Packed With Pleasure. Lori Wilde
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pair of four-inch Jimmy Choo ebony sling-backs Jayne had loaned her.
Was Alec Ramsey really the man she wanted as her love mentor?
That was the question she was here to answer.
In the meantime, she had caved in to Ashley and Jayne’s demands that she vamp out, although she couldn’t shake the feeling she was leading Alec on, acting like an experienced, sexually confident woman when that’s the last thing she was.
“Act the part,” Ashley had encouraged when she’d insisted Eden borrow her skintight black leather skirt that was long enough to hide Eden’s burn scars but short enough to generate plenty of head-turning interest. On the subway ride over she’d gotten a half-dozen appreciative wolf whistles.
“Perceiving, behaving, becoming,” Jayne had imparted along with the Jimmy Choos, and a pair of dynamite black fishnet stockings with sparkly rhinestones sewn into the back seam.
But what had finally convinced her to give their plan a try was the editorial in the front pages of the October issue of Single Guy. She was impressed by the way Alec advocated responsible sex and described all woman as goddesses. As the publisher of a magazine aimed at bachelors, he might be commitment shy, but reading the article clued her in that Alec definitely knew how to indulge a lady.
And that was exactly what she needed. A temporary tryst with a tender and considerate man who wouldn’t head for the hills when he discovered her secret.
Eden peered at herself in the bathroom mirror and was startled to see how unruly she appeared. She ran a hand through her rowdy curls to tame them. The humid weather played havoc with her hair, giving her a just-tumbled-out-of-bed look. Her lipstick color too red, her mascara too thickly applied.
Bad-girl glam.
She felt restless and reckless and edgy. And those alien feelings scared her. She wished she’d had the courage to explore her sexuality more fully before the fire, before she had the scars to contend with, but she’d been too chicken. Frightened of catching a communicable disease or of ending up like her mother or of getting her heart broken.
Or all three.
Which was why she was in the situation she was in now. Sexually frustrated, with her creativity stagnant. Dared she hope that Alec Ramsey held the key to her liberation?
She glanced at her watch. Five minutes to one.
“Show time,” she whispered to her reflection, slipped her sneakers into her satchel, took a deep breath and headed for the fourteenth floor.
Controlled chaos greeted her when she stepped off the elevator and pushed through the double glass doors with Single Guy etched into the panels with a bold, masculine font.
Phones rang incessantly. People hurried to and fro squeezing past each other in the narrow corridor at the same time someone was holding an impromptu sales meeting right there at the central credenza.
The walls were bright and splashy, featuring advertisers’ posters hawking everything from imported liquor to expensive automobiles to the trendiest menswear fashions.
Copies of Single Guy were stacked everywhere. Executive toys rested on computers and desktops. Daring alternative rock music blared from a high-tech sound system and a help-yourself popcorn machine filled the air with the scent of freshly popped, buttered popcorn.
The place was energetic, lively and imaginative. A grown-up guy’s playground. And Alec was right in the big middle of the free-for-all.
Eden stood to one side for a moment, watching him.
He wore a black turtleneck sweater and formfitting trousers that showed off his breathtaking physique. His longish hair was sexily tousled. His profile was dazzling—regal nose, rugged chin, high cheekbones.
Her pulse bounded through her veins at a feverish pace as the William Tell Overture galloped crazily inside her head.
He migrated from person to person, pumping his employees up, urging them to give a hundred and ten percent to the job at hand. He brainstormed concepts on the fly, storytelling, networking and motivating with nothing more than a smile and his irresistible presence.
She quickly realized he managed his team with the mental equivalent of chain-saw juggling. He kept a permanent smile hardwired to his chiseled features. He was everything she was not. Witty, inspirational, charming, impulsive.
Without a doubt this mover and shaker would be a dynamo between the sheets. If she slept with him, would some of that high-energy enthusiasm rub off on her? She hoped so.
Eden noticed a serious-looking young man hovering at Alec’s elbow. He was keeping up with everything that transpired, calmly and methodically jotting down notes in a Palm Pilot.
Ah, she thought, the follow-through guy. Alec was the idea man; the younger dude was the one who made it all come together. Alec was smart enough to surround himself with the right people.
In that brief span of two minutes, Eden’s admiration for him doubled. Oh, to be so spontaneous, so unselfconscious, so alive.
Alec pivoted on his heel, spun in Eden’s direction and stopped cold.
The minute he spotted her, his grin widened and his eyes rounded. He looked as if he’s just won an Atlantic City jackpot. The million-dollar expression in his eyes went a long way in repairing her damaged self-esteem and earning him a hundred brownie points toward becoming the lover she finally let see her scar.
“Wow,” he said, low and husky as he stalked closer, “look at you.”
Leisurely, he combed his gaze from the top of her head, down her low-cut red sweater, to the snug-fitting leather skirt, to her fishnet stockings, to the sexy stilettos and back again. Her clothes issued a provocative message Eden feared she could not back up. A long moment passed and she almost turned and ran.
But the appreciative look in Alec’s eyes held her anchored to the spot.
The entire office had followed his movements and now all of his employees were staring at her, obviously intrigued by the woman who’d captured their dynamic boss’s interest.
Eden felt her cheeks flush. Oh great. She was blushing like a schoolgirl. But no man this influential had ever had quite this reaction to her before. She had longed for this very outcome when she’d donned her sexy outfit, but now that she had his undivided attention, she wasn’t sure what to do with it.
She smiled shyly and raised a hand to her throat. “I overdressed, didn’t I?”
“No. Oh, no. You look absolutely gorgeous. Are you ready to get down to business?” His gray eyes smoldered with a sexuality that took her breath away and his full, masculine lips held her mesmerized.
“Pardon?” Eden blinked. She’d been fantasizing about kissing him and his question caught her off guard.
“Lunch, the gift consultation.”
“Oh, yes.” She patted her satchel. “I’ve got everything right here.”
“Yes, you do.” He grinned rakishly, allowed his eyes to take another trip over her body and Eden knew he wasn’t talking about what was in her portfolio.
In that moment, she made her decision. In spite of the nervousness knotting her stomach, in spite of her fears that he was anticipating a femme fatale and there was no way she could measure up to his expectations, in spite of the gamble she was taking by risking his ultimate rejection, Eden knew what she wanted.
Correction, what she desperately needed in order to recover her creative self-confidence.
A red-hot fling with the sumptuous Alec Ramsey.
4
ALEC TOOK HER to Maison Henri, an elegant new French restaurant in Midtown. He opened the door for her, lightly grasped her elbow and guided her in over the threshold.
Eden appreciated his proprietary touch. It made