Chapter Thirteen

“Pia, Grand Nelson is holding on line one,” Dee said stepping into Pia’s office. She’d bypassed the usual intercom alert, knowing her boss was going to need a little friendly encouragement before picking up this call.

“Oh, shit. What if he says no? Then what?”

“Then you’ll find a way to convince him otherwise. Come on, chica, you can do this. You’ve been back from San Francisco three weeks. You’re a trained professional now. You’re the Jamie Bond of seduction—Double-Oh-Seven with a license to thrill…”

“Enough already,” Pia said, giving Darlene a Can-you-get-any-cornier? look.

“Okay, how about this: Let’s not forget that Grand Nelson has already seen you naked.”

“I was sunbathing. I had no idea he was around.”

“You were doing a lot more than sunbathing, chica.”

“I should never have told you. Anyway, a lot has changed,” Pia said, still blushing at the thought of Grand catching her literally with her pants down.

“Just remember all that phone flirting stuff you learned on the coast: You know, ‘Smile, because the other person can feel and hear the difference in your voice,’” Dee encouraged.

“What did you do, read the manual?”

“I may have glanced at it once or twice,” Dee admitted while nodding toward the phone.

Pia took a big You-can-do-this breath, plastered a huge smile on her face, and picked up the phone.

“Grand,” she said in a soft tone she hoped he would find enticing.

“Pia Jamison. This is a great surprise,” he said.

“I’m glad. It’s nice to hear your voice.”

“Yours too. You sound almost as good as when you were calling me Fin,” he teased, referring to the name she’d called him during their marathon phone sex encounter.

“The Aruba shoot. That was a million years ago,” Pia said, wincing as warm humiliation crept through her body.

“Maybe, but that call…hell, that whole weekend is still in the top ten of my life’s highlight reel,” he said.

Three years had gone by since the first time he’d laid eyes on Pia Jamison lying nude on the beach. She and their erotic time in the Caribbean was one fantastic fantasy he’d kept ready for instant replay over the years.

She looked over at Dee, who was shaking her head as she grabbed the Post-its and a pen from Pia’s desk and furiously began scribbling notes.

FLIRT BACK!

“I confess, I think about that weekend from time to time myself,” Pia replied.

“Is that why you’re calling?”

“I wanted to talk to you about doing some more directing for SunFire…”

PLEASURE, NOT BUSINESS, with the word pleasure underlined several times, was the content of Dee’s next note.

“…so I was wondering if we could get together and discuss the possibility of working together again. And to be perfectly honest, I’d like to see you,” Pia added, heeding Dee’s advice and adding some sauciness to her tone.

“I’d love to see you too. Like you said, it’s been a million years. When’s good for you?”

“When’s good for me?” Pia repeated. “How about…”

FEBRUARY 21–23, read the note Darlene slid across the table.

“Either February twenty-first, twenty-second, or twenty-third would work for me,” Pia replied, reading off the dates she would be ovulating.

“I am tied up all three days,” Grand said, “but I could do the evening of the twenty-second. Would that be cool? Your husband won’t mind?”

“No husband to mind, and the twenty-second is good,” Pia said, making a mental note to cancel her Birkam yoga class.

“Great. How about we meet at the bar of the Royalton Hotel? Eight o’clock?”

“Perfect,” Pia replied, giving Darlene the thumbs up and sending her across the desk to exchange a silent high-five. “Have a great weekend, and I’ll see you in two weeks.”

Pia hung up the phone and clapped her hands. The Grand plan was in motion. She was both elated and petrified. The prey was in her sights, but did she have the guts to pull the trigger?

There was something about Pia’s mission that made the unmarked door of the Royalton Hotel thoroughly appropriate. She entered and walked the long royal blue runway of a carpet, past the funky white chrome-legged chairs and sofas to the beat of the cranked-up techno lounge music, straight back to the bar and restaurant.

Pia perched on a stool at the far end of the bar to watch and wait. She’d purposely arrived fifteen minutes early to give herself time to settle down and prepare for the daunting task that was before her. Tonight felt like her last chance, and she didn’t want to mess it up as she’d done in previous attempts.

“May I get you something?” the bartender asked.

Rehearsing for the main event, Pia threw a WMS eye smile on him, pleased by his return grin. “I’m sorry, your name is?”

“Steve.”

“Steve,” Pia purred, smiling and tilting her head. “I’d love a Bellini. In fact, make that two.” She needed her courage fortified.

“My pleasure.”

She turned away from the bar, crossing her shapely legs. As she perused the room, Pia was pleased to note that she’d caught the attention of several males, some with dates, others there to pick up someone else’s. She was grateful for the appreciative stares and roving-eye appraisals. Pia smiled. If she could turn their heads, maybe there was hope for her with Grand.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks, Steve,” Pia said, lifting her glass and taking a sip. “Excellent,” she complimented before chugging down the first Bellini as if it were a shot of whiskey and starting on the second.

It boggled her mind that she was here in New York, waiting for the man who three years ago had been her mystery lover of sorts. Though they had never actually had sex, their stay in Aruba had been, bar none, one of the lustiest experiences in her life. Unbeknownst to her, Grand, there to direct the video, had happened upon her pleasuring herself on what she’d thought was an isolated stretch of private beach. Later that evening, he’d sent an anonymous note inviting her to be his fantasy lover. After a night of mind-blowing phone sex, they’d spent the remainder of the shoot in a sexual haze, enjoying both the pleasure and pain of a prolonged flirtation. But what went on in Aruba had stayed in Aruba, and after they returned to the States, the two lost touch. And now here she was, in full ovulation, waiting for this man to impregnate her without his knowledge.

Grand’s professional attributes began parading through her head—intelligence, decisiveness, grace under fire, ambition, success. Immediately following behind were his outstanding physical traits—his five-ten frame, Boris Kodjoe looks, skin the perfect shade of mocha fudge, great hands and feet, and that impossible-to-resist, make-my-day, thousand-megawatt smile. Without a doubt, he was one of the sexiest, most sensual men she’d ever encountered in her forty-one years. He would make a beautiful baby, inside and out.

Pia’s face broke out into a huge smile as Grand Nelson strolled through the door, drawing glances from all around. She sat unnoticed, checking him out as he looked around the bar. The boy still had it. Still lean, still bald and fine, and still strutting into the room like he owned it. It was impossible not to be both impressed and attracted.

The hostess motioned over to the bar and Grand approached, filling the room with his sunbeam grin. Pia, nerves settled by the champagne, returned his I know a secret beam with a welcoming smile of her own as she slipped off the bar stool and extended her right hand.

“Hey,” Grand said, probing with eyes that revealed his delight. “You are still as beautiful as you were when I peeped you on the beach in Aruba.”

“As are you,” Pia replied. It was all she could manage to spew from a mouth busy trying not to form kiss-me lips.

“Come here, you,” he insisted, taking Pia’s outstretched hand and drawing her into a warm embrace. She stood there, her head resting against his hard chest, breathing in his heady cologne while experiencing the explosive inner mix of nerves, desire, and alcohol.

“Would you like something to drink?” Pia asked once they’d disengaged.

“Absolutely.”

“Steve, could you bring my friend a vodka on the rocks with a twist? And I’ll have another Bellini.”

“You remembered,” Grand said, impressed by not only her memory but by her physical beauty. Pia was even more gorgeous than he’d recalled. She looked delicious in her simple and sophisticated black sheath dress and necklace with one pearl dangling from a long gold chain down her back. Her black pumps with the high-cut vamp and stiletto heel were the perfect showcase for her toned and shapely legs. Everything about her screamed sexy twist on classic beauty. And judging by the admiring looks of the males populating the hotel bar, including the besotted bartender, he wasn’t alone in his thinking.

“Mr. Nelson,” Pia said, gripping her champagne flute with her thumb and forefinger and suggestively moving her other fingers up and down the stem, “there are a lot of things I remember about you.”

“Glad to hear that,” he said after gently clearing his throat. “I would hate to think I was reliving all those fantasies by myself.”

“Fantasy lovers can be quite stimulating, don’t you agree?” Pia asked, reciting a line from the note he’d sent her in Aruba. At the same time, she crossed her legs, and held Grand’s gaze while taking a long sip of her drink. As predicted, her action caused a flash of teeth across his face.

Grand stood in front of her at the bar and the two proceeded to catch up on each other’s lives. They talked about their respective jobs and travels, laughing and commiserating together about the realities of their so-called glamorous careers. In between, she sought the answers to questions that were vital to her mission tonight.

Are you married or in a seriously committed relationship? No. Apparently Grand Nelson and George Clooney had two things in common: a vow to remain forever single and a great love for the lake country in Italy. Finding out about the state of his health was a trickier proposition, and Pia drew that out in roundabout ways. As best she could tell, Grand exercised regularly, ate well, and was in general good health.

Pia continued the WMS SELL: smiling, making eye contact, listening closely, laughing, and lightly touching his arm when appropriate. Her actions had the desired effect, sparking and holding Grand’s attention and piquing his curiosity. The sexual tension that existed between them in Aruba was still very evident, and with each passing minute and certainly every consumed beverage it became more and more prominent, eventually crowding out any semblance of a platonic evening.

“Why don’t we go over to the round bar? It’s a bit more private,” Pia suggested, referring to a small, secluded bar area tucked in a quiet corner of the lobby. Grand helped Pia off her stool and followed her back down the blue runner to a sexy circular room, flickering with candlelight and, as luck would have it, still undiscovered by tonight’s crowd.

Pia sat on the built-in leather banquette while Grand sat across from her on a leather cube. She leaned her head against the curved tufted-leather wall, flirting with Grand in silence. As she’d learned from Joey, she talked to him through her eyes and facial expressions, making it clear that she found him just as attractive today as she had three years ago and that if he was willing she wanted to finally end the celibate state she’d existed in all these years.

Grand moved from his cube and joined Pia on the bench. “Nice necklace,” he said, fingering the pearls around her neck and leaning in for closer inspection.

“Thank you for noticing.”

“Have you eaten dinner?” he asked.

“No, and come to think of it, I’m starving. No. Make that ravenous,” she said before biting her lower lip, something she tended to do when she was feeling deliciously off-balance. The champagne cocktails were doing their job, lowering her inhibitions and fueling her bravado.

“I’ll have them bring over the bar menu,” he said, raising his hand to signal the waitress.

“Wait. I have a better idea,” Pia said, reaching for his hand and lowering it into his lap. She gazed deep into Grand’s sweet brown eyes, making it clear that food was actually nowhere on her mind. “Room service.”

For the first time all evening, Pia saw some of Grand’s studly cool melt. A flash of disbelief and uncertainty crossed his face. It didn’t last long, but it was enough to leave Pia feeling uncharacteristically bold.

Close enough to see the gold glint in his brown eyes, Pia reached up and caressed his lips with her fingertips. “Do you know how many times I’ve fantasized about your lips?” she asked him. “All that talk in Aruba and I can’t believe we never kissed.”

“Well, it’s not too late,” Grand declared, allowing her finger to penetrate his mouth.

They both closed their eyes as he began to suck seductively. Pia tipped her head back, enjoying the rush of sexual currents spreading to every nerve ending in her body.

Pia felt drunk by both alcohol and desire. She replaced her finger with her lips and pressed her body closer to his. Grand’s kiss became more urgent as his lips hungrily brushed her eyes, nose, ears, and neck before meeting hers. He passionately acquainted his tongue with the sweet recesses of her mouth. He ran his hands down her bare legs, momentarily stopping to tickle the sensitive area behind her knee.

“Do you know how many times I have fantasized about making love to you since Aruba?” he asked. “If your actions are half as convincing as your words, I might not be able to handle it.”

Pia pulled away to look at Grand’s eyes. Judging by their soft, dewy state, she was close to accomplishing the first half of her mission—getting him into bed. That realization spun her into a major good news, bad news scenario. The good news was that she really wanted to get him there. Beyond getting pregnant, the passion she had kept bottled up inside her for these past few years was about to blow, and her physical attraction to Grand was very real. The bad news was, she was having major second thoughts about not letting him in on her plans. Was it really fair?

“Well, it’s not too late to find out,” she said, echoing his sentiments and setting her future in motion.

“If you’re serious, I can get a room,” he told her.

Pia leaned in to deliver a deep, passionate kiss. And in case he had any doubt, she ran her hand across his thigh, bringing it to rest on the bulge in his pants.

“You are serious.”

“A little bit,” she said, smiling enticingly.

“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait,” she called out, stopping Grand’s departure. He turned to look at Pia, his eyes pleading with her not to change her mind.

“It’s just…well…bringing this up is such a mood killer, but…well, the whole safe sex thing,” Pia said in an embarrassing jumble of words.

“Don’t worry—I’ve had my shots and have a clean test record,” Grand assured her.

“In that case, why are you still standing there?”

While she waited, Pia scanned her body, getting in touch with sensations she hadn’t fully experienced in years. Yearning that came from lack rather than the thrill that came from a desirable partner was a monster of a totally different DNA. Tonight Pia’s body was reminding her that there was no substitute for true passion.

Grand returned with key in hand and sweet expectation on his face. “Room fourteen-eleven awaits.”

“Let me have that,” Pia said, reaching for the key card. “You have another drink and then meet me upstairs in fifteen minutes.” She leaned in and gave him a to-be-continued kiss before heading toward the elevator.

Once out of Grand’s view, Pia set off like the wildwoman she was channeling to prepare for the games to come. Pia stepped into the elevator, willing it not to stop until it reached the fourteenth floor. Breathless after racing down the hallway, she threw open the door and began the task of readying not just the atmosphere but her attitude.

First, she threw the Royalton Hotel mix CD into the stereo. It was an eclectic collection of songs ranging from sexy Brazilian beats to smoky jazz and neo soul, perfect for a sensual evening of uncommitted lovemaking.

This was followed by a quick washup and gargle, and a spritz of her exotic signature scent. She took off her dress, leaving on her panties and bra, and pulled on the white terry robe hanging behind the bathroom door. Pia then turned off all the lights except the desk lamp. She dimmed it to its lowest setting and supplemented its glow by opening the drapes to reveal the twinkle of city lights. On such short notice, she had made the room look and smell beautiful.

Finally she sat down on the bed to catch her breath. Not a good move, as just a few seconds of inactivity was time enough to begin the second-guessing. After five years of membership in the Celibate Sistah Brigade, this is what it had come down to: sex with a familiar stranger whose earlier sexual experience with her had been all talk and no action. The mere thought sobered her. Pia was ready and willing, but was she still able?

What the hell am I thinking? Do you even remember what to do with a dick that isn’t hot pink plastic and doesn’t buzz?