Roped Into Romance (4 page)

Sitting across from Anton Neville in the restaurant known to serve Houston's best Vietnamese cuisine, Lauren Hollister listened to his architectural woes. The last part, about clients being unable to make up their minds, had her rolling her eyes.

"Is that what this is? A business dinner to talk about the loft? You're wanting to know what Macy and I have decided?" She didn't know why she'd gotten her hopes up otherwise. But she had. She liked him a lot and hated that they might actually be facing a problem as out-of-date as equality of the sexes.

Anton laid his chopsticks on his plate, propped his elbows on the edge of the table and laced his fingers, looking at her over his joined hands. His blue eyes were brighter than she remembered from the dim elevator and lit with an intensity that would've stolen her appetite if she'd thought it was intended for her. But she didn't.

"If this was a business dinner, this conversation would be business specific," he said.

"As in, what build -outs you've decided on. If you want us to arrange them, if you plan to hire your own contractors. Or if you've even decided whether you want the loft at all."

"So, that wasn't a dig? That comment about clients making up their minds? Because we have. We do want the loft." Why, oh why did he have to look even yummier than her spring rolls? All dressed up in the dark browns and greens that did such amazing things to his coloring?

"Good." He picked up his chopsticks and dug into his steamed rice. "Now, can we get back to the date? I promised you a good time and I intend to see that it happens."

Yeah,
his
idea of a good time, Lauren silently groused. He wanted to call, he wanted to pay. He wanted to coordinate the when, where, and how of any sexual encounter.

And now he wanted to be in charge of what they talked about. Typical overbearing man. She had a feeling that she was going to miss out on experiencing his good qualities because his bad ones
so
got on her nerves.

True, some women did like sitting high atop a pedestal, safe from problems, decisions, and sin. He couldn't know that she hated looking down at the action. That she thought duking it out eye-to-eye was a much more honorable way to live.

Not to mention a helluva lot more fun. "Did you bring our condom?"

"As a matter of fact, I did." His lips drew taut, almost into a grimace as he dug his wallet from the back pocket of his chocolate-colored pants. "Did you want it back?"

Still holding her chopsticks, Lauren slumped back hard in her chair, her hand o n the napkin draped over her crossed legs. "Oh. Now you've changed your mind."

Anton leaned into the forearm he'd braced on the table and reached for his beer. He took a drink from the longneck, keeping his gaze locked with Lauren's as he did.

"Can I ask you something Lauren? Do you want to be here with me? Or did you feel indebted to go out with me because of what went on in the elevator?"

Indebted was the last thing she felt. But she could understand where he was coming from, considering the way she was acting. Time to stop dancing around the ring and take it on the chin. Returning her chopsticks to the table, she smoothed down her simple salmon-colored skirt.

She tried to smile but, since the feeling failed to reach her heart, was afraid she wasn't very convincing. "I'm sorry. I just don't think this is going to work."

Anton blew out a huff, as if he'd been anticipating her decision. "You're calling this off before we've even gotten to know each other?"

She was calling it off before she was in over her head and ended up being hurt. "I think I make you uncomfortable. And that makes me uncomfortable."

He frowned. "Why would you make me uncomfortable?"

"Because I am who I am. I say what I think. I go after what I want. I play by my rules and I'm afraid that might cause me to inadvertently step on your more traditional toes." There. She didn't think she could be more honest without telling him he needed to loosen up.

"My toes are traditional?" he asked, a small quirk to the corner of his mouth.

This time her response was genuine. She felt her own smile work the muscles of her face. His smile she felt other places and she held the feeling close. She wanted to feel so much more, but they seemed to be coming from two disparate places. "Since I haven't seen them yet, I can't say for sure. But I'm leaning in that direction."

"What do you want me to do with this?" He held the condom he'd pulled from his wallet between two fingers.

Lauren felt a flush heat her cheeks. She might be the more free-spirited of the two, but e ven she didn't want an entire restaurant wondering if they were in for a show.

She took the foil packet from his hand and tucked it down in the low-draped cowl bodice of her sleeveless white blouse. "I'll hang on to it. Just in case."

One blond eyebrow went up. "Just in case you change your mind?"

She shook her head. "In case you come to your senses and realize that you don't have to be the one on top to have a good time."

Lauren and Macy finalized the deal on the loft not long after. Doug Storey represented the firm of Neville and Storey, Architects at the closing. He explained that neither he nor Anton usually handled the financial end of any property they sold.

But the loft space had been an anomaly since they'd acquired it and they'd sworn to see its sale through to the end.

Lauren couldn't have cared less who showed up. She and Macy had found the perfect place to live and nothing else mattered. And Lauren told her best friend that very thing.

"Oh, that's a bunch of crap, Lauren," Macy said, her head next to Lauren's as they lay side by side on the hardwood floor of the loft's main room. Feet pointing opposite directions, they stared up at the exposed piping Lauren had decided to paint red, purple and green. "You wanted Anton there and you know it. You may not have said so, but you wore a business suit to the closing, for chrissakes."

"It was an important occasion and I dressed accordingly."

"You dressed like you thought Mr. Uptight would want you to dress."

"That's not true. He is not uptight. He's just…traditional."

Macy snorted. "Traditional, my ass. He's a stick in the mud. Face it."

Anton Neville was anything but a stick in the mud. He was a veritable god. Seeing to her pleasure? Without expecting anything in return? Had she ever known a man so unselfish? So considerate? So incredibly kind and thoughtful? And did she mention
hot
?

Lauren groaned. She'd been so worried about her precious equality that she'd told him it wasn't going to work before they'd gotten to know each other.

Now she was afraid she'd thrown away the best thing to ever happen in her life.

"So, you're going to go? After all that bitching about your date with the man, after the way he dumped on you at the closing, you're still going to go?"

Macy Webb stood in Lauren Hollister's bedroom doorway, watching as Lauren settled on a periwinkle suede fringed skirt and a silver silk corset that left the biggest part of her assets bare. She left her legs bare, as well, and slipped her feet into a pair of easily slipped-out-of periwinkle blue mules.

"And that's what you're going to wear?" Both of Macy's eyebrows went up. "What happened to conventional and old -fashioned?"

They'd closed on the loft yesterday. And they needed to get busy packing. But Anton Neville had called and asked Lauren to meet him at the loft. Alone. Tonight. At nine.

Lauren turned side to side and examined her reflection in the full-length mirror. With this outfit and her hair in a wispy knot on top of her head, she looked hot, if she did say so herself.

"Yes, this is what I'm going to wear. Anton Neville can take conventional and old-fashioned and shove it. He wants to see me? He's going to see me."

"A whole lot of you, in that outfit," Macy added.

"What's wrong with that? I'm a fun, fearless female. Screw him if he doesn't like it."

Lauren only hoped she could keep up the charade. Her insides were melting like butter and she was afraid if he came too close she'd pour herself all over him.

Equality be damned. He was sexy as hell, both his mind and his body. The combination was an incredible turn-on. More than that, however, the combination had captured her heart. She only hoped she hadn't messed things up forever the day she'd walked away.

Macy gave a quick nod. "Looking like that? I'd say screwing is a definite possibility."

Anton stood on the loft's balcony, leaning against the railing as he watched the taillights of the traffic four stories below. He was waiting for Lauren and he wasn't sure he wouldn't still be waiting come morning. She'd vaguely agreed to meet him, as long as nothing else came up, or so she'd said.

He still had a key and he'd let himself in. He didn't think Lauren would mind,
if
she showed up and
if
she hadn't already written him off. He wanted to give this a go. If he had to rein in his insistence on having things his way, he'd give it his best shot.

Lauren Hollister was too special not to work out a compromise.

He heard the newly installed elevator motor engage and his heart flipped in his chest.

He glanced quickly around the balcony, where he'd set up a chaise longue with a coverlet and pillows. On the table beside, candles still burned. The wine was chilled.

He wondered if Lauren had brought the condom. He had others, of course, but there was something about that particular one….

"Anton?" she called.

Even the way she said his name was enough to make him weak in the knees. "Out here. On the balcony."

He'd left the sliding glass doors open and now he leaned his backside against the railing and turned to face the darkened loft. He heard her footsteps as she made her way across the floor. He couldn't see her, but he knew she could see him. He wasn't sure he'd ever had so much trouble drawing a breath.

His heart thumped furiously in his chest. And when she finally reached the doorway, a vision of glittering silvers and blues, he knew he was in more trouble than he'd ever imagined possible.

"Hi," she said and stepped outside into his world.

She glanced around and, even with nothing more than the light from the moon, he knew she could see the romantic stage he'd set. She grinned and Anton held his breath, hoping she wasn't about to laugh at his plans for seduction.

She did laugh, but it was the purest sound of joy, a filling of her soul with the moment, and happiness spilling like bubbling champagne and… God, but he needed to be committed, writing poetry in his mind instead of talking to the flesh-and-blood woman holding his heart in her hand.

"I can't believe you. I can't believe this." She pressed her fingers to her lips as she circled the chaise longue, plumping the pillows and running her palm over the coverlet.

He remained standing with his arms crossed and his ankles crossed because he still wasn't sure if her disbelief was a good thing or bad. But then she made her way back to where he stood.

She took him by the hand, guided him to the chaise and, with a palm planted in the center of his chest, forced him to sit. "You did good. The candles and the wine.

There's even traffic down below. And there's always the possibility of getting caught.

We're only missing one thing."

"The condom," he stated, his palms growing damp.

Nodding, she planted her hands at her waist. "Find it and you get that whole lotta lovin'."

Hands shaking, he started with the tiny silver hooks holding the corset together. The front separated and fell to the ground, revealing nothing but bare skin from her tiny waist to her beautifully long neck.

Pressing his lips between her breasts and breathing deep of her softly scented skin, he skimmed his hands around her hips, finding the skirt's rear zipper and easing it down. One smooth tug and it fell to her feet, leaving her standing in a wisp of sheer silver mesh.

The condom was caught between the elastic and her skin.

He stripped her free of both, leaving her standing bare before him. He took a deep breath, struggling for control, even as Lauren urged him to his feet.

"My turn." She tugged his shirt from his pants, releasing the buttons from bottom to top as he got busy with his cuffs. By the time he was out of his shirt and his shoes, he was so hard he thought he might burst. And then Lauren went to work on his belt and his pants.

"Careful," he whispered, as she eased his zipper over his erection. At the bold touch of her fingertips, he released a gut-deep groan, groaning again as she shoved his pants and his briefs to his ankles. He kicked them aside and she dropped to sit on the lounger, patting the seat for the condom and smiling when she found her prize.

Taking his penis into her mouth, playing the ridge of his head with her tongue, she used nimble fingers to rip into the foil packet. Anton gritted his teeth and threaded his fingers into her hair. When she sheathed him, he was more than ready.

He lowered them both down to the cushion, covering her with his body. She opened her legs, taking his weight and accepting him deep inside. He shuddered. She shuddered. Her warmth enveloped him; her wetness welcomed him and he knew he'd found a place to call home.

"I want to ask you something," he said, knowing they had so much to talk about, so much to settle. Knowing, too, that time would come but, for now, this was what mattered.

"Anything."

"Do you believe in love at first sight?"

She lifted her hand and cupped his face. "Yes. I do. And, yes. I did."

Her words slowly brought their sensuous dance to a stop. He turned his lips toward her palm for a kiss, his eyes maintaining contact with hers that shimmered by the light of the moon and the softly glowing candles. Reaching for the coverlet, he pulled it up until they lay enveloped in a cocoon of warmth and romance.

He didn't think making love had ever felt so right. Had ever resonated with so much emotion. Her heart snared his, as did her eyes. And her body held him tightly in her intimate embrace.

He began to move again, trying to take his time. But holding back quickly became impossible. His body ached with the need for release. Lauren's eyes gave him permission to come, promising she'd stay with him every second of the ride.