Secret History of a Good Girl

by Aimee Carson

  Cherise touched the bleached-blond bob beneath her hat. “Just keeping in touch with my roots.”

  Alyssa’s brow rose in amusement. “You’ve never been on a horse in your life.”

  Her mother fluttered a hand. “Details, Lyssa.” Her eyes swept around the room. “Fancy-shmancy little shindig you cooked up here.” She looked Alyssa up and down, and her gaze lost a little of its luster. “But Lordy, hon, must you dress like a repressed virgin?”

  The amusement choked and died as heat flooded Alyssa’s face. She took her mother’s arm and steered her toward the staff hallway, away from the crowd. “Mom, please.”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake, Lyssa. No one is listening.” She eyed Alyssa’s black pantsuit critically. Granted, it was more conservative than usual. But after her night with Paulo it felt appropriate. Her mother, however, looked concerned. “You’re not, are you?”

  With a sigh of confusion, Alyssa felt obligated to ask, “Not what?”

  “A virgin?”

  “Mom.” Alyssa stopped inside the doorway to the back hall, sweeping her hand toward the crowd. “Does this look like the appropriate place to discuss this?”

  “You never want to discuss anything important with me.”

  “That’s not true. I just prefer private discussions take place in private.” Alyssa lowered her voice to a whisper. “And, just for the record, for some people celibacy is a legitimate lifestyle choice.”

  Her mother sniffed delicately. “Ridiculous. What’s the point of a lifestyle without the life?”

  Three days ago Alyssa would have had several ready responses. After her adventures with Paulo she had none.

  “Ms. Hunt.”

  Alyssa chimed “yes” in unison with her mother, turning to face the crowd as Charles approached them. But he wasn’t addressing her.

  The manager, looking refined in a pinstripe suit, held out his elbow to her mom. “Would you like a tour of our facilities?”

  Beaming up at him with all the subtlety of a spotlight, Cherise Hunt slipped her hand through his arm. “Well now, sugar, aren’t you the sweetest thing?”

  Alyssa winced at her mother’s endearment.

  “Ms. Hunt,” Charles said, this time looking at Alyssa. “Mr. Domingues would like you to join him in greeting the guests.”

  Greeting the guests? Alyssa clutched the hallway doorjamb, staring after Charles as he led her mother away, and then switched her gaze to the growing crowd—a host of South Miami Beach’s richest and most influential people. Nausea formed a rock in her stomach.

  A little awkward post-sex meeting paled in comparison. So far Alyssa had been working the event in the background, making sure everything went according to plan. Truthfully, there wasn’t much to do, but all that wealth accumulated in one room was too much to face.

  This is what you wanted, Alyssa. This is what you’ve been working for.

  Good God, what had she been thinking?

  She pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead and gulped for air. After a few seconds she dropped her arm to her side, shaking her hands to release the tension.

  Do it, girlfriend. Just go.

  With a smile plastered on her face, she stepped across the threshold, scanning the crowd for an approachable-looking group. Then she spied Tessa Harrison, mother of an old college classmate and a wealthy woman with a majestic air, a bazillion dollars’ worth of jewelry gracing her designer pantsuit. Alyssa’s steps faltered as fragmented visions flashed in quick succession.

  Being treated like a servant at a catering job in the woman’s home. Her condescending attitude during a charity banquet Alyssa had worked. The mocking tone of her daughter at college. And then the procession of shame landed on the granddaddy memory of them all: the parent-student luncheon her sophomore year at Osten College…the party that had ended with Alyssa being hauled out in the hands of the police.

  The second time in her life her outfit had ended up accessorized with a pair of handcuffs.

  Her ears filled with a threatening buzz as her head grew light. Her lips tingled. Sweat beaded at her temples. Jeez, maybe she should take a moment to collect herself.

  Heart thumping in her chest, Alyssa spun on her heel and crossed back into the staff section, sliding her hand along the wall to steady her steps as she headed away from the crowd. When she reached the far end of the hallway, though tempted to keep going, she leaned against the exit door for support. She closed her eyes and dropped her head back, concentrating on the music drifting up from the lobby.

  You knew this day would come. You knew it.

  Footsteps padded up the hall and came to a stop in front of her. She recognized the cologne. Paulo’s spicy scent was forever entrenched in her memory after a night in his arms.

  Oh, good grief. Could this moment get any more complicated?

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She kept her lids closed. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “Just feeling a little…” Terrified? Horrified? As if she was the shining star in the World’s Lamest Losers reality show? And she sure wasn’t referring to weight loss. “Intimidated.”

  “Why?”

  She drew in a deep breath. “I don’t function well around the wealthy.”

  “They’re just people like you,” he said. There was no irritation in his tone, only a pragmatic reassurance. “No better. No worse.”

  Alyssa opened her eyes and Paulo stood before her, a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries in his hand, a line of concern between his brows.

  She blinked several times, and after a moment her heart recovered a bit. “Next you’ll be telling me to picture the guests in their underwear.”

  A smile tugged the corner of his mouth. “I’d prefer you picture me in my underwear. Or, better yet, while you’re making the rounds around the room…” He leaned closer. “Picture me naked.”

  The sound of music faded as she looked into thickly fringed smoky eyes, the slanted cheeks framed by dark hair. Her heart threatened to make a comeback. “Not exactly the vision I need right now.”

  With a puckered brow, he searched hers eyes for a moment, and then he leaned back, holding out his dish. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Her laugh was harsh. “Not particularly.”

  His voice went quiet. “Is this about your arrest?”

  As she stared at his troubled face, she realized she had to say something. By now he must think his event planner was a total basket case.

  She lowered her gaze to the fruit on his plate, nausea rolling again, and gathered her courage. “In high school I got caught shoplifting and was referred to a youth diversion program. I was assigned a job with a caterer.” A weak smile lifted her lips. “An excellent teacher and a great boss. She paid me way more than I was worth.” She let out a small scoff. “Which was a godsend.”

  His frown grew deeper. “You needed the money?”

  She briefly lifted her eyes to his. “We needed the money.”

  A space of several seconds ticked past, as if he was waiting for her to elaborate. But she wasn’t about to.

  After returning her gaze to his plate, she concentrated on selecting a strawberry, as if the fate of the not-so-free world depended on it. It made telling the story easier. “But the first catering event I worked after starting college was at the home of a student from my freshman English class. Her parents’ anniversary, I think,” she said with a frown, trying to remember. Not that it mattered. “In my initial pass around the room with a tray of appetizers, my classmate spilled her drink on my shoes.” Alyssa remembered that part well. She finally picked a berry. “Before the night was over two of the girl’s friends had tipped their drinks onto my tray.”

  “Not a coincidence, I gather?”

  “No. And unfortunately that night was just the beginning.” Alyssa cautiously nibbled on the end of her strawberry before continuing. When her stomach didn’t complain, she swallowed. “Most of my classmates ignored me. Some were superficially polite, but others…”
Her attention drifted back toward the lobby. “Some of the others were offended that I’d sullied the hallowed ground of their precious school. And Tessa Harrison was just one of several parents at Osten College who felt that way.”

  The grimace on his face spoke volumes. “Osten College?”

  She lifted a helpless shoulder. “My boss was chairman of their board of admissions and pulled several strings to get me in on a scholarship. I figured a prestigious school would look good on my résumé.” She cleared her throat before going on. “Better than a criminal record, anyway.”

  With a thoughtful expression on his face, Paulo set his plate on a hall table and then turned back to her. “Tessa Harrison is a shrew with three ex-husbands, every one of whom left her for a younger woman. Just remember that if you bump into her out in my lobby.”

  She shot him a grateful smile. His attempt to reassure her was sweet. Not exactly a word she would have associated with the man. But the thought of bumping into the woman had her stomach considering issuing a rejection slip to its contents. Alyssa pitched the rest of the strawberry into a nearby trash can and rubbed her temple, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tremble in her fingers. “I’m not sure I can go out there.”

  He placed a hand on the door beside her head. Alyssa’s heart rate skyrocketed as he ran a finger down her cheek, staring at her lips. Desire battled fear for her attention, and as the moment lingered desire began to win out.

  She swallowed hard. “Aren’t you tired of your event manag—?”

  His mouth landed on hers.

  Her body trained from their night together, Alyssa reacted immediately. The last vestige of her panic gave way to a monsoon of need. Opening her mouth for his tongue, she let his lips take hers as a hard thigh pressed against her intimately, and she arched against him, a sigh escaping her throat.

  She was back in his arms again, and for one shining moment she forgot everything. The people in the lobby. Her past. All that was important was this man and the all-consuming power he had over her body. The kiss lingered until bells of warning rang in her head, signaling the need for air, and Paulo finally lifted his head.

  “Yes, you can go out there.” His breathing was ragged, and a twinkle appeared in his eyes. “And, no, I won’t be tiring of the delicious challenge you present anytime soon.”

  Looking up at him, her heart battering away, Alyssa arched an eyebrow, trying her best to appear calm as the blood throbbed in her veins. She hadn’t exactly fought his kiss. “Not much of a challenge anymore.”

  “I disagree. After an amazing night, I woke up alone.”

  Amazing night, indeed. And the noises that had come from her mouth…

  Flushing at the memory, she fought to regain her composure. “I needed to supervise the cleaning crew.”

  “No,” Paulo said, shaking his head. “I’m not buying it. You’re just not used to the morning-after scene.” He cocked his head. “You know how I knew?”

  “I think we both know how. But I’m sure you’re dying to tell me anyway.”

  “With every orgasm you had such a look of surprise.”

  She turned her face away, gnawing on her cheek. She’d wanted to know what sex with Paulo would be like, and now she did. Unfortunately she hadn’t counted on getting such a delicious taste of what she’d been missing all these years. “I never knew they came in so many…flavors.” Feeling ridiculous, she let out an embarrassed laugh.

  He looked at her curiously. “Do you regret sleeping with me?”

  She stared at him. Ever since she’d made him an exception to her rule, she had been putting herself through an emotional wringer. Unable to decide how she felt. Waffling between dismay and total delight. But, whatever happened next, he deserved an honest answer. She might question the future, left to muddle her way through unfamiliar territory, but there was no question about their past. “I’m not sorry I slept with you.”

  “Good. I hope to make it a regular occurrence for the next few weeks or so.”

  Her heart did a perfect backflip in her chest. Okay, that answered the one-night stand question. And, as crazy as this relationship was, as crazy as it was making her feel, she wasn’t ready to give it up. But she’d worked too hard to build her business to let it slide. She’d just have to figure out how to manage extra time for Paulo. And that meant setting some ground rules.

  “I want to make one thing clear,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “My work comes first. Everything else, including us, comes second. No exceptions.”

  He lifted a cynical brow. “I appreciate your dedication, especially since it benefits me as well. But I can’t say I look forward to constantly competing with your never ending to-do list.”

  “My business is my only priority, Paulo.”

  “I’ll accept the condition as long you understand one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  A glint of mischief appeared in his eyes. “I’m going to focus all my free time on changing your mind,” he said as he reached up to rub her bottom lip.

  Her body basked in the electric sensation he created. She lifted her chin, fighting for what she hoped was an artless smile. “I hope you’re not afraid of hard work.”

  Humor lit his gaze. “And you said the challenge was over.”

  “A girl should always keep a man guessing.”

  A grin crooked the side of his mouth. “With you, I never know what to expect next. Now,” he said, taking her elbow, “let’s go show these people what you’re made of.”

  Looking down the hall at the lobby, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She was as ready as she’d ever be. Certainly better than she’d been a few minutes ago. And it was time to clear this final hurdle. Ignoring the tension in her body, she let Paulo lead her down the hallway and into the crowd.

  CHAPTER SIX

  PAULO leaned back in the leather chair in his office. Twenty-four hours after the grand opening and he was still wondering what the hell had just happened. Finding his sassy event planner cowering in the staff hallway had been a surprise. For a brief moment he’d considered leaving her alone. Marriage had taught him he was no good with overly emotional women. He didn’t do wedding rings anymore, and he most definitely didn’t do drama.

  But the look on Alyssa’s face—the panic—had cut him in ways he hadn’t imagined.

  So he’d distracted her the only way he knew how. And the kiss had proved a success, and highly stimulating.

  Now he was the one in need of a distraction, because he couldn’t set aside the disturbing knowledge that she’d spent her teen years working. He’d assumed her childhood must have been rough, but something in the way she’d said “we needed the money” told him she was downplaying the ugly truth. And coming face to face with her hardship rankled.

  An unwelcome tug snagged him somewhere deep.

  Alyssa never asked for sympathy. Or pity. And if he hadn’t known her so well she would have looked every bit the polite businesswoman as they’d made their way around the lobby. But her nervous habits had grown familiar: a tuck of silky hair behind her ear, the swipe of a palm down her pantsuit, the tight smile and the thicker accent.

  So what had happened to his spunky event manager? Where had her gumption gone? She didn’t seem the type to let mistreatment by a bunch of hypocrites bother her.

  His eyebrows pulled together in deliberation.

  She worked hard to maintain the stoic mask. The cool professional fixated on her work. But over time, with him, that mask had cracked wide open, and when he’d finally watched her shatter in the elevator mirror she had made him ache. And the single night they’d shared had changed everything. Making love to her. Listening to her cry out. His body coiled tight at the memory.

  He’d never felt so satisfied. But after an incredible night together he’d woken up alone. Ditched without a goodbye. A scowl infiltrated his face.

  Watching her come apart in his arms was addictive, but he had the impression if he left her alone she would
n’t complain. She would continue on, business as usual. Fixated on her job. And the thought left him intensely unsatisfied.

  So the challenge was far from over. Not until Alyssa learned to apply as much passion to her life as she did to her job.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door and the arrival of his Chief of Operations. Charles had a newspaper in his hand, and his navy suit looked stifling for the sweltering temperature outside. Sometimes Paulo really pitied the man.

  “I have some news,” Charles said as he adjusted his wire-frame glasses. “First, the Ocean Inn in Boca Raton was just placed on the market. It could be a profitable enterprise.” He paused and shifted on his feet, looking uncomfortable and infinitely more grave than usual. “And your brother called today, requesting your cell phone number.”

  The flare of anger was instantaneous. What could Marcos possibly have to say? I’m really enjoying your wife? Thanks for warming her up for me?

  Paulo’s frown grew deeper. “I hope you told him no.”

  “Naturally.”

  “Good man, Charles.”

  “He left a message for you to call.” There was a minor pause before Charles continued. “And one more thing before I go. I wanted to show you this. The phone has been ringing nonstop since this morning.” He held out the newspaper.

  At the sight, Paulo tensed, preparing for bad news. To this day he still couldn’t read a headline without flinching. The mention of his brother made his response that much worse. But when one of his manager’s rarely dispensed smiles appeared, Paulo relaxed.

  Charles said, “It appears we’re the new popular South Beach venue for an event.”

  Paulo reached for the society section of the local newspaper. There was a spectacular array of photos of the Samba on the front page. Wedding guests at the lobby bar. A happy bride and groom dancing. And a stunning night time picture of the rooftop decked out in all its glory. He scanned the article quickly, a grin of satisfaction crossing his face at the glowing report. “I’ll have to thank our strategic partner for her outstanding work.”