancers. Down a quiet, wood-paneled hallway. The smell of cigars and wood smoke. Emptiness. He pressed her against the wall, hips against hers, hands planted on either side of her head. His mouth swooped down, lightly touching hers and sweetly asking permission.

  Diana parted her lips with a sigh. A sound of pure masculine pleasure rumbled through him as they kissed. Mouths fiercely joined, tongues twining together. He touched her hips, hands hard and warm on her. Arousal rippled through her. She sank her nails into his back through the thin shirt and he made another rough sound, then shoved his hips into hers.

  What are you doing?

  A part of her rebelled against what she was falling into. But the rest of her rejoiced. She squeezed her thighs together as the arousal built. He licked her mouth, sucking on her tongue, sending a molten feeling straight into her lap. She wanted his hands on her. She wanted him inside her. But…but that couldn’t happen. She wasn’t that kind of girl.

  Diana forced herself to pull away from him, palms pressed to his chest, easing away to dim the fires of the sudden and consuming desire.

  “Christ! You’re so damn sexy….” He breathed the words against her mouth.

  “You’re not so bad yourself.” She bit the inside of her lip to stop herself from inviting him home with her. It had been so long since she’d been with a man she was attracted to like this, a man who was attracted to her in return. Diana dug her fingers into his biceps.

  “I want to spend the night with you,” he rasped.

  She shook her head, but before the words could pass her lips, he squeezed her waist. “Not like that. Well, I’d like that, but I would settle for seeing the sunrise with you.” He said it as if surprised by the desire. By her. “I want to make the night last.”

  “Yes,” she said softly. “Yes. I want that, too.”

  He looked relieved. “Good.”

  As they walked back to the table, her phone vibrated through her purse. She thought about ignoring it, but the years of being the responsible one in her family wore her down. She took out the phone.

  It was a text from her brother, Jason. She already had a missed call from him. His car had broken down somewhere in Coconut Grove, and he wanted her to come get him.

  Diana’s jaw tightened as she read her brother’s message. There was no way she could ignore it. But with the fires of possibility burning between her and Marcus, she was tempted to. She bit back a groan of disappointment.

  “I have to go,” she said as they got to their table.

  Marcus looked at her in surprise, and she winced. Why tonight, of all nights, did Jason need her? If she didn’t know any better, she’d think her brother knew she was this close to finally getting some and wanted to screw things up for her.

  Marcus put money on the table for their bill. “I’ll take you back to your car.” She saw disappointment on his face, a naked and vulnerable look, but he didn’t say anything else.

  “It’s my brother,” she said softly, feeling the need to explain about her sudden exit. Diana shrugged. “I have to go to him.”

  “Family is important,” Marcus said. He pulled her into him, kissed her lightly on the mouth, then pressed briefly into her as if he wanted and needed more. “You don’t have to explain.”

  She was glad for his understanding, but she wanted to scream. Her brother knew he could count on her for so much that he often turned to her instead of taking care of the simplest things himself. Like this. Why hadn’t he called AAA and used the membership she had gotten him a couple of years ago when he’d first gone off to college? She sighed quietly and wrapped a hand around Marcus’s solid arm, compelled to touch him even if it was in the most innocuous way.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “No. Thank you for coming out with me tonight. I know you had other plans.”

  “This is much better than the night I had planned. There definitely was no unlimited champagne at the office.”

  He smiled. “If you want, I can take care of that for you. I can arrange for a Dom Perignon fountain at your desk so you can think of me every time the bubbles hit your tongue.”

  His words made her flush with reaction. They made her recall the recent taste of him on her tongue. The twisting shaft of heat that had flared into her as his tongue stroked her mouth. She lifted a hand to toy with her earring, a distraction from reaching out to touch him, to pull him back to that dark corner of the restaurant for more kisses. More everything.

  “That’s a little too decadent for me,” she said when she could finally speak again.

  “I’m sure you’d get used to it fast.” He was talking about something else, seducing her, and she was allowing it to happen.

  Diana grabbed her purse more tightly, cleared her throat. If she stayed in his presence any longer, she just might let her brother fend for himself. “Are you ready?”

  At her car in the hotel parking garage, Diana fought the feeling of regret. She didn’t want to leave Marcus. But instead of dwelling on what could not happen, she got on her tiptoes to share a good-night kiss with him. A sweet, lingering kiss.

  “I want to see you again,” he said, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

  A warmth grew in her belly at his tone. It was a heady feeling, knowing that he wanted her. No other man had ever been that passionate about being in her company; none had shown such urgency and desire for her. It was flattering. And sexy beyond belief.

  Diana gave him her number. “Call me,” she said.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow.” He slipped his cell phone back into his pocket. “Or maybe later on tonight.”

  Diana kissed his mouth again, pulling back before he could deepen their contact, then she opened her car door. “Talk with you soon.”

  “Count on it.” Marcus stepped back, sliding his hands in his pants pockets.

  Under the bright lights of the garage, he was even more handsome. Golden-brown skin. The top lip of his full mouth thinner than the lower. His face sculpted and regal like the statue of an Egyptian pharaoh she’d once seen on the History channel.

  Diana forced her gaze away from him. She climbed into her Nissan SUV before she could change her mind, started her car with trembling hands and drove away.

  Chapter 3

  Diana rolled over in bed, her short yellow nightgown twisting around her torso, tugging at her breasts. Still mostly asleep, she bit her lip and kept her eyes closed as the sensation of being bound in her clothes meshed with the fantasies playing behind her eyelids. Marcus kissing her. His body pinning hers to the bed while his hand slipped between her thighs.

  Her lashes fluttered open, her lips parted, her thighs pressed together as she conjured Marcus. His golden eyes. His kiss. How she had not wanted the previous night to end. As she remembered how he had caressed her sensitive nape during their slow and intense kiss, she squirmed against the sheets.

  Another movie flickered behind her eyelids. Marcus sliding his hands under her dress as he pressed her against the wall at Gillespie’s. His masculinity hot and hard against her belly, his tongue sweet in her mouth.

  The phone rang then, jolting her against the bed. At first, she ignored it, savoring the remnants of the dream. Then her eyes flew open.

  What if it was Marcus calling?

  She jumped up and ran toward the urgent ringing from the kitchen counter. But by the time she got to the phone, the ringer stopped. She looked at the screen.

  It had been her mother. She didn’t even think about calling her back.

  With a drag to her step, she walked through her bedroom to the bathroom. There, she used the toilet, washed her hands and stared at her lips in the mirror, imagining they were still swollen from last night’s passionate kisses.

  Last night. Marcus. Her brother’s interruption.

  She sighed, abruptly feeling her body’s exhaustion.

  Diana leaned heavily against the sink. Between her brother’s call for help, his rambling conversation afterward and
her preoccupation with her date with Marcus, she should be dead to the waking world. But she was wide awake, eagerly anticipating Marcus’s call.

  Last night, in more ways than one, she had not been pleased. After driving through the congested streets of Coconut Grove, she found her brother with his foot propped against a fire hydrant, the blinkers of his rusty old Buick flashing, the hood up. But he was talking to a woman. Some pretty young thing in a short skirt and with a glint of gold in her mouth.

  Diana waited with Jason until the tow truck came, followed the truck to the mechanic’s, then drove her brother home to his little one-bedroom apartment in the middle of the Black Grove. And, of course, she hadn’t been able to simply drop him off. He wanted her to come in for a drink, to take a seat on his ratty sofa and talk about their mother, about life, even the field trip he and other budding marine biologists at the university had taken earlier that week. By the time Diana had staggered home, it was after five o’clock in the morning.

  Barely three hours later, she was, unfortunately, very awake. With her cell phone in hand—she could almost convince herself she wasn’t waiting for Marcus’s call—she walked through her small house, the tiles cool under her bare feet. In the kitchen, she put the ingredients for her morning smoothie in the blender.

  She was swallowing a second mouthful when the phone rang. A surge of anticipation darted through her as she grabbed the phone.

  But it wasn’t Marcus. It was her mother. Again.

  “Good morning, Mama.” She tried her best not to sound disappointed as she sagged against the counter.

  “Diana, what were you thinking?” Cheryl Hobbes-Freeman’s angry voice snapped at her through the phone.

  “What?”

  “I’m looking at you in the paper. How could you?”

  “How could I what?” She set her glass on the kitchen counter, confused. What was her mother talking about now? “Slow down and explain yourself, Mama. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Although she didn’t know what this latest problem was, Diana could easily picture her mother’s ruffled state. Hands wildly gesturing as she walked the circular path of her backyard garden. Surrounded by her tall hibiscus bushes and towering bright red ginger plants, her slender figure already dressed in a T-shirt and cropped pants despite the early hour. The only concession to the morning would be that her always neatly pressed silver hair was still wrapped in a silk scarf from the night before.