SilkenSeduction (4 page)

Before Deidre got close enough to interrupt or overhear,
Evan quietly asked for her number, which he jotted on the back of one of his
cards and tucked into his inside jacket pocket.

“Until later,” he stated with a nod as he stood and met
Deidre midway.

Deidre shot menacing glares her way as Evan escorted her
out. Not one of which penetrated the phenomenal sensation that encapsulated
Temair’s soul. Her spirits were set on high and not even Deidre would bring her
down. A younger man showed an interest in her. Not just any younger man, but
one of the hottest, sexiest men she had met in a long time.

Damn, what was she going to do about it?

Temair gathered her wits and forced her legs not to wobble
when she stood. She’d given him her cell phone number. If he called—well, she’d
worry about it then.

If
he called.

Chapter Four

Luck was on her side. One of the biggest jewelry brokerages
visited her booth and requested a future meeting with her after the trade show
was over. It may or may not lead to a contract, but this was the closest she’d
ever come to getting her foot in the door. If just one of them commissioned her
work, the notoriety would boost her sales and bring much-needed publicity for
her shop.

Temair studied her reflection in her competitor’s
floor-length mirror. Red was a good color for her after all. Feeling pretty had
her acting pretty, and it didn’t hurt her ego had gotten a little boost in the
form of a few spoken words from a younger man. She made sure she spoke to every
person who walked anywhere near her booth and drew them in for a closer look at
her designs. This got her several requests for different pieces of her work.

By mid-afternoon, she had a file stuffed with business
cards, information from a couple of buyers from the west coast, and eight order
forms complete with partial payments for three of her favorite pieces. For the
first time in five hours, she sat. Her feet throbbed, but it was a good throb.
She smiled as she secretly slipped off her shoes and rubbed her feet underneath
the table at her booth.

The ring of her cell phone interrupted her moment of rest.
Sitting up, she answered, “Hello.”

“If it wouldn’t cause a scandal, I’d help relieve your
pain.” His London accent made the words sound even sexier as they filtered
through the phone.

Temair straightened. He was watching her. Instant moisture
pooled between her thighs. This was exciting, knowing he watched her, knowing
he liked what she was doing under the table to her feet, and knowing he
couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

“There’s always later,” she replied as she hitched one foot
up onto her other thigh and deliberately continued to massage its aching ball.
She heard his heavy intake of air through the receiver and knew he still
watched her actions. In a subtle movement, she glanced around, searching for
that distinguished bald head.

At the far end of the aisle, she sighted one. Disappointment
flooded her because it wasn’t him. He wasn’t visible in either direction she
looked. It added to the intensity of the game they were playing, and she liked
it. Not knowing where he was, but knowing he watched, had her insides humming
in anticipation of what might happen next.

“You have me at a disadvantage.” His voice tickled her ear.
“You seem to have discovered my weakness.”

Temair’s smile broadened. She was right. He was a leg man.

“It’s a weakness of which I don’t understand,” she teased.

The thought of his hands caressing her feet made her clench
her thighs against the sudden surge of need collecting in her core. No one had
ever touched her feet other than the occasional treat of a pedicure. The image
of someone massaging her feet just because they wanted to had her curious and
hot at the same time. On a heavy breath, she added, “Care to teach me?”

“It’d be my pleasure.” She practically heard his smile
through the phone, even if she couldn’t see him. “Unfortunately, I have
meetings until late. Would you be willing to meet me around ten?”

Willing? What a silly question. Every ounce of tiredness was
liberated from her. Ten was late but not by New York standards. Most were just
getting started at that hour on a Saturday night. Yet she wasn’t most. A normal
night for her was showered, in her pajamas, tucked in bed by eleven and asleep
by eleven thirty. Tonight, she was going to live a little and take a chance on
something different.

“Where?” she managed to whisper.

“The Milford Plaza, room 1020. See you then.”

The click of the disconnection echoed in her ears. Oh god,
what had she just agreed to?

* * * * *

The rest of her day was a whirlwind of activity, of which
she was grateful. If she hadn’t been busy, she probably would have had too much
time to think, and would have convinced herself not to keep the date. As it
was, she almost chickened out and stayed home when she stopped in to deposit
her lockbox, shower and change.

Dressing to please, Temair chose a denim skirt, which landed
at mid-thigh. For luck, she selected her favorite top, a soft halter blouse of
yellow, blue, green and red that tied at her neck and didn’t cling to her
middle. It was loose and flowed nicely when she moved. Careful not to rip or
snag them, she slipped on a fresh pair of sheer hosiery. Not just any hosiery,
but the only pair of real nylon pantyhose she owned. It was the most money
she’d ever spent on hose. When the lady at the department store showed her the
difference between these and the cheaper brand, she had to have them. These
were not mixed with spandex or rayon. They were purely made of nylon.

He was a leg man, so only the best that she could afford
would do. The pure silk stockings the salesperson had shown her were well out
of her price range. She sighed, running her hand down the soft material and
hoped these would be good enough to please. She chose to wear the red leather
mules with this outfit, even though her feet were tired of being in heels and
begged for a pair of flats.

To accent the outfit, she picked one of her most favorite
pieces from her collection of titty danglers, as she called them. A silver
chain fitted to lay across her collarbone, with a longer chain attached in the
center, which dangled a teardrop-shaped ruby to land at the peak of her
cleavage. The perfect titty dangler if she said so herself. Wonder if he’d take
notice with him being a leg man.

With one last glance at the full-length mirror on the back
of the bathroom door, she gathered her strength to pursue this adventure. And
this was exactly that for her, an adventure into a new aspect of sexual
pleasure. Would it thrill her to have him touch her feet? If the level of
anticipation roaring through her was any indication, she sure hoped so.

Twenty minutes later, she stood at the elevators in the
lobby of the Milford Plaza. Indecision riddled her soul as she closed her eyes
and dug deep for the guts to continue this charade of false bravado. Should she
or shouldn’t she? Was she woman enough to meet a man she barely knew alone in
his hotel room? Not just any man, but a younger man. She’d never dated a
younger man. Insecurity set in. What if this wasn’t a date? What if he’d only
asked her here to discuss business and she’d imagined the sexual tension
between them? Oh god, this was a mistake.

Just as she opened her eyes and started to step back, a
dark-sleeved arm reached around her and a masculine finger pressed the button.
“Allow me.”

Temair tilted her chin and met Evan’s penetrating gaze
across her shoulder. As rapid as it’d started, self-doubt dropped from her
thoughts to invisibly puddle on the floor around her. Though his eyes looked
tired, she still saw the promise of pleasure within them. How could she have
thought of backing out?

“Thank you,” she managed to state while maintaining a cool
façade. On the inside, she knew she was out of her element. On the outside, she
hoped he couldn’t tell.

When the elevator doors opened, he said, “After you.”

His hand at the small of her back guided her in. One glance
around the lobby before the doors closed and she knew there were few people
milling about, and even less who cared who she’d gotten into the elevator with.

“You look stunning tonight,” Evan said as he pressed the
number ten.

Before she could stop, her honesty took over. “And you look
positively exhausted. Are you sure you’re up to hosting a visitor tonight? We
could reschedule.”

The most seductive smile she’d ever seen parted his lips as
he tucked his hands into his front pockets. Even tired he looked irresistible.
Common sense told her to leave and let the man rest, but she couldn’t. There
wasn’t one ounce of her strong enough to walk away from the invitation in his
gaze. It weakened her resolve and at the same time increased the curiosity
level burning through her veins.

She had to know why she felt this strange erotic connection
to Evan Lyndsay. What it was all about. Never had a man intrigued her sexual
interest without so much as a touch. This man did. What was it about him that
had her body in a constant state of arousal? She stayed that way whenever he
was near, whenever he spoke to her, and even when all she did was think about
him. How did he do this to her with just a simple glance?

If just the thought was good, what would his touch be like?
Shivers shot down her spine and she had to stand straight to control them.
Don’t
think of that
, she reminded herself as she held his gaze.

“I’ve looked forward to this all evening. Seeing you has
given me a second wind. I’m glad you came.”

As the doors opened, he returned his hand to the small of
her back and guided her out. His thumb brushed the bare skin just above the
low-cut back of her blouse, and Temair nearly stumbled.

The sound of the key card as he unlocked his door seemed to
echo down the empty corridor. Temair stared straight ahead into the dark
uncertainty as he opened the door and led her inside. Never had such a
sensation of pure naughtiness controlled her as it did now.

She was in his room…alone.

“Please, make yourself comfortable.”

A flick of the switch and the room was lit by several lamps.
One sat on the bedside table, and another across the room on the desk. The room
housed the latest in luxury accommodations. An overstuffed chair sat across
from the foot of the king-sized bed, a nightstand on either side, a dresser, a
table desk complete with phone and internet access, and an upright wall unit,
which contained a large television. The bathroom was to the left inside the
doorway and was beautifully designed from what she could see.

For a man, his room was neat. No clothes strewn upon the
floor, no toiletries scattered about the bathroom countertop. His suits were
hung in an orderly fashion within the open closet, and each matched,
dark-colored and neat.

As she walked over to the chair, she noticed several books
lay on the desk along with a leather briefcase, a few manila folders and a
stack of business cards. It surprised her that a bottle of red wine sat
alongside two wineglasses and a corkscrew on a room service tray.

The man did have style. She had to give him that one.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he stated as he walked over to the
bottle, picked it and the corkscrew up, then turned back to face her. “I took
the liberty of ordering us something. You like merlot?”

“Yes, it’s my favorite wine. Whites and zinfandels are too
sweet.” Temair quickly shut her mouth before she continued to babble and sat on
the edge of the overstuffed chair.

Evan handed her a glass, then turned the desk chair around
and took a seat facing her. Lifting his glass, he issued a toast. “To a few
stolen moments of privacy.”

The heat of his stare singed her soul and ignited a hunger
from deep within to roar to life. She wanted him. There was no denying it. And
at this point, she didn’t want to. After they each took a sip, Evan set his
glass on the desk behind him.

“I believe I promised you my assistance in relieving your
pain,” he stated as he inched his chair closer. Reaching to take the ankle of
her crossed leg in hand, he paused and leveled his questioning gaze upon hers,
adding softly, “May I?”

That good Southern Baptist upbringing tried its damnedest to
intervene and put a halt to this adventure. Lucky for Temair, the devil
overruled and backhanded the holier-than-thou into a locked box at the back of
her brain. It was time to experience something new and different, and she
wasn’t about to miss this golden opportunity.

“Of course,” she replied, then took another sip of courage.

Temair was grateful she swallowed before his hand touched
her ankle, or she would have spewed it all over him. Nervously, she tensed in
her seat as one hand cupped her ankle while the other removed her shoe. She
tightened her trembling fingertips around the stem of the glass while gripping
the armrest to occupy the other hand.

Swift and silent, he slid from the chair and settled at her
feet. It was like a beautifully sensual dream unfolding before her. A gorgeous
man cherished her with gentle strokes and tender circular motions of his
fingers, making every effort to ease her pain. This definitely was different
from the simple job she received from a pedicure. This was ten times better,
more sensual and had her hot and horny for the man attached to the magical
hands.

With each rub of her foot, the hiss of her hose reached her
ears. In a normal situation it would have gone unnoticed, but in the silence
that formed between them, it seemed loud, yet stimulating. Soft combined with
hard touches caressed her ankle, relieving the tightness caused by the unusual
angle her foot had been in all day, walking in those mules. When he rotated her
ankle in a well-practiced move, she relaxed into the chair, cradling the glass
in one hand while loosening the death grip she held on the armrest.