Ivy pushed the receptionist’s comment out of her mind. She focused on the double doors to her left, her fingers wrapping around the polished brass door handle. She could do this. She’d graduated at the top of her class from Harvard Medical School. She’d presented to boards, spoken at conferences, and fought for funding. She was an accomplished, professional, thirty-five-year-old woman. She could have a simple conversation with the man who ran her company without being intimidated.
Ivy stepped into the room. The door clicked shut behind her. And she realized her mistake.
Carter Burke wasn’t merely a man.
Of course, she’d seen pictures of her billionaire boss. She’d even heard him speak at a conference a few years ago. But that day he’d stood at a podium half a football field away from her table in the back of the room.
What she wouldn’t give for a little added distance right now. Men like Carter Burke were best admired from afar or through a lens. Up close, his intense gaze, square jaw, and perfectly trimmed facial hair fought with his muscular chest for her attention. No, he wasn’t topless. She probably would have fainted from one look at his bare upper body. But his white dress shirt hung open at the collar, revealing inches of sculpted, tan chest. Her imagination took over from there. He possessed the broad shoulders and powerful arms of a man who could lift her without breaking a sweat.
No. Not me. He’d embrace a beautiful heiress, or a famous actress, instead.
She glanced up at his face. His short, dark hair held a touch of curl. At the right moment, one of those locks could fall across his forehead, teasing the thick eyelashes above his piercing blue eyes.
This man went to war…He fought…
And he’d survived. More than that really. He’d amassed a fortune.
He stared at her openly, and she no longer considered the young receptionist the mouse. Standing in front of this muscular package of combustible testosterone, she felt like the prey in the lion’s den.
I hope he plays with me before he devours me.
His unwavering gaze homed in on her lips. She felt his scrutiny and knew she’d come up short. He exuded confidence and sexual heat. She wasn’t a match for his power.
But if she walked out now, without a word, she would never forgive herself. She’d come too far, fought too hard, to quit simply because the way he leaned back in his leather chair awakened a riot of sensual awareness.
He’s just a man.
And her sister was right. She spent too much time in her lab. But she would address that problem later, after she secured her funding.
She ran her tongue over her lips. She could taste the artificial berry flavor.
She parted her lips. “Good evening, Mr. Burke.”
Chapter 3
Carter Burke could recognize risk a mile away. It was a skill he’d learned while serving his country and later honed in the business world.
He stared at the woman who’d walked into his office.
I wasn’t expecting her.
The stranger with the sparkling lips was definitely not his date for the evening. Carter had seen a picture of his business associate’s sister. The up-and-coming model who wanted to use the gossip sites’ constant interest in Carter’s personal life to advance her fledgling career stood close to six feet tall in heels. His buddy’s sister styled her long, dark hair to match that of a reality TV celebrity. And he’d bet she only wore a button-down shirt the morning after meeting up with her latest lover.
He should have paged the temporary receptionist and had her escort this enigmatic woman out of his office. He should have told her there had been a mistake. He should have remembered that he no longer gambled with chance. Then he should’ve called and found out why the woman who’d begged her brother for a date with him was late.
Instead, the mystery woman spoke. “Good evening, Mr. Burke,” the blonde said.
He waited for her to continue. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. A strand of her long hair fell from her bun. She tucked the errant hair behind her ear and squared her shoulders as if preparing for battle.
“Yes?” he murmured. She didn’t belong here, but, damn, she was intriguing. His days revolved around the expected—commitments, appointments, responsibilities. This stranger had marched in and presented him with a mystery.
She stepped closer to his desk and planted her feet. Her blue eyes locked on his. The determination in her steady gaze distracted from her dazzling lips, which were literally sparkling. She didn’t belong here. But she wasn’t going to let that stop her.
Carter studied her mouth. His office now smelled oddly of berries and sugar.
I wonder if she tastes like berries, too.
There was only one way to find out. And it promised to be a helluva lot more entertaining than taking a social-climbing model to a party as a favor to a man who essentially worked for him.
He could unravel this conundrum now, learn her name and her reason for bursting into his office on a Friday evening, and then send her away. Judging from her battle-ready poise, she might protest. But he would win. Carter Burke always won.
I spend my whole damn life buried behind spreadsheets now. Studying numbers to stay at the top of my game.
He could send her away right this minute. Or he could let the mystery play out. Tonight. At the gala. When was the last time he’d chased the unexpected?
“Mr. Burke,” the mystery woman began again. “I’m Ivy Grant and—”
“I’ve been expecting you.” He smiled, but did not stand and extend his hand. This wasn’t business. Not tonight.
Her brow furrowed. “You have?”
“Indeed.” He spoke with the confidence he’d learned in the military and sharpened in the boardroom. “I look forward to attending the charity event with you this evening. I humbly thank you for agreeing to be my date. My assistant is at the Pierre Hotel. I have a suite of rooms reserved for you. I have also taken the liberty of providing a gown and everything else you may need.”
“Your date?” The words slipped through her sparkly lips. “For tonight?”
He nodded. He had a reputation for quick thinking that had saved lives while he’d served in the Special Forces, and held together deals when he’d entered the business arena. But he’d never gone to these lengths for an unfamiliar woman.
Because other women deliver the expected.
He picked up the cell resting on his desk. “Shall I have my driver meet you downstairs?”
She stared at him for a moment. He expected her to set him straight. He waited for Ivy Grant to laugh and tell him that her husband or boyfriend would object to his plan for the evening. He hadn’t spotted a ring on her left hand, but a woman with those lips, with that fire in her eyes, that passion…there must be someone, man or woman, in her life.
I bet she doesn’t allow work to rule her life.
“You will meet me at the hotel?” she asked.
“I will be there at seven, Ms. Grant.”
She nodded. “Tell your driver I won’t be needing his services. I’ll take my car to the hotel.”
Then she turned briskly and walked out of his office. Carter stared out of the wall of glass. She had to have known there was some mistake. But she still went for it—she was playing along.
“Who are you, Ivy Grant?” he murmured to the empty office.
And what am I doing pursuing you?
An adventure. A thrill. A mystery. A change of pace from profit and loss statements, and from women who bored him.
He dialed his executive assistant and barked out orders, demanding that the fifty-something woman who ran his life with the precision of a five-star general execute the plan he’d spelled out to his date. “And Mrs. Lindsey, while you’re seeing to the arrangements, have someone find out who Ivy Grant is.”
He ended the call and then dialed his associate. He left a message canceling his plans with the man’s sister. He didn’t bother offering an explanation. He didn’t have one, beyond losing his mind over a strang
er.
The landline on his desk rang as soon as he ended the call on his cell. “Burke.”
“Sir,” the receptionist seated on the other side of his office door said. Her tentative tone suggested she’d been afraid to enter his office and have this conversation in-person. “Ah, sir, Mrs. Lindsey called. She wished to inform you that Ivy Grant is a scientist at the Burke Initiative Lab in Westchester.”
“One of the cancer researchers?” he asked. But he knew the answer. He’d met with the team on his last visit to the lab, when he’d agreed to further fund their research. And not one of those researchers was a woman who wore sparkling lip gloss.
“No, sir,” the secretary answered. “Dr. Grant works on a different project.”
“Thank you.”
He replaced the receiver, closed his eyes, and held his head in his hands. The mysterious Ivy Grant worked at the lab he had planned to close in the next fiscal quarter. And judging from the way she’d burst in here tonight, a designer gown, makeover, and fancy gala wouldn’t soften the blow.
“Ah, hell,” he murmured.
Tonight’s adventure might crash and burn before it even began.
Unless she falls for the dress.
Tonight, Ivy Grant was his date for a charity event at a five-star hotel. He would make damn sure she was the belle of the ball. Champagne, dancing, a late dinner at a table for two at one of the city’s best hidden restaurants—tonight, he would lead her on an adventure. They would forget about the Burke Initiative’s investments, her lab, and her research for a few hours. It had been so long since Carter had had any fun. Tonight would be the night—a no-strings-attached adventure around New York City with a beautiful, mysterious, glittering woman. Finally, a chance to live in the moment, for once.
He picked up his cell and dialed his number one contact. His assistant answered after the first ring.
“I don’t want just any dress,” he said. “Find Ms. Grant a gown that will make her feel like a princess.”
Chapter 4
“Shall we begin with your gown, Ms. Grant?”
The gray-haired woman, who’d introduced herself as Mrs. Lindsey, had issued an order disguised as a question. She wore a tailored pantsuit and a frown born from disdain.
Does this piece of clothing come with funding for a clinical trial?
But Ivy kept the question to herself and simply nodded. Only one person could give her what she wanted, and she’d left him in his office under the mistaken belief that she was his blind date for the evening. The people in this room couldn’t help her secure funding. But they were ready to transform her—or rather Mr. Burke’s mystery date—into a pampered princess.
She’d walked into the suite’s sitting room mere minutes ago. She’d frozen one step inside the door when six people had stood to meet her. They’d all known her name, grinning as they’d taken turns repeating their authoritarian leader’s sharp greeting.
If I had this many hands working in my lab…
But Ivy doubted the woman standing behind a table where a manicure station was set up would wish to trade her tools for a microscope—not when her current job landed her in one of New York City’s most opulent hotel suites.
Ivy stole a glance around the room as Mrs. Lindsey disappeared through a set of double doors. Into the bedroom? The current room held a dining table surrounded by six chairs that looked as if they’d come straight off the set of Downton Abbey, a marble fireplace, and a seating area that had been rearranged to accommodate Mrs. Lindsey’s minions.
Excuse me, but there’s been a mistake. I’m here for funding. Not pampering in a hotel room twice the size of my apartment.
Mr. Burke must have planned this elaborate set-up for someone else. When she told him the truth, he would be furious. Or maybe he’d already discovered his mistake. Maybe the formidable Mrs. Lindsey would kick her out of the suite herself. Any second now…
“Mr. Burke had this gown sent over.” Mrs. Lindsey returned to the sitting room and handed the hanger holding the silver tulle dress to one of her helpers. “The Marchesa arrived minutes before you.”
“I had trouble finding parking,” Ivy said, a defensive note creeping into her voice.
Because I refused to use the hotel’s overpriced garage, she thought. But no, she didn’t need to highlight her limited budget to the woman offering a dress that belonged on the red carpet. The gown beckoned like an invitation to stay, at least for now. Maybe Mr. Burke still hadn’t realized his error.
“We have two others if you don’t care for the Marchesa,” Mrs. Lindsey added.
“I love it,” she said softly. She should look away. She wasn’t here for gowns and manicures. She needed funding, not fairy tale dresses. But she wanted to try on the dress.
“I hope it fits you.” Mrs. Lindsey’s gaze scanned her hips.
Of course the universe would send me a judgmental fairy godmother, Ivy thought. But if I’d known I would be wearing a ball gown this week, I might have cut back on the chocolate.
Or not. She always kept a bowl of chocolate Kisses beside her computer. They helped her think. And one day she planned to work off the extra calories at the gym. When she found the time to join a gym…
Though she might have a lot of extra time on her hands if she failed to secure the funds required for the next stage of her research.
“Mr. Lewis can make small adjustments while you have your hair and makeup done,” Mrs. Lindsey continued. “But I’m afraid we don’t have time for more than a few stitches.”
In that case, I hope it fits, too.
One look at the flowing, semi-sheer silver dress and the word “funding” vanished from her vocabulary—for now. She knew that after she wiggled into the dress, polished her tired fingers, and let the hairstylist work her magic, she could use the new and improved version of herself to request more money from her billionaire boss. If he could afford a makeup team on a moment’s notice, then he could fund a clinical trial.
Of course, Carter Burke might keep his makeover posse ready and waiting to transform the random women who walked into his office. Maybe instead of golfing or yachting, he dedicated his leisure time to fulfilling women’s Cinderella fantasies.
Once upon a time, I dreamed about wearing dresses like this Marchesa…
Then she’d turned ten and set her ambitions for medical school. After graduation, she’d thrown herself into medical research with a single-minded focus. But wouldn’t it be nice to wear a dress like that just this once? Plus, if she refused to try it on, she wouldn’t have a chance to speak with Mr. Burke again.
She glanced at the shining fabric as it caught the light, and reached out to touch the magical tulle—and found a hanger thrust into her fingers.
“The bedroom is through those doors,” Mrs. Lindsey said with a sharp nod. “I will send Mr. Lewis in once you are dressed.”
Ivy walked into the bedroom with a fresh wave of guilt hot on her heels. Any second now Mrs. Lindsey would march into the room and explain that her billionaire boss made a mistake. Then her sharp-tongued fairy godmother would take the Marchesa, and demand that she leave.
She carefully placed the gown on the bed and began stripping off her clothes. She wanted to at least try on the dress before they escorted her out of the hotel. After years of studying, working, scraping by as she cared for her sick father, as she buried him and then lost herself in her research—after all of that work and worry, she’d landed in a fairy tale. She might be kicked out before midnight, but she would try on the dress.
Ivy stepped into the gown and drew the fabric up and over her hips. The fit was snug, but not tight. She slipped her arm through the single loop. Then she carefully zipped up the side closure and turned to the freestanding oval mirror.
Oh, my…
An asymmetrical cutout nestled between her breasts. A band of shimmering fabric hugged her waist. A train of tulle floated behind her, blooming from her right shoulder. And she could just see the outline of her legs through
the skirt’s almost transparent, flowing layers.
Any minute Mr. Burke will figure out his mistake and I will have to leave this gown behind. I’ll have to tell myself that it’s just a dress. But this dress has a name.
She ran her hands over the skirt that moved as if it were an extension of her own body. The gown felt like hope and sparkled as if it were lined with the promise of adventure. She could be anyone in this dress—even a billionaire’s date.
Impossible. I’m here for…
She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She was here to fight for her hopes and dreams. And tonight those dreams included the Marchesa.
Chapter 5
The look in Carter Burke’s eyes was the whip cream on top of her fairy-tale fantasy. He stood in the center of the empty suite and stared at her transformation. And she didn’t see a hint of surprise. Instead, his full lips curved into a smile that said, Come with me, princess. We’re skipping the ball.
He slipped his hands into his tux pockets and walked over to a pair of champagne flutes standing on top of a marble table set. “You look stunning, Ms. Grant.”
I feel like a princess, she thought.
“It’s the gown.” She glanced down and ran her hands over the sparkling skirt.
“Hmm,” he murmured and reached for the flutes. “Champagne?”
“Yes.” She took the glass from his hand. Her fingers brushed his and her eyes widened. But then she set her jaw and raised her flute in the air. “Cheers.”
She took a small sip and lowered the bubbly drink. She held the glass in one hand while the other tapped the delicate flute. Part of her wanted to follow him down the path labeled Fairy Tale. But would Carter Burke really increase her funding after she had deceived him like this? This whole fairy tale was clearly meant for someone else. And earlier, in his office, he hadn’t given her a chance to explain her presence. Now, they were alone in the suite. She had to tell him the truth. “Sir—”
“Carter.”
“Mr. Burke—”
“When you say my name like that I can’t object,” he murmured.
Once Upon a Kiss Page 2
