A Matter of Taste (Men of the Capital #2) (8 page)

When her bra was gone and his warm hands found her breasts, she sighed with satisfaction, only to have his fingers and thumb drive her wild, leaving her writhing on the countertop beneath his hands. He unfastened the button on her jeans. When his fingers slipped down her panties she moaned aloud, his touch soft and gentle as she arched against him. Desmond kissed her neck as his wicked fingers teased her. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she came. Her legs clamped around his hand as he covered her mouth with his, capturing her cry of completion. Shaking, she wound her arms around him and he held her for a moment, kissing her hair, her cheekbone, whispering that she was beautiful.

Annelise
slid down off the cold counter, pushed him back on a stool, ready to show him a good time, when he caught her hands again. Stripping off the rest of their clothes, he lifted her in his arms, kissing her, and laid her out before him on the counter. Climbing up beside her, he leaned over her, kissing her forehead.

“Isn’t it time you let someone else do some of the work?”
he teased, too close to the truth. For so long she had labored in a relationship where she was the only one who really cared. Tears pricked her eyes as she nodded assent, her arms around his neck, pulling him down over her. She had never had sex like this. Annelise had always been the strong one, the dominant one, the one who served and worked and seduced and she had always been on top. This was strange and vulnerable. She felt fragile and willing and happy, and oddly virginal. She giggled at the thought, her laughter stopping as he parted her legs with his gentle hand. He paused, ripped a foil packet, and put on a condom. She looked at him, puzzled.

“I’m on the pill
,” she said awkwardly.

“And I’m a man who’s going to keep you safe
,” he said.

Desmond moved inside of her with a long, slow stroke that left her breathless.
She looked up into his face and saw him meeting her eyes, very much there and present and seeing only her. It was intensely intimate. As he began to move, she held his gaze, determined. She wanted to give to him, to let him take pleasure from her. His skillful hands brought her to the peak again before his rhythmic, powerful movements came to a crest and he shuddered within her. She held him close, kissing him for what seemed like hours afterward. When her flesh cooled and relaxed, he held her in his arms, warming her, wrapping her in his black jacket.

Sleepily, she looked up at him.

“The timer never did go off on your oven.”

“I never turned the oven on. I don’t like to make love on a timer,
Annelise. You’ll have to live without dessert this time.” He kissed her lazily and she nestled against him.

When Annelise woke up, it was well past midnight and her hip hurt from laying on the marble counter. Stiffly, she disentangled herself from Desmond and got up. He was asleep, and she was grateful that she could find her clothes and sneak out before he woke. Her underpants were on the floor by the refrigerator; her bra was hanging from a drawer pull. Gathering her stuff and putting it back on quickly, she hastened out of Aux Delices.

On the dark street, she sat in her car for a minute, catching her breath like she’d made a lucky escape. She didn’t want to see him, talk to him. If possible, she’d like to avoid him forever. It had been too intimate, too much too soon. This was supposed to be a fling, pure pleasure and no emotions
. She knew when he’d laid her down and kissed her mouth that she was in way over her head. He was playing for keeps, and it wasn’t any kind of game she could hope to win. Speeding away toward the office, she rationalized that she couldn’t stay out ‘til one in the morning and then terrify the cafeteria lady by coming in so late. She parked and rode the elevator up to her office, then determined the place was empty except for security on the main floor. She slipped into her boss’s bathroom and showered. She had brought some clothes in from her car, and she sat down at her desk, clad for work, and went over the RSVP’s again to calm herself.

Annelise
completed a lot of work and then composed an email to Desmond Blair.

Dear Desmond,

It was a lovely evening but you must forgive my indiscretion, my breach of professionalism. I hope we can work together to make this event a success and collaborate as professionals. Please consider this a friendly conclusion to our personal involvement.

Annelise Hollingford

She was well satisfied with it, but added a postscript about sourcing the mushrooms from a grocery supplier she’d found. They would doubtless be of dubious quality, but if Jasper Cates was going to be stubborn, she figured he could eat shitty pink mushrooms. Never mind that she felt sick at her stomach sending the message. Never mind that she wanted to open her mouth and howl out her sorrow.

Desmond Blair had been the best sex of her life, but more than that, he had awakened feelings in her that she’d thought were gone, consumed by bitterness and hurt. Pain twisted in her chest, knowing she’d let herself get carried away. She never should have slept with him, never should have talked to him about Roger and the hookers and the apartments and her granny. It was too personal
. She backed away from it like a bonfire that had got out of her control.

Flowers arrived on her desk at eight thirty, a square crystal vase with tight-packed calla lilies, sensuous curves that reminded her of last night, of his hands and their shadows on the wall. She put them aside and ignored them. She also ignored the text messages and the calls. He didn’t respond to the email, although she knew he had to have read it. If he could disregard her explanation, her gesture of friendship and her tidy escape hatch to what had become
a very messy entanglement, then she could ignore his goddamned flowers. Every time she glimpsed them, her heart leapt like some stupid teenager who was crooning over her boyfriend’s class ring. Finally she dumped them out in the trash and gave the vase to Shannon.

“Was the sex that bad?” Shannon inquired, eyebrows up.

“No. It was phenomenal. But he needs to back off and just cook for the party.”

“And you called Cates moody
,” Shannon observed.

“I don’t want to get involved with this guy he’s too intense.” She made the excuse and then went and cried in the ladies restroom.

For two days, she dodged his calls and his messages. She signed her lease and gave the giant bouquet of orchids Des sent her as a thank you gift to the cafeteria lady who had put up with her for so long. She bought a futon and a TV and filled the refrigerator with popsicles…a sweeter alternative to a cold shower, but one still guaranteed to lower her temperature when she caught herself thinking of Des. A weekend of satellite TV convinced her that every man on every show reminded her of him
, which meant she was slowly going insane. She couldn’t sleep because of all the sugar from the popsicles she was eating. She couldn’t even text Shannon about her misery, because every time she turned her phone on, it was flooded with messages from Des.

On Monday morning, an email in her in-box bore his name. Clicking on it, wincing, she read on.

As all of my attempts to communicate with my contact at Cates Corporation have been ignored, I hereby terminate our contract due to breach of collaboration cause. Payment in full will be expected per the terms. Aux
Delices, its subsidiaries and agents are no longer responsible for any work or product relating to the Cates event scheduled for October 12
th
of this year.

Annelise felt herself go pale, her hands shaking. He was backing out of the party because she ignored him. What a nasty, manipulative thing to do! She shoved back her chair and stomped to the elevator. She was already confused, tired and brokenhearted. She was not losing the bonus and possibly her job because of some guy in the food business.

The street in front of Aux
Delices was bustling, but the shop itself was dark, empty. When she buzzed, the door was unlocked remotely. She went upstairs to the kitchen, her footsteps echoing on the highly polished slate floors. They should have been busy, with kitchen assistants everywhere, but the place was deserted except for the light under his office door. Annelise turned the knob and opened the door. Desmond Blair, so self-contained, so polished, looked like a mess. His short hair was rumpled, his jacket hung open, not crisply pressed and fresh as usual. He started to stand when she entered but he hesitated, sat back down as if deciding she wasn’t worth it. His shoulders were hunched and he stared at his desk, not even seeing the stacks of papers. Gone was the precision, the order she knew him by.

“You are not backing out of this party. That email was a bullshit ploy to get me to come down here. Here you go. I’m here. What do you want?”

“What do I
want
?” he asked softly, his voice a warning. “What do I WANT? I want a fucking ANSWER!” He slammed the flat of his hand down on the desktop for emphasis. “You leave without a word, you won’t take my calls. I want to know what the hell is going on.”

His dark eyes looked pained
. She wanted to go to him, to take him in her arms, but she wouldn’t allow herself. She felt the twist of agony in her chest, knowing she had hurt him but unable to reverse it. She couldn’t face her feelings for him, or the well of pain it would open up for her.

“I emailed you. I told you what you needed to know. It was a mistake. We have to work together. Just a few more days
, and the party will be over and we never have to see each other again,” she said evenly.

“A mistake. That is NOT what that was
,” he said, the anger in his voice startling her. “You knew I had feelings for you. I told you as much. Why did you let me make love to you if you were just going to blow me off? You’re not a cruel person. So why?”

“Really? You think I set out to hurt you? I didn’t. I wanted you but I got more than I bargained for. I wanted…relief. A fling. I couldn’t handle the feelings, all the other shit that came with it. I’ve only been with two other men, Des. There was Roger…we all know how that went…and then the guy when I was sixteen, the guy I did in the back of a car because he said he loved me and then he went to a revival meeting the next week and found Jesus and told everyone I tempted him and I was a whore.”

“I’m not going to leave you for hookers. I’m not going to denounce you in a church tent. What has that to do with me?”

“It has everything to do with me and what I’ve learned to expect
, which is effort and disappointment and pain.”

“Don’t put that on me.”

“Men are no damn good, Des. I’ve learned it the hard way. My granny was right.” She shook her head, feeling stupid for coming to see him.

“Your granny never knew me
, and apparently you never knew me either,” he said, coming around the desk, taking her by the shoulders. “Because I’ve never given up without a fight in my life.” He kissed her breathless and she struggled away, wanting more, wanting to stay and wanting to believe him but afraid to do so.

“I’m leaving. I have to find another caterer. I’m not playing emotional blackmail. I’m not—strong enough.” It hurt to admit that
, but it was true. She reached for the doorknob.

“I sent everyone home before I emailed you. I hoped you’d come here. I’ll do—anything,
Annelise. Don’t go.”

“I don’t believe in all that love and commitment bullshit, Des. And if I sleep with you again
, I’ll be in even worse shape, even farther gone—don’t you ask me to stay here with you. You deserve some woman who can’t take her eyes off you, not one who wants to leave.”

“You don’t want to leave. Don’t you think I see that?”
he said, his voice hard, unrelenting.

“Please
,” she said, beseeching. She knew she was weakening under the persuasion of his gaze.

He kissed her again and she clung to him, kissing him back, tears streaming down her face
as he took over, removing every stitch of clothing, laying her back on a sofa and joining her there. He brushed her hair back tenderly and kissed his way down her neck, his lips catching her nipple and making her tighten and arch beneath him as he made his way down. When he set his mouth to her, she screamed, a high keening sound that grew louder with her release until she was trembling in his arms, kissing him again and again. She lay on his chest, her hands exploring every inch of his body as he whispered to her.

“I’m never letting you go,
Annelise.”

“Remember when you took me dancing?” She grinned naughtily.

“Vividly.”

She rose up above him, rocking her hips suggestively in imitation of the dance, pressing his thigh between her legs and letting him feel how wet she was, how much she wanted him. She pulled him up to sit on the couch and moved onto his lap, rocking her hips down over him, enveloping him, her body undulating against his, clutching him tight.
Their rhythm built and they shattered together, the salt of his sweat on her tongue as she kissed him. He kept her there for hours, until they had to stop, had to get a drink of water and find their clothes. Even then he pressed her against the refrigerator door, kissing her, his fingers questing up her skirt. Shaken, she left him making chocolates at the counter, trying to seduce her with a taste.