Corporate Seduction (7 page)

It was clear that she didn’t understand. The question was, what didn’t she understand? Why he didn’t work for his family, or why he’d be stupid enough to turn down such a wonderful opportunity. His parents wanted an answer to that question.

“I like computers. My father likes investments and running the brokerage. It’s as simple as that.”

“Breaking a family tradition is simple for you?”

Because she was treading on touchy ground, Khalil took another drink. “Not simple, just necessary. I had to become my own man. I wasn’t meant to work for the family company. That’s something I can’t deny.”

“Mmmm, interesting.” Reka nodded to the waiter who’d come to retrieve their plates. “I’ll bet your father’s having a hard time accepting that.”

“At first it was difficult, but they’ve come around, for now anyway.” Donald and Naomi Franklin thought their son’s hobby in computers would soon run its course. Too bad they couldn’t see that his decision was permanent.

She was quiet then, seemingly content to simply watch him. He wondered what was going on in that pretty little head of hers but admitted, only to himself, that he was afraid to ask. Reka looked at him as if she could see things nobody else could, just as she’d heard the words he hadn’t spoken.

“I’m wondering,” she began.

Khalil removed his napkin from his lap and placed it on the table. “You’re wondering what?” He was a little tense, not sure what she was going to say next.

“I’m wondering what you’d be like on a dance floor.” Reka rubbed her finger absently over her chin, surveying him.

“A dance floor?” Of all the directions this conversation could have gone, Reka had done one spectacular three sixty on him.

“Yeah.” She stood, walked around the table to grab his hand. “I know this great club where we can go get our dance on.” She was pulling him behind her, stopping only long enough for him to throw a few bills on the table and grab her purse.

Once they picked up their coats and he held hers again so she could slip her arms inside, she turned, moved close enough that she could smell his cologne, almost feel his body heat. “I’ve seen the professional, serious Khalil. Now I’m interested in the laid back Khalil.” She watched him as he eyed her suspiciously. “You game?”

Reka turned to face Khalil in the front seat after he’d parked the car. “Now, this is a different type of place than the restaurant, so you need to loosen up a little bit.” She reached for his tie and pulled it from his neck. “Take your coat off.”

“Reka,” he sighed in confusion. “It’s about twenty degrees outside.”

She released herself from the confines of the seatbelt and leaned over the console, using her palms to push the heavy leather from his shoulders. “I know it’s cold outside. You can put the coat back on, but you need to get rid of this suit jacket first.”

Khalil shrugged out of his coat, let her assist him in removing his suit jacket—not that he needed the assistance, but her hands were warm on him, spiking his already growing desire.

“Relax. We’re going to go inside and get our dance on. Then we’ll go home.”

She was unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt, her fingers skimming his bare chest. He sucked in a gulp of air and counted to ten before releasing it. She seemed really serious about getting him to relax but he doubted she knew just how unrelaxed he was becoming. His sex throbbed between his legs. He slipped his arms back into his leather coat while she pulled a little mirror out of her purse and smeared more lipstick on her lips. It was a simple motion, a task he’d seen performed a million times before. On Reka it added another layer to her complex character. She made a simple act graceful, alluring, enticing. He almost groaned, but instead he opened the door and got out, appreciating the twenty degree coolness a lot more now.

This time Reka knew to stay seated until he opened her door. He seemed to like opening doors for her, and she wasn’t about to complain. When she stepped out, she surveyed him once more, then led the way into the club.

The music was loud and, because it was a Saturday night, the club was crowded. After Khalil paid the cover charge, they checked their coats once again and she grabbed his hand and led him toward the bar. It was dark inside, and blue and silver lights bounced off the indigo walls as they made their way through the crowd to find two seats at the end of the bar.

“We’ll have a drink first,” she told him, then signaled for the bartender. She ordered a rum and Coke for him and a straight martini for herself before facing him again. He looked absolutely edible. When she’d touched his chest in the car, she’d had to keep an extra tight rein on her emotions. Not only was he broad and buff, but rock hard. When she’d helped to remove his coat, he’d stared at her strangely, as if he’d never had a woman undress him before. A bolt of desire had shot between her legs with a direct hit.

Now he sat stiffly at the bar, as if this were the last place he wanted to be. But turnabout was fair play. Since she’d scrounged enough class to eat at that fancy restaurant without making a fool of herself, he could surely enjoy a few hours of partying. “Don’t you like the music?” she yelled over the thumping bass.

He did, but hadn’t admitted to liking club music in a really long time. “Yeah, it’s great.” Though his words seemed forced, it wasn’t because he was uncomfortable with the club or the music. He wanted to show her how a woman should be treated on a date but he knew if he were forced to get on that dance floor and hold her closely, all his good intentions would be shot straight to hell. He was having a hard enough time keeping his hands off her as it was. If they danced…

As he felt her touch his shoulder and run her hand down his arm, he closed his eyes. Did she secretly enjoy torturing him?

“You okay?” she inquired.

“I’m cool,” he lied, taking a deep breath and chancing a look at her. Her eyes glittered, and her lips were shiny and enticing—God, he wanted to kiss her. “No appletini tonight?” he asked, desperate to think about something else.

When her eyes found his, Reka’s heart skidded to a halt—no man had ever looked at her that way before. She licked her lips. “Uh, no, not tonight. When I’m in a party mood, I need all the fuel I can get. The apple tones down the vodka.”

He laughed, trying to dismiss the erotic way her tongue had run over her lips before disappearing again.

When their drinks arrived, they both took long sips.

“So this is more your scene, huh?”

Reka nodded, then bobbed to the music. “I like to dance. Tacoma and I usually hit the clubs once a month. We used to go more frequently, but he’s really settling down into the couple life with Terry and I—”

“You aren’t looking to meet anybody,” he finished for her. Coming to a club like this and shaking that fine ass body all over the dance floor would definitely result in her meeting more than her share of men, he realized—and didn’t like it one bit. But he was with her tonight, and no other man would get close to her. That was a fact.

She hadn’t meant to bring that up again, didn’t want to keep harping on her bad luck with men, so she simply shrugged. “Oh, that’s my song. C’mon.” She slipped off the stool, grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the dance floor. She was really enjoying the feel of his long, strong fingers entwined with her own. She’d been pulling him along all night but he hadn’t seemed to mind.

The bass was thumping just the way she liked it and they began to dance. At first, there was about two feet between them but the congestion on the floor changed that quickly.

Crunched between sixty or so other gyrating bodies, Reka watched Khalil to see if the brother had any rhythm. She didn’t want to be embarrassed by some stiff-assed man. She gulped. He looked even better in motion, moving his head to the beat, his arms raised in the air and his feet gliding from side to side. One of those strong arms came around her waist, pulling her close to him and she went along willingly, placing an arm around his neck.

Their bodies were pressed together, a natural rhythm developing between them. It was an instant connection, as if they’d been dancing together for years. The music played and he moved. She felt his hard body against hers and she moved. The sixty or so people in the room seemed to disappear, leaving only them and the music.

Her breasts pressed against him and Khalil clenched his teeth. Keeping his eyes focused on her face, he attempted to balance the desire he felt for her with the simple need for them to just be together. It was now an understatement that he liked her, that he wanted her. In an instant it had blossomed into so much more. There was a new need now. A new purpose where she was concerned. She shifted, her hands moving to cup the back of his head, her fingers splaying over his neck, spreading heat like wildfire.

Reka was caught in a dream. The room was dark but there seemed to be a spotlight on Khalil. She heard the music but concentrated more on his touch. He held her possessively, confidently, and she let herself be held. In fact, she liked it. A lot. There was something about this charming, business-like man that she’d never thought would appeal to her. But this evening, what she now admitted was a date,was turning out to be one of the best nights of her life.

His hands moved up and down her back and she pressed closer to him, needing that contact like she needed her next breath. Her center pulsed and she instantly recognized another need. She flattened her palms on his chest and let the feel of thick pectoral muscles meld into her palm. The sensations were overwhelming and she let her head fall back in enjoyment. She wasn’t prepared for it to get any better than this—after all, it was just a dance.

But then she felt his tongue hot and thick on her neck and she gasped.

Khalil couldn’t resist. She’d all but begged him to taste her, baring her slender neck to him like a willing victim to Dracula’s love. He’d assumed the role of the dark, menacing male and dropped his lips directly over the blood-filled vein and suckled. Her fingers clenched, grabbing his shirt, and he stroked and swirled his tongue from her jawbone to the beginning of her cleavage, tasting her sweetness.

She had to see his face, had to decipher what this meant to him. But when her gaze found his, she wasn’t prepared for what she saw there—desire—thick and heavy. Then his lips crashed down over hers, demanding that she open her mouth and accept him fully.

Before her eyes closed completely, his tongue was stroking hers, a silky smooth motion that mimicked the now slow movements of their dance. He touched every recess of her mouth, scraping across her teeth, drawing her bottom lip into his mouth to suck even harder. Breathing frantically, Reka was trying like hell to figure out how her idea of relaxing him had brought them to this point. She had planned to go out with him only once and end it there. Yet his mouth promised her so much more.

As her breasts pressed seductively against his chest, he groaned into her open mouth. She was every bit as sweet and firey as he had anticipated, but kissing her in a crowded club, in the middle of the dance floor, was definitely not the best idea. With iron will he pulled a few inches away from her, but held her close enough to feel her erratic heartbeat. Or was it his? He couldn’t tell. All he knew was that he needed to get her out of this club and into a bed. A few seconds later, he grabbed her by the hand and headed for the door.

Miraculously the sixty or so people that had seemed absent while they’d danced reappeared and Khalil found himself navigating through the crowd, all the while, his mind racing with purely sexual thoughts about Reka. Every muscle in his body was tense with wanting. When they finally made it off the dance floor, Khalil helped her into her coat, grabbed his and headed towards the door.

Reka followed, her heart hammering in her chest. Only she couldn’t seem to figure out if anticipation or dread was causing it. Khalil was moving fast. He made it out the door before her and held it until she was outside, too. He took a few steps, then he stopped, turned and looked at her. A slight breeze had picked up and she welcomed the coolness against her heated face. His gaze was sizzling and she turned away.

Khalil swore, ran a hand down his face and took a deep breath. The valet pulled up to the curb with his car. He walked over to where Reka stood and with a hand lightly on her elbow, led her to the waiting car.

He was quiet as he drove, probably regretting asking her out. In retrospect, Reka thought, her actions could be construed as wanton behavior. She’d dragged him to the club, ordered him a drink, then practically made love to him on the dance floor. Yeah, he was most likely figuring out the best way to tell her they wouldn’t be seeing each other again, except in the office. Well, that wasn’t her fault. It served him right for asking her out in the first place. Any fool could see how different they were.

“The club’s not your scene, huh?” she asked when the silence was too much for her to bear any longer.

Khalil cleared his throat, thankful that she was still speaking to him. After taking such liberties as he had, he had been sure she was going to blast him the moment they were alone in the car. So far, she’d sat close to the door, her eyes trained forward as he drove. He’d kicked himself numerous times already for going too far. He was a grown man, for goodness sake. He should have been able to simply dance with her without taking things to the next level. She wasn’t ready for the next level, he’d known that already, yet basic control had escaped him. “I wouldn’t say that. Just haven’t been to one in a while.”

He didn’t sound angry. She turned slightly in her seat. “Really? Then what do you do for fun? Besides play ball with the judge.”

He thought a second, realized all too quickly that he really didn’t do anything for fun. Never had the need to. He worked, attended to the social obligations his mother and sister arranged for him, and slept—that was his life. That was the life he’d anticipated sharing with Sonya, resigning them both to an early death from boredom. “Not much.”

Reka tsked. “All work and no play makes Khalil a very dull boy,” she said, even though lately she’d been guilty of the same thing. But her situation was different—she did know how to have fun. She was afraid that Khalil needed a little help in that department.

Khalil smiled. “You don’t say.” Then, as if the proverbial light bulb had at that moment appeared atop his head, he asked, “You could help me with that, couldn’t you? You could show me how to relax, to enjoy myself more?”

Reka sat back, gave the question some thought. Well, not that much thought, since she’d already considered offering to do that for him, but he didn’t need to know that. “I guess. But I don’t know if now’s the right time. You have to find out who’s sending those emails. I know Cienna wants that taken care of right away.”

He remembered his new assignment, the job that had brought this magnificent woman into his life. “I know enough about relaxation to know the first step is to leave work at the office.”

Reka smiled. “You’re right. You may not need my help at all.”

“Oh no, I definitely need your help.” Slightly panicked that she might not agree, he pulled the car into a parking spot across the street from her house and turned to face her. She looked up at him and he felt his loins stirring again. Damn, but she was sexy. Despite the dire warnings from his brain, he lifted her hand, rubbed his thumbs over its smoothness. “I’d like you to show me how to relax. I need to enjoy myself more. I think you’d make a fabulous teacher.” She’d make a fabulous anything, he was beginning to realize.

As he held her hand, she thought about what had happened on the dance floor. She’d felt like ripping his clothes off and sexing him down, right there in the middle of the club. She had to be some kind of idiot to even consider doing anything with him outside of the workplace, yet she couldn’t come up with one plausible excuse. “I guess I can give you a few pointers,” she said softly.

“Then it’s a deal,” he said with a smile.

The interior of his car seemed way too cozy to Reka. He apparently felt the same way because, on the heels of her response, he leaned closer to her.

“We should seal our agreement with something.” She was scant inches away, her lips parting for him.

“Something like what?” She knew what, and couldn’t wait for it to happen. Reka could kiss for days and never get enough of the sensual contact—when it was done right. And Khalil had already proven that he could tongue her down.