He snorted. "Written in the stars? Maybe all that stargazing messed with your head. If this is my destiny, why do I fucking hate it so much?"
He shifted his shoulders inside his dinner jacket, dragged the top button of his shirt open. This was torture. Not fucking destiny. The sense of irritation he'd been fighting ever since he walked in overflowed like an explosion of lava.
"Can't wait to hear about your destiny," he told her. "Let me guess. Power tools and awkward crushes?"
As soon as the words were out, he hated himself.
She flinched, a quicksilver shift of expression that hit him right in the solar plexus. "That's right. Power tools and awkward crushes, that's me."
He reached for her, wanting to apologize, but she backed away from him. "Brianna. Come on, you know I don't mean that."
She spun away, her flouncy dress twirling around her body. The filmy layers danced through the air. With a sense of horror, he saw the outermost ruffle brush past a tall taper candle set on one of the low decorative tables. The flame leaped from the candle to her dress in a flash of ignition.
Quick as a thought, he flung his club soda at her. The liquid splashed onto her dress and she stumbled. He saw a flicker of flame still licking at her dress. If she kept going, the air might fuel whatever spark remained. He couldn't chance that. He dove after her and tackled her to the polished parquet floor.
She cried out as he rolled her over, smothering the bits of smolder on her dress with his bare hands. The other guests backed away with shocked murmurs. When he was finally satisfied that there was no chance she was on fire, he sat back on his heels. The bottom of her dress was scorched, her hair was tumbling around her shoulders and she looked like she wanted to murder him.
But at least she hadn't gotten burned.
Physically, anyway.
She scrambled to her feet and ran for the door.
23
Brianna ignored Sidney and Rollo, who both tried to catch up with her during her escape. She ignored the doorman as she flew out the door. She ran half a block down Park Avenue in her wobbly heels, then waved at the first cab she saw. Voice shaking, she gave the cabdriver the name of the little hotel where she was staying, the Parkside. Booked and paid for by the Warehams, but right now she didn't care. She just wanted to be alone, behind closed doors, with no one looking at her funny.
When she reached her suite, which was decorated to simulate a home, if you were the kind of person who liked shades of umber and framed inspirational quotes, she shut herself into the bathroom. And squeezed her eyes shut before the mirror ambushed her.
She had to take this in phases.
She opened one eye halfway, then closed it again with a yelp. Yup, just as bad as she'd imagined. Hair tangled from her mad dash down Park Avenue, dress hanging in damp, charred rags. Grimly, she opened both eyes and stared at her reflection.
This. This was why she couldn't go to nice places or wear nice clothes. Because this was what happened. This was who she was. Brianna Gallagher—fashion disaster. Not just fashion disaster. Guest disaster. She'd flown all the way to Rich People World to make a fool of herself. She could have done that back home in Jupiter Point. Though not quite as dramatically.
Disconsolate, she stripped off her ruined dress. It was so pretty, too. Best of all, for one magical moment, she'd seen something in Rollo's eyes when he first saw her in it. Not friendship. Not lust. Not affection.
Awe.
She'd never forget that, even though it had gotten ruined so quickly. How long had she lasted at her first fancy cocktail party before nearly catching on fire and getting a club soda thrown at her? Ten minutes? Twenty?
She took a quick shower to wash the residue of humiliation off her body, then wrapped herself in the big, fuzzy robe provided by the hotel. Brianna wasn't one to dwell on things. What was the point? If you tripped on your own shoelace, you didn't stay face down on the sidewalk. You got up and laughed it off. The same principle applied here.
But hearing a friendly voice couldn't hurt. She dialed Evie and told her the whole story. By the end they were both laughing so hard, tears were running down her face.
"Only you, Brianna," Evie gasped. "But please don't feel bad. If anyone laughed because your dress caught fire, they're just a bad person."
"I'm not sure that helps. But thanks."
"Thank God Rollo was there," Evie added more seriously. "He may have quit the hotshots, but he still knows his way around fire."
"That's true. He actually dove right on top of me, into the flames; he put it out with his bare hands, I think. And oh my gosh, Evie, you should see him without his beard! He looks completely different."
"Really? Good different or bad different?"
Brianna chewed on her lower lip. "Well, he no longer looks like a hunter who's been lost in the wilderness for months. You can see his face now. It's a really good face, kind of strong and cheekboney."
"Cheekboney?"
"Yeah. He looks like a tougher version of Justin Bateman. But his eyes are the same."
"I always thought he had the most soulful eyes of anyone I know."
"He really does." Brianna sighed, remembering all the times she'd gazed into those blue depths and felt she was seeing all the way to his core.
"Oh my God," said Evie. "Are you in love with Rollo?"
Crap. Crap. She scrambled to cover up her error. "Don't be silly. We're friends. Really good friends. And I work for him. I've been putting in that pond at his property, you know. The koi pond. It's coming along pretty well, I have the gravel laid in and I’ll order the fish when I get back, and did you know he hired me because I had a crush on Finn? So I'd have a reason to hang around up there? So, you know, your theory doesn't really hold up…" She trailed off. Lying was so not her thing.
Silence on the other end of the phone. "Nope. I’m not buying it. I remember what I saw at Thanksgiving. And I can hear it in your voice. You can't fool your best friend since third grade. You have feelings for him."
Brianna had never been able to hide anything from Evie. She crumpled like an old paper towel. "Yes. Okay. I have feelings. But I miss the old Rollo. I miss his beard. Can you imagine Rollo in a tailored suit?"
"I really can't. Did you take a picture? The hotshots would pay good money for that."
"I said the same thing! I was going to, but then my dress caught on fire and I ended up in a smoky heap on the floor. If I get another chance, I'll take a shot and blow it up to poster size and mount it at the base."
"That would be the perfect wedding present for Sean."
Brianna laughed. She was feeling a million percent better, thanks to Evie. "Thanks for being there for me. You're such a good friend, despite all that annoying gorgeousness."
"Bri, we really need to talk about this attitude of yours. It drives me crazy when you sell yourself short. I wish you could see yourself the way I do. You're beautiful and unique and wonderful."
Unique. That sounded like code for weird. But Brianna decided not to let it bother her. "See? This is why you're such a good friend. You always see the best in people, even when they catch on fire at fancy parties." She broke off when someone knocked on the door. "Gotta go, Evie."
"Say hi to Rollo for me."
"What makes you think—" But Evie had already hung up, laughing.
She was right. It was Rollo, his powerful frame still packed into that black dinner jacket and immaculate white dress shirt. A shadow of stubble darkened his firm, unfamiliar jawline, and his blue eyes were on fire with worry as he stepped into the room. His gaze swept across her, taking in her damp hair and bare feet. "Are you okay?"
"Of course." She lifted her chin. "Why wouldn't I be? All I did was catch on fire, nearly drown, and made a fool of myself in front of some Manhattan power brokers. Just another day in the life of Brianna Gallagher.”
He didn't smile. "I'm sorry about the power tools comment. It was stupid and asinine. You didn't deserve that. That's how I get when I'm here." He came to
ward her with focused intensity. "That's why I didn't want you here. I didn't want you to get hurt."
She shivered and pulled her robe tighter around her. "You kept me from getting burned, have you forgotten that?"
"It was a close fucking call, Brianna. It scared the crap out of me."
Her heart did a slow somersault. Things were supposed to be over between them. But the way he was looking at her… "I'm okay, Rollo." Her voice came out about two octaves higher than usual. She took a few steps back, and he followed.
"Well I'm not. I'm going crazy. I couldn't take my eyes off you at that damn party. You make everything better and brighter. I can't think about anyone else but you. I look at you and I want you. Over and over and over again."
He stood over her, so close she tilted her head back to gaze up at him. His expression sent hot ripples of excitement through her. The little hairs stood up on her arms.
Slowly, as if he was fighting the urge, he reached for the belt of her hotel bathrobe.
"But Rollo…" she whispered. "We're not doing that anymore. You said me being here couldn't change that. Remember?"
His hand paused. "I know what I said. I know what I ought to do. But I want you. I'm not ready for this to end. I can't stay away, not when you're so close. But it's up to you. I'll leave right now if you want."
She swallowed hard. She'd found Rollo plenty sexy as a bearded mountain man back in Jupiter Point. But this Rollo, with the strong planes of his face exposed, his eyes hot with desire—this Rollo was devastating. She had no defense against him at all.
"But what about your mother…your agreement…"
"I don't know. All I know is I want you. I need you." His desperate tone ripped at her heart.
Why would a wealthy, handsome, eligible catch-of-the-century like Rollo need her? But when she looked into his eyes, she saw that he meant it. His vulnerability tore at her. She couldn't say no to that.
And she couldn't say no to herself. Her body was already on fire just from being this close to him. One more chance to make love with Rollo. Maybe her last chance.
She tugged at the belt on her robe and the two ends fell away. The robe itself was so fuzzy that it stuck together, making the gesture much less seductive than she'd pictured.
"In my imagination, that was a lot sexier," she told him.
"It was plenty sexy." With a growl deep in his chest, he parted the two sides of her robe. He spent a long moment scrutinizing her naked body. Brianna wasn't used to thinking of herself as a sex object, but the way he looked at her, she might as well be Marilyn Monroe and Jenna Jameson rolled into one. "You're so gorgeous, Bri."
"Oh come on."
"Shh." He lowered himself to his knees in front of her. "Look, I'm kneeling for you. And I have three pins in my leg, so I wouldn't do that for just anyone." He slid his hands up the backs of her legs, slow and smooth, the rough texture of his palms spreading fire along her skin. "Admit you're gorgeous."
"Ergh…" Her legs trembled. She couldn't admit anything at that moment, because it would involve speaking.
Slowly, deliberately, he glided his palms along the creases between her upper thighs and her ass. He knew perfectly well that it was one of the most sensitive areas of her body. He gripped her lightly, his strong fingers pressing into the tender flesh of her inner thighs, brushing her curls. Wetness gathered between her legs. She grabbed onto his broad shoulders, afraid she might fall over without support.
"Say it. Say it for me." Keeping her legs firmly spread, he licked a path up the inside of her thigh.
"Wha…what?" She'd completely lost track of what he wanted from her.
"Say you know what you do to me. That one look at you in that little fairy dress, with your bare shoulders and your hair all pulled back and…" He slid his tongue across the wet folds of her sex. "And I wanted to throw you down right there on my parents' parquet floor."
"You…you kinda did…" she gasped.
He gave a dark chuckle, which registered as a vibration against her pussy. "Yes, but you still had clothes on. You tried to burn them off, but I still couldn't see your sweet little tits and juicy little—" He used his teeth on her the way a mother lion might lift her cub, pulling her entire mound into his jaws. It was an extraordinary sensation, both vulnerable and electrifying. Her inner thighs trembled with excitement.
"Say it," he murmured. He slid the tip his tongue gently across her clit, which responded with a rush of sparks, like a fountain erupting. "Say you're gorgeous and that you slay me."
"I…" She couldn't do it. She wasn't the gorgeous one. She was the tomboy, the best friend, the lab partner, the… Lab partner?
Seriously?
In the altered state inspired by Rollo's talented tongue, she swam back into a memory she'd shoved deep into the annals of embarrassment. The day she and Singh Dal, her senior-year lab partner, had decided to lose their virginities together.
Naked in his parents' den—supposedly working on their final project—he stared down at her with a perplexed expression. "It looks so red. Is it supposed to be red like that?"
She raised herself on her elbows and peered down her body. She couldn't really see what he was seeing, but she couldn't mistake the worried expression on his face. "Well, I am a redhead."
He scrunched his forehead and looked closer. He definitely didn't look impressed by what he saw down there. "Should we take a photo, do you think?"
"What are you talking about?"
"For diagnosis." She tried to close her legs, but he was still focused hard on her.
"I intend to be a doctor, after all."
"Ugh, there's nothing wrong with me! Do you want to do this or don't you?"
He cocked his head, his horn-rimmed glasses sliding down his nose. "Okay."
It was such an unromantic way to lose your virginity. She'd shrugged it off and the rest of the experience had been a lot better. But maybe that moment had scarred her more than she’d thought. Maybe she'd started to believe there was something ugly about her.
Because at this moment, with Rollo kneeling before her in his expensive tailored jacket, desire screaming from every powerful line of his body, she didn't quite believe her eyes.
So she closed them. Lost herself in the sensation of his thick tongue traveling across her swollen sex. His hands on her thighs, the strength radiating from his grip, the gentle but rough way he handled her. He wanted her so much his body vibrated with it. The tremors of desire traveled between them, bound them together in a golden web.
"Say it," he whispered against her clit. Electricity sizzled across every nerve in her body. Like a bolt of lightning transforming her from one thing to something else. From a tomboy to a siren. From ordinary to spectacular.
And so she said it, because in that moment, under the intoxicating influence of his touch, it was absolutely true. "I'm gorgeous and you want me."
"Yes." His tongue increased its pace and pressure, revving her higher and higher. She was about to fly into the ether, vaporize into ecstasy. "I want you." His lips moved against her sex. Somehow that was even more intimate than just licking. It was licking and vibrating and confessing all rolled into one. "I can't look at you and not want you. Never going to happen. You're beautiful and sexy, especially when you're spread open under my tongue and…"
The rest disappeared into a mumble of words murmured into her curls. He gripped her even tighter and swiped his tongue across her clit. Something hard and rough joined in…oh my God, his thumb…moving just so…and she was gone. Coming against his tongue with shudders and cries and maybe even a few tears.
Because never in her life had she felt so beautiful.
24
Rollo owed Sidney something big—like a kidney or something. Inviting Brianna for Christmas was a stroke of genius. He'd never enjoyed New York this much. Usually he got antsy as hell, counting the days until he could get out of the city. Now, he counted the hours until he could steal away to Brianna's hotel room.
During the
day, either Sidney showed Brianna her favorite spots, or Brianna wandered the city on her own. Rollo did whatever his mother asked of him. That was the deal. He accompanied her to lunches at Barneys, brunches in Soho, coffees on Fifth Avenue. He chatted with Cornelia or other prospects on his mother's list. Cornelia was nice enough, but the others all blended together. The only thing that kept him going was the knowledge that he'd see Brianna at the end of the day.
Being Brianna, she gravitated to places like the Botanical Gardens and the Natural History Museum. She took a million photos and made friends with random groundskeepers and tour guides. At night, she showed him what she'd been up to, while he avoided the topic of how he'd spent his day. They didn't talk about the impossibility of their situation.
But he hated it. It felt so wrong. He kept telling himself he should stop, that it wasn't fair either to Brianna or to any potential future wife. But he couldn't stay away from her. His entire day felt like a boulder sliding off his shoulders the second she opened the door for him.
His family didn't know what to make of Brianna. Luckily, they only saw her in passing, when she stopped in to pick up Sidney. His father barely noticed her, and his mother treated her more or less the way she treated nannies or her social secretary. Someone in the upscale-hired-help category.
Brent alternated between overly attentive and disdainful, probably depending on how hungover he was. Poor Bri looked nervous whenever he swung his attention her way, and no wonder. He asked her things like, "did you find any local flora to chainsaw today" or "how many freckles does it take before you just give in and call it a tan?"
Someone else, someone with a more biting sense of humor or someone better able to fake it, would have no trouble fending off Brent's sporadic jabs. But not Brianna. When Rollo cornered his brother and told him to knock it off, Brent got a knowing, obnoxious look on his face.
"Does Mother know you're freelancing in the lower classes?"
"Don't be such an ass. Just leave her alone."
"I'm not the one you have to worry about. Mother's Spidey senses are going off. You'd better warn your little gardener to watch her back."
Into the Flames (Jupiter Point Book 3) Page 16