Dirty Damsels (DotComGirls Series Book 1)

by Peggy Jaeger

  “Steady.” His entire hand encircled my upper arm. From spending years lifting and cleaning, my upper arms are pretty toned. Not a masculine type of muscular, but tight and firm. To circle my entire bicep, his hand had to be humongous. And it was. For a nanosecond, I wondered what else about him might be.

  “Okay?” he asked, never ceasing the massage of my knuckles.

  He had me quite captive, one hand gripping my arm, the other holding my hand, and I’d admit it freely: it felt wonderful.

  When I didn’t respond, he took a quick look at my feet, smiled, and pulled his gaze back up to mine.

  I swore, his smile mesmerized me, made speech and thought impossible. My free will went right out the proverbial window.

  “I never understand how anyone can stand upright in those things for any amount of time.”

  “Practice.”

  His smile turned into a grin Lucifer’s stepson would have been jealous of. No one. No. One. Should look this good and smell this divine.

  “The airline found your luggage,” I said, my eyes raking down the length of his jacket and up again. There was no way he’d bought the suit off the rack this afternoon. Not with those shoulders and legs. I knew of no men’s store who catered to guys cut like he was in an hour.

  “Yeah. I didn’t treasure having to go out and find something that would fit.” He licked his lips and cocked his head to one side. “How’d you know that?”

  I was grateful the lighting was subdued because I could feel the heat of a blush shoot up my neck and face. I tried to shrug, but his hands, strategically placed, prevented the move. “A guy built like you are can’t have an easy time finding clothes off the rack.” I slid my gaze down his torso and back up to his face. “It just stands to reason the airline came through.”

  He didn’t say anything back, just continued to hold me prisoner with his hands and eyes. I could have stood there all night just to be able to stare back at him and—God forgive me—smell him.

  “Listen, Cinderella,” he shifted me in closer with a gentle tug on my arm, “why don’t we get out of here? Go somewhere quieter and get a drink? Talk?”

  For a split second, I considered it. Just leaving the girls. Nell. The bachelorette party. Going off with this guy, the first one I’d been attracted to in a long, long time, and just kissing the others arrivederci.

  But I couldn’t.

  “I’m at a bachelorette party.”

  Disappointment clouded his eyes as he threw me the sexiest pout I’d ever seen. “Just my luck.” His lips tugged into a wry curve. “I meet the girl of my dreams, and she’s getting married.”

  “No, not me.” I shook my head. Little frissons of delight shot up my spine at his words. I pointed with my chin to the dance floor. “One of my girls is getting married tomorrow, and this is her big send off. I’m one of the hosts, so I can’t leave.”

  What I neglected to say was, “But boy, oh, boy do I want to.”

  “So, you’re not taken?” His eyes searched my face.

  “Taken? As in, with somebody?”

  His massive shoulders shrugged under his well-fitted jacket. “With somebody, married, co-habbing. Whatever.”

  I wanted to tell him I was none of those things, nor had I ever been, but before I could respond, a hand fisted into my back. I turned and found Nell on the opposite end of the fist.

  “Sorry, El.” Her gaze ping-ponged from me, to Buddy, then back to me. I knew that wide-eyed and quizzical look intimately. She wanted chapter, book, and verse about why I was with this guy.

  “Carrie Ann wants to go back to the room and try to get a good night’s sleep, so she looks rested in the morning.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Round ‘em up, and I’ll meet you guys out front in a sec.”

  With one last piercing glare at the man holding my hand, she nodded and left us alone.

  When I turned back, the grin that made my knees go lax was broad. “Looks like you’re about to come free, Cinderella. My offer still stands.”

  Some decisions in life are no-brainers. This was one of them because before my brain could think to stop me, my mouth said, “We’re next door at The Marchant. How about I meet you in the hotel bar in, say, thirty minutes?”

  With a gentle squeeze to both my upper arm and my hand, he said, “I’ll be waiting.”

  Chapter Three

  “I’m having a hard time believing this is you,” Nell told me twenty minutes later while she watched me recheck my hair and do a few makeup adjustments in the hotel’s bathroom mirror.

  We’d gotten a drunk and emotionally slobbery Carrie Ann checked in, along with her equally smashed bridesmaids, to the suite next to ours. There was a connecting door between the rooms so Nell could keep watch over them, make sure everyone stayed in for the rest of night, and was up to get ready to be at the church on time in the morning. I’d volunteered to help her until my sudden date materialized.

  “What’s so hard to believe?” I reapplied deodorant then dabbed a little Beautiful perfume behind my ears.

  “That you’re meeting a guy for a drink when A) you only met him for a scant minute and a half this afternoon, B) you know nothing about him except his first name, and C) and probably the most uncharacteristic for you, he’s the friend of a client. A powerful client.”

  I frowned at her reflection in the mirror. “I get A, and B, but what does the fact that he’s a friend of Cal Burton’s have to do with meeting him for a drink?”

  “Hello? Earth to Ella. Does the name Alejandro Ruberio sound familiar?”

  My lipstick slipped from my hand mid-swipe to drop into the sink. Grabbing a tissue from the hotel-issued box, I wet it with tap water and dabbed it across my chin where the color had slashed on the stick’s descent to the marble basin.

  Alejandro Ruberio, wealthy, extremely good looking, and very well connected—as in the Mob—was a friend of a previous client of mine, high-priced real estate developer David Annuziato. I’d sent one of my top girls to freshen up David’s Tribeca condo, and Alejandro had arrived while she was cleaning the place, much as Buddy had today—early. One look at the six-foot-tall former Miss Texas beauty and Alejandro invited her to Bogata. They left on the spot, without Alejandro meeting with Annuziato, a meeting with deep implications in the real estate world. David had called me the next day, threatening all sorts of legal actions if I didn’t instruct my girl to return immediately from her tryst with his client. That she was over twenty-one and an American citizen with all the freedoms inherent in the title didn’t seem to faze him in the least.

  Three weeks later, they both showed up at David’s condo, married and unapologetic. David’s real estate deal went south due to Alejandro’s disappearance, and David fired then blackballed me to all his friends and famous clients.

  In New York, though, once you have an infamous rep, it only serves to make people want to know you more, so David actually did me a huge favor, because once word got out, I booked more new clients in a week than in the three months prior to the incident.

  “The two are totally unrelated.” I tried a second time to get the color correctly on my lips.

  “Ella, you don’t know why this guy is here or why he’s staying at Cal’s. He could be married, for all you know. Do you want to take a chance and jeopardize your business with another client? Another high-paying and loyal client, I’ll add?”

  “You’re not making any sense, and you know it. I’m not going to run off with the guy like Marielle did with Alejandro. I’m not a twenty-one year old with stars in my eyes. This is simply a friendly drink with a guy I happened to meet on a job. Nothing more.”

  With a frustrated shake of her head, Nell threw up her hands. “Look, El, I know you’ve been going through a dry spell lately on the dating front—”

  “A self-imposed dry spell,” I clarified, fluffing my hair.

  “Regardless. You’ve been shunning any and all offers to go out with men for almost a year. And they’ve all been men you know. Why
, all of a sudden, are you going out now, with someone you don’t?”

  “Maybe I’m ready,” I told her. It was a bald-faced lie because a few days ago, I’d been thinking how happy my life had been lately without having to cater to a man’s needs and time schedules.

  But since I’d turned around from Cal Burton’s fireplace and stared into a pair of eyes that knew their way to my soul, I’d been rethinking my self-imposed abstinence from the dating world.

  I looked at her reflection again and read the uneasiness in her huge eyes. Turning, I grabbed her in a quick hug and said, “Look, Nell. No worries. I’ll be downstairs in the bar, having a drink. I won’t leave the hotel. Promise. I’ll be back here and tucked in like a good little chaperone before you know it.”

  “Why do I not believe a word of that?” She hugged me back. “Promise me a few things before you go.”

  I rolled my eyes and grinned. “What, Mom?”

  “Take your cell.”

  I waved it at her and stuck it in my purse.

  “Is it charged?”

  I nodded. “What else? Because I know there’s more.”

  “If he has a drink waiting for you, don’t accept it. Order one of your own. And if you leave the table for any reason with a drink still in place, don’t drink it when you get back.”

  “Suspicion, thy name is Penelope. Okay. I won’t get roofied. Next.”

  “If you get any kind of a creep vibe, no matter how small, beg off and leave. Use the wedding as your excuse. Don’t tell him your room number, either. Got it?”

  I pulled her in for another hug. “You missed your calling, you know. Instead of the CEO of successful business, you should have enlisted. Deeply embedded operatives in war-ravished countries have nothing on you. I promise all the above. Okay?”

  With resignation mixed with worry in her eyes, she nodded.

  In the elevator, I took a deep breath. Everything Nell had said to me, I would have, truthfully, said to her if our roles were reversed. We’d been looking out for one another since we’d been assigned as roommates during freshman year in college, and from the moment we introduced ourselves, I knew we were going to be best friends. I’d walked into our dorm room, my arms laden with boxes, heard something smash to the ground and then a loud trio of “Shits!” I’d expected to find a big, brawny, tattooed biker chick to go along with the expletive. What I found was this tiny pixie with a mop of blonde curls and cornflower blue eyes so big and wide she resembled an anime drawing.

  She stood on a milk crate, a hammer in one hand and several nails sticking out of her mouth. On the floor next to her lay the shattered remnants of a picture frame. She glanced up, halted me with a cautioning hand in the air, and mumbled, “Don’t come closer. There’s glass everywhere.” What I heard was “downcomeclersersasswevewr,” because she’d neglected to remove the nails from her mouth.

  I fell in girl-crush-best-friend love with her in an instant. We’ve been through a lot together. A lot. We still looked out for one another, so I took her advice to heart.

  ***

  It was close to midnight when I strolled into the hotel bar. A healthy crowd filled the room, the bar packed with patrons. I spotted Buddy at a table for two in a far-off corner. He must have been on the lookout for me, because the moment I entered the room, he raised a hand and smiled.

  As I walked across the marble tiled floor, nervous excitement in my stride, I couldn’t help but silently be thrilled he’d been waiting for me with expectation on his face. When I was within speaking distance, he rose and extended his hand.

  “I had a few moments of panic you wouldn’t show.” He squeezed my hand as he pulled out my chair.

  His smile was so boyish and charming, I had to fight hard the urge to reach out and ruffle his perfect hair. Tiny tingles of delight drifted up my spine at his words, confirming the happy look I’d seen on his face when I entered the room.

  I glanced at the cup and saucer in front of him as I took my seat. “Unusual glassware.” The corners of my mouth twitched. “What kind of drink gets served in a porcelain cup?”

  “Decaf coffee,” he said, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’m still on Asian time. It’s eleven a.m. by my body clock.”

  A bow-tied waiter appeared at my side and asked what I’d like to drink.

  I nodded at Buddy’s coffee cup. “The same but make mine a double.”

  Both men laughed.

  Alone again, Buddy reached over and took my hand. The gesture caught me by surprise but delighted me too.

  “I want to apologize again for being so out of it this afternoon,” he said. “I left Hong Kong at seven yesterday evening and flew all night. I hopped a cab right to Cal’s place when I got to Kennedy.”

  “Not a plane sleeper?” I asked while my coffee was placed in front of me. The waiter had taken me seriously, because instead of a white, standard-issue China cup, he’d brought a mug three times the size and filled to the brim with hot, black, decaf coffee. He left a filled sterling silver creamer and sugar set and a second server of various no-cal sweeteners along with it before silently leaving us.

  Buddy’s grin morphed into a chuckle. “I should have ordered a pot.”

  “I’ll share.”

  “Thanks. In answer to your question, no. I never sleep on planes. I can’t, and believe me, I’ve tried.”

  “Ever tried any of those sleep aids?”

  “Nope, and I won’t. I don’t like to be fuzzy headed.”

  I agreed with him, since I felt the same way. Flying was hard enough. Flying when you’re pseudo-stoned was never a good idea.

  The coffee was piping hot, so I blew on it. I heard Buddy’s quick inhalation, glanced over the rim of the mug, and stopped blowing. His gaze was lasered in on my mouth, and, like a rocket firing, a supernova of lust blasted through my body from the piercing heat in his eyes.

  When he lifted his gaze to mine, I almost dropped the mug. I swore his eyes glowed, the green shimmering like winking jade.

  Talk about being fuzzy-headed. One look from this guy and my brain synapses had stopped firing.

  I put the mug back down on the table when I realized my hand shook.

  “Am I making you nervous?” he asked, my other hand still imprisoned in his.

  “A little,” I admitted. “Plus, it’s been a long day. Long week, if I’m being truthful.”

  Long decade, but, hey, who am I to complain?

  With a nod, he said, “I can relate. I’ve been away on business. Feels like I’ve been gone from home for a month, but it’s only been a week.”

  “Where do you live?” I asked, the rhythmic motions of his fingers finally serving to quell my shaking.

  “I’m headquartered in D.C. right now, but I’ve been looking to relocate. I need a change.”

  “Any reason?”

  He shrugged and drank his coffee. “Getting bored with my current location. I figure a change of scene might help.”

  “Any place in particular?”

  While I finally took a sip of my coffee, which was amazing, he said, “New York’s pretty high up on the list right at this moment.”

  “Why?”

  He didn’t answer, just kept peering intently at me. In the few seconds that passed, my mind went through a series of questions and answers, all of which had to do with this captivating man sitting opposite me.

  “You feel it too, don’t you?” he asked, the pressure on my hand tightening a little. “I’m not wrong, am I?”

  I shook my head and sighed. “No,” I admitted, stunned at myself. Disclosure was not my strong suit in relationships. I had ingrained trust issues and didn’t like revealing my thoughts and feelings to anyone, much less a stranger. It went way back to when my dad married my stepmother. She didn’t like me, and neither had her two daughters. Any time I tried to get close to them, I got shot down, ridiculed, and treated like dirt. After my dad died, the situation worsened.

  “From the moment you turned around from the fireplace,
I haven’t been able to think much of anything else but you.” He leaned in closer across the table. “When I saw you in the club, for a moment, I thought jet lag had gotten to me and I was hallucinating. Happily hallucinating,” he added with a grin. “I couldn’t stop myself from going over to see if it really was you. I’m not usually the kind of guy who does that.”

  I couldn’t take my eyes off his face. If he was handing me a line, it was the best one I’d heard in a while, and boy, did I want to believe it.

  “Even minus the kerchief, I recognized you. Your face…well…it’s unforgettable, even without ashes across your cheek.”

  His fingers started doing the knuckle swirling thing again, and all my nerve endings jumped.

  “I hope I’m not embarrassing you,” he said.

  “No. Embarrassed isn’t what I’m feeling.” I lifted the coffee mug with my free hand and, miraculously, got it up to my mouth without spilling it all over myself.

  I watched his striking eyes widen over the rim of the mug. “A statement like that gives a guy a huge amount of hope.”

  I swallowed my coffee and tried to calm my senses.

  “I noticed you were with someone in Diablo,” I said.

  “College roommate,” he told me. “He emailed me last week that he wanted to get together when he found out I was coming into town for a few days. We haven’t seen each other in a while. Busy schedules.” He took a swallow of his coffee with his free hand. I watched the way his lips curved around the rim of the cup. He looked like the kind of man who knew how to use his mouth to give a woman everything she wanted and craved. “We grabbed a quick dinner, then he wanted to go to the club, check it out. He told me it’s only been opened a little while.”

  “About two months.”

  “Lucky you got to have your bachelorette party there, then. The place was mobbed.”