by Alison Kent
Chapter Four
Susannah held her breath. It really didn’t matter if Carter had seen her with another man. She didn’t do anything wrong. Well, she did kiss him back, whoever he was, but that wasn’t her fault. Was it?
She scanned the crowd. Had anyone else seen her canoodling with a stranger when she was engaged to someone else, someone who worked at the Hotel Marceau along with her and most of the rest of these people? Her boss, Joan, the director of sales, was right over there, giving her a speculative glance. How much had she seen?
Damn. Just when she’d had all the righteous indignation on her side, she’d gone and kissed some other guy and turned Carter into the injured party. Now she was even more confused about whether she should break up with him or not. Maybe he would save her the trouble and break up with her.
“Susannah,” Carter said heartily, making a beeline for her through a narrow break in the crowd. “Darling, where have you been?”
“Where have I been? At home, waiting for you to pick me up!” she returned. “I finally drove myself, and I just got here at the stroke of midnight. Carter, where were you?”
“Not now, darling. Manley is right behind me. I’ve been shepherding him around all night.” He rolled his eyes. “Duty called. You know how it is.”
“Well, Duty didn’t bother to call me. And neither did you. There I was, sitting at home all by myself, while New Year’s Eve withered away. Would a phone call have been too much to ask?”
The handsome stranger hovered right there. “Doesn’t sound like too much to me,” he put in, as Carter turned and glared at him.
Pointedly ignoring the other man, her fiancé took her elbow. “Suze, don’t be this way. I need your support, not some petty disagreement. You know as well as I do that Manley can put me at the top. But not if my wife isn’t behind me.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Mr. Great Kisser said kindly, “but I think I should point out that Susannah is standing next to you, not behind you, and she isn’t your wife. Not yet.” He smiled as he added, “Maybe not ever.”
“Suze, who is this guy?” Carter demanded. “What’s going on here?”
She wondered if there was a convenient hole she could sink into. “He’s no one,” she tried. “I mean, we just met, while I was looking for you.”
“Yes, that’s exactly right,” her mysterious man agreed. “I’m no one. But Susannah ran into me while she was looking for you, and she gave me something that was intended for you. So I think I’ll give it back to you if that’s all right.”
“What?” Carter asked in confusion.
Susannah was every bit as mixed-up as he was. What in the world was this guy talking about? “Something I gave you that’s meant for him?” And then it all made sense. “Oh, no,” she murmured. “Oh, no.”
But it was too late.
Mr. Great Kisser pulled back his arm and walloped Carter, right in the jaw. As she watched in horror, her fiancé went down like a ton of bricks.
Chapter Five
“I didn’t ask you to hit him!” she cried, as people swarmed around Carter.
Okay, so punching the guy was probably a bad move on his part. “He’s a jerk,” Trey explained, holding her back. “And he’ll be fine. You’re way too good for him. And you were going to break up with him, anyway.”
“Oh, my god,” she whispered. “My life is over. My fiancé is flattened by a party crasher and probable lunatic, my boss may have seen the whole thing and will probably fire me out of solidarity with my wronged ex-fiancé, and I don’t even know your name.”
“Hey, you were intending to hit the guy, too,” Trey protested. “I just did it for you.”
“I wasn’t going to sock him,” she countered. “Just a little slap. Not this big melee, this whole public brouhaha.”
Trey laughed. “Oh, yeah. Slapping him and throwing an engagement ring at him is so discreet and inconspicuous.”
“Well, I…” She frowned. “You’re right.”
“Susannah, listen, maybe this is for the best. Did you ever think sometimes fate has your number and calls your name?” he asked, running a hand down her smooth, silky arm.
“No,” she said slowly. She brought up her gaze, meeting his squarely. “I don’t believe in fate. I believe in creating your own destiny through hard work and careful planning. Fate is for people who just aren’t strong enough to control their own lives.”
She looked perfectly serious, too. And why shouldn’t she? He’d once felt exactly the same way. Trey shook his head sadly. “Then I take it this is not a good time to ask you to run away to Paris with me?”
“Paris?” Her mouth fell open. “You are insane. I don’t even know your name!”
“Trey,” he said softly, watching her expression. “My name is Trey.”
“What happened?” Carter asked, holding his jaw, as one of the waiters hoisted him to his feet.
The waiter shrugged. “I didn’t see it. I just heard a scuffle and then you fell down. Maybe you hit your head.”
“Yes, that’s it,” Susannah said. “You fell down. I think you tripped.” To Trey, she whispered, “Don’t you think you’d better go before he remembers or someone else tells him you hit him? You’re a party crasher, for goodness’ sake. They could throw you out. They could arrest you!”
“I don’t care.” Trey shrugged. The least she could do was give him credit if he was going to knock down someone on her behalf.
“Can somebody get me a drink?” Carter mumbled. “Scotch, rocks.”
“Yeah, sure. Why don’t you come with me?” the waiter suggested. “We can get you some ice for your jaw.” And he and Carter began to move away through the crowd.
“Okay, everyone, that’s enough. Nothing to see,” ordered a tall, slender brunette in an outfit so hideous it had to be expensive, as she elbowed her way to the center of the controversy. “Susannah? What was that all about? Is Carter okay?”
“Yes, Joan, he’s fine. See? He fell and he’s getting some ice for his, uh, head.”
Trey could tell by the way Susannah snapped to attention that this Joan woman was someone important. Joan narrowed her eyes at Trey and then Susannah. “Aren’t you going to tell me who your friend is?”
Susannah smiled stiffly. “He’s not with me. He’s, well, he’s an old friend of Carter’s. Trey, meet Joan Sanders.” She paused. “My boss.”
The woman arched one dark eyebrow. “A friend of Carter’s? Is that why he kissed Carter’s fiancée and then knocked him down?”
Uh-oh. Busted.
Chapter Six
“Oh, the kiss. New Year’s Eve, you know,” Susannah hastened to assure her boss, as Trey offered, “Nothing important—midnight, that kind of thing,” at the same time.
She looked at him, he looked at her, and then he added, “And there was no fight. Parker and I—“
“Carter,” Susannah muttered.
“Right, right. Carter and I were just fooling around,” Trey offered. “Old pals. Roughhousing. Haven’t seen each other in a while.
“Boys will be boys,” Susannah said brightly, her heart sinking. Joan had seen the whole thing. The jig was up. She didn’t like Joan anyway, and she’d known very well if she broke up with Carter she could risk losing her job, but she hadn’t planned to go out quite so dramatically. She snagged another crystal flute of champagne.
“Uh-huh.” Joan didn’t appear convinced, but at least she didn’t shout, You’re fired! or anything. “Susannah, do you have a minute? Maybe Trey can go check on his old friend Carter while I steal you away. Okay?”
“Oh. Sure.” Susannah smiled, trying to be brave. “Trey was just leaving. Right, Trey?”
He nodded, sticking his hands in his pockets, ambling away as requested. She sighed with relief, telling herself she was glad to see him go. It would make her life so much simpler. And yet…She also felt a good deal of regret watching him disappear into the crowd. He was one good-looking man who knew how to kiss like nobody’s business. Who was
he? What was he doing here? And why in the world had he asked her to run away with him to Paris?
She’d gone to work for the Hotel Marceau in the first place because the Marceau part of Manley & Marceau International was headquartered in Paris. She’d harbored this silly dream about moving up the ranks and ending up in Paris. Had Mr. Great Kisser known that? If so, how?
Too late to find out now. He was gone. And she didn’t even know his last name.
“I was talking to Mr. Marceau, and I wanted him to meet my reps,” Joan announced. “If you can take your eyes off that man for five minutes. Oh, and by the way, your lipstick is smudged. And your dress is kind of, you know, falling off one shoulder. Whoever he was, but he left behind some major devastation.”
Feeling like an idiot, Susannah righted her strap, brushed little sparkles off her shoulders that had fallen from her hair, and pulled a compact out of her tiny evening purse. As she redid her lipstick, they were joined by Kerry, another of the convention sales reps. Kerry was very sweet, and Susannah actually liked her a lot, even though she felt sorry for her sometimes. Kerry was shy, and it wasn’t easy being shy and trying to succeed in sales.
“Hi, Susannah.” Awkwardly, Kerry added, “Joan, were you looking for me?”
“I was just rounding up all my reps to meet Mr. Marceau,” the boss noted.
“Well, I’m here.” Kerry sighed. “I lost my date a while ago, but it doesn’t matter. It’s just my brother.”
“You brought your brother on New Year’s Eve?” Susannah asked. And she’d thought she had it bad.
Kerry smiled. “It’s not like it sounds. It’s just, he’s leaving for Paris tomorrow, so this was his last night in town and I thought…
She was starting to get a bad feeling about this. “Leaving for Paris tomorrow?”
“Uh-huh.” Kerry perked up. “Oh, there he is. Over by the bar. Isn’t he adorable?”
Before she even followed the path of Kerry’s finger, Susannah knew who she would see. The mystery man. Mr. Great Kisser. And Kerry’s brother. Who’d ever have guessed?
Chapter Seven
As Susannah stared, Kerry explained, “He’s a commodities trader. You know, Chicago Board of Trade. Or I should say, he was a trader. Made a fortune, lost a fortune, made a fortune again. Decided to quit and move to Paris, buy a bookstore and live in a garret on the Left Bank.” She laughed. “My brother! He’s always been a little, you know, whacked.” Then she stopped, noticing the expression on Susannah’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She sipped champagne as she tried to process this new information. Not a party crasher. Not a bad boy right off the street, mingling and making nice while he planned to steal people’s jewelry or something. Just meek little Kerry Jameson’s brother.
Joan smiled her most wicked smile. “Don’t worry, Kerry. She’s just realized that the man she slapped the hell out of, the man she was giving mouth-to-mouth to at midnight, is your brother.” She chuckled. “I actually saw him first and was kind of hoping to move in on him myself but then Suze nabbed him.”
Kerry was staring at her as if she had three heads. “You—you nabbed my brother? You made out with my brother? But you’re engaged, Susannah.”
“I didn’t mean to. It was just a mistake,” she rushed to assure her. “See, Carter never showed to pick me up and I was really mad and I came here to throw the ring at him and break up with him, but the ring wouldn’t come off, so I slapped him instead, only it was Trey. Your brother, I mean,” she added. “Then he kissed me because it was midnight. That was the only reason. And, Joan, I was not trying to nab him. I swear.”
“No prob, Suze,” Joan offered, patting her on the shoulder. “He’s leaving for Paris tomorrow. What would I have done with him anyway?” Giving him another look, she made a tsk-tsk noise with her tongue. “It is a shame, though, that all the cute ones seem to escape before I get a chance. But, hey, if his dream is to live in a garret, he’s not my type anyway.” She glanced at Susannah. “Or yours. Our sensible, responsible Susannah Quincy would never go for a guy like that. Right, Suze?” Joan laughed.
Susannah sighed. She had no idea who she would go for at the moment. She’d thought that driven, ambitious Carter was her type. Until he’d decided business was more important than she was and stood her up on New Year’s Eve. Meanwhile, Trey’s kiss had been pretty spectacular. Way to rock her world.
Maybe it was just spectacular enough to change types altogether. Or maybe that was the champagne talking.
Was it champagne that was making him look so sexy, lounging there in his jeans, leaning on the bar? He turned, saw that she was looking, raised his glass and winked at her.
And she felt the impact slide down her from the top of her head to the end of her pointy red stiletto heel.
“Susannah, are you coming?” Joan waited expectantly. “We’re off to see Paul Marceau and score some brownie points with our charming conversation.”
“You go on ahead.” She couldn’t seem to break away from Trey Jameson’s intoxicating gaze. “I have something I need to take care of.”
Chapter Eight
“So…” Trey swiveled on his stool far enough to gaze at her, and Susannah wondered what in the world she thought she was doing, passing up a chance to schmooze with one of the company presidents, just so she could try to get a handle on someone whose own sister thought he was nuts. Lazily, he inquired, “Did Kerry tell you all about me?”
“Not really. A little.”
“Sorry I’m not some party crasher off the street? Did that blow my excitement quotient?” he inquired with a certain edge of sarcasm.
“I—I don’t know what you mean.”
“Sure you do.” He gave her that devilish smile again, and she had to clench her jaw to stop from drooling on him. “I’ve got you figured, Susannah. Especially now that I got a gander at the boyfriend.”
“Fiancé,” she corrected.
“Not for long.” His lips curved in a mocking smile. “You think you want the go-getter corporate mover-and-shaker guy, the guy who you can buy an SUV with, have a nice house in Oak Park and maybe a lake house in Wisconsin. Kids later. Private schools. You think that’s what you want for yourself. Because you think you’re a good girl right down to your white cotton undies.”
She could feel her face suffuse with rosy color. “I don’t wear white cotton undies.”
“Prove it,” he whispered, his blue eyes raking her.
“Well, I could if I wanted to,” she contended, which was actually true. This dress required a certain lack of foundation garment. Which was both scary and exciting. Not that she planned to show him what was or was not under her dress. Not for even a second. But wouldn’t he be surprised? “I don’t feel the need to prove anything to you,” she added hastily.
“Too bad.” His smile widened, growing cockier. “Fess up, Susannah. When you saw the way I was dressed, when you thought I crashed the party, when you thought I was up to no good and rotten to the core, you loved the idea of hanging out with the bad seed.”
“You’re still the bad seed.” Deciding she was probably as certifiable as he was, but unable to walk away, Susannah took the stool next to him at the bar, sliding her dress up to manage it, careful not to reveal more than she wanted to. “You may be a slightly less bad seed now that I know you’re not a jewel thief, but you’re still a bad seed. Kerry told me how you ran away from your good, steady, cushy job to smoke black cigarettes and argue existentialism in cafés on the Left Bank.”
“Okay, first, I don’t smoke. Second, I want to run a bookstore, not argue existentialism, which went out of fashion, what? Forty years ago?” As she began to object, he raised a hand to hold her off. “And third, you don’t know much about traders, do you?”
“Commodities traders?” She admitted, “No, I don’t.”
“It’s not a good, steady job. It’s like gambling. And it’s a lot crazier and more reckless than moving to Paris.” He shook his head, chewing on the
stem of a maraschino cherry he’d stolen out of a bowl on the bar. “So you thought I was a jewel thief, huh?” He grinned. “I give you points for creativity. That’s a new one.”
“Well, you said you used to work with diamonds, or something like that. I don’t know, I…” Embarrassed, she grabbed a cherry, too, twirling the stem between her fingers. “Plus you seemed awfully interested in my ring.”
His gaze softened. “It wasn’t the ring, Susannah. I was awfully interested in you.”
Chapter Nine
She didn’t know what to say. Whichever way she turned, Trey seemed to throw her a curve. “You really are nuts, you know that, right?” she inquired, leaning closer to him at the bar, somehow thinking that if she stared at him long enough, she would figure him out.
“Nope. Not nuts. Just willing to take a risk.” He took a healthy swig of his drink, which looked like water with a slice of lemon in it. Didn’t smoke, apparently didn’t drink, and she’d thought he was a bad boy?
“But, Trey, you asked me to run away to Paris with you. Tomorrow! You don’t even know me,” she persisted. “Don’t you think that’s pretty crazy?”
“Nope. I just believe you have to seize the moment and go for what you want when you see it.” He spun his stool around so that he was looking out into the party. “Look at this place, Susannah. Framed posters of cancan girls, a miniature Eiffel Tower, curvy red velvet chairs right out of Maxim’s…Somebody was trying to make us think of Paris, don’t you think?”
He’d lost her again. “Yes. So?”
“So here I am, bumping into you on New Year’s Eve, offering you a chance to go to Paris, and there’s Paris all around you. Don’t you get it?” he asked impatiently.
“No, I don’t.”
“It’s kismet, it’s fate, it’s your destiny, looking you right in the face.” He slid his stool her direction, taking her hands, holding them between his own, staring at her intently. “I know what your job is like, because my sister has the same job. I know what you think you want—to climb higher in Manley & Marceau and run a hotel of your own. Am I right?”
