Lord help her, she could never admit the idea of spending any amount of days with Rhett Worth on a tropical island was vastly appealing.
“I don’t mind,” she murmured.
“Good.” He smiled that devilish smile, the one that lit his eyes and struck terror in her heart, and stood. “I’ll escort you back to the hotel.”
“That’s not necessary,” she started but he cut her off.
“It’s the least I can do.”
Grabbing her glass of wine, she swallowed it down, wincing when she felt the alcohol race through her veins. She stood on wobbly legs and followed him through the restaurant toward the entrance, caught sight of more than one woman shooting an admiring glance in Rhett’s direction as he passed.
How she wished she could lay claim on him, but she had no right. And he didn’t think of her that way, what with them about to work so closely together.
But then she remembered the heated looks, the seductive tones, the cheesecake…
Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. Cheesecake! She’d really lost her mind if she thought they could have a pretend moment over a dessert. She needed a good night’s rest. Clearly she was crazy.
They emerged outside into the warm summer night, the cars whizzing by on the busy street before them, the insistent honks and screeching brakes loud. It was late, they’d been in the restaurant for hours, and nary a lingering taxi was in sight.
“Damn,” he muttered as they stood side by side on the curb, watching the cars pass. The occasional taxi would speed by, service lights off and she swore she heard him utter an even stronger curse. “This will take forever.”
“We can walk,” she suggested.
He sent her a measured look. “You must be kidding.”
“Not really. I’m not wearing heels.” She lifted her foot to show off the practical—and very comfortable—sandal she wore. “How bad can it be? I can handle it.”
“We’re a few miles away from the hotel.”
“I can do it if you can.”
There went that smile again, the one that sent electric zings straight to her weak and pitiful heart—and other, more intimate places. “Are you challenging me?” he asked.
“Maybe.” She lifted her chin, going for the defiant look.
“Well, game on then,” he said with relish. “And no complaints.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t complain,” she said cheerily.
Fifteen minutes later and Rhett knew Gabriella was dying to complain. She kept her mouth shut though, and trudged on like a good little soldier. He’d warned her that the walk would be long.
He’d done his part and he definitely hadn’t lied. It was taking forever to get there, hindered by Gabriella’s limping and occasional whimper. He’d carry her if he could, but she’d probably have slapped him if he attempted it.
And damn if he wasn’t tempted…
The walk was good. The distance gave him time to contemplate what the hell happened over dinner.
Had she felt it? That undeniable, mysterious attraction simmering between them every time they looked at each other? He certainly had, watched it intensify throughout the night until dessert, when it really started ratcheting up.
He’d never thought eating a shared piece of cheesecake could be a prelude to foreplay, but Gabriella more than proved him wrong.
“Doing all right?” he couldn’t resist asking. Was just waiting for her to finally give in and confess the walk was killing her.
But she surprised him yet again. “I’m fine.” The haughty princess voice held a trembling edge of misery and he knew she was probably hurting.
She just refused to admit it.
“Feel like jogging?” Now he was being an ass, but he couldn’t help it.
“You must be kidding me,” she muttered, clearly irritated.
He laughed. “Just admit it. Your feet are killing you.”
“It’s not my feet, it’s my legs.” He glanced back at her, saw the way she bit her lip as if she regretted the admission. Pausing, he waited for her to catch up to him. “I thought I was in better shape. Clearly I’m not.”
She looked in fantastic shape to him he wanted to say, but held it in. The flirtation needed to stop. He needed to set the following mantra on repeat in his head.
Just business. Just business. Just business.
Instead, he could only concentrate on the length of her legs, the dip of her waist, the way the fabric of her dress clung to her breasts. Her hair was a little wild from the humidity in the air and her skin positively glowed.
Just looking at her and he wanted to haul her into his arms and kiss her until she was breathless—until the both of them were breathless. Completely inappropriate but there it was.
And he didn’t know how to handle it. He wasn’t the cool, calm Alex. And he wasn’t the persuasive, determined Hunter, either. They’d know how to deal with this sort of situation. They wouldn’t fuck it up and make a mess of it.
Dumbass. They met their wives at work. They both fooled around with them for months on the sly. And they were both crazy enough to get their women pregnant, for the love of God.
He was beating himself up for nothing. How could they give him grief when they both did the very thing he was trying to resist? Yet he still didn’t want to take it any further. It was dangerous. It was crazy.
It was also incredibly tempting.
“I give up.” She threw her hands in the air in surrender. “You’re right. Can we get a taxi now?”
“Wait a minute. What did you say?”
She rolled her eyes. He liked how good-natured she was when he teased her. Most women told him to knock it off or got straight-up pissed at him. “You heard me. I said you were right.”
Ah, she knew just how to feed his ego. Good girl. “Let’s get that taxi you so desperately need.” He went to the curb and waved his hand. Luckily, a cab pulled right over.
Ella hurried toward the taxi in obvious relief, her soft sigh of gratitude going straight to his dick. Swallowing hard, he tried to keep his gaze off her glorious backside as she climbed into the backseat of the cab.
But his eyes clearly had a mind of their own, zeroing in on the delectable curve with expert precision. He followed behind her reluctantly, afraid of what might happen once they got inside the close confines of the car. Again.
He was asking for trouble. And she was drunk, in pain and adorable.
In other words, she was terribly hard to resist.
“Be strong,” he muttered under his breath as he climbed into the car.
“Did you say something?”
Rhett met her gaze. Her brows drawn, her mouth pursed, she looked perplexed. Cute.
“Wasn’t me.” He smiled grimly and yanked the door shut. “Warwick Hotel,” he told the driver who nodded in reply and pulled out into traffic.
“Thank you for not giving me a bunch of grief,” she said, her voice solemn. “And for getting the taxi so quickly.”
“You’re welcome.” He kept his response short, tried his best not to look in her direction. He breathed in her sweet, delicate scent, unable to avoid it and he watched in disbelief as she bent her legs toward him, her knee brushing against his.
Christ. She couldn’t touch him, even an innocent gesture like that was bad. He drank too much wine and was feeling way too inclined to act on all of the impulsive urges that were pinging inside of him.
He’d always done it before, giving in when he shouldn’t have. It was what got him into so much trouble. Only in the last year had he tried his best to straighten up and fly right.
Gabriella Durand inspired him to give it all up, toss it aside and damn the consequences.
“What time did you want to meet tomorrow?”
“What?” Jerking his head up, he looked at her. Big mistake.
She smiled prettily and his heart tripped. “The meeting you mentioned earlier with your brothers. What time would you like me to come?”
He’d like her to come any
time—again and again, if she was up for it. Could only imagine what it might take to make her come too…
“I’ll have my assistant call you first thing in the morning with a time. Hope that works for you,” he gritted out, pissed at himself. Last thing he needed to do was imagine Gabriella in his arms, his mouth fused with hers, his fingers stroking between her legs, making good on his imagined promise.
Clearly he was trying to give himself a heart attack.
“That’s fine.” She nodded, catching her plump lower lip with her teeth.
He swallowed a groan, growing weaker with each second that passed. The wine was getting to him. It was the only explanation. “You gotta stop doing that,” he protested hoarsely.
She frowned, a little crease appearing between her brows. “Doing what?” Clearly she was confused.
And clearly, he sounded like a damn fool. “Never mind.”
“Are you all right?” The concern in her voice was real. The way she reached out and touched his knee was also real. Terrifyingly, exhilaratingly real. “You’re acting kind of funny.”
He wanted to burst. Had he ever been this tempted? Had he ever denied himself like this before?
Nope. Didn’t think so.
“I’m fine.” He nodded, as if he could convince himself. “Really.”
She squeezed his knee in…sympathy? Yeah, sympathy, that’s what it was. Surely it couldn’t be anything else. “Maybe that walk wore you out after all.”
Oh no, she wore him out. Or more like, she riled him up. He couldn’t get over this all-encompassing need that consumed him. That made him want to revert to his old ways and do whatever the hell he wanted, damn the consequences.
“Though you look like you’re in good shape,” she murmured, her grip loosening on his knee and—holy hell—she slid her hand up his thigh. “I don’t see how a little walk could leave you looking so overexerted.”
Was she making a move on him? No freaking way. “It wasn’t the walk.”
Her hand paused mid-thigh. “It wasn’t?”
Damn. Her touch burned through the fabric of his jeans, searing his skin. She’d scooted closer to him somehow, her leg pressed against his and he knew he was in big trouble.
Wrapping his fingers around her slender wrist, he stopped her from going any further. “You’re venturing into dangerous territory,” he warned in his sternest, gruffest voice.
She parted her lips, darted out her tongue for a quick lick before she spoke. “Maybe I want to live a little dangerously.”
“Is this the wine talking?” If she was crazy drunk, no way would he do anything.
He couldn’t believe he was contemplating doing something.
Slowly she shook her head, her thumb doing a slow glide across his thigh. His entire body went rigid, one vicinity in particular. “We’ve been flirting all night.”
So she was aware of it. Thank God. “Flirting and business don’t mix.”
“I can be professional if you can.”
It was definitely the wine talking. He removed her hand from his thigh, setting it on top of hers instead. Which was a mistake, considering he touched her, felt the firm length of her flesh beneath the thin material of her dress. Reaction was automatic, smoothing his hand down her thigh to settle at her knee, and he leaned in, breathing in her heady scent, so close they shared the same breath. “We shouldn’t do this,” he whispered.
She bent her head back, her gaze meeting his, her mouth close enough that he could taste her. “I agree.”
Well, at least they were on the same page. “So let’s not and say we did. Or say we never did.”
“I—don’t know if I want to agree with that.”
Giving in, he pressed his mouth to hers. Once. For only a few tantalizing, agonizing seconds and then he broke away from her. In time to see the myriad of emotions cross her expressive face. Lust, confusion, want, hesitation, frustration.
He felt all of those things and more.
“That will have to be enough,” he said, full of regret as he moved away from her.
The cab screeched to a halt, its timing absolute perfection. “We’re at the hotel,” Rhett murmured. Unable to resist, he reached out, trailed his finger down the length of her creamy soft cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
She nodded mutely, reaching for the door handle. Sending him one long last look, she turned her back on him and climbed out of the cab, slamming the door behind her so hard he jumped in his seat.
Rhett rattled off his address to the cab driver and settled against the seat, breathing a sigh of relief. The car merged into traffic, pulling away from the Warwick Hotel, away from the most tempting woman he’d ever met in his life.
Maybe she was mad at him, he had no clue. But it was better than sleeping with her.
Not that any sleeping would’ve been involved…
Chuckling to himself, he shook his head. Getting all riled up over such a seemingly innocent woman. She was cute. She had a bangin’ bod she kept under wraps. But she was their future employee and no way could he risk this project. He had everything to lose.
Resisting Gabriella Durand was building up to be the biggest challenge of his life.
Chapter Five
“Miss Durand? They’re ready for you.”
The smooth, dulcet tones of the woman’s voice pulled Ella from her thoughts and she glanced up, saw the secretary smiling down at her patiently. She’d been waiting in the lobby of the executive floor at Worth Luxury, nerves eating at her at having to meet with the Worth brothers all at once. Rhett was intimidating enough.
Depositing the magazine she’d been clutching onto the little table beside her, she stood, smoothing the front of her pants with trembling hands before she fell into step behind the woman who led her down a wide corridor toward a conference room.
Memories of last night’s dinner meeting still lingered in her mind. More specifically, that moment in the cab when she’d touched him and he’d touched her, when their lips had met far too briefly.
She’d been so angry when he rejected her, but upon reflection he’d done the right thing. They were going to work together and a night of reckless sex after indulging in too much drink had disaster written all over it.
Fun, mind-blowing disaster, but a disaster nevertheless.
Pushing the worrisome thoughts from her head, she studied the woman in front of her who was dressed to absolute perfection. Crisp white shirt, fitted black skirt and the highest heels Ella had ever set eyes on. She walked with ease in those intimidating shoes, her long dark ponytail swinging as she turned her head this way and that, smiling and waving at people they passed by.
Ella glanced down at her simple black flats, a step up from the sandals she’d worn yesterday, but that wasn’t saying much. She wore plain khakis with a pale blue button-up shirt and a thin black cardigan, looking like she walked straight out of the Gap, which she had. If she was being truthful, she lacked polish, especially for an important meeting at a luxury fashion house in the middle of Manhattan.
How could the Worth brothers take her seriously when she looked like this? Dowdy and uninspired, completely untrendy, she’d probably look a mess to these men with impeccable—and rather discerning—taste.
She really should’ve rethought her outfit choice this morning but she’d woken late, her head pounding from last evening’s wine consumption. Regret over that stupid too-brief kiss, her behavior, all of it.
What if Rhett backed out? What if he’d told his brothers she was a wanton—albeit failed—seductress who was too much trouble to deal with? She’d be devastated to get so far only to be sent packing.
“Here you go.” The secretary stopped in front of an open doorway and waved a hand, indicating Ella should go inside. “Would you care for anything to drink? I can bring you some water or coffee if you’d like. Maybe tea?”
“I’m fine, thank you.” Everyone was so solicitous, so kind. It almost made her uncomfortable.
She walked inside the
room, her steps faltering when the three men who sat at the table turned to look at her. Alex, Hunter and Rhett Worth watched as she approached, power exuding from them in tangible waves. All three of them were clad in expensive designer suits. Colorful silk ties by Worth Luxury circled their necks.
Alex sent his brothers a measured look before he stood, the other two following his lead, and he came toward Ella with his hand extended, a polite smile curling his lips. “Alexander Worth. So glad you could join us today, Miss Durand.”
“Thank you.” She took his hand, marveled that she didn’t feel a thing when he touched her. “It’s nice to meet you.”
She turned to Hunter, who introduced himself with gracious charm, his blue eyes twinkling when it was his turn to shake her hand. Again, she wondered why she felt absolutely nothing when he touched her.
Then she found Rhett standing in front of her, that lazy smile of his in full effect, making her knees weaken. He took her hand, gave it a more intimate squeeze versus the formal pump of a firm handshake. “Good to see you again, Gabriella. I trust you slept well?”
Heat sparked where their hands connected and his intimate question had her insides quivering. Their brief kiss came to mind and she was thankful he didn’t act awkward or try to ignore her. “I did, thank you.”
He released her hand, his fingers sliding over the top of hers and she barely restrained the shiver that overtook her at his simple touch. The smile grew, his eyes darkened as if perhaps his thoughts were the same as hers. Talk of sleeping well made her think of beds, which made her think of Rhett in her bed. Keeping her awake long through the night while he touched her, kissed her everywhere…
She wouldn’t be complaining of lack of sleep if that were the case.
“Have a seat.” He placed his hand at the small of her back and escorted her to a chair, pulling it out for her before she sat. Settling in beside her, he rested his arm on top of the table, his hand splayed, fingers rubbing against the shiny surface of the tabletop. His large watch drew her attention to his wrist, the fine dark hairs that grew there.
Worth the Challenge Page 5