by Leslie Kelly
“Where the hell are you?” he muttered, circling the room, holding the shoe in his hand like Cinderella’s useless prince.
That was when he spotted the note on the pillow. He’d overlooked it because Viv had tucked it underneath the mints. Dropping the shoe, he grabbed the note and unfolded it, quickly reading the short message.
Damien—
I know the truth. I can’t believe you lied to me about your “business.” I’ve been such a fool. Please don’t try to contact me, I honestly can’t deal with yet another deceitful man right now.
Viv
PS: I did not want to keep the damn clothes, but they took mine to the laundry! I did leave the shoes in the closet—please give them to the snobby saleslady you sent up here to torture and humiliate me.
PSS: I’ll return the clothes as soon as possible.
PSSS: Don’t worry about me. I got my job back.
And that was all. Vixen Viv, Vivacious Viv, Vibrant Viv...was gone.
6
ALTHOUGH VIV HAD worried her return to the Vanguard would be stressful, her first full week had gone pretty well. She was beginning to believe she’d made the right decision in taking her job back, and they’d certainly made it worth her while to do so. She’d not only gotten a decent raise, but also an end to her probationary period and a bigger office.
The week had been full of meetings with the acting team’s general manager, the director of Human Resources and somebody from the corporate attorney’s office. They’d fallen over themselves to assure her that Fred Stoker had acted without authority, and that he was gone forever. She’d also been informed that the players had gotten a lesson about sexual harassment. There would be no more bets, no more grabs, gropes, kisses, or come-ons.
At least, so they said. And so far, they were right.
Viv was aware that the organization was trying to keep her happy so she wouldn’t sue or spout off to the press—who finally appeared to have calmed down somewhat. Considering she’d had no intention of doing either, she felt bad about sucking up everything they were throwing at her. But not too bad. It would take a lot more than office perks to wipe away the memory of Neeley’s hands and mouth on her, or the public ridicule.
Her family’s reaction had been the worst. After spotting the TV coverage, her brothers had, as she’d feared, driven down from western Pennsylvania to make sure she was all right. All five of them. They’d growled and threatened, had tried to find out where Bruno Neeley lived. And they’d tried to drag her home.
Thank heaven she’d already been rehired by the time they showed up. Otherwise, considering how sad she’d been agonizing over the incident, and over Damien, she might have gone with them. But she’d be home again soon for her parents’ anniversary.
“Damien,” she mumbled, clenching one fist on her lap and tightening the other around a tortilla chip she’d just loaded up with salsa. The thing crumbled in her hand, sending bits of chip and tomato all over her fingers and the table.
“What?”
Grimacing, Viv grabbed a napkin and forced a strained smile at Lulu, who’d met her for Friday night happy hour to celebrate Viv’s first week back at work. Amelia would be along shortly, with Lex. Lulu’s new hubby, Chaz, would be joining them soon, too. As usual, Viv would be the fifth wheel, but considering how well things had turned out, Viv wasn’t going to complain.
“Nothing. Just clumsy.”
“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you? The guy?”
“Damien,” she whispered again.
“No word, huh?”
“Of course not. I told him not to contact me. Even if I wanted him to, he couldn’t, because I never gave him my number.”
“If he’s as rich as you say, he could track you down.”
“He wouldn’t,” she said, wishing her voice hadn’t trembled. “I made it clear I didn’t want to hear from him.”
Lulu licked a bit of salt off the rim of her margarita glass. “Explain to me again why you ran out on him? Why was it such a bad thing, him being a gazillionaire?”
“Because he lied about it.”
“He said, ‘Nope, no siree, I’m not a gazillionaire’?”
“Of course not. But for heaven’s sake, we talked about the hotel chain—the Paris location being his favorite—and he didn’t say one word about the fact that he owns the whole shebang.”
“Maybe he’s modest.”
She snorted. “Not even close.”
“Arrogant?”
“A little. But in a good way,” she admitted.
Lulu eyed her speculatively. “So what’s the problem again?”
“I don’t want to be with a guy like that, who hides who he is, and can buy and sell people at the drop of a hat.”
How could he have let her spend the night with him, and then remain in his suite, without mentioning that he owned the hotel? That elevator business alone was mortifying enough. Leaving the way he had, sending an army of officious salespeople up from the designer stores downstairs—what had he expected her to believe? They’d joked about Richard Gere and Julia Roberts, but from the moment she’d realized he really was a billionaire, and that he’d instructed his hotel staff to outfit her with an entirely new wardrobe, she had begun to feel cheap and purchased.
Well, okay, she’d loved the clothes. Damn it, any woman would. But she wouldn’t have kept a stitch if not for the fact that her own had been whisked out of sight during the fittings, the manicure and the hairstyling.
“Was it really that bad?”
“Yes! I mean, who does he think he is, disappearing for the day, ordering me to stay put, sending people to fit me for clothes, but never telling me I’m a guest in his hotel?”
“Yeah, what a lousy jerk to want to protect you from the media, give you a place to regroup, drop a hundred grand on designer originals, while intending to come back and have hot, wild, monkey sex with you again all night. How dare that guy.”
“I hate you.”
“You love me. And you loved the monkey sex.”
“Okay, yeah. And oh, hell yeah.”
The sex had been amazing. Walking away from him—and that—had been painful. Still, she’d done it. She’d ordered everyone—and their clothes—out, had written a note and stormed from the hotel, intending to never see him again. He hadn’t tracked her down. Hadn’t called. And that was fine with her. Right?
“Maybe he didn’t want to be desired only for his money.”
“Bullshit. He knew I wanted him. The pheromones wafting off us could have been bottled and used in mating rituals.”
“Eww.”
“You’re the one who mentioned monkey sex. No, he was just being sneaky, taking what he wanted, not trusting me with the truth. He should have come clean, should have let me decide whether I even wanted to be with somebody so...”
“Fabulous?”
“Out of my league. What would he see in me, anyway? Guy could have any woman in the world. No way would I measure up.”
Lulu smacked a hand on the table. “Aha!”
“What?”
“That’s it! You’re worried you can’t hold him. So rather than take a chance and risk being hurt again, you cut and ran.”
Viv’s mouth fell open. If there’d been food in it, she’d have spit it all over the table. “What are you talking about?”
“This is about last spring.” Lulu was getting worked up. “That prick Dale said he was too good for you, didn’t he? And deep down, you believed it. You fear you’re hot and sexy, but that’s about it, and no guy would want you for more.”
Viv couldn’t even muster a reply. She’d been so furious for the past week, she’d never considered such a thing. But could Lulu be right? Was she just using Damien’s reticence about his wealth as an excuse? Somewhe
re between the Prada shoes and the Vera Wang dress, the saleswoman had asked what it was like to be staying with the owner, one of the richest men in the country, and she’d freaked out—and then bugged out. But she’d never stopped to wonder if it was because she was angry...or afraid.
“Hell,” she muttered.
“I nailed it, didn’t I?”
Viv didn’t reply. She might, indeed, have thrown away a chance to be with someone amazing out of pure cowardice. Because she was afraid he might believe she was good enough to fuck but not good enough to actually care about.
But protecting her, urging her to stay so she could avoid the press, buying clothes so she wouldn’t have to leave—those weren’t the actions of someone who only wanted a piece of ass. He had cared, at least a bit. And she’d repaid him by running.
Stupid. She’d been so incredibly stupid.
She was saved from admitting as much to Lulu by Chaz’s arrival. While Lulu kissed her husband, Viv headed for the restroom. Her friend’s words kept repeating in her brain, so much so that, as she stood in the rear of the restaurant, she found herself wanting to explain her actions. Maybe even to apologize.
To Damien Black.
“You can’t do this,” she told herself, even as she pulled her phone out of her purse. “He’s long gone, anyway.”
But something made her look up the Arlington Black Star Hotel, and something made her dial the number, and something made her ask to be connected to Damien Black’s room.
She waited, sure she’d be informed he had checked out. Instead, she was put through—there were a few clicks and a ring, and she almost hung up, an inner voice screaming at her to let it go.
He didn’t answer. Instead, she got a recording. To her surprise, it wasn’t a generic one. She heard his voice, firm and strong, demanding a message.
“Damien, it’s me, Viv. I mean, Vivienne Callahan. We met last week.” She swallowed hard. “Um, I’ve been thinking about how I left. It was pretty shitty to write that note and walk out. I reacted...well, maybe I overreacted.”
Ya think?
“Anyway, I wanted to apologize. I know you were trying to help me. I should have stayed to tell you how everything worked out—about the job and all. And to thank you for trying to help.”
What else was there to say? I still want you. Do you still want me? Jeez, she’d sound as juvenile as a fourth grader passing a note.
“Anyway, it’s Friday night, I’ve had a couple of margaritas at my favorite Mexican place—Rosario’s, a few blocks from where we met. And that made me think of you.”
Liar. You want him to know where you are...just in case.
“So, um, I hope you’re well. Thanks for everything.’ Bye.”
She disconnected, and then replayed each word, wondering if she’d sounded ridiculous, hoping nobody else had access to his phone. Then, wishing she’d just let things lie, Viv returned to the table. Amelia and Lex had arrived, and she took her chair, the five of them ignoring the empty sixth chair that hadn’t been filled by anyone in Viv’s life for months. Not since Dale.
Enough with Dale. And with Damien. And with men. She needed to forget all that, to focus only on the positives. She had her job again, and she had great friends and tonight was a celebration.
So she celebrated. The margaritas went down smoothly, and she ate lots of rich, spicy food, and she laughed, and eventually she even stopped watching the door.
Which was, perhaps, why she didn’t notice him enter. Why she never even knew he was there. Not until Damien Black was standing right beside her.
“Hello, Vivienne.”
She fell out of her chair.
She’d been sitting on the edge, leaning close to whisper something saucy to Amelia, who sat beside her.
Then he’d spoken her name, and the world had trembled. Her chair had teetered, and she’d slipped right off the end of it.
It could have been a catastrophe. But Damien reacted with that catlike quickness. He dropped on his knee to the floor, catching her in his arms, as he had in the bathroom last week.
“You’re not very graceful, are you?” he asked, amused.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her head spinning, a result of the slip, the tequila and oh, the incredibly sexy, spicy-smelling man holding her.
“Oh, my God. Viv, are you all right?” Lulu shrieked.
The others all got up and came around to check on her. If any of them thought it strange that A) a handsome stranger had startled her right out of her chair, and B) said handsome stranger had then taken a dive to catch her before she could hit the floor, they at least had the courtesy not to say anything.
“I’m fine,” she insisted, not even trying to wriggle her way free. She told herself it was because she was still shaken about her near fall. Then again, she wasn’t bad at lying to herself when the occasion warranted it. “Seriously, it’s okay, go back to what you were doing.”
The two couples, though wide-eyed with curiosity, retook their seats. Lulu leaned over to whisper to the others, and Viv knew she, at least, had figured out who the mysterious stranger was. Not surprising. How could Lulu not look at him and recognize the gorgeous, rich man Viv had described? Not because of any designer clothes—he wore simple jeans and a button-down shirt, the cuffs undone and sleeves rolled up his forearms.
Damn, she loved those arms.
But no, the outfit didn’t reveal who and what he was. The way he carried himself did. His confidence bespoke wealth and success. Plus, of course, Lulu might have ID’d him because he was on his knee on the dingy floor, holding Viv around the waist as if loathe to let her go.
That was nice.
If Viv had been completely sober, she would have gotten back into her chair, coolly invited Damien to join them and introduced him. Instead, she stayed right where she was, eye-to-eye with the most glorious man she’d ever met. She smiled at him, studying the face, the eyes, the mouth, all of which had become so familiar to her in one long, sensuous night. All of which she’d missed in the eight days since she’d seen him.
“You came,” she murmured, still in shock.
His presence meant something, right? He didn’t have to be here, he certainly hadn’t needed to track her down. There was no reason for him to seek her out...unless he really wanted to.
“I came.”
“I hoped you would.” She hiccupped, cursed the tequila and went on with her confession. Her voice low, she admitted, “I just didn’t want you to know that I hoped you would.”
“Of course I knew you hoped I would.”
She blinked. “Wait, did I say that right? I’m confused.”
“Not as confused as me.”
“As I.”
“What?”
“Not as confused as I.”
“Thank you, Grammar Granny.”
She pinched his shoulder, for three reasons. For the Granny remark, for the teasing and to make sure he was really here.
One dark eyebrow went up, but she’d swear his lips quirked with humor. “What was that for?”
“Why’d it take hours for you to show up? Couldn’t you read between the lines? I was ready to order dessert, and God knows my hips don’t need any cheesecake.”
“Your hips are perfect,” he insisted, cupping one in his hand. “Why didn’t you just come right out and invite me?”
She tried to rise off his knee, struggling to appear graceful, but failing miserably. Sighing and giving up, she admitted, “I didn’t want to seem desperate.”
“You could never seem desperate.” He leaned closer and kissed the tip of her nose. “Just clumsy.”
“I’m not clumsy,” she insisted, succeeding in sliding into her chair. It didn’t wobble, thank heaven. But her stomach was doing enough wobbling of its own with all those butterf
lies flitting around in there. That nose kiss had been too flirty and adorable. Definitely not an I-just-want-to-fuck-you gesture. But a cute, we’re-sort-of-dating one.
He was here. He was really here. Moreover, he wanted to be. How crazy was that?
He sat in the chair next to her. “As for why it took so long, I was out and just heard your message a little while ago.”
“I’m surprised I caught you still in town.”
“I’ve been waiting.”
Her whole body tensed. “Waiting for what?”
“To see if you’d call.”
Viv couldn’t breathe—she swore even her heart stopped beating in her chest for one long moment. She stared into his eyes, searching for deceit, seeing none.
He meant it. He’d waited for her. She’d run out on him, leaving him a cowardly note, and he’d waited for her to get in touch, not pushing, not demanding. It surprised her, honestly, given how strong and impatient she knew he could be—deliciously so. But his admission also made something warm and sweet open up within her. A flower of optimism, which she’d ruthlessly crushed last spring, began to bloom in her heart.
He’d waited. For her.
“I thought you had to get home to Miami,” she finally replied.
“I was planning to leave tomorrow if you still hadn’t reached out.” He covered her hand on the table, lacing his fingers with hers. “I’m glad you did.”
Viv licked her lips, suddenly nervous. The effects of the margaritas wore off quickly, like a veil she’d dropped to the floor. Reality crashed in. She’d invited him back into her life. She’d opened herself up to this gorgeous, rich, perfect man, and he’d accepted her invitation. So what now?
“Are you going to introduce me to your friends?”
Okay, that was a start. Nodding, she cleared her throat. Of course, the other two couples had been pretending to mind their own business and keep up with their conversations, but the moment she made the noise, four pairs of eyes turned toward her.
