Burned by Passion Read online

  Kira looked to him and then back at the imposing room with all those prominent guests surrounded by the music and the caterers serving cocktails and wine. It was a big task, taking on such a duty even if just for a few hours. She’d attended very few dinner parties and certainly had never been the hostess at one. But Kira was the type to rise to any challenge in her path. It was the same way she tackled her job as secretary to one of the richest men in the city. Just this once she was sure she could handle the pressure of whatever lay in store.

  “I think I can manage quite well, Mr. Carter,” Kira said finally, her smile fading slightly as she quickly turned to the hovering Terrence. “That is if you wouldn’t mind being left on your own for a while?” Her eyes beseeched him to understand even as she felt sure he certainly couldn’t expect her to disregard her boss’s predicament, so to speak.

  Terrence’s smile was somewhat twisted as he shrugged. “Don’t worry about me. You do your thing and help your good old boss out.” He gave her a wink. “I’ll go in and…mingle.”

  Kira turned to Mr. Carter while hiding her helpless feeling beneath a ready smile. Terrence excused himself and made his way into the adjoining room where the party was in full swing. She felt her boss’s hand rest on her shoulder and she looked up.

  “Good thing we’ve gotten rid of him – for now anyway,” he teased. “He’d have totally cramped your style. Seriously though, I appreciate you doing this for me. And you look exceptionally pretty tonight. I’m glad you took my advice and bought something extra nice to wear. I definitely have to introduce you to my son – but later. I see some more guests have arrived. We’ll have to receive them.”

  Kira took a steadying inner breath and then drew on an easy, welcoming smile as she turned to the newly arrived guests walking into the hallway.

  ***

  Blake fought to keep his expression attentive as one of his father’s old friends, an eccentric and aged widow who lived next door, Mrs. Wilkins began to tell him about her eldest daughter. About how she was beautiful, an accomplished lawyer and so on. He had to smile though as the old woman who was dripping with enough costly diamonds to feed a third world village for a year, added confidentially, “And she’s a fantastic cook too. Knows the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach and she’s not afraid to show off her many skills in and out of the kitchen.”

  Okay, thought Blake as he tried not to wish himself anywhere but right here, in the middle of the crowded room filled with people he didn’t know. And yet he found himself searching the large hall for his father or anyone who could rescue him from this aggressive matriarch intent on foisting her evidently fabulous and matured daughter on him even before they’d met - not that he had any intention of meeting her. Finding a wife was not on his agenda on this visit and he didn’t know how to break it to the nice old woman that he wasn’t interested.

  At last, he found his dad. Standing close to the arched entrance leading into the capacious room that had been set up for the dinner party. There was a young African American woman at his side and they were both smiling and talking with a couple who’d only just arrived. Blake almost groaned out loud. Not more guests, surely, he thought in concealed dismay. His father had said ‘small’ but then look at this! The room was filled with no less than fifty people, all intent on having a good time judging from the way they mingled and enjoyed the many drinks on offer.

  Blake couldn’t help sending his father one last look that was more of a hidden glare – only for his dark look to fade as his eyes focused on the woman standing next to his father, greeting the guests. He’d barely noticed her before but now she’d turned fully to face him and suddenly something smacked him right where he lived.

  Damn! That dress. She had the looks and body the outfit was made for. It was some kind of sheathe in a flattering shade of burgundy that played well on her deep-toned skin. Hers was a classic black beauty with the bright brown eyes, glowing ebony skin and full, pouty lips promising a raw sensuality that some women were born with. To Blake, her entire body exuded sex appeal and her eyes radiated a sultry, bedroom look that brought the attention of many of the men at the party who couldn’t help but take another look, and then another. And she didn’t even notice. Didn’t know what a bombshell she was just standing there, totally clueless of the effect she had on any male in the vicinity with red blood in his veins.

  Some people might consider her a little ‘heavy’ but damn she was heavy in all the right places. Blake had always had a thing for curves and that was something she was amply blessed with. Her high, generous bust and full, rounded hips were balanced by her trim waist and long, shapely calves. Those gorgeous brown legs ended in stiletto heels that gave off all the kinds of signals to set Blake’s libido stirring.

  Sure as hell she was pretty - the kind of pretty that smacked you in the guts and made you ache. In places you never even realized a man could ache.

  But it was more than the physical; something about her drew him like nothing Blake could explain. It was like an epiphany of the senses which told him his primal side had been awakened and this was a woman he’d like squirming underneath him, taking him deep, giving to him until he’d imprinted his being within the deepest recess of her feminine core.

  Right then she threw her head back and laughed gaily, the sound natural, musical and downright…sexy. It carried to him across the room and even over the live classical music. Blake watched the long line of her throat, unadorned except for the thinnest gold chain with some sort of charm hanging at the end. Even the shape of her neck made him throb.

  Shit. What the fuck was wrong with him?

  It was then Blake realized he’d been staring at her a full minute. He forced himself to look away even as he cursed beneath his breath, hoping no one had noticed. He shifted his attention back to his aged companion and found she hadn’t even noticed his distracted state and was still rambling on.

  So that was his father’s woman friend, thought Blake with slight bemusement. When his father had informed him earlier, before the party, that his long-time partner – a widow he’d been seeing for the past three years would be his hostess for the evening, Blake had visualized someone more his father’s age. But this pretty young thing…she didn’t even look old enough to be a widow. Much less someone appropriate for his father.

  He smiled at the way his father had described the affair. This wasn’t the kind of woman you merely ‘saw’. She was the type you went mad over. The type you’d put on lockdown just to keep her all to yourself. A guy could go cave-man on a woman like that; simply fling her over his shoulder and…

  But then Blake felt like kicking himself because he never thought that way about women. Never had such a burning need to possess or claim a woman so much that it was like a short-circuit in his brain trying to turn him into a feral beast of prey. He’d never, ever wanted a woman this much and with only one glimpse she’d captivated his senses, making him wonder how his father had done it.

  But then Blake grunted. Why wonder? His father was still undeniably handsome, perhaps even irresistible when he had a mind to be. And then there was all that money…

  Blake sent the eye-catching woman one more glance and then forced himself to look away again. Her clothes and shoes weren’t cheap, he could tell. She’d definitely be the high maintenance type. The notion of being pampered by a rich older man could certainly appeal to a woman who liked the finer things of life. As he mused darkly, Blake’s eyes fell on a tall, lanky African-American man standing several yards away, who seemed to be eyeing his father as Blake had done. Blake’s smile grew wry as he somehow guessed he was probably some set-aside contender for this woman friend of his dad’s. Just how many more men were in line, pondered Blake humorously.

  The grin he’d had on his face slipped though as his father and the woman left the group they were chatting with and were now headed his way.

  Blake looked to his side to find Mrs. Wilkins had since excused herself and this forced him to face the
approaching couple, keeping his expression neutral as he pinned his eyes on his father. “Great party, Dad,” he said mildly.

  Bretton Carter snorted. “But you don’t seem to be enjoying it,” he stated more than asked.

  “I’m making my best effort,” quipped Blake through slanted lips. He could feel the woman’s gaze on him as they reached his side, and it was an effort not to meet her eyes.

  “Please do; all this was put on for your benefit,” his father said dryly and then drew the woman next to him a little forward. “Now Blake I’d like you to meet Kira Taylor, my hostess.”

  Blake had to look at her then. And immediately snagged in an inaudible breath just holding her brown-eyed gaze. Something about those eyes seemed to spell his doom even as he held out his hand to clasp hers. Now he couldn’t look away, drinking in the ravishing quality of her honey-brown skin and soft, swollen lips with a hint of dark red gloss. Her scent stole up to him and it stirred his loins, causing his fingers to tighten fractionally around hers.

  “It’s a pleasure, Kira,” Blake said with a smile, fighting off the urge to raise her hand to his lips in the age-old custom.

  “Excuse me, dear,” Blake’s father said, interrupting the moment. “I see an old friend I need to welcome. Blake, would you mind getting Kira a glass of champagne? She’s been on her feet for an hour. In high heels no less.”

  ***

  Kira watched her boss stride off and wished she could call him back. She wasn’t sure she relished being left on her own with his dangerously good-looking son. It was just as she’d feared – only the opposite. She’d hoped he’d be nothing like his photo or perhaps, that he’d have changed drastically but this was far from the case. If anything, he was more devastatingly handsome in person.

  She’d heard the term ‘sex-on-legs’ but never really understood what it meant until she came face to face with Blake Carter. His thick, light brown hair was well styled to suit his attractive shape of head, and his features were all in symmetry; edgy cheekbones, curvy lips and an aristocratic nose to go with those steely grey eyes she found so piercing.

  He was taller than her, probably six four which was towering compared to many of the other men in the room. His clothes were cut with a unique style that made them look custom-made for his broad, lithe frame – which they probably were. And his voice…good heavens. She’d never known a British accent could sound so sexy even though his wasn’t that pronounced. He was everything she’d imagined him to be and it made her cheeks grow warm in embarrassment thinking she’d been unable to say a word to him when they were introduced just now.

  She finally looked away from the departing Mr. Carter and turned to Blake only to discover he’d been giving her a thorough once-over. Just thorough enough to be able to supply a good guess at her statistics, Kira thought with rising annoyance. Her chin lifted as she dredged up her hard-won confidence to meet his eyes squarely.

  “So you’re really my father’s hostesss?” was his opener, his tone questioning, implying something else.

  “Yes,” Kira said stiffly. “He asked me to play hostess as a favor to him.” When Blake simply raised one eyebrow she went on, “He’s told me a lot about you, actually.”

  “Really?”

  At his doubtful look, Kira found herself saying, “You didn’t think he simply forgot all about you, did you?” Kira bit on her lip and wondered at her audacity for saying what she just did but couldn’t resist speaking her mind.

  “Well I’m not going to argue with you,” he murmured, shrugging. And then she saw his eyes scan the room while he shook his head. “Damn, what a racket this all is.”

  Kira’s eyes flashed and despite herself, she was speaking up again. “You’d do well to appreciate it. Your father went through a lot of trouble to make tonight special for you,” she said more sharply than she intended.

  Blake huffed, but then glanced at her face and smiled, tilting his head in an ironic bow. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  Kira wasn’t sure she liked his expression or tone, but decided not to push it. Blake Carter might be fine as hell but his manners left a lot to be desired. And she hadn’t appreciated being looked over like a slab of meat.

  She’d been getting that a lot tonight; she’d found herself being the target of all eyes and had almost started to regret taking her boss’s advice and picking this very expensive, designer dress. She’d tried it on in the pricey store and the sales woman had cried out that ‘this was it!’ Then the shoes had been picked out to match and Kira had paid for it with her boss’s card, walking out of the store with her purchases before she’d even realized it. Mr. Carter hadn’t even blinked when she showed him the bill and then when she’d arrived, he’d looked so glad to see her dressed nicely that she’d erased the last traces of guilt.

  Kira liked that she fitted in with this crowd thanks to her carefully picked outfit, hair and makeup, but she still felt self-conscious around Blake especially since she found him so damn attractive.

  She was glad she’d been right about one thing though: Blake Carter was so not her type. It wasn’t even about race. She simply found him too cynical for his own good. Within minutes of meeting him she had a funny feeling he looked upon everyone around him and even her as nothing but a joke.

  But then he had apologized for his mean comment earlier, and Kira felt compelled to apologize too for being far too frank. She had no cause coming at him like that but even as she opened her mouth to speak, a sharp, lilting female voice sailed up from behind them.

  “Blake darling….”

  Chapter Four

  Blake had a quizzical frown on his face at the sound of an unfamiliar voice addressing him with such familiarity. When he saw the blonde-haired, elegantly beautiful woman walking up to him, his eyes widened.

  Her soft blue eyes were twinkling as her glossy red lips broke into a wide smile. “Hello, Blake. It’s Brittany. Don’t you remember me?”

  Blake looked confused as he seemed to rack his memory. “I don’t think we’ve…”

  “Well,” the shapely blonde said, planting her hands on her hips encased in her figure-fitting sequined white dress. “I can’t say I blame you for forgetting all about me. We were in the same class through elementary school.”

  “Oh…yeah. Now I remember. Brittany Manson.”

  The blonde cackled with glee. “You were such a scarecrow, Blake; a four-eyed geek who trailed me everywhere.”

  “And you were the belle of the school,” Blake murmured, not seeming in the least offended. “I also recall you never gave me the time of day. As you pointed out I was the skinny boy in glasses – and you always thought I was a pest.” He smiled slightly.

  Brittany looked suddenly embarrassed, a slight blush stealing over her pretty cheekbones. “Now Blake you can’t hold that against me,” she joked, slapping a hand against his chest. “I mean how was I to know you’d turn into such a hunk…”

  Kira was on her tenth eye-roll by now as she watched the woman’s obvious attempt at patching things up with her old schoolmate. Kira could tell Blake was used to women throwing themselves at him because he took it all in stride, keeping his tone mild and even humorous as the blonde bombshell grabbed all his attention, totally ignoring Kira who stood right by.

  Not that Kira was bothered. Girls like Brittany Manson never got to her; with their beauty-queen persona as if they walked around with an invisible tiara in their blonde curls. Kira had no problem at all letting Brittany steal Blake, her voice turning sultry as she said close to his ear, barely loud enough for Kira to hear, “Welcome back, big boy. I hope you’ll be staying long enough for us to really get to know each other…again.”

  Just as Blake readied to respond, his father came back into the room, announcing that dinner was ready to be served in the adjoining dining room.

  The guests eagerly made for the door leading out into the waiting hall set up with tables for dining, and Kira found herself without an escort as Brittany held on tight to her grip
on Blake’s elbow as she leaned into him with a, “Let’s go in to dinner, shall we?”

  Kira shook her head inwardly as once again Blake didn’t get a chance to reply before Brittany all but herded him along with the throng of guests who promptly closed around him. Now that was one assertive woman, Kira mused with a catty smile. She realized that Blake was only being polite, letting the blonde get away with things like that. But then the woman was an old crush so maybe he didn’t mind the unexpected attention.

  ***

  Blake was halfway across the room before he realized Kira had been left behind, only to glance back to find her with that lanky black man he’d noticed earlier who was placing a proprietary arm around her waist. Kira smiled up sweetly at her companion and Blake scowled. But before he could wonder at his strange irritation, Brittany all but dragged him from the room.

  A lot of detail had been put into the menu served that evening; that much Blake could appreciate. He might not care for all the fuss with the party and numerous guests but he couldn’t deny that everything had been well planned right down to the many courses served and the accompanying wine.

  At Blake’s table were his father and a number of his close friends. Brittany had managed to get a place sitting next to him and Blake felt resigned to his fate. He tried to remember if she’d always been this pushy but decided he merely found her antics somewhat amusing. Blake met women like her every day. Yes they were confident in their feminine prowess and weren’t afraid to make the first move but Blake liked women who relied on more than just their looks to win their man.

  Brittany would make someone a perfect trophy girlfriend with never a blonde tendril out of place and a body svelte as a ballet dancer’s with breasts robust enough to make you wonder how much of it came out of a silicon pack. Not like that bothered most men.