Twisted Desire Page 5

  Business and pleasure mix like instant cocoa and lukewarm water. They’ll eventually go together, but you have to invest a hell of a lot more time, and it’s always a mess you wish you wouldn’t have gotten into.

  “I’m the event planner for tonight. I work for Harbor Hotels, but I am not here alone.”

  She held my gaze almost like she anticipated my reaction. Her smoky eyes tempted me to make a move more than her words did, but I couldn’t for a variety of reasons.

  She’s with someone. Shut it down.

  Mixing business with someone else’s pleasure was far worse than shitty hot chocolate.

  “Well, it was nice to meet you, Nora. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn’t realize...” I wasn’t about to play this dangerous game.

  Then, she tucked a thick lock of hair behind one ear and smiled sheepishly, changing her approach. This time, she grinned with little more than half her mouth. It was friendly and yielding. Her annoyed expression relaxed showing how truly beautiful she was. Even more than she had been all night.

  There you are. Hello, Nora.

  She shook her head and then spoke. “No. I’m sorry. It’s just, you’ve been watching me. It drove me crazy. I don’t appreciate attention like that. I’m not interested in that.” Though her voice had softened, she was still rejecting some unspoken invitation she thought I’d given her.

  She’s not here alone.

  I couldn’t stand there making small talk while I was finding—one-by-one—things I liked about her.

  She’d said she wasn’t interested, but I only half believed her.

  Either way, so be it. There were too many red flags as it was, and I’d made her uncomfortable. I needed to cut my losses. That was the prudent move.

  Pursuing her wasn’t fair to myself.

  It wasn’t fair to her.

  Most of all, it wasn’t fair to the woman in my future who would, in fact, meet everything on my grocery list of fantasies. That was going to be my new approach to dating moving forward. There would be a single woman out there who was both attractive and interested in me. A woman who wouldn’t be with someone.

  Possession was nine tenths of the law and one hundred percent required in a relationship with me. I want to possess—and be possessed by—a woman who was all mine. I wasn’t ashamed of that.

  I allowed myself a few more seconds, which weren’t enough by a long shot, to appraise her. Nora appeared flawless, and damn if I didn’t want her, but obviously she wasn’t for me.

  I was wasting my time, something only fools did.

  “Enjoy your night, Nora.” My feet, hesitant as they were, began to leave her there.

  “Wait, Reagan. Don’t you want to chat a while after all the lurking?” There it was again, that grin. She lowered her voice and continued, “This party is a little lame. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s a great party—I made sure of that. I just thought we might have a conversation. Pass some time.” As she spoke, her eyes scanned the room like they had before. Like clockwork, they made their rounds.

  She’d went from cautious to sociable in seconds.

  She’s more manic than I am.

  Her wanting to talk to me didn’t change my mind though because I knew better. It wasn’t a good idea and only solidified my reasons for moving along.

  However, inwardly, I checked asks for what she wants off some arbitrary checklist.

  Yes, I like power, but there was also value in knowing what someone needed from me. It was efficient, and directness was something I appreciated.

  I troubleshooted the situation.

  “I’m sorry. I thought you said you were here with someone.” I pretended there was an opportunity, an opening for just enough reason to ignore she wasn’t alone.

  Maybe they were only friends.

  Maybe they were related.

  Yes. Possibly she was there with a sibling or parent. I hadn’t considered any of that at first. Hope plumed.

  “I am, but I’ve been working, and they’re off socializing. To be clear with you; we’re only talking.” She blinked and crooked her head showing me something entirely contradictory to what I’d first assessed of her. She was vulnerable, and if she wasn’t, she did a good job of appearing that way as she pinned me with a hint of longing in her eyes. Her finger traced the crystal rim of her wine glass.

  “What if he doesn’t like that we’re only talking? I’m here for business. I’m sure you understand.”

  “I do, and remember I am working, but I don’t think you understand what I said.”

  Was it a riddle?

  She nodded for me to come back, quickly tipping her chin up as she looked around the room and found what she was looking for. I watched her wink at someone, and I turned to find the recipient.

  Just then, I saw a beautiful blond woman, who was on the arm of a man, wink back. She leaned into him and said something, then he raised his glass and winked back at Nora.

  “My lovers.”

  She was right. I didn’t understand. And lover was so ambiguous.

  Was she there with the guy?

  Was she there with the woman?

  Had she said lovers, plural?

  Fuck. Was she an escort?

  So many possibilities ran through my mind. When I faced Nora again, she repeated her come-hither head nod, conspiratorially. She had me at a sure disadvantage, but I was too curious not to bite.

  I laughed through my confusion, and in turn, she bit her lip to hide her smile as if she found my expression humorous.

  Was she toying with me?

  I wouldn’t be the next joke for her to use her phony laugh on.

  I could be direct, too. “Okay, you’ve got me. Who are you here with?”

  It was forward, and there was a very good chance that I’d simply misheard—or misunderstood—everything she’d told me. But there weren’t very many ways what she’d said could have been taken.

  She turned back to face the bar and away from the eyes that watched us from across the room. Eyes who belonged to a tall, slender man with blond hair and the pretty woman.

  “I’m here with them.”

  Them.

  I tipped back the fresh Heineken the bartender had handed me, thirsty again, and it bought me some time before I had to speak. When you have issues like I do, time buys everything. Everything.

  I am quick on my toes, but speed and efficiency can easily be confused. Saying the right thing means I seldom backtrack, seldom don’t get my point across accurately. When you speak to as many people daily as I do, and you manage anxiety, you learn an extra moment for thought doesn’t really waste anything. It allows you to not only sound thoughtful but be thoughtful. As I leisurely took a second drink, I thought to myself about how the term them should be interpreted.

  It’s possible her lover wasn’t one of them exactly, and that maybe four of them were there together? Although, they looked pretty—what’s the word—familiar with each other.

  Maybe he was her lover? But there with a wife? Or possibly another escort?

  I was so lost and growing tired of the charade. The chatter in my head started to drown out my thoughts. I sat my bottle on a napkin the bartender placed in front of me, now that I stood back at the bar.

  I needed clarification.

  “Who is the lover you’re here with?”

  “Lovers really. I’m here with them both. I’m here with Janel, and we’re here with Ives, who is here for a business function I planned for the hotel.”

  That was a lot of information.

  “Ives?” I asked. That name wasn’t common and sounded familiar. It wasn’t clicking at that moment why.

  She read my confusion. “Ives Bergeron. His company recently transferred him here to Chicago. He’s from the Swiss InformaTrade office.”

  That’s where I knew it, I’d seen a new contact popup in my email. It must be him. Still, I felt no less confused about who she was here with.

  Lovers? Plural?

  “Both
of them are your lovers?”

  What was she into?

  SIX

  PAST

  NORA—Friday, February 15, 2008

  He was trying to figure out what type of sordid things I was into, but it wasn’t really that scandalous. Not to me.

  “Yes, both of them.”

  I didn’t usually confide in people who weren’t part of my inner circle about my sex life, but it was refreshing to see his reaction. Probably a bit of an asshole move, but one that would surely be effective. He didn’t look like a man who’d give up easily, even though he clearly wasn’t there to step on anyone’s toes.

  I’d been keenly aware of him staring at me all night, and the feeling undressed me. I was reckless because of it.

  I knew his type. He wouldn’t quit until he got what he wanted. I’d use whatever tool I had to make him stop. The most effective tool is always honesty.

  He was incredibly handsome—in a polished, dominant man kind of way.

  Power tie.

  Power suit.

  Power stare.

  And, coincidentally, the pull he had on me willed me to his side against everything I believed in. Against everything I wanted—or didn’t want, rather.

  Never had I approached a man who was that obviously interested in me. Never. I didn’t typically respond to that behavior, and normally it would have put me off. Still, the more I studied him from afar, it almost appeared like it was all an act.

  He wanted to look powerful. He wanted to appear like a giant, but it only made him seem flawed.

  Those were what brought me to the bar. His flaws. His sexy, wayward coolness, but all along he’d looked like he was warring with himself. I wondered what side would win.

  I wouldn’t let it get out of hand, and I didn’t think I’d be able to withstand the intensity of him anyway. I couldn’t tolerate being so fixated on. It made me uncomfortable, and I was going to put an end to it. My way.

  That’s why I preferred couples. There was always someone else there to take the focus off of me. I could participate. I could watch—something that really turned me on—but mostly, I could just blend into the mix. Be an ingredient.

  Hands. Bodies. Mouths. It was all ambiguous, yet pleasurable. It was the way I was made. I didn’t want to be someone’s soul’s desire. I wanted to be touched and teased, and then left alone.

  I deeply cared for and loved every one of my lovers. I loved that some of them were in relationships, some were singles like me, and in a group, everything was always new. Different. Exciting.

  However, things were always arranged—rarely was there a chance encounter—which left almost no need for worry. It’s just the way it was for me. I hadn’t had sex—one on one—in years. Not since early in college.

  I wasn’t ashamed of what I preferred, and I wouldn’t compromise what made me happy for someone else. Especially not this stranger—sexy as he was.

  I watched his body language as he tried to figure me out, and he took his time doing it. Careful not to say the wrong thing.

  Squint. Swallow. Nod. Scrutinize. Rationalize. Diagnose.

  That’s what most people do.

  Obviously, to them, I’d had a bad sexual experience when I was younger to have such odd preferences. False. I’d had a great sexual history, even way back when I’d been with monogamous partners. I loved sex.

  Or sometimes the propagated reason was that my father had abandoned me. Daddy issues.

  That wasn’t true either. Granted, I hadn’t seen a lot of him as a young girl, but he was around a lot as I got older. We’d had a great relationship, despite how far apart we were most of the time.

  Reagan’s jaw ticked. It looked like frustration. His eyes looked behind the bar, then out to the crowd, then back to me.

  After a minute, he asked inquisitively, “So you, the woman, and Ives are in a relationship?”

  That was a trickier question.

  “No. It’s more complicated than that, but I’m not that interested in talking about it. Let’s talk about you?”

  He huffed and leaned back. As cocky as he seemed, I was sure the topic of himself would be one of his favorites. That would kill some time. Although the party was a huge success, I was ready for it to end.

  I was going to Janel and Ives’ new brownstone after the clean-up was finished. They’d invited me over, and it had been ages since I’d relaxed and enjoyed some companionship. I’d been wound up like a top, having finished the wedding, traveled, and then pulled off the party that was currently winding down.

  Besides, I hadn’t seen them in a long time, I’d missed them.

  He didn’t want—or need—to know any of that.

  As I predicted, he seemed to relax a little. “Me? I’m here by myself. I work for Price-McClellan. We do a lot of business with Mr. Bergeron’s company. I’m sure I’ll be seeing him more now that he’s moved to town.”

  That’s what he was hung up on? The business part? No way.

  “Yes, but...”

  He straightened and when he did, a whoosh of his scent swept over me. “But what, Nora? You said you didn’t want me staring. I apologized. You said you weren’t interested, and I was leaving you alone.”

  Maybe he wasn’t relaxed after all. He looked almost contrite but more frustrated.

  I tried to interject again. “But...”

  “But you’re also with a man I’ll be doing business with, and I’m not sure what you’re into, but I’m into something much different. I know that. So why did you come over, why are you still looking at me, and why didn’t you treat me like you did everyone else? The pretend smile. The laugh. Why did I get this version? And why are you still standing here?”

  I was speechless. At a total loss. My brain faltered, but my body was thrumming with adrenaline. Or desire. Or anger. I was confused. I didn’t like it.

  Yeah. This conversation isn’t going anywhere. He’s so dramatic.

  His eyes were relentless, and they stared deep into mine, but I couldn’t take that either, and I looked away seeking refuge. From across the room, I saw Janel trying to get my attention. I was relieved.

  “You’re right,” I said, happy for the reason to move along. I studied his face and attempted to focus on his mouth, but he thwarted that by ducking so I met his gaze. “Everything you said. You’re right. I need to go anyway. I have a lot to do. I’m sorry.”

  There was a little flare of something in his dark brown eyes as I acquiesced him. He damn sure liked hearing he was right.

  Uppity tyrant.

  “It was nice to meet you. Enjoy your night,” he said, and to punctuate that we were done, he turned and returned his attention behind the bar.

  Fuck him.

  I walked off. He only reaffirmed my thoughts on men like him.

  I should send him a thank you.

  I found Janel and Ives near the front entrance coat check.

  “I think we’re going to head out, Nora,” Janel said as she clung loosely to Ives’ side. “We’re ready to get home.” It was clear what they’d be up to just outside of the building, and a shiver ran through me knowing what I’d be walking into when I arrived at their home when I was finished.

  Going easy on the cleaning crew to gain a little more clout with them, I’d volunteered to stay late and help make sure everything got back to mint condition before I left for the night.

  “Sure. I shouldn’t be long,” I assured her and leaned in to give Ives a kiss on the cheek. Only God knew why I wondered if Reagan watched us.

  “Oh, good. You’re still coming. We thought maybe you’d changed your mind.” She wrapped an arm around him tightly, and he snaked an arm around her back to pull her even closer. Her hand rubbed his chest. “You have the key I gave you?”

  “I have it in my purse.” I’d thought about simply going upstairs that night, but I looked forward to letting go for a while. “I’m still up for it. I’ll just need a shower.”

  She beamed.

  “Whatever you want, N
ora,” Ives reassured in his Swiss accent that I’d originally been attracted to. He was still as handsome as when I’d introduced him to Janel. They looked happy. “We’ll take care of you tonight. You’ve been worked too hard.”

  “Well, we’ll see if it all pays off, won’t we?” They knew I was vying for the opening at the Chicago Harbor. I hoped my efforts that week hadn’t been in vain.

  Sympathetically, Janel’s petite frame reached up and kissed my cheek. “We’ll see you later. You still have the address in your phone?”

  She was my oldest and dearest friend, strange as others may have perceived our relationship, it was the longest one I’d ever had by choice.

  I trusted her.

  “Yes. I love you guys. I’ll see you in a while. Have a bath ready for me, please,” I requested desperately.

  They looked into each other’s eyes and their salacious grins reflected on the other’s face.

  “Deal,” they said in unison.

  I just had to get through another hour or two.

  WHY ISN’T HE LEAVING yet?

  The kitchen was closing. The bartenders were prepping for shut-down.

  Mister Intense was still at the bar.

  Remove chair covers. Wait for dining to collect the last of the table pieces.

  I wonder if Reagan Warren had ever had a threesome? Knock it off.

  Move tables. Move chairs.

  Check my phone to make sure I really did have the address.

  It was there.

  Good, I need a night off, and maybe a long, lazy morning.

  Janel and Ives looked good.

  Why is he still sitting there?

  Consider having him escorted out.

  Pray the bartender would ask him to leave.

  No such luck, but he left anyway.

  I’d love to watch him fuck someone. Stop.

  Take a few breaths.

  Save it for Janel and Ives.

  Bonus, I don’t have to vacuum.

  Make sure to bring in thank yous in the form of pastries on Monday for the staff.

  The meeting is Monday. Don’t think about it now. Just finish this.

  Then let Janel and Ives fuck me until I can’t think any more. About work or him.