Tara Me - Seduced by Fire

But no sooner had that thought passed through her mind than she wondered what it would be like to submit to Daniel. Would he be gentle in bed or was he into taking what he wanted hard and fast?

“You’re sighing,” Sasha said. “What’s on your mind?”

Had she sighed out loud? She didn’t even realize it. “Just thinking about something.”

“Would that something happen to be a certain vice president?”

“Here lately, it’s always about him.”

“Just be careful, okay?”

But that was the problem. She was always careful. For once she wanted to take a risk.

* * *

Daniel was standing inside the coffee shop, waiting, when Julie arrived on Thursday. She took a second to watch him from the window. Having arrived after work, he was wearing a beautiful dark suit that emphasized his blond good looks. He was drawing admiring glances from several women.

Locally owned, the coffee shop was her and Sasha’s favorite hangout. Furnished with plush leather couches and handmade bookshelves, it was the perfect place to spend a winter afternoon. She wondered if Daniel had ever been inside before. Right now he was looking at the far wall, frowning at something she couldn’t see.

Must have been a bad day.

She looked down at the polo shirt she always wore to work and wished she’d had time to run home and change into something nicer. It wouldn’t look like she belonged with Daniel when she joined him. Shaking her head, she pushed open the door. Let people think what they would. For the moment, she was with Daniel and that was all that mattered.

His expression lightened when he saw her and he walked over. “Hey, come on in. Let me take your coat.”

She shrugged out of her winter coat, trying hard not to react when their hands brushed. “Thanks.”

He seemed completely unaffected, hanging the coat on the rack beside the door. “You want to get a table while I order?”

She told him what she wanted, medium latte and a blueberry scone, then found a secluded corner table and waited. He hadn’t been in line long when a young woman approached him. He shook his head at whatever it was she said. The lady reached out to touch him, but he shot her a look that froze her in her tracks.

The look troubled Julie a bit. It had been so cold and stern, and seemed totally out of character for Daniel. At least, it seemed out of character for what she knew of Daniel so far. Maybe she hadn’t read him as well as she thought.

She asked him about it when he found her minutes later. “Did that chick hit on you?”

He placed her latte and scone in front of her. “Yes, some people can’t take no for an answer.”

“Some people are really bold. I can’t imagine approaching a stranger in a coffee shop.”

He took a sip from his cup. “She wasn’t a stranger.”

Did that make her an ex, a friend who wanted more, maybe a business associate? She wanted to ask, but didn’t. It was their first date; she had no claims on him and he owed her no explanations.

“I’m very selective about who I go out with,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow and he laughed.

“That sounds a bit snobbish, doesn’t it?” he asked.

“Slightly. You make it sound like you think the rest of us will date anyone with a basic grasp of the English language and most of their teeth.”

“Let me rephrase, then.” He sat thinking for several seconds before finally giving up. “Nah. I’ve got nothing.”

“That’s okay, I understand. You have certain criteria you’d like in a woman and some people don’t make the cut. I’m selective about who I go out with, too.”

“I’m glad I fit the bill.”

She shrugged. “What can I say, I’m putty in the hands of a man who talks in complete sentences.”

He didn’t take it like the joke she’d intended; instead, his eyes flashed with desire. “I doubt you’d be putty for just any man no matter how well he spoke.”

Damn near every conversation she’d ever had with Sasha about submission ran through her mind, but she pushed them out of her head. She focused her attention on Daniel, trying hard not to imagine being putty in his hands.

“It’s a figure of speech. I’m a self-made businesswoman. I’m putty in no one’s hands and I don’t intend to be.”

“Is that so?” His eyes looked so deeply into hers that she wondered if he saw through her words.

“Yes,” she said, but even she didn’t believe her response. From the look he gave her, she could tell Daniel didn’t either.

“That’s too bad.”

He spoke the words so softly, she wasn’t sure she was meant to have heard them.

He changed subjects, bringing up the benefit on Saturday. Julie asked about his grandfather and he was happy to talk about him. He shared some stories about fishing as a young boy with his grandpa that made her laugh, but also realize the warmth and love that had been between them. Her own grandparents had died before she was born, so she didn’t have a connection like Daniel did. She admired the love he obviously felt toward his grandfather, and was moved that he expressed it by organizing the melanoma fund-raiser every year.

She found Daniel easygoing and fun to talk with. He had an air about him that set her at ease. Except for the times—and it happened more than once, so she knew it wasn’t her imagination—that he looked at her with those blue eyes and the intensity took her breath.

There was something unusually captivating about Daniel. She just couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

The day of the melanoma benefit brought the exact amount of chaos and problems Daniel had come to expect of large fund-raisers. Which was why he was glad he’d paid knowledgeable contractors good money to handle the issues as they cropped up.

He’d arrived at the hotel three hours before the first guest was due to arrive. The time allowed him to oversee everything and still leave to change into his tux before he was scheduled to appear.

That’s not the real reason you came early.

No, the real reason was so that he could see her. Julie.

Who at that very moment was giving some poor delivery boy a firm talking-to about something. Her hands were on her hips and every once in a while, she would point to a nearby vase of flowers. The sight of her taking charge and setting whatever wrong to right made him grow uncomfortably hard.

Her brown hair was pulled haphazardly into a knot on top of her head. All too easily he imagined taking it down, running his fingers through it, giving it a sharp tug as he thrust into her needy body.

She turned and saw him. “Mr. Covington.”

Thoughts of Julie’s hair and what he wanted to do with it faded as the woman in question walked toward him. He hoped she didn’t see the erection those thoughts left in their wake.

When she stood before him, he noticed several strands of hair had fallen from the knot. He reached out and tucked one wayward piece behind her ear.

“I thought I gave you permission to call me Daniel?”

“It seemed more professional the other way.”

“Sir,” I want you to call me “sir.” But he knew he couldn’t speak those words out loud to her. “As long as you call me Daniel tonight.”

She nodded in response, a flush creeping up her neck. She cleared her throat. “Everything’s set up. Except for the centerpiece for the head table and that will be corrected in a few minutes.”

“Everything looks great. Your team’s done an outstanding job.”

“Thank you.”

He would look over everything in a few minutes. Though he really doubted he needed to. Julie and Sasha’s team really had done an amazing job. But for the moment, he had more pressing things to address. When he had asked her to accompany him, he’d forgotten something.

“Where should I pick you up tonight?” he asked.

She hesitated for a second. “We could meet in the lobby.”

“The lobby? No. Tell me where you live and I’ll pick you up.”

“I actually booked a room here tonight. My stuff’s upstairs, so I have time to change.”

“You booked a room? Why? Oh. Oh,” he said as understanding dawned.

She tapped her pen against the clipboard in her hand. The pink polo shirt she wore had not only her shop’s logo on it but several smears of dirt and green stains of some sort.

“Julie, I’m sorry. I gave little thought to how hectic the day would be for you.”

I only thought of myself. I wanted you on my arm for the night.

She waved her hand as if shooing away his comment. “You men. You put on a tuxedo and all is well. We women have to do our hair, makeup, and try to pull up sheer hose without messing up our manicures.”

Sheer hose. Her legs.

His hands spreading her knees.

“Don’t wear the hose,” he said through clenched teeth.

“What?”

Idiot.

“I mean, if it’s that much trouble.” His voice sounded coarse to his ears.

“Lucky for me, I didn’t actually bring hose. And”—she wiggled the fingers of one hand at him—“in any case, I have florist fingers.”

“You see, I look at those fingers and I see the hands of a woman who’s worked hard to get what she wants.”

“I suppose. But sometimes I think it’d be nice to have girlie nails.”

“It’s all about sacrifice.”

Her expression was thoughtful. Suddenly, he wished their date wouldn’t be shared by a hundred people. He wanted to get her alone and learn everything about her. Talk to her. Find out where she went to school, if she had any siblings, what her favorite food was.

Right. Because if you got her alone, that’s what you’d do. Talk.

Talk would be all they’d do, he reassured himself. The assumption had to be she didn’t live his lifestyle. Wouldn’t be interested in it. Even with that assumption, he was still drawn to her and wanted to spend time with her. What little he knew about her made him curious to know more. Plus, there was a certain look she’d had in her eyes that day at the coffee shop when she’d said she didn’t intend to be putty in anyone’s hands that indicated the exact opposite.

She was also Sasha Blake’s friend and business partner. Would she know about Sasha’s lifestyle? Had they talked about dominance and submission? Did that explain the sensuality she exuded? Questions for another place and time.

“Will you have time to get ready?” he asked.

She glanced at her watch. “The way I see it, I’ll need an hour and a half to finish up here. That leaves me plenty of time to get ready.”

“Ms. Masterson!” A hotel employee ran up to them.

Daniel moved out of the way. “I’ll let you get back to work. Meet you in the lobby in three hours?”

“Sounds good,” she replied before turning her attention to the young man at her side.

* * *

He arrived back at the hotel, dressed, two hours and forty-five minutes later. Though he always tried to be punctual, he had another reason for not being late that night: he wanted to watch Julie make her entrance.

When he reached the hotel, he saw a few early guests had arrived. They lingered in the lobby, making small talk before wandering to the ballroom. Daniel waved at a few people, but his gaze kept returning to the elevator doors.

They finally opened and she stepped out.

His breath caught.

Ninety-nine percent of the women attending the fund-raiser would dress in black. Julie Masterson was not ninety-nine percent of women.

Gone was the harried and stained florist from earlier in the day. In her place was a siren. Her gown was white and fit close to her skin, showing off the curves he imagined buried beneath her standard pink polo. Sheer beading draped itself over one shoulder, allowing just a peek of skin. Her hair was twisted up, leaving her neck long and bare. She looked even better than his fantasy.

She looked around the lobby for him and once her gaze settled on his, her mouth formed an O of recognition. She walked toward him, her hips swaying ever so slightly. Every step she took gained her more and more attention from the lobby crowd.

“Let me assure you,” he said when she finally stood before him, “that no one is looking at your fingers. You are stunning.”

“Thank you. My sister’s a buyer up in New York. She got this for me and tonight’s the first chance I’ve had to wear it.”

“You’ll have to give me her address.”

“You’re into clothes?”