An Exquisite Challenge

by Jennifer Hayward

  He rubbed his fingers over the stubble covering his chin. That was a problem. She was a far bigger problem than he’d pegged that night at the hotel. The way he’d wanted her from the beginning had multiplied into an inconvenient obsession to have her. He needed to fix this before he crossed the line.

  Taking someone else to bed was a possibility. Maybe Riccardo was right. Maybe that was exactly what he needed.

  He picked up his smartphone, pulled up the contact details of the opera singer who’d been all over him at a party a few weeks ago and dialed the number. Five minutes later he had a breathy acceptance of a dinner date.

  If only solving all his problems was that easy...

  * * *

  Things had gotten better AE—after the explosion, as Alex liked to call it. Whether Gabe had decided to trust her or had finally acknowledged he didn’t have time to micromanage, he was letting her run with the event. They were finally knocking things off at the speed they needed to.

  If she could just forget how blindingly hot that moment in his office had been. But even her best efforts at denial couldn’t completely wipe it out of her head. She had had a taste of what Gabe would be like now. And it was impossible to forget.

  In the end, she reverted back to what she knew was true. Men were fickle. Gabe might have an “inconvenient” attraction to her—but it didn’t go beyond craving her female assets. Not worth a career-limiting move guaranteed to trash her future. She knew, because she’d suffered through an almost fatal one.

  Wasn’t about to go there again.

  “That’s it.” Susan shoved the tape measure into her hand and got to her feet. “I have all the stuff I need. Let’s get out of here and blow off some steam.”

  Alex wrapped her hand around the tiny silver square, her lips twisting in a rueful smile. “It’s Thursday night in Napa. Where do people go to do that?”

  “There’s a little restaurant in St. Helena where everyone goes on Thursdays. It’s the night to be there. And the chef’s from the Culinary Institute, which means yummy food.”

  Oh, her stomach liked that idea. Her workload, however, did not. “Sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I have two hundred people left to research for my chemistry matches. I’m not going anywhere except the kitchen to beg Elena for dinner while I surf the Net. Care to join me for some exciting entertainment?”

  “You need to get out.” Susan cast a critical eye over her. “No offense, but you look like crap.”

  “I have a multimillion-dollar event in eight days,” Alex murmured dryly. “It’s not about looking good at this point—it’s about survival.”

  Susan stuck her hand on her hip. “If I promise to help you with half of those names tomorrow, will you come out for a drink? We need to catch up.”

  Alex eyed her as though she was suddenly plated in eighteen-karat gold. “I have some tough ones you could help with.”

  “You buy the drinks—you’re on.”

  Feeling like an escapee from prison, Alex packed up her things and checked with her team to see if they wanted to come. They pleaded fatigue, so she stripped off her jeans for the first time in weeks and put on a flirty summer dress. “Very cute bartender there,” Susan alerted her in the car. “You’ll like him.”

  She was pretty sure she’d love anything that wasn’t a run sheet or budget tonight. And she did love quaint little St. Helena, the most adorable town in the heart of Napa, with tree-lined streets and cute shop fronts. In addition to its boutiques and restaurants, St. Helena also featured a campus of the Culinary Institute of America, giving it a bustling, hip atmosphere that was exactly what she needed tonight.

  The chic restaurant was buzzing as they stepped inside. Done in a breezy, clean California style with original works of art on the whitewashed walls, it featured a long cherrywood bar that ran the length of the restaurant. The bar area and tables were packed with an affluent-looking Napa crowd.

  They were lucky enough to score seats at the bar when a couple left. Which was fine with Alex, because Susan was right—the bartender was serious Scandinavian eye candy—tall, blond, built and funny to boot.

  They ordered drinks and flirted with the Swede, who was a student at the Culinary Institute. It was hot in the jam-packed space, steaming hot, so she slipped off her sweater and turned to slide it over the back of her stool. The sight of Gabe tucked in an intimate little booth opposite them with a sleek-looking brunette who possessed more natural style in her pinkie than Alex had in her entire body stopped her cold.

  He was dressed in jeans and a collared shirt, a lazy, confident smile playing about his lips as he focused on his dining partner. Her stomach did a swooping dive. What did the De Campo men always say? Take a woman out for dinner, flatter her outrageously, and you’re as good as there. She was pretty sure she’d never heard Gabe say it, but there was no doubt in her mind looking at the lazy smile on his face and the animated interplay between the two that that was exactly what Gabe had on his mind.

  Her fingers tightened around the back of the stool. She had no claim on Gabe. She should be happy he was out with another woman so they could avoid the dangerous attraction between them. But really. How could he look at the other woman like that when he’d kissed her like he had just days ago?

  Gabe’s gaze drifted away from his date to scan the room idly. And collided with Alex’s. She jerked her head back and aimed a look of pure nonchalance at him, but not before, she feared, her “I hate you” message was broadcast loud and clear. His eyes narrowed on her and he murmured something to his dinner companion and stood up. She calmly arranged her sweater on the chair.

  “Who are you looking a—? Oh.” Susan’s voice lowered to an earthy purr. “Your brother-in-law. Damn if he isn’t the finest-looking man in Napa. Problem is...no one can catch him.”

  “That isn’t Napa specific,” Alex murmured dryly, her stomach tightening as Gabe strode toward them. “He has unrealistic expectations of perfection.”

  “What a nice surprise.” Gabe stopped in front of them and kissed Susan on both cheeks, making her pale skin glow bright pink. Then he turned his attention to Alex. “I had no idea you were going to be here tonight.”

  No doubt. He likely would have beelined it in the opposite direction, given their lack of interaction this past week. “Surprise,” she announced brightly. “What fun.”

  His mouth twisted. “How are you, Susan?”

  Her friend chattered on, babbling in her attempt to charm Gabe. Alex finally had enough. “You should have brought your friend over,” she interjected. “Or were you too far down the flattering-outrageously route to bother?”

  A warning gleam flashed in his eyes. “Please come over if you’d like to meet her.”

  Alex tossed her hair back and waved her hand at him. “We’ll pass. I’m having a boss-free night tonight, thank you.”

  The grooves on either side of his mouth deepened. “Bene. Everyone needs one.”

  Like he needed a night out with a hot woman. Alex inclined her head toward the brunette in the booth, green jealousy driving her.. “She’s lovely. Should we make sure she’s on the list for the party?”

  “Samantha’s already been invited, but she’s out of town next weekend.”

  Of course she had been. The urge to take the Black Forest cake arriving at Gabe’s table and shove it in his face was appallingly strong. What was wrong with her? This thing between her and Gabe was nothing but a stupid fascination that was going nowhere. “Oh, look,” she said desperately, “your dessert has arrived. You should go share.”

  “I should.” He gave her a hard look. “I think you need some food to go with that martini.”

  “No doubt. My boss has been working me like a madman...my tolerance seems to have disappeared.”

  His mouth opened, then slammed shut. “Feed her,” he instructed Susan. “Buonasera, ladies. Enjoy yourselves.”

  Susan waited until he was out of earshot to shoot her a sideways look. “What the hell was that?”


  Alex shrugged. “Gabe and I tend to rub each other the wrong way.”

  “I don’t think he could ever rub me the wrong way,” Susan murmured dreamily. “In fact, I’d be all in for a full-on rubdown.”

  “Try big doses of him,” Alex suggested. “You’d change your mind in a heartbeat.”

  Her friend didn’t look convinced. “The Italian’s so sexy.”

  She conceded that point. “Who is she, by the way?” She nodded her head in the direction of the brunette presently spooning a piece of cake into Gabe’s mouth. “I have three Samanthas on my list.”

  “That’s Samantha Parker, daughter of the former mayor of San Francisco and celebrated opera singer. She,” Susan murmured, her eyes glittering wickedly, “might be able to satisfy the unrealistic-perfection thing. She’s supertalented and, apparently, quite nice—no ego. With the added bonus of being able to open up a hell of a lot of doors for Gabe.”

  Alex picked up her drink and downed the rest of it. Gabe didn’t even like her. He’d kissed her because there was this thing between them, but she knew she wasn’t his type. Had always known that. So why did it bother her she wasn’t an opera singer? That she didn’t have the type of pedigree that would open doors? Slam them shut, more likely, with all her skeletons...

  She was willing to bet Samantha Parker had never felt the cold slap of handcuffs around her wrists. Seen what the inside of a jail cell looked like.

  “Alex?” Susan was looking at her with a raised brow. “You want something to eat?”

  They ordered appetizers. One drink blended into two and more flirtatious chatter with the bartender. Alex laid it on thick, as it made her feel better to know that he thought she was beautiful. And if Gabe was noticing—even better. She had other options, too.

  But as the night went on, it became her fervent desire that Gabe would spirit his companion out of there and do the dirty deed already. She just couldn’t stomach it. She couldn’t. But apparently her plea to the martini fairies had not been heard. By ten she was so exhausted she was in serious danger of doing a face-plant into her glass. And the two beautiful ones were still enjoying their bottle of wine, Samantha Parker, gifted vocalist, staring dreamily into Gabe’s eyes.

  “I want to puke,” she muttered, pushing her empty glass away.

  Susan gave her an amused look. “If you like him, Alex, why don’t you just tell him?”

  “Like him?” She stood up with a dismissive movement. “That would be confusing antagonism with attraction.”

  “O-kay.” Susan darted a look at the bartender. “What do you intend to do with him? He thinks you’re going home with him.”

  “What?”

  “You’ve been flirting outrageously with him, Alex.”

  Alex stared at her friend. “So were you. We were flirting. That’s all. Are the rules that different in California?”

  “Oh, boy.” Susan pointed to the washrooms. “If that’s where you’re headed, go. I’ll clean up your wreckage, settle the bill and get you home for some sleep.”

  Alex waved her hand at the stool. “Money’s in my purse.”

  She made her way to the ladies’ room without a glance at Gabe’s table. She’d only had an appetizer with the two martinis, not exactly evoking rational thought. Better to stay away.

  “Alex.”

  Gabe’s voice stopped her in her tracks in the corridor outside the bathroom. An instinct of self-preservation made her start moving again, her hand curving around the handle of the door, but Gabe was faster, setting his down on top of hers.

  “Dio,” he muttered, spinning her around. “What is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing.” She looked at the wall behind him. “We’re on our way out.”

  “With the bartender?”

  “No.” Anger mixed with the unusually high amount of alcohol in her system to form a lethally intoxicating combination. She lifted her gaze to his and glared at him. “Although it is astonishing to me how quickly men move on. You kiss me like you did in your office, then you appear on a date with Ms. Opera Singer, all cozy and canoodling.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I think I may need a lesson on that, because it is truly impressive.”

  He stared at her. “You’re jealous.”

  “As if.”

  “So why the bitchy behavior?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe I can’t turn my feelings on and off like you can.”

  “Oh, I’m feeling them all right,” he corrected grimly. “I was trying to have enough sense for the both of us.”

  “About what?”

  “Don’t play coy, Alex.”

  A frission of excitement coursed through her, dangerous, forbidden. She closed her eyes and fought it. “Go back to your table, take your opera singer home and do the sensible, or not-so-sensible thing—whatever you want to call it—and take her to bed. I’m all for it.”

  “How can I?” he rasped, “when all I can think of is having you in my bed?”

  Her eyes flew open. “You were letting that woman drool all over you.”

  His gaze heated. “Like the bartender was over you?”

  “He was entertainment.”

  “Cristo, Alex.” He raked a hand through his hair, that thing he did, she realized, when he was hot and bothered. “You are making me nuts. I’m on a date with someone else and I’m thinking about you.”

  His confession mixed with her intense jealousy elicited a dangerously heady feeling. It wasn’t rational; it was the aching need to experience that sweet shot of adrenaline she knew he could give her, no matter how wrong it was. She rose on tiptoes and kissed him. Went after what she wanted. He hesitated, his mouth still beneath hers, and for a heart-stopping moment she thought he wouldn’t kiss her back. Then, with a muttered imprecation, he slanted his mouth roughly over hers and took control. His kiss was hungry and demanding and everything she’d been craving since that day in his office. Frustration had her moving closer, seeking more, wrapping her arms around his neck and reveling in the magical connection they shared.

  “Lex,” he muttered against her mouth. “This isn’t—”

  She pressed her fingers against his nape and brought his mouth back to hers. Hot, uncontrollable, she wanted the kiss to go on forever.

  “Oh my God.” A muffled cry from behind them split them apart. Samantha Parker stood there, blue eyes huge, hand to her mouth. Her face whitened as she looked from Gabe to Alex and back before she turned and fled.

  Gabe cursed under his breath. Alex’s fuzzy brain struggled to comprehend what had just happened.

  “Go after her,” she bit out when she finally recovered the power of speech.

  “Alex—”

  “Go.” She pushed into the ladies’ room, the door swinging shut behind her. Her legs trembled; bile pulsed at the base of her throat. She had never even spoken flirtatiously with someone else’s man since Jordan. Never even looked at a man unless she had irrefutable evidence he was single and not harboring secrets. But she had just kissed Gabe in a crowded restaurant in front of his date. Deliberately kissed him.

  She sank down on the leather bench, rested her forearms on her thighs and pulled in deep breaths. The night Cassandra Lane had walked in on her and Jordan in bed in his apartment flashed through her head like the recurring nightmare it was. The one that had never gone away. Jordan laughingly insisting on getting out of bed to get them more wine, the sound of a strange woman’s voice in the hallway, then the appearance of Jordan’s redheaded wife in the bedroom, her face dissolving at what met her there.

  Alex had been so disorientated, so confused as to what was happening she hadn’t been able to move. A wife? Jordan had a wife? He was supposed to be divorced.

  After that, everything had been a blur. Cassandra had lost her mind. Jordan had had to physically remove her from the room while Alex recovered her brain and dragged on her clothes.

  Her six-month affair with the man she was in love with had ended the next day with a flower delivery to her office
and a thank-you note.

  Well, she wished it had ended there. But it hadn’t. As much as she’d wanted to bury her head in the sand and nurse her wounded heart, damage control had to be done. A thirty-million-dollar divorce settlement—in which her firm was inextricably involved because of her—was in play. A five-million-dollar-a-year account her agency depended on hung in the balance. It had been a disaster. Alex was problem child number one yet again, after a youth filled with that label.

  She lifted her head as a woman came in and stared curiously at her. Sat up straight and ran her fingers through her hair. Only her boss’s contacts and efforts had prevented the story from being dragged through the tabloids. Kept her career and reputation intact. And yet here she was displaying the same type of reckless behavior.

  She was the woman least likely to ever become a De Campo, with a past that could bring the family tumbling down faster than a deck of cards. So why was she making a total and complete fool of herself over him?

  It didn’t matter what was between her and Gabe. This had been wrong. Very wrong.

  She collected herself and walked back into the restaurant. Susan eyed her paper-white face, asked her if she wanted to talk, then hustled her out to the car when she said no.

  This was why she didn’t allow emotion to rule, she told herself in the car as Susan drove her back to the vineyard. Because this was how she messed up people’s lives. How she’d messed up a great deal of her own.

  Whatever was happening with Gabe—how she was allowing herself to feel things for him—it had to stop. He was dangerous, lethal to her because of it. She had to end it before she messed up this opportunity she’d been given to keep herself in business. To keep her life on track.

  * * *

  At first, Samantha Parker refused to let Gabe drive her home. Her bag clutched to her chest, she stood outside the restaurant and blasted him with at least five minutes of insults in a combination of English and Italian before she took a breath. Too bad most of the world’s great operas had been written in Italian, he thought ruefully as he endured the barrage, because Samantha had a very good handle on his native language.