by Shayla Black
Three margaritas and a funeral had left Scott prickly and morose.
“Which means you’ll be valuable, Scott,” Everly assured her friend. “You know something about every part of Crawford, having spent six months in most of the major departments. You’ll be fine.”
“Exactly,” Tavia agreed. “But before I’m kicked to the curb, I need to make sure the new boss understands the importance of the foundation’s work. It’s excellent PR, and we all know Crawford Industries needs that now. With all the turmoil lately, our stock is down substantially. I’m hoping the new head honcho will think it looks bad to fire me two weeks before the annual fundraiser. If he keeps me until then, I’ll have a little time to convince whoever takes over that I’m worth what Maddox paid me.”
The fundraiser was the most important social event of the year at Crawford. Two weeks didn’t seem like a long time to sway a new boss, but the woman was right. Crawford Industries’ support of the International Women and Girls Education Foundation Tavia’s family had founded was vital. It was a true public relations gem. For a playboy like Maddox to give generously to fund education for females in third-world countries had bought him a lot of good press and goodwill.
So why had Maddox told her privately that he wasn’t going to the gala this year? Everly frowned. He’d said it casually over dinner one night when they’d been going over her plans to strengthen their cybersecurity systems. He hadn’t exactly explained other than to say it was complicated. Then again, everything was complicated with Maddox Crawford.
He’d spent time with her, but he hadn’t trusted her with his secrets. And she’d understood that—right up until his plane had gone down and she’d received that mysterious e-mail.
Before his death, Everly had suspected he was hiding something. Now, she was almost certain of it. She wished she’d asked more questions and pressed harder.
But she wouldn’t be able to unravel all his mysteries tonight. Starting Monday, she’d probably have lots of time to figure out what Maddox had been up to because she’d be looking for a new job. Tonight, she wanted to get blitzed enough to sleep through the night.
One white wine wasn’t going to accomplish that.
“I’ll be right back.” She gulped the rest of the vino in her glass, then stood and scanned the place. The bar was packed and seemed hopelessly understaffed. It wasn’t likely the waitress would make it back any time soon.
Everly couldn’t help but notice a couple of well-dressed waitstaff coming in and out of the back room, but they didn’t stop to help anyone else. If she wanted another drink, she would have to fend for herself.
Everly moved past the tables of coworkers. She stopped and said hello to some, but could barely handle the speculative stares of the rest. She knew exactly what they thought. Despite the company being a large, multinational conglomerate, the corporate office of Crawford Industries still functioned like a small town. Gossip abounded, and there was no one they liked to gossip about more than the boss.
She’d been linked to Crawford from the moment she was hired. Her first day on the job, he’d shown her around personally, sparking rumors that she was his mistress. When he’d bumped her up to head of cybersecurity after only six months on the job, the chin-wagging had become unrelenting. Though that made her job difficult, Everly had put her head down and worked. She’d stopped a corporate spy and helped the FBI track down a ring that had used Crawford subsidiaries for phishing expeditions. Still, no matter how effective she’d proven herself, the employees still speculated that she’d slept her way to the top.
Everly sighed. What a joke. She hadn’t slept with anyone in well over a year, and her long dry spell didn’t look like it would end anytime soon. At least the tabloids hadn’t printed the rumors of her nonexistent, torrid affair with Maddox. She had to be thankful for that small miracle.
She elbowed and nudged her way up to the crowded bar and tried to get the bartender’s attention. Unfortunately, she only counted two people working.
She held out a hand as one headed her way. “Can I get a drink?”
He walked right past her, but he did stop for the two blondes at the end of the bar. They were thin and gorgeous. Story of her life. She’d always been short and slightly more plump than fashion dictated. Damn it, that didn’t mean she didn’t need a drink as much as the skinny chicks.
The bartender turned and headed her way again.
“I’d like a glass of wine, please.”
Nothing. Not even a “Hey, I’ll be with you in a minute” that she wouldn’t believe anyway. He walked to the opposite end of the bar and started prepping what looked like cosmopolitans. The female bartender walked by, even more dismissive than the first guy.
The male walked by again and delivered the drinks to the two supermodels at the end of the bar. This time she was ready. She leaned over, hoping that maybe he hadn’t heard her the first two times.
“Hello, could I get a glass of . . .”
He started to stride past her again, but a large hand zipped out beside her and over the bar, stopping him in his tracks. “I believe the lady needs a drink. I’d appreciate it if you would help her now.”
That was the deepest, sexiest voice she’d ever heard in her life. It was attached to a really masculine-looking hand.
The bartender’s eyes widened. “Of course, sir.” He finally turned his attention to her. “What can I get you, ma’am?”
At the moment, Everly wasn’t interested in wine.
She glanced over her shoulder at her rescuer. The sexiness didn’t end with his voice. Vaguely, she noted that while she’d had to shove her way through the crowd, the mass of humanity had seemingly parted for him. He stood alone, though closer to her than strictly necessary. Tall and broad, with close-cropped golden brown hair and the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, her Good Samaritan stared down at her with a bit of a smile. Her tummy knotted.
“He needs to know what kind of wine you’d like. Let me guess.” He gave her a considering stare. “A sweet red?”
She shook her head. “No. Um, a sauvignon blanc. I prefer white wine. Red tends to upset my reflux.”
Way to go, Everly. That was a super sexy comeback to the hottest man she’d ever met. Of course he wanted to know about her digestive issues.
“Well, we wouldn’t want that.” A hint of amusement lurked in his voice. “The lady will take a sauvignon blanc, and I’ll have a Scotch. The Glenlivet twenty-five.”
The bartender immediately went to work.
“Thanks.” She felt herself blushing. She probably looked like an idiot schoolgirl to him and could only hope she hadn’t drooled. She’d never seen him before, but she would bet he belonged in the VIP room. Maybe he was an actor. He certainly looked good enough to be on the screen. “I couldn’t seem to get him to hear me.”
Mr. Gorgeous’s lips curved up as he leaned against the bar. “I don’t think his ears are the problem. The man seems a bit blind to me.”
Everly wasn’t sure what he meant, but she found it impossible to look away from him. “I guess he’s really busy tonight. The place is packed. I even heard the strangest rumor that the president is here.”
The man laughed and sidled closer. “I’m sure the leader of the free world can get better booze at the White House.” He held out that big hand of his. “Name’s Gabriel.”
Like the archangel except in a really well-cut suit. His name was fitting. She put her hand in his, and he immediately covered it with his other. His palms swallowed her hand, the heat from his skin warming her own.
“I’m, um . . . Eve. I-it’s nice to meet you.”
She didn’t like the idea of this man calling her the same thing as all her business associates. Only her family had ever called her Eve. Tonight, she didn’t want to be the woman worrying about her job and how she was going to afford her loft. She’d rather be someone whose only pressing concern was to flirt with a hot guy. This conversation was likely to go nowhere, but she could fantasize about the h
andsome stranger.
Everly knew she was something of a wunderkind computer geek, but maybe Eve could be a flirty seductress. Eve could drink her wine and pretend that the gorgeous man beside her saw her as an irresistible woman.
Yes, she would like to be Eve tonight.
“It’s nice to meet you, Eve. You live around here?”
She shook her head. “No, I have a place in Brooklyn. How about you?”
“I was born on the Upper East Side, but I get out as often as possible.”
The bartender put the drinks in front of them. “Here you go, sir.”
Gabriel passed him what looked like two hundred-dollar bills. “Keep the change.”
So he was wealthy. It wasn’t surprising since he’d admitted he’d been born in this part of town. She sipped her fifteen-dollar glass of wine. “You’re a generous man.”
He took a healthy swig of Scotch. “Not really. This is expensive booze. I can’t help it; I’m a Scotch snob. I like it to be a single malt and at least able to vote. I’m more flexible on my other tastes.” He cast a sidelong glance back toward the table she’d been sitting at. “Is that your husband over there?”
Everly looked back. Scott was sitting by himself again, Tavia now engrossed in another conversation at a nearby table with others on Crawford’s management team, gesticulating as quickly as her lips moved. “No. He’s just a friend. I’m not exactly his type.”
“Then most men here tonight are blind it seems.”
She could almost feel his gaze like a physical caress, moving from her eyes to her chest. His stare lingered there for a moment before he shook his head as though he was correcting himself. At his inspection, she stifled the urge to shiver. “Are you with the VIP party that’s occupying all the waitstaff?”
He grimaced, though it did nothing to mar his beauty. “I’m afraid I am, but I needed to get out for a minute. I thought I’d stretch my legs and fend for myself. Now I’m happy I did. I saw you on the street earlier.”
“Really?” He’d noticed her?
Gabriel nodded. “You were walking down Eighty-fourth. I suppose you were coming here. Were you with the crowd at the church?”
Nope, she’d hovered near the back, not wanting to see the casket that represented the death of a friend she would long mourn. She didn’t want to talk about the funeral now. Since Gabriel lived in the area, he’d probably been doing something happier today. Why bring down his mood, too? Besides, tonight she was Eve—a woman without problems. “I was in the mood for a drink.”
“Well, I was, too. Maybe we can share a couple. This place is crowded though.”
Was he merely making an observation or actually suggesting she leave with him? Her heart rate tripled. Yes, she knew she shouldn’t run off with a stranger. Serial killers could be beautiful, too. And yet, the idea of getting to know this man intrigued her.
“Gabe? Come on, man. We’re waiting on you. They found the cigars, but Zack won’t light up until you come back.” A tall, muscular man with chocolate eyes and black hair in a buzz cut joined them, glancing at her with a smile. “Hello. My name’s Dax. What’s yours?”
Gabriel narrowed his eyes and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Her name is I Saw Her First.”
Dax put his hands up as if to concede the point. He looked terribly amused. “Well, that’s a lovely name, but Gabe needs to go see our old friend, who won’t be here much longer because he has important things to do. He’s leaving in twenty minutes. Something about a crisis in the Middle East. Like that won’t be there tomorrow.”
“All right.” Gabriel sent her what seemed to be a regretful smile. “It was nice to meet you, Eve. I don’t suppose you’re hanging out here all night?”
She didn’t want to let him walk away, but apparently her little fantasy was going to end sooner than expected. And it was probably for the best. Running off with a stranger for a hot fling while her life was in turmoil wasn’t smart . . . though the escape would have been nice. “No. But it was nice to meet you. Thanks for the drink.”
Before she was tempted to blurt out her phone number, Everly turned away and rejoined Scott.
“Who’s the hottie?” He watched Gabriel and Dax disappear into the back of the bar. “Or should I say hotties, plural? I didn’t get a good look at them, but you can tell a lot from a man’s backside. Tell me one of them is gay and we’re about to get lucky.”
She sighed and took another sip of what would likely be her last glass of wine for the night. “Nope. We’re definitely not getting lucky.”
The kind of luck it took to snag gorgeous Gabriel only seemed to happen to other girls. She took another drink and wished she’d been able to play Eve a little longer.
TWO
Gabe couldn’t stop thinking about Eve. He tried to focus on the conversation around him, but all he could see were those wide hazel eyes and the way her reddish hair tumbled around her shoulders, curling down to those lush breasts.
It had been a very long time since he’d gotten hard simply by looking at a woman.
“I’m just saying, Liz is going to be pissed.” Roman had ditched his jacket and tie and looked every inch the Beltway player he was. He sat back and puffed on his cigar. “Did you tell her?”
Zack shook his head. “I’m not stupid. I’m going to tell her I came up here to meet with the UN delegation from . . . I don’t know. Pick some war-torn country. I’ll tell her I was trying to make peace or something.”
Elizabeth Matthews was Zack’s press secretary but she’d also served as his work wife since Joy’s death. Gabriel was grateful Zack had her to lean on. His old friend had been so hollow for the longest time. Even as he’d accepted the highest office in the nation, Gabe had known his friend felt dead inside. Two years into his first term, and he was finally joking again. Gabe suspected lovely blonde Liz had a lot to do with that.
“Zack, come on, man. You’re the leader of the free world and you’re scared of your press secretary?” Connor shook his head.
Roman patted his boss on the back. “We’re all scared of Liz. She might look cute, but that woman has three rows of teeth and they’re all razor sharp. Trust me. When she finds out—and she will find out because she’s also got eyes in the back of her head—she’ll kick his ass.”
“I’m sure kicking isn’t what Zack would like to do to her ass.” Dax winked. “Shit. Did I say that out loud?”
They all looked to Zack, but he laughed. “You’ve spent way too much time on that boat of yours, man. You’ve forgotten the fine art of diplomacy.”
“I don’t think he ever had it,” Gabe replied. “Don’t you remember Dax was the one who got us all detention because he told the math teacher where to stick his calculator?”
Dax shook his head. “Yeah, that was not a fun day. Mad snuck out the back window because he had a date, and we had to cover for him. Asshole.”
Connor laughed. “Damn, but I’m going to miss him.” He shook his head as though clearing his thoughts. “So, are you ever going to give in to temptation and ask Liz out?”
Zack scoffed. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my job is kind of demanding. I don’t have a ton of time for dating.”
Gabe leaned forward, warming to the topic. “Excuses, man. We’ve all got demanding jobs. You know you like her.”
“Yes, you all have demanding jobs. And how many of you are married?” Zack pointed out. “None. Zero. Zilch. Besides me, Dax is the only one of you to give matrimony a whirl, and that didn’t work out so well.”
“Hey, I am looking for the next Mrs. Spencer,” Dax said. “Who will surely be an ex after a year or two on the job.”
“Well, naturally, since you admit being your wife is work,” Roman shot back. “Besides, I think it’s traditionally called marriage.”
“Hey, military wives call it a job. They don’t have it easy. There’s a reason Courtney left me,” Dax admitted. “But that shouldn’t stop Zack from sneaking around the White House and getting a little
something-something. Tell me you haven’t thought about doing it in the Lincoln Bedroom. Or in that room with all the china. Why the fuck do you need all that china? How many plates does one man need?”
Zack took the ribbing with a good-natured wave of his hand. “Stop. You’re killing me. And no, I am not pursuing Liz. I can’t take a crap without the press trying to snap a picture. Have you seen that blog? What’s the name?”
“Capitol Scandals,” Roman supplied with a hearty groan. “It’s the hottest thing in DC right now. I’ve tried to get it shut down five times. It keeps popping back up like a rat that won’t eat the poison. I would love to get hold of whoever runs that sucker.”
“They ran a report on the size of my dick. I’m not kidding
