store. The business suit said everything she’d wanted it to say and it hadn’t made one bit of difference to Dr. Josef Anderson. Whatever had possessed them, he’d asked her on a date and she’d accepted.
Now she needed an outfit that sent an entirely different message.
As she browsed the racks, though, she vacillated on exactly what that message should be. This blouse screamed “slut” but that blouse blushed “virgin”. Wasn’t there anything in the middle? And the skirts were no better. Lately she’d taken to wearing peasant-type skirts, long and full and graceful. But those said “earth mother”—and no one wanted to fuck an earth mother.
The thought stopped her in the process of rifling through another rack.
That was the question, right there. Did she want him to take her to bed tonight?
Hell yes. Her fictional heroes satisfied her in lots of ways. They said all the right things at just the right times. They read her mind and told her what she wanted them to tell her.
Not like Dr. Anderson. A smile played on her lips as she remembered the feel of his chest under her hands. They might’ve gotten off on a bad foot, but she was intrigued enough to go to dinner with him just to get that damn report.
She turned to another rack. Despite Angie’s assumptions, Carla had dated several men over the past few years. For a variety of reasons, however, nothing had ever clicked. Her brand of sex just wasn’t very common. What would make her think Angie’s archeologist would be interested in sex with a BDSM flavor?
Dr. Josef Anderson would be on a flight back to Egypt within a day, two at most. She’d liked the feel of his hand on her back, the way he’d held her tightly to him when she’d fallen. He wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship. That was okay, neither was she.
Did he expect to get lucky tonight?
She eyed the low-cut blouse in her hand. Kinky sex or not, she certainly hoped so.
Josef dropped his purchases on the king-sized bed that took up most of the small hotel room. All he wanted was cheap and clean, and Annalie had found him both. The lone receptionist downstairs had been very helpful in finding a hardware store not too far away and he’d spent the afternoon mooning over the chains and locks he would love to employ to hold a woman captive.
Someday. Someday when he stopped wandering the globe in search of ancient artifacts and new discoveries. Someday when he bought himself a cabin in the mountains and could fill it with all sorts of nefarious workings. Someday, when he found a woman worth building it for.
He grinned as he hefted a hank of white cotton rope. It could be used in so many ways. The image of Carla squirming on the bed’s white sheets, her body neatly spread for his inspection, lingered in his imagination. Would she go for it? Was she the adventurous type? Knowing his archeological partner, any friend of Angie’s had to be willing to take a few risks. And, judging from Carla’s wit and blushes when he’d touched her this morning, Josef thought he just might get his wish.
Holding that positive thought, he ventured to a fetish store and picked up a set of leather cuffs that would give him options—should Carla be amenable. While the thought of hogtying her made his cock stir, that might prove to be too extreme for a first date. Such an activity would need to wait for at least date three.
He chuckled as he made his way back to the hotel.
Back in his room, he took his time setting the scene, fully intending to get her up here tonight and knowing just the ploy that would work.
She wanted that report? She’d have to come and get it.
Burying the packet deep in his leather bag, he headed into the shower.
Carla checked her watch. Perfect. Right on time for dinner with a man who looked like a Viking god and had the temperament to boot. She grinned as she stepped off the subway. Why hadn’t his parents just named him Thor and been done with it?
She saw him before he saw her. Not surprising, as he stood a head taller than most. He was still a half-block away, coming toward the restaurant from the opposite direction. Heads turned as he passed, not all of them women’s. Carla hid her smile. Perfection was perfection, and it gave her a little thrill that both genders appreciated his incredible physique.
But then the crowd parted and she got a full look at what had turned those heads. He’d changed out of the rumpled gray suit that had given him a faint air of universities and museums, and into a simple pair of tan pants and an open-front, crisp white shirt. In the warm summer air, he’d turned the sleeves back, giving a glimpse of the strong muscles she’d felt this morning.
The brown belt he wore encircled a narrow waist, and the tailored pants with the sharp creases and cuffed hems harkened back to a time when men were men. Judging from all the fluttering eyelashes, several women would gladly forsake women’s lib for one night with such a man.
Carla’s steps slowed as she took in that gorgeous sight—and its implications. She’d come into the city that morning more as a favor for a friend, her attention still involved in the stories that were ever-present in her mind. But as she watched Josef approach, her imaginary heroes bowed and left, understanding that this flesh-and-blood hero would make mincemeat of them.
He saw her and smiled and Carla’s heart leapt into her throat. How had she not noticed his dimples this morning? Her mind really must not have been in attendance. They crinkled his cheeks into ripples of merriment and she smiled in response.
“Ms. Braun, I see you are punctual.” His voice, smooth and rich, held just a note of scholarly approval.
“I’m anxious to get my hands on…your report, Dr. Anderson.”
He laughed and Carla liked the sound. A baritone, she noted. A full, rich baritone laugh that turned her coy smile into a real one.
“Angie would be very disappointed if we didn’t at least reach the stage where we stopped being so formal. Will you call me Josef?”
“You’re right.” She held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Josef. I’m Carla.”
He took her hand and turned it palm up. For a moment she thought he might kiss it, but instead he ran a finger over her palm. “You have a strong lifeline and a penchant for adventure.”
She chuckled. “I’m not so sure about that. I like my adventure where I control the outcome—in my head.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “And never in real life?”
Carla’s breath fluttered. “Only when I know I’ll be safe. Or in safe hands.”
Josef still held her hand, his eyes suddenly serious. “I would never hurt you, Carla.”
She looked at him, surprised, and he smoothly backtracked. “Angie would never forgive me.”
Carla tried to conceal her disappointment. “No,” she agreed. “Angie’s my best friend, despite the physical distance.”
Josef’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t intended to get so serious there and had covered up his statement with a flippant remark. But her mask had dropped and he’d seen the vulnerability she had so successfully hidden that morning. Cursing himself that he hadn’t stopped in a bookstore to buy one of her novels, he gestured to the restaurant’s door.
“Are you hungry?”
The smile she gave him seemed perfunctory and he realized she wore her emotions on her face. What she felt, she expressed. The woman had no hidden agendas, no games that she played.
He’d also noted her knee-length full skirt—topped by a blouse with a neckline that plunged most enticingly. The short, capped sleeves showed off slender arms that were uniformly white, compared to the deep tan of his own. In his mind, he’d already thought about how to undress her. Did she wear panties? Should he bind her first and then remove the skirt?
“Josef?”
He came back to the present quickly. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”
She looked up at him through thick lashes, the coy smile back. “You looked like a wolf ready to devour me.”
