THE WEEK?
Hoping to change the topic, she pulled out her laptop and brought up the PowerPoint on Hôtel du France. “We should start on the press conference preparations.”
“What are you doing?” He shook his head in a dismissive gesture.
“Going over your strategy before the champagne goes to my head.” She forced a smile, hoping he’d make this as easy as possible. “I have your speaking points written down for the press.” She handed him the cards, which were indexed into a neat stack. “They are labeled with immediate and direct response questions.”
Without looking at the notes, he took them from her and set them on the table. “I read over what you dropped off earlier.” He spoke with a tone filled with respect. “Your top-line ideas are great. Thank you for such creativity.”
“My pleasure.”
“You have the go-ahead from me and my executives to move forward in the morning.”
Her defenses subsided. “Serious.” Taddy had expected push-back.
“Hôtel du France isn’t why I asked you to dinner tonight.” Without warning, he extended his hand across the table next to her arm. Palm up, fingertips out, he encouraged her to touch him.
“I see.” Taddy stared at his offering for a few seconds. Unanticipated emotions—happiness, confusion and anxiety—came over her. She glanced at his beautiful eyes for confirmation. His face remained confident she’d never deny him. You always get what you want, don’t you? Reaching across the table, she slipped her hand into his. An overwhelming emotion she’d fought since leaving him in the driveway with Rielle came over her. His face lit up much as it did the night she’d touched his chest, rubbing his nipples and calling him Big Daddy.
“Since our night at Privé Extreme, I’ve thought about you.” He spoke with huskiness. It was possible Warner had waited to speak those exact words to her for quite some time.
“You have?” Heart racing, she felt her upper lip glistening, and her inner thighs, they totally just moistened.
“Your beauty, the voice, those breasts…and how you felt in my hands.”
She went from moist to wet as he spoke about her body. Here was a man who didn’t skate around the bush about breast power. She reached for her water glass with her free hand. Sweet baby Jesus on an ice cream cone…here he goes.
Glancing around to see if anyone was listening, he lowered his voice. “How warm, wet and receptive you turned when I fondled you.” He sipped his champagne, held the bubbles in his mouth for a second and swallowed. His Adam’s apple moved slightly. “Having you in my arms felt enchanting.” He smiled with sincerity.
So she wasn’t crazy. “I felt as though I was tripping on acid.”
“You do acid?”
“No! Not now, but as a teenager a few times. My friends Lex, Vive, Blake and I tripped for prom and homecoming. Come to think of it, we did it almost every weekend.” She hoped she didn’t sound like a loser.
“What was it like?”
“We fantasized mostly, ya know, tripped. I’d be Princess Lolly from Candy Land.” Taddy bit her lip, realizing she should shut up. She sounded cra-cra. Especially since, as an adult, she hosted a real-life Candy Land Ball.
“Your teen years sound well spent.”
Taddy laughed—hard. She let her guard down a little. “The night we met in St. Barth, I assumed the Waris Sugar music made me go into euphoria, those soft candles, or you’d slipped me something.” Repeating the sensation now, she felt a spark flow through her.
“I did not roofie you.” Warner’s voice was composed but his intent stare over her body never ended. It warmed her up hotter than before. “However, I confess to feeling the same trippy way. The next morning I figured my ‘feel good’ came from being with you. I’ve never experienced…”
“What?” Tell me!
“I’m getting ahead of myself.” He grinned, hanging on to the words. “I thought how our lives would be today if Rielle hadn’t screwed it up.”
“And?” Where are you going with this?
“This morning you would’ve woken in my arms as every morning since the day we met.”
“You’re very romantic.” Convinced her head might fly off her shoulders with excitement, she let go of him and reached for the bread, tearing a piece and hoping for focus. The waiter came over with their meals. He served Taddy first, Kobe beef garnished with caviar.
“Have you thought about me?” He held his fork in his right hand, his knife in his left, and waited for her answer. Warner wouldn’t eat his entrée without her response.
“I wanted to, but I didn’t let myself, you know, because I thought you were—”
“Engaged. Well, now that you know the truth, have I been on your mind?” He took a bite from his meat and began to chew, never taking his eyes off her.
With a swift cut from the knife, she forked a baby’s bite into her mouth. Chewing afforded her time to think. The runny sauce tasted salty but delicious. She swallowed. “I’ve merely thought about getting your campaign ready.”
“Red—you give the impression you’re stressed.” A frown darted across his features. “At first, I thought it came from the jailhouse and Kiki’s release. Tonight, with the trespassing charges behind us, you act the same.” He cut another piece of meat. Breaking his intense stare from her eyes, he refocused on the meal.
“We have a huge press conference tomorrow.” She raised her voice, trying to add conviction. “As a rule, I’m on edge prior to a client event.” I’m usually on edge regardless.
He reached for her hand again and stroked her fingers. “I’m not a client, Red. You’re doing this because I dropped the charges.” Stabbing his fork into his greens, he assured, “There’s no pressure on Brill, Inc. or you for that matter. What’s done is done.”
“I’m a perfectionist.” I’m also an obsessive masturbator, a workaholic and I started smoking again.
“One in your position would have to be.” His eyebrows set in a straight line. “So you’re saying that after the conference tomorrow, you’ll be more relaxed, like the woman I met at Privé Extreme?” He studied her with possible suspicion.