Playing with Fire (32 page)

Alex McMann had recommended her as someone they often worked with, so he’d made an appointment. When he walked into her office, his heart did a little drum beat and his cock, which hadn’t been interested in a lot lately, stood up and demanded attention. A silk blouse the same blue as her eyes, and navy slacks outlined a lush, mature figure. Highlighted sable hair fell in soft waves to just above her collar, and the wide smile she greeted him with made him want to taste those plump lips.

The first thing he’d thought was,
Holy shit!
He hadn’t exactly been a hermit since his wife passed away, but he also hadn’t met a woman who turned him on like this in more years than he wanted to count. The more time he spent with her, the more he was attracted to her. Not just her body, either. He wasn’t a horny teenager anymore. Grace was smart, funny, easy to be with. Someone he wanted to spend time with outside the work environment.

A goal he knew would not be easy to achieve.

“Let’s do one more walkthrough,” she said to him. “Make sure we’ve got the feel you want for the townhouses before we start on the first detached villa.”

Ben was sure she’d nailed it, but it gave him a chance to spend more time in her company. “Sounds good. Lead the way.”

He had to concentrate on what she was saying as they moved from room to room, mesmerized as he was by the musical lilt to her voice and the tempting sway of her hips.

“Ben?”

He stopped, almost bumping into her as he realized she had paused and turned to him.

“Sorry. Did I miss something? I was just enjoying the feel you’ve created here.”

She laughed. “I don’t think you’ve heard a word I said. We’ve spent a lot of time on this today. I think you need a break.”

“What I think I need is a cup of coffee,” he told her. “Or, better yet, a glass of wine. Thistle Creek Winery wants to open a retail outlet in the first town center we’re building, and they sent over some bottles for us to try. Let’s see what they gave us.”

She took a step back, holding her briefcase tightly. “Oh, I don’t think so.” She made a show of looking at her watch. “It’s actually later than I thought. I should get going.”

“One glass of wine won’t hurt.” He winked. “To celebrate what we’ve done so far. Come on. I won’t take no for an answer.”

She stood there, frowning.

“Come on,” he urged again. “You’ve done a terrific job with the model townhouses. Kept right to the theme without being excessive in your designs. And I want to see what you have in store for the villas and the first clubhouse. The wine is locked up in the model we’re using as an office. We can sit outside and enjoy the late afternoon sunshine.”

He considered it a major accomplishment that when he took her elbow to guide her along, she didn’t protest. By the time they reached the offices and he’d taken down a bottle of cab, she actually appeared slightly less tense. He urged her outside where a small café table and chairs were set upon the patio. The air was heavy with the scent of new shrubbery and flowers and freshly mowed grass. There was no one else behind the row of townhouses, but in the distance he could hear the sounds of construction. The signs of the ongoing development always excited him.

Ben couldn’t take his eyes away from her graceful neck or the smooth movement of her throat muscles as she swallowed some of the wine.
Jesus!
He was besotted with the woman. That was the only explanation for it. Probably had been since the day he’d met her.

“To a long and successful relationship,” he said, touching his glass to hers.

“I’ll drink to that.”

“Based on our most recent conversations, I’ve been working on the sketches for the first clubhouse,” Grace told him, setting her glass on the table. “Done some refining. Added a few things. And I have four new interior design plans for the villas. Ideas for accessories and new color schemes. I think you’ll like them.”

“I like everything you’ve done so far, Grace. You managed to capture the exact feel I was looking for and blend it with the architecture. That’s not an easy task.”

“Actually, it’s turning out to be one. I love your concept, especially since I’m Texas born and bred.” She grinned. “And I’ve looked at a lot of Texas art lately for inspiration.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhmm. Visited some museums. Even talked my way into a few private collections.”

Ben studied her face as she spoke. She looked relaxed for the first time since he’d met her. The air was heavy with late spring warmth, and when Grace settled into her chair, she’d taken off her jacket. The late afternoon sun picked up the highlights in her hair and bathed her face in an amber glow. A gentle breeze kissed the soft fabric of her blouse so it outlined her breasts. And was that just the hint of her nipples barely discernible? Was she reacting to him, despite her
Keep Away
attitude?

God, he hoped so. She was like a luscious plum, ripe for the picking.

As they chatted, very casually he lifted the wine bottle and topped off their drinks. Intent on what she was saying, Grace picked up the glass and sipped from it. He loved seeing her like this, less on guard, not quite so controlled. Could he possibly take this opportunity to move things along a little?

“You know,” he said slowly, “in all the time we’ve sent together, you’ve never really told me much about yourself.”

She tilted her head slightly. “What is it you want to know? I’m sure Josh gave you all my credentials. I’ve worked with them on a lot of projects. And you have my brochure.”

“But I know nothing about Grace Traynor, the woman.” He stroked the tip of one finger over her arm, just a brief touch. He felt a slight tremor and wondered if it was anxiety at his touch or, hopefully, controlled desire. If it was anxiety, what could possibly be the cause of it? He’d done his best not to crowd her.

“She’s really very boring.” She picked up her glass again and, this time, took a healthy swallow.

“I’ll bet she’s not.” He took a chance and stroked her arm again. Maybe the wine was mellowing her, but she didn’t jerk away. Instead, he noticed her nipples had become even more prominent beneath the thin fabric of her shirt. “For example, you never talk about your family. I’m sure I’ve bored you to tears about mine.”

“Not at all. I love hearing about your ranch. It’s too bad none of your sons wanted to take it over.”

He shrugged. “It is what it is. I came to terms with it a long time ago. And Paradise Ranch is really filling my life in a way I never thought it would. But there we go, talking about me again. I want to know about you. Let’s start with something simple. I know you have a degree from Rhode Island School of Design, but what made you start your own business?”

“I wanted my independence.”

She said it very simply but in a way that told Ben there was a lot of meaning beneath that one sentence.

“And you certainly have it. You’ve done very well for yourself. I’m surprised, though, that you never wanted to marry. Have children.”

The muscles in her face tightened, and her glance slid away. “I’m happy by myself.”

“So no special man in your life? No one to celebrate holidays and successes with?”

She turned and looked at him, and he was startled by the pain in her eyes. “What exactly is it you want from me, Ben? You must have better things to do than playing Twenty Questions with me.”

“What do I want from you?” Here was his opening. “I want to take you out to dinner. Maybe dancing. Spend a little time with you when we’re not discussing business.”

“Why?”

The question surprised him. “Why? Because you are an incredibly attractive, appealing woman, and I’d like to get to know you better.”

She lifted her hand, breaking his contact with her arm, and took another swallow of wine. “I’m not all that. I guarantee you’d be disappointed.”

What in hell?
There was something going on here he didn’t quite understand.

“Since I have no expectations, that wouldn’t happen. But I think we’d enjoy each other’s company. When was the last time you went out for an evening that wasn’t related to business?”

She laughed. “If I went out with you, it would be.”

“No. I’d make sure it was nothing but pleasure.”

She paused, nibbled on her bottom lip in a way that made his cock swell and his balls ache. Unexpected desire flushed through him, stronger than he’d felt in years. All of a sudden, it became very important to convince her to do this.

“I don’t think—”

“Right,” he interrupted. “Don’t think. Let’s just do it. Tonight,” he said on impulse. “And I know just the place.”

She lifted an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. “And where would that be?”

He shook his head. “It’s a surprise. But I promise you’ll like it. No pressure. Just an evening out with a friend.”

He held his breath, waiting for her answer. Maybe it was the wine she’d had, or maybe it was the relaxed environment. Whatever the trigger was, she finally nodded her head.

“All right. Tonight.” She gave a breathy laugh. “Before I change my mind.”

“Excellent.” He wanted to pump his fist in the air. Instead, he looked at his watch. “It’s almost five. Why don’t you go home, change into something that’s not your work clothes, and I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“I’m afraid everything I have looks like work clothes.”

“Then just something different. Give me your address, and I’ll see you at seven.”

***

I have to be crazy. That’s the only answer for this.

Grace repeated it to herself over and over again as she drove home from the Paradise Ranch site. What would Ben Randall think if she told him she hadn’t been out on a date in twenty years? Oh, she didn’t count the public events she’d attended for business where she’d been able to snag some business associate as an escort. She usually asked someone on the back end of a bad divorce who was happy to have someone’s shoulder to cry on for an evening. Less danger for her that way.

Grace could have given them all chapter and verse on a bad divorce. More than that, on a bad marriage. Or what happens when you choose unwisely. Been there, done that, got more than one T-shirt to show for it.

For a brief moment, Alan Vaughan’s face flashed across her mind, lips twisted in that supercilious smile he always had, eyes flashing with contempt. She had been so swept off her feet by him, thrilled at the age of twenty-two that an older man, handsome and rich, seemed to be so besotted with her. By the time she hit her twenty-fifth birthday, she had realized her appeal to him—she was young and malleable and easy to get under his thumb.

Finding her own spirit and grit had been an arduous journey, and painful. Three more years had passed, years that almost destroyed her, before she had arranged things so she could walk out and leave him. But her confidence in herself as a woman had taken a big hit that she’d never recovered from. She had also made a vow that no man would ever have an impact on her life again.

She had her work to stimulate her mentally and her trusty toys to satisfy herself sexually. By the time she hit her fiftieth birthday, she had firmly entrenched her life in a pattern she had no desire to break.

Then along came Ben Randall, six feet of physically fit man, with thick, steel-gray hair, a deep tan, and brown eyes like melted chocolate. She could almost see the pheromones floating in the room whenever she was around him. After every meeting, her toy box got a strenuous workout because it required a lot to take the edge off the desire Ben aroused in her.

Desire!

Hell, she hadn’t felt sexual vibes for a man in so long, she’d begun think she’d buried them for good. Then Ben walked into her office, and arousal slammed into her like a speeding car. She had even taken to wearing a tailored jacket when they were together, to hide her hardened nipples that stood at attention at the sound of his voice. Today, she’d just been so warm she’d had to take it off. Had he noticed her reaction to him?

She had done her best to hide her reactions from him, to send her
Keep Off
signals. Although he’d respected them, it wasn’t hard to spot the latent hunger that flared in his eyes whenever they were together. What stunned her was how tempted she was. No man had excited her even a little bit in all these years. After Alan, she’d shut that door so firmly no one had been able to open it.

So what was she doing, going on a date with Ben Randall? A date, for god’s sake! Did she even know how to behave on one anymore?

The whole situation rumbled through her mind as she drove home, pulled into her garage, and carried her briefcase into the house. It bedeviled her while she stripped off her clothes, tossing them in the laundry hamper or the one for dry cleaning. And as she turned on the shower in her bathroom and prepared to step under the spray.

Ben Randall. He’d set her nerves buzzing from the first moment she’d seen him. At the time she’d told herself to turn him down as a client, but the lure of decorating such a massive project was too strong to resist. The unexpected attraction had grown over the many weeks they’d worked together until, now, it lurked constantly at the back of her mind. And made her body hum with desire whenever they were together.

She was afraid, plain and simple. Afraid of her feelings, afraid history might repeat itself, no matter that he and Alan were totally different people. Afraid of letting herself get out of control. Yet, here she was, preparing to have dinner with him.

She paused for a moment and took a hard look at herself in the mirror over the sink.
Not too bad
. She did her treadmill almost every day and tried to fit in an exercise class once a week. Her skin didn’t have quite the elasticity it once did, and her breasts, while round, were a little less firm. But, all in all, not too bad.

Wait! What am I doing? We’re going out to dinner, not getting naked.

Damn straight. That part of her life was long over. But, as she stood under the water, her body humming with need, the image of Ben rose unbidden. A pulse throbbed in her pussy, and her nipples tingled. She poured body wash into one hand, worked it into a lather, and slid that hand along the slightly curved slope of her tummy to the folds of her sex. Nobody’s hands except hers had explored her there in all these years. By now, she’d learned exactly how to touch and stroke to give herself satisfaction. How to tug and pinch her clitoris to push herself up the slope of need. Bracing one foot on the built-in shower bench, she slid two fingers inside her body, feeling the clasp of her wet inner walls.