“Someone has a good eye.”
She looked him up and down, not sure she’d ever seen him in a suit and tie. He looked sexy as hell and then some. “Someone has a good everything.”
He made a noise that sounded like something between a moan and a growl. He took a step closer to her, but didn’t touch her. “We’d better be on our way before I’m tempted to rip that gown off you and show you just how good my everything is.”
Promise? danced on her lips, but she bit it back. “Let me grab my purse.”
As she turned to get her things, he gave a low moan she couldn’t help but smile at.
Oh yes, the back of the gown was almost nonexistent.
* * *
Guy had rented out the entire restaurant for the evening and even though she and Luke were a few minutes early, when they stepped inside, she was surprised by the number of people present. Everyone had their nose in the air, as if silently judging the people around them. The decor was contemporary and uninspired. From what she could tell, the dinner appeared as if it was going to be just as stuffy and boring as she had feared. At least she had Luke to liven up her evening.
He took her coat and gave it to the hostess to check; then he placed his hand low on her back, right where skin met the fabric. The warmth of his touch felt good and her body relaxed. Yes, inviting him had been the best decision she’d made in the last few months.
“Do you know all these people?” he asked in a whisper.
“Only about fifteen percent.”
Across the room, Guy saw her and waved. She put on her fake smile and waved back, groaning softly when he spoke briefly to the people he was standing by and headed her way.
“What?” Luke asked, but there wasn’t time to tell him anything because within seconds Guy stood in front of them.
“Meagan.” Guy gave her cheek an air kiss and looked her over. “Wow, you look great. And who is this?” he added with a nod toward Luke.
“I’m Luke DeVaan, an old friend of Meagan’s,” he replied before she could get anything out.
Luke stood about two inches taller than Guy’s six feet, but Guy still looked her date up and down in appraisal. “Old friend? I’m one of Meagan’s old friends and I don’t remember her ever mentioning you.”
“Isn’t that funny?” Luke asked by way of an answer. “I don’t remember her ever mentioning you before, either.”
The two men kept on staring at each other as if silently trying to determine who’d known her the longest. Meagan rolled her eyes. Men. Honestly.
“Luke, Guy and I met in college,” she said. Guy’s smile got bigger seconds before she took him down a notch. “Guy, Luke and I met shortly after I graduated from high school.”
It was Luke’s turn to smile big and Meagan decided maybe the dinner wasn’t going to be so boring after all. She turned to Guy. “I never mentioned Luke to you because we only dated for a short while. In fact, I went out of my way to ignore him for the last several years.”
“But I’m persistent,” Luke added.
“That you are.”
Guy tipped his head. “I’m glad you could make it,” he said, but his voice didn’t sound as if he meant it.
Luke started rubbing her back with only his thumb and she could have hummed in pleasure. How in the world had she forgotten how good his hands felt? More important, how had she managed to live without it for so long?
“Congratulations on your nomination,” Luke added.
“Thank you.” Guy lightly brushed Meagan’s bare shoulder. “I wouldn’t be here without Meagan.”
Luke tensed beside her. Because Guy touched her? He would have to get over it; they weren’t in a club, after all. No one had to ask his permission to interact with her.
“Now, Guy,” she chided. “I just gave you a push. You did all the hard work yourself.”
“That’s kind of you to say. What do you do, Luke?”
“I run an art gallery downtown and a few clubs in the city.”
“Oh, diversified. Interesting. What kind of clubs? Maybe I’ve been to one.”
“Trust me. You haven’t.”
Guy opened his mouth to reply, but Meagan beat him to it. “Luke, come with me over to meet Mr. Black. He’s the CEO.”
She dragged him a few feet away. “What are you doing? What was that?”
“What was what? I simply told him there was no way in hell he’d ever been to one of my clubs.”
“He may have. You never know.”
“He hasn’t. I know.”
Whatever. It wasn’t worth a fight and she didn’t want to ruin the evening. If that meant breaking up their little testosterone battle, she would. She peered around the crowd, trying to find Mr. Black, but he was so short, he often got lost in groups. “Well, I seem to have lost my boss.”
“No worries. We can go pick on Guy some more.”
“No, we can’t. Honestly, what’s gotten into you?”
“I didn’t like the way he looked at you and then touched you. More than that, you let him kiss your cheek. You haven’t even let me do that.”
“It was an air kiss. You want to give me an air kiss?” She lifted her head slightly, offering him her cheek.
He dipped his head, as if he was going to take her up on the offer, but instead he simply whispered, “No, thanks, sweetheart. I have my sights set on a different kind of kiss. I’ll bide my time until then.”
“You sound sure of yourself, Mr. DeVaan.”
“I like it when you call me Mr. DeVaan.” His hold on her waist grew rougher. “And I—”
“Meagan Bishop, you sly dog. Who do we have here?”
Meagan held back a sigh and turned toward the office flirt. “Robin, this is my old friend Luke DeVaan. Luke, this is—”
“Robin Skye.” The petite woman with curly hair the color of wet sand held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure’s mine.”
“Not yet, but the night is young.”
Meagan coughed. Robin batted her lashes. Luke looked faintly amused.
Meagan was getting ready to suggest to Luke that they go get a drink when a server came by with a tray of shrimp. Robin picked one up and held it up to Luke’s lips with her other hand cradled underneath. To the casual observer, she would appear to be preventing spills, but in reality, she was probably getting ready to touch him the minute he opened his mouth.
“Want a bite?” she asked in a way that suggested she was offering a whole lot more.
Meagan felt certain if she looked in a mirror, she’d have steam coming out of her ears. Seriously? Was the woman drunk or just immature and stupid? And Luke, what the hell was going through his mind?
“No, thank you.” He turned his head, his voice flat. “Shellfish allergy. Though I would love a glass of wine.” He held out a hand to Meagan. “Come with me?”
She placed her hand in his and heard his sigh of relief as Robin headed for her next victim.
“Damn, Meagan. Who are these people you work with?” he asked as they approached the bar. “First the man with the easy lips and then the woman with the easy everything else.”
“Television’s a weird business.”
“I run multiple kink clubs. Television isn’t weird—it’s borderline harassment.”
“Guy was just being charming. Robin is . . . well, Robin.”
He didn’t say anything else about the guests. He ordered two glasses of wine, passed one to Meagan, and downed his own in three gulps.
And she’d thought the dinner would be stuffy and boring.
“Want another?” Meagan asked him, eyeing the empty wineglass, barely able to keep the laughter from her voice.
“No, I’m good now.”
* * *
Damn, but he had anticipated a much quieter evening. Between the man who obviously had eyes for Meagan to the petite woman who’d made no doubt about how much she wanted him, the night was shaping up to be interesting.
“What time are we actual
ly eating?” he asked.
There were tables set up in the back of the restaurant. From where he stood, it appeared there were name cards at each seat. He never understood why people thought name cards were necessary. Weren’t they all adults? Couldn’t they be trusted to pick out their own seats?
Meagan looked at her watch. “Probably in about thirty minutes.”
“Did you tell anyone I was coming as your guest?”
“No.”
He groaned inwardly. “Great.”
“What?”
“The tables have name cards. If you didn’t tell anyone I was coming, I either don’t have a seat or I’m seated next to her.” He smiled over at Robin, who was watching them. She lifted her hand and waved.
“Truly a fate worse than death,” Meagan said in a deadpan voice.
“Sweetheart, if I didn’t want to sit next to you at dinner, I wouldn’t have agreed to come tonight.” He brushed her cheek with the backs of his knuckles. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week—don’t pawn me off.”
She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. He told himself it was probably the alcohol, though really, she’d had only the one glass.
“I have an idea,” she whispered.
“What’s that?”
“Let’s leave.”
“Before dinner?” At her nod, he replied, “Scandalous.”
She opened her eyes. “I’m game if you are.”
“Think anyone will miss us?”
“Robin.”
“Let’s go.”
She giggled and he took her hand as they made their way to pick up her coat.
“You aren’t really allergic to shellfish, are you?” she asked.
They stepped outside and he helped her slip her arms into the sleeves. “No, it just seemed to be the quickest way to get rid of her. Most people aren’t going to argue with a food allergy.”
“Quick thinking on your part.”
“Speaking of quick thinking, we need to eat. Let’s grab something quick and eat it in the park.”
“A picnic in Central Park?” She raised her eyebrow. “Dressed like this?”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?”
He knew that’d get her. She threw him an I know what you’re doing look, but replied, “Let’s do it.”
“Excellent. I know just the place. It’s right off West Fifty-seventh, not far from here.”
Tucking her arm against him, they started off. But, of course, she was full of questions.
“Are we going to sit on the ground? I really don’t want to get all dirty. Should we get a blanket? Where can we find one? Maybe we just skip the picnic and go back to your place. You still wanted to fit a session in today, right?”
He pulled her out of the flow of pedestrian traffic and brought them both to a halt. “Meagan. This is supposed to be fun. Stop stressing out about it and leave the details to me. All the details. To me.” She started to say something, but he hushed her by bringing a finger up to her lips. “I mean it. I’ll take you over my knee right here.”
And though her eyes darkened with desire, she only nodded. But he wanted more.
“Say, ‘Yes, Sir.’”
Her entire countenance dissolved into sweet submission. “Yes, Sir.”
Fuck, what those two words did to him when they came out of her mouth. He wanted to take her in his arms and crush his lips against hers. He wanted her lips and her kiss so badly he could taste it. And he wondered, not for the first time, if her lips still tasted the same.
Damn it all to hell, he was going to find out. Not right this second. Maybe not even tonight, but soon. Soon, he’d taste her kiss again.
Using all the self-discipline and self-control he could muster, he lowered his head, bypassed her lips, and whispered in her ear, “Thank you, Meagan. I’ve never heard sweeter words.”
Was it his imagination or did she look disappointed that he hadn’t kissed her?
Regardless, it wasn’t the time or the place to give her the type of kiss he wanted, so he took her hand once again and started walking toward his favorite pizzeria. It wasn’t a long walk, but he was thankful it was long enough to cool his blood and keep him from doing something he wasn’t quite ready to do.
Meagan didn’t say anything while they walked. More than likely she was fuming over his threat to take her over his knee, but he really didn’t care. She might identify as a switch, but she needed to understand she wasn’t going to Top him.
The owner of the pizzeria hurried to the front of the restaurant as soon as he saw Luke enter. He gave only a passing glance to their finery before punching Luke on the shoulder.
“Good to see you, DeVaan. What can I do for you tonight?”
“Good to see you, too, Angeleno.” Luke raised an eyebrow. “Meagan?”
“Thin crust. All the veggies.”
“Give us a large thin with all the veggies, a bottle of your house red, and a tablecloth. To go.”
Angeleno snapped his fingers. “It is done. Give me fifteen minutes.”
Luke turned back to Meagan. Fifteen minutes was long enough for her to decide she didn’t want an impromptu picnic in Central Park. But she was watching him with curious eyes that held a hint of laughter and Luke couldn’t help but smile.
“What?” he asked.
“Do you do this often?”
“First time, actually.”
He was going to tell her she could ask Angeleno when he came back, but she seemed satisfied with his answer.
“I’ve walked by this place, but never stopped,” she said, looking around.
Luke tried to imagine it was his first time entering. It was difficult; he’d been to the tiny restaurant often over the years and the owners were like a second family. To him, the entire space gave a warm and comforting vibe. Soft candlelight, crisp tablecloths, and the inviting aroma of brick oven–baked pizza. “If you haven’t eaten the pizza here, you haven’t had real pizza yet.”
“I’ll hold off on making that decision until I’ve tasted it.”
“You’ll be singing its praises by the time the night’s over.”
A large family came in and they were all so packed in the small area, there wasn’t much opportunity to talk anymore. Right as the group was seated, Angeleno appeared with the pizza and two bags.
“I have everything you need in the bags,” he told Luke while he rang him up. “And Teresa insisted on sending cannoli. On the house.”
“You truly married an angel. Be sure to tell her thank you for me.”
The older man grinned. “I certainly will. Now you two go and have fun.”
“He seems really nice,” Meagan said once they were outside again and headed toward the park.
“I swear he’s half saint. He and Teresa have always been there for me. They’re great when you just need someone to listen.”
He didn’t mean to say that; it just spilled out. Hopefully, she