Hot As Hell

by Vivian Wood

  Sam took one of the walking appetizers and encouraged Connor to do the same. “What do you think?” she asked him. He finished the smoked salmon and violet tea delicacy in one bite.

  “Delicious,” he admitted.

  She smiled. “That was my doing.”

  He raised a brow at her. “I’m impressed. Let’s see what else you can do.”

  Sam made her rounds and got a little thrill every time she introduced him as her fiancé. For awhile, she’d resisted bringing the charade into her own life, but it was futile. There was no way she could keep up with the lies and stories. It was simply easier to let the worlds collide. Otherwise, she was sure she’d mess up, given how often Connor pulled her away for luncheons. Plus, when she’d found out Jenny couldn’t make it, the situation became the perfect opportunity to show off.

  Besides, what would happen if his family or business partners dug into her background and found out nobody in her life knew she was “engaged?”

  “Sam, dear, your fiancé is a dream,” Mrs. Whiteworth told her. “Though the name is familiar—”

  “Everyone says that,” he said quickly. “My family hosts a lot of events, but primarily business and personal affairs. I’m sure my mother’s used your services before.”

  “That must be it,” Mrs. Whiteworth said as she finished her glass of Prosecco.

  Sam burned a bright red, touched his hand and scanned the crowd for an exit. “There are some clients I’d like to say hello to,” she said to Connor. “Do you mind?” she asked Mrs. Whiteworth, who waved her away.

  “I see you haven’t built a foolproof backstory at work on how we got together,” Connor said with a smile. “Is that frowned upon? Swooping in on heartbroken clients and snatching them up for yourself?”

  “I don’t recall anything about it in my contract,” she said as her heart started to slow down.

  “Hey, where are you actually taking me?” he asked as they left the crowd behind.

  “I don’t know.”

  The gardens seemed different at night, as the evening event lights worked their magic. The last time she’d been here, it was to survey the grounds and help plan this “little gathering” as her boss called it.

  They moved from the lawn terrace and rose garden past the butterfly garden and toward the amphitheater. “I don’t think I’ve been here since I was a kid,” he said.

  The two of them circled the empty amphitheater, drawn toward a hothouse. “Your mom used to bring you here?” she asked.

  He laughed. “My mom? No. It was a school field trip. I don’t recall my parents taking me anywhere that didn’t serve them in some regard.”

  Connor tried the door of the greenhouse and looked at her with wide eyes when it opened.

  “Should we?” she asked, and looked around.

  “I think it’s a sign.”

  Dim lights automatically flickered on when they entered, but they were so slight it was like being draped in moonlight. She could swear she could almost hear the plants sigh in their sleep. Do plants dream? And if they do, what are we to them?

  She watched Connor explore the little nursery. He looked somehow both drastically out of place and just right in the tailored navy blue suit amidst all the greenery. “I used to come here quite often,” she said. Sam wandered down the narrow aisle opposite of him. He looked up and caught her gaze over the sprawling leaves and beautiful blossoms.

  “I can see that,” he said.

  “How so?”

  “I don’t know. It suits you. Being with all the flowers.”

  She blushed, grateful for the barely-there light. Here, in the greenhouse, it was like they’d built their own little world. Almost all of the sounds outside, including the chatter of the party, were silenced. Faintly, she could hear the jazz quartet as they played on.

  Suddenly, she was very aware of her heartbeat. “They say plants and flowers respond to the sounds of music,” she said.

  “Who are they?”

  “Who knows? Plant experts,” she said with a laugh.

  They each came to the end of their rows and faced one another. There was no longer a stretch of green to be used as a buffer. “I wish I’d come here more often,” Connor said. “It’s peaceful.”

  “It’s an escape,” she said.

  “Yeah. I could have used that. I could use that,” he said quietly.

  “How come?” Her heart hammered into her ribs harder.

  “Tough childhood,” he said with a smile. “Though I’m sure you could have guessed that.”

  She looked at her feet. Her toes peeked out from the strappy golden Brian Atwood heeled sandals. “Your father?” she asked.

  “Both of them. All of them. My mother isn’t just depressed for the hell of it. She’s an alcoholic—which, I’m guessing, is partially why my brother is, too. It started slowly, you know? I don’t… I don’t remember her drinking when I was very young. Or maybe I just didn’t realize. Maybe she was better at hiding it.”

  Sam mulled it over. “I don’t recall either of my parents ever drinking in front of me,” she said. “Oh, once! There was this big party at my house. I was in junior high, and it was their twentieth wedding anniversary. My mom was tipsy on champagne, my dad on beer, and one of his friends pushed him into the pool.” She laughed at the memory. “Somebody caught the perfect moment in a photo. The smile on his face was huge, even as he was inches from the water.”

  Connor smiled at her and moved closer. “I don’t have any memories like that,” he said. “I’m envious. My father—well, you know. The rageaholic, powerholic asshole. He was pissed as hell when I decided to enlist.”

  “I’m surprised he didn’t stop you,” she said. They walked side by side, slowly, around the greenhouse.

  “He couldn’t. I didn’t tell him until after I’d signed up.”

  Her mouth fell open. “You didn’t! I can’t even imagine his reaction.”

  “I was scared shitless driving to the recruitment office. And driving back to my parents’ house. I didn’t know which was going to be worse.”

  “What did he say?” she asked. They came to a little bench, likely used solely for employees to rest. It was barebones and simple, with cascading green all around. He gestured for her to sit.

  “My mother started bawling right away. My father, he didn’t believe me at first. Said I was just trying to get to him. I mean, he was right,” he said. “But he couldn’t fathom that I’d gone all the way.”

  She shook her head in awe. “So, why the Navy? Why the SEALs?”

  “I wish I had a more impressive or honorable answer for you,” he said. “But honestly? It was the first office to call me back. And I knew a friend’s older brother who was in the Navy, so that helped.”

  “Is that what you told the recruitment officer?” she asked with a smile.

  “Hell no! I don’t remember what bullshit excuse I came up with on the fly. Probably something about being a good swimmer.”

  “And is that true? That you’re a good swimmer?”

  “I am now,” he said with a wink. “But I think in some regards the whole thing backfired. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I served. And I’m thankful I was a SEAL. But it didn’t take my father long to turn everything around and use my service as a platform to boast to his friends, colleagues and investors.”

  “That’s terrible,” she said.

  “Honestly, I’m not even sure the extent of it. All I know is I left for basic, went all the way to SEAL training, made it through my first deployment—and when I got back, he’d gone full stars and stripes patriotic on me. Shit, you should have seen that first homecoming.”

  “What happened?”

  “I didn’t know what to expect. I’d been away from them for quite some time by then. I was a bit surprised he even allowed me back into the house, honestly. But when I walked in the door? It was like the flag had vomited all over the property and the place was stuffed with his friends. To this day, I don’t think I can eat another bl
ueberry and strawberry whipped pie.”

  She couldn’t help but let out a little laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “Nothing, sorry,” she said. “Your dad’s a piece of work, but you have to give him credit for taking advantage of absolutely any situation.”

  He laughed with her. “He worked it, alright. You know Trezor quadrupled the number of political clients because of my father using me as an example?”

  She eyed him closely in the soft light. “Do you feel a lot of pressure? Because of that?”

  He looked surprised. “I suppose so. I never really thought about it.”

  “I dated someone, very briefly, who was an up-and-coming politician. I mean, very low ranks. Very young, of course, for a politician, but I think he had promise. But already he knew the importance of security.”

  “Are you talking about Alex?” Connor asked.

  “How—how do you know about him?” she asked. “How do you know his name?”

  He smirked. “You think I didn’t do my homework? Although I have to admit, I was surprised to see someone without a background in modeling pop up in your dating history.”

  “You dug into my background?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” he said, but knocked his leg against hers to let her know he was teasing. “James did. There were quite a few who were strangers to the catwalk! But, admittedly, a very generous sprinkling of models, too.”

  She blushed. “I doubt you’re one to talk.”

  “I’m not denying that. Let’s see, there was Samuel the medical resident, Alejandro the entrepreneur who made it on the Forbes list. Brett, Hunter, Colin, Andre, Jalen and Sourav were models. Then there was—”

  “Okay, okay! I get it,” she said with a laugh. “I get around.”

  “Yeah, you do!”

  She flushed a darker shade and looked down. If he only knew, she thought to herself. What would he think? What would he say if he knew with all those guys, I hadn’t done a single thing with any of them? Would he be disappointed?

  Or would that turn him on?

  17

  Connor

  Connor sat on the family plane and waited for Sam. He had to give her credit for her response for his last-minute invitation to Monaco. She rolled with the punches a lot easier now. Sure, she may have secretly flipped out, but her reply was fast, smooth and professional.

  What do I need to bring? she’d asked.

  He peered out of the Cessna 680 and caught sight of her being escorted by James. She ran surprisingly well in heels while James carried her leather duffel bag and white roller bag. Sam wore white linen pants and a matching breezy shirt with heavy, colorful beading at the neckline and oversized sunglasses.

  She no longer looked like a hot girl he’d hired to play a certain part. Sam looked wholly natural.

  “Hey,” she said when she entered, just slightly flustered. “I made it!” She smiled warmly at him and pushed her sunglasses up and back to act as a headband.

  He appreciated that, her smile. Although he’d do the same if their roles were reversed, he realized. She didn’t have to, since there was nobody around who mattered. James tucked away her luggage and gave him a nod before he departed. The hired attendant briskly brought out a mimosa for her.

  “So, why the sudden getaway?” she asked as she sat next to him and clinked glasses.

  “Why not?” he asked. In reality, he figured he might as well make the most of the family plane before his rights to it were pulled. He still planned to leave the company. Connor just couldn’t deal with being made the model figurehead in lieu of an actual, relevant leader.

  But why bypass the perks while they were still within reach?

  As the plane took off, she gazed out the window at Reagan’s signature flight strip below. He felt the slightest pull at his chest. She looked like a kid in awe during her first flight. There was an innocence to her beauty he rarely noticed. Or maybe she’d just never let her guard down before. “You act like you’ve never been on a plane before,” he teased.

  She blushed and looked away. “I didn’t realize private planes use major airports,” she said, and sipped her morning cocktail.

  “Sometimes,” he said. “I prefer the services at major airports over the smaller ones. Even though, as you saw, even with the private parking facilities it can still be a bit of a pain to get here.”

  “It was fine,” she said with a shy smile. “I’ve never been to Monaco. What’s it like?”

  “It’s paradise,” he said simply. The sun was fully visible, and with its rise it felt like they floated through the incredible violet sky.

  Remember the contract, he told himself repeatedly as he watched her finish the drink as she took in the morning. You promised yourself you wouldn’t make a move. Why spoil a good thing?

  “You should get some sleep if you can,” he said. “As soon as we land, we’ll stop by the hotel to freshen up, then it’s off to a night out.”

  “How long’s the flight?” she asked.

  “About nine hours. You’re welcome to go stretch out in the back if you’d like.”

  She glanced toward the back of the plane, where the otherwise twelve-seater had been converted into six seats to make room for two sprawling beds covered with fluffy white down comforters. “You think of everything,” she said softly.

  “I can’t take credit for this,” he said. “This was all my father. Only the best,” he said. Even he heard the twinge of hate.

  “Are you going to sleep?” she asked.

  “Maybe later.”

  After an hour, she got up and spread out on her side on top of the comforter. The attendant offered a silk eye mask, but she declined. Connor took another cocktail—this one a scotch since it was past noon in Monaco, after all—and tried to bury himself in the news. It didn’t work.

  Eventually he went to the other bed himself. “Mask, sir?” the attendant asked.

  “No, thank you,” he said. “Do you mind some privacy?”

  Without a word, she went to the front of the plane, pulled shut the privacy curtain, and it suddenly felt like just the two of them.

  Connor half-shuttered the windows to allow in just a wisp of light. In the soft glow, he lay down and stared at the roof. His father had asked to have “galaxies overhead” and that’s exactly what the creative team had done. Just a few feet above them, it was a virtual show.

  Sam moaned lightly in her sleep, and he looked to her. God, she was beautiful, even as she slept. Her face was relaxed, lost in a dream. She was the kind of vulnerable you only saw in adults when they were asleep, and it made him feel protective of her. How could it be that he didn’t even know her just a few weeks ago? And now here they were.

  He felt drowsiness as it washed over him and fell asleep facing her.

  Connor awoke with a dry mouth as the pilot announced their landing. He moved quickly to her bed and shook her lightly. “Wake up,” he whispered. “You should see the landing.”

  Her eyes snapped open, those gorgeous green eyes alert and excited. “We’re already here?” she asked, and he nodded.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered as the plane descended into Monte Carlo. “I get it now.”

  “Get what?” he asked.

  She looked at him with big eyes. “Why the Monte Carlo in Vegas was designed like it is. It looks like it would fit in here perfectly. All white and regal.”

  He laughed. “I guess I can see that. I’ve never stayed at that Monte Carlo. I’m usually a Bellagio or Caesar’s kind of guy.”

  “I’ve never stayed there,” she said. “But I won twenty dollars with just a quarter in a slot machine there once.” Her eyes were glued to the white sandy beaches and turquoise waters as they neared the little airport. “What do they speak here? French?”

  “Oui, tu as raison,” he said. His French was rusty, and he’d always struggled to place his Rs in the back of his throat. Still, he’d persisted. It was good for business—and great for turni
ng on women.

  “Remercier Dieu pendant quatre ans de français,” she replied.

  He looked at her, impressed. There were so many things he didn’t know.

  “Four years in college,” she said with a grin.

  He’d instantly hardened when she’d turned, so naturally, and that native-sounding French poured out of her mouth. Don’t let this get to you, he reminded himself. Her excitement, how the language sounded on her tongue, the romance of being in Monte Carlo—it would be easy to get swept up in it. Remember that we’re going back. And the money that’s between us. It’s a business arrangement. That’s all.

  “Thank you,” he told the attendant and pilot as they departed, palming both of them a generous tip.

  “Just renewed your passport?” the customs attendant asked Sam.

  “Oh, yeah,” she said.

  “Nice picture,” the small man said. “Belle femme,” he told Connor.

  Parked with the engine running just past the small booth was the cherry red Alfa Romeo Spider 1600 he’d rented.

  “Oh wow,” she said as she traced her hand over the convertible. “A 1966?” she asked.

  “Alright, what don’t you know?” he teased her, and nodded for the hired attendant to take their larger bags ahead to the house.

  “Who doesn’t know that?” she asked. “Besides the fact that the Duetto is what Dustin Hoffmann drove in The Graduate.”

  “Ah, Mrs. Robinson,” he said. “One of my first crushes.”

  She looked at him with a raised brow.

  “My father loved that movie,” he said. “Big surprise. You want to drive?” he asked, and surprised even himself.

  Her eyes got big. “No!” she said. “I… I don’t like driving abroad. It makes me too nervous.”

  “Suit yourself,” he said. The sun still lit up the sky, barely.

  “Where are we staying?” she asked as she tied a silk scarf kept in her purse around her hair. She looked like a young Anne Bancroft, he realized. Save for those eyes that pulled everyone close.

  “Hôtel Hermitage Monte-Carlo,” he told her. He was slightly ashamed by how poor his accent was compared to hers. That was a first. It had been a long time since he’d felt bested by anyone.