The Tycoon's Very Personal Assistant. Heidi Rice
wasn’t thinking about food. But he nodded, picking up his own menu. ‘Sounds good to me.’
He allowed her to let the conversation drift to harmless small talk as they ordered.
The quiver in her voice a moment ago had been a big red stop sign. As much as he would have liked to drive right through it and risk the crash, he knew he shouldn’t. He’d found out as a young man that patience was more than a virtue. It was a pleasure. It got you what you wanted, but allowed you to savour it first.
He had a feeling that Kate Denton—with her smart mouth, her lush little body and her sassy sense of humour—would be worth savouring.
The food was exquisite, and Kate was starving, but by the time the delicate slice of chocolate pecan torte was placed in front of her she’d barely managed to swallow a bite. She couldn’t seem to stop babbling. Maybe it was the intense way he absorbed everything she said. Or the questions he asked, as if he really cared what she had to say.
He knew London well, had lived there for several years in his teens, apparently, and they’d chatted about her home town for most of the meal. It should have been a relaxing, innocuous conversation, but every time she caught his eyes flicking down to her lips, every time she noticed the sexy way his mouth curved when she said something sharp or funny, her blood pressure shot up another notch.
She placed a spoonful of the rich chocolate dessert onto her tongue. It tasted dark, sensual and delicious, despite the jumble of nerves and excitement making whoopee in her tummy.
‘How’s your pie?’ he said, his gaze dropping to her mouth again. Her pulse jumped.
‘Fabulous.’ She licked her lips, shocked by the reckless thrill when his eyes followed the movement. ‘Chocolate should be one of the seven deadly sins, don’t you think?’
‘I thought it was,’ he said, his voice as rich and sinful as the chocolate.
It is now, thought Kate, spooning up another mouthful of chocolate. ‘Do you fancy a taste?’
‘I thought you’d never ask,’ he said, the intensity in his gaze convincing her they weren’t talking about her dessert.
She lifted the spoon. Wrapping strong fingers round her hand, he guided it to his lips. As she watched the thick velvety chocolate being devoured the well of desire she’d been holding back geysered up. Her nipples tightened against the smooth silk of her dress and her thighs tensed, unable to hold back the flood of heat. The sensual battle she’d been waging with her body all evening had been well and truly lost.
‘Thanks. That was delicious.’ He caressed her fingers before releasing her hand. She saw the glow of triumph in his eyes and realised he knew he’d won.
It didn’t take him long to claim the spoils.
‘Kate,’ he said, leaning back against the leather booth, one forearm resting casually on the table. ‘You’re beautiful, you intrigue me and I’m very attracted to you. I’d like to make love to you tonight. How do you feel about the idea?’
Well, he was certainly direct and to the point, she thought, her breasts throbbing now, her heartbeat pummelling.
She should have said she wasn’t attracted to him, that she didn’t want to make love. It was sheer madness to encourage something so reckless, so impulsive. But the lie refused to come out of her mouth. It was as if some devastating chemical reaction had taken control of her body and wouldn’t let her utter the words.
Maybe it was madness, but it wasn’t just that she couldn’t say the words—she knew she didn’t want to. Zack Boudreaux was every woman’s fantasy. And the way he was looking at her right now was giving her heart palpitations. She’d never been this sexually aware of anyone before in her life. This man could make her forget the mess she was in—if only for one night. Didn’t she deserve at least one fleeting chance of escape?
Kate concentrated on his face, revelling in the rush of desire as she decided on her reply. ‘I feel quite enthusiastic about the idea, actually.’
His eyes widened and she wondered if she’d shocked him with her forwardness, but then the deep green ignited with passion. He threw his napkin onto the table and stood up. ‘We need to go to my penthouse, then’ he said, his voice a little hoarse. Towering over her, he took her arm and hauled her out of the booth. ‘Before my knicker fetish gets the better of me.’
She laughed, giddy with excitement as he wrapped his arm around her waist and steered her out of the restaurant.
CHAPTER FOUR
KATE WATCHED AS ZACK slid his passkey into the lift panel. Slipping it back into his pocket he turned to her. ‘Time to get down to business,’ he said.
Kate pressed against the lift wall as he walked towards her.
Okay, woman, you asked for this. Do not pass out.
He rested one hand against the panelling above her head and leaned over her. He was so close she could see the crinkles at the corner of his eyes, the slight bump marring the perfect line of his nose. The musky scent of him filled her nostrils—a potent mix of soap, aftershave and industrial-strength pheromones.
‘What business did you have in mind?’ The question came out on a breathy sigh. Goodness, she’d practically melted into a puddle of lust already and he hadn’t even touched her.
He cocked his head to one side, his eyes sweeping over her face. She heard the rustle of fabric as he took his other hand out of his trouser pocket. The brush of blunt fingertips on her bare leg made her quiver. ‘I’m making it my business to find out what you’ve got on under that dress.’
She gasped as his fingers stroked under the hem of her dress, bunching the silk as they trailed upwards. ‘Do you think that’s wise?’ she said, although she was already past caring. ‘What if someone else gets in the lift?’
‘This is my private elevator.’ He ducked his head, nuzzled his lips against her ear. ‘No one gets in here but me.’ He bit into the lobe, sending a riot of chills pulsing across her nerve-endings.
She shivered violently and dropped her purse. She didn’t even hear it hit the floor through the throbbing in her ears. Raising her arms, she stretched against him, pressing her breasts into the solid wall of his chest, threading her fingers through the short, silky curls at his nape. She turned her head and his lips were hot on hers. Firm and wet, his tongue thrust deep. She shuddered, tasting chocolate and man and pure, unadulterated lust.
Then his questing fingers found her bare buttock and he stilled. ‘Damn!’ He pulled back, his breath feathering her cheek. He stroked the naked flesh, and slipped his finger under the satin string. ‘You’re wearing the thong?’
‘In this dress?’ The words choked out on a sob. ‘Of course I am. I wouldn’t want a VPL.’
‘A…what?’ he rasped as his fingers continued to explore her intimately.
‘A visible panty line.’ She gasped.
His thumb traced across the core of her and he groaned. ‘I’m a dead man.’
She pulled his face back to her, nibbled kisses along his jaw. ‘If you die now, Zack, I’m afraid I’ll have to kill you.’
He gave a gruff laugh. ‘Fair enough,’ he murmured, pushing her against the wall, his strong body enveloping her.
Placing hot palms on her bare backside, he lifted her. ‘Put your legs round my waist,’ he demanded, the teasing gone.
She did as she was told, her centre throbbing at the unyielding pressure straining against his trousers.
She clung on as he walked out of the lift. Strikingly modern, esoteric luxury surrounded her but she saw only glimpses, impressions—all her thoughts and feelings concentrated on the heat and hardness between them—until she caught their reflection in the hall mirror. She was wrapped around him like a wanton, her dress hiked up to her waist, his large