Naked Treats (3 page)

And she wasn’t about to let Mikey down.

But as she climbed out of the cab and smiled at
Jeffrey, she found her heart was pounding in a most disconcerting
way.

****

Zack nearly let out a yelp as the buzzer rang and
Jeffrey’s voice on the intercom announced that Rose was on her way
up. Should he let her use her key as usual, or would it be
permissible to show her in, as he would a guest? Somehow, having
her come here in the evening did seem to change the dynamic between
them. He most definitely did feel as if she was more like a
guest.

He went to the door and listened for her footsteps on
the polished floor of the hallway. Eventually he heard the tip-tap
of her high heels getting closer. His damp palm made the door knob
slippery, and just as he finally managed to turn it, she inserted
her key. He swung the door open hard, pulling her in with it.

“Oh!” she made a soft sound of surprise as she ran
headlong into his chest. Only the bulk of her coat and the bag of
groceries she carried prevented them from making more intimate
contact. He reached out and steadied her, his hands on her
shoulders. The warmth of her body permeated the coat making his
skin hum.

“Excuse me,” she said, attempting to back away. He
held her fast.

“My fault,” he said, getting a whiff of her hair. The
exotic but subtle floral scent immediately bewitched him. He
couldn’t seem to let her go. His eyes locked with hers. He’d never
looked into her eyes before. Up this close, he was amazed at the
rich brown color of her irises. They were like a deep glass of
cognac tinged with firelight.

Her luxuriant voice. Her sexy brown eyes. What else
had he missed?

“You’re squashing the groceries,” she whispered.

“Oh. Right.” He let his hands drop and stepped back,
allowing her to pass.

He followed her into the entry hall, feeling
strangely awkward. Always before, he would wake to find her
ensconced in his kitchen, sans clothing. What was the protocol here
tonight? Should he offer to take her coat? He didn’t think so. For
all he knew, she didn’t have a stitch on beneath it.

In the kitchen, she set the groceries on the counter
and began taking items out of the bag. A package wrapped in butcher
paper, lemons, potatoes, lettuce, eggs. He watched as she emptied
everything from the bag. Finally she handed him the bottle of
cabernet.

“Dinner in one hour. I’ll put you in charge of
opening the wine.” She turned and whisked around the corner to the
powder room off the entry. He heard the door close with a decisive
thunk
.

Roaming the length of the massive kitchen island and
back, Zack attempted to regain some semblance of the composure he
had planned to possess tonight. What was wrong with him, anyway? He
didn’t normally freak out in the presence of sexy women. In fact,
the women he knew always chided him for his cool detachment, his
lack of emotion. But lately, around Rose, he’d behaved in a way
that, frankly, had him baffled. Take for instance those rash
proposals of marriage he’d made last Sunday. Luckily she had known
he was only kidding. A less secure woman might have tried to press
her advantage.

Wait.

Had he been kidding? Or had some part of him been
testing the water, halfway wanting her to take him seriously?

He checked in with himself as he poured a generous
amount of scotch into a short glass. No. At thirty-three he was a
confirmed bachelor and that wasn’t likely to change. He’d seen up
close and personal how marriages went bad. He only needed to think
about his four stepmothers to reaffirm that getting hitched would
be a losing proposition. He didn’t figure he had any better chance
of success at long-term commitment than his father.

So this thing with Rose? Probably nothing more than a
silly, temporary fixation, no doubt enhanced by her unavailability.
Right?

Yes, that had to be it. The only reason she had held
his attention as long as she had was because they hadn’t slept
together.

Yet.

Zack grinned and drained the glass. Now he had a
handle on the situation. The quickest way to get beyond this
obsession and regain his sanity was to get Rose into his bed.

Of course, the clause in the contract he’d signed
stipulated no physical contact. His grin widened. Technically, he
was already in breach of that clause, wasn’t he, after their
collision at his front door? And Rose hadn’t seemed to object in
the least.

Chapter Three

Rose hung her coat on the back of the powder room
door and turned to face the mirror. Spots of high color marked her
cheekbones and her breath had more than a little hitch to it. As
she got undressed, she tried to tell herself those symptoms had
nothing to do with Mr. Cranston grabbing her arms the way he did,
or the wild, mossy-stone depths of his eyes close up, or the way
his cologne made her toes curl in her stilettos. For a brief moment
there, she had thought he might try to kiss her. How silly. They
had a written agreement preventing such things from happening.

Besides, he was a wealthy, successful bachelor. No
doubt he had all the women he wanted without having to stoop to
seducing the hired help.

But as she tied the lacy apron around her waist and
checked the view from all angles, her pulse continued to carom like
a pinball. Something changed between them in that moment in his
entryway. She’d become aware of a current of energy sparking
between them that hadn’t been there before.

Or maybe the current had been there all along, and
she’d been unwilling to acknowledge it. Like she’d been unwilling
to admit her curiosity about him or the fact that she was
definitely attracted to him physically. Earlier in the cab she’d
decided that her unfortunate attraction to him didn’t need to
affect their business relationship, but now she wasn’t so sure.
Could she ignore her feelings and maintain the status quo?

Staring into her own eyes, Rose let herself picture
Mikey sitting in that dark concrete prison for another ten years.
Without a new trial, led by a new defense team that actually knew
what they were doing, there was no hope of Mikey getting out of
there anytime soon.

She shoved down the sensation of nausea that always
threatened when she thought of her sweet little brother locked
behind bars, then dug her favorite red lipstick out of her purse.
As she colored her mouth with a shaking hand, she vowed to clean up
her act around Zack Cranston. She couldn’t afford to let physical
attraction to him distract her from her true purpose. She couldn’t
afford to blow this job. Not if he would pay her double for an
occasional Friday night.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the bathroom
and lifted her chin. Somehow she would make it all work.

When she got to the kitchen he was no longer there. A
quick scan of the living area revealed the man in question standing
outside on the condo’s expansive terrace, a drink in hand. Used to
seeing him in his bathrobe, unshaven and just out of bed, she
hadn’t been prepared for the way he looked in Italian slacks and
silk shirt. Beyond handsome, way beyond. Right off the cover of GQ
magazine.

Breathing a sigh of thanks that he seemed happy to
stay on the terrace, she started on the custard cups, which would
bake with the potatoes while she prepared the rest of the meal. She
had just cracked the eggs and measured sugar into the bowl, when he
wandered back in and stood across the island from her.

For nearly a minute he didn’t speak, but stood there
watching, fidgeting with his empty glass while she whipped the
yolks and sugar together into a smooth golden batter.

“What’s on the menu?” he finally asked.

“Rib steak. Potatoes. Caesar salad and custard for
dessert.” She didn’t look up as she added cinnamon and salt to the
mixture and then slowly poured in scalded milk. Even from three
feet away she could feel the heat of his body and smell his yummy
cologne. He pointed to the six buttered ramekins waiting on the
counter.

“Are we going to eat all of those?”

“You can save some of them for later.”

“Or you could stay over and we could share them for
breakfast tomorrow morning.”

What a kidder. She looked up, expecting to see the
telltale gleam of humor in his eyes, but he looked back at her
without a hint of a smile. As her gaze locked with his, her pulse
began that crazy pinging action again. For several seconds she
forgot to breathe. She steadied herself against the counter and let
her eyes drop to his chest. Almost immediately she found herself
imagining how sensuous the silk of his shirt would be against her
naked nipples.

Then she remembered why she was here and who was
counting on her to keep her head straight.

“Mr. Cranston!” She made her voice as stern as
possible. “You’re getting far too personal with me.” She wagged her
finger at him like a school teacher lecturing a sassy boy.

Bad move.

He was standing so close, still just across the
island, that it took nothing at all for him to make a quick grab
and capture the offending finger in his fist.

Rose gasped and froze in place. What an odd
sensation. It was almost as if he’d imprisoned her whole body, not
just her finger. Heat crept upwards from her chest to her face.
Finally she let her gaze lift to meet his.

“I liked that.” His voice soft as butter, a whisper
almost. The clean, pleasant smell of the scotch on his breath
wafted to her. His pupils were huge and velvet black.

“What?”

“I liked it when you were bossy with me just
now.”

“Oh.” Something like pleasure curled in her
belly.

“Are you always so sure about things, Rose?”

“Yes,” she lied. She forced herself to maintain eye
contact, though her heart was absolutely hammering in her chest.
“Please release my finger.”

For a moment he didn’t move. Then a grin spread over
his lips.

“Okay, Rose. Whatever you say.” He nodded. “For now.”
He opened his fist, letting her finger drop. Then he spun on his
heel and headed for the bar.

****

Whoa. Since when had touching someone’s finger given
him an instant hard on? As Zack replenished the scotch in his
glass, he refused to turn and look at her. He needed to give her
some time to rearrange that outraged expression on her beautiful
face into one that didn’t spell the imminent demise of their
relationship.

He’d crossed the line just now, yes. But could you
blame a guy? She’d stuck that delectable digit right in his
face.

To be honest, there were other delectable parts that
he’d much rather have captured. Those parts are what had no doubt
given him the erection. There were her lush red lips, which had
been only inches away from his, not to mention her naked breasts
swinging soft and full as she’d beaten the eggs. Oh how he longed
to close his mouth around one of her firm pink nipples.

Setting the bottle down, he swirled the liquor
against the edge of the glass and then turned around. She was
carefully filling the ramekins with hot custard, pretending to
ignore him. Fine. As long as she didn’t put on her coat and leave
in a huff, he hadn’t totally blown it with her.

He let out a long, slow breath. Okay. He’d bide his
time for now; he’d continue to play the game her way. After all, he
did have a reputation for his nerves of steel, his cool control,
even under the most severe pressure. He was confident that her
reserve would thaw, contract or no, and he’d have her between the
sheets. He’d seen the way her pupils dilated and heard the catch in
her breath. Hell, her nipples were hard as buttons right now, and
not because of a chill in the air. He’d bet his BMW she was just as
turned on as he was.

Yeah, one hot night together. That’s all he needed.
He’d fuck her till she couldn’t stand up. They’d part as friends.
She’d be out of his system for good then.

But she’d also be out of his kitchen. That knowledge
stabbed through him, then he laughed at himself. The city was full
of personal chefs he could hire. God knows he didn’t really need a
naked one.

Zack retreated to his favorite recliner in the living
room and clicked on the television. From here, he only had to cant
his head a few degrees to see what Rose was doing now. Something
with lettuce and lemons. Then she turned to the wall oven and
opened it to look in at the desserts, allowing him a perfect view
of her curvy ass framed by the ties of the apron. His cock
responded immediately. A whole new scenario began to play through
his mind. Rose bent forward over the island, her elegant pussy
impaled from behind on his thrusting cock.

God.

Zack flicked blindly through a dozen TV channels.
What had ever made him think he could have a naked female parading
around his home and not want to fuck her? Especially someone as
luscious as Rose? What a crazy, unnatural idea.

And he couldn’t be the only one of her clients
dealing with this problem. No doubt most, if not all, of Rose’s
clients wanted to fuck her.

Had they all managed to maintain their distance?

Or had she let her guard down for some of them?

An unreasonable streak of something like jealousy
twisted in his gut as he pictured another man beside her at the
island right now, nibbling her ear, squeezing her breasts, sweeping
aside her apron. Helpless, he watched as the Rose of his fantasy
dropped her spoon and turned into the embrace of the other man. Her
throaty moans pierced him clear through. The stranger took
possession of her, laying her back on the counter, spreading those
creamy white thighs wide open.

“Yes! Oh, yes!” Fantasy Rose cried, offering herself
up like a delicious gourmet treat. When the make-believe man buried
his face in Rose’s pussy, Zack leaped out of his chair and headed
back out to the terrace.