“And I could sleep in every morning, get the best theatre tickets from clients and shop for clothes on Fifth Avenue.”
Daniel rested his hands on the arms of his chair, trying not to look too eager. “Snap would be happy to give you some business, and an excellent recommendation.”
Amanda bobbed her head up and down. “That would help. And I bet you could get me some uptown office space, too.”
“Sure,” said Daniel. He was surprised, delighted, actually, by the turn of the conversation.
“And you could rent a van, maybe pack up my files.”
“I’d be happy to help in—”
“Heck, you could probably hire somebody to blow off my existing clients.”
Uh-oh. Her dark eyes began to glitter, and Daniel’s stomach slid down a few inches. “I…”
“And find me a new receptionist.”
Daniel felt like a supreme fool. “You’re yanking my chain, aren’t you?”
She came to her feet. “Of course I’m yanking your chain! Did you really think that setup would work?”
Yeah, actually. Daniel rose. “I’d—”
“That Taylor Hopkins is a one-man press gang.”
Okay, salvage time. What could he say? What could he do? “I was only thinking—”
“Yeah, yeah.” She waved a hand. “You were only thinking about me. Tell me, Daniel, were Cullen and Misty ever really invited?”
He flinched. He hadn’t expected that to come up again. He’d thought about inviting them, but it just seemed simpler to go straight to Taylor.
Amanda’s hands went to her hips. “I knew it. Will you lay off my life? I’m doing perfectly fine, thank you very much.”
“But—”
“No buts.” She jabbed a finger at him. “You back off.”
“Okay.” At least temporarily.
She dropped her hand, a look of surprise coming over her face. “You will?”
He shrugged. “Sure.” It wasn’t as if arguing with her tonight was going to get him anywhere.
She gave a sharp nod. “Good choice.” Then her voice dropped to a mumble. “It’s not like your life is working out so well.”
Daniel squared his shoulders. “Excuse me?”
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t nothing.”
“Fine. I said it’s not like your life is working out so well.”
“You’re going to have to explain that one.”
“Look around you,” she gestured with her hand.
He looked around, and what he saw was—not to put too fine a point on it—pretty darned decent. “What exactly about this isn’t working out so well?”
“It’s pristine. It’s perfect. There’s absolutely no life in your life.”
He squinted. “You win many court cases with arguments like that?”
She cocked her head and crossed her arms over her chest, pushing up her breasts.
Cleavage. Okay, that was helpful. He’d really be able to concentrate now.
“I’m beginning to think you need professional help,” she said.
For a moment he was speechless. She was worried about him?
“You’re the one whose life is out of control,” he pointed out.
“At least I know what I want,” she countered.
Ha. He had her now. If there was one thing Daniel’s life had, it was direction. “I know exactly what I want.”
“What’s that?”
He took the easiest answer. “To be CEO of Elliott Publication Holdings.”
“Do you, Daniel?”
“Of course.” Just because success wasn’t on Amanda’s to-do list, didn’t mean it wasn’t on his. “Can we go back to talking about you now?”
“No. I’m not the one with the problem.”
Daniel scoffed. “I’ve seen your office.”
She scoffed right back. “And I’ve seen your apartment.”
He opened his mouth, but then he paused, an idea twigging in his mind. She seemed fixated on his apartment. Maybe there was room to maneuver here. A deal of some kind. A swap. His apartment for her office.
“Tell me what you’d change,” he said.
Her dark eyes narrowed.
He moved closer, lowering his voice. “Really. Tell me. I’m ready to take your advice.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yeah, I am.” He moved closer still. If he took her advice, she might feel honor bound to take his. “Give it to me straight, Amanda. I can take it.”
She was silent for a moment, but then her gaze turned pitying. “Okay. You want it straight? You’ve stopped feeling.”
“Feeling what?”
“Everything.”
That just plain wasn’t true. Especially not now. Especially not at this particular moment.
She placed her small hand on his shoulder, and his muscle contracted beneath its warmth. “Feel,” she urged.
“I am,” he rasped.
Then her eyes turned mocha, and she came up on her toes. She tilted her head, parted those deep ruby lips and took his mouth against hers.
Memories saturated his brain, longing, passion, desire. He was catapulted back decades. His arms went around her, dragging her against him. He slanted his head, kissed her back, inhaling her familiar scent.
He reveled in the tender moisture of her mouth. Her body was imprinted on his brain, and his hands slid down the curve of her back, remembering. Oh, how he’d missed this. How he’d missed her.
He felt every molecule in his body hum to life. Colors and emotions swirled around in a kaleidoscope.
He let his mouth roam, and she twined her arms around his neck, her breaths puffing against his skin, nearly driving him out of his mind. He longed to lose himself in her, to tear off her clothes and lay her back right there and then on the soft carpet and relive every ounce of love they’d ever found in each other.
Her small moan vibrated against his mouth.
He whispered that he wanted her, so much, too much.
She drew back at that, blinking her big brown eyes in obvious confusion. Her cheeks were flushed. Her lips were swollen. And her chestnut hair was a messy halo of filtered light.
There’d never been a more desirable woman. Ever.
But she wasn’t his.
She hadn’t been his for a very long time.
He forced himself to release her.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I had no right…”
He didn’t know what else to say. He never got carried away. He was the master of self-control.
An ironic half smile grew on her face. “Don’t be sorry. We’re making progress. You felt something.”
He dropped his arms and stepped completely away. “That was therapy?”
She shrugged. “Of course.”
Something inside him froze. That was what the kiss was to her? A point in her argument? He’d been out there on memory lane all by himself?
Yeah, he wanted her to change careers. But there was a limit to how far he’d go. And he had a feeling he’d just reached it.
Five
Amanda tipped her head back against the smooth headrest as the limo eased into traffic. Kissing Daniel had been therapy.
Memory enhancement.
For her.
It was only the years of practice, keeping her control in front of sharp-eyed judges, that kept her from swooning, or begging, or worse.
Daniel had always been a great kisser. From that very first night, he’d made the earth shift beneath her and pyrotechnics shoot off inside her brain.
As the limo accelerated away from a red light, she sighed her way into the memory. Their very first kiss—prom night.
Amanda had been more of a nerd than a jock back then, more likely to be found at photography club or the social activism office on a Saturday night than at an A-list party. So when her friend Bethany had wrangled an invitation to Roger Dawson’s after-prom party in the Presidential Suite of the Riverside, there was no way in the world she w
as missing it.
The event was a crush. The music was loud, the punch was spiked with something bitter and the snacks were being used as missiles. Amanda had been quickly separated from Bethany, so when she spotted Daniel standing alone near the door, she was thrilled to see a semifamiliar face. She’d eased toward him, squeezing her way between dancing couples and chattering groups of friends.
She and Daniel had met on several occasions early in the year when she was dating one of his friends. He’d always struck her as a nice guy, and he knew everybody. If she was lucky, maybe he’d introduce her to a few people, and she could stop standing around looking like a dork.
“Hey, Daniel,” she breathed, yanking her arm from where it was trapped between two bodies.
“Amanda.” He turned and smiled warmly down at her. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“I came with Bethany.” She gestured vaguely in the direction Bethany had disappeared twenty minutes ago.
“Hey, Elliott?” someone called from the crowd.
“Yeah?” Daniel called back.
“You got a room, right?”
Daniel nodded over the heads of the crowd. But Amanda was too short to see whom he was talking to.
“We need your ice bucket and some more glasses,” the guy called.
“I’ll get ’em,” said Daniel.
Amanda’s heart sank. Just when she’d found someone to talk to, he was leaving.
Daniel looked back down at her. “You wanna come help?
“Yes,” Amanda quickly said.
“Let’s go.”
Daniel elbowed them a path to the door, and they emerged into the cool, quiet hallway.
“I’m down at the end,” he said.
“You didn’t want to drive home?” she asked, just to make conversation.
He chuckled a little self-consciously. “My older brother Michael rented the room. He figured I might get lucky.”
Amanda swallowed and tried to make her voice nonchalant. “Oh. Uh, you’re, uh, here with Shelby Peterson?”
Daniel shrugged. “I thought I was. But last time I saw her, she was dancing with Roger. Maybe Roger’ll be the one to get lucky.”
Amanda wasn’t used to talking about sex, particularly not with guys, and definitely not with great-looking jocks who’d probably slept with half the cheerleading squad. Her face grew warm.
When she didn’t answer, Daniel looked down. “Hey, I’m sorry.” He gave her a friendly nudge with his shoulder. “That was tacky.”
She shook her head, embarrassed that she wasn’t as sophisticated as his friends. “No, it wasn’t.”
“Yeah, it was. Here we are.” He stopped and unlocked the door, swinging it wide open.
Amanda had never been in a five-star hotel before. She hadn’t seen much of the Presidential Suite, because of the crowd. Now she glanced around in wide-eyed amazement at the plump, burgundy couches, a curved wooden bar with a mirrored background, double French doors leading to a bedroom and a fern-filled bay window alcove with a Jacuzzi tub.
The door swung shut behind them.
“Go ahead and look around,” said Daniel, dropping his key on the entry table. “This is going to take me a couple of minutes.”
“Wow,” said Amanda, not even pretending to be blasé about the opulent room. “Michael must have thought you were going to get very lucky.”
Daniel chuckled from behind the bar. “Michael’s the optimist of the family.”
Amanda wandered between the two couches, glancing down at the oak coffee table. There was a fresh flower arrangement in the middle, a dish of gourmet chocolates on one end and an arrangement of current magazines on the other.
More interesting was the rectangular gadget covered in colorful buttons. “Is that a remote control?” she asked, picking it up and aiming it at the television. She’d heard about them, but had never seen one in real life.
Daniel popped his head up from where he was rattling glasses. “I don’t know. Try it and see.”
She pushed the power button, and the television clicked to life. “All right!”
Daniel laughed at her exclamation.
She checked out the other buttons and began clicking through channels. “I think these are going to be really popular.”
“I can’t find the ice bucket,” said Daniel, glancing at the glass shelves behind him.
“Want me to check the bathroom?”
He rounded the end of the bar. “I’ll do it. Eat some of those chocolates, will you? Michael probably paid a fortune for them.”
Amanda grinned, happy to oblige. She plopped down on the soft couch and peeled the gold foil from a chocolate truffle.
It was so much nicer here—cooler air, a place to sit down, nobody shouting obscenities or throwing food, no repetitive bass pounding against her eardrums. And, best of all, no crushing mortification because she was the only person in the room without a conversation partner.
“No ice bucket,” said Daniel. He stopped behind the couch. “Is that American Graffiti?”
Amanda glanced at the screen. “I think so.”
“Cool. Are the chocolates any good?”
She rocked forward and took another gold globe from the dish. “To die for.” She handed it back to Daniel.
On the screen, a group of high school grads were out celebrating their final night together.
Daniel unwrapped the chocolate and gestured to the television. “Kind of like us,” he said.
Amanda nodded her agreement. Like the characters in the movie, they were standing on the cusp of a brave new world. Sometimes she was excited, mostly she was scared. Her parents had saved the money for her first year of college, but after that it was going to be a struggle.
“These are great,” said Daniel, coming around the couch. He picked up the dish, plunked it down on the middle cushion and sat down on the other end. “I say we eat them before we leave.”
Amanda nodded her agreement and helped herself to another chocolate. “Seems a shame to let them go to waste.”
She let the sweet, creamy candy melt on her tongue as they watched the movie in silence for a few minutes.
“So, what are you going to do?” Daniel asked, snagging another chocolate.
“After the party?”
“No. After high school. You had pretty good grades, didn’t you?”
Amanda nodded. Given her slow dating life, she’d had plenty of time to study. “I’ve been accepted to NYU.”
“That’s great. What are you taking?”
“English lit and prelaw. What about you?”
“The family firm,” he said with a tired smile.
“Guaranteed job,” she offered.
He was quiet for a couple more minutes, his eyes fixed on the movie. “You know, what I’m really hoping…”
She waited, but he didn’t continue.
“What?” she finally asked.
He shook his head.
“Tell me.”
He shifted one leg onto the couch and angled himself toward her. “Promise you won’t laugh.”
Amanda Kedrick laugh at Daniel Elliott? Not in this lifetime. She shook her head. “I’m not gonna laugh.”
“Okay.” He nodded. “Here’s the thing. I’m hoping I can talk my dad into starting a new magazine.”
Amanda was impressed. It sounded so much more interesting than plain old law school. “Really? What kind?”
“Outdoor adventures, foreign lands, action. I could travel all over the world, write articles and send them back to New York.”
Amanda swallowed, suddenly feeling boring and trite. She wasn’t even planning to leave the state, and here Daniel was going on a global adventure.
“You think it’s a dumb idea,” he said, his expression falling.
“No,” Amanda quickly assured him, moving a little closer. “I think it’s a fantastic idea. I’m jealous is all.”
He perked up. “You are?”
She nodded vigorously. “It sounds fantas
tic.”
He took another chocolate, grinning as he unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth. “It does, doesn’t it?”
They both turned their attention to the movie again.
After a few moments he rolled to his feet and went back behind the bar. “These chocolates are making me thirsty. Ever drink champagne?”
Her eyes went wide. “Where would we get champagne?”
He held up a green bottle.
“But won’t you get in trouble?”
Daniel shrugged as he twisted off the wire cork holder. “Room’s in Michael’s name.”
“So, they’ll think—”
“I don’t particularly care what they think.” He popped the cork with his thumbs. It hit the ceiling and bounced to the carpet.
Amanda suddenly felt very daring. “I’d love some champagne.”
He grinned and flipped over two of the long-stemmed glasses on the bar. Then he poured the bubbly liquid, scooped a bag of pretzels from the snack basket and rejoined her on the couch where Ron Howard’s character was fighting with his steady girlfriend.
To a backdrop of fifties music, Daniel and Amanda leaned forward and touched their glasses together.
“Happy prom night,” he whispered.
She gazed into his deep blue eyes, not feeling nearly as awkward as she had earlier. “You do realize you’re not going to get lucky.”
His eyes sparkled and a grin curved up the corners of his mouth. “I think that ship’s already sailed.” He glanced down at the empty bowl between them. “I mean, since you scarfed down all the chocolates that I was going to use to seduce the girl.”
She smacked him on the shoulder. “I had a little help, you know.”
He gave her a mock frown. “They were my secret weapon.”
Instead of answering, she took a sip of the champagne. “Hey, this is good.” She held the glass up to the light and watched the tiny bubbles rise to the surface. “I think the champagne should be your secret weapon.”
“Yeah? Well, you’re scarfing that down, too,” he complained.
She smiled around another swallow. “Life sucks sometimes, doesn’t it?”
He laughed and took a drink, glancing at the television screen. “What did I miss?”
“Terry the Toad is hoping to get lucky.”
Dynasties:The Elliots, Books 7-12 Page 20
