by Evans, Katy
He buckles his seat belt, his shoulders bumping mine. James is wearing black slacks and a plain white button shirt. The top two buttons unbuttoned. He looks like a businessman—clean shaven and beautiful, fit and young—but it’s those twinkling blue eyes and that dimpled smile that always get to me the most.
“What are you watching?” I ask him as he plays a video on his new phone.
He angles the screen in my direction. “Some stunt videos that I did that I never uploaded. Thinking of editing a few and loading them up, you know, once our contract is over.”
He winks playfully.
Curiosity pricked, I feel myself smile and edge closer, curious. I watch the video with him.
James is wearing a wet suit on board a Jet Ski. I assume Charlie is on the shore, filming. When the camera zooms in on James, the view is fuzzy. James seems to say something, but he’s too far away to hear clearly. Instead, I listen to Charlie’s voice in the background.
“What?” Charlie’s yelling at him.
James cups the side of his mouth, his deep voice carrying through the wind. “Don’t get too close to the bank, or you’ll fall on your face! You got a clear view?”
Charlie starts answering, but the camera shifts away in a jerk. We’re suddenly staring at a view of the sky, and I hear Charlie curse in the background.
I start laughing when it hits me.
“He fell?” I ask James.
I can hear the motor of the Jet Ski coming closer and suddenly James’s voice. “You okay, buddy? I’m supposed to make a fool of myself, not you, buddy. Come here.” I hear shuffling as James helps Charlie to his feet; then James peers into the phone and taps the screen, blue eyes squinting. “Still working. Damn, Charlie, you—” He turns it off.
“I can only imagine all the adventures you guys have had.”
I can’t help but giggle.
Lifting my eyes to find James watching me intently. Has he been watching me all the time I was watching the video?
He’s smiling to himself.
He reaches out to brush a strand of loose hair behind my ear, then drags his thumb down my jawline to brush fleetingly across my lower lip.
“I like it when you let your hair down,” he husks.
We’re taking off now, and I’m breathless under his touch.
“Literally? Or figuratively?”
“Both.” We both seem to adjust to the plane taking to the air, and then James asks, “Want to see one where I ended up with a broken wrist?”
“God no!” I gasp. He’s already searching through his videos.
“Let loose. Have some fun, Elizabeth.”
“I have fun. Safe fun. You’re crazy, James.” I peer at the screen. I’m partly wanting to watch only because he seems to want to show me—and I’m partly dreading it.
I can’t pretend that I don’t love seeing videos that nobody but him and Charlie have seen.
I can’t pretend that it’s not crazy exciting that this guy fears nothing, won’t hesitate to take a bet.
I’m not sure he even took these bets for the money.
James likes a challenge. And I wonder if he slowly works past every obstacle in his way and goes for what he wants—just like he went after me.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you looked handsome with that beard.”
He’s wearing shorts that display his muscular legs in the video. A soft-looking T-shirt with a Skid Row logo. His scruffy beard looking all manly and bearlike. His blue eyes twinkling wickedly.
James was dared to leap off the third floor of a building and into the pool.
“I can’t watch.” I’m breathless as I watch him head to the railing of a third-floor balcony.
“Jimmy . . .” Charlie sounds concerned. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”
James grins at the camera. “Of course it’s a good idea. A thousand dollars is always a good idea.” He’s climbing the balcony rail. But when he glances at Charlie, he loses his balance and slips onto the other side of the rail. His arm flies out. And he grabs onto the rail at an awkward angle. There’s an odd snapping sound, and he slides off the ledge, and suddenly all hell breaks loose. Charlie runs to the ledge, yelling.
“JIMMY!”
Charlie peers over the balcony, where James is crashed among the bushes down by the side of the pool.
“Fuck. I just broke my damn wrist,” he tells Charlie as he struggles to sit up, a shit ton of branches crunching beneath him.
“Least it’s not your damn head!” Charlie sounds on the verge of tears when the video turns off.
I shake my head.
“What? No laughing?”
“Why would I laugh? That’s not funny!” I cry.
“It was. Kind of funny. Admit it, Lizzy.”
“No, it’s not funny.”
“The funny thing was that my doctor’s bills were way more than a thousand dollars.”
He chuckles softly, the sound rough and low, distracting. As is his big body, somehow pulling the space around him like a magnet. Including me.
Shouldn’t you be bracing yourself, Lizzy?
He tucks his phone away. “Oh, come on. I’m all right now.”
There’s a hot ache, growing and growing inside me. There’s concern there. Yearning. Need. Caring. “Something could have happened to you! Have you ever wondered what Charlie would do without you?”
James smiles down at me, his chest so close that its warmth teases and taunts me.
When he studies me for a moment and notices the concern on my face, his smile fades. His voice drops as he glances at my mouth. “But see . . . that’s the thing. Nothing happens to me. Ever. Not anything that I can’t recover from.”
“James . . .” I shake my head, nervously licking my lips under his intent gaze. “Do you have survivor’s guilt?” I ask.
I’m not smiling anymore.
“No. Survivor’s anger, maybe. But the last thing I wanted to teach Charlie was to be too afraid to live. Shit happens. You don’t survive this life. You live it. You take risks, and you show people who you are and what you stand for, and if they don’t like it, fuck ’em. You make every day mean something. If you’re just surviving, what the hell good is it?”
James
Lizzy’s worried I’m a loose cannon. I’m not. I’ve had a healthy outlet for my anger. I’ve moved on. I’m good—and I’ll be even better once Charlie feels good about himself and gets into a better school. But right now, all I want is for Elizabeth to relax and let her hair down. In every sense of the phrase.
Difficult, considering her suitcase hasn’t shown up.
I’ve been hounding the baggage claim carousel for half an hour, and nothing’s coming out. The rest of our flight companions have already left.
Lizzy’s luggage is still a no-show.
“Until tomorrow?” Lizzy asks the attendant behind the airline counter.
“Yes, ma’am, we’re sorry; it seems to have remained in Atlanta.”
“I really need that suitcase.” Lizzy rubs her temples, groaning.
After fifteen minutes rechecking, I give her the hotel address for them to send it when it arrives. “Thanks. We’ll keep an eye out for it,” I tell the attendant.
Lizzy groans as she lets me usher her away. “I don’t know if I’ll survive without my face creams. I have nothing to wear, and I have a dinner scheduled with some really big clients.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
I know this shit is important to Lizzy.
But I have an idea.
And I hate wasting time.
I lead her to the hotel chauffeur who stands with a sign that reads BANKS and motion at him to lead us to the car.
She’s calmer by the time we arrive at the hotel.
“Checking in. Elizabeth Banks.”
I glance around the hotel’s sumptuous lobby and resist the urge to whistle.
“Ahh, yes, Miss Banks, welcome back. We have you for two rooms—”
I re
ach out and lean on the counter. “One.”
The girl glances up in surprise, then shoots Lizzy a smile. “One?”
Elizabeth remains rooted to the spot, a gorgeous blush up her cheeks. “Two,” she says, nudging me.
I shrug at the girl. “Two.” I look at Lizzy. “Connecting?”
She concedes. “Fine. Connecting.”
“We’ve upgraded you to one of our junior suites, Miss Banks. A king bed with a parlor and the second king bedroom connecting. Enjoy your stay.”
“Thanks.” Lizzy nervously tucks her credit card away.
“I’ll try my best.” I wink at the lady and scoop up my key, leading Elizabeth across the lobby to the elevators.
Connecting rooms.
Fuck yeah.
“JIMMY!”
I turn to spot a lanky red-haired guy dressed in yesterday’s suit.
“Jimmy Rowan. From YouTube? Damn, I thought that was you! I almost didn’t recognize you without the beard. What’s up, bro? I’m starwars601—I comment on your posts all the time. You’re fucking sick, bro!”
I look at Lizzy and suck in a breath.
“I’m sorry,” I say, lifting my chin in the air as pompously as I can manage. “I have no idea who you’re talking about. Have a good night.”
I adjust the collar on my suit jacket, offer Lizzy my elbow, and walk away with her on my arm, saying loudly, “What is this YouTube thing people are talking about?”
Lizzy shakes her head and giggles.
DINNER
Lizzy
I hear a knock on the connecting door of my room as I’m standing in a towel, looking at the travel clothes I just set out on the bed.
I suppose I can wear my leggings and tunic to dinner if I wear my hair nice. But ugh. I hate how travel clothes seem to suck up the smell of airplanes. It’s just not ideal, and I’m stressing like crazy. Presentation is everything in my line of business. I dread that my buyers will think that I’m not taking their time seriously. I’ll just have to explain what happened.
That’s when I open the door and see James, standing there in his travel clothes. “You going to shower?”
“In a minute. I was down in the lobby. Got you something.” He sets a bag down on the bed. Fishes out a toothbrush and toothpaste.
“Thank you.”
“And this.” He pulls out two things he seemed to be holding behind his back. One is a shoebox, the other a long garment bag. He sets down the box and unzips the garment bag. And James holds a perfectly gorgeous ivory-colored dress.
“Oh my god! Where did you find this?” My eyes widen as I register the satisfied male look on his face as he then flips open the lid of the shoebox to reveal the most gorgeous strappy nude heels I’ve ever seen. “James . . .” I’m breathless all of a sudden. Truly touched by the gesture. “James. Let me pay you back.”
“No.” He sets the hanger down and tugs at my towel.
“Yes.”
“No.” More sternly now.
“I’m your boss, Rowan,” I protest while he’s too busy pulling my arms up and sliding the dress over my head, then down my body in a delicious silken cascade.
“I didn’t get it for my boss,” he whispers in my ear. I shiver as he drops a kiss on the back of it, then zips me up, his fingers lingering on my back for a heart-stopping moment. “I got it for my girl.”
I swallow. My heart skipping helplessly in my chest as he steps before me. He always seems to look taller when he’s this close. More and more tempting the more I get to know him. “Now let’s have a look at you.”
It’s hard to get the words out. Because I’m continually amazed by this guy. In so many ways I’ve lost count.
I look down at myself.
I feel heavenly. Feel like a princess. Like someone who’s getting spoiled in the very best way.
“Thank you,” I breathe, impulsively leaning up on my toes and pressing a kiss to his lips. James grabs me by the back of the neck and tilts my head just so . . . so he can kiss me a little more. Then he pushes me back a fraction and studies me almost as thoroughly as I do when he’s wearing our Banks suits.
“Stunning,” he says as verdict.
Another little leap in my heart.
I shake off the daze and beam up at him before I grab his shoulders and usher him to the closet where he hung all his things. “Your turn. We can’t be late. Make me look good tonight, Rowan.”
“Always, heiress.”
I brought the perfect suits for James for tonight’s dinner. It’s the first time we’re out in public, with several of our big buyers. The rest of the next week will be just as full of meetings, but this is it.
This can make or break the way the rest of the trip will go.
After tonight, he will belong to the world.
I don’t even have to be nervous that they won’t accept him. I know they will. I have polished my diamond perfectly.
What am I nervous about? I can’t quite describe it, but it’s gnawing inside me and making my skin crawl.
I’m pacing in the suite when James steps out with his hair slicked back, the fit of the suit perfect on his athletic body. My breath catches.
My eyes hurt.
In that suit?
James is David Beckham in a suit at the royal wedding.
I’m speechless.
He’s beautiful, and though I should feel some pride in playing a part in bringing out this man’s beauty, all I can feel is a knot in my stomach. A knot I can’t quite seem to loosen, no matter how much I try.
It’s starting to hurt to look at him.
Ignoring the sudden weakness in my knees, I step out of the room. He follows me, his tall frame sort of making me feel shorter than I should feel.
What’s going on?
I can’t think when he’s near, and I can’t even bear to think what it will feel like when this is over and he’s gone.
“I don’t know if I can do this monkey shit for a whole evening, let alone weeks on end.” He tugs on his tie, already restless and feeling caged in.
I bite back my smile and grab my bag before we step out and ride down the elevator. “Don’t say shit. Say, ‘I don’t know if I could get through this ordeal . . .’”
He pulls me close. “I don’t know if I could get through this ordeal. I need incentives. Give me some gas.”
Before I can even think of what he means, he’s already fueling himself. With my mouth.
When we peel away, his eyes are heavy. As heavy as mine feel. “Better.”
My voice is barely audible through our breaths. “We need to leave.”
“Give me a minute. I just need to cool down.” He exhales, his nostrils flaring as his gaze connects with my own.
He eases back for a long moment, gives my mouth a hot look, makes me wet between the legs, and takes my hand as we step out of the elevator.
The restaurant is only two blocks away, so we walk there. I know there’s a risk I could see someone I know who might tell my father his daughter is out and about holding hands with some gorgeous man. But at this point? I’m in Los Angeles courting buyers. My father’s in China. LB is in Atlanta. The breeze is delicious. The scenery perfect. I’m too far away from all of that to care right now.
“Are you nervous?”
He laughs deeply, sexily. He leans close to my ear. “I just want to get through the night so I can get to the part where I can kiss that smirk of yours to pieces.”
I can’t just pretend the thought didn’t make my heart and every cell in my body skip.
We’re on our way to Nobu Malibu—a place frequented by Hollywood’s elite and the perfect venue for our first dinner with some of our potential buyers.
The restaurant sits on Malibu beach with the Pacific Ocean stretching out in front of it, the last rays of the setting sun painting millions of diamonds upon its glassy surface. We’re meeting with representatives from some of the biggest stores in the US, including Barneys New York, Bergdorf Goodman, Neiman Marcus, and also rep
resentatives from luxury online stores such as Net-a-Porter. I plan to have our new line available everywhere to maximize sales and exposure.
As James and I step into the lobby, we’re greeted by a tall thin man with perfectly manicured eyebrows and colored hair, who promptly walks us to a round table by the porch, right next to the railing overlooking the ocean.
The breeze catches my hair, and I finally feel myself exhale. The smell of blue ocean and warm sand intoxicates my senses. I catch a glance of us in a wall of windows, and my confidence surges. Damn, he looks fine. “You know how to make an entrance, James.”
He smiles and murmurs, “If I was making an entrance, I’d be scaling the side of the wall like Spider-Man. Or maybe skydiving in.”
“Not tonight. Do you always see potential stunts in every place you go?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
I laugh and shake my head. “All I see are potential disasters.”
And oh, I definitely see potential disaster here. But not for James. James, I think, can do anything. Me? I’m not so sure. I’ve spent so long grooming him that it’d be ironic if I couldn’t pull this off myself.
James pulls out my chair and winks. I walk in front of him, and right before I sit down on the chair he’s holding out for me, I feel him plant a discreet but delicious kiss on the side of my exposed neck. “Don’t be nervous, beautiful; we got this,” he whispers before taking his seat next to mine.
I get goose bumps.
Then, I start to see the buyers float in and fill the remaining seats. I introduce James to all of the buyers.
“Nice to meet you. James Rowan,” he says as he greets each of them.
I watch him take charge, completely awed by him.
He’s got this to the point that everyone at the table can’t tear their delighted gazes away from him.
After some small talk about their flights, the city, and the delicious food we’re about to have, we get down to business.
“When I first came up with the idea for the line, I had a very clear vision for what I wanted it to be. I wanted it to be a line made for the young businessman: sleek, modern, elegant, masculine, but still playful and youthful. All of our suits are made to stand strongly as individuals. Even the most streamlined and basic suits have beautiful accents and fabrics that elevate the look and turn the traditional black suit into a statement piece.”