She made eye-contact and Devon stepped back, feeling a jolt of ogling-induced embarrassment. But he realized his moment wasn’t over when he felt something under his heel. Just as he turned to apologize to the server whose foot he’d just stepped on, Romeo took the opportunity to leap from his arms toward the serving tray of meaty hors d’oeuvres. Devon somehow managed to hold the teetering tray of flutes aright but he cringed, expecting to hear the crash of Romeo sending the other tray to the floor at any moment.
But the crash never came.
The woman in the red shoes was holding Romeo in her arms. She was letting him chomp hors d’oeuvres from the silver tray, and smiling from ear to ear. Her dazzling grin was almost enough to make him forget his mortification.
She laughed. “I’m sorry. It’s so embarrassing. I can hardly take him anywhere.” Despite her words, she didn’t look embarrassed. She almost looked defiant, like she dared one of those stuck-up onlookers to say something.
The corner of Devon’s mouth turned up. If a beautiful woman wanted to save him from embarrassment on a night that was already sure to be the absolute worst, what could he do but kindly accept the gesture?
Romeo licked the silver platter before the server gave the woman a nervous smile and hurried to the kitchen.
Thank you, Devon mouthed. He rested the back of his free hand against his forehead, relieved and mortified at the same time. He couldn’t forget that all this had happened because he was checking her out. Maybe he should be mouthing I’m sorry.
She smiled. “I should be thanking you. Events like these are so freaking—so terribly dull. Is it your first night serving?” She brushed back a lock of blonde hair, and a sympathetic look widened her eyes, which he couldn’t help but stare at. A dark blue band circled around the paler-blue irises, and they were fringed with long, thick lashes.
Devon’s gaze traveled over to the champagne flutes he still carried, and he couldn’t help grinning. He’d much rather be a server at this event than be the focus of it. “Yes. Yes, it is.” Without stopping to think, he tipped his head toward the kitchen door, inviting her to follow him.
Chapter 3
Jenna
Jenna looked for Tali, but a tall, middle-aged man with his large chin jutting upward was holding her elbow and speaking to her. She wondered for a moment if she should save her. But then she glanced at the server. The look in his golden-brown eyes was part-panicked, part-hopeful. Besides, she wouldn’t mind a look behind the scenes before they left. She caught Tali’s eye and grinned wickedly. That’s for Winnifred, she mouthed. Then she smiled and followed the server.
Jenna stopped short in the kitchen, still clutching the dog. Her breath caught as she stared at the huge island with a large second sink and thick, marble countertops, covered with enough food to feed the whole trailer park for a few days. The cabinetry was mostly gleaming white, except for the island and a few other sections that were stained deep brown, giving it a charming, almost-furniture effect. There was also a table that would seat several people. Jenna thought she could pretty much live in this one room. It was surprisingly cozy for such a big space.
She wasn’t sure why she’d followed him in there. She’d snuck into the event for one reason, to make it a welcome-to-the-company party Devon Ward would never forget. It’s just that the way this man had looked at her with those sparkling eyes made her feel like she was the only person worth noticing in a room full of beauty and glamour. That was ridiculous, of course. And she wasn’t vain enough to think the hors d’oeuvres mishap had anything to do with her, even though she couldn’t help but notice him staring.
Then he’d looked so vulnerable and sweet, and the idea of escaping from all those people wearing clothing that cost more than Tali’s car sounded so good.
“You seem to like the kitchen. Are you a cook?” he asked, placing the tray on the stove-top.
Jenna blinked and closed her mouth. “I don’t have time for cooking. I’ve just never seen a kitchen that was so ...” Big, she thought. Beautiful, but also just big. She was pretty sure both her mom’s trailer and Gertie’s would fit inside.
“I have to admit, it’s my favorite room. Most of the house is too over-the-top for my tastes, but there’s something about a good kitchen.”
He walked over to the fridge as if he’d done it a million times, which was strange, seeing as how he was supposed to be new. He opened the door and took out a pie and a gallon of milk, then placed them on the counter. He turned and pulled two glasses out of a cabinet. She liked the way he moved, confident and sure. Something about him made her certain he wouldn’t be serving caviar on crackers for long. He grabbed two forks from a drawer and poured milk into the glasses.
“That food out there is not meant for human consumption. It’s very one percent.”
She stiffened, wondering if she should be offended. Then her stomach lurched. He knew she wasn’t one of them! She never should have thought she could blend in here.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean—You just look like you might appreciate something more ... genuine.”
He handed her the pie and picked up the drinks and forks, nodding his head toward the table, where they’d be out of the way of the other servers bustling in and out.
“But won’t you ... get into trouble or something?” She watched as a man hurried in and grabbed a tray. He paused and stared at the two of them for a moment, his face curious, but then he stiffened and rushed out, as if he was afraid he might be the one in trouble.
As her new friend chuckled and sat confidently down in a heavy wood dining chair, she finally noticed that his tuxedo looked a lot nicer than that other guy’s. Maybe he’d lied to her. Maybe he was, like, the head server. She wouldn’t be surprised, from the looks of him.
“No, I’m due for a break. And Carmen brought the pie especially for me. I’ve eaten desserts in twelve different countries, but Carmen’s peach pie is a confection worth coming home for.” His brow furrowed. “Did that sound braggy? Sorry, I love to travel.”
She put down the pie and shook her head as she sat in the chair next to him with the dog in her lap. (It had just occurred to her to wonder why there was a dog in this equation at all.) “I’d love to be able to do that someday.”
“Why can’t you?” he asked.
She stiffened. She couldn’t exactly tell him that she could barely afford a Greyhound ticket to Boise. And things were even tighter now that she’d lost her weekend job. “My mom is sick. I’ve had to stay close. Not that I resent that. Sorry, didn’t mean to make things real so soon.”
“I’ll take real any day.” He shook his head, and his eyes looked sad. “I’m sorry about your mom. But I can tell you, your sacrifice will be much better than living with regret.”
“You’ve lost someone?”
“Yes. And even though we didn’t see eye-to-eye, I wish I’d been here.”
“Sorry.”
“The world will always be there, right?” He gave her a hopeful smile. “Maybe someday.”
“Maybe someday,” she said, without much hope. She’d never be able to travel. She’d never even be able to afford the time off work.
Jenna took a bite of pie, for lack of something more to say. “That really is delicious.” She smiled, licking the sticky sweetness off her lips. She couldn’t help but notice his eyes straying to appreciate her efforts. “So,” she said, feeling herself blush again, “are you sure you’re new? You seem pretty comfortable around here, and someone named Carmen brings you pie. I’m not buying it.”
He grinned sheepishly, scratching his jaw. “Okay, I’m not exactly new around here.” One dark brow raised just slightly, highlighting a mischievous look in his eyes. “I joined the company a few months ago. But this is my first event of this kind.” His voice trailed off.
She shook her head, certain he was holding something back. It didn’t matter. He was cute, and the pie was good.
But as they dug into the tin together, unease crept into her gut. Her confi
dence wavered, and she reached for her purse, patting the bulge inside to make sure everything was still good to go.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes. It’s just ... to be honest, I don’t belong here.”
A grin spread across his face. She’d thought he was handsome before, but his smile made her forget to swallow the bite of peach pie she’d just taken.
“That’s probably why I like you so much,” he said. Then his expression soured. “All most of those people out there care about is money, even if it ruins their lives. I’d rather do without it.”
“You’re crazy,” Jenna said.
He looked at her, his brow creased in confusion. “I thought you’d agree with me.”
“No way. If I had money, I could think of a million things to do with it. I could help people.”
His eyes narrowed, as if he was considering her words. “Good point.”
The way he smiled at her then filled her with nerves, and she felt a wave of babbling coming on. “Have you ever had to do something that you know is right but when it comes down to it, you don’t know if you have the guts?”
He frowned, leaning forward with one elbow on the table. His fingers played with the short ends of his dark, slightly-curled hair, as if he were lost in thought. She had half-a-mind to reach over and feel it between her fingers too. While she was at it, she wouldn’t mind brushing her hand over his tanned cheek, or following the expressive outline of his eyebrow with her fingertip.
She felt heat creep into her cheeks again. Tali always told her she needed to date more, and her embarrassing fantasies involving an event server she’d just met assured her that Tali was probably right. But dating hadn’t done her much good in the past. She didn’t have time to put into a relationship, and besides, all the guys she’d gone out with had been total, self-absorbed losers.
“Yes,” he said finally.
Her eyes darted away. She hoped he hadn’t noticed her close examination, but then again it had been her turn to ogle, after all.
“I guess I’ve never been put to the test before now,” he said, determination in his voice. “I’ve mostly just worried about myself. But, yeah, I’m finding myself in exactly that kind of situation.” He leaned in closer to her. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“For what? The thing with the dog? I don’t care what those people think of me. They’re just a bunch of over-privileged snobs who live it up while other people suffer.”
He flinched. She hoped she hadn’t revealed too much about herself, but surely a man in a profession like his understood. “I mean, you could lose your job.” She wondered again why he’d been carrying a dog around at work anyway. She glanced down at Romeo, fingering his diamond studded collar, and realized it must belong to one of the wealthy guests.
There was amusement in his eyes. “Not many people care an ounce about a working man’s job. Not around here, anyway. But it’s more than that. You have no idea how much I needed a genuine conversation with a sympathetic person. It’s given me courage. So I can do that thing I didn’t quite have the guts for.”
His hand reached over and rested on hers, as if they hadn’t just met five minutes ago. She tried not to look startled as her heart jumped at the feel of his warm fingers. His eyes darted down to their hands, and then back at her, as if embarrassed. She smiled, letting him know it was okay.
“I can’t imagine you needing courage,” he said quietly, “and I’ve only known you for a few minutes. What’s your name, anyway?” He laughed softly. “You’d think that would have come up by now.”
“What, you don’t eat pie and hold hands with strangers every Friday night?”
“So do I get your name or not?”
She swallowed. “Winnifred.”
“Really?” The corner of his mouth turned up. He looked like he wanted to laugh, but didn’t dare in case she was telling the truth.
“Yes.” She straightened, gently pulling her hand away. It was time she got back to being Winnifred. She was surprised Tali hadn’t come after her yet.
“So do they call you ... Winnie?” He tipped his head, his eyes searching to make sense of it. “Freddie, maybe? I’m sorry, I still can’t—”
She laughed, not able to keep it in any longer.
He laughed too. Then his caramelized-sugar eyes had that hopeful look again, the one that she couldn’t resist. “So I don’t get your name?” he asked.
She leaned in closer to him, taking in the scent of his cologne. It held a hint of all those far-away places he’d been. “If you tell me yours first.”
He looked down at the table. “The help don’t have names.”
The look on his face made her afraid she’d hurt his feelings. Maybe he thought she was trying to make up an identity so she’d never have to see him again. The idea of not seeing him again sent a strange sensation through her, like mild panic. She had the urge to tell him the truth, about her name if nothing else. “Come on, I’ll be honest if you will.”
Just then there was a burst of light. Jenna looked up to see a man in the doorway with a camera in hand. She gasped, letting the little dog leap to the table. Getting her picture taken at the party was definitely not part of the plan.
Her new friend looked as upset as she was. Documentation of him sitting down on the job probably wouldn’t bode well for him. She never should have agreed to come with him. She couldn’t think of anything that would get him out of trouble this time.
He stood up abruptly, nearly knocking his chair over. Anger flashed in his eyes. Then he composed himself, straightening his suit.
He smiled stiffly. “There’s no need to ambush me. If you’ll be patient just a little longer, I’ll be happy to pose for pictures.”
Pose? Why would someone be so eager to take photos of the staff at an event like this? She looked her still-nameless friend over again, her eyes traveling over his tuxedo. She didn’t know much about fashion, but she was certain now that it was no server’s uniform.
The man with the camera backed out of the room as Jenna hurried out of her chair. She whipped around as someone entered from a door at the back of the kitchen. It was a dark-haired woman in a different kind of uniform. Her figure was soft-edged, but her expression, not so much.
“What is that dog doing on the table, Mr. Devon?” she asked sternly.
Mr. Devon? As in Devon Ward? Jenna stumbled back, her head reeling. There was no way she’d just spent the last twenty minutes bonding with TrueLife’s new CEO.
“Carmen, could you take Romeo? I brought champagne.” He looked hopeful as he pointed to the tray, then quickly turned his attention back to Jenna. He held his hands out in a gesture of desperation, as if begging her not to leave.
The other door opened again, and a server walked in carrying an empty tray. Standing behind him was Tali, her eyes wide. It’s him, she mouthed, her finger making a tiny stabbing motion in the direction of the kitchen. She held her phone out, displaying the now-familiar face of the handsome CEO. Jenna closed her eyes, berating herself for not doing her homework as the door swung shut. She scrambled around the other side of the table, heading for the door.
“Wait,” Devon said, his hand brushing her arm as he tried to keep up with her. “I just wanted to talk to you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“It’s not that. It’s you. You’re him.”
He scurried to get ahead of her, blocking the door. “Please don’t be intimidated. I’m just a regular guy.”
She laughed, the manic tone ringing through the kitchen. “A regular guy?” she snarled. “I’m not intimidated. I’m disgusted.”
His jaw dropped. There was hurt in his eyes as he struggled to respond.
“You act like you’re different from all of them, just a guy who’d rather eat pie in the kitchen. Just travel the world and eat your pie while people suffer and die.”
He flinched, as if she’d slapped him. Then he leaned toward her, his features suddenly hard. “Yes, people die ever
y day. What are you doing about it? My father started this company to help. He always said that TrueLife’s mission was to bring relief to the suffering, and peace of mind to their families.”
Jenna laughed louder this time, a hard, empty sound. “Your father was greedy, and a murderer. He gave people hope, took their money, and left them to die. Now you’re doing the same.”
Jenna shoved him aside, throwing the door open. Devon followed close behind.
“That’s a bunch of lies from competitive companies.” His whisper was harsh, and his eyes darted around the room as he kept pace with her.
Jenna grabbed Tali’s arm. Tali gave her a questioning look, her eyes darting to Jenna’s purse.
A jolt of panic went through her. She couldn’t leave yet! She hadn’t done the one thing she came to do. And the way people were starting to stare there was no way she’d go unnoticed now.
“Show me proof,” Devon said, glaring at her.
Jenna’s eyes burned. “The proof’s at home in bed. She couldn’t make it, since she’s not well enough to leave the house anymore.”
“Your mom,” he said quietly.
“That’s right.”
He reached toward her, his hand hesitating as if he’d like to touch her but was afraid to.
Jenna stared him down as she pulled the paint bomb out of her purse.
“I really am sorry about your mom,” he said, “but I don’t think—”
“Hold that thought, will you?” She put the device in his hand. He examined it with a confused expression.
“Just something to remember me by.” Jenna took Tali’s arm again, and the two of them hurried through the crowd and out the front door. They’d barely gone through when they heard the uproar coming from inside.
Chapter 4
Devon
Charles frowned, examining the photo on Yahoo’s newsfeed.
“I think I look pretty good,” Devon said.
“So young and stupid.”
Devon stroked his chin, smiling. “But handsome. It’s the face you wanted anyway, right? And the name, of course. Hey, let me see that again.” He jerked the phone away from Charles.
Battling the Billionaire: A Clean Billionaire Romance Page 2
