Going All the Way. Tanya Michaels
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her doe eyes becoming heavy-lidded and dazed as if his fidgeting fingers were actually moving over her skin, he might honestly have worried that they were doomed to platonic friendship.
But the longer he’d sat with her, the more obvious her arousal had become. There’d been no mistaking her dilated pupils, the way she nervously licked her lips or the rapid rise and fall of her chest beneath her soft knit top. Maybe he’d only overlooked her desire at first because he’d been too consumed by his own.
Even though he’d been the one surprising her, when she’d glanced up at him with those wide brown eyes, the jolt of sensual energy that had shot through him had been like a force of nature—something meteorologists had warned was coming but that still had to be experienced to be believed.
For instance, who would have believed an ensemble as theoretically conservative as khakis and sweater could be so sexy?
Serena looked like a bad girl impersonating a businesswoman. The slacks, while the right innocuous color for casual Fridays across the country, fit very snugly across her hips and were slung low at the waist. Only the embroidered hem of her plum-colored top kept him from seeing whether or not she was wearing the bellybutton ring that glinted teasingly in his memory. The neckline of the long-sleeved shirt dipped down in a rectangle that actually laced up over her breasts. Because of her understated curves, the cleavage revealed stopped just shy of being completely inappropriate for the office, but it was plenty to make his mouth go dry.
Although David knew it was an optical fashion illusion, he couldn’t help thinking that if he pulled the ends of the string bow apart, her sweater would fall away and leave her bared for tasting. He could recall with aching clarity the feel of her velvety breasts and the peach-hued nipples that had been so sensitive to his touch. On the one occasion he’d undressed Serena, peeling off a sodden T-shirt that seemed to leave less to the imagination than actual nudity, she hadn’t been wearing a bra. Was she today?
Wanting to find out had made him restless enough to drum his fingers and tap his thumb as he sat with her.
What he really wanted to find out was if she still objected to the physical connection between them. And if so, why. When he factored in everything that Serena meant to him, her newly single status and the timing of this transfer, it seemed fate was handing him this opportunity on a silver platter.
But Serena was on edge and clearly not about to fall into his lap—delightful as that prospect was. He needed to romance her, convince her, figure out her reservations and overcome them one by one. His desire to handle this with finesse was why he hadn’t simply sprung his relocation announcement on her already. But he had supreme confidence that he could win her over. That was why he was on the business-development side of things at AGI—his specialty was new partnerships, finding or creating opportunities and overcoming any obstacles with various means of persuasion.
Persuading Serena would be far more enjoyable than, say, persuading the CEO of Digi-Dial, leaders in cell-phone technology.
Her office door swung open with a gentle creak, and Serena appeared, holding a massive beige purse that looked more like a weapon against muggers than something they might steal. In Boston, she would have needed a jacket, but it was warm here.
“Sorry I took so long,” she said. Her tone was breezy and her smile even, but she ran her hand through her honey-blond, not-quite-chin-length curls in a self-conscious gesture.
“Not a problem.”
She turned to lock up the suite. “If you’d like, I can suggest a place for dinner.”
“Lord, no.”
Serena was big on what she called “cultural color,” and while four out of five places she picked were surprisingly excellent (with the fifth being horrific), David desired something a bit more intimate tonight. He didn’t want their conversation to be interrupted by some poetry reading, and he didn’t want to have to worry about exotic herbs in their unpronounceable entrées that might lead to indigestion or unkissable breath. Just because he was prepared for longer-term wooing didn’t mean he couldn’t be optimistic.
“And what’s wrong with the places I pick?” she asked, glaring down at him.
He stood. “They usually look like they’re only still in business because someone bribed the health inspector.”
“But they have fabulous food. Usually.” She sniffed. “A restaurant doesn’t have to have valet parking to be worth eating at.”
“I know that.” If his tone was defensive, it was because he’d just realized he’d been to at least three restaurants this week that used valet service. “But, tonight I want to take you…someplace nice.” He could tell her they were celebrating his likely promotion, except he wasn’t ready to tell her his news yet.
They headed toward the building’s canopied main entrance. David reached out to open the door for her, but she’d already pushed it open herself.
Following her into the early-evening shadows, he felt a ridiculous need to prove she wasn’t the only one who’d ever discovered a culinary treasure in an offbeat hole-in-the-wall. “There was a dive you would have loved in Boston.”
“Meaning what?” She whipped her head around, impaling him with her narrowed eyes. “That I can only appreciate dives?”
Nice. Seduce women often, idiot? But he hadn’t expected Serena to be so touchy.
“Meaning you would have seen beyond the unrefined décor, and you would have loved the live bands and the oyster bar’s creative menu.”
“Ah.” On the sidewalk, she stopped, glancing between David and her dilapidated decade-old Honda.
Letting himself bump into her would have been transparent, but he came awfully close before he, too, drew up short. She’d never wear an expensive, trendy perfume, but whatever she had on smelled like spices and rare exotic flowers swirled in one heady, lust-inducing scent.
“Since you obviously don’t need a recommendation from me, where do you want to go?” Serena asked.
To the nearest bedroom.
“In case we get separated in traffic,” she added.
“Separated? We can ride together.” In light of her apparent skittishness about spending time with him, he appealed to her time-honored sense of thrift. “I have to pay for the rental car whether we use it or not.”
She sighed. “Let me guess, you’re the Beemer over in the corner.”
“Not even close.” He gestured toward a sleek yellow convertible. “That’s mine. Temporarily, anyway.”
Her body tensed as she took in the sexy sports car, then she shot him a look of such unexpected disdain that he wondered if he’d have been better off with the BMW.
“Men. I suppose it was the flashiest one on the lot?”
The brightly colored fantasy on wheels had actually reminded him of Serena, but she didn’t seem to be in the right mood to appreciate that compliment. “Well, it is yellow—”
“Extremely.”
“—so I figured the pollen that coats everything here wouldn’t show up as much.” He shrugged when she didn’t smile at the joke. “The weather’s been dreary in Boston, and this looked like a great ride for the weekend.”
“Looks expensive,” she muttered. “What is it they say about men and cars and overcompensation?”
Without making a conscious decision to do so, he leaned forward, closing much of the space between them. “And what inadequacy do you think I need to compensate for?”
She blinked up at him. “None. It was a random comment. You…” As she trailed off, her eyes moved downward to the front of his pants, and her admiring gaze took what felt like his entire blood supply down with it. “Nothing inadequate about you.”
Damn right. Still,