Under His Spell (11 page)

Then he abruptly gripped her hips and slammed hard into her. She thought he would close his eyes and shudder as all men did, but he didn’t. He still held her gaze and she thought he might have even whispered her name.

Either way, they reached their peaks staring eye to eye with one another. It added a whole new dimension that was both terrifying and exciting. His eyes, his expression, his entire presence seemed to fill her head with him, just him. So much so that his orgasm triggered another for her. And then one more until she had to look away because it was too much.

Too much pleasure. Too much intimacy.

She felt him lean forward, his chest still heaving as he gasped for air. She was too weak to support him, but
he didn’t collapse on top of her. He just let his forehead drop against hers as they both recovered.

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said. She smelled raspberry and coffee on his breath, and inhaled just to experience it again.

“You want more?” she asked. Wasn’t he afraid? Didn’t he know she was already at her limit?

“Everything, Nicky. I want to know everything about you.”

It might have sounded creepy, but she shivered in excitement. More. He wanted more of her.

“Don’t you?” he asked.

Yes. No. “Yes,” she whispered. He made her feel brave enough to do anything. Or perhaps when she was so filled with him, she couldn’t think of her fears. She barely thought at all.

“Wear something nice,” he said. He had recovered enough that he was beginning to kiss her face. Her nose first, then her cheeks. Finally her lips.

She answered in kind, and she felt his cock pulse deep inside her. She smiled and tightened her internal muscles. He groaned in response.

“All woman,” he said against her lips. “I don’t know that I can keep up.”

This time she was the one who sought his eyes, who touched his cheek until she got his entire attention. “The moment you stop, I’ll run.”

He blinked. “Why?”

“I just do. I’ll start thinking and then I’m out the door.” She sighed. “Work to do. A portfolio to build.”

He took a deep breath. His chest expanded against hers, his heat enveloped her, and his arms came around to support her from behind. He surrounded her and his grip kept tightening. He pulled her against him until
she was nearly crushed. But she didn’t fight him. She loved it.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said.

“Okay,” she returned. When he said it like that, she agreed without thought.

But then her watch beeped. She had work to do, reports to compile, layoffs to avoid. He grunted in disgust, but then his phone rang and so he sighed and pulled himself out of her.

She let him go. She had no choice what with her own work intruding. Ten minutes later, she was dressed again and he was cursing into his phone. She was heading for the door when he dropped his cell to his chest.

“Seven o’clock,” he said. “Wear something nice.”

She nodded. Then she shook her head. “Tomorrow night. I can’t tonight.”

He grimaced, but then they both heard someone calling to him from the other end of his cell. He winced. “Fine. Tomorrow night.”

She smiled and opened his front door.

“I mean it, Nicky. I’m not letting you change your mind.”

“Of course not,” she answered blithely, but they both knew she was halfway out the door—both literally and figuratively. He wanted too much from her. She didn’t have—

He grabbed hold of her arm. She didn’t even know he’d moved, but he was there, whipping her around to face him.

“Do you know what the difference is between Jimmy and Jim?”

She shook her head. Her heart was beating so hard in her throat she didn’t think she could get a word out.

“Jimmy wanted you from the first day of freshman
year, but he didn’t have the balls to go for it. To go for you.”

She looked at him, her eyes narrowing as she saw the strength in the man that was never in the boy. “And Jim?” she prompted.

“Jim will pick you up tomorrow at seven. Jim isn’t giving up without a fight.”

The resolve in his words sizzled over her skin. It promised things to her on a subconscious level. It told her that he was a man of his word. He would find her. He would claim her. And it would be the most amazing ride of her life.

God, she wanted that. Yes, she wanted him to claim her, but she also wanted his absolute confidence. For him, just saying something made it true. Maybe that was why he was such a good hypnotist. There was power in his voice, and if he said something, the universe scrambled to comply.

“Jim better be sure he knows what he wants,” she returned. If he got her to open up to him, then changed his mind, it would kill her. If she gave him her time and her heart and he found her not worthy, she doubted she would recover. She didn’t have the strength for that on top of everything else.

“You’re safe with me,” he said softly.

Was she? When he said it like that, she almost believed him. “Guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”

“Guess so.” He stood in the doorway and watched her all the way down the street.

J
IM STOOD
at Nicky’s condo door and listened intently. She was home, thank God. It was Sunday night and time for their date. His first fear had been that she wouldn’t even be there when he showed up. But she was. She even opened the door within moments of his knock. He felt the tension in his shoulders release, but that was all that eased up beneath his black tux. The rest of him was rock hard and straining forward since Nicky looked like a wet dream come to life. She wore a black dress with an interesting diamond-shaped cutout between throat and cleavage. Her skirt was tight and short above legs that stretched down to black stilettos. And if he wasn’t mistaken, she was wearing black stockings with a seam up the back. Gold bracelets jingled from her left wrist as she waved him inside, but that was the only welcoming sound he heard.

“I know it’s Sunday night!” she snapped. She shoved a decorative gold comb into her hair with enough force to pierce bone. “And if you’d done the spreadsheet right on Friday, then you wouldn’t be losing your Sunday Night Football time now.” She frowned. “What? I don’t
care what sport you’re missing! Go do the report tonight or you’re fired!”

Then she ripped a Bluetooth attachment out of her ear and whipped it across the room in fury. Jim watched it bounce twice on the couch cushions before hopping the armrest and landing on the floor.

“Basketball,” he said to her bare back. “Big playoff tonight.”

“Yeah. He said that,” she snapped. Then she took a deep breath, obviously trying to steady her emotions. “This is all your fault, you know,” she said with a small touch of humor.

“Really?” he drawled. “How so?”

“I didn’t figure out that the moron had done the wrong report until this afternoon. If I’d had my head on straight Friday, I would have realized it then, told him to fix it before he left for the weekend, and then he’d be right now sitting down for chips and dip in front of his flat-screen.”

He leaned against the door jamb and slipped the clear package he was carrying onto an entryway table. He hadn’t even fully entered the condo, but with her in this mood he wasn’t sure it was safe to progress. So he stayed where he was and waited for her attention.

Eventually he was rewarded when she turned back to him, a single eyebrow arched. “Don’t you want to know why my mistake is your fault?”

“It sounds like it was moron’s mistake, but go ahead. Why is it my fault?”

She folded her arms, mimicking his pose. Except that when she did it, her breasts rose and her cleavage deepened. “It’s your fault because I’ve had a bitch of a time working these last few days. Because of you.”

He smiled. “Am I supposed to feel guilty about that?”

“Yes. Terribly guilty. So guilty you intend to rock my world during tonight’s date to make up for it.” Then she winked at him, her lips curving into a wicked smile.

She was teasing him, he realized, and he grinned. “One world-rocking date coming up,” he returned, praying that it was true.

She nodded, then gestured to his cell phone, which it was clipped to his black cummerbund. “What about you? Get that techno-engineering thing worked out?”

“Software patch working so far,” he said. They might not have seen each other since Saturday morning, but they’d been e-mailing work woes back and forth all weekend. “But the problem is complicated. It’s going to take a lot of time to work out. They want to hire me on full-time until I get it sorted out.”

She tilted her head. “Are you going to do it?”

He shook his head. “I doubt it. I’ve already e-mailed them the solution to the biggest problem. The rest is—” he waved his hand “—details.”

“That’s where the devil resides,” she drawled.

“So I hear.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “But you’re not going to do it. Not paying you enough?”

“No. They’re offering plenty.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve done the workday grind. And this is going to be a big grind. I’m just…”

“Happy being an amateur magician in your brother’s club?”

He shrugged. “Not really. I don’t know. Professionally, I’m wandering right now. Looking for inspiration.” Then he conspicuously looked her up and down…slowly. God, she was gorgeous.

“Somehow I don’t think that’s the kind of inspiration required,” she drawled, but her voice had turned sultry and her eyes were languid. His blood slipped straight south as her nipples became clearly outlined by the otherwise smooth black fabric of her dress.

In the end, she broke first, sliding her eyes away as she turned toward her kitchen. “Do you want a drink or something? I’ve got wine and a variety of hard liquors. Get whatever you like.” There was a tasteful display of alcoholic options on a cabinet especially designed for the purpose. “And while you’re pouring, you can tell me if I need to change into a gown to match your tux.”

“No need. You look great.” He grabbed the plastic box off the table and presented her with a wrist corsage. “This is for you.” Odd how his heart was beating triple time at this. It was just a stupid flower, and yet…

Her eyes lit up when she saw it. Two pink roses intertwined with gold ribbon and green stuff. “It’s beautiful. Wow, thank you!” She opened the box reverently, stroking the petals as she looked up at him. “No one’s given me a corsage since high school.”

“Then it’s about time.” He lifted it out of the box and held open the elastic strap for her to slip her hand inside. It felt weirdly like putting a wedding ring on her, and he surprised himself by how right it felt. Then he had a moment’s panic at the bizarre turn his brain had taken.

Nicky raised her wrist to smell the flowers, then peered at him over the floral display. “This isn’t feeling like a usual date.”

He smiled, though the movement was awkward. He was still reeling from having to force his thoughts away from weddings. “You asked for a rock-my-world date.”

“So I did. But I was only teasing—” Her phone rang, and she stifled a curse. Her eyes immediately started scanning the couch for her earpiece. He was debating whether to point to the item where it had rolled beneath an end table when she stomped into her bedroom. There was more cursing as she presumably spoke to whomever it was after locating her cell in there.

That, naturally, gave him time to inspect her surroundings in better detail. Like him, she had a flat-screen TV, high-end speaker system and DVR. But the remotes were set neatly on top of the wet bar, far away from both television and couch. That told him that though she had the equipment, she didn’t watch. He already knew she wasn’t a heavy drinker, so all of it—electronics, alcohol, the sleek furniture—was for guests.

Stepping deeper into the room, he glanced at the three rooms off the main space: bedroom, bathroom, office. The bedroom door was shut, so no information there. The bathroom was like the kitchen: pristine and obviously for guests. The office, though, was exactly what he expected.

Nicky lived in that room. It was overflowing with files, up-to-date computer equipment and an avalanche of papers. He saw an empty coffee mug, half-filled water bottle and an untouched scone.

“So you found my disaster area. Think I should call Hazmat?”

He turned to her with a guilty start. “Sorry. I guess I was prying.”

She shrugged. “That, too, is par for the course on first dates.” Then she pulled a velvet-and-lace black shawl around her shoulders, its delicate femininity
somehow enhancing the sleek lines of her dress. “I’m ready to go.”

“Your Bluetooth earpiece is under that end table,” he said as he pointed.

“So it is.” She looked, but didn’t move.

“Did you want me to get it for you?”

She grinned. “Nope. I’ve declared this a real date. No phone. No Bluetooth. No office calls at all. I even changed my voice mail to say that I’m off duty until Monday morning.”

He smiled, feeling very pleased. “So I’ve got you to myself for thirteen whole hours. My, the possibilities are endless.”

“Yes,” she said with a wink. “They are.” And off she went in those stiletto heels, pulling open the door with a style that was all Nicky. Sexy Nicky, not corporate raider Nicky.

Jim couldn’t suppress his grin. No matter what, this was going to be one hell of a night.

“W
E’RE EATING HERE
?” Nicky gasped, her tone conveying only half her disbelief. “A greasy spoon?”

He shook his head. “Not
a
greasy spoon.
The
greasy spoon. Don’t you remember?”

She frowned out the broad windshield of his Corvette, thinking hard. One by one the pieces fell into place. First there was the tux, then the corsage. Next came this car with the engine he’d rebuilt. Course, back then it had been a Chevy, but the concept was the same. And now they were pulling into very same “restaurant” they had gone to after her ill-fated senior prom.

“You’re reliving high school,” she said, equal parts charmed and appalled.

“Sort of,” he said as he leaned forward in the seat to look directly at her. “Look, I’m happy to take you to the best restaurant in town. I can afford it and you more than deserve it.”

“But…” she prompted when he fell silent.

“But this is where our story should have started. I should have asked you to prom, rented a tux and taken you to…well, a better restaurant—”

“But this is what we did. So you’re re-creating that night with minor alterations. Why?”

“Because there were things I should have asked you back then. Things I should have done. Look, I’m not trying to go back in time. I’m just trying to reframe our story now.” He flushed slightly and looked out toward the diner’s neon Open sign. “I guess it was a bad idea.”

“No,” she said slowly. “It’s unusual, but I’m willing to go with it. But if you start wanting to dance to the Backstreet Boys, I’m outta here.”

“No Backstreet Boys. I swear.” Then he pushed open the door and rushed around the car.

She was more than capable of opening her own door, but in this tight skirt she was grateful that he gave her a hand stepping out. And charmed that he did it with elegant machismo.

“You are very handsome in that tux, Mr. Ray.”

“I borrowed it from the Magic Man.”

She glanced shyly at him, feeling a little outclassed. “Genius engineer, performing magician/hypnotist and restorer of classic cars. Anything else about you that I should know?”

He pretended to think about it. “Good in bed?”

“I can’t speak to that. I don’t think we’ve ever done it in an actual bed.” Then she laughed at his abrupt frown. But he didn’t say anything, since they were walking into the diner.

The waitress, fry cook and two cops did a double take when they entered. All four were grinning by the time he handed her into the booth. A bubble of laughter worked its way up her chest, but she didn’t release it. She was happy to hold it inside, feeling an absurd amount of joy at the situation. And when she looked at his eyes
across the table, she saw an answering delight there. The waitress greeted them and offered them menus, but Nicky just shook her head. She’d bet anything that Jim knew just what she wanted.

He did. “Two double cheeseburgers and sundaes for dessert. Pistachio ice cream.”

Nicky grinned. “You got it in one.” Then she opened her paper napkin and set it carefully in her lap. But before long, the silence needed something: questions, answers, first-date stuff. But who was going to start first?

She looked up and found him watching her intently. She flushed, slightly embarrassed by his intense stare. “You’ve known me for years,” she finally said. “What could you possibly find so fascinating about me?”

“You mean besides beauty, discipline and excellence…um, out of bed.”

She arched a brow. If this was going to descend into the back and forth of sexual innuendo, she was going to rapidly tire of the conversation. She already knew they had chemistry on that level. She’d thought this date was about finding what else they had in common.

Fortunately, he was a step ahead of her. He leaned back in the booth and smiled. “So tell me about college. Where’d you go, what was your major—”

“The personal résumé,” she said, nodding. “You looking for the whole schpiel, including ex-boyfriends?”

He shuddered. “God, no. I’m already jealous of the men who touched the virgin goddess, and I made them up. Just give me the path from high school to executive.”

She took a moment to answer. It wasn’t what he was asking that threw her. It was his offhand comment about jealousy. He was a multimillionaire, for God’s sake.
And he was jealous of men—made-up men—who had touched her?

A shiver of delight skated down her spine. She knew it wasn’t PC of her, but she liked his flash of possessiveness. So she rewarded him with a warm smile and an “accidental” brush of her foot against his calf. His eyes shot wide, but she had already shifted away. Let him wonder if she’d done it on purpose or not.

“It’s really not that exciting,” she began. So she told the whole story in more detail than she’d given him before. Yes, she’d gotten her degree, but college had been a lot tougher than high school. College work was harder than high school. Getting a job out of college was even harder. And clawing her way into management had taken an MBA and some serious sweat. She wasn’t a natural genius like he was. She’d had to work damn hard to get where she was now, and she was proud of her accomplishments. “But I just can’t shake the feeling that I’m about to be found out,” she confessed between bites of cheeseburger.

“Found out? About what?”

“Any minute now, someone younger and smarter is going to point out just how many mistakes I’ve made along the way. I’ve missed things. I’m human. All it takes is one smarty-pants, and then I’ll be out on my ear.”

He frowned. “Smarty-pants?”

“Yeah, you know. Someone who understood high school physics without cracking a book. Someone who likes retooling engines in his spare time and who put together a brilliant idea and sold it for millions before he was twenty-seven.”

“You mean me,” he said dully.

“Yes, you.” Then she stole a French fry off his plate.
“Well, no, not you specifically. I don’t think you’re planning on applying for my job anytime soon.”

“God, no—”

“But someone like you. Someone with better ideas, a better education, a better
brain.
” She bit down harder than she intended on his French fry. She hadn’t intended to expose quite so much of her psyche to him. This certainly wasn’t a first-date topic, but that was the beauty of time spent with Jim. They had so much history together even with the ten-year lag. She trusted him. And given that trust, way too much of her inner life spilled out from her mouth.

So she chomped on French fries rather than say more. And he sipped his soda, his prodigious mind obviously churning. She was almost afraid to ask what he was thinking. She didn’t want to hear him say something like, you’re right. You’re a moron and I don’t want anything more to do with you.

Fortunately, she was spared that humiliation with the arrival of their sundaes. Less fortunately, he wasn’t a man to let things slide. Once the ice cream had been appropriately served, sampled and “mmmmm”-ed over, he set down his spoon and took a deep breath.

“I think I’m seeing a pattern here.”

She arched a brow. “Don’t read too much into things here. I’m—”

“Just hear me out. You’re afraid that someone with better credentials is going to oust you from your job. That your boss is going to throw you over the minute someone with a better résumé comes along.”

Her shoulders tightened because, yes, he had just voiced her greatest fear. So rather than speak, she toyed with the chocolate as it dripped from her spoon.

“If I’d worked up the nerve to ask you out for prom, would you have accepted?”

She looked up from her ice cream to blink at him. “That was an abrupt change in topic.”

“Yes, it was, but answer the question. Would you have accepted?”

She looked away. “No, probably not,” she confessed.

“Right. Because I was a geek, he was head of the wrestling team. In high school terms, he had better credentials than I did.”

She winced. Wow, did that make her sound shallow or what? “I don’t think that way anymore, Jim. I think you’re great.”

“Only because you’re looking at different credentials now. I’m smart, a millionaire, and I went to MIT. Good credentials.”

She huffed and set down her spoon. “That’s not how I judge you. You’re also a great guy, you make me feel safe and…” And the sex had been great.

He grinned, obviously guessing where her thoughts were going. “Okay, so you’ve grown. I’ve grown. In high school, you were just the smart volleyball star that I worshiped from afar. I never really saw how determined you are, how strong you can be and yet how…”

“I still have a submissive sex kitten side. Yeah, I know.” Her face heated as she said it. She still wasn’t quite sure what to make of her own fantasies, but then again that was the beauty of fantasies. They weren’t you. They were pretend.

“My point is that you’re so much more than your credentials, Nicky. Your boss has got to see that, too. You don’t have anything to fear.”

She arched a brow. “You assume more intelligence in upper management than I do.”

He shook his head. “You see too little of yourself. Trust me. Everyone else sees more of you than your résumé and your mistakes.”

She looked back at her sundae, wanting to believe what he said. But the truth was so much smaller than what he suggested.

“The truth is,” she said slowly, “that you’re the only one who sees that. Who sees me.”

“Believe me, Nicky, everyone sees you on your cell phone. Everyone knows you work weekends and nights.”

“But you’re the one who asked about my fantasies. You’re the only one who knows my fears, too, about being passed over or thrown out because I’m not good enough.”

He leaned forward. “But you are good enough. You’re ten thousand times good enough. You’re the only one who doesn’t believe it.”

She looked him in the eyes, saw the absolute sincerity in there, and knew he believed what he said with total conviction. He saw more than her lackluster college degree and slightly above-average brain. He saw her work, her dedication, and her willingness to go the extra ten miles. And, of course, he’d seen the other side—the skanky side—and hadn’t been repulsed.

Which made him one in a million. More like one in a billion because when he said it, she believed it. She saw herself as competent and valuable, too. Her fears eased, her faith in herself grew.

“You’re a pretty special guy,” she said softly.

“I’m trying hard to live up to your standard,” he returned.

She smiled, her heart melting with his words. She so wanted to jump him right then. But she also was desperate just to spend more time talking with him, learning what he thought, what made him tick.

So she consciously reined in her libido and took a big bite of ice cream to cool her internal jets. It didn’t work, but it helped. And when she finished swallowing, she was able to look back at him.

“It’s your turn now. I want to know everything you’ve been doing since high school.”

“Well, there was college, then career, blah-blah. And then a couple nights ago, I reconnected with the hottest woman I’ve ever known. And get this…” He leaned forward. “She lets me act out fantasies with her.”

“Hmmm. Sounds kinky.”

“And weirdly liberating.”

She raised her eyebrows, inviting him to continue.

“I can pay the bill. We can go back to my place—”

She raised her hand, cutting off his words. “This is a first date, remember? I don’t go home with just anybody. So start talking, and no blah-blah this time.”

He tilted his head. “Isn’t that the first rule of dating—don’t talk about yourself?”

“Not tonight, it isn’t. Really, Jim, I want to know more about you. Where have you lived? What do you do for fun? Everything.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” And she meant it. With every fiber of her being. “And then afterward, we can see about those kinky fantasies.” She leaned forward onto her arms. “How did you start hypnotizing people?”

He shrugged. “Shy kid. Too many comic books. If I could figure out how to hypnotize people, I could have
whatever I wanted, including hot girls. Trust me when I say I’m not the only boy with that particular fantasy.”

“But you’re the only one I know who succeeded. Girl and all.” She propped her chin on her hand. “I never would have pegged you for a stage act.”

He laughed, the sound coming out a little tight and self-conscious. “I got good at magic when I was eight. Spent hours in my room practicing, but I never showed anyone except my brother, Rick. Even my parents were too much of a risk.”

She frowned. “Oh, come on. Your parents? No one is that shy.”

“I was. My dad thought it was all a stupid waste of time and said so often. My mom agreed with whatever my dad said.”

She winced. “That must have been really hard.”

He toyed with the whipped cream on his sundae. “It wasn’t all bad. I had a good home, good food, all the basics. Dad taught me about electricity which led to robotics and engineering. That got me into MIT on scholarship.”

“Which eventually led to your million-dollar idea. But truthfully, what about the hypnotism? The stage act? I can’t seem to make that fit the picture.”

His sundae had turned into a soupy mess, so he set his spoon aside. “That’s because you don’t realize how much a CEO has to speak in public, sell his ideas to investors and the like. Think about your job. How many times do you speak to a crowd?”

She did it every week. Not to groups of hundreds or anything, but there were always reports to the higher-ups, motivational words for her subordinates, the regular ebb and flow of communication in a corporate structure. E-mail was one thing, but she often had to pitch her
ideas to her boss, then sell it again to her subordinates. “But that’s not the same thing as being onstage.”

“Very true. But I was really shy. Choke on my tongue, coffee on my lap, falling on my face shy. When the words mattered, I could always be counted on to be throwing up in the bathroom.”

She laughed at his joke, but she could also see he was dead serious. “I don’t remember you being that bad in high school.”

“That’s because I made sure to never say anything important to anyone. The most I did was ask questions. A lot of questions.”