by Kat Cantrell
She hadn’t even had to move her hair. “You’ve done that before.”
Of course he had. His last name was LeBlanc and the parade of women in his rearview was probably too long a line to quantify. He’d likely learned at his father’s knee about giving women jewelry and had perfected the art before he’d turned eighteen. She shouldn’t have to keep reminding herself that he wasn’t worth her time because she’d surely not get much of his before he waved adios.
But she forgot regularly. In the park. When he’d asked her to attend this event. A minute ago.
“I’ve never done this before with this necklace or with you,” he said quietly. “Don’t distract me while I’m busy worshipping you in that dress. You’re exquisite. The necklace can hardly keep up.”
The appreciation in his expression warmed her. There was no mistaking that he liked what he saw when he looked at her. That was all 100 percent about Sabrina. It was heady to have a man like Val aim his sights in her direction, and she couldn’t stop herself from reacting.
She shouldn’t react. He’d practiced complimenting women before hitting adulthood too. This wasn’t a date. Every aspect of tonight was an elaborate setup to ensure Val succeeded at finding new talent for LeBlanc and, as his coach, she’d do well to remember that, especially since there was zero chance Val had forgotten.
“This old thing?” She laughed it off. “I just threw on the first dress I ran across in my closet.”
“Don’t diminish your effect on me.” All at once, he reached out to clasp her hand, drawing it into his. His thumb traced a pattern over her knuckles, setting off fireworks under her skin. “Or vice versa.”
Flustered, she shook her head and jerked her hand free. “I’m not diminishing it. I’m ignoring it. There’s a difference.”
“Then don’t ignore it.” His voice draped over her, imploring her to settle into the recesses of the limo and let him have his way with her. He hadn’t so much as suggested anything of the sort, but the implication was clear.
He wanted her. Intimately.
“I have to,” she told him through gritted teeth. “You’re a client, and this is an event for work. Period.”
After a long, very tense pause, he said, “I don’t think that’s the reason.”
Sabrina bit back the urge to scream. “I’m not asking you to think. I’m asking you to respect the fact that, while I realize flirting is your default, you don’t have to do it with me because I’m...immune.”
Hardly the word she’d intended to pick, but it worked and was a far sight better than what she should have said: I’m too professional. But she hadn’t because he’d likely stomp all over that claim, and rightly so. She’d long abandoned professional with Val, from the moment she’d agreed to take him shopping and then let him push a snow cone into her hand. It had been a deliberate shift, because he’d needed something different from her, something deeper than a surface-level coaching arrangement.
And then he’d kissed her, shattering everything she thought she knew about herself and her ability to work with a man she couldn’t control her attraction to. She’d put them on even ground through sheer force of will, but there was little doubt Val could tilt her world again without breaking a sweat.
Val raised his eyebrows. “Shall we put that to the test?”
“You’ve been testing me since moment one,” she countered primly. “And since I’ve yet to fall for your charm, I’d say my actions speak louder than words.”
“On that we agree.”
The tension stretched to the point of snapping, and she had the worst feeling that she’d challenged him to something that she would be sorry for later.
The limo joined the long line of similar vehicles snaking to the entrance of the performing arts center where the event was being held. The impressive building had long been one of Sabrina’s favorites along the downtown skyline, but a sudden bout of nerves had gripped her, and she couldn’t seem to shake off the jitters skittering through her stomach.
“Hey.” Val’s quiet voice cut through the tension, and she glanced at him.
That was a mistake. The lights from the street illuminated his gorgeous face and, with all that inky hair falling into his eyes, coupled with the black tie he’d donned in deference to the evening, he was pretty much the most devastatingly handsome man she’d ever basked in the presence of.
She couldn’t breathe. Silly. He was just a man, one she shouldn’t even be attracted to. He wasn’t her type. Or, rather, he wasn’t the kind of man she normally considered, but there was something about him that constantly drew her attention. A depth that she’d never sensed in Xavier—and that’s why she should be giving Val a wide berth.
But she couldn’t for the same reason. In all actuality, as attracted as she was to him, she shouldn’t even be working with him as a client. She’d broken all sorts of ethical rules and then smashed them to smithereens by agreeing to come with him to this event as his plus-one. She’d excused it because he’d made such a pretty plea about how much he needed her, and she’d let herself be seduced by that alone.
“What?” she murmured because she’d been staring at him too long already.
“You’re shaking.” One of his warm palms landed on her bare shoulder. “All over. If we need to skip this event and go kayaking in the river instead, say the word.”
“Kayaking?” For some reason that made her laugh, despite the heavy tension that had only gotten worse the moment he’d touched her. She should shrug him off, but they were almost to the front of the line, and she was nothing if not aware that they were about to be thrust in the spotlight at an industry event. She’d agreed to be here, ostensibly to help him navigate, which would be made difficult if she kept being standoffish. “Please tell me what gave away my strong desire to go do something athletic.”
His quick smile kicked her in the stomach, setting loose the butterflies that had started fluttering when she’d first realized how close they were to the building. Yeah, she had no immunity against him. None. And the longer she kept that gem of a fact from him, the better.
“Your sarcasm is showing. Maybe not kayaking then. But something. You pick.”
Unexpectedly grateful for the offered reprieve, she shook her head. “That’s sweet of you, but I’ll be fine. I’m just...” What was she? “...aware of how important this event is for you. I want to help you succeed.”
Bottom line, she had no clue how to do that. If she had no value as a coach in this scenario, then she had no business being here. What on earth had possessed her to say yes?
Val’s hand smoothed along her arm, and his touch was so electric, she shivered.
That’s what had possessed her, and it indeed felt like someone else had taken over her body. She could lie to him but not to herself. This was her one chance to spend an evening with Val without agreeing to a date. It was the only way she could have broken her own rules and lived with it.
The nerves were pure adrenaline and expectation. She might have insisted to him that it wasn’t a date, but there was no escaping that this event had all the trappings. Labels didn’t matter to a man like Val, who could turn a simple phone call into a seduction if he so chose.
“If you’re truly concerned about how the night will go for LeBlanc, don’t be.” He withdrew his hand as the limo pulled to a stop at the curb, and the driver rounded the car to open the door for them. “This is only the first in a laundry list of things that I have to try. No one item will push LeBlanc over the billion-dollar mark, so relax. Your job is to keep me out of trouble. I’ll take care of the rest.”
For whatever reason, that was the exact right thing to say. The butterflies settled and, with them no longer swarming her stomach, she found the will to smile. “I think I can do that.”
Seven
Val led his date into the top-floor loft with a skyline view of downtown Chicago, acutely
aware that Sabrina’s bare back was mere inches away. That dress. It fit her like a second skin. He clasped her hand tighter, strictly so his fingers wouldn’t wander, which was a very real danger. Her luminous skin begged for his touch and every nerve was poised to do so in a split second if she gave the slightest sign she’d welcome it.
She hadn’t yet. It was maddening. Why would she have worn a dress with no back if she didn’t want a man’s hands on her?
But this was Sabrina, not a woman he’d invited to a shindig with the sole intent of using the evening as a long seduction until he finally got her behind closed doors, where he’d strip her out of that dress. Sure, he’d fantasized about doing exactly that for pretty much every second of that limo ride from her house. The privacy panel had been up. There had been plenty of opportunity to slide that dress right off Sabrina’s body and plunge them both into something of the carnal variety.
She wasn’t ready for that, no matter how much he wanted that to not be true. Even he could see that she had 100 percent of her focus on the job, so much so that she’d had a minor freak-out in the limo over her upcoming performance. What had he expected when he’d proposed her attendance at this event as his coach? That she’d magically transform into a warm and willing date just because she’d worn a sexy red dress that was calling his name?
He needed to get a grip—and not on her clothes. He had a job to focus on too. He’d do well to take a lesson from Sabrina, as ironic as it was to have her fill the made-up role he’d laid out for her strictly to get her on this date.
“Hungry?” he murmured to her as they threaded through the crowd toward the buffet tables. He nodded to a couple of LeBlanc executives who were standing at a high table with martini glasses in hand.
“Not especially.” Sabrina’s gaze cut through the room, evaluating everything in her path.
“Tell me what you see,” he said, fascinated by the way her mind worked. He saw nothing in the room except her. But she’d scarcely glanced at him, and it was as intriguing as it was crushing to be categorically dismissed when he was wearing a tux like she’d instructed him to.
“Opportunity,” she responded instantly.
That made two of them. “What would you recommend I do as my first move, Coach?”
She slid him a sidelong glance. “Stop calling me Coach, for one.”
Grinning, he released her hand to guide her through a knot of people and couldn’t even find a shred of shame that it gave him the perfect excuse to lay his palm flat on the small of her back. Her warm skin made his hand tingle. He should get a medal for resisting the urge to take liberties, now that he’d moved into the perfect position to feel even more of her.
“After that?” he prompted when they’d cleared the crowd.
“Smile at that blonde.”
She tilted her head toward a woman near the bar clad in a hot pink kimono-style dress that had a two-tiered skirt, short in the front and long in the back, with a train that dragged on the floor. Two chopsticks in a shade that matched her dress held a twist of her hair on her crown, but part of it spilled out artfully in a messy drip of curls meant to make a man think of a long roll between the sheets. A pretty face and impressive cleavage rounded out the package and, on any normal day, Val would be all over the suggestion that she might be someone he’d like to get to know.
Given that Sabrina had been the one to mention it set him back a step. “Are you trying to ditch me?”
Sabrina laughed as if he’d been kidding. “That’s Jada Ness. She’s the hottest designer of the season, according to the organizer’s website.” She did a double take when she caught Val’s expression. “What? I do my research.”
“Clearly,” he murmured. Not that he was shocked at her thoroughness. It was more that he’d never been shuffled off onto another woman by his current date. “Should I ask her to dance?”
“The sooner the better.” Sabrina shooed him away with a chop-chop kind of motion.
More bemused than he’d like to admit, Val drifted away from Sabrina of the Red Dress toward Jada Ness, who was indeed the very person he’d targeted as a potential coup for LeBlanc. He’d recognized her, of course, but the closer he got to the hot pink–clad woman, the slower his steps.
He was moving in the wrong direction, also known as not toward Sabrina. Worse, she’d been the one to send him off. It shouldn’t be stuck under his skin like a splinter. But it was.
What was wrong with him? Sabrina had offered advice, exactly as he’d requested, and her recommendation had been solid, aligning with his own already-formed opinion. He and Sabrina weren’t involved, not really, so there was no reason he should feel weird about asking another woman to dance. Especially one he hoped to extend a business offer to.
He still felt weird.
And he still had the expectation of a billion dollars in sales looming over him. That much-needed reminder got him moving again.
A plethora of Val’s competition ringed Ms. Ness, and she did her level best to give the impression the whole event was boring her, and that included the four men trying to woo her. Val didn’t recognize any of them but they all had that corporate look about them, as if they’d been born with two-hundred-dollar haircuts.
The lady in pink noticed Val a millisecond after he came into her line of sight, and she let her gaze slide all the way down his body so suggestively that he thought about charging her for it. Something was definitely off for him because normally he welcomed bold women, but Ms. Ness somehow made him feel a bit like a side of beef. Eventually her wandering eyes lit on his face, and she smiled, beckoning him over.
Val wasn’t bothered by usurping industry rivals in the slightest and stepped directly in front of the suit who’d been talking her up. Ms. Ness had been ignoring the guy anyway and, thankfully, all of her admirers took the hint and made themselves scarce.
Taking her extended hand, Val held it two deliberate beats too long, his gaze on her. Never hurt to stack the deck. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Valentino LeBlanc.”
“I know who you are.” Her sultry voice dripped with magnolias and sweet tea, underpinning her Georgia roots. “Since you and your brother have different hair. And I must say I’m thrilled to see you here instead of Xavier.”
Well, that was an interesting and very provocative statement. Either his brother’s reputation preceded Val or Ms. Ness had a personal bone to pick with Xavier. Please, God, let it be the latter. “Xavier is taking a hiatus from his position as the CEO. I’m filling in.”
“Lucky me,” she murmured as she moved in a little closer, letting her kimono skirt brush up against Val. Subtle, she was not. “Just when I was starting to think I’d have to leave empty-handed, fate dropped you right into my lap. Let’s find you a drink and talk in an uncrowded corner, shall we?”
His marching orders had the dance floor written on them but, in the name of LeBlanc, he’d have to compromise. Odd how this whole scenario had a slight distaste to it that he couldn’t quite shake. It had all the usual elements of something he should embrace: beautiful woman, social scenario, clear interest. So he’d embrace it. “My treat. What can I get you?”
Ms. Ness fluttered her lashes. “Whiskey sour.”
Yeah, she didn’t seem like the cosmopolitan type. Val signaled the bartender and ordered Ms. Ness’s revolting concoction, as well as a beer for himself. That he could sip for an eternity and keep his wits about him. He grabbed both drinks and guided his pink admirer to a table near the edge of the room.
“Whiskey sour, as requested, Ms. Ness.” He slid the glass across the table.
“I’m Jada,” she purred. “To my friends, that is.”
“I wasn’t sure you counted LeBlanc among your friends.” He sipped his beer, watching her over the rim. She had that look about her as if you didn’t want to take your eyes off her for too long in case you needed to see something coming. “Since you’re ant
i-Xavier, I mean.”
Jada pouted prettily, which she’d no doubt practiced in front of an actual mirror more than once. “I can’t help it that he doesn’t turn me on. You, however, do.”
Funny how much of that seemed to be going around. First Sabrina and now Jada had both drifted away from Xavier out of sheer lack of interest. Shame that his brother’s game had fallen off. This was the part where a caring sibling might mention it to the wounded party, strictly to help him get better. It was the right thing to do. Val smiled, the first genuine one he’d mustered since leaving Sabrina’s company.
“I’m definitely not my brother,” he told her smoothly. “I’d love to talk to you about showcasing your work at LeBlanc.”
She sipped her drink with a deliberate pause as if weighing what he’d said. “I like the sound of a showcase. What would you do with my pieces?”
Poor choice of words. It implied a marketing strategy at the very least that he had not worked out yet. Scrambling, he spit out the first thing that came to mind. “I envision a collection of unique, exclusive designs that travels well. We could make a big splash with press if your pieces were on display for a limited time in some of our flagship stores.”
Her upper lip curled slightly and not in a good way. “What, like you’d schlepp my jewelry from store to store and tout it as a sideshow?”
“No,” he corrected easily. “As the star attraction. We could limit viewing to invitation only. Very exclusive.”
Somehow he’d hit on the magic words. Jada nodded slowly, a crafty glint climbing into her expression. “You’d pay me a premium for the display. Since they wouldn’t be pieces for sale.”
Uh, no. That hadn’t been on his radar at all. There was little point in a display that didn’t have revenue tied to it. Such a thing would benefit Jada, not LeBlanc. Holding in a groan, Val picked up the pieces of his idea and tried to reassemble them into something that would be mutually beneficial. “We could agree to that. If you signed a contract with LeBlanc to allow us exclusive distribution rights to your jewelry.”
