“Absolutely,” I say, I put my hands up in a raise-the-roof motion and start to sing, “All I do is win-win-win, no matter what!”
He rolls his eyes and smiles.
“I need to stop at the shop downstairs. I forgot sunscreen, and I’m translucent, so…,” I trail off as I grab my shades.
“Hold up,” Noah says as I start to head back toward the door. “Come here,” he says as he grabs his backpack and pulls out some of my favorite sensitive skin, dry sunscreen oil in SPF fifty.
“You really are the best,” I say.
“I am. Turn,” he makes a motion with his finger and I turn my back to him, holding up my ponytail.
He squirts out the lotion into his palm, then, rubs them together, and starts applying the sunscreen to my shoulders, and down my arms. His touch is magical and feels like utter Heaven on my skin. He gets a little more on his palms, then massages it into my neck and upper back. When his fingers peek beneath the straps of my suit, I shudder all over.
“I’m going to poke this under the edge back here so you don’t get a burn line if your top moves, okay?”
“Mm-hmm,” I barely squeak out a reply.
He pulls the straps of the cover-up and bikini down over the edges of my shoulders, and strong, thick fingers work down from the nape of my neck.
“This angle is awkward. Turn around,” he says, so I face him.
Noah cups the back of my neck, working the lotion in with his fingers. It’s easier for him to move the lotion below the top hem from this angle, and he dips his fingers below the fabric. He might as well be dipping them into my panties, because that’s where I feel it.
He mumbles something under his breath I don’t quite hear as he pulls the sunscreen across the sides of my neck and shoulders. He rubs a little on my forehead, nose, and cheeks. He steps behind me, and I think he’s going to put the tube away. Instead, a moment later, his palm is stroking up and down my throat from chin to clavicle. It’s intimate. It’s erotic somehow, and I feel myself weaken and lean back a little, against his chest. He moves his palms across the top of my chest, and when he starts to get close to the top of my dress…close to my cleavage, I snap out of the spell.
“Noah!” I grab his wrist just before his fingertips breach the top hem of my dress.
“Sorry, got carried away,” he says, smiling. “I was just trying to be helpful. Don’t want you to get burned.” He winks at me, and I roll my eyes.
I grab the sunscreen and poke some under the top of my cover-up with my fingertips before closing the tube and putting it on the counter.
He throws on a pair of aviators to go with the wicking V-necked tee in a dark blue color that makes his eyes even dreamier. He’s wearing a pair of throwback-style board shorts in a navy and white hibiscus pattern that, despite how much they cover, manage to make him look even sexier. No one should look like that. It’s utterly ridiculous.
When we arrive downstairs, the pool area is closed off for our event. There are tables set up around the periphery of the pool with more types of fruits and breakfast pastries than I’ve ever seen in one place at one time before. I make a mental note to insist I attend all such events in the future if this is how well they always feed us at such things.
I grab some OJ in a champagne flute, a couple of croissants, and a pile of berries, to make the pastries look more respectable. I find a spot at a high-top bar table to park my plate and look around at all the vendors and models scattered around the space, talking. Most are pitching products to retail buyers, and a few are pitching advertising campaigns, photographers, or modeling agencies. This space is much bigger than the small event we attended last night. There are easily twice as many people here.
As I scan the space and take a sip of perfectly sweet OJ, Noah joins me, setting down a plate of pineapple, starfruit, and other sour stuff I’d probably never eat.
“I think we’re overdressed,” he says as he looks around at the bathing suit-clad attendees. My breath hitches with the understanding of what he’s saying. I am going to have to take off my cover up and show off my not-quite-ready-for-bikini-season body in front of Noah.
When I was in school, I kept waiting…and waiting to blossom like other girls. I saw girls develop peaks and soon after, covetable orbs that drew the attention of every boy in school. I saw their hips take on enviable curves, and their waists begin to nip in. I waited, and nothing happened until well into high school. Even then, the nip of my waist was barely noticeable and the pert little grapefruits I longed for were more like tangerines until high school graduation. By college, my bra finally filled out a little, but I never got any taller, and the curvy hips I always wanted never made their appearance. Now, standing by the pool at this swanky hotel, looking at the bevvy of tall, perfect goddesses in their heels and bikinis, I’m transported right back to the high school locker room.
Perhaps equally daunting is the prospect of Noah taking off his shirt, showing his chiseled, sculpted form of manly perfection, causing my lady bits to implode.
He shrugs, pulls off his shades, and peels his t-shirt off over his head. He is the most delectable eye-candy ever put on this planet. The board shorts sit casually at his perfectly sculpted hips and I hope my sunglasses hide the fact that I am unabashedly checking out his gorgeous bod. As I look around, a dozen or more people in close proximity are having the same reaction as I am at the sight of this manly perfection.
“Come on, Elle,” he says as he reaches over and plucks a piece from the croissant on my plate and stuffs it into his mouth. “I showed you mine, time for you to show me yours.” He wriggles his eyebrows playfully, and I feel a heat prick over my skin.
Deep breath, Elle. You got this.
“Fine,” I say reluctantly.
I take off my shades, grab the hem of my cover up, and shimmy it over my head.
I can’t quite make out what Noah says, and he brushes me off when I ask, but I think it was, “Holy fuck.”
He takes a long gulp of his juice, then puts his shades back on.
“You didn’t like the bikini we picked out?” He asks.
“I found this in Ashleigh’s work room at the office. It’s pre-production, but we’re moving forward with it for the new Reef line. I think it’s better, don’t you?” I ask, spinning to show off our new product.
“Jesus,” he mumbles under his breath.
“Sorry, what was that?” I say with a smirk.
“It looks great, Elle. You know it does. Just…,” he looks around at the crowd of mostly-male industry reps. “Watch your ass in that getup. Literally.”
“I could say the same to you. There’s a couple of ladies over there who I think are plotting on how they could tie you up and drag you back to their lair,” I laugh nodding to a couple of women in their mid-to-late fifties who are blatantly checking him out.
I make my way through the crowd, introducing myself to everyone while Noah reconnects with some of the industry contacts he’s made at previous conferences.
“Well if it isn’t my new friend from the mixer the other night. Haven’t seen you at one of these things before,” a deep voice beside me says in a thick Australian accent. “I’d most definitely remember.”
I turn and look up into a ruggedly handsome face, bearing a fine layer of stubble, and the deepest, darkest, chocolatey-colored eyes I’ve ever seen.
I recognize him from the opening night and introduce myself, shaking hid hand.
“Ian Legare,” he replies, taking my hand in both of his. “The pleasure is all mine.”
I look him up and down. He’s wearing a pair khaki hiking shorts and a trim, fitted wicking t-shirt. He’s older than me, definitely—maybe forty, but he’s in fantastic shape. Definitely someone who hits the gym or plays sports regularly.
“So, Ian, what do you do?” I ask as I nonchalantly look around the space to see if Noah is around, and if so, who he’s talking to.
“I’m the CEO of Banshee, we’re an Australian outfitter,” Ian
replies.
“Really? Summit isn’t in Australia yet, unfortunately. I think we have hopes to expand there soon, though,” I reply. I look around again for Noah. He’s the sales guy, after all. He should definitely meet this guy. “I was looking around to see if my Noah…,” I scan the crowd as I realize my mistake. “Sorry, I mean my colleague, Noah, is close by. He’s the head of our sales division. I’d love to introduce you.”
“Well, sweetheart, if you do decide to do business in Oz, I’d be happy to entertain a pitch if you’ll be the one doing the pitching.” He wriggles his eyebrows and something about the way he’s looking at me makes me blush a little. Between his rugged good looks, charisma and that accent, I’m guessing he’s the kind of man who usually gets what he wants.
“Like I said,” I reply with a chuckle. “I’m really the marketing person, but I’d love for you to talk to Noah.”
“I’m looking for a marketing person myself, ya know. Whadya say we go have a few cocktails, maybe a nice dinner. I’m one helluva dancer,” he grins, putting one arm in the air as he swivels his hips.
I laugh, and he smiles, but in truth, he does strike me as the kind of guy who’d be a lot of fun to hang out with. He may be openly flirting with me, but it’s charming, more than creepy.
“I can’t,” I shake my head. “We are hosting a cocktail reception in our suite this evening. I’d love for you to come, though.”
“Your suite? Oh, I see. Well, I’ll try to drop by. Here, let’s exchange contacts.” He pulls out his phone, and I give him my number. I text him our suite number along with the time of the reception that evening, and we part ways.
Looking down at my watch, I realize I need to get changed for the exhibit hall. I grab my things from our table, and catch Noah’s attention from across the pool. I point to my watch, and then up, and he nods.
As I get into the elevator, I think about Ian mentioning a job when we met. After having been turned down for the promotion I applied for, it feels pretty good for someone to take interest in my work, even if there was a bit of flirtation mixed in. Maybe if I do a good job this week, Donovan, our company president, will rethink the VP position after all.
Chapter 13
I’m starting to hate this city. I brought Elle out here so I could get her alone, out of our regular routine, and tell her how I feel. At the pool party, though, I glance over and see some guy all over her, and I’m pretty sure she was giving him her number. Seriously? What the hell? It seems like everywhere I turn there’s some guy trying to make a move. Maybe I didn’t think this whole Vegas thing through.
Back in the suite, I change clothes and walk over to Elle’s room.
“Hey! I didn’t say come in. We’ve seriously gotta work on your boundaries, Noah.” She’s stepping into a ballet flat that looks perfect with the little sheath dress and cardigan she’s wearing.
She puts in her earrings, then tries to fasten her necklace.
“Here, let me,” I step forward, taking it from her. I fasten it and put my hands on her shoulders and turn her to me.
Her hair is down, falling in loose waves around her shoulders, the color offset by the teal sweater and navy dress.
“You look really beautiful.” She smiles up at me.
“Thanks. This dress is from our new line. Speaking of, so, you liked the suit I had on today? The one from Reef?”
“Yeah, that was…spectacular on you.” I shake my head. Then I remember the guy she gave her number to at the bar. “Your new friend seemed to like it, too.” I don’t bother trying to disguise my annoyance. She knows me better than anyone, after all.
“My new…oh! You must mean Ian. I can’t wait for you to meet him.” She smiles enthusiastically.
“Why would I meet him?”
“Because I invited him to the party,” she says with a soft shake of her head, as if the question is ridiculous. “Come on, let’s head down.” She pats me on the arm and grabs her bag.
At least if this guy comes to our event, I can scope him out a little more.
I mean, she is my girlfriend, after all. She just doesn’t know it yet.
I grin at that thought, hoping that thinking it makes it true.
We spend the next several hours alternating between manning our product booth along with the college-aged hippie kids we hired as event reps, and mingling with other vendors and buyers.
Around four in the afternoon, we head back upstairs to meet the caterers and prepare for the evening. Our guests should start arriving around six.
It takes me about forty-five minutes to change into my suit. When I get to the living room, the caterers I let in earlier already have almost everything set up.
The bartender makes me a whiskey sour, and I step out onto the balcony. The view is truly spectacular, and I want Elle to see it while we have some time to ourselves. I text her to ask if she’s almost ready, rather than walking in on her like I did earlier. I know she’s nervous, and I don’t want to compound her angst.
A moment later she replies that she’s almost ready. I stand, one hand in my pocket, the other on my drink, looking out over the dancing lights of the strip at sunset. It’s beautiful, this manmade array of stars against the fading purple of the desert sky. This is what I wanted to share with Elle. Something a little magical, something different so I can explain that something different is what I want from her, too.
“Wow, it’s really stunning,” Elle’s voice calls from behind me in the doorway.
I turn, and it’s her that’s stunning. She has on a royal blue dress with a fitted body and a full skirt. There’s lace across the top, letting her creamy skin just peek through. She is so damned beautiful, she literally takes my breath away.
“You’re looking at me funny, Noah. Is this o-kay?” She asks in that timid little voice she gets when she’s nervous as she smooths down her skirt.
“Elle, it’s…,” I trail off. I set down my drink on one of the little tables that has been arranged on the balcony, and step forward, taking both her hands in mine. “You are gorgeous, sweetheart. You’re going to charm every person here tonight.”
She cocks her head slightly to the side, narrows her gaze, then the grin on her lips broadens into a wide smile. “As long as you’re here with me, maybe we will charm everyone. We make quite a team, don’t ya think?”
She couldn’t be more right. We make a great team. Knowing she’s beside me makes me feel like a fucking superhero. If someone as smart and funny and incredible as her cares about me, I don’t know that there’s anything else in the world I need. Maybe I’m a little slow because it sure took me long enough to figure it out, but this one woman is worth every other woman I’ve ever been with and every one I ever could be. She doesn’t just make me happy—she makes me better. She makes me whole.
I release her hands and put my palms on her shoulders. “You’re always beautiful, but tonight, you look even more gorgeous than usual. Thank you for coming with me to Vegas.”
I want to kiss her so desperately I almost can’t control myself. I close the distance between us, and my heart is running like a racehorse. As she tips her head back and looks into my eyes, her lips part, ever so slightly.
Just do it, you pussy. Kiss her. Tell her she belongs with you and has for a long time.
She sucks in a nervous little breath, and at the last moment, I chicken out. Instead of devouring her lips, I deposit a soft kiss on her forehead. A moment later, there’s a ding of the doorbell, and it’s time for us to play host and hostess.
“I…guess we’re on, huh?” She says softly, her lips tugging up into a little smile at the corner. I have a feeling she’d rather it be just the two of us tonight just like I would.
“Guess so. Let’s go be charming as fuck.” I wink at her and we head back inside.
We’re about two hours in—only an hour left until this shindig is over and we can kick everyone out. It’s going even better than I might have expected. All the high-end buyers we invited have shown up,
and Elle has charmed every one of them. I’ve gotten a half dozen new leads and really good ones at that.
I am talking to an unassuming little old lady who also happens to be the female business mogul who single handedly built and runs the biggest chain of freestanding sporting goods stores in the country. Her name is Donella Peterson, but she prefers to be called Grandma Peterson. I pour on the charm, and ask her if I can send one of my product reps down to Atlanta to show her our newest line for consideration.
“I tell you what,” Grandma says, “You can pitch my buyer team if you come along yourself. I like to deal with high-level people. And besides,” she chuckles, “You’re easy on the eyes. I’d be happy to sit in a pitch meeting with you all afternoon,” she slaps my shoulder and laughs.
“No funny business, though, I’m spoken for,” I tell her with a wink.
Just then, I see something out of the corner of my eye that captures my full attention. Elle is leaning against the bar, talking with the guy from the pool. He’s standing close, and leans forward to say something that makes Elle throw her head back in laughter.
My gut clenches. I wrap up our conversation and excuse myself from Grandma Peterson to make a beeline for Elle and the latest addition to my hate list.
“There you are,” I slide an arm around Elle’s shoulders.
“Noah!” She says excitedly. “This is Ian. Ian, this is Noah.”
“Good to meet you, mate,” the guy says in a heavy Australian accent. “Elle’s tells me you’re the head of sales for Summit. I’m trying to convince her to come down to Sydney and check out our stores for herself,” he gives her a wink and my jaw clenches. Our handshake lasts longer than is probably necessary, with both of us exercising a firm grip.
Up close, I can see that he’s the type of guy women would refer to as rugged. He’s not as old as I thought, either—maybe five or ten years older than me. It’s obvious he’s interested in more than Elle’s industry knowledge. I squash the thought and try my best to keep it professional.
Vote Then Read: Volume III Page 154