by Andrea Dale
And Nate had always taken him up on the offer.
It would be so, so very easy to accept the quiet delivery in his room. Pass over the money. Give up control. Lose himself.
Trying to find balance, to find a sense of calm, Nate’s gaze returned to Hannah.
She was talking to Sam. Something his manager said made her laugh, and her face was radiant. She twirled her drink as she responded.
She must have sensed that Nate was looking at her, because she glanced over at him. When she saw he was watching, she plucked the glass swizzle stick from her martini glass and slipped it between her lips. The gesture was casual and yet somehow—and he knew, deliberately—suggestive.
Heat pooled in his groin. Minx. Any temptation he’d felt about drugs had been instantly and entirely replaced by desire for Hannah.
Naked. In the hot tub, her skin glistening wet, her hair in damp tendrils around her face as she lowered her mouth to his…
“Nate?” Victor’s voice interrupted Nate’s fantasy.
“Thanks for the offer, Victor,” he said. And the refusal came easily. “You’ve always been good to me. But I don’t need anything.”
The surprise on Hernandez’s face gave Nate a feeling of power. “Are you sure? A little…”
“No,” Nate cut him off. “I’m clean now. I don’t want any, and I don’t want to hear that you’ve offered or provided any to the rest of the band or crew. Okay?”
A pleasant mask slipped across Victor’s handsome features. “Of course, Nate. My job is to make sure you’re happy. I’ll do whatever you say.”
His smile was conciliatory, and Nate didn’t buy it for a second.
*
He didn’t tell Hannah what had transpired. She didn’t need to know. He hadn’t slipped, he hadn’t accepted, and no one else had been privy to the conversation. Victor wouldn’t risk his own reputation by repeating anything; he kept his job by ascribing to the see-nothing, hear-nothing philosophy.
Nate figured he might talk to Sam about it. Let him know that he’d handled the situation better than he had with the former PR asshole who’d made the same offer.
Just not right now. Right now all he wanted was Hannah.
She’d stripped and slipped into the bubbling tub before he’d made it out of the bathroom. The careless pool of her clothes on the floor was provocation in itself.
“Ecstasy,” she said as he slid in next to her. “See, I knew being on the road was just like this.”
He laughed. It was rare to have down time like this, but right now he found himself hard-pressed to argue with her.
The Jacuzzi was on the balcony, but they were high enough that the harsh neon of the Strip didn’t reach them. The setting sun sent streaks of tangerine and peach across the desert sky. Her eyes sparkled all on their own.
Officially, she wasn’t sharing the room with him. Officially, she was two floors down. Tonight, she would probably go to her own room. He didn’t want to sleep apart from her, but either of them caught sneaking out of each other’s room would belie their public face of business only.
Right now, though, it wasn’t just the view from the penthouse that made him feel like he was on the top of the world. He was high on his victory of resisting temptation and flying on the pleasure of having a beautiful, fascinating, unpredictable woman at his side.
He wanted to give her the world.
“After this,” he said, draping an arm across her enticingly wet shoulders. Her skin was like silk. “I’m taking you shopping.”
“Shopping?”
“I had Sam get us a reservation at Lorelei, and if you’re going to Lorelei, you should go in a new dress.”
Hannah got a delightful look on her face: indignant outrage coupled with unadulterated interest. “I don’t need a new—”
“If you try to tell me you don’t need a new dress and that you don’t want to go shopping,” he said, indulging in his desire to lick droplets of water off her neck, “I won’t believe you. Every woman likes to shop.”
“That’s just sexist! That’s…oh, that’s nice,” she said, threading her fingers through his hair and urging him to continue nibbling up the line of her jaw. “No, wait, you’re distracting me.”
He grinned, his lips sliding across her smooth flesh. “That’s my intention.”
“We have to talk about this…sexist…thing.” Her sentence ended in short gasps as his hand found her breast under the bubbling water.
“Later,” he said, toying with her nipple. Her body went rigid, and his cock followed suit, aroused by her reactions. “All I’m saying is, I want to buy you pretty things. If you really have a problem with that, I’ll have to find other ways—” he moved to straddle her so he could get both hands on her, “—to make you—” and between her thighs he found her slick clit “—happy.”
She shuddered and cried out, but he was only getting started.
*
After they were sated and showered, Hannah gave in to Nate’s desire to take her shopping.
She was, after all, human.
The moment of panic she’d had in the hot tub had quickly fled. She’d known he’d been kidding, and she’d been joking right back about him being sexist. She just had to get past a quick, stupid sense of feeling like a kept woman. He was obviously in a good mood and obviously sincere in his wish to dress her up and take her out, and she was fine with that. After all, it wasn’t unheard of for an artist to have a quiet dinner with his publicist.
She’d brought nice outfits, but nothing really right for a five-star restaurant, so she might as well pick something up. And there was something utterly decadent and indulgent about being waited on hand and foot in an upscale boutique, which had been closed at Nate’s request so that she could shop in private.
Hannah slipped into a peacock blue dress with a corset top that nipped in her waist. The mirror revealed that the top showed off her cleavage to great advantage. The cut of the skirt swirled across her thighs in front, rippling down to mid-calf in the back. Her favorite pair of strappy heels would be perfect with it.
The look in Nate’s eyes when she walked out the dressing room was worth it. His expression clearly stated that all he wanted to do was peel her out of the dress and have his way with her from here to next Sunday. It made her knees weak.
Nate Fox was looking at her that way, and he meant it.
They left the boutique and turned towards the elevators when Nate reached out a hand and stopped an older woman passing by.
“Excuse me,” he said.
She stopped. Her nostrils flared slightly when she took him in, but if she recognized who he was, she was too polite to say so. “Yes?”
“Your necklace is lovely. Did you get it here?”
She raised a hand to her neck, running her fingertips over the diamonds. “Yes, actually, I did. Equinox, right over there.”
“Thanks.” Nate gave her a dazzling smile, and with a hand on Hannah’s elbow, steered her in the direction of the shop.
“Nate, no.”
“We’re just going to look,” he said.
No. Diamonds…shit, no. A dress was one thing, but diamonds were in a whole other category. Too soon. Too fast. Frantically she searched her memory for any information about etiquette when it came to diamonds. Surely her mother had had an opinion on them. Like, if you give away the milk for free, you won’t get any diamonds. Or, accept diamonds and you’re in big, big trouble.
She really wished her mother had said something. Maybe she should call her.
Except she really could imagine the awfulness of that conversation.
Gina. What would Gina say?
Nate Fox wants to give you diamonds, and you’re asking me?! Remember when you were seventeen and—
She wasn’t seventeen anymore. Hannah squared her shoulders.
And wilted only slightly as they entered the boutique and she was surrounded by mouthwatering gems.
In the end, it wasn’t a necklace, or even diamonds
, that he homed in on. It was a simple pair of drop earrings fashioned from stunning black pearls. Well, technically black. In reality they were shimmering, exotic shades of grey.
“They’re the color of your eyes,” he said.
Still she protested. Even pearls were too much, too soon.
When he whispered in that husky voice of his that what he really wanted was to see her naked, lying on the bed wearing nothing but the earrings, open and wanting him, she relented.
Well, not so much relented as had to prop herself up on the counter before she melted into a puddle of lust.
The earrings were carefully wrapped in a custom box and scarlet red shopping bag with gold tissue paper and ribbon, and would be sent to her room along with the dress.
“Thank you for indulging me,” he said.
Indulging him. As if.
*
She met Nate at seven at his room. She’d had just enough time to squeak in a booking at the salon, to have her hair shampooed and dried and pinned up, with corkscrew tendrils framing her face and caressing her neck.
He touched one pearl earring lightly. The way he’d looked at her had made the breathless rushing around worth it.
The way he looked kept her breathless. He’d given into the convention that equated five-star dining with suit and tie. But his take on it made hunger curl low in her belly. A loose grey striped jacket over black pants showed off the breadth of his shoulders. The pale grey shirt was open at the throat, a barely knotted purple tie pulled low. A black studded belt looped around his waist, hanging low over his hips. There would be no doubt just looking at him that he was a musician. Hannah found her fingers itching to slip through the dark gloss of hair that curled over his collar. Right before she slid her tongue along the hard column of his throat.
“Our reservation’s for nine,” he said. “Are you feeling lucky tonight?” He toyed with one lock of her hair, seemingly mesmerized.
If they hadn’t been standing in the hall outside the private elevator…no doubt in perfect view to the security cameras. It was clear from the look in his eyes—and the thrumming of desire that shot through her—that if they were somewhere private, they both would be getting lucky immediately.
And repeatedly.
“I am at that,” she said, cocking her head and smiling at him.
“Good,” he said. “So am I. Let’s see what the Queen of Spades has in store for us.”
They took the private penthouse elevator down to the area of the casino reserved for celebrities, the very wealthy, and high rollers. It wasn’t much different than the rest of the casino—it still had the neon, the noise, the smoke. Only here the drinks were on the house and the bets started much, much higher.
Since they were staying in the private areas and Nate wanted this evening to be special, he’d given Andre the night off. Andre had gotten a gleam in his eye, and Nate decided he just wasn’t going to ask what the bodyguard’s plans were.
Nate was offered entrance into a poker game, but he declined. “Never really had a feel for it,” he told Hannah. “How about roulette?”
“Sounds good to me,” she said, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm.
“What’s your lucky number?”
“Forty-two. But since that’s not an option, put a chip on twenty-four for me.”
They didn’t win in the end, but they sipped drinks and laughed and watched their fortunes go up and down. They tried craps, playing at a table with at least one actress whom Hannah recognized, and possibly a director, and certainly someone who’d been to a recent dinner party at her parents’ house. But if the latter man recognized her, he didn’t say anything, probably because the much-younger woman on his arm was not the wife he’d brought to her parents’ home.
“Here,” Nate said, handing her the dice.
She shook them in her hand, blew on them with pursed lips, looking up at him through her lashes. His hand on her hip tightened, just a little, and she smiled before tossing the dice.
They won a tiny bit more at craps than they lost at roulette, and Hannah stuck her card in a slot machine and made a whole three bucks, before it was time to head to the restaurant.
Lorelei had a futuristic, warehouse theme, with lots of metal and glass. The entryway stairs wrapped around the restaurant’s highlighted feature: a forty-foot tall tower of glass in which was stored all the wine.
“Ohh,” Hannah breathed when she saw it. “I’ve heard about this.”
“Then be sure to order wine for yourself,” Nate said.
She was going to refuse, well aware that he preferred not to drink. She changed her mind when he covered the hand that rested on his arm, giving her fingers a quick squeeze.
The maître d’ showed them to their table and their waiter appeared almost instantly to present the menus and describe the specials in mouthwatering detail before melting away. In a restaurant like this, Hannah knew, they wouldn’t have to do more than lift a finger or glance in his direction to have him reappear; otherwise, they’d be left to their privacy.
Hannah perused the wine list while the wine steward hovered just out of range, prepared to offer suggestions. She didn’t need any, though. She found the perfect wine in the list, and motioned for him.
“I’ll take the Rios-Lovell Petite Syrah. Just for me.”
“Excellent,” he murmured, and left.
“So how did you learn so much about wines?” Nate asked.
“At my father’s knee,” Hannah said. “My parents believe that knowing wine is an asset to business. They are also of the school that says you give your child a glass on special occasions to teach them about responsible, social drinking.”
Her mouth quirked in a grin at the memory. “Actually, it really started when I was fifteen and “borrowed” a bottle of wine from our wine cellar. And my dad caught me.”
Nate favored her with a quick laugh. “I’ll bet he wasn’t happy about that.”
“I tried to bluff my way out of it by saying he could take it out of my allowance. So he took me to his study, whipped out the calculator, and showed me just how long it would take me to work off that bottle of wine. Because I’d chosen one that was just over a thousand dollars, last he’d checked.”
Nate laughed. “And I’ll bet you weren’t happy about that.”
“Not in the least. I had no idea a bottle of booze could cost that much! The whole thing fascinated me,” she continued her story. “What made wine so special that it could sell for four, or even five figures? My father was happy to teach me, and I have to say I agree with him that the knowledge can come in handy.”
“Impressing the clients?” Nate teased.
“And getting to drink some mighty fine vino,” she said.
“You’re a woman of many talents.” He slipped a hand over hers. The calluses on his fingertips grazed along her skin, and she felt the touch shiver through her, to her most intimate areas.
“You haven’t seen the last of them yet,” she flirted. Her own boldness surprised her, excited her. He somehow brought out her adventurousness, encouraging her to play, to tease, to experiment and take chances.
“I imagine you’re going to keep surprising me for a long time,” he said.
She turned her hand palm upwards so she could caress his wrist. The clink of silverware, the low murmur of the other diners all faded into the background. He was by far the hottest man in the room. The subdued lighting threw shadows across the lean planes of his face. His full bottom lip tempted her enough that she had to keep herself from leaning closer to taste him. “Hm, I think we should order quickly so we can get back to the room sooner.”
“Do you think they’ll deliver room service?” he asked, and the plaintive note in his voice made her laugh again.
And made her clit quiver.
It took all of her concentration to focus on the menu. Finally, she decided on the handmade gnocchi in truffle sauce for her appetizer and duck for her main course. Nate ordered the chilled pea soup to sta
rt, along with the filet mignon.
“It comes with parmesan fries,” he said after the waiter had taken their order. “How could I pass up that?”
“You’d be just as happy at Burger King, wouldn’t you?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I like the fact that I can afford to come to a place like this and order whatever I want. I don’t want to do it every night, but it’s having the option that makes a difference.”
He’d told her earlier that growing up, he and his family rarely ate out, his parents considering it too much of a luxury. They hadn’t been poor, but they’d had to make careful choices, and their main choice had been to send Nate and his older sister and brother to college. He’d only attended a year before dropping out to pursue his music career.
Suddenly, Nate frowned. “What the hell?”
Hannah looked in the direction of his stare. A woman in a scarlet catsuit was clinging to the side of the glass wine tower.
“Oh, that’s a wine siren,” she said casually.
“A what?”
“It’s part of the shtick with the tower,” she explained with a laugh. “They rappel down to get the wine. That could very well be our siren and our wine.”
She was right, because a few minutes later the steward was at their side, presenting her with the label to examine and the cork to sniff.
She let the wine slip over her tongue, savoring the flavors of blackberry, licorice, and cassis. “It’s lovely,” she told the waiter, and let him pour for her.
When he’d left, she lifted her glass. “To a successful tour,” she said.
“To a successful relationship,” he said, touching his glass of iced tea to hers with a delicate chime.
Did he mean relationship as in working relationship, or something more? Hannah wondered.
And was she ready for the answer to that?
No, it was too soon to think about it. Just enjoy the evening. Enjoy the fantasy—and the reality that she was out with Nathaniel Fox. She had his entire attention, and later…
Later she’d really have his attention.
