Tempt Me, Taste Me, Touch Me

"They've got a table ready for us' he said, then stepped aside to let her move in front of him. A gentleman, that's what he was.

When was the last time she'd gone to dinner with a man who hadn't been trying to feel her up beneath the tablecloth, who hadn't been inviting her for a quickie in the bathroom between the salad and main course? She nearly sighed at what a surprisingly nice change Sam was from all those other men, then immediately gave herself a silent smack upside the head for being so l sappy.

She was on operation get-in-Sam's-pants, not on mission fall-in-Iove-with-him.

As Sam held out her chair for her, careful not to brush her skin with his hand in the process, Vanessa grinned at the utterly ridiculous thought of falling in love. A part of her, the wicked part that usually had free rein, was tempted to mess with him, to purposefully lean back against his arm as he moved away. But the sensual anticipation building between them was too enticing for her to mess everything up on a whim. He sat across from her, and she was mesmerized by his hands as he shook open his napkin and laid it across his lap. Again, she reminded herself what this dinner was all about. She was going to help Sam forget his ex-muse and lover while also getting what she wanted-namely him and his undoubtedly gifted cock-in the process.

Two glasses of Pinot Noir magically appeared on their table, "courtesy of Jack, who isn't here tonight, but is always glad to have you at Gerard's' and Vanessa lifted her glass in a toast.

Sam's eyes narrowed slightly as he followed her lead. She knew he didn't trust her, which she liked. It meant he was a smart man.

"To the wonderful weekend we're going to have;' she said, lightly clinking her glass against his. The Pinot was deliciously smooth as it ran down her throat into her empty belly. She was counting down the seconds, certain that he was going to say something serious, something to set her straight about his intentions.

"Posing is hard work he said right on cue, and she had to fight back her, grin. Men were so predictable, it killed her. Even this one, who had managed to surprise her several times during the past couple of hours. "Your muscles will ache, you'll be dying to change positions, you'll be bored and wish you'd never agreed to it."

She put her glass down, leaned her elbows on the table, and placed her head in her palms. "I'll tell you what's really hard' she said, "Statistics 101. I was a senior at Berkeley and I needed the class to graduate. It was boring and difficult:' She saw his eyebrows raise, taking in the new knowledge that she wasn't merely a hot piece of ass. She had a brain too. Which meant that it was time to bring his head back around to her ass by saying, "I nearly had to do my professor to get an A:'

His mouth moved, ever so slightly, and she could see he was fighting with himself about whether to give in to a grin at her audacity. So she added, "Oh, wait, I did sleep with him. He was young and hot and I ran into him at a bar on Telegraph right before finals. But I would have gotten an A anyway. Guess I had a knack for stats after all"

She knew he couldn't hold it in anymore, she'd played her cards just right, and she let herself soak up the sound of his laughter. "I could never get my head around numbers' he said when the glorious sound of his amusement stopped washing over Vanessa. "That's why I became a painter:'

"No' she said, shaking her head, taking another sip of wine.

"You became a painter because you're a painter:'

His glass was halfway to his lips when he put it down. "You're right' he said. "I never had a choice. Never wanted one either. I suppose there were a lot of things I could have been, but this was, the only life I wanted' She nodded, because she completely understood what it was like to be born into something. It had always been her calling to tell people what to do, what to like, what to keep an eye on. "So you're a statistician?" he asked, and she liked that he was I interested in her, that he was comfortable teasing her. "Nope, But if I'd been born into royalty I would have gone that route instead,"

His grin was sudden this time. "You like to control the world?" She raised an eyebrow. "I can't believe you have to ask."

He laughed again, and she was shocked by how much she liked the sound of it. By how much she liked him. She hadn't seen him smile before now, and she realized how much she'd been missing in his studio. Yes, he'd been mysterious and gorgeous and sort of wounded, and she'd wanted to have sex with him in every way imaginable.

But was it possible that he was even sexier when he smiled? Now that was a first.

A young female waiter came up to their table, and the adoration she heaped on Sam was embarrassing. "Sam, we haven't seen you here in a while. I've missed you' She blushed and stammered, "I mean, we've all missed you. You've probably been really busy painting, huh?" She was smart enough to press her lips shut and cut off her lovesick babbling, but her throat bobbled nervously and Vanessa actually felt sorry for the girl.

Sam took it in stride, probably used to women blabbering all over themselves when he was in the room. No wonder, she thought, staring at him over the rim of her wineglass. He was some seriously hot piece of ass. "Yeah, I've been really busy, but it's nice to see you too, Julie."

His smile was genuine, and Vanessa found herself liking the way he didn't preen his feathers at the hero worship. Working to make the waitress more comfortable, he asked, "What are the specials tonight?" Yet again, in the sweet way that he dealt with a young girl in puppy love, he had put all of Vanessa's other lovers to shame. She couldn't imagine how nasty, how snide her latest CEO would have been to a young girl who thought he was cute.

As Julie rattled off dishes, Vanessa continued her slow perusal of her artist "lova" for the weekend. Throughout, she couldn't tear her eyes from Sam's hands.

She hadn't been kidding when she'd said he had a way with them. They were beautiful. Large and hard, as if he spent more time with a hammer than a paintbrush. Tanned with a light dusting of hair on his knuckles. His nails were short and surprisingly I clean for someone who spent hours working with color and clay every day. She could only imagine how they'd feel caressing her skin, slipping into her and ...

The waitress interrupted her lusty thoughts, and it took Vanessa a moment to surface. She wanted Sam, not sauteed leeks on a bed of polenta. But she knew she needed to bide her time, so she put a smile on and said, "Whatever special is the best. That's what I want:' She felt Sam's eyes on her, knew he liked how she'd ordered.

"PR has always seemed like a bunch of smoke and mirrors to me' he said after the waitress moved away. "You don't like to be told what to do, do you?" "Nope."