She looked good. Damn good. And what was worse, Eamon concluded, was that she knew it. She had even taken the time to pin her hair up, with the exception of a few wisps of curls that lay teasingly against her long neck. The green in her dress made her eyes pop, which only succeeded in drawing him into what felt like a Venus fly trap. The pendulum of power had definitely swung in her direction.
“If you stare at me much longer we’re going to miss our reservation,” she said, smiling.
Eamon blinked, but afterward he still felt like he was caught up in some old black magic so he tried blinking again. It failed to work then, too. I’m definitely in trouble.
“Is there something wrong? Are your contacts giving you trouble?”
He laughed. “No contacts. I’m just… You look stunning,” he admitted. There was no way of getting around the truth. But to his surprise, she blushed, staining her long neck and cheeks a warm burgundy. “Don’t tell me that no one has ever paid you a compliment before.”
She cut her gaze away. “Don’t be silly.” She suddenly got busy looking around. “Now, what did I do with that clutch?”
He watched her as she moved around the suite, not sure what to make of her sudden shift in behavior. But before he could say anything else, she found her clutch bag.
“Here it is.” She smiled, but still managed to avoid his gaze. “I’m ready if you are.”
Eamon smiled and then glanced at his watch. “We still have fifteen minutes. I’m impressed.”
Victoria opened the front door as she found her sass again. “Of course you are. Look who you’re with.” She tossed him a wink and then strolled out of the room.
Eamon laughed as he strolled out behind her. The ride down in the elevator was filled with mindless small talk and when the door open, Victoria bolted out of the small box as if he’d lit a fire under her pointy stilettos. He smiled, certain that she was playing games to make sure that she didn’t fall into any traps and lose her precious hold on that tiny pendulum of power swinging between them. But if she wanted that power, he was going to make her fight for it.
His long strides had no problem catching up with her sudden power walk and by the time they were strolling out of the Bellagio’s elegant lobby, he walked beside her and pressed his hand against the small of her back.
“Henry.” He nodded to the head valet.
The older black gentleman turned with a smile, but when recognition settled into his brown eyes, he really let up. “Ah, Mr. King. How are you today?”
“Never better, my man.” Eamon removed his hand from Victoria’s back to slap palms with one of The Dollhouse’s regular patrons. “You’re still doing that favor for me?”
“Doin’ my best, but I have to tell you—” he shook his head “—your cousin is keeping most of us on our toes around here.”
“I believe you.” Eamon laughed as he handed over his ticket. Two minutes later, he and Victoria slid comfortably into the leather seats of his Aston Martin and then glided out onto Las Vegas Boulevard. Though he was content to just enjoy her signature scent mingle with the new-car smell, he felt pressure to break the ice. “Do you like jazz?” he asked.
She shrugged noncommittally. “It’s all right. My father enjoys it.”
Wry amusement twisted his lips. “Is that supposed to be a jab at my age?”
“No. I’m just saying.” She shrugged again, but her lips were definitely twitching at the corners.
“Exactly how old do you think I am?”
Victoria crossed her firm thighs. “I’m sure that I don’t know.”
Eamon’s robust laughter filled the sports car. “Ah. I see. You’re real sly when you’re trying to check a brother.”
“Naw. I’m not trying to check you.”
“No?” He leaned over toward the rearview mirror and started to examine his head.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m looking for that checkmark that you just put on my forehead.”
She laughed, but not one of those fake ones that she tossed around from time to time. This one was a real belly laugh that was as infectious as it was melodious.
“You know you did it.” Eamon moved away from the mirror and reached for the radio that was already on his favorite jazz station. As luck would have it, Miles Davis and John Coltrane’s “Blue in Green” floated into the car and set the right kind of mood. After a few riffs, Eamon chanced a glance over at the passenger seat and caught the tranquility on her face. Eyes closed. Lips still smiling.
“You lied,” he said. “You do like jazz.”
Victoria lifted a slender finger and pressed it against her lips. “Shhh. Don’t tell anybody.”
Eamon’s gaze drifted back toward the road. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”
They fell silent as Coltrane’s fingers danced over the keys and Davis worked his magic on the horn. When the song finally ended, he turned into the parking lot of Bella’s. It was a small, quaint Italian restaurant a little distance from the casino strip, away from the main tourist spots, but still part of the city’s nightlife and a secret jewel for the locals.
“This looks interesting,” Victoria said, glancing around.
Eamon chuckled as he turned off the radio. “It’s a little late to be worried about whether I’ve kidnapped you, isn’t it?”
“It’s never too late to worry about that,” she said.
The valet opened their doors and Eamon waited patiently with a smile as she walked around the car and joined him before entering the low-lit restaurant.
“Ah, Eamon,” Benito Boi, the restaurant manager, boasted the moment they walked into the door. “I just heard that you would be joining us tonight. Benvenuti!”
They shook hands but like always Benito pumped with a lot of gusto for a man nearing his seventies.
“Ah. Now, who is this bella?” Benito’s attention shifted to Eamon’s date.
“This is the lovely Victoria Gregory. She has taken pity on me this evening and has agreed to be my date.”
Victoria hiked up on her pencil-thin brows up at him.
“Ah. It’s about time,” Benito said. “It’s no good for a man to eat alone, but—” Benito’s gaze swept over Victoria’s frame “—I’m afraid that you’ve chosen a woman that is considerably above your station, amico mio. You’ll have to be on your best behavior.”
Victoria’s full lips stretched while her eyes danced. “You heard the man, Eamon.”
It was the first time that she had said his name and he had to admit that he liked the way her voice hugged each vowel. There was something incredibly sexy about it.
Benito grabbed two menus and then escorted them toward the back of the restaurant.
Victoria sucked in several deep breaths as she followed Benito. It seemed to her that the restaurant grew darker the farther they walked. Where were they going to have dinner, in a crypt?
“Here we are,” Benito said, opening the door. “A nice secluded spot so you and your lovely friend can get to know each other.”
Victoria stepped into the small room to the beautiful table with crystal, silverware and flickering candle light. “Out of the fire and into the frying pan,” she mumbled under her breath.
“What was that?” Eamon asked.
She turned toward his honest face and sly smile and knew that he had heard exactly what she had said. “Nothing.”
Eamon winked and then went to pull out her chair.
Her only option was to play along. She took her seat and pretended not to notice how Eamon’s hand drifted along the back of her shoulders after he’d helped push up her seat.
When Eamon settled into his own chair, Benito showcased their bottle of Barbaresco to him and then quickly and masterfully worked open the cork with a soft pop!
Victoria watched as Benito splashed some wine into Eamon’s glass and waited while Eamon swirled the red vino around in his glass before smelling it and tasting it.
“Benissimo.”
Benito smiled and t
hen proceeded to fill their large wineglasses a quarter of the way. “I’ll be back with your fresh bread,” he announced and then rushed out of the small room.
Victoria settled back in her seat and then languidly crossed her firm thighs. “Looks like it’s my turn to be impressed.”
Eamon corked one of his immaculately groomed brows. “Why? Just because I own a gentlemen’s club you thought that I didn’t have any home training?”
She paused for a moment, but then answered honestly. “Guilty.” She almost sighed when his rich laughter rumbled around her.
“You know, I’m going to change my earlier assessment. You actually have many ways of keeping a brother in check. Slick, sly and direct. You’re a regular heavyweight champion.”
“In today’s world, a woman has to be on her toes when dealing with the opposite sex. But even a seasoned player gets knocked on their ass every once in a while.”
“Ahh.” He bobbed his head. “Mr. Henderson.”
Victoria nodded while she absently crossed her arms and told herself to prepare for anything.
“You know, I’m truly sorry for what happened,” he said with a genuine note of sincerity. “But you don’t truly believe that I or even my club really had anything to do with Mr. Henderson’s sudden case of cold feet, do you? Not to be tactless, but…these sorts of things do happen all the time.”
She let that ridiculous statement hang in the air until he started to squirm. “Happens all the time?”
His expression changed as if he’d finally heard what the hell he’d just said.
“Marcus didn’t get cold feet. He got married. Remember?”
He bobbed his head. “Yes. Sorry. Let me try again.”
She held up her hands. “No. Please don’t. I haven’t even eaten anything and I’m already ready to throw up.”
Eamon drew in a deep breath and eased back against his chair as if he’d realized that he’d just blown their tenuous truce to high hell and back.
Benito returned with a small, hot loaf of bread and a larger saucer of olive oil. Neither Victoria nor Eamon spoke while the older gentleman recited the night’s specials as he ground fresh pepper into the olive oil.
Eamon asked, “Could you give us a few—?”
“I’m ready to order,” Victoria announced.
“Ahh.” Benito lit up. “Not only are you beautiful but you’re a woman who is quick and decisive.” He winked and then elbowed Eamon. “You might want to hang on to this one. I have a good feeling about her. And people around here will tell you that I’m never wrong about these things.”
“Are these the same people who are on payroll?”
“One and the same,” Benito boasted.
“Then I’ll just pass.”
“What can I get for you, signorina?”
“I’d like to start off with the frietella di granchio—I’m crazy about crab cakes.”
“Ah. It’s a weakness for myself, as well.”
“For the main dish, I’d like the branzino con finocchi e rughetta. Please make sure that the sea bass is cooked all the way through. And for the dolci—”
“You already know what you want for dessert?” Eamon asked.
Victoria’s laser green eyes shot up over the menu. “Is that a problem?”
“No. No. Not at all.” He smiled awkwardly over at Benito. “Quick and decisive.”
Benito gave his thumbs-up and gave her another wink.
“I’ll have the tiramisu.”
“Excellent.” Benito took her menu and then turned toward Eamon. “And for you?”
Eamon just handed over his menu. “I’ll just have what she’s having.”
“Excellent. Excellent. I’ll leave you two alone.” There was more winking and thumbs jutting up before the exuberant manager escaped their small room.
“Well. You’ve gone from not being hungry to being able to eat enough for a small minor-league team in less than an hour.”
She smiled before she had a chance to stop herself. “Yes. I’m not what men would call a salad date. I hope that’s not a problem for you.”
“Why would it be a problem? I tend to have a healthy appetite myself.” He locked on to her stare while he sipped his wine.
Victoria tried to pass off the weird fluttering in her stomach as mere hunger pangs, but it wasn’t working. The way the flickering candlelight danced in Eamon’s eyes put her on edge. How on earth was she going to be able to deflect a whole evening of sexual innuendos from the man when she was fighting not to sweep everything off their table and beg him to do her right then and there?
“I have a question,” he announced. “It’s something that has been bothering me since the moment we met.”
She reached for her own glass. “Shoot.”
“I remember Marcus Henderson rather well. Nice guy… but, uh…how in the world did you two hook up?”
Victoria blinked.
Eamon chuckled and shook his head while he set his glass back down. “No disrespect, but you two are like night and day. The heiress and the accountant doesn’t quite jibe with me. What gives?”
“I don’t think that I understand what you mean.”
He locked down her gaze. “I think you do.”
It was her turn to squirm in her seat. “I didn’t realize that I needed to run my preference in men by the Eamon King committee.”
“You’re ducking the question.”
“Just because you ask a question doesn’t mean that you’re entitled to an answer.”
“Humor me and answer it anyway.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” She struggled for answer. “I don’t want to.”
“Fine.” Eamon shrugged. “Then you force me to give my own assessment. Care to hear it?”
“Do I have a choice?”
He cut his gaze away as if he was seriously considering the question but then delivered a quick “No.”
She did, however, get a quick reprieve because Benito and a waitress delivered their appetizers, but they blew in and out like a Midwest tornado.
“Now, where was I?” Eamon asked. “Ah, yes. You purposely selected a man that you thought was a safe choice—nonthreatening.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She unfolded her silverware and placed her linen napkin into her lap.
“Someone who didn’t put on airs or was in the market for a trophy wife,” he continued. “Probably even someone who wouldn’t mind signing an iron-clad prenuptial agreement, either.”
Victoria sliced into the tender crab cakes too hard and then jumped when the fork clanged against the plate.
“How am I doing?” he asked.
She refused to answer him.
“I’m not going to pretend that I grew up under similar conditions. My brothers and I grew up with more love than money. But my experience the last few years has introduced me to this phenomenon where it’s difficult to judge whether people are around you for who you are and not what you have or possibly what you can give them.” He paused for a moment. “But from what little I do know about you, I think you’re selling yourself short.”
During the next pause, her eyes slowly climbed from the gorgeous crab cakes to his maple-brown gaze.
“You’re beautiful, smart and there’s feistiness in you that is an incredible turn-on.”
Victoria watched as his gaze went from hot to smoldering within a snap of her fingers. She didn’t know how long they sat there staring at each other, but it was long enough for their main course to arrive even though they had yet to taste the appetizer. Benito paused just long enough to refill their wineglasses and then directed the waiter to quickly set the food on the table. In another blink they were gone.
“All right,” she said after finding her voice again. “Since you seem to know so much, what kind of man do you think I should go after?”
Eamon’s lips sloped crookedly and in that instant, she decided that was her favorite smile by him. “That’s a softbal
l question.”
“Then let me hear your easy answer.” That damn candlelight continued to dance in his eyes, hypnotizing her effortlessly.
He reached across the table and captured her free hand within his. The electric connection jolted her. The small hairs on her arm and the back of her neck stood at attention.
Eamon’s voice dropped to an all-time low register, “You need and deserve a man who is bold, adventurous and could take on that hot temper of yours with the same passion that you dish out.”
There was no doubt in Victoria’s mind that her Agent Provocateur panties were now soaked and the ache pulsing between her legs matched the hammering that was going on inside her chest.
Braided hands. Sweaty bodies. Silk sheets.
At the moment, she would’ve gladly substituted the silk sheets for an oak table.
Victoria swallowed and licked her lips. She felt a surge of confidence when she saw how his eyes tracked her pink tongue as it glided across her glossy lips. “That’s an interesting list of qualities. You wouldn’t happen to know anyone like that, would you?”
His slick smile returned as he nodded. “You’re looking at him.”
Chapter 9
The small private room in the back of Bella’s instantly went from a sauna to a raging inferno when Eamon stood up from his chair and swept his muscled arm across the tabletop and sent their dinner crashing to the floor.
Victoria was convinced that her heart had cracked through her rib cage as she stared up at Eamon like he was Mount Everest. Fleetingly, she thought that if she had any objections to what was about to go down she needed to speak now or forever hold her peace. She opened her mouth, but as luck would have it her vocal cords chose that moment to go out of service. The next thing she knew, Eamon’s large and powerful hands were wrapped around her waist and she was airborne. It was a short flight before she landed onto their empty tabletop.
She might’ve had some concerns about the possibility of someone walking in on them, but the warning in her head was silenced the moment Eamon’s hungry mouth found hers. She moaned like an innocent fawn, but she soon found herself too drunk from the heady, rich taste of Eamon’s kiss. His silken tongue glided against her own and then started mating in a ritual that was as old as time.
King's Passion Page 8
