before responding. “Okay, I guess I set myself up for that. I know I’ve haven’t been a dream to work for.”
She tilted her head and smirked. “Gee, ya think?”
“Okay, okay, enough. Let’s eat.”
“Yes, let’s.” She tossed him a saucy grin before digging into her food.
The flavors of the powerfully seasoned dish popped all over her tongue and she couldn’t help but compliment the sexy chauvinist on his choices. The garlic and onions melded in her mouth and she momentarily worried about her breath and kissing him later on. As soon as she thought it, she chastised herself.
The last thing you need to be worried about is kissing him again, girl. You need to be concerned with getting away from him this evening with your virginity still intact. Then again, he is fine.… She tried to stop the grin that spread across her face to no avail.
“I knew you’d like it.” He flashed the smile that she was sure she’d never get tired of seeing.
“And how did you know that?”
“I just had a feeling. Right now I’m feeling like I know some other things you would like.”
Lifting her eyebrows, she gave him a quick glance. “Oh, really?”
“Yes, really.”
“And what exactly would that be?”
Smirking, he replied, “Oh, I think if you gave it half a chance you’d find that you really like me. A lot.”
She laughed at that. “Oh, really? Not suffering from a lack of confidence, are you? Some might even say you’re bordering on arrogant.”
He laughed, too, as he refreshed her glass with mojito. “I’d say confidence, not arrogance. But I think it would take more than a little convincing for you to agree with that.”
Latonya nodded. “Smart man.”
“Yes, and as a smart man, I have to say that I am enjoying spending time with you. I’m glad we got away from the office and I really don’t want this evening to end.”
Picking up her glass, she took a huge swallow. Her throat suddenly became dry while another part of her felt strangely wet.
“Are we back to the ‘spend the night with me’ conversation?” She voiced the words with an airy lightness that surprised her, given the bolt of nervous energy racing through her body. While she didn’t hold any fantasies about the rich playboy falling in love with her, she did find herself wanting, no, needing to examine her attraction to him.
Why not finally try a night of passion with a man who makes my stomach quiver with just a kiss?
Studying him carefully, taking in the hot pulsating masculinity he exuded, she impulsively decided to bargain with the devil.
“If we do this, then I want a transfer out of your department, Harrington.”
He wiped his mouth with his napkin as he gazed at her intently. She felt goose bumps trail from the base of her neck to the small of her back.
He smiled when she shivered. “We can talk about a transfer, later.” Carlton threw his napkin on the table as if challenging her.
Suddenly feeling as if he had taken over control of the negotiations, she cleared her throat. “Will we do this tonight?”
She managed to maintain a businesslike voice although the strength of her attraction gave her considerable pause.
His eyes narrowed, but not in the angry and irritated way they normally did. This time, they zeroed in on her with a desire that made her heart skip. “I honestly don’t think I could wait another night.”
Latonya fought the urge to fan herself and she swallowed before answering. “Should I meet you somewhere?” She figured—like a typical man—he’d want to go to some cheesy hotel to do the deed.
“No, my driver can take us to my place once we’ve finished dinner. I live close by.”
His place? He’s taking me to his home? Oh. My. It felt as if a huge cotton ball had lodged itself in her throat, and she could barely force out words. She thought about the huge, extravagant homes they’d passed on the drive from downtown. They were right on the cusp of downtown and Coconut Grove. From what she could see of the bayfront houses they passed, which were all blocked by tall fences and impenetrable foliage, Carlton didn’t live in a small home. Between the Italian Renaissance villas, Mediterranean-inspired mansions, and art-deco-styled superhomes, she suddenly felt out of her element. She just hoped that he didn’t say he lived on Brickell Avenue, better known as Millionaire’s Row. “Your place? You live in this neighborhood?”
“Yes. I live on Brickell Avenue. Now, let’s share this flan and get out of here. I can’t wait to taste you.” He leaned forward with a spoon in hand and took a mouthful of the dessert all the while keeping his eyes firmly focused on her.
Oh, Peanut, Latonya thought, using her childhood nickname to silently chastise herself, you are way out of your league, girl.
Chapter 4
The limousine pulled up to the tall and foreboding wrought-iron gate of Carlton’s home. Watching Latonya as she took in the size of the estate, he noticed her give a nervous shudder. Admittedly, it was a lot of house for one man, but he always lived in it when he was in the States. The family estate in the Bahamas was actually much bigger.
Clearly making some sort of mental retreat, Latonya wrapped her arms around herself and held tightly.
When the driver, Paul, opened the door and held out his hand to help her out of the car, she hesitated. Finally, her shaky hand grabbed on to Paul’s and she took two uneven steps forward.
Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, Carlton led her into the house.
Jillian, the head maid, who had been with the Harringtons since Carlton’s parents were alive, came out to greet them. Her pecan-complexioned smooth skin left people in awe when they found out she was well into her sixties. Only her stylishly coiffed hair with startling streaks of silver gave a small hint of her age. Having her around gave Carlton a sense of stability in his life. Even though the petite woman had an opinionated and somewhat bossy nature, she, like his grandfather, had always been there for him.
“Good evening. You’re home early today. And you brought a beautiful young woman home!” Jillian glanced from Carlton to Latonya and smiled brightly.
Carlton noticed a strange expression cross Jillian’s face and he cringed as she reached out her hand to Latonya. He could already see the wheels turning in Jillian’s head. The woman had a know-it-all aura about her that usually didn’t bother him, because he usually didn’t have a reason to mind.
“Hello, my name is Jillian. I all but raised this young man. What’s your name? And will you be staying for dinner?”
Noting the gleam in Jillian’s eye, Carlton realized that he’d never taken a woman to his home before. He took women out. Wined them. Dined them. But none had the privilege of seeing the space he once
