The Pleasure's All Mine Read online

  Thinking about what trouble Eric must have gone through to research the man he thought his mother should date cracked Ava’s resolve. She placed the spoon gently inside the bowl and pushed it away. “We’ve been wrong about men before.”

  “I’m sure about this one, Aunt Avie. He is the perfect candidate. He has integrity, good taste, and intelligence—all the things she’s tried to instill in me.”

  It was a damn good argument, and he knew it. Pierce Randall was the perfect candidate. Ava knew of him from some of her former clients in the music industry. He had a reputation as someone with a quiet strength and determination; a good match for Raven. And because the man was also seasoned and world-savvy, he might not be frightened off by Raven’s other…interests. Hell, he might even like to watch!

  Ava slumped in her chair, hand resting on her uncomfortably full stomach. “She won’t like it.”

  “She’ll thank us later.”

  “I don’t like that us word either.”

  His hearty laugh warmed her heart. “I can’t do it without you. You’re a lawyer. You know how to…manipulate people.”

  Ouch! “That was low, even for you, Eric. Some thanks we got the last time we were busted—she sent you to live with me.”

  “Only for two weeks,” he said, grabbing an apple from the basket in the center of the table. “And we had a great time, didn’t we?” He grinned sheepishly and tossed the apple in the air, catching it expertly. “I didn’t know you could skateboard like that.” He put the apple down, slid off his chair, grabbed her hand, and went down on one knee. “Pleeeeeease, Aunt Avie,” he begged, and smothered her delicate hand with little kisses.

  “Oh, get up!” She shooed him away. “Your mom is a lost cause.”

  “With you, there’s no such thing as a lost cause.” Eric’s mischievous grin unsettled her. “Who was the first lawyer to successfully win a case where a wife sued her husband for custody of his mistress?”

  “That’s not how it really went down.”

  In that case, the wife caught the husband cheating and asked for the mistress to come live with them, to earn her keep the honest way—on her feet helping the wife instead of on her back servicing the husband. In the lawsuit, the wife had not only requested that she gain “custody” of her husband’s mistress, but since he had brought her into their lives, she also asked for maintenance payments from her husband, not just for her family, but also for the mistress.

  “But you won.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  One eyebrow shot up. “The mistress is still living with the wife and the husband, right? And the husband’s still paying for both of them?”

  Ava opened her mouth to reply and then thought better of it. Good point. Spencer vs. Spencer had made headlines across the country. She had won, but had almost lost one of her best friends in the process. Since then she had sworn off interfering in her clients’ love lives again.

  Eric nudged her playfully. “I’m sure about this one, Aunt Avie,” he said again. “This one last time, and I’ll give up.” Eric’s gaze never left hers; his eyes sparkled with their usual boyish charm. And really, who could resist that smile?

  Ava’s eyes narrowed to slits.

  Eric threw his hands up in mock surrender. “I promise.” His smile said otherwise as he moved in for the kill. “Just help me one last time, Tee Tee Avie, and we won’t have to do it again. We can’t lose.”

  Okay, so the gloves were off. The name he’d called her at age two always melted her heart. She was unable to keep the corners of her mouth from turning up. Still she said nothing.

  “I want to make sure she’s all right. I want to walk her down the aisle before I die…”

  Ava closed her eyes against a sudden crush of pain. Playing the death card? He had never done that before. There was no stronger plea than that, given his condition. Damn!

  “You’re just like her,” she said in a pained whisper, trying to keep the tears from filling her eyes. “Don’t know when to give up.”

  “That’s a compliment, isn’t it?”

  His infectious excitement won over logic and reasoning. She smiled warmly. What could it hurt? “Okay. One last time.”

  Eric rubbed his hands together like a chef preparing to serve his best five-course meal. “All right, here’s the plan…”

  Two

  Six weeks later, New York

  Raven Ripley was looking forward to killing Ava Davidson with her bare hands. How dare she force Raven to come to this event without bothering to show up her damn self! Oh yes, her lawyer friend had an ass-kicking coming—straight up, no chaser.

  She didn’t look up—not even once—from her small writing tablet. She furiously guided her pen across the yellow paper, so fast that the blue lines appeared blurry. She ignored the hundreds of handsome men and beautiful women around her, schmoozing and air kissing each other, all of them glamorous, whether casually chic or barely dressed.

  The atmosphere had been tinged with excitement, as if the room itself knew the event would move from benefit to album-release party and soon turn into a frenzied feast for the eyes. On the dance floor, writhing and gyrating bodies kept time with the upbeat rhythm—some better than others. Laughter rose and fell at random. Everyone here was attending by choice—everyone except her. She bristled as she recalled Ava’s firm voice: “If you don’t show up tonight, I’ll drop you as my client.”

  “The hell you will,” Raven had shot back.

  “Try me,” Ava had replied in a dry tone that brooked no resistance.

  Now Raven was at a party where some had slept with their friends, agents, co-workers, or whomever might be useful. Celebrities, people she knew by face and name, but nothing more, were everywhere. Raven, always one to avoid the social scene, did not intend to play adoring fan just to be accepted in their circle.

  With lively conversation, tinkling sounds of laughter, and blaring music as a backdrop in a series of ballrooms with breathtaking décor, Raven was neatly tucked away in the corner on a navy blue velour chaise. She had started the seventh chapter of her story and was going strong. Her blue pen froze mid-stroke as the rich timbre of a male voice resonated just under the music. “If you didn’t come to play well with others, why are you here?”

  Raven’s gaze traveled up from shiny black wing-tipped shoes to a tailored black suit filled evenly and naturally by a massive, muscular frame. She continued north to the full, kissable lips set in a grim, disapproving line. The dark brown eyes gazing intently at her made her breath quicken. The fact that he was clean shaven and bald added to the striking look. An instant of heat flushed her body. Her heart slammed against her chest. What the hell was wrong with her?

  Tall and handsome in an unconventional way, he had a commanding presence. His build suggested a no-nonsense, dedicated football player who took workouts as seriously as game day. Though he wore a suit well, Raven could picture him in jeans or sweats. From his weary eyes, it seemed that this event was not a choice, but a chore as well.

  “I came because someone twisted my arm,” she snapped, meeting his glare with an icy one of her own. For some reason he looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him.

  His eyebrows twitched just as lips, which promised a world of pleasure, lifted into a mocking smile. “Twisted your arm?”

  “Yes.”

  “For this party?”

  She nodded and waited for him to walk away. No such luck.

  “You must not be from this planet.”

  Raven’s lips spread into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Trust me. Planet New York wasn’t my first choice. The spaceship had a flat.”

  His eyes sparkled with amusement. “Where are you from?”

  “Chicago.”

  Mr. Handsome scanned the dance floor, taking in the response to the increased tempo of the music and said, “Figures.”

  She bristled but kept a tight rein on her temper, but was failing miserably at keeping her hormones in check. “
What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Only someone who wasn’t from here would come all this way and deliberately try not to have a good time.”

  “I am having a good time.” She crossed her left leg over the right. Shoot! Why did she do that? The sharp slit in her dress bared more flesh than she intended.

  His gaze fell to her legs, then traveled up her thighs.

  She didn’t dare show him how self-conscious she was by changing position. Damn Ava and what she called “a dress that’ll make you stand out.” Raven nearly glowered at him, mainly because an untimely moisture had pooled between her thighs. “I was having an even better time before you came over. I’m sure you’ll have a great evening somewhere else…away from me.” She returned to her writing, but watched him from the corner of her eye.

  He smiled slyly before relaxing onto the chaise beside her. “I’m already having a great evening. I’m sitting with an absolutely gorgeous woman. I don’t see how you could think otherwise.”

  She glanced at him. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

  “Maybe it’s time for you to let go of work and learn how to play,” he said in a low, husky voice as he leaned toward her.

  The mere suggestion of the type of play he had in mind was enough to make her swallow the barb poised on the tip of her tongue. Now was not the time to pick a fight. Especially not with a stranger who looked as though he carried a personal can of whoop-ass in his back pocket.

  Raven returned to her tablet—one that had been disguised to look like a clutch purse—and tried to finish the chapter. She suddenly felt warm in places that had been cold for longer than she could remember. That frightened her a great deal. Why wouldn’t he go away?

  He moved in a little closer, his jacket brushed against her bare arm, and he rested a hand on his knee, mere inches from hers. His cologne—earthy, rich and warm—filled her senses. She felt an instant tightening of her nipples. And she definitely needed a trip to the ladies room to gather her wits. What was it about this man that had such a strange effect on her? She barely knew him, but everything about him was making her take notice, making her feel…wet and wicked. She could picture him kissing her; could picture her legs wrapped around him, arching to meet every thrust…Good Lord!

  “Do you think maybe you could sit somewhere else?” she asked, without looking at him and betraying what she felt.

  “No need,” he replied smoothly. “I like it right here.” His smirk gave him a boyish charm, but irritated her nonetheless.

  “Maybe security would help you see things differently.”

  “Maybe they would,” he replied with an arrogant shrug, “but since I’m paying them, that wouldn’t work in your favor.”

  Raven tilted her arm and checked her watch. Almost 10. She’d been there for three hours and had done her part for being social. Ava was on her own. Gathering her things, Raven moved away from him—whoever he was—and prepared to make a beeline for the nearest exit.

  His large hand, smoother than she imagined, closed over her more delicate one. The warmth that engulfed her instantly transformed into a well-defined heat. “Please tell me you’re not leaving so soon.” A smile played about the corners of his sensuously curved lips. “Planet New York would not be the same.”

  “Peddle it somewhere else, brother,” she shot back, inching away. “I’m not buying.”

  “And I’m not selling. The dance floor is this way.” He gestured toward the square natural wood floor, where nearly every inch was filled with moving feet and bodies. His muscular body blocked her exit path.

  A few people looked in their direction. If she made a break for it, she’d make a scene. A victorious glint flashed in his eyes as he plucked the tablet from her hands, quickly passing it to the tall, thin, blond man who appeared at his side. “Hold this for a moment, will you, Steve?” He gave her an intense glare. “I have work to do.”

  Raven parted her lips to protest and just missed grabbing her tablet. “That’s private. Give it back. Now!”

  “One dance and I’ll place it back in your hands. How bad do you want it?”

  The tone of his voice left no doubt as to what he actually meant. He let the double-edged suggestion hang in the air for a few moments. Finally, she mumbled, “One dance.”

  The nerve of him passing her work off to someone else! She glared at Steve, who looked right back at her, his pale, Nordic features devoid of expression.

  The arrogant one signaled the DJ booth, bowed slightly, then extended his hand to her. Raven sighed impatiently, resigned to her fate. Moments later, and for the first time that night, the music slowed to something her heartbeat didn’t try to outpace. She groaned inwardly at the timing. “You didn’t even ask properly.”

  “Was it really necessary?” He ushered her to the middle of the floor with a smile just begging to break across his lips. She placed her hand in his, and he pulled her gently toward him. “Now that I have you all to myself, can I get your name?”

  “Raven…Armand.”

  Though his eyes narrowed when she hesitated, he said, “Nice. Very nice.”

  Did he mean her pen name or the fact that they were closer than conventional dancing allowed? Lucky for him, his hand was just above the danger zone. If it slipped down one more inch, he’d be in for a swift kick in the rubber parts; no matter who the hell he was. And no matter that she was so horny she felt like riding him like a cowgirl on a prized stallion.

  “Who are you?” he repeated as they moved gracefully across the floor.

  She didn’t even look at him as she tried to come to grips with the sudden emergence of a need so potent, she thought she was losing her mind.

  “Who are you?” His smooth, deep voice made her body vibrate.

  Her gaze traveled the length of the dance floor and back to his chest. “Why do you ask?”

  “A woman obviously unfamiliar with the music industry, who sits in a corner, focusing on something she loves to do, in the middle of the biggest party of the year and the loudest music in the world, has to be someone special. Who are you?”

  “Raven Armand,” she said crisply, “author from Chicago.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  Raven’s eyes locked on his. “That’s as good as it’s going to get.”

  His half-smile, which showed off perfect white teeth, did little to soften the dangerous glint in his eyes. “We’ll see.”

  Three

  Pierce Randall relished the soft woman in his arms who easily followed his lead. Her breathing was shallow and quick, as though she might bolt at a moment’s notice. The vibrant red gown was expertly draped over her voluptuous frame. A small tease of cleavage begged for the attention of his fingers or lips.

  Raven avoided his gaze and inquiries like a pro. Though she answered a few questions about herself as they danced, she wouldn’t give him the main details. Why was she so secretive? Why was she trying so hard to deny the instant attraction between them?

  Pierce lifted her hand and brushed his lips against her fingertips.

  Her head snapped up, eyes flashing pure fire. “Watch it!”

  “So you’d rather I kissed your lips?”

  Raven’s eyes widened in horror.

  Pierce threw his head back and roared with laughter. He kissed her fingertips once again. “You’re beautiful.”

  “You don’t even know me.” Her voice, soft, clear and warm, had a sexual undertone that spoke volumes. She rested a hand on his chest as he whirled her around.

  “I know that you’re beautiful.”

  As she lowered her head hoping that he didn’t see the flash of pleasure at his compliment, her hair shifted and the soft, exotic scent of her perfume enveloped him. God, she’s sexy. Her skin glowed under the light. The full breasts and hips gave her an edge over every woman in the place. Pierce’s business partner always teased him because he preferred healthier women. But damn it, if a man wanted a woman, he should at least have one he could hold onto.r />
  Pierce had watched her from the moment she entered until she’d perched her lovely derriere on the chaise. The red dress had grabbed his attention; her smooth, panther-like gait, as though her stride and purpose were the only things that mattered, was enough to distract him and keep his gaze focused on her.

  People had responded to her with just the right amount of decorum. However, as some celebrities are known to do, they hadn’t engaged the newcomer. She wasn’t a recognizable celebrity and hadn’t shown the proper amount of awe. Instead, she had observed her surroundings, sized everyone up, and decided that her time could be better spent doing something else—writing. Moments later, when he realized that she hadn’t looked up from the tablet even once, he’d been a little insulted. She should have kept her tail at home if she wanted to work.

  And now that he held her in his arms and there was this connection, he wanted answers—lots of them.

  Knowing that she hadn’t come by choice didn’t make him feel any better. Manhattan Entertainment Group’s album-release parties were a media circus and a celebrity’s dream. Why would someone have to demand she attend? And why was he becoming more and more intrigued by the fact that she wasn’t impressed? He scanned the area, noting that everyone seemed to be having a great time, then gazed at the woman swaying with him to the wonderful music. He eased himself a little closer. “Comfortable?”

  “Depends on your definition of the word,” she said, her dry tone almost hidden by the sultry voice.

  Feisty. Pierce liked them feisty. She would definitely give as good as she got. “Comfortable means that you’re at least enjoying yourself.”

  “I was—”

  “Don’t give me that bull about enjoying yourself before I came over,” he countered. “You’d given up on the rest of us aliens.” Pierce leaned closer to her ear and whispered, “I’m hoping you’ll like at least one of us before you take your toys and go home.” He didn’t miss the smile that played across her luscious red lips. What would it be like to explore her lips? To explore her? He resisted the urge to lean in and press his mouth to hers. Raven was a jolt to his system.