Under His Touch Page 7

I’m about to hurry down the hall when the door closes, and Alec calls me into the living room. I peek in to make sure he’s alone. “What’s going on?” I ask, when I see a dozen boxes sitting on his coffee table. He had a delivery, this time of day?

  I slowly walk into the room, and can’t believe it when I see the boxes are from Bianca’s Boutique, Manhattan’s very expensive, very elite lingerie shop.

  “These are for you,” he says. “Size six, right?”

  “I...uh...yes, how do you know that?” He arches a brow at my foolish question. Of course he knows that. His hands were all over my body, and since he’s reached out and touched more women than Hallmark, he’s probably an expert at guessing sizes. “What have you done?”

  “I kept you from your yoga this morning. Now you can swim instead.” He settles himself on the sofa, and gestures for me to sit in the cushiony chair across from him. “You don’t like Bianca’s?”

  I step around the coffee table. “I... I’ve never shopped there?”

  “I know Bianca quite well. She’s very particular, and her swimsuits are high quality. She personally put this order together for me this morning.”

  I throw my hands up. “You just called her up and put an order in? This morning? That’s what you were doing on your tablet?”

  He taps a finger to his lip, like he’s amused with all my questions. “Yes.”

  “I can’t believe you did this.”

  “What’s the big deal?”

  Okay, this man obviously operates in a different world than I do. “How many did you order?”

  He shrugs. “A few. I wasn’t sure what fit or style you liked.”

  “You know you’re insane, right?”

  He scrubs his chin, and nods. “One of the nicer things I’ve been called.”

  “I bet,” I say, and he just smirks at me. I lift the lid off one box and pull out a gorgeous designer bikini with a floral print top that ties in the front, and high-waisted bottoms. I’ve been lusting after a suit like this for a while now, but it wasn’t in my budget. “I can’t keep all these.”

  “There’s no return on swimwear. They’re yours. You’re welcome to use my pool anytime. Perhaps your friend Amanda would like to join you sometime.”

  Flabbergasted I drop the bikini into the box. “That’s a nice offer, but this is too much.”

  “You don’t like that one. Try this,” he says, and hands me another box. The man is generous, and I have no doubt he’ll give his wife all the material things she wants, but is that really enough to keep the marriage alive? Won’t she eventually want his heart, too?

  I open it, but this time I find a lacey white thong. I pull it from the box, run the expensive material through my fingers.

  His grin is sheepish when I glance at him. “Replacement. For the pair I ripped,” he explains.

  “This is way nicer than what I was wearing.”

  “I liked what you were wearing,” he says almost under his breath, and my gaze shoots to his. He jumps from the sofa. “Did you want to shower before you swim?”

  I nod. “Yes,” I say. The sooner I get the scent of his skin off mine the better.

  He nods. “I’ll head up and get some laps in. There’s a private elevator in the hall. It takes you up to the roof. No one has access but me.”

  “The rooftop is just for your use?”

  “Yes.” He disappears for a second and comes back with a key. He presses it into my palm and closes my fingers around it. “This will get you into my apartment, and to the roof. I’ll meet you there.”

  He heads to his room to get changed, and I open a few more boxes, until I find a pretty black-and-white suit that covers a bit more than the others. Not that it matters. We’ve seen each other naked. I hurry to the spare bedroom, shower and tug on the suit. Key in hand, laptop bag over my shoulder I make my way to the rooftop, and hurry to the glassed-in pool. Dressed in tight swim trunks, Alec’s long, lean body glides through the crystal clear water and he surfaces right in front of me.

  “You made...” he begins but his voice falls off as his gaze moves over me, a long leisurely inspection from my dry mouth to the tips of my toes, and all the way back up again, stopping to linger on my breasts—and nipples that are no doubt poking hard against the thin fabric. A moan catches in his throat and my entire body lights, like a match to dry tinder.

  Honestly, if he’s about to marry someone else, why the hell is he looking at me like he wants to eat me alive?

  CHAPTER SIX

  Alec

  I PICK MY cell phone up from my desk, glance at it and set it down with a little more force than necessary. Fuck. Here it is late Friday morning and I haven’t heard from Megan since last Saturday—when she joined me at the pool and I damn near devoured her with my gaze.

  Well done, Alec, well done.

  I worked to hide my arousal and keep things casual as we did laps, had breakfast and finished the questionnaire. I’m not sure I pulled it off, though. After the round of sex we had, you’d think I’d be sated, gotten her out of my system, but it only made me want her more. How I’m going to get through this and keep my hands to myself is beyond me. She made it clear what we did can’t happen again, and I have to agree with her.

  I glance at my phone again and check the time. I have a late afternoon meeting, but I need a breath of fresh air before sitting down with the board and hashing out the details on the next deal. My job looks harsh in the eyes of most, I can understand that. We finance investors who buy undervalued assets in companies. Once they secure controlling shares they restructure, changing leadership and management. People frown at what I do, some call me a monster, but I’m good at it—and it’s a sure way for me to carve my own way in this world, which is important to me. What they don’t know is I always make sure to help those who lose their jobs. Granddad owns half of Manhattan, and with the charity I run, we’re always in need of new blood and top management expertise.

  I push from my chair and take the elevator down to the main floor. I make my way to my Tesla, press the fob and climb in. Before I realize what I’m doing or where I’m even going, I find myself driving along Ninth Avenue through Hell’s Kitchen looking for Kitchen Door Catering.

  I slow my vehicle to glance at the storefronts, and a chorus of cars honk from behind. I simply flip them all the finger and pull over to check my GPS. I punch in the name and a second later I’m given directions to the business. I pull back into traffic and follow the route until I’m outside the industrial-looking brick building. I kill the ignition and step out into the warm sunshine and make my way down the busy sidewalk. Delicious scents of ginger and spices reach my nostrils as I enter the shop, and a little bell over the door jingles to announce my presence. Behind the counter, Megan’s friend Amanda glances up, and behind her glasses, her brown eyes go wide when she sees me.

  “Alec,” she says, and wipes her hands on her apron.

  “Nice to see you again, Amanda. I never got a chance to say hello at the coffee shop but Megan told me about your catering business.”

  I quickly catalog the space. The front of the shop has fridges and freezers with take-out food, and behind Amanda there is a wide-open space with three big butcher-block tables, where numerous chefs are working away.

  She takes her glasses off and sets them on the counter. “Do you have an event you need catered?” she asks, her eyes wide and hopeful.

  “No, but when I do I’ll be sure to keep you in mind. Megan also mentioned you do personalized meal delivery. That’s something I’m definitely interested in.” That brings a big smile to her face. “Speaking of Megan, is she around?” I ask.

  She jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “She’s in her office. I’ll get her for you. In the meantime, why don’t you look this over.” She hands me a colorful brochure, picks up her phone and presses a button. She turns her back to me, preventing me from h
earing her conversation, and I walk over to the fridge to check out today’s specials.

  I’ve never really seen an innovative business quite like this. Not only do they cater events, they make extras and sell it fresh daily. Behind me the door jingles and in walks a woman with four small children, three boys and one girl. They run straight for the cupcake display as Amanda greets the woman, then glances at me quickly. “She’ll be right out.”

  As the kids pick out what cupcake they want, I grin, and think back to my own childhood. How many times did Granddad take me and Will, and our cousins Tate and Brianna, out for treats. The man was a saint and had so much patience with us. Is it any wonder each of us would do anything for him—even get married? Although I still can’t quite believe I agreed to it. Must have been all the brandy he used to loosen me up. I must remember to ask him why he hired Megan, or how he even knew she ran an event business. Then again, even at ninety he keeps his ear to the ground.

  “Hey,” Megan says as she comes around the counter, her hair a tumbled mess, like she’s been running her fingers through it. “What brings you here?”

  “I thought I’d check out Amanda’s kitchen.” I wave my hand around the place. “The idea of fresh, healthy home-delivered meals sure would make my life easier.” Not a lie. I rub my gut. “Eating out is beginning to take its toll.”

  “You probably could lay off the doughnuts,” she says with a grin. “And stop fishing for compliments.” I laugh at that, and she adds, “I’m glad you’re here. I was going to text you. It’s been a crazy week, and I should have reached out earlier, but I had a last-minute emergency with the Bar Mitzvah venue. A pipe broke in the yacht club, and I had to scramble to find a new location.”

  I dip my head and try not to stare at her mouth. “If you ever run into that again, just give me a shout.”

  “Really?”

  “Granddad owns numerous properties that I oversee, and we’d be happy to help you out. Pick up the phone and call me before you take it out on your hair.” Her eyes go wide for a second, and then she laughs and finger combs her curls. “I see you never lost the habit of running your fingers through your hair when you’re stressed. Remember after exams—”

  “Oh, my God, don’t remind me. I always came away looking like a sheepdog who went through the dryer without a static sheet.”

  I laugh out loud. “You were adorable.” I glance over her shoulder to see Amanda watching us. “Anyway,” I say, and clear my throat, returning to professional mode and getting back down to business. Why does being around her make me forget to keep my guard up? “You were going to text me?”

  She pokes my chest and I wish she hadn’t. That innocent touch makes me want to pull her into my arms, and kiss the smudged lipstick from her lush mouth. “You have a date tonight, Alec.”

  While one part of me is happy to get the ball rolling and get this over with, the other part is dreading the idea of picking out a wife. Even if I wanted to back out now—run as far away as possible despite what it could do for my image and career, not to mention pleasing Granddad—I can’t. Megan has a lot riding on this, and I can only assume her friend does, too, since she’ll be catering my wedding, and getting her food in the hands of some very prominent members of society.

  “You found me someone who fits the criteria?”

  “Yes. Her name is Danielle. She’s an elementary school teacher and she sounds perfect. I made a reservation for seven at Il Mercato. Italian is her favorite. I want to go over some things we talked about so you’re up to speed when you meet her.”

  I gesture with a nod to the door. “Sounds like a good plan. Should we do it over lunch or have you eaten?”

  “Lunch is perfect. We can eat in my office where we’ll have privacy. How about ginger squash soup, and roasted chicken sandwiches?” She breathes in deep and when she does her chest expands, and behind her silky white blouse, her nipples reach out and taunt me. “It’s been cooking all morning and I’m dying to have some.”

  “We can eat here?”

  “Sure. Come on.” She glances at her friend. “Amanda, I’m going to grab two bowls of soup and two sandwiches. Put it on my tab,” she says. Amanda rolls her eyes at us. I step around the counter, and my gaze travels the length of Megan as I follow her into the kitchen. She’s dressed in a curve-hugging skirt that shows off her long, shapely legs and high heels I want her to keep on in bed the next time I put my face between her thighs. Shit, what am I saying? There isn’t going to be a next time.

  I pull myself together as Megan introduces me to the staff. After an exchange of pleasantries, she goes up on her toes, stretching her hands over her head to pull two bowls from the shelf.

  “I could have gotten those for you,” I say, as I hover at least a foot over her head.

  She shrugs. “It’s okay. I’m an independent woman used to doing things myself.”

  I nod but for some reason that ticks me off. I love that she’s independent, but it would be nice if she had someone to rely on, someone to call when, oh, I don’t know, when she’s stuck and needs to find a new venue. She’s so different from the women in my circle, and it makes me want to help her all the more.

  She fills the bowls with thick, creamy soup, and hands them to me. “Take them in there,” she says, and nods to the office at the end of the hall. “I’ll grab us some sandwiches.”

  I balance the soup and carefully make my way down the hall. I glance in, find a desk scattered with papers, and know I’ve come to the right place. I set the soup down. One in front of her big comfy chair and one across from her.

  “I see you’re still messy,” I say when she comes in.

  “Excuse me,” she says, pretending she’s offended by the remark, but the grin lingering on her lips tells another story. “It’s called organized chaos.”

  “Oh, is that what we’re calling it now? I’ll be sure to remember that.” She sits across from me, and smiles. My God, she is so beautiful. “Amanda has a nice setup.”

  “She’s really hoping to grow. If we pull off the wedding of the century, her business is going to skyrocket. I really want that for her.”

  I dip my spoon into the soup and taste it. “If everything she makes tastes this great, I’d be happy to hand her name around.”

  “You’d do that?” she asks, beaming, and for some reason being able to make her this happy thrills me and fucks me over at the same time.

  “Yeah, sure,” I say, like it’s nothing, but it’s obviously not nothing to Megan.

  “Thank you,” she says, and I love how much she cares about her friend’s well-being. She always was kind and thoughtful, a giver. My mind rewinds to the way she gave me her body, and my cock thickens. Shit.

  “Okay, so fill me in on what I need to know,” I say, getting us both back on track.

  As we eat, Megan opens her laptop and turns it my way. I read through the conversation and get myself up to speed. “I must say. I’m impressed. You’re pretty good at pretending to be me.”

  “After going over all those forms I think I know you better than I know myself.”

  We both nod at that, and I lean back in my chair and bite into my sandwich when her phone rings. “Excuse me for a second.” She swipes her finger across her phone. “Hey, Sara, what’s up?” she asks. I busy myself with the brochure Amanda gave me and listen to the one-sided conversation. It doesn’t take long to figure out Sara is putting together a last-minute anniversary party for her folks, and Megan is organizing it.

  “You’re never going to believe who is sitting across from me this very minute,” Megan says, glancing at me. “Nope...nope...nope,” she says, and winks. “You give up? Okay, I’ll give you a hint. He helped me get you home from that party when you thought it would be a good idea to drink too much and dance on the table.” She laughs and nods her head. “That’s right, none other than Alec Carson.” A moment and then she respo
nds, “He’s good. Yeah, sure we can all get together soon, talk about old times.” She goes quiet for a minute. “Well, I can ask him, but I’m not sure he’d be interested. He’s a busy guy.” Megan grabs a pen, takes a couple notes as Sara talks, then she responds with, “I’m, ah...working on an event for him. I’ll explain the details later, over drinks tonight at Onyx when we hash out the details for the anniversary party.”

  After she ends the call, she crinkles her nose. “Sorry about that.”

  “She wants you to invite me to the anniversary party?”

  “Ah, yeah. You don’t have to go, of course.”

  “I’ll go.”

  Her brow furrows.

  “Sure, why not,” I say. “I always liked your aunt and uncle. It would be nice to see them again.”

  “Oh, okay. Sara was out of town on business, and I’m scrambling to pull this off in two weeks. Thank God, Amanda could fit us in and cater the event.”

  “About this schoolteacher,” I say.

  “Right.” She shows me the woman’s picture, and with blond hair cut short, she’s cute enough in that girl-next-door way, but she’s no Megan.

  Megan frowns and glances at me. “I’m not sure you should wear a Gucci suit. I’d like for you to dress just a bit more casual for your first meeting.”

  I arch a brow. “Is this where you take me shopping?”

  “Do you have the time?”

  I check my watch. “I have a couple hours.”

  She grabs her purse from beneath her desk. “Then we should get at it.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  She tosses her purse over her shoulder and gives me a once-over. “Casual pants, shoes, sweater. A little more of a relaxed look, I think. Why don’t we hit Fifth Avenue?”

  “Shopping is not my favorite thing, especially on Fifth Avenue.”

  She plants her hand on her hip and arches a brow. “Alec—”

  “Fine, fine,” I say, and hold my hands up in surrender. “You’re the boss,” I say, following her out of her office.