The attempt at levity didn’t sit well with Lance. He scowled at Cole. “I’m a trust-fund baby. You keep forgetting that.”
“No, you haven’t. That’s why my mother is all over you.”
“Can she really do this?”
Cole shrugged. The two men had met by accident at a luxury car wash. They stood outside enjoying the bright day in late spring while their vehicles, Cole’s Town Car and Lance’s Jag, were being buffed and polished.
“You know, there was a time when I’d unequivocally say no. But after the way she screwed me over”—he shrugged again—“your guess is as good as mine.”
“My money is secure though? The part you’ve been investing ?”
“Like Fort Knox.”
“How much is wrapped up in your Brazil project?”
“Not that much. I figured if you’d wanted in deep, you’d have said something.”
Lance nodded. “I trust your judgment.”
Cole slapped him on the shoulder. “Good. You should.”
The midnight-blue Lincoln came out of the hand wash. Four guys wiped it down. When they finished, they waved toward Cole. Lance’s car was next up.
“I have to go,” Cole said. “I have several appointments this afternoon.”
Lance nodded. The two tapped fists. “Later.”
Not too many blocks away at a new restaurant named Indigo Dreams, Sonja and Jack Spencer waited for Cole. The three were to have lunch together. The restaurant choice had been Sonja’s. She wanted to try the new place.
“Cole is never late,” she said. “As a matter of fact, he’s extremely punctual. Something must have come up.”
He leaned back in his chair regarding her. “I make you nervous, don’t I?”
“Excuse me?”
Jack Spencer leaned back even farther, ignoring the creak of protest from the wood. “It’s the attraction, you know.”
“Mr. Spencer.”
“Call me Jack. And don’t worry. I’m not going to act on it. And neither, I suppose, are you. You don’t strike me as the straying kind. Once committed, and all that.”
Sonja reached for a crunchy breadstick. “Is that your way of saying you don’t mind breaking commandments?”
His laugh was rich and deep, melodic. Sonja was appalled to discover it slid through her and over her like a warm wave in a heated pool.
She reached for her water goblet and took a healthy, cooling sip. “I think we should order. I’m sure Cole will be along soon.”
“I never saw myself as the marrying kind. I’m a rambler at heart. There are too many places to see, too many undiscovered lands to visit to settle down with one person.”
“And you’re telling me this because?”
Jack smiled. Sonja shifted in her seat. She caught the waiter’s eye and nodded.
“Our third party hasn’t arrived, but we’ll order now.”
“Very good, madam.” The waiter rattled off the specials. After they ordered their meals, Jack answered her question.
“It’s been a long time since I was in the company of an accomplished woman of the civilized world. Add beauty to that, and, well, I just about think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
“This is a highly inappropriate conversation. I’m sure Cole will be here any minute.”
He just smiled. “I can tell you this, Sonja Pride. If you were my woman, I’d never stand you up for a date.”
Cole didn’t remember the lunch date he’d made with Sonja until his pager went off, the pager he’d left in the car. Several messages awaited him.
Sonja’s cell rang twice. “This is Sonja Pride.”
Cole scowled. “You know, your name really is Heart.”
“Where the hell were you?”
“I’m sorry. I forgot all about lunch. Did Jack show up?”
“What do you care?” she snapped at him. “You’ve dumped him on me the entire time he’s been in town. If this is supposed to be an example of how you treat your best buddy, I can see why you don’t have any freaking friends.”
Cole stared at his phone. Was that Sonja? “What’s gotten into you?”
“Don’t you ‘what’s gotten into you’ me, Coleman Heart. I’m tired of being . . .” She paused.
“Hello? Are you still there?” Cole stepped away, trying to get a better signal on the cell. “Sonja?”
The line hadn’t gone dead and there wasn’t anything wrong with Cole’s phone. Sonja found herself struck mute by the image of Jack Spencer emerging from the powder room at her house. His chest was bare, a towel draped around his neck. His jeans rode low on his hips and the top button was undone. The only thing the picture lacked was him being barefoot.
Jack stared at Sonja, the invitation clear.
“Sonja? Sonja, are you still there?”
She pressed the reset button, hanging up on her husband.
After leaving his juvies, Lance called Guilty Pleasures and asked to speak with Vivienne.
“You were serious,” she said when she got on the line. Her voice was honey and cinnamon. It smoothed over Lance, evening out the rough edges on his day so far. For whatever reason, she’d apparently forgiven him for that debacle at the oceanfront. He’d been cocky and arrogant with her, two traits he’d apparently inherited from his family.
“Of course, I was serious. What did you think?”
“We didn’t exactly get off to a great business start.”
“No,” he agreed. “And I hope you won’t hold that against me.”
“Not at all. Virginia Heart was very gracious when she stopped by.”
The wind left Lance’s lungs. “Virginia Heart? My grandmother ?”
“I didn’t ask the relation,” Viv said. “I suppose she was old enough to be your grandmother. Very elegant. Patrician almost. Drives a cream-colored Bentley.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
Lance thought quickly. What was she up to now? How had she found out about his plan? He hadn’t mentioned it to anyone. Not even Cole. Lance always suspected that his grandmother was part witch. Cole would have used another rhyming word, but Lance was more gracious.
“I’d like to finalize the plans for the project,” he said. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
Over brushcetta at one of the Colley Avenue restaurants, Viv asked again. “You’re serious, Lance?”
“Once my mind is made up, I like to get things rolling.”
She grinned. “Let’s do it.” She stuck her hand out, and they shook on the deal.
Lance ordered champagne and ignored the waiter who lifted an eyebrow. When it arrived, Lance lifted his glass. “To good fortune, high sales volume and better-than-expected return on my investment.”
“You won’t regret this, Lance.”
He smiled. “I know.”
They touched glasses and drank to Guilty Pleasures.
“I’ll have my attorney put the paperwork together. You should have it by the end of next week.”
“Lance, this is . . . this is just phenomenal,” Viv said. She was wearing a white halter dress, à la Marilyn Monroe, and stiletto heels with barely-there straps. “I want you to know that even though we started off . . .” She glanced away, unaccountably embarrassed.
He took her hand. “Vivienne, we’re both grown-ups here. You’re a beautiful woman. An enchanting woman. And, believe me, nothing would please me more than if we had something going between us.”
“Mixing business and pleasure . . .”
“Can be dangerous. But, as I said, we’re both adults. And adults should know how to behave themselves. We have a business agreement on the table. No matter what develops . . .”
She opened her mouth to refute that part. He placed a finger at her lips.
“No matter what develops or doesn’t develop between us, this business arrangement has nothing to do with us.”
“There is no us, Lance.”
He nodded, removed his finger and picked up his champagne flute. “To maturity.”
<
br /> Her brown eyes sparkled. And Lance realized he was well and truly enchanted with the woman. He’d had a lot to consider in the weeks since he’d first walked into Guilty Pleasures. Vivienne might say she didn’t want a relationship with him. But too well he remembered the fire between them. The passion that he, who should know, had never had with another woman. That was real—too good to give up.
So he made a toast to maturity, and the new level of seduction he’d launch to win Viv over.
“Vicki! Vicki, where are you?”
Vivienne burst into the house.
Vicki quickly typed Something’s come up. gotta go on the keyboard. The instant message to Clay popped onto the monitor.
CLAYPLAY: Okay, tomorrow same time?
VAVAVOOM: It’s a date.
She shut down her computer and made her way to the kitchen where Viv was kicking out of her shoes.
“What’s wrong?”
Vivienne ran to Vicki and grabbed her. “We got it! We got the funding for the expansion project.” Viv, jumping up and down, nearly toppled them both over.
“Whoops, sorry,” Viv said as she steadied her sister. “Come on, I’ll tell you all about it.” She grabbed two wineglasses and a bottle of wine she’d picked up in the Alsace region of France while on a shoot there. She had been saving it for a special occasion.
Vicki settled in her favorite chair. Viv opened the wine and poured for them both. “To sweet success.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Vicki did, then she patted the armrest. “So, tell me every little detail.”
Viv got her sister up to speed on all that had transpired, leaving out no details. When she finished, Vicki looked thoughtful.
“Isn’t there supposed to be some sort of presentation? I thought that was pretty standard operating procedure.”
Viv topped off her glass. “I wondered about that, too. Particularly when Virginia Heart came in. God, I swear, Vick. It was like she’d come in to do a white-glove inspection.”
“Apparently you passed the test.”
Viv grinned. “Apparently. Though the funding is coming directly from Lance. And,” she said, “Lance and I have come to terms regarding our not having a relationship.”
“Hmm.”
Viv turned, facing Vicki. “What’s that ‘hmm’ mean?”
“It means, I’ve never seen you quite so animated.”
“What are you talking about? I’m always animated.”
“True. But this is different. When you talk about Lance there’s something else there.”
Viv nodded. “You’re right. A big fat check.” Her smile told that story. “And something else, too. Gratitude. He’s saved me from abject boredom.”
“Boredom, huh? I don’t think you’re going to have to worry about that.”
“I think you should go.”
Even as she said the words, Sonja wondered if she really meant them.
Jack glanced down at his bare chest. “Without my shirt?”
Sonja rubbed her eyes. “I’ll go check on the dryer.”
A waiter had tripped over a handbag. The result, duck à la orange and asparagus with hollandaise sauce wound up all over Jack and another unfortunate diner.
Sonja took the sign as Divine intervention.
The horrified restaurant manager had been beside herself. When everything was cleaned up as best it could be and ruffled feathers soothed, the patron whose purse caused the accident picked up the tab for the victims, and the restaurant offered Sonja and Jack vouchers for make-good meals at another time.
With the house so close, she’d offered to run his shirt through the wash. Why she’d even opened her mouth remained a mystery.
All that was well and good, but right now, Sonja’s problem was that a man she found attractive was standing in her hallway half dressed.
“I’m not going to jump your bones.”
“Well, that’s a good thing. Seeing as how I’m your best friend’s wife.”
Jack just smiled.
Sonja got the impression—one she was sure he’d intended her to get—that her status as Cole’s wife was something that Jack didn’t put much stock in. Had he and Cole talked? She couldn’t imagine Cole opening up to anyone, particularly when it came to his own marriage being on shaky ground. Then again, Sonja hadn’t even known this Jack person existed until recently. What did she know about his views on fidelity?
“Sonja?”
She blinked. Then she turned on her heel and headed to the laundry room.
The shirt was still tumbling in the dryer. The timer had another ten minutes on it, but she yanked the door open, pulled the shirt out and gave it a single forceful shake.
“If only we could get rid of the problems in our lives that easily.”
She stood straight at his voice, her back to him. “Jack, I’m a very direct person.” She turned to face him. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’m not going to be a party to it.”
“Good,” he said. “How about a nightcap?”
“Are you hard of hearing?”
He took the shirt from her hands and shrugged into it. He didn’t bother to button it up. “Not in the least. As a matter of fact, my hearing is acute. I can hear . . .” He glanced at her chest. “Well, never mind.”
“I don’t think I like you very much.”
He grinned. “Good. Now we can talk. I’m worried about Cole.”
“What about Cole?” Sonja asked.
Without waiting for her, he headed toward the great room where they’d started. “This house isn’t what I expected of Cole.”
“What did you expect?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Something a little more spartan, a little less Architectural Digest.”
“And what do you know of Architectural Digest?”
He looked over his shoulder at her. “Two degrees, one in design.”
“You’re something of a contradiction, Mr. Spencer. Ice?”
“Straight.”
Sonja poured drinks. She didn’t ask him what he wanted. She handed him a tumbler of amber liquid. She held a wineglass, less than half filled with a soft zinfandel.
“How do you know I didn’t want wine?”
She looked him over. Really looked him over. From the top of his head covered with curly hair that was just a little too long. The powerful build that he kept masked by baggy clothing. To Sonja, Jack Spencer had one of those Ernest Hemingway, safari, headed-to-the-outback looks. Everything about him said he loved wild places.
“You don’t strike me as a wine connoisseur.”
The corners of his mouth tipped up. “On that, you are right, Mrs. Heart.”
“Pride,” she said. “I kept my own name.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I’d imagine that didn’t set well with Mr. Traditional.”
Sonja settled in a deep, comfortable chair, one well removed from him and definitely not big enough for two. Jack ambled the room, pausing here and there at a piece of art that caught his eye.
“No,” she said. “It didn’t.”
“Why didn’t you want to take his name?”
“Are you a private investigator?”
He laughed, the sound again that rich, deep one that resonated with life.
“I, too, am direct. Sometimes too direct when I get back in the States.”
“How long have you been gone?”
He fingered an oversized African mask on the wall. “Early Ashanti. Museum quality. Very nice.”
“Thank you. You didn’t answer my question.”
He faced her. “And you’re trying to change the subject.”
Sonja closed her eyes. Then she downed the rest of her wine in a single swallow. “It’s been a long day, and I have a full agenda planned tomorrow. Feel free to wait for Cole. The remote is right there. Videos and DVDs are in that cabinet. I’m calling it an evening. Good night, Mr. Spencer.”
She made her exit, all the time hoping he wasn’t following her—wondering why sh
e thrilled at the thought that he might. She ran a bath, then changed her mind. Her thoughts still on the houseguest who made her nervous and aware, she didn’t need the ambient atmosphere of the tub to further lull her senses.
So she let the warm flow of water from the shower remove the stress from her body, the pent-up tension in her neck, the hard bite of sexual tension at her core. The scented shower gel, an earthy musk from Sephora, lathered in the sponge scrub. She rubbed it across her breasts.
A loud knock sounded at the shower door. Sonja yelped and the sponge went flying. She almost slipped on the shower floor, but found purchase between the wall and the showerhead. With a quick twist, she turned off the water.
“How dare you come in here! What do you want, dammit?”
“I’m not staying here tonight,” Jack said. “It wouldn’t be . . . wise. Tell Cole I’m staying at the Williamsburg Lodge. I just made a reservation there. For two nights. Have a good evening.”
Sonja closed her eyes. Her breathing was erratic, just like the heart that beat a mile a minute. Jack Spencer had a lot of nerve. And he knew exactly which buttons to push.
He’d also given her a choice; she’d make the next call. He wanted her all right, but not in Cole’s house.
13
“I need to be honest with you,” Lance told Vivienne.
“All right. Be honest.”
“See, you’re not taking this seriously enough.”
“I am, Lance. I am. I just find it difficult to believe that you intentionally set out to invest in a lingerie company.”
It had been two weeks since Lance told Viv he’d finance her project. His attorney drew up the paperwork that had been signed. And this evening, they were officially celebrating at Cloud 9—Viv’s choice because, she said, that’s what she was flying on. After dinner they lingered over wine and a shared dessert.
“Well, I didn’t go out specifically looking for an underwear store.”
Viv laughed.
“Let’s get out of here.”
The lighthearted smile fell from her face. She reached for her wineglass. “Lance, I told you . . .”
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