“We’re talking about the ultimate pleasure on a path to prolonged orgasm,” she continued, her stormy blue eyes fixed on him as she rattled off all the benefits of one of her company’s newest products. “And our intensely arousing toy, paired with your sleek and sultry new line of lingerie would make the most fantastic gift package for the sexually adventurous couple.”
Okay, he was promoting himself to full lieutenant general stripes today. It was like pulling teeth to keep his mind anywhere but on imagining using this intensely arousing new product on her. Clenching his hands in tight fists, a massive dose of restraint coursed through his bloodstream as she waxed eloquent on the number of all-consuming, toe-curling, star-seeing climaxes she expected the LolaRing would serve up.
God, he was being tested so fucking hard today.
“So what do you think?” She shifted closer, her eyes wide and eager.
He breathed out roughly, considering his response before he opened his mouth. The thing was, Nate Harper had been hot for Casey Sullivan for years, but when he answered her, he wasn’t speaking from below the belt. He was speaking from the brain. He was speaking as a businessman. As someone who was on the receiving end of pitches all day long. “You nailed it, Casey. I have no doubt that we’ll be celebrating at dinner later,” he said, since he’d already made a reservation at the hottest new fusion restaurant on Bourbon Street.
She flashed a big, bright smile, her eyes glittering with excitement. “Here’s hoping we’ll be toasting to lingerie and dildos tonight,” she said, as she dipped a hand into her purse and reapplied her lipstick. They pulled up to her destination in the downtown business section.
She grabbed the door handle, ready to head to her meeting. Then she stopped and turned to look at him, a softness in her eyes. “By the way, thank you for doing this for me. The plane, the car, the room at your hotel. . .”
“It was nothing. I’m happy to help. I’ll make sure your suitcase gets to your room.”
She nudged his shoulder. “Guess what? I even remembered to bring my shampoo. No hotel shampoo needed this time. Though I’m sure yours is fabulous.”
He laughed. It was a running joke. She was particular about her shampoo, but always packed in a rush so she often forgot to bring it along.
Minutes later, he walked across the cobblestone courtyard of The Luxe, lush with greenery and a fountain playing a lazy rhythm, then through the gilded revolving doors and into the marble lobby. Within seconds, his hotel manager rounded the corner and marched over to him.
“Good to see you again, Mr. Harper,” Daniel said. The man had a homing beacon installed, but then, that’s what a good manager should do—zero in on the boss. He’d done so nearly every time Nate had stepped through the front doors the last few days. When he’d arrived earlier in the week, Daniel’s first words had been: “We weren’t expecting you ’til next week, but we’re always glad when you take the time to visit.”
That was because Nate had rearranged his schedule so that his trip to visit his company’s recently renovated French Quarter property intersected with Casey’s New Orleans venture. He had no notions whatsoever of acting on his attraction; he’d learned to live with it and tamp it down. He simply knew this potential deal was important to her so he wanted to make sure he did everything he could, from the private ride through the sky, to the room on the top floor. She deserved it. He’d never met a harder worker than Casey, and if he could deliver a few perks for her, well hell—that was why he was in the business of delivering perks.
CHAPTER TWO
New Orleans, afternoon . . .
“Think about the Rabbit. That’s become the rare product that’s known by one word now. Say the Rabbit and everyone knows it means the world’s best kind of vibrator,” she said, as Grant Abbot wrapped his long fingers around a glass of bourbon, knocking back a swallow of the amber liquid. Casey loved that his eyes were on her the whole time. The man was focused—he was interested in what she brought to him. “And I believe the same can be true of the LolaRing.”
He took a beat before responding. He liked to take his time, it seemed. He wasn’t in a rush.
“Interesting,” he said, his smooth voice a perfect complement to the jazz music that piped through the bar from the overhead speakers, as a handful of waiters and bartenders refilled the drinks of nearby patrons. It was only four in the afternoon, but Happy Hour had started early, and Grant had insisted they take their meeting to his favorite watering hole. “Such a better location for the conversations we’ll have about silk, satin and vibration, don’t you think?” he’d said with a flirty wink when his receptionist had shown her to his office, a corner suite in a nearby building with a view of downtown through its floor-to-ceiling windows. But she’d barely caught a glimpse of his 9-to-5 habitat because he’d placed a hand on the small of her back, and guided her down the elevator, around the block, and through the cranberry-red wooden doors of Velvet. The establishment was bathed in low lights and cool music, and had an upscale ambiance with its couches that were stitched from the same material as the name.
Casey hadn’t let the switch in venue throw her off. Nor had she let herself be affected by her long-simmering attraction to the man. He was only a few years older than her thirty-two, and ever since she’d met him at a conference a year ago, she’d let her mind wander from his crystal blue eyes to his dark, close-dropped hair, to the way he wore a suit so damn well. Not to mention that accent. That Big Easy, Southern drawl that would likely sound delicious if he spoke low and sexy in her ear. Then there was the way he wore a shade of mystery, and chased it with a dash of intrigue.