Packed With Pleasure. Lori Wilde
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more she was around him, the more she suspected this man was indeed her sexual muse. A decidedly masculine version of the mythical Erato. Eden shivered at the fanciful notion.
Careful, Eden.
Starry-eyed romanticism had led her into that disastrous relationship with Josh. She had to be careful. Her fragile ego couldn’t handle another mistake like that one.
The maître d’ greeted them and led them to their table tucked behind a wooden partition draped with artificial grape vines. He pulled out her chair for her and then, with a flourish, settled a white linen napkin in her lap.
“Thank you,” Eden murmured, and glanced over at Alec.
His eyes were on her face. “This place is a little extravagant, but I thought perhaps you might enjoy something special.”
“It was very thoughtful of you.”
Eden felt like a powerful politician’s mistress meeting her lover for a clandestine tryst in the dimly lighted, quaint bistro at one-thirty in the afternoon. Only three other couples were in the restaurant and they were seated at the far end of the room. The isolated privacy, the decadent aroma of mouthwateringly rich food scenting the air and the flickering candlelight heightened the romantic mood.
Their garçon, efficient and ghostlike, waited at the ready with two menus and a wine list in his hand. A bottle of shockingly expensive champagne sat chilling in a bucket beside Alec’s elbow.
A nosegay of pansies graced the center of the table. Eden loved the delicate, colorful flowers and was surprised to see the card propped against the small bouquet with her name on it.
Oh, my.
“The flowers are for me?”
“Go ahead, read the card.”
Tentatively she reached for the envelope and opened it with shaky fingers.
From one sensualist to another, Alec.
Uh-oh. Because of her unusual profession, Alec had assumed she was much more sexually knowledgeable than she actually was. She hoped he wasn’t disappointed when he learned the truth about her.
If he learned the truth, she reminded herself. Keep things low-key for the time being. Feel out the situation before proceeding. Pretend this is nothing more than a business luncheon.
“The flowers are beautiful,” she said, feeling bowled over by his attentions, and dropped the card into her purse. “Thank you.” The garçon handed them their menus and an awkward silence ensued as they studied the choices.
“The coq au vin here is excellent,” Alec said.
“I’ll have that then.” She smiled and passed the menu back to the garçon. “And a house salad with vinaigrette dressing.”
“Oui, mademoiselle. Et pour vous, monsieur?”
“I’ll have the same,” Alec replied.
The garçon bowed and left.
“It’s too formal here.” Alec made a regretful face. “I went over the top.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” she reassured him. “Very elegant.”
“I gravitate toward grand gestures. My sisters say it’s because I’m a show-off.”
In that moment he seemed as vulnerable as a little boy gifting his mother with a dandelion bouquet and holding his breath waiting for her approval.
Why, he’s just as nervous as I am. She was touched that he cared enough to be anxious and the realization relaxed her a little.
“I’m flattered you consider me worthy of a grand gesture,” Eden admitted, while at the same time worrying that things were moving too quickly. “This is a great place.”
“Really?”
“It’s lovely.”
He looked relieved and grateful for her kind words. He wasn’t nearly as cool and suave as she’d first supposed and she found his humanity endearing.
“Why don’t we get down to business while we’re waiting for our food.” She lowered her voice and glanced over her shoulder to make sure the waiter wasn’t still hovering. “Let’s discuss your friends’ secret sexual fantasies.”
“Excuse me?” He blinked at her as if he’d been caught napping.
“Randy and Jill. Their wedding present. The reason we’re here.”
“Oh, yeah, that.”
“Generally, I start the process with a basic fantasy. For instance the fantasy inspiration for your sister Sarah’s Palm Tree Passion basket was Island Girl and Surfer Dude.”
“I’m not sure I want to hear about my sister’s sexual fantasies. Thank you very much.”
Eden chuckled. “Okay, I see what you mean. That was just an example.”
She took the portfolio from her satchel and opened it up to reveal pictures of gift baskets she had created. She scooted her chair closer to his side of the table so they could both see the book.
The warmth of his breath feathered the hairs along the nape of her neck as he leaned in closer. She turned her head to look at him. Lowering her lashes, she shyly issued him a provocative invitation with her eyes. Worst-case scenarios aside, this was turning out to be much easier than she expected.
“Tell me if anything strikes a chord with you.”
“Will do.”
It was a strange sensation, Alec watching her so intently. She found she couldn’t quite lose herself in the moment. His smoky-gray eyes split her focus between the portfolio and her awareness of him studying her.
He made her feel beautiful, she realized, and that unnerved her too. She wasn’t accustomed to captivating a man’s attention so completely. Especially a man as handsome and dynamic as this one. That feeling dared her to act bolder, more confidently, urging her to be everything that he saw in her.
“What’s this one called?” Alec tapped the first photograph.
“Here we have the Professor and the Vixen. That basket might include things like reading glasses, feather boas, classical music tapes, or even a whip.”
The sleeve of his shirt lightly grazed her forearm and damn if a shower of sparks didn’t shoot through her body. Eden blew out her breath slowly to diffuse the stunning heat.
He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“The Rock Star and the Groupie?”
“Nah.”
Eden flipped the page. “Master and Slave?”
Alec wriggled his eyebrows at her.
“You think they’d like that one?”
“No, but I would.”
She felt her cheeks start to burn, but then she denied the blush and fought it off. She was a professional. She did this for a living. She refused to be ashamed or embarrassed by frank sexual talk.
“Which do you fancy,” she teased, slanting him a sidelong glance. “Role-playing the master or the slave?”
“Oh,” he said, “I’m totally democratic. I believe in taking turns.”
“I’ll have to keep that in mind.” Oh my gosh, had she just said that? Eden longed to slap her hand over her mouth, but she didn’t.
His gray eyes crinkled at the corners. “What else you got?”
“Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down?”
“Another intriguing prospect.”
In her mind’s eye she vividly saw Alec laying buck naked tied to a poster bed in four-point restraints