Scent of a Woman. Jo Leigh
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could be more enticing?
The elevator door opened and she settled next to a nice-looking man in his forties. He tried not to stare, but his gaze kept coming back to her. Was it her hair? Men did love her hair. Or was it the look of smug satisfaction she couldn’t quite tame?
It didn’t matter. She’d done it. She’d gone after what she wanted. Not that it was a replacement for love and marriage and all that. She’d date if someone interesting came along. This was about pleasure. About breaking the rules. About knowing exactly why he was with her.
When the elevator hit the lobby, she gave her staring friend her most dazzling smile, then headed for home. She couldn’t wait to get into bed. What dreams she’d have tonight.
“SUSAN?”
When she still didn’t answer, David sighed. She’d disappeared. Why? It had all gone her way. So why ditch him? Why go to all this trouble and not even have sex? Okay, so they’d had sort-of sex, and he had to admit, he’d come like Old Faithful, but still. He hadn’t touched her once.
The thought reminded him about the ties around his wrists and in short order he’d freed himself. She’d left her scarf. If he knew her name, he would return it to her.
Dammit. Why the tease? How had he been so wrong about her? It made no sense.
He got up, stretched his neck muscles a bit, then headed for the bathroom. As he walked in, he smelled her perfume, the scent as mysterious as the woman. Something in the mirror caught his eye and he looked at the opposite wall. Nothing. He went to the sink, and the explanation was simple. It wasn’t reflected on the mirror. It was on the mirror itself. A message. In scarlet lipstick.
NEXT WEDNESDAY.
He grinned. She hadn’t ditched him. She’d just left in a very unique way. But then, this whole night had been unique. She was something else. Someone he wanted to discover.
God, what would her fantasies be? He felt pretty confident they weren’t going to be run-of-the-mill. He just hoped he was up to the task. A shudder hit him as he remembered the feel of her on top of him, the way she rubbed him so sensuously it was all he could do not to explode in the first two minutes.
How in hell was he going to live through next week?
Getting down to the business at hand didn’t distract him from his thoughts. As he washed up, it occurred to him that he was fifty percent of this duet. He’d have to come up with some ideas of his own.
Her tied up, spread-eagle, on the bed.
Okay, so that wasn’t terribly original. So what. He wasn’t trying to reinvent the wheel.
Him, on his knees, spreading her open before his eager mouth.
He grabbed the towel off the rack and dried his face.
He had seven days to get through. His patients deserved his full attention. Charley and Jane had rescheduled dinner for tomorrow night. His sister, Karen, was coming in for lunch on Monday. It was imperative that his primary focus be his regular life. At night, when he was safely in bed, he could think about…this. Fantasize to his heart’s content.
But not during business hours. He stared at his reflection, making sure he understood that he was serious. Then he dried himself off and headed out.
By the time he got to the elevator, he was hip deep in a scenario that could best be described as sex on wheels. Susan. Him. Back seat of a limo.
Shit.
The elevator arrived. He stepped inside, smiled at the elderly gentleman to his left, and wondered if it was time for him to go back and see his own shrink.
BY THE TIME Susan got to the theater, Peter and Andy were pacing in front of the box office. The play was by Nicky Silver, who was a favorite of hers, and the star was Peter Frechette, one of the best actors she’d ever seen. The night promised to be delightful, complete with après performance with the cast. And yet, Susan wanted to be somewhere else. Home, to be exact. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her friends, after all, Peter had been part of the gang since day one back in college, and he’d always been there for her, but in the two days since her evening with David, she’d barely been able to string two coherent thoughts together.
She felt like a voyager, setting off on an adventure filled with great risks, daring deeds, and possible treasure. Everything about David appealed to her, particularly that she knew virtually nothing about him. No family history, no comparative bank statements, no work baggage. He was elemental man, and he was hers for at least one more night. Wednesday had taken on all sorts of mythic proportions, and she’d giggled more than once at the very appropriate nickname of “hump day.”
“About time,” Peter said, scowling. He hated being late.
“I’m horrible. I don’t know why you love me.”
He rolled his eyes at Andy, his significant other.
“I don’t know why, either.”
She brushed imaginary lint off his coat shoulder, then kissed him softly on the lips. “But you do love me. That’s the point.”
“Only because act one hasn’t started. If you’d been five minutes later…”
“Well then, why are we standing out here? Let’s go.”
Andy laughed, took Peter’s hand and led them inside the theater. It was an off-Broadway house, the Manhattan Theater Club, and they had season tickets.
After they found their seats, Susan got her Playbill and flipped through the pages. Not that she was reading it. She hadn’t read much in the last two days. Or nights.
God, she was obsessed. She wished it was three weeks from now, and that she and David had settled into a routine. Nice, exciting, but not all-consuming. Sex. That’s all. Just sex and fun with a gorgeous guy. Everyone needs a hobby, right?
“Susan.”
She turned to Peter. “Hmm?”
“What is with you?”
“Pardon?”
“You’re being very weird. Is there something you want to tell me?”
“Weird? Moi? I don’t think so.”
Peter turned to Andy. Although she couldn’t see him, she knew he’d rolled his eyes again. Peter was quite fond of that gesture. When he turned back to her, his gaze went straight to her, no rolling, no mocking. Maybe a little bit of worry.
“I’m fine. Preoccupied, but fine.”
“Preoccupied about what?”
“Nothing important.”
Peter sat up straighter. “A man. This is about a guy, isn’t it?”
“No,” she said. Perhaps too loudly, as the couple in the seats in front of her turned to give her the evil-theater stare. “No,” she said again, whispering this time. Wondering why she was lying. Peter would understand. All her friends would. Maybe. If she told them.
“I don’t believe you, sweetheart.” Peter took her hand in his. “So I’ll just pretend you said yes. I hope he’s good enough for you. And that he doesn’t give one damn about, you know.”
She nodded. Leaned toward telling him all. Asking his opinion. But then the house lights dimmed and her decision was put off for the next couple of hours.
By the time the play had ended and the three of them headed backstage, she’d changed her mind. For now, at least. David was hers. She didn’t want opinions, or cautions, or even raised eyebrows.
She didn’t even want encouragement, which was confusing but true.
As they waited their turn to congratulate the playwright, she watched Peter and Andy. They’d been together over a year. Peter, who was a marvelous actor himself, had fallen for the man after getting reacquainted