Enticed (Dark Passions) Read Free

are, that’s not my thing,” he added with a wicked grin. “It’s
just,” he began, his grin turning sly, “well, your shoes. Fire engine red with
gold heels. Kinda doesn’t go with the tight ponytail and conservative dress now
does it?”
         
        
I quickly bit the corner of my lip in an attempt to hide my smile, but lost the
battle and let out a little laugh. This guy didn’t miss a beat. “I like
extravagant accessories,” I said nonchalantly, leaning forward and cupping my
hands around my raised knee.
     
        
He cocked his head to the side, and gave me another sly smile, exposing his
large white teeth. I had a flash of those teeth nibbling along my ear, biting
playfully at my shoulders, pulling gently at my nipples, and felt a bolt of euphoria
slam through me. I tightened my grip around my knee to steady myself.
     
        
“I think it’s more than that,” he said, his voice taking on a reflective tone.
“The conservative bit seems to me like a put on. Like you’re accommodating
someone else’s expectations of you.”
     
        
I could feel the color draining from my face. He took a slow sip of his
whiskey, eyeing me carefully over the rim of his glass. “The red stilettos,” he
said, trying to suppress the desire in his eyes, “those say something about
your real character.”
     
        
I squirmed again in my seat, and found my eyes glued to the Exit sign. Suddenly
anger surged through me. No, I decided, I was not going to run like a little
girl, or let this guy rattle me. I uncrossed my legs, leaned forward and pinned
him with a steady stare. “What are you, a shrink working undercover as a Hell’s
Angels biker? Stalking Manhattan bars for screwed up women to psychoanalyze?”
     
        
He let out a little chuckle, his green eyes gleaming with pleasure. Annoyed by
his reaction, I took a good hard look at him and decided two could play this
game. Letting my eyes run all over his heavenly body, I searched for clues to
his identity. The motorcycle jacket was old and battered, but the linen shirt
underneath was expensive. Hugo Boss. His jeans were faded, and on his feet were
black motorcycle boots with huge silver buckles. Fluevogs. On his wrist was a
thick, gold Rolex watch. I tilted my head and gave him a quizzical look. “I
don’t get it,” I finally said. “Either you’re a bad boy with a trust fund, or a
male supermodel who swears by mixing high and low fashion.”
     
        
Bradley looked at me with amusement sparkling in his eyes. “I’m offended,” he
said, with an exaggerated frown. “Male supermodel,” he said, a subtle smile
playing on his lips, “all brawn, no brains.” Then, giving me a devastatingly
sexy look, he added, “I am, however, flattered, that you’re impressed with my
looks, Melanie.”
     
        
I scowled at him and crossed my arms. “Seriously, what’s your deal?” I asked.
     
        
He leaned back a bit and shrugged. “I invest in real estate and art,” he said.
     
        
I let out a small laugh. “I bet the biker look goes off  really well with your
clients,” I said, grinning. excitement.
     
        
He looked at me thoughtfully while slowly circling the rim of his tumbler with
his index finger. Watching him, I felt my pulse start to race again and my
nipples tighten. “Actually, those are some of my clients over there,” he said,
pointing to the table I’d seen him at earlier. There were four men, all dressed
in expensive three-piece suits.
     
        
“They don’t mind your casual attire?” I asked, brushing another stray lock of
hair off my cheek.
     
        
“This is my off-hours outfit,” he said matter-of-factly and shrugged, his
finger still caressing the curve of his glass.
     
        
I tore my eyes away from his strong, dexterous fingers, smoothed down the lap
of my dress, and straightened myself in my seat so that I was almost eye-level
with him. In the most business-like tone