by Claire Adams
Now that I was finally free of that, there was no way I was going to let Ethan Colson think that he could just snap his fingers and I would come running to any company function that he wanted just so he could show me off when it suited him, and he could toss me aside like a wet rag when it didn't.
I dialed the number for his private cell, but instantly turned it off before it started to ring. I didn't just want to tell him off privately so he could put any spin on it that he wanted to. I wanted to march into his office and make it clear to everyone at Speed Motorcycles that this was one model who wasn't going to be taken advantage of. If he wanted me to show up at another press event like this launch party, I was willing to talk business, but if he thought he could just use and abuse me, he was in for a nasty surprise. Just the kind that Mick got this morning when I kicked him in the balls.
Fired up and ready to go, I grabbed my purse and my keys and headed for the door. Only my reflection in the mirror on the living room wall made me pause. Covered in dust and sweat, with my bun half-undone and pit stains on my tank top, this was not the scene I wanted to make. A look at my watch told me I had time for a shower and change of clothes. Glancing at my closet, I knew just what I'd wear. This was going to be a meeting to remember.
Chapter Fourteen
Ethan
I checked my cell phone and set it back down on the conference room table. Still no call back from Kayla. It had been hours since I left that message on her cell about the launch party. Why hadn't she returned my call?
"I see you've got important business to get back to. Just a few more questions, please," the reporter said, mistaking my actions to mean I wanted to get out of the interview and back to work.
He was only half right. I did want to stop answering his lame questions, but Chet Charleston hosted one of the top-rated shows on television and this would make great free advertising for the new bike.
He had come to my executive headquarters and we were filming in my brightest conference room with the All-American propped on a kick-stand in the corner. Chet decided to seat me by the window where it was sunniest, insisting that it made me look friendlier and less intimidating. He looked like a clown with his blond hair dyed nearly white and his skin tanned to an unnatural shade of orange. His bright blue suit was hard to look at, but easier on the eyes than his red, striped tie. I was glad I'd settled for a simple, gray Giorgio Armani with a black tie. The colors were dark, but so was my mood, so I thought it was fitting.
"Sorry," I said. "I'm just expecting an important call and I don't want to miss it. Please go on."
I tried to smooth the tension between us over with a grin. I didn't have Keith's natural charisma with the press, but it seemed to do the trick.
Chet returned to his list of pre-written questions provided by the head-writer for his show. He leaned right into the camera that was positioned behind my left shoulder and said, "The first bike you created, The Rebel, became an overnight success. Why did you call it that?"
"Well, I was a young man then. Fresh out of college and working my first real job for a huge corporation. Although I was stuck in a boring, bean-counter job keeping track of warehouses, I had a lot of creative vision inside me. I had always loved to ride, and I invented a motorcycle bikers would love. I just hadn't realized all the red-tape and corporate politics I would have to wade through to get it made and out in stores where customers could buy it.
“So, I quit that corporation and built it on my own. I felt like I was rebelling against the establishment when I did it and providing a means of freedom for others like me who loved to ride, but couldn't find the bike that fit their needs. The Rebel was popular because it was that bike."
"That's a great story, but there's a dark side to it, too. The hearings were closed on the lawsuit waged against you by a corporate owner claiming you invented The Rebel while under his employ, making it his intellectual property. He claimed the bike was never yours to sell and that all the profits you made from it belong to him."
"I've heard all the rumors floating around on the subject and none of them are true. I have all the company memos documenting that rejection of The Rebel's design as a viable motorcycle up for production and sale by the owner of that company. The judge agreed that he had legally given up his right to claim my design as his property with that memo and I was free to take the bike with me to develop, produce, and sell it as my own after that — which was what I did. If anybody doesn’t like it, they can see me personally and I'll be happy to explain it again."
My eyes burned like coal as I glared angrily into the camera behind Chet, making the timid television host squirm in his seat.
"Spoken like a true rebel. It explains the name of the bike, but how did you come up with the name for your company, Speed Motorcycles? It seems rather generic for a rebel of your creative spirit. Why focus on the high miles-per-hour your bikes can achieve, instead of coming up with a name that speaks more to your creative spirit?"
"Well, I'm afraid I'm out of time. I really do have a lot of business I need to get back to today," I said suddenly, hoping Chet couldn't see the racing of my pulse through the veins in my neck.
"Certainly, Mr. Colson. Just tell me really quick, it will be a perfect way to wrap up the interview. How did you come up with the name Speed Motorcycles? Is there some significance to the name? Does it mean something special to you?"
"I really am out of time. Thanks for coming in. My assistant Angela will show you to the elevator." I stood up, making it clear the interview was over. I was no good at lying, and there was no way I could tell the truth on television. My image as a CEO and owner of the country's biggest motorcycle company would be heavily tarnished, and some of my more fragile business sights wouldn't survive the scandal. I'd lose a lot of investors, especially in the Midwest, where a lot of my factories and distribution centers were held. It had the potential to ruin me, and I just wasn't ready for the media frenzy. It was better to keep it brushed under the run, like it had been all these years.
"Did you call me, Mr. Colson?" Angela stuck her head in through the doorway. She was looking as stunning as ever in a bright green dress that brought out the color of her eyes. It hugged her curves like she'd been dipped in a liquid vat of shiny silk, leaving nothing to the imagination. I knew she'd put it on for me, even though I'd lost interest in her lately. The only woman on my mind anymore was the one who still hadn't called me back.
"Yes, Angela. Mr. Charleston and his crew are ready to leave. The interview is over. Can you show them to the elevator?"
"I can do anything you want me to." She draped her arms around me and kissed me sensuously, making Chet's eyes pop out of his spray-tanned skull.
"Not now," I whispered harshly in her ear and removed her arms from around my neck quite pointedly. "Any messages for me while I was interviewing?"
"No calls I couldn't handle, but Miss Kayla Brandt is waiting in your office."
"Kayla is here?" I couldn't believe Angela was being so nonchalant about keeping this from me. I wanted to slap her, but I had to keep my voice cool and even — especially in front of a reporter and his camera crew.
"Yes, I told her you were busy, but she strode into your office and insisted on waiting until you returned. Shall I have security remove her?"
The glint in Angela's eyes told me she was dying to do just that. Damn her and her jealousy. I needed to make it clear to Chet Charleston that there was no animosity between me and my cover model or the scandal would be all over the television before the end of the day.
"No, of course not. I invited Miss Brandt here to discuss arrangements for the launch party tomorrow. I'll be escorting her myself."
"As her date?" Angela was fiercely angry, but I didn't care. We'd made no commitments to each other, and she'd gone out of her way to make Kayla look bad to the reporter and make it clear that she and I had been intimate. Well, I wasn't going to let some office assistant with an over-willingness to spread her legs dictate my image to the pre
ss.
"Yes, as my date," I stated matter-of-factly. Then I turned to Chet and shook hands with him and then each of his crew in turn. "Thank you for the interview. Make sure my assistant gives you special press passes to the launch party on Friday. It's going to be one hell of a bash. Unfortunately, she won't be there. Only executives, investors, and special guests, no support staff. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting with our newest cover-model. She's going to be the next big star — trust me. She's got what it takes to make it all the way to the top."
I could feel Angela's eyes burning into my back like lasers as I walked away from the conference room to my office, but they were nothing compared to the ones shooting at me from Kayla's blue eyes.
She was sitting in a chair across from my desk and when I came in, she stood. She looked incredible. She was wearing an ice-blue dress the exact shade as her incredible eyes.
Unlike Angela's overt sexuality, this dress was simple, made of soft, flowing cotton that billowed around her like the petals of a spring flower. The scoop neck flattered the curves of her neck and shoulders, and hugged the sides of her full breasts, gently squeezing them together to form a perfect nest of cleavage that I was dying to kiss. The skirt came down just above her knees, showing off just the right amount of her shapely legs and making me wonder what she had on underneath. Gold strappy sandals completed the outfit and complimented the delicate gold hoops that hung from her ears and the gold bangle bracelet on her dainty wrist. She'd left her blonde hair down long so it fell over her shoulders in gentle waves with a single, blue barrette pinning it back on each side.
She was the perfect picture of girl-next-door innocence, but her nipples were straining through the bodice of her dress and there was no panty line visible on her skirt, giving me dirty imaginings of a naughty side just under the surface of her pure exterior. Instantly, I became aroused as I imagined the devilish delights I could show her if only she'd let me — maybe here, maybe at home, or maybe even at the launch party.
As I locked my office door, however, I could feel the rage from her filling the room like a heavy toxin and I knew whatever she had come for, it wasn't going to be fun.
Chapter Fifteen
Kayla
"It's about time," I snapped at him the moment he walked through his office door and closed it behind him with the soft click of a lock.
"I didn't know you were here. Why didn't you just call me back on the phone?" Ethan said evenly, although I could tell from the stiffening of his spine that I had taken him aback with harsh greeting. I didn't mean to come on so strong right when he walked through the door, but I couldn't let him know how much I missed him or how hurt I was that he didn't miss me.
I'd had a whole scene planned out in my mind of how it would be when we saw each other again. I would be cool and sophisticatedly beautiful, showing him just how much I didn't need him. He would fall to pieces at my feet and I would leave, victorious in my superiority. But then, the moment he walked through the door, my body turned to jelly. He was so damn handsome, and his cologne was intoxicating. I was just thankful I'd taken the time to put on my new dress before I came over.
Ethan's eyes dilated when he saw me, and I knew from the bulge in his trousers that I had him right where I wanted him. I just hadn’t anticipated the reaction my own body would have to seeing him in return.
One look at his hands and mouth and I could remember what it felt like to have them all over my naked body and my white, cotton panties instantly became moist. So, I snapped at him like a little brat. Too late now to play it cool; the best I could go for now was bitchy.
Flipping my hair back off my shoulder, I spoke to him in my best condescending tone. "I didn't feel like it. I knew I would be in the neighborhood this afternoon, so I thought I'd just stop by then. If I had known you would keep me waiting this long, I would have skipped talking to you in person and just left a message with your assistant."
"I'm sorry you were kept waiting. I didn't find out you were here until just now. Keith could have given you the instructions for the party, or Angela. I'm glad you waited, though; I wanted to talk to you about the party before we get there."
"There's nothing to talk about. I can't go to the launch party. I wanted to tell you in person. Now that I have, goodbye."
I needed to get out of there as fast as possible, before my bitchy facade crumpled into dust and my true feelings for him were laid bare. It was so good just to be in the same room with him. He'd taken a seat by my side and we were close now, I could have reached out and taken his hand if I'd the courage.
"What do you mean you can't go?" Ethan was taken aback by my announcement the way I had known he would be. Only, I didn't feel smug about it like I thought it would. It was obvious that he wasn't just disappointed on a business level; he was truly hurt on an emotional level and it touched me.
I listened as he ranted, pacing the room frantically until I could finally get in a word edgewise.
"I'm sorry, Ethan, but I don't think it's right that I go after what happened the last time we saw each other. I was hired to do a modeling job and I did it. Yes, I ended up going to your place that night and staying over, but it was just that once, and we haven't spoken to each other since. What would people think if we attended a party together?"
"Is that what this is about?" His eyes grew wide and then narrowed sharply as realization dawned on him. "You're worried everyone will find out we had sex and think that you slept your way into the modeling job. I promise, you have nothing to fear. One had nothing to do with the other."
"I know that, but it's an easy conclusion for people to come to. I want it made clear that I am not just some flavor of the month who comes in, models a bit, fucks a bit, smiles a bit at the launch party, and then gets cast off into the garbage when the next month starts and the whole cycle begins again."
"I would never do that to you."
"Oh, wouldn't you? You never called after that night, and I've been waiting for a month."
"I didn't think you wanted me to. You were the one who snuck out while I was sleeping. I thought about calling you a thousand times, but an exit like that made it pretty clear that you wanted nothing more to do with me, so I gave you your space. I figured if you wanted to see me again, you'd call me, and if not, I didn't want to be the sicko stalker you accused me of being."
That part made me smile and helped bring some levity to the tense situation.
"I guess I can see your point, but I was still disappointed you didn't try to contact me. I kept hoping maybe we'd run into each other by accident somewhere that wasn't really an accident." I blushed when he chuckled at the idea.
"I would have loved to have run into by accident, except I didn't know where you lived or where you were working. The only link I had to you was your cell phone, and every time I started to dial your number, I froze. I thought you didn't want to see me. It was rough because I really wanted to see you."
We were face to face now, inches apart from each other, and he moved in to kiss me. His mouth tasted just as good as I remembered it being as I melted into his embrace. When we broke apart, gasping for breath, he gazed into my eyes with his shining and said, "Please come with me to the launch party."
"As what? Your model on a job, the one-night stand you want to hook up with again, or something more?"
"As my date." He cupped my face in his strong hands and enveloped me in a kiss again, more passionate than the last. It stole my breath away, and when we broke apart all I could do was nod.
"Yes, I'll go to the party with you. Is it formal dress? I bet Margie will let me borrow something nice from wardrobe for the night."
"Don't worry about that. I'll have it taken care of."
Ethan got on his phone and made a call. "I'm sending a girl down to you. She needs a dress for a launch party at Speed Motorcycles on Friday and she needs to look like a star. Yes, I know it's only two days, but I know if anyone can do it, it's you."
After a few more minu
tes of talking, he hung up the line and looked at me with a mischievous grin. "Okay, you're all set. Be ready at ten a.m. I'll my driver pick you up and take you there. He'll have a dress ready for you and do the tailoring himself that day while you spend the day at the spa. By the time you get done at the hair salon, your dress will be ready and the driver will take you back for the final fitting. He insists on doing it all himself."
"Who? Who will be doing my dress?" When Ethan spoke aloud the name of the world-famous designer, I wanted to scream like a teen at a rock concert.
"Oh my God, are you serious? He's made gowns for the Emmys, the Oscars, the White House Ball, even royalty. Why would he make a dress for me in just two days’ time and do the fitting himself?"
"What can I say? You never know who likes to ride." Ethan winked at me, and I couldn't help but kiss him. My Cinderella story was getting even better, and now my prince charming was taking me to an actual ball. I couldn't wait, not just because of the glamour and the chance to be lifted up in my career, but because Ethan Colson had asked me to go as his date. He had missed me like I missed him. As much as I enjoyed acting tough and independent, I knew it was too late; I was already falling in love with him. I just hoped he loved me, too, and I vowed to find out at the launch party.
Chapter Sixteen
Ethan
I felt uncharacteristically nervous as I entered the ballroom at the hotel. I knew it was because Kayla would be there.
Everything was perfect, from the stylish decorations done in red, blue, and silver chrome, all the way to the rock and roll band playing a blend of modern day songs along with classic hits. The delectable hors d'oeuvres were being served by waitresses in trendy miniskirts and motorcycle jackets. The whole place had the all-American biker vibe I wanted, while maintaining a high level of class and sophistication.
The launch party was being lauded by the press as the social event of the season. Everyone from mega movie stars to musical legends, from rising politicians to heads of corporations wanted to be there. Many of them already owned one of my bikes, and I knew the ones who didn't would buy one after tonight. The launch of the All American would be my most profitable and successful motorcycle yet.
