by Olivia Logan
• • •
Jack couldn’t believe he had to knock on his own room door, in his own hotel nevertheless. Tapping lightly, he stepped back waiting for the inevitable swing of the thick, mahogany door and a berry-haired, blue-eyed face to appear. He rested his head against the cool door. Please let her have changed out of that figure-hugging, black halter pantsuit dotted with white daisies. An outfit that was, by any stretch of the imagination, just plain unusual, and yet he found himself thinking more of it than any of the expensive designer dresses he had seen his paramours du jour wear.
He reached up and pushed the air-con dial to its coolest station. So, what would CJ say when she opened the door and spotted only a towel wrapped around his waist? This was hardly the “gentlemanly” behavior he should be exhibiting. And yet this was not a reaction he’d had with any women of his acquaintance. Yes, some had been better-than-average skilled lovers, but none had made him feel like this without any contact except a kiss. He had tried to persuade himself on the jet that the same instinct that made him want this deal made him want her. It was something out of his reach that smelled like a challenge. But when had he ever viewed a challenge and wanted to keep it next to him? He was a man, not an animal at the mercy of its baser instincts.
He felt the cold air nip at his shoulders and resisted the urge to bang on the door. Why the hell was she not answering?
Twisting the gilded door handle, he was surprised when it opened so easily. The shadows of night crept softly from the large windows, the light from the large living space beyond the open door casting a faint glow across the bedroom’s nearby furniture. He blinked against the sudden change of light, his gaze caught by the faint black-and-white picture Brice had taken of their first childhood venture building a “hotel” of pebbles with a sand mountain as an additional resort. His father had mocked, his mother uncaring as ever, but his brother, with his eye for architecture, had praised Jack’s sound workmanship. It had been a natural vision he and his brother had kept between them until Mr. Harper had decided to step down unexpectedly and push Brice into the CEO role.
The gentle snuffling behind him drew Jack’s attention, and he turned slowly, blank noise filling his ears as the twinkling lights from the hotel’s exterior fell on the figure laying delicately across the chaise lounge. The berry plait had somehow unwound itself, spilling strands of white across the dark fabric, the thin straps from the halter neck now loosened. His imagination of what lay beneath swung into overdrive.
He dragged a hand down his face. This was not what he expected, had wanted. With less than an hour to go before they had to meet Rakena, CJ was fast asleep and it was up to him to wake her up. Generally when he had been awakened by the women he shared his bed with, it led to sex. Never had he had to do the waking up ... and when he was the only one naked.
The thick rug masked his footsteps as he made his way across to her, the thin wisp of a shimmer under her halter neck making him grit his teeth as he knelt down, a whisper’s breadth from her, the heat from her shoulder as he shook it gently to wake her scorching through him like a river of lava.
“Mmmmm. Five more minutes.” Her soft, sleepy voice echoed through him; her breath caressing his chin kicked all his senses into overdrive.
“CJ. There isn’t five minutes.” He sounded harsher than he intended, and her light brown brows drew together in displeasure.
Her small huff coupled with her sudden sideways movement pulled the already loose top tighter.
His breath caught in his throat as light brown lashes fluttered gently open like a butterfly landing on a flower, sleepy light blue eyes holding his as a slow, sensuous smile pulled at her full lips.
“Jack.”
The one breathy word rocked through him. Her gentle, sleepy giggle before she touched her lips to his chin was a sucker punch to the chest. The supreme irony of all this was not lost on him. The world’s most notorious seducer becoming the seduced!
Pulling on all his strength of willpower, he cleared his throat loudly. The sound seemed to pierce the sleepy bubble wrapped around his half-dressed enchantress; she blinked, once, twice before her eyes widened in shock and recognition, her face paling as her eyes dragged over him before flicking down to her own disheveled state.
Willing a coldness he didn’t feel, he said, “It is now six. You have forty-five minutes to get ready.” Standing up, Jack bit back a smile at her sharp intake of breath at the sight of his obvious reaction to her nearness. He turned sharply toward the large walk-in closet, reaching inside it for the tux he knew his staff would have diligently placed there.
Gritting his teeth, he made for the only sanity he knew would be on the other side of the bedroom door—the cold shower. This wager had almost served its purpose. Soon the time would come to let her go. He frowned as the expectant feeling of relief didn’t come. Instead, another feeling was planting its seed and trying to blossom.
He couldn’t let it.
Chapter 9
Thank goodness for the distraction of the yacht. At least it stopped her mind from dwelling on the disaster that had occurred less than an hour ago. CJ pulled the faux fur black stole tighter around her. The evening breeze on the jetty was sharper than she would have thought; she should have worn close-toed shoes instead of the too-high, strappy silver sandals. Her gaze traveled over the sleek lines of the bullet-shaped luxury yacht. That was impressive! Her heart rate gathered speed as a well-dressed crew member pulled back the black rope that allowed access to the long stair attachment.
“Someone lives on this?” she murmured, voicing her question to no one in particular, though she wasn’t surprised when the reason for her distraction decided to take it upon himself to answer.
“Rakena’s business line is super yachts, but he is trying to expand into hotels.”
“You mean he is trying to expand into your line.”
“Yes.” The clipped answer coupled with the tight expression around Jack’s full lips gave a clear indication this would not be like the relaxed meetings she had attended at the station.
“Quick question then. If the deal is for property in Dubai, then why meet in Monaco?” Hopefully, her stage whisper didn’t carry up the palatial gangplank to the open door, behind which she assumed sat the men of the hour themselves.
“Neutral territory.”
“On board his ship and virtually across the road from your hotel. You call that neutral?”
“No, that’s what Nasser calls neutral.”
“And when he says jump, you all say how high?”
“An infantile approach even for you, CJ.” Jack’s look of censure as they approached the top was enough to silence her.
CJ smoothed down the thin line of beads on her dress, unsure after seeing the sleek gunmetal yacht in front of her now whether the heavily beaded, scarlet 1920s flapper dress was really the best outfit to have chosen. She had reluctantly admitted during her ten-minute power shower that though she had grown up in a glittering world of titles and elite education, this new world inhabited by what her grandfather would have called the nouveau riche was not one she had been prepared for. Not that she had exactly fitted into her old life either. And according to her ex, she didn’t fit into her new life. And that was the reason she was here, wasn’t it?
The warmth of his hand pressed to the small of her back set off an odd mix of panic and reassurance, and she was unsure whether to steady herself against it or move away. Instead, she let the sound of the waves lapping loudly against the ship’s side soothe her frazzled nerves. Showtime!
Faking a serene smile, she raised her chin, the small movement tossing the beach-styled curls away from her face only for them to artlessly land back in the same space.
She sucked in a breath as she negotiated the wide, glistening chrome steps. She could see her reflection in every footstep, along with the reflection of the man next to her.
She had no idea why she was so nervous. As a child, her parents used to entertain all the time. So
metimes with dignitaries. Of course they never noticed her, which wasn’t a surprise considering she had made the effort to stay out of their way.
The staircase seemed to go on forever, and CJ breathed an inward sigh of relief when it finally came to an end, swallowing back the nerves as the voices around her stopped and she became the focus of their curious gazes.
Jack had said meeting, hadn’t he? So why did everyone look as if they were dressed for a modeling shoot? Everything in the vast chrome and black leather room had a purpose, though, she wasn’t sure which of the two men in black tuxedos that purpose belonged to. Her eyes were drawn to a quiet figure in the center; the muted olive tones of the woman’s halter top, floor-skimming dress with the thigh-high slit stood out against all the black and silver like a sore thumb. And her straight, raven-black, long hair and piercing green eyes made CJ feel more than gauche.
“Nasser, Rakena.” Jack’s voice was smooth, and CJ was grateful for the strength of his arm around her waist, her body trembling inwardly at the sudden sensation of his fingers traveling lightly down her side to rest protectively on her hip, closer than she would have liked to the top of her thighs and the chaotic emotions running through her.
“Harper. Glad you could join us.”
The one she presumed was Nasser came forward. He was older than she had expected, judging from the deep set wrinkles that lined his face, though, despite this his aura, he held the power in the room. She could well imagine why this man, with his presence, reigned supreme in the business world.
He stood aside, letting the one she presumed to be Rakena pass, his hand loosely holding the woman’s next to him.
“Rakena.” The censorious note in Jack’s voice ran up and down her spine like a freight train. This was cold, hard business. She couldn’t afford to be a shrinking violet.
“Harper. This is my wife, Amiria.”
If CJ were honest with herself, she wouldn’t have guessed they were a couple. She did not seem the sort of woman who would be with someone like him, someone who, though CJ could imagine being classified as handsome, also looked dangerous. Perhaps it was his black-eyed gaze or the scar that ran across his cheek in a straight, white line.
She had envied girls like Amiria in school. The girls who carried confidence easily and were naturally beautiful to boot.
Giving in to the instinct that made her step forward and put out her own hand, CJ breathed an inward sigh of relief when the woman took the proffered peace line. Despite the war the men seemed to be raging, at least she had an ally, of sorts.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Amiria. My name is CJ. I’m Jack’s, um ...” The next words stuck on her lips. What was she in this charade exactly? Companion? Date? Radio wager?
“Date. CJ is my date,” came the answer next to her. She risked a glance at his face, her belly tightening as his gaze rested firmly on her, its blatant message there for all to see.
“The infamous radio dates that have all of London talking?” Nasser asked.
Pulling her hand back, CJ eyed the speaker through lowered lashes; his light brown eyes were clearly teasing.
“Well if you’ve heard about it, then it seems it’s more than just London talking.” Ouch. That was more tart than she had intended.
“So it would seem.” CJ was sure Nasser’s quick, efficient smile had melted many a heart in his life, but not hers. The question was, what were she and Amiria doing here, considering Nasser had not shown up with a date of his own. If only she’d had the forethought to look him up on the Internet, too. If only she hadn’t let herself be distracted instead by a pair of intense dark blue eyes and a towel wrapped around hips that belonged to a golden, statuesque torso no mortal man should possess.
The warm push on her hip propelled her into action, and she tottered forward, cursing her choice of footwear, careful to keep pace with Jack and the small group as they made their way to the back of the yacht. Her smile froze on her face when a set of grand doors opened to reveal a palatial dining room, complete with guests dressed in dinner suits and evening dresses. She should learn not to judge so quickly next time. She had thought this might have the slim possibility of being a semi-pleasant evening. Clearly she had been wrong.
The arm disappeared from behind her, and she quashed the sense of loss, renewed determination flowing through her as she made her way to where the embossed name card placed her. The look of disdain on the surrounding guests’ faces as they eyed her two-lettered card compared to their double and sometimes triple-barreled names was actually funny. Never had she been so tempted before to break her silence and announce who she really was, if not just for a childlike sense of satisfaction at their reaction.
But she wouldn’t. She had promised herself. She had tried that once and it had failed. She had shortened it for the very reason that it wasn’t her. Not even to prove a point.
Sliding quickly into the proffered seat, she looked up, her breath solidifying in her throat as Jack’s blue eyes pierced the distance across the wide table before his attention was dragged back to what she presumed to be business with a well-suited man on his right.
Chatter surrounded her, the once low noise rising louder and louder with each course. Polite conversation seemed to be the order of the evening, and she found the tight smile she had been wearing relaxing slowly as her dinner companions regaled her with tales of life in the various cities.
The familiar buzz of an accent drew her attention to a group of speakers across the table who seemed unaware or uncaring that everyone could hear their conversation. A conversation, if CJ was correct, that included the hinge factor for the deal. She glanced around quickly. Nope, no one was batting an eyelid other than a few women who flicked the louder of the two gentlemen a disdainful glare. No one except Nasser himself ,who had now joined in, also in fluent French. If she didn’t know better, the lack of responses meant no one else understood.
She looked away quickly. There was eavesdropping on a conversation, and there was staring. From the level of the men’s voices, the former was unavoidable, the latter was not.
That was it! That was why they were all here together, the men and their “partners.” So Nasser could see the men with their “loves.” Love, which according to his loud board member, made the world go round and was more important than money. What odd deal was this? An eccentric millionaire’s whim that, because he had frittered away his chance at love and happiness and lived on work alone, meant he wanted to see which young lion loved the most and therefore deserved to take over? Crazy!
Her breath caught in her throat as her gaze clashed with a familiar pair of eyes, eyes that had now narrowed inquisitively at her.
Is this why he asked her along? Because he knew she could translate something no one else could? No. He said they had both been summoned. She had been angry, hurt at him but she had thought ... had hoped ... No. She was not going there. She was determined to cap whatever emotions she thought she felt back in the U.K. They were moments of weakness, that was all.
A shadow passed across Jack’s face, and she felt her stomach drop to her knees as he stood up and made his way around the table to her, ignoring the open stares of the other guests.
“Hi.” A two-letter word, that was all. Why then did it make her feel comforted and nervous at the same time?
“Hi yourself.” Hopefully, there was a carefree smile on her face as she twisted as far as she could in the seat, her movements hindered by the sudden closeness of those around her who had suspiciously slid closer to her in their seats.
“How are you?”
Goose bumps prickled over her skin at his nearness, the familiar scent of mint washing over her, making her heart bop like a 1950s dancer.
“I’m fine thanks. I ...” She could share what she knew. That way he would have a better chance of winning the deal, and she would be all that much closer to ending this charade. A charade that was a bit too close to home and heart for her liking. “Actually, I’m not fine.”
&n
bsp; “You’re not?” He looked confused at her sudden backtrack, the dark blond eyebrows pulling together.
“Um, no. In fact I feel a little peaked. Maybe seasickness,” she finished lamely.
“Seasickness. On a moored boat?”
You would think a man of the world would be less dense. “Crazy, huh? But I am and I need some air. Care to accompany me? You know, as you’re my date?”
CJ felt her stomach drop as his mouth twitched upward, highlighting the dimples in his cheek.
“Of course. What sort of a date would I be if I didn’t?” He allowed her access to stand, and she was unprepared for the sudden feel of his hand at her elbow guiding her toward the door.
“Shouldn’t we inform Nasser we are leaving?” she hissed, glancing quickly over her shoulder but not that surprised when she didn’t see anyone notice their departure. Rich businesspeople were all the same in her book. Selfish. Just like her parents.
“He is too preoccupied to worry about what his guests are doing. Besides, I think your overly concerned neighbours will inform him,” Jack said, his voice steady and firm as she found herself navigated back through the yacht to its top floor.
CJ sucked in a breath, glad to be free of the confines below, glad when the sharp air stung her nostrils, making her shiver, forcing her to wake up from the dreamlike sensation she had been in the last few days. A sensation not exactly helped by the twinkling lights of Monaco nor the vision of other equally super yachts moored in the distance.
“You are cold.” It wasn’t a question, but a new weight descended on her shoulders. A new weight that smelled purely of him, a new weight that was like silk against her bare shoulders, making her want to pull it tighter around her. She felt dizzy. Her head swum with the new feelings coursing through her, and she trembled, the cold the last thing on her mind.