* * *
Brice stood next to the elevators on the tenth floor of the Hotel Monaco, outside the banquet room. He glanced at his phone again, checking the time she'd sent her last text. He pulled at the black tie knotted around his throat, distracted. His phone had started ringing at lunch and hadn't stopped until Janna had finally told him to answer it or throw the damn thing in the street.
He'd answered it, and that had been the end of their afternoon together.
The deal Brice was negotiating was beyond frustrating. He was attempting to open a new 5-star restaurant at one of his resorts along the coast, and he wanted Stephen St. Simmons to open it with him. St. Simmons was a world-renowned chef who had recently left his post at one of Seattle's hottest restaurants due to a dispute with the owner. Actually, between the owner and his wife.
Mrs. St. Simmons was not an easy woman to get along with. In fact, if Brice was honest, she was a shrew. A harridan. Just a mean bitch. But she was Stephen's manager, his partner, and if anyone wanted St. Simmons services, they'd have to go through her. Brice knew it wasn't helping Stephen's career. The man could cook, and by now he should have his own restaurant or even a TV show. Instead, he let his wife handle the business aspect of his career. She was currently negotiating his contract with all the subtlety of a pit bull going at a chew toy. If their present situation were any indication, Stephen would do much better turning his business over to a real advisor and keeping his wife far from his affairs.
He was near livid at the interruption of his afternoon with Janna, especially when he was forced to leave her after lunch, to answer yet another round of Melinda St. Simmon's irrational, nit-picky questions. Brice's patience was running thin, and he wanted the damn contract signed already. Before he'd left to return to the hotel and get ready for the event, he'd pulled Stephen aside and told him so.
"Look, you're an excellent chef, and I want you at my resort. I think this is an important opportunity for you, and if this first restaurant is the success I believe it will be, it opens the door for more. I want you to be a partner in this, not just a chef. But I won't wait forever. I suggest you talk to your wife and make it clear that I want to wrap up negotiations. If we can't get the contracts signed by tomorrow, I have serious doubts that our partnership will become a reality. Think about it. We'll talk tomorrow."
Brice scowled down at his phone again. She'd texted him fifteen minutes ago, saying she was on her way. He hadn't seen her since lunch since he'd left her in the limo and headed off in a cab. He'd given Chase a list of stores to take her to, and he'd also left her his credit card. Janna had started to protest, but he'd kissed her until she melted into him, unable to resist any longer. It had been so damn hard to leave her as she was, her lips swollen with his kisses, her eyes dazed, unfocused, and the most beautiful rosy blush darkening her pale skin. He thought it was the loveliest sight he'd ever seen.
That was before the pictures had started coming in.
It seemed she'd decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. In the limo, he'd told her it had been all about anticipation, but the truth was, if he started making love to her, he wouldn't stop. There would be no lunch. No shopping. No charity dinner. And no meetings with the St. Simmons’. Janna had apparently latched on to the notion, however, and was doing her damnedest to keep him hard all afternoon.
She'd been shopping, and in the beginning, it had seemed innocent enough. She'd wanted his opinion on certain dresses, and so she'd snap a pic with her phone and send it to him. The first few were innocuous, although the dresses hadn't been very noteworthy. But then things got interesting. A dress that wasn't zipped up all the way and was sliding down her body, only her arm across her chest keeping it from exposing her breasts. A skirt that was already too short, to begin with being hiked so far up her thigh that he swore he could see a hint of black panties underneath. And after that, all hell had broken loose.
Brice's cock had been hard for hours. He'd been grateful that his meeting had taken place in a conference room so that the table could hide his massive erection. He knew it was rude to keep checking his phone, but every time the damn thing buzzed in his pocket, he couldn't tear his attention away. Janna in an inappropriately short skirt, bent over so that those black panties were exposed, along with the curve of her succulent ass. Janna bent forward, the top of a strapless dress barely covering her chest, the globes of her milky white breasts exposed to his gaze.
Finally, the one that had him running to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. Janna in her black strapless bra and tiny panties, brazen, head tossed back proudly to send her curls into a riot. That picture had almost made him want to eat his words. Anticipation be damned. He needed this woman. The sooner, the better.
When he'd made it back to the hotel suite to prepare for the dinner, she hadn't returned yet. Where are you? he texted. The last pic had arrived over two hours ago
Still trying on clothes.
Will you be back soon? The dinner starts at 8.
Hit a snag. Will get back as soon as I can.
He'd finished dressing and was going over the new changes to the St. Simmons contract when he heard the door to their suite open. Janna entered, carrying a few bags, the look on her face frazzled.
"Sorry," she mumbled, tossing down her bags and making to throw herself into his arms. She hesitated at the last minute, her eyes widening. "Wow, Masterson, you sure clean up nice. Wouldn't want to get you all wrinkled."
Brice almost growled, tugging her into his chest. "You did this on purpose, didn't you?"
"Did what?" Her eyes played innocent.
"You keep me panting all day with your little pictures, then, when I finally get you alone, you make sure that there isn't enough time to follow up on your pictorial promises. Tease."
She laughed. "Who was it that said the waiting wasn't the hardest part?" He swooped down and tried to capture her lips, but she cleverly dodged him and danced out of his arms with a giggle. "Oh no, I'm playing this game by your rules. Now skedaddle on out of here, and I'll get ready and meet you in a moment."
That moment had almost reached the hour mark when the elevator finally opened to reveal his date. She stepped out of the elevator, her unease evident on her face. He hurried to her side, pulling her arm into his and moving toward the entrance. "You look lovely, sweetheart," he said, enjoying the faint whiff of gardenia he caught when he pulled her close. "I'm so glad you came tonight."
"I am too," she said, then looked away and whispered under her breath, "at least, I am so far."