by Rachel Grant
“Does he know about us?” she asked. The question had been nagging at her.
“Yes. He said he saw it coming a mile away.”
“Was I that transparent?”
“No. I was.”
The front door opened, and JT entered with a stunning blonde dressed with equal expense and care. Upon seeing Erica, JT let out a low whistle. “Spectacular, but you wasted time putting those beads in your hair. No man is going to look above your chest.”
The woman at his side elbowed him in the ribs. “Jesus, JT, have you ever heard of sexual harassment?”
His eyes softened as he looked at the blonde. “I’m not hitting on her. I’m stating a fact.” He turned back to Erica. “Erica Kesling, meet Alexandra Vargas, an old friend who has graciously agreed to decorate my arm this evening.”
Alexandra batted JT’s shoulder. “You’d better not introduce me to everyone that way, or I’ll be sure to tell the press the Talon men are a bunch of sexist pigs.”
“I’m sorry, I meant to say, ‘This is Alexandra, who has agreed to fill my evening with witty banter and interesting observations on the arts, mathematics, and string theory. That she looks good while doing so is irrelevant.’”
The woman smiled. “Better. But it still needs work.” She grasped Erica’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” She turned to Lee and kissed him on the cheek. “Lee, it’s been ages.”
“You’re gorgeous as ever, once again proving you can do way better than JT.”
She grinned. “I know. But he’s rich. And his dad might be president one day, so I keep him around in case he becomes useful.”
“God, I forgot what you two are like together. What was I thinking, having us share the limousine?” JT complained with good humor.
Alexandra knew Lee. Erica wondered what the woman could tell her about her enigmatic lover.
“Erica, JT asked me to bring earrings for you to wear tonight.” From a small jewelry bag, she pulled out a pair of diamond studs that had to be at least a carat each.
“I couldn’t possibly—I’d be terrified of losing them.”
“You lose them, JT’ll buy me a new pair. Won’t you, pumpkin?” She said “pumpkin” with false sweetness, making the endearment ironic. Erica liked her more with each second.
“Absolutely, muffin.” JT spoke in the same saccharine tone.
They headed to the limousine parked in front of the Watergate. The smell of hot asphalt hung in the humid air, and Erica felt the stares of total strangers as she climbed into the vehicle. She understood now why women agreed to be arm candy. No matter how smart, no matter how successful, there was a heady ego boost and sense of personal power that came with the role.
Lee sat next to her with his arm around her shoulders. JT poured champagne and passed glasses around. They toasted to a successful evening for the senator and casino.
They’d driven only a few blocks when Alexandra snapped her fingers in front of Lee’s face and said, “Yo, Lee, come up for air. You’re going to get drool on that spectacular cleavage and discolor the silk.”
Erica was astonished to see him turn red. “How embarrassing, I’m a spider caught in my own web. I wanted Erica to wear the most dazzling, eye-catching dress possible to turn men into blithering idiots. But the only idiot here is me.”
“Don’t worry. JT’d be drooling too, if he didn’t know I’d kick his ass.”
JT smiled and sipped his champagne. “You both look spectacular. We men are mere mortals and quiver in your glorious radiance.”
“Please. Gag me,” Alexandra said. “What you really mean is we look elegant yet fuckable, that perfect combination of sexy class.”
Erica laughed, feeling at ease, something she hadn’t expected. “Alexandra, I must know, what is your day job?”
“You know that thing JT said about string theory? That was true. I’m a theoretical physicist. We work along the edges of known mathematics to describe nature, movement, time.”
“She’s an ideal trophy wife,” JT said. “Because she’s too smart to actually be a trophy wife, making her the greatest trophy of all.”
“Which is why your proposals keep falling on deaf ears, pumpkin.”
“I think your problem, JT,” Lee said, “is that with a woman like Alexandra, you need to play hard to get. She spends her days around science geeks who turn into incoherent fools every time she walks into the room. She’s tired of attention. She’s craving indifference.”
“Good advice. I’ll give that a try.” JT turned his sharp brown eyes to Erica. “So, you doing anything after the party tonight?”
She nearly spit out her champagne. “You’re on your own, boss.” Then she smiled, getting into the rhythm of the banter. “I don’t date up the hierarchy. I prefer interns I can dominate.”
“Ohh,” Alexandra squealed. “Domination is such fun. Why this one time, I—” JT’s hand covered her mouth.
“Muffin, you really shouldn’t share that story.” He shook his head at Erica and Lee. “Scientists. No social skills.”
JT then kissed Alexandra as though they were alone, and Erica realized he was in love with her. She wondered how much of the teasing was true. Had Alexandra really turned down several proposals? In that moment, JT became human to her. Not an intimidating boss, not the son of a presidential contender, but a man hopelessly in love with a woman who refused him, and she felt sorry for him.
The ride continued, as did the laughter and banter. If JT was nervous about the coming announcement, he didn’t show it. For her part, Erica grew increasingly anxious as they drew nearer the casino. Would the artifacts be there? Could she, would she, expose them for what they were, causing distraction and harm to the senator’s campaign?
But how could she not, when the room would be full of reporters?
Lee’s lips caressed her collarbone. “What are you thinking about?” he whispered.
“I’m nervous.”
“Don’t worry. The crowd will be friendly tonight—the senator’s inner circle.”
“And hundreds of reporters.”
“Not hundreds. One, maybe two dozen.”
“Thanks. I feel so much better now.” She studied him, her heart cracking as she absorbed his handsome face, his strong presence, his possessive smile and body language. Every motion, every look, proclaimed she was his. How would he look at her after the senator made his announcement in front of stolen artifacts? What would he think after she told those dozens of reporters that Sam Riversong had knowingly purchased stolen artifacts to decorate his casino?
A frontal assault tonight, while the room was filled with reporters, was her best hope. With reporters eating up the story, the FBI would be forced to listen. And Marco couldn’t attack while cameras were fixed on her. Lee would know she could have prevented the coming scandal but instead chose to cause it.
They arrived at the casino. Looking out the tinted window, she was terrified by the sight of red carpet flanked by reporters. JT emerged first, turning to help Alexandra climb out. Lee followed and performed the same service for Erica.
Cameras flashed, and she focused on the strip of carpeting she needed to follow to get inside, away from the surreal sea of faces staring at them beyond the flashing lights, cameras, and microphones. Men and women shouted questions to JT. Thirty feet of cameras, then she’d be safely at the reception that was taking place in the Pueblo Room prior to the ribbon-cutting ceremony that would open the Aztec Room.
She slid her arm through Lee’s, who whispered in her ear, “We’re going to pause at the blue mark and smile for some pictures. JT and Alexandra will stay outside and work the press, but we’re nobodies and get to go inside.”
Reporters flocked to JT, the senator’s only son. He smiled and joked with the reporters. When asked direct questions about the campaign, he said he would support his father in whatever announcement he planned to make that evening.
They stopped at their mark and smiled while a dozen flashes blinded them. Lee kissed h
er cheek and whispered, “You’re doing great, sweetheart.” She was surprised to hear her name called out by a reporter but didn’t catch the question.
Lee stiffened when a female reporter called his name and asked something about the senator’s son. He hurried Erica down the last feet of carpet and inside the vestibule. A security guard used a handheld metal detector, then waved them through. The doors closed behind them.
The abrupt silence was a relief. “How did they know my name?” she asked.
The set of Lee’s jaw made her wonder what had upset him. “The senator released the guest list, and you were named as my date.”
Am I missing something? He was just a well-connected intern, right? A cold wave of apprehension hit her. Why hadn’t it occurred to her to Google Lee Scott until this moment? “How did they know who you are?”
He shrugged. “The Talons and Scotts go way back. C’mon. Let’s get a drink.”
The tuxedoed bartender was one of several she’d flirted with for information over the last months. She thought of Tommy, and acid flooded her stomach. She wished there’d been room in her beaded bag for her ubiquitous bottle of antacids, but all she’d had room for was her lipstick, ID, phone, keys, and evidence of a crime that could destroy several people and a presidential campaign.
She took a glass from the laden bar with only a slight nod of acknowledgment to the bartender, then skirted the edge of the room, studying the rapidly growing crowd. “Do you know people here?” she asked Lee.
“The only person here who matters to me is you.”
Why is he being so evasive?
“Lee, who are you?”
“Come with me,” he said and pulled her into the empty corridor that led to the Great Basin Room. They stopped near the display where she’d waited for Tommy the night he was killed. She tried to wipe that thought from her mind and instead remembered the flutter she’d felt when she’d turned and realized Lee had been the man who’d kissed her. She’d been falling for him even then.
“You want to know who I am?” he asked. He took her champagne glass and set it on a windowsill next to his own. “I’m a man who’s crazy about you.”
“What are you to the senator?”
“I’m an old family friend, that’s all.” He kissed her, slowly, deeply.
She found the will to pull away. “You’re what—twelve years younger than JT? Yet you talk to each other like you’ve been friends forever, like you’re equals, not CEO and intern.”
“You, my dear, are a snob if you think JT can’t be friends with me because I’m an intern.”
“That’s not what I mean—”
He kissed her again. “I don’t care. I love you even though you’re a snob.”
“I’m not—” But his mouth covered hers once more, distracting her with heat. She could no longer remember what she’d asked him. Seconds after that, she forgot where she was. She was dangerously close to forgetting her own name.
“Feel me, Erica,” he murmured, pressing his hips against hers. “I’ve made love to you countless times in the last few days, and still I want you. I can’t get enough of you.”
“This is just lust,” she said, hoping to convince herself.
“No. It’s love.”
She pressed her fingers against his lips. “That’s not true.” Every time he said he loved her, a piece of her broke. She wanted this to be real. She wanted to love him back. She wanted this to last. But it wasn’t, she couldn’t, and it wouldn’t.
“It is. I love you. I’m crazy about you. Remember that.” The last words sounded pained. “Always remember that.” His lips traced her throat. “Everything I have, everything I am is yours. I only want one thing in return: tell me how you feel.”
“No.” But she kissed him, hoping her actions would suffice. Her kiss was hard, full of pent-up emotion and he responded in kind.
His lips left hers to explore the column of her throat, then moved lower to her overflowing cleavage. Heat slammed through her, overpowering her. She wished she could show him with her body how she felt, because she was afraid to say the words.
“Say it, Erica. Tell me.”
She felt wild, ready to drag him farther into the darkened corner, to hell with her hair, to hell with her dress, to hell with the party going on in the next room.
“Say it.”
His touch had become air, his kisses water. Her survival depended upon him. “I…”
“Say it. Please.”
And then the words broke free, as if of their own accord, “I love you, Lee.”
And she did, dammit. She was mad for him.
His lips found hers again, a kiss of joy, satisfaction. Different from the kisses they’d shared before. He leaned his forehead against hers. “Thank you.” He smiled with triumph.
She playfully pushed at his shoulders. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
He placed her hand on his crotch, holding her fingers against his erection. “Too late.” She caressed him. His eyes closed, and he let out a groan of pleasure.
“Do we need to go back to the party?” She wanted to escape, and not just because she wanted to make love with him. If she left now, she wouldn’t see the artifacts. She wouldn’t have to ruin this perfect night with accusations that would make her a pariah.
He took her hand and led her farther down the corridor to a restroom. “You need to fix your lipstick.”
Inside, she faced herself in the mirror. In her flushed face she saw a slight resemblance to her mother—not the woman she’d been in the last years of her life but the woman her mom had been before Erica’s father died. Losing the love of her life had destroyed her mother. Erica had already lost everything that mattered to her. Could she survive losing Lee?
If she couldn’t, she’d have to let Jake get away with his crime.
For the first time in a year, she didn’t want to redeem herself. She didn’t want revenge. Redemption and revenge would cost her the one thing she wanted more: a life, a future, a chance at happiness. Lee.
CHAPTER FORTY
BY THE TIME THEY REJOINED the party, Erica felt drunk, but not on champagne. She was giddy, happy. Crazy in love. Lee looked at her with fervent eyes, and the air between them crackled with electricity, the buzz of energy that came with intense feelings.
She’d made a decision. She wasn’t going to give up her chance at happiness tonight. For once she’d take the safe route and wouldn’t fight the lonely fight. She would remain silent.
Later, after the party, she’d tell Lee everything, and together they’d find a way to keep her safe.
They circulated among the guests, talking with politicians, pundits, and celebrities. Lee introduced her to US Attorney Curt Dominick, whom he described as an old friend. Her mood was so high, not even Curt’s speculative gaze could break through the warm cocoon that enveloped her.
The senator, already the front runner for his party’s nomination, hadn’t made his entrance yet, but the excitement in the room was a testament to the facts of his candidacy: he was a charismatic minority from a hardscrabble background with enough experience to make him the ideal candidate. His supporters considered him a shoo-in.
Edward Drake walked up and clasped her hands like they were longtime friends. “Erica Kesling,” he said. “The senator told me he invited you. I wasn’t aware you knew him.”
“My work on the Thermo-Con project brought me to his attention.”
Drake cocked his head to the side. “Thermo-Con. Is that the concrete house on the reservation? I didn’t know Joe was interested in that project.” He looked at Lee and did a double take. “You look familiar. Do you work for Talon & Drake?”
She could think of at least two instances when Lee had stood right next to Drake in the office, yet he hadn’t noticed the six-foot-five intern. Hard to imagine, but she was aware of Lee on a primal level and therefore wasn’t a reliable judge of his impact on other people.
He held out his hand. “Lee Scott.”
A look of surprise and recognition crossed Drake’s face. “Oh. I get it now.” He chuckled. “Joe’s invitation didn’t have to do with Thermo-Con, but you can tell people that, if it makes you feel better.” He walked away, leaving Erica dumbfounded.
“What the hell did he mean by that?” she asked.
Lee snagged two new glasses of champagne from a passing waiter. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
No kidding.
A man approached and said, “Lee Scott, the senator needs to speak with you.”
She stifled her groan of frustration. She had unlawful carnal knowledge of the man but had no idea how everyone here knew his name.
Lee kissed her cheek. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He followed the aide.
Dammit. What had he been about to say? She scanned the room for Alexandra, perhaps the one person who would tell her how Lee was connected to the Talon family. Given everyone’s tight lips and vague statements, she’d assume he was the senator’s illegitimate son, but Lee didn’t look like he had an ounce of Talon in him.
She straightened her spine and began to circulate the room, then heard a low whistle behind her. “Cream Puff, you do clean up well.”
She spun around to face Jake. He wasn’t the sun-bleached, tanned treasure hunter she’d spent a summer with, but a polished, Armani-wearing businessman.
She smiled stiffly. “Jake. I’m surprised the senator would risk inviting you.”
“You’re finally getting your spine back. You know, I really hated breaking your spirit.”
“You never broke my spirit. I’m just methodical. There is a phrase, ‘revenge is a dish best served cold.’”
He grabbed her arm and squeezed her biceps. “Don’t threaten me, Erica. You’ve never really understood the situation. I’m your only hope.”
“Let go, or I’ll scream.”
He dropped her arm instantly. She felt a surge of power and silently thanked Lee for making sure people would notice her in this room full of important people.
“Screwing the senator’s stepson has made you cocky. But soon you’ll be dumped by both Scott and Talon & Drake. Then you’ll need me.”
