Captivate, book I of the Love & Lust

by Miles, Amy

  Ashlyn holds her tongue, careful not to say exactly what she’s thinking. “One meal. That’s all I’m asking. Smile, make nice with the press, and then let them all see the chemistry between you and Slade.”

  A perfectly penciled eyebrow rises as Tamsin turns from the window. “Chemistry? Do you really think so?”

  “Of course. The press will be thrilled to know it is you on the cover with Slade. They will eat that up, especially if you lay it on thick at the release party at the Osterely Park and House this weekend.”

  Tamsin grins. Her teeth are perfectly straight and bleached to perfection. Even without makeup she is stunning, but the small lines around the corners of her eyes can just be seen without the layer of foundation she usually cakes on. Not that Ashlyn would ever dare to point out that little detail.

  “I’ve always loved that place. So rich in history and men that are, well… rich.” Tightening the sash about her waist, Tamsin spins and heads through the arched doorway that separates their two rooms. She pauses in the entryway and then turns back, leaning around the wall. “So what are you planning for the evening?”

  Ashlyn sighs and leans back in her chair, casting an exhausted glance at her laptop. “I’ll be working.”

  Nine

  Slade whistles as a black town car pulls up in front of his mother’s flat two weeks later. Its shiny, sleek design would be impressive anywhere, but in his neighborhood, it stands out like a diamond among thorns.

  “Now this is nice.” He grins as his driver rises from his seat and comes around to open Slade’s door as if he were someone important.

  The gray-haired man bows low as Slade sinks into the plush leather. He closes the door and makes his way back to the driver’s seat. Slade runs his hands along the supple back seat, enjoying the silky texture beneath his fingers. He could really get used to this.

  “How long until we arrive?” he leans forward to ask the chauffer as they pull onto the road and head toward the motorway.

  “Little over an hour, sir, depending on the traffic.”

  Slade leans back and closes his eyes. Perfect.

  The ride takes just under an hour in the end and by the time he arrives, his nerves have got the better of him. He rubs his palms down his black trousers, fighting to slow his rising heart rate.

  Slade has no real idea of what to expect from tonight. Sophie gave him two rules to abide by and a blood-chilling threat to go along, should he choose to ignore them. The first is to stay glued to Tamsin’s side, unless asked to leave by one of the members of the press or publishing bigwigs. He thinks he can handle that one easily enough.

  The second is to go home alone. Now the fact that Sophie felt the need to even mention this one is rather intriguing to Slade. After spending time partying with Tamsin, it’s no big secret she likes him. And when he says like, what he actually means is that she’s hot to trot.

  On the dance floor at the Ministry of Sound nightclub, Tamsin proved that she can be both a tease and utterly mind-blowing. He has never met a girl who can move like she does, prowling like a panther, sleek and beautiful. He, for one, would love to be caught in her claws.

  This whole hands-off warning from Sophie just might make this boring schmooze party interesting after all.

  He has never been to an event this fancy before. To be honest, he’s never been in a tux before either. The pressed white shirt feels a bit tight around his neck so he unhooks the first couple buttons and leaves his bowtie on the back seat when the driver opens the door for him.

  The old man’s eyes widen in surprise when Slade holds out a tip and tucks it into his coat pocket. “Cheers for the ride.”

  “Certainly, Mr. Collins.”

  Slade moves a few feet away from the car and pauses to look at the home sprawling before him. Osterely Park and House, situated in the heart of West London, is a grand estate all lit up with candles and white lights against the dusk sky.

  “Stunning, isn’t it?” a voice calls from behind him.

  He turns to find Tamsin Archer swaying her hips as she approaches. His mouth goes dry at the stark transformation before him. Her vixen halter and leather pants have been replaced by a jaw-dropping evening gown.

  Crimson curls pile atop her head, held in place by mother-of-pearl clips on either side. Her makeup is bold but beautiful, her hazel eyes rimmed in black. Her full-length black dress sports a mid-thigh slit up one side, revealing her shapely legs and five-inch heels.

  The straps of her dress are thin and tied at the back of her neck. They taper down to cup her ample chest, the neckline plunging below her belly button. At her bust, a waterfall of diamonds dangle over her well-defined abdomen. The back of her dress is nonexistent until you reach just above her tailbone, amplifying her curves to perfection. The silky material shifts over her body like water.

  Slade can feel his mouth gaping open. No matter how he tries, he can’t seem to convince himself to lift his gaze above her torso to meet her in the eye. Tamsin laughs and slips her arm through his. “You look nice too,” she purrs in his ear.

  He swallows hard and manages a nod. Bloody hell! Sophie was right to warn me!

  She leads him up the twinkling path, giving him details about the rare 18th century garden that has been restored to its former glory by the new owner. She sweeps her hand before them as they approach the house and gushes over the gorgeous white pillars that rise high above them on the portico.

  Stepping through the double doors, they enter a breathtaking entrance hall easily large enough to hold a hundred people. Slade fights to tear his gaze away from Tamsin long enough to notice the intricate details of the high-ceilinged room.

  Tamsin’s heels tap against the floor as they pass through a long gallery with gilded framed paintings on the wall and exit out onto the west lawn where a massive white marquee has been set up. White Christmas lights weave through the trees, giving the lawn a warm glow. Lanterns flicker every few feet, lighting the path before them. Heaters have been placed evenly around the canopy, concealed by potted plants.

  “Isn’t it gorgeous?” Tamsin whispers, pointing to the tent filled with people milling about. Slade can hear laughter over the din of conversation.

  “Sure is,” he says, suddenly feeling very unsure of himself. A photo shoot was one thing, but even though he shares many of the same characteristics as Ender James, Slade is concerned he won’t be able to pull this off. Just how far does Tamsin expect him to take this?

  She turns and smiles at him. He lifts his gaze from her chest just in time. “Are you nervous?”

  “No.” He scoffs, praying he sounds convincing. His heart is pounding like mad in his chest as he smiles back at her. “I was born for this.”

  She squeezes his arm and leans in so close he imagines she’s about to fall right out of her dress. Wouldn’t that be a highlight of the evening?

  “You’ll do great. Just stick with me and follow my lead. You’ll know exactly what to do.”

  Slade clears his throat as she removes her hand from his arm and slides it down to twine her fingers through his. “Come on. Let’s go show the world who Ender James really is.”

  The evening chill hardly has a chance to sink through his tuxedo as Slade is pulled from one couple to the next. With each glass of champagne Tamsin consumes, the more hands on she becomes. Slade quickly realizes what his role is for the evening: look pretty and let Tamsin feel him up. That is a job he is totally on board with!

  He dances with women twice his age, submitting to the frequent backside pinches as he twirls effortlessly around the dance floor. Ashlyn had been a nervous wreck when he first began practicing with Tamsin at the hotel three days ago, but his technique is flawless.

  From time to time he glances up to see Tamsin firmly attached at the hip to several groups of men. It doesn’t surprise him in the least that as she weaves through the crowd, all eyes are on her.

  She is simply stunning in that slip of silk she dares to call a dress. It molds to her with per
fection, leaving hardly anything to the imagination, and if he isn’t mistaken, she is certainly on most of the gentlemen’s minds this evening.

  “Thank you for the dance,” the woman in his arms gushes. Her cheeks are flushed and her hair slightly windblown, falling out of its coif at the back of her head. A diamond the size of a pound coin, if not bigger, hangs in the hollow of her neck. Her fingers glitter with more jewels than a gem shop.

  “It was my pleasure, Mrs. Talbot.” He bows low and passes her back to her husband as the final song draws to a close.

  The faces and names are all a blur to him as the evening winds down and a trail of taillights begins to weave back out of the estate grounds. Slade’s feet ache and he’s sure he will have a permanent grin etched into his cheeks for weeks to come.

  Tamsin calls out a farewell to the last couple remaining and sinks into a chair beside him. Her hair has begun to unravel, falling in sexy ringlets about her face. Her eyes are slightly glazed but still bright with excitement from the night’s activities.

  Slade watches as the waiters and grounds men begin to tear down the tables and buffet. Most of the food has been left behind, but he has no doubt every drop of alcohol was consumed. The nighttime breeze seems to be permeated with the scent of bubbly champagne.

  He himself only had a couple glasses. He has never really had the taste for champagne, but it can take the edge off in a pinch.

  “You did beautifully,” Tamsin praises as she flounces into the chair across from him and raises her hand to signal a waiter for another glass of champagne. “Everyone simply adores you.”

  “Didn’t really do much,” he says, but she waves him off, lifting her glass just enough to capture the last few drops before passing it over in exchange for a new one.

  “You smiled, you made women swoon, and if I had to guess, I’d bet a few guys are going to get lucky tonight because of you.”

  Slade snorts and waves off the waiter’s offer to get him a drink as well. “Are you having a laugh?”

  He can’t quite tell if she’s mocking him or just reeling from the effects of one too many glasses of champagne. If there’s one thing he’s learned about Tamsin over the past week or so, it’s that she enjoys drinking. It relaxes her, makes her feel alive.

  “Trust me, you had those old ladies all hot and bothered!” Tamsin grins, eyeing him with her own mixture of barely restrained heat. She glances down at her glass. “I’m afraid I might have had a bit too much to drink tonight. Would you mind helping me back to my room?”

  Slade glances toward the house, surprised. “You’re staying here tonight?”

  “We,” she corrects. “I booked us a couple of rooms. Your driver left an hour ago so I asked for a reservation for us.”

  “What time is it?” Slade feels almost naked without his watch. He left his cell phone at home as well. Ashlyn had made it very clear how unprofessional it would be for him to take a call while on the job. The girl certainly does love her rules.

  Tamsin rolls her head back to stare at the moon just peeking out from the clouds overhead. “After midnight. The witching hour.” She grins mischievously as she stretches out her foot and rubs it along the inside of his calf.

  “I didn’t realize it was so late.” He clears his throat and shifts his foot away. Darn you, Sophie!

  He is amazed at how quickly the night actually went for him. It hadn’t taken him long to realize that anyone who was anyone in the literary business was there tonight. This was a great opportunity for him.

  “Thanks for choosing me to be here with you,” he says, leaning back into the chair. The sound of nighttime animals fades into the background under the shouts of men shifting chairs and putting tables away. A group of waiters have begun to tear down the final bits of the buffet table. A loud curse rises as a young boy trips with one of the hot plates.

  Tamsin laughs and turns her attention back to him. “What makes you think I was the one who chose you?”

  Slade smiles, thinking back on how miserable the shopping trip with Ashlyn had been. He’d never met a woman so adamantly distant or so rushed to escape, but it wasn’t all bad being with her. He did enjoy the ease with which he would make her blush. Deciding to make a game of it, Slade actually dragged out their time together just to see if he could make her blush ten times.

  It only took him trying on a few outfits and parading them before her to win that personal competition.

  “We both know I didn’t get any votes from your assistant.”

  Her forehead wrinkles for a second but then lifts with recognition. “Ashlyn? Oh, she’s not really my assistant. More of a partner I guess you could say. I wouldn’t be here without her.”

  “Be that as it may, she’s really got a chip on her shoulder when it comes to me.”

  Tamsin sinks lower in her chair, lifting her bare feet to cross them on another chair in front of her. “You’d be surprised. She was actually the one who told Sophie that you’d be perfect for the role. Said you not only had the look but had great potential.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, that was before you were a dick and didn’t even recognize her at the photo shoot.” She laughs. “Classic move by the way.”

  “I wasn’t a dick. I was just nervous,” he counters. Now that the topic has been broached again, Slade feels even guiltier about it. He didn’t like the pain he saw in Ashlyn’s eyes the other day. If he were to be honest, he would admit that he knows he did more than offend her. He hurt her.

  Tamsin leans forward. “Would you have forgotten me?”

  Slade purses his lips, knowing there was no way, short of blunt force trauma, that he would not have remembered her. “Not a chance.”

  “See. And that’s my point.” He frowns as he rubs the back of his neck. He doesn’t like where this is going… straight down the “Slade is a dick” road again. “She’s a girl. You’re a guy, and she was completely invisible to you. Are you starting to put the pieces together here, Sherlock?”

  She sloshes her champagne around in her glass before taking another sip. “Ashlyn is like a sister and her opinion matters to me. Right or wrong, she said she thought you’d be perfect so I took her advice, and here you sit. I may have had to nudge her a bit into admitting it was the right decision, but she went to bat for you first.”

  “So you didn’t think I would be a good fit for the role?”

  Tamsin’s laughter sounds like the tinkling of glass during a toast. “You’re freakin’ hot. Of course you were perfect for the role.”

  Her answer, although pleasing to hear, makes him feel a bit empty. “Thanks, I think.”

  Her smile does something fierce to his insides as she leans forward, giving him an excellent view straight down her dress. That former emptiness melts away instantly as it turns to warmth pooling in his stomach. “So,” she purrs, placing her hand high on his thigh. “How about that walk?”

  Slade watches her gaze drift over his broad chest and then fall lower. He can see a hunger in her eyes that he is all too familiar with. Letting his own gaze freely grace her hardly concealed curves, he feels himself nodding in agreement.

  He holds out his hand to help her to her feet, realizing she’s a bit more unsteady than he thought. She loops her foot through her heels and bends over to retrieve them. Slade watches the curve of her spine as she dips low.

  When she stands, she wraps his hand around her waist. His fingers dig into the supple flesh of her side and he closes his eyes against the heat stirring within.

  Do I really want to get fired over this? Glancing down at Tamsin, his stomach clinches as he realizes he’s more than prepared to kiss this job good-bye for a night with her.

  The steps prove a bit too tricky for Tamsin so he lifts her into his arms and carries her into the house. Her head falls back over his arm, lengthening her neckline.

  Slade’s breathing increases as his gaze slips beneath the fabric of her dress. Bloody hell, I’m in trouble!

  “Do you know whi
ch rooms are ours?” he asks, following the lead of one of the waiters. When they stop in front of a rich, wood-carved door, the man holds out a single key. “Just one?”

  The man smiles, casting a quick glance over at Tamsin. “You have a lovely night, Mr. Collins.”

  Slade sets Tamsin down on her feet and unlocks the door. It opens to reveal a stately suite. The walls are draped in gold. The four-poster bed is decked out in ornate, intricate detail work that screams of antique charm.

  Tamsin crosses the room, her hips swaying seductively as he works to get the key out of the door. The metal skeleton key feels right at home in this grand old house.

  “Got it,” he declares as he lifts the key for Tamsin to see. His mouth gapes open and his hand falls to his side.

  Standing before him, Tamsin reaches behind her neck and unties the straps of her dress, letting them fall free to her waist. His eyes travel over her bared curves as she reaches up and pulls the clips from her hair. The silken tresses fall about her shoulders as the vixen returns.

  “Close the door, Slade.”

  He nods numbly as he kicks the door closed with his foot. He watches as she slowly trails her fingers down her neck, over the curve of her hip, and down to her waist. When she wiggles her hips, her dress flutters to the floor and he realizes he’s not about to get to sleep any time soon.

  Ten

  Ashlyn watches Slade from the corner of her eye. His heavy snoring isn’t what annoys her. Her noise-cancelling headphones have helped greatly with that. No, it’s the fact that for the past four hours of this international flight, he’s had his sunglasses plastered to his face, with the shield down over his window.

  She should have known Tamsin would talk him into going out to party. Two nights in a row is nothing for her. She’s used to staying up until dawn, catching a few hours of sleep, and then popping out of bed in time to look stunning in front of the cameras.

  Slade, on the other hand, is a newbie to this lifestyle and the consequences are obviously starting to kick in.