The Seduction Plan (4 page)

“Let me show you that sex can be great,” he said.

Lana gasped, and leaned back a few inches against the soft leather seat of the limousine. “Excuse me?” she asked, needing to hear his words again, sure she hadn’t heard them correctly.

He watched her expressions closely as he went into more detail. “Let me teach you about sex, Lana. I think you’ll enjoy it much more with an experienced lover.”

 

Lana’s mouth dropped open. “You’re serious?” Surely this was a dream and he hadn’t just offered his services as tutor. Right?

Victor’s smile was one of absolute sensuality – if that could ever be applied to a man. “Of course I am. I think you’re gorgeous and all afternoon, I’ve been trying to figure out how to get you into my bed. This seems like a win-win situation,” he teased.

She blushed painfully at his comment even though her heart was about to burst from the speed at which it was racing. “You want me in your bed?” She couldn’t believe that. It was too wonderful. “Even after all I’ve told you?” Impossible.

One dark eyebrow went up with her question. “Do you doubt it?”

 

She snapped her mouth closed and looked away from the amusement she saw lurking in his eyes. “Frankly, yes. Why would you want me in your bed?”

Victor put a finger under her chin, gently raising her face so she was looking at him again. “Because you’re beautiful and sexy as hell,” he repeated. He pulled a card out of his wallet and wrote something on the back. “Here’s my private cell phone number. Think about it tonight and call me tomorrow.” They were already at her apartment and he stepped out, then reached in to offer her a hand.

Lana took the card and stared at his name. Victor Davenport. She didn’t know him and yet her hand was still in his large, warm one and he’d just offered to become her lover. What a strange series of events, she thought. She knew her mind was wrapping around details that were superfluous but she couldn’t help it. She just couldn’t accept and absorb his offer. It was just too bizarre.

Taking a deep breath, she looked up from his card to examine his features, noting the confidence and arrogance, the hard jaw line and cheekbones that should have been on a male model. But there was a gentleness there as well. And admiration? For her?

Ridiculous. A man as obviously successful as this one wouldn’t find much to admire in a person like her. “I don’t think…” she started to say and tried to hand him back his card.

Victor refused to take the card back. He took her hand and folded her slender fingers around the white velum. “Don’t reject the idea immediately. At least think about it. And let me know tomorrow. Call me,” he said and leaned down, letting his lips brush hers gently. He didn’t stop at a small, simple kiss though. His mouth brushed against hers, then his tongue darted out and tasted her lower lip. A moment later, he sucked her lip into his mouth, before gently covering her mouth once again.

The tingling that had started in her stomach from his initial suggestion, flared out, speeding electric currents all through her body. Her fingers gently touched his shoulder, careful not to put too much pressure there, lest he know she was doing it.

Lana was so surprised by the heat that rushed through her when she felt his lips, she forgot to pull back. In fact, her body swayed towards his, wanting to feel the touch once again, to see if it was real or not.

He pulled back and looked down into her surprised face. What he saw there must have pleased him because he grinned, then pulled her imperceptively closer.

He kissed her once again, just another fluttery kiss and nothing that would frighten her in any way, then pulled back to look at her features, enjoying the flushed cheeks and suddenly glazed eyes. “Call me tomorrow and let me teach you about all the things you’ve only imagined,” he said, his voice husky as he held her arms with his hands. His body was tantalizingly close but the inches were enticing.

A moment later, he was gone, disappearing into the black limousine which glided smoothly away from the curb, then turned the corner. When Lana couldn’t see him any more, she sighed and walked into her building. She checked her mail box and threw out all the junk mail, climbed the three flights of stairs to her small, but cozy apartment and decided the plants needed water. Then the carpets needed to be vacuumed, the dishes washed, dried and put away, clothes to iron and hang up. It was midnight when she finally looked down at her hand, seeing the card that she’d never put down. Chapter 3

Lana sat down on the edge of her bed and shivered, still staring at the card as if it had a life of its own. What would it be like to be held by those strong arms? To feel his fingers touching her bare skin? The memory of his hands against her back flitted through her mind, teasing her, making her think other thoughts.

She shook the idea away. There was no way she could do anything so crazy as to become someone’s lover, just so she could write about sex in her stories. That was ridiculous. Especially a stranger she’d just met a few hours ago.

Standing up, she placed the card on her bedside table and forced herself to walk away. She brushed her teeth, staring at the card the whole time. She washed her face, then quickly dried it off so she could look at the card once again.

It was almost like the card were the man and had a force all its own, powerful, domineering, and demanding all of her attention. Was she magnetized to the card? Was there some sort of spell he’d put on the card that drew her constantly to the expensive scrap of paper? That was ridiculous, she thought as she pulled on a cotton nightgown, tying the bow at the neck, then slipping into bed. The city lights filtered through her blinds and allowed her to see the shape of the card, if not the actual words and she stared at it in the dark.

Her nightgown, which suddenly became cumbersome. she was feeling now. The business card seemed to mock her, laughing at how prim her night attire seemed.
on previous nights had been soft and comfortable, The pink bow on the neckline was too demure for how

At midnight, tired of feeling overheated and wishing the soft cotton wouldn’t scratch her body so much, she considered taking it off and simply sleeping in the nude. The idea instantly flared her sense of adventure, but then her eyes caught the white of the card and her fingers clenched in a desperate need to make a decision.

It was almost as if leaving the night gown on meant she wouldn’t call while tossing it to the floor would indicate a spirit that would be brave enough to make the phone call.

Lana sat up in bed, biting her lower lip in indecision. She wanted to be that woman, she told herself. She wanted to start feeling things that she only imagined in her mind. She wanted to think and feel and act like a woman who had a sexuality that could rival that of other women, women who could act out and grab at the things she herself desperately wanted.

Bunching the fabric up, she forced her hands to pull it up and over her head. Tossing it to the floor felt as if she’d taken a major step in her life. Then, laying back onto the cool sheets of her bed, her head automatically turned to look at the card and deep inside, she felt a sense of something she couldn’t really define but she knew she was going to call him and accept his offer.

By two o’clock in the morning, she’d rejected the idea and pulled her nightgown back over hear head, huddling under the sheets in shame. In disgust, she turned over in her bed, leaving her back to the card. When three o’clock came around and she hadn’t been able to close her eyes once, she sat up and looked at the darkened room. It must have been exhaustion, or an overwhelming tide of frustration and that other undefined emotion that swelled through her body. But the night had a way of obliterating common sense. Why couldn’t she have sex with him? Why not satisfy her curiosity? What harm could there be in giving in to the temptation to accept his kisses? And more? She wasn’t exactly sure she could do the “more” but she was definitely tempted to try.

She shivered, remembering the “more” she’d experienced with Drew. She’d hated it. But she’d never felt so much from a kiss as she had when Victor had touched his mouth to hers. She’d never had that glorious tingling excitement that dared her to touch back. Drew’s kisses had been pleasant in the beginning, and cruel, almost punishing toward the end. But at no time had his touch, his mere presence, caused her so much excitement.

Worst case, it would be just as horrible as it had been with Drew and she’d be right back where she was now. But what if it wasn’t horrible? What if it was nice?

Looking out the window, seeing the headlights from the traffic below form moving shadows across her bedroom, she thought about all the stories she’d heard about sex, the delights that others experienced but which had so far passed her by. What if she could feel what others felt? What if….

No, she thought as she punched the pillow and laid back down. Drew had been right. She was frigid and wouldn’t ever be very good in bed. Why risk that kind of humiliation over something that she’d been living without for years? A lifetime. And been completely content at not having?

Besides, one didn’t miss what one had never experienced, right?

By dawn, she was too tired to think about it any longer and was grateful when sleep finally overcame her. In the turmoil of her indecision, she’d forgotten to turn on her alarm clock the previous night so it was almost lunch time when she woke up.

Her first thought when her eyes focused was how she needed to revise her present couple’s first kiss in the story. She didn’t even bother with her normal morning routine of showering and dressing in neat slacks but simply moved to her comfortable den area in her white night gown. She rushed to her computer and sat down, turning it on and then scrolling to the area where her hero and heroine meet initially. It was there that she found their kiss and added more texture, feelings, more heat. It took her about three hours, but when she finally pressed the save button again, she knew that the scene was much better. More alive and thrilling.

Leaning back in her work chair, she blinked at the bright afternoon sunshine. Looking around at her apartment, she realized with surprise that she was still in her pajamas. “Goodness!” she gasped and stood up to get into the shower. Since she didn’t have an external schedule like others where they had to report to work at a specific time, eat lunch and come home, she’d forced a schedule upon herself to make sure she lived within a disciplined regimen. It helped her to write and concentrate, knowing when she was supposed to work and when she needed to stop. Some people might find her daily schedule a little out of the ordinary for a writer, but it added structure and comfort to her day.

Every morning, she’d shower and dress just as if she were going to an office. After a brief breakfast of coffee and toast or cereal, she’d then work for four hours, have a light lunch, then work another four hours on her manuscripts. Victor had said she was a prolific writer yesterday but she attributed that to her work schedule, knowing how easily she could let small errands get in the way of her writing if she wasn’t careful and routine.

As she lathered her hair under the warm spray of the shower, she thought about how the small kiss from Victor had completely changed the story line. The first meeting was now different, and even the characters were different, more three dimensional. She could see them more clearly in her mind’s eye and hopefully the readers would be able to see them more effortlessly while reading the story. It was almost like they were in her head, standing in the places where she’d left them in the book. They were waiting for their next lines! When she realized this, she hurried through her shower, dried off and pulled on a pair of stretch pants and an old shirt, eager to get back to the story so her characters could continue their journey.

She worked until it was dark outside. amazed at how much better the text was. accomplishment, of knowing that her words were invoking the feelings, the picture and scene she had in her mind for the reader. She’d never felt so satisfied when writing before and she was eager to do more, but she held back, wanting to read through the scenes once again and make sure they were heading in the right direction.
As she looked back at her edits, Lana was

She loved this feeling of success and

Victor! The thought of him waiting for her call made her stand up out of her chair quickly. But then she shook her head, knowing how silly she was being. Victor wasn’t the kind of man who would be waiting by a phone, anticipating when a woman would call. No, more likely, he was in a meeting, their kiss from the day before which had driven her to a higher standard of writing, had most likely been forgotten from his mind the moment he pulled away from the curb last night.

Regardless, she’d promised to call him and she’d been so absorbed in her writing, that she’d blocked out the task. She had to get in contact with him. If she were honest with herself, she’d acknowledge that she’d been procrastinating, afraid of the final moment when she’d have to make a decision.

But now, looking at the text to her manuscript which almost jumped off the computer at her, she knew that, at a minimum, she had to thank him for the kiss, which had worked wonders for her today.

Smiling, Lana raced to her bedroom and grabbed his card, excited about telling him of her story line.

 

Chapter 4

Victor snapped at his secretary, giving her instructions on the contract which he thought she should already know by this point in her employment with him, then stormed into his office. He’d been in a fowl mood all day long and his staff had born the brunt of his moodiness. It was unlike him to let his frustration show, which only irritated him further. He was the iceman, he reminded himself. He never let anything intrude on business. So why was he unable to focus on work and get his mind in gear?

Cursing at the file he couldn’t concentrate on, he slapped it across the coffee table in his office and glared at the phone. This was completely unacceptable, he told himself. He was known in the business world as a shark. He never allowed emotions to rule him in business or even his personal life. He kept everything in check, knowing that others would use his emotions against him if they could read anything on his face. He used that tool against his adversaries so he knew how powerful it could be. One crack, one telltale emotion, and he knew he’d won the battle.