Corporate Seduction Page 19

  “As I type my response I think of how badly I want to see him again. I need not only to hear his voice in person but to look into his warm eyes, to rub my hands over his beard, then brush my lips softly over his. I want him to open his mouth, as he always does when I do this, and let me give him just the tip of my tongue.”

  “Just the tip?” Khalil asks in a tortured voice.

  She smiled. “We both like to lead, so if I start off giving him a little bit, he responds by taking it all. In no time we’re kissing, making love with our mouths, feeling every reachable part of each other through our clothes.”

  His hand on the taut muscles of his abdomen, Khalil groaned. “Clothes are such bothersome things, aren’t they?”

  “Tell me about it,” Reka agreed, her nightgown already beginning to stick to her flushed body. “I wonder what he’s thinking while we kiss. I know that I’m feeling more aroused by the minute. The way his tongue strokes mine is heavenly and all I can think about is how I don’t want him to stop.”

  “I love her lips, of that there is no doubt, especially the bottom one. Sometimes when she’s just talking she runs her tongue over it and I have to catch my breath. And she has this pretty little beauty mark just at the corner of her mouth that turns me on too. There are so many things about her that arouse me I can’t begin to name them all.” He could but he was afraid that he was dangerously close to making a mess on his silk sheets.

  “The funny thing about arousal is that once it begins you’re almost forced to do something about it.” Her nipples puckered beneath her nightgown, and her knees clamped together like a virgin’s in the boys’ locker room.

  Unable to resist another minute, Khalil slipped his hands beneath his sheet, beneath the band of his underwear, sighing as he stroked his lengthened manhood. “You know, they don’t live that far apart.”

  Biting on her bottom lip until she was sure she’d taste blood at any minute, Reka sighed. “That’s convenient, don’t you think?”

  “He could be in her bed, inside of her in less than fifteen minutes.” A man could always hope.

  For a split second Reka wanted to say that the clock was ticking, but then she remembered her houseguest and moaned. “Ever heard of the houseguest from hell?”

  Khalil chuckled. “He’d give her twenty minutes if she promised to leave right this minute.”

  She’d already thrown the covers off and was rolling out of the bed as he spoke. “She’ll be there in eighteen if he’s at the door hard and waiting.”

  “Eighteen and counting,” he whispered.

  She quickly hung up the phone.

  15

  Reka had never been inside the acclaimed Waldorf Astoria, unless she counted the scenes from Coming To America when Akeem’s father came over from Zomunda. But one would never have guessed it from the way she contained her excitement as Khalil, dressed in Armani’s best looking black tuxedo, escorted her through the rotunda and into the Starlight Room where Sensuality, Inc.’s launch party had just gotten under way.

  Khalil held her hand when he really wanted nothing more than to put her back on that elevator and get her back to his apartment, back to his bed as quickly as possible. This morning had been mind-blowing. She’d showed up at his door in seventeen minutes, clad in her black trench coat and nothing else. For his part, he’d been waiting at the door, looking through the peephole in anticipation of her arrival, hard and waiting as she’d requested.

  It was well after noon when he finally walked her home and deposited her on her doorstep without daring to walk her inside. Had he done that, they would have never made it to this eight o’clock party on time. He and Grammy had an understanding, so he doubted very seriously that she’d have any problems with him entering Reka’s bedroom.

  The room buzzed with executives and their wives, along with an ample supply of press vultures. Khalil used this moment to scan the room. When he’d returned to his apartment alone, it was to emails in response to numerous background checks he’d ordered on Sensuality, Inc. employees. He was positive that the infamous Jack either worked for Page & Associates or Sensuality, Inc. That narrowed the field down some, but not much. Tonight he was specifically looking for any familiar face from the evening he and Reka had spent at that club. That was the evening Jack had seen her, the evening about which he’d decided to email her personally.

  “I see you two finally made it.” Keith and Cienna approached them after they’d been there for about fifteen minutes.

  Reka looked at Cienna, nodding her head in approval. “I told you red was your color. You look chic and festive.”

  Cienna smiled, modeling her backless red creation that she’d been hesitant about wearing. Since she was the head of a prestigious law firm now, and the wife of a circuit court judge, she had an image to maintain. But in her husband’s words, she also had a man to please, and from the way his hands continuously roamed over her bare back and arms, he was definitely pleased. “I decided to throw caution to the wind.” She smiled at Reka. “And that dress is fabulous. Tacoma picked it out, didn’t he?”

  Looking down at the gold sheath gracing her own limbs, Reka smiled. “You know it. I swear, I don’t know where he got his eye for fashion but he’s always on the money.”

  Khalil looked her up and down again, appreciating the garment in all its glory. “I’m going to have to give him his due this time. He made an excellent choice.”

  Keith sipped from his glass of champagne, smiling at his friend over its rim. “Be careful about giving Tacoma his due. It’ll go to his head.”

  As if he’d heard his name being spoken, Tacoma and Terry appeared, both dressed in matching cream-colored tuxedos with peach vests. “Good evening. I see we all showed up prepared to dine and dazzle,” Tacoma said in his sing-song voice.

  Reka shook her head. Never had she seen two people more suited for each other. The two, Tacoma with his honey brown complexion, close-cut hair and clean shaven face next to Terry with his cappuccino skin, bald head and infectious smile, looked good tonight. They were happy and ready to commit to spending the rest of their lives together. Suddenly she envied them. “Peaches and cream,” Reka cooed. “I like. I like a lot.” Nodding in approval, she let Terry take her hands as she leaned over to kiss his cheek.

  “You look wonderful as always, Reka.” Ending the embrace, Terry reached for Khalil’s hand. “Glad to see you’re still around, man.”

  Khalil accepted the shake and offered a smile in Terry’s direction. “Yeah, for the long haul, I hope.”

  Reka didn’t miss his words, even though she was now hugging Tacoma, who whispered in her ear, “You two are practically glowing.”

  “Shut up,” she shushed him before pulling away.

  “So where’s the Page & Associates table?” Tacoma asked Cienna.

  “We’re up there, right across from Peterson and his family table.” With a nod she directed their attention towards the front of the room.

  “Oh goodness, please tell me Mrs. Peterson isn’t going to make an appearance,” Reka groaned.

  “With that stock her attorney all but demanded, she’ll be here all right, with bells on. But the settlement is almost done so, that’s one less headache. I guess we should get up there.”

  Keith took his wife’s arm, leading her towards the table. Khalil and Reka followed behind them, with Tacoma and Terry pulling up the rear. They were the only ones from the office invited to the party. They were all at the table just about to take their seats when the first round of models came out.

  It was hard to believe it was twenty-seven degrees outside. The models were not only built like brick houses but they walked with attitude, tossing their hair and flaunting their stuff with such blatant sexuality that Reka felt as if she were at a strip show. Cienna must have been thinking the same thing she was because she turned to look at her with a look of pure disgust on her face. Reka shrugged. “He sells lingerie. What could we expect?”

  Stepping between Keith and one o
f the models who was vivaciously flaunting her leopard-striped thong and bra set a few inches from him, Cienna struck a pose of her own. “I expected some class,” she said while giving the model a deadly glare. Ever the man, Keith followed the woman with his eyes as she walked away until Cienna’s elbow to his ribs had him grinning and taking his seat.

  Reka looked over at Khalil, who had suspiciously just turned towards her as well. “Hmph, it’s a pitiful shame men are so predictable. Say what you want about his tactics,” she said while taking her seat, “but Peterson knows how to make his money.”

  Tacoma, who was already seated, rolled his eyes. “Please, this trash doesn’t know the first thing about modeling. They’ve got some nice pieces but could have put them on mannequins for all the talent running around in here.”

  Terry took a glass of champagne from the waiter’s passing tray, then took his seat. “It’s just a show, try not to get so caught up in it.”

  Reka glanced at him. He hadn’t looked at any of the women twice. And he probably only looked at them at all to see if their shoes matched their ensemble. Tacoma was openly surveying and critiquing them while Terry was conservative and reserved. Khalil and Keith were quiet, which meant they were enjoying it. Reka simply shook her head. This was going to be a long night.

  * * *

  An hour and a half into the evening, after the dinner and all the talking were done, it was time to get a drink and party. And the gang from Page & Associates did just that until Cienna and Reka begged for a breather and went back to the table, sending their men to get them drinks while Tacoma and Terry danced the night away.

  “You and Khalil look good together,” Cienna commented when they were alone.

  “That’s because we’re all dressed up,” she quipped.

  Cienna waved a hand. “No, you look good together beyond your clothes. He really cares about you, you can see it in the way he looks at you.”

  Reka toyed with a napkin. “Does it look like love to you?”

  Cienna was startled for a moment. Reka had told her about the majority of her relationships in the seven years that she’d known her, but never once did she recall hearing her question a man’s feelings. “Do you think he’s in love with you?”

  Sitting back in the chair Reka looked around the room, avoiding Cienna’s piercing gaze but feeling it on her just the same. “He says he is.”

  “Oh really? And what did you say when he told you that?”

  Twisting her lips, Reka debated her answer, then figured if she couldn’t share her reservations with one of her best friends she’d share them with the other. “I told him I loved him.” She chanced a look at Cienna then and was amazed to see her smiling. “What?”

  “I think you really are in love with him.” Cienna continued to smile. She was happy for Reka, happy that she’d found a piece of what had sustained Cienna for the last four years. “That’s why you two look so good together.”

  “But do you think it’s for real?”

  “Why do you think it’s not?”

  “Do you ever just answer a question, Cienna? We’re not in a courtroom and I’m not your client. I just want to know what you really think.”

  Cienna sighed. “Okay, okay. I definitely think he cares a great deal about you and I can see that you care about him. But that’s not what you want to hear, is it?” Reka was silent. “You want me to tell you if it’s going to last. If you can start planning a wedding, like Tacoma.”

  Reka shook her head negatively. “No. I just don’t want to get my hopes up.”

  Reaching across the table, Cienna took her friend’s hand. “I know you’ve had some tough hands dealt to you in the past, and I know it’s hard for you to trust in something that’s so new to you, but that’s exactly what you have to do. You have to believe in the love that you and Khalil share. If you don’t, then it’s destined to fail.”

  Sighing heavily, Reka sought him out in the crowd. He was at the bar with Keith. They were talking seriously about something and she simply stared at him. At his strong build, his bearded face, his stature among all these important men. He was hers, all hers, and she couldn’t believe it.

  “I don’t want it to fail,” she said quietly.

  Cienna continued to smile. “Then don’t let it. Don’t let anything come between you and what you want. If it’s Khalil, and I believe it is, then you do what you do best. Stand your ground and make it happen.”

  Reka would have had a smart retort for that except that she was moved by the unwavering support Cienna always seemed to give to her and for the first time really, truly gave thanks for having her as a friend. “You know me too well,” she said instead.

  * * *

  “Looks like you went against my advice,” Keith said while they waited for the drinks.

  Khalil had hoped to avoid this conversation, but now that Keith had brought it up he was kind of relieved. “I don’t suspect her of sending the emails.”

  “What about someone she knows? Did you rule that out beforehand?”

  He hadn’t, and there was no use lying. “No. I didn’t.”

  Keith sighed. “So what if it is an ex? What are you going to do then?”

  “An ex is not Reka, so it doesn’t matter. Besides, I think it’s someone who works for either you or Peterson.”

  “Yeah? What gives you that impression?”

  “They’re close to both companies. They have to be, else why even waste time harassing the employees there. In the last month Sensuality, Inc., has had just as many of Jack’s messages as Page & Associates. But the emails aren’t going anywhere else. Jack’s a perv, right? So why not join the porn sites or those little chat groups they have? Why impose yourself on the employees of a law firm and a lingerie company? He has to have a connection to one or both of them.”

  “Okay. I can go along with that.” Keith sipped his drink. “But I won’t go along with you hurting Reka.”

  He was getting kind of tired of Keith’s assumption that he would hurt Reka. He wasn’t a womanizer, and he didn’t have a track record of hurting women across the state of New York, so he was having a hard time understanding why Keith was being this way with him. “Do I have a sign on my forehead that says I’m dangerous?”

  “Don’t try to be funny, man, you’re not good at it. All I’m saying is she’s been through a lot and—”

  Khalil held up a hand. “And I’ve heard this all before. I know she’s been through a lot. I know that she’s never had a really good relationship. All the more reason for me to want to give her one, don’t you think?”

  Keith eyed his friend. He looked serious, and Khalil wasn’t the type of guy to purposely go around hurting women. But with Reka one never knew what to expect. “You think you can give her that? She’s different from the women you’re used to.”

  “Yeah, that’s what makes me want to try harder.” Turning his back to the bar, he looked toward the table to find her.

  “What do the senior Franklins have to say about her? Cienna said she spent Thanksgiving with you.”

  Khalil chuckled. “That was something. Sonya showed up.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “Nope.”

  “Tell me Reka didn’t hit Sonya? Tell me I wasn’t at Cienna’s parents enjoying the game when I could have been in Greenwich enjoying one hell of a chick fight.”

  Laughing, Khalil slipped a hand in his pocket, his eyes still roaming the room for Reka. “Nah, man. Reka was cool. A little too cool, actually. She had me scared for a minute there when she wanted to talk to Sonya alone. I thought for sure somebody was going to need an ambulance.”

  “That’s my Reka,” Keith laughed.

  Sobering when he finally spotted her, Khalil forgot all about Thanksgiving. “No. She’s my Reka now.”

  * * *

  Cienna had prodded Reka into dancing with Barkley. She knew how much Reka detested him, yet she’d made her case by referring to the upcoming Christmas bonus. Never one to turn away from mon
ey, Reka pasted a smile on her face and let Barkley Peterson lead her onto the dance floor. The music was up tempo, the best that the six piece band could do, yet Barkley insisted on rubbing his body against hers as if it were a slow song.

  She’d backed away from him on two occasions, putting her palms on his chest so that he would keep his distance. But the moment she’d turned her back, because she was tired of his leering glances, he’d grabbed her at the waist and started grinding against her like a dog in heat. She was no stranger to this type of behavior, having experienced it in the clubs on numerous occasions. Generally, if she liked the guy she’d keep the dancing going. In the event she wasn’t particularly feeling him, she’d waste no time breaking the contact and explaining her reasons why.

  But this was the son of a big client. This was the launch party for that client’s biggest line. This was a formal event at the Waldorf Astoria. Bottom line, this wasn’t the place to act ugly. So she continued with Barkley’s rhythm until she managed to turn herself back around and slip out of his clutches. Each time he made another attempt to dance up on her after that, she carefully maneuvered herself out of his reach until the song was over.

  At the end of the dance, she didn’t wait for him to say anything. Instead, she turned and made her way off the dance floor. Barkley was right on her heels.

  “I wasn’t finished dancing,” he said, grabbing her by the arm.

  She turned to him with a polite smile. “The song was finished.”

  Pulling her close to him, he glared down on her. “We can make our own music.”

  Reka pushed against him. “No. We can’t.” Flashbacks of pushing Donovan out of her face yesterday surfaced and she wondered what it was about the male population and their refusal to accept the word ‘no.’

  “Don’t be a tease. You liked it a few minutes ago,” Barkley insisted.

  She’d had enough. Client or no client, job or no job, she was tired of him. She wrenched her arm free of his grasp and took a step back. “For your information, I didn’t like it. I was being polite.”