by Kevin, Lucy
Forcing a bright smile, she said, “So, looks like we’re going to Napa together, huh?”
He grinned at her, saying, “Sure does,” and he was so gorgeous she actually lost her breath.
Desperate to get some sort of chitchat started from which to not only launch her investigation, but to distract herself from his sensual power over her, she said, “Just as long as you don’t mind dining with a woman in shorts and a t-shirt.” Trying to be flirty, she threw in a breathy laugh at the end of her sentence. But instead of looking entranced by her performance, a frown marred Brandon’s brow.
Just as suddenly the frown disappeared. “Actually, I believe they’ve set up a shower and change of clothes for you at a Napa Valley spa.”
Hearing the word “spa” again made Alexa nearly gag, but she masked it by saying, “Oh goodie. What kind of girl doesn’t love going to a spa?”
Brandon narrowed his eyes. “Some women don’t really care for it, I’ve heard.”
Surprised by his response, which exactly mirrored her own, Alexa shrugged just as the driver abruptly hit the brakes.
Alexa only realized she’d forgotten her seat belt when she felt herself starting to fly out of her seat.
Brandon moved quickly, catching her before she slammed into a door or window.
“I’ve got you.”
She looked up into his eyes and felt utterly, perfectly safe in his arms.
His blue depths looked into hers with a powerful intensity. And then his mouth was on hers. Or maybe it was her mouth on his. She didn’t know who started the kiss, but she did know that she never wanted it to stop.
Alexa was so wrapped up in the warm of his lips, in the tingles running through her head to toe, that she forgot all about the cameramen. So when Brandon gently pulled back and reached up to move a lock of hair from her forehead, Alexa was momentarily disoriented.
Quickly, she realized that she had just proved herself to be a complete tramp on national television, and just as quickly, her budding passion was doused.
Scooting back against the other wall of the limo as quickly as she could, she was saved from having to say anything when the limo stopped in front of a large stucco building shipped straight from the streets of Italy.
A matronly woman waited for her on the sidewalk. “We will have a fairy princess waiting for you at 7 pm,” she said to Brandon as she helped Alexa out of the vehicle. Still flushed from their kiss, Alexa forced herself to act nonchalant, as though she kissed gorgeous guys on TV all the time.
“Until tonight,” she said with a saucy grin and a wiggle of her fingers. She followed the woman up the steps to the spa, hoping no one noticed the trembling in her legs and the shaking of her fingers.
*
Brandon stood on the balcony of the Auberge de Soleil, a luxurious resort in the hills of the wine country. The lovely property overlooked thousands of acres of vineyards, which rolled down the mountains and into the valley below. The summer evening was warm and the breeze smelled faintly of fermenting grapes.
He grinned, thinking about how much he was anticipating his dinner date with Alexa.
Just like a kid on his first date with the hottest girl in class, hoping he’ll get a kiss goodnight. He closed his eyes in the summer breeze as he vividly recalled the taste of her luscious mouth.
He couldn’t believe his luck when the driver hit the brakes and Alexa nearly slid into his lap. He never expected that she would kiss him like that, in front of the cameras. The magnitude of his attraction to her – and the fact that she seemed to return those feelings – was more than he could have hoped for.
A door behind him opened with a small squeak and Brandon swung around just in time to behold a glorious vision. Looking better than any fairy tale princess ever had, Alexa stood at the top of the flight of steps.
Her strapless gown revealed Alexa’s tanned shoulders and toned arms. Fitted snugly around her spectacular, full breasts, it flowed from her waist in what seemed to be a thousand sheer, silky layers around her ankles. As the breeze played with the diaphanous fabrics, her long skirt lifted to reveal high-heel sandals, with well-manicured toenails peaking out at the very tips.
Brandon thought Alexa had the look of a well loved concubine, secure in her sensuality, unafraid to display her bounty to the world.
Shaking himself free from the stucco railing he had been gripping for dear life, he quickly moved up the steps to greet her. He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “You look absolutely stunning.” He relished the smooth feel of her olive skin against his lips. There were a thousand places he wanted to kiss on her body.
Alexa graced him with a huge smile and he tucked her hand in his, noticing she was trembling.
“Are you cold?”
Alexa shook her head. “A little nervous maybe,” she admitted with a charmingly lopsided grin. “It’s beautiful out tonight, isn’t it?”
Brandon nodded and a wave of pure happiness rushed through him. This was the woman he had fallen for on the sidewalk with chili dripping off of both their shirts. Pure and easy and oh so gorgeous.
He pulled out a chair for her from the lone table on the terrace. Dozens of lit candles hung from lanterns, setting the romantic scene. Brandon felt like he could stare into the hazel depths of Alexa’s eyes forever.
But just as he was convinced that she had let down her guard and was willing to give in to their undeniable attraction, she pursed her glossy lips into a tight line and the softness in her eyes disappeared.
“So,” she said in a brisk voice, “I’d love to know why you signed up to be Mr. Right.”
Brandon was shaken by the abrupt change. “Suddenly this feels like an interview.”
Alexa transformed herself with an alluring, sexpot smile. “Oops,” she giggled. “My mama always said that curiosity killed the cat. Where are my manners?”
As she took a delicate sip of chardonnay and licked her lips like a cat fresh from the cream bowl, Brandon was more confused than ever.
She seemed to be several women all rolled into one. A tomboy, a sex kitten, and, most disturbing of all, a cynic. Brandon just wished he knew which one of them was the real Alexa.
He couldn’t help but wonder why Alexa had subjected herself to being on a show like Falling For Mr. Right?
Unwilling to ruin their romantic evening with a potentially difficult discussion, he searched for a response that would satisfy her curiosity while simultaneously deflecting her question. The last thing he wanted was for her to find out the shallow reasons behind his becoming Mr. Right.
Taking a large gulp of wine, he forced a grin. “If I tell you all of my secrets, you’ll have to tell me all of yours.”
Giving him a playful bat of her eyelashes, she said, “Touché. Why don’t you tell me about your family,” she said, neatly changing the subject.
Brandon sat back as the waiter delivered their first course of blanched asparagus spears.
“My mother’s great. She quilts professionally and lives on the Peninsula.”
“And your father?” Alexa asked, slipping the head of an asparagus spear between her even, white teeth.
As Brandon watched the slim vegetable slip between her lips, he had to force his brain to focus on her question, he said, “My father’s dead.”
“Oh,” she said, looking up at him with alarm. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”
For a moment, Brandon felt that he had a window into Alexa’s soul, to the warm-hearted, gentle woman that lay beneath the bristling sex kitten.
Reaching across the table for her hand, he stroked the inside of her palm with his thumb.
“It’s okay. It was several years back. I’m at peace with it now.”
Alexa watched his hand on hers with something akin to alarm. Her pulse beat rapidly in her throat and her neck flushed. Brandon wanted to sweep the plates and glasses off of the table.
He wanted to tell the cameramen to go home, so that he could make love to her on the
fine linen tablecloth.
All too aware of the cameras, he reluctantly removed his hand from hers, picked up his silverware and forced himself to eat an asparagus spear.
Alexa surfaced from her daze and reached for her wine glass, downing the rest of her chardonnay in one large gulp. The second she put down the empty glass, a waiter rushed over and refilled it for her.
A permanent flush now on her cheeks, she too picked up her silverware and began to eat, not looking at Brandon, not saying a word. After every bite, she took a large sip of wine, and her movements became less mechanical and more fluid.
Several silent minutes later, she set down her silverware on her clean plate, leaned back against her chair and said, “Yum. That was delicious.”
She seemed relaxed, suddenly, and Brandon was glad for it, even if the wine was to thank for it, and not him. The rest of the meal moved swiftly as they talked about their favorite movies and books and places in San Francisco.
“Do you know what I like to do sometimes when I’m alone in my bedroom?” Alexa said.
Her eyes sparkled with mischief.
“I can’t wait to find out,” Brandon said. He already knew exactly what he’d like to do with Alexa in her bedroom. First, he’d slowly remove her clothes, kissing every inch of skin as it was revealed. Then he’d lay her back on the bed and…
Alexa’s voice brought him back from his sensual daydream. Lowering her voice slightly, she shared her secret. “I turn on the radio really, really loud and I dance around the room, lip synching to my favorite songs. I love to pretend that I’m a rock star on stage in front of thousands of people.”
Brandon smiled, thinking about how adorable Alexa would be singing Like A Virgin.
Especially if she danced around in skimpy lingerie like Madonna did. “Promise me you’ll perform for me sometime soon.”
Alexa wagged her finger at him playfully and took another large gulp from her wine glass. “Wouldn’t you just love an invitation to my bedroom?” she teased him. “Anyway,” she said, rapidly changing the subject, “right now my favorite song is Old Friends by Simon and Garfunkel. There’s something so wonderfully comforting about seventy-year olds sitting together on the same park bench their whole lives. Old friends, ” she sang slightly off key, “sat on their…”
Brandon joined in on the impromptu serenade, loving every minute he spent with Alexa.
She had become increasingly loquacious with every sip of wine, and as far as he was concerned, she was not only a joy to listen to, but a joy to watch as well.
He was glad she had such an obvious appreciation for good food. A woman who ate with such relish probably enjoyed lots of earthly pleasures. As she took her first bite of the freshly caught salmon she moaned in pleasure, and Brandon imagined her lying beneath him, moaning in pleasure as he kissed and nipped between her thighs. And then, as she took in a spoonful of the decadent white chocolate mouse, she closed her eyes and said, “I think I’ve just died and gone to heaven.” Brandon laughed and agreed with her, but he hoped a far more potent heaven awaited them both.
After desert was cleared and a fine bottle of Kopke port wine was opened, Brandon slid back his chair and held out his arm to Alexa. “What do you think about exploring the chateaux?”
Unsteadily, Alexa rose to her feet. “I’d love to.” Supporting her slim figure with one hand in the middle of her back, Brandon led them back up the steps and into the ballroom.
“You really do look like a princess.”
Leaning into him, she lowered her eyes and then raised them to meet his. “That means you must be my prince.”
Her words slammed into Brandon and his heart began to pound uncontrollably. Quickly scanning the room for doors, he picked the nearest one to right. He locked the door then left Alexa propped up against the back of the door and speedily made his way around the room to shut the drapes on the large windows that looked out on the balcony.
Once he closed the last set of thick drapes, he turned around to face her, his eyes hot and piercing. “I need to talk to you Alexa. Just you and me. Alone.”
Startled, looking like a prisoner after the bars had slammed shut, Alexa turned for the door, but Brandon beat her to it.
Blocking the lock with his body, he said, “You can’t escape, Alexa. Not this time.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Alexa’s heart was beating a million miles a minute. She felt a little foolish about her mad leap for the door, but she had to do something, didn’t she? After all, when a guy locked you into a room with him and closed all of the drapes, he was bound to have something nefarious in mind.
She tried to recall the articles she’d proofed in ROAR about the best way to defend herself in case of an attack, but the chardonnay was messing with her synapses in a big way. Instead of conjuring up kung-fu moves, she was thinking about giving Brandon’s lips another taste test. All through dinner she had thought about kissing him. So she kept drinking more and more wine to try and erase the potent memory of their embrace.
Her tactic had backfired. All the wine succeeded in doing was making her more languid.
Ready for his touch. Putty in his hands. If she were foolish enough to let him touch her, that is.
Which she wasn’t. Although, as the night progressed it was getting more and more difficult to remind herself why she didn’t want Brandon to touch her. He was friendly, fun and gorgeous.
It’s just an act, she told herself firmly. What kind of man signs a contract to find a wife on national TV?
Brandon was pressed up against the door like a one-man army, bound and determined to stave off a military attack from the dance floor outside. Although, come to think of it, being followed around by TV cameras all the time did feel a little bit like being under siege.
Evidently he wanted to talk to her in private. Fine. She’d give him some time alone.
Who knew, maybe she’d be able to dish up something good for her article.
Turning away from him, she walked over to the plush velvet couch in front of the fireplace and sat down. “You can step away from the door now. I won’t try to escape again.”
Brandon looked discomfited by her words, as if he had just realized how ridiculous he looked. As he moved to join her on the couch, Alexa felt like she was being stalked by a large, hungry lion.
Alexa refused to flinch or, worse, let on that just being in the same room with him made her insides feel all funny. She wanted to blame it on the wine, but she’d been drunk before and it was obvious to her that what she felt with Brandon was worlds apart from intoxication.
Brandon sat down on the purple velvet ottoman in front of Alexa. “I went a little bit overboard just now, didn’t I?”
Alexa raised an eyebrow. “A little?”
Brandon grimaced. “Could I blame it on the wine?”
A giggle popped out before Alexa could stop it. What was wrong with her? She didn’t giggle! Intent on ignoring how much anticipation she was feeling, she conjured up her best no-nonsense voice. “So, why’d you lock us in here together?”
Brandon ran his right hand through his hair, ruffling up his dirty blonde locks. Alexa’s fingers itched to follow suit. She clasped them into a tight ball on her lap and waited for him to explain his strange behavior.
He took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, and then finally opened them again.
“Alexa, I was hoping this would be easier, but now that we’re finally alone, I have no idea how to tell you…” His stopped mid-sentence and rubbed his eyes.
Brandon began to pace back and forth. “Maybe I should just start at the beginning?”
Alexa nodded and waited for him to continue. The journalistic side of her brain went into overdrive. Concentrate, she told herself . This could be the hook your story needs.
“I signed the contract for Falling For Mr. Right before I had really thought it through.”
Alexa tried to interrupt him and he staved off her question with a quick wave of his hands. “I
know you’re wondering why I did that, but the reasons I agreed to be Mr. Right aren’t really important right now.” Looking increasingly uncomfortable, he sat down on the ottoman again, directly across from her. “The point is, once I saw you on the street last week, I knew I had made the wrong decision.”
“Are you feeling OK?” Alexa asked him. She wasn’t sure what she had been waiting to hear, but she hadn’t expected this. Frankly, she wasn’t sure she could handle it.
Brandon shook his head. “No. Yes. I don’t know. All I know is that I’ve…” His words drifted off as if he was unsure about how to continue. “The quicker the better, I suppose.” He reached for her hands and held them hostage in his. “I fell hard for you the second I met you, Alexa. And then all of a sudden you were gone. You hadn’t even told me your name. A thousand times I thought about leaving you a note at the bar. But what was I going to say? ‘Hi.
My name’s Brandon and I want to date you. By the way, I’ll be marrying someone I don’t know in two weeks on national TV.’ So I gave up. I figured I had made my bed and I was going to have to lie in it.”
Alexa wanted him to stop talking for a moment so that she could digest his words. No one had ever said, “I fell hard for you,” to her before. To her mother and sister, certainly. To people she had gone to school with and been roommates with. But to her? Never.
Brandon continued on, unaware of her bewildered – and pleased - thoughts. “And then you stepped out of the limo on Saturday. It was like all of my prayers had been answered. I know it’s not a coincidence, Alexa. I can’t believe how lucky I am to be given a second chance with you. And this time, I don’t want to screw it up. I don’t want to say something that’s going to make you run from me.”
Alexa had forgotten to breathe during his soliloquy and now she inhaled shakily. When she finally got her breath back, she said, so quietly that her words were almost taken away by the crackling of the fire, “But you don’t even know me.”
Taking one of her hands to his lips, he turned her palm up and pressed a kiss on to the sensitive flesh of her hand. “I know that every time I touch you, fireworks go off. I know that just looking at you makes me happy. I know that every time we talk I think you’re funny, and smart, and lovelier than ever.” He stopped to nip at her palm with his teeth. “Give me a chance to convince you that we’re meant to be together, Alexa,” he pleaded. “Just give me a chance.”
