Long, Slow Surrender Page 5

  Connor put a protesting hand on the car door. “Theodore doesn’t like clubs. What if he won’t show?”

  She ignored his statement, pulling away from the curb, and pressing her horn. Just to make sure he understood, she stuck her head out the window. “I’ll be at your place by nine o’clock to pick you up. Don’t be late.” She glanced in her rearview mirror and watched Connor get smaller and smaller as she drove away. Well, their first date had gone surprisingly well, considering it had been a disaster.

  Saturday would be their chance to get it right. She touched her lips, remembering his kiss…touched her breast, remembering his touch, and then smiled to herself. He inspired such passion in her. Passion she’d never felt before. And who would have thought that Michelle Lewis would be out at midnight, moonlighting on a bench? It felt good. An affair with Connor would be all that she imagined.

  And more.

  Chapter Four

  At Connor’s insistence, they took a taxi. Some didn’t like to travel by taxi, but Michelle had always secretly enjoyed it. Their taxi driver was Marty Clement, licensed since September 20, 2005.

  “Where to?”

  “Fifty-one fifty-one Fourth Avenue

  . Downtown.”

  Marty looked at Connor in the rearview mirror. “You sure about that?”

  Connor nodded.

  The taxi moved forward, pulling away from the curb.

  “Fourth Avenue

  it is.”

  Michelle found herself pressed back against the seat by the sudden movement, and laughed in delight. Connor’s intense gaze flickered over in her direction, and she felt a fresh burst of heat wash over her skin.

  He likes my dress. Oh, he hadn’t said one word, but the banked appreciation in his eyes spoke volumes. Every now and then, they would drift in her direction, as intimate as a touch.

  She shivered.

  “Cold?” he asked, glancing at her chest.

  She fought the urge to cross her arms over her breasts and, instead, smoothed the blue silk material lovingly over her thighs. She watched with smug confidence as he turned a little paler. “No, but thank you for asking.”

  The cab lurched to the right, interrupting her moment.

  The deserted residential streets slid by, although every now and then a dog-walker or evening jogger would appear. Michelle checked her watch. Nine-thirty. If she was back by one, she could spend an hour or so to finish going through the articles she’d found on industrial cleaning solvents and their side effects. She’d agreed to take Luis’s case almost immediately after they talked on Friday, and after less than twenty-four hours of research, she knew she was on to something. She’d already started the paperwork that would get the ball rolling.

  And Connor didn’t miss a thing. “Have someplace else you need to be?”

  She smiled and shook her head. She was exactly where she needed—and wanted—to be. Dressed in slacks and an emerald green button down shirt, his hair slightly mussed, and a wicked gleam in his eyes, he looked—perfect.

  “No. Tonight I’m going out on the town. It’s time to have fun.”

  His eyes locked with hers for a moment, and then he turned away, looking out the window instead.

  Coward.

  As they reached the downtown area, she took in the sight of all the restaurants and stores. The sounds and smells assailed her, even in the enclosed cab. Under the shimmering lights, two young lovers walked hand in hand. Michelle sighed, the long-forgotten echoes of Winston Marsalis playing in her head.

  The cab screeched around a corner, and Michelle slid into Connor. Mysteriously, her hand found its way to his thigh. Not so mysteriously, her hand worked its way up his thigh. Connor didn’t blink. “You don’t want to do that.”

  “Oh, I definitely do.”

  He sat straight, taut, very unlike the easygoing man she thought she knew. Michelle ventured ahead. “You’re attracted to me.”

  He shrugged. “You’re single. You’re a female. I’m not picky.”

  A sharp pain began to throb right between her eyes. She had known he was stubborn. Had always thought his “stick-to-his-guns” trait was admirable, appealing even. She was an imbecile. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “We don’t have to pretend, Connor.”

  “Yes. We do.”

  She offered him a soft, reassuring smile. “No. We don’t.”

  “We most definitely do.”

  Michelle moved in closer. “We could do sultry, carnal, you know.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Torrid.”

  She licked her lips, getting into the best femme fatale persona she could muster. The debriefing room had never been this entertaining.

  “No.” The denial sounded very forced.

  “I could make you change your mind.”

  “You belong to Theodore. Nothing can make me forget that.”

  Her jovial mood fizzled. “I’m Michelle Rose Lewis. Daughter of Virgil and Anita Lewis. Graduate, magna cum laude, of University of California-Berkeley and Stanford Law School. I am my own person. I will never be Theodore’s girl.”

  Connor turned away from her. She looked out the window herself, staring at the full moon casting a silver glow over the city.

  “He is head-over-heels for you.”

  “No, he isn’t. Theodore is in love with the notion of attaining something he can’t have. Besides, there is one thing Theodore will always care about more than me. Himself.”

  Connor turned back toward her and smiled. “You have a good point there.”

  “You’re stubborn.”

  His smile turned cocky and sure. “Must be a family trait.”

  Her leg began to tremble. She’d never quite been able to conquer the spasm of irritation, but she could disguise it. She settled back against the seat, crossed one ankle behind the other. Her voice was void of humor when she spoke. “Why did I ever have to meet the Sakumas?”

  “You’re cursed,” he replied, looking completely serious.

  “You think Theodore will show up tonight?”

  “Yeah, I told him we were going dancing. He knows where I go.”

  The driver turned his head and smiled at Michelle. “Fifty-one fifty-one Fourth Avenue

  . Ten dollars and fifty cents.”

  Connor dug out his wallet. He paid the driver, then held the door open for Michelle. But Marty wasn’t finished.

  “Hey man, let me give you some advice. If my girl looked like she does, and if my girl wanted to dance with me like that, I wouldn’t be in a taxi. I’d be giving her the Marty Mambo. You’re a chicken, man.” He pointed a finger at Connor to emphasize the words.

  Michelle smiled at the driver. “He’s not really chicken, just a little hesitant.”

  “Sweetheart, you need a real man? You come to Marty. I’ll treat you good in ways that exceed your imagination.”

  “Get out of the car, Michelle.”

  She exited from the taxi, cool, calm, and collected, trying to contain her smile. “You’re no fun, Connor.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He slammed the door behind her.

  Her heels clicked on the pavement as she made her way down the street. “But I’m still going to make you forget who and where you are before the night is over.”

  * * * *

  This dance club had always been one of Connor’s favorite places to hang out. Low-key and out of the way, no one ever made judgments. The music was sultry and sexy, just like the air. The atmosphere has always proven to be the best place to meet women.

  But tonight, he was playing the hero for Michelle. And he wasn’t a coward. That one remark from Marty had bothered him more than all the barbs against his testosterone levels. He had spent his entire life not measuring up to Theodore, and eventually, he’d stopped trying. But with Michelle? Damn. For her, he wanted to try again. Those thoughts of material success were weaving a spell in his head.

  Connor settled back against the stuffed cushions of his seat. He sipped his beer and let the
music seep into his mind. He’d already played that game once. Never again. Not even for Michelle.

  He watched as she moved on the dance floor. The midnight blue dress billowed out and then flowed back as she swayed to the sultry beat of the music.

  What was she doing with him? Why this sudden desire to walk on the wild side? Michelle was a high society type. About as straitlaced as Theodore and just as prim and proper. That’s what private preparatory school did to people. Probably was a good thing Connor hadn’t attended it. He didn’t want to be genteel, didn’t want to be conventional. His eyes narrowed, watching her move. Maybe not so straitlaced after all.

  He should be dancing with her. Instead, like a big jerk, he’d said no. And now, she was moving on the dance floor with two guys sandwiching her like a ménage in a music video.

  Great job, Connor.

  He glanced at his watch. Theodore should be arriving soon. Connor would have to hold Michelle in his arms, kiss that luscious mouth again, and caress all that smooth, silky skin.

  Why the hell had he agreed to this?

  Because you wanted to, sucker, a voice whispered in his head. One of the muscle-bound men tugged Michelle closer, and Connor put down his beer. He made his way out on the dance floor, reached for Michelle, and spoke very clearly to all the male members of her ménage. “She’s with me.”

  Michelle’s body brushed up against his and he inhaled deeply, suddenly, as the room seemed to spin.

  She glanced up at him from underneath half-mast lids, midnight blue material barely covering the cleavage he’d touched a couple of nights ago. Her eyes sparkled with ill-placed adoration. She definitely didn’t see him as a coward. Not tonight.

  “Has Theodore arrived?”

  “No.” Connor moved his body, picking up the smooth, rhythmic beat, and maneuvered her around the floor.

  Excitement shone in her eyes. “You came to dance with me on your own? You actually wanted to?” Her hands slid up his chest, to his shoulders, until they cupped his neck. “Don’t you think you want to kiss me as well?”

  The strong desire to do more than kiss her swamped him. He had to fight the urge to drag her back to his apartment, take the blue material off of her, and bury himself deep inside her for days. He glanced at the door, saw the scowl on Theodore’s face, and the corners of his mouth tilted upward. “Maybe I should.”

  He stopped swaying, and met her luscious mouth halfway. He had prayed, he had wished that his memories were false, that he’d made her out to be some sort of fantasy, but when he felt her lips soften under his tongue, it became clear that the reality was even better. She tasted so succulent, so good, and so exquisite. Her tongue tangled with his, moving back and forth, making love to him with her mouth.

  Their tongues mingled to the beat of the music. He pulled her closer until their bodies locked together. For a few moments, he let himself forget, but only for a few moments. He withdrew slowly, and gazed into her eyes, needing to understand her. “Why are you torturing me like this?”

  “I don’t want to torture you,”—her lips teased his jawline—“but I can’t resist you,”—her hands massaged his back—“and you are the last hope I have of getting your brother to move on and leave me alone.”

  He reached out and took her hands in his. He couldn’t seem to think straight when she touched him. “This can’t be real.”

  The salacious smile she gave him could have started a fire. He felt like he could combust any moment. She was hell on his self-control. “It has to be real. I want it to be real.”

  He clasped her hands to his chest. Much better, safer that way. “Why?”

  “Because I want it to be. I know there is more to life…passion, than what I have now. I have no doubt you can show me.”

  Images popped into his head. Captivating portrayals of naked flesh, long dark hair, and her mouth. On his skin. Oh, man. There was definitely a lot he could probably teach her. He coughed, his need to breathe momentarily forgotten. He had to regain control of this situation. Otherwise, it could get ugly. “Michelle, I can point out at least six other guys, seven if you count Marty, who would be more than happy to teach you the meaning of passion.”

  Her gaze didn’t leave his to seek out six of the seven men he referred to. “And you make eight. But more importantly, you are the one that I want. The only one who matters.”

  “I don’t know why I try to rationalize with you.”

  He took a step away from her before he lost himself and touched her again. Before he forgot what this was all about. Before he didn’t remember that he had a brother.

  The eyes that had looked at him with adoration now shone with disappointment. She reached for his arm before he could move further away. “Can’t we have it out later, Connor? Theodore is here.” She gave a small nod toward the entrance to the dance club. “At least play along for now.”

  Play along.

  It would be a struggle, but for now, he could do it. He studied his brother out the corner of his eye. Theodore found a small table and ordered a drink. Connor knew what he needed to do. He tugged Michelle closer, inhaled her perfume—what was the name of the intoxicating scent she wore?—and saw his brother’s eyes narrow.

  What the hell was he doing?

  Michelle drew away and danced slowly around him, taunting, provoking, using her luscious mouth to send him imaginary kisses. He had to admit that he was not happy with imaginary. He wanted the real thing. He looked at Theodore who now looked away.

  Damn it.

  This wasn’t supposed to hurt his brother. Then again, nothing hurt Theodore. At least it didn’t now. Theodore had achieved every goal he set, except one. Making Michelle—the most exceptional woman Connor had ever met—his wife.

  Her hair twirled around her shoulders, brushing his face, his arm. Once again, Connor was struck with the feeling of not wanting to follow through with the plan. He just couldn’t stoop to that level.

  “I’m sorry, Michele. I can’t do this.”

  Her lips curved upward into a sexy and sure smile. He wasn’t certain he could get used to her playing the role of seductress. She grabbed for his hands and led him off the dance floor. They walked a few steps to the narrow hallway where autographed photos of famous people who frequented the club hung.

  In the low lighting, her smile dimmed, became less confident. “Connor, you’re the only person who can really help me with this.”

  “You have to find another way to handle this. Did you not see the way my brother is looking at you? I’m not as emotionally cut off as it may appear. I can’t ignore his feelings. Sit down and talk to him. Break up with him yourself.”

  Her growl could have been heard in Texas. “You can’t dump someone you aren’t with.” She paused, closed her eyes briefly, and exhaled slowly. “I have talked to Theo several times. I’m tired of talking. Besides, he doesn’t listen. But I can show you better than I can tell you. If I talk to him again, and he still refuses to believe I’m not his soul mate, then will you agree to help me all the way through the end?”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “How am I to know if you are really trying? I don’t trust you when it comes to this, Michelle.”

  She threw her hands up in frustration and he caught a glimpse of her breast, the shadow of her nipple. Oh, how he craved to touch her. “Look. You can decide for yourself. I will ask Theodore if he can come over tomorrow night for dinner, and you can listen in on the entire conversation.”

  “Spy?” He frowned.

  “You just said that you don’t trust me when it comes to this.”

  Connor sighed, but remained silent.

  She folded her arms over her chest. “Do you have any better way?”

  Connor wished for a moment of creativity, but the only thing he could think about was how much he wanted to see her again. Then his frown deepened.

  “Why tomorrow night after this ruse tonight?”

  She tilted her head to the side. “Because you don’t work on Sunday
nights and I know you don’t have class. Otherwise, it might be tricky to arrange this. Time I don’t have. So, stop by before six at my place.”

  “Well, unfortunately, I do have something to work on tomorrow. Can we make it Tuesday night instead?”

  She closed her eyes, the image of a very attractive woman desperately looking for help. “Okay,” she said, sounding completely exhausted.

  His heart turned over in his chest.

  Connor enclosed Michelle’s hand in his and headed out of the club, barely acknowledging his brother on the way out. His stomach clenched the way it did when he’d overindulged on food. He was starting to realize he couldn’t trust himself around Michelle. It wouldn’t take much for him to cross a line that he shouldn’t, and he was positive Michelle knew it.

  Michelle was trouble. Around the time Connor had become a chef, he realized that he was content with his life. He enjoyed his neighbors and liked his close circle of friends. He felt like he’d found where he belonged. But every time he looked at Michelle, every time she studied him with those calm, accessing eyes, he felt anything but comfort.

  He wanted to impress her with his every move or captivate her with charm and wit. When he really thought about it, he was sure neither was likely to happen. There was only one true knight in the Sakuma family. Theodore.

  Connor made sure that Michelle made it back to her loft safely. Now there was nothing left to do but to go home and wish he were someone other than Theodore Sakuma’s older brother.

  Chapter Five

  All too early Tuesday morning, Julia knocked softly and then entered Michelle’s office sporting her latest eyewear—Army camouflage plastic frames. On the average person, it would be silly, but the personal assistant wore the Army colors very well.

  “Boss lady, Sakuma’s on line four.”