by Tami Lund
Even more untouchable.
Her escort left her standing near one of four bars set up in each corner of the room, which afforded her an excellent vantage point to observe her opulent surroundings while trying to figure out who, in this sea of impeccably dressed and generally handsome men, was her target of seduction.
“Gray suit. Pale yellow shirt and tie,” someone murmured close to her ear. Rachel gave a start and looked up at the profile of a man she had hoped to never see again. He smiled at the bartender as she poured white wine into a glass.
“Jesus, you’re quiet as a freaking cat,” Rachel muttered. In his tailored black-on-black tuxedo, he was even sexier than he had looked last weekend, when he’d had her tied to a chair in a hotel room. Her hatred and resentment grew exponentially. The unfairness of her situation smacked her as hard as his slaps had. What she wouldn’t give to never even know this place, this man, this life existed. Her own life had significantly more lows than highs, but at least she’d avoided threats to her life and whoring herself out at the bequest of another.
The bane of her existence accepted the drink and slid a bill across the smooth surface of the bar, then pushed the wine glass toward Rachel’s hand and said, “Thank you,” as if she’d given him a compliment. Then he nodded at a gathering of people standing on the other side of the room.
“Oh,” she said as her breath caught in her throat.
“I didn’t think the task would be too hard on you,” he murmured, his voice full of sarcasm. Then he was gone.
Rachel continued to stand there, holding the bar for support and absently sipping wine while she studied the incredibly handsome man currently working the room. He wandered from group to group, shaking hands, allowing bejeweled women to air kiss his cheek, occasionally accepting a hug from a woman who took full advantage and pressed her entire body to his. One woman even had the balls to squeeze his ass, and Rachel watched as he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her arm away, smiling and chuckling as he did so.
Handsome was the understatement of the year. She would have happily thrown herself at this guy without any provocation whatsoever.
Thick dark locks were brushed away from his face and draped to tease at his collar. She’d always had a thing for guys with long hair. He had dark, dark eyes, and his facial hair was less a perfectly manicured beard and more a thick stubble resulting, no doubt, from a desire to avoid shaving. It helped ease what could have been too much of a pretty boy face, and definitely increased his hotness ratio. Rachel liked facial hair. She liked the way it looked, she liked the gentle abrasion against her skin…
His build was damned impressive, too. He was taller than average—close to six and a half feet, she guessed, as she watched him from across the room. Every one of those feet looked to be carved out of solid, rippling muscle that shifted and moved underneath his shirt when he lifted his arm to shake someone’s hand, and beneath his pants when he strode to another group of partygoers to talk them up.
Okay, hooking up with her mark clearly wouldn’t be a problem. Even if he was an idiot or an egomaniac, she could overlook that. She’d overlooked a lot worse things in her life.
Tearing her attention away from her quarry, Rachel noticed a few curious things about this party. First and foremost, there were very few guests who did not have dark hair and that attractive dark complexion of her tormentor, the driver, and the man she was supposed to seduce. Her red hair no doubt stuck out like a sore thumb. Well, hopefully like a siren, actually. She continued to watch the man she had been instructed to woo into bed tonight.
Most guests wore black. The man of the hour did not, and neither did she, but otherwise, black was most certainly the preferred color in this crowd. There was the occasional woman who sauntered around in a fire engine red dress, but not many.
Everyone seemed to know one another, to some degree, at least. And there was a sense of power in the room. It practically sizzled in the air, like a living, breathing thing.
A peculiar thing happened just as Rachel was about to finish the last swallow of her wine. A sleek black panther strutted into the room. A real, live, genuine, honest-to-God panther. The wait staff and other employees of the country club shrieked and ran, glasses and plates and food flying every which way as they dropped whatever they were holding in their haste to leave the vicinity.
None of the party guests reacted in such a way. In fact, as Rachel watched from her vantage point, frozen in fear while clinging to the bar, she noticed several guests laugh or chuckle. A fair number reached out and petted the animal’s back or head, talking to it as if it could understand. The man who was her latest quarry bent at the waist and sternly talked directly to the animal. It growled, the man growled back, and then the animal slunk away and disappeared through a door at the far end of the room.
She watched her mark look around the room, and it was obvious he was concerned about the mess that had occurred as a result of the animal’s appearance. He excused himself from the group he’d been chatting with and headed in Rachel’s direction. She doubted very much he was literally heading toward her, but she figured this was as perfect a chance as she was going to get to meet the guy.
She released her hold on the bar and smoothed the front of her satiny dress. And then she watched as his gaze caught hers and held, until he stood directly in front of her. Clearly, he had been literally heading in her direction.
“Hello,” he said, his deep voice slightly rough, like sandpaper. Her thoughts immediately shifted to silk sheets and baby oil. So far, this whole sleep-with-a-stranger gig wasn’t turning out half bad. Not bad at all, in fact.
“H-hi.”
“I’m Joshua Tigre. Josh.”
“Hi Josh. I’m Rachel.” She offered her hand and he enveloped it in his far larger and warmer one. She spared a moment to pray he never let it go.
“I hope the prank didn’t frighten you too much.”
Prank? She racked her brain, trying to figure out what the hell he was talking about. All she could focus on was the warmth of his hand and the impressive width of his shoulders. And his smile. And his eyes. And…
“The panther,” he went on to explain. “I told him not to do it. I told him this wasn’t the place.” He shook his head, looking exasperated. “My cousin never listens to reason.”
“Your—your cousin?” She was clearly missing something.
Josh nodded, looking solemn, although there was a definite gleam in his dark eyes. “Matt. He knows better. Unfortunately, he has a tendency to react first and think later. Or not at all.” The solemn look switched to annoyed, before he wiped it clean and offered her a dazzling smile. “Like I said, a prank. Harmless.”
“O-okay.” He sure seemed hell bent on convincing her she shouldn’t be frightened. In truth, once the panther had passed without so much as glancing her way, she’d been more fascinated than scared.
Josh’s gaze locked onto her for several breathless seconds. He scanned her, from the top of her red hair to the tips of her too-high heels, and then he abruptly shifted his gaze away and looked at the crowd.
“Maybe I should escort you to your car?” he suggested. Unless she was mistaken, he was trying to get rid of her. She wondered why.
“I—I didn’t drive.” The memory of a week ago, when she’d been tied to a chair in a hotel room and threatened with death, reminded her that this was what she wanted. She needed Josh Tigre to take her home tonight. She deliberately ignored that part of her brain that was actually excited over the prospect.
Okay, no she didn’t. In fact, she allowed that part of her brain to have free rein.
His gaze sharpened. “Do you need a ride?”
She batted her eyelashes. Rachel had been blessed with her mother’s milky complexion, gorgeous red hair, and strategic curves. Looks her mother had wasted on drugs and the sleazy losers who dealt them. Rachel preferred to waste hers on sexy men in gray suits who rushed across a crowded ballroom to convince her not to worry about the fact that
a live panther had just strutted through the vicinity.
“That would be wonderful,” she said, her voice practically a purr. She watched as he scoped out the room again. A man stepped through the door where the panther had disappeared a short time earlier. He vaguely resembled Josh. Rachel wondered if this was the cousin who never listened. When his gaze zoned in on them, Josh sharply shook his head. The man paused, a frown creasing his brow.
“Let’s go. I’ll take you home.”
“What?” It couldn’t possibly be this easy—could it?
“You just said you needed a ride.” He sounded confused. Rachel caught herself before she blew her opportunity. She wasn’t used to anything working quite so readily in her favor. Even when she used guys for her own means, it wasn’t usually this easy.
“Right. Of course. I’d appreciate it. Thank you.” Now she sounded overly grateful.
Taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth to backtrack, but Josh beat her to the punch. “Great. Let’s go.” He slipped his arm around her waist and for a moment, she was certain she forgot to breathe. She certainly forgot how to walk, as was evident when he put pressure on her back and then paused, a question in his eyes.
“Sorry. The shoes. I’m not very good with the heels.”
He glanced down and she lifted her skirt enough for him to admire the six-inch gold heels. When he lifted his gaze back to her face, she could have sworn his eyes were glowing.
Holy shit, it really is going to be this easy.
He led her outside, his hand on the small of her back, gently guiding and holding her steady at the same time. When they reached the curb, he handed a ticket to the hovering valet, and the kid took off at a sprint. When he returned, it was at the wheel of a brand new, shiny, black-and-chrome Escalade, which he drove with reverence. He leaped out and ran around to open the passenger door. Josh walked her to the SUV and helped her slide onto the leather seat. He turned and spoke to the attendant, a couple bills slipped from Josh’s hand to the kid’s, and then the valet hurried away.
“I have to go back inside and make sure that little stunt from earlier did not destroy our chances of using this club again in the future. Stay here, make yourself comfortable, and I’ll be back in ten minutes, tops.”
“That’s no problem at all,” Rachel assured him as she snuggled into the plush seat. Josh smiled and shook his head, as if he couldn’t quite believe his luck, and then he headed inside.
He was back in seven minutes, sliding onto the driver’s seat and shifting the gear into drive. “It’s amazing what money will buy,” he commented almost bemusedly, and then he asked, “Where to?”
Rachel sat up straighter in the seat. She hadn’t thought this plan through. She couldn’t take him to her tiny apartment located in a questionable part of town. How would she ever explain her presence at a party that was clearly only meant for the upper echelon?
But suggesting they go to his house would really make her sound like a whore this early in the game, so instead she said, “It’s still early. Maybe we could get a drink somewhere?”
“I like the way you think,” Josh said as he guided the SUV away from the sparkling white country club. “Except there aren’t a whole lot of places we can go dressed like this without causing a stir. I could stop someplace, get a nice bottle of wine, and then we could go back to your place,” he suggested.
“What about your house?”
He cut his gaze to her for a few seconds before shifting it back to the road. “Can’t. It’s—I—ah…It’s complicated.”
Rachel grinned. “Uh-oh. Stepping out on the wife?” Is that why she had been instructed to hit on Josh? It was clear from her brief time inside that country club that he was a man of significant standing amongst the attendees at the gala. While she had been instructed to seduce him for her tormentor’s own purposes, she hadn’t considered how her sleeping with Josh would further the other man’s agenda, until now. Setting Josh up to cheat on his wife would certainly help to destroy pretty much anyone’s reputation.
He shook his head and said, “No. No ma—er—wife. There’s no one. No one important.” He shoved his hand through his hair and Rachel felt a stab of sympathy. She knew nothing about the guy; her job was to seduce him, yet she felt so guilty she was tempted to tell him to drop her at the curb and she would make her way home, while he headed back to his party.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”
“No, I do. I just don’t know how. But the truth is, if we go back to my place, we wouldn’t be alone.”
“No?”
“That party we just left? That’s an annual event, to raise funds for a charity that’s—that used to be important to my parents. And when it’s over, every year, a large number of the attendees end up back at their—my house.” He glanced at the digital clock glowing on the dashboard. “We have maybe an hour, tops, before the place is overrun. And trust me, you do not want to be there when that happens.”
Rachel nodded. So he really did want to be alone with her. This boded well for her assignment.
“I have a confession, before we head to my place.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m not rich.”
He appeared amused by her confession. “No?”
“I didn’t really belong at that party. I just—I was given an invitation, and it seemed like a cool idea, and…”
“It’s okay, Rachel. I already knew you weren’t on the guest list. It’s refreshing, actually, if you want to know the truth. I feel like you aren’t going to be fake.”
If you only knew.
“I seriously do not live in a good part of town,” she warned him.
“I think I can handle it.”
“Fine. But we should probably stop and pick up a bottle while we’re still on this side of the tracks.”
* * * *
She gave him directions to her apartment. It was a cinderblock structure, shaped like a U, with a cement courtyard in the middle. It more resembled a by-the-hour motel than an apartment building. But the rent was cheap and most of her neighbors were elderly and kept to themselves, just like she did. Every now and then the cops showed up and busted somebody for dealing drugs, and occasionally drunken fights broke out on the sidewalk, but for the most part, it was simply an inexpensive place to live.
Until tonight. As she walked up the cracked staircase with Josh by her side, wearing a ball gown that likely cost more than she made in a month, Rachel was more conscious of her living space than she ever had been in her life.
“I warned you,” she said, as she thrust the key into the lock and twisted.
“It’s not your apartment I want to get to know,” Josh responded, and she felt her insides do a strange little dance that was as foreign to her as everything else she’d experienced tonight.
They both stepped inside and she flipped on the light. “At least it’s clean.” She’d gone into a cleaning frenzy earlier in the day, wanting to eliminate any stray hair, the scent of cologne, anything that might remind her of the man who set her on her task tonight.
He chuckled and walked through the living room to the tiny kitchen built into a corner of the small, one-bedroom apartment. “I don’t suppose you have champagne glasses?”
“Champagne?” He had left her in the car when he stopped at a specialty liquor store, and when he returned, the bottle was wrapped in a paper bag. She had assumed he’d purchased wine.
“Seemed appropriate,” Josh said with a lift of one shoulder. “Based on what you’ve told me, I’m willing to bet you’ve never tasted quality sparkling wine.” He pulled the bottle out of the bag and showed her the label.
“Cristal.” She had heard of it, of course, but he was right: she had never tasted it. “I don’t have champagne glasses. I might be able to scrounge up a couple wine glasses.”
“That’ll do.”
She started to toe off the killer heels, but stopped when she heard a strange sound. When she glanced at Josh, she bl
inked a couple times. It was the second time that night she imagined his eyes were glowing. Which was crazy. Maybe she shouldn’t try the champagne. Apparently that one glass of high-quality wine had gone to her head.
“Sorry,” Josh said, pulling her out of her revere. “Those shoes are sexy as hell.”
Rachel glanced at her feet. “Yeah, but they hurt like hell, too.” She didn’t even wear heels to her secretary job. And six inches was a lot, when referencing shoes.
“Why don’t you have a seat on the couch?” he suggested. “I’ll dig up some glasses and we can get to know each other.”
Recalling the reason this perfect stranger was currently in her apartment, Rachel decided to go along with his potential fetish. If it helped to ensure she didn’t find her way into an early grave, where was the harm? Okay, the harm would be to her feet, but they’d get over it.
“Cabinet next to the sink. On the left. I think there are two of them.” She heard the sound of cabinet doors opening and closing, then Josh walked into the living area holding the bottle of champagne, a kitchen towel, and two wine glasses with the logo from the hotel where she moonlighted as a housekeeper etched into the glass.
“I approve of these,” he said with a dark chuckle, as he lifted the wine glasses.
She smiled. She almost told him she’d stolen them from the hotel during one of her shifts, but while he was accepting of her less-than-rich status, he didn’t need to know that she worked as a weekend housekeeper at a classy hotel. First, she knew whatever happened tonight was a one-night deal, and second, being a housekeeper wasn’t remotely sexy, and she currently felt sexy. Although it was an act, and the entire situation was something of a forced Cinderella scenario, she damn well wanted to enjoy it to its fullest.
He covered the bottle with the towel and popped the cork, filling the glasses before wrapping the towel around the bottle and placing it on the coffee table. He offered her one of the glasses and then sat next to her. He radiated heat, although he didn’t look remotely feverish or ill.
