Enticing Winter Read online

  It wasn’t so much what he was asking but rather the way in which he was asking that made her want to turn on her heels and run out the door. She was glad she hadn’t removed her coat, because there was no doubt in her mind that her nipples had hardened and were probably peeking through her burgundy dress.

  Standing there in his gray sweater and jeans, he looked casual and comfortable, whereas she felt like the complete opposite. She felt unraveled and awkward. Exposed, even.

  That’s what it is, she thought as he continued to look at her intensely. Taheim barely knew her, and quite frankly, she didn’t know too much about him either. Since the first day they had met, they’d passed judgment on one another. Yet the more they got to know each other, the more Winter understood why people thought they’d be a good match.

  But she didn’t do serious relationships, and especially not with playboys like Taheim. She wasn’t too keen on sharing, and from what she’d gathered from the female population since she’d moved to Chicago, Taheim was always in some type of spotlight. He was a ladies’ man, the ultimate charmer. Everything about him oozed trouble for all women alike. A woman who kept a spotless house but a design studio that might seem disorganized and messy to some. A woman who enjoyed watching classic black-and-white movies, and a woman who’d rather go to an opera or art museum than a club or a bar. She wasn’t his type at all, and the sooner she got that through her head, the better.

  “So, what’s first on your list of things you want me to do today?” she asked again, hoping he would pick up on her body language and stop the flirting.

  “I’ve really been struggling with organizing my design studio, so I was hoping you could help me with that today.”

  Of course it’s the one thing I can’t seem to keep organized myself, she thought. “Of course,” she said instead. “I can definitely help with that.”

  She turned and walked into the hallway, eager to escape the confines of his office. “Can I hang my coat in that closet over there?” She pointed to the same closet she had been hiding in when she’d gotten the call telling her that her top model wouldn’t be able to make the bachelorette party.

  “Sure,” he said as he came up from behind her. When they reached the closet, she removed her coat and handed it to him, making sure she avoided eye contact. She didn’t need to look him in the eye. She could feel his eyes roaming up and down her body, taking in her outfit.

  “Did you design that dress yourself?”

  Just last week, hoping that you would see me in it. “Yes, I did. It’s the first time I’m wearing it.” Her burgundy knit dress hit right above the knee and she’d paired it with some brown heel boots that covered her calves to keep her warm. Her hair was pulled back from her face with only a few tendrils framing her face.

  “It’s beautiful...”

  She turned at the sound of his voice, noticing for the first time how close they were standing.

  “Thank you.”

  He tilted his head to the side. “Are we going to go the entire day pretending that we’re not attracted to each other?”

  She sucked in a breath and willed her eyes to stay on his and not drop to his lips. “It’s been working out for us so far.”

  “Not for me.” His voice was strong. Definite. “You haven’t been in my condo since I found you in my bedroom.”

  “Is that a problem?” Her tongue dipped out her mouth to lick her lips.

  “The fact that I can’t help but picture how you looked that night is definitely a problem.”

  She bit her lips.

  “Don’t do that,” he said, stepping an inch or so closer to her.

  “Do what?”

  His gaze went from her lips to her eyes before landing on her lips again. “Bite your bottom lip. You can’t do that.”

  She squinted her eyes as she observed his behavior. “Why can’t I do that?” She was playing with fire, but at the moment, she really didn’t care.

  His eyes went back to hers. “You bite your lip when you are contemplating an idea. You also bite your lip when you’re nervous about something. But you lick your lips when you’re aroused.”

  She couldn’t stop her eyes from growing big in surprise. She hadn’t even been aware that she did that. Shifting from one leg to the other, she tried to squeeze her thighs together to stop the throbbing need she was faced with whenever she was around Taheim.

  “You’re aroused and nervous, aren’t you? That’s why you bit and licked your lips.”

  “Not really.” She shrugged, trying to brush off his words. “What do I have to be nervous about?”

  “What about the aroused part?”

  Instead of responding, she just shrugged again.

  “Exactly what I wanted to hear,” he said as he snaked an arm around her waist.

  She was going to inform him that she hadn’t said anything, but his gaze penetrated right through her, locking the words in her mouth. All that she could focus on was the fact that his mouth was moving closer to hers.

  You should stop this kiss before it happens. There were a hundred reasons floating around in her mind that warned her to step out of his embrace and tell him that their relationship would continue to be strictly professional. But the minute she felt his breath fan her lips, her arms curved around his neck and lightly cupped the back of his head.

  “I’ve been waiting to do this since we met,” he said right before his lips crashed into hers.

  Chapter 7

  Alarms went off in every section of his mind cautioning him not to deepen the kiss, but he refused to listen. In fact, he was certain nothing could pull him away from kissing her right now, even though he knew they had just blurred the professional line.

  Winter tasted so delicious and the same smell he’d tried to ignore at the model call was back with a vengeance, demanding that he fill himself with the sweet taste of her lips.

  Slowly, provocatively, he slipped his tongue between the edges of her mouth and relished in her sugary flavor. A thin layer of berry flavor mingled with her taste. Usually, Taheim wasn’t into tasting any type of lip gloss when he was kissing a woman, because women in his past had always used too much, assuming it would make their lips more alluring. But not Winter. Her lips were soft. Inviting.

  She stood on tiptoe and the curves of her body melted into his. His arms, which had been leisurely draped on the side of her waist, gripped her even tighter before moving slightly higher on the arch of her back.

  When she moaned, he groaned in satisfaction, unable to remember the last kiss he’d had that felt this good...this right. He was convinced that one kiss from Winter would never satisfy his urge. But at least it would satisfy his curiosity so that he could focus on working with her without wanting to kiss her senseless.

  Exploring her mouth was everything he’d known it would be and he felt the passion in each suckle. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be too far gone to stop the kiss.

  With all the strength he could muster, he broke the kiss but continued to keep her steady in his arms. He explored her eyes, preparing himself for the look of guilt or regret that might cross her facial features. They might be attracted to one another, but he didn’t forget how much they had disliked each other. Even if they no longer felt that way and had seemed to start building an actual friendship, sometimes it was hard to flip off the dislike switch.

  His desire rose another notch when instead of regret, her eyes reflected potent lust. Just like that, the bulge in his pants was starting to grow and take on a form that would be impossible to get down if he didn’t step away from her.

  “Maybe we really should get started on that list?” he suggested. The gentlemanly thing to do would be to apologize for kissing her. But he refused to say something he didn’t mean and an apology would have been a lie.

  “Yeah, let’s get sta
rted on organizing your design studio. Where is it?”

  “It’s right past the kitchen. I keep the door locked.”

  She smiled before she turned her back to him and began walking in the direction that he had pointed to.

  “You won’t start acting all weird on me now that we kissed,” she said as she looked over her shoulder and winked at him. He hadn’t expected her to reference the kiss at all.

  “I won’t if you won’t.”

  She stopped walking and turned completely around to face him. “I wanted you to kiss me, so maybe if you look at it as something that would have eventually happened anyway, you won’t be giving me that look as if you aren’t sure what to say or how to act.”

  He blinked several times, wondering if he was imagining her saying those words or if she’d really said them. But from the sly look on her face, he knew she’d actually said them.

  “Just being honest,” she said with a shrug as she enclosed her arm around his. “Come on—time to organize.”

  After two hours of shuffling through fabric, buttons, various pieces of sewing equipment and sketches, they had his design studio more organized than it had been in ages. As much as he hated to admit it, having Winter there with him in his studio felt right. She didn’t feel like someone he had really known only a few months.

  Now he was on the sofa he kept in the studio for when he needed to take naps but didn’t want to lose his muse. Winter was sitting adjacent to him on an artistic circular chair he’d won at an auction.

  “So after getting a degree in business and advertising, you decided to go to the Art Institute of Chicago? Well, you’re quite the entrepreneur.”

  “Sure did,” he replied. “My parents thought I was crazy at first, but they knew I always liked to keep my hands on a few things. I took summer classes and finished business school in three years, then turned around and finished at the School of the Art Institute in three years, as well.”

  He leaned forward to the table stationed in front of him to take a swig from the beer bottle he’d grabbed when they’d finished organizing. “Did you always know you wanted to be a designer?”

  Her smile was immediate. “I did. Actually, both my sisters and I always knew we wanted to be in the fashion industry. It probably has a lot to do with my dad. He was always flying us to different countries during any school break so that he could paint or sculpt masterpieces. It always seemed that every place we went, the clothing and garments were so different. We became obsessed with the many different styles in the countries we visited.”

  “That sounds like my type of childhood.”

  Her mouth was turned into a smile, but her eyes seemed sad when she spoke. “My dad is the best.” Her eyes left his as he watched her get lost in thought. “My dad is from France, and before he became a painter and sculptor, he was an accountant at a major law firm in Paris. He met my mother while on a business trip in New York and she was working at a diner at the time. She was an aspiring actress and model, working to pay her way through acting school. They fell in love and my dad transferred to his firm’s New York office. Within months, they moved to my mom’s hometown in New Jersey and had my sisters and I. They’re divorced now, though, and my dad is back living in France, following his dream.”

  When she grew quiet, he wanted to ask her more about her family, but he held back because he didn’t want to dampen the mood. There was sadness in her voice that hadn’t been there before. “So you went to the New York School of Design?”

  “Yes, I did, and it was a life changer for me. During my schooling I met so many great designers, and after graduating, I spent two years visiting the top fashion countries as an apprentice for a major fashion designer. My dad even met me at a couple locations.” Her voice perked up as she talked about her experience at design school.

  “Similar to you, my sister Autumn went to the Parsons New School of Design and got a bachelor of business administration in design and management. She also participated in two programs that they offered that focused on helping students launch careers in the business side of the fashion industry. After she graduated, she decided to enroll in the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York.”

  “You and your sister really do love fashion,” he said with a laugh.

  “So does our younger sister, Summer. Always one to be different, Summer went to LA for her schooling and got a public relations degree with a concentration in fashion marketing. She’s working between New York and Miami now for a top PR firm, but she is also a partner in Bare Sophistication. Autumn and I think she’s trying to learn all she can before approaching us about opening boutiques in other locations.”

  “Your family is impressive,” he said. “I love my brother and sister, but I’m not sure we could work that closely together. How far apart are you in age?”

  “Summer is twenty-eight. Autumn just turned thirty, so we are the same age for a month each year. I’ll be thirty-one the day after Christmas.”

  “I didn’t know you were a Christmas baby.” He gave her a quick glance over. “But I guess it seems fitting for a woman named Winter to have been born in winter.”

  “Ha, very funny. Whatever jokes you’re cooking up, I’ve heard them all.”

  “Then I’ll save my breath,” he said with a laugh. “So you get your creativity from your dad. What do you get from your mom?”

  * * *

  What do you get from your mom? His question lingered in the air unanswered. It wasn’t that she was ignoring him. His question was valid given how much she talked about her dad. But she really didn’t know how to respond, since the minute she was old enough to understand the troubles in her parents’ marriage, she’d told herself she was nothing like the woman who’d given birth to her. They might have looked the same, been the same height and had the same complexion, but that was where the comparisons stopped. At least, that was where Winter hoped they stopped.

  She glanced at Taheim, knowing that it wasn’t fair to remain silent. “Nothing,” she finally said.

  The look on his face proved that he wanted to know more. She hoped her facial expression showed that she didn’t want to talk about the subject any further. Talking about her mom always put her in a bad mood. When she visited her mom’s older sister, Cynthia Madden, in Arkansas, she’d often wonder why in the world she’d gotten stuck with Sonia Dupree, when her male cousins had the best mom in the world.

  “So I’m curious,” he said, seemingly trying to break the awkwardness. “How do three sisters all with various fashion degrees decide to open a lingerie boutique and not a clothing boutique?”

  “Good question,” she said with a laugh that forced thoughts of her mother out of her mind. “Our dad wondered the same thing when we told him about our dream. But for us, there was never any other option. You know that feeling a man gets when he’s tried on his first pair of name-brand gym shoes? You know, the kind represented by a top athlete that every kid in school wants their parents to buy them?”

  “Of course I remember that. For me it was my first pair of black-and-red Air Jordan sneakers.”

  “Exactly. We wanted to make women feel that way. We wanted women to put on a piece of our lingerie and feel empowered and sexy at the same time. No matter your shape or size, loving yourself is difficult for some women. We were raised in a society that tries to tell us the right and wrong way to look. Your self-image is important and not all of us are a size-two tall-and-slender model type. We have curves. We have thighs. We have butts, breasts. We may be bony or we may be thick. But one thing we all have in common as women is the ability to love our body image and ourselves just as we are, even if the world disagrees.”

  She watched his mouth slowly curve into a smile. “I think that message is a great one and extremely necessary for today’s generation.”

  She gave him a playful look. “So now you agree with
what I said at that fund-raising dinner we attended last month? Young women need good role models just as much as men.”

  “I never disagreed.”

  She turned up one eyebrow. “Let’s not get into that again.”

  “Deal.” He got up and grabbed a pamphlet from a built-in drawer on the wall opposite where they were sitting.

  “Whenever I speak to youth groups about following your dreams, this is the pamphlet I pass out to them.” He handed it to her. She skimmed the first few pages, paying close attention to the mission statement.

  She read aloud the last words in the statement. “‘Nurture your idea. Cultivate your goals. Chase the dream.’”

  She glanced up at him. “I love the mission of Collegiate Life.”

  “Thanks,” he said, reclaiming a seat on the sofa. “A percentage of all my sales goes to a charity here in Chicago that helps young men get off the streets. The charity also allows them to take classes to help prepare them for the workforce as long as they have their GED or are aspiring to get it.”

  “I’m impressed,” she replied as she nodded her head.

  “Impressed that the Collegiate Life brand isn’t just your average clothing line or impressed that you and I have more in common than you thought?”

  “A little bit of both.” Placing the pamphlet on the table, she picked up the glass of wine that Taheim had poured her when they had finished organizing the studio.

  As she took a sip, her eyes caught his over the rim of the glass, and she wasn’t surprised to find him staring at her suggestively.

  “What’s on your mind?” she dared to ask.

  “You inspire me,” he said sincerely. “I haven’t had that feeling in an extremely long time.”

  She took another quick sip of her wine and tried to laugh it off. “I’m sure you say that to all the women who enter your studio.” She batted her eyes to emphasize the humor in her statement. She couldn’t look at him yet. If she did, he’d probably be able to sense that she was fishing for the number of women he’d brought into his condo. Why do I even care? She shouldn’t be concerned about what he did.