Desire: Love and Passion (10 page)

             
“Sex in the dark and a bit of bondage,” he replied.

             
“Oh,” she said.

             
“I thought you wanted me to be honest.”

             
“Honesty is good. And just so you know, the former will not work for me. The latter I might enjoy.”

             
He chuckled. She was his perfect woman. He could not recall having a conversation like this with any other woman. She had a funny, sexy kind of innocence about her. 

             
“Well, that is good to know,” he said. “Anything else you would like to add?”

             
“No, that
’
s it.”

             
“How do you expect me to go through lunch thinking about you in the latter?”

             
“The same way I
’
m going through lunch thinking you needed more room in your jeans.”

             
He laughed now.

             
“How can you possibly be single?”
h
e asked.

             
“I wasn
’
t always this person.”

             
“What is this person?”

             
“Free,” she said. “Free.”

             
Something in her voice told him that there would be no more explanation. So he didn
’
t push.

             
"Have you thought about my proposal?" He cut into a thick piece of steak.

             
"Yes
,
and the answer is no," Willow replied.

             
"So
,
we
’
re going to do this the old fashion way?"

             
"Didn't you hear
the part where I said
, no?"

             
"Your lips said no, but when I touch you all I hear is yes. Is there a reason for your no?"

             
"Yes."

             
"I'm listening," he said.

             
"Dating sets the stage for longer relationships. I don’t want that. I don’t want any commitment of any sorts.
So I have a counter proposal.
It
’
s obvious we have some chemistry between us, so rather than invite me to lunch next time, how about some wine, candles and a box of condoms? It may very well be that once the deed is done all this chemistry will simply fizzle away."

             
Her jaw-dropping proposal stunned him for a few moments. James had a few one-night
er
s beneath his belt. It was part and parcel of being rich and famous. He had never asked another woman to be his permanent partner since coming back to England. He knew each lover hoped he would comeback more, regardless of his honesty. Here, he was telling her she could have more. She could have him all to herself if she wanted to. In his experience
,
women were always interested in more than just one night. They like the emotions, the soft stuff. She was different
, though
. Maybe that was what she meant by free.

             
“Wow,” he said. “I’ll have to think about that.”

             
“Okay, good. How was your trip to Switzerland?”

             
He was amazed at the ease at which she changed the subject. It was as if okay
,
first business is over, let’s move on.

             
They talked politics and current affairs during the rest of lunch. James was pleasantly surprised
by how in-
depth her historical knowledge was. She probably knew as much
about politics as he did.
It was refreshing not having to explain many of the little things.

             
"How were the
chocolate
truffles?"
h
e asked as they later sat in a large rocker on the deck. She was having her third cup of coffee and he was having a beer.

             
"I haven't tried them as yet," Willow said.

             
"I wil
l never buy you chocolate again,
"
h
e said.

             
“
Never
say never,” she replied. “Sweets and I have a wonderful arrangement that keeps the waistline small.
There’
s never more than an ounce or two in the house.”

             
“So our next date is wine, candles
,
and condoms,” he said. 

"Are you agreeing then?"

"I like where the wine, candles
, and condoms lead, b
ut, what if after our first go, we haven't fizzled out? What then?"

"Some chemical reactions take longer to achieve the required results."

James laughed remembering her other clinical definition of their attraction.

"So this could
b
e more than a one night deal?"
h
e asked.

"Sure."

"Now I can't wait for our next date."

"
Well, you’ll just have to.
I have a tough schedule for the next few weeks."

"Ah, you are such a tease," he groaned.

Chapter 7

             
For the next ten days they spoke only by telephone. She never called first and never mentioned seeing him again. Following her cue, he too never mentioned their agreement.

             
"Bugger!"
s
he swore on Wednesday evening as a flat tire grinned at her from under the Jaguar. "Damn it!"

             
She looked at her watch. It was half
past
nine. Willow pulled out her mobile and scanned through her contacts for Michel. His telephone started ringing before she remembered he was in Paris. She hung up. She would have called Nancy but with kids and husband it seemed unfair to drag her back to work.

             
Willow thought about calling a cab or taking a bus. The cab might be okay, except getting out tomorrow morning also meant calling a cab. The bus was not a bad idea, except the closet stop to her location was quite a ways on foot. She pulled Larry's card from her purse.  He answered on the second ring.

             
"Yes." He made it sound as if he was being disturbed.

             
"This is Willow Barnes," she said in a crisp voice. "You asked me to call if I needed help.  I have a flat and I'm at my office. Can you help?"

             
"Certainly." This time he sounded annoyed that she took him up on an insincere offer. "Will you be inside your office?"

             
"Yes. My direct number is -."

             
"I have your number. The driver will call when he arrives."

             
Larry hung up before she could get as much as a thank you out.

             
Willow returned to her office and called a local garage.  Unfortunately, her car could not be towed or serviced before noon on Thursday. She settled down to review the final batch of model portfolios for her new magazine commercial.

             
Her telephone rang precisely a half hour later.

             
"I'm at the front door."

She recognized James' voice immediately.

             
"What are you doing here?"

             
"You can ask me when you open the door," he said.

             
"Oh."

             
In her surprise, she had not moved from her desk. Now she hurried out of the room and to the front door where the barely visible face of James Monroe was pressed up against the glass. He was in a business suit. She guessed she was not the only person working late.

             
"What are you doing here?"
s
he asked again as she opened the door.

             
"I h
eard you had some car trouble.
So
,
here I am. Sorry you had to wait so long
.
I couldn
’
t wrap up my meeting any faster."

"It was not a problem. I got some more work done. You could have just sent a driver,” she said.

             
“I could
have, yes
, but I wanted to see you. Let’s go.”

             
She locked up and followed him to a nondescript dark sedan par
ked just outside her building.
It was heavily tinted and she could not make out if anyone was inside that was until Giles came out and got the door for them

             
“Good evening,” she greeted the driver.

             
“Ma’am,” he said.

             
She slipped across the seat. James followed closely on her heels. There was a heavily tinted glass partition between the front and the back seat.

             
"Does Larry know you’
re here?" Willow asked.

             
"He's not quite the boss," James said. "Why didn't you call me directly?"

             
"You have important stuff to do," she replied. "This is just a ride. I would
’ve
call
ed
a cab but there's always the off chance that some lunatic will be driving in the middle of the road.  The last thing I need is the media camping out in my backyard."

             
“Thank you for being so considerate,” he said. “I must confess that when you told me you were working long hours I thought you were blowing me off.”

             
“You wound me,” she said.

             
“Have you had dinner?”

             
“I had a salad a few hours ago. I’m good until tomorrow.”

             
“Are you sure? I could have my cook whip up something in no time.”

             
“I am certain.”

             
“The next time you are working late, let me know in advance. Henry can send something more interesting than a salad."

             
“If you keep talking, I can’
t properly thank you for playing the hero." 

             
Willow felt a certain schoolgirl delight as she leaned
into
him and kissed him on the lips.  It was a soft kiss that got deeper as she pressed up against him, her right hand ruffling his hair as she held his head. She moved across his lap as he pulled her deeper into the kiss.

             
Her short skirt rode up to her hips. His hands went up the side of her legs that were now straddling him. He felt nylons, smooth at the bottom, the garter clips, laced tops and as he continued upward, fishnet. Still his hands climbed in tempo with his excitement. As he got to her hips, he felt the outlines of lace. 

             
He did not push below her skirt
;
he skimmed over the gathering and up to her tucked in button front ruffled blouse. He felt the smooth stiffness of a corset beneath and now he chuckled against her mouth.

             
“What is it?” s
he asked looking at him.

             
“Corset?”
h
e asked.

             
“Why not?”

             
“We’re going to my place tonight,” he said.

             
“Are you sure? I mean if I
’
m well rested you might...”

             
“I
’m certain,” he said.
“And as much as I hate to say this, we have to stop now or this backseat will be our first time.”

             
“That might be exciting,” she said.

             
“Not when we have only few minutes left
o
n our journey. Hang on.” He pressed a button on the side of the door. Willow could hear noise from the front of the vehicle. “Giles, we are going straight to my place.”