by Alexa Aston
“I attend far too many boring bar association lunches and other dinners. It always takes forever for the rubber chicken to arrive. I’ve decided life is too short to wait for that unappealing chicken, especially when I’m hungry, so I start with dessert.” She took another bite, savoring it.
Wynn traded his salad and dessert plates and did the same. After his first bite, he murmured, “Good idea.”
Scarlett waved her fork in the air. “Some Europeans make salad their dessert. I’ve picked up that practice.”
Their entrees arrived and she pushed the cheesecake away. “I’ll come back to it,” she told Wynn, grinning. “Thank goodness Rhett springs for the good stuff and not the usual, boring chicken breast.”
As she attacked her surf and turf, Sarah came by to award packets of faux money for casino play. When she reached Scarlett, she gave her a bundle and then sat an extra one atop it.
“For helping me solve my little problem.” Sarah winked at her.
Wynn thanked Sarah by name when he accepted his money. Right away, his stock rose in Scarlett’s eyes. Her mom always stressed the importance of treating everyone from the president to the custodian with equal respect. The fact that Wynn had met Sarah earlier and not only remembered her name but used it made her like him even more.
That made her pause.
She was already wildly attracted to him physically. He seemed nice and showed a flash of humor. As a client, though, he would be off-limits. She would never mix her personal life with her professional one. Looking at Wynn’s profile, she almost blurted out for him to find another lawyer. Because she wanted him. Badly. Very badly.
She ordered herself to back off. The new Scarlett, as of this morning, wasn’t interested in casual affairs. Scarlett 2.0 wanted to remain an outstanding professional and find the right man to share her life with. One to give her children. Build a home that was their haven. Wynn Gallagher was an international superstar who could have any woman on the planet. He wouldn’t be interested in settling down with someone like her. Besides, she reminded herself, he was going to be a client. Lymon McGraw would be ecstatic if she brought someone of Wynn’s caliber and name recognition into the fold. She needed to separate business from pleasure.
Even if that pleasure might include foregoing hot sex at the end of tonight.
◆◆◆
Two things struck Wynn as dinner continued. The first surprised him. Conversation flowed easily at their table. Topics ranged from politics and economics to sports and the best cars on the road, with a few stories of kids and school mixed in. He realized how comfortable he was among this new group of acquaintances and how what they spoke of could be taking place anywhere at dining tables across the country. This was not the Hollywood Wynn knew.
He’d been greener than green beginning his first network series at twenty-three, the only unknown among a large cast. The other actors had been cliquish and arrogant, always angling for more lines and even more flattering close-ups. When Wynn became the breakout character and gained favorable publicity for his role, he’d become a pariah, frozen out by every actor on set. It remained that way throughout the run of the show. He went into his second series as the star but the cast behaved largely the same way as the first, only interested in themselves and what would make them look better on camera. They fought over lines and tried to steal scenes. Going to work became a grind, though he’d loved the surgeon he’d played and would have been happy to continue in the role until he was offered Carbon Man, the hero harder than diamond.
By the time he entered the Alpha Tharra Universe and transitioned into film, Wynn was used to the petty arguments, backstabbing, and general unfriendliness on set. Almost every actor proved self-absorbed, interested in how much publicity he or she could generate. The only exception was a newcomer who played Wynn’s lab assistant, who was friendly to everyone because he didn’t know any better. Wynn came to the set totally prepared, knowing his lines and everyone else’s. He was respectful to both cast and crew but spent any down time alone in his trailer. He knew better than to try to engage other actors in friendship.
Over the years, Wynn continued to retreat further within himself, whether working or at home. He had no friends, other than Del and Cady. He enjoyed several hobbies but found sitting here tonight, listening to and participating in stimulating, witty conversation, how lonely he’d become. The powerhouse couples at this table proved to be interesting and unselfish. He longed to make friends with them and become a part of something that had escaped him long ago.
More importantly, the second realization had him anticipating the rest of the night. Wynn had never experienced such a physical rush as he did sitting next to Scarlett Corrigan and breathing in her light, floral scent. The tall beauty fascinated him. Over the years, he’d quietly seen a few women but as his success mounted, he’d almost lost interest in the opposite sex. Or rather, they’d lost interest in him. No one wanted to know Wynn as a person. Every woman he tried to date seemed more interested in being seen with Wynn Gallagher, the superstar, and what that could do for them. As his salary and public profile rose, Wynn felt himself shrinking inside until he’d almost disappeared. For several years now, he’d looked at any woman who approached him with suspicion, wondering what ulterior motives she had.
Scarlett was very different. She was a highly paid professional in a competitive field. Comfortable in her own skin. She came from a world where she mingled with the rich and famous on a regular basis. The men at their table teased her as if she were their little sister. The women, from their conversation, were all friends that she saw frequently. She didn’t seem impressed sitting next to Carbon Man, much less cling to him or look as if she schemed for ways to use him. Scarlett treated him as Wynn, a guy—not Wynn, the megastar.
That was a huge turn-on.
He noticed people seated at tables around them began rising. Scarlett scooped up her casino money and he said, “You must’ve done Sarah a good favor to get double the money to play with.”
Those mesmerizing gray eyes looked at him with amusement. “I helped her work out a problem that arose at the last minute.”
With a straight face, he said, “It involved a demanding donor who wanted a front row seat to tonight’s action, I’d guess.”
The corners of her sensual mouth turned up. “I believe it did. Fortunately, this donor came alone. No plus-one. Since I ended a relationship this morning, it was easy to insert this fussy donor into my plus-one’s seat.” Her smile widened. “Problem solved.”
“Was this a longtime plus-one?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Not really. A couple of months. I had the feeling Chaz was more interested in the people he would see tonight and chat up than he was spending time with me.”
“Then Chaz is a fool,” Wynn said. “I’ve known you less than two hours and see you’re smart, capable, interesting, and incredibly beautiful. If I were your plus-one, it would be hard to get rid of me. I’d be stuck to you like glue.”
Her eyes lit with interest. “You would?”
“Definitely.”
Wynn rose and helped her from her seat. “Are you staying for the casino night portion?”
Scarlett waved the money in her hand. “With all this cash? How could I not?”
Cassie appeared next to them and handed Scarlett two more packets of money. “I know you’ll need it,” she said good-naturedly. Turning to Wynn, she added, “Scarlett loses money faster than any gambler I’ve ever seen. She usually runs out of cash within half an hour. Since Rhett and I need to mingle and schmooze, I usually give her our spending dollars.”
“Not everyone is lucky,” Scarlett said. “I always pick the wrong line to wait in. I can never find a parking spot, much less one close to where I’m going.”
Cassie hugged her. “But you are a shark in the courtroom and during negotiations.”
“That’s not luck. That’s old-fashioned preparation.”
Cassie laughed. “Good meeting you, Wynn. I�
�ll text you our address for Wednesday’s dinner. Knowing Rhett, he’ll want to grill something so come casually.”
After Cassie left, Wynn asked, “Do you make large bets at a time? Is that why your money doesn’t last?”
“Not really. I actually make small bets that never seem to pan out. I guess being a history major didn’t prepare me well for the world of high stakes blackjack and roulette. I am pretty darned good at poker, though. Not because I’m dealt winning cards. That’s the unlucky part of me. I’m merely blessed with a marvelous poker face and have won many a hand with a lowly pair of eights because I project confidence and don’t give a thing away.”
“Well, I have mathematics degree and can count cards like nobody’s business,” Wynn shared. “Would you like to share casino night together? Maybe I can give you some tips.”
“I’d love to,” Scarlett said, slipping her hand through the crook of his arm. It made him wish that dinner had been followed by dancing instead of gambling. He would give anything to sweep this women into his arms, their bodies pressed together as they swayed to a slow ballad.
Wynn only hoped this night with Scarlett Corrigan would last longer than the money in her hand.
CHAPTER 4
Wynn escorted Scarlett from the ballroom.
“I think I’ll take a minute to visit the powder room,” she said. “Meet you back here?”
He thought a moment. “I’ll either be here or inside the ballroom. I’d like to bid on a few of the silent auction items before bidding closes.”
“See you in a few.” She removed her hand from his arm. He watched the swing of her hips and the swirl of her hem brushing her thighs as she breezed away.
Wynn went in search of what he’d singled out from the brochure. It didn’t take him long to find the cooking lesson and meal prepared by one of LA’s top chefs. Del had become addicted to cooking while in law school. He said it relieved stress. His brother’s hair had begun to fall out during a torts course. By the time he graduated at the top of his class at John Marshall, Del was bald—and cooked better than most professionals. His brother would appreciate the lesson and enjoy dining with the chef afterward. For Cady, he looked for the HGTV logo. His sister went wild over any home designer show. This prize allowed the winner backstage access to a taping and a consultation with a name designer after the show. Wynn made sure both bids he jotted down were generous enough to claim the items at the end of the night.
Last, he went in search of the trip to England. He found it, reading the description again. Suddenly, Scarlett’s floral scent wafted near him. Wynn glanced up and found her at his elbow.
“This sounds amazing,” she proclaimed as she read over the description. “I’ve been to London but the walking tour would rock. I like that your luggage is sent ahead and you can take your time traipsing through the countryside, stopping at pubs and shops, and arrive at your hotel or B&B without a care in the world.” She paused. “Were you planning to bid on this?”
“Maybe,” he said, not wanting to challenge her if she wanted the vacation.
She worried her lip, frowning in thought. A jolt of lust whipped through Wynn, who’d thought he’d enjoy sinking his teeth into that full, bottom lip himself.
“No, I better pass. Go ahead, Wynn.”
“Are you sure?”
She didn’t look so but she nodded anyway. “Too much work. I’d never find time to escape for that long a stretch.”
Quickly, he took the pen and scribbled an amount triple the current bid. If he couldn’t find time to take advantage of it, he’d give it to Scarlett and insist she make time to take the vacation.
“Let’s go lose my money,” she said, laughing.
Entering the double ballroom, Wynn saw every game of chance imaginable. The mathematician in him leaned toward card games, simply because he could count cards over a period of time. His risk taker side enjoyed other forms of gambling as he based his bets on probability.
“Hey, Carreen!” Scarlett called. Tugging on him, she said, “Come meet my sister.”
He recognized the name as the sister Rhett had referred to. The one who’d beaten cancer several years ago.
The two women hugged. “Where’s Bob?”
“Being useful and getting me a drink.” Carreen eyed him with interest.
“This is Wynn Gallagher,” Scarlett said. “My big sister, Carreen Gorman. She’s the oldest Corrigan kid and an interior designer.”
He took Carreen’s hand. “It’s very nice to meet you. Rhett spoke of you tonight.”
Carreen blushed. “That’s why I don’t go to the dinner anymore. Rhett used to make a big fuss over me. Every eye in the room would turn in my direction and stare. After a few times experiencing that, I told him I’d be happy to attend the casino portion of the evening but Bob and I would opt for a nice dinner out on our own.”
“He mentioned you have two teenagers,” Wynn said.
“A boy and horror of horrors, his younger sister, who is a Jekyll and Hyde creature. Bobby ranges from sullen to outgoing, all in a cloud of Axe spray. Melissa thinks she’s thirty and knows everything—and wants to dress twice her age in skimpy clothes. Don’t get me wrong, Wynn. They’re terrific kids. I love them to pieces. I just don’t like them much these days.”
Wynn laughed. “I don’t have kids. I don’t envy the battles you’re fighting.”
“Wynn’s going to watch me lose all my money,” Scarlett said. “He thinks he can help me learn how to win.”
Carreen laughed. “No one told him how hopeless you are?”
Scarlett sniffed. “Very funny. Talk to you later.”
They worked their way through the various games. As noted, Scarlett proved hopeless at gambling. She had zero strategy combined with little patience and her money quickly vanished. It wasn’t wasted time, though. She flirted with Wynn as she played and he found himself flirting back, even though he was rusty. It had to be back in college when he’d last flirted with a girl. A lifetime ago. A flash of Stephanie flitted through his memory and he knocked it away. He’d slammed the door on Stephanie Drummond—and his emotions—a long time ago.
Yet tonight, Scarlett Corrigan was slowly bringing him back to life.
He placed a few bets himself and found himself losing as quickly as she had, his attention distracted by the woman at his side.
“I must be rubbing off on you. And not in a good way,” she teased.
Wynn made one last bet with everything he had left, placing it all on black. The wheel turned up red and he boldly took Scarlett’s hand and drew her away from the gaming table. Their fingers now entwined, he found himself tongue-tied, like a middle schooler making his first move on a girl he liked.
Ordering himself to get a grip, he calmly asked, “Would you like to get a drink?”
Scarlett tilted her head and studied him a moment. “I’d like that. Very much.”
Leading her from the noisy ballroom, Wynn took her back to the escalator. They rode it from the mezzanine to the terrace level and he led her across the large lobby to outside.
“Where are we going?”
“Generous donors to the Corrigan Foundation receive the use of a bungalow for the evening,” he said lightly. “The Montrelle also provides champagne on ice and promised fruit and cheese would be waiting so that I could entertain properly after the charity event ended.”
“Mmm. I adore champagne,” she murmured.
They reached his bungalow and he claimed the key card from his inside jacket pocket without having to release her hand. For some reason, it was important to him to keep holding on to it.
Opening the door, he saw housekeeping had left a few lights burning low. The expected bucket of champagne awaited them, as did a platter that held an assortment of fruits and cheeses. Wynn led Scarlett to the sofa and they seated themselves, their fingers still threaded together. She sat her clutch down on the coffee table before them. He leaned back and she came with him, resting her head against his shoulder. Th
ey sat in silence. Wynn hadn’t known such contentment existed.
Finally, Scarlett broke the spell. “I’m getting thirsty. We shouldn’t let Dom Perignon go to waste.”
Wynn pulled away and set two flutes in front of them. He lifted the ice-cold bottle and popped the cork. Pouring each of them a glass, he handed Scarlett one and took the other.
“To new beginnings—and a new friendship,” she said, gently tapping her glass against his.
He drank deeply, enjoying the fizz and airiness of the expensive champagne. He wasn’t much of a drinker but tonight he was open to anything.
Scarlett sipped on hers, smiling over the rim at him. “I’ll have to thank Rhett for springing for the good stuff.”
“Your brother is a class act,” Wynn said. “In every way.”
“I agree. We had very little growing up. Daddy was a drunk who couldn’t hold a job. Mom divorced him and he vanished from our lives. I was six at the time so I don’t really remember him. Even though Rhett was only ten, he became the man of the family. He took on a paper route. Sold magazines door to door. Swept up at a barber shop. He kept moving up the ladder with odd jobs at a variety of places, bringing home every dime he made and giving it to Mom. Rhett understands what it’s like to be poor. He’s got a tremendous work ethic. And he would do anything for his family and friends.” She downed the rest of her drink and set it on the table.
Wynn rested his empty flute next to hers. “You seem to have the same work ethic.”
“I put myself through college, cobbling together scholarships, grants, and working as a server and bartender about thirty hours a week. By the time I reached law school, Rhett had turned the corner and was financially successful. He paid for UCLA Law and wouldn’t let me work, other than summer internships. He said it was too important to soak up everything I could. I doubt I would’ve become editor of Law Review or participated in the Moot Court Honors Program if I’d been moonlighting at a couple of jobs.”
“Obviously, you learned those law lessons well. You made partner at one of the most prestigious firms in California. You’ve been recognized as a top attorney in entertainment law by LA Today.”
