Forbidden Surrender (7 page)

“Nice. Sweet. Caring. Not exactly a thrill-seeking CEO.”

His smile turned lopsided and he replied, “You’d be bored in a month. I think you want someone exciting who also makes you feel safe. I can do that.”

My thumb and forefinger pinched my chin in thought. “Hmm . . . you know that does sound appealing but as enticing as it is, I already told you, we can’t happen.”

“Professional concerns, I know.”

I raised a brow. “So you do listen.”

“When it involves your lips, you have my full attention.”

The tension in my shoulders relaxed and I felt a crack in my guard. He was both physically beautiful and demonstrating thoughtfulness. It wasn’t just the drink and remembering my roommate; he actually listened to my concerns. I decided to illustrate the situation to ensure we were on the same page. “You’re Romeo and I’m Juliet. If we get together, bad things will happen.”

“Is that it?” He carefully scanned the arena then returned his powerful gaze to me. “Because I don’t see your bosses anywhere. I thought a Waterbridge-Howser employee would be a little more creative when it comes to getting what she wants. You certainly strike me as the type.”

“What type?”

“A woman who gets what she wants. Harvard for economics? Working at a wealth management firm trying to get ahead when guys like your partner, Richard, are trying to screw you over or just screw you at every opportunity? You have to be both tough and smart to thrive in that environment.”

How did he know what I studied in school, or even where I went?

As if reading my mind, he said, “I looked up your background before I signed with your company. Remember, I’m trusting you with hundreds of millions of dollars.”

“I thought you made me your point-of-contact just to get into my pants.”

“I might be a risk-taker when it suits me, but I’m not a moron. You’re an impressive woman, Kristen.”

Well at least he knew how to make a girl feel good. And aroused. He shifted his legs closer to mine and in that moment, I could swear the alcohol must’ve reached my brain because all I could think about was the image of him ripping off those slacks in front of me like a male stripper. “Do you try to have sex with all the other impressive women you meet? Is this a conquest for you?”

He looked at me with surprise. “None as impressive as you.”

“Well, I’m flattered.” I really was, but my purposeful tone didn’t show it.

“I don’t see you as a conquest,” he added. “But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find your feistiness a turn-on.”

I blushed fiercely. “I have legitimate concerns.”

“Which brings us back to the topic you didn’t address. If all you have are professional concerns, it won’t be an issue keeping what we do just between us. We’ve kissed in my office and you still have your job.”

He had a point, but there were other reasons I was resisting him, and I wasn’t about to surface those skeletons. “It’s a risk I can’t take. As deliciously attractive as you are, I want my job more than I want you. I barely even know you. And you barely know me.”

“Then get to know me. Give this,” he gestured back and forth between me and himself, “a chance.”

“What are you saying?”

“A date. If it goes well, let’s have more. If not, we go back to a purely professional relationship. I promise, keeping one date a secret won’t be a problem.” He found a lock of my hair and curled it seductively between his fingers. “What we do is private. My lips are sealed.”

As exciting as the prospect of a date with Vincent was, his suggestion seemed inconsistent with his approach. Until now, he only seemed interested in having sex with me. Dating was a whole different beast and I wasn’t certain he grasped the significance. “Vincent, as thrilling as a date sounds, I’m not sure you understand what you’re proposing. A date isn’t sex. And if we went on one—not saying we would—but if we did, I’m telling you upfront we won’t be having sex. Maybe not even kissing.” The last part was added for emphasis.

I expected him to pull back but without skipping a beat he said, “I’m fine with that.”

His response gave me pause. “Did I miss something? I thought you just wanted a quick lay.”

“I spend the average week on three different continents so I don’t usually have time for a relationship. Hence, the direct approach. You’ve made it clear you aren’t the kind of girl who wants casual relations. I still want to see you. Taking it slow isn’t what I’m used to but I can adjust.”

“Is your concept of dating just a means to sex? I’m no prude but to me sex is a meaningful act between two people who share a connection. I’m not just going to add an extra hurdle for you to clear. You just raved about how smart I am and now you’re treating me like I’m an idiot.”

“Dating is whatever we make it. I want to show you I’m interested in you beyond just sex.”

His response was a relief. “Okay.”

“Is that a yes?”

Probably the result of the mojito coursing through my veins and Vincent’s pheromones swimming in my brain, I heard the words come out my mouth before I had time to process the implications. “Fine. One date.”

His stunning features lit up making him even more gorgeous.

“But,” I added, cutting off the words lingering on his tongue. “I need discretion. I don’t want to worry about my employer finding out about us.”

“I agree, it won’t be an issue. How’s eight tomorrow?”

“In the evening?”

“No, a.m.”

“Isn’t that a bit early for a date? What do you have in mind?”

“It’s a surprise.”

My head was spinning. “Okay . . . where do you want me to meet you?”

“I’ll pick you up.”

I nodded. “How can I know what to wear if you won’t tell me where we’re going or what we’re doing?”

“Nothing fancy, don’t worry about it,” he said, looking me up and down. “It looks like you know how to handle that anyway.”

My face grew hot again. “Thank you.”

He leaned close to me, and I felt his breath on my neck and shuddered, bracing for an attempted kiss. “Just be ready at eight. You can do that, right?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t think I’m going to try to kiss you here, do you? You’re underestimating me, Kristen.” He leaned back into his chair, grazing my leg with his fingers as he did. His touch sent a jolt through my body, making my breath hitch.

“I can behave,” he finished.

I looked at him, breathing in short bursts. I hadn’t thought it was possible to look intensely calm before that moment.

“I’ll get you another drink.”

As he went into the suite he passed Riley on her way out. She bounced down next to me. “So that looks like it went well.”

I snorted. “I guess.”

“So when’s your date?”

I had to work on being less obvious. “Tomorrow.”

“Good. If you said there wasn’t a date I was going to smack you.”

I turned to her. “You do know I’m still allowed to make my own decisions, right?”

Riley cocked her head. “Sometimes you need a little push to make the right one. Where’s he taking you?”

“It’s a surprise. He wants me to be ready in the morning.”

Riley crinkled her nose. “Doesn’t sound like the usual, whatever it is. Something tells me he’s not the kind of guy to invite a girl to walk around the park.”

“No, definitely not.”

“It’s one date. Worst case scenario, you probably get to do something exotic and fun with a guy who is stunning eye candy.”

I swallowed. “Worst case I lose my job.”

She laughed. “If bad boys got caught easily, they wouldn’t still be bad boys. You’ll be fine.”

The rest of the game passed in an increasingly tipsy blur. I spent the evening waiting for Vincent to touch me again from where he sat behind me—my shoulder, my neck, anything—but he never did.

As we left the arena, the only thing on my mind was the next morning. What could he possibly have planned that required starting so early?

My alarm clock buzzed at 7:00 a.m. I woke up face down on my pillow and promptly chided myself for taking full advantage of the complimentary bar in the suite last night. I drew my comforter over my head, desperate for the extra sleep, when I realized I was going on a date in an hour. A surge of anxiety pulsed through me and I shot from bed, shedding my clothes on my way to the shower. I turned the water on hot, hoping the heavy steam might relax me, but I couldn’t stop wondering what a surprise date with Vincent Sorenson involved. Rented out museums? Five-star restaurants? Yachts? I had no idea what I was going to wear.

I lathered up a bar of soap, running it across my torso and down my legs—shit, should I shave? I was planning on wearing jeans but I could hear Riley’s voice in my head, berating me for my informal outfit choice; she would insist on a skirt and I would eventually yield. I grabbed my razor and swiped the blade carefully over my legs.

I turned off the shower and grabbed a towel, quickly drying off before rummaging through my closet to find a modest blue skirt and a silken racerback tank top. I threw them on over a matching bra and panties set and walked into the kitchen to find Riley sipping liberally from a cup of coffee and flipping through
People
.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” I bypassed the coffee, already jittery enough from nerves¸ and poured myself a generous cup of orange juice.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve been up for an hour, there was no way I was going to miss this.”

“Well you wouldn’t have missed much, I still don’t know where we’re going.”

She closed her magazine slowly and pushed it away before looking at me in contemplation. “Are you bringing condoms?”

“What?” I asked, the abruptness of the question catching me off guard.

“This,” she said, “is why I got up early. You have to think about these things!”

“No, Riley, I am not bringing condoms. It’s only our first date. A test date really.”

“Well, I commend you. It would take some serious restraint to keep me from tearing the clothes off of a guy like Vincent.”

I rolled my eyes over the rim of my cup. “Are you sure you don’t want to go on this date for me?”

“Come on, I was kidding. I’m just excited for you,” she said. “It’s your first official date in—”

“Don’t remind me,” I interjected, cringing at the thought that it’d been two years since my last relationship and months since I went on anything close to a date.

“You’re ready for it, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Yeah, I think I am,” I said softly, remembering my tryst with Vincent in his office, the way I had practically collapsed into him as he kissed me. I couldn’t remember a time when things had felt so natural.

“Well, the outfit is definitely cute,” Riley said, giving me a quick once-over.

“I thought you’d approve.”

“But I hope you plan on using a comb before you leave.” She laughed and gestured to the knotted curls my hair had dried into.

I glanced at the clock and darted to the bathroom when I realized I only had a few minutes left to get ready before Vincent was supposed to arrive. I grabbed a brush from the sink and tamed my hair into a stylishly messy bun, finishing just as a knock came at the door. I jumped in nervous anticipation and quickly applied a coat of mascara to my eyelashes.

“He’s here!” Riley sang out from the living room, her voice a high trill. She ran into the bathroom and ushered me out, thrusting my purse in my hands. “Have a good time, be safe, and tell me
everything
.”

“I will, I will,” I reassured her as I opened the front door. She escaped back into her room before Vincent could spot her in her pajamas.

He stood in front of me, six feet of muscled perfection fitted in jeans and a sleek black sports coat. He gave me one of his lopsided smiles and my heart skipped a beat. “Good morning,” I managed, suppressing the bashfulness that had suddenly overwhelmed me.

“You look great,” he said, placing his hand on the small of my back and guiding me out of the apartment building. I could feel his fingers gripping at the fabric of my shirt, the familiar gesture sending a flush of heat to my face.

When we got outside we stopped in front of a silver Camry, its square frame and dull paint job suggesting its old age. I’d expected a limousine or fancy sports car, something befitting his wealth. “Is this your car?” I blurted.

“You wanted discretion,” he said as we got in.

“Is this the part where you tell me where we’re going?” I teased as he began driving.

He shot me a grin. “Do you always make it this difficult for a guy to surprise you?”

“I like to be prepared, that’s all.”

“It shows. Those charts you put together for our first meeting must have taken some time.”

I looked at him, dismayed, as I recalled my disastrous performance in Cape Town. “Turned out to be worth it, I think they were the only redeeming part of our presentation.”

“Are you sure that little slip and fall act wasn’t planned?”

“I told you it was a mistake, but Richard will probably be implementing it into our future meetings.”

“I can’t blame him, it was my favorite part.”

“So you told me, but I’m not sure I want to be known for groping CEOs.” I tried not to sigh as I remembered the firm expanse of Vincent’s chest beneath his t-shirt.

“I guess I was just lucky I was there to break your fall.” He turned to me smiling, and I practically had to tear my gaze from the curl of his full lips.

“Something tells me you don’t trip over your own feet often,” I said, distracting myself from the lustful gleam in his eye. “Don’t surfers need to have pretty good coordination?”

“In that case, we’ll have to work on yours,” he said as the car came to a slow stop.

“What?” I looked out of the window, taking in the hazy tarmac of an airport parking lot.

“We can’t go to St. Thomas without surfing at least once.”

I clenched my jaw to keep it from dropping to my chest. I had to fight the urge to protest, running through all the reasons surfing made me nervous in the first place. But I knew I couldn’t sabotage a date with Vincent Sorenson because I was too afraid to stand on a board for awhile. “Is this JFK?” I sputtered as we got out of the car.

“It’s a private airport, actually. There weren’t any direct flights to the Caribbean so we’re settling for something more intimate.” He gestured to a small plane in the distance.

I had imagined the yachts and the sports cars, but I hadn’t been anticipating a private jet. Maybe Vincent wasn’t the bad boy I’d pinned him for. In fact, he was turning out to be pretty considerate. A date on a remote island couldn’t have been easy to organize and his little stunt at the Knicks game was more than generous—my friends certainly thought so.

“Well, I do like a challenge,” I conceded, deciding if he was willing to make an effort then so was I.

He grabbed me by the hand and pulled me towards the plane. “That’s what I thought.”

I had just been getting used to the idea of a private jet when I was met with custom leather seats, a glass coffee table, and a suede sofa all situated in the cabin of the plane. True, I hadn’t been on a date in a long time, but even if I had been, it wouldn’t have been anything like this. Dinner and a movie this was not.

“So much for discretion,” I said as I surveyed my surroundings.

“We’ll be all alone up here,” he said as he turned to me, his eyes falling briefly to the line of cleavage visible at the neck of my shirt before traveling back to my face. I glanced around, looking for a stewardess, but he wasn’t lying. The cabin of the plane was empty except for us—it couldn’t have been more discreet.

“Is it customary for CEOs to have their own private jets?” I was trying to sound nonchalant but I knew my awe was glaringly obvious.

“I admit, it takes some getting used to.” As we settled into our seats he placed his hand on the armrest between us, his long fingers splayed across the leather. I wanted to reach for it, to bring the knobs of his knuckles to my mouth and run my tongue over the shallow lines in his skin. I glimpsed the couch, imagining the small of my back sticking to its leather surface as Vincent leaned over me, the pressure of his muscled frame pushing me deep into the cushions. He would draw my legs around his waist, his hand cupping the space behind my knee as our lips opened around one another. I would grab his lean hips and push myself against him, eager for a friction I hadn’t felt in a long time.

“You mean jetting overseas isn’t one of your pastimes?” I swallowed, trying to pull myself from my heated reverie.

“SandWorks wasn’t exactly handed to me. I spent a lot of time traveling, working paycheck to paycheck, before I thought of the waterproof camera. In fact, that Camry is something of a relic from those days.”

“I have to admit, it wasn’t what I was expecting when you picked me up.”

“I did a lot of traveling in that car, even spent some nights in it,” he said. “But when business took off one of the first things I had to learn was how to manage my money.”

“Isn’t that what you hired us for?” I couldn’t imagine him struggling to learn anything. His business savvy had been obvious since the first day we met.

“Yes, but it wasn’t always easy to know who to trust in the beginning so I had to rely on myself. Something tells me you never had much of a problem with that, though.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, growing defensive at the implication.

“Financial analyst, Harvard girl—your parents must have done well for themselves to be able to send you there.”

My home life wasn’t a point of conversation I enjoyed but I didn’t want him thinking I hadn’t worked hard for my success. “My parents put a lot of pressure on me to do well, but they couldn’t afford private school. I left Texas with some savings from summer jobs but I had to work my way through college; I didn’t pay off my student loans until I landed a job at Waterbridge-Howser.”

“Texas? I knew I could detect an accent.”

“So could everyone in Boston, I spent a lot of time trying to hide it but I guess I got tired of pretending it wasn’t a part of me.”

He turned to me, his gaze smoldering. “You’re a walking contradiction.”

“Excuse me?”

“You say you don’t like to take risks, but it couldn’t have been easy starting a new life on your own.”

I had never considered myself adventurous, my own parents thought it was irresponsible of me to uproot my life, but Vincent seemed unconvinced.

“You’re not exactly easy to figure out either. Vagabond turned CEO? I didn’t see that coming.”

He gave me one of his sly grins. “You can’t be prepared for everything, Kristen.”

A few hours later we landed, the white beaches and swaying palm trees greeting us from the airplane window. We made our way through the small airport to the rental car area. Vincent picked out an Aston Martin convertible, which surprised me probably more than it should have considering I’d just stepped off his private jet. I dealt with wealthy clients on a daily basis and I had some vague idea of the luxuries they could afford, but I’d never actually been wealthy myself—seeing what Vincent’s money could buy had thrown me off a bit.

The drive to the beach served well to distract me from my nagging fears about surfing—the breeze whipping my hair, the taste of the ocean’s salt lingering in the air, and the rolling hills that surrounded us were impossible not to notice. But as we approached a wood slatted surf shop edging the beach, the creeping fear I’d felt earlier came back full force.

“I have to admit, I’m kind of nervous about this,” I confessed as we got out of the car. “Jellyfish, sharks . . . you hear horror stories, you know?”

He took my hand, gripping it reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

Vincent was right, he had been surfing for years, and I really didn’t have any reason not to trust him—with my safety at least.

“But you can’t surf in that,” he said, gesturing to my skirt and blouse. “We’ll need to get you a swimsuit.”

After trying on a few swimsuits in the dressing room, I decided on a black halter top bikini with single string bottoms.

My heart nearly sank to my stomach when I caught a glance of the total price of our surfing gear—between new swimsuits and surfboards, Vincent had spent more than Riley and I spent on restaurants in a month.

After I had changed, I met Vincent by the water and was nearly floored by the man who stood waiting for me fitted in nothing but a pair of white boardshorts that clung loosely to his hips. My eyes lingered on his six-pack, the taut ridges of his abdomen leading down to the sharp, downward angle of his pelvic bones. I swallowed as I noticed the nipple rings glinting from his chest and among the various tasteful tattoos around his right arm and chest there was a blackened outline of a diamond on his rib cage. I wondered about its significance; Vincent might have been a risk taker but there always seemed to be a purpose behind everything he did.

I stumbled in the sand, wrestling with the side of me that was salivating over his edgy look and the side of me that was a little intimidated. I’d never been with a man who took so many risks with his body, but I’d also never been with a man who defied all of my expectations. Not to mention a man who was so irresistibly attractive.

His lips slowly curved into a smile as he eyed me up and down. “I like the swimsuit. Ready?”