by Judy Teel
* * *
"You forgot your mail, yesterday, D!" Chelsea sang out from the front of the restaurant. "Want me to put it by the register?"
Dakota wiped her hands on a clean towel as she pushed through the beaded curtain. She was almost done cleaning up for the day and looking forward to a quiet evening in her apartment with the mystery novel she'd just started.
She hadn't seen Trey for two days and she told herself she was glad. He'd given up and was probably back on the East coast already. No more worry about her past being revealed, no more unwelcome excitement, no more...anything. Her life was peaceful again, just the way she liked it.
"Thanks Chels," she said as she came around the counter. She leafed through the bills, wondering if she'd ever get news on the AENC contest.
And then as if conjured up, there it was. She stopped on the embossed envelope, barely able to breathe. "It's here. Chelsea, it's here!" Her hand shook as she held it out to her friend. "I can't look. You read it."
If she weren't a finalist, she'd have to give up on her dream; close the restaurant before her money was all gone. If she were to win, though, she'd be one step closer to making her dream of total independence come true.
Chelsea's blue eyes widened with shared excitement as she tore open the envelope. Behind them the bell on the front door chimed.
"We're closed," Dakota said absently, her attention on the letter.
A blast of crisp autumn wind blew into the dining room carrying the scent of soap and the outdoors. A tingle ran up Dakota's back and she looked up.
Trey stood just inside the room, wearing a perfectly tailored tux.
Her heart jumped into double time. He looked...delicious.
"You're a finalist!" Chelsea screamed beside her.
"What?" Dakota swung her attention back to Chelsea, who jumped up and down waving the piece of paper like a flag.
"You're a finalist. Look!" She handed the letter to Dakota.
Dakota scanned the contents. Oh, no.
"Honey, what's wrong?" The sound of excitement in her friend's voice faded. "You just got white as a sheet."
A disaster. An unmitigated catastrophe.
Trey came up beside her. "You better sit down." His hand cupped her elbow gently and he eased her into one of the dining chairs. "What's going on?"
"She's a finalist in the AENC," blurted out Chelsea. "That's the Aspiring Entrepreneur National Competition. If she wins she can expand the restaurant."
"That sounds like a reason to celebrate," he said.
"They're sending an inspector." Dakota's thoughts raced over what that meant. What if he recognized her? What if he started snooping around? She'd been careful, but he was bound to find inconsistencies if he dug deep enough. It also gave Trey another way to ruin things for her.
"So?" Chelsea drew herself up like a soldier preparing to defend the castle. "Your food is the best. He'll love it."
If only it were just the food and not the character check. Dakota sucked in a deep breath and pulled herself together. "There's going to be some stiff competition. I might not be the best up against the rest of the finalists."
"Something tells me that's not what's bothering you," her friend said.
"Of course it is."
Chelsea's blue eyes narrowed. "We'll talk about it later." Her gaze moved to just past Dakota's shoulder where Trey was standing and then back again. "And about other things too. Like how I can't help wondering if you guys have known each other before."
"You've never heard of lust at first sight?" Trey said, amusement lacing his voice.
"Sure, but in a tux?"
"There is no lust," Dakota said, annoyed. Now, more than ever, Trey had to go. She twisted around in her chair, intending to give him a good dressing-down and found her vision at crotch level. She jumped to her feet, a bit flustered.
A smile flickered at the edge of Trey's mouth. "I'd like to take you into Cincinnati tonight."
Alarm grabbed her and squeezed her stomach into a knot.
Romantic enthusiasm sparkled in Chelsea's eyes. "That would be a great way to celebrate."
What if she were spotted? "I have plans," Dakota said hastily. "Sorry you went to so much trouble."
"What plans?" her supposed friend interjected. "Sitting at home with a book?"
"No." Dakota made a face like that was the silliest thing anyone had ever said. "I'm...I have plans, that's all."
"Lame."
Trey sat half-way on the table, which put him at a more manageable eye level. "I made early reservations at Primavista."
Her mouth watered at the thought.
"I have two tickets to a play at the Aronoff Center," he added, his voice as smooth and full of temptation as chocolate.
"Oh, my gosh. I'll shoot you if you don't go." Chelsea gave her a stern look.
The Primavista and the theatre...it had been so long. She'd worn her red silk the last time she'd had a night like that. The dress had been exclusively designed for her in Paris and had been one of her favorites.
Dakota snapped out of her daydream like ice water had been thrown on her. "I can't go. Sorry."
"Dakota!" Chelsea protested.
"I can't. My entire wardrobe is jeans and T-shirts. No way I'm waltzing around those places next to--" She waved her hand in the air in front of Trey. "All this. While I'm in--" She gestured at her work-worn clothes. "This."
"I anticipated that. You have nothing to worry about."
"There, you see," her friend said, grinning at Trey like he was prince charming, or something. "Plus tomorrow's Monday. Your day off."
"Forget it. I wouldn't feel comfortable around so many people. I like my privacy." She'd disappeared for a reason and she planned to stay that way. She gave Trey a hard look.
"You don't have to worry about that, either. I'm very thorough."
"I just bet you are." Her friend wiggled her eyebrows.
"Chelsea!" Dakota frowned at her.
"Did I say that aloud?"
"You know you did."
"I'm leaving now." She winked at Trey. "Go with him, D. It'll do you good."
Dakota watched her breeze out of the restaurant without a backward glance. She felt a little abandoned, which was ridiculous. She was a grown woman, perfectly capable of handling herself around Trey.
"Say, yes," he said from just behind her, making a current of awareness brush across her neck. "I need to assuage my guilt for assuming you couldn't run your business without help."
He did owe her for that.
"No one will recognize you, I promise."
Could she trust him?
"Think of the Scallopine alla Picatta," he purred, his Italian perfect. "And the Pesce con Aragosta."
Her mouth started watering, again. Lobster had been one of her favorites there and she barely remembered what it tasted like. Maybe a night out would clear her mind and help her figure out how she was going to get through the next phase of the contest.
"Do you still plan to tell everyone my secret if I don't cooperate?" she asked.
"No."
"Then I'll go."
* * *
Dakota buckled her seat belt and tried to resist brushing her hand over the buttery soft leather upholstery of the Jaguar XJ. She couldn't let the sweet indulgence of luxuries from her old life make her forget the reasons she'd walked away. She had to keep control of the situation with Trey. No matter what.
"Before we get started on this, we need to lay down some ground rules," she said as he pulled smoothly away from the curb.
"Afraid you'll have too good a time?"
"I just want things clear between us."
"What got you so shaken up back there?" he asked as he headed for the highway.
The burden of the contest pressed down on her shoulders like a lead cape. The last thing she wanted to do was share her problems with her father's go-to man. On the other hand, he was the only one who knew who she really was, and that made him the only person she could talk to a
bout the contest examiner.
How ironic.
Oh, why not? He'd know it for himself in a matter of days, anyway.
Dakota took a deep breath. "Now that I'm a finalist, the AENC committee is sending an investigator to determine first hand if I'm qualified."
"I'm with Chelsea on that one. Once he eats at your place, you're in."
His praise did nothing to ease the dread gnawing at her gut. "That's not the part I'm worried about." Dakota stared out the window at the quiet countryside that rolled away from the highway.
"For the AENC, most of your score is based on the 'good citizen' rating," she said. "I didn't know that once you're a finalist, they check up on you by interviewing people you know and snooping around in your life. They may even run a background check."
"Is everyone knowing who you are so bad?"
She wondered if he'd seen the tape and the familiar cringe of embarrassment collected in her gut. She'd never been particularly wild, but after her father released the tape Jack had made, women looked at her like she was. Men assumed the same and acted on it. She'd felt relentlessly vulnerable.
She never wanted to feel that way again.
"It was horrible before and it would be again," she said, turning to look at him. "A lot of my customers are families. The negative publicity would ruin me. My friends would know I'd lied to them."
"You haven't asked me if I've seen it."
The car seemed to close in on her. "I'm not sure I want to know."
"I didn't," he said, quietly.
His answer surprised her and she wasn't sure she believed him. On the other hand, Trey didn't seem the type to worry about other people's feelings. Or one to pass on free soft-porn.
"Why not?" she asked.
"I've always preferred the real thing to a copy."
He'd amazed her, again, and laughter bubbled up into her throat, making her mouth twitch. Maybe there was more to Trey than she'd realized.
"Still want to put limits on our date?" He glanced at her, the heat of his unfathomable green eyes nailing her to her seat.
Then again, maybe not.
"Ground rule number one. No intimate touching," she said, firmly. "And this isn't a date."
He smiled and turned his attention to merging with the thickening traffic. "I don't usually get this hard a time from my dates. My ego's getting bruised."
"I doubt that's possible."
"You never know."
That was certainly true. "I still stand by rule number one and emphasize again. Not a date."
"Doesn't have to be that way, you know." The suggestive ripple in his voice sent shivers of expectation skating over her skin.
Damn he was good. But she was in charge here. "Ground rule number two. Stop trying to play me."
"Sweetheart, if I was trying to play you, you wouldn't have the breath to tell me to stop."
"Which will never happen because I invoke Rule Number One."
Trey glanced at her, his expression speculative. He apparently decided to let the matter drop, because he set the radio to a Jazz station and didn't bother her with his opinion the rest of the way into Cincinnati.
Dakota was glad to be left alone with her thoughts for a while. She was starting to like him and that was bad. She needed to get her feelings under control before they got any more out of control.
She'd let herself be misled before by a charming man and she wasn't about to let that happen again.
CHAPTER FIVE
Trey exited onto East Fifth Street where her father kept a satellite presence in the Chemed Center. Dakota had a moment of panic that she'd been tricked and her father was there waiting for her, but then Trey passed the gray skyscraper and turned right at Fountain Square.
He negotiated the traffic with ease and finally slid to a stop on Main Street in front of a small shop.
"This is our date? Shopping?" The narrow lavender building with its faux columns and fanciful red scrolling was noticeably out of place among its more conservative neighbors.
"Just part of the package." He got out of the car, came around, and opened her door. She stared at the hand he offered, her natural caution taking hold of her. He had beautifully masculine hands--square, strong, competent. She wasn't sure she had the strength to touch them and keep her sanity.
"Are you coming?" he asked in that practiced, come-to-my-bed voice of his.
The memory of Trey's hands skimming down her bare back flashed through her mind unexpectedly. "What? Oh...sure." Jeez, she was a mess. She probably should have made more effort to find a steady boyfriend in Harts Creek. She was obviously starved for male companionship.
Dakota ignored him and got out of the car without help. She approached the building cautiously. The afternoon sun slanted long shadows across the sidewalk. The windows of the unusual little shop were dark.
"Looks closed. Let's go." She turned toward the car determined to put an end to this torturous farce and get back to her safe apartment. He caught her by the elbow, stopping her, his touch spreading an unwelcome sizzle of awareness through her body.
She pulled out of his grasp with a sharp jerk of her arm and his mouth tilted as if he knew very well why she reacted as if he repulsed her. Trey made a sweeping gesture toward the entrance. "After you, Cinderella."
Suspicion crawled over her skin. "What is this place?"
"A mutual acquaintance of ours is renting it while he's here on business."
"Mutual acquaintance? I can't let anyone see me. You know that."
"Trust me."
Yeah, right. But the longer she stood out on the street, the higher the chance she'd be spotted, so she reluctantly followed him to the bright red door. As they approached it swung open, revealing a tall thin man with neatly cut brown hair, wearing his signature jeans and deep purple sweater. Delight leapt inside her. "Richard Divine?"
Alarm quickly followed and she rounded on Trey. "Richard Divine?" she ground out.
"Dakota, honey! Thrilled to see you again. Love the hair. The glasses, not so much."
She gave him a weak smile. "What are you doing here, sweetie?"
"Suffering, of course. This isn't as cozy as my place in New York, but at least it has style." He turned his attention to Trey, his warm gaze traveling over the other man with appreciation. "Mr. Peters, I have it all ready for you."
"Remember our bargain," Trey cautioned as they stepped into the shop.
"My lips are sealed." Richard gave a flamboyant pantomime of zipping his lips. He gestured toward the back of the shop. "Perfection awaits, darlings."
"No fashion designer's lips are sealed, Trey," Dakota hissed as Richard glided away from them.
"They are if they have a contract," he whispered back as he shut the door. "Discretion in exchange for a cut rate next season on Jamison Enterprises top-line leather."
"You can't dole out deals like that. Only Dad signs off on something that big."
"He's been after an exclusive with Richard for years. He never asked why or how and I never offered."
Richard poked his head back through the open doorway at the other end of the room. "Hello? Don't have all night, people. Things to do, you know."
Trey leaned closer, and a shiver of heat ran across the back of her neck. "Better not keep him waiting. I hear fairy godmother's get very testy when they're kept waiting."
They crossed the Victorian-styled front parlor and entered the cluttered fitting room at the back of the shop. Richard stood in front of a curtained alcove.
"Voilà!" He swept back the curtain revealing a sweeping, draped dress displayed on a fitting mannequin. The jewel-toned midnight blue of the material shimmered alluringly in the muted back lighting.
The gown was beautiful, more lovely than anything she'd seen before. And she ought to know. She'd had a closet the size of her current apartment full of designs like that, once. She hadn't realized how hard she'd tried to soothe her unhappiness by buying and wearing beautiful clothes.
"Perfect," Trey said.<
br />
"Get undressed, Dakota, darling. You look like you've toned up a bit since I last used this form. I may need to do some alterations."
Dakota ignored him and grabbed Trey by the arm, pulling him over to the corner. "No way I'm risking the life I've built for the momentary pleasure of wearing that dress."
"It doesn't have to be momentary. Just say the word and you can have it all, again."
She scowled at him, and vowed to stay strong. "I won't go anywhere in a Divine original. My picture will be all over the world by morning."
Self-satisfaction sparkled through Trey's green eyes. "Richard," he called without taking his gaze from her face. "What else do you have for Dakota?"
Richard appeared beside them, a long blonde wig draped over his forearm. "With some of my famous makeup tricks, you will never be recognized. I promise you." He lightly touched Trey's arm. "I also got her some colored contacts just to finish off the look. They match the dress."
Trey smiled down at her. "Satisfied?"
"Hardly."
"Want to renege on Ground Rule Number One?"
"No possible way."
"Ooo, the sparks fly," Richard sang out. "Now come along, missy. He hasn't given me a lot of time to work my magic."
The lure of a night of luxury in total anonymity pulled at her. Once Trey was gone she'd never have a chance like this again. What harm could it do?
Her heart beat a little faster at the thought of wearing the gown and she followed Richard into the fitting room.
* * *
Trey sprawled in an old but incredibly comfortable chair nursing a brandy while Richard fluttered around Dakota in one of the side rooms. In the few glimpses he'd had of her as the two came and went, she'd looked completely at home, relaxed and happy. He'd been right to solicit the designer's help. Not only would she now be appropriately dressed for the evening he had planned, but it was the perfect reminder of what she'd given up.
The designer ducked out of the fitting room and sashayed up to Trey, his face lit up like a kid in a candy store. "I didn't have time to launder these. I won't say a word if you burn them." He handed Trey Dakota's clothes, neatly folded.
Feeling damn good about how his plan was working, Trey gave Richard an indulgent smile that made the guy blush, and pushed himself out of the chair. "I'll put them in the car."
