by Amelia Wilde
Which I have no reason to know. Not for another week.
In my living room, I sit back on the cool leather cushions on the sofa, phone in one hand, glossy business card in the other.
Before the door to my office was finished swinging open, Christine interrupting the most charged moment of my entire life and the impulsive kiss I was going for, Isabella had straightened up, pulling herself just far enough out of my grasp that I’m almost certain Christine didn’t see anything. Then, a little smile playing over her lips, she’d reached into her purse.
“Here’s my contact information, Mr. Pace,” she said, as if we were concluding a run-of-the-mill business interaction, as if the little standoff she’d had with Christine had never happened at all. Her eyes flashed, lingering on mine, but her voice gave nothing away. “Stay in touch.”
I’d taken the card between my fingers and slipped it into my pocket, nodding at her with the kind of professional smile I’d use to dismiss someone from my office. A slight raise of her eyebrows, just for me, and then Isabella was heading for the door, stepping neatly around Christine, leaving me there with an enormous bulge in my pants and a whirlwind in my mind.
The card has her name printed in bold letters. Underneath, it reads “Founder and CEO, Gabriel Luxe.” Across the bottom are two phone numbers, office and cell.
I punch the cell number into my phone, saving it as a contact, and then I bring up a text message. Calling her will seem too desperate, and I’m not willing to give her that satisfaction. Other satisfactions, yes. Knowing that she’s taken over my thoughts all weekend, no.
I type out I’ve been thinking of next Friday and delete all of it. What the hell am I thinking?
Start over.
What’s your dress size?
I laugh and stab my thumb against the screen, sending the message before I can think about it anymore. That will have her wondering. That will have her staring at her phone somewhere in Manhattan and imagining exactly what I’m planning.
The answer comes back almost immediately.
Who’s this? I don’t give out my measurements to strangers.
Did I—did I not give her my phone number in the office? No. Of course I didn’t. Jesus.
You don’t recognize my number?
Good save.
There’s a longer pause.
I should have known it was you.
Then she doesn’t say anything. A minute ticks by, then two.
She’s toying with me.
I sit there with the phone in my hands, my thumbs hovering over the screen. Wait thirty seconds more. Another thirty…do not send her another message.
I’m on the verge of giving in when another message arrives.
Four.
Victory.
Chapter 9
Isabella
“I just don’t know where I’d fit a thing like this.” My mom eyes her KitchenAid stand mixer—red, just like she wanted—and wrings her hands.
I drop my phone back into my purse. “It fits right there.”
She turns her dark eyes on me, then looks back to the mixer. “In a different apartment.”
“First of all…” Was that my phone buzzing in my purse that I just felt, or something else? Another phantom text? I can hardly stop checking the damn thing, now that Jasper has made it clear that he might text me at any time. I reach back down into my purse and pull it out, setting it on the countertop. There’s no new message. “First of all, Mom, I’m taking care of it. You don’t have to worry about moving into another apartment. And second—”
The phone finally vibrates against the countertop, and I snatch it up.
It’s from Angelique, my executive secretary.
I should not feel this disappointed. This is getting ridiculous.
A weekend of feeling hot and bothered, no matter how much I threw myself into drafting distribution plans for the new locations, researching new fabrics for next year’s lines, and triple-checking the details on the new locations. I dragged my best friend Charlotte—ever-patient Charlotte—out on a spa day for most of Saturday afternoon.
None of it—none of it at all—could keep Jasper Pace out of my head. The kiss that almost was is becoming an instrument of torture, and he didn’t even seal the deal. If his uptight secretary hadn’t walked in at just that moment...
I should be thanking her. I was just about ready to let Jasper have his way with me, right there in the office. Why does back-and-forth with a powerful man have that effect on me?
It’s lingering as hell, too. Right now, I want to walk out the door of my mom’s building, hail a cab, and tell the driver to break every traffic law he needs to to get me back to my own place, where I could slip between the sheets with my vibrator and...
“You seem distracted, Isa.”
I put the phone back on the countertop a little harder than necessary. “It’s just the office checking in.”
My mom waves her hands in the air. “You should get back there. I’ll be fine.”
“You didn’t seem fine when you called an hour ago.”
“I’m just not sure where I’ll put all my things.”
I take a deep breath. It’s understandable, the way she’s reacting. My mom just retired from her full-time job as a schoolteacher last summer, and she’s happily settled into a job at the local library branch around the corner. Moving was the last thing on her mind until Friday. “I swear to you, Mom, I’m handling this. You’re not going to have to go anywhere.”
“Mrs. Callahan broke her lease.”
Mrs. Callahan, the ancient woman from across the hall, who was here when she first moved in. “Mrs. Callahan is ninety years old. It makes sense for her to be moving into somewhere with people who can help her day to day. That can’t be related to the sale of the building.”
There’s a rattle of keys in the front door, and then it swings open, banging against the doorstop. “I can’t believe it.” My sister is a high-fashion tornado, all plum lips and pissed-off eyes. “Why did you wait so long to tell me?” She tosses her purse onto the table in the entryway and stalks into the kitchen on high heels. “They’re cancelling all the leases? God, Isa. You should have called me! Mom, I can’t believe—”
“I was going to.” Mom straightens her back. “I didn’t want to upset you.”
“What are we going to do about this?” Evie is tall, with my mom’s dark eyes instead of the green ones I inherited from the father who jumped ship when I was three and she was one. “There has to be something we can do.”
“I’m taking care of it,” I say again.
She fixes her gaze on me, cocking her hip to the side. “Are you buying the building?”
“Not yet, but that’s in the works.”
My mom’s mouth drops open. “Oh, Isa, how are you ever going to be able to do that? There’s not enough money to outbid someone like Pace, Inc. And if the deal is already final, then that means—”
“Yeah. If the deal is already final, how are you going to step in?” Evie laughs. “Unless you have some special relationship with Pace, Inc.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. Where the hell did that come from? Evie doesn’t know the first thing about what happened when I went to meet with Jasper.
But she does know me.
“Oh, my god.” Her face fills with glee. “You do have something going on with that company. Only—no. I bet it’s not with the company. I bet it’s with Jasper Pace.”
I roll my eyes harder than I really need to. “I do not have a special relationship with Jasper Pace. Trust me.” I don’t. I really don’t. But his name on my tongue feels sultry in a way that has me on fire, standing here in the middle of my mother’s kitchen.
“Tell us, Isa. Are you sleeping with him?”
Not yet. “Mom, are you okay?” I swivel my entire body toward her, avoiding Evie’s gaze. “If everything’s fine here, I should really get back to the office.”
My mom looks at Evie. “Can you stay for dinner?”
> “Sure.” Evie answers, but she doesn’t look away from me.
“Isa?”
“I can’t.” I can’t because I have work to do, and also because if I can’t get off within the next hour, I’m going to spontaneously combust. I’ve tried my best all damn day to keep my mind off Jasper’s eyes, off Jasper’s body, off Jasper’s hands digging into my hips and...
And I can’t do it.
I don’t want this to rule me. I don’t want to have to have the cab drive me back home before I head back to the office.
I’m not sure I have any choice.
“All right.” My mom nods, but then her hand rises to her throat and she sniffs. Evie shoots me a glare and goes to wrap her arm around Mom’s shoulders. “I’m just so nervous…”
I stifle a sigh. At least if I give in, it won’t be to Jasper. At least not today. “Listen, I’ll stay. Or better yet, let’s all go out. My treat.”
It’s the least I can do.
Chapter 10
Jasper
The flashes from the cameras are blinding, which makes me wish I’d brought sunglasses. It’s totally absurd to wish for sunglasses at ten o’clock in the evening, but the photographers outside my friend Sebastian’s brand-new restaurant in Midtown are relentless.
Dominic nudges me with my elbow. “Don’t look so pained. People will wonder if it’s about the food.”
“I haven’t even gone in yet.”
“They don’t care about that.”
Nothing affects Dominic Wilder—not the photographers, not anything. Well, except his wife, Vivienne, who looks every inch a fashion model as the two of them pose for the cameras. There’s another barrage of clicks, and then Vivienne steers Dominic toward the entrance of the restaurant, catching my elbow with her other arm. “Come on. I’m starving.”
He laughs, looking down at her with light in his eyes that sends a spike of envy straight through my gut. “You just ate.”
“Three hours ago…and what’s it to you, anyway?” Their good-natured teasing just reminds me of Isabella. Although, I wouldn’t call what happened in my office good-natured. Or teasing. Unless you also call a rainstorm a hurricane.
Dominic and Vivienne’s voices wash over me, blending with the crowd as we move through the restaurant to the cordoned-off section in the back reserved for friends of Sebastian’s and investors. I count as both.
We’ve got a table for three, right on the other side of the velvet rope, and Dominic and I face each other with Vivienne between us. There’s one empty seat because I didn’t bring a date. Like an idiot, I didn’t bring a date, which is making Dominic wonder if something is up.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
I exaggerate his narrow-eyed, assessing gaze. “Do you think I’m going to run off with the silverware?”
“Something’s on your mind, clearly.”
“Business.”
Vivienne wags a finger in my direction. “False. You’ve had all day to think about business. Something else is eating you alive, Jasper.”
“Don’t you get started. I don’t need the FBI involved in this.”
She cracks a pretty smile, leaning back to let the waiter pour us what turns out to be a complimentary round of champagne from Sebastian. “Aha. So there is something to be involved in.”
“At least don’t start on him until we’ve had something to eat.” Dominic picks up the printed menu in front of him. It’s a four-course beauty meant to show off Sebastian’s skill in the kitchen, and my mouth waters just from scanning my eyes over the text.
What would Isabella be interested in? The thought comes to me so automatically, so naturally, that I don’t realize I’m thinking about her until several seconds later, when it’s too late to stave off a raging erection. I pull my seat closer to the table and will myself to stop—stop thinking of her smooth voice, stop thinking of the way she’d look perched on all fours on my bed, the way she’d be a wild animal behind closed doors. No. I cannot spend the entire meal thinking about those things, or else—
The salad course comes out a moment later, and I shove the menu away. “That was fast.”
The waiter grins down at me. “Sebastian left a note.” He probably also mentioned that this table would have plenty when it came time to tip.
My cock pulses in my pants. “I’ll be right back.”
Dominic has been murmuring something into Vivienne’s ear, but he breaks off and gives me a nod. “You all right?”
“Yeah. I’ll be back in a minute.”
This is not going to be one of my most shining moments. Not by far. But I’m not going to be able to eat a damn thing unless I do something to take the pressure off.
There’s a gaggle of women outside the narrow hallway to the restrooms—which, as far as I know, are private—and none of them see me coming.
“Excuse me.”
Five pairs of eyes turn toward me, and as they back off, murmuring a chorus of apologies, I can see that any one of them might be willing to...
Irrelevant. Because none of them are Isabella Gabriel.
I cut through the center of their gathering and head for the men’s room. I’m halfway down the hall when the door to the women’s room opens with a violent swish and someone barrels out of it, straight into me. I catch her by the elbow on instinct, taking her weight in my grip.
“Excuse me—”
That’s all she has time to say before her eyes meet mine and the rest of the world falls away.
I’ll be damned.
“Isabella.” I straighten up immediately and give her a wide grin, like I haven’t just been rushing to the bathroom to jack off thinking of her.
One corner of her mouth rises in a surprised smile, and she pulls her clutch purse to her side. “Jasper Pace. What are you doing here?”
“Outside the women’s bathroom? I was minding my own business, and—”
“At Sebastian’s opening.”
“Oh. I invested in the restaurant. He’s a friend of a friend. We both came out to show our support.”
Her eyes narrow. “A friend of a friend?”
“What are you, the restaurant opening police?”
She laughs. “Hardly. I’m just trying to figure out how we could possibly have ended up at the same function. It’s so random.” There’s a barb in her voice, but all it does is make me want to press her up against the wall right now, the hell with the audience.
I shrug one shoulder. “Maybe Sebastian knows someone who needs a seamstress.”
Her mouth drops open half an inch, and I want to put my thumb between her teeth, let her bite down.
“Pardon me.” The low voice behind me leaves only one choice, and it’s the perfect one. I step closer to Isabella, half a step between us at most, and let him squeeze by.
She’s inches away, and even after he’s gone, I don’t step back. Her eyes are on mine, and there’s a pink blush to her cheeks that tells me I’m not the only one who’s been thinking.
“Do you have enough room?” She cuts her eyes down to the front of my pants. I’m hard as a rock, and it’s obvious.
“I have too much room.” I turn slightly away, adjusting myself, and then I lean in. “What would you think about a change in terms?” I could take her into that bathroom right now and lock the door. Her nipples are hard beneath the fabric of her dress, and her breaths are coming shallow and quick. “We could start the clock on that month right now.”
It’s a risk, and I know it. It shows too much of my hand. But I need her.
Isabella’s eyes go wide.
Chapter 11
Isabella
Jasper is too close, and at this range everything about him is making me breathless.
I can’t stand it.
I can’t stand it, and I want more of it at the same time.
I can’t believe he’s going to be the first one to cede the higher ground like this, and at a restaurant opening, of all places.
&nbs
p; I can’t believe I’m about to say yes. The word is on the tip of my tongue, because my entire body is humming with the scent of him, the sight of him, his muscles lithe and strong beneath the outrageously expensive fabric of his suit. I’d like to take his lapels in my fists and swing him right into the women’s restroom and straddle him on the first available surface.
I stop myself from speaking just in time to get the slightest grip on the situation. My panties, beneath the red halter dress I’m wearing just for this occasion, are soaked. And it’s far too early in whatever twisted game we’re playing to give in and fuck him.
No matter how badly I want to. The need curls in the pit of my gut, but I bite back the yes and straighten up against the wall. I don’t have any more room to move backward, to create any space between us, but at least lifting my chin might give the illusion...
I cock my head to the side. “Changing the terms? Mr. Pace, I didn’t think you were that kind of man.”
“The kind of man who doesn’t wait to take what he wants?”
“The kind of man who can’t even make it through a week without renegotiating.”
His eyes, sharp and shining in the dim light of the hallway, narrow, and he leans in. “Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not wet right now, imagining what we could do behind a locked door.”
“I’m not wet, imagining that.” It’s a half-truth, because I’m wetter with every word out of his mouth. It’s far beyond wetness at this point. It’s not like I saw a sexy man on the subway and let myself get a little carried away. It’s like that man is in my bedroom with me, his fingers between my legs, playing me like a violin.
Jasper sets his jaw, gaze burning into mine for one more long moment, and then he stands up to his full height, stepping back into the hallway.