by Erika Wilde
“Dare I say you look like you’re about to bolt for the exit,” she said, a light accusation in her tone.
He inhaled a deep breath—big mistake—because the scent of her soft, feminine perfume went straight to his dick. It took effort to remain outwardly unaffected, and for her, he allowed a smile to ease across his lips. “Guilty as charged.” He planned on doing exactly that as soon as she went on her way.
Her perfectly shaped brows furrowed in a concerned frown. “Are you not having a good time?”
“Don’t take this personally, but fairy tales are not my thing,” he replied, his tone wry.
“How do you know that for certain?” she countered, a flirtatious glimmer now sparking in her amber eyes. “If you leave right now, you’ll never know if something magical might happen tonight.”
He huffed out a laugh at her whimsical, romantic notion, though the sound that erupted from his throat was as rough as sandpaper. “I’m not looking for anything magical to happen.” In fact, he’d do his best to avoid anything even remotely close to it.
She shrugged a smooth, bare shoulder. “Sometimes, it’s better to leave all expectations and cynicism at the door and just see where the evening takes you.”
He shook his head in disagreement. “Trust me when I say my cynicism is well earned.” And now he was determined that all that skepticism would protect what little was left of his soul from being further ransacked. “I was happy to come and support the Wilder Way Foundation, and now that I’ve done that, I think it’s best if I go. Good night, Tempest.”
He started to walk away, but she grabbed at his tuxedo sleeve. “Remy, wait.”
Not wanting to be rude, he stopped and glanced back at her.
The smile she gave him was so sweet and persuasive it made something in his chest shift ever so slightly. “You can’t leave without having at least one dance.”
Oh, yes, he could, and he shored up his resolve against that imploring look of hers. “I don’t dance.”
The hand on his arm slid down, until her cool, slender fingers curled around his, not only startling him but ensnaring him in more ways than one. “It’s a ballad,” she pointed out of the song Raevynn Walsh was now singing. “Everyone can slow dance. It takes minimal skill . . . unless you don’t trust yourself to stand that close to me?”
Her comment was underscored with a subtle challenge, an undeniable dare that alluded to the attraction between them that was getting increasingly difficult for him to resist.
“Just one dance,” she persisted oh so sweetly, her husky voice taking on a teasing lilt as she leaned in closer. "I solemnly promise not to cast any kind of fairy-tale spell on you."
Bold and determined Tempest Wilder didn't give him another chance to turn her down. With her hand secured in his, she pulled him toward the dance floor in front of the stage, which was already filled with other couples, and he would have looked like a jackass if he rebuffed her at this point. Once she found a spot for the two of them, she turned back around and didn’t hesitate to step as close as their bodies would allow.
The provocative feel of her soft breasts pressing against his chest and her supple thighs skimming along his was like a fucking shock to his celibate system, and he automatically tensed in response to the sexy female curves aligning perfectly to his more masculine frame. It was all he could do to keep his dick from getting hard as a spike against her lower stomach.
Still holding his one hand, she smoothed her other one up the lapel of his jacket and around his neck. Clearly sensing his discomfort, she tipped her head back and gave him a flirty smile, no doubt meant to tease him.
“So, when it comes to slow dancing, the man usually puts his arm around the woman’s waist,” she suggested, since he hadn’t yet done so. “And if he really likes the woman he’s with, he’ll splay his hand low on her back and pull her in close.”
Oh, he knew how to slow dance, but just the thought of putting his hands on her so intimately was wreaking havoc with his libido, and he had a feeling she was well aware of his predicament, too. It was another sexy dare from her, and while he’d spent the past few years avoiding this kind of close contact with Tempest, the sexually starved man in him who desired this woman slipped past all his carefully erected walls.
Fuck it, he decided. What could happen in a room full of people? Giving in to the temptation to touch her, to enjoy the feel of her in his arms, even for a few minutes, he placed his hand on her bare back and slowly caressed his palm all the way down to the base of her spine. The subtle pressure of his hand against her smooth skin drew her as close as the two of them could get, aligning their hips in a way that was suggestively carnal.
Breathing became difficult . . . He hadn’t been this close to a woman in over three years, and there was no denying she felt so damn good. She was incredibly soft, she smelled like heaven, and she made him want to do something wild and wicked and uncharacteristic—like take her somewhere dark and private where he could give in to the lust clamoring inside him.
An unmistakable shiver coursed through her as they shifted in time to the slow song. With her staring into his eyes, her own darkened with awareness as she moved her head to the side of his to speak into his ear. “See, touching me wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“You’re bad,” he murmured, shocking himself with his own playful response when he’d been so indifferent to women for years. It was as though this woman was rousing his sex drive, along with a more indulgent part of him, from a long, deep slumber. The thought was both frightening and exhilarating.
She drew her head back and laughed. To his surprise, the light, sensual sound eased the rest of the tension in his body, allowing him to just enjoy the moment with her.
She gave him a cheeky grin. “Just for the record, Mr. Lowell, I can be very bad, depending on the circumstance.”
He had no doubt, and his mind didn’t hesitate to conjure a few dirty scenarios with her in the starring role. Which he promptly shoved right out of his head before those erotic thoughts got him into trouble. As it was, keeping his body from reacting to the feel of her gorgeous body pressed against his was becoming a lesson in self-control.
She stroked her fingers through the longer strands of his hair that fell over the collar of his jacket, a fanciful glint in her eyes as they met his again. “So, just for fun, considering this is a whimsical night, if there was one fairy tale that described you and me in this moment, what would you say it would be?”
He absently skimmed his thumb along the soft, bare skin of her back, trying not to think how natural it was beginning to feel having her in his arms. “I already told you that fairy tales are not my thing.”
“Come on, Remy,” she cajoled in a beguiling tone while her fingers brushed seductively along the nape of his neck. “Don’t be so serious and uptight. Indulge me.”
He arched an incredulous brow at her unflattering description of him, even though he couldn’t deny that he’d been more reserved since his divorce. His ex-wife’s betrayal had undoubtedly sucked the fun right out of his personality, and he’d yet to find any real joy in life again other than work. The success of Lowell Construction fulfilled his need for security and having control over his own destiny again . . . but any real pleasure in his day-to-day life had been nonexistent over the past three years.
Except right here, right now with Tempest, he was beginning to feel a glimmer of enjoyment. She was like a ray of lighthearted warmth finding its way into places that had felt stone cold for so long.
“I’m not uptight,” he begged to differ, forcing a lightness to his voice so he didn’t sound defensive. “I’m practical. There’s a difference.”
The impudent minx had the audacity to roll her eyes at him. “You’re changing the subject.” Her chastising tone was softened by the carefree smile curving the full lips he suddenly ached to taste. “And practical is boring. Be a little spontaneous, Remy, and don’t overthink my question.”
As they continued to slow dance, he g
lanced down at her upturned face, his mind truly unable to come up with a response that would satisfy her inquisitive mind. So, he opted for a shockingly honest reply instead.
“Growing up, I didn’t read about or believe in any kind of fairy tales,” he said, keeping his reply superficial since he had no desire to delve into his less-than-idyllic childhood. “So, I’m not avoiding your question as much as I don’t have any fairy-tale knowledge to draw from. How about you tell me what fairy tale comes to mind that describes you and me in this moment?”
He’d shocked himself by turning the question on Tempest but had to admit he was sincerely intrigued by what her answer might be.
“Hmmm.” The soft sound rumbled in her throat as she thought for a moment, her eyes suddenly sparkling playfully. “I think I’d go with Lady and the Tramp.”
He laughed, the genuinely amused sound a bit rusty to his ears. While he’d never read fairy tales or watched Disney movies as a child, he at least knew the premise of that story, which was pretty damned close to the truth. “That description is probably more apropos than you know.”
“Do tell.” She tipped her head, her expression openly curious. “You can’t make a cryptic comment like that and not explain.”
He lifted his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “You’re every inch a lady. A veritable princess who lives in this castle of a building,” he said of the once-dilapidated structure that was now a prime piece of real estate worth millions. “And me . . . well, I’m about as scrappy as a mutt can get.” They came from opposite worlds, and not being good enough for someone was the fucking story of his life.
Thank God Raevynn’s song ended, which meant their ridiculous conversation was over, his obligation to dance with Tempest had been fulfilled, and he could finally leave. Because while the sexy, sensual woman standing in front of him might not have cast a fairy tale spell on him as she’d promised, she’d definitely spun a seductive one that was sorely testing his resolve to be a gentleman with her.
Before he could issue a goodbye, she reached out and lightly touched the sleeve of his jacket. “I know you’re dying to get out of here, but before you go, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you,” she said quickly, as if sensing his need to escape—everything. Especially her. “It’s business related.”
He could have told her that he’d rather talk business at his office or on the phone during the week. Both options would establish much-needed space between them, as well as provide a safe, nonsexual, work-related environment for his benefit that would keep his desire for her firmly in check. But he was intrigued enough by her request and what she could potentially want from him—businesswise—that he relented.
He exhaled a deep breath. “Sure.”
She gave him a delighted smile. “And here I thought you were going to shoot me down.”
He laughed at just how close he’d come to doing just that. “So, what kind of business did you want to discuss?”
She glanced around the loud, crowded ballroom as if searching for a quiet place to talk, which was nonexistent. Her gaze narrowed in on someone or something in the distance, then she quickly inclined her head toward the bank of elevators that led to the upper floors of the building—which included the offices for MadX-Tech Security Systems and, above that, three other floors with private living quarters that Remy had designed and constructed for Maddux, Hunter, and Tempest three years ago.
“Follow me,” she said, lifting the front of her dress a few inches so she didn’t step on the hem and starting in a direction that took them farther away from the party.
He fell into step beside her. “Where are we going?”
She smiled at him as she walked a bit faster and with purpose, as though she was trying to escape something or someone. “Somewhere where it’s not so noisy and there aren’t three hundred people around to listen in on our conversation.”
“The MadX-Tech offices?” he guessed. On a night like this, it was unlikely that anyone would be working, which meant the place would be deserted and quiet.
“No. My apartment.” She cast a quick look over her shoulder, then glanced up at him, an imploring look in her eyes. “I’ve been running around all day and all evening getting everything ready for this party, and I could really use a break for a little bit, and we can talk without being interrupted. And to be honest, there’s someone here at the ball who is looking for me that I really don’t want to deal with right now. Do you mind?”
He frowned, concern shifting through him. “Are you in some sort of trouble?”
She shook her head quickly. “Oh, God, no,” she assured him as they reached the elevators, and the lack of fear in her voice and expression made the crazy and unexpected protective vibe in him ease. “I can handle the person just fine. I’d just rather avoid them right now, and preferably for the rest of the night, if possible. Are you okay with going up to my apartment for a bit?”
Her final question was giving him an option and an out if he didn’t want to be completely alone with her. But truth be told, he was partied out. The noise. The people. The forced smiles and small talk. He’d met his quota for the year.
Going somewhere quiet appealed to him immensely, and clearly Tempest needed a breather, too. Going up to her apartment was all about business, he told himself. Nothing more.
“Let’s go,” he said, and pressed the call button for the elevator, and the gratitude that filled her eyes told Remy he’d made the right decision for Tempest.
He wasn’t so sure about himself.
Chapter 3
The moment Remy agreed to accompany Tempest up to her apartment, genuine relief filled her. After catching Kyle looking around the ballroom, most likely searching for her since she’d done her best to avoid him tonight, she’d made the split-second decision to take her conversation with Remy somewhere more private. A short reprieve to discuss hiring Remy for her upcoming project, and then she’d return to the ball and Remy would undoubtedly beeline it for the exit as he’d already tried to do twice.
The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside, with Remy keeping a proper distance between them. With tonight’s ball and so many guests in attendance, the upper floors had been locked out to everyone except those who held a key card that would allow them up to the MadX-Tech offices. As for the apartments above that floor, they required more specific encoded data on the magnetic strip to bypass the system, which only select people had access to.
After the heavy steel elevator doors slid closed, Tempest discreetly reached into the slit in her dress and retrieved her key card, watching as a comical what-the-fuck look appeared on Remy’s face when she produced the rectangular piece of plastic from beneath her dress as if by magic.
A confused frown marred his brows. “Where the hell were you keeping that?”
She laughed as she swiped the magnetic strip so the elevator could begin its ascent and could only imagine that all sorts of hilarious scenarios were running through Remy’s mind right now. “It was tucked into a garter I’m wearing.” She flashed him the opposite leg from the one exposed by the high slit in her dress, showing him the sexy black lace band secured around her upper thigh with a built-in pocket, which came in handy when she didn’t want to carry a purse. “I designed them myself, and I sell them, too. They’re pretty and very functional.”
His gaze lifted from the garter to her face. “What do you mean, you design and sell them?”
She released the silky material of her dress, covering her legs again. “My current business, Wilder Passion, is designing lingerie and selling the exclusive pieces through monthly subscription boxes. I included the garters one month, and they were such a huge hit I now sell them on the website.”
He blinked at her in surprise. “I had no idea that’s what you did for a living.”
No doubt, he probably thought she sat around and ate bonbons all day. They arrived on her floor and the doors opened directly into her apartment’s marble foyer. She stepped out, followed by Remy.
/>
“You know, I’m not the spoiled princess you think I am,” she quipped in a teasing tone, referencing his earlier comment about her. “I might be fortunate enough to live a comfortable life with certain luxuries thanks to my brother’s wealth and generosity, but I don’t depend on Maddux’s money to support me beyond this apartment he gifted to me. I’m actually a successful businesswoman in my own right.”
“I’m impressed,” he said, the praise in his voice surprisingly warm and authentic.
“Thank you.” She smiled at him, his compliment meaning more to her than it should. Probably because all the men she’d dated recently thought of her business as an insignificant hobby instead of a real job. Including Kyle.
They reached the open-concept living room and kitchen area, which was huge and spacious. Remy stopped and glanced around, taking in all the changes through his contractor eyes—her bold red, black, and gray décor, the funky style of her furniture, and a lot of the accessories she’d added over the past few years since he’d finished construction on the building and apartments.
“Wow, the place looks great,” he said, his gaze meeting hers again. “Last time I saw your apartment, it was just painted walls and empty other than all the kitchen and bathroom fixtures.”
She saw him surreptitiously glance down the hallway toward the back rooms and imagined he was curious to know how those had turned out, too. “Would you like a tour of the apartment you designed and built?” she offered.
While he’d definitely thawed since she’d first approached him downstairs at the ball, he was still guarded, and she expected him to quickly turn down her invitation.
Instead, he shocked her with his enthusiastic reply. “Yeah, that would be great. I’d love to see what you did with the space.”
She laughed. “You’re like a contractor geek right now.” And really, it was adorable seeing his enthusiasm.
“I kind of am,” he admitted unabashedly. “You build all these spaces for people, and you rarely get to see how they look once they put their personal touches on everything. The before-and-after fascinates me.”
