Seduction (16 page)

He would see she was back for good, even though she hadn't known it was what she wanted until she'd touched him again. She would be here when he came home and then he would see.

She would be here.

I BLAME GAIL'S
Christmas party, even though I didn't want to go. I never really
want
to go and listen to Gail sniff and pointedly Not-Criticise, but on the other hand, she's still my sister and Christmas is the one chance to see the whole family – Maddy and Thomas and Ed, our kids and their kids and all the cousins; three generations all gloriously crammed under one roof to make merry. That kinda stuff is important to me. So my daughter Jennie and I loaded up the presents we'd stayed awake until 3 a.m. wrapping, the dishes of pie and stuffing, and a few choice bottles of wine I'd been saving for the holidays. And we headed over to Gail's.

‘So . . . Mom. You never answered my question last night,' Jennie said as we turned onto the highway.

‘Which? You haven't stopped talking since you got here,' I retorted. She hadn't, but then neither had I. We'd spent years counting the days until she left for college. Now we counted the days until she came home on break. Me more than her, I suspected.

‘My question about if you'd found a boyfriend.'

‘I answered you. I rolled my eyes, didn't I?'

‘Mother . . .'

I shrugged and overtook a guy cruising along in a Mustang.

‘Dumbass! If you buy it, drive it for chrissake!'

‘Mother, stop avoiding.'

She was relentless. My child without a doubt.

‘I told you, Jen, I've been dating. It comes, it goes.'

‘Dating who? The fuddy-duddy with erectile dysfunction?'

I gave her a disapproving glance. ‘Dave. He's a nice guy! He buys me dinner. But no, not just him.' Rain began spotting the windshield and I turned on the wipers. ‘I had a blind date which wasn't bad. And I got hooked up with an artist and we went out a couple of times.'

‘And they all sucked.'

‘No they didn't . . . much.'

Jennie made an exasperated noise and tapped her fingers on the armrest, looking at me from the corner of her eyes.

‘You just don't seem real happy, Mom. When I talk to you all you do these days is work. That's not you.'

‘I throw candle parties.'

I glanced around and saw her roll her eyes. ‘Yeah. You're turning into Aunt Gail.'

‘Good God, no!'

‘Yes!'

‘No!'

The conversation degenerated from there, until we'd forgotten the whole point of the disagreement and turned to other stuff. But at the back of my mind some small voice I'd ignored for a while now piped up, encouraged by Jennie's accusation. I
was
bored and, yes, a little bit lonely. I
was
getting more jollies from making salad trays than getting my salad tossed, but that was life, right? I'd had more than my fair share and two amazing husbands into the bargain, and now . . . well, it wasn't just about a quick fuck any more.

I hadn't told Jennie – and I wouldn't – that the blind date had been maybe two, three years older than her. Very smart, very firm in all the right places, looked mouth-watering in tight jeans, but he'd been on a whole different wavelength. I'd found
myself with my legs around his waist and his cock pumping furiously between my thighs, trying to decide if I wanted tuna salad or chicken for lunch the next day.

It wasn't that I felt any less horny, I just needed more than a dick and pretty face. But what that ‘more' was I couldn't have said to save my life.

Stifling a sigh, I pulled into the driveway of my sister's house. The door flew open almost immediately with grand-nephews and nieces tumbling out and running over to be hugged and kissed and wished a Merry Christmas. For a while I forgot my own angst in the hubbub, even with Gail looking over my loose hair and jeans and sweater with a little cough. So what? I was more comfortable than she was in her cashmere pantsuit and pearls.

I gave her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek and went to the kitchen where Maddy was already hysterical over an argument with her eldest and slicing tomatoes at a dangerous pace. Everyone had an opinion and the noise level was deafening, but I loved it. It took me out of myself and kept me busy, although it was nearly six by the time I finally put the last pie in to warm and escaped with a glass of Merlot for the blessed peace of the living room. There I found Bill hiding out too, presumably keeping guard over the appetisers and the tree.

We talked portfolios for a while and how college was turning out to cost way more than we'd ever planned. Luckily Bill and Gail's first two were already through and I had only Jennie, but we were going to end up helping Maddy out. As usual. The wine, the steady, sensible drone of Bill's voice, the twinkle of Christmas lights and the big, quiet room decorated in Gail's impeccable ivory and pastels took effect. I relaxed. And my defences were down. That had to be why, when the doorbell rang and I went with Bill to greet the arriving guests, I didn't stand a chance.

That, or it could have been the fact that he was drop-dead gorgeous.

Bill introduced him as the new manager of their national data centres. Magazine model was more like it.

‘And this is my sister-in-law, Robyn. Robyn, Trent.'

‘Hi Robyn. It's a pleasure,' he said.

Yeah, no kidding. He was mid-thirties maybe, grey eyes, a beefier version of Paul Newman. And he was alone. He'd tagged along with Bill's senior manager and his wife. Had to be gay, I told myself, but I didn't quite buy it.

After the introductions, I found reasons to keep occupied. Answering the door, making sure glasses were filled, acting like I didn't notice him glancing my way every now and then, but I did. I noticed every time those grey eyes were turned on me, probably because nearly every time my gaze had strayed to his ass or the width of his shoulders under the dark-red sweater, and when he caught me I looked away, blushing like a silly girl. Wondering what the hell my problem was. Too little sleep and too much wine? That had to be it. Hadn't I sworn off younger men?

I could hear the little voice in my head that now sounded like my daughter yelling, ‘Oh bullshit!' at me, but I stood my ground. I avoided him right up until he sat next to me at dinner, snagging the spot on my left because Thomas was already planted on my right and in deep discourse with Jennie about something on plate tectonics. Academic jargon that all went right over my head.

‘Hi again,' he said with a smile that made me fumble my fork and forget what was I about to do.

‘Hi. Trent, right?'

‘Yep.' He grinned like he was surprised and flattered I'd remembered and I found myself grinning back. Damned if dimples weren't my weakness.

‘I'm glad I caught you,' he said, leaning in to refill my wine glass and then his. ‘You've been so busy all evening. But . . . Bill told me you do transformation consulting?'

I nodded. ‘Consolidations, centre launches, offshoring. Fun stuff.'

‘Yeah, really,' he laughed, as he ladled stuffing onto his plate and then offered to do the same for me. ‘Well, I'm looking to do exactly that in the near future here.'

‘Oh my, that's enough, thanks,' I said, stopping him after spoon two of stuffing. ‘Are you really? I'd be glad to help in any way I can.'

Oh crap. Me and my big mouth.

He put the stuffing bowl down since Thomas and Jennie were paying no attention, and unleashed those dimples again.

‘I was hoping you'd say that. Bill said you were the woman to talk to and you know he isn't exactly heavy-handed with the praise.'

I blushed and shook my head. ‘No he isn't. And thank you. I umm . . .' Crap, now I was at a loss for words.

‘Well, the last thing I want to do is spend Christmas dinner talking shop, but I'd love to give you a call sometime after the New Year? Maybe we can do lunch.'

Boy, there was plenty more than lunch I wanted to do. I refused to meet his gaze, reaching instead for the gravy boat and puddling a generous amount between my potatoes and turkey as I nodded assent.

‘Of course. Anything to help Bill out.' And to see him again. Even if all he wanted to do with me was pick my brain.

‘Wonderful,' he said. ‘I'm looking forward to it.'

‘So am I.'

I gave him a generous smile and then attacked my food so I wouldn't have to talk any more. I knew I was giving mixed signals, but reasoned that it didn't matter because we weren't flirting. Not one word he'd said could have been construed as anything more than polite networking, and he didn't press me to chitchat beyond a few comments about the stuffing being amazing. I was sure there was no way he knew I'd made it.

After dinner, Jennie cornered me in the kitchen.

‘Mom! That guy who works with Uncle Bill totally has a thing for you!'

I knew there was no point in playing dumb. ‘No he doesn't, Jen,' I said, sounding tired and patient as I loaded dirty plates into the dishwasher. ‘He just wanted to talk about work stuff.'

‘Yeah, sure. He's been looking at you like a Chihuahua staring down a T-bone all night!'

‘Jen!' I snapped as the door opened and others came in. ‘Drop it, girl. Ain't nothin' happening there. OK?' I added, lowering my voice.

Last thing I needed was Gail thinking I was hitting on Bill's employees at her party.

‘Just go talk to him, please, Mom,' she insisted in a half-whisper, leaning down to put silverware one at a time into the silverware tray. ‘He's cute and I can't stand to see him giving you puppy-dog eyes and you just giving him the cold shoulder.'

She put the last fork in and I shut the dishwasher door and turned it on.

‘If he's so cute, why don't you go flirt with him?' I grumbled under the noise of the washer starting up.

She didn't miss a beat. ‘Because he's old,' she replied, sticking her tongue out at me. ‘And, oh hell, I just have a feeling, OK? Just go be sociable. It won't kill you.'

She was right. It wouldn't kill me. But by the time I found another glass of wine and the courage to head towards him as he lounged against the sofa talking, I discovered he was about to leave.

‘I'm sorry we didn't get to chat more,' he said softly, holding my hand after he'd shaken it goodbye.

It took all my effort of will to pull it away and shake my head.

‘Me too. But we'll catch up after the holidays. Email me.'

I didn't mean it to sound quite so encouraging, but the husky
note crept into my voice and I saw his lips curve upwards. No dimples, but just as dazzling.

‘See ya, Robyn,' he said and my knees went weak.

OK, so he probably wasn't interested, but I could make him be. If I wanted to, I could bring him to his knees at my feet and he'd be consulting me on a whole lot more than the cheapest way to set up servers. But the question I had to ask myself, that I had to figure out between now and the New Year, was did I want to?

It was the end of January and I'd almost forgotten about the party. Well, not quite. I remembered one of the guests sure enough, but I'd long since decided that if I did hear from him, I'd pass him off to another associate and plead a full workload. I'd gotten back into my routine of candle parties and charity luncheons and romantic, platonic dinners with E.D. Dave. It wasn't exactly exciting but it was comfortable.

Only one night, when Dave cancelled, I was more frustrated than usual. It was the kind of cold but clear night that made me want to open up the French windows in the bathroom and crawl into the hot tub with good company. Sadly, the only available company ran on batteries, but the jets of heated water against the bite of the night air felt delicious anyway. It made my nipples pucker and tingle and I pinched them slowly, wondering if . . . if he had called. What he looked like under that sweater. What his face looked like when he came. Was he a loud fuck? A screamer? Maybe a moaner?

My pussy clenched tight, sending spasms up through my ass and thighs, and I spread my legs. I bent my knees and propped my feet against the edges of the tub, imagining that my fantasy knelt between them, ready to enter my pussy laid out so readily for him. I wondered what he'd want me to do. Rub my clit like I was doing now? The pad of my index finger balanced delicately on the hood, pushing back and forth in
counter time to my hips sliding through the water. He'd watch my face and neck get red, giving away my hidden arousal. Would his cock twinge and ache like my nipples, longing to be inside me? Envying my fingers sliding inside my wetness?

I was shivering from cold and from the feverish heat of being so close to orgasm. But damn, how I needed a fuck! I needed something thick and hard inside of me; this damned finger-fucking in the tub just wasn't going to cut it tonight. Ignoring the protest from my knees at the sudden motion, I levered myself up and out of the tub. Didn't care if I got water all over the floor. I was so close, but I wanted to come the way I would if Trent was fucking me. Hard and slutty.

I slipped and slid over to the shower, slammed the door closed and pulled down the detachable showerhead. I turned it on and slid the dial around to the fast pulse setting. Cold. I was really shivering now, my teeth chattering and my fingers almost freezing, but inside I was still molten. Heat that couldn't be chilled even when I bent over, legs straddling the drain, and angled the icy spray up directly against my clit and pussy. I screamed out. Oh yeah, hell yeah!

That was good! That was what I wanted: relentless, burning cold pounding my clit. Punishing my tits when I moved the showerhead upwards. Gasping, stifled, sobbing for air, coming so hard I hit my head on the wall and didn't think about the colourful stars of pain until I'd finally let my hand drop and the stream of water was harmlessly pointed at the drain.