Text Appeal
Page 7
She looked around them. Had anybody heard? Did she hope they had or hadn’t? “You promised you’d behave,” she whispered.
He raised a brow, the picture of innocence. “You’re the one who brought it up.”
Their server approached their table. “The wine you requested, sir,” he said, placing a bottle on the table. “May I get you started with the roasted foie gras, tonight?”
“Please,” Charlie said.
Riley chewed on her lip, calculating her budget. Everyone assumed that because her father was this big hotelier, she had a bottomless checking account, but the opposite was true. She took pride in being frugal, in stretching every dollar. In paying her own way.
“Riley,” Charlie said softly.
She lifted her gaze from the menu to meet his. Damn but he was handsome. She’d always loved those blue eyes.
“Dinner’s on me. Relax.”
She frowned. “I can’t let you do that.”
His chest shook with his deep, rich chuckle. “Sure you can. I begged you to dine with me—something, I’ll have you know, I don’t normally do. The least I can do is pay.”
“This is all pretty extravagant for a dinner to discuss Lacey’s birthday.”
He lifted his palms and treated her to a flash of dimple. “What can I say? My sister is very important to me.”
“Uh-huh.”
The server returned with the wine and he and Charlie went through the ritual of sampling it before the server offered her a glass.
“Oh, no thank you. I’ll have water.”
The server nodded politely. “Our special is le filet boeuf served with a red wine sauce.”
“Sounds perfect,” Charlie said, closing his menu. He looked at Riley. “You too?”
Riley swallowed, lest she drool over the steak. “No, I don’t eat red meat,” she said. “I’ll have the salmon, please.”
The server took the rest of their order and excused himself.
Charlie leaned forward on his forearms. “No red meat?”
Stop smiling at me! But she couldn’t very well demand that without letting him know what an effect his smile had on her and her now-gooey insides. “It’s not healthy,” she explained.
“Do you treat yourself to anything that isn’t healthy or let yourself enjoy anything that isn’t practical?”
Her cheeks burned. He knew all about her completely unpractical addiction...though he had no way of knowing what a serious addiction it was.
He chuckled. “Other than that. You have a practical job, wear practical clothes—with the exception of certain undergarments that are probably the healthiest thing your psyche has going for it—you eat only sensible things.” He swirled his wine and took a drink. “You sure you don’t want a glass of wine?”
“Thanks, but I don’t drink on weeknights.”
He chuckled. “See what I mean?”
She straightened. “I’m responsible.”
He passed his glass to her. “No one’s arguing there.”
She frowned into his wine. “What do you want me to do with this?”
“Smell.”
She inhaled deeply through her nose. It smelled...heavenly. Faintly flowery. She could imagine the dark red liquid rolling over her tongue. “It’s nice,” she said.
“Now take a sip,” he said.
Frowning, she explained again, “It’s a Wednesday. I don’t drink on weeknights.”
He nodded. “Understandable, but I’m not even asking you to have a drink. Just a taste.”
His eyes burned into hers, and somehow it seemed like they were talking about so much more than wine. Just a taste.
She kept her eyes locked on Charlie as she tilted the glass to her lips.
“Take a small sip, and keep it in your mouth,” he said. “Let the wine slide over your tongue, over every taste bud. Experience every flavor before you swallow.”
She did as he instructed and widened her eyes. The floral scent popped when she tasted it slowly like this.
“Now, swallow,” he said softly, his gaze narrowed in on her mouth.
Something about the way he watched her made taking a single sip of wine feel like the most erotic experience of her life. Blood rushed between her legs and she squeezed them together.
She didn’t want to be attracted to Charlie, but there it was. She wanted him more right now than she’d ever wanted Chaz. Even if she combined all the desire she’d ever had for Chaz, her lust in this moment outweighed it all.
She licked her lips and he exhaled slowly. Had he been holding his breath?
He swallowed, leaning back a bit. “What do you think?”
She thought she’d never enjoyed a sip of wine so much in her life. “I think it tastes…expensive.”
He shook his head. “You worry too much.” He lifted his glass again. “Another?”
She nodded and let him lift the glass to her lips. Because she wanted more wine or because she liked the way he looked at her as she drank, she wasn’t sure. Best not to analyze it too much.
“Let’s dance while we wait for our food,” he said, pushing his chair out as he stood.
Riley stared at his extended hand, tempted. “I don’t think that would be appropriate.”
He took her left hand and ran his thumb over her bare ring finger. “I don’t see why not,” he said, tugging gently.
She let out a breath. She wasn’t sure where things were going with her and Chaz. Truth be told, she’d been contemplating—in her weaker moments—whether or not she should end their relationship. Something had been…missing. But if this afternoon’s text messages were any indication, things were about to get more interesting between them. Where was that flirtation—no, that fire—when they were together in person? Where had it been for the last two years?
Charlie led her to the dance floor and pulled her into his arms. At the small of her back, the heat of his hand seeped through the thin cotton of her dress. “Listen, I’m not one to complain when I have a beautiful woman in my arms, but do you want to share what’s worrying you?”
She chewed on her lower lip. Maybe if she talked about Chaz the whole time, she’d feel less guilty about dancing with Charlie. “I kind of have a boyfriend, you know.”
Charlie nodded politely but pulled her even closer. His words were whispered in her ear. “Any man with half a brain would make sure you were his. If you were mine, there would be no kind of about it.”
She ignored the stirring between her legs. Damn, he was good at that. “We’re taking things slowly.”
“How’s that going?”
Over his shoulder, she could see the now-empty wine glass sitting at their table. Hadn’t she stopped drinking on weeknights because Chaz had always given her disapproving looks when she did? And here she was, drinking and dancing with another man on a Wednesday night, and she wasn’t even sure if Chaz would care. “I don’t really know,” she finally answered. “Sometimes I think he’s ready to get serious, and then he backs away. I’m not sure what he wants.”
“What do you want?” Charlie asked against her ear.
Riley gaped. “Him of course. He’s great. We have a history. He works for my father too, so he understands the demands of my job. We make a good couple. A good fit.”
Charlie made a humming sound. “Sounds...practical. What does he do for you?”
“What do you mean?” She took a shallow breath. She could hardly think when Charlie was this close.
His mouth grazed the edge of her jaw. “He doesn’t like lingerie, and it’s your secret joy, so I assume he makes up for it in some other way.”
She licked her lips and tried to block the fingers of pleasure that began where his hand pressed against her back and radiated through her core. This man was everything she didn’t need, and yet her body reacted desperately to every touch. Her ING whimpered about being thirsty and Charlie being just the refreshment she needed.
“Does he like it rough?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble against her ear. “Or maybe he ties you up? Kisses down your body, his mouth against your breasts, his tongue flicking over your nipples? Does he put his mouth between your legs and taste you, lick you until you come?”
Riley closed her eyes against the wicked pleasure betraying her between her legs. “No.” Then because that revealed too much, she said, “I mean, he’s...gentle.”
“Hm,” he said, but the sound was filled with more condescension than understanding. “What is it about him? Do you like it slow? Thorough? Does he make you feel cherished when he’s moving inside you?” He was asking about Chaz, and yet the words were whispered like foreplay.
With her body pressed against Charlie’s like this, when she was so close she could feel the strength of him, could trace her fingers across the breadth of his shoulders, she couldn’t imagine Charlie in a romantic relationship where sex wasn’t a key ingredient. “Not all relationships revolve around sex.”
He chuckled against her ear, his breath hot there. “The good ones do.”
“Not all of them,” she snapped, then winced at how defensive she sounded.
He stopped moving. “You have had sex with him, haven’t you?”
She stopped moving. Only Charlie would find the possibility that they were celibate so horrifying. “We’re consenting adults. We’ve been together.”
He pulled back to study her face and raised a brow. “Sounds...thrilling.”
“You don’t know everything, Charlie Singleton.”
“Agreed. That’s why I’m trying to find out.” He studied her for a beat, then lowered his voice, his face serious for once. “He at least gets you off, doesn’t he?”
Her breath caught and her cheeks heated. “That’s none of your business.”
“Jesus. That’s a no.”
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. I can’t believe I’m still here with you. What exactly did you need to talk to me about anyway?”
He pulled her close again and said, “Hey, I’m just trying to help. You looked stressed, and now I understand why.”
One of his hands worked at the tension in her shoulders even as they danced. The contact or the wine turned her legs to jelly, and she let herself relax, let him work out the tension, let herself enjoy the warmth of his touch.
“Does he know about your ING?”
She froze. “I need to kill Lacey, don’t I?”
He chuckled and dropped his hand down to squeeze hers. “Our food’s here.”
She followed him back to the table, wondering why she wasn’t more insulted, why his questions didn’t make her feel violated. But they didn’t. In fact, considering Chaz was the man she had until very recently assumed she’d marry, they were perfectly reasonable questions.
Right, and the way he asked them made her hot. There was that too.
But this afternoon, when she and Chaz had been texting, it had been different. She and Chaz had been together, sure, but it had never been playful like that. He’d never been one for much foreplay of any kind, let alone verbal foreplay, so it gave her hope. Chaz may not know about her ING, but in the years ahead of them, their sexual relationship was bound to grow.
She sighed as she sat. Her salmon looked delicious, but tonight the forbidden steak was calling to her. Charlie caught her licking her lips and focused his gaze on her mouth. The heat in his eyes was so intense, she thought she might combust.
“Here.” He tore his gaze from her mouth and cut a piece of the tender filet. “Try a bite.”
Her mouth watered. Her ni**les hardened under her dress. Suddenly she was sure this wasn’t about food at all, but, mesmerized, she leaned forward.
“Open your mouth,” he said softly, bringing the steak to her lips.
She parted her lips and let him slide the fork into her mouth. She closed her lips around the tines as the first burst of flavor hit her tongue. She let her eyes float closed as she chewed the tender beef—this decadent treat she had denied herself for years. A soft moan escaped her lips.
When she swallowed, she opened her eyes to see Charlie staring at her mouth. His lips were softly parted and his pulse thrummed at his neck. He looked like a starved man. A starved man not the least bit interested in the steak in front of him. She licked her lips. “It’s good,” she said lamely.
The corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked grin. He cut another bite of steak and held out his fork. “Just let go. Enjoy yourself.”
Riley was so absorbed in the moment, she didn’t even hear the click of the paparazzo’s camera.
Chapter Six
Chaz had a plan for the man in front of him. More, he had a plan for his money. “Thanks for meeting with me, Mr. Carter.”
“Call me Quinton, son,” Quinton Carter said, settling into his seat with his scotch.
Chaz eyed the man whose empire he’d salivated over for the last four years. Quinton hadn’t had shit when he’d been Chaz’s age—nothing but cunning and drive. He’d married into his first hotel, had gotten lucky when the wench had croaked young, and had gone on to change a single hotel into the behemoth company Carter Hotels and Entertainment. Now Chaz wanted it for himself and he was so close he could almost taste it.
He took a breath. “Quinton, I’m here because I want to discuss my intentions.”
“Intentions?”
“For your daughter. I’ve been...I hoped I could get your blessing.”
He raised a brow, the picture of innocence. “You’re the one who brought it up.”
Their server approached their table. “The wine you requested, sir,” he said, placing a bottle on the table. “May I get you started with the roasted foie gras, tonight?”
“Please,” Charlie said.
Riley chewed on her lip, calculating her budget. Everyone assumed that because her father was this big hotelier, she had a bottomless checking account, but the opposite was true. She took pride in being frugal, in stretching every dollar. In paying her own way.
“Riley,” Charlie said softly.
She lifted her gaze from the menu to meet his. Damn but he was handsome. She’d always loved those blue eyes.
“Dinner’s on me. Relax.”
She frowned. “I can’t let you do that.”
His chest shook with his deep, rich chuckle. “Sure you can. I begged you to dine with me—something, I’ll have you know, I don’t normally do. The least I can do is pay.”
“This is all pretty extravagant for a dinner to discuss Lacey’s birthday.”
He lifted his palms and treated her to a flash of dimple. “What can I say? My sister is very important to me.”
“Uh-huh.”
The server returned with the wine and he and Charlie went through the ritual of sampling it before the server offered her a glass.
“Oh, no thank you. I’ll have water.”
The server nodded politely. “Our special is le filet boeuf served with a red wine sauce.”
“Sounds perfect,” Charlie said, closing his menu. He looked at Riley. “You too?”
Riley swallowed, lest she drool over the steak. “No, I don’t eat red meat,” she said. “I’ll have the salmon, please.”
The server took the rest of their order and excused himself.
Charlie leaned forward on his forearms. “No red meat?”
Stop smiling at me! But she couldn’t very well demand that without letting him know what an effect his smile had on her and her now-gooey insides. “It’s not healthy,” she explained.
“Do you treat yourself to anything that isn’t healthy or let yourself enjoy anything that isn’t practical?”
Her cheeks burned. He knew all about her completely unpractical addiction...though he had no way of knowing what a serious addiction it was.
He chuckled. “Other than that. You have a practical job, wear practical clothes—with the exception of certain undergarments that are probably the healthiest thing your psyche has going for it—you eat only sensible things.” He swirled his wine and took a drink. “You sure you don’t want a glass of wine?”
“Thanks, but I don’t drink on weeknights.”
He chuckled. “See what I mean?”
She straightened. “I’m responsible.”
He passed his glass to her. “No one’s arguing there.”
She frowned into his wine. “What do you want me to do with this?”
“Smell.”
She inhaled deeply through her nose. It smelled...heavenly. Faintly flowery. She could imagine the dark red liquid rolling over her tongue. “It’s nice,” she said.
“Now take a sip,” he said.
Frowning, she explained again, “It’s a Wednesday. I don’t drink on weeknights.”
He nodded. “Understandable, but I’m not even asking you to have a drink. Just a taste.”
His eyes burned into hers, and somehow it seemed like they were talking about so much more than wine. Just a taste.
She kept her eyes locked on Charlie as she tilted the glass to her lips.
“Take a small sip, and keep it in your mouth,” he said. “Let the wine slide over your tongue, over every taste bud. Experience every flavor before you swallow.”
She did as he instructed and widened her eyes. The floral scent popped when she tasted it slowly like this.
“Now, swallow,” he said softly, his gaze narrowed in on her mouth.
Something about the way he watched her made taking a single sip of wine feel like the most erotic experience of her life. Blood rushed between her legs and she squeezed them together.
She didn’t want to be attracted to Charlie, but there it was. She wanted him more right now than she’d ever wanted Chaz. Even if she combined all the desire she’d ever had for Chaz, her lust in this moment outweighed it all.
She licked her lips and he exhaled slowly. Had he been holding his breath?
He swallowed, leaning back a bit. “What do you think?”
She thought she’d never enjoyed a sip of wine so much in her life. “I think it tastes…expensive.”
He shook his head. “You worry too much.” He lifted his glass again. “Another?”
She nodded and let him lift the glass to her lips. Because she wanted more wine or because she liked the way he looked at her as she drank, she wasn’t sure. Best not to analyze it too much.
“Let’s dance while we wait for our food,” he said, pushing his chair out as he stood.
Riley stared at his extended hand, tempted. “I don’t think that would be appropriate.”
He took her left hand and ran his thumb over her bare ring finger. “I don’t see why not,” he said, tugging gently.
She let out a breath. She wasn’t sure where things were going with her and Chaz. Truth be told, she’d been contemplating—in her weaker moments—whether or not she should end their relationship. Something had been…missing. But if this afternoon’s text messages were any indication, things were about to get more interesting between them. Where was that flirtation—no, that fire—when they were together in person? Where had it been for the last two years?
Charlie led her to the dance floor and pulled her into his arms. At the small of her back, the heat of his hand seeped through the thin cotton of her dress. “Listen, I’m not one to complain when I have a beautiful woman in my arms, but do you want to share what’s worrying you?”
She chewed on her lower lip. Maybe if she talked about Chaz the whole time, she’d feel less guilty about dancing with Charlie. “I kind of have a boyfriend, you know.”
Charlie nodded politely but pulled her even closer. His words were whispered in her ear. “Any man with half a brain would make sure you were his. If you were mine, there would be no kind of about it.”
She ignored the stirring between her legs. Damn, he was good at that. “We’re taking things slowly.”
“How’s that going?”
Over his shoulder, she could see the now-empty wine glass sitting at their table. Hadn’t she stopped drinking on weeknights because Chaz had always given her disapproving looks when she did? And here she was, drinking and dancing with another man on a Wednesday night, and she wasn’t even sure if Chaz would care. “I don’t really know,” she finally answered. “Sometimes I think he’s ready to get serious, and then he backs away. I’m not sure what he wants.”
“What do you want?” Charlie asked against her ear.
Riley gaped. “Him of course. He’s great. We have a history. He works for my father too, so he understands the demands of my job. We make a good couple. A good fit.”
Charlie made a humming sound. “Sounds...practical. What does he do for you?”
“What do you mean?” She took a shallow breath. She could hardly think when Charlie was this close.
His mouth grazed the edge of her jaw. “He doesn’t like lingerie, and it’s your secret joy, so I assume he makes up for it in some other way.”
She licked her lips and tried to block the fingers of pleasure that began where his hand pressed against her back and radiated through her core. This man was everything she didn’t need, and yet her body reacted desperately to every touch. Her ING whimpered about being thirsty and Charlie being just the refreshment she needed.
“Does he like it rough?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble against her ear. “Or maybe he ties you up? Kisses down your body, his mouth against your breasts, his tongue flicking over your nipples? Does he put his mouth between your legs and taste you, lick you until you come?”
Riley closed her eyes against the wicked pleasure betraying her between her legs. “No.” Then because that revealed too much, she said, “I mean, he’s...gentle.”
“Hm,” he said, but the sound was filled with more condescension than understanding. “What is it about him? Do you like it slow? Thorough? Does he make you feel cherished when he’s moving inside you?” He was asking about Chaz, and yet the words were whispered like foreplay.
With her body pressed against Charlie’s like this, when she was so close she could feel the strength of him, could trace her fingers across the breadth of his shoulders, she couldn’t imagine Charlie in a romantic relationship where sex wasn’t a key ingredient. “Not all relationships revolve around sex.”
He chuckled against her ear, his breath hot there. “The good ones do.”
“Not all of them,” she snapped, then winced at how defensive she sounded.
He stopped moving. “You have had sex with him, haven’t you?”
She stopped moving. Only Charlie would find the possibility that they were celibate so horrifying. “We’re consenting adults. We’ve been together.”
He pulled back to study her face and raised a brow. “Sounds...thrilling.”
“You don’t know everything, Charlie Singleton.”
“Agreed. That’s why I’m trying to find out.” He studied her for a beat, then lowered his voice, his face serious for once. “He at least gets you off, doesn’t he?”
Her breath caught and her cheeks heated. “That’s none of your business.”
“Jesus. That’s a no.”
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. I can’t believe I’m still here with you. What exactly did you need to talk to me about anyway?”
He pulled her close again and said, “Hey, I’m just trying to help. You looked stressed, and now I understand why.”
One of his hands worked at the tension in her shoulders even as they danced. The contact or the wine turned her legs to jelly, and she let herself relax, let him work out the tension, let herself enjoy the warmth of his touch.
“Does he know about your ING?”
She froze. “I need to kill Lacey, don’t I?”
He chuckled and dropped his hand down to squeeze hers. “Our food’s here.”
She followed him back to the table, wondering why she wasn’t more insulted, why his questions didn’t make her feel violated. But they didn’t. In fact, considering Chaz was the man she had until very recently assumed she’d marry, they were perfectly reasonable questions.
Right, and the way he asked them made her hot. There was that too.
But this afternoon, when she and Chaz had been texting, it had been different. She and Chaz had been together, sure, but it had never been playful like that. He’d never been one for much foreplay of any kind, let alone verbal foreplay, so it gave her hope. Chaz may not know about her ING, but in the years ahead of them, their sexual relationship was bound to grow.
She sighed as she sat. Her salmon looked delicious, but tonight the forbidden steak was calling to her. Charlie caught her licking her lips and focused his gaze on her mouth. The heat in his eyes was so intense, she thought she might combust.
“Here.” He tore his gaze from her mouth and cut a piece of the tender filet. “Try a bite.”
Her mouth watered. Her ni**les hardened under her dress. Suddenly she was sure this wasn’t about food at all, but, mesmerized, she leaned forward.
“Open your mouth,” he said softly, bringing the steak to her lips.
She parted her lips and let him slide the fork into her mouth. She closed her lips around the tines as the first burst of flavor hit her tongue. She let her eyes float closed as she chewed the tender beef—this decadent treat she had denied herself for years. A soft moan escaped her lips.
When she swallowed, she opened her eyes to see Charlie staring at her mouth. His lips were softly parted and his pulse thrummed at his neck. He looked like a starved man. A starved man not the least bit interested in the steak in front of him. She licked her lips. “It’s good,” she said lamely.
The corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked grin. He cut another bite of steak and held out his fork. “Just let go. Enjoy yourself.”
Riley was so absorbed in the moment, she didn’t even hear the click of the paparazzo’s camera.
Chapter Six
Chaz had a plan for the man in front of him. More, he had a plan for his money. “Thanks for meeting with me, Mr. Carter.”
“Call me Quinton, son,” Quinton Carter said, settling into his seat with his scotch.
Chaz eyed the man whose empire he’d salivated over for the last four years. Quinton hadn’t had shit when he’d been Chaz’s age—nothing but cunning and drive. He’d married into his first hotel, had gotten lucky when the wench had croaked young, and had gone on to change a single hotel into the behemoth company Carter Hotels and Entertainment. Now Chaz wanted it for himself and he was so close he could almost taste it.
He took a breath. “Quinton, I’m here because I want to discuss my intentions.”
“Intentions?”
“For your daughter. I’ve been...I hoped I could get your blessing.”
