Seducing an Heiress

by Judy Teel

  When Trey came back, he waited in front of the window gazing idly at the now lighted buildings lining the street. A reflection of movement caught his attention. He turned around and froze.

  "Wow."

  "Speechless?" Dakota asked.

  "Just about." She looked like a movie star, which was a stupid thing for a grown man to think, but there it was.

  Showing a hint of cleavage, the dress skimmed her curves like a lover's hand. The blonde hair hung well past her shoulders, her tawny skin was creamy pale and her now blue eyes slanted up a bit giving her an exotic look.

  If he'd passed her on the street, he wouldn't have recognized her. If he'd met her at a party he didn't think he would have either. But when he looked into her eyes, warm with sharp intelligence, there was Dakota. As if for him alone.

  The brush of possessiveness moving through his chest startled him. Alarm quickly followed. What the hell was he thinking? This was nothing but a job with a big payoff. His passport to getting the information he needed so he could find his sister. Any additional ideas he had about Dakota were nothing but a fool's day dream.

  "Richard, you're a genius," Trey said, lacing his tone with friendly approval even though he was feeling anything but.

  "I know. " Richard fussed with the dress. "No one, but no one, will recognize her. Just as I promised."

  "I have to admit, this is pretty amazing." Dakota self-consciously stroked her hand over the wig.

  "Now off you go. Wait, wait," Richard added, blocking Dakota's way as she started toward Trey. "You need a new name for tonight, darling. You can't go around saying 'Dakota this' and 'Dakota that.' Only one girl in the world with the name 'Dakota' could afford this dress."

  "Good point." She ran her tongue over her full bottom lip and Trey's cock grew heavy, zapping 'go get her' messages to his brain as fast as it could. He stalwartly ignored the pointless urge.

  "How about Sharon?" he suggested, purposefully thinking of his most frightening teacher from middle school to calm his libido.

  "Please. She needs something exotic."

  "You mean like Dakota?" she asked.

  "Yes...no!" Richard lightly slapped her shoulder. "Crazy." Stepping back he surveyed his creation, frowning with concentration.

  "If you say Bride of Frankenstein I'll bitch slap you," Dakota said wryly.

  "Wouldn't dream. I hate to see a grown man cry, especially when it's me." Richard rubbed his chin, thoughtfully, and then snapped his fingers. "I have it! Lark."

  "Lark?" Trey made a wry face, wondering if creative geniuses were all a little nuts.

  "The state bird of North Dakota," Richard said, pouting.

  "Is meadowlark," Trey countered.

  "I suppose you could call her Meadow, but that just sounds silly. There's always Utah or Texas."

  Dakota's blue eyes danced. Blue. That would take some getting used to.

  "We better get going. Lark." Trey held out his arm for her to take and tried to see her as nothing more than a casual business acquaintance.

  "Texas does have a nice ring to it," she said.

  "If we don't get moving, I'll be calling you Late to Dinner."

  "Only if you want to be called In the Hospital."

  "Funny." He wiggled his elbow to encourage her to take his arm.

  A smile touched the corner of her mouth and she glided up to him, her long, lean legs flashing though the slit in the side of the dress. Sexy spike-heeled sandals made them a mile longer.

  She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and her cinnamon scent surrounded him.

  His libido came to full attention.

  Which didn't worry him nearly as much as the fact that he was starting to like her.

  * * *

  Dakota stepped out of the theatre into the cool evening, the familiar and comforting noises of the city cascading around her like pleasant background music. She sighed with pure pleasure. The show had been delightful. Almost as melt-in-her-mouth wonderful as the lobster.

  As she and Trey navigated through the crowd down to the sidewalk, she wondered if she could have found a way to live a more authentic life and still stayed in her father's world. Had she let her anger over Jack's betrayal color her view of what her father wanted from her? Had she over reacted? Instead of running to something had she actually been running away as Trey implied?

  She didn't know. She only knew that it felt good to be in beautiful clothes, having a wonderful evening, in the company of an attractive man who knew how to be a charming companion when it suited him.

  In this moment she felt completely at ease as if she'd unexpectedly found something she'd been missing--some natural part of herself. Just as Trey had promised, no one had recognized her, even though she'd spotted several people who had once claimed to be her friends. She had taken a perverse pleasure in walking past them without a second glance while jealous curiosity hardened their eyes and their dates ogled her.

  "You seem to be enjoying yourself," Trey observed as they started down the sidewalk toward his car.

  "I'd forgotten how nice it was to be spoiled."

  "You deserve to live like this."

  "No thanks. It's like chocolate cheesecake. Best savored in small doses."

  She noticed a group of photographers milling at the corner of the theatre building and her happiness dimmed. They watched her and Trey with mild interest, but made no move toward them and after a moment, she relaxed. If people who had once considered themselves insiders in her life hadn't recognized her, no cheap sensational news reporter ever would.

  "Why did you leave the company?" Trey asked as they walked.

  One of the reporters pushed off from the wall. The rest shifted, becoming instantly alert. Dakota tensed. "I didn't. I turned my back on my father."

  "Heiresses are allowed to be eccentric. People would have eventually forgotten about the tape. Why throw your life away because of a temporary problem?"

  She didn't expect him to understand how humiliated she'd felt by what her father had done, or what it was like living in his house. No one could. Except maybe someone who'd done time.

  The reporters started toward them. Uneasiness skated down her back. "Trey," she hissed, nudging him. "Get your keys out."

  He looked up and saw the group ambling toward them. "Steady. They can't possibly know who you are," he said in a low voice.

  The group stopped a few yards in front of them, spreading across the sidewalk in a casual way that Dakota knew was anything but. Tension rode across her shoulders. She shifted her position to just a little behind Trey hoping to block their view of her.

  "Good evening, Mr. Peters," a tall man in the front said as he slipped his tape recorder from his pocket. "Is it true you're in Cincinnati to meet with potential investors in the Dakota Nights line?"

  "Hank." Trey acknowledged with a curt nod as he pulled his keys from his pocket. "No interviews, tonight. This is strictly pleasure."

  "We can see that." A short, balding man with a scruffy growth of beard said in a heavy Brooklyn accent. He edged his way up next to Hank.

  A small gasp of dismay escaped from Dakota. His beady eyes hardened with interest and he craned his neck to see past Trey.

  Serban Aines. He had made her life difficult on more than one occasion, and completely miserable when the tape was released.

  "How about the name of the young lady?" Hank asked, his confrontational tone making unpleasantly familiar shivers skate across Dakota's neck.

  "Afraid not, boys," Trey said, firmly. He turned and swept his arm protectively around her waist. "If you'll excuse us."

  He started to move past them, but the group shifted, blocking their way, again.

  "She looks very familiar," Aines said, ostensibly to Hank, though his eyes never left Dakota. "I know I've seen her somewhere before."

  Trey let go and moved to stand fully in front of her. "She's an up and coming model and that's all I'll say on the matter. Except make sure you get the newest issue of Vogue when it
comes out."

  The reporters started frantically making notes, some verbally into small recorders, some tapping away on their smart phones.

  Aines moved to the left, still straining to see around Trey. His eyes narrowed. "I've definitely seen her before."

  Dakota stared coldly at Aines over Trey's shoulder. How men like him could go around ruining people's lives and still sleep at night she'd never know.

  Their eyes locked. She hoped he could see how much she despised him and all reporters like him. Merciless jackals. Disgusting vermin. One of the best moments of her life had been when she'd decked the soulless scum bag for trying to take a picture under her dress.

  His expression cleared. "It's you!" He whipped his camera up and started frantically snapping pictures. "It's the missing heiress!"

  Horror blasted through her and she shied away, raising her hand to shield herself from the onslaught as the outpouring of flashes blinded her. Trey made a lunge for Aines but he darted away.

  "It's Dakota Jamison!" Aines shouted to the others. "I'd recognize that hateful witch no matter how much makeup she caked on!"

  His words shot off a cascade of panic in Dakota. She jumped back as the paparazzi swarmed her, shouting as they came.

  "Why'd you disappear--?"

  "Does your father know where you are--?"

  "Are you and Mr. Peters having an affair--?"

  "Are you secretly married--?"

  "Have you filmed yourselves having sex--?"

  Their harsh voices bombarded her like shrapnel. In a moment she knew they'd have her surrounded. Escape would be impossible.

  She turned to run for the theatre, hoping to find protection there, but the crowd milling around in front of it was too thick. She'd never get through them in time.

  "Dakota!" she heard Trey shout behind her, bringing a roar of triumph from the crowd of photographers at his inadvertent confirmation.

  She darted toward the street, skated past the crowd, and took off down the sidewalk.

  Fear coursed through her, and then anger.

  Or had the slip been inadvertent? Had Trey in fact betrayed her? Had he tipped off the smut press? Planned to have them waiting there for her?

  What better way to force her from hiding while looking innocent of the whole thing.

  What an idiot she was! Never let a man you were hot for get past your defenses. Hadn't she learned that lesson?

  Pounding feet and more shouted questions echoed behind her, getting closer. Sucking in air like a bellows, her chest aching, she looked for a way to lose them, but the long blonde hair of her wig kept blowing across her eyes and the high heels of her sandals made it hard to get up speed.

  There was a chance they hadn't gotten a good picture of her. But if they caught her....

  "Dakota!" This time Trey's shout came from her left and it was close. She turned her head in surprise. The silver Jaguar cruised along the curb next to her.

  "Get in!"

  CHAPTER SIX

  "You set me up!" Dakota yelled back at Trey.

  "I didn't!"

  "Liar!"

  "They're gaining on you!"

  Flashes of light popped off just behind her. Wasn't one monster better than a pack of them? She pulled open the door and dove into the car.

  Dakota struggled to untangle herself from the slippery material of her dress and get fully into the car. A hand grabbed her ankle.

  She screamed and instinctively delivered a vicious kick to her attacker. Her foot connected with flesh eliciting a grunt of pain. The hand slid away, taking her sandal with it.

  "Go! Go!" she shouted, pulling herself and the material of her skirt into the car. Trey cut into traffic and sped away from the curb just as she slammed the car door shut.

  Her gasping breath sounded unnaturally loud in the sudden silence of the car. She'd nearly had a heart attack out there.

  "Buckle your seatbelt," he said, his voice tense. "They're on us."

  Worry shot down her spine and Dakota hastily buckled herself in. "It would have been easier to just tell Dad where I was." Actually, it would have been easier. Why hadn't Trey done that?

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Why go to all this trouble to arrange for the press to jump us? All you had to do was let Dad know where I am. He would have done the rest." And made sure she never had a chance to get out from under his thumb, again.

  A cold chill snaked over her, but she pushed it aside. She had bigger problems to deal with right now. If the press caught them, then she could worry about her father.

  Glancing behind them, she noted the flock of tiny beat-up cars darting and weaving through traffic as the paparazzi gave chase.

  "Is that why I'm risking my neck trying to get you away from them?" Trey asked as he changed lanes, causing the driver he cut off to lay on the horn.

  She looked at him, aware that the tension in his voice sounded very real. Red, blue, and yellow-white lights from the passing city slid over his profile like water colors, tracing the worry etched there. Was she wrong? Had this fiasco caught him by surprise, too?

  "Why else would Aines be in Cincinnati?" she asked, not quite ready to let her suspicions go.

  "Autumn's First Cut ring a bell? You're not the only celebrity hanging around the city this weekend, you know."

  She'd forgotten about the off-season fashion weekend hosted by the Art Institute. That explained Richard's presence in the city, too.

  But how could she trust that was all there was to it? "It's hard to believe you're innocent," she said, her tone sharp.

  "I never said I was innocent."

  "So you did sic the press on me."

  "Nope."

  "Can you prove it?"

  "No. But think about it. I have no reason to. If I spook you, you run again. It was hard enough finding you the first time."

  Yet he had found her. And Aines had recognized her easily, despite the disguise. An ache of sorrow slipped through her chest, cooling her anger. Her new peace and happiness was much more fragile than she'd ever realized.

  "How did you find me?" she asked, quietly.

  "Pure dumb luck. Hold on." Trey's knuckles gleamed white as he gripped the steering wheel and took the car into a tight, fast turn around a corner. Dakota grabbed the handle above her to keep from careening into him.

  "That was a red light," she said.

  "No kidding." He glanced in the rear view mirror. "I think we lost them. For now."

  Her stomach knotted into a ball of anxiety at how close she'd come to disaster. A disaster that could still crash down on her. What had she done wrong? "What pure dumb luck are you talking about?"

  "A friend of mine knows I'm a sucker for home-cooked meals. Especially pastries."

  "So?"

  "He sells pharmaceuticals and his territory's around Dayton. He stumbled onto your place one afternoon on his way home. Best cinnamon rolls he'd ever had, he said. Next time I came to this part of the country I checked it out."

  Dakota pulled in a deep breath and tried to control the despair sweeping over her. She remembered that salesman. Remembered how much his praise had pleased her and how excited she'd felt when he said he was going to tell all his friends about her place.

  "Five months of tracking down dead ends and my stomach broke the case." Trey changed lanes, and then changed again, glancing in the rearview mirror several times. "I knew it was you the minute I saw you."

  If Trey and Aines had recognized her, other people might too. Instead of peaceful anonymity, she'd have judgment and ridicule again.

  She didn't want to start over. She couldn't really afford to. "How did you know it was me?"

  He expelled a quiet breath of air. "I don't know. I just did." Trey glanced at her, his expression unfathomable. "Just like I know it's you under that getup you're wearing tonight."

  Her heart fluttered unexpectedly at the puzzled melancholy lacing his voice. She rallied her defenses as best she could. Liking the enemy was a quick way to get
tromped on.

  "None of it matters, anyway. Now that I've been spotted by the press, it's all over," she said.

  Trey slowed the car. With a quick movement, he guided the Jaguar into a gated parking garage, rolling down his window as he braked to a stop. A sharp swipe through the scanner with a key card he whipped out of nowhere, and they were in, the heavy iron gate gliding closed behind them.

  "What are you doing?" Dakota demanded.

  He cruised through the quiet garage until he found a spot in the back that was near the elevator and out of sight of the street. He turned to face her, his eyes dark and inscrutable in the shadows cast by the lights along the wall of the garage.

  "You still don't believe that I had nothing to do with those reporters," he said.

  "Like I said, the damage is done whether you orchestrated it or not." She crossed her arms and stared out the dark window.

  "Now you don't trust me. I can see it on your face."

  "I never trust someone better looking than me who offers me lobster."

  "I promise to get you out of this."

  She turned toward him, about to tell him that she'd get herself out of this and to mind his own business. His hand swept around the back of her head and he pulled her into him.

  The caress of his lips across hers surprised her into opening them and Trey's tongue swept inside her mouth. The explosion of fever from the contact incinerated all needs except one--she wanted him.

  When his other hand swept up her waist to cup her breast, she arched into it, into the weight of his palm and the heat of his caress. His thumb found her hardening nipple and brushed across it through the thin fabric of her dress. Dakota gave a purring moan far in the back of her throat.

  He broke the contact and gently bit the tender skin of her neck, following with a soft kiss to ease the mild sting. The desire building low in her belly fragmented into fissures of fire that ran through her body, melting her, making her want to lie back and open everything to his exploring hands and mouth.

  The image jolted her out of her stupor. What was she doing? He was ruining her life and still every cell in her body screamed 'do him! Do him now!' Had she lost her mind?