Intimate Seduction

“Natalie?”

Calling her by her first name was a liberty she hadn’t given him but was one he was arrogantly taking anyway. She slowly turned around and once again saw him looking at her. “Yes?”

“Considering the attraction between us, I feel I should give you fair warning that I’m a man who goes after what I want and won’t stop until I get it.”

She lifted her chin and looked at him while trying to ignore the surge of desire that stirred low in her stomach. There was no way she could deny an attraction existed since the chemistry between them was so blatantly obvious. She of all people understood chemistry and just how reactive it could be.

“Thanks for the warning, Mr. Steele.” And then she swiftly walked out of the room.

Donovan rubbed a hand down his face, trying to get a grip. What the hell was wrong with him? To say he was attracted to his temporary housekeeper would be an understatement. Even now he could still feel the heat that had ripped through him when her eyes had opened and latched onto his. And he’d been aroused ever since. Totally, irrevocably aroused.

He pushed away from the dresser he’d been leaning against and pulled in a deep breath. He wasn’t a man who pounced on a woman so quickly after meeting her, no matter how good she looked. Usually, when it came to pursuing a member of the opposite sex, he was known to be patient, allowing time for nature to take its course since he was fairly certain how things would eventually end. On the rare occasion when he had to shift things in his favor, he would utilize the art of seduction.

He wondered what approach he would have to take in this situation. For some reason being patient with Natalie Ford just didn’t work well with him. He was a goner the moment he had checked out her legs. If he thought they were nice-looking lying down, then they were definitely gorgeous standing up. Most men were inclined to favor a woman’s breasts or her backside, but Donovan was definitely a leg man.

He had to admit, though, that her breasts and backside were definitely pleasing to the eyes, as well. He’d gotten a good glimpse of the swell of her breasts through her blouse before she clutched his bed linens to her chest as if they were some kind of shield. And when she had skedaddled out of the room, the way the material of her shorts had stretched across her shapely behind had sent intense heat flaring through him. Just thinking about all her make-a-man-hard body parts fueled his lust.

And he knew women well enough to know she was as interested in him as he was in her. Reading a woman had always been easy for him no matter how coy they tried to be. The courtship game was a phenomenon he’d never gotten right and had never really cared if he did or not. He’d discovered that getting it wrong had never hurt his cause since he usually got whatever it was he was after anyway.

There was something about Natalie Ford that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. She had an air of decorum and sophistication that didn’t quite mesh with the job she was doing. She had tried using the don’t-date-the-employer defense on him, but it hadn’t worked because like he’d told her, technically she was not his employee. He would admit that at SC he’d personally instituted a rule about fraternizing with the hired help, a course of action he’d been forced to implement after a number of female employees targeted him as the Steele man to get.

He glanced at his watch. From the look of his home, she was about to wrap things up and would probably be leaving in the next half hour. She had said her aunt would be recuperating for six weeks, and he intended to make sure Natalie didn’t try doing a switcheroo on him with another housekeeper.

Just that quick his mind was made up. Natalie Ford was someone he intended to seduce.

Chapter 2

Fighting back a nervous shiver, Natalie quickly moved down the stairs in her haste to get to the laundry room. Her senses felt out of control. Overworked. And all because of one man. She was used to sparring with her students, but sparring with Donovan Steele had rattled her brain.

She should not have been tempted to lie down in Donovan Steele’s bed, but her aunt had indicated he rarely made an appearance during the day due to his work schedule. Natalie had erroneously assumed she would be long gone before he got home. How was she to know the man had gone away for the weekend and would come home unexpectedly?

He had found her in his bed, and now the man had all kinds of crazy ideas. Did he really expect her to go out with him? And what she’d told him about taking a hiatus from dating had been the truth. She was yet to meet a man who wasn’t threatened by all her successful academic achievements. She had graduated from high school at sixteen and had gotten her doctorate at twenty-one. Thanks to the head of the chemistry department, there had been a job waiting for her when she had graduated.

Although she loved her job, this year things had been rather challenging, trying to teach while providing assistance on a special project for NASA. The university had been glad to loan her expertise to the government but hadn’t felt the need to reduce her classes.

Her thoughts shifted back to Donovan Steele, and she couldn’t help but make a face. Doing so was childish at best, but at least for the moment it made her forget she was a woman who was very much attracted to him. She fought back a groan. Why her of all people? And why him?

And why did she have a weakness for men in jeans? Especially a man who wore a pair like they were tailor-made just for his body. Firm thighs, lean hips, tight abs. And then there had been those muscles beneath his T-shirt. Although she hadn’t wanted to, she had checked him out. Donovan Steele was well-equipped in all the right places.

She wasn’t particularly pleased she had noticed that. In fact she wasn’t at all pleased that he had made her fully aware of him as a man. She had done a good job over the past few years concentrating on other things besides men. Men, more often than not, were a nuisance, and she’d found it better to go through life trying to forget they even existed.

She glanced down at her watch. It was almost noon, and she had one more home to clean that day. Deciding she needed to finish up and leave as soon as she could, Natalie loaded the washer and was about to put in the detergent and fabric softener when she heard the refrigerator open and close. She didn’t have to look around to know Donovan Steele had come downstairs and was in the kitchen.

After closing the lid on the washer, she braced herself before turning around. He was there, looking good in his jeans and watching her—checking her out. And not trying to hide the fact that he was doing so.

“Is anything wrong, Mr. Steele?” She fought to keep her voice even although her stomach churned something awful. And to make matters worse, she was finding it hard to breathe.

With his legs crossed at the ankles he was leaning against a kitchen counter, staring at her and looking as relaxed as any man should be. She wished she could feel as comfortable as he seemed to be.

“No, there’s nothing wrong,” he finally said smoothly as he popped the cap off a beer bottle. “So, where have you been hiding, Natalie Ford?”

She raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

“I asked where you’ve been hiding. I’m surprised our paths never crossed before.”

Natalie couldn’t help but inwardly smile at the absurdity of that. Did the man actually think he should know every single female in Charlotte? Evidently he did. “I doubt we run in the same circles, Mr. Steele. Besides, Charlotte isn’t a small town.”

She thought about telling him where she lived and exactly what she did for a living and changed her mind after recalling other men’s attitudes once she shared it with them. She was immediately labeled a mad scientist or chemistry geek. Better to let him assume she cleaned houses for a living.

“How old are you?”

Instead of responding, she asked, “How old do you think I am?”

His eyes scanned her face, as if to study her features. Her body warmed when his gaze dropped to her chest and began studying the V of her blouse like the size or shape of her breasts beneath the cotton material would tell him anything. Her throat grew tight, and she felt a hot sensation in the lower part of her stomach. And then, of all things, she felt her nipples harden against her blouse.

“So, what do you think?” she asked in an attempt to direct his gaze back to her face. It was slow in coming, and the smile that touched his lips made her wish she hadn’t asked the question since she knew he would read it wrong.

“I personally think they’re a nice pair.”

She frowned, not believing he’d actually said that. “I was referring to my age, Mr. Steele.”

“Donovan,” he inserted quickly.

Ignoring his comment, she said, “You were supposed to guess my age.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right.” A wry smile touched his lips, but not at all apologetic. He studied her face again, and she could feel herself blush under his intense scrutiny.

“I’d say around twenty-two or twenty-three.”

Natalie wondered if he was being truthful or just trying to be nice. Either way she was truly flattered. “I’m twenty-six.”

He took another sip of his beer, and the surprise in his eyes was genuine. “You definitely don’t look it.”

“Thanks, and how old are you?”

“Thirty-three.”

And a very handsome and well-built thirty-three at that, she thought. His sensual chemistry mixed with a hefty dose of raw sexuality, and she was being affected by all that virility. Dragging in a deep breath, she said, “I need to finish everything upstairs and get out of your way.”

A disarming smile touched his lips. “You aren’t in my way.”

But he was in hers, and if she didn’t remove herself from his presence she would continue to think about indulging in things she shouldn’t. Not only was he challenging her mentally, but he was doing physical things to her—things that no man had ever done before, without a touch, caress…or kiss.

At that moment she felt her lips tingle, and she felt butterflies in her stomach. She glanced at her watch. “I need to wrap things up here to be at my next client’s home before two,” she said.

“No problem. I’ll let you get back to work, but first I need to ask you something.”

She stepped into the kitchen and slipped her sandals on her feet. He was watching her every move, staring down at her feet. Then his eyes moved up her legs before finally meeting her gaze again. She slowly arched a brow in response. He had already asked her out, and she had turned him down. She wondered what he had to ask her now. “Ask me what?”

He took another sip of his beer. “I’m sure your aunt explained to you that I’m a man who appreciates my privacy, which is why I want personalized service from the cleaning agency. I don’t want just anybody cleaning my home.”

She lifted a brow. “Are you saying that you have a problem with me being here?”

“No. You’ve explained why you’re here. You’ve also indicated your aunt won’t be able to do any chores for about six weeks.”

She looked at him, wondering where he was going with this. She folded her arms across her chest. “Yes, that’s what I said.”

“In that case I hope you can understand I expect you to be the one—the only one—to handle things here. It would greatly upset me to discover some other person has access to my home.”

She frowned. “We have a number of good employees who—”

“Won’t be coming here,” he said firmly. “Your aunt understood when I hired her agency that I had a problem with a lot of strangers having access to my home, which is why she took on the job herself. Now that she’s not capable of doing it, either you take care of things or no one at all.”

She tried to keep her frown from deepening. He was trying to be difficult. If her aunt didn’t consider him such an important client she’d give him an ultimatum—either accept whatever one of the other Special Touch Housekeeping Agency’s employees she assigned to clean his condo or end his association with the agency.

Instead she said, “Fine.”

“And I want to increase my services to once a week instead of twice a month.”

She had to refrain from glaring at him. His request was ridiculous considering cleaning his home had been a piece of cake compared to the condo owned by Jeremy Simpkins.

He kept his eyes on hers, not for a single second looking away. “Will that be a problem?” he asked.

There was only one answer she could give him. “No, there won’t be a problem. Do you want to keep your Monday appointments?”

“Only if I’m your sole client for that day.” At her raised brow he clarified by saying, “Just in case you accidentally fall asleep again…in my bed.”

Her jaw was set firm when she replied, “Like I said, it won’t happen again.”

He smiled. “But in case it does.”

Natalie inwardly sighed. “It won’t.”

He nodded, lowered his voice and said, “Regardless. I want you to give this place your full attention. And if you can switch from Mondays to another day of the week. I would prefer it.”

“I’ll see what we can do,” she said, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice.

“Thank you.”

“Now I’d like to ask you something,” Natalie said, fuming inside.

He waited a long moment before asking, “What do you want to ask me?” He took another sip of his beer.

“Do you normally hit on every woman who crosses your path?”

He gave her that seductive smile again. “Every woman? No. But I don’t have any qualms about hitting on a woman I’m interested in. Like I told you earlier, I believe in going after what I want so there’re some things I don’t beat around the bush about.”

“Apparently.” And without saying anything else, she moved past him to go back upstairs.

Donovan’s lips eased into a crooked smile. “Methinks the lady is just about ready to box my ears,” he muttered before finishing off the last of his beer and placing the empty bottle on the counter. Boxing his ears wouldn’t be so bad if he got to lock lips with her in the process.

While she was talking, his gaze had been fixed on her mouth. Never before had he seen a pair of lips so deliciously tempting. Just the thought of savoring them, licking them crazy, sent instantaneous heat flooding his insides. Being attracted to any woman was precisely the sort of thing he didn’t need right now.

The matters of SC, specifically the product under development, were enough to occupy his attention. The Steele Corporation had been working on Gleeve-Ware and had hired a renowned chemist, Juan Hairston, to create the formula for a highly durable and flexible tubing of silicone, rubber and fiberglass. In its final form Gleeve-Ware could revolutionize the manufacturing industry and push the transportation industry into the next century by the production of a durable, long-lasting tire.

The research, which had begun over a year ago and had been deemed top secret, had gotten unwanted attention when a rival manufacturing company had learned about Gleeve-Ware. They had gone so far as to try and obtain the formula. A high degree of security was in place since SC had decided not to take any chances.

He and his three brothers—Chance, Sebastian and Morgan—comprised the managing body of SC. Chance, at thirty-eight, was CEO. Sebastian, whom they fondly called Bas, was thirty-six and held the position of SC’s problem solver and troubleshooter. Morgan was thirty-four and headed research and development. His cousin Vanessa worked for the company as head of PR. The board of directors included, in addition to his parents, his aunt and his two cousins, Taylor and Cheyenne.

The Steele family was huge and close-knit. In addition to the Steeles living in Charlotte, there were a number of other Steeles spread out all over the country. They enjoyed getting together every two years for a family reunion.

When Donovan heard the vacuum cleaner start up, he decided to make the peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich after all. He may have been overtaken by lust but in no way did he plan to starve over it.

He reached out to open the pantry at the exact moment his cell phone rang. Pulling it off his belt, he checked the ID screen and saw it was Kylie, his sister-in-law. He immediately clicked on the phone. “Tell me you’re calling to invite me to dinner.” Kylie loved to cook.

She chuckled. “You don’t need an invitation to dinner, Donovan. You know you’re always welcome. That’s not the reason I called. I need a favor.”

He smiled. “Anything for a slice of your apple pie.”

“Um, I wasn’t going to bake a pie tonight, but I’m sure that can be arranged.”

“Okay, then, what’s the favor?”

“My assistant has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, and there’s this huge delivery I need to take over to the hotel and arrange for a business meeting on Wednesday morning. Any other time I would close down the shop while I’m gone, but one of my suppliers needs to deliver some more vases in the afternoon. Chance is picking up the baby when he gets off work, so I don’t want to bother him about coming here and covering for me, especially with Alden. You and I know my son’s a handful. Since you have to pass here on your way to the Racetrack Café, I wondered if you’d be willing to make a pit stop here and hold down the fort for about an hour or so?”

He’d done so before, last year when she’d been in a crisis. “Hey, that’s no problem. What time do you need me there?”

Everyone in the family knew he arrived to work at six in the morning and left at three o’clock, unless some sort of emergency came up. He worked hard but liked playing even harder. The Racetrack Café was jointly owned by several drivers on the NASCAR circuit, including Bronson. It was a popular bar and grill in town and one of his favorite places to eat and hang out. It was customary for him to drop by there every day after work before heading home.

“Around three-thirty.”

“I’ll be there,” he said, already tasting her mouthwatering apple pie.

“Thanks, Donovan, you’re a jewel.”

“Of course I am. And before you hang up I need to place an order of flowers to be delivered tomorrow to my housekeeper. She’s recuperating from an ankle injury.”

“Sure. What’s her name?”

“Earline Darwin. Hold on while I get her address right quick.”

“No need. I’ve delivered several flowers to her already. Evidently she’s a well-liked lady. I’ll make sure these get out tomorrow,” Kylie promised.

“I’d appreciate it, and will see you tomorrow.”

He smiled thinking his brothers had struck gold with his sisters-in-law. Kylie was extra special because not only did she cook mostly every day—and he knew he could drop in for a free meal—but she had made his oldest brother an extremely happy man. The family had all but given up on Chance, who had lost his first wife to cancer and had remained single after Cyndi’s death for more than seven years. But he and Kylie had gotten together, had married and now—in addition to Chance’s son, Marcus, who was away at college and Kylie’s daughter, Tiffany, who had graduated from high school a couple months ago and was currently traveling out of the country with her grandparents—they had Alden, their active two-year-old son. Like most kids his age, Alden kept his parents on their toes. Nowadays, there was never a dull moment at Chance and Kylie’s house.

Donovan finally noticed the vacuum cleaner was no longer running when he heard the sound of Natalie’s footsteps. He glanced over his shoulder. She stood in the middle of the kitchen with her purse slung over her shoulder, ready to go.

“I’ll be leaving now, Mr. Steele,” she said in a very professional tone.

He turned to her and smiled. “I’m Donovan. Say it.”

He saw the frown that lit her eyes. “I think it’s best to keep things strictly business between us, Mr. Steele.”

If she was trying to grate on his last nerve, he would not let her. Her attitude only made him even more determined to one day hear his first name flow passionately from her lips. “Okay, but business or otherwise you can still call me Donovan.”

“I prefer not.”

He moved away from the pantry to come and stand directly in front of her. “Then I plan on working hard to change your mind, Natalie. And I will succeed.”

Natalie opened her mouth to give him a blistering retort, to tell him he would fall right on that nice-looking tush of his, but paused. If keeping her mouth shut meant retaining him as a customer for her aunt then she would overlook his arrogant attitude. Instead she said, “I’ll discuss your request for increased service with my aunt and determine the days that will work for us and for you.”

She turned and headed for the door, fully aware he was right on her heels. Before she reached her destination, he said, “I’ve thought about it, and I prefer Fridays if that day is available.”

She paused and then turned around. “I’ll check my aunt’s schedule, and I’ll get back with you later this week.” She knew her tone of voice suggested she wasn’t looking forward to doing so.

“Fine, and I’ll look forward to receiving your call. And here.”

She glanced down at the twenty-dollar bill he was holding out to her. “What’s that for?”

He chuckled. “It’s your tip. I usually leave it on the kitchen table for your aunt, but since you’re the one who cleaned up the place today, it’s yours.”

She backed up, refusing to take it. “That’s not necessary. We bill you monthly for your cleaning service.”

“I’m aware of that, but I believe in tipping, as well. Take it.”

She started to refuse it again but changed her mind. She wouldn’t keep it for herself but would pass it on to her aunt. “Thank you,” she said, taking the money from his hand.

Their fingers touched, and the main thing she hadn’t wanted to happen did. Sensual energy released in her body, rousing her senses. It had been bad enough to deal with the vibes that had been radiating between them. An actual touch was downright dangerous.

She tried ignoring the reaction and hoped he did, as well, since it wouldn’t get either of them anywhere. Unfortunately, she could interpret the look in his eyes. Whereas she intended to ignore it, he planned on doing no such thing. Not only was the man arrogant but he was a rebel as well.

She fixed him a chilly look. “Like I said earlier, I’ll get back with you later this week.”

“I look forward to your call.”

She just bet he did. Fighting back the temptation to say something smart, she turned—without saying another word to him—opened the door and left.

“How was your first day, Nat?”

Natalie smiled as she looked across the room into the questioning eyes of her aunt. When she’d gotten home after taking care of her last client for the day, she’d found Aunt Earline taking a nap. Natalie had taken the time to prepare something for dinner before her aunt had awakened. The doctors had said the medication for pain would make Aunt Earline sleep for long periods of time. And although Natalie regretted her aunt’s broken ankle, she of all people knew this forced period of rest was just what her aunt needed. She’d worked too hard all her life.

It had been her aunt who had taken on the responsibility of raising her as a newborn when Natalie’s mother, who’d gotten pregnant at eighteen, had taken a break from the fast life she was living out in California just long enough to give birth to her baby and leave it in the care of her only sister and her husband before taking off again. Over the years her mother had returned on occasion when her money got low, and she would threaten to take Natalie away unless they paid up.

Natalie had been in her teens when her uncle died of cancer but had been only ten when she’d seen her mother for the last time. That was the day Lorene Ford’s body was shipped back to Charlotte for her funeral. According to what the police had said when they’d called Aunt Earline from Los Angeles, Lorene’s boyfriend had stabbed her to death in a fit of jealous rage.