Page 17 of Mr. Scandalous

Alec wriggled his eyebrows at her.

“You think they’d like that one?”

“No, butIwould.”

She felt her cheeks burn, and she quickly fought off the blush. She was a professional. She created sexy gift baskets for a living. She refused to be ashamed or embarrassed by frank sexual talk.

“Which do you fancy.” She slanting him a teasing glance. “Role-playing the master or the slave?”

“Oh,” he said, “I’m totally democratic. I believe in taking turns.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

My gosh, had she just said that? Eden longed to slap her hand over her mouth, but she didn’t.

His gray eyes crinkled at the corners. “What else you got?”

“Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down?”

“Another intriguing prospect.”

In her mind’s eye she vividly saw Alec laying buck naked, and tied to a poster bed in four-point restraints. Instant moisture dampened her body as she ached with sudden need. How could a stranger made her feel so recklessly intense? She gulped and struggled to compose herself.

“More.” He waved a hand.

Eden shook her head to dispel the visual images that didn’t want to leave. “The Stable Hand and Lady Godiva. We’re talking leather and lace, long blond wig for Lady Godiva, that sort of thing.”

“Good one, but let’s keep looking.”

“The Chauffeur and the Contessa?”

“Perhaps.”

“The Bon Vivant and the Virgin?”

Alec snapped his fingers. “There. Now that sounds perfect for Randy and Jill. What sort of items do you envision in that one?”

Eden sucked in her breath. He had chosenherfavorite fantasy. The uninitiated virgin’s sexual awakening at the hands of a master seducer thrilled Eden to her core. Her mind, which for the past few weeks had been completely sluggish when it came to new and sexy ideas, filled with a hundred intriguing possibilities.

“W-well,” she stuttered, and wondered why she was stammering. “In my creations I strive to appeal to all five senses. We start with the crucible. The basket is not always an actual basket, you know. It can be anything from a motorcycle helmet to a briefcase to an Igloo cooler.”

“Ah. So in the case of The Bon Vivant and the Virgin, we might use a champagne bucket instead of a basket.”

“Exactly. Let me make some notes.” She reached for her tote bag again, but he pulled a pen from his jacket pocket and held it out to her.

“Oh, thank you.”

Tentatively, she reached for the pen. Her fingertips brushed his and she nearly came unraveled. She held the pen, still warm from his body heat and suppressed a dreamy sigh.

The longer she held the pen, the warmer it grew against her skin. She gulped. Excitement, along with a good deal of fear, sizzled through her veins. Hurriedly she scribbled on a yellow legal pad that she kept tucked in her portfolio and didn’t dare look up.

“There,” she said, after she’d jotted down what they had so far. “We’re making progress.”

“What next?”

“I usually line the baskets with something plush. It can be a piece of lush fabric, or it can be a garment. Like a negligee or scarf. I’ve got swatches.”

She flipped to the back of the portfolio, where she had glued small squares of sensual fabrics, and held her breath. Did she have the courage to continue the technique she used when helping a client pick out the material?

---