Billionaire's Contract Engagement (Kings of the Boardroom #3)(35)

Yep, she was one of those silly women at the mercy of her hormones.

She placed both hands on his chest and shoved until they sat apart, both breathing raggedly. She probably looked demented sitting there, hair askew, chest heaving up and down as if she’d run a marathon.

“Stop kissing me!”

He smiled again, a lazy, sensual smile of a lion standing over its prey. She was lunch apparently.

“But I like kissing you and I try never to deny myself life’s little pleasures.”

She rolled her eyes then caught herself before she laughed.

“Dammit, Evan. Be serious for one minute. I mean it. Stop kissing me and stop touching me.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. I won’t touch you.”

She crossed her arms protectively over her chest and moved as far over in the seat as she could. Why had she agreed to lunch with him? Why?

Because you’re a masochist and you can’t resist him.

There was that.

She’s always thought it was a myth. The out-of-control hormones that made an otherwise intelligent woman make waste of her brain cells every time she came into contact with the one.

She was certainly proving the waste of brain cells to be true.

The rest of the journey was spent in brooding silence. Evan was silent and Celia brooded. When they finally pulled up to a restaurant that boasted the best seafood on the west coast, she raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Try it first and then tell me if you disagree,” Evan said in amusement.

He was becoming way too adept at reading her and it annoyed her to no end, especially since she had no idea what went on in his head. She was afraid to find out.

When she stepped out and glanced around, she had to hand it to him. For a man who didn’t seemingly care if they were seen together or not and certainly didn’t have the objections she had, he’d chosen a restaurant where they weren’t likely to be seen by anyone who knew them.

Evan guided her in to the rustic cedar building with its quasi-southern charm mixed with California décor.

It was an odd blend that, to her surprise, worked well.

The two sat in the far corner where the lighting so was so dim a small kerosene lantern sat in the middle of the table to offer ambience.

“I feel like I’m on a first date,” she said ruefully after Evan had ordered the wine.

He smiled and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Would it make me less of a jerk to be up front about the fact I plan to have you in my bed tonight?”

She sucked in her breath until she felt curiously lightheaded. She suspected of course, but to hear him say it outright was way sexier than it should have been.

“I have to go back to work,” she murmured.

He nodded. “Of course. I didn’t intend to spirit you away for an afternoon tryst, though the idea has merit. I wonder if your coworkers would call the police?”

She glared at him—determined not to laugh. But even her scowl twitched. Irreverent bastard.

The waiter appeared with food, and she blinked because she hadn’t remembered ordering. She glanced at the half-empty wineglass and couldn’t for the life of her remember drinking so much as a sip. Evan was bad, bad for her brain. He was as bad as some wasting disease. She wouldn’t survive, either.

“Evan,” she began again, and promptly shut up when it came out more as a plaintive wail than a protest.

“I’ll send a car for you, Celia. No one needs to see you getting into a vehicle with me. I’ll have my driver pick you up from work, or if you prefer, you can drive your car to your apartment and I’ll have him pick you up there. And I’ll have him take you home in time for you to prepare for work.”

Why wasn’t she immediately shutting him down? Instead of telling him that in no uncertain terms would she agree to such a thing, she found herself contemplating how decadent it would be to dash off to an elicit rendezvous with her lover.

She shivered at the wordlover . Evan was a superb specimen of a man. He was fantastic in bed and insatiable to boot. He knew how to pleasure a woman and was as unselfish a lover as she’d ever had.

The mere idea of spending the night with him had her tied in so many knots it would take a team of massage therapists to work them out.

She chewed absently at the food, not registering the taste or even what she ate. Her throat was as dry as the desert and her tongue was swollen and clumsy.

“You act as though it’s a crime for us to make love,” he said in an oddly tender voice.

If it had been coaxing or wheedling, she could have been cold to him. But she could swear he was reassuring her and attempting to allay her fears.

She licked her lips and raised her gaze to meet his. Awareness hit her square in the chest. In his eyes she saw undulating bodies. Hers and his. In perfect rhythm. So beautiful and so pleasurable that she closed her eyes to further immerse herself in the memory.

“Say yes.”

His voice stroked her as surely as his fingers had done. A prickle of goose bumps spread rapidly over her shoulders and down her chest until her ni**les tightened into two painful knots.

“Celia,” he prompted.

Finally she opened her eyes and fixed him with her unfocused gaze.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Thirteen

Celia entered her office with a heightened sense of anticipation. She already knew she’d be clock watching until it was quitting time and then she’d race home so she could change and look her best for her naughty escape to Evan’s.