“It’s very gracious of him.”

  Libby winked at me, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “He can afford it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Wealth is a physical trait in some people, like hair color or limp knees. He wears his wealth well, like some men wear ties. Or were you too busy eyeing his biceps to notice?”

  “Very funny.”

  “So are you going to thank him personally?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

  I gently slapped her arm. “Stop it. I told you, he’s too young.”

  “Jesus, Jules, when did you get so boring? You’re not in the grave.”

  She stood up then and proclaimed a toast to the table. “To my best friend, Julie. The only person I know that’s not only read, but claims to understand James Joyce. The kind of girl that can tackle Faulkner for breakfast and enjoy Kid Rock at lunch. You are an inspiration to us all.”

  I held up my glass, clinking it with everyone else’s. Thankfully, Libby was being discreet about my run-in with Mr Gorgeous. Everyone was having side conversations so Libby and I had privacy to speak openly.

  “I’m not boring. I’m just smart enough not to read anything into it. He was being nice.”

  “Being nice would be asking if you were all right. It’s more than that when he’s staring at you like you’re the last bagel in Manhattan.” Libby should write a book called Libbyisms—she had a million sayings no one else was likely to get. She leaned in, lowering her voice, “Don’t let his betrayal impact your self-esteem.”

  My jaw dropped. “How can it not? What’s worse than your husband trading you in on your fortieth birthday for a twenty-year-old?”

  Libby smiled crookedly. “He could have traded in for two twenty-year-olds and gotten even change for his money.”

  I almost spat out my wine as a result of my completely unladylike laugh. Libby could always lift my spirits.

  Then the birthday cake came and all I could do was scowl. It looked like a floating, blazing inferno with all the colorful glowing wax sticks perched on it. I counted quickly. Forty fucking candles… Was she crazy?

  “I hope you got the fire marshal’s approval for this,” I said. I noticed that even the waiter was holding it nervously away from his body before he set it down with apparent trepidation in front of me. I felt the heat on my face like I was in front of a roaring fire, but there was nothing cozy about his cake.

  “I thought it would be fun,” Libby said, clapping her hands.

  I shook my head. I blew out the candles, hoping I had enough breath in my lungs for this exercise in embarrassment. I didn’t. They all flickered, went out then came back on.

  Libby giggled with a child-like glee. “Trick candles.”

  I shot her a venomous glare. “You know I’m forty-three and not three, right?”

  “Sorry, it might have been too much,” she said, looking contrite.

  I couldn’t stay mad at her. She had spent too many nights pulling me out of dark places. A person has to be willing to go to hell to save someone from it, and Libby had done that for me.

  “Help me out before we burn the place down,” I said, putting my arm around her. We managed to blow out all the candles after three attempts.

  A heavy, festively wrapped box was thrust upon my lap. I looked up to see Jeff standing there, running his hands through his thinning hair, covering the beginnings of a steep widow’s peak. “I was in charge of buying the present. I hope you like it.”

  I smiled. “You guys shouldn’t have gotten me anything.” The dinner was extravagant enough and the last thing I wanted was a present.

  “We didn’t. That’s from Jeff,” Libby said.

  “Thank you.” I was both surprised by and uncomfortable with the gesture. I carefully tore through the wrapping paper, ripping at the corners.

  Libby leaned in, whispering in my ear, “I bet you wish you were unwrapping Mr Tall, Dark and Sexy back there.”

  I giggled, shaking my head and tore off more of the paper. As soon as I read the flourishing script on the box, I decided to refrain from opening the whole thing.

  “It’s very nice. Thank you so much, Jeff,” I said, hoping it sounded sincere.

  Libby peered over my shoulder to get a better look. “I don’t even know what it is.”

  “It’s a doughnut maker,” Jeff responded with pride. “I know how much she loves doughnuts and now she can make her very own.”

  I wondered for a moment why he thought that before I remembered. We’d discussed our favorite pastries for some reason during a lull in his complaints about his family. I realized he’d purchased this with sincerity, and possibly as a way to create the pretense of a deeper relationship than existed. In an odd way, it was touching.

  “You bought her a doughnut maker? She doesn’t even know how to bake cookies for God’s sake.” Libby’s voice rang out, halting all side conversations at our table.

  Jeff turned beet red, making the wide expanse of his forehead more noticeable.

  I shot Libby an admonishing glance. “It’s a very nice present, and I’ll treasure it. I’ll learn how to use it and make you all doughnuts.”

  Libby tapped her long nails against the table. “Yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it. I hope you kept the receipt Jeff.”

  “I did—”

  I held up my hand, “Absolutely not, I love it. Thank you, Jeff.”

  Everyone dispersed as soon as cake was over, except Libby and Jeff, who lingered behind. Jeff took up Libby’s vacant seat when she went to use the facilities.

  “Julie, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I really messed up and I would really like another date with you.”

  I didn’t really want to, but I found it difficult to reject him. Libby said I was a people-pleaser, and I couldn’t make an exception even on my own birthday. “Sure, give me a call.”

  As we walked out of the restaurant, I spotted Victor Ivanov, sitting at the bar, sipping a gold-colored drink in a short glass.

  “I need to thank him,” I said to Libby.

  “Make sure you thank him a lot. Let me know if you need help thanking him,” Libby said. Thankfully, Jeff was out of earshot.

  “I’ll wait for you,” Jeff offered. Wow, he had good ears, judging from the scowl that he was giving Victor.

  Victor turned in our direction then, as if he could feel our gazes on him. His tie hung loose and his jacket was off, making him look even younger. His black hair was slightly disheveled, and fell almost artfully across his forehead. I didn’t think it was possible, but he actually looked hotter than he had when I’d fallen into him. I found myself breathing hard, unable to form coherent words. He gave me an amused nod, holding his drink up in a toast.

  “Come on, Jeff. She’s a grown woman.” Libby grabbed Jeff’s arm. “You’ll call me if you need me,” she added, giving me a warning look.

  “I’m just thanking him,” I replied, a little perturbed she’d think my intentions were deeper.

  The fact was they were, but I didn’t like being called out on it. I hadn’t thought of much else but our small exchange all through dinner. I had spent the whole time coming up with the most charming words to communicate my gratitude. Okay, I was really debating with myself. For the first time in my life, I was contemplating a one-night stand.

  “Of course you are, dear. I’ll take this to your apartment.”

  Libby relieved me of the awkward birthday present. I’d moved into her building after the divorce, so she lived just downstairs from me. When I turned to deflect her comment, she was practically ushering Jeff out of the restaurant. I smiled, watching them speak with animated hand gestures, until he finally acquiesced and took her arm.

  I walked over to the bar, trying my best for a sexy saunter, but I knew I was too jittery to achieve any such goal. My legs were shaking like I’d stepped onto an electrified floor. It didn’t help that he watched me the whole way, biting his lip.

  “Thank you for the wine. It was delicious,” I said when I finally approached him.

  “Only the finest things should ever touch your lips, Julianne.”

  I swallowed, wondering why I’d thought this was a good idea. “You can call me Julie. That’s what everyone else calls me.”

  He shook his head. “I have no desire to be like everyone else, especially when it concerns you.”

  “Do you always come on so strong?”

  He pulled out the empty barstool next to him and gestured for me to sit. As soon as I perched myself on it, he pulled it closer to him with his foot, so we were only inches apart. I couldn’t believe how swift his movements were. His legs had to be very muscular to glide the stool over with my weight on it. He leaned closer to me, dropping his voice to a husky whisper, “I know what I want and I don’t like to waste time. The only question is, what do you want?”

  This was getting too dangerous. Talking to him was like stepping into quicksand—and I knew my feet were in danger of sinking deeper with every phrase he uttered.

  “I just wanted to thank you. I need to be on my way.” I was losing my nerve. He was far too charming and salacious for the likes of me.

  He clasped my hand. “Have a celebratory drink with me, at least.”

  “What are we celebrating?” I asked, staring at my trembling hands.

  He laughed. “Your birthday, of course. I would rather celebrate with a traditional birthday spanking, but this will do…for now.” The last two words were stretched out and followed by a delicious grin.

  I swallowed, trying not to grimace.

  He tilted my chin so I was staring at him. “Why aren’t you happy it’s your birthday, Julianne?” Sexy, strong, and perceptive…damn.

  “Did you see my cake? It had forty candles on it!”

  He smirked. “Sweetheart, I think everyone within a twenty-mile radius could see it. I’m sure the kitchen had fire extinguishers on standby.”

  “Very funny. Birthdays are not as special when you reach a certain age.”

  “It’s just a number, and you don’t look forty.”

  “That’s because I’m forty-three. My friend, Libby, was trying to be somewhat merciful and stopped at forty candles.”

  He motioned to the bartender and ordered a glass of wine I was pretty sure cost more than my outfit. “You make forty-three look incredible.”

  I wondered how he was so quick with every line, as if he had a script for our evening—one that no one had bothered to give me. He was as smooth as the wine he ordered for me.

  “Even if you are not, I am happy to celebrate any day when such loveliness came into the world.”

  “That’s sweet, Casanova, but how old are you?” If I was a betting woman, I would have said mid-twenties, but surely no man that age could afford a tailored Armani suit and an outrageously expensive bottle of Chablis.

  “I’m twenty-eight. Now can we stop talking about numbers? Math was never my strong suit.”

  I took a sip of the glass of heaven he’d ordered, savoring the nuances of earth and fruit. “This has a very delicate flavor.”

  “Much like yourself, I imagine.”

  Damn…did he have an answer for everything?

  “I believe in speaking my mind, but I assure you my goal in not to make you uncomfortable.”

  “What is your goal?”

  “To make you come.”

  “Come where?”

  He laughed in low, husky voice that made me quiver. “It was a complete sentence.”

  I bit my lower lip, willing my heart to stop its crazy double beat. “You’re very cocky.”

  He reached for my hand in a gentle, but firm hold. “Why don’t you come and find out…not in that order, of course.”

  I almost choked the wine, which was far too expensive to waste. “I think I should go.”

  “What are your reservations? Is it the man who was making puppy dog eyes at you just now?”

  It surprised me that he was observant enough to have noticed Jeff. “He’s just a friend.”

  He sighed, narrowing his eyes and tightening his jaw. “It’s apparent he wants more with you. Do you not see that?”

  “Why do you care?”

  He paused for a moment, sipping his drink. The golden liquid left a sheen on his lips and I had an urgent desire to lick it off.

  “I’m having trouble articulating my emotions. It’s a new feeling for me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I suppose it’s a combination of jealousy and sympathy.”

  “Sympathy?” I was equally as surprised by the jealousy, but I decided to keep that one to myself.

  “I don’t want him to have you, but I feel sorry for him. You see, I know how the poor fellow feels, but I have no interest in sharing you.” His openness stunned me. I wasn’t expecting him to be so candid, but then again everything he did was a surprise.

  “Do you usually do this?”

  His eyes were so bright they appeared to be twinkling, and his smile was boyish, reminding me of his age.

  “Do what? Enjoy a conversation with a beautiful woman?”

  “Choose a woman out of the blue to sleep with?”

  “No, I don’t. I doubt you’ll believe me, but I don’t lie. Life doesn’t always give you the best circumstances. When you see something you want, you should seize it. You fell into my arms and since that moment, all I’ve been thinking about is how well we would fit. Maybe it’s not traditional, but I’ve never been much for convention.”

  “It was an accident.”

  “I don’t believe in accidents. Either way, it was the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.” He finished his drink and gestured for another. The bartender was quick to provide a fresh glass. He put his hand on my knee, rubbing it with his palm. “Julianne Brenan, I’m mesmerized by you. I think that surprises you, but I’m not sure why. You’re sexy, intelligent and interesting.”

  It was funny, I could have used the same adjectives to describe him.

  “I want you in my bed tonight so I can explore every inch of you and taste your delicate flavor. If you’re not interested, I completely understand, although I think you’d only be lying to yourself.” The huskiness of his voice combined with that British accent was doing some crazy things to my body.

  “Why is that? Because your offer is so tempting?” The question came out with more sarcasm than I’d meant.

  “You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t tempted.”

  Damn, he was right.

  He stood, taking out a keycard then sliding it over to me. “I’m in the penthouse suite. You’ll need this to access the floor on the elevator. I’m not going to try to talk you into this anymore. It’s your decision.” He leaned in closer to me, whispering in my ear, “I want to fall into you, Julianne.” He pressed his lips against my jaw, causing an instant flush of heat to radiate through my body, followed by dampness between my legs.

  He turned to the bartender. “Jenny, please put all the lady’s drinks on my tab.”

  I watched him walk away with the saunter of a confident man. I had read novels about men like him. Hell, I was an active member of book clubs that sought out such tales. He belonged to that special breed of men who enjoyed their partner’s pleasure as much as their own. The kind of man who was sexually skilled in the subtleties of a woman’s body. Just the kind of man I wanted to fall into.

  Chapter Two

  I stood in front of his hotel room twenty minutes later feeling the artificial bravery two more glasses of wine were able to produce. I was still questioning the wisdom of my decision. He could be a murderer and chop me into little pieces. Then again, would a murderer have the penthouse suite in the most extravagant hotel in New York? Besides, I had pepper spray in my purse, and I’d taken self-defense lessons. Granted, it was three years ago, but I still remembered some things. I knew I was just trying to talk myself out of this, though. Sex created emotional complications. Then again, he was a businessman in town for a short while. I’d never see him again, and when I was alone in my bedroom on cold nights, I could hold onto this memory. I needed a good one to sustain me. It had been so long. I knocked on the door with hesitation, and he opened it before I was finished, causing me to hit his hard, naked chest.

  He was wearing nothing but black boxer briefs. His body was long, lean and sculpted. It took my breath away.

  “I’m glad you came.”

  I took a deep breath, willing every ounce of confidence I possessed to emerge. Luckily, the wine had helped. “I haven’t yet, but you promised to remedy that.”

  His laughter rumbled deeply as he stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter. “I love that you can make me laugh, Julianne.”

  I walked past him, trying desperately not to leer at his tall, muscular frame and the sexy tribal tattoo that graced his right shoulder, curling over his biceps. It was simple—black swirling waves, or possibly flames. I knew if I looked too closely, I’d want to examine each line and taste the pattern with my tongue.

  I moved my gaze around the dimly lit, luxurious suite instead, doing my best not to drool. It was larger than my apartment and had a massive balcony overlooking Broadway. The floors were a rich, dark wood, interspersed with soft oriental rugs. The comforting pale-green walls were broken up by impressive modern paintings and crystal chandeliers that joined old-world charm with modern design. The combination of eclectic, designer chic was comfortable but regal, too.

  I didn’t have time to take it all in, though, because Victor’s hands were everywhere, like a sculpture assessing a raw lump of clay. He pulled me against his chest, running soft, demanding kisses down my neck as he rubbed every peak and valley I had. He brushed his fingers under my dress, skimming my thighs, leaving me wanting more. Victor released my hair from its clip and it fell down my back and across my shoulders. He threaded his hands through it, gently at first then he clutched it and pulled it in a way that was hard enough to be slightly painful, but seductive at the same time. I leaned my head back, and he suckled my earlobe against those soft lips.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispered each word slowly so that the heat of his breath felt like warm waves of pleasure crashing through me.

 

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