Secret Invitation: Tempted By Pleasure Part 4

She shakes her head. "What about yesterday?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why didn't you tell me who you were?"

"I wanted to see if you'd figure it out."

"But you told Mary you didn't like Edgar Allan Poe. Return the books, Foster, they're too valuable to end up with someone who doesn't appreciate them. I don't like games."

"No?" I ask, knowing differently. "Who said anything about a game?"

She stands, rubbing her hands together. "So I'm supposed to believe you waltz in here to simply reconnect after you spent nearly five thousand dollars on me over the course of two days?"

"Five thousand?" I play stupid.

"Those flowers cost a fortune."

"I didn't ask for a receipt."

"My goodness." She edges closer, a mixture of emotions on her pretty face. "Is it possible the obnoxious jock has grown a heart? Learned to be a gentleman?" She's so close I can smell her delicate perfume over the fragrant flowers. "Did your mother put you up to this?"

"My mother?" I laugh. "She's on an extended holiday in Italy."

"Your father? Our parents still play golf together."

"I haven't spoken to the old man in weeks."

"I suppose you were never the kind of son who took orders very well." She perches on the edge of her desk, her legs spread wide enough so I can see the shape of her p.u.s.s.y lips through her snug jeans. "Congratulations on your successful business endeavors. How was Saudi Arabia?"

That catches me off guard. I'm starting to think she recognized me in the book store, but didn't want to admit it. "You've kept up with my career?"

"My mother keeps me up-to-date and I occasionally watch the local news."

A perfectly reasonable explanation, but it still surprises me. "My sixth trip in four years. We're about to close a deal on wind turbines. Green energy is the future."

"I agree, but how can you specialize in environmentally friendly technologies and pump the earth dry of petroleum and natural gas at the same time. This fracking bulls.h.i.+t is a nightmare. Earthquakes near Dallas?"

I brush a stray hair out of her eyes. "Geopolitics mostly. But don't get too preachy, baby. If I want to debate environmental issues, I'll call the Texas Commission on Environmental Quality. Right now, all I want is to spend time with you."

She presses her lips together. "Just searching for moral and intellectual clarity."

"Something I'm sure you'd swear I've never had."

"There's always hope."

I chuckle. She's still my angel, the moral compa.s.s I always needed to help keep me on the straight and narrow. Only she's gone from pretty to beautiful.

"If I agree to meet you for lunch, will you stop hara.s.sing me?"

"Can't make any promises." I'd do anything for her, but I can't let her know that too soon.

She folds her hands on her lap, staring up at me. "I don't know whether I should be flattered or run. You always were c.o.c.ky, Foster."

And you were always a patronizing little tease I couldn't get enough of. With all the references and stares at my man parts, I know what she's thinking about.

I reach around her and pick up the phone. "Mary?"

"Mr. Wagner?"

"Do you keep vases in the break room?"

"Yes."

"Please bring a large one filled with cool water to Ms. Covington's office." I replace the headset, letting my arm brush against Erin's thigh. "Easy fix. If you don't get those expensive flowers into water, they'll wilt."

"This is a waste of time."

She slides off the desk, but I block her path. "If you didn't want me here, you would have ordered me out of your office."

"Maybe," she admits. "Or perhaps I'm just getting my daily dose of entertainment." She gazes up at me, her forehead creased in stubbornness.

I'm lost in her eyes, wis.h.i.+ng I could bypa.s.s all the formalities and just f.u.c.k her now.

"Lunch tomorrow, one o'clock. And I'll meet you at the restaurant."

I rub my chin. "No. A car will pick you up out front."

"Merciless." Her sarcastic laughter jolts me.

"Mercy has nothing to do with it, baby." I walk to the door, then turn back to drink her in one more time. "No jeans."

"You'll never change." She flings a pen at me.

Erin A few minutes later, Mary wanders into my office with a crystal vase. "The flowers are beautiful."

"I'm glad you like them." I'm still shocked and frustrated I let Foster manipulate me. "Take them away."

"Where?"

"Put them up front. I'm sure the customers will enjoy them."

"Did Mr. Wagner upset you?"

I look up from my paperwork, finding it difficult to mask my emotions. "In too many ways to count. But we're having lunch tomorrow."

She arranges the orchids a few stems at a time. "He's very handsome."

"And arrogant . . ."

"Rich."

"A total player."

She studies me. "He's the guy I'd choose for a one-night stand to remember for the rest of my life."

Believe me, the thought has crossed my mind a hundred times already. Coincidence means little in my regimented world. Fate, however, that carries weight. I'm not unlike Mary. Whenever no one is watching, I inhale a romance or two. Turns out I want what every woman desires, freedom to express myself without feeling guilty, especially s.e.xually. If I mentioned the words v.a.g.i.n.a or p.e.n.i.s at home, my mother practically fainted. My father imparted what I needed to know about making babies when I reached middle school, but nothing more. If Mom had her way, I'd still believe boys could impregnate me with a kiss.

"Are you all right?"

I wave my hand. "Right as rain."

The front door chimes.

Mary adjusts her gla.s.ses. "I'll get it." She picks up the vase and hurries out of my office.

I concentrate on a list of customer-requested t.i.tles I need to order. My store has stayed in the black since I opened. Of course I've expanded after hours monthly activities, working with a local winery and cafe, and hosting mixers twice a month, a poetry club once a week, and a book club. A political alliance used to meet here every Thursday, but I got tired of the constant arguing and helped them relocate.

I close the store at six and drive home in a daze. Foster Wagner is the guy I daydream about whenever I'm lonely. And for whatever reason, he's back.

Chapter 5.

Erin Mary appears at my office door. "Excuse me, there's a gentleman up front."

"Not Mr. Wagner again?"

"No," she says. "But he's incredibly well-bred."

I take a deep breath and follow her, surprised to find yet another suit-clad, demi-G.o.d waiting.

"Ms. Covington?" He offers me his business card.

I read it. Dr. Kevin Mallory, MD. "How can I help you?"

"Is there a place we can chat privately?"

I gesture across the room. "We won't be disturbed over there. Can I get you a cup of coffee or tea?"

"Water?"

"Sure, be right back." I grab a couple bottles from the mini-fridge in the break room, then join him on the couch.

"Have we met before?" I ask, unsure why he's here. Staring at his meticulously manicured fingernails and Forzieri dress shoes, I know he isn't the type of man to frequent my store.

"I'm here in response to your acceptance of our invitation," he whispers, uns.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the bottle cap.

I sink deeper into the plush leather, my cheeks burning. "How did you know where to find me?" Is he stalking me? I never imagined a psycho in Armani.

"Ms. Covington, I'm not sure you understand how things work. Invitations for our club are sent to superior candidates. We handpick everyone based on a strict formula. Potential members receive a battery of medical tests, a rigorous psychological exam, and must have excellent personal references and a clean criminal record." He spreads his legs, resting his palms on his knees. "I'm the first line of defense for eliminating any risks."

So Katie wasn't joking. She submitted my name, and someone actually chose me. I'm intrigued and terrified. "Who selected me?"

"That's cla.s.sified information, Ms. Covington. Rest a.s.sured we have a board of directors like any other business ent.i.ty. Our decisions aren't made lightly."

"I believe you."

"Good." He takes a sip of water. "Do you understand what the Lazarus Club is?"

"Similar to the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen?"

His restrained faade shows signs of cracking, and he actually chuckles. "Not an entirely misplaced comparison."

I lean closer so there's no chance of Mary overhearing. "A s.e.x club."

"Never a s.e.x club, Ms. Covington." He sets the bottle on the floor. "We're a social club that offers special accommodations for men and women of certain tastes."

"Certain tastes," I repeat, liking what it suggests. "And what made you think of me? Do I strike you as a woman of certain tastes?"

His stare lingers for several seconds. "You're extremely desirable, Ms. Covington. That's the first gauge for judgment. We can discuss this in my office this afternoon if you're available." He's all business.

"So soon?"

His eyebrows shoot up. "Is there any reason for delay? Are you menstruating or pregnant?"

Did he really just ask me that? I wring my hands, too embarra.s.sed to answer.

"I'll take your silence as a no."

I nod.

"My office address is on the back of the business card I gave you. I'll see you at two o'clock, but if you need to reschedule, please let my receptionist know as soon as possible." He stands, smoothing his jacket. "I take physician-patient privilege very seriously. Your medical history will be kept confidential."

"Thank you for being so poignant, Dr. Mallory."

Chapter 6.

Foster I exit the conference room behind my sales team, pausing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Corpus Christi Bay when my cell rings. It's the call I've been waiting for. "Kevin . . ."