SevenSensuousDays (4 page)

How long could they talk about the quality of the food or
the weather or sports? If she didn’t get bored to death, he would. Then what?
Push the plates off the table and go at it again, filling the endless hours?
Just like an old married couple trying to put the spark back into their
relationship when both of them couldn’t have cared less about the other.

She made a face, not wanting to settle for that, not with
Logan. The few times he’d let his guard down, he’d seemed so kind…so lost and
yearning. Who could blame him after what he’d been through?

Tessa wanted their week to be magical, even if she had to
take charge, like Scheherazade with her master. A tale Tessa had read about
right after Logan had won her, lured by the thought of an Arabian harem. In the
story, the sultan had planned to dispose of Scheherazade after enjoying her for
one night. That babe wasn’t about to die and told him a tale that had him
demanding more. Each evening she did the same, stopping just before she’d
finished her narrative, drawing it out for one thousand and one nights. By
then, the sultan had gotten to know her and had fallen in love. She’d conquered
him. An awesome ending.

And totally unrealistic, Tessa knew, for her week with Logan.
Men like him didn’t fall for women like her. However, she could still try to
draw him out in order to enhance their mutual pleasure.

Less than a day from now.

The following afternoon, sun poured through the back window
of the Lincoln Continental. Not one cloud marred the azure sky, the blue so
deep it almost hurt to look at it. With her face tilted upward, Tessa regarded
the towering trees. Crepe myrtles, according to the
Architectural Digest
article. Their trunks were gnarled, limbs heavy with leaves that canopied parts
of the secluded road, allowing only a little light to spill through the
foliage. Even with the windows up and the air-conditioning on, she caught a
hint of the vegetation’s fresh, earthy scent.

She spoke on a sigh, “Wow, this is something.”

“And we haven’t even reached the driveway yet,” Wallace
said.

True. According to the Google map, they wouldn’t get there
for several miles. Tessa sagged back in her seat, her convertible laptop
perched on her thighs. She’d spent the ride from the District to Virginia doing
more research, learning that Logan had earned his billions—yes, billions with a
B—from the numerous pediatric medical devices he’d designed, along with his
majority stock in the companies that manufactured them.

He’d received his bioengineering degree from Stanford.
According to one of the articles, he now did most of his work from home, which
partly explained why he could give seven full days to romping around with an
escort. Of course, none of the articles she’d read about him or the amazing
devices he’d designed came close to answering her most pressing questions.

She regarded Wallace, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair
that could use a trim, his features pleasant but ordinary, unlike the agency’s
male escorts. He’d been Ronnie’s chauffeur for decades, taking her or the young
women she employed wherever they needed to go. From what Felicity had said,
Wallace and Ronnie started dating a few years back, during her second bout with
breast cancer. They were now a couple. Committed. Happy.

“What?” he asked, noticing Tessa watching. “I’m driving too
slow? Too fast?”

“You’re doing fine. Can I ask you something?”

“My uniform’s at the cleaners. That’s why I didn’t wear it
today.”

He’d dressed in a tan polo shirt and brown khakis. No doubt
because he and Ronnie had plans after he dropped Tessa off.

“You look good,” she offered. “Distinguished. Stately even.
Except for your hair. Next weekend I’ll give you a trim. You’re too negligent
about that. Most men would kill to have your hair. You should take care of it.”

He arched one graying eyebrow as if he didn’t believe her
blather for a minute.

Tessa fidgeted in her seat.

“Is that what you wanted to ask me?” Wallace said. “How I
keep looking so good despite my excessively long hair?”

She laughed, then blurted, “No. You’re a man, right? I mean,
you’re a man.”

Amusement flooded his face, softening his wrinkles. “Last I
looked.” He glanced from his reflection in the visor’s mirror to her. “But
thank you for noticing. Ordinarily, I’m invisible to women your age.”

The way he teased reminded Tessa of her dad before his
remarriage when he so easily forgot about her. She sighed. “I’d like to ask you
something…about your preferences, as a man.”

Immediate caution replaced Wallace’s previous levity.

“Not that,” Tessa said, meaning sex. She left the word
unspoken. Unwilling, unable to go further.

No need. Wallace’s shoulders relaxed as though he understood
her clearly.

“When you were young,” she began, “that is, when you were in
your early thirties or so and you were with a woman, did you ever want to talk
to her?”

He tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel. “What do
you mean by talk? Banter? Flirting? Exchanging ideas? Sharing what was in my
heart?”

“Yeah. The last. Sort of.”

“Intimate conversation that’s not really intimate?”

She clarified, “Like you’d do with a buddy. You know, share
stuff. Only with a woman.”

“Who wasn’t a friend, or was she?”

This was getting too complicated. “Do men like to talk to
women? Do they ever feel comfortable doing so—that is, if they’re not desperate
and simply can’t help themselves, or figure they have nothing to lose because
the woman will remain a stranger? Is that how men truly are, or do they really
want what they never voice…to be heard, understood, comforted? Rather than just
being told a bunch of BS they should know doesn’t mean squat.”

“BS? How do you mean?”

“The way some women come on to men. You know, the tired old
line—you’re so big, so strong, so handsome. Do men actually want to hear that
kind of junk rather than something more substantial?”

Wallace took his attention from the road for a moment,
giving it to her.

“Guess they do, huh?” Tessa asked.

“I can’t speak for all men,” Wallace said, his focus back on
his driving. “However, I would think most would want what you first said. An
honest conversation, rather than being praised for no good reason, or because
the person shoveling the compliments wants something.”

“Even young guys feel that way?”

He rubbed his sagging neck. “It’s been a while for me, but
yeah, even when I was young, I liked to have someone who got me, so to speak,
which led to some pretty decent talks with women.”

“And it’s what made your moments together pleasant, right? I
mean, it enriched your obvious, uh, physical attraction to her. Clearly, if she
was gorgeous, you would have been attracted anyway. But let’s say she was just
ordinary, not anywhere near beautiful or built like men want. You know, tall, slender.
If she wasn’t like that, there probably wouldn’t have been much continuing
attraction between the two of you if you hadn’t at least talked to her first,
gotten to know her even a little bit. Right?”

He frowned slightly.

Tessa wasn’t certain whether it was from confusion or dismay
at where their conversation was heading.

She plowed on. “All I’d like to know is if men are really
that disconnected from their feelings, or if it’s just an act they put on to
protect themselves. Can they really have a good time, or what they consider a
good time for days on end, without any emotional involvement or conversation at
all?”

He checked his rearview and sideview mirrors despite the
road being private and deserted.

Tessa sighed.

“As I’ve already said,” he answered at last, his words
measured, “I can only speak for myself. Connecting with a woman deeply has
always been far more frightening and, at times, downright painful, than just
having a good time.”

She rubbed her forehead.

“That said,” he continued, again cautiously, “I wouldn’t
trade those deep moments for anything. They’re what made my life worthwhile.
Any man who settles for less, for fling after fling, even if it’s with gorgeous
babes, is a damn fool in my opinion. Unless there’s something wrong with him,
every man needs exactly what a woman does. Someone to care and come home to.
Someone who’ll stand with him against the world. When you engage with people on
nothing but a superficial level, it leaves you wanting more. It also leaves you
alone. I can’t imagine anyone wanting that forever.” He paused to clear his
throat. “We’re here.”

Tessa lowered her hand. To the side were numerous
outbuildings, a barn, what appeared to be a stable, acres and acres of cleared
land enclosed by brown rail fences that stretched to the horizon. In front
stood the main house. Consisting of two floors and sprawled between a copse of
myrtles and evergreens, it was all wood and glass, the front windows towering
at least thirty feet high to the A-frame roof. Sunlight glanced off the panes
and the pond, which looked far larger than it had on the Net. Beads of moisture
clung to the grass as though someone had just watered it.

Catching movement in her peripheral vision, Tessa turned and
stared at the rustic front door, constructed of a dark wood. Arched and
decorated with black wrought iron hinges, it swung inward.

Logan came out to the porch, no doubt having heard the
Lincoln’s approach or having watched from one of the many windows.

A flush of stubborn desire heated Tessa’s face, throat, and
chest despite her concern over whether they’d talk, or he’d continue to find
her acceptable, maybe even attractive. Right now, she didn’t give a damn about
her looks or words. She’d worry about both later.

At this moment, she couldn’t look at Logan enough. He’d
dressed in worn jeans and a gray T-shirt. His feet were bare, his hair tousled
as though he’d combed it with his fingers. His shadow of beard was delicious
and welcomed. Tessa wasn’t certain what she’d expected, but his casual attire
and demeanor comforted her more than if he’d worn khakis and a sports shirt.

Wallace said something.

Tessa didn’t respond, not having heard his comment. She was
far too absorbed by the man she’d be spending the week with. Logan’s shoulders
seemed broader than she recalled, his body more powerful. A scant breeze pushed
his tee against his chest, outlining his firm pecs and abs. The material
fluttered above his fly, the delectable bulge between his legs.

He came down the steps, washed in sunshine, his strides
loose, confident, seductive.

Wallace touched her arm. Tessa tried, but couldn’t take her
eyes off Logan. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Did what I say help?” he asked.

Logan halted at Tessa’s door, ready to take possession of
her.

Wallace’s words rang in her mind,
Did what I say help?

She had no idea if it had. Only the next hours and days
would tell.

She looked fresher than Logan recalled, her hair pulled back
in a ponytail. Mascara and a bit of lip gloss was the only makeup she wore.

He liked that and suddenly looked forward to seeing her
right after a shower, her skin scrubbed clean, rosy from the water’s warmth and
his hands. The image sent a thrum of pleasure coursing through his body that
tingled his scalp and concentrated heat in his groin.

At the auction, she’d been made up to appear seductive,
theatrical, less real, her lips reddened, which only made her appear oddly
virginal. A little girl playing dress-up. So unnecessary. Especially that silly
rouge on her cleft and nipples.

Wondering what their true shade might be—a frail pink or
dusky rose—Logan regarded her black tank top, clingy and cut low. The fabric
accentuated her sumptuous breasts and erect nipples. She’d paired the top with
beige linen shorts that exposed quite an expanse of her legs. Perched on her
thighs was a small laptop.

Tessa closed the computer, then hurried it into one of those
oversized purses women appeared to prefer over the easier-to-carry kind.

Logan would have bet several years of his life that she’d
been Googling him, learning even more than what was likely in his agency file.
What the fire had destroyed. How it had forever marked him.

With that awful consideration, he had to face what he’d
tried not to think about before. Being exposed and possibly judged. Tessa
seemed like a nice person, but she was only human after all. Once they got down
to the reason she was here, she’d know the full truth, not what the articles or
his file may have hinted at. She wouldn’t say anything, of course. But he’d see
the startled reaction in her eyes.

Easy to take when a woman was with him for only a couple of
hours. He wasn’t a vain man by nature and could get through that. But Tessa and
he had a full week together.

Logan’s doubt about all of this returned so quickly, his
hand stalled on the car’s handle.

Tessa didn’t appear to notice. With her purse hugged to her
chest, she waited, looking at him through the window, her expression open and
honest, hiding nothing. The same as at the auction when she’d seemed so alone
on the stage, her gaze lost in his, until the bidding on her had closed. She’d
stared at the man who’d won her as though she didn’t know what to expect. Logan
wondered if she’d worried about that from him too, now that she was here. Is
that why she’d been doing research on her computer? Had it been about his
professional background, not anything bad or—

She smiled.

Just like that, Logan forgot to question anything more,
captivated by the deep dimple on her right cheek. It didn’t seem possible, but
it made her appear even younger, fucking pure and innocent. He swallowed and
stared, the same as she did with him, neither of them moving, their behavior no
different from when he’d first noticed her on the stage.

What a moment that had been, shifting his world,
disorienting him in both a pleasant and unsettling way. Getting him to bid on
her for a full fucking week.

The vehicle’s trunk popped and the door on the driver’s side
opened. Whoever had been sitting there emerged. Logan didn’t bother to look,
figuring it was Wallace. Ronnie had explained that the man would bring Tessa
here today.

Too late to change any of that now. Even if he could, Logan
wasn’t so certain he wanted to.

He opened her door and offered his hand.

She accepted it immediately, her fingers moist and warm, her
touch an unexpected balm. In her wedge sandals, the top of her head came to his
chin just as it had their first night.

She smiled again, softer this time, creating a slightly
smaller dimple. “Hi.”

Rather than being hushed and flirty, her voice was as
natural as the rest of her.

Despite his earlier reservations, Logan began to relax. He
smiled in return, almost a knee-jerk reaction. She kept having that effect on
him. “Hi.”

Wallace closed the trunk and joined them with her luggage.
Given its size, she’d packed numerous changes of clothing. Clearly, Tessa
believed she’d be dressed most of the time she was here.

That hadn’t been Logan’s plan.

He released her hand and offered his own to Wallace. “Logan
Kincaid.”

“Phil Wallace.” His grip was firm, his manner laid back and
friendly. “But everyone uses my last name.”

“That’s because we never knew your first,” Tessa said. “Or,
at least, I didn’t. It’s nice. It fits you.”

A blush crept up Wallace’s neck. He turned Tessa’s luggage
around, offering the handle to Logan. “Careful,” he warned, “it’s heavy.”

“No, it’s not,” Tessa countered, then spoke to Logan. “Phil
likes to joke around.”

“Have fun,” Wallace mumbled. He hurried back into the car,
put it into reverse, made a tight U-turn and was on his way.

A bird chirped incessantly as the vehicle grew smaller and
smaller on its way down the lengthy drive. Leaves rustled in the surrounding
vegetation, stirred by the mellow wind or animals scurrying about. Sounds Logan
hadn’t noticed before. Nor had he paid any attention to the scents. The
fragrance of earth, newly mown grass, Tessa. She wore the same perfume he
recalled so well, thinking about it too many times these last days. A clean,
sweet scent. Roses? Some other kind of flower?

“Alone at last,” she joked, breaking their silence.

When Logan chanced looking at her, he wasn’t surprised she
was regarding him rather than Wallace’s hasty retreat. “Not entirely,” he said.

Her delicate eyebrows lifted slightly. “Other people live
here with you?”

“My caretakers. They have the house on the far left of the
property.”

Tessa didn’t bother to look in that direction. She studied
his mouth.

The stray tendrils dangling around her forehead and temples
swayed with the mild breeze, urging him to smooth them back. He didn’t, aching
to touch her but not yet ready to take that step. Once he did, there was no
telling if he could ever stop.

“They’re here today?” Tessa asked.

Logan had sent the husband and wife team packing, giving
them a surprise vacation for seven days. “No. But the house, my house, isn’t
empty.”

That pulled her attention from him. She turned to the
building. “Who’s inside?”

He leaned close and murmured, “You’ll see as soon as we get
there.”

Tessa didn’t budge. She clutched her purse to her chest as
though she needed it for protection. “Can I ask you something?”

Her reaction surprised Logan. He’d only been teasing. Why,
he had no idea. It wasn’t like him…at least the him he’d come to be. This past
year he’d been serious as hell about everything, his life consisting mainly of
his work. Before that, he’d grown increasingly cautious, not at all like the
man he’d been in his twenties. Casual. Relaxed. Optimistic. Goofing around.
Making jokes.

“There’s no one inside, all right?” he said gently. “I was
just kidding. Nothing to worry about.”

Tessa studied him, clearly deciding how she should respond.

“Go on,” he coaxed. “Say whatever you want.”

She shifted her weight, grasping her purse even tighter. “You’re
sure about that. Absolutely? No doubt at all?”

Given her weird questions—no, he wasn’t certain in the
least. Even so, he nodded.

Tessa sucked her bottom lip.

God help him. She looked so fucking wholesome, so damn
inviting, it took all of Logan’s will not to move into her and suck her lip
himself. “What?” he asked.

“I know why I’m here,” she blurted. “You know why I’m here.
But I have a request, if that’s all right.”

“A request?” What was she talking about? What in the hell
could it be?

“It’s not for more money or anything,” she said quickly. “So
you don’t have to worry about that.”

“I wasn’t.” If anything, she was beginning to piss him off.
Did she believe he thought so little of her that he assumed she’d shake him
down for more cash? “You don’t seem like the type to extort funds from any man.”

“Oh, I’m not.” She gave him a wide-eyed innocent look that
damn near had him pulling her into his arms to offer comfort and reassurance. “I
just want you to know where I’m coming from.”

“Okay. Where is that?”

“I’d like to talk. Not like now. But really talk.” The words
continued to rush from her as though she couldn’t get them out quickly enough. “I’d
like us to get to know each other a little bit before we, well, you know, do
anything.”

At the end of the miles-long driveway, Wallace turned left
onto the public road and said, “Ronnie”, to activate the hands-free calling.
Her number rang three times before she picked up.

“Wallace?”

He smiled at her smoky voice, the way she said his name,
treasuring it. For years, he’d yearned for Ronnie while working for her. An
attraction he hadn’t expected or really wanted after losing his wife. She’d
been in her late forties, far too young, when Alzheimer’s struck. Relentless
and cruel, the disease moved all too quickly, erasing her personality and
memories, stealing the woman he’d adored. Wallace had bankrupted his own limo
company to pay for her care. After she passed, he hadn’t been looking for love
again, but thankfully had found it.

“Yeah,” he answered, sounding downright giddy. Like a young
boy rather than a senior citizen. “Am I disturbing anything?”

“Not at all. I’m just sitting on the sofa relaxing.”

“Alexa run you around the stores?”

“I did that to her.”

He smiled. Since Alexa had left the agency, she and Ronnie
got together as often as they could. They were closer than most mothers and
daughters. So much so, Ronnie had urged Alexa to quit the agency for months. In
Ronnie’s eyes, even helping to run the place was too much of a risk for the
young woman, given that the authorities could always find out about it. With
Alexa now pregnant with her and Hunt’s first child—due in December—the decision
made even more sense.

“I never thought that shopping for baby clothes could be so
much fun.” Ronnie sighed. “They’re so cute.”

“You take pictures?”

“On both my cell phones. We’ll look at them later.”

Sounded like a plan to him. “Alexa’s doing okay?”

“She’s fine. So is Hunt. I can see how relieved he is that
she’s not working any longer.”

No kidding. Before meeting Hunt, a District lobbyist, Alexa
had called herself Magique, one of the agency’s highest paid and most popular
call girls. She hadn’t been looking for love either, but Hunt wouldn’t accept
that. He’d recognized Alexa’s yearning for him and pursued her shamelessly,
putting his pride on hold, finally winning her heart.

She never saw another client after that. She’d simply seen
to the agency’s financials, its day-to-day operations until her pregnancy and
Ronnie had convinced her to quit.

“Before I forget, do pick up that stuff we ordered,” Ronnie
said. “I want to give it to them at dinner tonight.”

“We have plans with them?”

“We do now. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not as long as you’re there.”

She murmured, “Good answer.”

His smile widened. “I’ll swing by the store before I come
home. If I can’t fit everything in the Lincoln, I’ll rent a truck from U-Haul.”

Ronnie chuckled. “We didn’t pick out that much.”

They’d gone nuts in the baby store, both of them wanting
everything. Wallace nearly laughed at the memory. He and his late wife had
never had children. Alexa and Hunt’s was the closest he’d ever get, and he
intended to make the most of it. “We’ll wrap the boxes as soon as I get back. I
just left Mr. Kincaid’s property.”

“Everything went well?”

“With him, yeah. As soon as we pulled up, he came out to
greet us. Seems like a decent guy.”

“He is, or he wouldn’t be a client.” Ronnie paused, then
asked, “What do you mean everything went well with him? What about Tessa?”

“She’s an unusual girl.”

Ronnie greeted that appraisal with momentary silence. She
cleared her throat. “Meaning?”

“She wanted to know if men like to talk. That is, without
having a gun to their heads. She asked me that pointedly, because I’m a man.
Her words, not mine.”

“What do you mean, talk? About what?”

He made another turn that led from this isolated area toward
civilization, then sighed. “I think she prefers to get to know her clients a
bit before anything happens. She said something about it making their moments
together more pleasant.”

The sound Ronnie made sounded anything but that. “Given
Logan’s history, I doubt he’s going to want to share any of what happened.
Tessa is aware of what he’s been through, correct?”

“She kept reading about it on the Internet on our drive to his
estate.”

“Good god,” Ronnie mumbled. “I hope she doesn’t bring it up.”

With her confession, Logan’s expression had morphed from
curiosity and a bit of bewilderment to obvious caution.

Tessa knew she should have backed down and behaved as she
sensed Felicity would. Making a joke, saying she hadn’t meant it, she’d been
teasing him as he’d just done with her. With that having broken the ice, they
could then screw themselves crazy, until he got bored with her.

Which he would. Far faster than he might have with the other
escorts.

Tessa couldn’t bring herself to admit defeat that readily,
not even to lighten the moment. Pretending to be someone she wasn’t—and could
never be—wouldn’t satisfy either of them for long. She wanted to bring herself
and Logan as much joy as she could, partly because of what he’d lost, mainly
because she sensed what a good, decent man he was. However, there was no way
that could happen without some emotional bond between them, no matter how
slight or temporary.

Which he clearly didn’t want, not even for a moment. He
actually took a step back.