Chapter 3
Jaxon was not looking forward to his grandparents’ sixtieth wedding anniversary.
It didn’t help that he’d almost forgotten about it. It was his crack secretary, Janine, who had cleared his schedule, bought a gift and reminded him that he would probably need to rehire his fake fiancée for a repeat performance or come up with a plausible lie to why Kitty was a no-show.
It was an irritating inconvenience, but one that he would grin and bear for at least a couple of hours.
When he placed a call backstage to the Velvet Rope, Kitty reacted to his invitation like she had just won the lottery. In a way maybe she did. He’d promised her a cool $5K for the night. No, he didn’t need to pay for a date, but knowing Kitty’s financial situation with her grandma made him feel like he wasn’t such a hard-ass like many believed. Plus, he would get another kick out of seeing Carlton sputter and stew in his own indignation.
It would probably be the highlight of his night.
He left his Manhattan high-rise a little past six o’clock, already anxious for the night to speed by. In his apartment lobby, Alfred tipped his hat and wished him a good evening. Jaxon highly doubted that was even possible.
Kwan, his new twenty-one-year-old driver, greeted him at the curb with his Maybach 62. He wore a penguin suit that looked as though it was three sizes too big and a hat that looked even bigger than that. Each time Jaxon saw the kid, he questioned his decision to hire him, but there was just something about the young man’s exuberance for the job that won him over.
Of course, the brother also tried his patience with his incredible knack for getting lost in a city he claimed to have lived in his entire life. That took a certain talent. And Jaxon could just forget about Kwan reading or understanding the GPS system in the car. Words like south, east, west or north were all met with the same blank stare. And if Jaxon combined them, southeast, northwest, Kwan looked ready to cry. So it was just best to keep it simple with oldies but goodies like make a left or a right that garnered the best results.
An hour later they made it to Brooklyn with only two wrong turns to which Jaxon had to listen to a ten-minute nonstop apology. Kitty must’ve been waiting by the door, because the bell hadn’t stopped jingling when she jerked it open and greeted him with a Texas-size smile.
The only thing that Jaxon wished that Janine had reminded him to do was tell Kitty to dress conservatively. As it was, she wore a cream-colored sequined dress that fortunately or unfortunately turned transparent when the light hit it. Since he was sure that his grandparents still had the habit of paying their electric bill, there just might be a problem with Kitty’s attire.
Then again…didn’t he hire the curvaceous stripper to be provocative?
“You don’t like my dress?” Kitty guessed after a full minute of him dragging his roaming eyes over her body. She prepared for his usual sly criticism only to be blown away by his devastating smile.
“On the contrary. I think you look ravishing.” He offered her his arm, and then seemingly produced a single red rose out of thin air. “Shall we go?”
It was on the tip of Kitty’s mouth to say that she would follow Jaxon anywhere, but she reined in her childlike fantasy and just accepted his proffered arm with a practiced innocent smile. “After you.”
In the car, Jaxon gave Kwan his grandparents’ address only to be met with a wide-eyed blank stare.
Jaxon huffed out a weary breath. “Take a right at the corner.”
“Right, boss.” Kwan started to pull away from the curb only to be blasted by the horn of a passing Bentley.
“We would like to get there in one piece, if you don’t mind,” Jaxon added.
“Right, boss. I’m on it, boss.”
Kwan tried it again.
Another horn blared, but Kwan forced his way into the lane and then flashed his thanks by giving them all a two-finger salute.
Jaxon covered his brow with his hand and tried to massage away the tension headache before it started. During the hour-plus drive out to the Hamptons, Kitty and Jaxon shared stiff smiles over a few glasses of champagne. But for the most part Jaxon allowed his mind to wander back in time. Back to when he was nothing more than a skinny thirteen-year-old kid being forced to live with grandparents he hardly knew.
Jaxon’s father, Carlton Jr., had himself rebelled against his father’s stern, iron hand to forge his own path in the world. His dropping out of Harvard caused a rift between father and son that lasted until the day Jaxon’s parents were killed in a tragic home invasion. It was just lucky that Jaxon had been spending the night at a friend’s house the evening of his parents’ murder. Otherwise, he would have been home in his own bed, just like his parents had been when two felons broke in the back door and took the most important people in Jaxon’s young life.
They say that time heals all wounds—but that was a lie. He missed his parents more today than ever. And the eight years he spent living with his grandparents was like a slow death unto itself. Well, he would be stretching the truth if he included his grandmother. He loved his grandmother. And one of the things he loved most about her was that she knew how and when to stay out of his business.
As far as he was concerned, his grandmother was a class act. He put her beauty and grace high on a pedestal. She was a great confidante, cheerleader and referee between him and Carlton. She never once pressured him into doing anything or becoming anything. Sure, she could get carried away from time to time, feeling faint, needing smelling salts and swearing that her heart could go at any minute. But it was all done with such theatrics that no one really took such declarations seriously.
But Carlton had the ability to get under Jaxon’s skin and ride his last nerve effortlessly. Thinking back on it, they had been butting heads from the start, almost as if Jaxon was born to pick up just where his father had left off.
Jaxon was convinced that when Carlton looked at him, he only saw his mother’s black skin. Carlton’s disapproval of Jaxon’s parents’ marriage was evident and documented when he didn’t bother to attend their wedding in Johannesburg. Carlton was also missing in pictures when Jaxon was born in Los Angeles—or any other special occasion in Jaxon’s adolescent years.
Sylvia was there. Always pleading for her son to forgive his father, but never receiving it. Both Carltons were stubborn as mules. It was an unfortunate gene that Jaxon now picked up.
“Are we almost there?” Kitty asked, shifting in her seat. “I have to go to the little girl’s room.” She set her empty flute down in a holder and then reached for her clutch to retouch her lipstick.
Jaxon performed a cursory glance outside the car window. “We should be there in a few minutes.” To be honest, he was a little relieved himself. He never cared for long car rides. They always made him feel as if he was wasting time. Not that he needed to dedicate every minute of the day to making big investment moves, but he needed to be doing some thing. Hell, he wouldn’t even mind rustling around in the backseat with Kitty for a few minutes if he could’ve been sure that Kwan would keep his eyes on the road and not run them into a ditch or up a tree.
Plus, sex always had a way of taking the edge off whenever he was feeling tense or anxious. He cut a look over at Kitty and knew that she would be down for whatever he was in the mood for, but just then Kwan turned onto Jaxon’s grandparents’ long, sprawling estate. It was time to suck it up, paste on a smile and ram horns with his grandfather.
There was a short wait, while cars and limos deposited the guests on, of all things, a blue carpet in front of the estate. At first glance, it appeared his grandparents had invited the whole state of New York to what the invitations described as a small get-together. Of course, the Landons never did anything small.
Kwan rolled the car to a stop and the valet quickly snatched open the door and offered a hand to assist Kitty. A person would have to have been deaf not to hear the collective shocked gasps when the outdoor lighting hit Kitty’s knockout number.
Jaxon s
tepped out of the car behind Kitty and made a dramatic show of possessively wrapping an arm around the exotic dancer’s slim waist. Both he and Kitty thrust up their chins while their eyes and attitude practically dared anyone to say anything about their odd pairing.
“Are you ready for this?” Jaxon queried under his breath.
Kitty leaned closer. “I am if you are.”
“Then let’s knock them dead.” Jaxon slid his free hand into his pants pocket and escorted Kitty up the royal blue carpet.
“Oops.” Kitty sprang out of his grip and stepped back.
Jaxon glanced in time to see a silver tube of lipstick roll down the carpet.
“I forgot to close my clutch.”
“I’ll get it.” Jaxon sprang into action though he felt a little foolish for having to give chase to a tube of lipstick.
Another car pulled up to the curb. The valet immediately opened the door.
Jaxon had stooped to retrieve the shiny lipstick tube when a woman’s gorgeous foot encased in a pair of silver stilettos was planted in front of him. Two things seemed to happen. Time stood still and Jaxon had unexpectedly fallen in love…with a foot.
Chapter 4
Oh. Sweet. Jesus.
It was the only thing that raced across Zora’s mind when this black Adonis kneeling before her glanced up—but why was he clutching a tube of…lipstick? The good ones are all either gay or married. Still, her brain scrambled trying to remember whether she had ever seen eyes so dark and intense—or even when her heart had pounded so hard. Call her crazy, but she swore an invisible force was tugging at her very soul.
“Good evening, Ms. Campbell,” the young valet to her right greeted. Of course it took her a minute to realize that was what was being said since his words entered her head as a jigsaw puzzle. Jaxon Landon’s effect on her was just that damn strong.
“Evening good.” Zora flushed and then quickly tried to repair the damage. “I mean, good evening.”
Jaxon Landon cocked a smile and it seemed as if the whole world stopped.
A stunning, curvaceous woman draped in what can only be best described as a glittering sheer nightgown strolled into the picture. “Oh, sweetie. Thank you. You got it.” The woman cut Zora a look that clearly said, “Back the hell off.”
Jaxon blinked out of his trance and pulled himself up to his full height. He was so tall that Zora’s head tilted back in order to drink him all in. Dressed in an obviously custom-made Armani suit, there was no doubt to even the casual observer that the man was nothing but a wall of hard muscle—not the no-neck, steroids-enhanced kind of muscles, either, but the smooth, toned, rippling kind that a woman would love to have sweating and rocking above or beneath her.
“Good evening,” Jaxon greeted in a buttery baritone.
She quivered and then realized that she had just had a miniorgasm in front of at least a thousand people. Her face warmed another ten degrees. Zora, like the woman behind him, stood just below the man’s mountainous shoulders. Staring at the width of his chest was making her light-headed. Or was that from the lack of food? It certainly couldn’t be due to lack of oxygen. They were standing outside.
Two truths suddenly crystallized in Zora’s mind. One: she was very much a woman. Two: she was horny as hell.
She flashed the handsome giant a wobbly smile. Jaxon made her feel like a lamb, meekly standing before the king of the jungle. One move and she was doomed—hopefully in a good way. As if he’d heard her private thoughts, the Lion King flashed the sexiest smile she had ever seen on a man.
“We better go in,” the glittering woman said. Irritation made her feline voice pitchy. “We’re holding up the line.”
Hold up. What the hell? Zora was two seconds from scalping this glittering heiffa when she remembered not only who she was, but where she was. Still, just how was it that the man that was supposed to be her date tonight was there with another woman?
Jaxon extended an arm to his date and waltzed off.
Zora glanced around, her face burning with embarrassment. Now she was holding up the line. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t just turn back around and hightail it out of there. Her car had already been driven off. One thing she could do was murder a certain matchmaker with her bare hands.
Having no choice but to walk behind Jaxon and his date, Zora watched Jaxon’s smooth, sexy stroll attract many coveted gazes like a magnet. Confirmation that Zora wasn’t the only one caught up in his spell.
In a weird way, she didn’t mind the rear view because it was just as good as the front. Zora’s gaze shifted to the woman glued to his side and it was almost as if she could feel her expensive manicured nails turn into cat claws. The good ones are always taken—this one by a woman who looked as if she charged by the hour. Even though she was surprised by her own cattiness, Zora couldn’t stop herself from going there. Just as she couldn’t stop her gaze from tracking the mysterious giant once they all made it into the Landons’ palatial mansion.
Everything about the place screamed money and prestige. It was easily as luxurious as the famous Biltmore Estate. As was the norm for the Hamptons, the home was meant to impress and it more than exceeded. There were wall-to-wall people milling about, talking, laughing and dancing. It definitely wasn’t the type of party one would arrange to meet for a blind date—even one who brings a date on a date.
Wait until I get my hands on Melanie. Still, she should’ve known better. This kind of crazy stuff happened all the time in the dating world. People don’t just meet handsome, intelligent, charismatic millionaires all willy-nilly like Melanie made it seem. The truth of the matter was that whole speech about Zora needing more than a career to keep her warm at night, and even that absurd notion of her thanking Melanie on her wedding day for this hook up, had actually penetrated and, well, it’d gotten her hopes up. Instead, this evening looked as though it was just going to be a waste of time.
She hated wasting time. Not that she needed to be dedicating every minute of the day to making money, but she needed to be doing something.
Parties weren’t normally her thing. Most of the time people just smooched and bragged about their fortunate status in life—each one feeling like they needed to top the other. Nothing was too silly or over-the-top. Nothing was too brash or shameless. Such things bored the living hell out of her. Zora spent two hours washing, waxing and buffing for tonight when she could’ve just curled up on the couch with a half pint of sorbet and watched Project Runway.
Ten minutes in, Zora was ready to call it a night, but she told herself that she was going to stay until she found Melanie. She’d promised to be here, but then again she had also promised her a date. Hedge-fund gurus and technology geniuses weren’t her usual crowd. That wasn’t to say that people didn’t know her. Plenty of men and women stopped her to tell her how much they loved her work or gushed over how she was even more beautiful in person.
She dismissed such talk as polite conversation. It was simply what people said to models. In truth, she was no more or less beautiful than most of the women here. Women who went through great expense to obliterate anything that was even thinking about turning into a wrinkle and waged a full-scale war against cellulite, by vacuuming out every extra ounce of fat they could find.
Sure, it was hard to tell when some of them were smiling from time to time, but apparently a movable face was considered sooo overrated. When anyone asked how she knew the Landons, Zora would fake seeing a companion and excuse herself from the conversation. What else could she do? She couldn’t very well tell them that she didn’t know them or explain why she was crashing their sixtieth anniversary party. She did have some pride.
Thirty minutes in, Zora glanced at her jeweled watch. Ten more minutes, she promised herself. She’d do one more circle through the crowd and if she didn’t see Melanie then that would be just too damn bad. She had fulfilled her end of this silly bargain.
From across the grand room, Jaxon’s black gaze followed Zora Campbell like a laser beam.
What was she doing here? How did she know his grandparents? It wasn’t that he knew everyone they knew, but…he was intrigued. Mainly because back in day he had what he would suppose was a little crush on the supermodel. Hell, ten years ago, Zora Campbell’s image was everywhere: on sports magazines, on sexy lingerie covers and a few provocative perfume ads. He remembered one particular provocative Victoria’s Secret pose on a Times Square billboard that left little to the imagination that made him and every red-blooded male give her a hard salute whenever they walked by.
He couldn’t believe that all these years later, she still had the same effect on him. Hell, he could barely get two words out of his mouth outside. No doubt, he came off like just another one of her love-struck fans.
When it came to women, Jaxon had always played his cards close to the chest. He never wanted to show his hand early, if at all. Now here he was, a grown man and certainly an expert at reading and charming women, stumped at what his play should be when he managed to make his way back over to her—hopefully without Kitty attached to his hip. Surely Kitty would understand; after all, she was being paid for her service tonight. It was just the fact that nobody else knew of their charade and it would be more than a bit awkward to flirt in front of a crowd that thought he was engaged.
Talk about a tangled web.
Still, there was no way in the world he was going to pass up this opportunity to talk to the Zora Campbell.
“Sweetheart? Sweetheart, did you hear me?” Kitty hip-bumped Jaxon back into reality and flashed him a concerned smile.
Jaxon controlled his irritation and lowered his gaze to Kitty.
“They’re asking whether we’re thinking about a fall or winter wedding.”
Hell, he hadn’t even noticed the friends and colleagues that had gathered in a half circle around them. “It’s whatever you want, baby.” He flashed them a rare smile and then brushed a kiss against Kitty’s right temple. Why not? She was just doing what he’d paid her to do: keep up the pretense in order to drive Carlton crazy.
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