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Amusement sparkled in Jules’s eyes. Though Nick knew Dale only ribbed him, he wasn’t above defending himself in front of this lovely lady. “I’m not a tyrant, evidenced by the fact Frank came back to work.”
“Trust me, I’ll keep your uncle in mind,” Dale said. “We stand a better chance of luring him out of retirement than of keeping Frank from the beach for long.”
Jules laughed brightly. “Does Dale have hiring privileges? Shall I give my uncle a call? I’m not sure how he’d feel about working for a tyrant.”
Nick scowled, a scowl that faded quickly beneath her high-beam smile. He liked the way she reserved her smiles for him, dodging Dale’s flirting without being cold, yet expressing she’d already decided who had her attention tonight.
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.”
4
NAUGHTY GIRLS love to sigh with pleasure.
Julienne mentally chanted that key phrase while her breath fluttered somewhere between her lungs and her nose. Nick held her anchored against him, his dark gaze searching, holding her rooted to the spot.
Could she do this? Could she really let this sexy man make her sigh with pleasure? She’d come to the Risqué tonight to test her skills, to attract his attention and flirt outrageously. Sure she’d thought about seduction, but within hours of becoming acquainted? Julienne hadn’t considered that.
Could she really take the next step? Could she rise up on tiptoes and press her mouth to his in a delicious kissable yes? Or could she be even more bold and slip her hand between them to stroke that rock-hard erection pressing stubbornly against her?
Her body pleaded with her to say, “Yes. Yes.” The moist throbbing between her legs had grown distracting, resolute, urged on by riding his hard thigh while they’d danced.
But a more rational part of her brain kept insisting, Sleep with this man on the first night? What would he think about her? Would he ever respect her?
Naughty girls take advantage of the moment. That inner voice cried. Have a one-night stand. He’ll respect a sexy memory, so make your sex scrumptious, for yourself and him.
Her self-hypnosis seemed to be working. Julienne was pleased because when she slipped her hand between them, laid her palm full length against that awesome erection, the pleasure on Nick’s face made her just dissolve into sensation that coiled through her veins and pumped her full of daring and adventure.
The Risqué would be theirs tonight. The empty audience beckoned, called out that the theater was empty—allegedly empty, because they really couldn’t be certain, could they?—and inspired her to an audaciousness Julienne hadn’t known she possessed.
She had one night to act out a fantasy. Her fantasy man was willing, so shouldn’t she jump at this chance?
Naughty girls love to sigh with pleasure.
She’d sigh and make no apologies. She wouldn’t think about tomorrow. Nick didn’t know who she was, so why shouldn’t she make the most of the moment?
Watching you dance tonight turned me on.
Inspiration struck and Julienne sprang away from him in a burst of unfamiliar excitement, could barely catch her breath when she met his questioning dark gaze.
“Will you hum for me again, Nick?”
He gave her an obliging smile. “Beautiful, I’ll do anything for you. Just say the word.”
This man was a naughty boy, a kindred soul—at least for the night. She scanned the set, where props from the futuristic finale still crowded the stage, and found what she was looking for instantly.
Taking Nick’s hand, she led him across the stage. “Sit here.”
His smile widened as he took in the love swing hanging from fly lines above—a contraption made of nylon straps and soft padded stirrups where actors had mimed a weightless sex act to depict a lusty high-tech future for the Risqué.
“Taking me for a ride, beautiful?” His voice was deep, the echoing quality of the auditorium making his whisper resound through the dark quiet, making it resonate through her.
“A ride I promise you won’t forget.”
Bold words spoken by a bold stranger. He was obviously willing to take her at her word, because he struck up a lively tune, eyes heavy lidded with expectation as he stripped off his jacket and vest, loosened his collar, then grabbed onto the balance bar and maneuvered his attractive backside onto the padded seat. Leaning back, he hooked his hands behind his head.
The moment of truth.
Julienne headed toward center stage. Inhaling deeply, once, then again, she envisioned people down in the orchestra pit, in the first rows of the audience, in the loge.
Using a technique she’d devised when overcoming her nerves in the classroom, she imagined her audience’s faces—a man with inky black hair, a fresh-faced woman who looked a lot like Mary Ann from Gilligan’s Island.
Then Julienne envisioned what they’d look like in the throes of orgasm. She saw the man squeeze his eyes tightly shut, his mouth parting with gusty breaths. She heard the woman’s pleasured moans, imagined her sighing to the sounds of her lover’s thrusts.
Then she pictured Nick, how he’d looked when she’d first kissed him, the chiseled angles of his handsome face sharpening with excitement, his deep eyes growing heavy with pleasure. The tune he hummed filled the stage, filled her senses, some vaguely familiar melody she couldn’t place.
And she began to dance.
The music immediately glitched as her orchestra choked on a gasp, but resumed quickly. Julienne smiled. With her feet braced apart and her knees slightly bent, she moved to the sound, arms relaxed and head bent backward so the ends of her hair brushed her waist, lured his attention to the motion of her swaying hips.
She could feel his gaze upon her, wondered if he wanted her to turn around and face him. Working her movements upward, she included her waist, her breasts, and her shoulders in the dance. She swayed with a languorous rhythm, a steady motion that hypnotized her, aroused her senses until she felt each pass of her hair sweep softly against her waist, felt the lace of her corset graze nipples that gathered tight, felt the air caress the exposed skin above her bodice, skin that grew damp with her exertions, with arousal.
And still Nick hummed, though his tempo had picked up, a change she guessed hinted at his own escalating excitement.
She shared his excitement, too. This sexy man placed himself at the mercy of her whim, followed willingly where she led, eagerly accepted what she offered.
This feeling was power, a provocative sensation heightened by the vastness of the theater around them, dangerous for the darkness she couldn’t penetrate. The feeling captured her, flushed her skin, urged her to indulge in this newfound need to titillate, and be titillated.
Slowly circling her head, first a tiny spiral that she widened slowly, Julienne shrugged the jacket from her shoulders, a slight movement she didn’t think Nick could have noticed beneath the fall of her hair.
