Adam's Apple (Touch of Tantra #1) (14 page)

“Not yet. Patrick is handling all of that for me tonight. I am sure I’ll be hearing from him later. Keep me updated.”

“Will do.” Peters ends the call and I pivot away from the window to find Kathryn standing in the middle of her living room by a large coffee table stacked with books and magazines. There are books and picture frames everywhere. Large to small ones dotting the room. Leaves it with a welcoming feeling. I’d love to browse through them and get a glimpse into her life.

“Sorry for the interruption, but good news. Simon may have left the city. Something about a credit card of his being used in New Jersey.

“What a relief. I hope they catch him, Kingsley. This has to be hard on you. A life-long friend and partner.  I can’t imagine.”

“To say it’s been crazy is an understatement. But what troubles me the most is why? What made him snap like this, and in such a spectacular way?”

“Who knows? Sometimes people have troubles that boil over and become too much for them to handle.”

“Maybe so. But I want to thank you.”

“Thank me? For what? You liked that grilling at the restaurant, didn’t you?” She giggles, and it’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. Musical, joyful. I can’t help but laugh with her. It’s contagious.

“Yes, Maurice’s grilling.” I shake my head trying to remove the memory. “Not my favorite part of the evening. But I need to thank you for being the best kind of distraction tonight. There are times I’ve even forgotten about this whole Simon debacle. Like when we were kissing. He was the furthest thing from my mind.”

“I could tell.” She raises her brows, and a smile dances across her lips. She’s wickedly stunning and quite the minx. I’m sure her words and expression reference my hard-on pressing against her stomach in the elevator.

“And you’re very welcome, too. Every girl loves to hear that she’s been a great distraction.” She rolls her eyes at me. But the way she said this makes my compliment sound horrible. Was it?

I’m so out of my element here. Fucking women never required work or having to say the right words. It was as easy as breathing but boring when compared to being around her. I’ll just have to watch my words, which may prove to be an impossible task.

“Let me show you the rest of my apartment.” She turns slowly away from me, tossing her long hair over her shoulders. I love the way it bounces, picks up the light, and shines with the motion.

I imagine the long waves of her hair lying across my pillow in wild disarray. Her smile and arms welcoming me. I stop myself before I go farther down this fantasy road, as it will only get me in trouble tonight. So I clear the thoughts out of my head and follow her lead down the hall. It’s a position I don’t mind being in as the view walking behind her is divine. Her small, tight ass and swaying hips. Oh, what a man could do with that ass.

“The kitchen is down that hall.” She points in the opposite direction we are headed. “But first I’ll show you where you will be sleeping for the night. And just to make it clear, it’s not my bedroom.”

Her rebuff is firm. But who knows, perhaps she’ll change her mind. It doesn’t hurt to have hope.

We turn down another hallway. The walls are painted a unique shade of gray with glossy white molding that pops out in contrast.

She stops in front of a door and walks inside. “This is your room. There is a bath connected to it. My brother stays here with me sometimes. Like he did last night after the benefit for my mother’s foundation. He’s a med student at Harvard and only makes it into the city for special events. I think you’re about his size. You’ll find some of his pajamas in the top draw of the black dresser.”

The room is surprisingly masculine and modern. Almost sterile in contrast to the large living room. However, the one common theme in her decorating seems to be books. Hundreds of them line a built-in shelf that covers an entire wall of the room.

“Thank you. Yes, the brother who I thought was one of your trainees.”

“My trainee?” I realize she has no idea what I’m talking about. I need to explain.

“Last night, when you spoke using the phrase ‘turn boys into men.’ Well, when you left me at the bar and I saw your brother greet and escort you to the ballroom, I naturally thought he was in training. You know. To be a man.”

“Oh, well that explains a lot.” She laughs. “I wondered about the look on your face when I introduced him. You appeared shocked.”

“Shocked, but mostly disappointed,” I say.

“Disappointed that he was my brother?” Her head tilts, and she has that adorable confused look on her face. Adorable? I’m using girlie words used to describe cute photos of kittens. What the fuck has gotten into me? I quickly clear my head and get back to answering her question.

“No. Not that John
was
your brother. I was disappointed because I thought he was your lover. I would have tried harder with you last night had I known otherwise.”

“Tried harder for what? Getting into my panties for the night?” She moves a little closer to me. Again it’s like there are magnets pulling us together. It seems impossible for us to stay too far apart.

“Yes, I’ll admit it. After I met you last night, I didn’t just want in your panties, I wanted to camp out for the night. Make you want to invite me back.” I add a little wink of my eye and a smirk. But I am only half kidding her, and my words aren’t far from the truth. “But you already suspected this, right?”

“You’re incorrigible. I don’t even know how to answer you back. I think we’ll just continue on with our tour.” She walks past me to head out of the room and lightly punches me on the bicep.

“Hey!” I say in protest even though I barely felt a thing. A stern look in her eyes lets me know she’s on to me. I can’t pull any punches past the woman.

Our tour continues, and we enter the next room. She doesn’t even have to tell me it’s her bedroom because it has
Kathryn
written everywhere I look. A beautiful, mahogany poster bed centers the room. The posts have to be more than six feet tall. Grand and quite the statement.

“This is my room. Just remember clothing isn’t optional in here.” She’s such a killer of my wet dreams.

“So is this where all the
Tantra
action occurs?” I place my hand on one of the bedposts and give it a little shake, checking for stability. It doesn’t budge. Quality.

“You don’t know shit about tantric sex, do you?” She knows the answer already, I’m sure, but likely wants to hear it from me first.

“Clueless. I’ve heard bits and pieces about it. I know
your
definition, though, ‘Sex as an art form.’”

“For the record, nothing Tantra happens in my bedroom. This room is associated with sleeping, and nothing about Tantra makes one want to sleep.” She has a dreamy, lost-in-pleasure appearance. It’s an unfamiliar expression on her face to me. I wonder if this is how she looks when she practices Tantra. I hope to God I find out. At this point I’ll willing to sign up for anything.

“I’ll show you where the Tantra action
does
occur. Follow me.” This room I have to see. But funny thing, I’ve never left a woman’s bedroom without having fucked her first. Sadly, another first for me where Kathryn’s concerned.

We pass back by my room. The room where I’ll likely be lying awake most of the night thinking about her sleeping a few feet away. Once past it, she stops in front of a doublewide door. Two brass handles mark the center where they meet.

“Welcome to my office.” Her eyes have a glint of mischief as she twists on of the brass handles and waits for me to enter the room.

What greets me looks like anything
but
an office. I know my face shows the shock of what I’m seeing. I feel as if I've been transported to an ancient desert king's tent. The type used for housing a harem. It’s from another world. Another time.

The walls are covered with silken-like tapestries in dark, rich tones. Gold threading glimmers throughout. Pillows lie scattered across the room with a large one situated in the middle. It looks more like a soft pallet. Beneath the pillows, the floor is covered with oriental-style rugs. They are dark, too, and flow into the wall coverings. The floor and walls harmonize to a point where there is hardly a distinction between the two.

The silk-covered walls circle around the room. Their dark hues blending to create a sultry illusion, and no corners showing gives the space a tent-like feeling. Even the ceiling has fabric draped, hanging above me in waves. I can almost feel the sand of the desert under my feet.

“Where’s Aladdin?” I ask her sarcastically before my mind has time to think. Stupid me. Kathryn’s face turns red, and her angry eyes peer at me. I think she’s about ready to unleash on my ass.

“Aladdin?” she spouts at me. Her voice tight and controlled but her eyes are anything but as she shakes her head and huffs. I’ve really ticked her off this time. Insulted her most likely. “I knew I shouldn’t have shown you this room. You’re making fun of it at my expense.”

“Kathryn, please. I apologize. I shouldn’t have said that to you.” I’m groveling and might even fall to me knees in supplication to gain her forgiveness. Me, Adam Kingsley. When I sneeze the markets react. Alerts are sent out to Wall Street. But this woman’s feelings make me buckle. I’m amazed at myself and perplexed by her. No one has ever had this kind of power over me.

She crosses her arms over her amble breast and looks at me speculatively. “I guess it was to be expected. You don’t really have a frame of reference for Tantra and what it entails to practice it. And you do have asshole tendencies, too.”

What can I say to that? After twenty-four hours she has me totally pegged. No escaping from her now.

But one thing is for certain, I’m beyond curious now and would gladly become her eager pupil. Time to repair the damage.

“It was a horrible choice of words. But I do feel like I’m back in time. It feels like I’ve just ridden across the desert on my camel to find this oasis. It’s uniquely beautiful.” I want to add,
just like you
, as I try to get back in her good graces. I never meant to hurt her or belittle what she practices, and truly the room is beautiful, captivating even.

A loud buzzing sound radiates throughout her apartment. Uncharacteristically, I jump at the sound. Between getting lost in my thoughts with her and Simon’s actions tonight, I’m slightly on edge.

“That’s my doorman calling up.” I sense the same startled feeling from her that I felt. We are both a little unnerved. “Let me see what he wants. Tour over for you, Mister.”

She shuts the door behind us as we leave the room. I wanted to explore it more, but I’ll settle for another time. Maybe I’ll sneak in after she’s asleep, God knows I’m not getting anything tonight. That unfortunately applies to sex, too.

In her main hallway, Kathryn picks up a phone’s receiver to communicate with her doorman. I can’t hear what he’s saying to her but I can tell from her expression she’s surprised. I immediately begin to worry. What if Simon is here? It seems impossible but I wouldn’t put anything past him at this point.

“What is it, Kathryn?” Impatient, I press her for details.

“Hold on, Carl.” She removes the receiver from her ear and gives me the “you’ve got to be kidding me” look. “Kingsley, calm down. It’s just a client of mine. I forgot about an appointment I had for tonight. You showing up unannounced at my apartment this afternoon. The commotion surrounding Simon. It slipped my mind.”

“Appointment?” Something tells me I’m not going to like where this may be going. I know her business is called The Spiritual Touch, and I can just imagine what kind of sessions make up her so-called appointments. My hands form into fists at the thought of her and another man in the
harem
tent.

“Yes, an appointment. He’s a someone I’ve been working with for a couple of months.” Her eyes have a conciliatory look to them as if she’s trying to gain my favor. “I feel bad I forgot and don’t want to cancel. Are you okay with him coming up here? It will only be for about forty-five minutes, tops.”

I want to tell her, fuck no, I’m not okay with this arrangement, but I partially understand where she’s coming from. I’m a businessman and have to respect her business even if a client and her behind closed doors drives me crazy.

“Forty-five minutes, right?” She nods. “I can survive for that long, I guess.”

But I know it’s a lie. I’m as jealous as a hell because I want to be the man spending time with her intimately. I have to ask her what this will entail. She’s likely to blow up at me, but I have to know the truth.

“What happens with your clients? Will your appointment also include having sex?” If looks could kill, I’d be buried and rotting away right now. Livid might be a great way to describe the look on her face.

“Oh my God. You are simply unbelievable. I’m not some high dollar call girl. I teach tantric sex. T.E.A.C.H. Capiche?” Yes, she’s as mad as hell. She’s a firecracker that exploded right in front of me with her eyes throwing daggers at me.

“Well, then, tell me what goes on. I have no idea what you do in that office of yours.” I move toward her. We’re about a foot apart. The intensity I feel between us stirs. I have to blink quickly to break our connection or I’m likely to pull her to me and attack her lips again.