I dried off and changed, then found Cat in dry clothes in the kitchen having hot tea with Clara. I cleared my throat.
“We’ll talk later,” Cat said to her with a smile. “Are you jealous?” she asked me.
I took her hand, liking the feel of her palm against mine, and led her into the living room. She sank onto the custom leather sofa and curled her legs beneath her.
“This is nice,” she said, “do you know how much I like your hands?”“Oh, really?” I said archly.
“Yeah. I mean, there’s no point my being embarrassed. You already know I have a longstanding crush on you and even held on to your magazine cover for wicked purposes. So would it blow your mind to know that when we met and you shook my hand, I damn near moaned?” she said. I felt a rush of heat climb up my body at her words.
“I remember a certain something in that touch myself,” I said.
“We’re not talking a little spark or sizzle. This was serious chemistry. I thought you’d burn me down with one touch.”
“I’m glad you liked it. I had no idea my handshake was quite so…potent,” I teased. She laughed.
“Potent? You have no idea what an impression you made.”
“And I hadn’t even kissed you then.”
“I wasn’t just star-struck either. First of all, I got to go backstage and meet Justin Timberlake once when I was in high school. Not the same reaction at all, and I even had a picture taken with him. He put his arm around me and everything. Nope, no chemistry.”
“I do believe that’s the first time I’ve been compared to Justin Timberlake, favorably or otherwise,” I said, “But he and I are rather different physical types. I prefer to think of myself as—”
“Not boy band material? Yeah, I can see that,” she laughed.
“I was going to say more serious and less likely to bleach my hair and get a perm.”
“Those were the glory days,” she giggled, leaning over to kiss me, “And I’d take you over JT any day.”
“I’ll take that,” I said, kissing her back.
“So have you been all these places?” she said, sinking lazily into my arms, indicating the framed black and white photos on the wall flanking the fireplace.
“Yes. On the left, that’s St. Moritz. On the right, you see the skyline of Bangkok at night as well as a few shots off the coast of my island.”
“Oh, your island,” she said wryly. “Have you always taken pictures like that?”
“I’ve always shot photos, yes, but it took me several classes and a great deal of practice to reach the point where any of them were worth looking at.”
“They’re beautiful. I like that there’s something personal in here, not just a lot of expensive things chosen to look good together. Not that it doesn’t look good.”
“It’s funny that you said that. This is the first place I’ve lived where I didn’t hire a designer. I chose things I loved and that meant something to me.”
“So was this your great grandfather’s couch?” she joked.
“No, but I chose the fabric and the style. Had it made to curve the way I wanted it. Because I envisioned myself sitting like this, watching the flames while it rained outside.”
“It isn’t raining.”
“True, although I love the sound of rain, but in my mind, I didn’t imagine having you here, rain or shine. I like this better.”
“Wow,” she said with an almost shy smile, “you are very charming. Has anyone told you that?”
“A few times, perhaps,” I said with a smile, “I can say this is the best day I’ve had in a very long time.”
“Me, too,” she said. “Maybe the best one ever.”
“Better than the hot tub with your friend’s brother and the soggy tissues?” I challenged with a grin.
“Yeah, even better than that. And you know how sexy that had to be.”
Eventually, I showed her around the house. She tried out the rowing machine in the gym, claiming she’d always wanted one, and she said the library was her definition of paradise. Apparently, she’d wanted a library of her own even more than she had wanted a rowing machine. Her enthusiasm was contagious. I stole kisses in every room, but I didn’t try to push it farther. It felt too perfect, almost fragile. I wanted her but somehow didn’t want to spoil the day either. So I contented myself to hold her hand, press her against the wall with hot kisses and glide my hands up her sides, down her arms, teasing her. I wanted her to go home and be unable to stop thinking about me. I wanted her as keyed up, as on edge as I was. Sometimes delaying gratification made it so much more satisfying.
I treated the entire day like foreplay. Sweet, playful, romantic, sensual. I knew seduction well enough to play the long game, to win her over, to tantalize her until my mouth, my hands, my body would be all she could think about. Then she would be mine.
Mine was a word I thought about far too often with Cat.
After I took her home, I wondered again if it was a mistake. If this was a woman who could match me in every way or only a very savvy young opportunist who was willing to give me enough rope to hang myself. Because she already had a case for harassment if she wanted one, enough to get a fat settlement or a book deal or both. She could take down my reputation, my company. I had to trust in her desire for me, her goodwill. Trust was not in my skill set. That skill set had served me well up until this point, but it pained me to doubt her, to wonder if she was far more a danger to me than I had imagined.
I would call her to my office. I would apologize to her if I had behaved in any way that offended her. I might have to forget the seduction, the foreplay, the payoff. I didn’t want to forget it. It promised to be unforgettable.
I was a man who made intelligent, logical decisions. Not a man who played with fire. Not a man who was beginning to like the burn.
19
Cat
It was ten in the morning on a Monday. I had more energy, more excitement for work than anyone had ever had on a Monday in the history of the world. Because I had put on my black lacy underwear and bra, and I intended to use them. Conventions be damned. I wanted him. He wanted me. It had been all I could do not to howl in frustration the day before when he took me home and kissed me at the door and left. So when I got the call to go to his office, I hoped very strongly that it was a private appointment, that our meeting would be scheduled to last at least an hour and a half.
In his office, he stood behind the desk, looking morose.
“Are you okay?” I asked, advancing toward him. He put up a hand as if to stop me.
“I’m fine. I wanted to inquire how you were,” he said stiffly.
“You wanted to inquire? What did you think I pulled a muscle getting out of the hot tub? I’m fine, but you’re acting weird. What’s going on?”
“It occurred to me that my initial stance on any relationship with you was likely correct. It is unseemly for a man in my position, wealthy and, in fact, head of the company for which you work, to become involved with a subordinate such as yourself. Please understand that there will be no repercussions for you. No lost promotions or unfair job reviews. You don’t have to agree to see me outside of work in order to keep your job or advance your career.”