by Mia Dymond
Her cheeks actually pinkened but her gaze never wavered from his. “Desperate times, desperate measures, and all that jazz,” she mumbled.
***
Rachel motioned to a chair beside her desk then sat in her own. Hawke spun the chair around and straddled it.
“Would you like me to dim the lights?” she asked, her eyes twinkling in amusement.
He tilted his head in confusion.
“Your sunglasses,” she explained.
Hawke grinned at her humor and removed the glasses. “Ms. Newberry–“
Soft green eyes full of sincerity caressed his when she spoke. ”Rachel, please. After all, I think we’re past polite introductions.”
“Rachel then,” he amended. “You didn’t stick around last night.”
She studied him for a moment, then folded her hands and gave him a half smile. “Can we just pretend last night never happened?”
He paused to consider her question. Could she forget about the interaction between them? Crouched between his legs, her hands dangerously close to giving them both a night to remember didn’t even leave an impression?
“You really want to forget about that?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Most definitely. And I can honestly say I’ve never been in that position before.”
“I have,” he mumbled.
Rachel’s mouth dropped open and Hawke realized too late what had just slipped from his lips. Yet even in her state of shock, electricity crackled between them. Her soft, pale facial features taunted him, dared him to run his thumb across her full, pouty bottom lip. Her clear, emerald eyes reminded him of a prowling tigress and reached deep into his soul to steal his thoughts.
“Well,” She cleared her throat. “Tell me about your plans.”
Hawke forced his mind back on business. House plans. The reason she thinks I’m here. “I don’t really have anything in mind. I’m just in the market for real estate.”
“Since you’re here, I’m assuming that means you’re interested in building a house.”
“Yes.”
Rachel lowered her eyes and scribbled on a note pad. “Will you spend much time there?”
Every single hour of every single day if she were around. “A lot.”
Her head snapped to an upright position, as if she were startled by his admission. “You plan to live here?”
Hawke’s confidence rose a few points. He now had her full attention. “You’re surprised?”
“I assumed you spent most of your time working.”
“I’ve decided to slow down and pursue some other interests.”
Other interests like the sexy, young creature sitting across the desk from him. Her beauty held him hostage each time he looked at her, set him off kilter, and left him with a bad case of cottonmouth.
“What about real estate?” she continued. “Is there a particular area you’re interested in?”
“No, I haven’t had much time to check it out yet. Any ideas?”
“I design quite a few homes in Pacific Valley Heights.” She slid a colorful brochure across the desk. “The community is exclusive and expertly gated. If you’re interested, we need to make application quickly. The committee meets once a week.”
He gave her a playful wink. “Think I’ll pass inspection?”
“You won’t have any problems.”
He flipped through the brochure without really paying much attention then glanced back at her. “Do you live there?”
She pursed her lips. “No.”
Hawke shifted as he caught a note of avoidance in her tone.
“Where are you staying in the meantime?” she continued, pointedly changing the subject.
“I have a suite at Escondrijo Deserte.”
The beginning of a smile tipped the corners of her mouth. “Desert Hideaway. Very nice place. An appropriate camouflage for someone of your notoriety.”
Mesmerized by the warmth and silkiness of her voice, Hawke felt himself being sucked deep into a sea of desire. And he would kill the person who even thought to throw him a life preserver. “Have dinner with me.”
“What?” She gave him a blank stare, her eyes once again wide in amazement.
“Dinner. You do eat, right?” he teased.
“You want to have dinner with me,” she repeated slowly.
“Yes, Rachel, dinner.”
“Only dinner.”
For now. “Yes.”
Rachel tilted her head to one side as if trying to process his invitation. “Forgive me. It has been my experience that men like you tend to expect a little more than dinner.”
Hawke frowned. An insult? “Men like me?”
“Yeah, prominent, successful, used to getting what you want.”
If she even had half an idea of what he really wanted, she’d turn him down and run. “So, you’ll go?”
She smiled and shrugged. “Sure.” She pushed her paperwork to the side and stood to shoulder a handbag resting on the corner of the desk. “Somehow I don’t think you’d settle for McDonald’s, so I know a place. Maybe you’ll be more comfortable away from Cameron.”
“Is anyone comfortable around her?”
She giggled and he almost came undone. That one breathy little sound made his libido tap dance. “Cameron’s harmless,” she assured him. “A little overbearing but harmless. In fact, we work as a team. You’ve hired both of us. She’s a very talented interior designer.”
“Cameron?” Hawke slid his glasses back in place. Somehow he couldn’t picture her peacefully painting in a corner somewhere. “The same woman who slid past Max at the concert?”
Rachel frowned. “Max?”
“My security manager. The one sitting in your front office. Apparently you two met at the gate.”
Her cheeks turned bright red yet she managed to ignore his push for information and redirect the conversation. “Actually, you and Cameron could probably work out a trade.”
Hawke opened the door and motioned her through. “Trade?”
She nodded and reached around him to pull the door closed. “She has a major crush on your drummer.”
Hawke followed Rachel back into the lobby, relieved to see Max in one piece. That would’ve been hell to explain.
Max eased himself from the sofa. “Where to?”
“Dinner,” Hawke answered.
Cameron’s eyebrows climbed her forehead.
Rachel shrugged. “Would you like to join us, Cameron?”
Cameron grinned. “No thanks. You forget I have a warm, willing male waiting for me at home.”
“Suit yourself,” Max muttered just before he opened the front door.
Rachel frowned. “Who?”
Cameron folded her arms across her chest. “You know who.”
Rachel paused for a minute and tossed her hands in the air. “Of course! Maxwell,
your ca—”
“Have fun, Rachel.” Cameron stood from the couch. “And call me when you get home.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The ride to the restaurant was a true test in restraint for Hawke. Seated inches away from him, Rachel sat quietly with her hands folded in her lap. Meanwhile, he fisted his own hands in an attempt to keep them to himself. He swallowed another dose of irritation. Normally there would be a whole lot of touchy feely going on between them by now. Yet, she appeared relaxed and not the least bit interested in anything other than casual conversation.
“Romero’s is just up the next hill, Max,” she said into the silence.
Hawke turned to look out the window. Romero’s Elegancia sat at the top of a hill overlooking the sleepy desert below. The two-story, adobe building was the only structure in the area, surrounded on all four sides by a wooden fence. Tonight, bright moonlight bounced off the water feature in front, streaming a path to the front door where waiters in white evening jackets waited to greet each guest. Rachel was exactly right, this place wasn’t McDonald’s.
“Take the second left,” Rachel said into the da
rkness. “We can go in the back entrance.”
Max steered to the back of the restaurant, stopped beneath a green canopy, and then opened the back passenger door. He gave Hawke a nod. “Call me when you’re finished.”
Rachel gave Max a smile. “You’re welcome to join us.” Max
offered Rachel a hand and lifted her from the car. “Thank you, Miss Newberry, but Hawke can handle this on his own.”
“Rachel,” she said softly.
Hawke raised an eyebrow. Would Max take the bait?
With his usual lack of emotion, Max nodded. “Rachel. I’ll wait out here.”
Hawke exited behind Rachel to find her already in conversation with the maitre de. “Hello, Manuel, nice to see you again.”
“Buenos Noches, Rachel. Would you like your usual table?”
Rachel nodded and Manuel led them to a corner table upstairs, away from the crowd.
“Obviously you come here often,” Hawke said.
“I’ve been here a few times,” she admitted as he pulled a chair out for her. She turned to look around the area. “Why do I think this isn’t a coincidence?”
He shot her a wicked grin as he sat opposite her. “I called ahead.”
She arched one fine eyebrow. “Before you asked me to dinner?”
“I had high hopes,” he teased.
He watched as her face paled and she shuddered ever so slightly. “No, really, Rachel, I didn’t have a reservation.”
He signaled the waiter who arrived shortly with wine in hand. Hawke poured two glasses then leaned back casually in his chair, amazed at what an enigma Rachel presented. Not only was she physically beautiful, she was gentle and extremely intelligent. Not his usual mark.
Rachel lifted her glass and downed half of the scarlet liquid before he could take his first swallow. He watched her set the glass back on the table and then focus her gaze on his chest. He looked down to see what held her attention and noticed his shirt had managed to free itself from several buttons, exposing smooth, bare skin. He glanced back at her and saw her nipples tighten beneath her silky blouse.
“Hungry?”
She snapped her eyes from his chest and met his head on. The look he found told him she wasn’t hungry, she was starved.
He felt himself harden and opted for casual conversation. “You didn’t say whether you enjoyed the concert.”
Rachel lifted her glass again and swallowed the remaining contents before she spoke. “Actually, I learned a few things.”
“Really?” His interest piqued. “This is the first time I’ve ever been told my show was educational.”
“I found out several things.” Her sparkling eyes flashed in the candlelight. “I discovered that your security guard is a breast man, and that most women are not there to hear the music. But most importantly, I learned that it’s perfectly acceptable to go to a rock concert bare-bottomed with my panties in my pocket.”
Hawke choked on his wine, coughing as the liquid fire burned the back of his throat and the vision of Rachel without panties knocked him on his ass.
“Don’t mind me, Hawke.” She handed him a napkin. “Sometimes I’m a little too matter-of-fact for my own good. Brains instead of beauty.”
He stopped sopping the wine from his shirt. “What?”
“I said, brains instead of beauty. Brainiacs like me tend to be quite verbal.”
“Who told you that?”
“No one.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “Forget it.”
“Whoever said that was a blind idiot,” he mumbled as he tossed the wet napkin on the table.
A waiter appeared out of nowhere with several napkins. Within seconds, Hawke was dry and dinner was ordered.
“Look, Hawke.” Rachel folded her arms across her chest and leaned back in her chair. “It’s very sweet of you to compliment me, but it’s not necessary. I know the score. I’m not the party girl you saw at the bar. Cameron decided I needed a night out, that’s all. Gorgeous, successful, famous men like you hang slinky beautiful supermodels from their arms. Not women like me.”
Hawke tossed her words back and forth in his mind. She honestly believed every word she said. And if he disagreed, he risked cementing her warped image of him.
“You think I’m gorgeous?”
She eyed him narrowly from across the table. “I forgot egotistical.”
He unfolded her arms, took her hand in his, and braided their fingers. “I thought you were beautiful when I first saw you last night, even more so when you extracted me from the jaws of death, and absolutely breathtaking tonight.”
Rachel’s eyes bounced from their enjoined hands into his eyes. He witnessed her inner battle as she digested his compliment. Believe me.
“Thank you,” she said finally. “You’ve probably worked very hard to perfect that line.”
Hawke frowned at her response. She was genuinely oblivious to the extent of her beauty. And her brains doubled the effect. But what was more incredible was her belief that he was feeding her a line. Fine. He’d go along.
He laughed lightly. “It’s my best one.”
Hawke reached for his glass again, almost hurt by her accusation. And why the hell was he so concerned? He took a long drink and glanced around the room in an effort to reel in his unusual irritation. Only, much to his dismay, things would not get better anytime soon. A cold chill climbed all thirty three vertebrae of his spine when he spotted two reasons for Rachel’s conclusion walking straight toward him, dressed to the nines with tanned skin and cleavage leading the way.
He set his wineglass on the table and glanced at Rachel to see if she’d noticed. I told you so resonated from the depths of her eyes but she only shrugged.
Hawke actually grimaced when the two women stopped at the table. He took a deep breath and stood. His only option now was to see how this played out.
“Hawke,” the tall blonde purred, “I had no idea you were still in town.”
Hawke planted a brief kiss on her cheek. “Hello, Ava. I decided to stick around after the show this time.” He leaned to greet the second, red-headed woman in the same manner. “Nice to see you too, Erica.”
Ava moved her gaze to Rachel. “Business or pleasure?”
Before he could set Ava straight, Rachel scooted back her chair and stood to extend a hand. “Business,” Rachel answered for him. “Rachel Newberry.”
Ava’s lips split into a grin as she halfway shook Rachel’s hand. “Is that what you call it these days, Hawke?”
Hawke’s eyes widened and for the very first time in his life, he didn’t have a clue how to respond. Again, Rachel beat him to the punch.
“I can assure you we really are discussing business.”
Ava narrowed her violet eyes, obviously suspicious. “What kind of business?”
Hawke waited a split second to see if Rachel would once again intervene and then realized she couldn’t. His own confidentiality agreement prevented it. Damn, where was his back-up?
“Hawke.” Rachel laid her hand on his forearm. “Why don’t you tell Ava about the real estate development venture you’re interested in.”
Warmth seeped into his skin and spread over his body. Rachel was sheer genius.
Hawke smiled at Ava and Erica. “Would you ladies like to join us and hear about it?”
Ava didn’t hesitate. “I think not, Hawke. You know I find that kind of talk boring. Besides, we’re meeting someone.”
“It was very nice to meet the two of you,” Rachel said as she sat back down.
Ava gave Rachel a cursory glance. “You too.”
She leaned to place a kiss on Hawke’s cheek. “You know the number if you get tired of real estate.”
Hawke didn’t answer, relieved when Ava and Erica wiggled out of sight.
He sat down with a whole new respect for Rachel’s intelligence. “How did you know she wouldn’t want to talk real estate?”
Rachel lifted one shoulder. “Lucky guess.”
“Well, you’re
right. Ava doesn’t talk business much.”
Rachel lowered her head for a quick moment and then lifted it. “Did you know approximately two million women in the U.S. have breast implants?”
Hawke paused. How was he supposed to answer that? And more importantly, should he?
“Umm—”
“And,” she continued, oblivious to his hesitance, “6% end up having them removed.”
Again, Hawke sat silent. Only, this time he let his gaze drop to her chest. He didn’t even have to ask. Nothing implanted there. And the result was absolute perfection.
He raised his gaze and cleared his throat, hoping his next response would satisfy her. “Really?”
She nodded. “Yes. The American Medical Association monitors those surgeries closely.”
Hawke shifted. Somehow the talk of breasts, implants or real, had him achy and uncomfortable. And his position wasn’t helped much when his mind flashed visions of yanking Rachel out of her chair, plastering her to the table, ripping open her blouse and sampling hers right then and there. Luckily, the waiter arrived with dinner and both he and Rachel were preoccupied with eating.
Throughout the meal, Hawke carefully kept conversation light and far away from anatomy. Much to his relief, Rachel seemed to relax and forget all about the earlier events of the evening.
As soon as the plates were cleared, Hawke pulled his cell phone from his pocket, dialed and then asked Max to meet them at the back door. “How about a moonlight stroll?” he suggested after he disconnected.
Rachel placed her napkin on the table. “As nice as that sounds, Hawke, I’m afraid I’ll have to pass. I’ve got some things to finish back at the office.”
“You work long hours,” he said carefully as he helped her from the chair.
A small smile of enchantment touched her lips. “Yes.”
“Maybe next time,” he suggested, escorting her back out of the restaurant and into the car.
“Hawke,” she began hesitantly as Max drove to Newberry & Tremaine, “I’m sure there are plenty of women waiting for you at the hotel who would love to take a moonlight stroll.”
He snickered in the darkness. “You’ve read too many tabloids.”