“A curious one.”
He pulled Jenna to her feet. “Will satisfying your curiosity be worth my while?”
She winked broadly at him. “You’ll never know unless you try.”
Tyler nuzzled Jenna’s neck. “Looks like I’m a gamblin’ man.”
“I’ve always loved that about you.”
“Broken water main under the conference wing.”
“I didn’t know Derek was a plumber,” said Jenna.
“They can’t get hold of the manager, and they need someone to authorize emergency repairs.”
“Will it take long?” asked Candice, hope springing inside her. Could this be divine intervention?
Tyler shrugged. “Might. The emergency repair crew is on the way, but he’ll probably need to stick around until they get an estimate.”
Candice glanced at her watch. It was nearly eleven. He only needed to stay busy for an hour. Twelve-oh-one, the party would be over, and she’d be out the door.
She’d apologize to him in the morning, then talk to him about the heritage designation before they had a chance to make another date.
DEREK HAD the chief financial officer on one cell phone, trying to establish how much of the damage was covered by insurance. He had the conference director on another, trying to set up replacement space for the meetings that were planned for the conference area tomorrow. And he had his eyes on the clock as it ticked over to eleven-fifty-five.
He needed to get back upstairs if he was going to beat Candy to the Roosevelt suite. He’d ordered champagne and strawberries, and chocolate truffles. He doubted they’d get to them before he devoured Candy. But they might be hungry later.
“The city can’t get an inspector here for four hours,” said the chief financial officer. “But it looks like our maximum exposure for leakage is a five-thousand-dollar deductible and twenty percent.”
“On the pipe repair only or consequential damage?” Derek asked into the phone.
“On everything,” said the CFO. “And that’s the worst-case scenario. If the city’s at fault, we’re in the clear.”
“Gus?” Derek called to the plumbing foreman.
“Yeah?” Gus shouted back above the clank of tools and the roar of water spray.
“Rock and roll. Call in an extra crew. But save the damaged pipe for the inspector.”
Gus gave him a quick salute. “You got it.”
“The Bayside can give us ten breakout rooms and their mezzanine ballroom for the Remmillard meetings,” said the conference director in Derek’s other ear. “The ballroom seats five hundred.”
The clocked ticked its way toward midnight. “Can you make it work?”
“I’ll make it work. You want to alert the Remmillard CEO?”
“You go ahead. But nail down the details first, I don’t want him worrying about the caterers all night long.”
“Roger.” The line went dead.
The clock hit midnight. Derek needed to get out of here.
“You need anything else from me?” he asked the CFO.
“I’ll have something for you to sign in the morning.”
“Great.”
The CFO signed off.
“Hey, Gus,” Derek called, stuffing both cell phones into his suit pockets.
“Yeah?”
“You got everything you need?”
As Gus gave him a thumbs-up, the water spray suddenly changed pitch. The foreman jumped backward about five feet, but Derek’s reactions weren’t as fast.
A plume of water shot across the room, plastering him square, dead center. He could see Gus’s grin through the rainbow mist spewing up in front of his eyes.
He bailed to one side. “You want to fix that?” he asked Gus.
“Right, boss.”
Derek shook the water from his hands as he headed for the door. Five past twelve and soaked to the skin. Wasn’t Candice going to be thrilled to see him?
He squished his way down the double-wide hallway that led to the main lobby. The lobby was quiet, a few late-arriving guests were at the check-in counter. Lights from the line of limousines they’d hired to take the party guests home snaked down the circular driveway.
Derek was glad to see there wasn’t a lineup for the cars. At an event like the reopening of the Lighthouse, details like that mattered.
As he watched, a woman stepped into the glass revolving door.
He did a double take.
Candice?
What was she doing down here? She had a key to the Roosevelt suite. Why hadn’t she used it?
He changed course, striding across the tiled rotunda toward the door. He received a few curious looks from the night staff, but he ignored them.
When he realized she was heading for one of the limos, he increased his pace. He burst through the glass door and onto the sidewalk. “Candice?”
She glanced up at him. Her eyes went wide, but she kept going into the back seat of the limousine. “Twenty-two sixteen Westmount Boulevard,” she said to the driver.
Derek grabbed the corner of the door before the driver could close it, shouldering the man out of the way. “What are you doing?”
Candice swallowed. “I didn’t think you were coming back.”
“Not coming back?” Was she crazy?
She inched her way across the seat. “You were gone so long. I thought you couldn’t make it.”
Derek held out his hand to her, stepping to one side. “Of course I made it.”
Candice glanced around.
“Come on,” said Derek.
“We need to talk,” she said.
“We can talk upstairs.”
She looked out at him, eyes wide, lips full, Lord help him, she was gorgeous.
“We need to talk before we go upstairs.”
“Fine.” Derek slid into the limo and closed the door. “Talk.”
The purple-hued perimeter lights came on. The driver put it in gear. Derek called, “Wait.” But the privacy wall was up, and they glided down the driveway.
This was not going according to plan.
“So, talk,” he said, trying not to feel annoyed at Candy. He had been gone for over an hour. Who could blame her for wondering if he’d changed his mind?
He loosened his wet tie and yanked it from around his neck. Then he stripped off his sopping jacket and tossed it on one of the other seats. His shoes were ruined, and there probably wasn’t any hope for his suit either. His white shirt was plastered to his chest.
Pushing back his wet hair, he turned to look at Candice. He opened his mouth to ask her what it was they needed to talk about, but instead he froze.
She was staring at him like…Well, exactly like he’d fantasized all night. This might not be going according to plan, but they were together, the privacy wall was up and the lights of Seattle were pretty romantic flashing in the tinted windows.
He slid closer, reached out to touch her chin, tipped it up, and his lips descended.
“Derek,” she whispered. “We…”
Her voice trailed away as his lips met hers.
Finally. Finally.
She was warm and sweet and as soft as spun silk.
He opened his mouth, tipped his head, tunneled his fingers into her hair. The tension of the past two hours instantly evaporated. The roar of the limousine engine faded to a drone, and Candy’s soft moans were all that penetrated his brain.
He kissed her neck, making his way across her bare shoulder. Her hands tightened into fists and she dropped her head back.
He whispered her name, worshipped her name. He kissed and tongued and suckled her soft skin, inhaling her scent, wishing time would stand still.
Her fingers went to the buttons on his shirt, fumbling, uncoordinated. He fisted his hand into the fabric and ripped the buttons away, leaving his shirt hanging open. Her fingertips touched his chilled skin, sending tiny impulses into his nervous system.
His body flashed to attention.
His fingers found the tie at
the back of her dress and loosened the knot. He pushed the sequined fabric out of the way until it bunched at her waist, exposing her beautiful breasts. He kissed one of her nipples, rolling it with his tongue, glorying in the exquisite sensation of her hot, tender skin.
Her fingertips dug into his scalp, and his name came out on a gasp.
He lowered her to the seat, stripping away her dress, running his index finger under the top of her stockings, plucking at the tiny high-cut panties that barely covered her. Her shoes were forties spiked pumps, the stockings and panties black. Lust thundered through him like a runaway train.
He let his fingertips skim down her flat stomach, watching her jewel-bright eyes as he dipped below the band of her panties. He slid farther, to the searing heat of her body.
Her eyes fluttered closed and he thoroughly kissed her lips. His fingers dipped and delved until her hips came up off the seat.
The limo suddenly stopped.
Derek cursed as Candy gasped in his ear.
He fumbled for the intercom, desperately pressing button after button. It finally crackled to life. “Take us to Bellingham. Then back again.”
“Yes, sir,” said a crisp, professional voice.
Derek went straight back to kissing her, slipping out of his pants, pushing her panties out of the way, down to her knees, almost to her ankles. Then he gave up on the tangle and kissed his way across her breasts.
Her hands stroked his hair. Her head moved from side to side, small gasps escaping from her lips as her chest expanded and contracted.
Derek ran his fingertips up her thighs, brushing the curls at her apex, finding her tender skin and reveling in the heat.
He couldn’t wait any longer.
He quickly donned a condom and position himself over her. “You okay?” he asked.
She scrunched her eyes shut and smiled, reaching down to press his buttocks, pulling him home. He groaned as he slid inside. She fought the tangled panties, until one ankle kicked free, then she wrapped her legs around him.
He plunged into her sweet body, over and over. The sound of her breathing echoed in his ear, the scent of her skin surrounded him, and he devoured her hot lips in desperate kisses. The streetlights flashed faster and faster in his peripheral vision as the highway hummed beneath them.
She gasped his name, and he moaned hers in return. All sensation in his body coalesced, tightening to unbearable.
“Now?” he rasped
“Now,” she answered.
He relinquished control, and heaven rained down around them.
When the last tremors finally died away, and he once again became aware of the whooshing sound of the highway, he lifted her with him, turning onto his back so she straddled him.
“One night?” he asked, wondering how a man could possibly do this only once in his lifetime.
She nodded, pushing into a sitting position. “One night.”
He stroked the outsides of her thighs, making his way up her rib cage to the mound of her pert breasts, marveling at how quickly his body was rejuvenating. “Then we’d better not waste it.”
Her lips curved into a beautiful smile.
“You’re gorgeous,” he said.
Her hands went to his chest, fingers spread, wending their way up to his flat nipples. “So are you,” she whispered.
“Bellingham is a three-hour round trip.”
She bent at the waist, leaning back down to give him a lingering, moist kiss. “Good.”
They slowed the pace, making long, leisurely love as the streetlights flashed by on the interstate, first north then south. By the time they hit the traffic of Seattle again, they were covered in a fine sheen of sweat, lying tangled together, gasping for breath.
Derek’s limbs tingled. His skin prickled with hypersensitivity. His head felt like a lead weight, and his brain was fogged with pleasure.
“I can honestly say,” Candy gasped beside him, “that I am totally and completely satisfied.”
Derek reached for her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. “Thank goodness for that.” He didn’t think his ego could take it if she’d been left unsatisfied. And he sure wasn’t up for another round.
Okay, so the spirit was willing, but his body was long past the point of exhaustion.
“We’ll be at twenty-two sixteen Westmount Boulevard in five minutes,” the driver’s voice said over the intercom.
Candice took a deep breath and reached for her dress.
Derek’s hand tightened on hers. He wasn’t ready to let her go. “You want—”
“I better go.” She disentangled her hand.
Derek would have argued, but he didn’t want to mar what might very well have been the best night of his life.
CANDICE SHUT HER APARTMENT DOOR and banged her head back against it three times in rapid succession. She was supposed to tell him about the heritage designation before she touched him—not during, not after and definitely not never.
What was she thinking?
Okay, so she knew what she was thinking: that Derek in a wet shirt ought to be illegal, and that Derek out of a wet shirt was better than chocolate—way better than chocolate.
Thank goodness they’d gone all the way to Bellingham and not just over to Bellevue. An hour wouldn’t have been nearly enough time to satisfy her craving.
She dropped her purse, kicked off her shoes and made her way toward the bathtub. On the bright side, she was temporarily over her Derek lust. Maybe now she’d be able to talk to him without fantasizing.
She cranked the taps and poured in some lemon-grass bubble bath. She still had to convince him sex hadn’t been a bribe for the heritage designation. And she still had to convince him to go for the designation. She knew it was going to be a problem, but she was having a hard time feeling too stressed about anything at the moment.
She peeled off her dress and discarded her underwear. If she stopped by his office tomorrow morning and made it clear that the two issues were unrelated, he might believe her.
She sighed as she slipped into the hot sudsy water.
He’d better believe her. Because she had no desire to explain to Jenna why she hadn’t asked about the heritage designation before having sex with Derek. There were certain details women didn’t need to know about their brothers-in-law.
8
THE INTERCOM BUZZED in Derek’s office on the top floor of the Reeves-DuCarter building, breaking his hard-won concentration. He looked up from the water inspector’s preliminary report and pressed the Talk button.
“Yes, Marion?”
“A Candice Hammond here to see you regarding the Lighthouse Restaurant.”
Derek’s heart skipped a beat, and page six of the report dropped from his fingertips.
Candy?
Here?
Now?
Had she changed her mind about the one-night rule? Had “one night” meant twenty-four hours? Were they still on the clock?
“Mr. Reeves?”
Derek pulled his ridiculous thoughts up short. He was behaving like a hormone-ravaged teenager. “Uh. Sorry, Marion. Send her in.”
He carefully closed the inspector’s report and centered it on his cherrywood desktop. He was fine. He was in control. Last night was last night. It was over and done.
But what if they were still on the clock?
He jumped up and slipped into his jacket, straightening his tie as he glanced around the room. Sunlight streamed through the glass walls, glaring directly on his guest chairs. He strode to the corner and adjusted the opaque blinds.
He could offer her something from the wet bar, maybe cancel his ten o’clock. They could lock the office door and—
The door whooshed opened, and Candy walked in, looking crisp and professional in a cream-colored jacket and matching skirt. Her blond hair was swept back off her face. Her emerald blouse set off her eyes.
Of its own volition, his gaze worked its way down her figure, dismissing the mannish cut of the clothes, remembering her curve
s, savoring last night’s images, visualizing her naked all over again.
Then Marion closed the door with a firm click, and Candy marched across the carpet toward one of his burgundy leather guest chairs. Her posture was different than he remembered—stiff, no-nonsense.
“Before we get started,” she said, voice crisp as the outfit. “I want to make it clear that this has nothing to do with last night.”
Derek’s mood flagged. So much for locking the office door. “Nothing?”
She shook her head, bracing her hands on the back of his chair.
He swallowed his disappointment, forcing a neutral tone to his voice. “Please, sit down.”
As she sat, he lowered himself into his own chair.
She smoothed her hands over a manila envelope in her lap. “I have a proposition for you.”
Yes!
Maybe.
He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to pick up his pen and nod thoughtfully. Odds were that her proposition didn’t bear any resemblance to the one he had in mind. The one where they really did take off to that tropical island together and get naked for a month.
He squared his shoulders and pasted on his best shark expression. “What can I do for you?”
Candy took a deep breath. She looked him in the eye for a moment, then her gaze shifted nervously to a point beside his left ear and she smoothed the envelope three times with the palms of her hands.
Whatever she was about to say couldn’t be good.
“Myrna West from the Seattle Historical Society has contacted me regarding a heritage designation for the Lighthouse,” she said.
Derek’s forehead tightened as the words penetrated. His eyebrows rose. He’d had experience with the indomitable Ms. West and her idealistic cronies. If she had her way, the entire city would be preserved for posterity.
He had to hand it to Myrna, approaching Candy was much smarter than approaching him straight on. It would take some pretty fast talking to get him to listen to a proposal from the Historical Society.
His mind started clicking through Myrna’s possible agendas, then it clicked through Candice’s likely interests. When he started adding up the timetable, he stilled. “When?”
Her gaze darted back to his eyes. “What?”
High Stakes Page 9