Page 12 of Legal Seduction
Bruno had set up their feast, complete with lit candles, on that table. The tall windows looking out over Midtown reflected back the flickering flames. She smiled at the chef as she took her seat, but his only interest was in Simon. She was surprised that he wasn’t holding out his chair.
“Is everything to your satisfaction?” the chef asked as he poured glasses of wine.
Simon took the chair right next to her and picked up the wineglass. He swirled the red liquid, studied the glass as the wine slid down the sides of it, then he sniffed it, all before taking a sip.
Bette usually went out with guys who drank beer or mixed cocktails. The few wine drinkers she’d dated had performed the same ritual Simon had but with them it had seemed pretentious and unnecessary. Simon seemed to know what he was doing and why.
She had no doubts—from the calls of all those desperate women—that he was the same with sex. That he knew what he was doing and why.
She drew in a shaky breath.
Finally, he took a sip. But he held it in his mouth for several moments before swallowing. “Excellent,” he said. Then he held out a glass to her.
She usually drank white wine. Reds were too bitter for her taste. But she was too intrigued to find out what he considered excellent to refuse the glass. Like him, she took only a sip and held it in her mouth for several seconds. Flavor burst on her tongue. She could taste berries and spices; it was as rich and full of nuances as his kiss had been, as he was.
She let it slide down her throat, enjoying the sensation and the taste. “Excellent,” she agreed.
Bruno lifted the lids from their plates. “And the meal, Mr. Kramer?”
Beef Wellington with steamed vegetables and parsnips and red-skin potatoes. Bette’s mouth watered, reminding her of how hungry she was—for food. Ever since Simon had come back to the office, she’d been hungry for something else.
For more of his kisses, more of his touch.
More of his lethal charm.
As Simon cut through the flaky pastry and the meat, juices oozed onto the plate, swirling around the potatoes and vegetables. Like with the wine, he took just a small bite and held it in his mouth for a long moment before chewing and swallowing. Then he sighed and pronounced it excellent, as well.
Bette’s heart pounded in anticipation and not just of the meal. Would sex be the same way with Simon? Would he savor every moment of it?
He cut another bite and held it out to her. Again she copied him, closing her lips around it before holding it on her tongue. The spices and flavor of the meat overwhelmed her with pleasure. She chewed and swallowed, and a moan of that pleasure slipped through her lips.
Simon groaned. Then he glanced up at Bruno, as if just realizing the chef was still in the room with them. “You can go,” he said. “I’ll have Miguel return everything to you in the morning.”
Bruno hesitated, but then, obviously realizing arguing with a lawyer would not be smart, he nodded and left, closing the door behind him.
Once again, Bette was alone with Simon Kramer. Her fingers trembled as she reached for her glass of wine. She was afraid and not just of what he would do. She was afraid of what she would have to do in order to carry out her plan. How the hell could she convince him that she was falling for him and that if she did, she would get clingy and crazy?
She’d been so focused on her designs and her career that she’d never really fallen for anyone before. Unlike her mom and sister, she hadn’t been about to let any man mess with her plans. So she had no idea how to act in love, especially with someone like Simon Kramer for whom she would never be stupid enough to fall.
For the past two years she’d seen exactly how he treated women—like they were disposable. And to him, they were. Even before he’d dumped one, another had come along. But that was a good thing for her.
He always dumped them.
So if she could pretend to fall for him, he would dump her, as well. But how far would she have to go to convince him she was falling?
Just being alone with him was a risk. Not that he would ever physically hurt her. He didn’t have to physically coerce anyone to do his bidding. He used his sex appeal instead.
And even though she knew exactly what he was doing and that it was just a game to him, she was not immune.
She doubted she would escape this time with just a kiss. But she wasn’t entirely sure that she would mind. For two years she’d dreamed of what it would be like to have his attention turned on her. For two years she’d imagined how his kiss would taste, how his touch would feel.
Now she knew. And she wanted more.
