Annoyed at the thought, I swing back around to the yellow dress and pull it from the rack.
Slamming the door to my closet, I scowl at the thought of getting dolled up, donning a little black dress — hem cut almost half a foot from my knees, snug around my body in all the right places — and then riding home by myself.
I’m so sick of it.
What if Colin really is interested in me, and not the center? Would that be so terrible? If the gossip magazines are to be believed, he’d know what to do with a girl like me. And they say the real legend is in his pants…
Stop it.
This is about the center, I tell myself, but I don’t really believe it.
—
The intercom chirps like a nightingale. “Yes?” I ask, answering it. Glancing at my phone, I see it’s almost six.
“Ms. Lexington, your ride is waiting outside,” says Packer, my regular limo driver and head of security.
What the hell?
“I thought we were meeting him.”
“No, Miss. They’re here to pick you up. But don’t worry, I’ll ride in front with Mr. Legend’s man.”
I exhale, relieved. “All right, that’s fine. Thank you, Mr. Packer.”
“You’re welcome, Miss,” he says before hanging up.
Satisfied by my reflection in the mirror, I head downstairs and out to the street, where a black limousine waits at the curb.
Blocking the path of Mr. Packer, Colin gets out to open the door for me.
“Susie,” he says, eying my dress. “You look beautiful.”
Blushing, my heart pounds, and my throat goes dry. He’s wearing a brilliant, bespoke suit. Gray pinstripes rise in perfect columns up his thick legs and chest, and a striking crimson tie rests above a crisp, white shirt. Gone are his jeans and sneakers: below his suit pants, I see big, black dress shoes.
“You too,” I murmur, staring down at my feet. “I’m sorry, I’m really under-dressed.”
Colin holds out a hand for me to take. “No, you’re not. And if it makes you feel better, everyone will be staring at me.”
“Oh yeah?” I laugh, accepting his invitation and climbing inside the limo. “Because you’re so much better looking?”
He chuckles; it’s low and growly but jovial. “Some people think I’m kinda famous.”
“Oh.”
Real smooth, Suz. This is going real well.
“Maybe we should… uh… discuss the center,” I suggest.
Colin waves his hand, reclining against the headrest of his seat. “Straight to business? Let’s not. I actually need to be serious for a moment, Ms. Lexington. I have to confess something.”
An alarm sounds in my head.
A confession?
This can’t be anything good. I turn to look out the window as the limo cuts through traffic. “What do you mean?”
“Yesterday, at the center. I think I gave you the wrong impression.” He waits for me to respond, but I don’t; it’s a tactic my father instilled in me. If somebody wants to admit a mistake, don’t interrupt. He continues, saying, “I knew the name Susie Lexington, of course. And I knew the center was a project connected to your family. Just, when we met, I didn’t realize you were her.”
“Really?” When I look back at him, the contrition on his face melts into a smirk.
“Yes, really. I didn’t think Susie Lexington would be so pretty.”
“Oh. I…” In my brain a circuit shorts, and I’ve lost the ability to speak. Colin wears a grin that tells me I should laugh at such a line, but the intensity in his eyes says he means it. “Thanks,” I say at last, after clearing my throat.
“I was also surprised to catch you there in person. I assumed a member of your staff would pass along your e-mail, or maybe a business line. Do you visit the center often?”
His question rouses me from catatonia; I’ve been asked this too many times, and I hate that word: visit.
“I don’t visit the center, Mr. Legend. I work there,” I snap. “That place is my mission, okay?”
Colin holds his hands up in surrender. “My bad, Ms. Lexington. I had no idea. I’m surprised I’ve never read about that. I can think of a dozen magazines that would love to do a feature on you and your work.”
I nod, cooling off. “I can, too. I’ve turned them all down.”
The limo turns off the avenue and slips down a narrow cross street. Colin leans forward. “Interesting. Wouldn’t the publicity be helpful?”
“We want to control the message. The place isn’t about me.”
“I see,” Colin says as the car pulls up to the curb. “We’re here.”
His driver opens the door for us, and Packer helps me out. Looking around, I don’t recognize the neighborhood, and I’ve eaten in every three-star Michelin-rated restaurant in the city.
“Where are we?” I see an emerald green awning above what looks like a small bistro. Tall, white letters spell out “La Taza.”
Colin winks. “Just a little place I know about.”
I roll my eyes. “You own it, don’t you?”
“Maybe. Come on.”
He takes my hand, giving it a squeeze. Colin’s grip is so strong, I nearly yelp, my feet lifting from the pavement so fast I stumble and nearly fall right into him.
Inside the bistro we’re met by silence and the aroma of baking bread. Only a single table is set: covered with a white tablecloth, and two candle cups in the center glow and flicker.
“Is this place even open?” I ask, not seeing any waitstaff.
“For us, yes. Please, have a seat,” he says, pulling out a chair for me.
I shoot Colin a cross look as I sit. “Did you rent the whole place out? You know this isn’t a date, right?”
He laughs, taking his place at the table. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Look, I could have taken us to Peter Luger’s or something, but I thought we’d rather have some privacy.”
“Oh.” I fall back into my seat. “Yeah. That is better. But it’s still not a date.”
“Got it,” he chuckles. “So, tell me about Lexington Center.”
As I nod and gather my thoughts, a waitress appears with glasses and a pitcher of water. Wearing a tight, white shirt and a black apron that matches her skirt, she can’t help staring at Colin, and his glass spills over into the tablecloth.
“Sorry,” she whispers before quickly scampering away.
“Does that happen a lot?” I ask.
“All the time. Don’t worry about it. Tell me about the center.”
“Right. Well, it serves a variety of functions, all designed to help single parents. Mothers, in particular. As you saw yesterday, it’s a day-care center, which we provide for free for women working but falling below a certain earnings level. We also operate a temp agency, helping connect our clients with any job openings we can find.”
Colin listens quietly, nodding. “That’s a wonderful service, Susie. It sounds like you make a difference in a lot of lives.”
I smile, relaxing a little. “Thank you. That’s the idea. I’m hoping in the future to open more locations, and to have space for an overnight shelter, in case anyone needs to spend the night.”
“Sounds like a lot of red tape,” Colin notes.
The waitress swings by to drop off a pair of menus and a basket full of the bread. After Daddy canceled lunch, I found myself too nervous to eat, but now this bread smells truly divine.
“Getting approval for a shelter will take some work, but I know a few lawyers who can help.”
“Through your father?” Colin says before sipping from his glass.
Tearing a piece of bread from the loaf, I reach for a small tray of butter. “Through the center, actually. We have a few lawyers among our clients. They’ve offered to help.”
“That’s fantastic,” he notes, taking a piece of bread for himself.
I bite into mine, and it melts in my mouth. Moaning softly, I let the flavor linger.
“Yeah, that’s why I bought this place,
” Colin says.
“It’s really good,” I say, wondering how much of the remaining loaf I can stuff in my purse.
“Your staff — are they clients, too? Or former clients?” he asks.
“No. We haven’t been around for very long,” I explain. “The women we help are still aren’t in a position to support their families and also volunteer. But that’ll change, I hope.”
“I hope so, too. I guess my main question for you is, why not just pay for more staff? You said the center’s fully funded. Where does that come from?”
I turn to see the waitress coming and realize we haven’t even looked at the menus. As she gets close, she sees them closed on the table. “I can come back if you need a minute,” she offers.
“What would you recommend?” I ask, not wanting to bother with the menu.
“Our sesame ginger salmon is pretty popular,” she replies.
My stomach growls audibly. That’s all I need to know. “I’ll have that, thank you.”
“Great. For you?” she asks, turning to Colin.
“The strip steak please, Kelly. And a bottle of Malbec.”
“You got it,” she says, scooping the menus from the table. I smile at her, and she fans herself with the menus while eying Colin. I suppress a giggle.
“Where were we?” I ask after Kelly slips into the kitchen.
Colin doesn’t have to think; he never lost focus. “I was curious about the center’s source of funding. How many donors do you have?”
“One. Me. My father, technically. It’s how I use my allowance.”
“Admirable. I know a lot of people in your position who would spend it all on wristwatches and handbags and not give it a second thought.”
“I’m sure you do.”
He pulls the platinum Bulgari piece on his wrist into the cuff of his shirt, but he’s not nearly subtle enough to keep me from noticing.
“It’s fine, Mr. Legend,” I say. “I know you donate generously to a variety of causes. You’ve been in the top five most charitable billionaires for a decade running.”
Colin’s eyes widen in mild surprise. “You looked it up?”
“I did,” I reply as Kelly returns with two glasses and the wine. We wait to speak until she’s finished pouring.
Colin lifts his glass. “Then why don’t we drink to adding another worthy cause to my list?”
I slip my fingers around the stem, but then let go. “I’m sorry, Mr. Legend. I can’t.”
His face falls, and he sets his glass down. “Why not?”
“Like I said,” I start, getting frustrated. “We don’t need more money. We need volunteers. People to stay at the center and take calls. To watch the children. To drive clients to work. And you may be a kind person, but I don’t see you spending your time this way.”
He sighs, nodding, though his disappointment shows.
“Can you explain why it has to be volunteers, and not employees?”
“Maybe,” I mutter. The question gets posed to me all the time, but I’m not sure if I’ve ever truly explained it properly. “I guess… I believe it’s the right thing to do. Ever have that feeling? You know it’s what you’re supposed to do, but you can’t yet explain why?”
Colin nods. “I used to. At this point in my life, I usually know why I feel the ways I do.”
“Fair enough. The more complicated answer is that I don’t want Lexington Center to be about just helping out a few dozen or a few hundred people. I want it to inspire thousands, maybe millions. To get people to spend more of their time doing good for others. Not just their money. Their time. Does that make sense?”
“It does.”
“And that’s why I don’t want your money. But…”
My heart races; I feel like I’ve laid all my cards out on the table.
“But you’d like some of my time?” Colin asks, grinning.
I blush and sip my wine to try to hide it.
“Because I’d like to support your cause, Susie Lexington, but you’re right: I can’t help you as a volunteer. If the media got wind of it…”
I nod, picking up his point. “Then you’d be the story, not the center.” He’s right, though knowing it doesn’t make me feel any better. I pick up my wine glass and hold it out for a toast. “To a future endeavor?”
“With pleasure.”
We drink slowly, savoring the aroma and taste of the wine. As we do, Kelly arrives with our meals. The food is fantastic, which comes as no surprise. With a little needling, I get Colin to tell me a little about himself, including the big break that launched one of the most successful empires in the history of entertainment.
“The movie cost $5,000. That’s it. I was so bankrupt at the time, I had to take out a loan. But I knew the movie would be a hit, so I went for it,” he explains, cutting into his steak. “Do you know how much Beach Dogs made at the box office?”
I shake my head, taking a drink from my second glass of Malbec, the salmon long since devoured.
“More than three hundred million. For 90 minutes of sex jokes and girls in bikinis. And I got to spend a week in Miami overseeing the production.”
“Overseeing the production?” I scoff. “Is that what they called it back then?”
He laughs. “I swear, it was strictly professional. The wild nights came after the money started rolling in.”
“Of course,” I say, my voice low. I can’t help it: I’m picturing Colin on the beach, drinking in front of a bonfire, a dozen eager women hanging around, hoping to be picked by Hollywood’s newest overnight success story. I get so wrapped up in it, that I don’t see Colin getting closer until his lips are pressed against mine.
I don’t stop to think, and the last thing I want to do is protest. I lean into the kiss, tasting the wine on his lips and inhaling his musky cologne. His stubble tickles my chin, and I feel his hand slip behind my head and brush through my hair. When I feel his tongue in my mouth my knees nearly give out, and the warmth between my legs surges in a way I haven’t felt in a long, long time.
When Colin breaks away, I keep my eyes squeezed shut, waiting for him to kiss me again. Instead he says, “Susie.”
I look at him, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. He cups my cheek in his palm. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.”
“It’s okay,” I say, trembling.
“This wasn’t supposed to be a date.”
“It’s okay,” I repeat.
Now he does kiss me again, a quick peck that he follows up with a longer kiss on my forehead. “Good. Then let’s do this again.”
“Yeah, all right,” I say, gripping his arm. I can feel the thick cords of muscle through his jacket and shirt. “I’d like that.”
“Me too. A real date this time.”
“Okay,” I say, nodding.
“And maybe we’ll think of some ways I could be of service to you,” he adds, running his hand down my hips.
“I’m sure we will,” I mumble. Then I stop talking and let Colin Legend kiss me.
“So then what happened?” Allison asks as she sifts through the clothes in my closet.
“We finished dinner, and he took me home.” It feels weird to summarize it so succinctly, but it happened so fast, I can’t even remember leaving the restaurant or riding back to my building. I recall his arms around me and his lips on mine. Then came goodbye. I didn’t want the night to end.
“You’ll see me tomorrow, Susie,” Colin reminded me at the time.
How did I reply? I have no clue. I must have gone inside and rode the elevator up. Did I watch his limo drive off first? Or did he wait for me to leave?
“I’m glad you had such a super time,” Allison says, handing me a poofy, teal skirt.
“It wasn’t supposed to be a date,” I insist. “We spent the first half of it talking about the center. I never would have let him kiss me like that right from the start.” I look down at the skirt. “What is this? A prom dress? No way.”
“What? It looks good.”
> “I was thinking something that doesn’t shout ‘still a virgin.’”
Allison drops back. “He doesn’t know?”
I shake my head and roll my eyes. “How would he? We didn’t talk about it.”
“He might know. Or he could suspect it. Maybe he’s hoping for it,” she suggests.
“Eww, you think so?” I’ve heard of creepy guys obsessing over getting to bed virgins, but Colin isn’t like that, is he? He has his choice of women; what if that’s why he’s interested in me?
“Maybe, Susie! He’s a total playboy. Maybe he has a thing for taking away a young woman’s innocence.”
“He didn’t seem creepy to me,” I argue. “He was really charming.”
“Okay, maybe he doesn’t care about virgins.” Susie picks out a black dress, but between its spaghetti straps and sinking cut, it’s too revealing. I shake my head. Allison nods in agreement and puts it back.
“But he’s still a player, Susie,” she continues. “You know he’s slept with, like, half of Hollywood.”
“You’re exaggerating, but…” I try not to lie to myself: the posts of Colin’s bed definitely boast lots of notches. “So, he’s experienced? So what? That’s a good thing. Means he knows what he’s doing.”
Allison grins. “True. That’s definitely something you want for your first time, I’ll grant you. Okay, I trust you, Susie. You know I do. I just don’t want you to be taken in by a nice smile and a few smooth moves. You deserve better.”
I slide over to my friend and hug her tightly. “Thank you, Ali. I know you’re looking out for me.”
“Just be careful tonight. If you’re not ready, don’t-”
“Okay, okay, I get it!” I interrupt, laughing.
Allison lets go, spotting a long, black pencil dress. “Classy and sexy,” she says.
“Sold.”
—
My heart palpitates excitedly as my limo arrives at the address Colin texted. According to rumor, he’s tried to get this street renamed to Legend Boulevard, but I don’t know if it’s really true. Of course, Colin’s home would certainly be worthy of the moniker. The block is as posh as it gets in the city. Clean, wide sidewalks dotted with rosebushes invite foot traffic to one of the nicest commercial centers around. Unlike the neighborhood of Colin’s bistro, I’ve been here before.
The Virgin Heiress: A Billionaire & Virgin Romance Page 2
