“Yes,” he whispered.
“Oh, do you have it bad. She works for you?”
He sighed. “My assistant. My perfect, organized assistant.” He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is nuts, Fan. I have rules, and I’m breaking rule number one by even thinking what I’m thinking about her.”
“If she really has the figure you’re describing, I understand why. Classic hourglass. I’d kill to have her fit for my new collection. The walking sticks posing as fit models are driving me crazy. I’ve been using dress forms—they have more natural curves.”
“If you do this for me, Fan, I’ll loan her to you until you find a new assistant. And if you can talk her into it, I get to come and watch.”
“Pervert.”
He flashed a smile. “Guilty.”
She picked up the gown, and stopped long enough to hug him. “Leave her address with my showroom manager. We’ll get the gown to her in time for the auction.”
“Are you going to be there?” He figured Graham would be strong arming her, since her design house was backed by The Hawkins Group.
“I managed to talk my way out of it, showing Graham my pile of bills, and telling him if I didn’t meet my deadlines he’d be paying them.”
“Hit him in the wallet. That was a guaranteed pass. I wish I’d thought of it.”
She flashed him a wicked smile. “Not when you see your assistant in my creation. Now get out of here, so I can get to work.”
Marcus strode across the workroom, fantasies of Leah in the gown, and him peeling her out of it, filling his mind.
He was thrilled that he hadn’t found a way to get out of going tonight.
Three
Leah spent the rest of the afternoon trying not to throw up, and waffling between excitement and dread.
She still had time to get herself out of it—if she didn’t want to have a job tomorrow. That tied her stomach in knots all over again.
The reality of what she’d done didn’t sink in until the huge, ribbon-wrapped box showed up at her apartment.
Hands shaking, she accepted the box from the delivery man and pushed the door closed with her hip. She made it as far as the small dining table before she dropped the box, needing to sit.
Marcus Hawkins bought her a gown.
What if it didn’t fit? God—that would be mortifying. Having him show up with her wearing one of her boring, sale rack dresses because the one he bought was too small—
“Stop creating mountains, Leah, and just open the damn box.”
She took her own advice, and untied the ribbon. It was gorgeous, white and silver stripes running the wide length of the taffeta, matching the box underneath. She rolled it, to be saved with other mementoes from important moments in her life.
Her heart pounded as she slowly, carefully lifted the lid. Silver tissue greeted her, crinkling when she peeled back the multiple layers. She caught her breath at her first look. Embroidered blue velvet peeked out of the tissue. She took a deep breath, and lifted the gown out.
It was stunning.
I’ll never be able to wear this. What was he thinking?
She shoved down the negative thoughts, ran into her bedroom and stopped in front of the mirror, holding the gown up.
“Oh, my God.” Embroidered vines and flowers trailed down the bodice of what was obviously a halter top, spreading out over the full skirt. A thick band of midnight blue satin joined the two, a double vine running along each edge. It was daring, bold, and so not her.
She pulled her oversized sweatshirt off, glad she’d already showered and left her bra off. There was no way in hell she’d be able to wear one, and her skin was smooth from scrubbing it like a maniac. But she figured, for one night, she could show off her hourglass figure. A room filled with strangers would only make stepping out easier. Having Marcus Hawkins at her side made it dangerous. After hiding from her feelings for months, she was terrified, but the need to break free of her past eclipsed the nerves already fluttering through her.
Besides, they’d all be staring at Marcus, and not even notice her.
She slipped out of her sweat pants, dug the lacy white thong she bought on a whim out of her underwear drawer, slipped it on, and stepped into the gown.
The heavy, luxurious velvet slid over her skin. She tied a temporary bow on the halter, adjusted the thick waistband, then pulled up the zipper, blinking in surprise when it settled around her small waist. Like it had been made for her. She bent over, loosened the halter, and adjusted her breasts before she pulled the velvet ties up and straightened, making a secure knot. Swallowing, she turned around and faced the mirror.
Her skin looked pale, and almost—luminous. She had always liked herself in blue, but this—God, this color made her glow. The halter gave her more cleavage than she’d ever had, the plunging V almost too daring. As long as she didn’t bend over, or breathe too deeply, she might be all right.
The skirt skimmed over her full hips, draping beautifully. Every time she moved the silk embroidery shimmered. She let out a laugh and twirled, watching the skirt bell out around her. When Marcus had told her he would send her a gown, she didn’t know what to expect. But this—it felt like a dream, and she looked…beautiful.
“Yes, you do,” she whispered to her wide-eyed self. The simple makeup and clear lip gloss played up her features just enough. Tonight, the gown was her bold statement. She wasn’t even going to wear earrings. But her hair—she needed to do something with the long, curly mess. “Upsweep—that will take care of you.”
She moved into her tiny bathroom, grabbed a handful of pins out of the blue glass jar on her counter, and twisted her hair up, leaving a few tendrils to frame her face. Nodding at herself, she had just enough time to slip into her black ballet flats before the doorbell rang.
Her heart started pounding again, and she pressed one hand to her stomach. This time it would be Marcus at the door, or more likely, his driver, coming to whisk her away to what could be the best night of her life, or the most disastrous.
She took a semi-deep breath, picking up her small black bag as she walked to the door, and glanced through the peephole. Marcus stood there himself, drool worthy in a tux that was obviously tailored for him. He was clean shaven, not wearing his glasses. That made him less approachable. Part of her appreciated that, since it would make the evening easier if she didn’t feel the need to touch him every other second. The other part wished for the sexy, scruffy nerd who left her flustered every time he looked at her.
Marcus raised his head and smiled, like he knew she was there, staring at him. She jerked back, fought to calm herself, and opened the door.
“For a second there, I thought you had chickened out…” His voice faded as he studied her. He looked—stunned. “Turn around.” His voice was rough, demanding. Leah obeyed, sure she had offended him before the evening even started. “Good God.” He cleared his throat. “You’ve been hiding yourself quite well, Miss Frane. I knew there was a luscious figure under all those layers, but I had no idea. You will be the surprise tonight. Shall we?”
He held out his arm, and Leah took it, still numb from his comment.
Did he call her luscious? Marcus Hawkins, with more money than God and any woman he could possibly want just a smile away? She had to be delirious. That was it—too much excitement, too little food.
She walked with him to the elevator, and started to slide her hand off his arm. He gripped her fingers with his free hand and held her there, his dark blue eyes studying her under the dim lights. It took all her control to breathe normally, to act like having a tall, gorgeous man loom over her in the elevator was normal.
When they reached the white stretch limo, he ignored the driver and helped her in himself. Leah refused to be disappointed when he sat in the seat opposite her. This was not a date. He may have called it a date, but it was a work function. She had to keep reminding herself, every second if necessary.
Marcus didn’t talk at al
l on the way to the museum where the event was being held. Instead he stared out the window, like she wasn’t even there. That kind of behavior would make it incredibly easy to keep from making a fool of herself.
She leaned back and decided to just enjoy the butter soft leather against her back, the smooth ride. When the driver pulled up in front, Marcus waited for him to open the door, sitting still while the driver helped Leah out of the limo.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure, miss.” He winked at her. “Enjoy your evening.”
She smiled, then turned toward the museum, gasping in surprise. The white marble portico was lit up with colors that changed every few seconds, creating a kaleidoscope out of the building. Well-dressed couples climbed the stairs, the multicolored lights picking out jewels and the shimmer of expensive gowns.
The realization that she didn’t belong here had her backing up. Right into Marcus.
“You’re going the wrong way, Leah.” He laid his hand on the small of her back and she jumped as his fingers spread over her bare skin. Swallowing, she clutched her small bag and let him guide her to the wide staircase. “This is where being the boss comes in handy.”
He led her up past the long line. The man checking invitations glanced up, and immediately stepped aside. “Welcome, Mr. Hawkins.”
“Thank you, Neill. Don’t forget to enjoy yourself once everyone’s inside.”
A smile flashed across Neill’s face. “You bet.” His gaze moved to Leah. He wasn’t more than a few inches taller than her own five foot two. “Who’s this? I have Miss Deveaux on the list as your companion tonight.”
Leah smothered a groan. Cassie Deveaux—the most stunning cover model in the business. She was the type Marcus Hawkins usually had on his arm. Not a nobody like her.
“This is Leah Frane. She graciously stepped in when Cassie cancelled on me.”
Neill raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. Instead, he turned his attention, and his dark, kind eyes on Leah. “A pleasure, Miss Frane.”
“This is Neill, my head of security.” Marcus laughed at her surprised glance. “Don’t let his stature fool you. I’d trust him with my life. I have, more times than I can count. If you need anything and I’m not close by, find Neill.”
Marcus looked so serious she nodded, managing a smile. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Neill.”
“Enjoy the festivities, boss.” To her surprise, Neill took her hand and kissed it. “The pleasure was all mine, Leah.”
Marcus let out a low growl, and Neill dropped her hand. Before she could ask what the hell that was all about, Marcus practically dragged her into the museum. She grabbed her skirt and lifted it to keep from tripping and making a bigger fool of herself. Marcus was already doing a fine job of that, pulling her after him like she was a disobedient child.
“Mr. Hawkins—” Leah could barely keep up with his long strides—and she was seriously afraid her breasts might just bounce out of the halter if he didn’t slow down.
She got her wish. He stopped, so fast she ran into him. After she checked to make sure she was still in the halter, she heard the muttering—or more precisely, the swearing. When she stepped to his side she saw the reason.
Cassie Deveaux stood in the center of a group of men, laughing, her long, perfect blonde hair flying around her bare shoulders. She froze when she saw Marcus.
He reached over and grabbed Leah’s hand, twining their fingers together when she tried to extricate herself. Cassie flashed a smile at her admirers before she strode over to them.
“Marcus. What a lovely—”
“I thought you were on your way to Paris. That’s what your assistant told my brother.”
She frowned. “I received a message from your assistant, stating that you would not be attending.”
The muscles in his jaw twitched. “You’re standing in front of my assistant. Why don’t you ask her if she gave you that message?”
Cassie raised one elegant blonde eyebrow. “Since the message was from a male, I am going with the theory that we were both…” Her voice faded, clear green eyes narrowing. “Graham.”
“I’ll deal with this,” Marcus said. His deep voice sounded dangerous. Leah started to ease back, but he tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her after him. “Keep up, Miss Frane. I need a witness so I don’t strangle him.”
***
Marcus fought with his temper all the way across the huge foyer of the museum. He almost had it under control, and Leah’s warm hand clasped in his certainly helped. It also surprised him, that just her touch calmed him like this. No woman had ever—
Do not go there.
This was a whim, a single evening with his employee. Not a date, no matter what he told her. It was an evening. One evening. He had to stop thinking of her as his date. Had to stop fantasizing about kissing those soft, full lips, bare except for a hint of gloss. God, he didn’t know bare lips could be so damn sexy. All the women he dated wore lipstick like they owned stock in it.
He enjoyed the way she ran to keep up with him, lifting her full skirt, showing him just enough of her shapely legs to have his cock standing at attention. Not that he was going to do anything about it. Damn—she was his assistant, for God’s sake. Off limits. He made rules for a reason—and he did not want to lose her calm, organized presence because he needed to get off.
Plain Frane, everyone at the office called her. Marcus had figured out why she covered herself so completely at work, after overhearing two of his employees gossiping about her last disastrous relationship. Not just a relationship—the ass left her standing at the altar, ran off with another woman. Because of that, Marcus was determined to take care with her.
If those women could see her tonight, her face flushed, soft tendrils of gold-shot brown hair brushing her bare shoulders, her delicious curves on display in that body hugging gown—
Down, boy.
Graham came into sight, just in time. Marcus’ thoughts were heading down a path he shouldn’t even be thinking of, and he wanted to drag her to a dark corner, lay his hands on those curves. On her.
Marcus stepped in his brother’s path, waited for him mouth off, or throw some snarky comment. Anything, any excuse to punch him. Screw the audience.
“I see you found a companion, Marcus. I wasn’t sure you were given enough notice to—”
“Son of a bitch. You wanted me to show up alone, didn’t you? Point out my lack to everyone. Again.”
Graham shrugged, in that way that made Marcus want to pound on him. “You don’t need me for that, baby brother. Though you did manage to pull out a sweet replacement.” His gaze moved over Leah. Marcus stepped between them and bared his teeth. “A little possessive, aren’t we?”
“One more word, Graham, and I’ll jam my fist down your throat.” His voice was quiet, so quiet only the three of them could hear. But Graham’s eyes widened, surprise clear on his face. “Leah deserves more than your leering and innuendoes. Hell, she deserves more than either of us can give her.”
“Leah—Leah Frane?” Before Marcus could stop her she moved into sight, meeting Graham’s eyes.
“Good evening, Mr. Hawkins.”
“Damn—sorry. You look beautiful, Miss Frane.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hawkins.” That sexy, delightful blush was back. “You are looking quite striking yourself. Both of you,” she whispered, glancing up at Marcus. Then she stared at the floor, like she couldn’t believe she just spoke to the great Hawkins brothers. “If you’ll excuse me,” she managed to slip out of Marcus’ grip before he could stop her. “I need to find a restroom.”
“Right behind the gold elephant,” Graham said, smiling down at her.
“Thank you.”
She walked away, her hips swaying gently under the velvet, the smooth, bare skin of her back on display. For everyone. What the hell was he thinking?
“Who knew that was under all those layers of drab?” Graham held up both hands when Marcus turned on him. “Making an
observation, little brother. You’ve already marked your territory. I’ll just watch from the sidelines while you make a fool of yourself over her.”
“Shut up, Graham.”
“That clinches it. No scathing comeback.” He gave Marcus a wicked smile. “All the blood has gone to the little brain.”
Unfortunately his brother was right. That woman was danger on two legs, and Marcus needed to keep as much distance between them as possible, before he started getting ideas.
Four
Leah slumped in one of the upholstered chairs, staring at the marble counter. Anywhere but the long mirror that covered one wall. She knew how she’d look—flushed, desperate. Needy.
What was happening to her? She swore to herself that the feelings she had for her untouchable boss would stay locked behind the wall around her heart.
But his surprising generosity unbalanced her, and his reaction to her in the gown still left her—hot.
With a sigh she pushed to her feet and braced herself for her reflection. After him dragging her all over the museum, she knew her almost neat hair had to be a disaster. First look proved her right. Curls escaped from the twist, falling around her face, tumbling down her back. At least her breasts were still inside the halter.
She lifted her hands to her hair and started pulling the pins out.
“Don’t touch it.” The voice had her jerking around. Cassie Deveaux stood next to the door, green eyes appraising. “Your hair is—”
“Out of control?”
“You have no idea, do you? No wonder he’s so—” She cut herself off. “Your hair is lush. Like your figure.” She moved to Leah, circling her like a piece of merchandise. “Did Marcus give you the gown?” Leah nodded. “It looks like one of Fantine’s creations.”
Leah gasped. “Fantine—of Fantine Baroque?”
I Need A Bad Boy: A Collection of Bad Boy Romances Page 112
