touching him at my leisure appealed to me. Tasting him, too. Letting him touch and taste me. A sultry heat invaded my veins, and I licked my lips. A few nights of hot, dirty (unemotional) loving would surely cure me of this obsession for him. Of my need for his naked body straining against mine, slipping and pumping erotically inside me.
Yes, I decided then, already eager to begin. I would seduce him after the party. For my peace of mind, if nothing else. I would sleep with him and keep my heart well guarded. When the passion was sated, he and I would part. Simple. Easy. No one would get hurt.
"Kera," I said. "I want Royce, so you can't have him."
She grinned slowly, as if that was what she'd wanted to hear all along.
Mel muttered, "About time."
In all of my life, I'd been with a total of two men. Number one: Jase Waldren, my high-school crush. After several months of "going steady," he'd taken my virginity in the back seat of his rusty yellow truck and had never called me again. Not that I'd cared. I'd been about as close to orgasm that night as I was to buying a pair of Dolce amp; Gabbana black leather stiletto boots right now.
Number two: my ex-husband. I'd just started working for a local party-planning business, and Richard the Bastard had strolled in looking all suave and self-assured, needing help with a business function. He was a divorce lawyer and ten years my senior. Caught in his charismatic snare, I'd requested that I be assigned to him. I don't know why, but he'd taken an instant liking to me, as well, and had romanced the hell out of me.
We married soon after.
Right after the ceremony, he'd hinted that I needed to quit my job. He hadn't said it in so many words, but he'd wanted me to devote every waking moment to him. So I stupidly did it. I'd loved him and wanted to make him happy. And a small part of me had liked the thought of taking care of him. How romantic it had seemed. Give up everything for love and all that crap. Yeah. Right. I'd known better. My mom had given up her life for my dad, as well.
What had my let-me-please-you personality won me? A husband who had sometimes ignored me, always taken me for granted and never found me good enough. A husband who'd found me lacking and hadn't minded telling me so.
A husband who'd preferred to spread his love all over Texas rather than sleep with his own wife. Yep, I'd known better.
After our divorce, no one had wanted to hire me. I'd not only slept with a big-name client, I'd walked away from a job without notice, as well. What's worse, I'd deserved the lack of confidence from potential employers. How much more stupid could I have been?
I'd been forced to start my own business with what little money I had. I was glad for that now, of course, but six months ago I'd been an emotional wreck, scared of failure and nearing bankruptcy. Perhaps I could have done something different, taken a menial job I'd hate, but I had no skills other than party planning and honestly couldn't see myself doing anything else.
Was history repeating itself? I suddenly wondered.
Here I was again, lusting after a client and determined to have an affair with him. Like Richard, Royce had developed an instant attraction to me, something I just didn't understand. It was too rare. Most men preferred the lithe beauty of Kera or the wild, untamed personality of Mel.
I massaged the muscles in my neck and pretended to study the clothes in front of me. What was it with me and men with names that started with R? If a man's first name started with R, was I destined to find him irresistible?
"Uh, Naomi. Hello?"
Kera's voice penetrated my thoughts. I shook my head, forcing myself to concentrate on her and not the past. "What?"
"You were in some sort of sad, I'm-about-to-cry-or-kill-someone trance. I asked what you were thinking about."
"Richard. Royce. My own stupidity." I waved a hand through the air, effectively cutting off that line of conversation. "It doesn't matter. Mel," I said, "there's a guy I want to introduce you to. He's very cute. Tall, dark hair. Good sense of humor."
Mel's vivid features brightened. "Who is he?"
"His name is Colin Phillips and he works for Royce." I recalled what Royce had told me about