Houston’s was an ideal place for a romantic dinner. Dark wood paneling. Dim lighting. Spacious booths. Soft music. Attentive servers attired in black moving with calm efficiency.
Andrew and Mika sat across from each other, at a booth in a quiet corner of the dining room. A candle glowed on the table.
They’d finished dinner—a rib eye steak for him, roasted chicken for her—and sipped glasses of Riesling. Their conversation had flowed nonstop all evening.
He satisfied his desire to learn more about her. Mika had lived in Georgia for her entire life, growing up in a small town. Her parents had died many years ago; she was the only child.
She was a painter, she said, but her focus was not on selling her work or winning accolades; she pursued art purely for the love of it. She confided that she didn’t need money. Her father had been a vastly successful physician, and had bequeathed her a substantial inheritance that included the estate on which she lived. She visited Atlanta frequently, for leisure, staying in hotels for sometimes weeks at a time.
He had suspected that she hailed from wealth. Her dignified manner and speech suggested a life of privilege. Although some of his buddies balked at a woman having more money than a man, he didn’t envy Mika her fortune. He had his own money, and she had hers. If they ended up together, it was more prosperity for the both of them.
Her wineglass was almost empty. He picked up the bottle and refreshed her glass.
She swirled the golden liquid in front of her lips.
“Now you’ve learned more about me, Andrew,” she said. “But I must share a confession.”
“Uh-oh. I don’t like confessions. Is this the part when you tell me that you have a husband and three kids?”
“Nothing quite so dramatic. I must confess to having engineered our meeting at the coffee shop this morning.”
“What do you mean? You knew I was going to be there?”
She nodded. “I’d visited a couple of weeks ago and was reading another of your novels—the first book—and one of the café employees mentioned that you were a regular there, and tended to drop in on Tuesday mornings. I decided that I wanted to meet you.”
“I’ll be damned.” He leaned back in the booth. “Eric was right.”
“Eric, your best friend?”
“Yeah. I’d told him how we met. He said it sounded too coincidental for you to happen to be there reading my book.”
“Is that all he said?” Her eyes were keen.
“Pretty much.” He sure as hell wasn’t going to share the other stuff Eric had said, because it didn’t matter. Eric had been warning him about potentially hooking up with a gold digger. But Mika had her own gold and didn’t need his.
Still, it surprised him that she had gone through so much trouble to meet him.
“I hope I haven’t upset you.” She reached across the table and touched his hand. “I only wanted to be honest.”
“I’m flattered. Really. It’s not every day that a gorgeous woman goes out of her way to meet me.”
She laughed. “I was relieved that you took the initiative and approached me. If you hadn’t, I would’ve had to summon some creativity.”
“Why did you want to meet me?”
Deliberating her answer, she sipped her wine. Her lipstick left a smear on the rim of the glass.
Lustfully, he wished that he were that wineglass.
“Your character,” she said.
“You’ve read my novels, not my autobiography. I make that stuff up, Mika.”
“I understand that your plots are fiction, and your story people are imaginary. But the quality of your character shines through on every page, whether you are aware of it or not.”
“Well, thanks. I won’t argue with a compliment.”
“I knew you were a good man. A man I wanted to know better.”
“But when I first stepped to you, you acted like you didn’t want to be bothered. Didn’t give me your number, either.”
She shrugged. “Men enjoy the pursuit. The hunt. Am I correct?” “True. But I don’t like games.”
“Do you think I’m playing a game with you, Andrew?” Her gaze settled on him, unwavering.
“Are you?”
“Absolutely not. A lady has to conduct herself with discretion sometimes, no matter how enamored she may be of a gentleman.”
“I can understand that.”
“But if we’re going to pursue this further, I have to know whether I have any competition.”
He set down his wineglass. “If you’re asking whether I’m dating someone else, the answer is no. We talked about this earlier.”
“But you spoke of having a close female friend. Carmen, correct?”
This woman had a perfect memory. He’d mentioned Carmen only once, and briefly at that, when he had talked on the phone to Mika earlier that afternoon.
“Carmen is just a friend.”
“Just a friend, you say. Is she aware of that?”
“She knows.”
“Is she pretty?” She examined him.
“Sure, she’s attractive.”
“Is she single?”
“She has a boyfriend, some guy she recently started dating.”
“Then she’s essentially single.”
He shrugged. What was her point?
Mika leaned closer. “If she’s attractive, single, and a close friend, then why aren’t you dating her?”
“Because she’s
just
a friend. Why’re you asking all of these questions about her?”
“As I said, I have to make sure that I don’t have any competition.”
“No competition. You can chill.”
“Good.”
An alarm bell sounded in his thoughts. She was a tad bit possessive, wasn’t she? This was their first date and already she was interrogating him about his friends.
He shifted in the booth. His gut had tightened.
As if afraid that he would leave, she took his hand in hers and traced her index finger across his palm. “But honestly, if I had to compete for your attention, it would not matter in the end. I do whatever it takes to get what I want. Whatever it takes, Andrew.”
The sensation of her gliding finger was like cool electricity. His uneasiness faded. Lust arose in its place—his manhood stirred like an awakened animal.
“You always get what you want, huh?” he asked.
“Always. I can be relentless when I want something. Or someone.”
She raised his hand to her lips. She flicked her tongue across his forefinger, as if his skin were sweet and tasty. He shivered.
Then she took his finger in her warm mouth and suckled it.
His erection stiffened.
He’d never met a woman so assertive. He felt as if the gender roles had been reversed. Normally, he was the one trying to win over the woman. But she had turned the tables. She was trying to seduce
him
.
A vivid image crashed into his brain: he and Mika on a floor, having savage, mind-blowing sex.
She released his finger. “You’re thinking of something naughty. Tell me. Honestly, you won’t offend me.”
He hesitated. “I’m thinking about making love to you.”
She only smiled, as if she’d known his thoughts all along.
“Is that so? Be more specific. Are you imagining making slow, tender love to me, or having wild sex with me?”
“Buck-wild sex.”
“You wanted sex with me from the first moment you saw me. You undressed me with your eyes and wondered how I’d be in bed. Correct?”
“I’m guilty.” He blushed.
She winked. “I’m fantastic in bed. Perhaps you’ll get to discover it later.”
“You’re bold, you know that? I’ve never met anyone as bold as you.”
“And you never will, darling. But answer me this: have you thought about making love to me, too?”
He stammered, unsure how to answer.
She flashed a smile. “Of course not. You must be in love to make love.”
“Yeah.”
“Am I someone you could fall in love with, Andrew?”
He faltered again. “The potential is there. Time will tell, I guess.”
“That question caught you off guard.”
He chuckled. “Sure did.”
She leaned back in the booth. Sipped her wine. Watched him with a soft smile.
He felt as if she were measuring him, weighing a decision.
The server, a young man, visited the table to see if they wanted dessert. Andrew ordered a slice of chocolate cake that Mika agreed to share with him.
“I need to make a trip to the ladies’ room,” Mika said, grabbing her purse and sliding out of the booth.
He watched her stroll down the aisle. Swinging her lovely hips.
He used the napkin to wipe sweat away from his forehead.
Before she turned the corner, she checked over her shoulder and caught him staring. She blew him a kiss.
He blushed. She had him. She knew it, and he knew it, too.
When she’d asked him if she was someone he could fall in love with, he might as well have answered
yes
.
When Mika returned, she sat on his side of the booth. She pressed against him.
“Am I too close for comfort?” she asked.
“Nope,” he said in a weak voice.
She snaked her leg on top of one of his. Lifting his hand, she placed it on her smooth, bare thigh.
She was so shamelessly bold. He felt as though he were dreaming.
But the closeness of her body caused a predictable reaction. His erection came back harder than ever.
She slithered her hand between them and touched him in his slacks.
“Okay, now,” he said.
“What is it?” she asked, innocently. “My hand seems to have a mind of its own.”
“Uh-huh.”
The server brought the chocolate cake. He noted how closely together Andrew and Mika were sitting, favored them with a secretive smile.
Andrew reached for a fork. She swatted his hand.
“Let me feed you.” She guided a forkful of cake to his mouth. “There.”
“Delicious,” he said.
“I know something that tastes better,” she said.
“What would that be?”
She moved his hand from her thigh to the warm cleft between her legs.
He drew in a quick breath.
“I’m not always such a bad girl,” she said. “Please don’t get the wrong idea about me, Andrew.”
“Do you hear me complaining?”
She fed him another piece of cake.
“I go after what I want,” she said. “That’s my nature.”
“I like an assertive woman.”
“So, then, you like me?”
“Yes. A lot.”
She gave him another forkful of cake.
“I’m glad,” she said. “I want you to like me.”
“You’re passing with flying colors.”
She set down the fork. She moved her hand to his belt buckle, loosened it. Grasped the zipper of his slacks. Pulled it down with a whisper.
What was she going to do? He wasn’t going to stop her, whatever she had planned for him. He sat there like a wax dummy. With a throbbing hard-on.
No one was around to stop them. They had the corner of the dining room to themselves. But to Andrew, it seemed that they were the only people in the entire restaurant. Mika’s presence captured his single-minded attention.
Her fingers crept into his boxer shorts, discovered his rigid manhood. Encircled the sensitive tip.
A moan slipped out of him.
She turned. Their faces were almost nose-to-nose.
“I want to be the only woman you like,” she said. “No competition, Andrew.”
She squeezed him firmly, eased the pressure, squeezed again.
He gripped the edge of the table.
“You’ve got no competition,” he said.
She stroked him.
He gripped the table so tightly it was a miracle he didn’t break it in half.
“Am I the only woman you like?” she asked.
“The only one, yes.”
“And if I share my body with you tonight? Will I still be the only one?”
“The only one.”
“And you’ll treat me like a princess?”
“A princess.”
“Do you promise?”
“Promise.”
With the nimbleness of a cat, she slid underneath the table.
Oh, man. Was she going to . . .