Pleasure for Pleasure (10 page)

A surge of fear welled up in her chest.
Visualize, Josie. Visualize.
She automatically conjured up her sex-on-the-floor image and, like magic, the fear receded.

“Don't think of it as a test, because it's not. There is no passing or failing.”

His gaze fell to her chest. He watched as she slipped the silky blue fabric over her shoulders, then let the top fall to the floor. Lust darkened his gaze, and panic seized Josie. Here she was again, so close, and yet still so ready to run away.

She willed herself to remain planted in that spot, to keep her eyes on the prize. She was only a few pieces of fabric away from reawakening her sex life, and she
wasn't going to back down now. This was what she wanted. Yes, it definitely was.

And besides, she didn't have to fear sex with Trent being too overwhelming—or too anything. He was here for her help. He was nothing more than a delicious-looking sexual dud, and it was her job to train him.

“I'm willing to give it my best shot,” he said, still focused on her hot-pink bra.

She'd made the right choice of undergarments, after all, it seemed.

“Good, then let's get back to our lesson.” She went to Trent and took his hand, then led him to her bedroom, where the lights were already dimmed in preparation for the lesson. As she sat on the edge of her bed she explained, “I'd like us to spend some time exploring the many ways to physically arouse a woman.”

Not that Josie needed arousing. She only needed to be in the same room with Trent for her panties to get wet. But what the heck, she could endure a little over-stimulation for the sake of Trent's education.

She just needed a mantra to keep herself in control.
Remember, he's a dud. He's a sexual dud.

“I'm at your command,” Trent said, his gaze moving from her to the new surroundings.

She watched him as he took in the small bedroom decorated in what Josie liked to think of as shabby chic. Shabby, because she spent a lot of her free time rummaging through second-hand stores and estate sales. She'd found her ornate mahogany bed and matching dresser at an estate sale in Boston, and with a little work she'd turned it into a beautiful set again, but it still bore the wear of a hundred years of use. The room was dec
orated in whites and reds, with lots of striped fabrics contrasting with red rose prints.

What Trent probably saw was a frilly, girly haven.

A small Victorian tassel lamp lit the room, casting shadows over the familiar planes of Trent's face. He had a five o'clock shadow, barely noticeable, but just enough to remind Josie that he was no longer the cute boy from down the block. He was a grown man, with adult needs that her body ached to fulfill.

“So this is your learning laboratory?” he asked.

Josie smiled. “I have to admit, there hasn't been much learning going on in here so far. But we'll fix that.”

She extended her hand and he took it, then allowed her to pull him onto the bed beside her.

“Your task,” she said, “is to arouse me without touching any of those spots you pointed out earlier as being erogenous zones.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Oohh, you tricked me.”

“I think you're up for the challenge.”

“I'm up for it, all right.” He leaned over her then and kissed her, delving in tentatively.

Josie welcomed his tongue, welcomed the warmth and the hunger. And then he pulled back.

“I can touch you here?” He trailed his fingers lightly along her rib cage, under the curve of her breast, then slowly down the center of her belly as she leaned back on her elbows. He stopped at her belly button and circled.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“By touch, I'm assuming you mean with my hands
or
my mouth, right?”

Oh, yes. She nodded, closing her eyes to savor the
sensation of his fingers gliding over her flesh. And then his lips touched her belly and she squirmed with delight.

Okay, so she wasn't the most challenging woman to arouse. Trent could simply breathe in her direction and she'd get all worked up. But he didn't have to know that.

He unfastened her jeans and pulled them down her hips, then off her legs. He climbed back onto the bed and hovered over her, his delicious heat warming her bare flesh. And then he dipped his head to her stomach again.

“How's this?” he asked between butterfly kisses around her belly button.

Josie sank back on the bed and stretched her arms over her head. “I think you're getting the idea,” she said, her voice amazingly controlled.

His tongue dipped into her navel, and she squirmed at the tickling sensation. He moved lower, his fingers and lips tickling and tasting her hip, her outer thigh, her inner thigh… Oh, if he would only move a few inches to the left, she'd be in heaven. But he was carefully following her rules, behaving like an obedient student. Damn her stupid rules.

Josie gasped as he teased the delicate skin of her inner thigh with his lips and traced the curve of her buttocks with his fingertips. He moved lower yet again, this time to the backs of her knees, her calves, her ankles. Josie's skin was dotted with gooseflesh, her breathing shallow, her thoughts ajumble.

Out of nowhere a coherent thought appeared. She found herself wishing she and Trent were more than just student and teacher. Having him here in her bedroom with her felt…right. There was no other way to describe it. Her usual fear of Trent's sexual power over her had disappeared, to be replaced by this strange feeling of rightness.

But no, that had to be desperation clouding her common sense. As soon as she got him to make love to her, surely she'd get her head on straight.

Trent's lips, working magic on her inner thigh, forced all thoughts from her mind again.

And then, suddenly, the delicious sensations stopped. Josie's eyes popped open. Her view of the ceiling turned into a view of Trent, kneeling over her, wearing a pained expression. Did her feet smell bad? Had she forgotten to shave her legs?

“I know I said I could do this…” Trent began, “but…”

Oh, no, not again. Josie pushed herself up onto her elbows.

“It's completely natural for you to feel some reservations. I'm sorry, I've given you performance anxiety by presenting this as a skills assessment.”

He raked his fingers through his hair and exhaled. “I guess I do feel a little like I always did before a big exam in school.”

Damn it, why hadn't she thought of this possibility? She'd been so blinded by her desire to get laid, she'd gotten careless in her planning. Okay, okay, all wasn't lost yet.

“You want to become an expert lover, right?”

“I don't know. Maybe this is all a big mistake, these sex lessons.” He got up from the bed, and Josie's body turned cold.

She suddenly felt naked and ridiculous. “It isn't a mistake for you to realize you have a problem and try to fix it.”

“I'm sorry I've wasted your time like this,” he said. “But I think we'd better stop right now, before we do something we'll both regret.”

Josie shot up to a sitting position, her desire-addled brain trying to process how the evening had gone so quickly awry. She could have kicked herself for not developing a Plan B ahead of time. Now that she was here, in the heat of the moment, no brilliant ideas were popping into her head.

Trent was straightening his shirt, backing up toward the door…retreating. Mere seconds ago their little sex lesson had been progressing quite well, and now he was leaving. She'd scared him away.

This was just her luck. Even after throwing herself at a guy twice—a guy who was basically paying her for sex—Josie still couldn't manage to get herself laid.

She smiled with as much dignity as she could muster. “I'm beginning to think you don't approve of my teaching methods.”

“No, it's not that. It's just me. I'm afraid—” Trent wore such a puppy-dog expression, Josie couldn't help but let some of her frustration melt away.

“Say no more. Next lesson I'll be sure to, um, adjust my lesson plan to fit your needs.”

Yeah, she'd adjust her lesson, all right—adjust it to include a sturdy pair of handcuffs to keep Trent right where she wanted him.

T
RENT GAZED UP
at the building Extreme Sports had occupied ever since he'd taken over the business from his father seven years ago. He'd promptly turned the store from a traditional sporting goods shop into a specialty retailer catering to extreme athletes. It carried everything from mountain climbing equipment to body surfing suits.

The square white stucco structure lacked any real aesthetic appeal, but it still looked like home to Trent. He'd come to the store as a kid, played in the stockroom, pretended to help his father with the cash register. Not even the store's hip young makeover could make him forget the old leathery smell of his father's store, or the way his dad had always let him play catch indoors—something strictly forbidden at home.

He tried to imagine driving by in a few months to find the building gone, the space occupied by a monolithic bookstore. His gut twisted into a knot. That wasn't what he wanted, was it? Or was he letting sentimentality get in the way of good business sense? The money MegaBooks was offering would be enough to not only secure his retirement income, but also provide him with more than enough capital to get his outdoor adventure business firmly established in Tahoe.

And then there was the Lovers for Life Center. Rafaela and Josie could always lease a building elsewhere
and move the business. But as rocky as their finances seemed to be, having to relocate now would surely drive them into bankruptcy. Even if they could survive a move, Trent wasn't even sure they could find the right kind of business space in a desirable location without spending months and months looking for it.

Trent shook his head and walked the short distance to his car as he dug in his pocket for the keys. He was leaving Max to close the store tonight, so he could take the car to the body shop and leave it there for repair.

When he reached the Porsche, parallel parked on the curb, he bent to take another look at the dent on the bumper. It was a semipermanent reminder that Josie had slammed back into his life. Damn that woman and her lousy driving skills. She was parked behind him again, her beat-up old Saab with its ridiculous headlight wipers—who needed automatic wipers for their headlights in California?—sitting there seeming to mock him.

“If there's another dent, I didn't do it.” It was Josie's voice, right behind him.

Trent turned to find her standing on the sidewalk, looking particularly pretty in the golden sunset light that poured in from the west end of the street. Streaks of silver-blond in her hair caught the evening sun, and her skin had the sort of glow he imagined most women applied lots of lotions and powders to achieve. Josie had always possessed that eye-catching glow. It was one of the qualities that made Trent find it nearly impossible not to stare at her.

“You sound a little defensive. Maybe I should be looking for more damage?”

“That dent was a freak accident. I don't make a habit of hitting cars.”

Trent shifted his gaze to her dent-riddled junker.
“Then they must run into you. Out of nowhere. Constantly. Right?”

She repressed a smile. “Absolutely.”

“Liar.”

Josie's expression sobered. “I was hoping to catch you. About the other night…”

Trent willed himself to keep a straight face. “I'm sorry I've been disrupting the course of your lessons.”

“Do you still want to continue them?”

“Definitely. And I promise, next time I'll be ready to do whatever you want.”

She smiled. “Good. There's something else I'd like to discuss. I'm hoping to arrange a time when we could talk business, if you don't mind.”

“What sort of business?”

“It's about the center. I need a little advice from someone who knows how to run a business successfully.”

The idea of spending an evening not focused on sex with Josie—or the avoidance of it—struck Trent with unexpected appeal. He hadn't realized until that moment how much he wanted to just sit down and talk to her.

“I don't know how much help I can be, but I'd be happy to try. I have to take my car to the body shop right now. Want to meet up afterward?”

She winced. “I'm sorry I don't have the cash to pay for the damage.”

“Hey, that's part of our deal, remember? I said I'd forgive the rent debt and the car damage cost.”

“Still, I feel bad about it. Won't you need a ride after you drop off your car?”

“I was going to walk, but yeah, I could use a ride.”
He eyed Josie's dent mobile. “I'm not sure I have the stomach to ride with you, though.”

She rolled her eyes. “I think you'll survive.”

On the way to the body shop, Josie followed in her clunker. Trent tried to keep his mind on driving, but every glance at Josie in the rearview mirror brought his thoughts back to their last lesson five nights ago. Five long, agonizing nights ago.

From her demeanor, Trent figured Josie hadn't suspected that he'd lied about his reason for not wanting to have sex. But even he didn't want to consider the real reason. It certainly wasn't performance anxiety, yet it wasn't simply the desire to get even with her, either.

As much as he hated to admit it, he'd felt some pretty strong emotions during their last lesson. Being in Josie's apartment, sharing Chinese take-out, he'd found himself wishing he'd been there on a regular date; imagining them as a real couple; wanting them to go to bed together in that overly romantic, flowery bedroom of hers and wake up the next morning together.

It was just all the sexual deprivation going to his head. Ever since he'd managed to put the brakes on having sex with her yet again, he'd slept like hell. His dreams consisted of torturous images of Josie, tormenting him, teasing him, driving him to the edge of insanity. And his waking thoughts were no more comforting. It took all his willpower not to slip into the bathroom and relieve himself of what seemed like one long, endless hard-on.

But all he needed to do to summon his strength again was to remember his goal—revenge. He needed only to close his eyes and picture Ocean Beach, recall the sight of Josie's taillights as she'd pulled away, relive the feel
ing of utter betrayal that wrenched his gut that night, and he was fortified for as long as it would take.

They arrived at the body shop on Geary Street and Trent parked his car and went inside to drop off the keys. When he came back out, he found Josie standing next to the Porsche, waiting for him.

“Someone will come out in a minute to take a look at the damage, and then we can go.”

“No hurry,” she said, turning her attention to the Porsche. “This is a beautiful car.”

“Thanks.”

She cast a sideways glance at him. “You do know what sports cars represent for the male psyche, don't you?”

Trent stuck his hands into his back pockets. “Let me guess. It means I'm overcompensating for a small penis and an even smaller sense of self-esteem?”

She grinned. “Not exactly. For you, I'm guessing it's a way of holding on to a sense of freedom and youth. But there is that manhood issue.”

“I'm dying to hear this.”

“Men who drive sports cars tend to be a little insecure about their male identity.”

“I'm plenty secure. And I didn't ask you to psychoanalyze me, all right?”

“I can understand why you'd be uncomfortable with that,” she said in a tone that suggested she was enjoying ribbing him.

What he wanted to do was to pull her into a dark corner at that moment and kiss her senseless, but that would probably suggest something about his male identity, too.

“I'm not uncomfortable with it. I just don't need it.”

Out of the corner of his eye he caught her smiling to herself. “Sure, okay.”

A man in blue coveralls appeared with a clipboard in his hand to inspect the car damage. Trent showed him the dent and watched as the man squatted to take a closer look at the damage. He began making notes on the clipboard, and when he finished, he stood and stuck his ink pen in a chest pocket.

“It'll be about two thousand to do the repairs. We'll have to replace the bumper panel and paint the new body piece.”

Trent shrugged. No one ever said owning a Porsche was cheap—thank God for insurance. “Sounds fine.”

Beside him, Josie looked stricken.

“Can you pick it up in five days?”

He had an old sport utility vehicle he drove on his trips to the mountains, so lack of transportation wasn't an issue. “No problem.” Trent handed over the keys and took the estimate sheet the mechanic offered him.

He and Josie walked to her car, and he remembered as he got in that the last time he'd ridden with her had been three years ago…

A sick feeling invaded his stomach. He willed the negative memory away. Right now, it was the last thing he wanted to think about.

When Josie got into the driver's seat, Trent asked, “So, do you want to brief me on this business issue you need to discuss?”

She grinned sheepishly as she started the car. “I'm not very good at talking and driving at the same time.”

“Oh, right.” He appreciated her honesty.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Someplace that serves food. I'm starved.”

Josie pulled out into traffic without incident and nav
igated her way eight or ten blocks down to an empty parking spot.

“There's a place on this block called El Corazon Café that has great salsa. Sound okay?” she asked as they got out of the car.

“Sounds perfect.”

They walked toward the restaurant with a crisp ocean breeze at their backs, and Trent tried not to notice how it made Josie's suit form to every tempting line of her body. He walked faster to rid himself of the view, but that only made her mad.

“Hey, wait up!” she called as she hurried behind him.

“Sorry, forgot my manners.”

“Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?”

Trent laughed. “Hardly. I was just trying to avoid staring at your ass, if you want to know the truth.”

“Oh.” She stopped walking, and Trent realized they'd made it to the restaurant.

With its brightly colored walls painted with hearts and cacti and other less recognizable objects, and its wild, funky tables and chairs, the restaurant fit in quite well with this business district. Trent could have done without the polka-dot chairs, but he was hungry enough to ignore them.

They placed their orders at the counter, then found a table near the front window. Since it was nearly eight o'clock the big dinner crowd was gone and they had a bit of privacy.

Josie cut right to the point. “You're aware of the Lovers for Life Center's financial difficulties.”

Trent nodded, adjusting his feet under the table. He accidentally bumped her leg and the sudden contact put his nerves on alert. Damn it, how did she do that to
him? The woman had an uncanny knack for turning him on.

“I'm afraid it's even worse than a few late rent payments,” she said.

“What else are you behind on?”

Josie's gaze dropped to her hands as she fiddled with a napkin. “I have a list of the late bills in my office, but I can't remember off hand.”

“Are you even turning a profit right now?”

Josie shook her head. “Hardly. We're losing money.”

Trent hadn't realized the extent of the center's troubles, and now he felt a tiny pang of guilt for putting Josie in such a compromising position by asking her for private sex lessons. He'd held on to the far-fetched belief, in the back of his head, that she could have afforded to pay the rent if she'd really wanted to, that she'd just accepted the offer in the spirit of their longstanding sexual rivalry.

“Why come to me?”

Josie regarded him levelly, making a great internal effort, he guessed, to separate her current needs from what happened between them five nights ago. Trent wasn't sure he could accomplish that feat himself.

He'd spent every day since the last lesson trying to summon up the willpower to resist Josie during the next one. If he gave in to her, his revenge plan would be ruined. And spending time around Josie only made him like her more, thus weakening his defenses. With her popping back into his life today—two days early—she'd thrown off his plan.

“You run a successful business. I was hoping you might help me figure out if I have a chance of saving
the center, and how to go about bringing in more money.”

“I know nothing about operating a school.”

She nodded. “True, but I need a fresh perspective on the problems I'm dealing with. Maybe I could run some ideas by you and you could give me your reactions.”

“Sure.”

The waiter delivered their dinners, and the scent of fresh cilantro reminded Trent that he was hungry. They both dove into their burritos and ate in silence for a few minutes.

Trent mulled over the possible business problems the Lovers for Life Center faced. How “in demand” could sex classes be? There must have been enough of a need for the business to keep running for more than twenty years.

“How's enrollment at the center?” he asked between bites.

“Down since I took over. My mother was the heart of the place, and it's not the same without her.”

“Have your customers said as much?”

“We've had quite a few complaints about her absence.”

Trent could imagine the hole Rafaela's departure would leave. She had a commanding presence, and she was a tireless self-promoter, often appearing on local television shows and in newspaper interviews talking about sex.

“What other changes have occurred since she left?”

“I've had to stop inviting a lot of our guest speakers. They were just too expensive, but they brought in non-regular attendees of the seminars. It was a big profit-maker.”

Trent polished off the last bite of his burrito and
turned his attention to the chips and salsa. “Have you tried this stuff?”