Читать книгу Valentine Fantasy - Jamie Denton - Страница 9

JORDAN CHECKED his watch, then set aside the designs he’d been studying for most of the afternoon before rubbing at the tension building in his neck. Going into business for himself hadn’t turned into the profitable venture he’d imagined, but he had a decent beginning, and that was just fine with him. The desire to work for no one other than himself had been too strong to ignore, and he couldn’t complain about the progress he’d made since returning to San Francisco, even if he wasn’t yet blazing any trails. He’d done the architectural-firm route in Los Angeles and had been burned, which convinced him he was ready to fly solo. If he’d learned anything during his eight years with Lawrence and Brooks, it was that he wanted his successes, or his failures, to be his own in the future.

Lifting the drawing toward the light, he carefully compared the sketches to the preliminary model for the chain of strip malls planned along the central and northern coast. His presentation for the developer wasn’t for a couple of days. He needed to wrap this up as soon as possible so he could start on the actual plans for the Wyndhaven Town House restoration project he’d just been awarded. He’d be buried in meetings with the developer and contractor in another couple of weeks, and he still wanted to bid on a new high-rise complex for downtown. He had some ideas he felt fairly confident about, and the added commissions would give him the capital he needed to hire an assistant and locate reasonably priced office space.

Office space wasn’t his only real-estate concern. He and Austin owned the house, but with Austin married, the last thing the newlyweds needed was him around cramping their style. Selling the prime real estate was out of the question. The house had been in the family for three generations, and neither he nor Austin were willing to sell. They could have done so years ago when things had been tough, but they’d made a pact never to jeopardize the house. There’d been times they’d had to survive on canned soup and peanut butter and jelly for weeks, but in the end, the sacrifices more than made up for the cash the house could have brought them. Moving out of the Victorian for Austin and his new bride was Jordan’s only logical choice. What he needed to do was find his own place, but he was going to be around until the escrow on his Santa Monica condo closed in a couple of weeks, unless he wanted to throw money away on a rental.

The thought of money brought him back to what he’d been trying to avoid thinking about all afternoon.

Cait Sullivan.

He had a few ideas on how to fulfill her Valentine fantasy, but he still couldn’t understand why a woman as attractive as Cait felt she had to pay for the services of a total stranger. She’d mentioned not wanting any entanglements, so perhaps she was recovering from a bad relationship. Anything was possible, he decided, adding another Canary Island pine to the model.

His mind refused to remain focused on his work. Cait and her black-seamed stockings continued to intrude. With a disgusted sigh, he tossed the small pine tree back onto the table. He’d never get any work done at this rate.

He flipped off the light over his desk, and left the upstairs room he’d commandeered as his temporary office space. His real-estate concerns would have to wait until at least next week. His calendar had been filled by a sexy redhead with a fantasy. And for the price he’d been paid, he’d better deliver.

CAIT SNEEZED, dropped the fingernail file, then sneezed again from the dust cloud caused by her vicious filing. She nearly had the length of her new nails down to something she could live with, but her arm ached from the constant, repetitive motion.

Time for a break, she decided, tossing the nail file on the glass end table. She reached for the cardboard container of shrimp fried rice from Mr. Wong’s she’d picked up on her way home from the paper. The shrimp was cold, and she blamed it on her nails. They were a serious impediment to her life-style. Not only did she have trouble typing, which was a problem since she wanted to add a few more notes to her story, but attempting to fasten the button fly on her favorite pair of faded Levi’s had been impossible. After a ten-minute struggle, she’d given up and slipped into a pair of sweats instead, deciding that if she was going to function and perform the everyday tasks necessary to basic survival, she’d better shave a few millimeters from her fingers first.

She bit into another cold piece of shrimp and thought about the story she was convinced would change the course of her career onto the path she’d craved since she was a little girl. When she’d told Jen her plan, her friend had called her a certifiable idiot, then continued with a list of reasons why she might fail, not to mention a lecture on the danger she was placing herself in by attempting to seduce a total stranger. At the time, she’d waved Jen’s concerns aside, but as she dug through the container in search of more shrimp, she couldn’t help wondering if perhaps she was letting her ambitions cloud her judgment.

Her plan wasn’t exactly foolproof, and she knew it. Like, how did she get around actually having sex with her fantasy date? She’d worry about that later. A good investigative reporter took risks. Woodward and Bernstein had taken a monumental risk in exposing the Watergate scandal, and for a time, their lives had been in danger. Would the savings-and-loan scandal have been exposed if a reporter hadn’t ignored the risks involved? Or what about the reporters who put their lives on the line every day to bring news from Kosovo or other war-torn areas? Did those reporters worry about the risks?

No. The story came first. The story always came first, and her philosophy was no different from the greats’ before her. She knew she’d have to be alone with Jordan, especially since she planned to make it perfectly clear to him that she was on the prowl for seduction. She couldn’t very well convince the man that she was ripe for the picking in a roomful of people, especially with her family hovering around her. She’d have to find a way to be alone with him, and although she’d need to brush up on her seductress skills to pull this off, she knew she could do it. In the name of investigative journalism, in honor of the great reporters of years past, she could and would expose Fantasy for Hire.

Setting her shrimp fried rice aside, she picked up the industrial-strength emery board and continued to work on shortening her nails while listening to the evening newscast. More rain was predicted for the Bay area later that week, but the meteorologist promised clear skies by the weekend for Valentine’s Day in the most romantic city in North America. She smiled. Not even Mother Nature would dare spoil her parents’ anniversary party.

After finishing her nails and waiting for the coat of clear polish to dry, she snapped off the television and flipped on Brian’s elaborate stereo system. She found a rock station she liked, then sat down at her laptop computer and popped in the disk containing her notes on Fantasy for Hire.

She carefully read what she’d written during her meeting with Louden Avery. So far, he appeared to be correct in his allegations. The fact that Jordan McBride had taken the huge sum of money she’d offered him led her to believe there was some truth to the claim of money in exchange for sex. Of course, it was up to her to prove the claim, but she wasn’t too worried about that, even though she had no experience with seducing a man. Flirting, yes. She could handle flirting, but actual seduction? Maybe she’d better rent a few videos on the art of seduction. Like The Graduate, she thought with a grimace.

She clicked the icon for a blank page and centered Jordan McBride’s name at the top, then started typing what she knew about him, which wasn’t much. Other than the fact that he was gorgeous and more than willing to be her Valentine for a fee, she knew nothing about the man. She didn’t know if he owned the agency, or if someone else pulled the strings behind the scenes. All she had was Louden’s claim that an employee of Fantasy for Hire took money in exchange for sex. It was up to her to prove this was a common practice for the agency.

She pulled up another blank page and made a list of things she needed to learn about the agency. She needed to find out who owned the agency, but a huge help would be a list of previous clients. If she could find one more person to verify the claim made by Louden. That, coupled with whatever her own experience with Jordan might produce, would add up to the necessary verification. Obtaining a client list would be impossible, unless she crossed the legal line and resorted to breaking and entering.

She underlined the entry to think about later.

An hour later, she took a short break and headed for the kitchen for a cup of tea. She was pleased with her progress. The beginning was already shaping up, and she had a solid line on which direction she planned to take the article. As her investigation deepened, so would the depth of her story.

She set the teakettle on the stove, then pulled a mug from the cabinet as the chimes for the front door rang. She wasn’t expecting anyone, but that never stopped her nosy sisters from dropping by unannounced. Sometimes having four older siblings could be a royal pain, but she loved them anyway, even if they did think her business was their business.

She strolled to the front door and peered out the side panel to find a Toyota four-wheel drive she didn’t recognize parked in the driveway.

“Who is it?” she called.

“It’s your valentine,” a deep, velvety voice answered from the other side of the door.

Her heart stopped, then resumed at a maddening pace.

Her valentine?

She wasn’t supposed to see him until Saturday night. What was he doing here? Unless, she thought, narrowing her eyes, he’d decided she required further investigation as a potential target. She’d struggled hard not to flinch when she’d handed over most of the contents of her savings account. Obviously her plan had worked, and that pleased her. She’d hate to think she’d spent the money for nothing.

“Just a minute,” she called, then frantically swiped at the fingernail dust still clinging to her navy sweatshirt. She stifled a sneeze, ran her fingers through her hair in hopes of restoring a sense of order and pinched her cheeks for color. A quick glance down at her clothes caused a groan to escape her lips. What on earth would he think seeing her dressed in baggy sweats, her hair a mess and not an ounce of makeup on her face? So much for playing the socialite. She looked more like the hired help.

Pasting a welcoming smile on her face, she straightened her shoulders and opened the door. Her stomach flipped at the sight of him. Lordy, he was even more drop-dead gorgeous than she remembered. He wore the same navy polo shirt and tan trousers he’d had on earlier, but the worn, leather bomber jacket that matched the color of his wind-tossed, sable hair gave him a slightly dangerous appeal that put her feminine senses on alert.

“Hi,” he said, that rumbling voice jarring her back into reality—the reality that Jordan was really standing on her porch.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” she said, taking another swipe at the dust on her shirt. She wanted him to think of her as someone who was polished and sophisticated, not as someone who lounged around the house in dust-covered sweats.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.” He looked at her closely, his gaze sliding along her body as if searching for the curves beneath her baggy clothes.

Her temperature shouldn’t have heightened just because he looked at her, but it did. Good grief, how did she expect to seduce him when he had her heating up like a furnace with one simple sweep of his gaze?

“Were you sanding something?” he asked, looking closer.

She gave him a quick grin. “Sort of,” she muttered, and took a step back. Just taking precautions so I don’t poke your eye out when I get to run my hands through that thick hair of yours.

“Would you like to come in?” she asked, opening the door wider. If he was here to do a little investigating of his own, she’d be more than happy to oblige. Besides, maybe she could find an opportunity to learn more about him and the agency.

“I just dropped by to give you this,” he said and held out a red velvet, heart-shaped box of chocolates. “From your valentine.”

Stunned, she stared at the box, then up at him. She detected a hint of shyness that threw her off-kilter. When she’d first met him, she’d had the impression that Jordan McBride was the type of man who knew exactly what he wanted, and sought it with single-minded determination. She easily imagined him as the high-powered executive type. A take-no-prisoners kind of guy. Of course, she suspected the impression he gave was misleading. Take-the-money-and-run was a more appropriate description.

“Oh.” She reached for the beautifully wrapped box. “Oh,” she added with a little more emphasis when realization dawned. This had to be part of his plan to seduce her out of her supposed fortune. She recognized the shyness now for what it was—a ploy, a part of the game of seduction. Well, two could play this game.

She graced him with her best sultry smile. “Thank you, Jordan. That’s very sweet of you.”

A high-pitched wail sounded from the kitchen. “I was making tea,” she said, leading him into the house. “Would you like a cup? Or perhaps something a little stronger?”

He hesitated for a moment, then stepped into the foyer. “Tea’s fine.”

“I heard we’re due for more rain,” she said. With the box of chocolates still clutched in her hand, she led the way through the house to the kitchen, wishing she could think of something witty or charming to say. She’d attended enough society events, sat through numerous charity functions and listened to endless useless and boring conversations. Couldn’t she come up with anything to talk about besides the weather?

“Typical for this time of year,” he commented. He sidled up to the breakfast bar and watched as she retrieved another mug from the cabinet. “Nice place. You live here alone?”

Cait blinked. “Uh…” What did she say? She didn’t feel comfortable telling a total stranger she lived alone. To do so would violate every rule she’d ever been taught, but this was a business arrangement. She couldn’t very well conduct an investigation if she wasn’t willing to take risks.

Anything for the story.

“Yes, I do live alone,” she said, casting a surreptitious glance in his direction to gauge his reaction.

He nodded, then looked around the enormous, sterile kitchen. White ceramic tiles and white cabinets graced most of the room, the only break in color offered by way of aluminum-topped appliances and a few green plants scattered about. The plants were her touch, not that her brother was ever home long enough to see to their care. Brian had his own computer company and was often away on business.

Cait let out a slow breath, grateful he didn’t question her further on her living arrangements. Lying didn’t come easily, and she wondered briefly if that character trait would prevent her from becoming an investigative reporter.

No, she decided. She just needed more practice.

She finished preparing the tea, and led him onto the glass-enclosed patio overlooking Brian’s extensive ornamental garden. A flick of the switch bathed the sitting area in soft, romantic light, but the highlight was the illumination of the gardens with its variety of flower beds, plants and shrubs, complete with cobblestone bridge and waterfall. Whenever she saw the garden at night, she thought of intimacy and romance. Hopefully, Jordan would, too.

“Very nice,” he commented, taking the mug of tea she offered.

“My brother likes gardens,” she said, then briefly closed her eyes at her blunder. “So I had one designed for him that looks a lot like this one,” she added hastily, with a casual wave of her hand. She’d have to be more careful in the future. “Uh, would you like to see the rest of the house?”

Jordan turned to look out over the garden. “No, this is fine.” He hadn’t been sure what he’d expected to find by dropping by Cait’s tonight with the first of the valentine surprises he’d had planned for the week, but he couldn’t help being pleasantly surprised by the girl next door who’d greeted him. He still liked those black-seamed stockings, but she looked adorable right now—like the kind of woman who didn’t need the trappings of the social set to be happy, the kind of woman a man could have meaningful and intellectual conversations with, the kind a man looked forward to coming home to after a day at the office.

Bothered by the direction of his thoughts, he turned to find her watching him, her eyes filled with curiosity. She sat on the edge of a white wrought-iron chair, the box of chocolates resting in her lap. She lifted the mug to her lips and looked at him over the rim. “Thank you for the chocolates.”

“You’re welcome.”

She set her mug on the matching table, then untied the satin bow on the heart-shaped box. Carefully, she lifted the lid and placed it on the table next to the mug of tea. She stood, moving slowly toward him, the open box clutched in her hands. “I love chocolates. Don’t you?” she asked, her voice low and sultry. He dropped his gaze to her mouth and caught the barest hint of a grin.

“Yeah, chocolate’s nice,” he said, but he was more interested in the slight curving of her lips and the sweet womanly scent that wrapped around him when she stopped in front of him.

Her tongue darted out and wet her bottom lip. “Would you like a…taste?”

“Taste?” All he could think of tasting was her lips.

She plucked a piece of candy from the box and slowly brought it to her mouth, her eyes never leaving his. Like a sorcerer’s spell, her gaze held him, then she bit into the chocolate. She closed her eyes briefly and moaned, a delicate little sound that heated his blood and had his imagination whirring like an overworked power drill.

Jordan could only watch her; he didn’t think he could speak if his life depended on it. Sweet heaven, what was she doing to him?

She plucked another chocolate from the box and held it to his lips. He bit into the confection, and her fingers lingered for the briefest instant, lightly brushing his bottom lip. A surge of heat sped through his body at her feathery touch. Oh man, was he ever in trouble.

She held the remainder of the candy in front of him, just out of reach. “So, how long have you been running Fantasy for Hire?”

If she wanted to play siren, he’d gladly cooperate, and enjoy every enticing second. Leaning forward, he took the chocolate in his mouth, then used his tongue to lightly trace the tip of her finger. The green of her eyes darkened and a wave of male satisfaction reared inside him. “Just a couple of days, actually,” he said around the candy.

“Really?” She plucked another chocolate from the box. “It’s a new business?”

She appeared casual, as if his answer lacked importance, but her eyes told a different story. Mingled amid the heated darkness swirling in the depth of her gaze, he detected a note of curiosity. He didn’t know quite what to make of her interest in his brother’s agency. Was it simply because she’d hired them to perform an unusual request and she was cautious? Or was there some other ulterior motive to her questioning?

Curiosity, he told himself firmly. Yet, he couldn’t help the distrust lurking beneath the surface of his thoughts. After what he’d been through with Lawrence and Brooks, he was bound to be a little cynical. Not everyone had an ulterior motive, and Cait didn’t look like the dishonest type. In fact, she looked fresh, sweet and sexy, even if her legs were hidden beneath baggy fleece.

He set his mug on the low table behind him, took the box of candy from her and set it beside the mug. “It’s been around awhile. I’m just handling things while my brother’s out of town.”

With the caramel-covered chocolate still between her fingers, she moved closer. “Oh. Has your brother been in business long?”

“A few years.”

“Fantasy for Hire must be successful.”

He lifted her hand with the candy and brought it to her lips. “Take a bite.”

Her eyes widened in a startled reaction to his turning the tables on her, but after a brief hesitation she slowly sank her teeth into the caramel. She offered him the remainder, and he took the chocolate into his mouth, circling her finger with his tongue again. She trembled, and his mouth tipped into a smile. Something was happening between them, something that went beyond her hiring him to be her valentine, and he had the distinct impression that whatever it was would have a huge impact on both of them. He hardly knew her, but what little he did know intrigued the hell out of him.

“It pays the bills,” he said, resisting the urge to pull her into his arms and taste her sweet mouth. Instead, he took a step back. “I should be leaving.”

She drew in a deep breath, looking wary and slightly shaken by their seductive play. He hadn’t meant for things to go so far. His intent had been to play a little, turn the tables on her and give her a taste of what she’d been so willing to dish out, but he couldn’t help his feeling of satisfaction at the thought of her being affected by him. If the next few days were anything like the last few moments, it was going to be one exciting week.

She turned away, but not before he caught the delicate blush staining her cheeks. He grinned at the switch from seductress to shy girl next door.

She led the way back through the enormous house to the front door. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, opening the door.

She looked up at him and frowned. “Tomorrow?”

He leaned toward her, his mouth hovering just above hers. The urge to kiss her was strong, and he nearly gave in to the impulse. “Tonight, candy,” he whispered. “Tomorrow, the stars.”

Instead of her lips, he brushed his mouth across her cheek, then stepped into the night air, hoping the breeze blowing in from the Pacific was cool enough to lower his overheated temperature a degree or two.

“HERE.” Cait dropped a small plastic bag filled with chocolates in front of Jen. “Have yourself a party.”

She sat in the chair beside Jen’s desk, leaned back and closed her eyes. The day had only begun, and already she was exhausted. What sleep she managed to get the night before had been restless at best. She blamed Jordan. Jordan and his blatant, audacious promise of the stars.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jen asked over the steady tap of the keyboard.

Cait opened her eyes and looked at her friend. “Chocolate is what’s wrong.”

Jen laughed and turned to face her. “You have an overdose or something?”

Oh, she’d had an overdose all right, an overdose of sexual attraction that had taken her completely by surprise. “You could say that,” she murmured, recalling the heat that had ignited her body and the flash of hunger that had leaped through her like a flame.

She might only be twenty-six years old, but she’d experienced sexual attraction a time or two in her life. There might not be a little black book with evidence of her experience lurking in her past, but she was a far cry from the blushing virgin. Never had anyone made her insides feel so tight and jittery the way Jordan had with one heated look, a whispered word filled with sensual promise, or the chaste brush of his lips against her cheek. She was definitely playing with fire.

“So what’s with the chocolate?” Jen asked, bringing her back to the present.

“It was a gift.” At her friend’s raised eyebrow, she added, “From my valentine.”

“Ooh.” Jen pushed aside the papers cluttering her desk and braced her elbows on it. Leaning forward, her eyes bright with curiosity, she asked, “The fantasy guy?”

Cait propped her elbow on the desk and rested her temple against her fisted hand. “You won’t believe what I did last night,” she said, unable to keep the smile from her lips. As she described it, she could hardly believe what she’d done to him last night. She explained how her valentine had taken control of the situation, the seducee becoming the seducer. It stung to admit she’d been brilliantly trapped by her own brazen plan. Her intent had been to garner information, which she’d managed to obtain, and at least she’d learned the identity of the agency’s owner. Her investigating had stalled at the point that Jordan had managed to completely enrapture her with his special brand of sensuality.

“I told you this was dangerous,” Jen said in her best I-told-you-so voice. “You have to put a stop to this. Demand a refund or something.”

Cait sat up straight and looked at her friend. “I can’t.” And she wouldn’t. The story was there, she was sure of it. She wasn’t about to stop now, not when she’d had a taste of real investigative journalism. And it had absolutely nothing to do with Jordan’s velvet-soft voice and his galactic promise.

The phone on Jen’s desk rang, but she ignored it. “Sure you can,” she said. “Just tell him something came up, an old friend or a relative from out of town. Something. Tell him you’re going to your parents’ party with the make-believe relative and forget about this insanity.”

Cait shook her head. “No way. I found out last night that the agency’s been in business for a while. I need to find out how many other women they’ve seduced out of their money in exchange for sex.”

Jen leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. The look she gave Cait was filled with skepticism. “And just how do you plan on doing this?”

Cait pushed out of the chair and stood. She had an appointment in two hours with a representative from the new animal shelter being funded and operated by the elite San Francisco Kennel Club and she still needed to prepare her questions and talk to the photographer scheduled to accompany her. “The wheels are already in motion. I’m just going along for the ride.”

Jen frowned, but the concern in her eyes warmed Cait’s heart. It was just like Jen to worry.

“You be careful, kiddo.”

Cait slung her bag over her arm. “I will. I promise.”

She turned to leave but Jen stopped her. “What do you plan on doing next?”

Cait let out a long sigh. “Well, he promised me the stars tonight. I guess I’d better pick up my space suit from the cleaners.”