Читать книгу Convenient Cinderella Bride - Joss Wood - Страница 8
ОглавлениеKat, reaching her desk at the entrance of the restaurant and its adjoining bar, looked at the rows of liquor above the bartender’s head and wished she could order something long, strong and alcoholic. Her eyes danced across a group in the corner, a girl and four guys, all pierced and tattooed. They were drinking the Mariella, the world-famous cocktail named after Harrison’s wife. She could do with a Mariella, or three, right now. Actually she could really do with one of Mariella Santiago-Marshall’s limitless, solid black credit cards or access to her bank account.
Crap. What the hell was she going to do?
“Please, please tell me you’d left the tag on the dress as a mistake—that you weren’t planning on returning it in the morning.”
Kat spun around and blinked at the multicolored creature standing in front of her. Her dress was a slinky cocktail number with a plunging neck and spaghetti straps the color of lemon sorbet. It was the perfect foil for the ink on her body. Pulling her eyes up from the amazing artwork, Kat looked into an elfin face dominated by a pair of warm brown eyes. The woman had a series of piercings in her lower lip and along her eyebrow; she had a tiny butterfly tattoo on her temple.
“You look amazing,” Kat said. She sighed. It was obviously her night for allowing her mouth to run away with her.
“Thank you. But you didn’t answer my question. Were you returning the dress?”
Kat looked into the restaurant and scowled in Halstead’s direction. She never discussed one customer with another, but this woman would join her equally inked friends in the bar—birds of a feather—and she didn’t see the harm in answering her question. Kat could spot a trust-fund baby at sixty paces and this woman was not one of them.
She lowered her voice. “Yes, it’s borrowed. I was returning it in the morning. Now I’m going to have to pay for it, which was never the damned plan.” Not sure what it was about this painted fairy that had her spilling her secrets, Kat continued, “God, I could just kill him. I don’t have a thousand dollars to spend on a dress! I don’t have a thousand dollars, full stop!”
“Thirteen hundred.” The girl bit her lip. “It’s a Callisto. Thirteen ninety-five, including tax.”
Kat resisted the urge to bang her head against her desk. She swore, softly. “Dammit. I swear, I don’t care that he’s as sexy as sin and hotter than the sun, he’s a stupid, idiot man!”
Before the painted fairy could reply, Elana Marshall interrupted their conversation by placing a hand on Kat’s shoulder.
Kat spun around and smiled at the youngest Marshall and prayed that Elana hadn’t heard her last emphatic statement. “Hi, Elana, did you have a nice evening?”
The dimple in Elana’s cheek flashed. “I did. Thanks, Kat.”
Elana looked at Pixie Girl, her eyes bouncing from tat to tat, her mouth curving upward. “Love the angel on your arm.” Without waiting for a response, Elana turned her attention back to Kat. “So who is the idiot man?”
Kat wanted to scrunch her eyes shut in mortification. She and Elana were friends, sort of, in a “hey, how are you” sort of way. Elana was an heiress and Kat was Elana’s father’s employee. Kat’s eyes darted to Pixie Girl, silently begging her not to answer. She didn’t want Elana Marshall, who was the ultimate trust-fund baby, to know that her dress was on loan.
Pixie Girl smiled. “Aren’t they all, at one time or another?”
Elana nodded. “Pretty much. And here is one of mine.” Kat smiled at Elana’s date and thought that Elana could do a lot better than the married casting director. She could also do better than her fiancé, Thom, who was really nice but...not for Elana. She needed someone with a personality as strong as hers.
But Kat had bigger problems to worry about than her boss’s daughter’s complicated love life. She had a job to do...a job she needed now more than ever.
Kat said good-night to Elana and turned back to the vision standing in front of her. “I am so sorry, you’ve been standing here forever. Let me walk you to the bar.”
Pixie Girl grinned. “Actually, I’m joining Jonas Halstead’s table.”
Kat groaned and wondered if there was any way this night could get worse.
“Yeah,” said Pixie Girl. “I’m meeting my boss and his friend for dinner.”
“Please tell me that you work for Rowan Brady,” Kat begged her.
She smiled, giving Kat a flash of her tongue stud. “Nope. I’m Sian and I work for Jonas Halstead.”
Well, she had wondered whether this evening could get any worse.
Yep, Life answered her, challenge accepted.
* * *
The next morning, after a night long on worry and light on sleep, Kat heard the sound of a key in a lock. She brushed her hands across her wet cheekbones and rubbed her hands over her thighs, transferring her tears onto her old yoga pants. She heard the familiar thump of Tess’s heavy bag hitting the floor and then her friend, with copper hair and freckles, stepped into Kat’s small sitting area, holding—bless her—two cups of coffee.
“Yay, you’re awake. I didn’t know if you would be,” Tess said, handing Kat a cup. “I got your text message this morning so I thought I’d pop in and see what the ‘catastrophe’ was.” Tess sat next to Kat and peered into her face. “God, have you slept? At all?”
“I got home after midnight and I was too wound up for sleep.” Not wanting to delay the bad news, she nodded at the designer dress lying over the chair. “I need to pay for the dress.”
Tess’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, crap, why?”
“Last night a guest, thinking he was being helpful, pulled the tag off,” Kat told her, her voice flat. “The tag is toast.”
Tess softly swore and wrinkled her nose. “Dammit, Kat, if you’d spilled something on it we could’ve had it cleaned. If it ripped, I would’ve had it mended, but I can’t give a reasonable explanation as to why the label was ripped off.”
Kat held up her hand. “I get it, Tess, I do. Stupid Jonas Halstead.”
“The property mogul and one of California’s hottest bachelors?” Tess’s eyes widened. “He’s an idiot for pulling the label off but, oh, my God, he’s so sexy.”
“He might be but he’s put me in a hell of a position,” Kat grumbled. “How soon do you need the money?”
Tess thought for a minute. “Miranda is away on vacation in Cancun for a month. So, basically, you have that long. And if you give me the money, I’ll buy it and that way you’ll get the staff discount. It’s not much, only ten percent off, but it’ll help.”
Kat squeezed her knee. “Thanks, Tess.” She rested her head on the back of her couch and closed her eyes.
“Or I can pay for it from my savings and you can pay me back,” Tess added.
“Ah, Tess.” It was a sweet offer. It didn’t matter that Tess was her oldest friend. She couldn’t accept her help. Thanks to her father and her ex-husband, Kat had massive issues around money. And trust.
It was easier, safer, cleaner, to go it alone.
Tess placed her coffee cup on the battered table with a thump. “You can’t keep this up, Kat. You can’t keep trying to do it all. You’ve even dropped weight. Are you eating?”
She ate at the restaurant most nights, with the chefs at the end of a shift. In between she lived on coffee and fresh air.
“Kat, something has got to change,” Tess insisted, sitting on the edge of the seat.
“But what, Tess?” Kat demanded, resting her elbows on her knees. “The house June lives in is mine but my evil stepmom has the right to use it for the rest of her life and, in the terms of the will, I have to pay for the utilities and the upkeep. I have to carry the costs on a property I can’t sell or use to get a loan.”
“Why the hell didn’t your dad leave you any cash?”
“Because he thought that, by the time he died, I’d have a kick-ass, high-paying job. He also knew I had a rich husband to take care of me. He thought that if I couldn’t pay for the house, Wes would pay for what I needed. I had someone to look after me. June did not.”
“Your ex was such a psycho,” Tess muttered, her expression dark.
Yep, beneath that charming all-American-boy exterior lived a sardonic, selfish narcissist who thought the sun disappeared when he sat.
“Okay, there’s nothing you can do about the house but I don’t understand why you are taking on the burden of Cath’s medical bills,” Tess stated, taking a sip of her coffee. She waved her hand. “I understand why you feel obliged to—when your mom died and your dad remarried Cruella, your aunt was there for you—but Cath is financially stable.”
Kat pushed her hands into her hair. “She’s really not, Tess. She has insurance but it’s limited. Her cancer is rare and complicated and requires treatments her insurance doesn’t cover. She’s also paying for a full-time caregiver, which has wiped out the little disposable income she has.” Kat shrugged. “So, between June’s demands on the repairs to the house and sending cash Cath’s way, I’m flat broke.”
“Is she getting better?”
Kat felt her heart spasm as she shook her head. “I need her to see a specialist, but even if there wasn’t a ridiculously long waiting list, they always seem to want money up front to cover the cost of her tests.”
Kat rubbed the back of her neck and looked around her small but cozy apartment. It was her favorite place in the world, a haven of color, the place where she could relax. After leaving the restaurant last night she’d returned home and spent a few hours crunching numbers on a spreadsheet.
One column held a list of expenses: rent, utility bills and food for herself; the repairs, maintenance and utility bills for the home her stepmom occupied; projected figures for Cath’s medical expenses.
The other column, woefully small, held her income. There was a massive shortfall between the two amounts and she’d had yet to include paying for the damn dress.
God, how she wished she could roll back the years. She wished she hadn’t taken a gap year between school and college to travel Europe. She wished she hadn’t met and—in a haze of lust—married Wes. She’d managed to complete her degree in business administration, but there were lots of people with the same degree. She needed her MBA to earn the big bucks that would keep her head above water.
Over the past four years she’d managed to scrape together enough money to earn some credits toward her postgrad degree, but she still had a few courses to do. And she had to write her Leadership and Corporate Accountability exam in a few months. God knew when she was going to get time to study for that.
Yesterday she’d been treading water financially, but with a designer dress to pay for, she was now sinking below the surface. Tess was right. Something had to change, and fast. But what?
“I’m going to have to move,” Kat reluctantly stated. “I’d save some money if I did. I can move back in with Cath.”
Cath would love to have her and would refuse to charge her rent. If she did move back in, she could keep a better eye on Cath and monitor her health. But...damn, this apartment was her bolt-hole, her escape, the only place that was completely hers.
“This apartment block is owned by Harrison Marshall. Can’t you ask the company to give you a break, to carry you for a month or two?” Tess asked.
Not possible. “They already give me a subsidy on my rent as part of my salary. I can’t ask for more.”
“So, essentially, you have a month to find the money to pay for the dress and to try to keep this apartment.”
A month? God. “When you put it like that I want to bang my head against the wall,” Kat muttered.
“Maybe something will come up. You never know.”
“And I believe in unicorns and fairies...” Kat murmured, feeling utterly defeated. “God, Tess, for the first time ever, I’m totally out of ideas. What the hell am I going to do?”
Tess’s eyes were full of compassion. “You’re going to keep on believing that something amazing will happen. You’re going to use your big brain and find a way because you are the smartest woman I know.” Tess stood, took Kat’s coffee from her hand and placed it on the coffee table. Pulling a throw off the single chair and then patting a pillow she placed against the arm of the sofa, she said, “But right now, you’re going to sleep for a couple of hours.”
“I’ve got stuff to do,” Kat protested, her eyes heavy at just the mention of sleep.
“You need to decompress and you really need sleep,” Tess insisted and watched as Kat curled her legs up onto the sofa and rested her head on the cushion. “You can’t think straight without sleep, my darling. When you wake up, you’ll feel so much better and you’ll think of a solution.”
God, she hoped so, Kat thought, closing her eyes. She was just about to drift off when she heard, once again, Tess’s footsteps on her floor. “What did you lose, Tess?”
“Uh...it’s not what I lost but what I found on your doorstep.”
Hearing a note in Tess’s voice that was a curious combination of both surprise and confusion, Kat forced her eyes open. She saw his feet first, trendy navy sneakers worn without socks. Indigo denim slacks covered muscular, long legs and a leather belt encircled a trim waist and what she suspected might be a washboard stomach. A striped blue-and-white shirt was tucked in and made his chest seem wider, his shoulders broader. The cuffs of his expensive shirt were rolled up to reveal tanned forearms and a Rolex encircling a strong wrist. His cotton shirt pulled tight across his big biceps and the collar of his shirt opened in a V to reveal a hint of his chest covered in a light dusting of hair.
Green, green eyes, messy hair, that sexy stubble on his strong jaw. Man, what had she done to deserve Jonas Halstead standing in her apartment at 8:05 a.m.?
Kat slowly sat upright and frowned when she saw Tess backing away. Huh, so Tess wasn’t sticking around for moral support. She frowned at her friend, who shrugged. “I have to get to work. I’m late as it is. Sorry,” Tess explained, walking backward into the hall.
Sorry? She didn’t look sorry at all. Kat slapped her bare feet onto the floor and stood, wishing she didn’t look like a bag lady on a bad day. She ran her tongue over her teeth and pushed her hand into her hair, sighing when her hand snagged on a knot. Really? This was now her life?
Kat forced herself to meet Jonas Halstead’s amused eyes. “What on earth are you doing here? How did you find me?”
He reached into the back pocket of his pants and tossed a check onto her coffee table. “Fourteen hundred dollars. It’s to pay for the dress I ruined.”
Bloody Sian. Kat had thought she’d keep her mouth shut! Dammit. Kat looked at the check, sighed and decided to lie her ass off. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Jonas jammed his hands into the pockets of his pants and narrowed his eyes at her. “The hell you don’t. You borrowed a designer dress. You were going to return it. I pulled the tag off, which, as Sian told me, was a stupid ass thing to do. You are now on the hook for fourteen hundred dollars. I’m taking you off the hook.”
Kat looked at the check, back up to his determined face and back down to the check again. God, it was so tempting to take his money. It had been his fault. He had pulled the tag off and it wasn’t like he couldn’t afford the donation. He was Jonas Halstead, billionaire.
But it was still a donation and she didn’t accept charity, ever. She especially didn’t take handouts from sexy men who threw cash around like it was confetti. Nothing was simple when it came to money and motives should always be questioned. Nobody, especially hard-assed businessmen, handed out money without wanting something in return.
Between her ex and her father, she was sick of men and the games they played with money. Kat folded her arms across her chest and shook her head. “I’m not going to cash your check.”
Shock ran across his face, through his eyes. “What?”
“I’m not taking your money.” Kat spoke slowly, as if she were her explaining her position to a three-year-old. “I chose to wear the dress, even knowing that I couldn’t afford to pay for it if something went wrong. Something did go wrong, but it’s my problem, not yours.”
“The hell it is!” Jonas snapped back, his green eyes flashing with frustration. “I should not have been presumptuous enough to take the tag off.”
“Maybe not, but I’m still not taking your money,” Kat told him, feeling stubborn.
“Consider it a tip,” Jonas suggested, matching her bullishness with a healthy dose of his own.
“Too late for that,” Kat said. “Thanks for the offer but...no.”
“You are the most infuriating, annoying, frustrating, sexy...”
Kat hauled in a breath when he said the last word and their eyes clashed and held. One little word and something hot and crazy buzzed between them. The air around them seemed to thicken and tighten, filling with electricity. God, he was as attracted to her as she was to him. She saw it in the way he clenched and unclenched his fists, in the green fire in his eyes. If she took one step toward him she’d be in his arms. She’d feel the heat and strength of him. She would know whether his sexy lips felt as good as they looked, whether sparks would jump from her skin under the warmth of his hands.
She wanted him. Annoying, cash-on-the-table cretin that he was, she wanted to taste him, feel him, make love to him. She was losing her mind; she was sure of it. Too much stress and not enough sleep...this craziness was the result.
Kat heard Jonas snap out a swear word, heard his “This is insane” mutter. Then his hand breached the space between them and his fingers encircled her wrist. He held her lightly, giving her the opportunity to pull out of his grip if she so wanted.
She didn’t.
Instead Kat allowed him to pull her in. She didn’t step away when his hand rested on her lower back and jerked her hips into his, allowing her to feel the hard length of his erection pushing into her stomach. His other hand covered her right breast; his thumb finding her nipple with deadly accuracy. He hadn’t even kissed her yet and her panties were damp.
If he didn’t kiss her she would die. From want, need, sheer frustration. Kat stood on her tiptoes, her mouth aligned with his. Not bothering to be coy, she slammed her lips onto his, her tongue darting out to trace the seam, to tempt him to open up.
This wasn’t her, Kat thought from a place far away. She waited for men to make the first move, to kiss her, to lead. She followed. But not today.
Jonas swiped her nipple with his thumb, held her tight against him and let her kiss him. When he didn’t open his mouth or kiss her back, Kat, unsure of what she was doing or whether she should be doing this at all, started to pull away. Jonas growled a harsh no against her mouth and moved his hand from her breast to the back of her head to keep her in place. She wasn’t going anywhere, Kat realized, and when his mouth started to move, she also realized she didn’t want to.
Jonas Halstead was kissing her. It was candy floss and crack, sunshine and sin, pleasure and pain. He took command of her mouth, his tongue tangling with hers in a sexy dance. Kat, senseless, pulled his shirt from the back of his pants and put her hands on his hot, masculine skin. Jonas groaned his pleasure and she ran her palms over his gorgeous ass, annoyed at the barrier of clothes between her fingers and his flesh.
Jonas kissed the corner of her mouth and trailed his lips over her jaw, down her neck. It had been a long time since a man had kissed her liked this, touched her like she was something infinitely precious and incandescently gorgeous. She’d missed this. His teeth scraped across her collarbone. The tiny sting and the wave of pleasure made Kat’s eyes fly open. Her gaze landed on the dress.
The one he’d just offered to pay for.
Kat stiffened in his arms as dismay swamped desire. Oh, God, did he think she was taking the money and this was her way of showing her gratitude? Did he think she was so easily manipulated? Did he think she was desperate, so eager to be with a man who was supposed to be brilliant at business? And in bed?
What the hell was wrong with her?
Kat jerked away from him and wrapped her hands around her waist.
“What did I do?”
Cynicism returned and Kat snorted, convinced he’d practiced that expression of puzzled surprise. “I’m not taking your check and, to be very clear, I’m not sleeping with you.”
Jonas’s eyes turned frosty. “I didn’t make that assumption,” he said, his soft voice holding an edge of danger. “And sex is not what I came for.”
“Really?” Kat whipped out the words. “You didn’t take very long to kiss me.”
Jonas jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, those clever lips now thin with anger. “I’d like to point out that you didn’t fight me off.” He pulled on the tail of his shirt before tucking it back into his pants. “This shirt didn’t pull itself loose.”
Kat blushed, dropped her eyes and released an irritated sigh.
“Why are you mad, Katrina? Because I kissed you or because you liked it and wanted me to do more?”
Neither. Both. Crap.
Kat, feeling thoroughly off balance, brushed past him, deliberately connecting her shoulder with the top of his bicep before storming toward the hallway. Her attempt at intimidation had as much impact as a fly trying to move a cow.
When she reached her front door, she pulled it open and, when Jonas reached her, she gestured for him to keep on walking. “Just go.”
“No. You’re obviously upset and I want to know why.”
She could never explain. For the first time in four years, for a few minutes in his arms, she’d felt protected, not so alone. She’d felt like the world wasn’t conspiring against her, that life would get better, that things would eventually be okay. It had nothing to do with the check but everything to do with his strength, the power that radiated from him. He made her feel stronger...
God, he made her want to lean, to ask for help, to think that maybe, someday, she could trust someone again. Love someone again. He made her remember what attraction and pleasure and, dammit, what affection felt like. She’d deliberately pushed all of that away, locked all those emotions and memories in a box, refusing to look at them. Memories hurt, dammit.
But one kiss from Halstead had snapped that lock like it was made of spun sugar. She couldn’t allow herself to look back; she couldn’t afford to remember. It hurt too damn much. And, worse, it might tempt her to make the same mistakes she had before.
“Please go.”
“Katrina...”
Kat was quite convinced that her head was one minute away from exploding. Anger rolled in—so much easier to deal with than fear. “My name,” she yelled, “is Kat! I’m twenty-eight years old. I haven’t had sex in four years. I’m flat broke and I’ve done no work to prepare for my LCA final! I’m exhausted and I don’t need this! I have exactly one nerve left and you’re friggin’ standing on it. Go away!”
Kat felt her lungs pumping, heard the buzzing in her head and knew that if he attempted to speak again, she would kill him. Slowly. With her bare hands. It didn’t matter that he was twice her size, she had so much adrenaline and unused sexual energy pumping around her system that she could take on a herd of angry hippos and win. Jonas Halstead didn’t have a chance in hell.
Jonas sent her a you’re-bat-crap-crazy look and walked into the hallway.
Kat slammed the door closed behind him and stomped through her living room into her bedroom. Climbing into bed, she pulled the covers over her head and wished she could just stay there for the rest of her life.
Because, dammit, Jonas Halstead’s check was still on her coffee table. And because she was now, more than ever, tempted to cash it.
