Irresistible You

by Francis Ray

  As hard as she had tried to come up with an alternate solution, she hadn’t been able to. Asking Ginny to step down wasn’t an option. Sabra remembered all too well her own dreams of working on Broadway. Taking a deep breath, she entered his outer office.

  The room was large and airy, with recessed lighting, impressive artwork, statues and paintings, and buttery soft leather furniture. The room was masculine without being staid or stuffy, and it quietly stated that money invested on Pierce’s advice would be in good hands.

  “May I help you?” asked the pretty dark-haired woman behind a sleek swirl of glass that somehow didn’t overpower her petite status. Perhaps it was because of the warmth in her brown eyes.

  “Yes. I’d like to see Pierce Grayson.”

  “Sabra Raineau?”

  “Yes,” Sabra answered, wondering how the woman knew she was coming.

  The secretary picked up the phone and dialed. “Mr. Grayson, Ms. Raineau is here. Yes, sir.” She hung up the phone and sent Sabra another warm smile. “You and Isabella can go on in.”

  He’d known. It didn’t sit well that Pierce was always a step ahead. Usually she was the one a step ahead. Trying to remember that she needed him more than he needed her, she entered the office.

  Self-assured as usual, Pierce sat behind the massive cherry desk, the surface in front of him bare except for a folder. To his right was a computer and phone. He wasn’t paying attention to any of that. His hot gaze was trained on her. She didn’t fidget, but she wanted to. She was used to being looked at, sized up, but with Pierce it was different.

  “You were expecting me.” It was a statement, not a question.

  He folded his elegant long-fingered hands atop the folder. “Isabella isn’t a show pet; you care about her. You wouldn’t leave her with anyone you weren’t sure would take care of her.”

  It was the truth. She wasn’t sure how she felt about a man she’d known only for a short time being able to read her so easily. “Isabella can be difficult as well. She’ll let you know if she’s not happy.”

  “That’s a good thing.” Standing, he came around his desk until he stood in front of Sabra. “Keeps a person from wondering what’s on her mind.”

  The way he was looking warned Sabra he was not talking about her dog but her. He was too close, too overpowering. Time to leave. She unclipped the leash from Isabella’s collar. “I appreciate you looking after her. I’ve already contacted my assistant, and she’s looking for a place or a dog sitter. You certainly won’t be able to keep her every day.”

  His gaze never leaving Sabra’s, he reached down with one hand and scratched behind Isabella’s ears. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  Sabra didn’t want to wonder what his hands would feel like on her, but she wasn’t able to stop the thought. Would they be gentle, rough, demanding? Irritated with herself, she held out the leash. “I’ll pick her up as soon as I leave rehearsals.”

  He took the leash. His hand brushed against her, causing her skin to tingle, her body to shiver. “I plan to work late tonight, so we’ll be here.”

  She might have known Pierce worked as hard as he played. “I’ll be on my way. A cab is waiting downstairs.”

  He caught her wrist as she turned away. There was strength in the fingers curled loosely around her forearm, but there was also tenderness. Another zip of awareness went through her. “Why do you smile at everyone except me?”

  She lifted a regal brow and fought to keep her breathing even, her pulse from skittering. “I didn’t know your ego was so fragile, Pierce.”

  Tossing the leash on his desk without taking his eyes from her, he took her other arm. The man didn’t back down. “My next appointment is an hour away.”

  “You’ll be in the emergency room by then if I sic Isabella on you.”

  The grin was slow and infuriating. “That desperate, are you?”

  She was, and it only increased her irritation and need to leave. “Ruth isn’t going to be happy if I’m late.”

  “So tell me what I want to know.”

  Sabra realized she’d handled Pierce all wrong. A man who looked as mouthwatering as he did probably hadn’t been turned down for a date in years. Refusing to go out with him would just make him more determined. “We’ve already had this conversation.”

  He stepped closer. She smelled the tangy after-shave, felt the heat from his muscled body. It was all she could do not to move closer, to whimper in surrender. “Refresh my memory.”

  She took a shallow breath and hoped her voice sounded bored rather than hot and getting hotter when she spoke. “Casual dating can be fun if both parties understand that’s all there ever will be. Otherwise things get complicated and nasty.”

  “Point taken under advisement. How about a movie tonight?”

  She should have suspected he’d keep pushing. “Dogs aren’t allowed in movie theaters.”

  “We won’t have to worry about that pesky detail, since we’ll be at my place,” he said easily. “We’ll have dinner first. Prime rib, rare. Seven all right?”

  “Make it seven fifteen.”

  They both knew changing the time was her way of taking control, but there was something in Pierce’s eyes that made her think perhaps she should have kept running. “Seven fifteen, then. You can leave Isabella with me until then.” He rounded the desk and took a seat. “Have a good rehearsal.”

  “Thank you.” His easy dismissal annoyed her, and her pulse had yet to settle. Sabra went downstairs to catch the taxi, very much aware that she might have made a strategical error. Pierce was a man who took opportunity wherever he found it. Tonight at his place it could be two people becoming better acquainted or two people getting hot and heavy.

  She chastised herself as her breath hitched on thinking about them locked in a heated embrace, his tempting mouth taking hers. She’d just have to chance it. Pierce she could handle; it was her own emotions that might trip her up.

  PIERCE HAD ALWAYS COUNTED HIMSELF FORTUNATE that he had a brother who loved to cook and cooked well. But opening his door that evening and seeing Faith behind Brandon, he wasn’t so sure.

  “Hello, Pierce,” Faith greeted him. “I hope you don’t mind my coming. I was at the restaurant when you called.”

  “Of course he doesn’t.” Brandon entered carrying two large-handled take-out bags high above Isabella’s head. The dog matched him step for step to the kitchen. “I guess I don’t have to ask who your dinner guest is.”

  “Don’t tease, Brandon,” Faith said, and smiled. “I think it’s sweet.”

  Brandon chuckled and Pierce wanted to deck him. “It’s just dinner.”

  “Of course.” Faith lifted the handled bag. “I wasn’t sure what you had on hand to set the table, so I brought a few things.”

  Pierce almost blurted he hadn’t thought that far and frowned instead. He didn’t do impulsive. He always thought things through. At least he had until Sabra. “We could eat on the stoneware.”

  “You could use your everyday dishes, but the lovely china your mother gave all of her children when they moved into their first homes would look nicer,” Faith said. “If you don’t mind, it won’t take but a second.”

  Faith enjoyed taking care of people as much as Brandon enjoyed cooking for them. They made an unbeatable pair. “I’d appreciate it, and I’m sure she would, too.” Pierce took the bag and went to the round oak dining table.

  “The meal I prepared deserves the best presentation,” Brandon called from the kitchen. Isabella’s excited barks followed.

  Pierce winked at Faith and straightened the red hand-stitched table runner. “How do you stand his ego?”

  “Because she loves me and knows it’s not brag, just facts.” The refrigerator door closed and Brandon joined them. “Pierce has decent stemware, but it’s a good thing you brought serving dishes.”

  “Brandon, you were no better before Faith did you the honor of taking you and the disaster you called an apartment in hand.”
Pierce placed the white dinnerware edged with red on the scalloped wooden charger.

  “And I thank her for it every day.” Brandon kissed Faith on the lips. She gazed up at him as if he’d hung the moon.

  Pierce just stared at them. Like his two older brothers and their wives, Brandon and Faith couldn’t seem to keep their hands or lips off each other. They made it a point, no matter what was going on, to always start the day together and eat lunch or dinner together. They were determined to keep the magic.

  Faith, her pretty face shining with love, leaned easily into Brandon. “Loving Brandon is what I do best.”

  “Honey.” Brandon’s voice trembled as his arm tightened.

  Pierce might not want to take the fall, but it was nice knowing his older brothers had found amazing women who loved them back with the same unconditional love that Pierce had no doubt would last a lifetime.

  Pierce felt something brush his leg and looked down at Isabella. The dog grinned up at him with a satisfied smirk. “So Brandon fed you, huh?”

  The dog barked and licked her muzzle. Everyone laughed.

  Pierce placed his hand on the dog’s head. “Thanks for everything, both of you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Faith and Brandon said. Their arms still around each other, they went to the door.

  Pierce opened the door. “I’ll return everything tomorrow.”

  “No hurry. There might be an occasion to use them again,” Faith said with an impish grin.

  “If so, you better not let Sierra find out.”

  “And exactly what am I not supposed to find out?”

  All three turned to see Sierra, her arms folded, her onyx eyes narrowed. “I’m waiting.”

  “You’re on your own, Bro. Bye, Sierra.” With Faith in tow, Brandon walked toward the elevator.

  “Bye, Pierce. Bye, Sierra,” Faith called as her husband hurried her down the corridor.

  Sierra stepped inside the apartment and closed the door. Her gaze stopped on the beautifully set table. She arched a brow at Pierce and went to the table. “I guess she finally said yes.”

  “It’s just dinner.”

  “Uh-huh.” Sierra nodded toward the dog. “And keeping her pet would be what?”

  Pierce didn’t like explaining himself, but neither did he want Sierra to get the wrong impression. His little sister had a way of making her displeasure known in a way that truly ticked a person off. “One of the students in the play is allergic to dogs, so I’m keeping Isabella.”

  “Of course there were no other options?”

  “Not on such short notice. Isabella can be temperamental. Sabra’s assistant is looking into something for tomorrow.”

  “But of course you told her there was no hurry.”

  He frowned. “You’re getting spookier day by day.”

  “Men are just becoming easier to read.” Sierra turned toward the kitchen.

  Pierce knew it was disloyal, but he almost wished there was a man out there whom his little sister couldn’t figure out so easily, but with that thought came another. If any man messed with her, he was dead meat.

  With her nose for food, Sierra found the dinner in the refrigerator. It hadn’t been difficult. His refrigerator was bare except for milk and juice. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to eat dinner to celebrate.”

  “The Castle estate?”

  She smiled over her shoulder. “At the inflated asking price. I knew if I held on to the property long enough, it would quadruple in value. Before the end of the year, I’ll be ready to open my own brokerage firm in a showcase of an office.”

  Pierce playfully tugged her bone-straight unbound hair that reached to her tiny waist. “My sister, the real estate tycoon.”

  “You better believe it.”

  “We’ll celebrate at lunch tomorrow. The whole family,” he promised; then, knowing his sister’s love of sweets and feeling a bit guilty, he reached inside the refrigerator and picked up the container marked “Dessert.”

  “In the meantime. Triple fudge cake.”

  “What will you have for dessert?” she asked.

  “Take it,” he said, pushing the box closer.

  “No. It was enough that you offered.” Taking the box, she returned it to the refrigerator. “What time is she coming?”

  “Seven fifteen.”

  Sierra glanced at her watch faced with diamonds. “Thirty minutes. You do remember how to warm things up, right?”

  He smiled down at her teasing face. “You know we can nuke with the best of them.”

  “That we can.” She went to the front door. “This is the first time you’ve invited a woman to dinner at your place.”

  “Because of Isabella,” he answered quickly. Too quickly.

  “People tell themselves what they want to hear,” Sierra told him, and opened the door.

  “This time it’s the truth.” He certainly hoped it was.

  “Just remember, we’re the only two left.”

  “That thought is never far from my mind,” he confessed. “There’ll be two standing when she leaves.”

  Sierra nodded. “I certainly hope so. Night, Pierce.”

  “Night, Sierra, and congratulations again.” Pierce stood in the doorway until she got on the elevator. Sierra didn’t have anything to worry about. He wanted to get to know Sabra better, and as with the women before her, when it was over he’d walk away and not look back.

  THE DOORBELL RANG AT SEVEN FIFTEEN JUST AS Pierce placed their plates of food on the chargers. In the middle of the table was a floral arrangement of poppies. Compliments of Faith. The flowers had arrived only minutes earlier.

  “You think she’ll like the table?”

  Isabella barked. “Well, we’re about to see if you’re right. Your mistress is a hard woman to get to know.” Pierce went to the front door and opened it.

  Sabra, in a flared floral sundress with spaghetti straps, had him clenching the doorknob. He wondered if there would ever be a time that she didn’t move him. Probably not. “Hello. You’re right on time.”

  “Hello, Pierce.” Sabra knelt gracefully to hug Isabella, who barked happily. “I missed you, too.” Still smiling, Sabra looked up with her slim arm still around the animal’s neck. “I hope she wasn’t too much trouble.”

  “She wasn’t.” Pierce closed the door, then extended his hand. After a moment, Sabra placed her hand in his and he pulled her to her feet. Her hand was soft and delicate. He knew she would be that way all over. His mouth dried. “How were rehearsals?”

  “Ginny didn’t sneeze anymore,” Sabra told him.

  Still holding her hand, he tugged her with him to the kitchen. “What’s the rest of it?”

  “The cast does great in their scenes or when I’m directing them, but when I come onstage they freeze,” she told him, wondering why she found it so easy to talk to him at times. She decided it was because he listened well and appeared genuinely interested.

  “Understandable.” After washing his hands over the kitchen sink, he pulled the loaf of yeast bread out of the oven. “It will wear off soon enough.”

  Sabra washed her hands and accepted the paper towels Pierce handed her. “That’s what Ruth and I think. To help things along, she’s having a get-together at her house Friday night.”

  “Mama knows her students.” Pierce seated Sabra at the dining table across from his place setting, then returned to the kitchen for the bread, vegetables, and salads. “You’re going to have a hit on your hands; don’t worry.”

  She picked up her napkin and placed it in her lap. “How do you know? You’ve only heard one song and a few lines of dialogue.”

  Pierce took the food from the serving tray. “My mother believes in you, and from what I’ve heard, you have a knack for picking scripts that are winners.” Taking his seat, he bowed his head, blessed their food, then served her wine.

  “Picking out a script is much different from writing one,” she said softly, silently admitting the fear that, no matter how hard sh
e tried, she couldn’t push away for long.

  “True. But what does your gut tell you?” He put ground pepper on his salad, then hers.

  “I’m not sure,” she confessed, aimlessly moving her salad greens around on her plate.

  “You might not want to hear this, but it’s too late to turn back now. All you can do is forge ahead and have faith in yourself, the students, and Mama.” He picked up his fork. “Don’t let a few bumps make you doubt yourself.”

  She straightened. “I’m not afraid. I’m just . . .” She searched for the right word. “Concerned. Surely, in your business, you’ve felt the same way.”

  “Sometimes on a daily basis,” he told her with a smile. “But it’s a family tradition that giving up is not an option. You go down fighting for what you believe.”

  Sabra thought of her father. He would have gone to any lengths to ensure the welfare of his family, no matter the cost. No matter what, she couldn’t condemn him for doing what he believed. “My father was of the same sentiment.”

  “You’re lucky. I was very young when my father died. I don’t remember much about him, except the laughter and being held high in the air.”

  She didn’t have to think long to know that, despite everything, her father had given her so much. He’d believed in her and loved her. “One of my oldest memories is of us having tea together in the garden, and my father delicately balancing the tiny cup in his large hands.”

  “What do you think he’d have to say about your play?”

  “ ‘You can do it, Sabra. Don’t let anyone tell you differently,’ ” she murmured softly. “He told me that when I left for New York, and every time things weren’t going well and I’d call.”

  “And for the first time, he’s not here to cheer you on,” Pierce said gently.

  Sabra realized why this time was so difficult for her. Her father had understood her better than anyone. Things weren’t clear-cut with him gone. “My mother loves me, and I believe she is proud of me, but she’s more practical. She has never been one to live in the moment.” Sabra’s hands flexed. “Daddy believed in going all out for what you wanted. The payoff was worth the risk. He was my biggest fan.”