Seducing His Heart Read online

  He stood in all his masculine glory wearing nothing but a fluffy, white terrycloth robe. He was barefoot as well. “This is most embarrassing. I took a shower and remembered I’d left my newspaper on the mat. Like an idiot, I have all my windows open, and when I came out, the wind blew the door shut. Now, I’m locked out. I was wondering if you could go down and get my key from the doorman. I can’t go down like this.”

  Despite her life being in the toilet, Bess laughed aloud. The more she did, the brighter red he blushed.

  “This isn’t funny.”

  “Oh, but it is. It’s hilarious.” She tugged on his sleeve. “Come inside. Don’t stand there like that.” He stepped in, and she closed the door, still chuckling. “Are you wearing anything under there?” she asked.

  “What do you think?” He arched an eyebrow. “Last time I saw you, you were practically comatose.”

  “Thank you for cheering me up. I’m having some hazelnut cocoa, would you like to join me?”

  “I have a date. Where’s my phone? Shit! It’s in the apartment.” That caused Bess to launch into a new round of laughter. Her sides hurt, so she gripped them and continued to guffaw.

  “It’s not that funny. Honestly. I’m going to get dumped for this.”

  As soon as he uttered the words, her laughter turned to tears. Pain shot through her, and water ran down her cheeks.

  “Dammit, what’d I say?” He looked helpless. Dumpling ran over and began to bark at Whit. “I didn’t do anything, little girl,” he said to the dog, but she growled anyway.

  “Dumpling, down. It’s okay. It’s not his fault.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. Bess padded across the room to retrieve a tissue.

  Whit followed. He came up behind and placed his hands on her upper arms. “What happened? What’s wrong? Won’t you tell me?” he asked in a soft voice.

  She blew out a breath. “Dumped. You said dumped.”

  “Did you break up with the cop?”

  She nodded.

  “Did he leave you?”

  Again, she nodded.

  “I’m so sorry. What a stupid man.”

  Bess turned around and raised her gaze to his. He was but a whisper away. A tiny shiver ran through her. “He’s not stupid. He’s protecting me.”

  “Protecting you?” Whit raised his eyebrows.

  “It’s about his work. He said it was too dangerous for us to continue seeing each other.”

  Whit snorted. “I thought I’d heard ’em all, but that’s a new one.”

  “You don’t believe him?”

  “Do you?”

  “I do. Why would he lie?”

  “Oh, a million reasons.”

  “You’re saying he doesn’t want me?” Like salt in a wound, the sting of fresh pain was sharp.

  “No, of course not. He’d be a fool to walk out on a chick like you.”

  She stepped back. “What do you mean, a chick like me?”

  “Well, I…uh…” He reddened anew.

  “I’m listening.”

  “A very desirable chick…beautiful, smart, funny, can cook like nobody’s business…”

  “But not sexy.”

  “Did I miss that? We’re only supposed to be friends, but yeah, hot as hell.”

  A small grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I do believe him. He does undercover work, and he looked so sad to break up.”

  “Go ahead. Believe him. But guys lie. Trust me. Guys lie…big time.”

  “Duh. I’ve been around for a while. I’m not a twenty-one-year-old, wide-eyed newbie.”

  “You don’t look like a seasoned vet,” he chuckled.

  “Terry was telling the truth. And now, he’s gone. And I already miss him terribly.” Her eyes watered again.

  “Don’t cry. I can’t stand it. Please.” He took a step toward her, and she was in his arms before she knew it. She laid her cheek against his bare chest, the dark hair there tickling her nose. He stroked her back with one hand and held her tight with the other. “You don’t deserve to have your heart broken, Bess.”

  She closed her eyes, drinking in the scent of him fresh from the bath, smelling like soap and spicy aftershave. He smelled good, damn good. She flattened her palm on his pecs and learned how strong he was. His chest was like iron. He kissed her hair and folded his arm around her shoulders. The heat from him warmed her, softened her. When she realized they were both naked under their robes, a thrill shot through her.

  I should move away. We’re only friends. He’s being nice, no more than that. Tilting her head back a little, she looked into his eyes. The clear gray, so cool before, had turned hotter. He stared at her, his gaze traveling down to settle on her lips. Her throat felt dry, and her mouth parched. When she licked her bottom lip to moisten it, his mouth came down and brushed hers. When she didn’t resist, he kissed her harder.

  The silk of her garment was so thin his hands on her hips felt like they were resting directly on her bare flesh. His fingers pressed in, giving her goose bumps. She opened, and his tongue possessed her mouth. She eased the lapels of his robe aside, sliding her hands inside. She flattened her palms against his skin.

  He glided his hands down over her rump and squeezed. His thumbs massaged her as his fingers curled over her roundness. The pressure he exerted shot heat through her body like lightning. The knot in his sash pushed against her belly. As they stood hip to hip, with only their robes between them, her desire took off. His slow, sexy kiss seduced her. Her will slipped away, and her consciousness grew hazy, as his hand came up to close around her breast.

  When his thumb found her peak, Bess’s breath hitched. The ache for him grew. While his mouth worked its magic, she slid her hands up his chest, giving him easy access to her.

  Then, as quickly as mutual need had skirted on the edge of control, it stopped. Whit lifted his head, his eyes filled with lust. She stared at him, licking her swollen bottom lip, pulling her hands away. He fastened his firmly on her waist to set her back a few inches.

  “I’m sorry. I keep apologizing, but I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Why not? I don’t belong to Terry anymore.”

  “You’re the kind of girl…the kind who…I can’t date.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re the kind of girl who wants forever. A girl who wants…and deserves…more than I can give. You want it all—a husband, a home, kids…”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Come on, Bess. You can’t fool me. You run a warm, inviting place here. Your cooking…damn. It’s like a family kitchen. Are you saying you don’t want those things?” He shifted his weight.

  “I’m not. I mean, I do. I do want that. Do I have ‘Wanted—husband, kids, and home’ taped to my forehead?”

  He chuckled. “There’s something about you. That’s all. Something nice...warm. Like the way you treat your dog, your friends. Everyone gathers here.”

  “That’s bad?”

  “It’s wonderful. But it’s not for me. I can’t do that...live that. I’m never going to get married.”

  “What? How can you say that?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  Bess was stunned. She knew he was a player, but had never expected this. He moved quickly to the intercom and spoke with the doorman.

  “Crash is coming up in ten minutes with my keys.”

  Bess sank down on a stool. Her mind swirled with feelings, emotion warring with reason. He’d left her wanting him, aching for him. But the idea of a broken heart scared her. “You’re a ‘love ’em and leave ’em’ type, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t hurt anyone. I date girls who aren’t interested in forever.”

  “Those skinny models?”

  “Yeah. They sure don’t have what you’ve got,” he snickered, glancing at her chest. Bess pulled her robe tighter around her body. “They’re career women. The thought of their bodies distended by pregnancy scares them shitless. They aren’t looking for anything more than a couple of nights or
a couple of months of fun, dancing, sex, and a famous man on their arm. I help them get publicity—their favorite food.”

  Bess sat with her mouth slightly open as she listened.

  “Hey, it’s a perfect arrangement. They get what they want, and I get what I want.”

  “And what is it you want?”

  “A little attractive companionship. Someone to have dinner with. I hate to eat alone. Sex. It works…for both of us.”

  “And me?”

  “You’d never fit into that equation. I don’t want to hurt you. I like you, Bess. Like you too much.”

  The doorbell interrupted them. Crash was there with the keys. Whit mooched a ten from Bess for a tip.

  Before returning to his apartment, Whit stopped in her doorway. “Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night?”

  “I thought we were only friends.”

  “Can’t friends have dinner?”

  “I suppose.”

  “I know you’re upset about the cop. Let me buy you a nice dinner. You pick the restaurant. Okay?”

  “Sure. Why not.”

  “Pick you up at seven.” With those words, he was gone.

  She heard his door open and close. The ding of the elevator, followed by a shrieking female voice, drew her attention.

  “You bastard! You son-of-a-bitch! You think you can get away with standing me up?”

  Banging drew Bess to her peephole. It was Candy beating on Whit’s door. Bess leaned back against hers and smiled. “One less model in the life of Whitfield Bass, I think, Dumpling.”

  Chapter Five

  Bess wrapped the towel around her chest after her bath. My new blue dress is perfect for tonight. She opened her closet door and chewed on a nail. She had the right shoes, too. Navy sling-backs. Not quite fuck-me shoes, but close. Underwear? Black lace is perfect under dark blue. The shimmering, midnight blue silk brought out the blue in her eyes and made her blonde hair glow. It had a low-cut neckline and a slim fit, though it didn’t hug her curves too tightly.

  She looked at Dumpling, who watched her take special care with her hair, pinning it up on top of her head with some loose, frond-like curls trailing down her neck. The dog gave her a stern look. Am I trying to seduce him? He already said I’m not his type. Yeah, right. That kiss said it. Am I going down a bad road? Bess stopped questioning herself when she didn’t like the truth staring her in the face.

  The bell rang at seven on the nose. She swept the door open to find a handsome man, wearing a charcoal gray suit, white shirt, and gold tie. His gray eyes widened when he saw her.

  “Wow! You always dress like this for dinner?”

  “It’s a new dress I bought to cheer myself up. Is it too much?”

  “It’s amazing. You look…gorgeous.”

  She watched his gaze light on her breasts and stay for a heartbeat too long. She smiled. I’ve got something those skinny models don’t have. Breasts! The poor man is breast-deprived. She chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” His gaze shot up to lock with hers.

  She sensed color in her cheeks. “Nothing, nothing.”

  “Let’s go. Maybe after two glasses of wine, you’ll tell me what made you laugh.”

  “Don’t count on it.”

  “A mysterious woman? A challenge.” He took her hand and headed for the elevator.

  Crash flagged down a taxi, and they rode through Central Park to Limoges. The Maître d’ showed them to a table for two off by itself, tucked into a windowed space, overlooking the park. The table, covered in a soft, pink cloth, was lit by a solo candle. Pretty romantic for “friends.”

  “Jean Louis, the chef, is always trying to worm recipes and secrets out of me. But I love his cooking. He’s great.”

  “I’ve been here before. The food is excellent.” Whit signaled for the waiter and ordered a bottle of wine. When their glasses were full, he raised his for a toast. “To a happier winter for Bess,” he said.

  She smiled and sipped. “The wine is excellent.” She picked up a piece of French bread and buttered it. Before taking a bite, she looked at Whit. “Can we continue where we left off when Crash interrupted us?”

  “Do I have to take my clothes off?” His eyes sparkled.

  “If you want to,” she said. “But you might get arrested.”

  “Okay. Shoot.”

  “You said you like me, too much. You were going to tell me why you don’t want to get married.”

  “Was I?” He cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t remember that.”

  “Come on, Whit. You think I need a friend? Well, I think you need one, too. So, open up. Tell me.”

  The waiter brought menus, and they both ordered Coquilles Saint Jacques.

  Whit sat back and took a big sip of his wine. “Where to begin…”

  “At the beginning.” She sat back, and her gaze connected with his. “I’m a good listener.”

  “Here goes. Shortly after I was born, my mother left the family. She deserted me, my dad, and my three brothers.”

  “How awful.”

  Whit raised his hand. “My oldest brother, Jeff, said it was chaos. Dad was a journalist and traveled extensively. We were foisted off on relatives and babysitters when he had to be out of town…which was most of the time.”

  “Who raised you?”

  “A variety of people, but mostly Jeff. He was eleven at the time.”

  Bess slid her hand over his and squeezed.

  “Robbie, closest to me in age, was five when our mom took off. He was devastated and blamed me for her desertion. He was convinced that, if I hadn’t been born, our mom would have stayed. He hated me from then on, beating me up any chance he got.”

  “He’s over that now, right?” She wrapped her fingers around his palm.

  “We haven’t spoken in…five years…maybe more?”

  “Oh, God. Whit. That’s terrible.”

  His stare locked on the candle, avoiding hers. “I tried everything to win Robbie over. I finally gave up.”

  “His loss,” she mumbled.

  His lips twisted into a rueful grin. “Thanks.”

  The waiter arrived with their food. The dish was perfect. But telling his tale seemed to rob Whit of his appetite, as he only toyed with the seafood on his plate.

  “I’m so sorry. I had no idea this story was so…so…sad.”

  “Not your fault. Am I sorry things are the way they are with Robbie? You’ve no idea.” He took a forkful of scallop.

  “I’d think this would make you want to have a family more than most.”

  “After years of pressing my nose against the glass, watching other families celebrate holidays and birthdays, being happy, I finally realized that wasn’t going to happen for me.”

  There was a moment of silence as they ate.

  “So, you gave up?”

  “It’s reality. I turned my energies elsewhere. I excelled at school. Got a full scholarship to Kensington State.”

  “That’s impressive. But it doesn’t mean you can’t have what you’ve missed.”

  “I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a woman walk out on me…destroying my life and leaving me with a house full of broken kids who can’t be fixed.” He spoke with emotional heat.

  She kept quiet and ate. The waiter returned to ask about the meal. Whit nodded and continued to eat slowly.

  “Do you keep in touch with your other brothers? Your dad?”

  “Jeff and I are still close, though he lives in Baltimore now. Dad is in a senior apartment. I visit him when I can.”

  “And you’re other brother?”

  “Mal? He died in Iraq.”

  Emotion closed Bess’s throat. She blinked to keep her tears at bay. Don’t start crying. He won’t like it. “You’ve had a helluva life,” she said, wiping her mouth with her napkin.

  “On the other side, I’m a major newscaster with Eagle Broadcasting. I’ve traveled all over the world doing news stories. I had a great job reporting for The New York Globe before I went into T
V news.”

  “You’ve been very successful.”

  “I rarely get turned down for dates, no matter how famous or glamorous the lady. I’ve saved money. I’m living the good life.”

  “You are.”

  “So, why ruin it with marriage?”

  “Why take a chance on one woman when you can keep loneliness out with many, right?”

  “Absolutely! Wow, a woman who understands.” He grinned. “I knew there was a special reason why I liked you.”

  That’s the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard. But like I should talk? Like I have a great life outside of my work? Like my family is warm and supportive? Not. I haven’t had his tragedy, but I’m no better off than he is. At least I’m looking for something more. Haven’t given up yet.

  “What about your family?” He took a sip of wine, his gaze steady, focused on her.

  “Nothing to speak of. I’m the black sheep. My little sister stayed home, got a great job, and takes care of my mom. At least, they live in the same house.”

  “Don’t they acknowledge your success?”

  She shrugged. “A cable TV cooking show isn’t as impressive as bank vice president. And now, my sister is engaged to an important man in town.”

  He nodded. “So, you’re in second place.”

  “It isn’t a race. I’m happy for Janie. She has what she wants. Problem is, so do I, or almost. But I’m the only one who thinks it’s worth much.”

  “Does it matter what they think? Aren’t you proud of your own accomplishments?”

  “I am. I guess it doesn’t matter, but it hurts.”

  He took her hand and kissed it.

  Not exactly the action of a friend. She slipped it away.

  “Oops. Friends don’t do that, do they?”

  She shook her head.

  “You can’t control the feelings or perceptions of others. Don’t waste time trying.”

  “You’re right.”

  “I got that when I gave up on Robbie.”

  At the sound of a throat clearing, Bess looked up. Jean Louis stood next to their table, dressed in all his chef’s finery, including the proud, stiff, white hat.

  “Ah, Mademoiselle Cooper, enchanté, toujours. How lovely you are here again.” He kissed her hand and bowed.