Richard looked directly at me. “Any idea why he hasn’t called us yet?”

  In a second of irrationality, I thought about blurting out the details of meeting Vincent at the bar but decided it better if Richard didn’t know anything about that. Besides, it was irrelevant. If anything, Vincent would have been more interested in working with us after that meeting.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe another firm got to him before us?” I remembered Richard’s condescending comments about the “Wave Whisperer” and his assumptions about Vincent’s lifestyle that no doubt influenced his approach to the meeting. That might have something to do with the fact that we hadn’t heard from Vincent, but I kept my mouth shut.

  Richard frowned. “Screw it. Nothing to do now but wait. Let me know if you hear anything.”

  I took the cue that the meeting was over when Richard turned back to his computer. When I got back to my own desk, I pulled up my email. The first thing that popped up was a message from my cell phone provider informing me I had reached my data limit for the month. Again? These cell phone services really knew how to fleece you. I deleted the email and moved on, reviewing work memos and deleting spam.

  The rest of the morning bled into the afternoon. After eating lunch and helping another analyst resolve a reporting issue, I came back to my desk to find a note thrown haphazardly over my keyboard.

  Kaufman called, have to meet him. Keep me updated if Sorenson calls the office.

  Jon Kaufman was one of the larger clients Richard handled. He had a large plastics refinery west of the Hudson and was one of the clients who didn’t come to our office. Rather, we went to him. I never met the guy but from the way Richard spoke about him, he was difficult.

  I put the note aside and settled into my routine. I had barely gotten into the zone when my phone rang.

  “Hey Kristen, I have Mr. Sorenson on the line for you.” Our receptionist sounded like she was going to pass out just from the mention of his name.

  So we hadn’t blown our chances completely. For a moment I considered the possibility Richard had been right. These guys are fairly predictable. But there was no way Richard gave Vincent a positive first impression, and if anything saved us, it was probably my stunt with the spider at the bar.

  “Thanks, transfer him over.” I kept my voice level despite being aware that Vincent had asked for me specifically. I’d told him to call Richard as part of my brush-off. I just hoped his intentions were business.

  A beep later and Vincent’s silky voice vibrated through my handset.

  “Hello Kristen.”

  Even over the phone, his velvety rasp made it difficult to maintain my composure. I switched the phone to my left hand and wiped my sweaty palm on my skirt.

  “Hello Vincent, it’s good to hear from you,” I said, feeling like I’d just swallowed a cotton ball.

  “I’ve been thinking about our meeting.”

  Which meeting? The one where I played with his nipple ring or the one where he asked me to mix business with pleasure?

  “I’d like to discuss business,” he continued.

  I exhaled, relieved he wasn’t interested in revisiting our personal discussion. Maybe he took the hint. “I’m happy to hear that. When would you like to schedule a meeting?”

  “Today.”

  I laughed nervously. “We might need a little more time to make it out to South Africa.”

  “I’m at my office in Manhattan. Sixty-five West Fifty-ninth Street. Eighty-second floor.” That was just a few blocks away. Of course. He had a media office in Manhattan that produced a popular extreme sports series that was broadcast on multiple cable networks.

  “Could we do tomorrow? Richard is meeting with another client until late this afternoon.”

  “He’s not needed. I’ll be on a flight to Lucerne tomorrow. It has to be today.” His voice betrayed no sense of urgency or need, just a statement of facts.

  My mind swirled. Could I take the meeting with Vincent? I had all the paperwork ready; it was in the same folder as the proposal. Richard had let me close some smaller clients before so I knew what had to be done. But what would he say if I went to the meeting without him? I had a pretty good guess of what he’d say if I was the reason we lost Vincent’s business. I had to take this meeting, if only to avoid the four letter words Richard would have in store for me if I didn’t.

  “Yes, of course. How is three p.m. for you?” I asked.

  “Perfect. I’m looking forward to it, Kristen.”

  After he hung up, I let out a long breath, blowing my bangs out of my face. I was going to see Vincent Sorenson again. Although I certainly hadn’t forgotten about both our meetings in South Africa, I wasn’t sure if he’d been thinking about them at all.

  At two thirty, I quickly packed my bag and told the receptionist to tell Richard or anyone else who stopped by my desk that I was going to be at a client meeting.

  It was only when I was on the elevator down, the paperwork neatly filed in my briefcase, that I realized what I’d gotten myself into. Vincent Sorenson and I were going to be in the same room together. Alone.

  ***

  Well this is different.

  I stood in front of the sleek black reception desk at Red Fusion, SandWork’s media arm, trying not to eye the curved adult-sized plastic slide that came from the ceiling and ended just right of where the receptionist was sitting. I smiled at the blonde woman behind the desk. She beamed back at me. Her rows of perfectly white teeth and her sultry figure made her more appropriate for a movie set than an office.

  “Can I help you?” she said.

  “Hi, my name is Kristen Daley. I’m here to see Mr. Sorenson.”

  “Of course, he’s expecting you. Right this way.” I followed her, watching the way her hips swayed in her curve-hugging dress. Though I tried to resist, I couldn’t help inspecting my reflection in the glass door to make a quick comparison. Was she one of the pleasures Vincent mixed with his business? But so what if she was? I had no right to be upset.

  The Red Fusion offices were abuzz with activity. An employee sat cross-legged on the carpet, tossing a stress ball at the wall, stopping only to peck furiously at the laptop in front of him. Others were seated around large tables, having animated discussions. It was nothing like the reverential near silence at Waterbridge-Howser.

  “Here we are, you can go inside. Vincent’s ready for you.” The receptionist stopped in front of a frosted glass door. The same glass formed a wall that stretched to either side of the entry.

  I nodded thanks to her before pushing open the door and walking inside. Silence greeted me. Whatever the glass was made of, it completely blocked the noise from outside. In the corner was a black leather couch with a small coffee table in front of it. A large desk was set squarely in the center of the room, a metal and glass tribute to modernity. It was a stark contrast to his desk in Cape Town.

  Vincent stood by the window, one arm behind his back, looking out. He was wearing a navy suit matched with a grey tie and white shirt. His long locks were slicked neatly back. Unwillingly preoccupied with wild fantasies, I nearly tripped on the rug in front of his desk as I walked closer. My pulse danced in my veins and a flush coursed through my cheeks. If I had fallen on him twice, I would’ve died from embarrassment.

  Blue skies and skyscrapers along Central Park silhouetted his figure. He looked equally comfortable in a suit as he had in shorts and flip-flops.

  He turned around, his dark eyes shimmering. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  I looked at his chin, chiseled with perfect angles, as if carved from a slab of marble. My eyes moved up to his mouth, his lips full and soft.

  I cleared my throat. “Yes, it is. I’ve never quite gotten used to the view. Good to see you again, Mr. Sorenson.”

  “Please Kristen, have a seat.” I stumbled to the guest chair in front of his desk while Vincent remained by the window.

  I took it as my cue to continue. I set my bag down and reached inside for the glossy documents Richard and I prepared for a follow-up meeting.

  Vincent studied me for a moment, his head tilted slightly to one side, as if examining a piece of art. Or his prey. Not knowing what else to do, I unleashed my rehearsed speech. “Thank you for meeting with me again. Waterbridge-Howser will be an excellent choice for your wealth management needs. We offer personal attention as well as products that larger—”

  He held his hand up to stop me. “I’ve decided to go with Waterbridge-Howser.” He glided from the window to me, occupying the small space between my seat and his enormous desk. He leaned back and sat on the edge, his crotch inches away from my heated face.

  For a moment I forgot where I was or what I was even trying to accomplish. Wait, did he just say he wanted to work with Waterbridge-Howser? I realized my mouth had been hanging open, and I closed it with a snap. Adrenaline surged through my body. I had just closed a big account—this was massive.

  “Sir?” I said, ignoring his position so as not to draw attention.

  “Please, Kristen, it’s Vincent. I let it slide when you called me Mr. Sorenson earlier, but if you’re going to call me ‘sir’ then I’m going to address you as ‘madam’. Now let’s get back to business.”

  Vincent Sorenson, eager to get back to business. The irony wasn’t lost on me, even in my dazed state.

  “I can sign the paperwork today, but there’s one condition.” He paused. “You must be my point of contact. I’ll need a number to reach you at any point in the day.”

  His dark pupils drew my gaze and I found myself unable to look away. I knew there’d be a catch. “Richard’s usually the one who works directly with clients and I’m not sure I have the authority to—”

  His expression implacable, he waved his hand to swat away my excuses. “Get the authority. Your partner is insulting and unacceptable. You’re smart, ambitious, and not afraid to take risks. It’s either you or I walk away.”

  I blushed at his compliments, although I wasn’t sure why he thought I wasn’t afraid of taking risks, but I had bigger issues to deal with. Even though this would be an enormous boost to my career, Richard would be offended if I agreed to Vincent’s condition. Not to mention the obvious: I’d be spending much more time alone with Vincent. I doubted his true motives, but there was no way I could turn down this opportunity. I’d just have to figure out how to handle the complications.

  I released a deep breath. “You’re certainly very demanding, Vincent.”

  “You have no idea how demanding I can be.” His eyes traveled up the exposed skin of my legs as if possessing me with his gaze. I crossed my legs to quell the uncomfortable sensation growing between them.

  And there it is again, he can turn it on and off at will. Despite the edgy feeling of being this close to Vincent, I had to admire his ability to make anything sound sexual. If he was willing to sign with Waterbridge-Howser based on the misguided belief he’d get into my pants, I wasn’t about to stop him. I’d just have to keep him at arm’s length.

  “Fine, I’ll be your point of contact,” I said, pulling out a business card from my satchel and handing it to him. “My information is on the card, you can reach me at the office during the day. My Blackberry number is available for emergencies as well.” I hoped the emphasis was taken.

  “Good,” he said, pausing as though there was something else he wanted to add before gesturing towards my bag. “Do you have the paperwork?”

  I handed him the contract.

  “Thank you for deciding to go with us. I’m looking forward to working with you,” I said, holding my hand out. He took it and squeezed firmly, the heat of his palm sending tingles up my arm. I didn’t know if I was more excited about landing a huge client or Vincent’s touch.

  Without moving from his position in front of me, he signed and dropped the papers on his desk, rather than returning them to me. “Now that we have the business out of the way, we can get to the pleasure.” The last word rolled off his tongue like a satin ribbon, sensuous and inviting.

  “I’m sorry?” Heat coursed through my face.

  “We didn’t finish our conversation at the bar.”

  “I thought we were quite clear,” I said, mouth drying by the second. He wasn’t going to make this easy.

  He shrugged. “You made it clear you didn’t like mixing business with pleasure, so I didn’t. The business is done, now it’s time for pleasure.”

  As he leaned closer, his spicy cologne warped my brain into a puddle of incoherence. I froze as a series of lewd images played in my mind. His fingers caught a wisp of loose hair and pushed it behind my ear before trailing down my neck. Instead of pulling away, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, hoping he couldn’t read the desire painted on my face.

  “If you read the paperwork, you’ll see pleasure isn’t part of the agreement,” I tried.

  Vincent took his hand away from my face, his dark pupils intense and focused. The sudden absence of his skin against mine felt wrong. I craved his touch immediately, but I tried not to lean closer to him.

  “Of course not, the contract I signed was business. The pleasure part is just between you and me. Who’s trying to mix them now?”

  My pulse beat a steady staccato in my ears. Alarm bells ringing faintly in the back of my mind were overwhelmed by the building need radiating between my thighs. His sizable bulge was just a few feet away from me and became bigger every time I looked at it. I drowned in fantasies of being crushed under his chest, his cock pressing against my aching sex.

  “Vincent, we can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’ll lose my job if anyone finds out.”

  He looked around. “How would they? I checked behind the couch earlier, we’re definitely alone.”

  I had to give him credit for his persistence, but the longer I was in his office the more likely I was to give in. I needed to end this conversation quickly. I couldn’t get involved with a man like Vincent.

  “That’s not the only problem,” I blurted. “Just because you’re attractive doesn’t mean I’m willing to sleep with you.”

  Some of the intensity left Vincent’s face and his mouth twisted into a boyish grin, but he never broke eye contact.

  “You’re attracted to me and I’m attracted to you. We’re getting somewhere.”

  I flushed with embarrassment. It was an unintentional admission. “No we’re not. There’s no way I’m having sex with you in your office.”

  “I can pleasure you in so many ways beyond sex. Let me show you.”

  A surge of arousal made my body tremble. I had no doubt Vincent knew how to pleasure a woman. A man didn’t become that confident without plenty of experience. In fact, he probably used the same lines on the perky blonde who greeted me earlier.

  “What about your receptionist?” I snapped, the jealous words escaping my mouth before I had time to bite them back.

  He furrowed his brows. “Lucy’s a happily married woman and I’ve never touched her, nor would I ever. What kind of man do you think I am?” His tone surprised me; he sounded almost indignant.

  I regrouped. “A dangerous one.”

  He shook his head and smiled. “I find danger only heightens the pleasure.” His stance widened giving a fuller view of that distinctly male area so near my face. I gripped the arms of my chair.

  God, he was determined. And worse, it was turning me on more than I’d thought possible. I licked my dry lips, realizing how close he was to me. Vincent tilted his face to the side, a lustful glint in his eyes.

  He leaned down and pressed his thumb against my lower lip, dragging it open slightly. All thoughts of pulling away were drowned out by the roaring in my ears.

  “This is wrong,” I whispered, relishing his touch, my breathing shallow and forced. His beautiful face was close to mine, breath heavy and filled with desire.

  “No, just a little dangerous.”

  His lips crashed into mine, sealing firmly over my mouth. My head swam, dizzy with desire. His tongue flicked against my lips, tenderly at first, then more passionately. I couldn’t believe how full and soft his lips were. A soft whimper escaped my mouth.

  This close to him, I could smell his unique scent underneath the cologne and feel his body heat. It was driving me wild. I squirmed in my seat, my panties beginning to feel damp already, and tilted my head back so as not to break the kiss. I knew if we stopped, my mind would return to rationality again, and that was the furthest thing from what I wanted.

  He straightened, his lips drawing me upwards until I was standing as well. Faintly, I heard a stack of papers falling to the floor. We stumbled over to the leather couch in the corner. Our lips broke contact when I fell backwards onto the couch. My skirt rode up my thighs, revealing a scandalous stretch of skin.

  “Gorgeous,” he said, fire burning in his eyes.

  I bit down on my lower lip as I tried to pull my skirt down to cover myself. Before I could adjust it, he was on top of me, his lips pressing firmly against my vulnerable neck, making me moan. I could feel his erection throbbing against my leg, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric. One hand slid up my inner thigh, and I instinctively spread my legs wider for him, urging him to touch me as my fingers fisted his wavy hair.

  An electronic sound beeped from the desk. My eyes shot open and my hands fell from his head.

  “Shit,” Vincent cursed, running one hand through his hair and straightening his suit with the other.

  He walked over to the desk and pressed a button on his phone. “Vincent, your three thirty is here. Should I send him in?”

  “Give me another five minutes,” he said into the speakerphone before looking back at me. “I’m sorry about the interruption. We can pick this up after work. I’ll be done at five.”

  I stared at my surroundings, lightheaded. My skirt was just inches away from exposing my damp panties. I sat up quickly, smoothing it back over my legs. What the hell did I just do? I’d never lost my senses like that before and I was both mortified and furious with myself. This was completely inappropriate and unprofessional.