Zoey twisted her mouth and picked up her coffee cup again. ‘Maybe, but I still lost the pitch to one of our biggest competitors. But I’m determined to win next time we’re vying for the same account.’ Her eyes began to sparkle with determination. ‘I can’t wait to wipe that arrogant smirk of victory off Finn McConnell’s face once and for all.’
‘You go, girl,’ Ivy said, holding her coffee mug up in a toast. ‘To achieving our goals—no matter what.’
Louis was not normally a thank-God-it’s-Friday person. Call him a hard-nosed workaholic, but the weekends were when he got a sense of satisfaction from ticking off the long list of jobs he had to do that couldn’t be done during the week. He often preferred to work at weekends rather than socialise, especially since his last lover had had trouble accepting he wasn’t interested in taking things further than a short fling. But, as the weekend approached, he found himself thinking less about work and more about his ‘date’ with Ivy.
It was faintly disturbing how much he was thinking about her. Hardly an hour went by without him recalling the taste and velvety texture of her mouth. And he’d developed a sudden craving for strawberries. Every time he thought of what she’d asked him to do, he got aroused. He was distracted, daydreaming when he should have been working, mentally dwelling on what it would feel like to bury himself deep inside her and take them both to heaven.
But, while he could allow himself the odd daydream, what he couldn’t allow was making those daydreams a reality. Ivy wasn’t a one-night-stand type of woman and he’d had nothing but one-night stands. How could doing the deed with her be a good thing?
Louis had hours before he had to pick up Ivy, so he sat at his desk and worked on a project that needed some final adjustments before it was sent to the builder. His mind kept drifting to his date with Ivy. He blinked, sat up straighter in his chair and locked his gaze back on the design on the screen.
Work. Work. Work. He chanted the words to himself, but it wasn’t long before his mind was going off on another tangent.
The possibility of sex.
A hot tingle ran down his spine and he shifted in his chair, cleared his throat and spoke out loud just to drive the point home.
‘You can do this. You work ten to twelve hours a day. Get on with it.’
So now he was talking to himself as well as daydreaming about Ivy. He was well aware of the risk of spending more and more time with her. It might raise her expectations that he would solve her virginity problem. And he hadn’t signed up for that—only the possibility of it which, weirdly, was making it even harder to resist her.
But he refused to think any further than spending the evening with her to help her feel more at ease. He was good at cordoning off his emotions, especially when it came to sex. Sex was a physical experience he enjoyed, like any other full-blooded man. He didn’t associate any feelings with sex other than that of lust and pleasure. He had never been in love and never intended to be. He wasn’t even sure the concept existed outside of novels and Hollywood movies. The chances of finding one person who complemented and fulfilled you in every way and would continue to do so throughout a lifetime was a fantasy in itself.
And one he never dabbled in.
But taking Ivy out a few times to help her build her confidence was certainly doable. There was no harm in kissing and fooling around a bit. No harm in that at all. His conscience rolled about the floor laughing.
Ahem. Mr Amazing One-Night Stand is going on a few dates with the same woman with only the possibility of having sex? The man who doesn’t date anyone longer than a day, and then only for sex?
Louis leaned one elbow on his desk, pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to block the taunting of his conscience. He was thinking of Ivy, not himself. She needed to be more relaxed without the pressure of sex hanging over her. That was his plan and it was a good one. A safe one. To hang out together on a few dates without the expectation of intimacy. Easy.
Louis continued to stare blankly at his computer, but then his phone suddenly rang and Ivy’s number and name popped up on the screen. A stone landed in his gut with a sickening, organ-crushing thud. What if she was calling to cancel? What if she had changed her mind because he hadn’t committed to her request? What if she’d decided to go with the stranger plan instead? Maybe someone else had already volunteered to take her virginity. Maybe she’d done it last night with a stranger she’d found online or even one of those male escort services.
He was ambushed by the host of unfamiliar emotions assailing him—disappointment right at the top of the list. He hadn’t realised how much he was looking forward to being with her tonight until the possibility of it being cancelled became possible. She’d cancelled lunch a couple of months ago, and even now he didn’t like admitting how disappointed he had been.
He snatched up his phone and answered it. ‘Ivy.’ He was pleased with how cool and collected he sounded when his heart was thumping as though he’d just consumed three energy drinks.
‘Hiya, Louis, I just wanted to know what type of clothes to wear. You didn’t say where we were going tonight. Do I need to dress in anything fancy?’
He hadn’t said because he hadn’t decided until that morning. But he’d managed to secure box-seat tickets to a popular musical he knew she’d always wanted to see. He wanted their ‘date’ to be special and memorable. There was a risk of drawing press attention by being in such a public place. While he’d thought of taking her to his house in Chelsea or his place in the Cotswolds to afford them more privacy, he knew it wouldn’t be wise to spend time completely alone with her. Tempting, yes, but definitely not wise. ‘I’ve booked tickets to a West End musical. We can have supper afterwards.’
‘Oh, what fun! I haven’t been to the West End in ages. Shall I meet you there or...?’
‘Ivy, when I date a woman I pick her up and I take her home. I’ll see you at seven.’
Ivy was putting the last touches to her make-up when the doorbell sounded, announcing Louis’ arrival. She pressed her lips together to set her lip-gloss, quickly snatched up her evening bag and went out of her bedroom to greet him. When she saw him standing there in a dark charcoal suit, with a crisp white shirt and blue-and-grey-striped tie, her breath caught and her heart did a funny little skip. He was the epitome of a handsome, successful male in his prime.
‘Hiya. Do you want to come in for a minute? No one else is home.’
‘Sure.’ He stepped over the threshold and she closed the door.
Suddenly her flat seemed too small to accommodate his six-foot-four frame. She could smell the citrus and woodsy notes of his aftershave and his eyes looked darker than normal—more pupil than iris. His gaze swept over her black cocktail dress and high heels and then back to her face.