Date With a Diva

by Joanne Rock

  Bram Hawthorne was so much more than she’d expected. So much better than she’d imagined.

  And she hadn’t even gotten him naked yet.

  As of today, Daisy knew she’d been going about the whole dating process all wrong. But then, where would she have learned how to relate to mature, marvelous men like this?

  Her mother had been convinced Daisy’s stripper’s body would be enough to snag a great—read: rich—husband and had counseled her daughter not to give away her favors to any man who didn’t pack a fat bottom line. And after seeing a few of his daughter’s uninspired report cards in junior high, Daisy’s father had advised her to focus on finding a husband in high school rather than trying to get into college.

  Great advice, Dad.

  Of course, she couldn’t blame all her problems on her highly dysfunctional family. That’s why she was getting the hell out of Dodge this fall after saving her nickels from a hodgepodge of crappy jobs over the past few years. She just hadn’t counted on meeting a man who would make her long for impossible things.

  “So tell me, how am I doing with the VIP treatment?” He drew her upright again, but his feet slowed as their song faded and a dance beat took over the club’s outdoor sound system. “Are you feeling very important yet?”

  More than he could ever guess. But she wouldn’t let on that a guy she’d known for a day had been more kind to her, more respectful, than anyone she’d ever known. He’d think she was big-time screwed up.

  “You’ve outdone yourself.” She said it with her flirtiest smile, a surefire way to make her words sound less serious. “You let me eat dinner with you in the VIP lounge. I got to tour around South Beach in your Mercedes. And then I got to parade through this elegant, schmoozy party and dance ten feet away from my ex-boss who thinks I’m a half-wit. Yeah, I’m feeling pretty important by now.”

  Bram looked over her shoulder toward the place Lainie and some hot-to-trot athlete were still seated. Bram’s trademark silvery eyes darted back toward Daisy.

  “Why do you care what anyone thinks about you? You don’t need her approval.”

  “No, but—” Despite the sexy, all-woman dress she’d chosen from the ridiculously overpriced hotel boutique earlier, she felt awkward all of a sudden. Would her behavior appear immature to someone like Bram? “I guess I want it anyhow.”

  Turning, she peered beyond a cluster of torches and a small banquet table still heaped with hors d’oeuvres toward Lainie and the guy who seemed to be glued to her lately. “I mean, look at her. She’s so damn together even when her hotel blows up around her ears and her chef quits.”

  The woman seemed practically indestructible.

  “It’s a talent to make the best of a bad situation,” Bram agreed, leading her to the banquet table. He reached for a handful of strawberries dipped in dark chocolate and offered one to Daisy while he downed two himself. “I hear the police are investigating the explosion to see if it might have been set deliberately.”

  Bram reached for more strawberries and wondered why Daisy seemed pale all of a sudden.

  “Are you okay?” He led her to a pile of abandoned beach cushions the maintenance guys had cleared away after the seaside lobster supper. Digging a few of them out and brushing them off, Bram settled Daisy on one and dropped down close beside her. “You look a little nervous.”

  She patted her purse, a shiny sequined bag she’d haggled over for ten minutes with the boutique owner before agreeing on a price. Then, as if taking comfort from knowing her bag was still at her side, some of the tension slid out of her shoulders.

  “I’m fine. Just surprised anyone would make trouble for the hotel since it’s the hottest thing going in town this year. Even the competing nightclubs and resorts appreciate its success. After all, it brings more people to the beach to patronize everything else down here.” She drew her legs up underneath the long hem of her silky blue dress.

  Bram tried not to stare, but he’d been hypnotized by that outfit of hers all night. The fabric followed every curve of her body.

  “Maybe they’ll find out it was just an accident.” He wondered how much longer he should wait before he asked her to come back to his room. Five minutes? Another hour?

  He’d barely survived dancing with her without jumping her. But then, he’d been fantasizing about her way too much during his scene with Rosaria earlier in the day. Normally, he wouldn’t even let his brain tread down that path with a woman he’d just met, but with Daisy he had to plead extenuating circumstances.

  He needed a distraction, any distraction, before he blurted out something really stupid and blew his chances with her altogether. “Can I ask you a question, Daisy?”

  His mind scrambled for a topic while she looked at him with her wide blue eyes. The soft light of the torches made her skin glow with warm color. She brushed white sand off her toes, her pink toenails peeking out of silver sandals.

  “Hmm?” She leaned closer, bringing her lush mouth almost within kissing distance.

  It was all he could do not to touch his lips to hers, but he knew one brush of their mouths would touch off more fireworks than a populated beach could handle.

  “What have you got against the lady hotel manager?”

  “What?” She started back, blinking.

  Okay, so maybe it hadn’t been the smoothest segue, but lust-ridden men weren’t known for their ability to think clearly. He pointed toward the sleek blonde dressed in a simple white dress. “Nico Cesare’s new girlfriend. She’s your former boss, right?”

  “I haven’t got anything against her.” Her voice cracked a bit.

  Every actor worth his salt knew that was a quick way to convey a lie on stage. But before he could wonder why she’d bother to fib, she shook her head.

  “Maybe that’s not true. Actually, I guess I resent her just a little because she fired me from the classiest job I ever had. I loved working here. Being a cigarette girl might not sound overly glamorous to a movie star, but to me—”

  “Are you kidding? Who wouldn’t want to work here? They call it Club Paradise for a damn good reason.” He stared out to the water and wondered what it would be like to have a boat. To sail into that endless blue without five million other worries. “Would you look at this view? Shoot, I’d wash windows here if it meant I got to hang out on the beach now and then.”

  “Please. You’re one of the hottest stars in Hollywood. I don’t think you’d trade that for washing windows.”

  “The money’s good. But it’s not always all it’s cracked up to be. There’s not much free time once you’ve got a face people recognize. Fans can be great, but they also want a piece of you—your time, your smile, your T-shirt… Sometimes it’s nice to get away from that and just be anonymous.”

  As soon as he said it, he realized he sounded like a total ingrate. He was damn lucky to have caught so many breaks in his career.

  “I don’t mean to come across as some spoiled-brat actor. I’m just not very good at protecting my time.”

  “You don’t sound spoiled. You sound like a really nice, normal guy who just happens to be a movie star.” She brushed her hand over her evening bag, flipping all the sequins first in one direction, then in the other. He imagined those soft, small hands of hers on his back, on his chest, touching him with those same slow, hypnotic movements. “You want to go for a walk down the beach?”

  He wondered if it was too soon to make his move. “Actually, I have some lines I need to run through tonight before I go to bed. Would you want to come inside and read through them with me?”

  It was true enough. He just hadn’t mentioned that after reading a few lines he planned to kiss her right out of that body-conscious blue dress of hers. Or so he hoped.

  She surprised him by hesitating. Had she changed her mind about their bargain?

  “Okay.” She nodded slowly, her hand still tightly gripping her purse. “Maybe just for a little while.”

  Bram managed not to lick his chops as he extended a
hand and helped her up from their cushions. Surely he could ease any worries she had and talk her into spending the night.

  Especially since he had a particularly juicy scene in mind for them to rehearse. With any luck, he’d be able to move right from fantasy to reality and they’d walk away with a night neither of them would ever forget.

  “JUST SO THERE’S NO CONFUSION going into the bedroom, there’s not a chance in hell I can sleep with you now, Lainie.” Nico’s latest pronouncement seemed to be just another attempt to push all her buttons as he followed her through the hotel later that night.

  “You are so getting on my nerves, you know that?” Lainie tried to play it cool, but the fact was she’d been stressing big-time ever since the police had told her to watch her back and Nico had steamrolled her into letting him stay in with her.

  Then their shared confidences at the beach had only confused things, tightened the knots inside her all the more. What had she been thinking when she told him she wanted to have kids one day? She had a business to run, a hideous track record with marriage and no plans to put herself through the hell of divorce again. What made her think she could ever have any kind of family? And worse, why had she felt the need to share something so personal with a guy like Nico?

  Obviously, the explosion had rattled her far more than she’d realized.

  Wanting to make sure he hadn’t misunderstood her earlier, she smiled at him over one shoulder. “Who said I wanted to sleep with you anyway?”

  She did, of course, but she wouldn’t admit it. Or, to be more accurate, every nerve ending in her way too turned on body wanted to sleep with him. Her head had known all along it was a bad idea.

  Tromping up the hallway toward The Diva Penthouse with slightly shaky legs, she didn’t stop at the door to her usual suite.

  “Come on. After the mind-blowing sex we had earlier, you mean to tell me you don’t want a rematch just to see if we can top that?” He stared at the labels on the hotel-room doors. “Hey, wait a minute. Isn’t your suite back there?”

  “We’re not staying in my suite.” Too small. Too tempting. Too many memories of her tearing off her clothes in her haste to get busy with this man. “Since you’re with me, I figured we might as well snag one of the vacant two-bedroom suites.”

  “A two-bedroom suite?” He came to a halt behind her while she used her master key card on the door to the Roman Retreat. “You mean you didn’t plan on sleeping with me, either?”

  If he intended to take her mind off the explosion, his plan was definitely working. She smothered a wry laugh. “Let me get this straight. You already knew you wouldn’t go to bed with me, but you’re somehow offended that I had no intentions of going to bed with you?”

  “Damn straight.” He nodded, scowling.

  “That makes no sense.” She shoved her way inside the suite, desperate to escape Nico and his hot body. His sexy dark eyes. The bronze skin of his chest that made her fingers itch to touch him….

  “It makes perfect sense. I had a very good reason not to hit the sheets with you—” He whistled low as he followed her into the Roman Retreat. “Wow. Cool digs.”

  Tossing her purse and the key on the granite countertop of the small kitchenette, Lainie welcomed the change of topic and the momentary reprieve from her thoughts of jumping him. “It was partially inspired by some of your sister’s photos of Italy. Summer saw the pictures and loved the ancient architecture and the aged patina of the buildings in those pictures, so she used some of that in the decor. She also threw some of that infamous Roman decadence into the mix.”

  Lainie glanced around the room with appreciative eyes, more able to enjoy the room Giselle had helped design now that the two of them had healed their old rift. A smooth cobblestone path wound through the whole suite, connecting rooms that were otherwise tiled or carpeted. The walls were varying shades of white, as were the furnishings. Eggshell-colored sheer silk curtains lined walls already painted a creamy off-white. The silk was gathered with gold cord at intervals to expose intricate murals of ancient Rome painted on the walls.

  But the best part was the abundance of small Persian rugs on the floors, the gold cushions strewn on the smattering of chairs and wooden benches, the low wet bar that housed a seemingly endless supply of wine and grapes.

  “Is there really food in here?” Nico moved toward the bar built into a rolling cart that could be easily passed around the room so that lounging guests didn’t need to walk across the suite in order to indulge.

  “Don’t tell me you’re hungry after all that lobster.” She’d eaten every bite she could manage. “Dinner was fantastic, by the way. Thank you for lending your cooking expertise to haul us through another meal.”

  She watched him prowl around the suite, his strong, athletic thighs straining the fabric of his dark trousers ever so slightly. And the view from behind…so fine.

  “I’m not sure the lobsterfest can uphold the restaurant’s reputation since that great review Giselle got last month, but at least the guests enjoyed it.” He rattled the lock on the minibar. “You know how to break into this?”

  “The master key is on the kitchen counter.” She would have retrieved it for him, but she didn’t trust herself to walk past him. She settled onto one of the low cushioned benches in the living area, telling herself she’d only sit for a minute before she retreated to her room. Her home-free zone.

  “Got it.” He sprinted back from the kitchen so fast she would have missed him if she blinked. “Athletes burn a lot of calories, you know. If I want to be in shape by the time the season rolls around again, I need to keep up my strength. Practice starts in less than two months.”

  “Heaven forbid I deny you your second truckload of food.” Kicking off her shoes, she made herself comfortable as she watched Nico drag a bunch of deep purple grapes from the refrigerated section of the bar.

  He popped grapes in his mouth at high speed, maintaining a steady train of fruit with one hand while he opened a bottle of wine with the other. Digging deeper in the refrigerator he found a wheel of cheese and slapped it on top of the bar. Crackers followed.

  She took an odd pleasure from observing him. And not just for the obvious reasons. When she’d married Robert she’d nurtured secret hopes of being just a tiny bit domestic together. Of hanging out in pj’s and watching the late show or maybe one day foraging for food after the kids went to sleep.

  Goofy, romantic stuff.

  Robert hadn’t been interested in sharing meals with her unless they were out in public, in which case he’d been superattentive. But at home he was even more driven than she, opting to spend all his free time massaging business deals and far-flung professional contacts. Possibly with other crooks, she thought now.

  Whenever she and Robert did go out to dinner, they’d usually end up meeting Summer and her old boyfriend, Paul Bertoldi, who’d once managed the hotel’s restaurant. Lainie had struck up a friendship with Summer because of many shared plates of tiramisu while Robert and Paul talked business.

  No, Robert hadn’t been much for hanging out. But somehow Lainie could picture Nico watching the late show and eating pretzels in bed.

  “This is great stuff.” He inhaled one piece of cheese as he sliced some more. “You need to get The Diva Penthouse done up like this one and enjoy the high life.”

  “It’s not The Diva Penthouse. But maybe one of these days I’ll get it updated.” She didn’t know why she’d been putting it off. Or maybe she did. “I guess if my room is renovated then there’s no excuse for me to live at the hotel any longer. I’d just be taking up rentable space. And frankly, I’m too busy to house hunt right now.”

  “You don’t have your own place?” After arranging some cheese and grapes on two plates, he kept one for himself and rolled the cocktail cart over to where Lainie sat. He followed more slowly, lowering himself to the floor near her seat, his back resting alongside her legs.

  She shook her head and resisted the urge to run the arch of her foot up his
bicep. “Robert maxed out the home equity loan to give himself more spending cash when he skipped town. I gave up the whole thing to the bank and moved in here while I got my accounts in order.”

  “And I thought my finances sucked. At least I’ve got no one to blame but myself for the position I’m in. I just need to sell some of the toys I’ve acquired to loosen up the cash flow.” He wolfed down a few more crackers and brushed the crumbs off his shirt.

  Definitely the pretzels-in-bed type.

  “Were you able to save any money while you were playing?” Not that she had any right to ask. “Actually, scratch that since it’s so completely not my business.”

  She stuffed a grape in her mouth before she said too much, reminding herself that she couldn’t afford to feel too comfortable around him. Still, she found herself savoring the grape juice knowing Nico’s kiss would taste the same way.

  “I invested some of it, thank God. There’s not much I can touch since it’s all tied up, but with any luck, it’s working for me so that I’ll have a few bucks in my pocket down the road.” He poured two glasses of wine and passed one to her. “My old man used to take us to Italy every year and I don’t have a clue how he afforded it, but it was the coolest thing we did as a family.”

  “Really? My family went to the local swimming hole for a picnic twice each summer. Same thing—highlight of my year.” Her mom had usually gone home with a different guy each time, but at least she’d made an attempt to be there. Lainie’s grandfather had done all the real work of packing picnic baskets and frying chicken. He’d been her rock growing up.

  “Lainie Reynolds at a swimming hole?” His grin showcased more teeth than a dental commercial. “Did you have all those red fingernails and designer shoes back then? I’m trying like hell to picture this but I’m coming up dry.”