Page 22 of Naughty Bedtime Stories

Her heart stuttered. “You want me to…” Had he just said sensual exploration? “I…no, no, I—”

“Want to go, but you’re afraid,” he said, picking up both of his treasure books. “Which is exactly why you need to do this. And exactly why I’m going to leave before you make an excuse you don’t really want to make. I’ll send a car to the store for you, Saturday at 8:00 p.m.” He turned and headed for the door.

“Wait!” she said, stepping toward the door. “Blake, wait—”

He turned at the door. “I’ll see you Saturday night, Kimberly.” He smiled and pushed open the door.

Kimberly? Why did her full name spoken in that moment, by this man, sound darn near like foreplay?

Saturday night had arrived, and Kim hadn’t heard from Blake since his announcement that she was going to the exhibit with him—tonight. She was going with him tonight. Still in her robe, Kim stood in the closet of her downtown apartment, tossing clothes off hangers in a fit of “What do I wear?”

“Wear my red silk dress.” The answer came from her roommate and the co-owner of the bookstore, Jessica Trap, who stood in the doorway, red dress in hand. “It’s sexy and bold. It says you aren’t afraid.”

“Absolutely not,” Kim said, shaking her head and pointing at the offending garment. “That dress has cleavage to the waist, not to mention it’s red. Great for a blonde like yourself—” she motioned to the freshly styled abundance of red curls on her head “—but in case you didn’t notice, I have enough red going on with my hair.” She snatched the emerald-green dress she’d dropped on the floor and held it up. The neckline was high, up to her throat—safe. She needed something safe, something that made her feel in control.

“Sure,” Jessica said, leaning a shoulder on the doorjamb. “If you want to look like the daughter of a couple of schoolteachers, all prim and proper and prudish, then yeah, sure. Wear that one.”

“Iamthe daughter of a couple of schoolteachers.”

“Since when does that come with the requirement of being sexually repressed?”

“Sexually repressed?” She gaped, appalled, indignant. “I amnotsexually repressed.”

“When was the last time you had an orgasm you didn’t give yourself?”

Kim crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared. “That was low and you know it.” Low because Kim had confessed her orgasm history to Jessica—or rather lack thereof—only months before. No man, not even Joseph, her attorney ex-boyfriend whom she’d dated two years too long, had given her an orgasm with actual intercourse—ever.

“You want this man,” Jessica said, pushing off the doorjamb and walking to Kim with the dress extended. “You’re petite, with curves in all the right places, and this dress shows them off. Give yourself permission to wear the dress, and to enjoy the man.”

Chapter Two

A dark sedan appeared in front of the bookstore at exactly eight o’clock. Kim watched from the window as a man in a dark, fitted suit exited the driver’s side and walked toward the store. She opened the door to greet him, all too aware of the deep cleavage of the red dress she’d actually convinced herself to wear.

“Ms. Baker?” the fortysomething, distinguished-looking man inquired.

“Yes, that’s me,” she said, the hot Texas night air rushing over her from the entryway.

“A message from Mr. Morgan,” he said, offering her an envelope.

She frowned and looked toward the car, having assumed Blake was inside waiting for her, but now, not so sure. Her chest tightened. Had he changed his mind about the invitation?

Kim slipped her small black bag over her shoulder and opened the envelope to the plain white note card with neat, male script inside.Anticipation is half thepleasure.Don’t you think? I’ll seeyou soon.

Heat rushed through Kim, and she swallowed hard before reading the message again, noting the italicized word “pleasure.”

“Shall we depart, Ms. Baker?”

Kim’s gaze jerked to the driver whom she’d all but forgotten. He arched a gray eyebrow that clearly said “Last chance to run. Stay or go?” Butterflies fluttered in Kim’s stomach, and she exhaled a slow breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding.

“Yes,” she said, surprising herself at how quickly the reply slid from her lips.

The driver gave a nod and stepped to the side of the door to allow her exit.

A quick flip of the lock on the door and a short walk, and Kim slid into the backseat of the sedan. Thankfully, the driver shut her inside quickly, because her skirt was gaping open at the split, and while she knew tonight she should embrace showing a little thigh, she thought she’d save her courage for Blake.

The second the door shut, her gaze flickered to the open bottle of champagne on ice with a flute waiting for her use. Excitement settled in her stomach. This was really happening. She was in a car with champagne, headed on a sensual adventure with a man who made her hot just by purely existing.

A smile slid onto her lips. She never did things like this. Never. It felt good, it felt dangerous and thrilling and… Her ex’s words rang in her head. He’d called her “frigid,” when they’d broken up. But then, she’d never felt what she felt for Blake with her ex. Never felt all warm and wanting by simply looking at the man, as she did Blake. Still…what if Blake thought she was frigid?

---