Arousal Read online

  “I will manage your boss.”

  “I don’t need you to manage my boss for me, nor do I need a rescue. What I need is to get back to work.”

  “You didn’t seem this offended in the elevator,” he said. “Now you are dismissing me the way you dismissed that reporter who looked like he wanted to have you for dessert?”

  Damn, he saw that.

  “This is different, but it is the same principle.” The strength of my conviction on this point helped me stay strong even though he made my knees weak. “I don’t flirt with the press because I want to represent my clients in the most professional manner. And I don’t get into romantic encounters with clients for the same reason. It is a bad practice, and I won’t endanger our business relationship. I had no idea who you were in that elevator. Regardless, you were a stranger. I never should have kissed you. I have never ever done anything like that in my life. It was wrong.”

  He listened patiently, but the way he cocked his eyebrows told me he did not agree with my assessment that it was wrong.

  “Are you finished, Ms. Monroe?”

  I nodded.

  “Do you believe in fate? That some things are meant to be?”

  “I am a born and bred New Yorker.” I laughed. “So no, I’m not trusting enough to believe in fate.”

  A thoughtful expression crossed his handsome face. He took a deep breath before speaking. “Although my mother was American, my father was Romanian, and I was raised with a strong connection to an ancient folk culture that has a deep respect for Providence,” he said. “I was taught some things are pre-ordained.”

  “That’s a lovely philosophy for life,” I answered politely. “But I am a big fan of free will and I don’t believe that our paths in life are mapped out by the hand of fate.”

  His eyes lit up. “But you do believe there is a hand of fate? A possibility?”

  “I guess,” I said, biting my lip and wondering why he was waxing philosophical. “But fate is not as reliable as taking a proactive approach to life, is it?”

  “What if they are not mutually exclusive? What if you could take a proactive approach to establishing something that is meant to be?”

  “I guess anything is possible,” I said, shaking my head. “It depends on what one considers or defines as meant to be. And how important it is to the individual.”

  “What if you considered we met in that elevator for a reason?” He was unyielding about making his point. “And what if everything that occurred was part of a bigger plan?”

  “What if you came up with a normal pick up line?” I was shouting now. “You’re turning a random, accidental kiss, into some big cosmic occurrence. You could more easily sell me on the idea of having spontaneous sex with you on this terrace.“ Oh, fuck. I didn’t mean for that to come out of my mouth.

  He laughed. Then he moved in closer and took my hand.

  “Well that’s good information to have, Ms. Monroe,” he said with an amused grin. “And, as a man who appreciates your charms, I’m not opposed to the idea. But I am hoping you will want more than my body. “

  I swallowed hard on his last words and had to reclaim my personal space. Slowly, I extricated my hand from his to lean on the railing, a safe distance away. He followed my lead, leaning his long, muscular body alongside mine. We both looked out at New York’s twinkling lights and grabbed a moment of silence. High above the city, removed from stress and strain, there was a great peace. His arms were twelve inches away from mine, and he seemed to be respecting the space between us. But my body was literally swaying in the breeze, sometimes moving nearer to his, as if the wind was plotting to bring us closer.

  Just when I was starting to settle in to the moment, he pushed off from the railing, stood to his full six two height and turned toward me. The look on his face said he was mulling something over. I assumed he would try to kiss me—and that I would then have to decide if I would risk my job for another kiss. My breathing slowed in anticipation of his next move.

  “We may not always understand the concept of fate,” he said, sounding like a voice-over on the History Channel or someone delivering a Ted Talk. “Discovering the truth can sometimes, at first, seem impossible or improbable. But it can change us quickly—it will change us quickly—and move us to where we need to go.”

  “I am not exactly sure what you mean,” I said. Actually, I had no idea what he was talking about, but his voice was lulling me into some sort of trance.

  His next words snapped me out of it.

  “I believe we have a destiny together, Ms. Monroe.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I want to marry you.”

  Chapter Three

  Holy crap! I gripped the rail for extra support and tried to stay calm, but my heart sank because now I had to confront the idea that this very hot man was, quite possibly, delusional. Why couldn’t he just kiss me or back me into the railing and tell me he wants to fuck me? Destiny? Marriage?

  “Is this a joke?” I felt myself unraveling as I shouted the question at him.

  “I would never joke about a marriage proposal.” He was completely self-possessed.

  “How could you possibly say something like that to me and not be joking?” I was shaking my head. “I’ve known you for, what, two hours? Do you need a green card or something?”

  “No. I assure you, if I did, this wouldn’t be the way I’d obtain one.”

  “Is this an old European custom? Because in this country, it’s a very weird thing to say to someone you’ve just met.”

  “You don’t have to agree to anything tonight.”

  I stared at him in disbelief. “I most certainly am not going to agree tonight, or any night. On top of this being utterly ridiculous, you’re a client and even having this conversation with you is putting me at risk on so many levels.”

  “Anytime the heart is involved, there is risk. But your job, that’s not the risk you will face.”

  “Look, I’m here to launch your product.” It felt like my head would explode from anger. “I am sorry if I misled you. I have no interest in anything other than doing a good job. I’ve put my everything into this product. Your product! I haven’t had a weekend to myself in three months planning this event tonight and cajoling media to be here. I’m not here to make out with the investor or entertain marriage proposals.”

  I folded my arms across my chest, as if it could shield me from any feelings of attraction for—or from—him. Somehow they did not go away.

  “Haven’t you ever heard of love at first sight?” He looked at me like I was the slightly crazy one.

  “In movies and wedding toasts.” A gust of wind swept across the patio and lifted my hair, as if on cue. I placed a hand across the top of my head trying to stop my locks from looking like something out of a high fashion photo shoot.

  “Maybe it happens for real.” He got that serious look on his face again, determined to debate me.

  “Maybe, but if you are talking about this evening, I think you are confusing a sexual attraction for love.” Why did I even mention the word sexual?

  “Okay, fair enough,” he said, reaching over to place a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “But isn’t sexual attraction a symbol of love? Or a doorway to love?”

  “I think sex hormones sometimes blind us from seeing the truth.” Now I felt like I was the one reading to him from Cosmo Magazine. In fact, I wished I had some hard data to back my point of view because he was so insistent about his.

  “Or,” he persisted, “they might also help us see things we would not have noticed before. Arousal might just open your heart, or help you see someone in a different way.”

  “Honestly, it would have been hard not to notice you, under any circumstances.” I sighed. He had to know he was gorgeous and that women could not take their eyes off him. “But this,” I pointed to him and back to myself, “is off limits.” Looking at him made every part of me feel alive. Standing close made me want to be closer.

  Tha
t’s why I had to get away.

  “Things can happen very quickly when they’re meant to be,” he said, speaking gently now. “And when we allow them to unfold.”

  “Okay, Mr. Petre, I can’t do this.” I put my palm up in a talk-to-the-hand gesture. “I can’t have this discussion with you, my client. If I can assist you with your business needs in any way, please let me know. I have to get back to work.”

  I pulled his jacket off my shoulders and shoved it back in his hands and turned to leave. He looked oddly amused more than offended.

  “Ms. Monroe,” he called after me. I did not want to turn, but I did. “I don’t believe this discussion is quite finished.”

  “Oh, yes it is,” I answered, trying to cut him off from saying anything else. I headed back to the party, but my head was spinning and my chest felt tight.

  “Fate does not always intervene on a convenient schedule.” He shouted after me as I exited. “And it often arrives with an expiration date.”

  I hated that he got the last word.

  Chapter Four

  I went back to the press table, relieved to be out of his range. Something about his immediate proximity caused me to feel things I should not be feeling.

  What the hell was he talking about? Fate? Expiration dates? He must have been playing me. He was rich, gorgeous, and powerful, so he could play with women all he wanted. Maybe he took pleasure in rattling people with weird declarations of meant-to-be. I’d felt something between us, but I had to chalk it up to lust. What else could it have possibly been?

  Busying myself with the work at hand, my equilibrium returned by having something to focus on other than the crazy episode on the terrace. I was back in my element, talking to media people again, when out of the corner of my eye I caught Sheila having a conversation with Nicolai. She twirled her hair and pressed herself toward his body with a big, fake smile. Dear Lord. Next thing I knew, he said something that made her look over at me, and she started walking over. Nicolai was with her, with one of my press kits in his hand. He eyed me as they approached. What the fuck? Maybe he told her what happened, and now she was bringing him over to accuse me of the crime of disobeying her directives. Jeez. Before I could even think of disappearing, they were standing in front of me.

  “Allison Monroe,” she said, not even bothering to hide the tone of disdain and condescendence in her voice. “This is Mr. Nicolai Petre. His company is responsible for the product we are launching. He wanted to meet the person who is handling the press tonight. And, by the way, in his culture, men do not greet women with handshakes, so no need to shake his hand.”

  I fought the urge to roll my eyes and stood there, arms at my side. He stepped forward, reached for my hand, and brought it to his mouth to kiss as he did the first time in the elevator and again on the terrace. This time, I was sorely aware of the energy sizzling between his hand and mine. And he was not letting go any time soon. Unfortunately, the hand kiss did not escape Sheila, and I could see the green-eyed monster bulge in her pale blue eyes. She was livid.

  “Mr. Petre,” I said, nodding a greeting, pretending to not know him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “No, the pleasure is all mine,” he said. “I wonder, Ms. Monroe, if I could borrow you for a moment. I have a few questions about the press kit and also the media here tonight.”

  “Um, well.” I looked at Sheila, nervous she would turn into one of those old cartoon characters with steam coming out of their ears when angry, because she looked pissed. “Of course.” What could I do? He’d cornered me, with the help of my boss, who was going to throw a shit fit if she realized what he was really up to.

  “Sheila, I’m going to steal Ms. Monroe for a moment or two,” he said. “You won’t mind filling in for her, will you?”

  “Absolutely not, Nicolai,” she said in a clearly flirtatious voice, sneering at me. She was the Vice President. I was the lowly Account Executive. Even though my father started the firm, she’d made sure I was forced to toil on the lower end of the totem pole. Clearly, doing my job was a step down for her.

  With that, his hand went to my lower back again and he pressed us forward. I hated that I loved the feel of his hand on me. He nodded toward an office door in the near distance, indicating this was our destination. As soon as we got out of Sheila’s hearing range, I blasted him, “What do you think you are doing?”

  “Getting you out of work for a while.” He quickened his pace and rushed us out of her view. “So we can talk.”

  “I told you I am done with that conversation. Are you, a freaking caveman?”

  “Yes. And I don’t give up on matters of the heart.”

  “Matters of the heart? Do you think it’s romantic to tell someone you barely know that you have a destiny with them? It sounds like a line from a bad movie.”

  He moved us into the office and closed the door, an uncompromising look on his face. As soon as we were alone, he turned his body to me and maneuvered us both so I was backed up against the office door. Next, he was over me, holding himself there by the hand he’d placed above my head. My back sank against the smooth steel. He lowered his head, his eyes hovering over mine, his lips so close. That feeling, the one where some invisible magnetic energy seemed to pull us together, rose between us. It was undeniable, whatever it was, and it was strong. It was holding me against the door as much as he was.

  “Hear me out,” he said. His mouth was mere inches from mine and his breath was hot and sweet on my face. He pressed his body closer to mine. “Will you listen?”

  His lips were close enough to taunt me with the possibility of a kiss. I inhaled the scent of his skin with every breath, detecting the very subtle aftershave. Something about the way he smelled drove me wild. Even his underarm, so close to my nose, was sweet and clean. I could have easily buried my nose into his flesh. I could only imagine the primal masculine scents that were dripping off of him and weakening my resolve to not desire him. He kept us there, waiting for my response.

  Finally, I nodded in agreement. With his gaze still on me, he lifted his large body from mine and gave me room to move.

  “Let’s go back into the fresh air.” I was glad to put a little distance between whatever just happened and his seductive essence. He walked us over to a glass door that led to another side of the terrace we had been on before. It had an alternative breathtaking view of New York. From this vantage point, the moon hung even brighter over the city.

  “Okay, I’m listening.” I folded my arms over my chest, happy to find a big pillar to lean on for support.

  “I know this may sound a bit unusual, but I am obligated to tell you the truth. I hope you can hear this in your heart, and not just in your head.” He took a deep breath.

  I nodded for him to continue.

  “It’s very simple, really. The time has come for me to find my true partner in life and I believe you are the one.”

  “Just like that?” I said, snapping my fingers, exasperated. “Out of the blue?” I shot him an angry look.

  “I realize this may be difficult to believe, but it’s not out of the blue.” His posture was erect and confident.

  “It is for me. How could you know this, yet I have no clue what you are talking about?” I shifted my weight from foot to foot trying hard to keep my body from moving toward his.

  “I just do.” He spoke with conviction, as if it was a fact, but his voice was softer. “I believe you are my Ves’tacha.”

  “Ve-what?”

  “Ves’tacha. It means beloved, meant-to-be.”

  “What makes you think I even want my destiny to be with you?” The moon and the sky and the twinkling buildings were romantic, but this was more like a foreign film with hard-to-read subtitles. He was clearly speaking in English, yet the nature of our discussion was foreign to me.

  “You don’t yet, quite obviously. I have to make you believe in me, in us. I have to win you.” He held his head high as if he was proud to be taking on this challenge. “But I d
o believe you will see me in a different light—perhaps through different eyes—in a short period of time. This is my hope, anyway.”

  “What if I say, no, not interested?” My mind said, “walk away,” but my feet did not want to leave.

  “Forgive my impertinence, but I sense you are extremely interested and intrigued, Ms. Monroe.” His confidence unnerved me, but he was spot on. “Your kiss, the emotions running through you, the way your body sways toward mine, they don’t lie. You’re scared because it seems like this is all happening quickly, too fast for your comfort.”

  “I didn’t even know who you were before tonight.”

  “I knew you. Well … knew of you.”

  “That’s creepy. On so many levels. Did you Google me? Wait, did you investigative me?” This should have been my cue to run as if the terrace was on fire, but I actually was interested in hearing his explanation.

  “No, something much simpler and perhaps even less acceptable to you,” he said, looking off into the city for a moment, then bringing his blue-green gaze back to me. “My grandmother is a seer and she had a dream about the woman I would marry. You are the one she described to me. She said I would know you when I saw you. And I did, when I first saw you in the elevator. I dared to kiss you because you seemed so familiar. I had to taste your lips on mine to know for sure.”

  “Wait, did you rig the elevator to stall so you had an excuse to kiss me?” Even I could hear how ridiculous that sounded.

  “Of course not,” he said. “But once the wheels of destiny start churning, unexpected things happen. Your panic was a chance for me to soothe you. It was my natural response to the circumstances. Can you forgive me for kissing you without your permission?”

  “I’m not sure.” I pulled my arms tighter around myself. “Maybe I can consider it, if you tell me why you are in such a rush to get married to someone you just met tonight.”