Hers for the Evening (22 page)

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again? “I don’t think—”

He cut her off. “Don’t think. This is still tonight, not tomorrow.” He gathered her in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, setting her amid the bedclothes she’d neatly folded down before the evening began. Quietly, gently, he undressed her.

He didn’t make love to her, he didn’t fuck her. He simply held her until she slept.

Nothing in her life had ever been as perfect.

FUCK. DAWN WAS FAST APPROACHING. HE ONLY HAD A COUPLE OF hours of darkness left. Tomorrow would be here when the first rays of light stretched across the green grass of the golf course. Even now, he heard the sprinklers chunking rhythmically outside the window. He didn’t have much time. Hunter held her body flush against his, her skin warm and fragrant with exotic perfume and hot sex. Tonight had surpassed his wildest dreams, not just about Devon, but ever. With the morning light, however, she would morph back to CEO Devon Parker.

He didn’t know how to hold her longer. Maybe he shouldn’t even try. Maybe they were meant to have only this one fantastic night. Except that he’d had a taste, and like drinking a magician’s elixir, he’d been bewitched. He’d controlled her tonight, but tomorrow, he’d have no hold. Devon Parker, CEO, wouldn’t give it to him.

Damn if he wouldn’t have the last say, though. One last thing for her to remember when she was alone in her bed.

He shifted. She rolled to her back. Dipping down low over her belly, he stroked her. She squirmed, her legs falling apart. Hunter traced her delicate pussy lips. She was still wet from the night. Her body jerked slightly when he found her clit, then she sighed. Slowly, lingeringly, he dipped inside her, wetting his finger, sliding back out to circle her clit. She arched, sucked in a breath. He played her. Her skin heated, and her nipples peaked. She moaned, spread her legs, giving him total access. Last night when he brought her to bed, he’d noticed a stash of condoms on the side table. She’d left nothing to chance. Neither would he.

He hit a sweet spot, and her lips parted in a soft moan. She twisted, rolled her head on the pillow. Her eyes remained closed. She could have been asleep, 147

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dreaming a wet dream. He was hard as a piling, and it was no dream. Grabbing a condom, he left her long enough to don it. She writhed on the bed, touching herself.

He entered her. She was wet enough to take him without the lube. Christ, she was tight, like a young woman, her body supple, her skin smooth and soft as if she were ten years younger. Holding her hip, he filled her slowly. She pushed her head back into the pillow, arched into his thrust, and when she sighed this time, he imagined his name in the sound. Deeper, higher. Her body clenched around him, milked his cock, squeezed. He pulled her legs to his waist, changing the angle, heightening the penetration. She clutched his arms and let him take her.

She came hard, tightening around him, first her pussy, then her legs, then her arms, as if she were trying to take every last inch of him inside. He bit the tender skin on the side of her neck when he climaxed, and swallowed every sound, every groan, every cry that wanted out. There were no words, she never opened her eyes. When it was over, she rolled to her side, wriggled into the pillow, and sighed as if she’d never woken up. He didn’t believe it. Tomorrow, they’d both pretend the night had never happened. Monday, it would be a distant memory. 148

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11

DEVON DIDN’T KICK HIM OUT IN THE MORNING, NOR DID SHE invite him into the shower with her. She simply smiled and said, “I’ll nip in the shower, pack up, then meet you in the restaurant at seven-thirty,” as if she hadn’t just climbed out of the bed in which he’d made love to her. Denial. She was going to pretend last night hadn’t happened.

The lock snicked a moment after she closed the bathroom door. Hunter had no choice but to leave. If he wanted to keep any freaking dignity at all. Over breakfast in the dining room, she discussed the follow-up e-mails and letters they should compose and distribute.

In the car, she studied the scenery.

The silence grated on his nerves. “Let me explain to you about Courtesans.”

She continued to peruse the view out the passenger window, pine and evergreen sprouting up as the elevation rose. “There’s no need to explain. I understood last night.”

At least she’d finally mentioned last night. “I used them a couple of times,”

he said, “but it’s been a year or more since then.”

She turned then, her gaze as flat as the ocean on a windless day. “I use them all the time. They’re convenient and you don’t wake up with them in the morning.”

Fuck. That was harsh. “I know you’re capable of being a bitch, Devon, when you feel someone needs to be put in their place.” She’d just never done it to him before.

A beat of silence. “I apologize. That was uncalled for. We had last night, and there’s no need to rehash anything. You’ve used Courtesans, I use them, Isabel took matters into her own hands, we had a great time, end of story.”

“Isabel didn’t say anything about you or Courtesans when she called me. She didn’t reveal your secret.”

She puffed out a sharp breath, indicating the true state of her emotions.

“How was it not revealing my secret to tell you to come to the office? How was it not revealing a connection when she told you my plans for this weekend?”

“I called her and said I needed to be there when you met with him again.”

She didn’t flinch. “She told you. Which broke her confidentiality agreement 149

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with me.”

He had no answer for that.

“I don’t care about that, Hunter. I enjoyed it. The whole episode was very hot.”

He wondered if she could say it any more coolly. “I agree.”

“Isabel still has to provide an answer to me.”

“I’m sure she will.” He’d never asked Isabel her reasoning. He didn’t care. He’d simply wanted in on Devon’s fantasy. Now he didn’t want out. It was clear Devon wasn’t giving him a choice. She pulled her purse closer, fingers on the snap. “Will it make you feel better if I ask her right now?”

He cast her a sideways glance. She was treating him like . . . a spurned lover. Trying to placate, offer an explanation for something that ultimately wasn’t going to change.

He should have stuck to peeping on her. It was easier. Christ. He laughed out loud.

“What’s so funny?”

“You wouldn’t get it.” Hunter waved a hand. “Sure, call Isabel. I’d love to eavesdrop.”

“Fine, whatever.” Devon fished her phone from her purse. She had Isabel on speed dial, not for Courtesans but because Isabel was supposedly her friend. It disturbed her that her friend had made an executive decision of that magnitude. Yet at the same time, she wouldn’t have given up last night with Hunter for all the gold in Fort Knox. She’d tasted so many new things: two men—two men like Hunter, no less—a cock in her mouth and one in her pussy, four hands caressing her. The intangibles, such as being watched, which was exciting all on its own, the seduction of having her will usurped, the thrill of knowing Hunter’s taste, his scent, the shape, size, and texture of his cock, the saltiness of his skin, the softness of his chest hair beneath her fingers. So many things, the best of which was waking in the middle of the night to his hands on her, then his cock in her. She’d always sent her courtesans home before she slept. When she was married, she’d slept like the dead, and her husband never would have woken her for sex. Hunter gave her those things, the memory of which she would cherish. She couldn’t very well castigate Isabel for giving her all that. Then again, she couldn’t allow her friend to believe it was fine to take liberties where Devon’s 150

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career was concerned. Mixing business and pleasure was not part of her personal code. Hunter needed to hear it, too.

She hit Isabel’s speed dial.

“I thought you’d be calling,” Isabel answered. If Hunter hadn’t been listening, she’d have lightly gotten her point across, perhaps something like, “Naughty, naughty, Isabel,” or “I’ve got a bone to pick with you.” Hunter’s presence called for something more serious.

“We discussed this and I told you my reasons for wanting to keep it on a fantasy level. You ignored me.”

Isabel kept her tone equally steady. “You two are perfect for each other.”

Devon snorted. “Don’t tell me you’ve known who he was all along.” Every time Devon poured her heart out regarding her obsession with Hunter, over all those long dinners. Now that would really piss her off.

“I didn’t realize it until you showed me his picture.”

Devon remembered the odd look at the Halloween store. “You should have told me right then.”

“You’d have freaked and called the whole thing off.”

“I like to make my own decisions, Isabel.” Except that the thing she’d enjoyed most about last night was not having to make a decision. She glanced quickly at Hunter to see if he noticed the irony. He studied the road ahead, his fingers tight on the steering wheel.

“I thought you needed help to see what was right in front of your nose.”

“Don’t help me, Isabel.” She heard the edge in her voice and didn’t like taking her turmoil out on Isabel. Even if she was justified. “What I mean is—”

Isabel cut her off. “You’re right. I overstepped the bounds of our friendship. It won’t happen again.”

A friendship should have no bounds. That’s what friendship was all about. Damn. She never should have started this with Hunter bearing witness. There was no choice but to see it through, though, or risk permanent damage to her relationship with Isabel. “I know you care about me, and you did what you thought was best, but talk to me about it next time instead of doing it behind my back.”

“I apologize sincerely, Devon.” A sharp inhale of breath. “I’m so used to interpreting what my clients really want that I forget to ask my friends.”

“You’re forgiven. I have to go, we’re getting on the plane.” She used the little 151

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white lie. “I’ll call you later.”

She disconnected after Isabel’s good-bye. “There,” she said, snapping her phone closed. “Issue resolved. We don’t need to analyze it ad nauseam. It’s over and done, back to work tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Hunter tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Work as usual tomorrow.” He removed his sunglasses from his shirt pocket and slipped them on. The day was cool, but bright. Devon did the same. Since the only sound was the rhythmic swoosh of the tires on the road, she once again stared out the window.

Well, that was the end of that odyssey. Kenneth wouldn’t work out again. He had his own name and his own personality. And he wasn’t Hunter. Despite what Isabel thought, business and personal still didn’t mix any better than oil and water.

The problem? Now Devon knew what she was missing.

AFTER A FULL WEEK, THEY WERE BACK TO NORMAL. THEY DIDN’T mention that night, didn’t eye each other as if they remembered every second, every breath, every touch.

Yet Devon woke each morning, her pussy wet, her nipples hard, her breath fast from some erotic dream about him, his taste and the feel of him inside her. As with Kenneth, her vibrator no longer did the job. Monday at five in the evening, seven days, thirty-six hours, and thirty-five minutes since Hunter had last touched her, Devon snapped the clasp on her briefcase. She had a few errands to run before her dinner meeting with Joseph Stewart, potential S&M veep. She winced at the title; it reminded her of Hunter and his bawdy sense of humor. Joseph had worked at Simcoe Systems with her and Hunter. She’d heard through the grapevine he was looking, and she’d always been impressed with his work ethic and his astuteness at reading people. At the restaurant, the mâitre d’ led her across the elegant, quiet, dimly lit dining room to a secluded booth in the back corner. Her heart stopped. Wham, bam, splat. She couldn’t breathe for the life of her. Seated next to Joseph, Hunter nursed a drink. She almost asked him what the hell he was doing there, stopped herself only a second away from freak-out.

“Hey, Devon.” Joseph rose, stuck out his hand, shook hers hard. He’d always had a strong grip. Mid-fifties, he’d lost all the hair on the top of his head, 152

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whereas the last time she’d seen him his hairline was merely receding. Never on the thin side, he’d gained a bit more middle-aged weight.

“Hope you don’t mind that I gave Hunter a shout.” Joseph jerked a thumb at him. “I figured getting two opinions was better than one, and it works both ways.”

“Not at all.” Seated in a booth, she was forced to sidle around next to Hunter. He smelled good, all male and woodsy. She wanted to ask who really called whom, but that would be bringing Joseph’s actions into question. “Two heads are better than one.” Somehow it sounded like a double entendre. Hunter’s lips twitched.

For the next hour, they talked about GDN, the product lines, the customer base, the sales and marketing needs, the executive staff, what the company could bring to Joseph, and what Joseph could bring to GDN. He was sharp, he adored his kids and wife, and he wasn’t about to seduce his administrative aide. During dessert and coffee, his cell rang. He glanced at the caller ID. “It’s my wife.” He smiled, and Devon admired that he didn’t glower as many men would have. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Climbing out of the booth, he flipped open his phone and was already talking as he headed to the back of the restaurant and the restroom hallway for privacy.