Tempting Donovan Ford (16 page)

“Sasha.” Julia glanced around the kitchen. There was nothing left to do. Her stomach tumbled. She wasn’t actually considering it, was she? No, it was crazy.

“Go. Drink champagne. Have fun.”

“But—”

“But nothing.” Sasha shook her head. “Think of it as getting him out of your system.”

She had a point. Maybe if Julia slept with Donovan, she could stop thinking about him.

“But this can’t go anywhere after tonight.”

“So what?” Sasha wiped down the last counter and shot her a cheeky grin. “Have one hot night and then never think about it again. Well, except when you tell me the details. Every single dirty one.”

Julia knew the moment the decision was made. And it wasn’t there standing in the kitchen with her best friend grinning at her like a loon. No, she and Donovan had been moving toward this moment from the second she’d spotted him sitting in her dining room that first night, looking as sinful as the dark-chocolate torte on her menu. It was time to stop pretending.

* * *

D
ONOVAN WAS LOUNGING
on the couch of his family’s Whistler home, wondering if he should open the champagne on his own. It was an expensive bottle and he had reason to celebrate the event tonight. There was no doubt that when La Petite Bouchée reopened, their reservation list would be full. He knew it not only in his mind—his number-crunching, risk-evaluating, budget-balancing mind—but in his gut. And despite the fact that he’d never wanted to return to the restaurant business after his initial debacle, he wouldn’t deny that this felt good. Amazing, in fact. That he’d proved that his first restaurant hadn’t been the rule.

There was no reason to let the Veuve go to waste. Yet, he remained on the couch, unable to drum up any interest in opening it. He flicked on the TV and wondered what the rest of his staff were doing. Partying in one of the village’s many bars? The weekend would be hopping, with everyone in town for the festival. Maybe they’d cordoned off a back room in a restaurant, clinking glasses as they talked about the dinner service this evening. And was Julia with them?

If he were honest, that was what he really wanted to know. Sure, he’d be pleased to hear the staff had gone out to celebrate a night well done, but it wasn’t the reason for his interest. No, that was the pretty dark-haired chef with the dark eyes who had refused his offer of Veuve. Seriously. Who did that?

So when his phone rang, he grabbed for it. Even if it was something work related, it was better than torturing himself by thinking about drinking Veuve with Julia, sipping it from her lips, licking it out of the hollow of her throat, lapping it from her navel.

He was surprised to see her name on the call display, but he muted the throb of interest that followed. Probably a question about tomorrow, a concern regarding setup or food prep, or to double-check timing. Nothing worthy of a throb. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Donovan...” She paused. He could hear her breathing, not soft and smooth, but rough and jagged. There was a small hum as she cleared her throat. “I was wondering... Is the invitation for champagne still open?”

He blinked, that throb of interest becoming a steady drumbeat. “Absolutely. Where should I meet you?” He wouldn’t give her the opportunity to change her mind. “I can be there in ten minutes.” Which was exactly how long it would take him to grab his keys and navigate his car the short distance from the cabin to the village center.

He’d changed out of his suit, but his jeans and T-shirt were fine for the casual village atmosphere. Even in the fanciest hotels.

“Actually...” There was a brief pause and another hum of throat-clearing. “I thought I might come to your place.”

Donovan wondered if it was possible for his head to pop off. Not that he was assuming anything. Maybe she just wanted to sit somewhere quiet, away from the foodies who would be out full force tonight. Maybe she didn’t want to run into her staff. He inhaled slowly, willing his head and other parts of his anatomy to return to the at-ease position. “You’re more than welcome to come here.”

“Okay.” Her word was an exhalation.

“I’ll pick you up at your hotel in ten.” He had his keys in hand before he even hung up, and made it there in seven.

She must have been waiting for him because she came through the large sliding glass doors as soon as he pulled up under the porte cochere. He was thrilled when she tossed an overnight bag into the backseat. He waited until he’d pulled the car out of the hotel’s roundabout driveway and onto the road before he mentioned it. “Can I ask what you’re bringing?”

Maybe it was food? Or she’d brought her own bottle of champagne? Or any other number of things that some women seemed to cart along with them everywhere they went.

His mother had a purse that was large enough to contain half a department store’s worth of items, and she’d been known to retrieve a pair of socks, chopsticks or a small sewing kit from its depths. If Julia was just looking to share a platonic drink, he should know before he made her uncomfortable by kissing her the second they got through the door.

She was quiet. Donovan stayed silent, too.

Finally, she exhaled. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

“I disagree. It’s a great idea.” He felt it necessary to jump in before she talked herself out of this, because if she asked him to turn the car around, he would. “I just wondered.”

“If I have to explain it to you, then it’s probably a terrible idea.”

Donovan smiled. He had his answer. He stepped on the accelerator. “Forget I asked.”

They pulled up to the cabin a mere three minutes later. The roads were empty and there were no streetlights between the village and the family property.

The cabin was actually more like a full-service lodge, built to host the entire family, including future spouses and kids. But except for when Owen used it to throw a party for all his hangers-on, there were rarely more than two people up at a time.

Donovan had left the main lights on when he bolted out the front door, more intent on getting to Julia than on energy saving. They glowed through the large floor-to-ceiling windows. From inside, it felt like being in the middle of the forest at a rustic retreat. Albeit one with steam showers, a glass-front fridge and its own path to the ski hills.

He pulled into the garage and hopped out of the car to help her out of her side. She allowed him to carry her bag, which he took as a good sign, and they stepped inside.

He’d been prepared to drop the bag and turn her to face him, to look into those dark eyes and lean forward to take possession of her mouth. He hadn’t been prepared for her to do the same.

But he wasn’t complaining. Wouldn’t have even if his lips hadn’t been occupied.

Which they were. He wasn’t sure what to do first—pull her beautiful, luscious body against his or drag her up the stairs to his bedroom. Instead, he just stood there for a second, lips pressed to hers, filled with gratitude at his good fortune.

She pulled away first and for a second he feared that she was going to change her mind, reiterate that maybe this wasn’t a good idea and she was having second thoughts. And though it might kill him, he’d drive her back to her hotel without complaint. And try to satisfy his needs with a long cold shower.

“Donovan?” But the smile on her face, with the sexy little curve to her lips that made him want to lick the edges and see if they tasted as sweet as a strawberry, didn’t look as if she was having second thoughts at all.

He hauled her against his body and kissed the side of her neck. “Yes?”

“Where’s the bedroom?”

He didn’t waste any time carrying her up the stairs. He ignored the art on the walls that she’d probably enjoy, the gourmet kitchen with its gleaming appliances and the bathroom with its jetted tub and eight showerhead walk-in. Though he was certainly amenable to having her give them a thorough once-over later. Perhaps he’d go in with her to show her how everything worked.

Lust clouded his vision as he crossed into his room. Not the master because that was his parents’ room and the other rooms were more full suites, anyway, with their own king-size beds, designer chairs and lavish bathrooms. He could picture Julia under the spill of water in his shower, her body naked and rosy from being touched and teased.

He barely got them both to the bed, wanting only to drop to his knees and worship her right then and there.

He didn’t know where to start first. Kiss her again, run his fingers through her hair, slowly remove each article of clothing from her body? But when he lowered his body against hers and she snuggled against him, all heat and lush curves, the idea of moving away even just long enough to remove the material between them flew out the window.

Julia ran her hands down his chest and then slipped her fingers beneath his shirt. Donovan pressed closer, kissing her neck, appreciating her sharp intake of breath and the way she leaned into him, the cushion of her breasts pushing against him.

And then what was already turning out to be a pretty perfect way to end the evening got a little more perfect.

She stepped back and shrugged out of her soft sweater, grabbed the hem of her black T-shirt and pulled it over her head, exposing her breasts in their pretty black bra. Her skin looked smooth and creamy against the dark material and his mouth watered.

He wanted her. All of her. Now. But he clenched his hands and forced himself to watch, to appreciate the show as she placed one hand on the waistband of her jeans and flicked open the button.

Oh, hell. He hoped she was wearing matching black panties. A little covering of lace and silk that teased and tormented more than it protected. He held his breath as her hand moved lower, only the sound of the zipper breaking the silence. And then she slid her jeans over her hips and Donovan exhaled.

A teeny, tiny scrap of black that pointed him in the direction he wanted to go. And he realized he’d had enough of watching and it was time to participate.

He shucked off his clothes in a hurry, hungry to touch as well as look, and tossed them toward the chair in the corner of the room. He wasn’t sure if any of the garments actually made it to the chair. Didn’t care, either.

Julia’s skin felt cool to the touch, like slipping into a snowmelt lake at the height of summer. Refreshing and invigorating. Donovan wanted to dive in and stay there forever. Or as long as she’d let him.

He put his hands on her hips, turning them so that her back was to the bed. Then slowly, he walked her toward it. Kissing her, tasting her and wishing he’d thought to bring the bottle of champagne with them. He hadn’t given up on the fantasy of dribbling it on her, letting the liquid catch and pool in her secret depths and then slowly lapping every drop of it up.

Maybe later. Along with that shower-and-bath fantasy.

Her arm reached up to stroke his, her hand curling around his biceps when his tongue tangled with hers, and then curving around the back of his neck to tug him down to her. Closer to her. Wherever she wanted to take him, Donovan was willing to go.

He reached down and flipped back the down comforter. It was high-quality, as was everything in the house. But Donovan didn’t care about any of that. All he cared about was Julia spread out on the bed, her pale body lit up against the silvery-gray sheets.

He lowered himself to her. Their lips remained fused. Long, hot kisses, his hands tightening over her hips, feeling the difference of the scratch of lace and the softness of her skin.

Julia stretched up to meet him, looping both arms around his neck and opening her legs to cradle his body. He wasted no time in showing her his appreciation. He felt her smile when he pressed his hard ridge against her.

Donovan wasn’t the kind of man who went straight for sex. He enjoyed the foreplay just as much, bringing his partner to orgasm with his fingers and tongue, watching the glaze fall over her eyes, the flush that rose up her chest, turning her nipples a dark, rosy shade as they tightened and budded. He drew pleasure from hearing a woman’s soft cry of release, feeling her thighs clamp around his head as her legs began to shake.

But he didn’t think he could wait with Julia. She was too much. Too soft, too lush, too sexy. He was like a horny teenager looking through a girlie magazine for the first time, ready to pop off at the slightest touch. And he was ready to pop. More than ready, if the strain of his underwear was any indication.

Hell, she wasn’t even naked yet.

Donovan raised his head just enough to break their lip-lock and ran a hand along her side. Her knee curled up, curving around him, and he felt his control slip another notch. “Julia?”

“Hmm?” She opened her eyes to look at him, a small satisfied smile on her lips, and ran her hands through his hair. He had to grit his teeth and breathe through his nose for a second.

“This isn’t how I envisioned this.” There hadn’t been time to light candles, to set up a playlist on his iPod or give her a long, slow massage.

He lowered his forehead to hers, the heat throbbing through his body threatening to take over. He wanted to just act, to peel her out of her bra, fling those panties off and take her body until they were both drenched in sweat.

She hooked her leg over his back, pulling him back down so their bodies were once more plastered together, the only thing separating them a few measly scraps of fabric. “Funny, because this is exactly what I had in mind.” She slid a hand down his spine and back up, gently running her nails along each knob.

Donovan shuddered and felt the involuntary jerk of his body as it rocked into hers. He really wasn’t going to be able to hold back. Not with her wrapping herself around him, licking his earlobe. He sucked in a wheezing breath. “I just...”

What? What did he just? Hell, he couldn’t think. And she certainly didn’t seem interested in anything he had to say. At least not right now. He slipped a hand under her back and flicked open the hook of her bra, growled when it sprang free, releasing her breasts.

Donovan rose up only long enough to strip it down her arms and off her body before dipping his head again. He cupped one breast in each hand, pushing them together so he could taste both nipples with one long lick. From side to side and back again.