Victoria Dahl - Just One Taste

“Broussard,” he filled in, giving Vanessa a wink that told her he wasn’t afraid of his last name.

Unlike her.

Lucas approached Mia with his hand outstretched.

Mia’s eyes widened briefly before she shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“You ladies did a wonderful job with the party.” His gaze met Vanessa’s. “I especially liked the strawberries…and chocolate.”

Vanessa’s stomach trembled.

And it happened again. He looked at her as if nobody else were there. His eyes glittered with the promise of delight and pleasure.

And, except for that light stroke against my tattoo, he hasn’t even touched me.

“You should try her double-chocolate cheesecake,” Mia inserted into the charged silence.

Lucas raised his eyebrows, the way Vanessa remembered him doing when they’d talked about his tattoo. “I’ll be sure to have a taste.”

Just one? she longed to ask and no doubt would have if her roommie hadn’t been standing so close. “We should probably get going. Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked Mia.

“I’m fine.” She waggled her finger at Lucas. “You take care of my buddy.”

“I promise, chère.”

Chère? He spoke French? With a name like Broussard, he could be French. But then there was that Southern accent. Maybe he was from New Orleans. Growing up, she’d been to several charity balls down there. Her father loved the tradition and genteel manners of the Creoles.

What if my parents could actually like this one as much as I do?

But she immediately dismissed the idea. She’d known the man an hour and she was considering introducing him to her parents? No. Forget it.

This night was about desire. Chemistry. Carnal exploration. There wasn’t a future for a party pickup.

A group of servers strode into the kitchen carrying dirty dishes and glasses. Still feeling a bit guilty about leaving Mia, but not about to lose her opportunity with Mr. Beautiful, Vanessa grabbed her purse and keys, then slipped out the back door with Lucas.

“Your friend Mia is worried about you,” he said as they walked toward the parking lot.

Distracted by the deep timbre of his voice and the occasional brush of his shoulder against hers, Vanessa nodded, then shook her head. “She’s just jealous.”

“That you get to leave without cleaning up?”

“That I get to leave with you.”

“We could invite her along.”

Great. He’s into orgies. You can really pick ’em, Vanessa. “One woman’s not enough for you?”

“You’re definitely enough. But if you need a chaperone…”

She glanced at him and wished she hadn’t. His smile made her hot and light-headed. Thankfully, though the day’s humidity hadn’t dissipated much, a breeze chose that moment to gather enough strength to graze her skin. “I’ll pass.”

“If you insist.”

Was he kidding or was that part of his sharp humor? She wanted to get to know his brain almost as much as his body. Pausing at the back of her car, she commented, “Mia’s very beautiful, don’t you think?”

He stepped close, brushing a strand of her hair off her cheek. “Is she?”

Though all the air left her body at his proximity and her stomach quivered at his touch, she said coolly, “You’re trying to flatter me.”

“Of course. Is it working?”

“Of course. Is it because you want to get me into bed?”

He smiled. “Certainly.”

Dear heaven, he was temptation incarnate. And he was taking control of her senses with simple words and bare brushes against her skin. “I’m driving my car,” she said, needing to find some sense of practicality with the wild step she was taking.

“Okay.”

“I don’t doubt your driving skills or anything. I just want to have my own car. I mean I hardly know you, and—”

“I might turn out to be a guy who likes to wear women’s underwear.”

“Exactly.”

Staring up at him, the lure of attraction dragged her closer—not that she was fighting too hard anyway. A fog of need and curiosity had wrapped itself around her the moment she’d seen him. If she turned on a bright light, she might dispel the aura of mystery surrounding him. But she had no intention of doing so.

She’d fallen into a fantasy. And she liked it there.

“Can I have your cell-phone number in case we get separated?” he asked, all polite manners, even as she was igniting from the inside.

She gave it to him as he opened her door. “Where are we going?”

“My place.” Then he stepped forward, his face hovering less than an inch from hers. She could feel his breath on her skin, see the hunger in his eyes as his gaze dropped to her lips.

She wanted him to crush her against his chest. She wanted his mouth on hers, his body vibrating with the same need as hers.

But he just lightly pressed his lips to hers. The simple touch reverberated all the way to her toes. She inhaled the spicy scent of him, braced her hands against his waist.

He cupped her face as he pulled back. “You’ll follow me?”

Anywhere you want to go, baby. She cleared her throat and resisted yanking him against her lips. “Yes. I—Sure.”

“You’re nervous?”

She was a lot of things, but nervous wasn’t one of them. “No.”

“I am.” With that, he drew his fingertip along her jaw, then retreated. “I’ll pull my car around.”

Shaking from the inside out, Vanessa could do little more than nod. The man had amazing…presence.

By the time they’d driven away from the country club, she’d managed to rein in her hormones enough that she no longer feared spontaneous combustion. No doubt temporarily, but still that was something.

He wanted her. She could all but see the attraction shimmering between them. Yet he remained smooth. Composed. In control. Maybe he’d give her lessons.

After they’d driven a few miles away from the quiet elegance of moneyed homes, past the tall towers of office buildings and heading toward midtown, her cell phone rang.

“I haven’t thought about, looked at or considered any other woman since the moment I saw you.”

“We just met an hour ago.”

He laughed. “I really do like you, Vanessa.”

“Which brings up a good point. I know your last name. You don’t know mine.”

“Do you want to tell me?” he asked, his voice echoing intimately in her ear.

“Not particularly.”

“Then don’t.”

“How much farther?”

“We’re nearly there.”

“You live in midtown?”

“My office is nearby. It’s convenient.”

She wanted to ask about his office but didn’t. Her father’s office was also nearby, but he certainly would have mentioned hiring an old-moneyed Louisiana lawyer, which Lucas had to be, so he must work for a rival firm. In her father’s eyes, every firm was a rival, after all.

For a moment—a really brief moment—she considered turning off. He was part of the world she’d left a long time ago, a world she’d honestly never felt comfortable living in. Did she really want to get involved with a man who did? Despite the few times she’d given in to her sister’s setups, she’d been careful not to fish from her old pond.

Involved? You’re not getting involved. Carnal exploration, heat, falling into a fantasy. That’s it, remember?

Her pulse skipped a beat as she pictured the heated look in Lucas’s eyes.

Oh, I remember.

They pulled into the parking lot of a luxury high-rise apartment building. Vanessa’s hands trembled as she shut off her car. They barely spoke as they rode in the elevator to the sixteenth floor.

Lucas rested his hand at the small of her back, and they watched the numbers light in amber sequence. Sometime during the drive he’d ditched his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. Vanessa fought the urge to slide her hand in the opening and see if his chest was as warm and hard as she’d imagined. By the time sixteen dinged, her palms were sweating.