Going all the Way Read online

  Enjoy this sexy fan-favorite novella from New York Times bestselling author Carly Phillips, available as an ebook for the first time!

  An endless seduction…

  Proper Southern belle Regan Davis was groomed to be a blushing bride, not a jilted one. But after picking up a copy of Sexcapades, a book of secret games for uninhibited lovers, she decides she’s had enough. She’s going to prove she’s more than capable of seducing sexy Sam Daniels. And there’ll be no blushing allowed….

  Originally published in 2003.

  GOING ALL THE WAY

  TANYA MICHAELS

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  CHAPTER 1

  DAVID GRANT didn’t believe in signs—unless of course they happened to suit his purpose, as was the case this April morning. The fact that his employers had voted to transfer their corporate headquarters to Atlanta of all places was definitely a good omen.

  “Congratulations, David.” Lou Innes, the I in AGI VoiceTech, polished his glasses with a linen handkerchief as he beamed at David from the opposite end of the conference table. The announcement that David would move from Boston to Georgia and spearhead the relocation also came with an almost guaranteed earlier-than-anticipated vice-presidential promotion. “I’m sure you’re already working on exciting plans for our new location.”

  “Yes, sir.” David flashed the confident grin he’d inherited from a long line of Grants. “I certainly am.”

  Atlanta offered unparalleled opportunity. Especially for David’s love life.

  When he’d gone to his parents’ anniversary bash in Savannah last summer, he’d scheduled an extra day to spend with his best friend in Atlanta, as he’d been doing ever since he and Serena Donavan had attended Georgia Tech together. Normally on these layovers, Serena subjected him to whatever little hole-in-the-wall restaurant she was currently enamored with, and they caught up on any happenings they hadn’t covered by e-mail. The next day, he would catch a cab to Hartsfield and fly back to Boston. His August visit had followed the familiar pattern.

  Except, after the hole-in-the-wall restaurant and before the cab to the airport, they’d spent one incredible stormy night making love in Serena’s studio loft apartment. That was new. According to the tense un-Serena-like e-mail that had awaited him when he got home, it had also been a mistake.

  David disagreed. But with her stubborn streak, he’d need patience and finesse to bring her around to his way of thinking. Luckily, he had both.

  Their first few exchanges following his trip had been awkward, and he sensed she would have avoided talking to him if he hadn’t initiated contact. But as their friendship slowly resumed its former flirtatious tone, he’d been confident that, while he could have made faster progress in person, time was on his side. Then, right before he was scheduled to be in Georgia for Thanksgiving, she’d surprised him by announcing she’d started seeing someone.

  As an overachiever who thought nothing of clocking sixty-hour weeks, David was used to his hard work paying off—this morning was a perfect example of the success he usually enjoyed.

  With the meeting adjourned, the executives around the rectangular table began to disband, and the president of finance, Richard Gunn, approached, a wide grin beneath his graying moustache. “Congratulations. I don’t have to tell you how rare it is that we give opportunities like this to someone as comparatively new to the company, but there’s no question you’re the man for the job.”

  “Thanks.” David stood to shake the older man’s hand. At thirty-three, David wasn’t exactly fresh from college, but he knew he was younger than the other candidates they’d considered for the relocation. “I’ll give it my all.”

  “We’d expect nothing less of you.”

  He’d never given them reason to—he’d been proving himself ever since his grad-school interview with the communications technology partnership of Andrews, Gunn and Innes. David had been eager to be a part of the strides the company was making in the field of voice-related software, and he’d been pleased by the fact that the firm was in Massachusetts. David had deliberately looked outside the southeast to make his mark, which made him something of an exception in his family.

  The Grants of Savannah often had things handed to them by virtue of their social status and wealth, but he enjoyed the challenge of relying on his merits rather than on his name. A definite contrast to his older brother, Ben, who had made it clear that when he ran for Congress next year, he planned to milk his connection to the two previous Senators Grant for all it was worth. But David looked forward to returning to Georgia now and demonstrating just how successful he could be on his own.

  “Do you have plans for lunch?” Richard asked. “In light of your possible promotion, I might even consider picking up the tab. Unless you’d rather celebrate with the lovely Tiffany? I’d ditch me for her any day of the week.”

  “Actually, Tiff and I, um, decided to part ways over the weekend.” Tiffany had decided, anyway. David had been rather bemused when she broke up with him…mostly because he hadn’t realized they were dating.

  Richard frowned at his gaffe. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s for the best. I’m about to move, and Tiffany will find someone more suited to her in no time.”

  Tiffany Jode was intelligent, gorgeous and the heiress to a small fortune—small as compared to national budgets. She and David ran in the same social circles and had ended up in bed on several enjoyable occasions. But the evenings they’d spent together had as often been a product of coincidence as of deliberate planning, and he’d never thought of Tiffany and himself as a couple. So he certainly hadn’t seen the breakup coming. He’d mentioned a few weeks ago that the AGI partners were considering Atlanta for their new headquarters, and that he’d enjoy returning to Georgia, if given the chance. On Saturday, when the subject had come up over their lunch at Turner Fisheries, she’d grown silent, barely touching the nearly famous clam chowder. On the way back to her place she asked if he’d even once considered inviting her to move South with him.

  An immediate and unintentionally appalled no hadn’t been the answer she’d wanted.

  “Ah, well.” Richard clapped David on the arm. “You’re a young man with plenty of other options. And there’s a lot to be said for the bachelor existence.”

  Yes, there was. David had led a rich and varied social life for the last few years, work permitting. He enjoyed women. Even if lately he’d been subconsciously comparing them to the one who had pushed him away.

  “Lunch sounds good,” David said, lifting his charcoal suit jacket from where it hung on the back of his chair.

  “Excellent. I’ll have Francine call ahead to get us a table at the club. Meet you in about an hour?”

  That gave David just enough time to finish outlining a report he was supposed to summarize this week and maybe read a few e-mails. But after he’d returned to his office, all he could think about was his impending return to the land of peaches, bad traffic and sexy Southern women. He hadn’t mentioned to his family that he might be moving back. He knew they’d be excited about his being just a few hours from home, and he’d wanted to wait until he knew for sure.

  Now, he could tell them he was not only moving, but that before this time next year, he would quite probably take over as AGI’s Vice President of Business Development. The current VP had lived in Boston his entire life and had no desire to relocate now, within a few years of ret
irement, whereas David was young, ambitious and had contacts in the southeast. The partners could have put the move in the hands of Richard Gunn, who would also eventually transfer to Atlanta, while Andrews and Innes remained in Boston running the technological development side of the company. But obviously they wanted to give David this chance to prove himself.

  He savored the thought of announcing the promotion to his proud family. Much as he loved them, he reveled in the knowledge that they hadn’t exercised any of their considerable influence to get him the position.

  David had e-mailed Serena about the possibility of relocation, but in a vague, almost hypothetical way. When her “oh, that might be nice” response hadn’t exactly denoted her jumping for joy in front of her computer monitor, he’d strategically dropped the subject. I just didn’t want to jinx my chances at the leadership role. Not that he believed in jinxes…unless it was convenient.

  He could call her now, he thought, as he glanced through his window at the soft rain that had begun to fall. April showers were hardly rare (hence the popular term), and the undoubtedly chilly mist outside bore no resemblance to the summer deluge that had taken him and Serena by surprise. Still, considering the way she’d been crowding his thoughts since the news this morning, it didn’t take much to bring that August downpour to mind.

  They’d started the evening at an outdoor café in her eccentric neighborhood. Sharing a bottle of wine, they’d talked about being single, swapping progressively naughty anecdotes about their love lives before the unexpected storm sent them fleeing to her apartment, a renovated building that had once been a public school.

  David had been sexually aware of her since he’d first seen her years ago arguing with someone in Student Affairs. But throughout their college friendship, which had begun while he briefly dated her roommate, one or both of them was usually involved with someone else, up until the time David had gone to Boston. Most of Serena’s boyfriends—such as the current touring artist David had dubbed the Happy Wanderer—were David’s polar opposites. So, when he’d spontaneously kissed her in her apartment, it had been without the usual Savannah Grant guarantee of getting what he wanted. He hadn’t been absolutely one-hundred-percent sure she’d kiss him back.

  But she had. And then some. She’d gone from a flirtatious friend he met for a few annual dinners to a blond siren with glinting brown eyes and a body like hot satin.

  His memories played in digitized HiDef with surround-sound: the wanton invitation in her body as she’d reclined across that ridiculous purple couch of hers—a couch he hadn’t been so inclined to mock the next morning—the glow of her ivory skin and the tiny gold navel ring illuminated by flashes of lightning. The feel of her beneath his hands and mouth as he’d conducted a slow, teasingly soft exploration in direct contrast to the urgently pounding rain on the roof above them.

  It had been sexual nirvana, and when his plane had touched down the next day at Logan, he’d already been thinking about how soon he could get back to Atlanta—not that they’d discussed seeing each other again. They’d overslept, and he’d barely caught a cab in enough time to make his flight. Then he’d come home to that damn e-mail that professed her longstanding “affection” for him and ended with the insistence that they resume a platonic friendship.

  Since her announcement that she’d started dating Happy, David had dated plenty, too. He’d had a good time, but he’d yet to reexperience the explosive chemistry he’d shared with Serena. He supposed they’d never know what would have happened if she hadn’t been “too busy” to see him when he’d returned to Georgia for the holidays.

  Now, he’d be returning permanently. David grinned at the possibilities. Yes, Serena was strong-willed and in a quasi-relationship. But David was a Savannah Grant, and judging by this morning’s signs, he had to conclude the universe was on his side.

  Had she reconsidered the platonic guidelines in the months since he’d last seen her? Did she think of their night together? How would the sexual innuendo that had crept back into their e-mails translate to a face-to-face meeting?

  Only one way to find out.

  * * *

  SERENA DONAVAN’S computer screen displayed the spreadsheets for this month’s income and expenses, but the information there was depressing enough that she was mostly staring out through the reception area’s picture window into the tiled hallway. For a Friday, today had pretty much sucked. Should’ve worn my lucky earrings.

  The two-room office suite with its eclectic furniture might not be posh, but the near-Buckhead address for her self-owned business wasn’t cheap. She needed more lucrative offers than the earlier fraternity request, asking if she’d exchange her party-organizing services for beer—or, even less likely, for the amorous attentions of a post-grad who claimed he could ruin her for other men.

  On the bright side, the slow business day meant her assistant’s absence wasn’t a strain, but it also meant reduced chances of a profit this month. Or electricity next month. Since Serena had to shell out money for caterers and deejays ahead of time, she was the one in a crunch if clients missed a payment or, in the case of this morning’s thrilling news, bounced a check.

  When the phone rang, Serena mentally crossed her fingers. She settled the headset behind her ear, summoning her optimism as she pressed the call-intercept button. Even another dead-end inquiry was better than her bank informing her that her account was being charged for someone else’s insufficient funds. She’d have to ask her father, the southeast regional manager of a bank chain, about the logic behind that penalty.

  “Inventive Events,” she said with a smile, trying to infuse her words with the right blend of bold creativity and competitive pricing. “We party professionally.”

  “Hi.” There was a pause before the warm male voice asked, “Serena?”

  David.

  Speaking of ruining a girl for other men…

  “Hey.” She blinked. “Long time, no hear.” In the technical sense, anyway.

  They kept up with each other, but not usually by phone. E-mail allowed her to write if she happened to be thinking of him at two in the morning, and helped him stay in touch despite his executive workload with a voice technology corporation. Or his ever-so-slightly less hectic schedule squiring around socialites.

  Maybe she was just feeling grouchy about his dating because her most recent relationship had fizzled.

  It suddenly occurred to Serena that the pause in their barely begun conversation bordered on awkward. “David?”

  “Sorry,” he said. “Hearing your voice threw me for a loop. I was expecting your assistant to answer, so when I got you, it caught me off guard.”

  “I gave Natalie the day off to nurse a broken heart,” Serena explained.

  “Softie.”

  The slight warble of cellular static didn’t mask the grin in his voice. When she’d made the uncharacteristic decision to major in business—one of the few her father had ever approved of—no one had doubted she was smart enough to handle the coursework. But plenty had questioned whether or not she had the personality and killer instincts for it.

  Her good-boss gesture, however, had been a purely selfish act of sanity preservation. Natalie saw her breakup, coming so soon after Serena’s, as a huge potential for bonding. She refused to believe that Serena wasn’t upset about being abandoned by Patrick…which she still hadn’t mentioned to David. He’d teased her enough during her relationship with the celebrated sculptor who was wandering the country in a quixotic quest for inspiration.

  I’ll tell David about the breakup some other time, Serena rationalized, when we’re not on his dime. Yeah, because a Savannah Grant ever worried about dimes. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

  “Oh, the usual. Just wanted to ask what you’re wearing.”

  She laughed, echoing his teasing tone and glib reply. “The usual. Leather pants and black bustier.”

  His appreciative wolf-whistle made her wonder where he was and if there were peopl
e in earshot speculating on his conversation. Clearly, David had ducked out a little early and wasn’t stuck inside his office on a gorgeous spring day. Assuming it was gorgeous in Boston.

  She spared a wistful sigh for the afternoon she could have had if she’d been irresponsible enough to play hooky. Tricia, the mother who had raised her in a modern-day art commune after the divorce, would have blown off work to spend the day “nurturing herself,” but Serena had been influenced just enough by her father to keep her in the office today. He’d been so dedicated to work that his wife and daughter had seen him less and less each year.

  Dismissing thoughts of her parents, she asked, “So, where are you calling from?”

  “You’re going to have to give me a minute. I’m still working on this visual,” David drawled in a send-shivers-up-her-spine tone. In the sterile, black-and-white, Arial 12 e-mail format, their flirting was mostly benign, but when rendered in that husky voice…

  “Okay,” he said. “The real reason I called is to find out what you’re up to this weekend.”

  “Th-this weekend?” Her pulse stuttered.

  “Yeah. Too busy to see an old friend?”

  If he’d been “thrown for a loop” when the expected receptionist hadn’t answered, then Serena was now hurtling through the upside-down-and-back-again-lightning-curves equivalent of a new coaster at the nearby Six Flags.

  Tell him you’re working, dating, painting your apartment. Something, anything, lie! The problem was, she didn’t have pressing plans, and while she had many faults—just ask her soon-to-be stepmother—dishonesty had never been one of them.

  She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t have anything urgent on my schedule.”

  “Great! I thought we might get together.”

  A dozen vivid images burst to life behind her closed eyes, most of them featuring David in various states of undress. It had been months since they’d been together, but on that last visit, they’d really been together. In at least four different positions, come to think of it…which she tried valiantly not to do.