Stepping into the elevator, he caught his reflection in the smooth brass façade as the elevator doors silently slid shut. His familiar eyes blinked back at him, his familiar lips quirked into a predatory smile. Everything about his face was familiar…except for the lines between his brows. Those were new, compliments of Rinna, her lawyers, and his upcoming travel schedule—thirteen nights, eight cities, endless meetings...
No. I refuse to think those thoughts tonight. He needed to let go for one night, to allow himself a few hours of anonymity, of simply being a man. Tonight, he would not be a billionaire bachelor businessman. Tonight, he was simply a single man, looking for a single woman for a single night of hot fucking.
Sighing, he pushed the button for the lobby where the Bella Notte was located off the main lobby. As the elevator descended, he sucked in a breath, his body humming with anticipation of the night ahead.
The breath caught in his chest.
Peaches. The elevator smelled of peaches. An involuntary grunt escaped his throat as his thoughts rushed headlong to another elevator in another building, and a woman who’d caught his attention for longer than he liked to admit. But now…he wondered what Miss Peaches n’ Cream was doing. He doubted Rick Ayers would know who the woman was; the man was a stickler for propriety and professionalism, especially in the work place. That woman flaunted her assets boldly. David recalled how the buttons on her top were struggling to hold her shirt together, not that he hadn’t enjoyed the quick view of what she was barely hiding. So, not an employee. Was she in the building meeting with her boyfriend or husband? Had her lover taken her into an empty office, released those lush breasts from her much-too-small blouse and then suckled them until she moaned? Had he pulled up her curve-hugging skirt and drawn her moist panties to the side to slide his eager fingers along the lips of her pussy? Had he moaned at the wet welcome he received? Had he bent her over a desk, unzipped his slacks, and thrust his aching cock into her tight, hot, slick sheath? Had he pounded into her hard and fast, watching her tits bounce and shake with each forceful thrust, building to a release that would make them both cry out in explosive pleasure?
Fuuuuck! His cock throbbed, his thoughts much too vivid and tormenting. He glanced down at the tent in his slacks—damn. Just what he needed when he was leaving the elevator to hunt for a woman to enjoy for the evening. At least the ache created by his own fantasies would be taken care of in short order—the quicker the better. He removed his navy coat and folded it over his forearm, bringing his arm in front of his waist to shield his unwelcome erection from curious eyes.
Taking another deep breath, he cursed. His nostrils filling with the scent of peaches once more, he closed his eyes, willing his mind to think on things like skinned knees, haggis, and cleaning out the lint trap in his dryer. And just as the elevator dinged to announce its arrival in the lobby, he drew himself to his full six-foot-two height, preparing himself to capture his evening’s delight.
The elevator doors slid open and he glanced up, his eyes, no doubt, playing tricks on him. They had to be—there was no other explanation for the sight that greeted him.
She was there, Miss Peaches n’ Cream, walking across the lobby and straight through the doorway into Bella Notte.
A wicked grin spread over his face, and his tongue flicked out over his lips. Suddenly, he was very hungry for peach pie.
Chapter 5
Diana slid onto the bar stool, her pencil skirt making the task a little more difficult than she’d expected. Hooking her heels into the bottom rung, she finished pushing herself into a comfortable position just as the bartender appeared before her. She huffed out a breath and tucked errant strands of hair behind her ears. It was the end of the workday; typically, she would have pulled her hair back into a sloppy bun, but she’d left her hair ties in her desk at the office. So, she was stuck with it as it was—and she probably looked terrible. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror behind the bar and fought the urge to grimace. It had been a long day, her hair was a mess, probably from thoughtlessly tugging at it as she worked through all those damn documents. Unfortunately, she also hadn’t taken her brush with her to work that day, so she couldn’t very well make herself look less like a bag lady before she’d come downstairs to the bar.
Yeah, sure, she could have ordered something to the room, but she’d never had the chance to be a guest in the bar before. All the other times she’d been to the Incantata, she’d been rushing around, helping the catering staff keep up with the other employees’ demands for free booze. It seemed like, even when she wasn’t supposed to be working, she was working. That’s the type of woman she was—a helper. She got it from her mother, who had spent her life teaching other people’s children. She was and would always be Diana’s hero.
“Bar menu, please,” she requested with a slight smile. After the day she’d had, she could use a few drinks on Ayers’s tab. The documents she’d hunched over for the last eight hours had turned her brain into astringent mush and now all she wanted to do was sink into an alcohol-induced haze before heading back upstairs to her room and into the
