Trust (14 page)

Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
She’s… nervous! Out of her depth. Why?
She was oblivious to the male gazes turned in her direction.
It’s as if she doesn’t know her own beauty
. He took note of her dress.
Daring, to say the least
. Red blooming roses were printed on her heavy black silk mid-thigh dress. Not too short, but not the conservative knee length either.

Christ!
Sheer black tights covered her long legs and her feet were encased in black leather high heels, strapped at her ankles.
Sexy. Hot. Too bloody hot! Fuck! I’ll have to use a penis harness when I’m around her or everyone will notice I’m sporting a full hard-on. The woman is married. Alistair Connor MacCraig! Control yourself
.

A large red-silk rose clasped her hair behind her head on the right, keeping her hair from her face. His breath hitched when, with a flick of her hand, she tossed her hair over her shoulder; her red nails screamed against her raven hair.

In an elegant movement, Sophia stretched her hand to shake his.

He held it between his for a moment beyond the usual, and kissed it, his green eyes glued to hers.

Cold
. “Sophia, I was very pleased you accepted my invitation.” The waiter pulled the table so she could sit on the sofa next to him. “I can call you Sophia, can’t I?” Alistair’s gaze never left hers, a knowing smile on his lips. He had a slight, sexy Scottish accent she hadn’t noticed before.

“Yes,” she responded, her voice just a throaty murmur.

She adjusted her dress and he shifted on the seat. Immediately, his scent enveloped Sophia. She felt dizzy for a second and looked at his face.

“Creed.” The word was out of her mouth before she knew it. She flushed.
I need a glass of water, quick. I’m feeling hot
.
Too hot
. A thrill went through her spine. She shivered. She never, ever felt such fierce awareness of a stranger before in her life. And at a loss for words.
What is happening to me? Mr. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it is turning me head-over-heels
.

He startled. “I beg your pardon?”

“It is Creed, isn’t it? Sublime Vanille,” she inhaled. “I love that perfume. I’m wearing it.”

“Aye, it’s Creed. I don’t normally wear Sublime Vanille, it’s sweet, more feminine. I prefer Spice and Wood.” He perused her face and boldly bent his head in her direction. “You don’t smell of it.” He closed his eyes and inhaled her fragrance deeply. “You. You smell like white roses in bloom and orange sorbet with drops of vanilla sauce. A dessert. Utterly fresh and sweet.” His dark, deep voice breathed the words near her ear and she lifted her face to him. Her lips parted in ragged breaths, her eyes wide. Heat radiated from him as a warm, fragrant breeze and a hot feeling permeated her body, branding her.

He opened his eyes, his face just inches from hers. He cleared his throat and adjusted the perfect Windsor knot in his dark-green silk tie.

“Sophia, I don’t do married women.” His voice sounded dry, his icy green eyes held an amused wicked gleam.

She wasn’t even breathing. “I’m not married.” A throaty rasp.
God, why did I just say that?

His brows rose. “Why do you insist on being called missis, then?”

“I was married.”
Damn
. Her response to him was terrifying.

“Have you been divorced long?”

She shook her head, too enthralled by his sexual power to do more than that.

“No, you’re not divorced or no, you haven’t been divorced long?”

“No,” a mere whisper, “I’m not divorced.” Sophia felt herself falling down a never-ending abyss.

“Aye?” His eyes flashed flames and his brows rose higher. “So?”

“I’m a widow.”

His onyx-black brows furrowed tightly and a sad look took over his features. “You’re too young to be a widow.”

She pulled herself out of the reverie and snorted, “I keep hearing this as if fate ought to have asked my age before…” She waved her hand in the air. Her sleeve fell and he held her hand gently with his fingers, his eyes darkening.

He scowled at her marked wrist and she tried to disengage her hand from his. His tender grip tightened. “Someone hurt you.” A fierce statement with a touch of anger.

“It’s nothing. I bruise easily,” Sophia said, thoroughly embarrassed.
First Edward, now Alistair
. She frowned at her wrist still in his hand and touched the black-and-blue marks gingerly with her left fingers. He grabbed the other one, too.

His thumbs caressed the back of them and his gaze pierced her, searching for a clue.
These are not bondage marks. Fingers. Perhaps… Is she a submissive without hard limits?

He deposited a kiss on each hand, his green eyes bearing down on hers, “One should never mar a woman like you.”
A beauty
.

“A woman like me?” Her bitter low laugh astounded him. “Mr. MacC-”

“Alistair Connor. Call me Alistair or Alistair Connor, whichever you feel like.”

“I’m not special, Alistair.” She let his name roll off her tongue, tasting it. “No one is special. We’re all equals.” She shook her head and her hair bounced around her. “I’ve had much worse and I don’t break easily.”

Alistair felt his body harden.
I would like to break you and have you under my control
. He squeezed her hands tenderly before signaling to the waiter. “Red wine?” He looked down the wine list.

She nodded, “Sure.”
These British men are all trying to get me drunk during lunch
.

“Have you seen the contract?” he asked in a businesslike manner, masking the potent desire taking control of his mind and body.
This woman is bad news
.

She nodded and sipped her water, licking her lips.

His cock twisted.
Control yourself, Alistair Connor!

“I’ve approved it. I thank you, Mr. Mac- Alistair. The clauses were modified exactly as I had envisioned them.”

The sommelier brought a Quinta do Vale do Meão, a Portuguese wine, he tasted it and served it to Alistair. “Excellent, thank you.”

She looked at his big hand handling the delicate stem of the crystal glass. Her lips twisted.
Elegant, large with long fingers; surgeon’s hands, firm and precise
.

“What’s so amusing?” he asked as the sommelier left them.

Sophia blinked. He had caught her daydreaming about his hands… She raised her eyes to his face. He observed her closely. “If I didn’t know you worked in a bank, I’d say you were a doctor.”

“Why?”

She didn’t resist the temptation and the tips of her right fingers touched the back of his left hand.
No ring
. “Your hand. You have deft and elegant fingers. I can easily see you handling a scalpel.”

He suppressed his surprise.
Christ! Is she into this kind of pain?
Smiling wickedly, looking deep into her eyes, he said in a deep murmur. “You don’t know how deft they can be.”

A sensation stirred inside and her breath hitched.
Dear God!

He raised his glass in a toast. “To a new… partnership.” The last word, gliding over his tongue, had an ambiguity not lost on Sophia.

Their attraction was as strong as an iron and magnet. They couldn’t resist each other’s magnetism. To Sophia and Alistair, no one else existed in the room; it was just the two of them.

She touched her glass to his and looked up “To new partners,” she mumbled, blushed, and quickly drank a gulp of wine. “Have you been the bank’s CEO for long?”

“Since 2008, when I bought thirty-five percent and became the majority shareholder. Now I own sixty percent of it, and my brother and another two partners own the rest,” he boasted.
Come on, Beauty, what’s missing for you to fall at my feet? A one-night stand wouldn’t be bad. I promise
.

“Really?” she dismissed his accomplishment with raised brows and tilted her head to the side. “I would have imagined-”

“What?”

“That you were more than a CEO,” she said cryptically.

“What do you mean?”

Sophia waved her hand. “Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but your looks…”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I mean comparing you to Edward, you’re quite the rebel.” She blushed at her bold commentary.

“Edward? You mean Davidoff?”

She nodded.

More than co-workers, are you, Sophia?
“‘Don’t judge the book by its cover.’”

She smiled. “That’s just what everyone won’t do with me. Take you, for example. You judged me on your first impression.”

“Mea culpa,” he grinned, surprised she had realized it.
Perceptive…

“I liked your praise of me in the letter you sent Ed-, err, Mr. Davidoff.”

“Quite a sight to behold?”

“Ah, no.” Her hands were sweating and she wrung her napkin. “A shrewd businesswoman.”

He shifted on the seat to face her better and draped his arm over the back of the sofa. “You’re much more than that. You’re an intriguing, ravishing, intelligent woman, Sophia.” He brushed her hair aside.
Silk
. And his fingers touched her nape.
Velvet
. “Quite a sight to behold,” he murmured.

She shivered at the light contact.

Responsive. She’ll set my bed on fire. I just have to touch the right buttons
.

Sophia breathed deeply.
Oh, God. His scent is too good
. “Can we order? Please?” she asked hoarsely.

He took pity on her and signaled for the waiter to bring the menus. He took a perfunctory look and closed it.

Sophia smiled at him. “What do you suggest? It’s quite a torture to choose from a menu like this.”

Torture? Torture is what I’m suffering under the pressure to maintain a tight leash on my desire
. He looked down discretely at his pants and cursed inwardly.
The into-pain submissive wants a suggestion? My apartment; on the wall, on the floor, on the bed, in the tub; tied, blindfolded, gagged, and thoroughly fucked. Hard. Or maybe she’s up for a blow job in the restaurant toilet… Aye, that would be quite satisfactory to start with
.

“Alistair?” She placed her hand on his forearm, his face captivating her.

Christ! What happened to her eyes?
“Are you wearing lenses?” he frowned.

“Contact lenses, you mean?” She blinked. “No. I don’t need them.”

“Drugs?” He cupped her chin and moved her face upward to get a better look at her eyes. They widened at his blunt question. “Do you do drugs?”
Oh, please, not another one
.

“I beg your pardon?” she snapped. “Do
you
, Mr. MacCraig?”

“Not MacCraig,” he breathed, amazed. “Alistair. Alistair Connor.”
Fire! Her eyes are flames and I’m burning in them
. “How do you change the color of your eyes like that?”

“I don’t,” she frowned at him. “They’re light brown. A very common color. Nothing special.”
Nothing like this intense emerald inferno of yours
.

He repeated her words, softly, “Nothing special…” He let go of her face with a soft stroke of his long fingers.

She looked baffled. “Have you chosen? Do you have any suggestions?”

“Well, it depends.” He eyed her figure, measuring her lean body. “Are you going to eat only salad?”

“Dear God, no. Why would I eat only salad?” She peered at him as if he were insane. “I love food. Especially desserts.” She licked her lips, unaware. “I was wondering is the spicy duck with Swiss chard, beetroot, and grilled onions a good choice? What do you think?”

“A wonderful choice,” he nodded, completely befuddled by the woman at his side. “I’ll have the salt cod brandade.”

Sophia was so taken with Alistair that she was certain she would have difficulty recalling the duck’s flavors to tell Edward later at work.
Get a grip, Sophia. This is business. Damn. Who am I fooling? This has nothing to do with business
.

Alistair barely noticed the coming and going waiters. The two of them were attracting awe-filled, lustful stares. Their sexual tension radiated and disrupted even the most serious men at their business lunches.

Alistair felt incapable of playing down his strained condition. She seemed more controlled, her movements light, whereas his were clipped. He dispensed with the bitter chocolate tartine he so liked.
I want another dessert
.

“Mmm,” Sophia closed her eyes as the lemon flavor of her dessert exploded on her tongue. “This is absolutely delicious.” She slowly pulled the spoon out of her mouth.

Christ! This ought to be forbidden. She’s making love to her dessert
. He wanted her on her knees and him filling her mouth.
Now!

To the utter desperation of the man beside her, Sophia licked her lips and gazed at him, with her yellow diamond eyes. “This is scrumptious. Do you want a taste?” Sophia found him staring at her with an unreadable expression. Strong desire shot through her body and her lips parted.
Yes, please, taste it on my mouth. Goddammit! What the hell am I doing?

Alistair lost himself in the kiss-me-now look on her face.
What did she ask?

“You want some?” she asked again.

He shook his head, but his eyes said yes.
Aye, I want you
.

“Coffee or tea?” he rasped when she finished her lemon tart.
This lunch is going to win the prize of ‘The Most Sensual Lunch of All Times’
.

“Coffee, please.” She said, oblivious of her companion’s problem disguising his huge erection.

Coffee arrived with chocolate truffles. When she bit into one and closed her eyes, moaning, Alistair almost came then and there. She cleaned her fingers on the napkin but couldn’t resist sucking her index finger.

Now! I need to fuck her now!
He made a strangled sound and she stared sheepish at him.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“Please, don’t. By all means, suck the others if you want.”
And suck me, too
. He didn’t recognize his own voice; deep, dark, husky.
How in hell am I going to walk out of the restaurant?
He inhaled deep breaths.
Orange sorbet topped with vanilla sauce and white rose petals. She’s driving you insane, Alistair Connor! Just fuck this woman and leave quickly. She’s trouble
.