But he wants you now, an insidious inner voice whispered.
“Heads up,” he whispered for her ears alone, pulling her from her thoughts.
Glancing up, she saw Richard Lurig striding for their table.
Okay, Carlow, time to earn your keep.
“Richard,” Jackson said, rising to his feet along with Will. “Good to see you again.”
“What luck,” Richard said, shaking hands firmly with both men. “I worried I’d be at a table with no one to talk to.”
“No fear of that,” he replied. “Let me introduce you to my date for the evening.”
Lori smiled, standing. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Lurig. I’m Lori.”
“Richard, please.”
“Are you alone tonight?” she asked.
“My wife is headed for Paris, I’m afraid.”
“It’s beautiful this time of year,” Will said.
Richard shrugged. “My wallet will likely take a hit, but it amuses her to do these little trips.”
Little trips.
She’d been to Europe once, and it had taken her two years to save for the vacation.
What would it be like, deciding I wanted to go to Paris and just up and doing it?
This certainly wasn’t her world or anything close to it.
But it was Jackson’s.
The table returned to their seats and she glanced around to see the cocktail trays disappearing as the crowd prepared for dinner. On the stage, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and a well-cut suit walked up to the podium.
“Welcome,” he said, causing the crowd to hush. “Thank for joining us tonight as we celebrate the advancements in medical science and the life-saving research that wouldn’t be possible without your generous support.”
Lori listened to the hospital MC go on with half an ear. She was more interested in scoping out the crowd than a fawning speech. As unobtrusively as possible, she checked out the other tables, noting a number of familiar faces. Few would be a true challenge, she realized with relief. Many were socialites or independently wealthy couples who wouldn’t know Jackson beyond his reputation at best. There were a few members of the financial sector who’d know him better but no close friends or business partners beyond the board members scattered around the room.
We might make it through this after all.
So long as they didn’t tip their hand.
The introduction speech wound down and she clapped politely. Waiters dressed in all white flooded the room, bringing the expensive dinners to each table. She had no doubt their tickets had been several thousand dollars a plate plus donations. At that price, this had better be the best damn meal she’d ever eaten.
When their first course arrived, the tiniest bowl of soup she’d ever seen was set before her.
She frowned at the glorified egg bowl that couldn’t possibly hold more than a few spoonfuls.
Dubious, she took her first taste of the green mixture. Only years of masking her emotions saved her from sticking out her tongue at the flavor of wheat grass.
To her left, Mimi made appreciative noises.
Of course she is. The woman probably lives off kale and mung beans.
She forced a few more mouthfuls down before setting aside her spoon.
Jackson leaned over, his lips a breath from her ear. “If the other courses follow the high bar set by the appetizer, I promise to buy you a decent meal when tonight’s over.”
“Steak,” she whispered back. “And lobster. In buckets.”
“Done.”
She hid a smile as her bowl was cleared.
“So, Jackson, how long has it been since we spent any time together?” Richard asked, leaning back in his chair.
“Was it the Hamptons?” he replied.
“That long ago? What’s wrong with us?”
“I have a company to run and you have a fortune to spend.”
The other man laughed. “You might be onto something there. Follow my lead. Life is far better than it was when I was in the corporate rat race.”
“Some of us like building our own personal empires,” he said. “If you’ve forgotten how it feels, maybe you’ve been out of the game too long.”
She reached for her drink as she listened in.
He’s doing well. Light, fun, impersonal. Perfect.
Just like the real Jackson would have done.
“Ah, my friend, I forget nothing. But I grew my company in my bachelor days.” He saluted her with his drink. “Just wait till you realize there is more to life than the daily grind.”
“Lori’s just a work colleague,” he said as dismissively as she’d advised.
“I see,” Richard said, his gaze jumping between them. “My apologies. You look so comfortable together.”
“We’ve worked together for years,” Lori said. “Every now and then Mr. Sinclair prefers to bring me along, particularly when there are other members of our company represented as there are tonight.”
“How very practical of him.”
“You know how it is. Work first,” Jackson said with a smile.
But the tech mogul just shrugged. “Just wait. Someday, it’ll be a woman first, and you won’t want it any other way. My Kalie is my world. I don’t miss what I had before I met her at all.”
A romantic billionaire.
If only there were more like him.
She glanced at her partner only to find his blue gaze on her. “Interesting idea, Richard,” he said without taking his eyes off her.
“Just wait till it happens to you.”
“Wouldn’t that be something.”
Finally, he turned away from her, his attention returning to the man at his side.
“On to other subjects, then,” Richard said as waiters brought out the next course. “Have you seen Downy lately? I can’t seem to make our schedules line up.”
There was a beat of silence before Jackson cleared his throat, dabbing at his mouth with his napkin.
Downy. Who the hell is that?
Her brain jumped into overdrive, trying to run through the Rolodex of business contacts in her head. Who could have a nickname that was similar?
But all she was drawing was a blank.
“Downy?” Jackson said to buy time. “Can’t pin him down?”
Richard frowned. “Him?”
“Did I say that?” he corrected smoothly. “Slip of the tongue. Perhaps I should slow down on the scotch.”
Richard laughed. “At an event like this, I’d say the better bet would be to speed up.”
Downy is a woman. Who can it—
“Oh, Margaret Downton? Didn’t you have lunch with her last month, Jackson?” she asked, reaching under the table to squeeze his thigh.
“Well, hell, you’re right. See? I’d forget my own name without Lori’s help.”
Those around them listening to their conversation laughed.
Under the table, his hand found hers, giving it a squeeze of thanks.
Warmth filled her as she reclaimed her hand and started in on the petite chicken that had been set before her. Again, everything was in mini form, including the artistic swirls of the Duchess potatoes and bitesize carrot nibs. Apparently, rich people cared more about form than substance.
She shouldn’t be surprised.
As the table began to dig in, a series of speakers took to the stage. None of the speeches were particularly memorable but at least with all attention focused at the front of the room there wasn’t much for her to worry about. Richard had turned to whisper to the man on his right, leaving Jackson in peace.
As subtly as she could, she slipped her cell from her clutch and checked the time.
“Are you going to turn into a pumpkin?” Jackson whispered in her ear.
“It’s still early. We have a long way to go.”
“We’ll be fine,” he said, brushing her arm in a light touch. “Thank you for being here.”
There was no biting back her smile. “I can never say no to you.”
It’d been her problem for years.
“Really?” he purred. “I’ll keep that in mind next time we renegotiate your salary.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m worth a million bucks, and you know it.”
“Only a million? I’d argue with that valuation. Not nearly enough.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be treating me like a servant?” she asked in a whisper.
“Can’t seem to do it. Sue me.”
“I won’t, but if this all goes south, your other employees might.”
“Such an optimist.”
“I’d rather be a realist.”
“I’d rather be on a beach with a beer in my hand instead of eating tiny food like a rabbit,” he said.
“Tiny food you paid a ridiculous amount for.”
“I’ve always been an avid supporter of…what sort of research are we fundraising for?”
“I’m not sure anyone in this room cares.”
“Not as long as they’re photographed handing over a check,” he agreed.
“Why, Mr. Billionaire, that was pretty cynical about your own crowd.”
He scanned the room. “This can’t be my crowd. How would that have ever happened?”
“I think it’s called success,” she said.
“This is not my definition of success.”
“No?” She finished her food and pushed the plate away. “What is, then?”
His gaze came back to hers. “I think Richard and I might be more alike than I thought.”
She swallowed, glancing away. “Maybe once everything is back to normal, you can turn over a new life and search for a wife who likes to go to Paris for the weekend.”
“How are your travel tastes?” he teased.
“Expensive,” she replied, lifting her chin.
His grin flashed wide. “What a coincidence. I happen to know a man with deep pockets.”
“Yes, but Richard is taken.”
He clutched his chest. “Straight to the heart.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “Just listen to the speeches while we wait for what’s likely an equally tiny dessert.”
Sure enough, ten minutes later, she was staring at a two-bite brownie with ice cream and a mint sprig on top.
“Imported French vanilla,” Mimi put in when she tasted it. “You can tell it’s organic. So good.”
Lori arched a brow and popped half of the beautiful, if unsatisfying, creation in her mouth. While it was the best thing she’d eaten that night, it wasn’t saying much.
“What’s next?” she whispered to her date.
“Sweetheart, you are so asking the wrong man.”
Around them, people started to get to their feet and mingle. Looked like they’d hit the socializing portion of their evening.
On cue, the band started up and couples began heading for the dance floor.
“Are they waltzing?” she asked in disbelief. “Who knows how to waltz in this day and age?”
A strange expression crossed Jackson’s face. “I think I do.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t even think about it.”
“We’re playing a part, remember? Look, Will and Mimi are already ahead of us.”
“I can’t waltz. I took one class with some girlfriends, but that was a really long time ago and I’m reasonably sure wine was involved.”
“Let’s hope you have a better memory than I do.”
With a hand on her back, he propelled them forward before she could protest.
Chapter Thirteen
“Bad idea. Such a bad idea,” she said as Jackson steered her through the throng of people mingling in the center of the ballroom. Few still sat at the tables while the servers cleared away all traces of their meal.
“I don’t have bad ideas,” he said into her ear.
“Really? I’ve seen photos of your teen years. Frosted tips, hmm?”
“If I can’t remember it, then it didn’t happen.”
“I’m not sure that’s how reality works.”
They’d reached the edge of the dance floor. “I’m not kidding when I say I’m a bad dancer,” she said. “Also, you’ve never asked me to dance at any of the events we’ve both been at.”
His eyes were back on her. “My mistake, then.”
“No, you just danced with your actual dates.”
“Ah. There, see? This will be utterly normal, then.”
“Except I’m not your real date,” she hissed.
“Lori.”
She tore her eyes away from the dancers and glanced up at him to see an expression on his face she’d never seen before. He’d never looked at her like that. With a gaze that was equal parts exasperated and…
Affectionate?
“Even if I could be here tonight with any woman and not worry about our secret, you’re still the only one I would have asked.”
Danger. Danger!
He couldn’t think like that. Couldn’t want her like that.
Could he?
“You don’t know any other women,” she pointed out.
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I only want you.”
She tore her eyes away even as every inch of her body became far too aware of him. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Stop me,” he whispered in her ear before catching her hand and pulling her onto the dance floor.
Fear of tripping over her own feet filled her for a split second before he pulled her into his arms.
“I think I’m a good dancer,” he told her. “Just let me lead.”
“Or, you could be a terrible dancer and we could both end up on the floor.”
“Equally possible.”
Taking her hand, he swept them into the crowd on the floor.
The first minute, all she could do was stare at their feet and try to mimic his movements. They stumbled through one round of the dance floor before he shook his head.
“Look at me.”
“I’ll fall,” she said, ignoring the request.
“I promise, I’d never let that happen.”
Those words brought her head up fast. As soon as she stopped thinking so much about her feet, the dance got smoother.
“You’ve been my guide,” he said for her ears only. “Let me return the favor for once.”
With deft movements, he steered her around the floor, throwing in the occasional twirl that often had her overbalancing right into his arms.
“Much better,” he said the second time she crashed into his chest.
“I highly doubt it.”
“I’m one of the richest men in this room. Who the hell cares what anyone else thinks?”
“We do,” she pointed out. “That’s the whole point of this.”
“Right now, we’re just a couple dancing. That’s all. Our stock won’t drop if you step on my toes.”
“Good to know,” she muttered, glancing around them.
It was mostly older couples on the dance floor, and no one seemed as out of their depth as she was. But even so, by their third rotation, she was starting to get the hang of things. He was right. If she trusted him to lead, she didn’t have to do much except move the way he wanted.
“Much better,” he complimented her.
Her cheeks heated in a blush, but she didn’t stumble this time when he spun her.
“See?” he said. “We’re getting the hang of it.”
“You mean I am.”
“I mean you are,” he agreed.
A laugh escaped her. “We’re supposed to be serious tonight.”
“I’d rather dance with you till dawn than exchange polite small talk with the people in this room.”
“Next you’ll be telling me Richard has inspired you to sell your company and live a life of pleasure.”
He sighed. “It sounds damn appealing. I can’t imagine how I ever got pulled into this sort of life. But I also realize I’m only the temporary captain of this ship. When I get my memory back, the real me would probably be annoye
d if I ruined his empire.”
“For what it’s worth, you really love your job.”
“I’ll have to take your word on that. Just like I do everything else.”
“Give it time,” she said, her voice gentle.
He gazed down at her. “And enjoy what parts of the ride I can.”
The butterflies were back, fluttering in her stomach when she couldn’t pull her gaze from his.
Not bad advice.
If her fairytale had to end, she might as well enjoy what she could.
…
She’s perfect in my arms.
Jackson spun his date once more, deftly maneuvering them out of the path of another couple. This was the most normal he’d felt in days. Even for a few minutes, he didn’t have to wear a mask or play a part.
He could just be a man enjoying the company of the woman in his arms.
I want more moments like this.
With her.
It couldn’t last. Soon the music would end, and they’d head back into this shark tank of a benefit dinner.
But until then, he could pretend he wasn’t a poor stand-in for the man he should have been.
Lori stumbled on their turn, but instead of dropping her gaze back to their feet, she looked up at him and laughed.
“Klutzes should be banned from dancing,” she said.
“You dance beautifully.”
“I don’t. But you should see me at a normal club. Then my dances move are just…well, probably equally awful, but at least there’s tequila shots involved, so no one cares.”
“Or remembers.”
“That too.”
The music slowed to a stop and he reluctantly twirled her one last time.
The other couples were making their way off the floor but he didn’t want to let her go.
She seemed to feel the same, her arm still wrapped around him. “Thanks,” she said. “I would never have tried that, but it was really fun.”
“I’d say we could do it again, but we should probably go find the board members.”
“Yeah.”
But she didn’t move.
Neither did he.
“Jackson,” she said, her voice no more than a breath.
“We need to be responsible adults, right?” he asked. “We can’t duck out and just go home.”
For a second her eyes brightened at the suggestion before she sighed. “No, we can’t leave. Not yet. Come on.”
Giving Up the Boss Page 11
