Suzanne Forster - Tease

The desk gave out a noisy groan as she rose.

So, Danny Gabriel was impressed, was he? She was about to make an even deeper impression on him. It was almost four o’clock by her watch. He shouldn’t have left the building yet, if he truly had so much work to do. She had no idea where his office was, but she would search until she found it.

Tess clicked down the hall in her high-heel boots, pencil skirt and black velvet Edwardian jacket. It was five-fifteen, and she had forty-five minutes before the limo was scheduled to pick her up for the reception. She’d decided to change into her dinner outfit and let Gabriel get a look at what he’d be missing—and call him on his blatant attempt to undermine her on her big night. You never got a second chance to make a first impression, and this was her chance with the company brass, which he very well knew. She even managed to get the kinks out of her hair with a special spray that relaxed and defrizzed. It had loosened her curls, and now they were bouncing all over her head. Extra-large silver hoop earrings and a kiss-my-ass attitude rounded out the look.

She’d also had two cups of Mitzi’s tea. No one could say Tess Wakefield didn’t live dangerously.

Check it out, Gabe, baby. This is the lady you kicked to the curb. Maybe you should watch your shins. She’s wearing boots.

Tess had never felt so tricked-out and sexy. It was almost fun. She figured it was the PMS or the tea, but either way, she had a few choice words for her codirector. She’d called the agency’s receptionist for directions to his office, which had turned out to be quite simple. He was on the opposite end of the building from her, in his own corner office.

The twenty-eighth floor was now a ghost town. Tess didn’t see another soul as she crossed the building. Everyone had gone for the weekend, but if Gabriel really had a deadline, he might still be around.

His office door was open when she got there, but she found no one inside. The room was mostly windows and traditional in style, which surprised her. She’d expected to find a dark, artsy lair, with decor that might even be mystical. One of the many rumors about him was that he had Native American blood. Instead, everything was ma-hogany, beautifully carved with reflecting-pool surfaces and damask upholstery. It reminded her of a federal court, except for the two walls of posters showcasing his ads.

Tess took a moment to check them out. He was very good, but she knew that. What struck her was the unexpected way the ads were displayed. On one side of the room, they were bright and upbeat, with vibrant colors and attractive models. On the other side, the ads had a dark edginess that bordered on sinister. But, even more perplexing, on the abutting wall hung just one poster—a misty pastel of a child in a swing, rising toward the setting sun. It almost looked as if she were going to slip off the seat and fly away.

What a strange juxtaposition, Tess thought. It was enough to make you wonder if Gabriel was bipolar. Mitzi had said he had a secret. Tess was curious whether the ads might have something to do with that, but there wasn’t time to explore. She turned and saw a set of double doors that led to what looked like a conference room. The doors were partially open, and she could see movement inside. Maybe he was in there, preparing for his deadline.

Tess peeked through the doors and saw Gabriel bent over a storyboard, probably checking out the sketches for a client’s television spot. “Am I interrupting?” she asked, opening the doors.

He glanced up at her and did a double take. She couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes narrowed. Whether it was appreciation or appraisal, she couldn’t tell, but his gaze was riveting.

“You’re perfect,” he said. “Come in.”

“What?”

“You’re wearing boots, a skirt. It’s perfect.” He beckoned her over to him. “Come on in.”

Tess didn’t move from the doorway.

He took a chair from the conference table and rolled it to within a few feet of where she stood. She had no idea what he was doing as he positioned the chair in front of the doors.

“Right here,” he said. “Come over and sit down, please. I have something to show you.”

The please did the trick. She couldn’t resist conviction.

She walked to the chair, aware of him standing there with his hands on the leather back, as if he were about to give her a ride.

“Are you going to tell me why I’m doing this?” she asked, wondering what would happen to her very skinny skirt when she sat. Surely he wasn’t angling for that, a leg shot.

“All will be explained,” he assured her, “but not yet. That would ruin it.”

He stopped her before she could sit down. “Let’s fix that skirt first,” he said. “Here.”

He actually came around the chair and turned her toward him, then spun her skirt until the slit in the back was running up the side of her leg. With any encouragement at all, the opening would now reveal an eyeful of caramel thigh. Thank God for liquid stockings.

“Mmm, yes. Perfect.”

It was almost erotic the way he said that word, perfect. Like a man whispering something dirty in a woman’s ear.

He sat her in the chair and knelt in front of her, apparently to do some more adjusting of her person.

She pulled back as his hand grazed her leg. “What are you doing?”

“Relax,” he said, “trust me, please, this is important.” She wasn’t as taken with his conviction this time, but she was very curious.

“Unbend your knee. Here, like this.” He inched her left leg forward a little and then propped her sleek laced boot on its spiky heel, with the tip pointing in the air.

“Good,” he said, rising to look at her. He nodded, murmuring something about how perfect this was under his breath.

Interesting that she had to focus on what he said. It was entirely possible he was doing that on purpose, making her listen. He had a reputation as a persuasive pitchman, a closer, as they said in sales, but there was nothing overtly aggressive about him. Even now, he came across as supremely laid-back, and yet he radiated energy. It was like droplets sizzling on his skin.

She’d heard all the rumors, that Danny Gabriel was deadly smart and blindingly handsome, almost his own species. She’d heard them. She just hadn’t wanted to believe them. No wonder they needed someone to corral this guy.

He studied her, his features knit in concentration.

“Lean back and support yourself on the arms of the chair,” he said, giving her direction as if they were on a photo shoot. “Good. Now relax and arch your spine. Can you give me a little more bend? Try to relax and arch your spine.”

Tess drew herself up and felt the chair move. “The wheels are going to roll out from under me.”

“Here, I’ll steady you.” He moved behind her and gripped the chair. “Try it again,” he said. “Lean into the arch and tilt your head back. God, yes, that’s great.”

Tess’s spine bowed with tension, locking her in place. At that moment, all she could see were the edges of him, a blur. But when his head came into her line of sight, and he looked down at her, she suddenly felt vulnerable. She started to sit up.

“No, wait,” he said. “This is important. Look at me. Look at me, Tess.”

She held on to the chair, steadying herself. As she gazed up at him, she could feel her jacket fall open and her skirt creep up. She was balancing herself with the heel of one boot. Her other foot had lifted off the floor.

What must she look like? What the hell was he doing?

“How much longer?” she asked, annoyed. “I can’t hold this.”