Come on. It’s important for you to mingle and spread the word about our hotel. Show them the brochure. Talk it up. Besides, your date is on her way.
His pulse kicked up.
My date?
Don’t worry, I packed your tux on the plane and Matt brought it to the hotel. They’re holding it for you in the lobby. Have a nice time! Alfred will bring you both back to the Batcave when you’re ready. Gotta run. You can thank me tomorrow.
Who’s my date?
There was no response.
Chloe!
The texting had stopped. Dammit, his sister was toying with him. And now he had the rest of the meeting to wonder who would show up tonight. Was this supposed to be a real date or was it part of the interview process?
Hell, who was his date?
He’d already spent time with Freja and Tonia. Would it be pretty, sweet, kind Michele?
He’d missed seeing her today. She was the only chef he’d connected with on a personal level, and quickly, which made him wary. Plus, he couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss in the kitchen. And how he wished he’d pressed her up against the kitchen island and kissed her back.
He honestly hoped it wasn’t Michele because he would be distracted by her. When she was close it was hard to concentrate on anything but the light catching in her hair and eyes, and the way her smile crinkles tugged at a soft spot in his chest, the rise and fall of her breasts when she breathed...damn. He was in big trouble if his date was Michele.
Worse. If the big boys at the dinner party intimidated her, bringing out her insecurities, she’d be going home tomorrow. He had a job to do and couldn’t make any more excuses for her. He’d have to cut her loose. And that would be the worst.
* * *
Michele felt a little funny sitting in the back of the limo while Alfred drove, but he said he wouldn’t have it any other way. “You look like a movie star, Miss Cox. And you’ll be treated like one tonight. You just relax. The drive up the coastal highway is beautiful.”
He wasn’t kidding. The highway meandered and curved along the blue-green craggy-rocked Pacific Ocean. It was breathtaking.
“And here we are. Seal Point,” Alfred said, as he pulled up to the lobby of a two-story building.
She’d expected something larger, more ornate, and was pleasantly surprised by the rustic wood-sided lodge atop the rocky cliffs. Torches lit pathways through gardens and into groves of lacy dark green Monterey pines. It felt intimate, somehow. The sun was an orange ball of wax melting into the Pacific Ocean. The sea breeze softly caressed her skin. It was a beautiful night, fragrant and warm. The setting was so romantic. And inside the lodge was the man who had the power to make her professional dreams come true and tempt her into destroying everything. She wanted him and knew she shouldn’t act on her desires.
Alfred opened her door. “Ready, miss?”
As I’ll ever be.
She’d never had her makeup professionally done before today, nor her hair swept up so perfectly. The dress Chloe had purchased for her was pale pink and clung to her curves like a cloud.
For the first time since she’d left her hometown to work for Alfieri, Michele felt beautiful. Special. Even if it was just a fantasy for tonight. She was at a stunningly romantic place, but she wasn’t here for romance. It was her job to make Jeffrey Harper look respectable, which meant she wasn’t going to gaze into his pretty starburst blues or let his deep voice delight her, and she was certainly not going to kiss his full lips.
This was a business dinner, nothing more. She could do this because Jeffrey needed her. And if she proved capable here, perhaps he’d choose her for his restaurant.
You’ll fail like you always do. You’ll embarrass Jeffrey in front of everyone.
“Shut up, Alfieri!” she mumbled under her breath.
“Miss? Did you say something?” Alfred still stood by the door waiting for her to get out.
Her legs seemed unable to move. “If I asked you to drive me back to the Batcave, would you do it?” Her voice was shaky.
Alfred leaned closer and whispered, “Is that what you want, miss?”
If I leave now, I might as well fly straight home to New York.
She swallowed. “No. I’m just a little nervous. I’m not used to parties like this.” Or being on a date with a famous, wealthy man. Who was she kidding? Any man. She hadn’t been on a date in years. “Where do I go?”
“I believe the people in the lobby can direct you to the restaurant where the dinner party is taking place.”
She nodded. “Sure, okay.”
“Miss Cox? I’ll be out here waiting for you and Jeffrey. Say the word and I will drive you back to Plunder Cove. But I believe you will be great tonight. Do as Chloe said and simply be yourself.”
“Thank you, Alfred.” She took a deep breath and walked toward the lobby, all the while wondering what word she needed to say to get a ride out of here should things go terribly wrong.
Michele didn’t ask the people at the front desk for directions. She simply followed the sound of piano music and laughter. The restaurant was beautiful. Lots of windows, tables with white cloths and candles. She searched the room and found...him.
Holy wow, he looked great in a tux. His broad shoulders nicely filled out the jacket. The thin black tie dipped inside behind the single button he still had buttoned. The perfectly tailored tux highlighted his thin waist and long legs. Her mouth watered.
Jeff was scanning the crowd, too. Looking for her? When his gaze met hers, she lifted her hand to wave. His mouth opened in what seemed like surprise. He rose to his feet and lifted his hand back at her. His lips formed one word. Wow.
Her breath caught in her chest, her heart pounded, her lips turned up of their own accord. All the other people in the room, including the pianist, disappeared. There was only Jeffrey and that smile on his lips.
It was just like the first time she’d seen him. The way he looked at her heated up her insides.
Respectable business dinner, she reminded herself, even as she wondered what his kiss would taste like.
Twelve
At first, Jeff wondered if he’d been stood up. He suspected people were all asking themselves the same question he was asking: Where was his date?
The better question: Who was his date?
Dinner was about to be served and he was running out of small talk to use with the people at his table. He was disappointed by the lack of intelligent conversation and frustrated with the power plays. The organizers of the event had snubbed him and put him at a table with low-level hotel management—the flunkies. The big guys, the movers and shakers in the hotel industry, were all sitting together at the front of the restaurant next to the windows with the ocean views. They drank and laughed loudly, while he was at the back with these jokers, clenching his fists under the table. If his date didn’t show up soon, he’d leave.
And then he saw her.
Michele walked into the room wearing an amazing pink dress that bared her shoulders and accentuated her breasts, waist and hips. Her blond hair was swept up into an intricate twist, exposing her sleek, long neck. One gold chain, with what looked like a heart, dipped into her cleavage. His gaze followed that heart and then traveled slowly back up to her parted glossy lips and smoky eyes. Lots of kissable skin.
“Wow.”
She’d come to be by his side during a boring business dinner. That was all. But he was aroused just by looking at her. His heart pounded out a distress signal, a warning not to get in too deep. And then she raised her hand and smiled and things suddenly got real.
Someone at his table asked him a question, but he ignored it. His aching body was drawn to her and he was striding in that direction before he realized he’d risen from his chair.
“God, you look gorgeous.” He took her arm without even thinking about it.
&nbs
p; “So do you.” Her cheeks pinked and she looked at him from under her long lashes. Her voice was husky, and soft enough that only he heard her. No flirtatious tone. She said those words like she meant them.
Hell, he was going to have to sit down.
Guiding her to his table, he wished they could leave now and go somewhere quiet to be alone, but the food was arriving and she’d come all this way for him. To help him represent his dream to the industry movers and shakers. He needed to at least feed her before he whisked her away.
He pulled her chair out and she kept her gaze on his. “Thank you.”
Sexy without trying. He was in big trouble.
He sat quickly and introductions were made around the table. Michele smiled and shook hands with each person and offered appropriate comments as she did so. Like she was really listening.
“I ordered steak for both me and my date. I didn’t like the other option.” When he scooted his chair in, his thigh bumped hers under the table. The sudden touch was electric. She didn’t move away, so he kept his leg right where it was.
“Ah, so you were going to eat mine, too.” She smiled. “I might share if you’re good.”
Michele looked at him for a beat too long and then, as if she had to collect herself, she turned back to the lady next to her. “Tell me about your hotel. Does it have a restaurant?”
The food arrived and Jeff silently chewed his steak, watching Michele. Her whole body seemed to absorb what each person had to say. She laughed easily and gave restaurant advice. Calling each person by their first names, she seemed to remember what each one had told her about themselves. She interacted with them as if she was the one here to represent Harper Industries, not him, and she even added a few plugs for Casa Larga, as if she really cared about the place. The way she described the grounds and the private beach made him want to vacation there.
Hell, she was amazing.
Michele, in her gracious, easy way made him realize a cold hard truth—he was being a superior, egotistical ass. Like Finn.
And RW.
The thought that he was turning into his father made Jeff shift uncomfortably in his chair. He’d sworn to himself that he would never be arrogant, unfeeling and cruel like his father. He’d fought hard against those family genes for most of his life. That’s why he’d created Secrets and Sheets in the first place—to stand up to the arrogant bastards who thought they owned the world. Sure, Jeff was cocky and funny on television, but he wasn’t a superior jerk.
Was he?
Music started up outside and people left their tables and went out on the patio to dance.
She leaned over and whispered in his ear, sending chills bumps into his scalp. “Are you okay? You haven’t said a full sentence in over an hour.”
He scooted even closer and whispered back, “I’m an idiot.”
They were eye-to-eye, breath-to-breath. She blinked and he could see confusion in her expression. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, sweetheart. You’re doing everything right.”
She studied his expression.
“I swear, it’s not you. I’m just...off tonight,” he said.
“You’re allowed. I don’t expect you to be perfect.”
Damn. She’d done it again.
Michele had a remarkable talent for surprising the hell out of him. Most people he knew did expect him to be perfect—his agent, producer, fans, dates and RW. As a kid, he was never good enough. For the show, Jeff was supposed to be at the top of his game and improving his performance every episode.
Before this moment with Michele, he hadn’t realized how exhausting his life was.
“It happens to the best of us,” Michele went on. “If this party isn’t working for you, we could leave now, or...” She cocked her head toward the music. “We could shake out the sillies on the dance floor. That’s what my sister does when she’s feeling...off.”
He lifted an eyebrow. He’d never heard that expression before. “Oh, it might be a lot sillier than you think. I don’t know if you’ve heard the rumors, but the truth is, only one of the Harper men knows how to dance and it isn’t me. Sure you want that kind of embarrassment?”
“No worries. My standards are really low. The first and last time I danced was at my junior prom. And I’m not sure you could call that dancing.”
He stood to pull her chair out and whispered in her ear, “A dancing virgin, then.”
Her lips quirked. “I guess so.”
When she rose, she gave his arm a squeeze, sending off an alarm that reverberated low and deep in his psyche. “I didn’t have time to mention it before, but I want to thank you for paying my sister’s fees. I will pay you back. I promise.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“I think it is. But I am grateful for the gesture.” She kissed his cheek. “Dance with me.”
She turned to walk outside, expecting him to be right behind her. He wasn’t.
Suddenly, he regretted agreeing to dance. What if he couldn’t hold her, touch her, feel her velvety skin on his, without wanting more?
Without wanting too much.
He exhaled slowly through his nose and stiffly followed her outside.
“Over here,” she called to him. “I thought I lost you. Isn’t this place beautiful? The Monterey pine grove and the moonlight shining on the water?”
He couldn’t talk. All he could do was feel.
He wanted this, needed her.
The music slowed at that moment and he took Michele in his arms and held her close.
He didn’t want to let her go. He had to keep reminding himself that this was business, not a date, not the start of something he couldn’t finish. A woman like Michele would want more than he could give her. She deserved more than him.
Michele put her head on his chest and he pressed the small of her back, holding her against him. She felt good in his arms, really good.
“How do my moves compare to those at the junior prom?” he asked, his voice sounding surprisingly normal.
Gazing up at him, she smiled. Her dimples drove him crazy. “You, Jeffrey Harper, are so much better. This is definitely dancing.”
Michele had one hand on his shoulder while the other was wrapped around his waist. As they swayed to the love song, he listened to her breathing, felt her heart beat against his chest.
Slowly, he ran a finger over her bare shoulder. Silky and soft. He wanted to kiss the curve of her there, the hollow, and work his way up to her delicate earlobe.
“Michele?”
“Hmm?”
“My closest friends call me Jeff.”
Her breath caught. “Jeff,” she said softly.
The sound of his name on her lips lit a fire in his groin. Feelings he had not felt in a long time burned through his blood.
He wanted this, to hold someone who was compassionate and real. He wanted to experience...something. Everything.
Was this what his siblings had meant by feeling a real connection?
“Remember when you kissed me in the kitchen?” he asked.
She stopped swaying and buried her face against his chest. “I don’t know why...that was so...embarrassing.”
“Yes. It was...for me.” He tipped her chin up so he could see her eyes when he said, “I really messed it up. Will you please do it again?”
Her lips parted in surprise and then turned up into the sweetest smile he’d ever seen. “I promised myself I wouldn’t kiss you again.”
“Pretty please? What do I have to do, Miss Cox? Juggle clams and catch them in my teeth?”
She burst out laughing and then covered her mouth. She cut her eyes to see if she’d bothered anyone on the dance floor. He was sure she’d only bothered him.
Her laughter did amazing things to him.
“You got me,” she said and s
miled.
He liked the sound of that.
She put her hand on his cheek and rose up on her toes. This time, when her lips touched his, he kissed her back. Not gently.
It had been too long since he’d kissed a woman he cared about and his body reacted with a landslide of need, ache, fire. It felt good. Real.
He deepened the kiss, diving in, tasting, touching, wanting. He pressed her body to his. Enjoying the sensation of her breasts against his chest, her thighs touching his. He stroked her shoulder with his free hand. God, her skin was so soft, her lips perfect.
He’d come to this event to make a good impression on the other hotel owners and now he didn’t give a damn about any of them. He kissed Michele as if he’d never kissed a woman before and still he wanted more.
He felt like he could never get enough.
The band played a faster song and he reluctantly pulled away to look at her. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes hooded. Sexy. Her hips moved to the sensual beat. He liked it.
He liked her.
Putting his hands on her hips, he tried to follow along, not quite catching up. She raised her eyebrow and slowed the movement, rubbing against him as she did, pressing, teasing. Hell, he liked that more. Cupping her jaw, he kissed her again, soundly.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a woman dressed in a black sequined gown pass by, puffing on her cigarette. She turned around and took a long look at Jeff kissing Michele.
“You’re disgusting,” she snarled at Jeff. “First the maid in the hotel and now this? Stay away from him, honey. He’s a pig.” The woman threw her cigarette on the patio, ground it out with her heel and stomped away before either one of them could say a word.
Anger boiled inside him.
“Dammit!” How dare Finn’s manipulations ruin this, too.
“Ignore her,” Michele said softly. “She doesn’t know you. People only see what they want to, not what’s true. You are so much more than a stupid GIF.”
He turned his head and studied her. Was she for real? Could she see him—past the show, the press, the GIF?
Matt’s words rushed back to him.
A Convenient Scandal Page 9
