His fingers dug into her hair and undid her chignon. He lifted his head briefly to look down at her.
“God, you’re beautiful. You should never put your hair up,” he said, his voice guttural.
Her knees felt unable to support her. Suddenly it seemed entirely possible that she would have sex with her CEO in a very public place.
A convertible drove by, honking. A couple of teenagers in the car catcalled.
And just like that, the magic vanished. Alex cursed under his breath. Natalie’s chest rose and fell rapidly. She noticed his hand on her breast and shifted until it fell from her body. It amazed and frightened her how quickly he’d managed to strip her defenses and reach the core of her desire.
When he started to lower his head again, she said, “Don’t.”
He paused, his mouth only a hairsbreadth away from hers.
“I don’t think the bet was for a kiss,” she said, hating her shaky voice. She reached behind and touched her hair. After what Alex had done, it wasn’t even repairable.
His eyes shuttered, but he didn’t step away as she’d hoped. “You think you can control your reaction just like that?” he said, his breath on her lips. “On and off, depending on the situation and your mood?”
“I know I can.” Natalie maintained eye contact and saw anger, then that iron control of his overruling it. It felt good to get a reaction from him. She shifted her hands, pushed him gently back. “I’m not a slave to sensation. Let me know what weekend is good for you.” She unlocked her car. “Good night, Alex. Thank you for dinner. By the way, if you want to romance a woman, you should try just asking her out. You might be surprised at the result.”
Alex rested his hands on her car and leaned forward. With the lights behind him, she couldn’t read his expression. “Allow me to romance you, then. What are you doing on Saturday?”
“Sorry, but I have plans for the evening.”
“As it happens, so do I. I meant during the day.”
“Well, I’m not working,” she said blandly. “Are you asking me out?”
“Isn’t that what you want?” A quick grin flashed across his face, his teeth white in the darkness. “Come on.”
An equal mixture of amusement and excitement made her want to laugh. Despite her misgivings, she wanted to see where this would lead. Surely, as long as she was completely aware of her emotions, she could stop it before she was in too deep. “What time?”
“Ten, if you’re fashionably late for dates. Otherwise, ten thirty. Dress comfortably. I’ll pick you up at your place.”
This time, she allowed herself a small, throaty chuckle. “See you at ten thirty.”
Chapter Five
“DO HIM, QUIT your job when you’ve had your fill, and then come join me here in Hong Kong.”
Natalie almost spewed Diet Coke on her laptop. She’d forgotten how blunt Kerri could be.
“Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“For God’s sake, you have a Wharton MBA. Goldreich would love to have you back.”
It was actually kind of tempting. Natalie wouldn’t have to deal with her family anymore. There were always convenient excuses for missing holidays when you were an investment banker: new deals to close, business trips, canceled vacations—all her boss’s fault, of course.
“So what are you still doing at the office?” Natalie asked. “Isn’t it almost eight p.m.? On Saturday?”
“Almost nine, actually. I’ve got this new deal with a Korean client. Freakin’ workaholics don’t take Saturdays off.”
Natalie laughed. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. Kerri Wilson might as well have had a plaque on her wall that said Workaholic Extraordinaire. She was going to make VP this year, and Natalie predicted her best friend would increase her hours even more after the promotion. She felt sorry for the analysts and associates who were going to be working under her.
“Seriously, what are you doing at a government contractor? You belong with the big boys. I bet if you’d joined Goldreich right after you got your degree, you would’ve made VP last year…maybe sooner.”
Natalie leaned back in her living room chair. She watched the white ceiling fan stir the air gently. “Stop sounding like a high school guy on a date. You’re not going to flatter me into anything.”
“Fine. But you know, it’s been six months since that SOB—Marcus, wasn’t it?—dumped you. There’s nothing keeping you there. Think about what I said.” Someone mumbled something in the background. “Gotta go. I’ll call you later.”