Seducing Seven (What Happens in Vegas) (7 page)

Besides, there was no reason to stop her seduction. She had a feeling her rules would be useful for years to come.

Back to rule number seven—always leave him wanting more.

She turned to him, running her fingers down his chest, and using all the newly found boldness within her, wrapped them around his ready and willing length. Giving him a gentle squeeze, she then slid her hand up and over the broad head of him. “As much as I’d love to use this, we have to go.”

She bounded up from the bed, her hair falling forward over her shoulders, tickling her nipples and making her want to throw herself right back on top of him.

He lunged after her, arm outstretched and his eyes wide. “What? Get back here.”

Giggling, she shook her head and sauntered over to his bathroom. “Can’t. Just like you, I have work to do.”

“Work can wait.”

She sent him a pout, and he flopped back against the bed.

“You have an interview,” she said. Turning back toward the bathroom, she smacked the side of her head against the corner of the door. She gasped, “Motherfucker,” and grabbed her temple with one hand, throwing her other hand out to stop him from getting up. “No, you stay right there.” Pulling in a breath, she willed the pain to subside and ignored his sympathetic whistle.

“You okay?” His question was full of concern even with the chuckle.

She peeked back to find him turned on his side, facing her, his cock so hard it jutted straight out at her, oblivious to gravity. Her stomach fluttered. Good Lord, they needed to go, and quick, before she changed her mind. “Nice to know my pain turns you on.”

“Apparently as long as you’re still naked.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but smiled and turned back—carefully this time. She was never the most graceful person. God only knew how many times her parents and sister had teased her, but seriously? In front of Blake? She held back a groan of mortification. There’d be no more seduction if she kept that up. Only an emergency room visit.

B
lake paced the corridor, waiting to go into his interview, and thought of the seven rules mentioned in Seven’s book. Where the hell was rule number eight: fuck the brains out of the guy you’re playing with? He had not expected that. He’d been playing the field for years; apparently there was a first time for everything. He’d underestimated Seven in more ways than one. That wasn’t like him, either. Facts were facts: either he was losing his touch, or she had a talent for mind control.

She filled his head and his senses with the memory of her soft skin and sweet scent. He’d lose his six-pack if he indulged every time he’d wanted dessert since meeting her. Forcing the temptation of her from his mind, he pulled in a steadying breath.

Again, he listed the rules from her book in his head. He’d never admit in a million years to using them, but he was pulling out every trick he had during this interview. When he saw the value in something, he put it to work.

Stepping into the conference room, he took in the setting. It was meant to intimidate, with three corporate head seats along one side of the long table and one lone chair on the other. It fueled his determination. He should be tired from staying up most of the night reading Seven’s damn book and an afternoon bout of mind-blowing sex, but the adrenaline rush made him feel as though he’d sucked down a quad venti latte from Starbucks. Whether it was from the interview or being with Seven, he wasn’t sure. Which was a problem.

The hero in her book had had the same damn problem.
Fuck me
. He gripped his hands into tighter fists. The characters from the story never trailed far from his brain, but Seven was worse. She sat smack-dab in the center of his attention. He shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to give a shit.

Shaking out his hands, he cleared his throat, and the three gentlemen talking at the window turned as he strode across the room with his shoulders back and head high. A smile that could be interpreted as nothing but genuine pulled the corners of his mouth. The men paused, all three in different stages of hair loss, the status quo black suit, white shirt, and some shade of the red power tie. Two had round bellies probably kept there by too much fried food and alcohol, and the third looked as if he could use a little extra. They watched him walk over, then one by one, returned hesitant smiles of their own. Her rules had reminded him of what was so easy to forget—this time, he wasn’t selling a luxury product to a bored, wealthy client. He was selling himself. He smiled at his customers all the time, but most often the serious atmosphere of interviews snuffed out the desire to. Today he was determined to set the tone. And so far, so good.

I’ll be damned.
“Gentlemen, good afternoon.” He stretched out his hand going down the line, giving each his usual firm handshake and direct eye contact.

The men lost the chips on their shoulders and settled into their seats with good humor and easy manners. The smile worked like a charm, and giving them a solid handshake every time would replace the rule for the kiss. Boom. He’d been reminded in the past twenty-four hours how powerful a strong first greeting could be, and when the same effort was put forth each time, it left a succinct impact on the receiver. He should know—Seven had taken him off guard with every smile and every kiss.

He wore his best suit, mirroring his interviewers. He preferred a little color, a little style, but in this case, emulating the three of them would help more than his individuality. Throughout the interview he’d give a little information, pause, and wait for them to ask for more, and damn if they didn’t every time. Instead of caresses, he applied casual business compliments at strategically placed moments, and by the time the interview came to an end, Blake had them eating out of his hand.

More than once his thoughts turned to the challenging twinkle in Seven’s eyes or the swing of her luscious hips. He shifted in his seat and pulled his focus back to the not-nearly-as-interesting gentlemen in front of him. A little more than annoyed that she’d intruded upon one of the most important meetings of his life, he reined in his wandering thoughts.

He should be salivating at the opportunity. The interview was going well. Seven would be so excited for him, and he couldn’t wait to tell her. He could see the look of fascination in her eyes and the genuine interest in the smile that spread across her face.

Wait a fuck’s second. Why was he wanting to run to Seven? For shit’s sake, after tomorrow, she’d be nothing but a nice Vegas memory.

Who the hell was he kidding? Nice memory?

She’d warned him that they’d already begun to build something together. He’d laughed off the comment then, but now he wasn’t finding any of it funny. Simply saying good-bye wasn’t funny at all.

As the interview concluded, Blake stood and once again offered the men a genuine smile and strong handshake.

“Well, Blake, we like what we’ve been seeing from you. You are a definite player, but the competition is fierce. You’re going up against men who’ve been in the industry twenty years. That’s experience we can’t ignore.”

Blake held their gazes, shifting from one to the other. “Yes, but think about this. Why? Why are they going after the VP position now?”

The CEO of the company looked at his colleagues and then back to Blake. “Because they’re ready, son.”

Blake stepped forward and clapped the gentleman on the shoulder. “Exactly. The very same reason I’m here today as well. I’m ready. I know it, but what’s more, you know it, too. And—”

All three laughed at his cojones. “There’s more?” one of them asked.

Blake braced his feet in a wide stance and held his ground, Seven’s voice echoing in his mind.
The position is yours, you don’t take no for an answer, and you lead with competence and confidence.
“And not only do I know what has worked in the past, I am fully immersed in what works now, and I have studied what is going to work in the future. The industry is constantly changing, gentlemen, and the one thing I guarantee I have over every other candidate is the flexibility to not only flow with that change, but jump ahead of it. I won’t give you what works now, but push us ahead to what’ll work six months from now, a year from now.”

The three men stared at him as he paused to let his words sink in. Business was all about what was coming rather than what was happening, and too many people got blinded by the current state of their bank accounts to worry about future growth. Big mistake.

His interviewers slowly nodded their heads, checking in with one another as if to confirm they’d heard him right.

He’d made a bold statement, but he wasn’t backing down.

“Okay, Mr. Turner, we’ll get back to you soon with our decision.”

After the interview, Blake took a detour to the men’s room, his heart slamming in his chest. Pushing through the door, he performed a tight fist pump and slid to a stop in front of the mirror, grinning at himself like a fool. He wanted to call Seven and tell her all about the interview. He wanted to pick her up and swing her about for helping him nail it. He wanted to— Fuck. He pulled up short. Son of a bitch, he needed to get his head out of his ass.

No way in hell would he tell Seven about his modifications to her rules of seduction—she couldn’t find out he’d been reading her book. And no way in hell he’d present it to his colleagues. They’d think he’d lost his mind, and no matter how well the interview had gone, giving them her book would guarantee his position would be filled—with someone else. This business was all about escapism, fantasy fulfillment, and status. Certainly not a women’s world, nor one with any tolerance for something as soft and flimsy as romance.

But with that said, after the time he’d spent with Seven, he could at least admit he sold his own version of happy ever after. But he’d also keep that to himself.

He bent his neck to the right and then to the left, trying to ease the tight pinch between his shoulder blades. What in the hell was going on here? He’d never had any difficulty keeping his feelings out of his entanglements before. Maybe it was because his feelings were the subject of, and what would lose him, the bet. Kind of like the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon. Once you saw or heard something once, it kept showing up. His emotions had never been an issue before, and now all of a sudden he acted as though he was a hopeless romantic. He twisted his lips into a scowl. What the fuck’s fuck.

Shaking his head, he finished his business and headed to his next meeting. He settled into his seat and checked in his bag for his tablet. One of the topics had been gone over ad nauseum, and he planned to multitask, hopefully finishing the rest of
Rules of Seduction
by the time he met Seven for lunch. He couldn’t call off the bet; he’d look like he was running scared. And since nothing would get him to sell her book, he needed to make sure he won. He’d said she won, but they both knew it wasn’t over. The bet was never about the sex to her as much as it was about making him fall for her. And he hadn’t.

It was time to tighten his strategy, clear his thinking, because cold, hard logic left no room for something as pansy-ass as a feeling.

No way. Not today, not tomorrow.

Seven was amazing right now, but his promotion would make for an amazing tomorrow. It was what he’d been sprinting toward, sacrificing time and a social life for. It had been an excuse to avoid his father, but it would eventually give the man something he’d have to acknowledge. To give it up now, to hurt his chances now—he shook his head.

Pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, he leaned back in his seat and opened
Rules of Seduction
.

He needed to lock down his emotions—yesterday. How the hell Seven opened up that door, he’d never understand, but there was no way he’d leave it open. He needed to be aloof, create some distance between them.

And he had to make sure he sealed that damned door airtight.

Chapter Seven

B
lake glanced up to see Seven walking toward his table at Hnaknak, her dress flowing around her calves as she passed by the plants lining the walls and the Buddhas in each corner. His whole body tightened at the sight of her. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. Standing, he pulled out her chair. “You look amazing.”

As she breezed around him, honey and cinnamon wafted about his head in a mouthwatering haze, making him wish they were eating pastries for lunch instead of Thai food.

She gave him a shy smile, barely making eye contact. “Thank you. How was your interview?”

He settled into his seat across from her. “Hello to you, too.”

She laughed lightly. “I’m sorry. Hello.” He found the catch in her voice interesting. How could she be nervous after what they’d just done to each other?

Self-satisfaction washed through him. After the interview he’d had, and how affected Seven was by him, he was pretty much the fucking mack daddy. He straightened in his seat. What the hell was the matter with him? Distance was what he needed. Clarity.

“This interview is important to you, so—”

So what, it was important to her? Hell no. That was exactly the kind of connection he did not need or want. One way or another, it was time to set up a few boundaries. Sex was sex was sex. Regardless of what her silly bet said.

He raised a brow. “So?”

Sitting straighter, she opened the linen and folded it in her lap. “Sooooo, I’m interested to know how it went and what strategy you went in with.” She finished with that damn smile, leaning toward him, making him feel important. His chest tightened.

What strategy he went in with? There’s no way she could know about the book, about his modification of her rules. He shook his head. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

She hesitated, sipping from her water glass. “I’d just assumed you had a strategy. Going in almost two decades younger than the average applicant could leave you at a disadvantage.”

Blake leaned back in his seat. “Sorry, Seven, but in the real world a neat little list of rules won’t get you shit.”

Sitting back in her seat, she eyed him across the table. “I’m assuming it went badly, because there’s no other reason for you to be such an ass.”

“No, it went amazingly well, as a matter of fact. And I’m not trying to be an ass. I’m just stating the facts. You live in a fantasy world full of happy ever afters and unrealistic expectations. My interview today depended on a consistent, perfectly executed performance. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s just different from your world.”

She pulled back as if struck. “Different, how?”

Blake drank from his glass. He
was
being an ass, but he needed the distance, some space between them, a chance for some clarity and control. Having her walk in looking good enough to eat, showering him with that damn smile, and acting like she was interested in what happened to him was all a show. A good show, he had to admit, but when he’d felt the warm glow of her question, he had to shut it down. Maybe he had feelings, but his feelings weren’t real. All of it was a by-product of a silly bet and sillier rules. He couldn’t fall in love with a woman who played such a good game. “The business world is a tough one.”

Her jaw dropped open, and he snorted. “Don’t act all offended. You’re a romance writer. I have an Ivy League education, corporate experience, and come from a wealthy family entrenched in the business world. There are things you won’t get, and that’s okay. If you wrote literature, or perhaps nonfiction, maybe, but—”

She snapped her mouth shut as the waiter approached and they ordered their lunch. He eyed her over his menu as she spoke with the young man. She smiled but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, her hands rested on the table in front of her, but she dug the nails of her top hand into the palm of her bottom hand.

He sighed. He hadn’t meant to insult her quite so harshly, but she was a force to be reckoned with. She had a way of making him forget himself, and he needed to rein it all back in.

After an awkward silence, they made a little small talk about their favorite foods and hometown restaurants. He was sure the change in topic would lighten her up, but when it didn’t, he sighed. “Okay, look, about what I said earlier—”

She put her hand up. “No, no worries. I wouldn’t want to insult you by thinking I’d understand a tough industry.”

Shit. “That’s not what I meant, I—”

“Blake, that’s exactly what you meant. You’re wrong, but I’m not surprised there. You’ve been wrong about a lot of things.”

He raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

“I do try, but you make it very difficult.”

“I didn’t mean…” The waiter stepped up and placed their plates before them, and Blake leaned back. As soon as they had privacy once again, he leaned forward. “You have nothing to excuse me for.”

Swirling noodles in some sort of peanut sauce on her fork, Seven paused. “But I do. You’re rude. Wrong. And obviously trying very hard to make a point, though I fail to see what that point is. Must be my
lack of sophistication
.”

He wanted to strangle her, and when she placed her noodles between her lips and cleaned off her fork, he wanted to taste her. He’d bet his right nut this time that she’d taste of peanuts, and spice, and something savory. Goddammit.

She crossed her arms. “Let’s forget it. So, how many books will you need, ten?”

“What do you mean?” How many books? Her meaning slowly dawned. Hell no. “I haven’t lost the bet, Seven. I know what I said, but you’re naive to think sex is related to feelings in anyway whatsoever. Sex is sex. It feels good, is a great way to work off some steam. End of story. It may not be the happy ever after you want, but it’s reality. You’re great, but I don’t have feelings for you. Not like that. And those were the losing terms of the bet.” He shrugged.

Her jaw dropped open, then she clamped it shut. Leaning forward, she said in a fierce whisper, “You agreed. If we had sex it was a confession of feelings.”

“My confession was simply that I wanted you. I’m not a feelings kind of guy.”

She threw her napkin on the table. “You’re not a feelings kind of guy? Are you fucking kidding me? What kind of cop-out is that? You agreed to the damn bet.”

The waiter walked up, and Seven leaned back, glaring. He filled their waters, but overfilled Blake’s and knocked the glass over when he tried to stop the water from running onto Blake’s lap. It was too late, and Blake sucked his breath in against the ice-cold water showering his crotch.

“Oh, sir, I’m so sorry.” The mortified waiter grabbed the linen tucked into his belt and tried to mop up the water.

Blake put a hand out to stop the waiter from helping him any further, and stood. “It’s okay, really. It’s only water.” He shook out his pants and dabbed at the water with his napkin. The stricken look on the waiter’s face made him want to chuckle. It was only water. Grabbing the young man’s shoulder, he gave a gentle squeeze. “Seriously, I’m okay. No harm, no foul.”

The look of relief on the guy’s face was immediate, and Blake shook his head with a smile as he wiped the water from his seat and sat back down. He should thank the guy, really. He needed to cool down before he completely ruined the rest of his weekend.

Seven stared at him with a peculiar expression on her face.

“What?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. That was nice of you.”

“It was only water. Accidents happen, and people make mistakes all the time. The trick is to keep moving forward.” An indirect lesson he’d learned from his youth. “Look, I’m sorry. Can we call a truce?”

“A truce?” Her tone reluctant and filled with distrust. He didn’t blame her.

“Yeah, you know, cease-fire, armistice? Let’s quit fighting for a bit?”

Finishing her water, she studied him for a beat. “Okay.”

“So you’re not mad at me?”

She waved her hand in dismissal. “We’ll get the bet figured out later. And I’m fine. It’s not me falling in love with you we’re betting on. No feelings involved, so no reason to be upset.” She threw him a brilliant smile. “We better wrap up. I have a meeting with my editor.”

He stared back at her calm expression, when what he wanted to do was throw her over his shoulder and demand an explanation. Did she mean she had no feelings for him? He didn’t believe it for a minute. The way she looked at him, responded to his touch, no one could pretend that well. Could they? The thought of her pretending hit him like the cold water had. He’d known all along she was trying to produce an effect in him—but some part of him wanted to believe she meant it. Needed to believe it. He’d fooled himself into thinking that look in her eyes was real.

And sitting there losing himself in those dark eyes of hers, he actually wished it were real. But he knew better, and thank God, because regardless of whether or not she was pretending, he shouldn’t have treated her the way he just had. He shouldn’t have said those things to anyone, but especially her, because if she had cared about him, it would have only made it worse.

Something about her, about her ideas, was making him lash out, but that was no excuse. He was wrong, and she hadn’t deserved it.

He’d even screwed up pretend love.

T
his time Seven’s smile was genuine as she approached Nathaniel in the lobby. It had been everything she could do not to clobber Blake at lunch, but they’d called a tentative truce before heading out to their respective meetings.

Nathaniel embraced her. “Your presentation was brilliant.”

“Thank you. I had a great time, and visiting with everyone after is always so much fun.” Blood rushed to her head when she thought of what had come after the session.

He studied her face with a tilt of his head. “Why are you blushing?”

“Can we talk?”

“That’s why we’re here. Come on. Let’s find a quiet corner.”

Seven followed, playing her conversation with Blake over and over again in her head. She hadn’t lied to him about being mad, because she wasn’t. She was sad. Because the simple fact of the matter was she wanted
him
. Had feelings for
him
. She shuddered with dread.

Once they’d found a corner where they could actually speak without half yelling, she pulled in a breath and let it out slowly.

“What?”

She winced with a half smile. “I wanted to apologize for anything inappropriate I’ve done, for making you feel uncomfortable. It wasn’t right, and since then I’ve actually developed feelings for someone else. I—”

He shot his hand up. “There’s no need, really. Honey, I’m gay.”

Shock and something akin to relief rushed over her. “What?” So that’s what she’d been noticing. It was so clear now. “Why haven’t you ever told anyone?”

Shaking his head, he pinned her with a look. “I will on my own time. My family is important to me, and I have to figure that all out first. But I knew what you were feeling and didn’t think it was fair for you to believe it was in any way about you. I mean it is, but it’s because you aren’t a man. Nothing you can help,” he said, laughing. “But here, I’m free to be exactly who I am. It’s so liberating I find myself wanting to tell every new person I meet.”

Reaching her hand out, she sighed when he slipped his fingers in hers. The look in his eyes was both determined and hopeless. “Good luck figuring it all out.”

With a dip of his chin, he squeezed her fingers, then released them and leaned back in his chair. “So, tell me about this guy. It is a guy, right?”

She grinned. “Yes, but it’s a mess. I’ve stupidly developed feelings for this guy, but he doesn’t see me as anything more than a good time to remember Vegas by.”

“How do you know?”

“He pretty much told me that exactly.”

“And since when are straight men ever in touch with their feelings? All that testosterone makes for a cloudy lens, my friend. I think you should go for it. Make leaving you tomorrow impossible.”

Fear shot straight up her spine and wrapped around her heart. “What if he leaves anyway?”

“Well, he will for sure if you don’t try. So really, what’s the difference?”

All the possibilities rushed through her mind, freezing her in place.

“Don’t tell me you’re a romance writer afraid of romance.”

She grimaced. “That does seem hypocritical, doesn’t it?”

“Oh please, the most important things in life tend to be the hardest to grasp, literally and philosophically. All we can do is to keep trying.” He released a wistful sigh.

“Can we talk about something else?”

“If only everything could be broken down to hard, cold facts. Numbers, data, trends. Now those, we can do something about. And speaking of, I want to hear about this next book.”

They talked about the numbers of her latest release, her next two contracts, and her next book signings. Confident in the direction of the next few months, they wrapped up their meeting and agreed to meet in the bar later.

“Be brave.” Nathaniel gave her a brief hug.

“It seems we both need to.”

“Touché.”

Seven looked at the time, and an idea bloomed in her mind. A crazy idea, but sometimes crazy was the perfect way to do things. Especially when dealing with romance.

Blake had a short window before his next meeting, and the time fit perfectly into her plan. Finding him wasn’t too difficult; all she had to do was follow the squeal of female delight and his deep baritone laugh.

Approaching an area of the lobby boasting plush couches and deep chairs, she found him settled back in one, with a lady perched on each arm giggling and preening at the same time. She couldn’t blame them, not when he looked like any number of models on the cover of a millionaire’s club romance novel.

At the sight of her, he shot up from the chair and moved toward her, oblivious of the precarious position he’d left the ladies in. They both righted themselves before completely losing their seats, shooting Seven unfriendly glares.

“That was quick,” he said.

“We only had a couple things to go over.”

“Great. What should we do? I have a little over an hour, but then need to get back.”