by Rin Daniels
He could practically recite word for word his assistant’s constant stream of cautionary warnings. Jordan Weber was convinced that Adam hovered one bad decision away from a Hollywood finish—messy and media-hounded. Not because he had a habit of dating hot messes, which he didn’t, but because he cut off the women he did date without warning.
In his defense, that was usually around the time they started playing those coy little games that demanded he fund their interests. If there was a woman alive who didn’t try to flirt her way into his bank account, he hadn’t met her yet.
But whatever the details of Adam’s personal life, he never let it interfere with work. Never.
Except this once. It was just an introduction.
Just getting a name, a face, so he could get that nagging sense of familiarity out of his head.
Adam gestured to the far trellis with his whiskey. “I’ll only be a moment.”
“You have better things to do,” Jordan replied mildly. “And better places to do whatever you’re thinking.”
Adam’s amusement faded. “I’m not going to corner Goldberg until he’s had at least three drinks,” he said, his voice carefully even. “The alcohol will soften the impact of the dollar signs when we discuss the future of the wearable technology industry in a broad scope. More importantly,” he added, “I have no intentions of doing anything stupid, I’m not—”
I’m not my father.
A refrain he hadn’t said aloud since everything fell apart around him.
Jordan held his eyes, his own steady blue and more than a little concerned. He’d been David’s assistant first—a fact Adam was painfully cognizant of. The older man should have been lining up for the CEO vote, not Adam.
Of the two of them, Jordan had more experience. More hands-on training. More everything, and Adam knew it.
“Christ,” Adam muttered, unable to hold that stare. “Who am I kidding here? Why don’t you let me chase the skirt, and you go convince Goldberg to hire you.”
“You and I both know it won’t happen,” Jordan replied, as unflappable as he always was. “I happen to like where I’m at.”
And even if he did want the position, he’d never get it. He wasn’t money. Not like Sulla Valley knew money.
Adam didn’t like that it mattered. Not in his company—his father’s company. Didn’t like that blood still held out over brains, dedication, and loyalty. But this was the life Adam had been born into, the mantel he’d take on. CEO at twenty-five, and then radical new ideas to the table.
He had the vision. But that didn’t stop him from feeling guilty.
He’d practically grown up with the guy.
“I’m not saying you can’t go mingle,” Jordan said quietly, angling his shoulder to mask the conversation from anyone else close enough to overhear. “But you are here for a reason.”
Which meant Adam had no time to spend chasing that skirt.
It was totally inappropriate of him to even try. Exactly the sort of thing his father would have done. Which irritated him.
So he had no idea why he found himself saying, “Ten minutes.”
“Who is she?”
Adam hesitated.
“Adam—”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, cutting off the low warning. “I thought I recognized her, but I’m not sure.”
“An old fling?”
His mouth quirked. “I’m not such a manwhore that I can’t remember my exes, Jordan.”
“Thank God.” Jordan sighed. “This is a delicate time, Adam. Don’t get tangled up with a weird girl now.”
Adam lifted the pink martini in a toast. “Relax,” he said. “I can handle this.”
CHAPTER TWO
THEY’D HIDDEN THE restrooms behind a framed faux terrace that separated a small section of the dining area from the rest. It was a pretty alcove, but too dark thanks to the ambiance laid out for the event on the other side of the trellis.
The fact that Kat was hiding in the shadows annoyed her even beyond the nerves that had clamped around her spine and sucked the confidence right out of it.
She wasn’t a wallflower by nature.
Then again, she wasn’t exactly the sort of people this party welcomed, either. She could pretend, but she knew the truth—and Adam Laramie knew the truth.
One of these things could get her ousted. Or worse.
She sat on a small table tucked at the far left, listening to the vintage music piped in through a speaker set over her head, and stared at her empty glass.
There wasn’t nearly enough alcohol in it to make her nervousness go away.
Oh, man. An hour ago, she would have sworn upside and down that she was emotionally older than when she’d left Sulla Valley, much more mature. That she could look Adam Laramie in the eye and not just apologize for her role in her father’s scam, but confess that she’d liked him since the first moment she’d seen him five years ago—hunched over a book at the park, scribbling in the margins.
She’d delivered a shot at his defacing behavior.
He had looked up, squinted like he needed glasses, and then gifted her with the kind of smile that went right to a girl’s sensitive bits.
Every moment of that smile was a memory she held close.
And had, she could admit it, for five long years. She didn’t even know why. Once the Harris family left a city, they never went back. One of Jack’s many rules. Sulla Valley was supposed to be in her past—buried, over, locked away.
Only she’d come back to try again. For a new life.
And maybe, if he let her, with him.
Only this was way too early. She wasn’t even remotely ready to meet him, and not on his own turf. Why in hell had he come back so soon?
Kat lifted the glass to her lips, then frowned into the slick interior when she remembered it was empty.
“Care for another?”
The voice that slipped out of the fairy light and shadows scraped against every nerve she didn’t know had been exposed until she shuddered. The impact of it forced her hand to the table, the glass to clatter as she gripped the table edge and stared hard at the barely distinguishable silhouette.
Five years had matured her—but not enough. As Adam stepped into the faint light streaming through the window beside them, she felt seventeen again, overwhelmed by the sheer charisma he really needed to bottle up and sell.
It’d take him past billionaire and straight into gazillionaire.
He filled the narrow space. Objectively, she knew that all she’d have to do was sidle around him. There was plenty of room. He wouldn’t block her exit if she really tried—that wasn’t his style. She could leave the party, and more importantly, leave him and her memories behind forever.
Maybe it wasn’t too late.
Except of course it was. She’d already put all the money her father had left in the salon—into her one chance to make this work. She’d thought she had time, she banked on that time. If she left now, everything she had worked for in the past three months would be forfeit. She’d have to start from scratch.
She’d have to admit to failure.
Her mother would never let her live it down.
She’d never forgive herself for giving up—on everything—just because things got a little tough.
So this wasn’t according to plan. Whatever. A good grifter always had a back-up.
Kat forced her spine straight, raising her chin. She smiled like a part of her hopes and dreams didn’t hinge on him. On them. Not that there was a them to hinge on anymore. “Are you offering me the candy or the whiskey?” she asked lightly. It sounded so much less lame than hello.
He looked down at the glasses in his hand, weighed them both. “That depends.”
“On?”
“Which one will make me look manlier?”
A laugh bubbled up in her throat, surprising her. She swallowed it down to a chuckle as she turned her head. “Um.”
“I mean,” he continued thoughtfully, “I could sli
ng you the whiskey and sip at this fruity pink thing like I hang out with unicorns every day, but I’m very afraid I’ll go into sugar shock.”
“Mm.” Kat leaned back on the table, crossing her legs at the knee. “Pretty sure unicorns only swing by when there’s virgins around.” His eyes slid to her bare legs. The weight of that stare seared a trail of heat to her ankles. And much higher.
“That’s true,” he said, his voice dropped to husky velvet. “Virgins are in short supply around here. You don’t happen to know any, do you?”
“Why?” She cocked her head, hiking a playful eyebrow under her bangs. “You want the cocktail that much?”
“Point.” Adam frowned down at the glasses he held in each hand. “I could give you the weird pink stuff and sip at the whiskey, outlined by these delicate little lights in masculine beauty.”
Amusement simmered through her, easing the fringes of her nervousness away. Or was that the booze?
Whatever it was, she’d take it.
“Tough call,” Kat acknowledged. “You know, when I think of you, I always think ‘beauty’.” His eyebrow twitched. She resisted the urge to shift her weight when his gaze lowered to the drape of her dress. Then to the hem.
She pressed her thighs together as a pulse of warm awareness curled between her legs. Damn, he still had it.
Or maybe it was her that hadn’t had it for too long.
Virgins? Not even close. Neither of them.
Their first time had been in his car. She hadn’t planned it. She’d hoped to tease him along a little longer, make him go for the grand gesture—dinner, flowers, the whole nine yards.
Get in good with that Laramie boy. That was the plan. Bait him, hook him, reel him in. They’d be set for life.
Kat hadn’t minded. Adam Laramie was gorgeous, rich, charming—everything a fairy tale prince was supposed to be. She could be his Cinderella.
Except she’d been the one drawn by the bait. So hooked on his lure that she’d forgotten everything that humid, rainy night when his lips touched hers in the shadowed interior of his car. Somehow, she’d ended up sprawled across his lap, sweat-slicked and uncaring of anything but the feel of him inside her. His breath on her neck, the way his low voice groaned her name—her fake name.
Did he still think about it the way she did?
When his eyes met hers, they gleamed wicked amber. Sharp enough to cut, and hot enough to leave her gasping if she just let him close enough. Oh, yeah. She definitely remembered.
Did five years teach him anything new?
“Right.” A husky acknowledgment. He lowered both drinks. “I vote for a third option.”
Her damp palms stuck to the table she perched on. “What’s that? Going to put out an APB on virgins?”
“No.” Adam closed the distance, but slowly. Deliberately. “Virgins don’t interest me.”
“Me, either,” she said, breathy as hell. That sounded like an invite, even to her.
Was this going to be that easy?
Was she?
She watched his shoes as he paced across the wooden floor, watched his slacks go taut over the muscles of his thighs.
Watched his hands as they balanced amber and pink in each.
He should have stopped a step away.
He didn’t.
His thighs brushed her knees. Kat’s breath caught in her chest as he set each drink on the table on either side of her. The faded light caught in the whiskey, sending gold filigree over the artistically scarred wood.
His hands flattened beside them.
Kat looked up, her heart pounding. His eyes were so close, now. Too close. He’d always had pretty eyelashes, almost too long to wear sunglasses with. They were a little darker than his hair, the same shade as his eyebrows.
They lowered as his gaze slid to her mouth. “I saw you earlier.”
The pulse in her chest skipped hard. “So you came after me.”
His mouth curved at one corner, and a shaft of heat splintered where her heart thudded. She sucked in a breath she’d meant to be silent; his eyes flared at the telltale sound.
Approval slid into his gaze. Arousal. “Isn’t that what you were hoping for?”
Kat reached for the closest drink. The pink one. Not her best option, but he’d put that one closest to her right hand.
She couldn’t even summon the attention span to care. A gulp of the syrupy rum did nothing to quell her juddering nerves, but it gave her something else to look at.
At least until long, strong fingers closed over hers.
He could have run those fingers under her dress, and it would have changed nothing about her response. Her body twanged like a violin, finely attuned to the man she’d thought hated her.
She was ready for that much, at least. She hadn’t expected him to feel anything but anger, bitterness, betrayal. When her father had packed them up and hit the road again, she’d known that the game was up—that Adam or his family had figured them out for the scam artists they were.
Even if what she’d felt was real. Even if what she’d wanted was Adam in the end.
What mattered was what Adam thought. If he hated her for the fact that she’d worked her way into his life, his bed, and lied every step of the way.
It was an uphill battle, but one she’d been prepared fight to get back into his life. From her new hair style to her salon to the fact she wanted to make Sulla Valley her home, she’d planned on waging war against Adam Laramie until he folded like a house of cards.
Instead, he practically invited himself to her lap, war notwithstanding. Maybe the dress was arsenal enough. Maybe it was the heels.
Maybe he wasn’t as angry as she’d expected.
“Are you drinking because you’re nervous?”
“Maybe.” Kat’s chin lifted. “Maybe I’m drinking because I’m that kind of girl.”
“That’s okay, too.” His gaze arrowed again to her mouth. His free hand lifted, but he hesitated a mere inch from her face. She could all but feel the searing heat of his skin. Close. So close.
How long had it been? Five years felt like a lifetime.
“Your lipstick is making this really hard,” he said, eyebrows knotting.
She laughed shakily. “I’m sorry?”
“I’m not. I like a challenge.”
Behind her, separated by a narrow trellis weave, the music twined through conversations she couldn’t focus enough to unravel. Shadows danced as party-goers passed between the lights and the alcove.
Kat was painfully aware of the narrow margin between right and wrong, was trying hard to stay on the right side of life—but right now, right here, wrong felt like a brilliant idea.
His index finger touched her bottom lip.
Kat couldn’t even explain why she opened her mouth. Why she closed her lips around the tip of his finger.
His eyes darkened. The faint smile faded from his mouth, and his throat reflexively jumped as he swallowed hard.
She drew his finger into her mouth and relished the way he bottled back a groan. She sucked gently, then harder, wrapping her tongue around his finger like she would around his cock, if he’d only let her. God, she hadn’t realized how badly she wanted him until he showed in the flesh.
And she wanted that flesh.
No angle. When it came to Adam Laramie and the nearest bed, the only angle she’d ever thought about was standing up or lying down.
Maybe a little of both. Or a lot of both.
When he plucked the glass from her unresisting hand, she didn’t notice. Barely even registered it when he set it back down beside her. She nipped at the tip of his finger and he muttered a ragged curse, followed it with a hoarse chuckle as he withdrew from her lips.
A smear of magenta stained his skin. Marked her existence. Kat was here.
She blushed so hard, the tips of her ears burned.
Adam’s eyes lifted from the startlingly pink smear. Met hers, crackling with barely repressed arousal.
Her panties hadn�
�t been made with this kind of workout in mind.
“Ten minutes,” he muttered, cocking his head to one side.
She made a show of checking over her shoulder. “Are you talking to someone?”
His teeth flashed. A fast grin. “No.”
“No bodyguards waiting to jump me if I put a hand on you?” she pressed, her tone light. Just a little shaky, but she couldn’t help that.
“Trust me. The only person here waiting to jump you is me.” Her insides twisted up so hard, she suddenly couldn’t breathe. Didn’t care. Kat watched, skin prickling with anticipation, as one long hand curved over her knee. “And every other sucker who watched you walk by.”
The burn in her cheeks increased.
“Now is the time to tell me no,” he whispered.
A booming laugh echoed from the gathering hall. Mere inches kept them from discovery. One wrong turn to find the restrooms, and it’d be all over.
But, oh, it was so worth it.
She shook her head mutely.
“Is that a no?”
Kat’s fingers curled into the edge of the table on either side. “That’s not a no.”
His hand skimmed up her thigh. “Are you sure?”
She nodded.
“Even with people just behind you?” he whispered.
Oh, God. The rush of wet need that curled between her legs should have scared her. Was she actually that kind of girl?
His fingers edged to her inner thigh. She uncrossed her legs.
Oh, yes. Kat was exactly that kind of girl.
His free hand planted on the table beside her. A nudge, a twist, and he coaxed her thighs wider. The material of her black dress draped over them, a teasing fold of cloth.
She bit back an impatient growl. “Touch me, already.”
His laughter shuddered over her skin. “Needy, aren’t you?”
Only where he was concerned. Kat sucked in a sharp breath when his fingers brushed the silk of her black panties. Let her head fall back when they traced the hem. Her stomach clenched as he drew a finger down the center of the material, found her clit and skimmed it gently. She jerked.
He made a sound like approval in his throat. “How far will you let me take you, sweetheart?”
Her hips tilted. Kat closed her eyes. “I didn’t...” Another touch. Another lightning bolt sizzled through her. She gasped. “I didn’t bring a condom.” Hadn’t expected to need one.
