He cast a quick glance at Victoria; her brown gaze swept the other woman from perfectly manicured toes to perfectly styled hair, and her tongue darted out and along both lips before disappearing back inside her mouth.
Kip drew his elbow close to his body, pinning Victoria’s hand against his ribs to remind her that he was here with her.
The beauty queen stopped right in front of them and smiled dazzlingly. All she was missing were the roses and the wave. “I’m Tiffany. Mr. Davis requested I escort you to the dining room.”
Naturally, your name is Tiffany. Kip waited a moment for Victoria to say something along the lines of great. He waited another moment. Finally, he flicked a glance in her direction. Her face had paled considerably since Tiffany had begun walking their way. Kip leapt into the silence. “That would be great, Miss—?” Rule number one of keeping your client happy: never call another woman by her first name when you’re with the client.
“Oh, just Tiffany.” Smile.
So much for rule number one. He felt Victoria tense against him. He placed a hand over hers and squeezed her fingers. “Lead the way.”
With another of those brilliant smiles, Tiffany turned and began walking through the casino, leaving gaping mouths in her wake.
Automatically, Victoria started to follow her, but when Kip stayed where he was, she tugged to a halt. He brought the fingers he was holding up to his lips and brushed a kiss across them. It worked: Victoria focused on him. He nipped the knuckle of her middle finger, and her pupils flared. “I’ve got you,” he whispered.
Her lips pressed together, and she swallowed hard before jerking a nod.
He tucked her hand back in the crook of his arm and started walking in Tiffany’s path. When he dragged his gaze away from Victoria a few seconds later, it was to find Tiffany waiting for them several feet away.
She smiled, but this time, it seemed genuine. “You two are so sweet. I can tell you’re in love even from across a casino.”
Victoria’s fingers jerked. Kip covered them with his hand. “Guilty.” He winked.
Victoria’s death grip on his biceps relaxed as Tiffany led them through the maze of the casino, designed to keep people and their money inside, until they reached a door marked Private. A few more twists and one elevator ride later, they arrived at what had to be the most luxurious dining hall this side of the Atlantic Ocean.
An enormous chandelier presided over a table dripping with crystal and gold place settings. Fresh, opulent flower arrangements dotted every available surface on and around a table that could easily seat twenty.
Tonight, however, it was only set for four.
Victoria and Kip stood silent in the doorway, and he looked behind him for Tiffany, hoping she would tell them to take a seat, but she was nowhere to be found. She’d slipped away, abandoning them to a situation nearly everyone would find intimidating.
Which is probably what Davis intends. Kip straightened his shoulders. “Come on, honey.” He led Victoria to the table, and—blessings abound—spotted name cards immediately.
He pulled out the chair for her; she took it without a word. Tension radiated from her, and he briefly pressed a thumb into the muscle between her neck and shoulder, rubbing a circle.
She tipped her head back, and her gaze met his. His fingers stilled against her skin. The tip of her tongue darted out and swept along her top lip—the second time she’d done this very same thing in a short span of time—and he felt an answering clench in his gut. Reaching out, he hooked her chin and brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. Her exhalation of breath wafted over his thumb, tempting it to come closer.
There was a sudden flurry of noise, and as Kip’s and Victoria’s heads jerked toward it, Mr. Davis and, one would presume, Mrs. Davis entered and bustled toward the table.
Mrs. Davis was already talking as she entered. “ . . . forgive us for being so late—” She halted and blinked at them.
That was when Kip realized he was still gripping Victoria’s shoulder with one hand and with the thumb of the other was stroking her lip. With her seated position and upturned face, they looked—
He felt his lips stretching with a smile. We look wicked. As though any second, he was preparing to slide something between those lips, be it his thumb or what lay behind his fly, which was a very convenient amount of space away from her mouth.
Victoria’s cheeks turned burgundy as she, too, realized the picture they made.
Kip withdrew his hands, but he did so leisurely and with a regret he didn’t have to feign.
“Mr. Davis,” Victoria said, jerking to her feet. “Thank you so much for inviting us.”
The greeting whipped Mrs. Davis into motion again. She grabbed the arm of her husband, who was silently studying Victoria and Kip with a shrewd eye, and pulled him to the table. “We’re just so glad for the chance to get to know you more!” she said genuinely.
And with that, he decided he liked Mrs. Davis. She reminded him of his mom—if his mom were even partly human. They were about the same age and both dressed to kill—Mrs. Davis wearing a gorgeous, golden cocktail dress with her graying blond hair pulled back into a chignon—but Mrs. Davis seemed soft and gentle, whereas Kip’s mother was all hard edges and business. Much like, actually, Mr. Davis, who took his seat before his wife took hers and tugged at his bowtie as though it were strangling him.
Kip began to circle the table and hold out Mrs. Davis’s chair for her in light of her husband’s lack of manners, but one of the tuxedoed employees, who had magically appeared at the same time as the Davises, got there almost too quickly for the human eye to track.
Mrs. Davis took her seat. “Thank you, George.”
Kip sat and snagged Victoria’s hand from its nervous fiddling with the countless pieces of silverware next to her plate. He squeezed her fingers and rested their joined hands on the tablecloth between their place settings.
Mr. Davis’s eyes narrowed in on their hands for a moment, but then his attention returned to their faces. “I’m glad that you both could make it on such short notice.”
Kip waited a second for Victoria to speak, but when she didn’t, he launched into the void again. “We had plans together tonight anyway. A change in venue, especially”—he grinned at Mrs. Davis—“such a favorable one, was not a problem.”
He nudged Victoria’s foot with his own. She jumped. “Yes,” she squeaked. “Not a problem.” Then she straightened and seemed to grab hold of her nerves, making Kip’s chest swell. “Kip knows work is a priority.” She turned to him and looked at him so adoringly that he felt it down to his toes.
Doesn’t feel like an act. He winked at Victoria while internally schooling his stomach to stop rioting.
“Well, aren’t you two just the cutest,” Mrs. Davis said. Her warm gaze was on them both, and she was wearing a soft smile.
She was already in the bag.
Mr. Davis’s face was impressively devoid of any indication of what he was thinking or feeling.
A poker player. Made sense, considering the profession the man had gone into.
Kip happened to be an excellent poker player. In fact . . . “Mr. Davis.” He pulled the napkin from his plate and laid it across his lap. “Tell me, were you as nervous during The Ricchezza’s televised poker tournament last week as I was?” Kip reached around the glass of white wine to snag the red. “I still think that man was bluffing.”
Mr. Davis straightened, the first flicker of life crossing his face. “A poker player, are you?” His voice carried the faintest hint of Southern accent and was followed by a hearty chuckle. “Yes, I was. And they cleaned up the cards before I could check, but”—he leaned forward—“I think he was bluffing, too.”
They were going to be okay. Victoria must have felt it also, because the death grip she had on his hand loosened.
Kip held his wine up in a salute to the man. “Wish I could have played. It’s been too long since I’ve had a chance to play a challenging opponent, if I’m being ho
nest.”
“Well!” Mr. Davis edged his chair back. “We can fix that tonight!”
Mrs. Davis placed a hand over her husband’s. “Not until after dinner, dear.”
The old man’s smile deflated so quickly that, if they’d been in a different circumstance, Kip would have been unable to contain a chuckle. “Yes, of course.” Mr. Davis scooted back up to the table and gave a nod toward something or someone behind Kip.
As though the move had been previously orchestrated, several servers entered the room, bearing platters of food in a scene straight out of Downton Abbey.
He could feel Victoria tensing up next to him again as a servant, dressed far better than any of the people seated at the table, began serving her cuts of meat.
So he draped his arm across the back of her chair and brushed her shoulder with his fingertips. He could feel Mr. Davis’s gaze, but it wasn’t as piercing as it had been before they’d connected over cards. “Mr. Davis, Victoria has been working so hard on your campaign.” Kip squeezed her shoulder. “Even I’m excited about her ideas, they’re so creative.” He leaned over and bumped Victoria’s shoulder with his. “I know tonight’s not about business,” he said, “but I just had to throw that out there.” He shrugged. “I’m proud of her.”
And it was true. More than that, though, he was struck by a deep yearning in his gut that he was doing this with her. Not here as her date and social buffer. He wanted to be sharing these ideas of hers. Putting his input to use. For the first time in his life, he was chomping at the bit to do advertising.
Victoria’s shoulders shifted beneath his arm, and he was dying to look back at her, but he had to focus. Tonight, his job was all about Mr. and Mrs. Davis, no matter how much he wished it was about just him and Victoria and a bed. Or a wall. Or a mirror . . .
• • •
I’m proud of her.
Kip and the Davises continued to chat, but all Victoria heard was that phrase over and over in her head. Whenever Kip glanced at her, she nodded, and the conversation continued to flow.
Kip was proud of her.
She couldn’t remember ever being more affected by a group of words in her life. Not even I love you, which she’d heard plenty from Jeremy, even as their marriage has started to disintegrate.
Though—she glanced at Kip—she suspected hearing those words from Kip’s lips might give her a coronary.
Don’t think about that!
He looked at her again, and when she nodded this time, his lips twitched and he gave the slightest shake of his head—one no one would notice but herself.
Shit. She’d missed something. Just as she was about to say I’m sorry, Mrs. Davis repeated the question she’d obviously daydreamed through.
“Kip was telling us how you met at church, dear.”
Victoria’s eyebrows popped right toward her hairline. “He was.” She turned toward Kip. “At church.”
His lips twitched again, and undisguised amusement lit his blue eyes.
And, suddenly, Victoria’s nerves disappeared. She didn’t know how he’d done it, but he’d managed to shrink down this massive room filled with countless servants and the Davises to just the two of them.
She wanted to kiss that smirk right off his lips. Something bubbled in her chest. She nibbled her bottom lip for a second to keep the laugh inside. Once she had control, she said, “That’s right, but it wasn’t until we found out we volunteered at the same hospital that we really started to talk.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Davises straighten and look at each other, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away from Kip, whose smirk had softened.
“I’ll never forget seeing her sitting on the ground playing Sorry! surrounded by kids,” Kip said softly. “Knew right that second that she was the one for me.”
Victoria’s heart thudded, then seemed to stutter to a stop. She warmed from her toes to her shoulders, with a few places in between heating to extreme temperatures. And throbbing.
She knew what he just said wasn’t true, but the way he said it. The way he looked at her while he did . . .
Someone needed to tell her body that it wasn’t true. Her heart as well. Because they seemed to remember that moment he just talked about with perfect clarity.
Kip’s arm was still around her, and his thumb started stroking tiny circles on the bare skin of her shoulder.
What am I doing here? Because whatever it was, it was interfering with her leaving this room right away and taking Kip somewhere private so he could look at her like that while they were both naked. And sweaty.
Reality bitch slapped her. This dinner was the linchpin in her biggest dream ever. There was nothing—nothing—more important than impressing the man sitting across the table from her. Not the man beside her. Not even close.
Victoria sat forward a bit until Kip’s thumb was no longer able to stroke—and therefore, distract—her. She smiled at Mr. Davis as she reached for her white wine glass and took a sip. She’d gone with the white because it was chilled.
She needed to cool the fuck down.
She was dying inside to ask Mr. Davis questions that would help her put the final touches on her campaign. This was the first time they’d had a length of time together, and the passing opportunity to pick his brain was skating by her almost painfully.
Kip removed his arm from the back of her chair and began eating his meal, carrying on a conversation with both Mr. and Mrs. Davis while she retreated into her mind. Victoria blinked down at her plate filled with lobster tail and a filet that should make her mouth water. Instead she was too shocked at how distracted she’d managed to become by Kip to even think of enjoying it.
She heard her name and jerked her head up. Mrs. Davis was leaning toward her across the table.
Damn it. She’d missed another question, hadn’t she? She flicked a glance at Kip and Mr. Davis, but they were quietly conversing with each other. She heard the word poker several times in quick succession.
“Victoria,” Mrs. Davis said, drawing her attention back to her. “I can see your mind working a mile a minute.”
Victoria grimaced. “Sorry.”
Mrs. Davis waved a hand in the air. “No, don’t apologize. I’m used to it with this one.” She nodded toward her husband. “So.” Mrs. Davis scooped up a spoon of peas. “Just how uncomfortable are you?”
Victoria stilled. “Um, come again?” She looked at Mr. Davis again, the beginnings of panic stirring in her gut. Was she that obviously out of her element?
“Don’t worry,” Mrs. Davis said. “He won’t hear a word we say right now unless it has to do with cards.” She smiled. “I like you.” She pointed with her spoon to Kip, who was blithely carrying on his own conversation. “I like you both, actually, so I’ll be rooting for you. But I can tell this is just about the last thing you would choose to do on your night off.”
She didn’t know what to concentrate on first: the fact that Mrs. Davis was in her corner or that her social awkwardness could very easily have killed this deal if she hadn’t lucked out to the degree she had.
She took another sip of wine. “Thank you?” She shook her head. “I mean thank you,” she said more definitively. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve your support, but I’m grateful for it nonetheless.”
Mrs. Davis leaned back in her seat and seemed to study Victoria. Finally, she said, “The good thing about good things is that we never deserve them. That’s why they’re good.” She nodded toward Kip, and her smile pushed away decades. “Am I right?”
Victoria looked at Kip, drinking in his profile. “You’re right,” she whispered.
Mrs. Davis shrugged. “It happens every once in a while. Should we pull the men back into our conversation?”
Huh. She’d actually enjoyed the past several minutes of quiet conversation with a woman who was far more human than Victoria could have guessed thirty or so minutes ago. “I suppose so.”
Then with a skill Victoria immediately envie
d, Mrs. Davis took the reins of the conversation back in a firm hold and led them all through a shockingly pleasant social get-together.
After the third course, Kip’s arm was around her again, his thumb stroking her shoulder once more and stoking a fire that she knew he would happily and proficiently bank later this evening.
Kip deserved someone who would be willing to look past meeting as client and gigolo. She was not that person. But Kip was hers for these few hours. And she was not going to take that for granted.
Chapter Fourteen
She had been very un-Victoria-like the whole ride home, talking a mile a minute about how successful the evening had been. She could hear the giddiness in her tone and see how out of character she was acting in the deepness of Kip’s dimple as he let her talk and talk and talk.
“Can you believe how that ended?” she practically squealed. “I couldn’t have asked for better!”
Mr. Davis had told her he’d thoroughly enjoyed the evening. Then he’d invited her to a final meeting on Monday morning in which she and Masterson would both present their pitches back to back, but he “had a feeling about who he would choose.”
And then he’d winked at her!
She’d done it.
Oh, it wasn’t official. Not yet. But, she couldn’t see this ending any other way than Mr. Davis offering her the job.
Victoria finally took a pause from speaking as they walked from the car to the hotel room, but once they got into the quiet of the elevator, she couldn’t refrain from speaking again.
“Seriously, Kip, I can’t thank you enough for tonight.”
He smiled absently and snagged her hand, running his thumb over her fingertips and focusing on them with admirable determination.
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