Daring to Trust the Boss (Harlequin Romance)

by Meier, Susan

  Plus, bright white stars twinkled overhead. A breeze chilled the night air. She didn’t want to go inside yet.

  “My only concern is that he’s too happy. You do know how easily this plan could backfire.”

  She frowned. “I can think of about three ways. First, Antonio could dislike Constanzo.”

  “Constanzo could dislike Antonio.”

  “Or Constanzo could adore his son—”

  “Who might be furious when he learns Constanzo is the father who abandoned him.”

  She studied the stars. “But he didn’t really abandon him. If you listen to the story, Antonio’s mother gave up after one measly attempt to contact him.”

  Tucker chuckled. “Miss Prentiss, I don’t think I need to remind you of a little thing called pride.”

  Her face scrunched in confusion as she considered that. Finally, she said, “So you’re saying Antonio’s mother got her feelings hurt so she kept Constanzo’s son from him?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Sounds petty.”

  “Really?” He rolled onto his side. “What if you, poor as you are right now, got pregnant by a man with billions of dollars? A man so far out of your stratosphere that even if he believed your baby was his, he’d question your motives. He’d make you feel cheap and like a gold digger who’d deliberately gotten pregnant for money.”

  Her face heated. He could be describing the two of them. He was rich. She was poor. And the implications of what he said brought her to her senses very quickly. Forget about his pushing her in the car that day. This was why she’d stay away from him, why she should have stayed away from Cord. He hadn’t needed to be insensitive with her that morning. Women with no money, no social status, always got burned when they got involved with wealthy men. She’d learned that lesson the hard way and she wouldn’t forget it.

  “I don’t have to worry about that.”

  “Really?”

  “Come on, Tucker,” she said, deliberately using his first name because, as with the conversation in the car, he was pushing her buttons again. “I know my place. Billionaires can have their pick of women. They don’t go for the dirt-poor, average-looking waifs. They go after the beauties.”

  He laughed. “Really? You’re gonna toss that at me?”

  “Toss what?”

  “An underestimation of your self-worth.”

  She blew out a laugh. “I know who I am and what I look like.”

  “You seriously don’t think you’re beautiful?”

  “Beautiful?” She laughed. “I’ll give you pretty. But only when I wear makeup. Which I don’t.”

  “You don’t need it.”

  She laughed gaily at the stupidity of this conversation. Though they were talking about her, it was much better than worry over Constanzo and Antonio or speculating about Antonio’s mom. “According to Maria Bartulocci I do.”

  “Maria was very clearly angling that day. She wanted my attention and she wanted a commission for getting me close to Constanzo. If she put you down, it was to make sure she didn’t have competition.”

  “Competition?” She snorted. “Maria knows she’s a beautiful woman.”

  “You think?”

  “You don’t?”

  He shook his head.

  Her eyes widened. “You seriously don’t think she’s beautiful?”

  He snorted. “How would I know? Underneath all that makeup she could have the face of a howler monkey.”

  “Howler monkey?” Vivi gaped at him. “That was mean!”

  “No. That was honest.”

  She heard the sound of him shuffling on his seat and turned to see he’d sat up and was facing her.

  “What I did to you this morning...pushing you to talk when you didn’t want to...that was mean.”

  She was glad for the darkness so he couldn’t see the pleasure that came to her face at his apology. Just as at the Jason Jones signing, his behavior proved he wasn’t such a bad guy after all. “You didn’t know.”

  “No. I didn’t, but I should have suspected something serious had happened from the law suit. You wouldn’t have just called somebody a name on the street or harassed someone. You’re not a flippant girl, Olivia.”

  Her heart stuttered, filled with warmth. Not only did he believe her, but no one ever called her Olivia. No one. The way her name came off his lips was sensual, mesmerizing.

  “You try to be flippant. You use your sassing as a way to make people think you’re in control. Then you turn around and ask a million questions, proving you’re not.”

  Good Lord. No wonder he was rich. He saw right through a strategy that had worked for years. She wasn’t sure if she was pleased or frightened.

  “There’s nothing wrong with asking questions. It’s a good idea to try to get a handle on what’s going on when you’re confused. But you really should ditch the sassing.”

  She laughed, but kept her gaze averted.

  He caught her chin and forced her to look at him. “I am sorry about this morning.”

  The smoothness of his fingers against her skin nearly made her shiver. And his eyes—those striking green eyes that saw everything—held her prisoner. Her heart trembled with longing. She hadn’t even kissed a guy in years and she desperately wanted him to kiss her. A short, sweet, simple kiss...or a kiss filled with passion and honesty. She didn’t care. She just wanted a kiss.

  But that was wrong. As she’d begun recovering from Cord, she’d promised herself that she’d never again put herself in the position of being with a man so far beyond her socially. And she’d meant it.

  So it was best to let him off the hook about pushing her and return them to their normal relationship. “It’s okay.”

  He sighed and rose from his chaise. “No. It’s not.”

  “Yeah. It is.” She rose. too. “You see, when we got back to Constanzo’s and we started talking about his son, all those emotions you had dredged up were eclipsed by the feeling of pride I had over doing a good job with Antonio.”

  He stopped a few feet short of the pool and faced her. “So you’re okay?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve been okay for a while. But it felt different—better—that I could totally forget it once we started talking about work.”

  “So demanding answers from you was a good thing?”

  She laughed. “Don’t push your luck.”

  Somehow they’d ended up standing face-to-face again. Under the luxurious blanket of stars, next to the twinkling blue water, the only sound the slight hum of the filter for the pool.

  He reached out and cupped the side of her face. “You are a brave, funny woman, Miss Prentiss.”

  Though she knew it was dangerous to get too personal with him, especially since his nearness already had her heart thrumming and her knees weak, she was only human. And even if it was a teeny tiny inconsequential thing, she didn’t want to give up the one innocent pleasure she was allowed to get from him.

  She caught his gaze. “Olivia.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I like it when you call me Olivia.”

  He took a step closer. “Really?”

  She shrugged, trying to make light of her request. “Everybody calls me Vivi. Sometimes it makes me feel six again. Being called Olivia makes me feel like an adult.”

  “Or a woman.”

  The way he said woman sent heat rushing through her. Once again, he’d seen right through her ploy and might even realize she was attracted to him—

  Oh, who was she kidding? He knew she was attracted to him. After the episode playing pool the night before, neither one of them could be coy anymore.

  Even as yearning nudged her to be bold, reality intruded. The guy she finally, finally wanted to trust was rich, sophisticated and so far out of her leag
ue she was lucky to be working for him. She knew better than to get romantically involved with someone like him.

  She stepped back. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  He caught her hand and tugged her to him. “I would.” He kissed her so quickly that her knees nearly buckled and her brain reeled. She could have panicked. Could have told him to go slow because she hadn’t done this in a while, or even stop because this was wrong. But nobody, no kiss, had ever made her feel the warm, wonderful, scary sensations saturating her entire being right now. Not just her body, but her soul.

  His lips moved over hers smoothly, expertly, shooting fire and ice down her spine. Her breath froze in her chest. Then he opened his mouth over hers and her lips automatically parted.

  The fire and ice shooting down her spine exploded in her middle, reminding her of where this would go if she didn’t stop him. Now. Just as Antonio’s mom had been, she was poor. Very far out of Tucker’s league. It was foolish to even consider kissing him.

  She jerked away, stepped back. His glistening green eyes had narrowed with confusion. He didn’t understand why she’d stopped him.

  Longing warred with truth. If he could pretend their stations in life didn’t matter, she could pretend, too. Couldn’t she?

  No!

  She’d done this before. She was a small-town girl and he was a man of wealth and power. She might be nothing more to him than a conquest. She was too wounded, too cautious to take the risk that someone like him could be serious about someone like her.

  She took another step back. “Well, okay then. I guess I’ll see you at breakfast.”

  It was the stupidest, most inane thing she could have said but she took pride in having any voice at all as she turned and raced to her room. She closed the door and leaned against it. She hadn’t even kissed a man in years, but in another thirty seconds, she would have willingly let him take her. A man she barely knew. A man with whom she had nothing in common. A man who might only want sex from her. Hell, she wasn’t even sure he liked her. Yes, he was attracted to her, but it never really seemed that he liked her.

  And her feelings for him? Well, they were getting out of control and she had no idea how to stop them.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE NEXT MORNING, THE FULL idiocy of what she had said—and done, she couldn’t forget she’d run from the patio—hit her, and when she went downstairs for breakfast she had to steady herself outside the dining room door.

  She ran her damp palms down the skirt of her second sundress, grateful to have her favorite dress to wear for confidence. But that didn’t help much now that she was two seconds away from seeing the man she’d kissed last night, the man she was growing to like, even though it was wrong.

  She didn’t know how to stop any of this. Her fears after being attacked had robbed her of the normal dating experiences most women had. Though those fears were subsiding and Tucker was making her long for things most women took for granted, she knew—absolutely knew—she was going to get hurt.

  Still, she had to go in. If she didn’t, it would only make things worse. With a deep breath, she held her head high and stepped into the dining room to find Constanzo and Tucker reading the paper.

  Constanzo rose. “Sweet Vivi, good morning.”

  He pulled out her chair and helped her sit. When he returned to his seat, Tucker looked up from the newspaper.

  “Good morning...Olivia.”

  Her blood rushed hot through her veins again, but she refused to be embarrassed or even think through what it might mean. Had he taken her request to heart that she liked to be called by her first name? Or was he taunting her? Reminding her of a kiss that had warmed her blood and made her feel like a woman just as he’d suggested the night before.

  Constanzo’s maid brought a woman who looked to be about thirty into the dining room. Wearing a suit that had to be handmade and carrying a Gucci bag, she could have given Maria Bartulocci a run for her money.

  Constanzo jumped up again. “Patrice!” He caught her hands and kissed both of her cheeks. “Tucker, Vivi, this is Patrice Russo.”

  After shaking both their hands, she said something to Constanzo in Italian. Constanzo smiled. “Tucker speaks Italian. Vivi, no.”

  “Then we speak English.”

  Constanzo pulled out a chair for Patrice. “Would you like breakfast?”

  “Just coffee.” She smiled at Vivi. “So you are my contact.”

  “Actually, Mr. Engle is in charge of the project.” She glanced at him briefly, long enough to see his eyes narrow as she spoke. Embarrassment flared. Why couldn’t she have thought of something suave, something sophisticated to say before she’d ran from him and his earth-shattering kiss? Why couldn’t she have sashayed into the house as if the kiss had meant nothing?

  Taking his seat, Constanzo laughed. “She is modest, our Vivi. This is her plan.”

  Vivi’s gaze shot to Tucker again. He turned his attention to his breakfast. “It is her plan. And Antonio seems to respond to her. She should be your contact.”

  A serving girl poured coffee for Patrice, and Vivi explained her idea. Patrice very quickly outlined the process of bringing an artist’s work to a gallery for a showing.

  “The very least amount of time we’d need would be two weeks. But I’d suggest a month. We’ll spend the first week ironing out the details of our agreement and then I’ll take three weeks to choose paintings and get things set up.”

  “Sounds great.”

  After finishing breakfast, they wasted no time. Constanzo called for a limo to be brought out front. Vivi and Patrice entered first. Constanzo slid in and sat beside Patrice. Tucker automatically sat beside Vivi. No hesitation. No comment. No complaint.

  Knowing it would look childish to slide as far away from him as she could, she stayed where she was, but it was torture. The vague scent of him brought back memories of that kiss. Worse, she had no idea what he was thinking. Had he even liked kissing her? Did he think she was an idiot?

  Probably.

  When Antonio answered the door, Patrice took over, stepping forward and shaking his hand. “Antonio! It’s wonderful to meet you. Mr. Engle and his assistant, Miss Prentiss, raved about your work and we knew we had our artist for the showing Mr. Bartulocci wants to do.” She stopped talking, turned to Constanzo and brought him forward. “This is Constanzo Bartulocci. He is your benefactor for the show we’d like to put together.”

  Tears filled Constanzo’s eyes and Vivi blinked back a few of her own. He was meeting his child, his son, the person who should be heir to everything he owned. The person who should be filling his quiet life with noise and love and laughter.

  Antonio held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Composing himself, Constanzo shook his hand. “It’s good to meet you, too.” He pulled in a quick breath and smiled. “So where are these remarkable paintings?”

  Antonio laughed. “I don’t know about remarkable.”

  Tucker said, “Antonio, this is no time for modesty. Hundreds of people will come to your showing expecting a man confident about what he’s done. Confident that he’s made a statement. You need to be that guy.”

  Antonio laughed again and Vivi, Tucker, Constanzo and Patrice followed him into the room he referred to as his painting room.

  Patrice looked at the pictures then glanced at Tucker. “You’re right. They’re splendid.”

  Relief wove through her voice, but Vivi’s nerve endings crackled anyway. Maria Bartulocci definitely wasn’t Tucker’s type but pretty, stylish, educated blonde and beautiful Patrice? Tucker belonged with somebody like her.

  She drew in a quiet breath and told herself not to care as she walked over to Antonio. Tucker and Patrice lost themselves in discussions about his paintings and Antonio looked a bit like he was going to throw up.

 
“First time having anybody see your work?”

  “No. I had a lot of interest in New York, but nothing ever panned out.”

  Constanzo put his hand on Antonio’s shoulder. “This will pan out. We’ll do the showing. People will love your paintings. This time next month, you could be famous.”

  “I don’t want to be famous. I want to paint...and eat.” He laughed nervously.

  Constanzo frowned. “Don’t you want people to enjoy what you’ve done?”

  “Yes.”

  Like a father, Constanzo softly said, “Then this is all good.”

  Vivi said, “You’ll be fine. You’ll simply have to figure out how to strike a balance between fame and a private life. Lots of people do it.”

  “Thanks.”

  They spent another hour looking at the paintings and talking with Antonio. Before they left, Patrice gave him her card and told him to be at her office the following day to sign papers. Constanzo explained that because he was footing the bill for the showing, Antonio would get every cent paid for any of his paintings, minus the commission for Patrice’s gallery. But there was still a need for a formal agreement.

  As a precaution, Tucker had Patrice email the agreements for him to peruse that night. They arrived in his in-box right at dinnertime, but Tucker told Constanzo he wasn’t hungry anyway. He stayed in his room all night, and Vivi was sure he thought her so much of a ninny he didn’t even want to be in the same room if possible.

  But he came to breakfast the next morning and seated himself. “You’ve given your son quite a good deal.”

  Constanzo laughed. “Of course, I have.”

  Vivi relaxed. “So, we’re paving the way for you to tell your son who you are.”

  “I don’t think we’re quite ready for that yet.”

  Her gaze shot up and over to Tucker. But Constanzo laughed. “You’ve switched sides.” He pointed at Vivi. “First you wanted to hold back and he wanted to tell.” He faced Tucker. “Now you want to hold back and she wants to tell.”