Seducing His Heart Page 4

Brooke raised her eyebrows. “How come?”

  “He’s undercover on Saturdays and some other days, too.”

  “That sucks,” Brooke muttered.

  “I feel like I’m treading water. Not moving forward.” Bess set the three desserts out plus small plates, forks, and spoons.

  The pugs came racing through the living room. This time, Baxter was in the lead. They ran in a circle two or three times then headed back to the bedroom. Dumpling trotted along in last place.

  Miranda put a forkful of cake in her mouth. “Oh my God! This is incredible!”

  The other women dug in and raved about each one.

  “I don’t know how Whit resisted ripping off your clothes and making love to you on the counter after eating this,” Brooke said, licking her lips.

  “Hack is definitely going to benefit from this. A true aphrodisiac.”

  “You think so?” Bess asked. The women nodded. “Hmm. I hadn’t thought about that. Maybe I should mention it on the show.”

  “You’ll boost chocolate sales all over the city,” Rory said.

  “All over the country,” Miranda said.

  “I’ll check with my producer.”

  The women finished cleaning up. Bess called to Dumpling. The dogs raced into the living room, knowing what was coming. Each received a treat from one of the women then scouted out his or her special spot on the sofa, curling up to snooze. A few cuddled up on top of each other into one huge mound of pug and began snoring.

  “What should I do?” Bess asked.

  “Go with your heart. Many a player has reformed. Get what you want,” Miranda said, giving her hostess a hug.

  “Make some demands on Terry. Pin him down. Make him commit,” Brooke said.

  “Or focus on your career and keep it light. Don’t commit yourself,” Rory advised.

  Bess blew out a breath. The camaraderie and support of the Dinner Club made her smile. “Thanks, guys. I feel better. I’ve got plenty to think about.”

  Rory pushed to her feet and stretched. “Time to go, Baxter.”

  Bess and Dumpling walked their guests to the elevator. After her friends were gone, Bess cradled her dog and stood by the window, watching the New York City lights come on as night fell. Terry O’Neill, you have some explaining to do. Be prepared to be on the witness stand when you show up on Friday.

  * * * *

  Friday at six a text arrived for Bess. Terry’s on his way. Good. Dinner was ready. She was trying out a new recipe for lamb stew. The aroma made her mouth water. She refreshed her wine and sat back on the sofa. Let the third degree begin, mister.

  Bess moved toward the door when she heard the bell from the elevator ding. Terry had spruced up. His hair was combed, and he’d shaved. He looked more handsome than ever as he removed his pistol and carefully placed it on the table. I hate having a gun in my house. Sitting out like that. He had a bottle of Cabernet under his arm and a bunch of red roses in his hand. Bess put the flowers in water and handed him a corkscrew.

  When he finished opening the bottle, Terry took her in his arms for an amazing kiss. He cupped her cheek and brushed it with his lips. “Something smells good. Besides you, I mean.” He settled on the couch while Bess retrieved a beer from the fridge and handed it to him.

  “Lamb stew. It’s chilly today. Good stew day.”

  “How did you know that’s my favorite?” His blue eyes lit up as he grinned. Pushing to his feet, he joined Bess in the spacious kitchen. She peeked in the pot, scooping up a little bit on a spoon. She blew on the morsel before feeding it to Terry. He snapped it up like a dog being spoiled by his master.

  A bark from the floor grabbed Bess’s attention. Dumpling sat attentively.

  “Someone else wants a taste, too.” Bess spooned up another little bit of the meaty dish, blew on it to cool it, and then placed the tidbit in the dog’s bowl.

  Terry chuckled, watching the small creature clean the dish quickly. “Looks like her favorite too.” He turned his attention to Bess. “Like to get a taste of you, too,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her neck. She turned toward him to accept his kiss. He held her to him. “You’re cuddly,” he whispered.

  “So are you.” She closed her eyes, drinking in his scent mixed with a touch of lime aftershave and a little sweat after a day of work. He’s all man.

  “Can I have you for dessert?” he asked, raising his eyebrows and shooting her a lustful stare.

  The blue-eyed blonde sensed the heat rising to her cheeks as she directed her gaze to the floor. “Maybe.”

  “But you’re my girl.”

  She raised her head. “Am I? Am I your girl?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then why do I only see you on Fridays?” Bess stared into his eyes.

  “I thought I’d explained this. Saturday nights I go undercover.”

  “Undercover or under the covers? And with who?”

  “I can’t tell you. Too dangerous.”

  “For you or me?” She cocked an eyebrow and rested her hand on her ample hip.

  “Both of us. You have to trust me, babe.”

  “You don’t make it easy.”

  He sidled up to her and raised his hand to stroke her hair. “You’re beautiful.”

  A timer went off. Bess moved away from him. “Dinner’s ready.”

  She was full after only a few bites. Unanswered questions about her relationship with Terry made her appetite go south. While she toyed with her food, she watched Terry chow down. He ate two large portions of stew, noodles, and steamed asparagus.

  She smiled at his obvious enjoyment. That’s why I cook. To make people happy.

  “I don’t know what you did different in this stew, but it’s amazing.”

  “It’s a secret. I had to sign a paper saying I wouldn’t reveal any of my new recipes. The station has first claim to them.”

  “Wow, you’re something.” He grinned and shook his head.

  “Are you making fun of me?” She raised her brow.

  “Not at all. Never. You’re the most incredible woman. Commere.” He took her into his embrace. “You’re an original, Bess. Never known a chick like you.”

  “You’re an original too,” she said, burying her face in his chest.

  Before Bess could serve dessert, Terry’s phone dinged. He opened it, clearly reading a text.

  “Gotta go, babe.”

  “Already?”

  “That’s my life. You know the drill.”

  “I suppose. Don’t have to like it, though.” She stared at the floor.

  “You don’t. It’s hard to love a cop.” He headed for the door. Dumpling jumped up off her bed and ran to him, barking.

  “I’m not the only one who wants you to stay.”

  He laughed. “You two are a great pair.” He stepped into the hall. Bess joined him. He kissed her passionately.

  When she came up for air, her gaze met with Whit’s as he stepped off the elevator. A tall, thin blonde hung on his arm. He nodded at Bess. She shot a small smile back.

  Terry slapped her rear gently and brushed her lips with his one more time. “Next week?”

  She nodded.

  “Goodnight, gorgeous,” he whispered then turned. When he saw Whit fumbling with the lock, he frowned and pointed. “Stay away from my girl.”

  “Blow it out your ass, buddy,” Whit said. “Bess and I are friends. Nothing more. I’ve got better things to do than explain my life to you.” He scowled at Terry, ignored Bess, and turned his key. When the door popped open, he grabbed the blonde, disappeared into his apartment, and slammed it shut behind them.

  “Fuck off, jerk-off,” Terry called out.

  “Way to go, Terry. Way to make nice with my new neighbor.” Bess shot an angry look at him.

  “Sorry, sorry. At least he’ll stay away from you.” He stepped into the elevator and the doors shut as Dumpling approached, barking.

  Whit popped his head out. “Shut that mutt up!” he yelled, s
lamming the door a second time.

  Bess stepped back as if she had been slapped. She picked up her pug, who was still carrying on, and went inside. Tears pricked, then filled, her eyes. She returned to the window to gaze out across the park at the lights of Fifth Avenue. “Bess and I are friends. Nothing more.”

  Pain gathered in her chest. Nothing more? Why am I crying? Isn’t this what I wanted? Now, I don’t have to choose. Now, I know. He wants to be my friend. Be grateful, not sad. Still, he didn’t have to slam the door in my face.

  No matter how logical she was, her heart hurt. Guess our chemistry was more for me than him. Best I find out now. She dried her eyes and cleaned up the kitchen. She went into the den, turned on the television, and patted the sofa. Dumpling jumped up and snuggled into her lap, resting her head on Bess’s leg. At eleven, she yawned, stretched, and pushed to her feet. “Time for your walk, little girl.”

  After attaching the dog’s harness and leash, they headed for the elevator. The sound of Whit’s door opening drew her attention. The blonde was draped over him like an expensive fur. They were smooching. The heat of embarrassment spread up her chest into her neck. She heard whispering, but couldn’t make out words. The woman giggled. They joined Bess.

  Her expression turned stony as she attempted to ignore the couple. The woman tugged on her arm.

  “Guess I should thank you. You gave Whit some great ideas about what to do with chocolate.” She giggled again.

  Anger choked in Bess’s chest. “Happy to oblige,” she said through gritted teeth. The elevator arrived. The blonde pushed her way in first. Bess hung back.

  “Oh, did he show you what to do with the whipped cream, too?” At the sound of a gasp, she went on, “I guess not. Too bad for you.” Dumpling trotted in with Bess following, turning her back to the stunned pair.

  “Whipped cream?” She heard the blonde’s voice behind her, followed by the sound of a soft thud, like a hand hitting a clothed body. Bess smiled as they descended to the lobby.

  She exited first and turned right to head down Central Park West, hoping Whit would be heading uptown with his girl. Instead, she spied him raise his hand to flag down a taxi. She blew out a breath. Good, leave, quickly. As she relaxed into a comfortable stride, a smooth, deep voice spoke from behind.

  “What was that crack about whipped cream?”

  She whirled around to see Whit standing with his hands firmly planted on his hips.

  “I’m busy. Walking my dog. Can’t you see? Why don’t you,” she made a gesture of sweeping with her hand, “vanish somewhere, like smoke. Yeah, that’s it, disappear.” She turned on her heel and continued downtown.

  But he wasn’t to be brushed off so easily. Whit grabbed her arm. “What the hell was that crack about whipped cream?” he asked again.

  “What the hell was that crack about chocolate?”

  “Elsa was being an idiot.”

  “You don’t say?” She picked up her pace.

  “Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you,” Whit said, raising his voice.

  Bess turned abruptly to glare at him. “Who do you think you are? You can’t talk to me like that. You’re not my father. I’ll walk away whenever I damn well please.” She spun on her heel and huffed off. When she got to the curb, she noticed Whit wasn’t behind her. Don’t turn and look. Don’t look at him. Don’t look. Don’t! She swiveled her head for only a second and met his gaze with hers. Crap!

  He sauntered down the street, displaying a new confidence. “So…”

  She cocked an eyebrow at him and resumed her walk, jerking the leash.

  “You’re dragging your dog.”

  “Am not.” Bess clicked her tongue at Dumpling, urging her to move faster, but the dog was busy sniffing and didn’t pay attention.

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Am not.”

  “I’m calling the A.S.P.C.A.” Whit whipped out his cell.

  “Don’t you dare!” She reached for his phone, but he yanked it away, barely beyond her reach.

  “Touchy, aren’t we?”

  “You win the award for the most annoying human being…ever!” The heat of anger filled her cheeks.

  “I can’t hold a candle to you,” he fired back.

  She lifted her hand and took a swing at his face, but Whit was too quick for her. He grabbed her wrist and twisted it behind his back. Bess fell into his chest. Dumpling pulled to go the other way. Bess was trapped. Whit closed his free arm around her waist and held her, her breasts crushed against him.

  “You’re a fire cracker. Sexy as hell.” He brought his mouth down on hers.

  Bess clamped her lips shut, but Whit ran the tip of his tongue over them so gently that she opened for him. Her senses took over as her mind shut off. She leaned, unresisting, as he stroked her back and explored her mouth. Warmth rose inside her, and she responded. Her body melted into him, and her tongue danced with his. The heat generated was almost unbearable.

  Bess was lost in a fog until the voice of a stranger snapped her back to reality. “Hey, buddy. Get a room.”

  Bess jerked her head back, disengaging from Whit. Shame at her lack of control colored her cheeks. “Let me go,” she said, but her voice lacked conviction.

  Whit dropped his arm and released her wrist. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…I got carried away. You were so…so, sexy and I…I…I’d never hurt you, take a woman by force or anything. I’m so sorry.”

  Bess fussed with her clothes, tugging at her shirt and straightening jeans that didn’t need it. “It’s nothing. Forget it. I have.”

  “What? You’ve forgotten it, a kiss like that?”

  The little muscle under her left eye twitched. “Sure. No biggie.”

  “Was for me. Monumental.” He ran his fingers through his hair and blushed.

  A player can still blush? “I’m sure Elsa, Candy, or any of a dozen…no, a hundred, supermodels can pucker up better than I do. And who’d know more about that than you?” She looked up, her eyes daring him to respond.

  He surprised her. His voice was soft and seductive. “None of them can kiss like you.” He paused. “Trust me. I know.”

  “I’ll bet you do,” she replied softly.

  A bark from Dumpling brought Bess back to the reason she was outside. The pug pulled toward the front door, and Bess increased her pace to keep up. Whit followed. The only sound in the elevator was a snort or two from the little dog. Whit stood a respectful distance from Bess, and she kept her eyes looking straight ahead.

  “I know you’re with that cop. I promise not to do that again.”

  Damn. “Good. After all,” she said, as the elevator opened, and she stepped out, turning to face him. “we’re only friends, right?” The pained expression on his face told her she’d hit a bullseye. “Goodnight,” she said as she grasped the doorknob. Dumpling barked her farewell to Whit and followed Bess inside.

  “Goodnight,” he said.

  Tears stung as Bess removed Dumpling’s harness and padded to the kitchen for a dog treat. What’s wrong with me? It was only a kiss. I have Terry. Do I? Do I have him? Whit isn’t interested in me. He can’t be. Only an impulse. He’s a seducer and took a chance. Why am I making this so complicated? Leave him alone.

  As much as she reprimanded herself, something about him called to her, touched her heart. There was something sad about the man. She had no idea what it could be and wasn’t sure she wanted to find out. No wounded guys. Only men who are whole, who can give. I can’t fix broken people. But I want him.

  She stood at the window, looking out at the lights. Dumpling barked once then trotted to the doorway.

  “I’m coming, girl,” Bess said, switching off the lamp and heading to the bedroom. Maybe the answer will come in my dreams. As she leaned over from her bed to shut off the lamp, her cell lit up with a text. It was from Terry.

  Need to meet tomorrow night. Seven. Can do?

  Chapter Four

  It was Wednesday. She’d be taping her Mocha Mag
ic show on Thursday, so she had the day off. Wish I was in the studio today. As she often did when feeling stressed out, Bess got to baking. After a morning walk with Dumpling, Bess pulled out various ingredients and began experimenting. Since Terry loved her apple pie, she decided she’d tinker with that recipe.

  She had expected a follow-up text when she had responded that she was free, but none had come. Need to meet. Doesn’t sound good. She chewed her lip as she peeled apples and dropped a few slivers of the fresh fruit into the pug’s bowl. She arranged slices uniformly on the fresh pie dough.

  Two variations came to mind. First, a crumb-topping that wasn’t overly sweet. The second was an open-faced one with sharp cheddar scattered over the apples. No need for a slice of cheese. Put it on top, instead of on the plate.

  As the pies cooked, she paced, checking her watch every five minutes. When the timer sounded, she pulled out the crumb-topping one and put it on the cooling rack. She sprinkled freshly grated cheddar on top of the second, turned the oven off, and let it sit for fifteen minutes. When she opened the door, the cheese had melted nicely into the fruit. She put it with the other to cool.

  “I can’t take this. Come on, Dumpling, we’re going for a walk.”

  As soon as she uttered the word “walk,” the little dog jumped up out of her bed and went to the door. Bess tossed on a fleece jacket to protect against the crisp, October wind, harnessed her pooch, and headed for the elevator.

  Dumpling pulled her owner toward the park. The leaves were changing, spreading a variety of shades, from gold to brilliant red, to please the eye. They strolled along, stopping to let the dog sniff at the occasional tree and lamppost. Bess ran over and over in her mind what Terry could have planned, with no answer surfacing. Her thoughts turned to Whit.

  Best to be friends with him. Maybe he can become a reliable taster? Can I be near him without touching? Maybe, maybe not. She went around and around, but didn’t come up with a way to handle a friendship-only relationship with Whitfield Bass. She bought a coffee from a vendor and sat on a bench talking to Dumpling, who perched next to her.