Dinner With a Bad Boy (6 page)

And that spelled the end of her afternoon as the two ended up discussing her difficult, frustrating, and possibly deceitful boss for the next two hours. He picked up the same discussion the next day at the same time. Then Friday afternoon, they shared coffee for an hour while Mandy searched through the school library for a reference book. Now they met every day after school, talking about whatever came to mind.

Next came volleyball. Su Ling no longer went to Mandy's morning practice, but she did attend the last two matches. She couldn't seem to stop watching Mitch. He had such a focused intensity about him whenever he coached, giving the girls everything he could from the sidelines. He really cared about each member of his team, urging them to do their best. Then, when he paid for celebratory Happy Meals after the game with the fifty-dollar bill he'd lifted off of her that first night, she was hard-pressed to keep from melting right then and there.

So went the next ten days. They spoke every afternoon for as long as Mandy could find an excuse to stay in school. Then last Tuesday, Mitch appeared at Su Ling's favorite bookstore just when she and Mandy'd stopped in with Auntie Wen and Uncle Sammy to listen to a new jazz group in the cafe. They all sat together sharing cocoa while Mitch tossed irreverent comments into Auntie Wen's critique of popular music. Ten minutes later, matchmaker Mandy took her great-aunt and -uncle away to search for books, leaving Mitch and Su Ling alone to debate the pros and cons of large families. While he listened intently to her, rather than the soft music, she found herself confessing that her relatives often took advantage of her but she couldn't seem to say no to them. Her family supported her when life became uncertain, and she didn't want to upset the balance.

Then yesterday, while she sat with her father and Mandy at the movies, Su Ling could have sworn she heard Mitch's voice. Turning around, she discovered he'd slipped in beside her niece and was explaining the complex plot to the young girl. He'd even hung out after the showing, discussing the movie's trial scene with her father while Su Ling and a giggling Mandy tossed popcorn at the two men.

In short, Mitch had become a regular, if unpredictable, part of her day. She would have been thrilled by the situation except for one thing: All traces of sexual interest had completely disappeared. Throughout the week Mitch remained unfailingly genteel—almost formal—as they interacted. Even his laughter had been respectful, flowing about her like a warm pool of sound, soothing her fears without stirring up any red flags.

But she was stirred up. It was now Saturday evening, Mandy was spending the night at a friend's, and all Su Ling could do was pace her condo, worry more holes into her favorite sweats, and feel tormented by fantasies about a man who apparently no longer desired her.

Until the doorbell rang and she opened her front door to see Mitch standing there, a dozen roses in his hand and a come-hither look in his eyes. She just stood there and stared at him, gripped in a rush of electricity that short-circuited her brain whenever he looked at her. "Mandy's at a friend's tonight," she said stupidly.

He grinned. "I know. She's kept me quite up-to-date about her schedule lately." Then he offered her the roses. "Can I come in or should I just leave these leaning against the door?"

She let him in, of course. No matter how much she lectured herself that this could be a mistake, she couldn't bring herself to give up the tingling awareness he brought to her life. As if everything, including herself, sharpened into its individual, most distinct form.

"Thank you," she said formally as she accepted the roses and buried her nose in their bouquet. "They're beautiful." What was it about roses from a man in a leather jacket that turned her insides to jelly? "I'm not really dressed for company," she apologized.

"I'm not company," he quipped as he pushed his way into her living room. "I'm your niece's social studies teacher."

She laughed. "Since when do teachers make house calls?"

His back was to her, his leather jacket stretched taut against his broad shoulders, but then he turned, giving her a sideways smile that emphasized his chiseled face even as his earring flashed at her. "I'm just helping you rationalize my presence. If you like, I can ask about her research project. How's it going? Do you know?"

She shook her head, heading for her kitchen and a vase. "She's remarkably evasive whenever I ask about it."

He shrugged as he plopped down onto her cool blue sofa. Then he stretched out his arms and crossed one denim-clad leg over the other in the most blatantly male pose she'd ever seen. His jacket slipped open, revealing a soft burnt-orange sweater, while his gaze seared across her living room as if staking out his territory. On her couch. When her Mandy buffer was long gone.

And why did the sight make her want to leap on him, rip off his clothes, and nibble on every inch of his hard, powerful body?

"You've got the right idea," he said.

She blinked, startled. "What?"

"With Mandy. Let her handle this on her own. She can't learn responsibility unless she's given the opportunity to either screw up or come through."

"Oh." She felt her face heat with mortification. "I just hope my sister agrees when she discovers I've blown off the rules. Mandy and I've watched TV on school nights, even went to a movie. We've eaten ice cream and popcorn until I felt sick. I haven't even checked her homework, much less made her practice violin."

He grinned as he stretched his long legs out in front of him. "It's good for her. Haven't you seen how much happier she is? She's even laughing during practice."

Yes, Su Ling had noticed. If she hadn't seen the change, she would have long since succumbed to the Chinese guilt that constantly dragged on her conscience. "I just hope she keeps up with things. I'm not exactly fostering the study habits of a future doctor or lawyer."

"Doctors and lawyers are overrated."

"As opposed to the exciting life of a motorcycle sex god." She gasped. God, had she really just said that? His grin told her she had.

"That's what I like about you," he said as he slowly unfolded from the couch. "Just when you convince me you're completely prim, you say the most arousing things." He started moving toward her, a predatory gleam in his eyes, and she knew that long-limbed saunter would end up with her beneath him doing the most...
Oh, God
. She wasn't supposed to be thinking that way.

"Mitch—" she began.

"Call me Dragon. Your throat gets this sexy burr when you say it."

She swallowed. "Dragon..." Lord, he was right. She did put a throaty purr to the word. "Um, Mitch, you know that I'm not what you want, right? I'm not who you think I am."

"Exactly what do I want?" he asked, his hungry grin more than telling her the answer. He was still advancing upon her. She had placed the roses on her dining table, but was now backing up into the breakfast bar, leaving a rapidly narrowing two feet between them.

She tried to slide sideways, but he easily cut off her exit. "W-well," she stammered, "you think I'm this reckless biker groupie. The kind who picks up men in restaurants and makes out in parking lots. But that wasn't really me. I can't be that kind of woman even if I wanted to change for you. Which I don't. 'Cause I like me. I mean, I'm happy with who I am. And I don't do that," she finished lamely, belatedly realizing she was babbling.

He slowed, straightening as he seemed to study her. "So you don't pick up men."

"No."

He smiled at her adamant tone. "And you don't haunt me at night and interrupt my day, distracting me at times when I really should be doing something entirely different?" He sounded almost angry, and yet his words sent a tingly rush of flame through her body.

"I do?" she whispered.

He hitched his hip, leaning it against the table while she stood less than a foot away from him, poised to run. "You do," he affirmed. "I can't stop thinking about how you come alive in my arms," he continued, "shedding that prim exterior like so much excess clothing."

She swallowed and looked away. Her body felt alien to her, soft and womanly and prickly hot, too. He touched her chin, startling her with the heat in his fingertips—electricity that set her nerves dancing. "Okay!" she suddenly exploded, jerking away from him, "we've got chemistry. Woo-hoo!" she mocked, though her voice remained unsteady. "But I don't just hop into bed with the first guy who..." She stumbled to a stop. Who what? Turned her body into a punk-rock show of fantastic sensations? Who looked at her when she spoke? Who gave her that same absolute focus he showered on his students? The kind that made a woman feel like she was the center of his world?

"What's wrong with chemistry?" he challenged. He did that to her a lot, she realized, tempting her to do and think the most unorthodox things. "Have you ever felt this"—he gestured vaguely between the two of them—"this draw before? This absolute certainty that biologically, at least, we're a perfect match?"

She swallowed, his level gaze daring her to admit the truth. "No, I haven't. But I'm not just a creature of biology."

"I never said you were. I said..." He paused, then frowned slightly before allowing a slow smile to heat his expression. "I've said too much, haven't I?"

Then, before she could respond, he closed the distance between them, possessing her lips with a fierceness that sent rockets straight down to her core. She didn't put up even token resistance. He brought his mouth down to hers, and she devoured him. When his hands found her waist beneath her sweatshirt, she drew them higher, placing them on her naked breasts as she ground her pelvis into his.

"You know what you are?" he half groaned, half spoke against her cheek. "You're a bad girl in a good-girl dress. A rebel fighting for freedom."

She shook her head, trying to draw his lips back to hers. "No... no, I'm not."

She felt his smile against her mouth as his tongue darted out, teasing her lips. "Then push my hands off your breasts," he challenged. "Knee me in the groin." He took her hand and pressed it hard against his erection. Without conscious thought, she stroked his incredible length, marveling at the texture and the power of him even as his heat seared through his jeans.

"Oh, God," she moaned, not knowing if she were pleading for strength or simply awed by his power over her.

"I'm not stopping," he warned as he pressed more fully into her hand. "Not until I'm so deep inside you I can't find my way out."

Su Ling felt a shudder of hunger grip her body. She never thought she'd be turned on by dirty talk, but the more graphic he got, the more she wanted it. Part of her still fought. Logical Su Ling kept screaming that sex without substance only led to disaster. Sex-kitten Su Ling completely ignored her. At least until the phone rang.

The electronic trill seemed shrill and insistent. Especially as her reason latched onto it full force, slipping images of car wrecks, heart attacks, and plane crashes into her mind until she had to break away from Mitch. Until she pushed at him, gasping for breath as she tried to stumble toward the phone.

"Leave it," he begged, still holding her back, still manipulating her nipples in a way that made her body arch and her knees go weak.

"It might be Mandy," she whispered, already too far gone to care.

Fortunately he remained more responsible than she. Acknowledging the possibility, he slowly released her, dropping a gentle kiss along her forehead before reaching past her to pick up the phone. Then he silently passed it to her.

"Su Ling! Are you there?" her boss bellowed at her long before she pressed the receiver to her ear.

"Settle down, Frank. I'm here." There was nothing like her boss, Frank, for cooling off overheated blood. Meanwhile Mitch stood across from her, his eyes still dark with passion, his hands still touching her, stroking her arms, caressing her hands before wandering to more intimate places. She resisted. No way did she want to mix Frank with Mitch, even subconsciously.

"You've got to come in, Su Ling. I need you to go over the figures on the Collins-Hawking merger."

She grimaced, already knowing where this was headed. "It's Saturday night, Frank. If it's that urgent, I'll come in tomorrow."

"Can't. This deal is going to hell in a handbasket, and I need you to sort it out."

She ground her teeth, impatiently batting away Mitch's hands as she took out her frustration on the wrong target. Except Mitch was remarkably persistent as he slid behind her, wrapping his hands around her belly and whispering in her other ear.

"Say good-bye, Sue."

Su Ling jerked her head away. "Tomorrow, Frank."

"What's the problem?" he returned, his voice hard. "Got a hot date? Too bad. Need I remind you that all the partners in this firm are men? If you want to break through that glass ceiling, you gotta go the extra mile. And you're not going to do it without my help."

She closed her eyes. She'd heard this song before, and for the thousandth time she questioned its truth. Was this a promise she could count on? Or was he just using her? She didn't know, and that kept her firmly under his thumb.

"Look, it's late and I'm tired of arguing," Frank continued. "So get your tight little ass in here and go over these figures or don't bother coming in Monday."

"Yes, Frank," she said wearily as she hung up the phone.