by Lori Foster
He barked a laugh. “Flounce? Yeah, I bet you’d love for me to lose the towel, wouldn’t you? Admit it. And here you pretend to be so proper.” Shaking his head, he didn’t give her a chance to correct him or take umbrage. “Grab a seat and take a load off. I’ll be right back. And Gillian?”
She met his gaze with a raised brow.
“No peeking.”
Rolling her eyes, she gave him her back and strolled across the room to take a seat. When he disappeared from sight, she let out the breath smothering her.
For one heart-stopping moment, she’d thought he would drop his towel, and she’d been very undecided on whether to leave, or stay and get an eyeful.
Her pulse still sped and she felt too warm. Moseying into the dining room, she set her purse and briefcase on the table and then removed her black linen-blend jacket. For hours, she’d agonized over what to wear, but in the end, she decided not to let Drew Black influence her wardrobe choice.
She liked dressing feminine, so she’d opted for a sleeveless, scoop-neck, sheath dress with a tailored fit. It hugged her in all the right places, emphasizing her waist, and ended just below her knee. The black and white pattern of the dress went well with her dark hair. Black pumps were always businesslike, and these were heeled enough to give her needed height in dealing with Drew.
To keep herself from picturing Drew getting dressed, she looked around at what she could see of his house.
His front door opened into a spacious living room with high ceilings and lots of natural light. He had enormous plants, traditional furniture, modern art . . . altogether it looked great. Very stylish. She wondered if he’d decorated on his own or hired someone.
She was just about to peer into the kitchen when music started, and she turned to see Drew standing a few feet away, dressed in worn jeans and an open, casual white shirt, bare feet braced apart. As he stared at her, he buttoned up the shirt.
Gillian’s mouth went dry again. What was it about barefoot, jean-wearing men that was so . . . elemental, so macho? “I hope you didn’t rush on my account.”
His gaze slid over her, hot and personal, studying her throat, bare shoulders, and cleavage, before it tracked down to her legs.
One side of his mouth quirked up. “You’re making this really easy, you realize.”
“This?”
Rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, he approached her. When he stood right in front of her, he said nothing, just kept looking at her while he finished with his shirt.
“Drew?” Damn him, he left her so unsettled. “Really, I don’t—”
With his voice deeper than usual, he asked, “Do you ever wear your hair down?”
Her jaw loosened. “I don’t see—”
“Because I bet you look sexy as hell loosened up a bit, don’t you, Gillian?”
Her stomach fluttered and her breath caught. Get a grip, Gillian. Standing her ground, she thrust her chin up and glared at him. “You are outrageous.”
“I know. But it’s still true. You look hot all spruced up, but I’m betting you look even better freshly tumbled.”
He found her sexy? Freshly tumbled? Gillian shook her head to clear it. “Enough of that, Drew. We have business to discuss. Important business.”
“That we do.” He looked into her eyes, and his were so dark, so filled with purpose, that she felt herself falling. “But we’ve got all night, don’t we?”
All night. What did he mean?
He said nothing more, but Gillian was so aware of him, her every nerve ending started to tingle.
As he reached around her, she found herself leaning in—and caught his small smile.
“Have a seat.”
The fog cleared. He’d . . . pulled out a chair at the table for her? And she’d thought . . .
Heat rushed into Gillian’s face, but she tried to pretend it hadn’t. Her voice trembled, ruining her crisp tone when she said, “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He circled around to a fancy bar situated in the corner of the dining room. “Drink?”
“No, thank you.” Obviously she needed her wits about her to deal with him.
“I ordered dinner. It’ll be here in an hour. If you’re hungry now, I could grab something to snack on.”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. Thank you.” In fact, given her overboard reaction to him, she’d do well to get this done and skip dinner completely. She tried a smile. “Maybe we can get started?”
“I’d love to.”
Now why did that sound so sexual? Maybe it was that expression of his that accompanied the words.
She started to speak, and he said, “Fran told me they’re paying you well.”
Sensing a trap, Gillian went still. Cautiously, she masked her expression and took the time to consider her response. She did make a ton of money, and she had no reason to be embarrassed about it.
She put her shoulders back. “With my record of success, I now earn a top-of-the-line wage.” Without modesty, she added, “That’s because I’m the very best at what I do.”
Ignoring what she said, Drew slouched in the hard seat and studied her. “Outrageous, I think is how Fran described it. She said she’s paying you an outrageous amount of money.”
Unwilling to let him bully her, Gillian got out her paperwork, set it neatly aside, and folded her hands on the tabletop. “Your point?”
“You don’t want to lose this job.”
“Ha!” An understatement, but surely he had more at stake than she did. “You can’t afford the repercussions if I should quit.”
“Touché.” His gaze warmed. “So we both want this . . . arrangement to work, agreed?”
Bantering with Drew Black was like playing with fire—tricky, and she could get burned so easily. Warily, Gillian said, “I suppose that’s a fair statement.”
So much satisfaction showed in his expression, Gillian felt like running. I will not let him get to me.
The corners of his mouth curled up. “The thing is, if you quit, or if you can’t handle the heat, Fran will just find herself another broad to harass me. But she won’t shit-can me, Gillian. She and Loren might not want to admit it, but they need me.”
Gillian feared he was right. Even while ranting about his less-than-sterling qualities, Fran Ferrari had extolled his business virtues. “I can see that you believe it.” His conceit knew no boundaries.
“I know it. They might have funded this venture, but I’m the one who made it worthwhile. I’m the one who took a floundering organization and turned it into a multimillion-dollar enterprise.”
Very true. She gave a blasé shrug. “So?”
“So when it’s all said and done, I’d prefer to work with you.”
She would not be flattered by that. Raising a brow, she asked, “The devil you know?”
“The devil I’ve already met.” His gaze dipped to her mouth, then her breasts. “A sexy devil.”
She started to remonstrate with him, and he cut her off. “But if you hightail it out of here, I’ll still be around, make no mistake about that. Fran and Loren might want me reformed, but they still want me.”
Gillian gritted her teeth. “Again I ask—what’s your point?”
“I have a deal for you.” He sat forward, hands flat on the tabletop. “You can take it or leave it, and to hell with consequences. But make your decision knowing the consequences will be worse on you than on me. I might get stuck with a woman less appealing than you. But you”—he rose from his seat—“won’t be able to meet your financial goals.”
What did he know of her financial goals? Damn Fran for broadcasting her private business. What she wanted, how long she might have wanted it, was not his business.
Rather than let him know that he’d gotten to her, she pretended it didn’t matter. And it wasn’t easy, because now that he was standing, Gillian felt almost vulnerable in her seat.
She tapped her fingernails on the tabletop. “Are you going to get to the deal anytime soon?”
&n
bsp; He grinned and walked around to prop a hip on the table by her chair. The side of his calf brushed her knee. “You think my cursing and my temper are the root of all evil, right? No, don’t answer. I’m not an idiot. I know how women like you think.”
Affront made her forget some of her determination. “Women like me?”
“Yeah.” His voice went deeper. “Women who want to homogenize the sexes. You pretend disdain for men who act like men. You want us to be all smooth and glib and proper. But deep down”—he leaned toward her—“at night, in your bed, you know damn good and well you want a real man.”
Gillian opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“You want a guy who’s comfortable in his own skin. A guy who is different from a woman, in every way.”
As heat rose beneath her skin, she sputtered. “You . . . are so full of it.” And maybe a little right. But it was her dreaded secret, and she would never admit it to him.
He let that go. “You want me to control myself in public? No problem. Half the shit I do is just for effect anyway. But if I suck it up and censor myself, then you have to put up with me being me . . . in private.”
Oh, now that was too provocative for her to stay seated. Gillian slowly stood before him. “What, exactly, are you saying?”
CHAPTER 3
LOOKING down into her wide eyes, seeing the flush on her skin, Drew almost forgot that this was part of a plan. He almost forgot that everything he did right now was to achieve an end goal.
He’d just told her that he did outrageous things for effect. The SBC audience appreciated his “man’s man” attitude; the more he cursed and ranted, the cruder he acted, the more they loved it.
He’d lay bets that right now, standing so close to him, Gillian wouldn’t remember that.
Ramping up the machismo, but keeping his stance relaxed, he said, “I want you, Gillian Noode, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise.”
“But that’s . . .” She started over. “You can’t just . . .”
“But I do. How and where doesn’t matter. Hell, the dining table here would work for me. I’m not picky or all that traditional.”
Hot color scalded her face. It was anger, not embarrassment. “No.”
“When was the last time you got laid?” He touched the pearl at the end of her chain necklace, resting almost in her cleavage. Damn, but her skin was warm and so silky . . .
“None of your business.”
“That long ago, huh?” He toyed with the pearl, just to brush the backs of his fingers over her skin again and again. “When was the last time you even had a date?”
She grabbed his wrist to stop his teasing. “I get asked out all the time.”
“But you don’t accept.” Drew wasn’t certain how he knew that, but he did. Gillian seemed so set on business, she probably didn’t leave herself any time for dating. “Do you?”
She still held his wrist, which left his hand all but resting on her, just below her collarbone. After several beats of time, she shook her head. “No, I usually don’t accept.”
“Why not?” He toyed with the pearl again, the caress far too personal, far too intimate. To his surprise, she dropped her restraining hand.
After a very deep breath, she said, “I’m choosy.”
Not all that choosy. Hell, she was here now, with him, letting him tease her. “Know what I think?”
“You think? Really? Wow, I’m so impressed.”
Drew almost laughed. Damn, but she had an acerbic wit. He liked it. “I think you hang out with refined gentlemen who just don’t do it for you.” Using the chain, he tugged her closer. “You want a real man, don’t you, honey?”
“Do you mean a misogynistic jerk? You are referencing yourself, aren’t you?”
Misogynistic? “Ah, now Gillian, you have me all wrong. I adore women.”
She scoffed. “To serve your needs.”
“Yeah, I like sex as much as the next guy. If you gave it a chance, you might like it, too.”
“I like it fine!”
Now he did chuckle. “Well, that’s good, because here’s our deal.” He released the necklace to slide his hand around her nape. “You tell me the first image-improving gig you want me to do, and I’ll give it my best shot.”
She stared at his mouth and replied in a whisper. “Perfect. I have an appearance set up for you with—”
“After I get to kiss you.” He brushed his thumb on the side of her throat. “No tongues or anything. Yet. I’ll just kiss you . . . here.”
“You . . . what?” She strained away from him, not so much to escape, but to stare up into his face with utter disbelief.
As if explaining it, he said, “I want to kiss you. Just here, on your throat.” Again, he brushed his thumb over her racing pulse. “Three seconds. I’ll let you count, okay? After that, you tell me what it is you want me to do—for the image, I mean, not sexually. Today it’s only a kiss. No more. I insist.”
“You insist?”
“Yeah. Hell, I’m ready to go, but I don’t want to rush you.” He held back his grin when her eyes narrowed. “It’s a good exchange, Gillian. Surely a hard-core business broad like you isn’t afraid of one little three-second kiss on her throat, right? And then you have the power. You tell me what to do first, and whatever it is, I’ll do it.”
Now she shoved out of his arms and moved several feet away. Facing him, she crossed her arms and glared. “This is outrageous even for you.”
“Yeah, I know. But this is private—and that’s the deal, remember? In private, I get to be me. Out in public, I’ll tone it down as per your specifications.” He winked.
Surprising him again, she paced while saying, “I can handle this, no problem.” With a glance up at him she admitted, “I’m even a little curious, to be truthful.” She looked away again. “But this might cross the line of business ethics.”
“You think?” It damn well crossed the line in a big way, and they both knew it. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
She stopped to glare at him again. “If I agree—”
His heart started pounding hard. No way had he expected that.
“What would your next demand be?” She waved a hand. “As you said, a kiss is easily forgotten.”
“Now there’s a challenge.”
“But I have a four-month period planned for rehabbing your reputation. It can’t be a kiss one day, and then . . .”
“What?” Drew wanted her to say it, just to watch her face when she did.
She didn’t balk. With a shrug, she said, “And then sex the next time. I won’t bargain that far, so don’t even consider it.”
“Deal. We’ll keep things fully clothed. How’s that?”
She gave one brisk nod.
“But I have a condition. Whatever it is you want me to do can’t start for a few days. I’ll need time to rearrange my schedule. And I want to know up front everything you have planned.” With a little warning, he could rearrange the less desirable appearances without her ever knowing.
“Of course.” She nodded toward her briefcase. “I have a detailed strategy all mapped out. Once we put our heads together and compare time frames, I’m sure we can make everything work.”
“Then it’s a deal.” Drew started for her, and even though he didn’t want to admit it, the thought of tasting her skin left him edgy and taut.
She held up a hand. “I have a condition also.”
Damn it. He should have known. “Let’s hear it.”
“When in public, whether on arranged publicity or not, I want you to refrain from using objectionable four-letter words.”
And so it begins. For Drew, a word was a word. He couldn’t see why everyone got so hyped up over it. “Like? Give me an example of what you consider objectionable.”
Suspicion tightened her features. “Drew Black, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Sorry, I don’t.” Would she say it? He hoped so. Gillian Noode could use some loosening up. He was
just the man to help her with that. “Be more precise.”
“Fine.” Proving she had plenty of backbone, she said, “I’ll compile a list for you and present it to you at our next meeting.”
Drew couldn’t help but laugh. “Gillian, you little prude. You can’t even say it, can you?” He eased closer, coaxing her. “Come on, lady. Let me hear you say it. Whisper it in my ear if that helps.”
Seconds passed, and then a devilish light shone in her bright blue eyes. “All right.”
“Really?” His pulse thrummed in excitement. Damn, he was getting easy when something like this turned him on. “Well, come on then.”
Wearing the slightest of smiles, Gillian sashayed up to him, put her small hands on his shoulders, and went on tiptoe. Her breasts pressed into his chest.
With her lips all but touching his ear, she breathed, “Fuck.”
She eased back to her heels and looked at him.
Ridiculous as it seemed, he felt the stirrings of a boner. “I like how you say that.”
“Thank you.” She looked very pleased with herself, as if she’d somehow put him in his place.
That wouldn’t do.
To keep her close, Drew put his hands on her waist. “What I’d really like is to hear you screaming it. In bed. You know, as in, ‘Fuck me, Drew.’”
Her smug expression faded beneath embarrassment. She moved away from him—and he felt like a jerk.
“Gillian . . .”
She didn’t let him speak. “Hell and damn aren’t too horrible, if used in moderation and in certain situations within a defined audience.” She kept her back to him as she put a lot of distance between them. “But you’d do well to avoid son of a bitch and bastard, too. Oh, and calling women broads.” Turning back to him now that half a room separated them, she shook her head in a pitying way. “That term is so Neanderthal, Drew, it has hair on it.”
Tension spiking, Drew rubbed the back of his neck. Somehow, his plans had gone awry in a big way. He needed to get things back on track. “Fine. So now that I know what I can and can’t say, what’s first on the agenda?”
She seated herself at the table again and shuffled through her papers until she found a brochure. She handed it to him.
