Ms. Match
Jo Leigh
Waking up in a hotel room next to a nearly naked Gwen Christopher is a shocker for Paul Bennet.Hmm, one too many the night before? After all, he's rich, successful and looks more like one of his movie-star clients than their PR rep. Paul can have any woman he wants. Any woman - except Gwen's smokin'-hot sister. Taking plain-Jane Gwen out as a favour was supposed to be his ticket in.And okay, sure, Gwen's fun and smart and interesting - and absolutely amazing in bed. But she'd never fit in with his parties-and-paparazzi lifestyle. This is a total mismatch.So why's he so ready to dive back into bed with Gwen first chance he can?
Excerpt
“Two rooms, please.”
“I’m sorry, sir. All we have available is a single room.”
Paul looked at Gwen. Then back at the reservation clerk. “We’ll take it.”
“Wait a minute.” Gwen pulled Paul back a bit from the desk. “We can’t sleep together…”
“Don’t worry,” he said, smiling before she had a chance to protest further. “You can have the bed.
I’ll take the chair.”
“Uh…”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be a perfect, uh…”
“Gentleman?”
He pointed at her. “Yes.”
Gwen wasn’t worried – not about Paul, at least. She was tired from all the drinks and dancing. And she lacked a toothbrush. But before Paul got the key, the nice reservation man handed him two baskets filled with all kinds of necessities. Everything they’d need to get through the night…
Including two shiny condom packets.
Jo Leigh has written more than forty novels since 1994. A triple RITA® Award finalist, she has contributed to many series, most recently Mills & Boon® Blaze®. Jo loves that she can write mysteries, suspense and comedies all under the Blaze banner, especially because the heart of each and every book is the love story.
Jo lives in Utah where she’s hard at work on her next book. You can chat with her at her website, www.joleigh. com, and don’t forget to check out her daily blog!
Available in February 2010
from Mills & Boon® Blaze®
BLAZE 2-IN-1
Fast, Furious and Forbidden
by Alison Kent
&
Hard To Resist by Samantha Hunter
Ready For Action by Karen Foley
Ms. Match By Jo Leigh
Ms. Match
by
Jo Leigh
MILLS & BOON®
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/)
To Ryan, who (thankfully) knows his sports.
And no, he won’t be allowed to read this book
till he’s forty.
Chapter 1
THE COFFEE SHOP was crowded as always just before seven, a long line of men and women dressed in what passed for business clothes in Beverly Hills snaking through the small round tables and out the door. Paul Bennet considered skipping his bagel and heading straight to the office, but he’d only had a couple of Dodger Dogs last night for dinner and he didn’t like feeling hungry as he started his day. Not that kind of hungry at least.
Today would be a busy one. There was a new client on board, a television production company specializing in home improvement shows. They’d signed on to his public relations firm after being wooed by at least five other companies. But he’d done the final presentation pitch himself, and it had been a killer.
He bumped the arm of a young woman who glared up at him with fire in her eyes. The fire dimmed when he offered her a smile.
“Excuse me,” she said, a slight blush coming to her cheeks.
“No problem.”
She continued on her way and he silently urged the line to speed up. He could wait and ask Tina, his secretary, to order in, but she wouldn’t arrive till nine.
He liked to be the first in the office. In the quiet, he made his overseas and East Coast calls, went through his e-mail, did most of his real work. Once nine rolled around his day turned into a schmooze-fest. He shouldn’t complain. It was what he did best, the reason Bennet, Inc. was a success.
This morning, however, his first call would be to one Autumn Christopher. She would be in her hotel by now, relaxing with a drink and enjoying the view of the Piazza di Spagna.
He pictured her in her red-hot flight attendant uniform, with her long, blond hair pinned up primly. Her lips would match, scarlet and moist, but there would be no trace on her glass due to some feminine magic. That was only one of the ways she made him crazy. Like her smoky eyes when they looked him over from the ground up. The sound of her laughter. The fact that no matter what he did, no matter how charming, how lavish, how certain he was that he was on the mark, she simply wouldn’t sleep with him.
The woman was no dummy.
He’d always been intrigued by the chase. Up to a point. Autumn had streaked past that point into territories hitherto unknown. Why then was he still after her? By now, hell, months ago, he should have kissed her off and pursued other opportunities. There was a world of women out there, and being in Los Angeles meant a world of extraordinarily beautiful women, so what was the deal?
Finally, he reached the counter. He pulled out his smile once more, registering, barely, the response of the girl behind the counter. She blushed, glanced down, shuffled from side to side.
“Hi, Carol. I’d like an onion bagel, light cream cheese. Coffee, black. And I’d be delighted if you could add a smile to that order.”
Despite the fact that he used the same silly line every time he got a bagel, Carol always reacted. Flushed, flustered and yet she always hustled for him, which was the ultimate goal. He didn’t care for standing in line.
Quicker than it should have been possible, she returned with his order. “I put the bagel on the heat when I saw you two down,” she said, her voice just loud enough for him to hear.
“That’s what I love about you, Carol,” he said, handing her a ten, which included a generous tip. “You’re a treasure.”
She sniffed and touched her hair. “Thanks, Mr. Bennet.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
He was out of there in two minutes and into the building proper. He leased an entire floor of the high-rise. The lower floors were mostly concerned with banking, but the upper reaches had a number of offices that were unique to the area. Movie production companies, advertising firms that catered to the movie business, a casting office, two accounting firms that handled motion picture clients. It was showbiz all the way up here. His firm, for example, handled stars, film equipment firms, production companies, one of the smaller studios and three different commercial houses. They also had some sports clients, a few publishing companies and five, no six, authors.
He opened the doors to the front office, decorated to the nines by a leading Hollywood set designer. The artwork alone had cost him more than he’d earned his first two years in the business. The space smelled of the fresh flowers that were delivered weekly and that indescribable scent of money. Nothing about his business came cheap, which was the way he liked things.
He carried his bagel and coffee down the hall to his office. Here, on the twentieth floor, he was rewarded with a phenomenal view of the city. From Rodeo Drive to the Hollywood Hills, on a clear day it was the picture of fine living. Sadly, there weren’t all that many clear days.
He sat behind his desk and turned on his computer. As he ate, he scanned his e-mails. Several needed quick responses, but most of them could wait. He was careful about his response timing. His clients tended to get greedy if he jumped on their queries.
A few minutes later, fortified by his admittedly meager breakfast, he slipped on his Bluetooth and rang up Autumn’s cell phone. Three rings, then her lovely, soft, “Hello.”
“Hey, beautiful.”
“Paul,” she said, and in that single word, she said everything. She was glad to hear his voice, pleased he’d called her beautiful and a little too delighted that it had all been on her terms.
“How’s Rome?”
“Hot.”
“Poor thing.”
“It’s not so bad. There’s a pool in the hotel. I was about to get into my suit.”
“Suit? Isn’t that a bit of a stretch? That bikini of yours is no bigger than four Post-it notes.”
She laughed, and just as it always did, the sound made his dick twitch.
“I know exactly what you should do,” he said. “Use the video on your cell. Let me watch you strip.”
Autumn sighed. “I have to hand it to you, Paul. You don’t give up easily.”
“Damn right I don’t.”
“I like that. I do. But I need to change the subject.”
“Oh?”
“I have a favor to ask you.”
He hoped it involved lingerie and champagne. “Ask away.” He swung his chair around so he could view the city, the worker bees swarming to the hive. In New York, most everyone wore black. Dreary, even if the clothes themselves were daring. Not so in the City of Angels. It was warm today, and the colors on the people were as vibrant as the flowers lining Rodeo Drive.
“My parents are celebrating their fiftieth anniversary on Friday,” Autumn said. “Only I’m going to be here.”
“Okay,” he said, his attention back on the conversation.
“The thing is, my sister doesn’t have a date.”
“Your sister.”
“Uh-huh. Gwen. She says she doesn’t care about going solo, but I know it’s not true. I was wondering…”
“If she’s anything like you, I’d be honored to be her escort.”
Autumn laughed again. “No, not you. But you’ve got to know someone who wouldn’t mind.”
“Mind? Why would they mind?”
She sighed, one of those frustration deals complete with sound. “I don’t want to be mean or anything, but Gwen’s not exactly…She’s very smart.”
“Ah. She has a good personality.”
“Exactly.”
“How good?”
“She’s not a troll or anything, but, well, you know. On the plus side, people seem to think she’s interesting and funny.”
“Got it. Not a problem. I have just the guy in mind. What’s her number?”
“Don’t have him call. Tell him to show up at her apartment. I’ll let her know to expect him. Oh, and it’s formal.”
Autumn gave him the address and the rest of the details. He jotted it all down dutifully, even as he was busy counting the points he would earn for doing this little favor. He’d come through for her with shining colors. She’d have to say thanks. He could think of a hundred ways.
“You’re a sweetie pie, Paul. I mean it. The anniversary party is a big deal. Thank you.”
“I haven’t done anything yet.”
“You will. You were the first person I thought of to help out.”
“Good. That’s the way it should be.”
She laughed, and somehow he knew the conversation was over, that there would be no video message sent to his phone, no more teasing on the international call. That was how Autumn did things.
“I’ve got to go if I’m going to catch that swim.”
“When are you coming back?”
“Sunday.”
“Can’t wait,” he said, and he knew that any other woman would have melted to those words, but not her. Not Autumn.
FOUR-FORTY ON FRIDAY afternoon and the office was shifting down to first gear. Paul had finished his last call ten minutes ago, and was now jotting down notes for the week to follow. He was looking forward to the evening. He had his monthly poker game, something he relished. No women were involved, only beer, fine cigars and the kind of raucous bullshit that could only come from a bunch of guys who’d known each other since college.
When Sam Ensler stepped inside his office, Paul’s happy buzz died a quick death.
“Don’t do this to me, Sam.”
“You know I wouldn’t if I had a choice.”
“The party is tonight.”
Sam, his go-to man in charge of literary PR, seemed miserable. He always looked kind of miserable, hence his nickname of Eeyore, but even Paul could see this was serious.
“I’ve got to go to Michigan,” Sam said. “My mother broke her hip. She’s having surgery in the morning.”
“Shit.”
Sam nodded. “There’s no one else. She’s eighty-five.”
“I understand. Go take care of her. Take the time you need.”
“I’m really sorry, Paul.”
“No problem. What time was Gwen expecting you?”
“Seven.” He put a piece of paper on Paul’s desk. “That’s her address.”
“Got it,” he said, his mind already racing through his list of friends and even acquaintances who could step in. “Let me know how your mother’s doing, huh? And leave your cell on.”
Sam smiled grimly as he turned to leave.
The minute he was alone, Paul cursed, vehemently. He had no idea who he could get for this gig on such short notice. Woody? No, Woody was in New York. Maybe Jeff…Shit. Jeff wasn’t about to give up a Friday night to go out with an unattractive stranger. Who was he kidding? None of his friends would. Paul’s only hope had been finding someone who either worked for him or who owed him. That second group should have given him a number of options. Except that it was a Friday night and there was just no time.
Cursing again, Paul dialed Cary’s number. He got the voice mail, and left the message that he wouldn’t make it to poker. Then he checked out Gwen Christopher’s address. She lived in Pasadena. He’d have to get it in gear if he wanted to be on time. Thank God he always had at least one tux at the ready.
Autumn was going to owe him big-time.
HOLY SHIT. He was stunning.
Tall, unruly dark hair, stunning dark eyes, features that one would expect to see on the cover of GQ. He was one of the best-looking men Gwen Christopher had ever seen in person. Poor guy. He still hadn’t gotten into Autumn’s pants. It was the only reason Gwen could think of that a man who looked like him would agree to be her escort. “It’s not going to work.”
“Pardon me?”
She held the door open for him to come in. “Cinderella’s not going to sleep with you because you’re taking the ugly stepsister to the ball. She’ll still make you wait.”
The dazzling man blinked in charming confusion. “I’m not—”
She sighed as she closed the door. “I appreciate that you got all dressed up, so I’ll make it easy for you. I’ll tell Autumn you were perfect, a fabulous date. And I’ll even give you a tip. She won’t want you until you don’t want her. Then her legs will part like the Red Sea. The night’s young, and if you hurry, you can still make it to a premiere or whatever beautiful people normally do on a Friday night.”
“Hey, lady, I’m just here to see if you want a copy of the Watchtower.”
Gwen laughed out loud, amazed that someone Autumn knew actually had a sense of humor. “Very good. It’s Sam, isn’t it?”
“No, actually it’s Paul. Paul Bennet. I’m Sam’s pinch hitter. He had to leave town. His mother broke her hip.”
“Ah, well, then this really is your lucky night. Seriously, you don’t need to stay.”
“I didn’t need to come. But I’d still like to take you to the party.”
“Trust me. You don’t.”
Paul leaned back slightly and cocked his right brow, which made him even better looking. “Okay, so you really are Autumn’s sister.”
“What do you mean?”
“Stubborn.” He took a step toward her. “I haven’t got a single thing to do tonight. I’m dressed for the part. And I wouldn’t mind checking out the rest of the family.”
Wouldn’t her whole clan just die when she walked in with Paul Bennet on her arm? It wouldn’t last—a heartbeat after the shock wore off they’d all figure out that he was a mercy date. Still, it would be fun to see Faith with her perfect little mouth agape. “I’ve given you the secret to getting Autumn into bed. Don’t you believe me?”
“I prefer to reach my own conclusions. What do you say then?”
“I say you’re nuts.”
“That’s probably true. On the other hand, I was promised an open bar and a great buffet.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that. Honestly, there’s not enough booze in the world to make this a delightful evening.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
She looked at him, taken aback once more at how damn gorgeous he was. It was ridiculous, really. No one person should be allowed all that beauty. But then, beauty wasn’t fair at all, was it? There was no doubt in her mind that she should put a stop to this madness right now. The whole situation was ludicrous. Could she actually be considering going to the party with this Adonis?
“Good, it’s settled. Get your bag, Gwen. Let’s go have some fun.”
Even as she shook her head, she walked over to the dining-room table to pick up her purse. And when he held out his arm for her, she took it. It didn’t surprise her that he had a shiny black Mercedes. But it did surprise her that she felt a little shiver in her tummy as he helped her inside.
PAUL SETTLED THE CAR onto the freeway and stole a glance at his companion. Autumn had exaggerated her sister’s unattractiveness. She wasn’t in Autumn’s league, no, but she wasn’t hideous, not by a long shot. Gwen was what he would consider plain. Nondescript eyes, a nose that could benefit from a good cosmetic surgeon, a too-broad jaw. Her body was nice, although bigger than most of his women friends. She carried herself confidently and put herself together well. But frankly, if he’d seen her at a party he’d have walked by without a second glance. It wasn’t noble. Then again, he’d never claimed to be a paragon of virtue. He liked beautiful things. Cars, clothes, women. It wasn’t a crime.
“So how do you know her?” Gwen asked.
“I met Autumn at a party for one of my author clients.”
“Autumn knows an author? Autumn knows how to read?”
“I don’t believe she knew him,” he said, choosing to ignore the dig. “She was there as someone’s guest.”
“You can understand my confusion. She’s not exactly a charter member of the book of the month club.”
He smiled, thinking Gwen was right. “She has other charms.”
“Yes, I suppose she does.”
“You two aren’t close?”
“No. Her circles and mine seldom intersect.”
“So tell me about your circles.”
She turned a bit to look at him and he felt as if he should have brought his college diploma to show her. “I’m a headhunter for Rockland-Stewart. Mostly scientific positions.”
“Really? I’ve used a headhunter once or twice.”
“For…?”
“Public relations. Primarily in the entertainment field.”
She nodded. “That makes sense.”
“Why?”
She went back to staring at the road. “You seem the entertainment industry type.”
“Do I hear a note of disdain?”
“No, I’m sure it’s fascinating work.”
“Actually, it is.”
“Why PR?”
“Why not? I’m good at it.”
“That, I’m sure of. You were quite smooth stepping into this awkward position.”
“So you would have preferred the original arrangement? Sam is a pretty interesting guy.”
Gwen sighed. “I’m being horrible, I’m sorry. My sister believes she’s doing me a favor, setting me up like this. I’ve told her at least a dozen times, if I wanted a date, I’d bring a date.”
“You like going stag? Even to something like this?” Paul got over to the right lane, ready for the interchange. The party was at the Marriott in Burbank. It wasn’t a long trip from her place in Pasadena, not by L. A. standards.
“It depends.”
“On?”
She gave him a look that he couldn’t make out as most of her face was in shadow. “My sister and most of my family don’t have a clue about my life. Just as I don’t have much of a clue about theirs. It’s just easier to go to family gatherings alone.”
“I see.”
“There’s a chance you’ll enjoy yourself, though,” she said. “It’ll be packed. Aside from all my parents’ friends, there’s my incredibly gigantic family. You know there are eight of us kids. Five of them are married and Faith is engaged. That’s not counting their children.”
“Whoa. I had no idea.”
“All of them are more like Autumn than me. It was a joke my whole life that my mother had an affair with the postman.”
“Unique is good.”
“And there’s the PR maven at work.”
Despite the fact that Gwen was right, he wasn’t liking this. Not even a little. Come on, he was doing a favor here. A rather large one. She could at least be gracious about it.
“I’m sorry. There I go again. It’s nothing personal, I assure you,” Gwen said.
“No problem.”
“It is. You’re doing a nice thing, even if your motivation is less than pure.”
“Okay, I’m not a saint, but I still think we could make the best of it. If it will make you more comfortable, I can drop you off and arrange for a car to take you home when you’re ready.”
That seemed to startle her. She looked his way, although since he was exiting the freeway, he couldn’t spare her much of a glance. It wasn’t until they were at the first stoplight that she answered.
“I’ll leave that to you. Have yourself a drink and something to eat. Leave when you feel like it. And you don’t have to worry about a car home. I can take care of that, myself.”
“Fine. Let’s see how it goes.”
Even though he couldn’t really see her, he felt her relax. His own shoulders loosened, as well. Now that he had a tidy out, he figured if he played his cards right, he might still be able to make his poker game. He smiled as he turned into the Marriott driveway.
Chapter 2
THE MOMENT the elevator door opened, Gwen heard a swing orchestra and knew her parents were in their version of heaven. They were both in their early seventies, but they still loved a great bash. That’s why, in Gwen’s solitary opinion, they’d had so many kids. They lived for an audience and a big dance floor. In their day they had been extraordinary dancers, winners of all kinds of prizes. When they got into the groove, they could outlast a lot of younger couples.
Gwen glanced at Paul as they made their way to the grand ballroom. He wore his tuxedo the way some men wear Levi’s, as if it was the first thing he’d grab in the event of a fire.
Everything about him was the kind of slick you had to look for. So subtle that the signs of effort could easily be missed. His nails had been buffed, though not excessively so. His hair was perfectly mussed as if he’d just rolled out of a movie bed. Not a real bed, because that would be too risky, plus there was the whole eye-gunk and bad breath thing to deal with. No, Paul looked like a big-screen leading man.
Seconds before they reached the entrance, Gwen thought about stepping closer to him, making sure her family and their friends would know that he was with her. The thought brought a wry grin to her face which she hoped Paul didn’t see, or wouldn’t know how to interpret.
She kept the same distance from him as they rounded the door, then felt his open palm on the small of her back.
Startled, she looked up at him. He smiled and gave her a wink, which would have been delightful if the underlying reason for his attention hadn’t been pity. Despite those momentary urges to thumb her nose at her family, this was not the way she wanted to play. The game itself made her ashamed of her entire brood, and herself. She stepped away, dislodging his hand and any notion he might have harbored that she needed rescuing.
Paul took the rejection in stride, his seductive smile not faltering. It occurred to Gwen that the seduction was all part of his package. His personal autosetting. Seduce and conquer. Of course he was successful. He’d been born for his work.
“Gwen?”
She slowed at the sound of her sister’s voice. Faith. Six years older than Gwen, Faith was a buyer for Neiman Marcus. Her fiancé, Bret, standing at her side, was also a buyer. The two of them were a match made in heaven. Between them, they almost had a whole brain. “Yes, Faith, it’s me. Gwen.”
“And who’s this?” Faith eyed Paul as if he were a hot new designer jacket. Her whole face lit up with curiosity, which naturally made her even more beautiful. Her sisters, all five of them, had been models at some time during their lives. Despite the fact that Faith was thirty-four, she still fielded offers from photographers.
“Paul Bennet, my sister, Faith.”
Paul bowed his head which made Faith sigh before she looked back at Gwen. “You must give me the name of the escort service. Not for me, naturally, but I know a lot of women…Anyway, it’s lovely to meet you.”
Gwen’s gaze shifted to Paul, catching the tail end of his shock. He regained his aplomb quickly.
“I see the bar.” He nodded toward the side of the room and completely ignored Faith and her idiotic statement. “Shall we get a drink?”
“I’d like that.” Gwen took his arm and they headed deeper into enemy territory. She thought about apologizing for Faith, but if she started down that road, she’d be apologizing the whole night. Screw it. She’d have a drink, see Paul off, then call a cab. It would be over before she knew it, and she could forget all this nonsense.
The orchestra was fabulous. The music was all the stuff she’d grown up with. Swing, mostly, with some old standards thrown in for downtimes. She hadn’t spotted her parents yet, but there was Danny and his wife, Sandy. And her sisters, Bethany and Eve.
Paul slowed as they reached the end of the line for the bar. “What would you like?”
“Gin and tonic, please.”
“No champagne?”
“Nope. To get through this night I need major fortification. In fact, make that a double.”
“Sounds very wise,” he said. “So how many of them are out there?”
She knew without asking exactly what he was talking about. “All six. Plus six mates.”
“Where do you fit in?”
She almost said she didn’t. “It’s Jess and Autumn after me. Everyone else is older, if not wiser. As I said, feel free to leave. I’m used to them.”
“I don’t know. That buffet looks great.”
“I’m sure it is. My folks know how to throw a party.”
He looked across the huge ballroom toward the orchestra. “I can see that. Do you dance?”
“We all learned. My parents were semipro when they were younger. We listened to swing bands instead of lullabies.”
“I had to go to a dance academy. What a nightmare. I got beaten up regularly, and no, learning to fox-trot didn’t help me become so light on my feet I came away unscathed. I had a permanent black eye until I was fifteen.”
“But are you happy now?”
“Well sure. I haven’t had a black eye in years.”
She grinned. “I mean about the dancing.”
“Ah. I suppose it’s good to know how, although there are remarkably few opportunities to use the skills these days.”
“That’s true. And sad.”
“There are some swing clubs in the Valley.”
The woman standing in front of Paul turned to stare at him. Paul coughed. “Swing dance clubs,” he said. “Although I’m pretty certain there are the other kind, too.”
The woman who’d looked at him was one of her parents’ golfing friends. They belonged to a club that cost a fortune and spent their days playing cards, tennis, even some lawn bowling. She was glad for them, that they had the money to live a leisurely retirement.
“Gwen, it’s so nice to see you. It’s been ages.”
What the hell was her name? It was Bitsy or Kiki or some other silly thing, but Gwen couldn’t recall. It didn’t matter, though, as what’s-her-name couldn’t take her eyes off Paul. “Nice to see you, too. This is Paul Bennet, a friend of Autumn’s.”
The woman nodded as if it all suddenly made sense. “Where is that sister of yours?”
“Rome.”
“Lucky duck. Rome is beautiful this time of year, don’t you think?”
Paul slid a glance at Gwen. “I’m sure Autumn would prefer to be here.”
“Oh, of course she would.”
Paul stepped closer, very close, although he didn’t touch Gwen. “My thoughts exactly.”
With a final somewhat bewildered smile, the woman turned away, leaving Gwen yearning for her drink and her escape.
“Is it all parties you dislike so much, or just family parties?” Though his voice was low, considering the noise in the room, she heard him. Felt his warm breath on the side of her neck.
“I prefer small gatherings. With lots of conversation and laughter. Ah, finally.”
They had gotten to the bartender at last. Paul ordered their drinks, and once they had them, she sipped as she led him toward the buffet. It was a huge spread, complete with an ice sculpture swan. Oysters on the half shell, colossal shrimp, crab legs, caviar. Everything was perfectly presented, the waitstaff attentive and polite. If only she could relax and enjoy herself. She juggled her glass and her plate until she had enough food to help ward off real drunkenness, then headed toward the far end of the ballroom where there were a few places to sit.
Paul found them two seats, and they joined a group of strangers. Gwen recognized some of them, but she had no names to go with the faces. It was nice, though, because the food and drink made chitchat difficult. She wondered if she should tell him again that he was free to leave, or if that would sound as if she was throwing him out.
“That’s got to be one of the sisters,” Paul said.
She followed his gaze to the outskirts of the dance floor. Bethany, the only sister Gwen was remotely close to, stood with her husband, Harry. They both looked gorgeous. Beth wore a long, shimmering silver dress that hugged her perfect figure. “That’s Bethany. Husband Harry. They have a girl, Nickie, who’s almost a year old.”
“Another one?” He nodded toward the front entrance.
“Yep. That’s Eve. Although I don’t see the rest of her brood.”
“I don’t think I can pick out any of the brothers.”
She glanced through the crowd, but she couldn’t find any of the boys, either. “I’ll point them out if they pass.”
“What was it like to grow up with so many siblings?”
“It was great when I was very young. Not so much later on. The competition was fierce.”
“Competition?”
“Unlike those delightfully cheery big families on television, our gang was all about points. Major points for football glory, modeling contracts, cheerleading squads.”
“What about academics?”
She waved her hand, the shrimp she held bobbing. “No one actually discouraged getting good grades. But report cards weren’t important currency. What about you?”
“There was pressure, most of it about grades. It was just me and my sister, Val. She’s three years younger, and damn smart. Scary smart. Me, I had to bust my ass.”
“You did well?”
“Yeah. I got into Yale, and they didn’t throw me out for a fraud. I studied prelaw, but much to the disappointment of my father, it wasn’t for me.”
“You’re lucky. You found your calling.”
“I am.”
She finished up the rest of her meal, digesting the fact that leading man Bennet had graduated fromYale. She probably should feel embarrassed at her own prejudice. In her experience men who looked like Paul didn’t go Ivy League. Her brothers had done quite well in life having attended middling colleges. They’d understood early that charm and beauty opened more doors than prestigious degrees.
“Is there something else you’d like? More shrimp? Another drink?”
“No, I’m fine for now, thanks.”
He stood up and she relaxed, knowing she would be free to leave soon herself. Paul held out his hand. Instead of a quick goodbye, he urged her to her feet. “Dance with me?”
“Oh. No. I—”
“Years of black eyes.”
She knew that breathtaking smile wasn’t really for her. It was all part of the game. What she couldn’t understand was what he was doing with Autumn? Yes, she was stunning, a knockout. But she was also dumb as a post. Gwen laughed at herself. Didn’t beauty trump smarts every time?
He tugged at her again, and she relented. It had to be the gin, that’s all. Surely she wasn’t fooled by his PR magnetism. As they went toward the dance floor, she looked down at her dress. She’d spent way too much on the damn thing, especially knowing she’d probably never wear it again. Still, when she’d tried it on, she’d felt so pretty.
She’d seen the dress in the window of a small Beverly Hills boutique and tried it on for a lark. How it fit her size-ten body made her feel more like a size two. So she’d closed her eyes to the outrageous price and excused her excess as a celebration in honor of a major win by her beloved Dodgers.
Finally, she would get to take the dress out for a spin. What did it matter if she danced with a pity date? She was allowed to have fun, dammit. Even here. Even with him.
PAUL KEPT HOLD OF HER HAND until they were in the middle of the crowded dance floor, afraid she’d try to escape if he let go. When he spun her into his arms, he was shocked to find her smiling. Not that tight, barely tolerant smirk she’d worn earlier tonight, but a real honest-to-god grin.
The orchestra broke into “Go Daddy-O,” and Paul got her ready. Gwen gave him a nod, and the two of them were off.
He hadn’t danced like this in years, since that brief swing craze had made the rounds. But it all was there, right next to his fox-trots and waltzes and sambas.
It helped that Gwen kicked ass.
Unlike almost every woman he’d danced with since grammar school, she knew how to follow. She could actually read his hand as he guided her, his feet before they made a move. If they hadn’t been wearing evening clothes, he’d have really let loose. He knew she’d love it if he swung her into the air or into a deep slide between his legs.
No matter, this was still exhilarating. Not as good as bed-busting sex, but it would do.
As he pulled her into a twirl, her head went back and she laughed out loud, a sound that made him laugh himself, just for the hell of it.
The whole thing was crazy. Dancing like a madman, dancing with Gwen. Enjoying himself so much he just might not leave after this song. One more wouldn’t hurt. The poker game would still be going if he stayed for a couple more numbers.
By the time this song ended he was sweating a bit, not completely winded thanks to his workout routine, yet he needed a minute. From the look of things, Gwen did, too. He could tell from her dancing that she was in good shape. It was odd. He’d never gone out with athletic women. Most of his dates were thin. Well, skinny. He liked the models, liked how they looked on his arm. They had never really wanted to do much. Of course, they never ate, at least not in front of him.
“That was wonderful.” Gwen fluttered her long dress, trying to cool down. “You’re really good.”
“It was worth the beatings, then?”
“I’d say so.”
“Drink first? Or wait to hear what they play next?”
Just then the band lit up the stage. Paul didn’t recognize the tune, but he sure got the beat. He grabbed Gwen and they did it so right they cleared half the floor.
They were both breathing hard after that number, and Gwen dragged him to the bar. She got water and another double, and he saw no reason not to do the same. Just as he’d finished his water, one of the sisters, Eve, showed up in front of them, her focus solely on Paul.
“I saw you dancing,” she said as she did a full body inspection. “How on earth did Gwen find you? Don’t tell me he’s one of your famous bar buddies.”
The question itself could have been harmless, but it wasn’t. Second sister, second dig. He glanced at Gwen and caught her midsigh before she took a healthy swig of her gin and tonic.
“He was a free gift with purchase. Gotta love those coupons.”
Paul took a step toward his date and put his hand on her back as he smiled brightly.
Only then did Eve look at her sister. Jesus, what the hell was it with this family? At least Autumn had been marginally complimentary about Gwen. Eve’s expression left no room for misinterpretation. She found Gwen distasteful. There had to be more to this twisted dynamic than looks.
He had a lot of experience with the subject. He’d won and lost friends over his looks and he personally set his standards very high, but he saw no reason to be so out-and-out rude about it. He half turned his back on Eve and smiled. “You ready for the next round?”
Gwen put her almost-empty glass on a drink tray. He downed the rest of his own, and they were off, leaving Eve without another glance.
This time, it was a samba, a juicy Latin rhythm, and once again Gwen was the perfect partner. The real surprise came about an hour later, after another round of drinks, when the orchestra decided to give the crowd a breather and some songs that weren’t meant to show off anything but how close two people could get and still keep it legal.
Paul didn’t think twice about pulling Gwen into his arms. He liked the feel of her there, the way she anticipated his moves. As he got a whiff of her perfume, sweet and smoky despite the workout she’d had, he wondered if she’d be just as responsive in bed.
“What’s the matter?”
He looked down at her. “What?”
“You stopped. Is something wrong?”
Shit. He started moving again, smile pasted on as he swayed to the music. After a few minutes he didn’t have to worry about the smile, or his thoughts. Of course he’d thought about her in bed. He was a man. She was a woman. Dancing was intimate work. It was all in the same genre, so to speak. It wasn’t a big thing. In fact, it wasn’t a thing at all.
It still wasn’t a thing later when he noticed the ballroom was half-empty. That the buffet was serving coffee and pastries. The night had gone by in a whirl of drinking and dancing. At some point, he’d met Gwen’s parents, and a few other brothers and sisters, all of whom made some kind of crack about him being her date, but mostly, they’d danced until they had to sit.
Each break, they sat farther away from the music and the crowds. She’d find the table, he’d bring the drinks and once he discovered she was also a rabid Dodger fan, the evening transformed yet again.
He’d have never guessed it could be so easy to talk to a woman when flirting wasn’t on the table. He’d met a lot of women who didn’t interest him that way, but he rarely spent a lot of time with anyone where there wasn’t an agenda. Tonight, he was off the hook. He was earning his points with Autumn, sure, but there really was no pressure. His world was never like this. It was always about either sex or money, somehow. Even his beloved poker games had an undercurrent of competition, and not just about the cards.
It seemed the most natural thing in the world to laugh too loud, to dance with abandon, to drink way more than was wise. One thing was for damn sure, he was in no condition to drive home.
“You okay?”
Gwen looked nice with her dark blond hair all loose around her shoulders. Or maybe it was the sheen. She looked sparkly, like her dress. “I need to find out if I can still get a room.”
She seemed startled until she checked the slim silver watch on her wrist. “Wow. It’s late. I mean early.”
“Yeah.”
“I hope they have two.”
He nodded as exhaustion slammed him in the back of the head. “If not, we’ll just get a taxi.”
“Where do you live?”
“Los Feliz.”
“That’s pretty far.”
“I know.
She looked up at him again. “I’m pretty drunk.”
“I know that, too.” Holding her hand, he led her out of the ballroom, all the way to the front desk. There were a few partygoers ahead of them, but that’s not what made his step slow.
He looked at Gwen, at her pretty dress, at her pretty glow. The feel of her was still in his hands, in the rest of him. “Hey.” He pulled her to a stop, then swung her around to face him. “How’s about we only ask for one room.”
“Why?”
He laughed. “You really have had a lot to drink if you have to ask.”
She stared up at him as if he was out of his mind. And who knows. Maybe he was.
Chapter 3
GWEN HADN’T BEEN THIS DRUNK since she’d stolen a bottle of blackberry schnapps from her parents’ liquor cabinet in junior high. She felt as if she were still dancing, twirling into oblivion even as she stared up into dazzling dark brown eyes.
She knew she hadn’t misheard or misread what he’d said. He wanted to finish the night off with a quickie. After a deep breath she got as steady as possible. “Are you insane? There’s no way in hell I’m going to sleep with you.”
His smile fell and he looked comically, drunkenly, disappointed. “Why not?”
Gwen pursed her lips, wishing both she and the room would stop spinning. “I’m drunk. Not stupid.”
“Hey. I never said—”
“Come on.” She tugged him closer to the front desk person. There were three people ahead of them. “Let’s get our rooms, then sleep it off. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
“I don’t see why you won’t at least consider it.”
The funny thing was, he didn’t sound particularly smashed, but she knew how much he’d put away. Of course, the proof was in his offer. No way he would have wanted her if he was in his right mind. And frankly, although he was a fabulous dancer, he was involved with Autumn. That alone disqualified him. The thought made her shiver.
“Hey,” he said again, only this time the single word was filled with a world of hurt.
“What?”
“I saw that cough-syrup look. I didn’t think I was that bad.”
Damn. She smiled as brightly as she could while trying to keep her balance. Oh, man, did her feet hurt. “That wasn’t about you.”
“Then what?”
“Autumn.” She winced as soon as the word came out. She hadn’t meant to say that.
“My Autumn?”
“Look. We’re next.”
He turned, overbalanced, but caught himself at the last minute. “I guess I drank a lot more than I thought. When we were dancing I didn’t feel nearly this shaky.”
She nodded, but stopped immediately as the motion made her stomach chime into a chorus of unsteadiness. The whole situation was ridiculous. She didn’t want to stay at the hotel. She had nothing with her, no change of clothes, not even a toothbrush. But she also didn’t want to take a taxi home, because just thinking of the ride made her queasy. Queasier.
At the front desk, it took Paul a few minutes to get out his wallet, then he slapped down a credit card. “Two rooms, please.”
“I’m sorry, sir. All we have available is a single room.”
“Two single rooms, then.”
“Actually, there’s only the one.”
Paul looked at her. Then back at the reservation clerk. “We’ll take it.”
“Wait a minute.” She drew Paul back a bit from the desk.
“Don’t worry,” he said, before she had a chance to protest. “You can have the room. I’ll get a car.”
“No. I’ll get a car.”
He shook his head. “Absolutely not. You need to go to bed.”
“So do you.”
He stared at her until he started swaying. “Fine. We’ll share.”
“Uh…”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be a perfect…uh…”
“Gentleman?”
He pointed at her. “Yes.”
“Okay, then,” she said.
Gwen wasn’t worried—not about Paul, at least. She was concerned about not being ill. And the lack of a toothbrush. Along with the key, the nice reservation man handed Paul two baskets, each filled with all kinds of necessities. Everything they’d need to get through the night. Including two shiny condom packets.
As if.
THE ROOM WAS SERVICEABLE, the bed a queen. Gwen thought again about calling for a cab, but the night’s excesses cesses won. She took her little basket into the bathroom and closed the door.
The contents were enough to get her by, only just. No makeup remover, no face cream. She brushed her teeth as she debated the pros and cons of keeping her dress on. It was a beautiful thing and she wasn’t sure how it would do if slept in. The alternative, however, was bra and panties. Perhaps if the lights were off. If he were asleep. If she could manage to remove her clothes without falling flat on her ass. As it was, she was barely keeping her balance with a hand on the counter.
She brushed her hair, then washed her face. It took a good deal of careful wiping to get most of her mascara off her eyes. When she was done she felt better. Slightly.
What she really needed was water. Lots of water.
When she came out, Paul was leaning against the wall, his tie off, his shirt half unbuttoned and his jacket on one of the chairs. Despite everything, he managed to look obscenely handsome. “It’s all yours.”
He gave her a decent smile, considering, and took her place behind the closed door. If she was going to take off her dress, now would be the time to do it. First, though, she got a bottle of water from the minibar, then she kicked off her shoes. As she yanked the covers down, the reality of sleeping in her dress seemed too uncomfortable. Before she could change her mind her dress was off and she was scrambling under the covers as quickly as her poor body would move.
The minute her head touched the pillow the seriousness of her folly hit hard. It had been years since she’d felt this horrible spinning sensation, years since she’d been fool enough to even approach being drunk.
Why? Why had tonight been so different? It wasn’t just the pity date. She’d had plenty before and never gone overboard. It wasn’t just her family and their stupid comments. If she wasn’t used to that by now, she might as well just give up. It couldn’t have been Paul. Yes, yes, gorgeous, right. But so what? She wasn’t the one who was fixated on good looks. Or charm, for that matter.
None of her relationships, other than familial, were based on appearances. The only things she cared about were on the inside. She’d learned early that kindness was a huge thing, even more important than intelligence and wit. She’d built her life around that very principle, and it had made her, for the most part, happy.
Although Paul had shown kindness tonight, she wasn’t at all convinced it was genuine. He was after Autumn. That revealed a great deal.
It didn’t matter, in the end. She’d gotten drunk. So what. Tomorrow, her real life would continue. She’d remember the dancing which had been such a fun surprise. And she’d use tonight as another reminder that too much alcohol was not her friend.
For now, she’d be very happy if the damn room would stop whirling.
She heard Paul leave the bathroom, but she didn’t turn to look at him. She closed her eyes, even though that made things a lot worse.
She felt the covers move, his weight dipping the mattress. The room went dark with the click of a switch. Then she felt him slide in beside her.
Her eyes open once again, she willed herself to pass out so she wouldn’t be so very aware of this man, this virtual stranger, stretched out beside her. He groaned, and she sympathized. A few seconds later, after he’d made some adjustments, he stilled. She relaxed.
She could smell him.
Nothing at all unpleasant about it. Soap, clean skin. Damp hair. Intimate.
She became achingly aware that she was in her underwear. Her plain department store panties and bra.
Was he in his? Boxers? Briefs? Those sexy European trunks that looked so appealing in the magazines? Surely he wasn’t naked.
Her eyes closed again, and this time, she was the one to moan. Not just from the dizziness, either.
“You okay?” he whispered.
“No. I’m an idiot.”
He sighed. “Me, too. I can’t stop spinning.”
“I’m too old for this kind of nonsense.” She shifted a bit on the bed, then froze, not wanting to touch him by accident. “Even when I was young I was too old for this.”
“It’s not all that dire. I, for one, will look back on this night not for being drunk off my ass, but for having a hell of a good time. I can’t remember the last time I danced like that.”
Gwen couldn’t help her smile. “Yeah. It was pretty great.”
She waited for him to speak again, but there was only the sound of his breathing. Perhaps he’d fallen asleep. Of course he had. It was absurdly late.
Once more, she closed her eyes and once more she moaned. It was cut short by the touch of his hand on her arm. Under the covers.
“I can call down for some Alka-Seltzer,” he said. “There wasn’t any in the care baskets.”
Should she move? No. She should ignore it. Him. “No, that’s okay. The spinning will stop soon.”
“Promise?”
“Wish I could.”
“You know,” he said, “it kind of helps to talk. At least for me. But that’s nuts, so never mind.”
“No, it’s not,” she said as she prayed he’d move his hand. “It does help, I think.”
“Crap.”
“What’s wrong?” She almost turned. Didn’t.
“I forgot to get water. Be back in a sec.”
His hand lifted and she breathed again. As the bed jiggled it occurred to her that drunkenness wasn’t her worst sin of the night. Being ridiculous had that honor. She was behaving like a child. A ninny. Like one of her sisters.
The light from the small fridge made her look. Boxers. Nice ones, though not the kind she’d been hoping for.
“You want one?” he asked.
“I’m good.”
He stood there, bare but for his undies, his head back, water bottle at his lips. He drank greedily, and even in the weird light she could see his Adam’s apple bob.
Okay, so she wasn’t being a complete moron. The guy was outside of her experience. The situation was incredibly intimate. Who wouldn’t feel intimidated?
Paul turned to face her, backlit to perfection. “That made all the difference. Are you sure you don’t want one?”
“I’ve got a bottle right here.” She tried to keep her gaze on his face, but her eyes refused to obey. They swept down his chest to his slim hips and below where they lingered until he closed the minifridge door.
He got back into bed with no hesitation this time. While she was busy worrying about the slightest touch, he not only made a good deal of noise, he moved until he was right next to her. If she rolled over, she’d be half on top of him.
“Would it be easier for you if I slept in the bathtub?” she asked.
“What? Why?”
She would have given him a withering glare, but it was dark and she was on her side facing away. “You seem to need a lot of room.”
“No, actually, I don’t. I just wanted to be close.”
“I haven’t changed my mind, Paul. Besides, you’re in no condition.”
“You’re wrong about that, but I’m very clear that you said no. I won’t press the issue.”
“So what’s with the close?”
“You smell nice. And I want to talk.”
She swallowed at the compliment, then let it go for what it was. “Talk about what?”
“We can start with your famous bar buddies.”
Gwen sighed. “Well then, move over.”
He did, then she sat up, holding the covers over her chest as she put her pillow behind her back.
Paul evidently thought that was a good move, and he followed suit. “Bar buddies?”
“It’s nothing. I go to a sports bar on Monday nights. They play sports trivia.”
“Are you good?” he asked.
“I’m great.”
Paul grunted.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She looked at him, more awake than she’d been a minute ago. “I won last year’s overall championship.”
“All sports?”
“All the major sports. It’s not just a local contest, either. It’s all over America and Canada. I happen to play at Bats and Balls, but there are hundreds of bars that participate.”
“Whoa. Okay, sorry I questioned your expertise, but it still doesn’t answer my question.”
“Which was…?”
“Bar buddies.”
“Men play there, too. Eve finds it suspicious that I hang out with men and we’re all just friends.”
He turned his head, although she couldn’t make out his expression. “Eve’s an idiot.”
“Yes. She is,” she said, quite definitely. Then she smiled, just because.
PAUL STRETCHED HIS NECK as he hunkered down in the bed. The dizziness, thank God, had eased and sleep was creeping up the blankets. Still, he didn’t want Gwen to stop talking. He wanted to fade out on her soft voice. He wished that was all he wanted.
They’d talked baseball, moved on to football then somehow got onto favorite pizza joints, but he wasn’t sure where she was now. He’d tuned out the words a while ago, concentrating on the sound. His thoughts had drifted as he’d been lulled by her low seductive tone. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stay awake for more than a few minutes and dammit, he wanted to touch her. Just touch her.
She stopped talking and the quiet wasn’t half as nice, but then she shifted until they were lying side by side with a more than decent space between them.
Paul turned to face her. When she didn’t object, he inched a little closer. With the room so dark, he had no signals to tell him if she was cringing or amenable. The last thing he wanted was to freak her out. “You awake?” he whispered.
“Barely.”
“Would you hate it if I got closer?”
She was silent for several seconds, which gave him all the answer he needed.
“Never mind. Sweet dreams.” He closed his eyes, letting it go. It had been a foolish thought. He wasn’t a cuddler, never had been. He was pretty damn sure this weird feeling had more to do with alcohol than desire.
That feeling came over him—a twilight kind of buzz that precedes slumber. He welcomed the sensation.
When she shifted again he didn’t think anything of it. Not until her backside brushed his hip.
The buzz now in his body was of an entirely different nature. Oddly, he didn’t go into sex mode. It wasn’t about that. When he put his arm around her tummy, the softness of her skin felt perfect. When he spooned her so that he felt her body against his chest, his thighs, he smiled with contentment.
This was exactly what he’d wanted. And from her sigh, he knew she wasn’t unhappy about it, either.
He closed his eyes and drifted off.
GWEN WASN’T SURE how long she’d been in his arms. All she knew was that Paul had fallen asleep, his body cupping hers in an embrace that should have had her running for a cab. Only she didn’t want to run.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so good. Even the headache that was just starting to bloom in her temples didn’t bother her.
Maybe all of it—the way she’d danced like a fool, agreeing to spend the night, this—had a simple explanation. Touch.
She hadn’t been touched in a long, long time. Maybe a handshake or two, but his palm on her tummy, her body pressed to his, that hadn’t happened for what, six months? Longer?
No wonder she’d had difficulty saying no. People were wired to need contact. The more, the better. A huge part of pair bonding had to do with the chemicals humans released when they were skin to skin.
Not that she wanted to pair bond with Paul. Not only was his taste in women completely suspect, but he was just too good-looking.
No, except for his love of baseball…and poker, and dancing. And okay, he had a pretty good sense of humor and he liked horror flicks, still, there was nothing about Paul that appealed to her.
It was the touch thing. He hadn’t been in Autumn’s pants yet, so he’d been without for a while. One would assume. And Gwen hadn’t been close to anyone since Alex. So she should just go to sleep now. Take comfort where it was offered and let the rest fade away.
She found his hand, the one draping her waist, and she put her own hand over his. She moved her leg and her back until she was perfectly comfy with maximum touching. She matched her breathing to his slow, even rhythm. Yet sleep didn’t come.
Her weary, stupefied mind kept dancing. Not just to the swing band from earlier, but to the look of indignation on his face when Faith and Eve had said their horrible things. To the way his eyes had lit up when she’d confessed her Dodger addiction. To the way he moaned, just then, as he dreamed. As he held her.
As far as pity dates went, this one had been the best yet. A grand slam.
She yawned once, squeezed his hand, and that was it.
Chapter 4
SHE WOKE TO THE NUDGE of a penis on her ass. Instantly alert, Gwen froze as panic swelled in her chest and made her Kong-sized headache pound. He had to be asleep. If he wasn’t, then she was going to make damn sure he wouldn’t be able to poke anyone again for a long, long time.
His hand was still around her waist, loosely, and his knees were neatly tucked behind hers. Warm breath hit the back of her neck and as she planned her escape, she relaxed a bit. He had to be sleeping.
Okay. So she couldn’t be angry about his condition. She still needed to get up, grab her dress and make it to the bathroom without waking him.
Despite the darkness of the room she knew it was daylight. Parched and achy, all she wanted was to skip this part and be home. Instead, she held her breath as she carefully lifted his hand. Inch by inch she moved toward the edge of the bed, wincing in her effort not to screw up. She should never have stayed last night. What had she been thinking?
Almost…almost…
Her body was clear. She held on to his hand as she pulled her pillow down to take her place. Hardly daring to breathe she sat up, turned to look at him.
Mistake.
He was as gorgeous as a movie-star hero. She had no illusions about what she looked like when she first got up. Life just wasn’t fair, that’s all. Anyway, his breathing hadn’t changed, his eyes were closed and she’d better get her butt in gear if she intended to make a getaway.
Rising slowly, she made it to her feet. First, she grabbed the water bottle from the nightstand, then hurried to get her dress and dashed into the bathroom.
Finally, she could catch her breath. The woman in the mirror looked like hell, but at least she had a toothbrush and soap.
It didn’t take her long to get dressed. The only thing missing from the bathroom was a notepad. It seemed really impolite to leave without some kind of goodbye. On the other hand, she’d never see Paul Bennet again, so why bother?
No, even she couldn’t be that dismissive. He’d been nice. The best pity date ever. One she’d actually look back on fondly. With brush in hand, she opened the bathroom door to go hunt for paper.
Only Paul wasn’t sleeping anymore. He stood directly in front of her, not five inches away. In his boxers. In the light. Looking like a god. He seemed a bit desperate as he moved quickly into the bathroom. She shook herself out of her beauty-induced shock and scurried out.
With her heart rate up and a ferocious desire to get the hell out of there, she turned on the light by the nightstand. A convenient Marriott notepad and pen were at the ready and she dashed off a quick thanks, tore that sheet off, then wrote another, this one nicer. Her purse was in her hand and she was halfway to the door when Paul came out of the bathroom.
She shouldn’t have written that second note. It had given him time to wash his face, run a damp hand through his hair. She could also see that his poker was behaving once more. Why not? It wasn’t as if he’d been hard over her.
“You taking off?”
“I need coffee and a shower.”
“I hear that. I’m happy to call down for room service. I can be dressed in no time.”
“It’s okay. Stay.” She forced herself to look at his face and only his face. “Take your time. I’m not that far, and I’ll have no trouble getting a cab from here.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
If she wasn’t mistaken, he sounded a little pouty, which didn’t make sense at all. It was probably nothing. His head had to feel as badly as her own. She couldn’t imagine him wanting to stretch things out.
“I wrote you a note. Now that you’re here I’ll just say thank you. I really did have a fun night. You’re a hell of a dancer.”
“Yeah. I had a good time, too. Weird, huh?”
“Very.” She went to pass him, then he touched her arm.
“Autumn was right.”
“About?”
“You being interesting and fun.”
“I was drunk as a skunk, although I’m not really sure what that means.”
His smile was slow and devilish. “Yeah, I think skunks are entirely too clever to drink as much as we did.”
“Hangover?”
He nodded.
“I bet they have plenty of aspirin in the lobby. Anyway…”
“Yeah. Anyway…”
She looked down at where his hand touched her bare skin. Odd. The touch meant nothing. Completely innocent. Only it didn’t feel that way.
A second later, she realized he was leaning toward her. She looked up just as his lips met her own.
Paul kissed her.
Again she froze, lips together, not breathing, waiting for something to happen. Him to back up with a start or a laugh or to ease his grip on her arm. What happened instead was that he continued to kiss her, tilting his head a bit to the right. Parting his lips.
Her eyes closed of their own volition, even as she told herself to move away, to stop the nonsense and get home where crazy things like sleeping with strangers didn’t happen. What she did instead was part her lips, too.
Paul sighed and she inhaled his peppermint breath. Time stretched and slowed her thoughts and her reactions until she barely recognized herself.
As if poked with a stick, Paul jerked back, snatched his hand away. He looked completely startled. “Whoa. Sorry about that. I didn’t mean—”
“No problem. Mistakes all around. Anyway…”
“Yeah, yeah.” He backed up a step, then two. “Anyway…”
“I’ll just be—”
“Sure. Good.”
She flung out her hand, searching for the door. “It was fun. The dancing.”
“Fun. Yes.” He backed up until he hit the bed.
Luckily, she found the door and before she could utter another inane word, she was out in the hall. She leaned back, hitting her head pretty hard, swore soundly, then made her way to the elevator, wondering what in the hell had happened to her. It was all too strange, every bit of it, and she felt sure that if her head didn’t hurt quite so much, she’d be able to make sense of the butterflies in her tummy. Or why the memory of his lips persisted. Why she felt the need to rub her arm where he’d touched her. Instead, she decided to pretend last night and this morning had never happened.
PAUL CHECKED his watch again. Autumn was later than usual for their dinner, and he was starving. He’d gotten their table at Nobu forty minutes ago, and the waiter was getting itchy. Paul had nursed his drink down to ice. Where was she? It had been her idea to come here, a thank-you for taking Gwen to the anniversary party. It had taken two weeks for her to come up with this dinner, changing plans at the last minute so they would meet here instead of him picking her up.
He really wasn’t sure why he bothered. Autumn was hot, but forty-minutes-late hot? Two weeks of cajoling and teasing hot?
It had taken him a full twenty-four hours to recover from the evening with Gwen, and a lot longer than it should have to stop thinking about it. He could hardly believe that he’d wanted to sleep with Autumn’s sister. Not only was she not at all his type, but the idea that he’d even considered doing something so unsavory made him wary of ever drinking again.
He knew a lot of guys, some of them good friends, who wouldn’t think twice about going after a sister. He wasn’t one of them. He liked to think he had standards. Okay, not terribly high standards, but he tried to adhere to simple rules. He never lied to any of his women about dating others. He didn’t cheat when he’d made any kind of commitment. There simply wasn’t a reason to.
He’d worried, right after, that Gwen would have told Autumn that he’d been stupid. The more he thought about it, the more he concluded she never would. She and Autumn weren’t close, plus, Gwen had been appalled when he’d suggested sex.
And that had been gnawing at him.
She hadn’t even given it a minute’s thought. Her answer had been immediate and fervent. He hadn’t had an outright rejection like that since he’d tried to get into Nina Jackson’s pants after she’d told him she was saving herself for marriage. But he’d been in college back then and he’d had the moral fortitude of a garden snake.
Gwen, on the other hand, wasn’t a child. He doubted she got a lot of invitations, so why had she reacted so strongly? The only thing he’d come up with was that she knew he was dating Autumn. That made sense.
He sipped the remnants of his drink as he looked around the restaurant. Everyone inside was young and attractive. Nobu was an L. A. hotspot. Celebrities showed up on a regular basis, there was always a cadre of paparazzi outside, and the food cost a damn fortune, but that was part of the cachet. Hard to imagine Gwen with him here.
Not that she was ugly, because she wasn’t. Hell, there were well-known actresses and singers who aced that category, but they had something that Gwen didn’t. He’d seen it in his work often, in fact. There was a certain air about a person who fit into the limelight. A charisma.
Gwen, he knew, would consider all this so much bullshit. She wouldn’t be impressed with the crowd or the chance that she might see someone famous. She would think it ridiculous to pay so much for the privilege of dining in an A-list restaurant, even if the food was superb.
He put his glass down. Gwen wouldn’t be so much out of place here as she would make him feel foolish for wanting her here.
Something caught his attention at the front of the restaurant and he sighed with relief that it was Autumn. She made her typical entrance. Flashy, bold as brass. Her dress was red and tight and short enough to really show off her exceptional legs. Her blond hair flowed over her shoulders like silk and when she walked, it was with the confidence of a woman who understood her power.
He stood and waited for it. Her dazzling smile came at the perfect time. The moment of greatest impact. The woman was wasting her talent on airplanes. At the very least, she should be modeling, at the most, ruling a kingdom. He suspected she was holding out for the latter. She’d told him several times that she was going to be switching routes to the Middle East instead of Europe and that could only mean she was going for the top prize. Some potentate with hot and cold running billions.
“Paul.” She said the word in that big-screen way. Soft, yet it carried to the cheap seats.
He leaned over and kissed her cheek before she sat. The smell of her was enough to end all critical thought. Damn.
She immediately ordered a special Nobu martini, and he ordered another of his. The second they were alone, she gave him a look that alerted all his testosterone to be at the ready. “Rumor has it, you and Gwen had quite a night.”
“Are you still on that? I told you. We danced. It was fun. I was glad to do it.”
“According to Faith, you weren’t doing me any favors.”
“What?”
“She said when you two got to the slow dances, a breeze couldn’t have gotten between you.”
“Gwen’s a good dancer.”
Autumn stared at him for a long moment, then burst into bright laughter. “Oh, my God. Your face! As if you and Gwen…” She laughed some more, garnering as much attention as she could without going a millimeter overboard. “She must have died when she saw you at her door. Oh, I wish I could have seen it.”
“It wasn’t all that funny.”
“Come on, Paul. I know my sister. It must have been something.” A delicate sniffle and a touch of her napkin at the outer corner of her eye, and then she looked at him once more. “I appreciate what you did. It had to have been awful for you. Faith said you acted like a real gentleman the whole night. She could barely believe you didn’t sneak out at the first opportunity.”
Paul picked up his menu, bothered more than he should have been at the way Autumn spoke about Gwen. Best to leave it alone. Autumn’s relationship, if he could call it that, to her sister wasn’t his business. But jeez. “I’m glad I could help. Did you want to start with appetizers?”
The moment Autumn picked up her menu he shifted gears. It wasn’t wise to think about Gwen now. He wanted to get through dinner and get to the good part with Autumn. He’d bought new condoms for the occasion.
He watched her, amazed as always at her sheer beauty. She had a quality about her that was the essence of what he’d been thinking about before. Charisma, magic, that something extraordinary that made strangers ask for her autograph. He’d seen it happen often. Even after she explained she wasn’t anyone noteworthy, they wanted her to sign the paper, the menu, their hand. She always did, too, as if it was the most natural request in the world.
Autumn lived out loud. She shimmered in the light. There was no way to ignore her.
Gwen kept her light inside. Private.
He couldn’t imagine that the two of them were related. Maybe their mother had had that affair with the postman after all.
“I’ll have the lobster ceviche and after that I’d like the toro tartar when he gets his main dish.”
He hadn’t realized the waiter was there until Autumn ordered so he made a quick decision and that was that. Their drinks arrived a moment later and Autumn changed the subject to her adventures in Rome.
He listened, enchanted as always. She didn’t require much from her audience so he didn’t worry overmuch when his thoughts wandered to what the night promised. They’d go back to his place. His maid had been there that afternoon, so everything was just right. He had champagne in the fridge and some very expensive beluga.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Hmm? Oh. You. Of course. Only you.”
GWEN POURED THE POPCORN from the popper and spread it on a cookie sheet. She got out the butter-flavored cooking spray and spritzed the whole pan, then covered the corn with her signature chili, lime and salt mix.
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