Secret Crush Seduction, page 7
Wanting more was dangerous. If Mrs. Song found out that he was seeing Adelaide, he couldn’t imagine the betrayal she would feel. She had entrusted him with helping Adelaide, not putting her reputation at risk. Besides, she knew his secret. Grace Song was an honorable woman, but she became a mama bear when it came to Adelaide. She wouldn’t want a man like him for her granddaughter.
“So is your dress a hit with Stella?” he asked, not liking where his thoughts were headed.
“I don’t know yet. She was so quiet during the fitting I couldn’t tell what she was thinking.” Adelaide fidgeted with her fingers, and Michael gave them a quick squeeze before withdrawing his hand. It burned from the small touch.
“You did an amazing job, and I know how much thought you put into it. Stella has to love it.”
“Thanks, Mike.” He nearly flinched at the nickname, but he reminded himself it was for the best.
“You’re very welcome.” He took a deep breath and forced a smile. “That’s what friends are for, right?”
“Right,” she said with her own sad excuse for a smile.
Michael realized then that she disliked their situation as much as he did. He quelled the pounding of his heart. She had to keep her eyes on the goal, and he had to help her reach that goal.
Their drive out to Bel Air took about twenty minutes, but it felt like hours. Whatever her new scent was, it was driving him crazy; and the damn dress had a slit high up her thigh that revealed creamy skin only a few inches away from his hand. Despite his resolve, her proximity chipped away at his willpower piece by piece.
He breathed in and out through his nose to prevent his blood from rushing south, and stole a glance at Adelaide. With her head turned toward the city lights outside her window, she seemed worlds away. Thank goodness for small blessings, because his trigger-happy dick and slim pants were out to humiliate him.
Artichokes. He should think about artichokes. What was it with people and their love affair with the pine cone–shaped vegetable? You get a teeth-scrape’s worth of the mushy flesh for every tiny leaf, only to reach the heart after all that effort to find it tastes just like a giant kernel of corn. He would rather eat corn without half the trouble.
His loathing for artichoke hearts distracted him enough to be presentable by the time they reached the Sanchez mansion. When they drove up the driveway, the valet opened Adelaide’s door, so Michael got out and went around to tuck her arm into the crook of his arm.
“Shall we?” he said with a formal bow, and waggled his eyebrows. He needed the security of their usual banter to get through the night in one piece.
“Jeez, old man.” She snorted. “I think you’ve watched The King and I one too many times.”
She was humming “Shall We Dance” under her breath, but stopped with a soft gasp when they arrived at the front entrance.
He didn’t need to ask what caused her surprise. Mateo Sanchez’s home was impressive on the outside, but the inside was aglow with tiny globes of light in what looked like an enchanted forest. Garlands of vines and ferns, and thick, gnarled trees were entwined with the lights, and a harp’s otherworldly strands infused the mist swirling on the floor.
“Oh, man. That lucky girl,” Adelaide whispered. “And the lights are perfectly muted and the music is so subtle and gentle, it must put Stella’s sensitivities at ease. This is ingenious. No one would dare remark that this sensory-friendly approach is in anyway less. Comes in handy to have an amazing director as her dad.”
“It does feel magical and Zen. I could get used to living in an enchanted forest,” he said as they walked deeper into the most impressive quinceañera he’d ever attended.
“Adelaide!” A beautiful young girl in a silky pearlescent gown screeched to a stop three feet from Adelaide. “Thank you so much for coming. I would never have had this perfect night if it weren’t for you.”
“You deserve it, Stella. You deserve it all. Never forget that.”
“Adelaide.” Mateo Sanchez walked up to their group. “We’re so glad you could make it.”
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” She laughed, giving him a warm hug. “Mateo, this is Michael Reynolds, the head of Reynolds PR. He’s overseeing the fashion show, and it was his tenacity that made our meeting possible.”
“Well, then, I owe Mr. Reynolds my deepest gratitude,” he said, extending his hand.
“I’ve actually come to thank you for your generous support of the fashion show.” Michael shook the other man’s hand firmly.
“This certainly is a night with a lot to be thankful for,” Sanchez said. “And if you’ll excuse us, it’s time for our father-daughter dance. Are you ready, Stella?”
“No, but since you’ve agreed to do away with all the other obligatory dances, I’ll have to live with this one,” the birthday girl said glumly, unaware that her unfiltered words could be hurtful to her father.
“Ah, as frank as ever.” Mateo smiled with pride and a glistening of tears, acknowledging Stella’s challenges, and loving her just as she was. “Let’s go then, sweetheart.”
The father-daughter dance was reminiscent of its counterpart at a wedding. Poignant and heart wrenching. But what moved the crowd the most was the Sanchezes’ letter to their daughter, acknowledging her as a grown woman and urging her forward in life with love and respect. Adelaide sniffled beside Michael and he put his arm around her shoulders, bringing her close. She turned to him with a wobbly smile and held his gaze as if to say something, but the crowd erupted in applause when the Sanchezes finished reading the letter and the moment was over.
As the soft strains of the string orchestra flowed through the dance floor again, Michael slid his hand down Adelaide’s arm and planted his hand firmly on her back.
“Let’s get some air,” he whispered, his lips close to her ear.
At her nod, he led them through the balcony doors and into the secluded garden. The half-moon shone brightly in the night sky, and small lampposts dotted the narrow trails lighting their way. He linked his fingers through hers and tugged her toward a wooden bench surrounded by impeccably designed shrubbery.
“This garden is lovely, but I still like yours better.” Her voice was soft and faraway as she took in her surroundings.
“What was going on in there? Did something upset you?” The vulnerable smile she wore tugged at his heart, and he pulled her closer to his side.
“Not sure if I want to talk about it.” She sighed as she buried her face into his neck. “I don’t want you to go all overprotective big brother on me again.”
“Am I that bad?”
“Worse.”
He chuckled into her sweet, silky hair and bent to place a featherlight kiss on her temple. “I promise not to go overboard. I just want you to be happy, and sometimes I lose sight of what you want.”
“I miss my mom.” The slight tremor in her voice broke his heart, but he just tightened his hold on her and waited for her to continue. “I wonder how she would’ve felt, what she would’ve done as she watched me grow...going to high school prom, graduating from college. She missed it all.”
Michael swallowed past the tightness in his throat. “She would’ve been so proud of you, Adelaide, and she would’ve been your biggest cheerleader if she saw the amazing, strong and kind woman you are.”
“Do you really believe that, Michael?”
“With all my soul.” His heart thundered at her use of his full name. He searched her eyes, and saw strength and determination flare in them.
“And if this strong woman tells you that she wants you more than anything, what will you do about it?” She lifted her head and pivoted in her seat to face him. “Will you tap me on my nose and tell me it’s past my bedtime? Or will you kiss me already?”
“You know what I want,” he choked out. He needed to kiss her more than his next breath.
“No, I don’t. I don’t know what you want. I only know what I want.”
Before he could form a reply, she leaned in and brushed her soft, parted lips against his. He moaned, guttural and hungry, and dragged her into his arms. He’d waited so long for this. So very long. And she tasted sweeter than he could’ve ever imagined. Then her teeth scraped his bottom lip, and there was nothing sweet about her. She was fire and sin.
With a low groan, he ran the tip of his tongue along the inside of her parted mouth and coaxed her to open wide. She acquiesced with a luscious sigh and he plunged deep into her warmth. His fingers dug into her long, silky hair, and fisted at the base of her neck so he could tilt her head and taste her properly.
But it wasn’t enough. She’d already clawed off his tie and had his shirt unbuttoned to his sternum. Her hands were exploring his chest and making their way down to his abs. He shivered against her touch.
“Adelaide,” he begged. He didn’t know whether he wanted her to stop or continue. It was exquisite torture.
Something tugged at the back of his conscience that they shouldn’t go any further, even as his hands shifted to her hips and down to the slit on her dress. He growled when his roaming palm met her hot satiny skin, and moved upward to the juncture of her thigh.
“Michael, please.”
Her breath was hot against his ear, and he hissed when her sharp teeth dug into his lobe, but she promptly soothed it with soft flicks of her tongue. He was losing his mind with every passing second, but his protective instinct kicked in not a moment too soon.
This was Adelaide. She wasn’t someone he could paw in the middle of a garden. They were in a secluded spot hidden by dense shrubbery, but they were still in public. How could he have put her at risk like this? Wherever this was going, it had to be an absolute secret to protect Adelaide. No one could find out. Taking a hitching breath, Michael gave her a lingering kiss on her lips before setting her away from him.
“Michael?” Lust-glazed eyes sought his, and he nearly pulled her back into his arms.
“We have to stop, baby.” He fisted his hands on his lap. “I’m not going to grope you in the middle of a garden at a fifteen-year-old’s birthday ball. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”
“If we’re doing this?” He was taken aback by her tone. “If you back out after that kiss, you will forever be known as chicken scrap in my book.”
“If I don’t have you after that kiss, I’ll burn to dust from the inside out.” Relief and lust battled in his gut. Adelaide was a grown woman, and she wanted him. They couldn’t fight the attraction anymore, but it couldn’t go beyond that.
It wasn’t only about the fashion show and her reputation. They couldn’t have a future together. For Adelaide to choose Michael meant for her to oppose her grandmother. Without her grandmother’s support, Hansol wouldn’t be a part of her future. Choosing him meant giving up her dreams, and that was too big a cost for her to pay. No, this could be only a temporary affair. A man and a woman satiating their needs.
“Do you understand what we’re doing?” he asked.
“Well, I’m kind of out of practice, but I think I’ll manage.” She smirked.
“I want you, Adelaide, but I can’t promise you a future.” He could never offer her forever, because it would be a forever without a family. Bitterness threatened to choke him. “I could only offer you now.”
“I wasn’t expecting a marriage proposal, Reynolds.” She scoffed dismissively. But was there a tremor in her voice? No. Everything in her demeanor screamed confidence and poise. He had to have imagined it. “I want us to be together, but only until the fashion show, and we have to keep this strictly between us. If Grandmother finds out, she would believe the worst of me. You are my business associate for the time being, and having a romantic relationship with you is unprofessional by any standards. I can’t disappoint her.”
“No one will find out. I know what’s at stake, and I won’t let that happen.” He swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth. All they could have was a two-month fling. Even shorter than he’d hoped. “But while we’re together, I want all of you. Exclusively. I have more than a few fantasies to live out before this ends.”
Two months. Only two months. His head screamed it wasn’t enough, but he couldn’t offer her a future. He had no right to hold on to her longer than she wanted. And that meant he didn’t have a minute to spare. He grabbed her hand and pulled both of them up to their feet.
“Come on,” he said, tugging her toward the mansion.
“Wait.” She allowed herself to be led by him, but she squeezed his hand until he turned to look at her. “Where are we going?”
“My place.” He picked up his pace. He didn’t plan on letting her leave before dawn.
“Not a chance.” She ground to a halt on the patio where the music spilled out through the open doors.
He blinked rapidly, not comprehending her words. “What?”
“You said you wanted to do this right, remember?” He stared suspiciously at the mischief sparkling in her eyes. “You could make me dinner tomorrow night. I’m not hard to please. A tender, juicy steak will do nicely.”
“Of course,” he replied automatically, even though his bulging pants signaled his body’s protest. He was going to sport wood until he had her. Maybe he could offer to make her some crème brûlée tonight rather than wait for dinner a whole day away.
“Awesome. I’ll bring the wine,” she said with wide innocent eyes that were belied by her sultry smile.
Adelaide, you wicked, wicked woman. But you’ll be my wicked woman soon.
Seven
The next day was full of headaches for Michael. One of his young clients had streaked naked across the famed Melrose streets in broad daylight. He was a good guy, but he took a combination of prescription pills that didn’t interact well. Neither his doctor nor his pharmacist had warned him about the potential side effects of the mixture. Michael was relieved his client was feeling better now and that they had a sympathetic reason for his faux pas.
While it had been a frantic day of putting fires out, Michael was grateful for it. If not for the distraction, he wouldn’t have lasted until the evening. His lips were blue as he stood lighting the grill after his long, cold shower. He wanted to make sure they made it through dinner before he jumped her.
The caprese salad was chilling in the fridge and the crème brûlée was in the oven. He also had a bottle of Veuve Clicquot on ice for some extra liquid courage. Adelaide said she would be bringing the wine, but he wanted to have backup. His nerves were alit with anticipation and good old-fashioned fear. He was finally going to make love to Adelaide.
Michael left the charcoal to burn in the coal chimney and strolled into his open kitchen. He’d knocked out the wall that separated the kitchen from the dining room to enlarge the space. He lived alone in the eight-bedroom house, but he entertained often so he needed a big kitchen and lounge area. The rest of his home—where he and his parents had once lived as a family—was opulent and cold, but the kitchen was always a warm and welcoming place.
Grabbing a dish towel, he opened the bottle of champagne with a muted pop. He brought out two flutes and filled his up to the top and left the other out waiting for his guest. After gulping down half his glass, he breathed deeply through his nose. The berry and crisp apple notes soothed his raw nerves, and he sipped more leisurely at his drink.
When his cell phone buzzed, he was tempted not to check the text. He didn’t want anyone or anything intruding on their evening. Coming to a decision, he pulled out his phone to turn it off, but Adelaide’s name caught his eye.
“Hell,” he muttered. He had a feeling she wasn’t texting him from the front door.
Michael, I had to turn around and go home when I was ten minutes from your house. Grandmother has summoned me.
Can’t she wait until tomorrow?
o__o... Seriously? Why don’t you ask her that? Tell her you have dibs on me tonight.
Michael growled with frustration, and downed the rest of his champagne before answering.
Come back and have a glass of champagne then go.
You got us champagne?
Yup, and I have crème brûlée in the oven. It’ll be ready in three minutes and I have fresh berries in the fridge to top it with.
Gob. Stop being a meanie.
Gob? What the hell is a gob? he asked himself.
God. I meant God. Stupid voice text.
I don’t care. Come.
Aw, poor Michael is sad I’m not coming to play.
Damn right I’m sad.
Well, if it’s any consolation, you can come to dinner, too. You’re always welcome.
Michael glanced at his watch and made a list of things to put out and turn off before he left so he didn’t burn his house down.
I’ll be there in forty minutes.
I can’t wait.
Neither can I.
He liked it. This sudden freedom to say what he felt. He really liked it. Spurred on by a burst of energy, Michael was in the garage in less than fifteen minutes. He jumped into his restored Mustang; it somehow seemed like the most fitting car for running after a woman. Grinning like an idiot with his heart pummeling his ribs, he liberally interpreted the speed limit and reached the Song residence in less than twenty minutes.
He pushed himself out of the car and grabbed the crème brûlée from his back seat. He couldn’t arrive empty-handed. Luckily, he’d made four ramekins of it so there would be enough for Mrs. Song and Adelaide’s father.
Michael sprinted up to the front door and rang the bell once, resisting the urge to lean on it.
“That was fast,” Adelaide said, smiling warmly as she opened the door.
Without answering, he grasped her hand with his free one and hurried up the staircase.
“Michael,” she whispered but followed him with light, soundless footsteps. “What are you doing?”
