They fell into easy step together as they crossed the lawn to the convention center.
“Enjoying the conference?” she asked.
“Always,” he replied. “It’s like stepping out of time. New York fades away, and I get to focus on what’s most important.”
“Self-improvement?”
“Self-indulgence.”
She chuckled. “Walked right into that one.”
“Gotta love a group of high-achieving professionals who all live for immediate gratification.”
“And tend to opt for flings over relationships. I’m guessing you’re not a long-term sort of guy.”
“Guilty.” He flashed her a smile. “But we’ve got two days left. We could make a lifetime out of them together.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll pass.”
“Not your type, huh? Bet I know who is.”
She glared at him until he held up his hands in peace.
“It’s not like that,” she said.
“I have it on good authority you two had dinner yesterday.”
“Yes, and we’re both still breathing. Progress.”
Spencer laughed. “Let’s press our luck then, shall we? Damien and I are headed for a tapas bar tonight. I’ll update the reservation for three.”
Turn the invitation down.
If she were smart, she would.
Instead, she said, “Make it four. I’ll bring a friend.”
“Even better.”
They reached the convention hall entrance, and she pulled open the doors.
“You should probably give Damien a heads-up on this invite,” she said as they walked inside.
“I don’t know. Might be more fun to blindside him.”
“The man has a reputation for making those who cross him pay.”
Spencer grinned. “He’s been trying to shake me since school. Trust me, I can handle him.”
“Mm-hmm. Where should we meet you tonight?”
“Hotel lobby at nine?”
“Sounds good,” she said. “But I’ve got to run if I’m going to make my class.”
“Go, go. I’m headed for a session on this level. See you tonight.”
With a wave, she headed for the escalator, fishing for her cell to text Shireen.
Even as she typed, she knew she’d just agreed to a bad idea. But that knowledge didn’t stop the flutter in her chest at the thought of spending another evening with Damien.
…
“What are we waiting for?” Damien asked as he paced the hotel lobby.
“I invited some friends. Just wait two minutes.”
“If it’s a gaggle of women, I’m going to kill you.”
Spencer sighed dramatically. “What a reputation I seem to have developed.”
“As if it bothers you.”
“Nope. I like who I am. You should try it sometime.”
Damien arched a brow. “Careful, Spence.”
The grinning man merely dropped into one of the comfy brown leather chairs that littered the lobby. “Or what? I’ve been annoying you for years, and you haven’t taken out a hit on me yet.”
“An oversight,” he said, keeping his expression deadpan.
“God knows your mother never liked me. I think part of the reason you’re keeping me around is because she disapproves so much.”
“You tried to flirt with her. In front of my father.”
“What can I say? Irene is a special woman.”
Damien shook his head. “This is why you don’t get invited to the Reid family Christmas party.”
“My point is, there’s more to life than work.”
“I realize that.”
“Do you?” The teasing light dropped from his friend’s face. “I worry about you sometimes, you know.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “I met your dad a few times. I know who you’re trying to model yourself after.”
“I’m my own man.”
“Sure, but I’d bet my bonus the critical voice in your head sounds like your father.”
“I could point out this devil-may-care attitude you apply to your romantic relationships stems from one person as well.”
Regret speared him the second he saw pain flash through Spencer’s eyes. His friend swallowed twice before nodding. “Excellent point.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“I didn’t mean to bring Mia up.”
Spencer flinched at the name and stood. “No harm done. It’s been years since that relationship ended. I’m over it.”
Like I’m over my father’s control?
Or that insidious voice in his head that whispered he’d never be the man his father had been.
He clapped a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “What a pair we are.”
“Hey, drowning people’s emotional damage keeps many a good liquor company in business.”
“We should switch careers.”
“You and I working together? We’d make a killing,” Spencer said.
“Or drink all our own wares.”
“Or that.”
He was still chuckling when a familiar figure stepped into the lobby, and he realized who they were waiting for.
“What did you do, Spencer?” he asked as his gaze met Caitlyn’s.
“I might be doomed for relationships, but as much as you’d like to pretend the same, you’re not as cynical as me. Not really. And that woman right there might be just what you need.”
“You don’t know her. There’s no way you could make an assumption like that.”
“I might not know her, but I do know you. I’ve never seen you react to anyone the way you do her.” Spencer stepped up to his side as Caitlyn and her friend approached. “There’s more to life, brother. All I’m saying.”
Spencer moved forward to greet the women, leaving him behind to deal with the unwelcome anticipation that filled him the moment Caitlyn walked into the room.
What is this?
He never reacted to anyone, let alone a woman, that way.
Seeing he’d hesitated too long, he stepped up to join the little group. Caitlyn’s green gaze swung to his the second he reached them.
“Hi,” she said.
She’s unsure of her welcome.
The realization nearly made him laugh. Didn’t she know even when he wanted to stay away from her, he still wanted to reach out and pull her close?
“Hey,” he replied.
A few feet of marble separated them, and yet the rest of the room faded away around him. His fingers twitched with the need to touch her, and by the heat in her expression, he didn’t think he was alone in the impulse.
All we need is one night. One hot, no-holds-barred night to get each other out of our systems.
In the morning, they could both part amicably, this inconvenient lust dealt with and banished.
Is one night enough?
It had to be. There was no other option.
“Are we ready to head out or do the two of you want to go alone?” Spencer said at his side.
Snapping out of his musings, he swung his gaze to the vaguely familiar woman by Caitlyn’s side.
“Sorry about that. Hello, I’m Damien.” He held out his hand.
“I know,” the pretty brunette responded with a grin. “I’m Shireen.”
“She’s a friend of mine from California,” Caitlyn said.
“And delighted to be joining the group today.”
Caitlyn rolled her eyes at her friend as he bit back a smile.
“Shall we, ladies?” Spencer said, sweeping his arm toward the door. Shireen and Caitlyn gamely followed along as he brought up the rear.
All the while doing his best not to watch Caitlyn walking ahead of him.
As if sensing his stare, she turned her head to gaze back at him. He winked at her, which immediately made her cheeks flame. She whipped her head back around and straightened her back.
At least I’m not the only one troubled by this.
But sitting across the table from her without touching was going to be a trial. Especially with his new idea in mind. How did he get her to agree to a single night?
And how did he do it in the two days they had left?
Chapter Eight
“Are you sure you don’t want him? Because I’ll take him off your hands in a heartbeat,” Shireen whispered.
Caitlyn shushed her, hoping the men across the table hadn’t overheard the comment.
The restaurant Spencer had picked was beautiful, with Spanish tiles decorating the walls and a live guitarist filling the air with music. They’d ordered a dozen little plates that now dotted the tabletop, a pitcher of nearly empty sangria in the center.
She’d been fearing an awkward evening, but instead of being combative, Damien had turned on the charm.
It was probably for Shireen’s benefit, but Caitlyn had found herself wishing she could see this side of him more often.
You’ll never see it again once you’re both back in Boston.
He’d go back to hating her then, she was sure. All she’d ever have of this less vicious version of Damien was this conference.
Better enjoy it, then.
“Back off, he’s temporarily mine,” she whispered back to Shireen.
“I think he wholeheartedly agrees with you,” her friend replied. “I’m surprised the tablecloth hasn’t caught fire yet from those looks the two of you keep exchanging.”
“Mockery is super kind right now. I appreciate the support.”
“Girl, you don’t need support. You need a bed and a condom.”
She’s got a point.
“I’ll settle for a sangria top up.”
“Here, allow me,” Damien said, reaching for the pitcher.
She exchanged a panicked glance with Shireen before assuring herself only the last sentence had been said loudly enough to be overheard.
“Thanks,” she said as he filled her glass.
“No problem,” he replied.
“Did Damien ever tell you about the year we spent studying abroad in Spain?” Spencer said, twirling the sangria in his own glass. “I, for one, never wanted to come home.”
“That’s amazing,” she said. “How’d you end up doing that?”
“Spencer got into the program, and I couldn’t let him go alone. Someone’s boyfriend or husband would have murdered him,” Damien said.
Spencer grinned. “I knew if I told him I was leaving, he’d follow me. Poor boy couldn’t stand to be alone.”
“I can’t imagine Damien ever needing anyone,” she said.
The words were meant teasingly, but the intensity of the stare he leveled on her was anything but light.
“Those were the days before Papa Reid started roping him into the company,” Spencer said, oblivious to the tension. “He was a different person then.”
“Really,” she said, her eyes on Damien. “How different?”
Spencer downed his drink and waved the waiter over to refill their pitcher. “He laughed easily. Was always down for a party. Wandered around with his sketch pad everywhere.”
“Sketch pad?” she asked.
“That was a long time ago,” Damien cut in.
“Sounds fun,” Shireen said. “Do you still draw?”
“No,” he replied. “No time for it anymore.”
There’s another sad sentence.
Why did he have so many of them?
“We backpacked across Europe, and the one thing you could always count on him having was that damned notebook. Remember when you left it in Vienna? He made me take a train back to get it when we were already an hour away.”
“If I remember correctly, that lead to an epic Austria weekend that you said was a highlight of the trip,” Damien said mildly.
“I’d love to see one of your drawings sometime,” she said.
His gaze shot back to hers. There was a long pause before the corner of his mouth twitched. “We can arrange that.”
Does he mean in Boston?
Were they thinking beyond the imposed timeline of the conference?
“Tell us more about this Spanish exchange,” Shireen said, leaning forward to cross her arms on the table. “What else did you two get up to?”
“What didn’t we do?” Spencer said.
“Study,” Damien cut in.
“True.”
She smiled. “I always wanted to study abroad. You guys are lucky.”
“Why didn’t you?” Damien asked.
She shrugged. “We reinvested every cent back into the company. I started helping out at the labs at an early age, so by university I was studying and working. It would have been too hard to juggle everything if I’d been on the other side of the world.”
“Always the dutiful daughter, hmm?” he said.
“Always,” she agreed.
Even before her dad had gotten sick, she’d known the company came first. Before her mother. Before her. It was just the way it had to be. The work her father had done had kept hundreds of people employed, and many more had benefited from the drugs they’d helped develop. He’d grown an empire out of nothing, and his family had been a small price to pay for it. She’d never resented him for those decisions.
Much.
“That’s where you get your work ethic from,” Shireen said.
“Probably.”
“You guys are making me feel unsuccessful. In undergrad I was drinking too much and sleeping in too late,” her friend said.
“I’ll drink to that,” Spencer said, clinking his glass against Shireen’s.
“In hindsight, I wish I’d been a little wilder,” she said. “Missed opportunities.”
“It’s never too late to make a few bad decisions,” Damien replied.
“Except now I’m an adult who understands the consequences of my actions.”
“Still,” Shireen said. “Doing the wrong thing every now and then can feel so good.”
“Agreed,” Spencer chimed in.
“You guys are a bad influence. I thought that was supposed to end in high school.”
“I do my best to shake her up a bit every time we meet at this conference,” Shireen said.
“Does it ever work?” Spencer replied.
“Rarely.”
“Not one to let loose?” Damien asked, leaning forward.
“How is the spotlight now on me? You two lived in another country. That’s far more interesting. Let’s talk about that.”
“I side with Shireen on this one,” Damien said as he met her eyes. “Sometimes we’re faced with opportunities we know we shouldn’t…indulge in. But doing the wrong thing for a few hours can be exhilarating.”
Like you’d be. In my bed.
“Sorry I’m so boring.”
His lips curved. “Cupcake, you are the least boring woman I’ve ever met. No offense, Shireen.”
“None taken,” Shireen said. “But what did you just call her?”
“Ignore him. Spencer, what else did Damien do in his youth that he doesn’t anymore?” she asked.
“Let’s see. Young Damien was pretty similar in other ways.”
“Which is good for you. I got us out of all the scrapes you got us into.”
“We made the perfect team.”
Damien rolled his eyes, holding out his glass to the waiter, who’d arrived with more sangria.
“I’m impressed your parents let you go,” she said as the waiter made the rounds to all their glasses.
“To be fair, he was three months into the year before they noticed,” Spencer said as he downed half his glass in a few gulps.
“What?” She turned to Damien. “How’s that possible?”
He waved a hand. “We checked in at Christmas and the summer. They got a copy of my grades each semester. As long as they stayed good, my parents stayed away.”
Her jaw dropped. “But you were a kid.”
“Eighteen is old enough to take responsibility for your own life,” he said. The words were rote, a
s if he were remembering them. “Once I hit that landmark, the parental unit eased off considerably.”
“That seems harsh,” Shireen said.
“That’s why he collected such excellent friends,” Spencer replied.
“Exactly. Who needs a real family when they have you on speed dial?” Damien asked.
“Everyone,” she breathed.
Three sets of eyes zeroed in on her. “Sorry, Spencer,” she said, realizing she’d spoken aloud. “I just meant, we all need our people. I can’t imagine life without my family.”
“By all accounts, the Brookses are far better people than the Reids,” Damien said.
“You’re speaking about your parents.”
“And yours. I’ve never been overly sentimental about anything. It’s not difficult to face the truth about who raised me.”
She blinked at the cynical words. “You have to have some sort of touch point in your life. If not your family, then what?”
“I do well enough on my own,” Damien replied.
“Because it’s the better way, or because you’ve simply learned how?”
Silence stretched across the table.
“Calling me weak, Brooks?” he asked, his voice deceptively even.
“No,” she replied while their other two companions watched their exchange with interest. “That’s not a word that could ever be applied to you. Prideful, stubborn, diabolical, sure, all those fit. But it’s not weakness to need other human contact. That’s just a basic necessity.”
He held her gaze for a long moment before saying, “Not in the Reid household.”
“Then as an intelligent adult, you should see that trait for the nonsense it is and correct it.”
“Have any candidates in mind for my new family?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t be mean. You know I’m right.”
“That’s the problem,” Damien said. “You’re always infuriatingly right.”
Surprise swept through her. So many of their encounters had left her feeling like she’d failed. Like Goliath had come in and trampled her.
Had those exchanges played out differently from his perspective?
“Awk-ward,” Shireen said, stressing the word.
She blinked and leaned back. “Sorry.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it. You two are totally just rivals and nothing more,” Spencer said.
“How many glasses have you had?” Damien asked him.
“Not nearly enough to handle the sexual tension,” he replied, refilling his drink.
Catching the CEO (Billionaire's Second Chance) Page 6
