“That sounds like a nice project for you to take on. I found new curtains for the living room, and your father promised me he would hang them this weekend.”
“Yeah, sure he will,” I scoffed. My hand flew to my mouth. I hadn’t meant to say that out loud. My mother was very much aware of how much I disliked my father.
I used to blame her for not leaving him.
I used to beg her to leave him.
I used to tell her how much I disrespected her for staying in an abusive relationship.
Frustrated, I called Gran. She said that I needed to realize that my mother was never going to leave my father. I tried to argue, pleading my case to Gran that I knew he was cheating. Gran told me to stop disrespecting my mother and grow up.
Then my grandmother said something that I’d never forget. “Young lady, you are wasting precious time carrying on like this. In your mother’s eyes everything is fine. She married into a Southern family and by God her life is perfect. I told her not to marry that man, but she didn’t listen to me and she sure as hell isn’t going to listen to you.”
“Uhmm,” I said, smacking my forehead. “Sorry, Mom, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“Oh, Stevie, this isn’t news to me, I understand the way you feel about your father.”
My mouth fell open. Never had my mother ever said that she understood why I felt the way I did. “You understand?” Cradling the phone, I pulled out my dress inspecting it for wrinkles.
“Yes, I understand. That is all I will say on the matter and it warrants no further discussion,” she said with finality.
I didn’t ask any further questions, I closed out our conversation telling her about my attempt at painting and how I’d went to an Asian fusion cooking class.
I thought it was best that I leave out the sordid details with Jax.
Shortly before four my phone buzzed with a text. I smiled knowing that it was probably from Jax.
Jax: Are you ready for our date?
Me: I am. I missed you today.
Jax: I missed you too. There’s a black town car waiting for you outside your apartment. You’ll be greeted by a man named Mitch. He’s going to drive you to meet me.
Me: Okay, you’re very mysterious about this date.
Jax: See you soon.
A man named Mitch . . . I remembered Jax had called him the day at the gallery. I peered outside my kitchen window, and sure enough there sat a black town car. In front of the back passenger door stood a tall man with dark hair and broad shoulders. I drew in a deep breath as I studied my reflection in the mirror. I’d showered, shaved my legs, and trimmed up the downtown area for good measure. Today was a good hair and makeup day. I tried on at least six different outfits, eventually settling on the black and white striped dress I originally picked out.
Tonight could be the night I have sex with Jax, and every cell in my body is lit up like the night sky on the Fourth of July.
I scooped up my bag, and made my way down the staircase to the car. Mitch had a wide smile on his face as he opened the door for me. “Miss Brockman, good afternoon.”
“Hello and thank you,” I replied before climbing inside. My fingers danced over the white leather stitching and the supple black leather. Nervous knots formed low in my belly. Insecurity and doubt washed over me. Was this something Jax did often? I wondered how many other women had sat in this very seat.
Perhaps I’ve made a huge mistake?
Okay, stop it.
The inner voice was not my own, but rather Gran’s. In this moment I could feel her disappointment in me, second guessing myself as if I was Andie’s character from Pretty in Pink. The girl who everyone said wasn’t good enough for the handsome wealthy Blaine.
Not even twenty minutes later we arrived at the marina. Ah, yes, the yacht Jax had mentioned. Once Mitch parked the car, he opened my door.
“Miss Brockman, you’ll be looking for Hart’s Desire.”
Of course I would be—a fitting name.
Hauling my bag higher onto my shoulder I smiled. “Thank you.”
He tilted his head. “My pleasure, miss, enjoy your evening.”
Wringing my hands together, I strode down the wooden pier resisting the urge to skip. My eyes lifted to see Jax standing at the bow of his boat, wearing a navy tee, and a pair of stone colored slacks rolled up to his ankles. For a moment, I stopped my stride just to admire him. With his arms crossed over his broad chest, he stood tall looking out across the bay. The wind whipped up tousling his brown hair, the sunlight reflecting the hues of gold. My fingers curled inside my palms, remembering the feel of his hair scraping against my thighs.
As my last step connected with the wooden boards, Jax turned to face me. My eyes met his in a blistering heat turning my blood into liquid fire. He smiled that slow, heart-stopping, sexy smile, stoking the flames. Propelling himself forward, Jax effortlessly floated to the stern of the boat as his hands grasped ropes and gripped the railing for support.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he said, reaching out to help me climb aboard. I grasped his hand, and my legs shook as I took a step forward.
“I’m happy to be here.”
He pressed a kiss to my lips. “Come on, I want to show you around before we set sail,” he said, sliding his hands down my arms. Once more I slipped my hand into his, my body buzzing with too many emotions, colliding like billiards across a pool table.
As we walked along the side of the boat, the fire in my body was quickly doused when I saw two men approaching us. The taller of the two men was dressed in white uniform, the captain I presumed. The other wearing a red polo and black colored trousers, closely resembling the attire the staff at the Cabana Bar wore.
“Stevie, this is Jim, the first mate.”
“So does that make you the captain?” I asked looking up at Jax. He nodded, and gave me a wink. “And this is Nixon, the steward. He runs everything aboard the yacht.”
“Miss Stevie,” Nixon greeted me in his elegant French accent. “I run as much as Mister Hart will allow.”
Jax gave Nixon a rueful smile and it made me giggle. Apparently it was no secret that Jax was a bit of a control freak.
“She’s all ready for you, Mister Hart,” Jim interjected. “The coordinates are set and the weather report is clear. It will be a good night for sailing.”
“And both the evening and breakfast menus are planned,” Nixon added. “You will have no trouble preparing the items. Miss Martinez is finishing up the desserts, now.”
Both dinner and breakfast? I guess I was spending the night. Dread tugged at the knots and nerves in my body. I should have told Jax that I had to work in the morning.
I leaned over and whispered, “Can I talk to you for a moment?”
“Thank you, gentleman, excuse us.”
They nodded in agreement and walked away going off to do whatever it was that First Mates and Stewards did before the boat was scheduled to leave the marina.
Jax bent his head to me my gaze. “Hey, everything okay?”
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “I can’t spend the night with you.”
He frowned, the look of disappointment hit me smack in the forehead. What a stupid thing to say.
“Of course I’d love to spend the night with you. What I mean is that I have to work in the morning.”
He placed his hands on my shoulders. “No need to worry I took care of that, you don’t have to work this weekend.”
“What do you mean?”
“I had Carol take you off the schedule for weekend rotations. I told you that you would need your weekend free.”
My heart slammed into my ribs, and embarrassment washed over me. “What? How could you do that? Carol is my boss. I don’t need her knowing the details of my personal life.”
He shoved a hand through his hair. “Carol is my most trusted employee. She won’t tell a soul. You have nothing to worry about. Besides I thought you’d enjoy having your weekends free.”
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br /> “Have you learned nothing?” I asked, finding it hard not to laugh.
His eyes narrowed as he blew out a harsh breath. “I’ve learned lots of things in my thirty plus years on this earth. I managed to turn a failing hotel into one of the most exclusive resort and spa destinations in the world.”
“Noted. Jackson James Hart—Hotelier Magnate Extraordinaire. I’ll be sure to have that printed up on a banner and hang it over your desk.”
His mouth curled up, and he shook his head in amusement. “What can I say? I’m proud of my accomplishments.”
“That is something you should be very proud of, however, I’m gathering that because of that very thing you’ve developed a ‘you know what’s best for everyone around you’ type attitude.”
“Or maybe I’m just set in my ways.” Jax rubbed his hand over the curve of his jaw and down his neck. Despite that statement, it seemed as if he was actually listening to what I was saying.
“Hey, I am all for change, but I need to work weekends,” I replied, my tone sharp. “I need the tips.”
His arms folded against his chest reminding me once more that he was a powerful man. Powerful and gorgeous and kind and now I was thinking about him naked.
“If I could arrange it so that you are scheduled to caddy at least one Platinum or VIP guest during the week, would that make you happy?”
“Do you know what the other caddies would think if they found out you were pulling strings and doing me special favors because . . .” I stopped short of tacking on any assumptions to that sentence. Abby already knew that Jax sent me flowers, and now Carol was aware of my scheduling changes. I twisted the silver ring on my right hand. This made for a difficult situation because I liked him more than I probably should.
“Ughh,” I sighed. “I don’t even know what to do with you.”
Jax’s blue eyes scanned my face, a wicked grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I have a couple of ideas for you.”
I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes. “I’m sure that you do.”
“I’m sorry.” His hands fell to my waist. “Please don’t be mad at me, even though my reasoning for changing your schedule was entirely selfish.”
I dropped my forehead to his chest, and my hands smoothed over the fabric of his t-shirt. “I should find another place to work, things could get complicated quickly. Or maybe we shouldn’t do this at all.”
“No, the thought of it, please don’t.” The words came out, anguish rolling off his tongue. “This . . . it’s barely begun.”
His arms wrapped around me pulling me closer. I’m not sure how long we stayed like that, but I started counting the beats of his heart at one point.
“I think I have a proposal that you might like. Can we discuss it over dinner?”
“Having an actual discussion rather than you making a decision without running it by me first?” I smiled into his chest. “I think you can teach an old dog new tricks.”
His hands stroked up and down my back. “Did you just call me old?”
I peered up at him, and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I would never.”
Twenty five minutes later, Jax and I were cruising down the Salissa River. I decided to busy myself in the galley getting the food ready for our dinner. After I read over the menu card, I poured myself a glass of wine and then set the oven to pre-heat. The ingredients for a margherita pizza were measured and all I had to do was cut up the tomatoes and add the rest of the toppings. Easy as pie—pizza pie. I popped the pizza in the oven, and then grabbed the bottle of wine along with an extra glass.
The warm breeze drifted over my skin and for a moment I couldn’t believe this was my life right now. I made my way back to the captain’s station where Jax was steering the boat.
Captain’s station?
That sounded ridiculous. I should really brush up on my boat lingo. I felt Jax’s eyes on me watching my every movement. I placed the bottle of wine in the built in chilling bucket and nestled the glasses in cozy cup holders.
“How’s it going, Captain?”
Jax grasped my waist pinning me between the steering wheel and his hard body. “See that spec of land out there?” he asked, slipping one of his strong hands over my shoulder.
I nodded, feeling the heat climb up my neck from the warmth of his breath fanning across my ear. The heat of his touch, his body against mine and the cadence of his voice stirred something inside of me—a fusion of electricity that zapped everything inside me to life.
“That’s where we’re going to dock for the evening.”
“It looks perfect,” I whispered. “Hey, I was wondering something.”
“Oh, and what is that?”
“What’s this area of the boat called?”
“This is the cockpit,” he replied, smoothing his hand over the wheel.
Well that word didn’t help in matters where thinking about Jax naked was concerned. I walked towards the seating area and table where I’d placed the wine. “And what is this area called?”
“You are standing in the upper salon.”
“Then should I assume that there’s a lower salon?”
He nodded. “You’re good. We’ll make a sailor out of you yet.”
My eyes lifted to see the tiny piece of land coming into view. I felt the boat begin to slow its speed. Inhaling a deep breath, I took a moment to study the view. Had there been more to the land? Were there any treasures under the water holding valuable maritime artifacts? My phone pinged knocking me from my thoughts and alerting me to check on the pizza. According to Miss Martinez’s directions it should be about ready.
“I’m going to check on the pizza. Will we be dining up here, in the salon?”
A few steps were all it took for Jax to wrap his hand around the back of my neck, and for his hands to slip into my hair. “Is that what you’d like?”
All I could do was nod. His lips pressed against mine with fervor, communicating the same intensity that spoken words somehow couldn’t.
“Anything the lady wants, she gets.”
“Does that include you?”
“Anything you want. I will give you anything you want, Stevie.”
“Oh, think of the possibilities.”
BETWEEN THE PERFECTLY CHEESY, BUBBLY good pizza, two glasses of red wine and the easy conversation, I’d nearly forgotten about my work problem. The problem being that I was dating my boss’s boss, the CEO and owner of the company, and he seemed to want to control my work schedule. It was time to get down to business.
“So, Mister Hart, you mentioned something to me earlier about a possible solution to my work issue.”
“Yes, I did. I’ve wanted to renovate our Park City resort for some time. In addition, I’ve acquired properties in Chicago, Whitefish and London. London is in the negotiation stage, but the other two are both finalized.”
“Wow, when did all of this happen?”
“It’s something I have been working on for a few months. The London property came up on my radar a few days ago.”
“Okay, well, what does this have to do with me?”
“I’m going to need someone with an eye for detail. Someone with extensive knowledge of art comes to mind.”
Tilting my head, I shrugged. “I’m not sure that I understand.”
He leaned forward resting his arms on the tabletop. “Stevie, I want to bring you on to the executive team as a design consultant. I’d like you to handle the holiday and event installations for the hotel. Additionally, you’d assist me with acquiring art pieces for each of the locations.”
My mouth gaped. “That is an incredible offer, but surely I’m underqualified. I’m only a few months out of school. My scope of work is limited to Maritime history and . . .”
“And this is a good opportunity,” he interrupted, taking my hand in his. “I’ve seen your resume, and you are more than capable.”
“But, I just don’t . . . the museum . . .”
“Remember the day that I met you?”
“Yes.”
“You impressed me with your marketing insight about the coldest beer in town. I told you had a knack for it. With your degree in Art History, I believe you’ll find you’re more qualified for this position than you think.”
I wrinkled my nose. “That was just a few off-handed comments about beer, Jax.”
“Give it a trial run,” he interrupted coolly. “If it turns out that this is something that you enjoy doing, we can make the job permanent. If the museum calls and is able to offer you the curator position again and you want it, take it.”
Why did he have to make so much sense? The truth of the matter was that it was a very good opportunity. To work for Hart Hotels in an executive capacity doing something that I loved seemed like a dream. I didn’t bust my ass for the last five years to end up working the same job that helped me earn my degrees. Maybe I was meant to come here for this opportunity. On the other hand, would I have earned the job if I had gone through the formal process of interviewing as opposed to this not so formal one?
“I can practically hear you thinking.” His voice was low and seductive.
“I’m going to need more time to think about this.”
“No, you don’t. Take the job, Stevie.” He lifted his wine glass to his lips.
“What do you know about design and art history?”
He let out a hushed laugh. “Not much, why?”
“Well, you said that I’d be assisting you. That implies that you would be teaching me, which means that you have some level of expertise. If you have nothing to teach me, then I must decline the job offer.”
His eyes met mine when the words “teach me” rolled off my tongue.
“Oh, I can teach you plenty, sweetheart.”
In the next breath, he had pulled me to my feet and his lips fused to mine. My head was spinning and I felt like I was floating. In reality Jax had a firm grasp on my hips, propelling me backwards where we ended up near the front of the boat.
When his hands tugged at the hem of my dress, I murmured against his lips, “What are you doing?”
He dragged his fingertips up the back of my thighs, sending shockwaves of pleasure zapping through every cell in my body. “I’m getting you naked.”
Wicked Gentleman Page 9
