Reckless Seduction. Gwynne Forster
structured form of him, lingering on his muscular thighs, his broad shoulders and, finally, lifting to his mouth. Dear Lord. His mouth! It was the most sensuous thing she had ever seen. Unable to stop herself, she finally, if unwillingly, looked into his fern-green eyes and gasped, audibly. Those green eyes blazed with blatant desire, obviously triggered by her appraisal of him. She looked first at the floor and then toward the ceiling—anyplace but at him.
“Have you eaten?” he asked, attempting to put her at ease.
“No, I haven’t. Thank you.”
Splaying his fingers at her lower back, he guided her to the buffet table of hors d’oeuvres. Somewhat wobbly from their visual caress, she was grateful for his support. He handed her a finger sandwich of smoked salmon, cream cheese and dill on pumpernickel and seemed fascinated as she managed to nibble it without touching her lips. He dipped a crab claw in some pink dressing and then into his mouth.
“Mmm, but this is good,” he said gazing at her. He cleaned his top lip with the tip of his tongue. She knew he hadn’t meant to be provocative, but that gesture was the epitome of provocation.
She stared at him. Was his every move a sexual innuendo? Maybe she was just reading sensuality into it. In all her twenty-eight years, she had never responded to a man this way. She probably didn’t even know what a woman’s response to a man was supposed to be. Lord knows, her one short abysmal experience with Joshua had been devastating.
“The annual Second Avenue festival starts Friday. Have you ever been?” At this point, she would’ve said anything to change the focus of her unruly thoughts.
“No. Why?” he asked.
“You seem to enjoy eating, and some of the food at that festival is so fantastic that I just throw caution to the four winds, forget the guilt and dig in.”
Jon sensed that she wanted to find neutral ground, that the electricity passing between them had made her uneasy. But he’d be damned if he was going to chitchat about something so banal as a street fair. He’d choose his own safe topic.
“You were great on camera,” he said. “You looked good, too. After I recovered from the surprise of seeing you, I listened to what you had to say. Your message was impressive. If you ever want to change careers, I hope you’ll consider EIS. Believe me, the door is open.”
She made no effort to hide her pleasure at his remarks. “Thank you,” she said, simply. “I was a little nervous, as I’d had less than an hour’s notice that my talk would be televised. And I was excited when I realized that it would be broadcast to the States.” And that it was your network and that you would probably see me, she added silently.
“What do you think of Ian MacKenlin?” Now, why had he asked that? What could she think? Ian was competent and always did his job well. He was also hell with women or had been before he married the year before. What was it to him, anyway? What she did was her business. He made an effort to straighten out his mind and get it going in the right direction. He hardly knew this woman, and it was foolish to be thinking about what man she’d seen or hadn’t seen, liked or hadn’t liked. “Did he, uh, show you around, some sightseeing, that sort of thing?” He winced at his own transparency.
“Why? Is that company policy?”
“Well, for someone who’s never been to the place before…” He stopped himself. He wouldn’t continue that inane conversation. And what she did, he reminded himself again, was her business. Still…
“Mr. MacKenlin introduced me to his wife, who took me shopping in the local marketplace and on home to dinner with them. It was a wonderful evening, and I’m hoping that she and I will remain friends, even over long distance.” She wondered why Jon Ecklund was asking her about MacKenlin. Could he possibly care who she was with? Her mind wondered on. She’d bet her PhD that Jon Ecklund was a thorough man. Thinking that if he made love to a woman, he’d do a man’s job of it, she felt her mouth go dry and her face heat up. She tried not to look at him, but her eyes disobeyed her, and she stared into those fern-green pools of sensuality. God help her, she didn’t want this.
“Do you like music?” he asked, bringing her out of her reverie.
“Yes,” she said. He had rescued her again. “I like the classics, especially Mozart, most of Puccini’s operas, blues and classical jazz. I love jazz.”
He listened to her low, soft voice. It warmed him. Yes, just being with her warmed him. Maybe she wasn’t as cold as she always looked. He took her hand, and although she offered no objection, he sensed the tension in her.
“Will you dance with me?” He wanted her in his arms. He knew that he should go slowly, but he couldn’t. His instinct told him that he was vulnerable to her, but he pushed the warning aside. “Come with me,” he said softly, her hand still wrapped in his. She said nothing and didn’t remove her hand, but she went with him.
Nels had converted the dining room for dancing, and several couples were on the floor. As the band began to play “If I Loved You” from Nels’s sound system, he turned to her and opened his arms. She walked into them. For seconds, they didn’t move. Then he began a slow two-step. Though she was tall, at least five feet ten inches, he had to bend a little. She reached up and put her arms around his neck, as if in an embrace and, as he moved, she began to sing the words in a sweet, sultry contralto. She had him spellbound. Her beautiful voice reached into his heart and grabbed him, and her soft body molded perfectly to his. He knew he should put on the brakes, but he wanted more. He didn’t know where it would lead, but he wanted to know her, all of her.
They realized that the music had stopped and that they still held each other.
“You must be a magician.”
“Who, me?” He couldn’t believe that anyone would describe him in that manner.
“Yes, you,” she bantered. “You’ve cast a spell on me. I don’t hug strange men,” she continued, laughing. He grinned. Then he laughed a clear, soul-cleansing laugh.
She stared at him, captivated. “You ought to laugh all the time,” she blurted out. “You’re very attractive when you laugh.”
He stopped laughing and just looked at her. Was she making a pass at him? She was dead serious. She thought he was good looking, at least when he laughed.
“Keep me happy, and I’ll laugh all you want.”
She didn’t respond.
“I was jesting, Haley, I don’t mean to step out of line with you,” he said softly.
“Step out of line? I thought you were being witty. What does it take to keep you happy? I can imagine that you don’t want for the company of beautiful women.” They walked off the floor, but the closeness that they had felt was gone.
He thought for a moment. He wanted to be truthful without seeming arrogant. “Beautiful, sophisticated women are not what it takes to make me happy or, for that matter, even to alleviate boredom.”
When she didn’t respond, he asked himself how they had gotten into something that personal. She had been teasing, and his response had been way too serious.
Nels rescued them. “I see you two have been getting acquainted. Supper is being served. Come on back in the kitchen. I’ve set a table for the three of us back there.”
“Are you deserting your other guests, Nels?” Haley wanted to know.
Nels grinned, effectively admitting that he was matchmaking. “The only guests of importance are right here with me. I see the rest of them as often as I like. Let’s plan a time when we can get together, Jon. I want to know what you’ve been doing these past five years.”
“Okay, we’ll plan something.” They bantered and joked as if they had always been a threesome. When they’d finished the roasted pheasant, grilled mushrooms and steamed artichokes, they had a green salad and Blue Stilton cheese.