by Calista Fox
I turned and joined him at one of the pretty glass-top tables set for two. Candles were lit all around us. I heard for the first time the sultry sound of muted trumpets and the soul-stirring wail of a saxophone drifting on the night air. I couldn’t seem to notice anything beyond him when he stood next to me.
Dane held out a chair for me, then sat at the opposite side of the table. Another tuxedo-clad man appeared and gently placed a linen napkin in my lap and offered me champagne.
“That would be nice. Thank you.” He disappeared. I asked Dane, “Isn’t this a bit much, a bit unorthodox? I mean, for a job interview…?”
Though I supposed it wasn’t totally unconventional. I’d had plenty of dinners and lunches with prospective clients. We usually sealed the deal over dessert and espresso.
With his sigh-worthy grin, he said, “I like it when you’re all breathless and wide-eyed. I thought this place might do that to you.”
“You think it’s the hotel?”
His grin turned devilish. Something sexy and evocative flickered in his eyes. A shiver ran down my spine. I was perfectly aware I was playing with fire—and could easily get burned. But I couldn’t seem to help myself.
The server returned a few minutes later with a freestanding chiller.
“Watch this,” Dane said, a hint of intrigue in his voice. “Miyanaga is an expert at serving champagne.”
The other man stood back from the table and made a production out of removing the foil and wire cage with precise movements. Then he whipped out a short sword from the sheath I hadn’t even realized was strapped to his waist. He pointed the bottle toward the grounds, away from us, and placed the blade flat against the seam, sliding it slowly up to the flange. Then he swiftly and efficiently sabered the neck.
The cork went flying, Miyanaga bowed, and I clapped enthusiastically. I was certain someone had been hired specifically to retrieve the corks from the courtyard—and probably had a haughty French title to go with the position.
To Dane, I said, “How’d I know this wouldn’t be a normal evening?”
chapter 4
Mischief made Dane’s eyes sparkle. “Life’s too short to settle for normal.”
I cringed. I was normal. There was absolutely nothing extraordinary about me. Except that I could take ten hodgepodge ideas and turn them into one glamorous or intimate spot-on wedding.
Yet the way Dane looked at me, the way he watched me, made me feel as though he actually did find something fascinating here. I wished he’d tell me what it was.
Miyanaga wrapped a linen napkin around the bottle and splashed a sample of champagne into a delicate flute for me to sip.
“Cristal,” I ventured, having a fairly defined palate, given my profession.
He revealed the label and I nodded my approval. He poured for both of us.
Dane tipped the rim of his glass to mine and said, “To your health—à votre santé.”
Miyanaga returned the bottle to the bucket and asked, “May I serve?”
My very sexy host gave me a keen look. I nodded again.
We started with Blue Point oysters, which happened to be my favorite variety; perhaps I’d mentioned that in the bridal magazine feature?
As I sprinkled the shallot-and-red-wine vinaigrette on one, I asked, “Why’d you choose Sedona for the Lux?”
“The seclusion of the canyons. I like the temperate, sometimes moody weather as well, and the fact that we’re far removed from a bright-lights-big-city atmosphere, where guests can lose themselves in the beauty of their surroundings without too much hindrance from the outside world.”
I knew from experience that cell reception in this general area was sketchy. And calls dropped farther along the outskirts of town where the signals were nil, particularly in the box canyons. Every time I worked a wedding at the Enchantment Resort, not far from here, I had to use resort-issued walkie-talkies to communicate with staff and critical bridal-party points of contact, because our cells were useless. Even in the age of smartphones and satellite service. Some claimed it was a result of our infamous vortices. I just figured we lacked for towers.
Oysters were followed by the richest, creamiest lobster bisque in small, artsy bowls. Next came an exquisite salad of heirloom beets, goat cheese, figs, and pecans.
Our entreé arrived and my stomach did a little happy dance over bone-in rib eye with the most aromatic crab béarnaise sauce drizzled over the prime cut, and accompanied by grilled asparagus spears.
“Oooh.” I all but salivated when the plate was set before me.
As if Dane didn’t serve as the most exciting stimulant known to womankind, he sent me over the edge with decadent aphrodisiacs. Between him and the food, I practically melted off my chair. I knew he was trying to impress me with the chef’s talents, but Dane’s selections were all at the top of my list. Prompting me to ask, “How did you know…?”
He gave a wicked smirk that did me in. I had to tamp down the moan bubbling in my throat. And what continued to happen between my legs was altogether scandalous.
Dane said, “I do my homework. I never enter negotiations without knowing exactly what I’m getting into and exactly what I want to get out of it.”
I stared at him, completely caught off guard. Why was he so good at that when I’d devoted so much time to being cognizant of any potential surprise coming my way?
“I didn’t realize we were in the midst of negotiations,” I said, my tone tentative. “We haven’t really talked about the position.”
He sliced smoothly into his steak, chewed a bit, washed it down with champagne. Meanwhile, my stomach begged for the same, but apprehension whirled within me and I set aside my flatware.
Dane frowned. “I had that specially prepared for you.”
“I’m aware of that and I appreciate the gesture,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant, though my pulse was totally off the charts. Clearly, he’d learned enough about me to know my preferences. Though flattering, it was a bit unsettling.
I took a sip of champagne, then asked, “Why am I here?” I gazed expectantly at him.
As casual as could be, he said, “I want you to work for me, of course.” He gave a half shrug of his broad shoulders and added, “We’ll have to figure out the rest, naturally.”
The rest aroused my interest even more than the job offer and sent a wave of heat rushing through me. But I focused on the first issue at hand.
“Doing what, specifically?”
“Events Director. In charge of everything. Reporting straight to me.”
My palms turned clammy. I wrung them in the napkin in my lap.
“I think there’s been a mistake in HR. I applied for the manager position.”
“And I see you as the director.”
I swallowed hard. My mouth turned as dry as dust. I reached for my champagne and sipped. Then I started small. “Events Director with no VP above me?”
“No. Just me.”
And damn if that little sentiment didn’t hold all kinds of innuendo. Didn’t help that lust, raw and intense, flashed in his eyes. I swear he fought a suggestive crooking of his brow.
I returned my glass to the table because my fingers trembled. I brimmed with a burning desire unlike anything I’d ever known. And he hadn’t even touched me.
“So, um…” I tried to concentrate on the topic on deck. It was next to impossible to get my mind moving in the right direction, but thankfully, I spoke coherently. “I don’t think I have the qualifications for something of that magnitude.”
Sure, I’d pulled off some amazing weddings, but I still needed to cut my teeth on other functions. And the Delfino-Aldridge soiree was the largest one I’d handled so far. 10,000 Lux would host thousands of celebrity and other VIP guests. I wasn’t on par with that. In fact, the mere thought scared the shit out of me as much as it excited me.
“Ari,” he said as he leaned forward with a serious look on his face. I got lost in his deep-green eyes for a few moments. He continued, despi
te my mental stammering that matched the crazed beating of my heart. “Anthony Delfino is a very, very important man. One of the wealthiest in the country. You skillfully executed an event under the intense scrutiny of someone significant. A man who wouldn’t want a hint of a flaw to mar his only daughter’s big day.”
“He has two other receptions planned,” I informed Dane. “One at his home in Scottsdale and another at the Plaza. He didn’t ask me to coordinate either. And, the truth is, the Aldridges had heard of me from friends. Of course they’d hire me.”
With a sharp shake of his head, Dane said, “Don’t for a second think that Anthony Delfino would go along with anyone’s suggestion without investigating all possibilities and coming to his own conclusions. He was the one footing the bill, after all. He could have easily flown in a premier planner from New York. Delfino chose you. The additional receptions are basically for networking purposes, a great way to appease and connect with business associates. Also,” he continued rather forcefully, “his little girl’s happiness on her wedding day would be nothing to discount. He wouldn’t risk it.”
Dane’s intensity was enthralling. My breathing slowed to a paltry crawl.
He added, “Once again, I’ve done my research.” His tone became more insistent, ever more entrancing. “This is the position I want you in, Ari.”
Events Director? Beneath him? Both?
Needing a moment to collect myself, I pulled a classic avoidance move by digging into my steak. When I felt his gaze boring into me, I said, “I’m not really sure about this.”
As much as his job offer, and everything else about him, enticed me, I had to admit I wasn’t ready for something on this scale. Something so … grandiose.
Dane sat back, obviously knowing he’d pushed boundaries. He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and extracted a dark-gray envelope that matched his business card, though larger and rectangular in shape. He set it on the table.
My full name—Aria Lynne DeMille—was neatly, artistically centered in the middle.
“I’ve set the date for the grand opening. New Year’s Eve. We’ll start off the new year—the first year for 10,000 Lux—with a huge bash the night before. I want you in charge of it, and all the associated functions leading up to it, including the soft launch and the press events. And think of the weddings and galas we’ll host here.” With two fingers, he pushed the envelope toward me. “Take a peek.” The flicker of excitement in his eyes had curiosity clawing at me.
I wasn’t sure this was a sane path to travel. But I couldn’t stop myself from reaching for the envelope. I untucked the flap and withdrew the matching card inside.
There was nothing on it, save for two numbers, centered as my name had been and stacked on top of each other. Figures that made my heart nearly leap from my chest.
I tore my gaze from the cardstock and asked, “Are there typos here?”
He smirked again. “No typos.”
“You’re serious?”
He nodded. “First one’s an annual salary. I also provide a rich benefits package, including free golf for my senior executive team, of which you’d be a part.”
My brow dipped. Did he know who my dad was?
Not missing a beat, Dane added, “The second figure is your yearly budget.”
“Oh.” Wow. My fingers trembled again as I held the note card.
“Consider your environment, Ari.” He spread his arms wide, indicating all that was 10,000 Lux.
“Sure, but—” All these heart palpitations couldn’t be good for me. “Dane.” I glared at him, incredulous.
He glared back. “Not enough?”
I was just about to launch into an all-out this offer is obscene and I can’t do this! when he stood abruptly.
“Why don’t I show you to your office?”
“My—” Oh, crap. My office?
He really was the devil. He knew all the threads to pull in order to unravel me.
Rib eye and crab béarnaise be damned, I was on my feet in a heartbeat. He grinned knowingly. I ignored his arrogance. Despite the daunting flash in my mind of this could be an episode of 666 Park Avenue unfolding, I followed him.
He ushered me inside and down the hallway to a discreet bank of elevators. Exhilaration chased through me. I’d devoted so much of my time and energy to fulfilling others’ wishes, it was surreal to be thrust into my own fairy tale. Even when I wondered if giving in to my dreams might bend more toward nightmarish than fantasy when it came to a man who seemed determined to win at all costs. A man who seemed resolute about possessing … me.
We left the elevator on the top floor and traveled the wide, marbled corridor. Dane stopped halfway down and retrieved a card key from his inner jacket pocket, swiping it over the electronic reader. He opened the door and we moved inside.
My gaze swept through the room, my jaw falling slack. It was huge, with floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the gardens and fountains, the majestic canyons in the distance. A plush white sofa and two stylish armless chairs were situated on one side with a glass coffee table in the center, along with matching end tables and tall exotic bamboo trees and birds of paradise to accent the living room setting.
The floor was a dark, polished hardwood that set off all the pristine white. In the far corner was a large desk situated on the diagonal, also with a glass top. There was a conference table that accommodated eight, and a marble-countered wet bar. I had no doubt it was fully stocked with FIJI water, champagne, and scotch for the Lux’s upper-echelon clientele.
“You don’t have to keep this furniture,” he said from behind me. “We can replace all of this and decorate it however you want. I thought it’d give you a better point of reference than an empty room.”
“No,” I said as myriad emotions pressed in on me, all too overwhelming to dissect or process. “This is stunning. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
He’d captured my attention. Big-time.
It was way over the top, of course—that seemed to be his style. Best of all, I had my own showstopping chandelier.
“So … what do you think?” he asked as he guided me to the sofa against the wall and I sank onto the plump cushion. Oversize pillows filled the corners, one set piled atop a luxurious satin pale-gold quilt that was arranged artfully at an angle.
“I think I’m afraid to see what your office looks like.”
He chuckled.
Yes, I was back to being awestruck. There was no escaping it when it came to Dane. “This is all so incredible.”
He stood alongside me, his hands in his pockets. “I haven’t even given you the grand tour of the resort yet.”
I must have stared up at him invitingly, because he eased onto the seat next to me.
“I think I can trust you, Ari. That’s what I need. Everything built around the grand opening is extremely important and confidential. And that event—every facet, the absolute smallest details—has to be perfect.”
Yeah, no pressure there.
I swallowed hard. He draped an arm along the back of the sofa and leaned in as his gaze captured mine. He was so close, the moment turned intimate. I could feel him all around me. Smell him. A hint of sandalwood mixed with his heat. An erotic scent.
My breathing was sparse, because all I had to do was inch the tiniest bit forward and our lips would touch.
My gaze dropped to his mouth. I absently nibbled my lower lip. Then raised my eyes to meet his again.
I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anything—including an enormous office, the title to match, and a paycheck and budget with too many zeros.
My pulse continued to race. But my mind was absurdly clear. “We’re mixing business and … pleasure?”
His jaw clenched. “You haven’t said yes yet.”
To his offer? To whatever was causing my heart to beat wildly?
“You’d be my boss,” I pointed out.
“And what we do behind closed doors is strictly between us.”
A little
red flag waved in front of my face. “What if something goes wrong?”
I didn’t have to be specific—he was astute enough to know I was talking about sex, not the job. Though that was of concern as well. If I took him up on his offer, I wouldn’t be able to afford losing the paycheck, since I’d have to give up independent weddings and bridal shows. I’d no longer have that source of income. I’d have to start fresh, mining for brides. He had to know this was all a huge risk.
Did he care? Or was his need to draw me into this world of his too great? And … why me?
He swept a wayward curl from my cheek. His skin was warm. Soft. I sucked in a breath. And involuntarily shrank back.
Tension instantly radiated from him. “Sorry,” he murmured. He stood in a swift move. “That’s going to be a problem.”
“It just happens,” I said in sort of a floundering way. I stared up at him, my stomach twisting. “There’s nothing for you to apologize about. It’s just—” I gave a small shrug. “I get a little uncomfortable. Sometimes.”
He eyed me closely for endless seconds, obviously trying to interpret everything about me. Maybe I wasn’t normal after all. Wouldn’t most women want this sort of attention, especially from him? Particularly when they lusted after him in turn?
Yet somehow, the reality of him touching me—someone so anti-intimacy, while he clearly fought his aggressive nature—was a difficult wall to scale.
Finally tearing his gaze away, he spun around and crossed the room to the wet bar. I felt a peculiar void as he broke eye contact and gave me his back. A strange chill slithered through me. Not eerie, but … empty.
Okay, Ari, be honest. At least with yourself.
I’d liked sitting next to him, our thighs pressed together. I’d liked his fingers brushing over my cheek. I’d like the way he’d stared so intently into my eyes.
I even liked how he filled my mind just about every second of the day. There was something about him, something about us, that made me wonder if that crazy day in the bar had been fated. Had he been there to rescue me in more ways than just keeping me out of the clutches of a spiky-haired blond with a creepy tattoo, or even the good-looking, flirtatious Kyle Jenns?