by HELEN HARDT
“What’s your name?” Skye asks her companion.
“What?” Peter yells.
For God’s sake, asshole, I can hear her. But my senses are on high alert. I could hear Skye whisper at this point.
“What’s your name?” she asks again.
“Peter. You?”
“Skye.”
“Nice to meet you.” He hands her the bourbon.
Skye takes a sip. “What do you do, Peter?”
“What?”
For crying out loud.
“I’m an architect. I work for my father, also an architect. You?”
“I work for Addison Ames.”
“The heiress?”
“Yeah. I’m her personal assistant, but I’m really a photographer at heart. That’s what I want to do full-time eventually.”
“What?”
“I said I’m her personal assistant. But I want to eventually make a living as a photographer.”
“Cool,” Peter says.
Cool? My God, she’s way too good for the likes of this asshole.
Skye takes another sip. “You want to dance again?”
I take a step closer.
“Sure.” He grabs her hand.
I’m ready to intervene when he speaks again.
“I’m sweating. You want to get some fresh air first?”
Oh, hell no. I see where this is going. I close the gap in two giant steps.
“No,” I say firmly. “She does not.”
Chapter Sixteen
“What are you doing here?” Skye demands.
I can’t help an assessing gaze. That dress is even more amazing up close. It was made to form fit her body. A fine silver chain sparkles around her throat.
I imagine, for a moment, that she’s wearing my collar. That she’s mine—body, heart, and soul—for safekeeping, always and forever.
I drop my gaze down her bare legs to her strappy silver sandals, her pretty toenails painted bright red.
Fuck it all.
I raise my head and meet her glaring eyes. She asked me a question. What are you doing here?
“Keeping you from getting yourself into trouble,” I say without apology.
Peter goes rigid next to her. “Nice meeting you, Skye,” he says, turning.
“Wait! Aren’t we going to dance?”
“Another time.” He disappears onto the dance floor.
Good. Let him go. She’s way too good for him. I’ve heard rumors about Reardon Brothers. Rumors I’m definitely going to look into now.
“Come with me.” I pull her out of the ballroom, through the hallway, to the hotel lobby, her heels clacking on the marble floor as she runs to keep up.
“What are you doing?”
“Keeping you from sneaking into someone else’s bed.”
“Seriously?” she huffs.
“You’ve been drinking.”
“You don’t know anything about me. I’m not drunk. I never get drunk. And I can sleep with whomever I want. How did you find me anyway?”
I pull my phone out of my pocket. “Instagram.”
“I’m going back in,” she says, hands on her hips.
“Not without me.”
“Do you even have a ticket to this event?”
“Do you think I need a ticket?”
She shakes her head. “Fine, come along, then. I can’t leave Tessa in there alone.”
Tessa? Ah, the bestie. @tessalolita
“Tessa’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.”
“Interesting take. Tessa’s my age, Braden, and you obviously don’t think I can take care of myself.”
“Not true. I didn’t show up because you can’t take care of yourself. I showed up to keep you out of someone else’s bed.”
She shakes her head. “You’re unbelievable. What makes you think I’d end up in someone’s bed?”
“Look at you. You’re beautiful with a killer body. Damn, that dress…”
She taps her foot and scoffs. “Please…”
“Do you really not see yourself the way I see you?” I cup her cheek. “Your hair is the color of roasted chestnuts, your eyes the warmest brown I’ve ever seen. Your skin is like the richest cream, and God, Skye, your mouth…” I inhale, willing my cock to behave itself. “Your lips are pink and plump and heart-shaped, and fuck, I can’t leave them alone. I’ve never seen a mouth like yours. The way your lips are always slightly parted drives me wild.”
For a moment she seems to soften. But only for a moment.
“You’re acting like I was in there gyrating for ten-dollar bills in my panties. It’s a hotel charity event for MADD, Braden, not a strip club.”
“That dress—”
“Isn’t even mine. It’s my friend’s.”
“It can’t look anywhere near as good on her as it does on you.” My voice cracks a little. Damn it.
She swallows. “I need to go back in.”
“Why? Dancing? You want to go dancing? I’ll take you dancing. Be sure to wear that amazing dress.”
“I told you, it’s not—”
“Your dress,” I finish for her. “It should be. It was made for you.”
As if in response to my voice, her nipples tighten and protrude out against the black fabric. In response, something of mine protrudes as well.
“What are you doing here anyway?” I ask.
“Addie gave me the tickets.”
“Of course,” I say. “Addie. I should have seen her fingerprints all over this.”
“So what? I got the tickets, and I wanted to go out with my friend.”
“Like I said, I’ll take you dancing.”
“I don’t want to go dancing,” she says.
“What do you want, then?”
Please say you want to go back to my place. Please.
“I want to go back inside. My friend will be worried.”
“If I take you back inside, the men will be all over you.”
“Braden, one guy was paying attention to me. One. And you scared him off.”
“He’s not good enough for you.” She doesn’t even know the half of it.
“You don’t even know him.”
She’s wrong there. “Neither do you.”
“Of course I do. He’s an architect.”
“You’re wrong, Skye. I do know him. That’s Peter Reardon, and his father is Beau Reardon of Reardon Brothers Architecture. His friend is Garrett Ramirez, also an architect with the company. Beau is trying to get the contract on my new building.”
She wrenches her arm out of my grasp. “What are you saying? That the two of them are paying attention to us because of you?”
“I’m not saying that at all.”
“Sounds like it from where I’m standing.”
“Not at all. They didn’t know you were with me before—but now they do. They’re playboys. I guarantee you they both have two things on their minds tonight. That contract—which probably means a huge bonus from Daddy—and getting laid. I’ll let you guess which one is foremost in their minds on a Saturday night.”
“Interesting. What do you have on your mind tonight, Braden?”
I can’t help a slight smile. “Not a contract.”
Damn, no lie there. All I can think about is getting Skye back in bed. Yeah, I’m acting like a territorial ass, when I know damned well she’s not mine. Not yet, anyway.
I should apologize. I even open my mouth to do so, but before I can—
“I’m going back in,” she says.
“Fine. I’m going with you.”
“Suit yourself.”
I follow her back to the ballroom. She struts in and heads for a table.
The gorgeous brunette in the red dress runs toward her, n
early knocking over a server and her tray full of drinks. “Skye, are you all right? Peter said—” Her eyes morph to circles when she sees me behind Skye. “It is you.”
She clears her throat. “I’m fine.”
Bestie regains her composure and lifts her lips in a dazzling smile. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
I hold out my hand. “Braden Black.”
“Braden, this is Tessa Logan, my best friend.”
“It’s an honor, Mr. Black.” Tessa flutters her ridiculously long eyelashes as she shakes my hand. She’s a flirt. I’m used to it. She is a bombshell, but not what I’m after at the moment.
“Call me Braden. Any friend of Skye’s.” I turn to her. “Drink?”
“I’ve had enough, thanks.”
“You?” I nod to Tessa.
“I’d love another banana daiquiri,” she says coyly.
“Done. I’ll be back.” I head to the bar.
“Two Wild Turkeys, one ice cube, and a banana daiquiri,” I say to the young woman tending bar.
She drops her jaw. “You’re Braden Black.”
“Guilty.”
“Wow. Sure. Give me just a minute.” She fumbles with the stainless steel shaker for the daiquiri.
Lila Marquez pushes her way toward me. “Braden!” she gasps out. “A table opened up for you.”
“Lila, I don’t need—”
“Oh, I insist. It’s right up front.”
“A table right up front opened up?”
“Yes. Isn’t that lucky?”
Lucky, indeed. More likely one of the bigger donors just went home. It’s nearing eleven.
“I’ll be with you in a minute, Lila,” I say. “Just getting drinks.”
“I’ve put your name on the table,” she says. “You can’t miss it. Enjoy the rest of the evening!”
“I will. Thank you.”
The bartender finishes the drinks, and I pick them up and push through the crowd, not spilling a damned drop, thank you very much, as I reach Skye’s table.
“One banana daiquiri.” I hand the canary-yellow drink to Tessa.
“Thanks so much.” A grin splits her face.
“I took the liberty of getting you Wild Turkey in case you changed your mind.” I hand Skye a glass.
“I didn’t.”
“Great. Then two for me. Follow me. I’ve got a much better table.”
“I’m sure being Braden Black has its perks,” she says dryly, a lock of hair falling over her forehead and into her eyes.
I lower my head and softly blow her hair out of the way. “Being with Braden Black also has its perks.”
Chapter Seventeen
Tessa takes a long sip of her banana daiquiri and then heads back to the dance floor.
Nice. Now I can talk to Skye alone. I take a drink and then slide my tongue across my bottom lip. The bourbon warms my mouth and throat.
“Did you notice how Peter Reardon made a quick getaway when I showed up?”
Skye grits her jaw. “Yeah. I’d have to be blind to have missed it.”
“You said I thought he was hanging around you because of me,” I say, “but that’s not what I thought, and that’s not why.”
“Oh?”
“He was pursuing you because you’re sexy as hell, Skye.”
She gulps, pink spreading again to her lovely cheeks.
“He made a quick getaway because when he saw me stake my claim—”
She crosses her legs slowly. “Excuse me? Stake your claim?”
“You think that was a bad choice of words?”
“I do. I’m not something you can plant your flag on. I’m a person, Braden.”
“A very intriguing person,” I say. “At any rate, when he saw that I was interested—are those words better?”
She nods.
“He put the contract ahead of bedding you. Which is fine by me.”
“I see,” she says, clearly trying hard to sound nonchalant but failing.
“Sure you don’t want a drink?” I nod to the second Wild Turkey sitting in front of her.
Tessa returns to the table and sits down, her brow line sporting a fine sheen. “This band is fantastic, but I need a break. Care to accompany me to the little girls’ room, Skye?”
“Yeah. Sure.” She stands and grabs a silver clutch. “Excuse me for a minute,” Skye says to me.
“I’ll be here.” I hold back a smile.
Several guests clamor up to me as Tessa and Skye turn to leave the ballroom. Everyone wants to shake my hand, which is the usual way of things at these events.
I exchange greetings with the mayor, the district attorney, several MADD board members, and a few people schmoozing to get my business. Then Peter Reardon appears.
“Mr. Black,” he says.
“Hello, Peter.”
“I just want to… I mean…”
For God’s sake, spit it out, man.
“I’m sorry,” he finally blurts out.
“For what?”
“For dancing with Skye. I didn’t know that you and she were…you know.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know.”
“She’s obviously your…” He drops his gaze to the floor. “I’m just sorry.” He rushes off.
I actually feel for the guy. His father wants that contract, and he thinks he just blew it. Little does he know I’ve already decided to go with another firm.
I rise to head to the auction table. A tall blonde has other plans for me, though.
“Mr. Black”—she holds out her hand—“Laurie Simms from Carter and Amos. I’d love a minute to speak with you about your legal needs.”
I shake her hand. She has a firm grip, which I like, but I’m going to have to let her down nonetheless.
She takes a seat at the table. I guess the auction items can wait. I’m not a rude person, so I sit down next to her.
“We represent several big businesses here in Boston,” Laurie says. “Our corporate law department is top-notch.”
“I’ve heard great things about your firm, Ms. Simms—”
“Laurie, please.”
“All right. Laurie, I’ve heard great things about your firm”—not a lie—“but Black, Inc. handles most corporate matters in-house, and for those issues we need extra help with, we have a retainer with Johnson, Mahoney and Crabtree.”
She nods. “I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but Johnson, Mahoney and Crabtree is an excellent firm.”
“But not as good as yours?” I prompt. I’m interested to see how diplomatic she’ll be.
“I like to think we’re the best corporate firm in Boston,” she says shamelessly. “All our partners and a majority of our associates were written up in Legal All Stars this year, myself included.”
“You’re a partner, I take it?”
“I’m on track for next year. I won’t lie to you, Mr. Black. If I could snag Black, Inc. as a client, it’d be a huge feather in my cap.”
“Call me Braden,” I say. “I admire your boldness.”
She laughs. “You mean my audacity?”
“Laurie, audacity is often required to get ahead in any area. I’m pretty audacious myself when it comes to business.” And other things, but that’s none of her concern.
“I had to try. Are you enjoying the gala?”
“I am,” I say. “I may make a few bids.”
“One of our senior partners, Jack Carter, is on the MADD board, but he had a family emergency earlier.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Yes. One of his kids was in a car accident, but she’s just scraped up a little.”
“Good to know.”
“That’s why I’m here. I’ve been his associate for the past five years, and he asked me to come in his pla
ce.”
“Lucky you.”
She smiles. “I enjoy dressing up and getting wined and dined. After working seventy hours a week, it’s a nice break.”
Laurie Simms is quite beautiful. Tall, with honey-blond hair in a loose knot, blue eyes, and fair skin. Another time and place, I’d probably consider seeing her outside of business.
But I only have eyes for Skye Manning tonight.
“Did you bring anyone to the gala?” she asks.
I clear my throat. Not technically, but, “Yes, she’s in the ladies’ room. Skye Manning.”
Laurie cocks her head. “That name sounds vaguely familiar to me.”
“She works for Addison Ames.”
“Right!” Recognition dawns on Laurie’s pretty face. “Her assistant. I remember now. Addie and I have lunch from time to time.”
“Oh?” Clearly Addison never mentioned her past with me to Laurie. Good thing.
“Yeah. I interned with Brock Ames when I was in law school. I worked in the legal department for the hotel chain.”
“How did you end up with Carter and Amos?”
“Actually, I—”
I stop listening.
Skye and Tessa have reentered the ballroom and are only a few feet away from the table.
And Skye’s jaw is dropped open.
Chapter Eighteen
Tessa drops her purse on the table and heads to the dance floor while Skye brings her jaw back in place, returns to the table, and smiles. It’s a fake smile, though. She’s jealous. Jealous that I’m sitting with another woman.
Nice. I don’t mind a little jealousy. Not at all.
I stand. “Skye, meet Laurie Simms.”
Skye holds out her hand and glues on the smile once more. “Skye Manning.”
Laurie takes Skye’s hand and gives it a strong shake. “Braden was just telling me about you. You work for Addison Ames?”
“I do.”
“She’s a doll,” Laurie says.
I resist an eye roll. “Doll” is not a word I’d use to describe Addison Ames.
“Please have a seat,” Laurie continues.
Except Laurie is sitting in the seat Skye vacated only minutes ago. I hold out the chair on my other side, and she sits. The extra bourbon I brought for her is within reach. She grabs it.
“Addie and I go way back,” Laurie says. “I used to work for her father.”
