Date With a Diva

by Joanne Rock

  A vision of Nico watching adult films flashed through her brain, followed quickly by an image of her watching with him. She’d never felt secure enough with any man to investigate the potential sensual possibilities of that kind of erotica, and not in a million years would she have ever gone out on a quest to explore that cinematic genre on her own. But the idea of watching with Nico….

  Her breath caught in her throat as she remembered she had no business thinking about sex with this man. Scavenging up some righteous indignation—a far safer response—she sent him a level look.

  “Are you telling me I’m hosting a porno flick on a four-star property?” Because no matter how much of a sex goddess this Rosaria person might be, Lainie would scream breach of contract so fast it would give those film executives whiplash if they tarnished the upscale image of her resort.

  “Of course not. And some insiders are claiming that hiring her was all a publicity stunt anyway.” He slowed his step as they reached Club Paradise, their long trek down South Beach finally at an end. “But obviously the producers want to get across a high steam level with this film.”

  “Okay, Roger Ebert. Care to tell me how you know all this about a movie that hasn’t even been made yet?” Relieved to be back on familiar terrain, she stepped closer to the cover of a decorative palm tree near the Ocean Drive entrance of the resort.

  Pride filled her to see the number of cars coming and going past the front doors, especially for a Monday. The Moulin Rouge Lounge was closed tonight, but the block still buzzed with activity.

  “Giselle must have had a copy of People magazine lying around somewhere. During the hockey off-season, I tend to kick back a little bit. Read for entertainment.” He withdrew his hand from his pocket to wrap it about her wrist, drawing her around the corner of the stucco building to the side of the Mediterranean-inspired hotel. His touch melted right through her skin, the warmth of his palm doing delicious things to her insides.

  Lainie could hardly object to the move since she thought all along they shouldn’t be seen together. Too complicated. “Well, regardless of where you found out all this, I appreciate you sharing it with me.”

  “No problem. But now I’ll admit you’ve got me curious.” He loomed closer suddenly, although Lainie hadn’t seen him take any actual steps toward her. “You think you can handle all that steam under your roof day after day?”

  He was so close she could feel the heat rise off his body. Memories of being pressed up against him sent waves of delicious awareness skating over her skin. She took a breath, steeling herself to give him the brush-off she desperately needed to impart.

  “Anyone ever tell you that you have a hell of a lot of nerve?” She congratulated herself that at least it hadn’t come out of her mouth as a breathy rasp.

  Take that, hormones.

  “Nerve is an essential component of being a good goalie. I can’t afford to let anything get past me, even if that means throwing myself in the path of speeding objects.” He didn’t touch her, but she thought she caught a hint of the bourbon on his breath.

  Would he taste like that strong brew, or would his mouth be more reminiscent of chocolate ice cream? Neither possibility scared her off. If anything, her own mouth watered.

  “I’m not a speeding object.” She’d meant to deliver the words with a bit more disdain. Instead, she spoke by rote with no feeling behind the sentiment, like a woman in the throes of a sensual trance.

  “Nevertheless, I’m not going to let you slide on by.” His mouth descended to hers while she stood paralyzed by her own surprise.

  Her own want.

  But as his lips coaxed hers apart, the slick heat of his tongue sliding inside her mouth chased away the dazed sensation. Her hands gravitated to his chest, tracing over the wall of muscle she’d been longing to feel for hours. He cradled her chin in his palm, tilting her head to the angle that pleased him most, and by doing so, pleasing her to no end.

  The lure of that kiss made her lean into him, her breasts already aching for contact. Her purse shifted on her shoulder, her linen jacket bunching up where she’d laid it across the leather bag.

  The wrinkles, the discomfort of her heavy purse, none of it mattered. She only cared about that sizzling point of contact where their tongues tangled and their tastes blended.

  Definitely chocolate ice cream. The sweetness of Nico Cesare’s kiss belied all his nervy words and his earlier bold assumption that she wanted to crawl into bed with him. For this moment at least, his arrogance took a back seat to the skillful lash of his tongue and the delicate way he wove one hand through her hair, sifting the strands between his fingers while he kissed her as if he had all the time in the world.

  She could have gone on forever, having long forgotten what made her want to protest this decadent mating of the mouths. But at that moment, a chorus of shrill screams went up in front of the hotel.

  “It’s Bram Hawthorne!”

  More shrieks. Feet pounded the pavement all around them as if a stampede of buffalo in high heels had come gunning for Club Paradise.

  Lainie and Nico broke apart, breathing heavy, clothes askew. She saw her own confused desire mirrored in his dark gaze for a fraction of a second before a herd of spandex-clad females buzzed past them at hyperspeed.

  “Please don’t let this be happening.” Lainie hadn’t expected the movie talent for another week or she never would have left the resort today. “Did they really just say what I think they said?”

  The screams continued at a deafening pitch out front. No wonder it felt as if eyes were trained this way. Apparently they had been—just not on her. And it would only get worse once shooting began.

  Nico stepped back a few feet, just far enough to give him a visual on the front entrance.

  “Well?” Lainie tucked her shirt more firmly into her skirt and slipped into her jacket, her pulse still dancing a hip-hop beat through her veins.

  Nico lifted a lone strand of mussed hair out of her eyes, his touch so gentle it gave her the same weak-kneed feeling as the bourbon, only better.

  “I’d say either that kiss has me seeing stars or else your lead actor has arrived.”

  4

  NICO HADN’T EXPECTED the look of mild horror on Lainie’s face. It appeared for only an instant, a split second of blood draining from her cheeks while her eyes widened. Then she shook herself, and as if by the mere force of her formidable will, she drew herself up to her full height, threw her shoulders back and marched into the fray with complete authority.

  Leaving Nico rushing to keep up, his senses still scrambled by her kiss. How was it possible that such a hard-as-nails woman could turn so soft in his arms?

  He jogged the few steps to catch her on the walkway alongside the hotel, unwilling to let her be jostled and elbowed by a bunch of screaming fans. In his time as an NHL star, he’d seen his fair share of overzealous followers getting pretty out of hand. He couldn’t even imagine what it must be like for a Hollywood icon of Bram Hawthorne’s level of fame.

  Like it or not, Lainie would have to suffer Nico’s presence today. So what if she had insisted they part company once they got back to the resort? Club Paradise was in an uproar that could easily turn dangerous without the proper security in place.

  As they rounded the corner to the front of the property, he could make out the Bram Hawthorne entourage by the concentration of popping flashbulbs. Hordes of howling women and even a few men swarmed around a center point Nico couldn’t quite distinguish.

  The poor bastard in the middle must be getting eaten alive by this rabid crowd. Lainie and Nico paused as they neared the mob.

  “You need to hire more protection for the golden boy over there if you expect him to survive the filming.” Nico studied the throng, searching for possible entry points to give the Hawthorne entourage a hand when he noticed Lainie’s feet already in motion.

  Right toward the vortex of the upheaval.

  He double-timed to reach her, skirting between a few sen
sible fans hanging back from the mad whirlwind. Prying Lainie from her position between two teenage girls wearing T-shirts from Bram’s last movie, Nico hauled her back out of the danger zone.

  “What are you doing?” Shouting over top of the earsplitting screams of the fans, she glared at him with a look that would no doubt send her employees running for cover. “I’ve got a five-alarm fire to put out here. I don’t have time to indulge any misguided attempts at chivalry.”

  “This isn’t a matter of chivalry. Those women will tear you to shreds if you try to keep them from the object of their affection.” In fact, he already spied a catfight breaking out among the ranks. “Where the hell is Brianne and all her security cameras?”

  “I thought I caught a glimpse of red hair over that way.” She pointed into the middle of the crowd as mayhem exploded on her sidewalk. “But she wasn’t prepared for this yet and it’s obvious she needs help. I’m going in there whether you like it or not. If you want to be of some assistance, you are welcome to come with me, but this is my hotel and you damn well better remember who’s in charge here.”

  This time, he was ready for her when she ducked into the throng. If his stint as a goalie had taught him anything, it was how to anticipate an opponent’s moves.

  “Then I’m damn well right behind you.” And what a fine designer-clad behind it was.

  AN HOUR LATER, Lainie still couldn’t shake the determined company of Nico Cesare.

  They’d intercepted Bram Hawthorne and had just finished helping smuggle him into the hotel. Thankfully, they’d managed to do so without losing the actor’s shirt or his limbs despite the urgent tugging of relentless fans. With Bram and his personal crew of assistants already on their way up to their private suites, Lainie headed toward the main desk only to realize the rapid click of her footsteps was echoed by the quiet thump of worn leather loafers behind her.

  She whirled around to face him, only to be taken aback all over again by how his long, muscular body and wickedly dark eyes made her pulse flutter. Even celebrated actor Bram Hawthorne’s good looks took a back seat to this man’s raw masculinity. At least in Lainie’s opinion, which she realized might have been influenced by the most electrifying kiss of her whole life.

  Gathering her wits, she knew the sooner she sent away big, gorgeous male distractions the better off she’d be. Her judgment in men had a hideous track record. No, her judgment in men didn’t just have a record. It had a rap sheet.

  “I appreciate your help with our new guest.” She smiled tightly, wishing she had never picked up a bottle of bourbon tonight. Her head throbbed with the stress of the day. “But I can take things from here.”

  She could already hear shouts for her attention from the registration desk. She had a thousand other things she needed to take care of before bed tonight, and none of them involved Nico.

  “Why don’t I stick around and see how things are going in the kitchen? Giselle asked me to make sure the new chef—”

  He was cut off by the arrival of her big, burly concierge, an endlessly tall Cuban man with heavy horn-rimmed glasses and an accent to die for when he wasn’t shouting over top of people.

  “Ms. Reynolds!”

  Even Nico backed up a step at the man’s raised voice, which wasn’t loud as much as very well projected.

  Still, she didn’t appreciate being interrupted. Especially when she was just about to explain to her sexy-as-sin companion why they couldn’t work elbow to elbow like this.

  She quirked an eyebrow in Dante Alvaro’s direction, not trusting herself to speak. Rumor had it she’d scared off a few of the employees at Club Paradise in their first year of business, and while she didn’t think rock-solid Dante would be easily intimidated, she didn’t wish to blow her stack in such a public forum.

  “Sorry for interrupting you, Lainie.” His sour expression didn’t look in the least sorry. Dante was usually a very charming man, dazzling the guests with his well-connected sleight of hand as he provided primo tickets and dinner reservations. Today, however, he looked positively grim. “But I knew you’d want to be informed immediately that the new chef quit an hour ago.”

  No. No. Nooo.

  Lainie closed her eyes, fending off a mixture of stress headache, hangover and dangerous levels of frustration threatening to explode. Her well-run hotel was suddenly splitting at the seams, making her feel like an amateur. God, she hated that.

  Nico cleared his throat, edging his way into the conversation with his broad shoulders and his cute butt that should have left an hour ago. “You can hire someone temporary in the morning while you conduct a new search, right? You must have résumés still on file after hiring this woman.”

  “We have Hollywood royalty in the hotel. They’re probably already phoning in room-service orders for green M&M’s only and organically grown vegetables prepared according to their latest diet specifications. I don’t think even Giselle would have been ready to cook according to the Sugar Busters plan, so I’m damn sure that some culinary temp worker isn’t going to have a clue how to handle all the specialty orders.”

  If she was hoping Dante would contradict her with some good news, her hopes were dashed when he began shaking his dark, bald head. “We already had over fifty special orders for breakfast tomorrow when I left the kitchen an hour ago.”

  Exasperation draining her of ideas, Lainie peered around the lobby and noticed more people who were obviously Californians crowding the reception area. They were easy to spot with their neat manicures and tans that were probably misted onto their perfect bodies. Cell phones were already ringing in cheerful time like an AT&T symphony.

  “I thought these people weren’t supposed to arrive for another three days.” She would have had security in place by then. And she most definitely wouldn’t have shown up on site with a few shots of bourbon muddling her brain and a sexy hockey player muddling her hormones.

  Dante’s deep brown eyes darted around the busy lobby, exchanging some unspoken message with his assistant currently manning the concierge’s desk. “There was a hurricane in the Texas gulf that upset the location shooting schedule so they decided to visit Club Paradise early.”

  “You realize I’m so screwed?” For once she had no idea what to do, no clue who to call to straighten out this mess. This should all have been Giselle’s department, damn it. She might have resigned her position as executive chef to pursue true love, but she still maintained an active share in the ownership of the resort. “We need to contact Giselle.”

  “Wait.” Nico’s voice halted her in her scramble for her cell phone.

  Could the man be any more presumptuous, insinuating himself into her crisis?

  “Nico, I really need to take care of this now.” She felt Dante’s keen gaze on her and knew if she didn’t handle this carefully, the news of her odd friendship with Nico Cesare would be whispered all over the hotel.

  “I agree.” Nico nodded slowly, as if he’d just reached a grave decision. “But Giselle has been unreachable for nearly two days so she must be in some really godforsaken country at the moment.”

  So much for her great plan. She banged the cell phone slowly against her forehead, willing a solution to flash into her empty brain while Dante excused himself to get back to his desk.

  “I know what we can do.” Nico slid the phone out of her hand between forehead thunks.

  We? Still, she couldn’t afford to waste time arguing while her business reputation teetered on the brink of disaster.

  “And that is?” She didn’t care where the ideas came from as long as they came.

  “I’ll cook.” He announced it with so much authority, a stranger to the resort would almost believe he had the decision-making power here.

  Arrogant man.

  “What do you mean you’ll cook?” Was he insane? “You’re not even a chef.”

  “Where do you think Giselle got all her best recipes?”

  “Gee, I don’t know.” She rolled her eyes. “Culinary school, maybe? I
t would make sense since she’s a chef and you’re a hockey coach.” After yanking her phone out of his hands, she stuffed it back in her purse. She would speed dial Brianne and Summer for an emergency conference call in a minute, but first she needed to send Nico back home where he wouldn’t make ridiculous suggestions about how to run her business.

  Where he wouldn’t be a constant reminder that she’d let her hair down with a man for the first time in forever, and she was already paying the price for her carelessness.

  “And I suppose you’re going to do the cooking for all the eccentric eaters on your property tonight?” He looked her up and down as if he could see every one of the flaws she kept carefully hidden.

  An illusion, damn it.

  “Is that even legal?” Not that she was actually considering allowing Nico into the kitchen. Was she?

  “Maybe. Probably. You can call me a guest chef specializing in ethnic cuisine if the health department cares about my qualifications.”

  “Ethnic cuisine?”

  “Nobody makes Italian food like a Cesare.” His chest puffed up with pride. “You think I’m kidding about Giselle learning all her best recipes from me? Besides, I told Giselle I’d check in at the hotel while she was gone to make sure her investment in the business is protected. She might be overseas, but she’s still a partner. The Cesares have a vested interest in the smooth operation of this place.”

  Lainie glanced around the hotel lobby, seeing twenty other places she needed to be right now. The chef disaster couldn’t have come at a worse time. What choice did she have besides accepting Nico’s offer? At least until she came up with a better solution.

  She’d simply agree to let Nico and his cute butt stick around Club Paradise a little longer. And if she couldn’t stand the heat, all she had to do was stay away from the kitchen.

  “Fine.” She thrust out her hand to seal the deal. “I appreciate the help until I can make other arrangements tomorrow.”