Text Appeal (5 page)

What kind of idiot man wouldn’t want Riley to wear that for him? It wasn’t that Charlie didn’t love nude—
hell,
it was his healthy respect for nude that made him appreciate lingerie so much. Lingerie teased, hinted at nude.
Made a promise like the tip of a female tongue against cock before she took him in her mouth.

He’d been somehow gratified to learn that she had a whole collection of the naughty stuff, as if someone had confirmed every private image he’d ever had of her.

He closed his eyes and groaned. He was rock hard again. Thoughts of Riley did that to him.

How serious could she be about a guy she couldn’t wear lingerie for?

He was ready to find out.

***

“How did your date go last night?”

Riley looked up from her keyboard to see her father standing before her, suit jacket draped over his arm. His tie was off, a sure sign he was done doing business for the day. “It was good.”

Quinton nodded. “
Chaz
seems to be a nice boy.”

Riley laughed. “He’s thirty-two, hardly a boy, Daddy.”

“You’re all kids to me.” He ran a hand threw his thinning gray hair. He’d been doing that a lot lately. Riley’s heart squeezed, knowing he was so uncomfortable with aging. Much like Sean Connery and Harrison Ford, her father had aged well, and didn’t look anywhere near his true seventy-four years. “Do you have plans tonight?”

“I have to finish up a few things here and then I have dance class but no other plans.”

Her father frowned. Though he tried not to say much about it, he hated her decision to continue dancing. He worried.

“Daddy, relax. It’s just what I do for exercise.” She reached across her desk and squeezed his hand. “I’m not her,” she said in a whisper.

He nodded. “I know that.” His voice was gruff. If the rest of the business world knew what a softie this hotelier was under his hardnosed exterior, it might be the death of his empire. “Do you need any money…for anything?”

Riley smiled and shook her head. “I have everything I need.” He’d never be comfortable with her insistence that she
make
her own way, but she had to credit him for never pushing too hard.

She wasn’t privy to what had gone on behind the scenes when her father had adopted her thirteen years ago, but her mother hadn’t even been in the ground before Riley had been swept off to Quinton Carter’s mansion, a tiny pink suitcase containing her favorite things in her hand. She’d been shown around her new home and told she would never want for anything anymore. When Quinton had come home from work that night, he’d found her in her new room—a space decked out in pink and ballerinas just for her. She’d been sitting on the edge of the bed, terrified
to touch anything. It was all too new.
Too beautiful.
Too intimidating for a girl who’d grown up with so little.

She’d trembled at the sight of him. He was such a massive man with a booming voice and a reputation for a cold heart. Her mother was gone, and he was all she had. Would he kick her out if he realized she’d killed her mother? Did he know her mother would still be alive if she hadn’t been a spoiled brat who insisted on new ballet slippers?

Overcome with grief and guilt, the words, “I’m sorry,” had slipped from her lips. She hadn’t meant to say them out loud.

Her father had dropped to his knees in front of her, wrapped his big arms around her tiny frame, and he’d cried. She’d stiffened at first, unsure what to do, but then it felt so good to have someone hold her that she cried too.

It was the only time in her life she’d ever seen her father cry. They’d never talked about it, but those tears had formed a bond between father and daughter—a bond they’d desperately needed to begin their new life together. She didn’t know what her life with the strange man would be like, but when she learned he’d already lost one daughter, she’d vowed not to disappoint him. All through her teens and early twenties, she had broken her vow only once, and it had gotten her sent away.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she said, smiling at him.

“Have a nice dance class, Riley.”

As Riley watched her father walk out the door, her phone buzzed.

The screen read:
Message from Cha
rles Spencer
.

She bit her lip.
Chaz
.
Their date hadn’t ended so well last night, and she wasn’t sure if he really would text like he promised. She hit
OK.

I can’t stop thinking about yesterday.

Riley put her fingers to her lips but couldn’t stop them from spreading into a grin. She took a breath.
You’ve been on my mind, too
, she typed. Did it sound too needy?
Too desperate?
She wanted to improve her sex life with
Chaz
more than a dieter wanted ice cream, but she wasn’t sure how to go about it. She held her breath and hit
Send
.

She stared at the phone, willing it to vibrate, willing him to respond.

Nothing.

“Don’t be stupid, Riley. You don’t need to text back and forth like teenagers all day. He’s busy. Get back to work.”
She stole a last glance at her phone and turned back to her computer.

It buzzed again, vibrating against the desk. She chewed on her bottom lip. She should
not
be this excited about a text message.

But she was. She snatched her phone and read the message.

Did you try it on?

Her heart kicked up a beat. Surely he didn’t mean...
Try what on?
she
typed.
Send.

Black.
Leather.
Sexy as fuck?
Ring any bells?

She shifted in her chair. Was this a side of
Chaz
she hadn’t seen? Was he secretly someone her ING would come out and purr for? That would be a good thing, right? Why did that seem so weird to her?

Her stomach clenched. All she could do was find out.
I tried it on.

Four words.
Safe.
Noncommittal.
He wouldn’t run screaming in the other direction.
And if he didn’t like the idea of her wearing something so provocative...
Sexy as fuck
.
She shifted again. He liked it. She hit
Send
and her lame-o message fled from her phone.

She waited, listening to the wall clock
tick, tick, tick
...Her phone buzzed.

I wish I’d been there. Hope you took pictures.

She frowned. Okay, she didn’t expect that from
Chaz
.

Pretend it’s Charlie,
her ING said.
What’s weird from
Chaz
is
hot
from Charlie.

That was a terrible idea, of course, to think about Charlie while
Chaz
was texting her. But she reread the message and imagined Charlie typing it, that cocky grin on his face, his dimple making an occasional appearance—

Her thighs flexed instinctively. She looked around her empty office, her skin heating. She was turned on at work, one wall between her and the room where her father made billion-dollar business transactions. Dear God. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip and stared at the message, her pulse hammering. What should she say? Did he want her to be suggestive? She wasn’t sure she knew how...

What would you say if you were having this conversation with Charlie?

I wish you had been too,
she typed. Not exactly
Anais
Nin, but it was something. She hit
Send
before she could talk herself out of it, then she said a little prayer that her life was about to get a little more interesting.

She gripped the phone in her hands, staring at the display.
Tick, tick, tick
.

***

Charlie Singleton had woken up with a hard-on that far exceeded his average morning wood, and it was all thanks to little Miss Riley Carter and that black leather sexpot outfit.

He reread her last text.
I wish you had been too.

Jesus. He hadn’t expected that. He’d picked up his phone and sent her a text to tease her. She’d startled the hell out of him when she said she’d been thinking about him...and now she wished he had been there when she’d tried on the bustier? God, help him.

Did you think about anyone when you put it on?
He typed, ignoring that his cock jumped at the idea, demanding his attention. He wasn’t about to cut this conversation short just to stroke one out.

Her reply came quickly.

I did.

He grinned. And wasn’t that why he’d bought the damn thing for her—so she’d
have
to think about him? Riley was too much of a good girl for her own good, and for
some reason the idea of making her break that mold had fascinated him since the day Lacey had introduced them.

He settled back onto his pillows and looked at the ceiling. She worked in this very building, in one of the many offices in the tower over the casino. She tried to blend in with the stuffed shirts and the blowhards like she was one of them, when he knew she was really much more underneath. Why did the idea of making her hot and bothered while she was alone in her office turn him on so much?

Ah, but that’s why they called him the Devil.

How did it look? Are you happy with it, or do I need to take you shopping for a different one?

He hadn’t expected any of this when he picked up his phone to push her buttons. And now he’d pay. His cock was fucking granite, threatening to bust out of his boxers.

He set his phone on his chest, closed his eyes, and imagined her in her office chair, cheeks tinged with that perpetual flush she had in his presence, as if his mere existence were scandalous. She probably had her dark hair pulled back in a clip like she preferred to wear it for work, and was wearing one of those business suits that weren’t supposed to be sexy but were on her because of the way they pulled a little across her ass.

His phone beeped, alerting him to a new text, and he smiled.
Looked like Riley wanted to play.

I’m happy with it. You liked it, then?

He thought he’d made that pretty damn clear yesterday.
I liked it, but I have no doubt I’d like it more on you.

Was this the text after which she’d finally say he’d taken it too far? He thought about adding more but left it at that, unwilling to scare her away if he could avoid it. He punched
Send.

Her response came quickly—as if she’d been typing it before he’d
sent
the last message.
I’ve never worn leather panties before.