Wild Eyes (The Barrington Billionaires Book 2)

by Danielle Stewart

  “I’d have canceled,” Gavin grumbled back as he adjusted his belt buckle and sucked on the tobacco in his mouth.

  The silence circled around them like a lasso and tightened until it felt as if it would squeeze them all to death.

  “Just give my office a call when he’s available.” Gavin was rifling through his pockets, reaching for his phone.

  “Gavin,” Mathew began, puffing his chest in anger. There were a few things Jessica was good at, and diffusing a situation was one of them. The key was to find the common ground and the weak link. It was easy to see Genevieve was a much easier angle to work.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, honey,” she said, lightly touching Mathew’s arm. “I just have to ask Genevieve, is that a Welch Marlo dress?”

  An effervescent glow rose up on the woman’s pretty, yet aging, face. “It is,” she sang, patting the dress down around her.

  “I have to tell you, I did the makeup for all the models at his show in New York City last year, and you wear that gown better than anyone I’ve seen. It was made for your figure.” Jessica reached across and touched the delicately beaded material of the dress.

  “Oh stop,” Genevieve pleaded in that, please never stop way, and Jessica obliged her unspoken request.

  “I’m very serious. It just hung off those women like they were wire hangers, but you have exactly what this dress needs. Have you tried anything by Cal Vance Winterstorm?”

  “He’s an up-and-comer isn’t he? I’ve heard of him. He made a big splash in Paris.”

  “Don’t you know it,” Jessica purred. “He’s a dear friend of mine, and if I don’t introduce you two I’d be doing you both a disservice. A woman like you, walking around in his designs, would be a gift to him.” Jessica pulled her cellphone out and scrolled through her screen.

  “Genevieve,” Gavin said, annoyed, but Jessica just kept talking.

  “I’ve sent him a message. I’m sure by the time we’ve finished dinner he’ll have checked his schedule. Do you make it to New York often? That’s where he is most of the time now.”

  “I do,” Genevieve nodded like an excited puppy who’d been shown her leash.

  “Genevieve,” Gavin repeated, now sounding completely put out.

  “Oh be quiet, Gavin,” Genevieve sniped. “James West isn’t the only man at West Oil you can make a deal with, I’m sure. If he sent Mathew then he had full confidence in him. Now I’m starving. Jessica, the lamb here is heavenly. You must try it.”

  “I’ve heard that.” Jessica nodded agreeably as Gavin took his wife’s arm and led her toward the table. Jessica tucked her arm under Mathew’s and tugged his shocked body forward.

  “Sometimes this dumb makeup artist can read a crowd,” she whispered, absolutely loving the surprise painting his face. It never meant much to Jessica to be liked, but knowing she’d impressed Mathew sat in her like a warm mug of cocoa on a cold morning.

  “Nice,” he finally came up with as he glanced down at her and smiled. If she’d missed it before, it was clear now. There was a lusty desire in his muddy dark eyes. Any banter, any arguing, was no more than foreplay. “Now let’s hope Gavin gets rid of the hair across his ass and hears me out so I don’t feel like knocking his butt to the ground.”

  “What the hell does that mean? A hair across his ass?” Jessica’s laugh came out with a snort, and she struggled to compose herself.

  “I don’t know the exact origin,” Mathew snickered. “It means a bug up your butt, what would you Southerners say? A bee in your bonnet?”

  “Boy, you Yankees are poetic. Thanks for that mental image of Gavin’s ass. But don’t worry, I’ll work on him,” Jessica offered, squeezing her arm tighter around Mathew’s firm bicep, her breast pushing teasingly against him.

  “I’m not sure he’ll care much about the latest fashions. He has a belt buckle with the state flag on it and snakeskin boots.”

  “There is more to me than you could ever imagine,” Jessica promised as the rush of excitement pulsed through her. She’d always enjoyed being right, proving herself, but this was something more. His stare lit a tiny fuse. She couldn’t tell if the trail made its way to her heart or her pleasure points, but there was a slow burn all the same.

  As they took their seats at the table, Jessica made sure to take a spot next to Gavin, asking if he minded her hanging her bag on the back of the chair and touching his shoulder as she did. He grumbled that it didn’t matter and flagged down the first person who looked like they may be qualified to bring him a drink.

  “Scotch,” he barked. “Something old. Neat.”

  “I’ll do a glass of white wine,” Genevieve said in a high and pleasant voice as she pointed at the wine list. “This one here.”

  “I’ll take a glass of red,” Mathew said, gesturing toward the spot on the menu.

  “That Scotch sounds appealing. I’ll have what he’s having,” Jessica announced confidently.

  “You like Scotch?” Gavin asked skeptically as the waiter disappeared.

  “A client of mine once gave me a bottle of Loch Stillon. It’s from a tiny brewery in Scotland. They only make about three hundred bottles a year. It was the first time I’d ever tasted Scotch, and I’ve spent the last three years chasing that bottle like it’s a unicorn. No other drink of any kind has ever come close to it for me.”

  “I’ve heard of it,” Gavin replied, sitting up a little straighter. “Isn’t there a decade long waiting list for it?”

  “There is,” Jessica beamed. “But I swear it’s worth the wait. Get your name on that list if you can. I’ve heard it described like a fine woman: it’ll ruin you from ever wanting anything else, but it’s completely worth the trouble.”

  “Write that down will you, Genny?” Gavin asked his wife hurriedly. “I want to get on that list.”

  “Yes dear,” Genevieve replied, jotting a note down in her phone. “Now tell me again Jessica, how do you know Cal Vance Winterstorm?”

  “You can’t tell him this,” Jessica exaggerated as she leaned in across the table and tapped Genevieve’s hand lightly, “but he got in a fight with one of the other designers at a photo-shoot, and I had to cover up his black eye and be his alibi. Oh, I can’t believe I just told you that. He’d kill me if it ever got out.”

  Genevieve put her delicate fingers to her lips and made a locking gesture to indicate the secret was safe with her. The fight was actually common knowledge, far from a hush-hush moment worth hiding, but Jessica knew she was spending valued currency right now—secrets.

  “Do you remember that day?” she asked, turning toward Mathew whose face danced between confusion and relief.

  “Crazy,” he said, nodding his head.

  “That was around the time all that history came out about West Oil right? What a nightmare it’s been, but I’m telling you if anyone can get through it, it’ll be you and James.” She reached up and squeezed the tense muscles of his shoulder and planted a kiss on his cheek.

  “Half the battle is having a good woman with you,” Gavin said, his demeanor changing slowly, as though he’d accidently forgotten to be mad for a moment. “Genevieve has been by my side for every up and down, and God knows this industry is full of them. You guys got your stuff together over there now at West Oil?”

  Mathew cleared his throat and nodded. “All investigations have been closed, finding James clear of any wrongdoing. We’ve implemented a plan to reduce the recordable rate by fifty percent, and right now we’re working on a partnership that will make drilling safer than it’s ever been. Our projections are—” Jessica slammed her heel into his toe under the table, hoping he got the point. “Well,” he righted himself, “our projections speak for themselves. Give us a chance, and we’ll save you money and provide you with a better product than you’ve ever had before. We’re heading toward technology of the future.”

  “Good, good,” Gavin said, hardly listening as his drink was delivered. “This is a great Scotch, I’d love to hear how you think it compa
res.” His eyes were locked on Jessica’s glass filled with the amber liquor.

  She took a small sip and held it in her mouth for a moment. “It’s got a good amount of heat. A pretty complex finish.” She took another drag for effect. “It’s very good.”

  “But it’s no Loch Stillon.” Gavin sighed, looking now at his glass like it was swill.

  “I’ll keep my ear to the ground to see if I hear anything about another bottle floating around.” Jessica rolled the liquid around in her glass one more time before sipping back the last of it.

  “Great,” Gavin said, slapping her hand that lay on the table. “Now son, you were saying West Oil’s got big things coming up. Tell me more.”

  As Mathew began to speak, Jessica felt his leg brush hers. Maybe it was just a natural shift, him getting more comfortable. But his firm muscular thigh stayed pressed against hers. Placing her glass down, she slid her hand below the bright white tablecloth and rested it on his knee. Just a show of support. That’s what she was telling herself. Nothing more. Because more would lead to disaster.

  Like an old habit, his hand slid below the cloth and rested on top of hers and, for a moment, all of this felt real. They were a happy couple, in it together, conquering the night. Jessica forgot how dangerous pretending could be.

  Chapter 3

  Mathew watched Gavin and Genevieve disappear into their limo, and he spun immediately on Jessica. “What the hell was that?”

  “What?” she asked, looking suddenly like she was in trouble.

  “That was brilliant. Every bit of that was so well played. How did you do that?”

  “By not being the idiot you assumed I was, I guess,” she stepped back from him, wrapping her arms around herself.

  He hadn’t meant to insult her, but they seemed to always be speaking different languages. “I never thought you were an idiot,” he defended. “I just didn’t know you were so . . .” He fought for the right words but they didn’t come.

  “I’ve traveled plenty for my job. I have people sitting in my makeup chair for hours at a time. People from all over the world. The art of sitting in silence has disappeared, so people feel the need to talk to me. It’s important that, in the moment, I am exactly who they need.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When an actor who’s been in the business for ages feels like he’s out of touch, I talk to him about the good old days. When an actress feels like she’s being passed up because of the wrinkles on her face, I distract her while I make them practically vanish. I listen to what people need and then I try to give it to them. There is always common ground, an ‘in’ to connect with someone.”

  “Brilliant. Thank you.” He wasn’t sure if he should shake her hand, hug her, or do what he really wanted to do. No, you aren’t allowed to do that on a street corner. Not without being arrested.

  “No problem. I’m glad to help. It was nice.” The confidence she exuded over dinner was melting away and being replaced with an unease he couldn’t pinpoint. The way she kept nervously tucking her hair behind her ear made her seem like she wanted to bolt.

  “It was very nice,” he agreed as the car pulled up, and the driver came around to let her in. “Let’s not let it be over. We’ll get a drink.”

  Her face flashed with concern. “I guess,” she acquiesced, looking conflicted. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “I suggested it, so obviously I think it’s a good idea.” He could sense the unease she was feeling was about to be unearthed, and his lusty desire for her didn’t want to hear it. He just wanted her to go for a drink and end up back at his place. Was that so much to ask?

  “Then you haven’t thought it through,” Jessica replied in a half scolding tone. “Libby and James are married now. You and I are going to be in each other’s lives. I know I’m going to be the godmother of their baby when they have one, and since James sucks at making friends I’m sure you’ll have to be the godfather. It’ll help, for the kid’s sake, if we haven’t ruined this.”

  “I’m sorry; I’m not following your train of thought. We can’t go for a drink because of the imaginary kid James and Libby might have someday? I don’t like this kid already.” It was pretty simple to follow her concern, but he wasn’t willing to let anything get in the way of what they could be doing in a few hours.

  “You think tonight’s going to end with a drink?” She raised a brow, and it instantly aroused him. The look, the sexy and knowing way her eyes danced on him, was driving him wild.

  “It can,” he lied.

  “Oh please, I’d have my legs wrapped around you before I could eat the cherry out of the bottom of my glass.”

  “Sorry,” Mathew coughed out. “I can’t figure out which part of that sentence just turned me on more. I think it’s the way you said cherry. I’m not seeing the problem here. Trust me, you won’t regret a night back at my place.”

  “Of course I would,” she rebuked. “It’s a terrible idea. I don’t do the relationship thing and casual hookups don’t make for lasting friendships. For the sake of our friends and their future, I think we should just call it a night.”

  “No,” Mathew said, furrowing his brows and disagreeing. “That’s not going to work for me. We need a drink. I’m not going to let James and his imaginary children keep you and me from having exactly what we both want.”

  They sank into the back of the car, and she eyed him skeptically. “You’re supposed to be the logical one. The business savvy smart guy who weighs the odds and makes smart choices.”

  “Maybe we need to both stop assuming what the other is all about. I’m spontaneous. You don’t know me that well.” She wasn’t wrong about his normal tactics for getting through life. He did give his decisions thought and was even willing to admit if they hooked up there was a chance that maintaining a friendship might not work out. But as he stared down at the perfect peaks of her breasts he didn’t care. She was on his mind far too often to not sink his teeth into her.

  “Oh please, name the last fun spontaneous thing you’ve done,” she challenged with a roll of her eyes.

  Mathew grabbed her waist and pulled Jessica onto his lap, a maneuver that had her yelping in shock. His hand slipped up her neck, and he leaned her back, crushing his lips to hers. It lasted either a minute or a year, he wasn’t sure. Kissing her felt like being drunk, that sweet spot where everything was spinning, but the world hadn’t fallen in around you yet. He was instantly hard, and he knew she felt his firmness as she sat perched on his lap.

  “That,” he said, his hand up the hem of her skirt, squeezing her thigh. “That’s the last impractically spontaneous thing I’ve done.”

  “We’ll regret this,” she whispered, but her body didn’t match her words as she turned and straddled him.

  “Then let’s make it so good it’s worth it,” he insisted as he arched his back and pressed his hardness into her. She rubbed breathlessly against him as his hands climbed up her back, rounded her ribs, and took two handfuls of her breasts into his grip.

  There was a taste to her lips he couldn’t place. Some kind of exotic fruit likely mixed into her lipstick that had him diving in for more. The way her tongue swirled over his, her breath catching each time she drove her sweet pulsing core against him, made him certain there would be no regret in this.

  “Mathew,” she breathed against his lips, and it no longer sounded like a protest against the choice they were making. Instead it was a begging chant for more.

  “I’m going to have you screaming my name. No whispers once we’re back at my place.” He bit down hard against her breast, and Jessica clawed at him and shivered.

  The blood rushed from his brain, and it was only the screeching of tires that penetrated his mind. The bright glow of headlights skidded toward the driver side of the car, and Mathew knew nothing would stop the impact.

  “Hold on,” he said, covering her head with his hands and tensing his body, trying to shield her as much as possible. The pop. The smash. The
glass flying. It was not the fireworks he wanted tonight. Her scream of terror was not the scream of pleasure he’d been promising her.

  It stopped as quickly as it started, and Mathew shook the ringing out of his ears as he brushed the stray glass off Jessica. “Are you all right?” he asked, propping her body back up.

  “Yes,” she stammered, moving her body gingerly, trying to make sure she was still in one piece. “Are you?” she asked, brushing some glass off his shoulder.

  “I’m fine.” He blinked hard a few times, trying to take control of this spiraling situation. “Tom,” he shouted, leaning forward toward the now smashed partition that had separated them from the driver. “I smell gas. We need to get out of the car and get Tom out.”

  “I’ll help you,” Jessica said, inching her clearly sore body out the passenger side door.

  “No, just get clear of here. I’ll get him out.”

  “What if—?”

  “Exactly,” Mathew replied briskly as he pushed her gently away. “Hurry.”

  Mathew raced around the smoldering and smoking front of the car and heard the hiss of escaping fluids. Tom was slumped over the steering wheel, coughing and sputtering. “Come on, buddy,” he said, reaching in the car and releasing Tom’s seat belt. Grabbing the large bald man beneath the arms, he freed him from the car with great effort.

  The flashing lights of the approaching ambulance and police cars lit the buildings around them as he dragged Tom to the sidewalk, away from the wreckage.

  “Mathew,” Jessica gasped as she crashed into him. “Are you all right?”

  The EMTs were on them before he could answer. Instructions buzzed around like bees in a field of flowers. Sit down. Lie still. Look here. Can you follow this light?