About That Night...

Jules was a class act and he’d just hit his limit of listening to his integrity impugned while his friend tried to steal his girl. Plucking the flute from Jules’s hand, he passed it to Dale.

“We’re touring the theater. Jules would like to see the place before we work our magic. You schmooze.”

“Tyrant.” Dale spun on his heel and plunged back into the crowd leaving Nick staring after him and Jules giggling.

“I take it Dale’s more than your employee,” she said.

“A friend. A good one most of the time.”

Taking her hand, he led her toward a waiter, where they picked up fresh champagne before heading through the doorway with the crumbling cusps. Resting his hand lightly on her hip, he directed her to precede him up the stairs.

As he watched the gentle sway of her leather-clad behind, Nick knew exactly where he would take her. The memory of her dancing across the stage still played vivid in his memory, and being alone there together would go a long way toward fueling his fantasies.

Jules followed willingly where he led and during their roundabout tour toward the dark stage, they discussed where he’d be staying during his visit in Savannah—ADF had rented his design crew townhouses in a fashionable community. He quizzed her for the details of the citywide debate about whether to gut-rehab the Risqué or renovate it. She regaled him with questions about how he planned to handle accessibility for the disabled, what historic materials he intended to retain and if he would attempt to qualify for tax-credit benefits.

While they talked one thing became very evident to Nick, Jules knew her stuff. She also knew how to keep him talking about everything but her. A phenomenon he intended to end now.

Leading her onto the dark stage, he drew her down beside him on the rolling spiral staircase where an actress portraying Gypsy Rose Lee had descended during her striptease. She sat on the step above him, her incredible body contracting in a fluid fold of leather-clad curves, clearly not bothered about the effects of the stairs on her dress. He liked that she wasn’t uptight or prissy.

“You’ve picked my brain about this theater for the past two hours and I’ve answered all your questions. Now I want you to tell me about you. What you do for a living. Where you live. Tell me all about the woman who asks such intelligent questions and comes to an erotic theater by herself.”

Jules swirled warm champagne in her glass, considering. Then she lifted her gaze and gifted him with a smile. “Okay, my life in a nutshell. I’m in education and I’ve lived in Savannah since I started college. I already told you why I came to the Risqué tonight, but I came alone because I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Are you dating?”

She shook her head, sending shiny auburn waves dancing along her shoulders. “I haven’t been. I was engaged, but my fiancé and I ended our engagement about six months ago.”

He wondered why but wouldn’t ask such a personal question. He asked how long she’d been engaged instead.

“Five years.”

“Well, beautiful, are you over him?” When she nodded, he saluted her with his glass. “Your ex’s loss is my gain. So where did you live before college?”

“All over. We traveled a lot.”

Probably military, he decided, which could account for her nonchalance at attending the theater alone and her ease in impromptu social situations. He’d known his fair share of women who wouldn’t have been comfortable attending any formal event without at least bringing a friend. Speaking of… “What about your friends, Ramón and his…girlfriend?”

Jules laughed, a throaty sound that arrowed through his senses at close range. Her thigh was mere inches away, and he couldn’t help but wonder how she’d react if he ran his hand along its sleek length, though he hadn’t been invited yet.

“Katriona’s not his girlfriend,” Jules said. “She’s his head manicurist at the salon. Technically, she’s not even a she.”

He winced. That much had been obvious. Nick hadn’t missed the gigantic bustline, either, and the mechanics of her appearance were more than he wanted to know.

Jules laughed again, another burst of sultry sound that—gratefully—shattered the image of the manicurist and kicked in his pulse like a jackhammer.

“She does a lovely manicure, though.” She held up a hand to emphasize her point and that was exactly the in he needed.

Taking her hand under the pretense of examining her manicure, Nick brushed a kiss across her knuckles. He heard her quick intake of breath and the moment became charged with the promise of sex.

“So what else do I need to know about you before we can explore this intense physical attraction between us?”

“I can’t think of a thing.” She sounded excited, exactly the reaction he’d hoped for. “Nothing interesting about my life, I’m afraid. I work a lot.”

She was kidding, right? Jules knew the difference between a cornice and a corbel-table and she didn’t think she was interesting? He’d lay odds he could disabuse her of that notion before they parted ways tonight. “I work a lot, too. Plays hell with my social life. Have to make time when I can.”

“A good thing you seem to make new friends easily.”

New friends? Given the way she’d just fielded his questions, he didn’t know enough to call her a friend, but she obviously didn’t want to share her personal life. Keeping it simple. He understood and respected that.

“I’d like to become better acquainted tonight.”

Her clear gaze never left his as she set her glass on a step above her. The shadows played across her features, a striking study of dark and dusk that bleached all color into soft shades of muted grays.

She seemed almost tentative as she stretched her hand toward his face, and he had the impression again that Jules wasn’t nearly so experienced at seducing strangers as she’d have him believe. Her fingers trembled as they brushed his skin, just a light caress of warm fingertips against his temple, a touch that was less sexy than…reverent.

Nick wasn’t exactly sure what to make of the tender expression softening her beautiful face, but any thought he might have given the subject vanished beneath a savage backlash of reaction to her combination of tentative and tender.

“Kiss me, Jules, or let me kiss you,” he ground out in a voice that held nothing back, though common sense urged him to take it slow.

But to his profound pleasure, her long hair suddenly swung forward, surrounding his face and shoulders in a thick curtain of cool silk that blocked all the shadows from the stage, cocooned them together, parted lips, hot breaths and an incredible attraction for two people who’d just met.

Keeping his hands where they were, one holding hers, thumb stroking the smooth skin of her palm, the other clutching the stem of the flute, he resisted dragging her mouth against his.

He hungered with an intensity he’d never known before, that combination of bold temptress with hints of shy innocent captivated him. Nick usually relied on his control, but it failed him big-time tonight. His breath came raw in his chest, the first taste of her wet velvet mouth shooting his blood south in a painful rush. Her hands held his face lightly, not really to hold him—she must know he wasn’t going anywhere—but more to reassure herself that he was here, waiting, eager to be touched.

Her kiss was inquisitive at first, a cautious exploration of a man she didn’t know. He let her take the lead, though he ached to deepen their kiss, to drive his tongue into her mouth and test the limits of her passion.

She rewarded his restraint as though she knew he held back and darted her tongue across his bottom lip. A light touch, a taste really, but an intimacy that opened the floodgates.

Suddenly her grip tightened and her tongue plunged into his mouth with a demand that stole his breath. Sliding one hand around her neck, he anchored her mouth against his and obliged her. Using his tongue to make her acquaintance, he discovered what made her issue those soft sighs that made him ache to drag her into his lap and grind his erection against her bottom.

Man, could she kiss and Nick was a man who appreciated kissing. He enjoyed making out, building the anticipation, tantalizing and torturing himself with each forward step, with each triumph that wore down a woman’s defenses and made her ache for his touch as he ached for hers.

Jules tested his control, lit fires inside him that Nick knew wouldn’t be doused until he experienced this woman naked with her hair tumbling all around them.

And still he held back, instinctively knowing she needed the control right now, their acquaintance was too new, too intense and he wouldn’t risk frightening her off. With one hand hanging onto hers and the other absurdly clutching his champagne glass, he tangled tongues with this beauty, caught her sighs on his lips and marveled at the effect she had on him.

When she finally drew away and inhaled deeply, Nick’s instinct kicked in, warning that this was his chance to move them to the next step.

“Dance with me.” Setting his glass aside, he got to his feet, not giving her a chance to think, let alone refuse him. “Watching you dance tonight turned me on. I want to feel you in my arms.”

“The orchestra is downstairs partying,” she said breathlessly. “Or maybe not. It’s gotten late.”

The instant her foot touched the stage, he swung her into his arms. “I’ll provide the music. I can’t really sing, but I’m a helluva hummer.”

Jules giggled, and his last glimpse as he bent his head low to her ear was of her eyes alight with laughter. Then he began humming some show tune that had stuck in his head from tonight’s performance and she melted against him.

The dark auditorium faded away and Nick knew only the sound of his voice and Jules—her scent, her graceful movements and the way her body molded his. She fitted against all his pressure points as if her incredible body had been designed for his pleasure. He could rest his chin right on the top of her head. Her shoulder fit snugly beneath his arm. Her breasts pressed against his chest, full and perfect in their red leather prison, taunting him to offer escape. And by flexing his arm around her waist, he held her close, imprisoning his erection against her warm stomach.

He sighed. She sighed.

Two bodies in perfect accord, the fact they’d just met of little concern. This woman was meant to be in his arms at this moment. Nick knew on a primitive level, knew with every inhalation of her subtly spicy scent and the way that scent filtered through his senses, priming his libido, making him forget everything but how much he wanted her.

Eventually his humming gave way to the sounds of their breathing and the soft shuffle of their feet across the wood-beam stage floor. Any sense of time vanished beneath an insistent need to stroke his arousal against her, take advantage of the way she parted her thighs and gently rode his thigh as they danced.

Nick even forgot they were in a theater, a public theater where a hundred people partied in the basement directly below. Apparently Jules was also so caught up that she forgot, too, because when Dale’s voice echoed through the empty auditorium, “Hey, buddy, are you in here?” she appeared as surprised as he.

Fortunately they were close enough to the wings to disappear offstage before Dale caught them. Drawing her behind the main curtain, he held her close, his pulse quickening with adrenaline matched by the sudden hammering of Jules’s heartbeat—hard, even beats he felt right through his tux jacket.

“I think you lost track of time because the party’s over.” Dale’s voice rang out, louder as he approached the stage. “Time to go home. The caterers are done cleaning and they’re locking up. Madam President thinks you took off without saying goodbye, and she’s miffed. Better have Betty send her some flowers tomorrow.”

Silence. Nick wasn’t leaving, not when he had Jules in his arms and this theater to himself.

“If you’re still in here, I hope you can get back out again,” Dale tried again. “If you don’t show your face for coffee in the morning, I’ll send out the posse.”

The footsteps receded, then finally faded into silence.

“Can we get back out again?” Jules whispered.

Nick seized the opportunity to reassure her with a kiss. “I’ve got a key, beautiful. But I won’t use it until I’m done making you sigh with pleasure.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.