by KyAnn Waters
“Thank you. But should you have left James alone?” she asked.
“He threatened to come to Miami for you if I didn’t.”
“James knows I’m coming home tomorrow.” Home. She’d called Brettonwood home. Damn, she was falling into this role far too easily.
Trent nodded. “I know, but he told me that my new bride shouldn’t be forced to travel in coach.”
Cassie narrowed her eyes. “Now I know you’re lying.”
He laughed. “Well, not totally. He said that it was time I took care of my business in Miami. He had to mean you.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re both nuts.”
“I’m serious.” He shrugged, eyes alight with mischief. “Those are his words. And he suggested we fly back home together tomorrow.”
Cassie shook her head.
“Truth is, Cassie, I suspect he wants to be sure our jobs aren’t keeping us apart.”
“Oh,” she said.
“I promised him I’d bring you home.” He sipped his champagne. His gaze lingered on her face then dipped lower.
Cassie warmed as he focused on the cultured rubies between her breasts. “They aren’t real.”
His gaze snapped to her eyes.
Open mouth, insert foot. “I mean the rubies aren’t real, the rest of me is.” Heat rushed into her cheeks. God, she was an idiot. Cassie tipped the champagne flute to her lips and took a big gulp.
“Two glasses of champagne in ten minutes. Watch it or you’ll get our girl buzzed.” Cassie groaned inwardly when Maryanne stepped between her and Trent. “Hi, I’m Maryanne.”
“Trent Weston.” He shook the hand she extended.
Cassie glimpsed the recognition that flickered in Maryanne’s eyes. “Mr. Trent Weston?” Her gaze shifted between Trent and Cassie. “You’re in Miami. You were so thrilled with the job Cassie did that you came here to thank her in person?”
“No, actually, I’m here on business.” His gaze shifted to Cassie. “If you have some time, I would like to discuss our current project.”
Maryanne’s brow pinched. “You didn’t mention another project.”
“It’s not what you think,” Cassie said, quick to assure her that she wasn’t planning her own projects outside of Daley. “It’s more of a personal project.”
Maryanne’s lips formed an O. “Then I’ll leave you to discuss whatever it is you need to discuss.” She winked at Cassie. “Besides, I know the bartender. Hope he’s still single.” She fluffed her red hair with her fingers. “He worked for me about a year ago.”
“What about mixing business with pleasure?” Cassie said.
Maryanne shrugged. “He doesn’t work for me anymore. Besides, this is your event, not mine.” She sauntered toward the bar.
“Maryanne Daley isn’t what I expected,” Trent said.
“She can be overwhelming.” And completely the opposite of Cassie. Maryanne wore more eyeliner and makeup than a drag queen. Eccentric might be too mild a word, but she was damn good at what she did. Cassie turned her attention to Trent. “We need to talk.” She headed to an empty table near the wall and away from the crowds. Trent followed. Nervous energy coiled in her gut. They reached the table and he held the chair out for her.
She sat and met Trent’s gaze. “I have some concerns.”
He lowered himself into the chair to her left. “About?”
“You shouldn’t be here.” He was doing too much for her, going out of his way to try and please her, which kept him in her thoughts. And she was thinking about him, wondering what he was doing, but more importantly, what she would do if she fell in love. She wasn’t sure she wasn’t already half in love with him. “We both know what’s going on between us, and it’s a mistake.”
He pulled his chair close to hers. “What do you think is going on between us?”
He stared hard into her eyes. For a moment she couldn’t think, could barely breathe. Oh yeah, she was in trouble. Mistake or not, she was attracted to him. During the day, she thought about him and at night she dreamed about him. Graphic, erotic, curl her toes dreams that left her frustrated when she woke.
“You’re blurring the lines between business and personal,” she said.
“You mean like this?” Trent curled his fingers around her neck and pulled her closer until their mouths touched. She closed her eyes and kissed him back. His tongue slipped into her mouth, deepening the kiss.
They parted. Her heart had jumped to a gallop. “We both know how this is going to end,” she said.
He traced a finger along her cheek. “I don’t want to worry about tomorrow. For the first time in my life, tomorrow has too many uncertainties. Right now, I want to be with you.”
Her heart thundered louder. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?
“Dance with me?” He stood and extended a hand.
She frowned. “Dance?”
He grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet, then strode toward the dance floor. She nearly ran to keep up. A dozen couples on the dance floor twisted and turned to the salsa beat.
“You want to dance to this?” she asked as Trent pulled her in beside another couple.
“Absolutely.” He spun her.
Black lights and strobes flickered, the seductive pulse pounded, and she followed Trent’s lead. Simple moves had her turning into his arms. His hands splayed wide on her back as he dipped her low, then slowly brought her up and pressed her tightly to his chest. They shifted, grinding their hips together as they swiveled low.
More couples crowded onto the dance floor. The room grew warmer, or maybe it was just her, reveling in the intoxicating rush of Trent’s body. Her heart raced when his thigh sliced between hers through the slit in her dress.
He pulled her tighter, crushing her close, and slanted his mouth over hers. The warmth of lips sparked a desire deep in her core. Hot, wet, demanding. He took possession of her mouth. His right hand drifted lower onto her ass, lifting her against his hardened cock. A low moan rolled from her chest. Her head fell back and he trailed kisses along the flesh of her neck.
The song came to an end. Cassie clung to Trent’s neck. Her head spun.
He nuzzled her ear. “How about a drink?”
Sweat dampened the loose tendrils of her hair and her pulse raced. She nodded and he kept an arm around her as they made their way to the bar. Maryanne laughed with the bartender, but the smile she directed at Cassie let Cassie know she’d seen the dance—and the kisses.
“A mojito, please,” Cassie said to the bartender.
Trent held up two fingers.
Maryanne mouthed, Very nice.
Cassie narrowed her eyes and gave a slight shake to her head, hoping Maryanne received the message that the topic of Trent was not open for discussion.
“Personal project?” Maryanne winked at Trent.
Cassie inwardly groaned. If her message was received, it was ignored.
“You two look great together on the dance floor. The photographer thought so too. And still does.” Maryanne indicated the wedding photographer snapping another picture of the three of them.
“Of all that is unholy.” Cassie slid from the seat. “I’ll be right back.”
For a renowned photographer he should know better. He couldn’t claim he didn’t know she wasn’t a guest. Cassie had hired him.
As she approached, he refocused his camera on the wedding party.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Excuse me?”
“The bride and groom are going to want pictures of their guests, not the event planner,” she said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He had the nerve to pretend he hadn’t just taken her picture.
“Just point your camera in that direction.” She nodded at the bride and groom, who were seated at their table. “The bride and groom expect to know the people in the pictures.”
“They know you,” Isaac said. “I can think of several people who would be interested
in my pictures. There are some high profile guests here tonight.”
Cassie closed the space between them. “We have a contract. A contract that clearly states the Bello family owns all copyrights on the wedding photos.” Because of the senator, professional athlete, and famous singer, Cassie had made sure all employees associated with the event signed confidentiality agreements.
“Absolutely,” he said. “The wedding photos belong to Eterio.”
“Do your job,” she flatly stated. Cassie pivoted on her heels and a different kind of dread settled in her belly. Maryanne’s hands were moving a mile a minute, and Trent laughed at the words spilling from her lips.
Please don’t be talking about me. Please don’t be talking about me.
Cassie rejoined them.
“I was shocked when she finally pulled up to the church,” Maryanne was saying. “She had all eight groomsmen with her!” Maryanne and Trent laughed, and she added, “They just kept spilling out of her little car.”
“Okay, no more stories.” Cassie stepped between them.
Trent shifted closer, claiming her with a hand around her waist. The warmth of his palm penetrated the fabric of her dress and she wanted to melt into the carpet.
“Did you give him hell, the way you did Calhoun?” His lips twitched into a smile.
“My list of pet peeves is much longer than my list of virtues. Incompetence is at the top of the list.” She sipped her mojito.
“I’ve experienced your virtues.”
Maryanne’s eyebrows shot up. “Now that is a story I would like to hear.”
Trent laughed. “I’d say tenacity is at the top of her list of virtues. At our first meeting, she immediately started giving me orders.”
“That wasn’t my fault. He looked like a delivery guy not a….” She wanted to say sexy billionaire playboy. She shifted to meet his gaze. “I guess I didn’t expect Mr. Trent Weston to be wearing torn jeans and a t-shirt.” She hadn’t expected hard steel and sex appeal, either. Or dark lashes framing brown eyes. Her gaze shifted to his white teeth, visible behind his slightly parted lips. She touched her tongue to her lip, remembering the taste of his kiss.
He touched her cheek. “It’s getting late. Come home with me tonight.”
Home? Brettonwood? She shifted her head, hoping Maryanne couldn’t see her face and telepathed with her eyes, You can’t talk about ‘home’ here.
“Go on, Cassie,” Maryanne said. “I’m sure Trent’s Miami home is as nice as his Colorado home—well, maybe not. You don’t have a castle in Miami, do you, Trent?”
To Cassie’s relief, he laughed and said, “No. In fact, my Florida residence is in the Keys.”
“Ohh, the Keys. There you go, Cassie. A couple of days in the Keys will do you good. Well, you two work it out. This party is about wrapped for the night. I know where I’ll be once the bar closes.” She winked at Derrick.
Cassie shook her head. “Sorry, but I have to be here early to set up and oversee brunch. The clients insist on my being here on premises for the duration of the festivities, so I’m staying at the hotel tonight.”
He angled his head. “I understand. At least dance with me once more before I go.”
Caught between a rock and the devil. If it were anyone else, she would say yes without hesitation. To refuse would only put Maryanne more on alert than she already was. The thought of spending the night with Trent appealed far more than Cassie was ready to admit, and dancing with him would simply tempt her too much. She wondered if Trent didn’t suspect that as well.
Cassie smiled. “Sure. One last dance. But I’m tired enough that I might step on your toes.”
Mischief twinkled in his eyes. “I’m tough.”
The seductive lights pulsed with the slow tempo of the sultry song that began to play over the speakers. Trent led her onto the dance floor and folded her into his arms. Warmth seeped from his body into hers. Winding her arms around his neck, she pressed close against his chest. His fingers splayed across the bare skin of her back. The scent of his musky cologne surrounded her. With every breath and every sway of his body, need warred with emotion. Damn him. Heat pooled in her belly and flowed through her sex. A little kiss wouldn’t kill her. Lifting her head, she kissed his neck, grazing her lips over the slight stubble of his jaw. Trent bent his head and kissed her. His mouth opened, demanding entrance to hers. She returned his kiss with equal enthusiasm
When they parted, Trent rested his forehead against hers. “You know I would have you back here early.”
“I know.”
“You don’t even have to tell Maryanne.”
“I know,” she said again. “But under that list of virtues is being a practical woman. Sex complicates a relationship, and it violates our contract, if you recall.”
“So that’s two points in the contract I should have negotiated better.”
Cassie couldn’t help a laugh.
He sighed, resting his hands on her shoulders, then caressed his fingertips along her arm until he held her hands. “Walk me out?”
She nodded. Her heart felt heavy as they strolled toward the front of the hotel.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. “Whenever you’re ready, we’ll fly home.”
“You really don’t have to—”
“Yes I do,” he cut in. “Granddad would never forgive me if I came home without you.”
She nodded, not trusting her voice. Words she shouldn’t say, emotions she shouldn’t feel, desires she shouldn’t want all simmered too close to the surface.
They paused in the hotel foyer. He leaned in and kissed her, lingering a moment. She relished the pressure of his lips, the taste of his tongue.
He broke the kiss and said, “Do you want to call me when you’re ready? I’ll have the jet standing by.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. Then he left.
Cassie made her way back to the ballroom. Maryanne and Derrick chatted at the bar. The DJ was wrapping up his final set and the crowd had thinned. The crew would clean up. She might as well go to her room. To what? Emptiness. Cassie began stacking glasses and plates on one table and removed the linens from each cleaned table. If she was at Brettonwood, she would check in on James and probably find him awake and reading with Annie. Cassie and Trent would talk, maybe snuggle in front of the fire, and then they would go to bed.
Regret washed over her. Why had she let him leave? Because spending the night with him was going to mess her up emotionally—more than she was already messed up. God, who was she kidding? The guy was amazing. Regardless of whether or not she slept with him, it was going to hurt when they parted. She’d already fallen for him.
Maryanne approached with Derrick. They reached her side and Maryanne said, “We’re taking off.” She glanced around. “Where’s Trent?”
“On his way home.” Her stomach did a little tumble. Would she be any worse off if she did spend the night with him?
“Tomorrow we talk,” Maryanne said.
“My schedule is clear for the next week. I’m going to take a little time for myself,” Cassie said.
“With Trent I hope.”
“Trent is strictly business.” And he was. Even if she allowed him into her bed, it wasn’t like he was going to fall in love with her.
“Whatever.” Maryanne kissed Cassie on the cheek and gave her a quick hug. “Get some rest.”
That’s what she needed. Cassie left the dirty tables and did a final kitchen check. She grabbed her little handbag and cell phone from a cubby in the kitchen office then made her way into the hotel gift shop. Once she’d picked up her supplies, she walked to the elevators.
Her thoughts swirled around Trent. The way his voice sent a shiver along her spine, the way his touch caused a quiver in her belly and how his kiss made her ache for more.
She arrived at her floor. Her cell phone felt warm in her hand. Fear flashed through her and her fingers trembled as she touched the faceplate, pulled up her contacts, and touched Trent’s name. The
phone rang as she opened her hotel room door. His voice filled her ears. Her throat tightened.
“Are you okay?” He sounded concerned.
Tears burned behind Cassie’s eyes. “Yes, I’m okay. I-I…Are you home yet?” Her voice trembled. What was she doing? Acting on impulse, following her heart or just being reckless?
“Cassie, what’s wrong?”
She closed her eyes and images of Trent filled her vision. Her words echoed through her mind. Sex complicates a relationship.
“I’m turning around. I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” he said. “What room are you in?”
She hesitated a moment, then said, “Room 2025.”
Chapter Fifteen
Trent checked his watch. Driving fifteen miles per hour over the speed limit, he cut twenty-minutes to twelve. He handed the hotel valet a Benjamin and the keys to his Mercedes, then strode inside to the elevators and punched the button. What had happened in the few minutes between his departure and Cassie’s call? The elevator doors finally opened, but he was forced to wait until a couple got off before he could enter. Once inside, he pressed the button for the twentieth floor. Trent loosened his tie as he ascended. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. The elevator doors opened on her floor, then he strode down the hallway, located her door and knocked.
A moment later she opened the door.
“What happened? What’s wrong?” He brushed past her into the room.
The door clicked closed followed by the click of the lock. She leaned against the door, her gaze meeting his. “I can handle complicated.” She lowered her gaze, her lashes sweeping down. And then she stared into his eyes. “Can you?”
In three steps he had her pressed against the door, one hand braced against the door and the other around her waist. Lips crashed against lips. He kissed her, deep, passionate and with total possession. Shifting his hand, he cradled her breast in his palm. Trent rasped his thumb over her turgid nipple through the silken fabric of her dress. His cock stretched and hardened so quickly he was nearly in pain. He pressed his erection against the apex of her thighs.