Dawn Atkins - Friendly Persuasion

He hoped Kara would get into the game right away. He didn’t want to look too closely at his motives.

There she sat, looking nervous as hell, completely oblivious to how sexy she was. He found that delightful. Plenty of men were checking her out, too. A car-salesman-looking guy at the bar had just caught her eye. He looked the guy over. Used cars, for sure.

She smiled tentatively, nervously wagging her crossed leg—spike heels on her feet. Mmm. She sure as hell didn’t have on granny panties tonight. Probably lace—red or black? He hoped it wasn’t a pair of those edible things she’d bought yesterday. Just thinking about Kara’s underwear got him aroused.

The car salesman smiled at her and rose from his seat.

You can do better than him, Kara, Ross thought. Don’t settle. He had to act quickly before she was tempted to take this sleazeball home for a peek at her red lace panties. He rushed forward, tripped, but caught his balance on a table before anyone saw him acting uncool.

The lounge lizard noticed him heading for Kara and sat down, frowning.

Sorry, guy. The best man just won.

“May I join you, señorita?” he asked Kara in his best Spanish accent.

“Excuse me?” Kara glanced at him, then away, then back. “My God. Ross? What are you doing—?”

“Perdóname, señorita. I do not know this Ross person. My name is Miguel. I am from Argentina. I am a stranger here in your city. Business brings me here and I am, sadly, alone.”

“You’re what?” Kara couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Ross had smoothed back his hair, bought a stylish suit and now was pretending not to know her. He wasn’t grinning, so he wasn’t teasing her. He looked absolutely serious, this Miguel.

He was being her stranger, she realized. Bless his heart. He certainly looked different. He’d moussed his hair back, revealing his high, elegant forehead and making his swarthy complexion seem more dramatic. He’d even worn a different cologne, something more musky than usual. Dressed this way, he seemed mature and exotic and devastatingly sexy.

“Please, sit,” she said, patting the stool beside her. She was intrigued that he’d come—and relieved, she had to admit. A creepy guy at the bar had been about to head her way, and her heart had begun to pound. She’d been losing her nerve. Meeting a stranger just for sex seemed too chancy, too awkward. But here was Ross. Thank God.

“Es mi honor,” Miguel said, sliding onto the chair. He leaned close to her. “Can you tell me something?” he asked. His eyes, gleaming in the candlelight, were gorgeous. Together with his dark hair, they made him seem mysterious and a bit dangerous. And he smelled so good.

“Anything,” she said in her sexiest voice. She leaned forward the way Tina always did to emphasize her cleavage. Her nervousness had evaporated, she realized. If Ross could become a stranger, why couldn’t she?

“How is it that a woman so beautiful is alone on such a night as this?”

“I was waiting,” she said, then paused for effect. “For you.” She almost laughed at the B-movie line, but then Ross—Miguel—looked into her eyes, and said, “I am so happy,” and it became the perfect thing to have said. “Shall I buy you something to drink?” he asked.

“I have a better idea.” And then she did the most amazing thing. She took him by the lapels of his expensive jacket and pulled him close and planted her lips on him, even pushed her tongue forward a little. She was shocked at herself, but maybe not really. This exotic stranger was also her dear friend, after all. He was exciting, but safe, too. And his being a different person gave her permission to be different, too.

Ross—Miguel—made a sound low in his throat and kissed her back, even better than last night.

She felt so weak she feared she might slide off the stool and fall to the floor. “Is there somewhere we could go?” she gasped, breaking off the kiss.

“I have a room in the hotel.”

“You’re kidding!” she said.

“Would I joke about a thing like that?” he said in his own voice.

“I guess not,” she said. “I can’t believe you’re doing this for me. And you bought new clothes, too.” She felt emotions rise in her—tenderness and gratitude and lust. Lots of lust.

“I’m doing this for both of us, señorita,” he said, resuming his role as a Latin lover. “What may I call you?”

“Kar—no, Katherine,” she said, choosing the first elegant name she could come up with. “Take me to your room, please.”

“My pleasure,” Ross-Miguel said, and tucked her snugly against his waist and walked her out of the bar to the glass elevator that led to the guest rooms.

She couldn’t believe she was about to make love with the same man who drank milk out of the carton in the S&S kitchen, wandered around the office barefoot, and collected Superman comic books. Now, he was an urbane cosmopolite looking down at her in a way that told her he knew exactly how to drive her mad with lust and planned on doing so.

He held the elevator door for her, the gold bracelet emphasizing his strong hands. The elevator soared, sending her already-jumpy stomach to her knees. At the seventeenth floor, Miguel held the elevator door for her, then walked her down the hall, holding her so tightly she felt each talented finger dig into her muscles.

Outside his room, he turned her against the door. “I can’t wait another momento para tus…para tus…¿Cómo se dice…?” He frowned, looking for the word for lips, she was certain.

“Labios,” she provided.

“Exactamundo,” he said, butchering the Spanish, but she didn’t care because then he kissed her. Actually it was un gran beso—full of romance and desire and it made her weak with wanting.

Behind her back, he opened the door and they stepped into a room so sumptuous Kara was seized with worry that Ross couldn’t afford it. “I’ll pay half,” she blurted before she realized the effect that might have on the magic of the moment.

“But, Señorita Katherine, I am a wealthy man. My only joy is to spend my money on the people I care about.”

“Oh, right,” she said. “Sure. But think about it.”

In answer, he pulled her into his arms and stroked her body through the silk, lifting her dress tantalizingly high on her thighs. “This is beautiful,” he said. “So thin I can feel the texture of your skin.” He cupped her bottom.

“No granny panties,” she murmured.

“I’ll say,” he said, stroking her again, then moving up to the top of her zipper. He was going to strip her and she couldn’t wait.

“And if I’d known I would meet you tonight, I wouldn’t have worn any.”

“Mmm,” he said, slowly lowering her zipper to her waist, his eyes on her the entire time. Cool air teased her back where her dress had opened. Then he pulled the front of her dress down far enough to reveal the black lace teddy she wore underneath. His eyes gleamed with approval.

She hadn’t known whether she’d actually meet a man tonight, let alone sleep with one, but she’d dressed sexy in order to feel sexy. Miguel’s expression told her she’d succeeded.

Miguel pushed her dress the rest of the way down and it whispered into a silky puddle at her spike-heeled feet.

She felt surprisingly calm—not nervous like she’d normally be at a moment like this—or fearful that she looked hippy or she’d be clumsy.

“You are so beautiful, Kara…. I mean Katherine. Do you know how bellísima you are?”

She blushed and smiled.

“Look.” He gently turned her to face the ornate full-length mirror beside a marble end table and stood behind her. “Do you see?”

Embarrassed at first, she glanced at herself in the mirror, caught a flash of black lace, then looked down.