Impulse

by E. B. Walters

  “Have you seen Mr. Fitzgerald’s collection?” Douglas asked.

  “Not yet.” She hadn’t known Lex collected cars, but then again, most rich people had hobbies, and from the Rolls Royce, the man had exquisite taste. “But I’m looking forward to seeing them.”

  Jillian kept the conversation away from Lex. She didn’t know how much the man knew about her or their deal. He seemed to be some kind of personal assistant slash driver slash whatever his boss wanted him to be. He’d dropped off the contract at her place yesterday along with a rose. Accompanying the single pink rose was a note with a single line in bold handwriting:

  Looking forward to tomorrow night.

  Jillian wasn’t. The closer they got to Lex’s home the more nervous she became, especially when Douglas made a call and told whoever he was talking to that they were five minutes away.

  And in exactly five minutes, the driver slowed down as they approached a gate manned by several security guards and paparazzi. They trained their lenses on the Phantom, probably wondering who she was. Jillian cringed and slid lower in the seat. Then she remembered that the windows were tinted. Besides, who she was didn’t matter. Yet.

  They followed a limo, the guards giving Douglas a thumbs-up as he drove through. The compound was huge, carpets of grass interrupted by beds of flowers. What looked like a helipad was to the right, but it now had limos and high-end cars. On the same side of the house were four garage doors wide enough to house two cars each. Must be where Lex kept his collection.

  The courtyard was circular, a low-lying wall separating it from the majestic front entrance. Several young men and women were valet parking, and from the number of cars, they would leave the party with wads of money.

  Oh God, Lex was supposed to pay her three hundred and fifty grand at the signing of their contract. In cash. She should be happy. Her family would be out of the hole. Instead, the very thought filled her with dread. Where the heck was she going to hide that kind of money? How was she going to pay off her father’s debt? The Finnegans were proud people, and her father was at the top of the pyramid. He would never accept money from one of his kids, and her brother Cian was sure to tell him even if she told him not to.

  Jillian had entertained delivering the money personally to the Albanians and had even parked across the street from their club and played detective on a stakeout. The place hadn’t seemed busy, which was surprising. Hookah bars were quite popular.

  “If I asked you to do a U-turn and get me out of here, would you get in trouble?” Jillian asked.

  Douglas chuckled. “No, but Mr. Fitzgerald would be very disappointed. He’s looking forward to seeing you.”

  “And we don’t want to disappoint him, do we?”

  “No, miss. In his case, it’s always better to go along with what he wants.”

  Once again, Jillian wondered how much the man knew about their arrangement. Whether he was judging her or not. Not that his opinion mattered. She’d hate for him to think she was a gold digger.

  As though he’d been waiting, Lex stepped out of the house and started for the Rolls. Jillian’s stomach dipped with excitement and panic, the two emotions that often accompanied her whenever he was around.

  He was dressed in a button-down shirt, except it was unbuttoned near his throat and showed his powerful neck. Everything about him was neat. Shirt tucked in, pants crisp, blazer fitting his broad shoulders to perfection. It made her want to untuck his shirt, ruffle his hair, and get him all dirty.

  Before one of the valets could open the door for her, he said something that caused the young man to step aside. Lex opened the door, offered Jillian his hand, and helped her out of the car.

  “Finally,” he said, not bothering to hide the fact that he’d been awaiting her arrival. A smile tugged his sculptured lips, his eyes shooting from warm to hot as he studied her.

  The look in his eyes said he liked what she was wearing, which was great. She’d dressed specifically to impress him. She might not wear couture, but she knew what flattered her figure without making her look skanky. The shawl over her shoulders did more than complement her outfit. It hid bruises on her arm from this morning.

  “I was tempted to beg Douglas to get me out of here,” Jillian said.

  “You hate parties or you’re chickening out?”

  “Hate parties, and I don’t chicken out.”

  “I’m happy you don’t.” One hand came to rest on her elbow; the other cupped her cheek. “We have an audience. Don’t look,” he added quickly when she shifted as though to see behind him. “Kiss me,” he whispered, but it still came out as an order.

  She wasn’t kissing him. “Who is it?”

  “My mother and friends. They’re dying to meet you.” He lowered his head, eyes staring into hers. If all this wasn’t staged, she could easily get lost in his gorgeous grays. He had ridiculously long lashes and amazing cheekbones. When she didn’t move, his eyebrows shot up in challenge.

  That look did it. She wasn’t scared of him. It was just a kiss, and she was in control. Despite her pep talk, her heart started beating in a staccato as she placed her hands on his chest for balance, reached up, and pressed her lips to his.

  His lips were soft and warm, and she could feel his heart pound steadily under her palm. His chest was hard and warm even through his shirt. A crazy urge to sweep her tongue along the moist interior of his lips and taste him blindsided her. She broke the contact and gave him a tiny smile.

  Lex sighed. “You call that a kiss? We’re supposed to be crazy about each other.”

  Okay, her attempt was pathetic, but he didn’t have to sound so disappointed by her performance. Maybe she just didn’t turn him on.

  “I told you I’m not good at performing on cue.”

  “Then I’ll lead from now on while you follow.” He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on her knuckles.

  The warmth of his breath on her skin sent a shiver through her. There was no way she was letting him lead. He already had all the advantage. All he had to do was look at her and heat pooled low in her belly. Controlling her actions was all she had.

  She tugged her hand from his. “I don’t think so, pal. This is my show.”

  His expression was skeptical, his chuckle—when it came—infuriating.

  “The problem with you, Alexander,” Jillian said, “is you’re looking for an excuse to take charge. It’s not going to happen.” She reached up, cupped his strong jaw, and ran her thumb across his lips with feather light touches. “I’m just warming up.” She felt the change in his breathing and hid a grin. She caressed the corner of his mouth and then moved to his dimpled chin.

  “What are you doing?” he asked in a low and velvety voice.

  “Removing the lipstick stain I left behind.” Her lipstick didn’t smudge, but it was nice to turn tables on him.

  “Do I really have lipstick on me?” he asked suspiciously.

  She grinned without answering.

  He groaned. “You’re going to make me pay for complaining about your kiss, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not that petty,” she protested, “except this time.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. The valets turned to look at them and nudged each other. She’d forgotten their presence and even Douglas’. The driver was gone, and the car wasn’t among those parked nearby.

  “Come on,” Lex said, placing his hand on the small of her back. She could feel the heat from his hand warming its way through the clothes to her skin. Her bones turned fluid. She needed serious distance between her and this man.

  The door opened before they could reach it, and a young lady welcomed them with a smile. Lex took Jillian’s hand and tucked it in his firm grip. She expected him to lead her to his mother, but she didn’t see a woman old enough to be Lex’s mother.

  Had he challenged her to a kiss for nothing? “Was your mother really watching us?”

  He angled his head. “What do you think?”

  “I think y
ou’re shameless and self-serving.” When he chuckled, she leaned closer and whispered, “If you pull that again, you might not like the consequences.”

  “Maybe I’ll surprise you by loving every moment of it.”

  Jillian shook her head. As far as men went, Lex was proving to be unpredictable. It was rather unsettling. Most men were easy to read, their responses easy to anticipate. Jillian forced herself to focus on her surroundings, which wasn’t easy since Lex tended to command all her attention.

  The foyer was packed, but Jillian managed to see past the people—most of whom she knew or had seen around the studio—to the accented pillars around the room, a grand staircase curving to the second floor to her right, and to their left a den with stuffed chairs and shelves of books. By the den, a broad hallway with paintings and portraits on its wall slanted upward to another wing. She recognized a few paintings and vases behind glass-covered niches that should be in a museum, yet the room had that lived-in feeling. Maybe it was the laughter or the ambience the paneling gave the two-story room.

  “You have a beautiful home,” she said.

  “Thank you. It was the first house I remodeled after I finished college.”

  “It’s both majestic and welcoming.” She was so busy trying not to gawk it took her a moment to realize they were the center of attention.

  As Lex led her toward the back of the house, which seemed to be the center of the party, eyes followed them. Most were people she worked with. They whispered to their plus-ones, confirming they knew who Lex was. And from the way he held her arm, he left no doubt in anyone’s mind that he wanted her by his side.

  Flushing, Jillian tried to wiggle her hand from his, but he tightened his grip. “What is it?”

  “I want to say hi to my coworkers,” she whispered back.

  “Why?”

  “What kind of a question is that?” she asked and smiled at an assistant camera guy and his companion, a stunning red-head. “It’s the polite thing to do.”

  “You don’t strike me as someone who always does the right thing,” he shot back.

  She wasn’t. “That’s not true. You’re reading me wrong again.”

  He chuckled as though he knew she was lying. “Will you introduce me as your boyfriend?”

  She’d never consider him a boyfriend. The word was too juvenile to describe him. And she didn’t particularly care what her coworkers thought, except Chris. Greg didn’t approve of her new gig, insisting she was nuts. The fact that Chris hadn’t called her to talk about it meant they’d discussed it and he was on Greg’s side.

  “I haven’t signed the contract,” she shot back.

  Lex stopped right by the back entrance through which Jillian could see a pool and what looked like a tennis court to the far right.

  “This way,” he said, turned to face the hallway they’d come from, and groaned. “Mother.”

  “Darling,” a woman said. “I was sure you’d decided to leave us when I saw you take off a few minutes ago.”

  “And miss your party?”

  Jillian turned to see a middle-aged, exotic-looking woman in a designer outfit glide gracefully toward them. If she’d met her without Lex, Jillian would never have guessed she was old enough to be his mother. Her thick, black luxurious hair had not a single gray strand, her skin had a natural tan, and she was in great shape. From her coral pantsuit to her shoes, she had exquisite taste in everything designer. But her twinkling gray eyes said she was a woman who openly showered her children with love and didn’t care who knew it.

  “You’ve done it in the past, you impossible boy.” She stopped in front of them and turned her attention to Jillian. “He’d insisted he wouldn’t be available until a few days ago. I believe it’s you I need to thank for making him stay. I’m Estelle Valdez-Fitzgerald,” she added, giving Jillian her hand.

  “Jillian Finnegan. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Fitzgerald.”

  Jillian expected the usual scrutiny she often got from people in her business—a glance that catalogued the value of a dress and accessories. She was guilty of doing it, too. Her dress might pass scrutiny. She’d lucked out yesterday after scouring boutiques owned by not-yet-famous designers with a few Fashion Week shows under their belts. Her red-soled shoes might be high-end, but they were two years old.

  Mrs. Fitzgerald’s eyes only left Jillian’s face long enough to glance at their clasped hands and her handshake was warm.

  “I’m happy you could make it too, Jillian. Mingle and enjoy yourself, but promise we will talk before you leave. I’d like to know how you got to know my reclusive son and why I’ve never heard about you.”

  “We’ll be leaving soon, Mom,” Lex said before Jillian could respond.

  Estelle harrumphed. “No, you won’t. I want a chance to sit down and get to know this young lady.”

  “You will.” Lex leaned down and pressed a kiss on his mother’s cheek. “Just not tonight.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “We already have plans for tomorrow.” Lex glanced down at Jillian and added, “We’ll discuss it and find the perfect time for Jillian to visit.”

  Jillian nodded, but inside she was panicking. Things were moving too fast. “I’ll check my schedule. We might be filming in Vancouver next week.” Mrs. Fitzgerald frowned, not bothering to mask her disappointment. Jillian quickly added, “But I’ll make sure we get to talk, Mrs. Fitzgerald. Maybe I’ll learn a thing or two about Lex. He’s been rather mysterious about his past.”

  Lex’s mother laughed. “Oh, I like her, Lex. Come find me, dear.” She patted Jillian’s hand, then kissed Lex’s cheek and whispered something before waving and walking away.

  “My past?”

  “I had to say something. She looked so disappointed. Why don’t you want me to talk to her?”

  Instead of answering her, Lex led Jillian back toward the foyer. This time, she was all too aware of the stares and the whispers. Lex appeared oblivious. He pushed open a door that led to a pristine kitchen with two range ovens and a large rectangular table along with several side counters and an island. It was empty. She wondered who cooked for them. Mrs. Fitzgerald didn’t look like the cooking type.

  They went down another hallway, turned a corner, and entered a den or maybe a home office. Lex closed the door.

  “Alone at last,” he said, a devilish grin curling his lips.

  Jillian pretended not to hear him and tried to focus on the room, which was also paneled—wall, ceiling, and floor—with wood of the same golden color as the leather sofas. As always, her eyes kept going to Lex. He shrugged off his jacket and threw it on the arm of the sofa. Muscles shifted underneath the thin fabric. He had endless broad shoulders, masculine arms, and powerful thighs his tailored trousers couldn’t hide.

  He caught her eyes on him, and she said the first thing that popped in her head. “About your mother?”

  “Sit, please.” He tilted his head to indicate the sofa, sat, and leaned back, his eyes on her. “You’re worried over nothing,” he added, patting the seat. “I won’t let her grill you tonight.”

  Jillian sat on the edge of the sofa, too nervous to really relax. She gripped her clutch and plucked at the fabric. It was time to sign the contract, the point of no return, and she was a hot mess. It was the only way to help her family. Or so she kept telling herself.

  “My mother’s one of the smartest women I know,” Lex said. “She’ll want to know where we met and how long we’ve known each other, and she’ll detect a lie before it leaves your lips.”

  “You make her sound like a terrible person.”

  “She’s not terrible. She’s loving and selfless, but she’s also very shrewd. Stick to the truth as close as possible when you talk to her. Whatever you say, I’ll back you.”

  Lex draped his arm along the back of the sofa, and Jillian was happy she hadn’t leaned against the sofa. All that masculine energy was too much at close quarters. Taking a deep breath, she cast away her insecurities, glanced at him, and found him stud
ying her. “So why did you tell her we’d be leaving soon?”

  He tilted closer, grinning. “We just did. We’re no longer in the wing where they’re holding the party. They can’t hear us, and we can’t hear them. But if you want to go back, just say the word.”

  She couldn’t lie just to run away from his tempting presence. “Not yet. I do hope to see Chris tonight. He and Greg are not too pleased with my decision. Chris is also my uncle,” she explained.

  Lex’s expression became serious. “And their approval is vital to our agreement?”

  “Not really. Actually, I prefer if few people know the terms of our agreement.” Her voice rose in agitation. Even though she was agreeing to this, she wasn’t sure she could pull it off. The uncertainty scared her. Then there was Greg’s reaction. “Greg didn’t approve after he read it. He didn’t want to, uh, how had he put it? Enable me. But I’m happy with the wording.”

  “That’s because I drafted it without my lawyers. Like you, I’d like the terms of the contract kept private. Did you add any more changes?”

  ~*~

  Lex watched as Jillian nervously opened her purse and pulled out the single sheet. He wondered if she was getting cold feet.

  “Everything will be okay,” he reassured her.

  “Yeah, right,” she murmured.

  “I know for a fact that you will win over my mother, and the rest of my family will fall in line,” he said confidently.

  Her eyes flashed as she cut him a look. “You do know things don’t just fall into place because you will them to.”

  Now she was annoyed with him. “They usually do.”

  She let out an endearing snort and rolled her eyes. “That’s arrogance talking.”

  “No, that’s my ability to choose winners, and I chose you.”

  “Gee, lucky me,” she murmured.

  He laughed, loving her spunkiness. She was going to need it to deal with his family. But he’d be there to make things easy for her. Unable to help himself, Lex stole a lock of her hair. Silky and soft. He rubbed it between his fingers. Wariness entered her eyes, but she didn’t jerk away. He let her hair go and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.