by Kat Cantrell
Yet here she was. Unannounced. Curiosity was killing him.
The timing couldn’t have been better. If he’d spent one more second looking at the tiny print on a LeBlanc balance-sheet report, he’d explode. Plus, Ms. Ness had come to him. That perked him up considerably and gave him hope where none had been.
She swept into the office in a short, sheer dress that could hardly be called that, wearing stilettos so high a swift stab could stake two hearts at once. Their last conversation had taken place by phone, so he hadn’t been treated to the full effect of the woman in person. Beyond beautiful, there was no denying that Jada Ness could and did turn heads wherever she went.
While Sabrina had a warm, earthy heat underneath her frost, Jada reminded him of a china doll. Too fake to be real and far too brittle to touch.
“Ms. Ness,” he called as she shut the door in his admin’s face. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“We’re all friends here,” she purred. “You can call me Jada. I told you that before.”
Yeah, but that had been before she’d also basically told him to take a hike. Her presence at LeBlanc shifted the playing field, and he’d yet to discover exactly how. Or who had the advantage. “Jada, then. Have you reconsidered the auction idea?”
She waved that off with one unmanicured hand, the rare high-maintenance type of woman who didn’t have long nails, likely due to the intricate work required to craft her pieces. “I still don’t like it. But I’m willing to listen to your ideas. I ran into some...unexpected expenses. So I’m in the market for opportunity.”
On the heels of this New England disaster, that sounded so promising that Val nearly pulled out a pen and paper right there to get something in writing. But he didn’t. This was still very much a negotiation, rife with potential pitfalls. Jada hadn’t even taken a seat yet.
Val stood and skirted the desk, biting back anything that might be construed as overly eager. Also, delicacy was of the utmost importance here. “Please. Let’s sit over here by the window.”
He led her to the cozy area near the window where two sleek chairs faced a low, square table. The single time Val had visited his father here, he’d sat in one of these chairs to wait for Edward to finish his phone call. At ten years of age, Val hadn’t had a lot of patience for the business of diamonds and had amused himself for a solid fifteen minutes by repeatedly sliding off the chair onto the floor. His father had wrapped up the phone call, yelled at Val for making thumping noises while Edward had been speaking with a lobbyist in Washington and then spent approximately eight minutes granting his son an interview for the paper Val had to write about how a corporation worked.
That had been the last time Val darkened the doors of LeBlanc. Until recently.
The chairs had long been replaced, likely by Xavier when he’d taken over. Now leather instead of cloth, Val indicated one and waited until Jada slid into it before taking the other. If there were any cards in his hand worth playing, he had to get them on the table fast before she flipped the discussion in a direction he couldn’t go. Or wouldn’t go. It was a fine line.
“This is a much better spot to revive a discussion about us working together,” he told her with a smile, relaxing against the chair. This was a friendly conversation. The less tension, the better.
He needed to capitalize on her “unexpected expenses.” Earlier that morning, Sabrina had sent him a text message reminding him that Jada could be the answer to the flagging sales in New England, like he hadn’t thought of that. The problem was, he couldn’t consider it unless she changed her stance on the expected benefits of working with LeBlanc.
Val’s skill between the sheets wasn’t a negotiation point here.
Or was it? He eyed her thoughtfully as a dangerous, highly unethical plan percolated through his mind.
Perhaps he could consider it if he changed his stance. There was no law that said he had to be so black and white about those benefits. Just because he gave her the impression he might be willing to indulge in a personal relationship with a designer under contract with LeBlanc didn’t mean he actually had to follow through.
Val was nothing if not an accomplished flirt. Lots of men did that without having any intention of bedding the woman in question. He just rarely met a woman who interested him enough to flirt with that he didn’t also want to get naked—and he pretty much crossed the finish line on that 100 percent of the time. But for the sake of his inheritance, he could switch it up a bit.
“I’m glad you were able to see me on short notice.” Her fingers briefly grazed his arm as she spoke, sending a subliminal message that said she’d welcome a whole lot more intimate contact.
Not that he had any illusions about the reasons why. Jada likely thought of him as a challenge. Men no doubt fell at her feet, and she got what she wanted on a daily basis. Val was that one man who’d told her no and it had been like waving a big, red flag in her face. Odds were good she couldn’t tell him the color of his eyes if he shut them, but he didn’t mind being objectified if it got him closer to his goal.
“Of course,” he returned smoothly. “I always have time to fit in a beautiful woman who comes to call unexpectedly. I’m pleasantly surprised that you were willing to drop by after our last conversation fell apart. Thank you for giving me another chance to discuss opportunities.”
She did not miss the extra color he injected into the word. Her expression warmed instantly, and she leaned in, crossing her legs at the ankle while accidentally on purpose grazing his knee with hers. “I like the sound of that. Tell me more about your ideas for the auction.”
“A glorious tribute to the talent and genius of Jada Ness.” Val spread his hands wide as if indicating a banner that would be emblazoned with that phrase. “You’d have free rein. Design whatever you want. We’d foot the bill for all the expense to transport and then display your pieces in several of our stores in advance of the auction, but we’ll keep it small. Intimate. I’m thinking New England is a no-brainer for that. Really appeal to the old, established money in Boston and New York.”
Nodding, she bounced her leg as she considered what he’d laid out. The little dress she wore rode higher on her thighs, and there was no chance that had been accidental. More like deliberate advertising. He presented a scenario and finished up with the idea of exclusive pieces.
Her nose wrinkled. “Mass producing my designs? I’ve never been about that. My pieces are unique.”
“Definitely,” he cut in and fought the urge to move his knee away from her encroaching leg rub. “Just like you. So design a few new things with mass production in mind. Don’t spend a lot of energy on it. Just do enough to get your stamp on it so it’s still uniquely Jada Ness and cash the check.”
Thoughtfully, she nodded. “I’m not opposed to it as long as the price points are high enough to keep buyers in the upper echelon. I don’t want riffraff wearing Jada Ness.”
Val bit back a groan. The whole point of mass production was to achieve lower price points so you moved a lot of volume...wherever that knowledge had come from. Wow, he’d absorbed more from his father and Xavier about this business than he’d thought. Or it was in his blood after all.
The thought of either one being true made him slightly nauseated. This whole scene had done a lot to contribute to that feeling, actually. No wonder LeBlanc men in the diamond business had no souls: they willingly gave them up on the altar of ambition.
Apparently Val had gotten in line to lose his too. Except he was giving his to Jada Ness.
The woman had far too many demands, but all of his sources told him it would be worth it. Jada’s jewelry graced the red carpet at Hollywood award shows and regularly made appearances in top women’s fashion magazines. LeBlanc could and would get major visibility from even being associated with Jada’s name.
“You know what?” Val threw out with a wink. “We should discuss this over drinks.
Saturday night. If you’re free?”
“My calendar mysteriously cleared,” she murmured and held out her hand, ostensibly to seal the deal with a handshake, but he did her one better by clasping it to pull her forward into an air kiss.
“I’ll send over a draft of a contract with everything we’ve discussed thus far. If you like it, you can bring a signed copy with you on Saturday.”
She’d like it. He’d make sure of that. Just like he intended to make sure he had that contract signed and in his hand before the highball glasses were empty. If that didn’t come to pass, he’d have to think of something else on the fly. Easy as pie. All he had to do was put his heart in the freezer, channel Xavier and then come up with the most coldhearted, callous plan imaginable.
And then figure out how to stop feeling like Sabrina would be disappointed in him if he told her what had just transpired.
* * *
The bitter taste in Val’s mouth stuck until Friday night.
Grocery shopping should have cheered him up, but the sacks of potatoes reminded him of LBC, and the little basil plants wrapped in cellophane nearly put him over the edge. LBC had a central courtyard that he’d turned into a garden, cultivating rows of herbs and vegetables. When they were fully grown, he sent the staff home with fresh cut herbs, cucumbers and squash as a thank-you since the small plot couldn’t produce enough to be incorporated into the food bank coffers.
Was someone watering them, as instructed? He’d texted Julie, one of the volunteers, a few times but she’d been largely uncommunicative. Which honestly stung. Val sometimes felt like a pariah, as if his staff thought of him as tainted, now that he’d crossed the threshold of the monument to consumerism that bore his name.
Most of the time, he realized that was projection on his part.
Tonight, he just wished he wasn’t going to have to work some magic to get Sabrina to his house. Why couldn’t she say yes to dinner without throwing out another hundred reasons against something so easy and natural as romance? It was maddening. Baffling. Challenging.
He had two hours to get the majority of the cooking done before he had to leave to pick up Sabrina, so he put that time to good use. The spaghetti sauce needed to simmer for at least an hour, and the cheesecake had to bake for as long. With some music piping through the surround-sound system, his kitchen became a place of cleansing and, by the time six forty-five rolled around, he’d started humming along with the One Republic song currently playing.
But it wasn’t until he rang Sabrina’s doorbell and she answered it wearing a little black dress that he completely forgot about Jada Ness.
“Wow.”
Other words and phrases evaded him as he drank in the sight of Sabrina’s lithe form encased in black silk. Normally, she wore suits with long skirts or tailored blouses with flowing pants, all of which looked amazing on her. The red dress from the design event had been his personal favorite. Until now.
Not seeing her for the last few days had built up the anticipation for this moment in a wholly unexpected way.
“What are you doing here?” she asked and a line appeared between her eyes.
“Picking you up for dinner.” How he got that phrase out when all of his brain cells were currently circulating in his groin, he’d never know.
“I have a date.”
“Yes, you do. With me.”
She shook her head mulishly. “I never said yes. And I made other plans. I was expecting my...other plans, or I wouldn’t have answered the door.”
Oh, so it was going to be that kind of night, was it? Val had a pretty fair temper when he got riled, a by-product of letting his heart rule his head, but he couldn’t help that the sudden and vivid image in his head of Sabrina on a date with some other man made his blood hot. “Cancel. Whatever your plans are, they cannot compare to what I have in store for you.”
Her gaze darkened with conflicting emotions and the fact that she’d let him see that...he could scarcely take it all in. But intrigue—that was the one he liked the most. It coupled with the swirl of temper in his veins in a very interesting way, doubling his resolve to close this deal with her.
She was getting in his car so he could drive her to his house for dinner come hell or high water. He needed her tonight for a hundred reasons, many of which he’d ignored until this moment, when the outcome of the night hung in a precarious balance.
“My plans are none of your business,” she informed him unceremoniously and checked her phone with fanfare, as if to make it really clear she was expecting someone who would be here any minute. Val could show himself out, leaving her to her date. Too bad if he’d mistakenly assumed that she’d come to dinner strictly because he’d already spent hours preparing for this.
Except, her other date wasn’t here yet. Val was. And he was nothing if not resourceful when he wanted something, especially if there was someone else already in line. Years of practice at beating out Xavier gave him an edge he did not hesitate to capitalize on.
“Your ‘other plans’ is late. I’ll make you a deal.” He jerked his chin toward his car. “Blow him off, and have dinner with me. If, within an hour, you’re not having the best date of your life, I will personally call your ‘other plans’ and apologize. Then I’ll drive you wherever you want to go, even if it’s to his house.”
It was a risky proposition, sure. She might say she hated every minute of the date to be spiteful. But he didn’t think so, not with that thread of intrigue running through her expression. She was wavering. He could feel it.
“Come on, Sabrina,” he entreated her softly. “I made you a vanilla bean cheesecake. Guaranteed to melt in your mouth. Just have dinner with me. That’s all. No agenda.”
“You already cooked something?” she asked and either couldn’t or didn’t care to hide her shock. “You were that confident I’d be coming over?”
He shrugged. “I was that confident that I was going to do everything in my power to get you there. I want to show you how romance is supposed to work. Your ‘other plans’ has zero consideration for that, and it’s his loss, I say.”
The long pause scuttled over his nerves.
“It’s a deal,” she said out of nowhere, and he almost fell over in shock. “I’ll cancel. But this is not a dress for dinner in. I’ll just change—”
“No!” That might have come out a little too forcefully, but oh well. “It’s perfect. That’s the most amazing dress I’ve ever seen. You look fantastic.”
Uncertainty pulled at her mouth, warring with the warmth his compliment had brought to her cheeks. “It’s not too much for a dinner in?”
“Absolutely not,” he muttered hoarsely, fighting to keep his eyes on her face instead of on the slice of cleavage revealed by the V-neck of the top. The backless red dress had been provocative, no doubt, and he’d enjoyed dancing with her since it meant he got to put his hands on her bare skin in a publicly approved activity. But this was something else. Sexy and ripe to be peeled off her delectable body. The memory of the feel of her under his hands roared to the forefront, and he couldn’t have stopped himself from wanting her with bone-deep need had he been held at gunpoint.
“Leave it on,” he told her in no uncertain terms.
“Okay.” A smile climbed onto her face, and he caught the full force of it in his gut.
“If that’s settled, then we have a dinner to get to.” Val held out his arm for her to take, which she did, much to his delight. It was a struggle not to break out in a victory dance right there on her front porch.
Once he had her settled into his SUV, he dove into the driver’s seat and peeled away from her curb as fast as the laws of physics would allow. He wouldn’t put it past her to jump out at a red light.
“You’re not going to text your date?” he asked casually. She shot him a loaded glance that he caught from the corner of his eye. “What? All’s fair in love and wa
r, but it sucks to wait on a woman’s front porch. I’m not that heartless.”
“I have a confession to make,” she said with a bit of mirth lacing her tone. “My plans were with a girlfriend and, while you were busy sweeping me off my feet, she texted me that she’d gotten stuck at work.”
“Oh.” Val had no idea what to do with that information. “So I guess that means you’re not going to be evaluating the fun factor of our date in anticipation of taking me up on my offer to apologize to your ‘other plans.’”
“It was inventive, I’ll give you that.”
“Is that why you said yes?” Probably he shouldn’t have asked unless he really wished to know the answer and, at this point, he couldn’t imagine anything she told him would work in his favor.
“No. I said yes because I can’t remember the last time someone went to so much effort to get me on a date.” She lifted a shoulder. “I’m human. I like to feel special.”
“You are,” he murmured, and it wasn’t just a line spouted off to get him further with her.
It was stone-cold truth. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone to so much effort for a woman either. Usually they came onto him—like Jada—and he had his pick.
Enough of that. Jada Ness did not belong in his thoughts while on a date with Sabrina. A real date that they both agreed was a date. It was still enough to make his head spin that he’d somehow pulled off this coup.
“I like your house,” she said as they emerged from the walkway between the detached garage and the main building. “I was expecting something a little more modern, but it fits you.”
Val glanced around the hundred-year-old house that his mother had given him on his twenty-fifth birthday. Xavier had taken their father’s ancestral home, naturally, but Val much preferred this one in River Forest. Traffic wasn’t too bad from here to downtown and he liked the quiet.
