Too Grand for Words (BookStrand Publishing Romance)

by Natasza Waters

  Her brow furrowed. “Really?”

  “Sure.” He cleared his throat. “You’ve written five of them so far. Each one well received. I think they’ve been on the best-sellers list for a while, isn’t that right?” He truly couldn’t tell her what he did for a living now. She would put two and two together to come up with the wrong number four. He’d learned long ago that divulging what he owned was a mistake with a woman, but with her, he sensed she would walk away from him immediately.

  He’d had no idea who she was when she’d sat down at the blackjack table, but maybe that wasn’t exactly true. She’d seemed familiar to him. He recalled the random headlines. They’d called her a recluse who didn’t come out very often to show her face for media and events once the books had become popular. Quiet and seductive with a surprise at every corner, just like her stories, was how she’d been described. They were right. “How long have you been writing?”

  “I came out of the writing closest in earnest a few years ago. I remember how thrilled I was when the first novel came out in print. I thought it was the happiest day of my life.” Her lips curled into a small smile. “The truth is—I almost piddled on the floor like a puppy I was so excited.”

  He barked with laughter. She certainly had a way with words. The little voice in his head asked him if today would be his happiest. “That must have been pretty exciting all right.” He admired the honest reminiscence in her eyes. “So you’re going out tomorrow to look for clues for your sixth book?”

  “Something like that. Anyway, I really should get to bed. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Porter.” She rose and extended her hand out to him as if she were concluding a business meeting.

  “Steven,” he said. He couldn’t think of how to keep her there, so there was only one other thing he could do. He rose and reached for her hand, holding its warmth in his. “I don’t have any meetings tomorrow. Why don’t I pick you up in the morning? I’ll take you out to the Valley of Fire. There’s plenty of desert out there.”

  “I…you…” she stuttered for a second. “It’s not just me. I think the others are coming as well. It’s nice of you to offer—really, but no.”

  Reading Moira’s eyes, he could see she was refusing because she was nervous as hell. She didn’t know it, but if there was one thing he was good at—it was negotiating, and he never lost.

  “How many?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “How many of you are there?”

  “Well—five others.” She peered at him.

  “You’ll need more than one car anyway. So I’ll drive you and they can follow,” he suggested quickly. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.” He wanted to get her moving because she looked like she just might refuse anyway. For some reason, that wasn’t an option. Holding her hand, he gently guided her toward the lobby.

  * * * *

  As a group of people flocked around them, his hand immediately slid to her back, keeping her close. Moira’s heart leaped into her throat, and she berated herself. She just couldn’t stop her insides from churning.

  Almost every woman stopped to gawk at him as they walked by, their heads bobbing like Hawaiian dolls from the back windows of old, gas-guzzling jalopies. One woman even ran into a bank of slot machines, spilling her drink on her husband. Steven Porter’s charisma emanated from him like a beacon. With rugged, masculine good looks and a body like a Chippendale, he drew a lot of attention. She, however, felt like an ugly little wharf troll walking beside him.

  “Steven?” a voice called out from a craps table they passed. Moira slowed her pace, but Steven ignored it or didn’t hear it. She stopped and turned toward the woman calling to him.

  “That woman is trying to get your attention,” she said.

  The long-legged beauty took graceful strides toward them. Her mauve silk dress accentuated her curves, flowing around her like liquid skin. A blue-eyed blonde, with flawless features reached out to Steven with both arms.

  “Hillary, hello,” he said when she draped herself over him. Steven gently grasped her upper arms and stepped back.

  She wasn’t ready to be parted from him yet, and curled her arms around his neck.

  “Steven, darling, what are you doing in Las Vegas?”

  Moira studied the carpet instead of them. She thought about quietly leaving. In fact, that’s what she tried to do, but Steven backed up with her, breaking Hillary’s hold on him.

  “I’m here for business,” he said.

  Hillary reached out to adjust his tie, then let her palm slide down his chest. “No pleasure?” she asked, giving him a look that left no doubt what she meant. “You always have time for that.”

  Moira began to fidget inside. Steven and Hillary both belonged on the glossy pages of an expensive magazine for upscale jewelry or some sleek car advertisement. She tried to pull away again, but Steven wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

  “We were just on our way out,” he said. “Nice to see you again, Hillary.” Without delay, he pulled Moira along with him.

  “I can find my way out, Steven,” she said, seeing Hillary didn’t like being abandoned, her face twisting into an expression Moira could only describe as blatant jealousy.

  “I’m sure you can, Moira, but maybe I don’t want you to.”

  * * * *

  When they reached the front door, the valet saw him and quickly walked toward them. “Mr. Porter, can I get you a car?”

  “Thanks, I’d like you to see this lovely woman gets to the—” He paused. “Where are you staying?”

  “The Morocco.”

  His insides turned over with her deep green eyes gazing up at him. He lost his train of thought and then blinked. “The Morocco,” he said to the valet, unwilling to break eye contact.

  Gentle waves of brown hair swirled around her cheeks. The drunken jackass had been right. She certainly tipped the scales of beautiful. Golden highlights shot through her dark bangs and circled her face. His heart began to beat faster. Kindness, that’s what she was—kindness. She looked like she was in her thirties, but she spoke with confidence even though he sensed her nervousness. She had to be older.

  She eyed him suspiciously. “Am I going to embarrass myself not knowing who you are? Because that has to be the fourth person who called you by name, including Hillary.”

  His jaw tightened a little. “I come here from time to time.”

  “Uh-huh.” She raised one brow. “Truth,” she said quietly, “is one of the most important virtues of mankind. Did you know that, Mr. Porter?”

  He knew instinctively no one could pull the wool over this woman’s eyes, ever. “I’ll pick you up around eight,” he said. His hands rose to gently touch her bare arms. “I’m glad you decided to sit down at my table this evening, Moira.” He felt a slight quiver run through her.

  “I forgot—” She tucked a curl of hair behind her ear. “To thank you again for intervening earlier, I don’t think anyone has done that for me before.”

  “You’re more than welcome.” The tone in his voice dropped, even he could hear the desire in it. “I’ll see you in a few hours,” he said.

  He wasn’t going to see her for six hours, he calculated quickly. He wanted to kiss her. What would she do? She wasn’t like other women. He knew that already. He wavered with a small inkling of guilt, but he had no reason to feel guilty. He had met her by accident, and what he did for a living would just confuse things if he told her. He didn’t want that right now. It would come out in time, at the right time. He gazed into her eyes, realizing how much he really wanted to see her again. He actually didn’t want her to leave at all.

  Most women would have looked at him with hunger and lust in their eyes, giving him a clear message, like Hillary, but Moira didn’t. She tried to hide the fact that she was nervous, and she was adorable.

  He had no illusions about his looks and what they got him in life, but he also had a mind for business and harsh contract negotiating skills. He owned what he did because of hard work and integri
ty. His looks had only carried him to a point, more so when he was younger. Now at forty-five, he’d built his reputation with strong business ethics. The fact that he could get any woman he wanted between the sheets was a perk. At least he used to think so.

  “Mr. Porter, your car is here,” the valet interrupted.

  “You’re sure you want to come with a bunch of hardy Canadians? I can’t guarantee your safety, you know.” Her lips tightened with a grin.

  “I’m sure I’ll be all right with you there.” Now—kiss her now, his mind raved at him. Jesus, how many hundreds of women had he kissed? What the hell was wrong with him? He leaned over, and she tensed in his hands as his lips met hers.

  He only meant to give her a small kiss good-night, but pure satisfaction exploded inside of him. His tongue gently prodded her lips to open, and he sensually let it drift against hers. His hands glided down her soft skin, savoring her sweetness. He almost moaned with the pleasure it gave him as an unexpected flash of excitement rocketed through him.

  The ground trembled beneath his feet. Her kiss was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Every atom in his blood came alive when her palms gently brushed against his chest. His hand swept to the small of her back, drawing her closer. It was crazy, insane. She ignited something deep inside him, like a match to a wick on a Roman candle.

  It took a few seconds before they both realized the earth was actually shaking, and they heard the cries of people around them. Instinctively, he pulled her closer to protect her as they looked around. The earthquake shook the ground hard. Some people ran away from the building, others stood stock-still, clearly evaluating what to do next. They both turned as a luggage cart fell over. Just as quickly, the ground stopped trembling, and excited shouts rose around them.

  He looked into Moira’s calm eyes. “That was a good one.”

  “No kidding, and I thought it was you rocking my world,” she said.

  He broke into a laugh. “I was kind of hoping that, too.” He slowly released his hold on her. The quake didn’t seem to bother her at all. He wondered what lay behind her calm reserve and those siren eyes. What would happen if he pushed the veil aside? He imagined a storm of heat like he’d never known before, and he needed to know. “I will most definitely see you in six hours,” he whispered in her ear before she stepped away from him.

  * * * *

  “Good night, Mr. Porter.” She turned and drifted to the waiting car. She didn’t even hear or see the commotion still going on around her. She shook her head and stopped when her eyes refocused. A short limo waited, the driver holding the door open for her. She turned to see Steven, standing as if in total command of everything around him, watching her. He nodded to her slowly, and she nodded back, getting into the car.

  As the driver walked around the car, Steven intercepted him. He spoke to the man quickly then backed away, giving her a short wave. She wondered what that was about, but her questioning mind caught up quickly.

  “Excuse me,” she said to the driver when he got in. “Do you know Mr. Porter?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Who is he exactly?”

  The chauffeur’s eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. “He said not to tell you.”

  “What?” She fell back against the cool leather seat. God, he’d actually beat her to it. She couldn’t believe it. She liked a mystery and a challenge, and he seemed to be both. The mighty god Google would not be thwarted, and neither would she.

  Chapter Three

  The next morning, Moira’s crew waited outside at the valet entrance. She told the girls over breakfast about her evening and about the mysterious Mr. Porter.

  “And he’s coming with us? That’s great,” Mandy said with a grin. “I’m glad to see you’re not one of those women who wallows in misery being an ex-wife.” She threw her bag onto the lavishly tiled driveway.

  “Mandy’s right, Moira, don’t think that at forty you have to give up on men. Now’s the best time,” Sasha said with a clip held in her teeth as she twisted her blonde hair into a bun. “And in Vegas, no less! Have yourself a good time and screw his brains out.”

  She broke out laughing at Sasha’s forward thinking. “I’ll do that. I’m just the hottest kitten on the market, aren’t I?”

  “You’re not bad for an old girl,” Marcus said, leaning over her shoulder.

  “Get out of here, you,” she growled at him with a mock scowl. “The confirmed bachelor here thinks he knows it all about love.”

  “Hey, I’m just having fun. The girls are right, you should enjoy when you’re here. Viva Las Vegas, Moira, remember?”

  “So is everyone ready?” Callie chirped, throwing her pack to the ground, her sweet young face and red hair shining in the morning light.

  “Yes, my dear. Nice to see you didn’t sleep in for a change,” Moira chided. “When did you get in last night anyway? I didn’t hear you.”

  “That’s because I just woke up in some hot guy’s bed two hours ago,” Callie boasted, swinging her locks over her shoulder.

  She wondered what Steven would think when he caught sight of Callie’s youthful beauty and spunky charm, not to mention her open view on sexuality.

  “Our matriarch met a guy last night, too,” Sasha said, raising her eyebrows quickly a couple times. “His name’s Steven, right?”

  She nodded. “Steven Porter. He seems like a nice enough man.”

  “Good God, look at that guy,” Callie said, ogling someone behind her. “Are they having the hottest guy convention in town or something?”

  “Holy mighty men,” Mandy exclaimed, gawking at someone.

  She slowly turned around to see Steven parking a convertible across the driveway from them. He jumped out and approached them, smiling warmly when he caught her eye.

  “Holy crap,” Marcus said under his breath. “Do you know what kind of car that is?”

  Callie’s eyes rounded. “Expensive?”

  “Friggin’ right expensive. It’s a Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren 722.” All the women turned with interest to look at Marcus. “It costs like half a million friggin’ dollars.”

  “Well,” Steven said, “I see the Canadian Coast Guard has invaded.” He gave them all a friendly nod, then turned his heart-melting smile on her. “Good morning, Moira.”

  Callie planted her hands on her hips. “You got that right, gorgeous. Are you Steven?”

  “Yuh,” he said absently, not taking his eyes off Moira.

  “I’m Marcus, and nice car,” he drawled.

  Steven broke his gaze reluctantly and shook Marcus’s hand. “Hey, Marcus, nice to meet you. So, is everyone here?”

  “Looks like,” Moira said, pulling her gaze from his sizzling body. “This is Mandy.” Mandy’s face cracked into what they all called “the Mandy smile” that everyone came to eventually know and love.

  “Nice to meet you, Steven.” Mandy blushed all the way to her hairline.

  He gave her a friendly grin and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, too, Mandy.”

  Moira looked at her with amusement. She didn’t know Mandy could actually go that shade of red. No doubt he had that effect on women no matter where he went. He’d probably used it to get every woman he could between his sheets, too.

  “Where’s Patti?” Mandy asked. She backed up a step and bumped into Patti. “Hey, you finally got out of the shower, awesome.”

  “Yuck, yuck,” Patti said, giving her a cuff. “Hi, Steven, I’m Patti.”

  Steven offered a warm hello and then looked at Marcus. “Five women, not bad, friend.”

  “What can I say, old man?” Marcus scoffed.

  Steven’s brows lifted with humor. “Old man, huh?”

  She gave Steven an “I told you I can’t protect you look,” laughing at his expression. “‘Old man’ is slang for the captain of a ship. He’s not referring to your age, I think,” she warned, glaring at Marcus with a scowl for him to behave.

  “Well, coming from your twenty-five-year-old persp
ective, I guess I might seem old,” he said, sizing Marcus up.

  “How the hell did you know I’m twenty-five?” Marcus gawked.

  Steven gave a quick jerk of his head and put his arm out for Moira to take.

  “How’d he know?” Marcus asked, looking at Mandy with a cocked head.

  “Everyone can tell you’re a juvenile,” Mandy quipped.

  “Shall we do it?” Steven asked.

  Her skin jumped as he slid his fingers through hers and guided her to the car.

  * * * *

  “Uh…” He stopped suddenly.

  Callie had plunked herself in the passenger’s seat of the Mercedes and fastened the seatbelt.

  Moira burst out laughing at his obvious look of surprise. “She makes me laugh, that one does. She’s harmless really.”

  He knew otherwise. Young all right, harmless—he didn’t think so. He’d known a young redhead once. She’d been incorrigible, driven, and a bitch—and he’d almost married her. He’d seen plenty of them in Hollywood since then, and they would do anything to get what they wanted. They were forward, brash, and conniving. Moira unhooked her arm from him and leaned on the car. He stood back, enjoying the view.

  “Out, young lady,” Moira ordered.

  “What?” Callie said, her expression dripping with innocence. “Oh come on, Moira.” She clutched the top of the door with both hands. “I’ve never ridden in one of these before, please.”

  “Callie, you’re twenty-one years old and I’m forty, and I’ve never ridden in one of these, so get in the rental car with the rest of the gang.”

  Callie huffed and undid her seatbelt, her hungry eyes following him as he rounded the front of the car. “Maybe he’d like me to stay.”

  “Maybe he would, but you’re not staying.”

  He heard that and hid a grin. Clearly, these five were her protégés. Callie grudgingly opened the door and got out. “What about on the way back?” she piped up, looking hopeful.