Her eyes widened.
He touched her hair—stopped fighting the compulsion and simply reached out. His fingers released its scent, and he was catapulted back fifteen years. “I’m trying to help you here, Amanda.”
Her voice was breathless. “I don’t need any help.”
“Yes, you do.” He kissed her lightly on the forehead. “And lucky for you, I’m available.”
As the office door rattled shut behind Daniel, Amanda grabbed the corner of her desk for support.
I’m available?
What did that mean? I’m available.
And why had he kissed her?
Okay, so he hadn’t exactly kissed her. But he had—
“Amanda?” The office door opened, and Julie stuck her head in the room. Her brows waggled and a secretive smile curved her dark purple lips.
“So, who was hubba hubba man?”
Amanda stared at her blankly.
“The guy who just left,” Julie elaborated.
“Daniel?”
“Right.” Julie mimicked a swoon. “Delectable Daniel.”
“He’s my ex-husband.”
Julie drew back. “Hello? You exed that guy?”
“I did.”
“What were you thinking?”
“That he was uptight, pretentious and controlling.”
“Who cares?”
Good question. No, bad question. Amanda had left Daniel for some very good reasons, not the least of which were his single-minded desire for success and his refusal to maintain even the slightest independence from his father.
“I cared,” she said to Julie.
Julie shook her head and gave an exaggerated sigh. “To each his own, I guess. So what did he want?”
Amanda pressed her fingertips into her temple. “To run my life.”
“Going to let him?”
“Not a chance.”
“Going to see him again?”
“Nope.” Well, not after Friday. And that didn’t count, since Cullen and Misty would be there.
Julie shrugged. “Okay, then. Your two o’clock’s here.”
Amanda glanced at her watch. “It’s nearly two-thirty.”
“I didn’t want to disturb you.”
She gave Julie a gentle shove toward the doorway. “He’s a paying client. Disturb me already.”
Julie strained to look back over her shoulder. “I thought you might be jumping Mr. Delectable on the desktop.”
“Yeah, right,” said Amanda, ignoring the rise in her pulse.
Julie chuckled low. “That’s what I would have done.”
Four
Amanda slid the hanger of her red Chaiken silk along the rod at the far end of her closet. She didn’t mind that it was several years out of date. She did mind that it was too sultry for an evening in the same room as Daniel.
Next she peered at the V-necked Vera Wang. Nope. Too Vegas.
Then she frowned at the sequined Tom Ford. Nope again. Too princess.
Her ten-year-old, multicolored Valentino sunburst was the last one on the rack. As far as comfort went, it left a lot to be desired. It was strapless, and she’d have to wear one of those underwire torture devices to keep her breasts in the right position. But it was made of beautiful orange, yellow and red-streaked silk, snug across the bodice, with a flowing skirt and a scalloped hem that was very flattering.
It was elegant, without giving in to basic, New York black.
She glanced at her watch. Oops. For better or worse, this was the dress.
Tossing it on the bed, she headed for the shower. A light was blinking on the answering machine, but she ignored it. She’d stayed too late at the office reading a brief, and now she had five minutes to wash her hair, throw on a little makeup and strap herself into the torture underwear.
Halfway through the shampoo, she remembered she also needed shoes. More specifically, she needed those little gold sandals with the crossover straps.
They were in the front hall closet…maybe.
So much for makeup.
She ducked her head under the spray, scrubbing her nails furiously against her scalp. Then she shut off the tap, rubbed her skin with a towel and headed for the entry hall.
She dropped to her knees on the soft carpet in front of her closet and scrambled through the untidy pile of shoes. Black, beige, flats, sneakers…
Ah ha. Little gold sandals. Well, one, anyway.
She hunted for the other, coming up lucky.
She threw them by the door and dashed back to her room.
She snapped on the bra and stepped into a matching pair of panties. Thank goodness she’d shaved her legs this morning. Lately, she hadn’t been as diligent about that as she should.
She shimmied into the dress, pathetically grateful when the zipper slipped up easily. In the bathroom she ran a comb through her hair. In the hallway, she stuffed her feet into sandals. Finally, she was set.
Purse.
Darn. She ran back to the bedroom and grabbed an evening purse. She spied a pair of garnet earrings on the dresser and slid them through her pierced ears.
There.
That had to be it.
Her hair would dry in the taxi.
She grabbed her keys and headed out the front door.
“Ms. Elliott?” A uniformed chauffeur was waiting at the bottom of the stairs beside a stretch limousine.
Amanda’s steps faltered. “Yes?”
He opened the back door with a flourish. “With Mr. Elliott’s compliments, ma’am.”
Amanda stared at the car.
“He apologizes if you didn’t get the phone message.”
Amanda’s first instinct was to send the limo back to Daniel. But then she mentally shrugged. Why chase down a taxi out of spite?
She smiled at the driver and crossed the sidewalk. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” said the driver with a nod.
Amanda peeked inside at a bar, a television, three phones and a video-game controller. It had definitely been a while since she’d ridden in this kind of luxury.
She glanced back at the driver. “I don’t suppose you have a hair dryer in there.”
The driver grinned. “Afraid not. Do you need a few more minutes?”
“No thank you. I’m already late.”
“A lady’s prerogative,” he said.
She shook her head and stepped into the car. “They’ll just have to take me as I am.”
“You look lovely, ma’am,” he said diplomatically.
“Thank you,” Amanda returned, making herself comfortable on the bench seat. “And thank you for picking me up.”
“My pleasure.” He closed the door.
The limo glided smoothly away from the curb. Low purple lights came on around the perimeter and soft music floated out from unseen speakers.
“Would you care for a beverage?” asked the driver.
“No, thank you.” Amanda leaned back and watched the surrealistic blur of traffic lights through the tinted windows. She really shouldn’t enjoy this quite so much.
“Mr. Elliott asked me to apologize about the mix-up with the restaurant,” the driver continued.
“Mix-up?” asked Amanda, straightening.
“He wasn’t able to get reservations at The Premier.”
Amanda hid a small grin. An Elliott turned down by a maître d’? That must have driven Daniel wild.
“So, where are we going?” she asked.
“To Mr. Elliott’s apartment.”
“His apartment?”
The driver nodded in the mirror. “Yes, ma’am.”
Amanda’s hand splayed on her stomach. Whew. Okay. Deep breath. She could do this.
Misty and Cullen would be there as a buffer. And there’d probably be a dozen or so kitchen staff. It wasn’t as if she and Daniel would get all cozy on the balcony or anything.
It wasn’t a date.
Although he had kissed her.
On the forehead.
Still, h
is lips had touched her skin.
She dropped her head into her hands.
“Ma’am…”
She straightened, flipping her damp hair back from her face. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” She gave him a reassuring smile.
She’d go to Daniel’s apartment. Have dinner. Chat with her son and new daughter-in-law, maybe feel the baby kick then get out of there before things got awkward.
Simple.
Things got awkward faster than she’d expected.
“Misty wasn’t feeling well,” said Daniel as he closed the front door in an oak-paneled, skylighted entry hall.
“So they’re not coming at all?” Amanda darted a glance at the exit, wondering if she should bolt before it was too late.
“Her back was sore.”
Misty’s health was definitely more important than dinner, but Amanda had been counting on their presence. An evening alone with Daniel was more than she could handle right now. “Why didn’t you call?”
“I did call. I left you a message.”
“Then why did you send the car?”
“The message was that we’d moved to my place, not that you weren’t supposed to come.”
“But…”
He gestured to the short staircase leading to his sunken living room. “Please come in.”
She hesitated. But there was no way to bail without looking scared. And she wasn’t scared. Not exactly.
“Amanda?”
She took a bracing breath, made her decision then stepped down the short staircase to the plush ivory carpet.
The room was nothing short of magnificent. Two stories high, it was decorated with sculptures and abstract oils. Camel-colored sofas were scattered with burgundy and navy cushions, alongside two plaid armchairs that formed a conversation group.
Pot lights were sunk into the high ceiling. There was a Monet above a white marble fireplace, flanked by two walls of double-decker windows overlooking the park.
The furniture gleamed, and the flower arrangements were fresh. A team of photographers could show up for a lifestyle shoot and not have to touch a thing.
“I ran into Taylor Hopkins earlier,” said Daniel, crossing the huge room to a curved cherrywood bar.
“Oh?” Amanda took a cautious step forward. Even for Daniel, the room was pristine. There wasn’t a single magazine on the tables, no papers, no dust, not even a track in the carpet. She wondered if it was Sharon’s influence, or if he was spiraling down to some sort of perfection psychosis.
He retrieved two wineglasses from the hanging rack. “He was free, so I invited him to dinner.”
Amanda’s gaze shot to Daniel’s back. “You invited who to dinner? When?”
“Taylor.”
“Why?”
“Because he was free.”
Taylor was free? The same Taylor that Daniel had mentioned on Tuesday? The same Taylor he’d held up as an example of lawyerly perfection?
“What are you up to?” she asked warily.
“Opening the wine. You want some?”
“You’re telling me you accidentally ran into Taylor after Misty called?” She didn’t believe anything in Daniel’s life was random.
His shoulders tensed. “After Cullen called,” he corrected. Then he relaxed and turned his head to look at her. “Glass of merlot?”
“Daniel, what’s going on?”
He shrugged as he twisted the corkscrew into the wine. “Nothing’s going on.”
Yeah, right. “Why is Taylor really coming to dinner?”
“Because Stuart had already picked up the salmon, and because you and I were going to be alone.” He popped the cork.
Alone? If alone was a problem for him, why hadn’t he canceled?
A man in a white suit jacket entered the room. “May I help with the drinks, sir?”
“Thanks,” said Daniel, abandoning the open bottle to the perfectly groomed gentleman.
“We could have rebooked,” said Amanda.
“Then who would eat the salmon?”
Her eyes narrowed. There was something suspicious about that straightforward logic, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
“Care for a tour before dinner?” he asked easily, not a flicker of cunning in his eyes.
Maybe she was being paranoid. Maybe Daniel wasn’t thinking up plans to interfere in her life. Maybe she’d overestimated his interest entirely.
“Okay,” she agreed slowly.
The man in the white jacket handed them each a glass of merlot.
“Thank you, Stuart,” said Daniel.
“Thank you,” Amanda echoed.
“Dinner in an hour?” asked Stuart.
“Sounds fine,” said Daniel.
Then he placed his hand lightly at the small of her back. “Let’s start upstairs.”
Amanda forced herself to relax and take in the decor. The room smelled of beeswax and lemon polish. She ran her fingertips gingerly along the gleaming banister as they climbed the stairs.
When they stepped onto the landing, Daniel directed her along the hallway that overlooked the living room.
“Your house is very…neat,” she offered.
There was a hint of a chuckle in his voice. “Why do I get the feeling that wasn’t a compliment?”
“I don’t know,” she lied.
“You’d prefer it was messy?” he asked.
She’d prefer it had a soul. “Well, my house is definitely a lot messier than yours.”
“Do you have a housekeeper?”
She glanced up at him. “Why?”
He didn’t meet her eyes. “Just wondering if you might have hired a former client to do that, too.”
Amanda resisted the urge to elbow him in the ribs. “I don’t have a housekeeper.”
“I see.”
No rebuke. Nothing overt that she could fight with. Just a measured, judgmental I see.
“Regular people clean their own houses,” she pointed out.
He opened a door and hit the light switch. “This is the library.”
She gazed at another pristine room. Two leather love seats faced each other across an antique table. There was a reading desk in the corner with a diamond-tufted chair. And a lighted, saltwater fish tank was built into floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. The wood was deep and rich, in contrast to the muted neutrals in the living room and hall.
She wandered inside, running her finger along the leather-bound volumes.
“Shakespeare,” said Daniel.
Of course it was. “Got anything lighter?”
“A first edition Dickens.”
“Anything newer?”
“The Life of Pi.”
“I give up.” Maybe it wasn’t an act. Maybe Daniel had truly turned into a paragon of perfection. His father must be proud.
“You give what up?” he asked.
“Mr. Elliott?” Stuart appeared in the doorway. “Your company has arrived.”
“Thank you.” Daniel smiled at Amanda and gestured to the library doorway.
“Taylor,” he greeted over the railing. “Glad you could make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Taylor responded, smiling at Amanda as she and Daniel made their way down the stairs.
“Amanda,” he said, holding out his hand.
She reached out to shake.
“You probably don’t remember,” he said, grasping her hand warmly. “We met at a party once. Karen and Michael introduced us.”
“The Ritz,” said Amanda. She remembered. He’d been polite and friendly that night, with a quick smile and a courteous manner that made it hard to remember he was a cold, unfeeling profitmonger.
“You do remember.” He flashed that boyish grin and prolonged the handshake.
“Merlot?” asked Daniel.
Taylor slowly let go of Amanda’s hand, keeping his gaze fixed on her eyes. “Love some.”
Daniel couldn’t let Taylor’s interest
in Amanda bother him. Sure, he’d only invited the man over to talk business, not to gaze adoringly into Amanda’s eyes and chuckle appreciatively every time she said something that remotely resembled a joke.
And he hadn’t expected Taylor to pat her hand, touch her arm or inquire about her personal life. But Amanda was an attractive, sexy woman, particularly when her hair got disheveled and she kicked off her sandals to curl her legs up on the couch.
Daniel had to accept the fact that other men were going to find her interesting. He couldn’t let it bother him.
Even now, when Taylor stood up and oh so casually offered Amanda a ride home, Daniel had to bite his tongue and set his jaw. None of his business if she wanted to accept.
Amanda glanced at him.
He kept his expression deliberately impassive.
“Thank you, no,” she said to Taylor.
And Taylor accepted her answer with equanimity.
Daniel saw Taylor to the front door alone, trying to keep the spring out of his step. Her relationships with other men were irrelevant. He had to focus on the primary goal—getting her to change careers.
He thanked Taylor sincerely for joining them.
When he returned to the living room, Amanda was still curled up on the couch, sipping a second cup of coffee.
“I hope you had a nice time,” he said, retaking his seat in the armchair across from her.
“Nice coincidence, you running into him at Boca Royce.”
Daniel nodded. “It was.”
“And so interesting, all those little details about his business,” she continued.
He met her eyes. “I know I found them interesting.”
“I had no idea corporate law was so easy and so lucrative.”
“Makes me wish I’d become a lawyer,” he joked.
“Me, too. Wait. I did become a lawyer.”
Daniel grinned. She was fun when she relaxed.
“And, you know…” Amanda snapped her fingers. “Listening to Taylor makes me wonder why I’ve spent my entire career on criminal defense.”
Daniel tried not to act too interested. “It does?”
She nodded vigorously. “Think about it, if I’d gone into corporate law right off, I could have a new Mercedes by now.”
“You could,” he agreed, with what he hoped was a thoughtful nod. He’d have to thank Taylor again tomorrow. The man had obviously hit exactly the right note.
Dynasties:The Elliots, Books 7-12 Page 19