Читать книгу Valentine Fantasy - Jamie Denton - Страница 10

HER SPACE SUIT consisted of an electric-blue silk dress more reminiscent of a chemise than outerwear, matching three-inch heels, a delicate gold ankle bracelet and a few strategically placed dabs of her most expensive perfume, a gift from her brother for her last birthday. If Jordan planned to take her to the stars, then Cait had every intention of letting him know she was ready for takeoff.

She applied a light dusting of blush to her cheeks, then finished by thickening her lashes. She blew her hair dry to soften the curls into the more stylish cut fashioned by the wizards at Ardell’s, a far cry from her usual easy-maintenance, wash-and-wear style. She completed her ready-for-sin ensemble by adding thin gold hoops to her lobes.

Examining her appearance critically, she smiled at her reflection, confident her valentine would take one look at her and forget about the dust-covered sweats she’d worn the night before. She looked seductive and sexy, and if Jordan McBride couldn’t read the signs that said, “I’m ready for a night of passion,” then the man was either blind or stupid.

The chimes at the front door signaled his arrival. With one last look, she fluffed her bangs and hurried down the stairs. She smoothed her dress, and tossed her head and shoulders back in an effort to convey a confidence she wasn’t quite feeling. Truth be told, her insides were quaking like the California coastline.

She took a deep breath, then slowly opened the door. Resting her hand on the doorjamb above her head, she struck what she hoped was a seductive pose.

“Good evening,” she practically purred, waiting for him to turn around to face her. When he did, she smiled, slowly running her gaze up and down his body, praying she gave the impression she was undressing him with her eyes.

Her confidence wavered. For a night of passion, the man had certainly dressed casually. Crisp jeans clung to his lean hips and muscular thighs, while a basic black polo shirt heightened the swirling colors in his pale hazel eyes. The leather jacket she’d admired the previous evening completed his appearance of heading out for a 49ers game.

He raked a shock of sable hair out of his eyes, eyes that held more than an appreciative glint. “You look fabulous,” he said in that deep voice that sent a shiver of delight up her spine.

“You look…comfortable.” She pushed the door open wide. “Come in.”

He grinned, just a slight curving of the lips, but as his eyes swept over her again, her confidence grew at the pleasure in his gaze.

“I thought you might like to go for a walk.”

She frowned. “A walk?” She was prepared for him to think she was ready for a night of heavy breathing, and the man wanted to take a walk? In these heels? Was he nuts? She’d have a blister before they reached the end of the sloped driveway.

He nodded, his grin never faltering. In fact, she thought he looked rather…amused. Not exactly the reaction she’d hoped for. She wanted him thinking of increased heart rates due to deep kisses and tangled limbs, not due to an aerobic workout.

He stepped into the foyer. “Along the wharf,” he added, closing the door.

She dropped her hands to her sides. “The wharf? You said something about the stars.”

His grin widened, but at least he didn’t laugh at her. “I meant a moonlit stroll. What’d you think I meant?”

Oh yeah. That was definitely amusement in his gaze. Her body heated from an embarrassment that had nothing to do with him devouring her with his eyes, but from making a fool of herself. He literally meant the stars, as in astronomy, the galaxy, or the Milky Way, not the culmination of an incredible orgasm.

She blew out a breath harsh enough to ruffle her bangs. “Never mind,” she muttered as she headed up the stairs to change into something more appropriate for gazing at stars rather than into each other’s eyes.

TWO HOURS LATER, Jordan was in no hurry to bring their evening to an end, so he suggested they grab a bite to eat at one of the more casual seafood restaurants along Fisherman’s Wharf. The hostess led them to a table overlooking the ocean, rambled off the dinner specials, then left them to study the menus.

He scanned the list of items, but his mind continued to drift to the first woman in a very long time who’d managed to intrigue him to the point of distraction. He was by no means a monk, but right now, he had difficulty recalling his last serious relationship with a woman. He knew he’d become a workaholic the past few years, and because of his professional ambitions, he’d never taken the time necessary to cultivate a lasting relationship. Most of his contact with the opposite sex had stemmed from one of a multitude of professional acquaintances, but none of the women he’d dated were “the one.”

Cait was different. She intrigued him, and he wanted to learn more about her. He found no other plausible explanation for his wanting to extend their evening together.

He glanced in her direction and watched as she surveyed the menu. She nibbled on her bottom lip as she attempted to decide on her meal. Looking up at him, she smiled, then returned her attention to the menu. A slight blush covered her cheeks. She was a contradiction in a variety of ways. Shy, yet temptingly seductive. He didn’t think he’d ever know her completely, but he decided that he’d sure like to try once he completed his contractual obligation for Fantasy for Hire.

Tonight he’d seen nary a glimpse of a bored socialite, and he found himself enjoying the company of a fun, carefree woman who grasped life with both hands and enjoyed every moment to the fullest. She’d laughed at the antics of a street mime who’d chosen her as a target for his comedy routine, tossed raw fish off the wharf to the baby sea lions playing on the rocks below, and told him that although she’d lived in San Francisco her entire life, she’d never visited Alcatraz because she couldn’t bear the thought of anyone being stripped of their freedom. When they strolled past a New Age shop, she’d explained the various crystals and the power she believed they held, then balked at the overpriced gifts in the window display of a collectibles shop. She was intelligent and witty, but it was not the biting sarcastic wit of someone raised among the privileged, with no conscience about the feelings of others.

Cait cared, a quality he found endearing.

She made him laugh. Something not many were able to achieve.

She was sinfully sexy.

And he wanted her.

“Ready to order?” he asked, closing his menu.

She peeked at him over the top of the menu. “I can’t decide between the seafood salad or the giant mushrooms stuffed with shrimp and lobster.”

“Order the salad and I’ll share my mushrooms with you.”

“Deal,” she said, then snapped the menu closed. Her smile filled with mischief. “But don’t expect me to part with my salad.”

He chuckled and signaled for the waiter. “You’re a selfish woman, Cait.”

She reached for her water glass and took a sip. “You’ve discovered my weakness.”

“Selfishness or seafood?”

She set the glass down, then trailed a short, tapered fingernail along the rim of the crystal goblet. He followed the movement with his eyes and imagined her fingers trailing a path over his chest. He reached for his own water and took a deep drink.

“I’d go to the ends of the earth for seafood,” she admitted.

He set his glass aside, braced his arms on the table and leaned toward her. “Is that your only weakness?”

A teasing smile canted her lips and filled her eyes with laughter. “Chocolate,” she whispered, lowering her gaze as if embarrassed by the reminder of last night’s sensual game.

His blood heated at the memory, and at her display of shyness. He was beginning to think her role of seductress was merely an act, but she’d been just as affected last night as he’d been—another aspect of her personality he found fascinating.

The waiter arrived, and Jordan placed their order, adding a bottle of private-label Chardonnay.

“Make it the house brand,” Cait told the waiter, then grinned sheepishly at Jordan. “I’m sorry, I don’t like to waste money on an expensive bottle that we won’t even finish.”

At the waiter’s pointed look, Jordan gave a slight nod of agreement. He watched her as she looked out at the ocean lost in thought, more than a little surprised by her frugality, but he figured this was just one of those odd little eccentricities that made up her intriguing personality.

By the time the waiter returned with their wine and poured them each a glass, Jordan surprised himself with the realization he could easily sit and watch the moonlight streaming through the window with her for hours. Only the fact that he wanted to get to know her better prompted him into conversation. “So what do you do for a living, Cait?”

Cait turned to look at him, the truth almost escaping from her lips. “People with trust funds don’t work,” she managed with a laugh, but the sound held more of a nervous edge than the dismissive tone she’d attempted to achieve. “What about you? Does Fantasy for Hire keep you very busy?”

“I’m an architect.”

“An architect?” She might have pictured him as a high-powered executive, but she was still unprepared for his answer. He was part of an agency that allegedly swindled money out of rich women in exchange for sex. He wasn’t supposed to be a respectable professional.

“You sound surprised. Don’t I look like an architect?” he asked in a low voice that rumbled along her nerve endings.

“It’s not that. It’s just that…I thought you worked exclusively for your brother.”

He laughed. “Fantasy for Hire is Austin’s brainchild. I’m merely the reluctant hired help for about a week.”

Reluctant because he didn’t like how his brother earned his living, perhaps? The thought made her uncomfortable.

The waiter delivered a basket filled with warm sourdough rolls and whipped butter, giving her a moment to regain her composure. She was letting her attraction to Jordan cloud her judgment, and it had to stop. After spending a few hours in his company, she discovered that not only was she attracted to him sexually, she actually liked him and found herself trying to justify his association with the agency. She’d never become the great investigative journalist she dreamed of if she didn’t maintain her focus on the purpose of their association. He was a story. A means to an end. Nothing more. Sexual attraction be damned.

“Do you work for an architectural firm here in the city?” she asked, unwrapping the linen napkin covering the rolls and offering him one.

“Until a couple of months ago, I’d spent eight years with a firm in Los Angeles.”

She sliced her roll and slathered it with butter. “What happened?”

A furrow of irritation crossed his face. “It’s a long, boring story.” He picked up his wineglass and took a sip, then turned his attention to the moonbeams reflecting on the ocean.

“Sounds interesting to me,” she prompted, hoping he’d give her a glimpse into his past. For the sake of her story and not because she was interested in Jordan.

The low-toned conversation of the other patrons surrounded them, along with nondescript instrumental music flowing softly from the speakers. She looked at his hands, at his long, tapered fingers wrapped around the wineglass and imagined him sketching a high-rise, or maybe a child-care center. Her mother had always told her that long fingers were a sign of creativity. In this case, Mom was right again, she thought.

If he was truly an architect, she firmly reminded herself. This could be part of the role he was playing to swindle her out of money he believed she had. She couldn’t afford to be swept away by the fantasy Jordan was creating. A fantasy she’d paid him to create.

He turned his attention back to her just as the waiter delivered their meal. As he’d promised, Jordan shared his order of giant stuffed mushroom caps by setting one on her bread plate.

She smiled her thanks and dug into the delectable seafood. “What happened in L.A.?” she asked.

“I started out at Lawrence and Brooks shortly after college,” he began while adding salt and pepper to his dinner. “I worked during the day, and went to grad school at night. It took me a while to finally finish my education, but I’d been told that once I had my master’s I’d be placed on the fast track.”

She added dressing to her salad, then worked on cutting the larger lettuce into smaller pieces. “Sounds like you had a promising career ahead of you.”

“I thought so,” he said between bites of stuffed mushroom. “Once I finished my education and they promoted me to vice president, the partners talked about a senior vice presidency in my future. After a couple of years and my next promotion, they dangled a partnership carrot in front of me.” He kept his voice well modulated, conveying a lack of emotion his eyes denied.

She paused over her salad. “I take it no partnership was forthcoming.”

He shook his head, and reached for his wine. “No partnership,” he said, the hardness of his eyes creeping into his voice.

“You’re bitter,” she said without thinking.

He set his fork aside and looked at her intently. “I suppose I am. How would you feel? I was lied to, Cait. They used me. The bastards used my talent to design a multi-million-dollar high-rise development, then failed to deliver on their promise. If we won the bid for the development, I was told the partnership was mine. I worked for six months perfecting the presentation, won the bid and made the firm a hell of a lot of money, then the partnership was handed over to the nephew of one of the senior partners.”

“Gee, where would we be without a little nepotism to ruin our plans?” she complained, and shook her head in disgust. “What’d you do?”

“I quit.”

“Quit? After everything you’d accomplished, you just walked away?” No way could she walk away. Ever since she was a kid, she’d wanted to be a reporter. She couldn’t imagine giving up something she’d worked so hard to achieve.

“I don’t like being used.”

Unexpected guilt swamped her. Was she really no better than the partners who’d lied to him? She was using him too for her own ends.

She felt like a slug.

A very low, slimy slug.

“I’m sorry,” she said, not sure if she was apologizing for what had happened to him, or because of what she was doing to him herself. But what if he was using her? What if this was merely a fabrication to gain her sympathy so she’d hand money over by the fistful?

He let out a long breath. “No. I apologize. It’s still an open wound.”

Was it really? She had no way of knowing what was truth and what was part of the game he was playing with her. The lines were definitely becoming blurred and she needed time to sort out everything she’d learned so far. Discovering if he was truly an architect would be relatively simple, provided she asked the right questions. “So what are you doing now?”