SETH DRANK THE champagne with relish, for once in his life enjoying the dry bubbles tickling his nose. Normally, he was a beer guy, with an occasional taste for scotch. A shooter or two if out with a date. But tonight, he’d had no compunction at ordering the pricey sparkling wine. Lacey Baptiste could inspire a man to love champagne and anything else frivolous and fun. But now, he also knew she possessed a layer of depth, dug by the tragedy of losing her parents, just below the surface of her party-girl persona. She had real reasons to cut loose and enjoy herself. She knew how temporary life could be.
He tilted his glass toward her and offered her another silent toast before he drained the delicate flute.
They continued to chat easily and flirt ceaselessly until his first round of appetizers arrived at the table. More for his own preferences than hers, he’d ordered delectable finger foods to begin their meal.
He watched her eyes widen as the wait staff cleared the flowers and condiments from the table and presented their food. She closed her eyes and inhaled, causing him to do the same. The fiery scent of chipotle peppers, ground into a creamy sauce, then layered over buttery grilled shrimp assailed his nostrils first, hardly outdone by the garlic steaming from the Oysters Rockefeller.
The minute they were left alone, she grinned. “You’re good.”
He nodded his appreciation.
“Of course,” she continued, grabbing a shrimp by the tail and swirling it in the sauce, “I don’t know how much kissing we’ll want to do between the peppers and the garlic.”
He nodded, then scooped an oyster shell with his hand and stabbed the steamed center with a small seafood fork. “I thought of that, but if we both eat our fill, we’ll cancel each other out, right?”
“That’s the common belief.”
He shimmied the oyster off the shell, making sure that the prized morsel with the creamy spinach covering it stayed balanced on the fork. “Let’s give it a shot.”
He fed her the oyster slowly, watching with fascination as she opened her mouth in anticipation. She closed her eyes and the minute the flavors connected with her tongue, she groaned loudly and appreciatively. As if she’d pressed her fingers around his sex, he hardened. Would she be this wild, this unbridled in bed?
“God, those are delicious. Your turn,” she said, reaching for an oyster.
He stopped her. “Not quite yet.” He lifted her champagne glass to her lips, taking in how her raisin-stained mouth touched oh-so-lightly against the crystal. “Try the shrimp first. But be forewarned, it’s hot.”
She met his stare boldly. “I like it hot.”
“I’ll bet you do,” he answered.
“You think I’m real hot-to-trot, don’t you? A real wild cat?”
She’d read his mind.
“Am I wrong?”
She shook her head, licking a thin layer of bubbles from her mouth. “Maybe.”
“Now who’s the liar?”
He fed her the shrimp and after they laughed over the spicy fire of the dish, he let her feed him. They cooled the peppery taste with more champagne and a shared serving of creamy strawberry soup, served cold and garnished with mint. Seth could have spent the entire night watching her lick the last of the pink concoction off the silver spoon, but she had other ideas.
“Ready to go?”
She placed her napkin beside her plate and retrieved her purse.
“We haven’t even had the main course,” he protested, though halfheartedly. He wanted nothing more than to retreat to somewhere very quiet and very private. Soon. But not before he hit her with the whole treatment. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to please a woman with simple things like sexy food and good manners. How she managed to coax the gentleman out of him at the same time she lured the aroused man intrigued him more than any throwaway comment about her job.
He didn’t care what she did for a living. He hoped it wasn’t illegal. Other than that, he was wide open.
“The main course? Isn’t that what we’re about to have?”
He tossed a few bills on the table, then followed her out of the restaurant and into the elevator.
Temptation glazed her eyes when the doors swooshed shut, but a stop on the next level to let three more couples on the elevator erased the possibility of making love to her in the enclosed space. Once they hit the bottom floor, they followed the crowd outside. She pulled her valet ticket from her purse.
“I’m parked around the corner,” he said.
“You don’t think I’m going to get in the car with a man I just met, do you?”
He laughed, and luckily, she only looked half insulted.
“You’ll go home with me, but you won’t ride in the car?”
“I’m not going home with you, either.”
Seth acted on a whim, tugging her away from the crowd into a semiprivate corner behind a thick potted palm.
In the tight space, he pressed his body flush against hers, as he had on the dance floor. Through the material of his shirt, he felt her nipples harden, felt her breath pant against his neck. “You’re not some kind of tease, are you?” he said, making sure she heard the playful tone in his voice.
“Oh, I’m the best kind of tease,” she replied. “I’m the kind of tease that will follow through, but on her own terms.”
He smoothed his hands down her sides, reveling in her intoxicating curves. “Name your terms, Lacey Baptiste.”
“Kiss me?”
He stepped back, but only enough so he could see all of her face.
Even in the semidarkness, her dark brown eyes glittered with electricity, life. The lipstick she’d worn earlier was now completely gone, but her lips remained glossy thanks to her tongue. And oh, that tongue. Pink and pointed and likely incredibly adept at finding the sensitive places on a man’s body that needed wet attention.
“My pleasure.”
He braced his hands around her slim waist, charged by the feel of her skin beneath his as she raised herself higher to press her lips to his.
She tasted of strawberries, sweet and minty, with a hint of spiced fire. Her mouth was warm, inviting, and Seth couldn’t control the kiss, simply because he didn’t want to. Their tongues sparred, their hands roamed. Her heart beat against his chest, and he couldn’t help but press his sex hard against her belly. He wanted her. He wanted to feel himself inside her more than he wanted to breathe.
She pushed him back with surprising strength. Her cheeks were flushed, her pupils dilated to near black. Her breasts heaved as she struggled for air. “Meet me at my hotel.”
“When?”
“Forty minutes.”
She rattled off the name and address. He knew the place well. Not far away. Nice, too. Perfect for business travellers.
He wrangled his hormones under control, but was thankful he wouldn’t have to see anyone on his way to his car. “Want me to bring anything?”
She maneuvered out of the hidden corner and greeted a startled passer-by with a smile.
“Be creative,” she said with a wink.
A flash of headlights announced the arrival of her car, a silver sedan he guessed was a rental. She pulled money from her purse and traded them with the valet for her keys.
“Forty minutes,” she reminded him, before she slid into the driver’s seat. Whether or not the flash of thigh he’d witnessed had been purposeful or purely a taste of what was to come, he’d soon find out.
LACEY BARELY REMAINED within the speed limit, though driving anywhere near sixty-five while maneuvering through Atlanta was the equivalent of a leisurely stroll. On one hand, forty minutes seemed like an eternity to wait for a man as hot as Sam Duke. On the other hand, she didn’t have nearly enough time. She wanted to be ready, but for what, she wasn’t entirely sure.
Sex? Yeah, that was a given. Her heart pounded against her breasts, which still tingled from the last hungry look Sam had shot her way when she’d slid into the car, fully aware that her dress had ridden up and given him a clear view of what he could expect very soon. His taste lingered in her mouth like the woodsy finish of a fine Merlot. The intense pressure of his kiss still thrummed against her lips. Lacey couldn’t remember the last time she’d made love to a stranger—in fact, she wondered if she ever truly had. She couldn’t say she’d known everything about each and every lover, but she’d known slightly more than first name, last name and his drink preferences.
Still, Lacey trusted her instincts. Ordinarily, she would have simply trusted her libido. She had a knack for separating the good guys from the creeps, feeling strong attraction only for the guys who deserved her attention. But she knew she had to be rusty. And while her FBI training might help her find criminals, she had no secret code for sorting the cads from the crazies.
Traffic on 400 was surprisingly light. She arrived at her hotel with twenty minutes to spare. After a quick stop at the sundry shop, she dashed to the elevator, kicking off her shoes before she reached the twenty-first floor. Lucky twenty-one. Confidence surged and Lacey inhaled, then pressed her palms to her face. As she suspected, Sam’s scent lingered on her flesh. Spiced. Earthy. Incredibly male. Yes, she was taking a chance inviting him to her hotel room. But no risk, no gain.
Besides, she had her gun, tucked away in the bottom of her suitcase. The ammunition, shipped separately in her cosmetic case, would be close at hand.
The elevator doors slid open and Lacey shot to her room. First order of business included collecting the clothes she’d tossed about as she’d undressed and dressed for her blind date with what’s-his-name. In Virginia, she never allowed herself any of the messes she’d become famous for among her college roommates. What if one of her superiors stopped by? Or a fellow agent? She’d become neat as a necessity, but left to her own devices, she reverted to her old habits with hardly a delay. Like she had on the dance floor, and while trading flirty innuendos with Sam.
She had just enough time to brush her teeth and gargle some mouthwash when a knock sounded. She swiped on a slash of lipstick from a random tube on the counter, spritzed a light layer of perfume around her head and breasts, then dashed to the door. With a pause to calm her breathing, she peeked through the peephole and saw Sam standing there, looking anxious and handsome and hot.
When she opened the door, he whipped out a bouquet of coral roses. Her favorite.
How did he…
“Am I early?”
“You’re right on time.”
She took the roses, leaned in and laid them across the top of the safe hotel security had tucked inside the closet. The one that now contained her firearm. When she popped back, Sam remained in the hallway, looking as tasty as the finger foods they’d sampled at the restaurant.
“Any other gifts behind your back?” she asked, since he clearly had something else in his hand.
He withdrew a bottle of champagne, the exact brand they’d enjoyed with the oysters and shrimp. “For later,” he proposed.
Without a word, she placed the champagne beside the roses.
“Anything else?”
His eyes narrowed, his expression skeptical. “Are you expecting something else? I thought all you wanted was me? The gifts are just icing on the cake.”
“Cocky, aren’t you?”
He slung his hands into his pockets. “I’ve been called worse.”
She nodded. “I’m sure you have. But now, I have one last request before I invite you inside my room.”
He leaned his shoulder on the doorjamb, invitation dancing in those dark emerald eyes. “Name it and it’s yours.”
Feeling bolder and sassier than she had in years, Lacey intended to kick this night into overdrive using a touch of the skills she’d learned at the Bureau. In the spirit of good, semi-clean fun, of course.
She licked her lips, reached forward and balled a bunch of his shirt in her fist. “Simple, really, hot shot,” she said. “Put your hands on the wall and spread your legs. Wide.”