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He looked up. Her hair was brushed out straight and laying down her back. He wanted to touch it, bury his face in it.
He wanted her all over him.
Gray cleared his throat and quickly buttoned his double-breasted jacket. Hiding what was happening to his body seemed not only polite, but an act of self-preservation. Not that she didn't know how affected he was. The high color on her cheekbones told him he'd em?barrassed her, ogling her like that.
Yeah, he'd once been smooth with the women. Truly.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked, praying the answer was yes.
Because the caveman in him was pointing out, with admirable if tragic logic, that since she'd answered the ring, it was likely that Cassandra and the maid were not home. Which meant if he were to come inside and the door were to be closed behind him, he and Joy would be all alone. With plenty of privacy. And quite a number of beds to choose from.
“Uh, yes, I'm ready,” she said, lifting her chin. Her fin?gers fiddled with the dress's neckline as if she weren't quite comfortable with what she was wearing.
Well, that made two of them.
She picked up a little black bag off the hall table and walked past him. She was wearing some perfume that drove him nuts it was so sexy. And those heels. They were a mile high and made her ankles look so delicate he wanted to carry her down to the car.
Ah, hell, she could have had combat boots on and he'd still want to pick her up.
He shut the door and followed her to the elevator. When the doors opened, he reached out to touch the small of her back to guide her. He stopped himself.
No. No touching.
Not unless she was taking a fall because of those sky?scraper pumps. And then only to save her from hurting herself.
Because if he got his hands on herÑ
“Where are we going?” she asked.
Her voice, low, quiet, was like getting stroked. He punched the button for the lobby and refused to look at her, focusing instead on the little blinking numbers over?head.
“The Congress.”
“What?”
“It's an old private club here in town.”
“Oh. Do I look all right?”
Yeah, how to answer that one without using the words “sexy,” “as” or “hell.”
“You'll pass.”
The elevator came to a stop and he held the gate open for her. When she stepped by him, it was all he could do not to yank her back inside, hit the emergency stop but?ton and get up under that dress of hers.
As they walked through the lobby, he thought it was clearly pep talk time.
So listen up, Bennett, he lectured himself. She's some?one else's woman. And whereas that wouldn't matter to most of the ladies who could fill out a dress like that, it was still Joy Moorehouse inside the stunning, sexy creation.
So back the hell off.
Maybe the dress wasn't such a good idea, Joy thought as she got into the limousine.
YouÕll pass.
Now there was a ringing endorsement.
In fact, ever since Gray had given her a once-over at the door, he'd fallen into a tense silence. She had to won?der if he knew she was just posing as a sophisticate. Maybe the lie annoyed him.
She really wished she could go back up and change into the black pants and sweater that were hers. However modest, at least she'd felt like herself in those clothes.
As the limousine took off down Park Avenue, Joy glanced across the leather seat. Gray was staring out the window, elbow on the door, chin on his fist. His eyebrows were down low, as if he were in the middle of an argument.
“You know, maybe this wasn't such a good idea,” she blurted.
His head turned. “Are you tired?”
Ah, not likely. Starbucks had nothing on the nervous buzz she was riding.
“You just seem preoccupied,” she said. “And I really don't have to go to dinner with you. I can go out on my own. In fact, why don't we just head our separate ways when we getÑ”
“Joy, no offense, but shut up.”
Her eyes flared as he turned away.
Okay. Clearly she'd misread him. He wasn't silent because she'd irritated him, he was rip-roaring mad.
She studied his profile. Underneath that expensive black suit, behind the civilized guise of the flashy silk tie and gold cuff links, he was rigid with some kind of dark emotion. As if she'd offended him. Or said something that had pissed him off.
“I'm sorry,” he muttered a minute later. “I'm a bas?tard when I get in this kind of mood.”
“What's the matter? Did your meetings go badly?”
He laughed in a harsh burst. “Right now, I can't even remember what I did all day.”
“Do you want to be alone?”
Gray's eyes slid over to her face. His expression was so intense, she had to blink. It was either that or have her retinas toasted.
“No. I don't want to be alone,” he said in a low, husky voice. His eyes flickered downward for a split second be?fore he looked away. “And that's my problem.”
Joy let her breath out slowly and glanced down at her?self. In the dim glow of the interior lights, the curves of her chest were obvious. Lush. Even to her, her br**sts looked swollen, inviting.
The limousine came to a stop and the door was opened by a man in a green-and-gold uniform. Gray got out first and then offered her a hand.
Joy thought back to what Cassandra had said, about the two of them not being lovers. The woman didn't strike Joy as a liar. So if there was nothing going on be?tween Gray and the beautiful widow, then what hap?pened that night in his library just might have had nothing to do with the other woman. And everything to do with Joy.
And he'd wanted her when they'd danced together, hadn't he?
An utterly reckless thought occurred to her. After a de?cade of dreaming, she was actually out in the big city with Gray. On what might be considered some form of date. And he'd noticed her.
It seemed as if she had a shot at making her pipe dream come true.
Gray leaned down and looked into the limousine. “You coming?”
One shot. And she was going to take it.
Joy reached out and slid her palm into his so their skin rubbed together. Gray's fingers twitched, as if he felt the same heat she did, and then he gripped her hand and pulled her up.
As she got out, she led with her upper body and turned so she was half facing him. She didn't have the nerve to meet him in the eyes, but she made sure she brushed her hip against his body as she stepped forward.
His sharp intake of breath gave her some confidence.
As they walked through a set of ornate doors, she sifted through every romantic movie she'd ever seen. She'd never tried to come on to a man before and she wished she was better prepared.
Seduction for Dummies. Now why hadn't someone written that bestseller?
“Bennett! How are you?” A man in his forties came up to them, eyeing Joy with admiration. “And who's this?”
“Joy Moorehouse, this is William Pierson IV,” Gray said tersely before steering her away from the man.
In the time it took to get from the front door to their table at a window in the formal dining room, Gray must have talked to thirty people. He seemed to know every?one in the club and the delay gave her a little time to shore up her nerve.
She could do this. She really could. If Eve had pulled off the seducer routine with only an apple and some coaching from a snake, surely Joy could make a go of it in a Stella McCartney dress and a pair of Jimmy Choos.
But as Gray helped her with her chair and then sat down across from her, she hesitated. He didn't exactly look like a candidate for corruption. While he ordered a bourbon for himself and a glass of Chardonnay for her, his mood was grim. Maybe even worse than it had been in the limousine.
Had she read him wrong? She decided to do a little test. She pushed back her hair and then let her hand drift down the front of the dress. She paused, tugging at the neckline.
His eyes instantly snagged on what she was doing. And that dark moodiness lifted a little, revealing a pound?ing lust that just about blew her out of her chair.
Okaaay. Guess we're clear on that.
Wine. Wine would be good right now, she thought, taking a sip.
“So what did you do today?” she asked.
He looked up from the front of her dress. Leaned in toward her.
“Let me give you a piece of advice, Joy,” he said. “You might want to think twice before trying to get my attention. I'm not a nice guy, someone who's going to take well to being teased.”
She nearly dropped her glass as he picked up his bour?bon and tossed the thing back.
Joy took a deep breath.
“What if I'm not teasing?” she said.
Gray almost choked. He'd counted on her backing down.
But before he could say anything, a tuxedoed waiter appeared at their table. “Have you made your selec?tions?”
Um, yeah, Gray thought. I'll have the total body melt?down with a side of what-the-hell-was-I-thinking. She, evidently, will be having the sex-goddess pot pie.
“We need a minute,” he said. “But I'd like another bourbon.”
The waiter nodded with deference and dematerialized.
Gray looked across the table, thinking now was his chance to be a gentleman. To prove that he still had a shred of decency left.
“Joy, you don't mean that. You're away from home, away from your real life. It's easy to be reckless.”
“Are you saying that you're not...” She didn't finish.
“Attracted to you?”
She nodded.
“At this moment, I want you so badly my hands are shaking.” Her eyes widened so he pressed harder, think?ing maybe he could shock her into a retreat. “I want to take that dress off of you with my teeth, run my hands up and down your body, and then do the same thing with my mouth. How's that for attracted? And it gets worse. Every one of those men we just ran into? Each time they looked at you, I wanted to assault them.”
The waiter came with the bourbon. Although Gray was tempted to hammer the damn thing, he made him?self slow down. He needed to stay tight.
God, did he need to stay tight.
“But it's not right, Joy.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don't want you to get hurt and because, quite frankly, I don't deserve you.”
“Gray, that's not trueÑ”
“Yeah, the hell it's not. I'm willing to bet sex means more to you than it does to me.” He sipped his drink. “I've left a lot of women the morning after and never looked back. It's not something I'm proud of, but I can't ignore what I've done, and I don't want to do that to you. I like you, Joy. I really do. And you're worthy of a lot more than a cold pillow.”
That seemed to quiet her down.
And this time, when her hand went to the dress's neck?line, she pulled the edges closer together.
“I wish I were a different kind of man,” he said softly. “Because I would love to be with you. God, I'd really love to.”
For the rest of the dinner, Joy put on a game face. They talked about her sister's wedding and Cassandra's dress and New York history, all the while picking at their food and fidgeting in their chairs. By the time they left, Gray could tell the strain was wearing on her.
Hell, it was wearing on him, too.
When the limousine pulled up in front of Cassandra's, he got out first.
“I'll take you up,” he said.
“That's not necessary.” As she stepped from the car, she smiled over her shoulder, the expression aimed some?where to the left of him. “Thanks for dinner.”
He walked into the lobby with her.
“Really, Gray, I can find my way.”
“Humor me. It's a gentleman thing,” he said, punch?ing the elevator button. “My father and I live together. So he's still capable of grounding me.”
