by Meg Ripley
“Great show, Gorgeous.” Adam congratulated her after the longest standing ovation they’d ever had.
“Yeah, it was great,” she eyed him angrily, still irritated with him over his unexpected antics on stage. “What do you say next time we let Cade Stryker put his paws all over you?”
“I’m afraid he doesn’t swing that way, Hon, or else you wouldn’t have been the one with the rope around your neck tonight.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively, as if she hadn’t grasped his meaning already. “Come on, you can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy having a handsome billionaire’s hands on you. It wasn’t like I gave him a free pass or anything, and besides, the audience loved it.”
“I guess.” She’d argue, but he was right—at least the part about the audience loving the extra little show.
“And you know, there’s no reason you can’t have a little fun of your own now that the show’s over. A private after-party, if you know what I mean?”
“Why Adam, have you decided to give women a try? I’m flattered, but you’re not really my type.”
“Very funny. I know I’m not your type, but I bet tall and muscular with eyes a person could get lost in is right up your alley. Filthy rich doesn’t hurt, either.”
“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” she replied dryly.
“Come on, you could use a little fun, Hope. I don’t think I’ve known anyone who could use letting loose and having a good time more. You don’t have to marry the guy. Have a couple glasses of champagne, jump his bones and you can go back to warding off the world with your ten-foot pole in the morning.”
“Thanks for the suggestion, but I think I’d rather spend the night cuddling up with a porcupine than with that spoiled, arrogant bastard.”
“Is that so?” a deep, husky voice spoke from no more than a yard behind her. She knew who it was without turning around. Did the man sneak around like a cat? She hadn’t even heard the door open, which of course led her to wonder exactly how long he’d been standing there. Adam hadn’t said a word!
She turned around slowly, reluctantly, but there was no point in pretending the man wasn’t there. “Good evening, Mr. Stryker.”
“Please, call me Cade. I don’t think anyone who’s let me touch them like you have should have to be so formal, do you?”
“Mr. Stryker, you don’t think that was anything more than part of the show, do you?”
“I happen to know that little scene had never been a part of the show before, and trust me, I’m flattered.”
“Well, don’t be. It was Adam’s idea.” What else could she say? She had tried to brush it off and he’d caught her.
“You don’t honestly think I’m a spoiled, arrogant bastard, do you? It usually takes someone at least three or four hours with me to come to that conclusion. You, Miss Winter, have not even given me an hour of your time, so I think your judgment is rather unfair, don’t you?”
She always had a quick retort at the ready, so why the hell couldn’t she come up with one now?
“Have coffee with me, Miss Winter. Just one coffee—that’s fairly harmless, isn’t it? And then I won’t even ask that you wait the customary three to four hours to place judgment. If you still feel I am a spoiled, arrogant bastard, then I’ll graciously accept your conclusion.”
It did seem fair—wait, was she insane? Since when did he get to decide how long she had to wait before summing a person up?
He took a step toward her then, and she really wished he hadn’t. His nearness was overwhelming, but not in a way that made her feel suffocated. It served to make every fiber of her body keenly aware of him; of the breadth of his chest and the taut muscles of his arms; of his brilliant, green eyes and the way they were trying to peer into her soul; of the way his hands had felt against her on stage.
“Alright. One coffee, Mr. Stryker,” she heard herself reply. She really had taken leave of her senses.
“Excellent, then, shall we?” He motioned to the exit from the backstage area to the main hotel.
She sighed heavily, hearing Adam snicker quietly behind her, and she accompanied the man to the elevator, which she presumed they were taking down to the parking garage below. It seemed odd that the owner of the hotel would park his vehicle down there with every other hotel patron’s. She assumed he would have had a personal attendant to do things like fetch his car. Once inside the elevator though, he didn’t press the button for the parking level; he pushed the button for the penthouse. He was taking her back to his suite? Coffee to her had meant a café somewhere, not in the comfort of his hotel suite with a bed no more than a few feet away.
“I think I should be calling it a night,” she protested quickly, but not quickly enough. The elevator doors had already closed, locking her inside with the deceitful man.
He smiled. “Just trust me, Miss Winter. I assure you, I’m not taking you to my room to have my way with you.”
Great, it was like he could read her mind, though it probably wasn’t a huge leap to figure out what she’d been thinking. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze, trying to assess whether he was telling the truth. But the elevator door opened a moment later and he stepped out. She could just press the button and go back downstairs to where her car sat waiting for her two streets over.
Even while she was in the midst of contemplating what to do, her feet carried her forward and out of the elevator. She didn’t fully realize what she’d done until the door closed quietly behind her.
“Trust me,” he whispered once more when she didn’t move from where she stood.
She had no idea why, but she nodded then and followed him down the hall. Instead of turning into the only door to a suite on the entire floor, he continued down to the end of the hall, inserted a key card in the lock at a heavy exit door and opened it wide.
They were going up to the roof. Coffee on the hotel rooftop? She supposed it wasn’t the worst idea. As she followed him out further though, something else caught her attention, namely a giant death trap located squarely on the center of the roof. He was walking straight for it and it didn’t take her long to surmise what he had in mind.
“Oh, I don’t think so. You said coffee, not coffee in a flying tin can.”
“Seriously? You’re afraid to fly?” His smile was something between cocky and surprised.
“I didn’t say that. I just think if humans were meant to fly we’d have sprouted wings a long time ago. I prefer my feet firmly planted on the ground, thank you.”
His smile grew brighter then, and this time she had no idea what was hidden behind it. He seemed genuinely pleased by what she’d said. Strange.
“Would it help if I told you I’ve been flying a whole lot longer than you’d imagine?” he cajoled her, almost sweetly.
“You’re going to fly that thing? Oh no, you’ve got to be kidding.”
“Would you feel better if someone else was flying my helicopter,” he asked in a husky tone, closing the distance between them. He was so close, not much more than an inch separated his body from hers. Her skin hummed in anticipation, waiting for him to bridge the small gap, but he didn’t. He didn’t move, and he didn’t speak. He just stood there overwhelming every one of her senses.
“No,” she replied, meaning she wouldn’t feel any better if someone else was flying the thing.
“Good.” He smiled, stepped back and motioned for her to climb on board. “I was worried you were going to turn out to be a chicken.”
It seemed he’d taken her ‘no’ in some way other than she had meant it. But a chicken? He was calling her a chicken because she wasn’t comfortable soaring thousands of feet above the ground in a machine that could fall right out of the sky at any moment. Shouldn’t that make the person willing to indulge in such a risk the one worthy of insult? Still, regardless of how rational the argument, her feet compelled her forward, just as they had when she’d stepped off the elevator. Apparently, her body was more concerned with being viewed as a coward than it was with self-
preservation.
“Why do we need to take a helicopter to a coffee shop?” she asked in afterthought once she’d climbed up into the contraption.
“It’s just easier to get to the shop this way. It’s a little outside the city.”
It seemed like a plausible enough explanation—if there could be a plausible explanation for why she was sitting in a death trap with a man she’d sworn she never wanted to see again.
He hopped into the pilot’s seat and took off quickly, before she had a chance to come to her senses and change her mind. She gripped the edges of her seat as the ground grew further and further away. Not that holding onto her seat for dear life was going to do a lick of good if the thing malfunctioned and they plummeted to their deaths.
“Just breathe,” he told her softly without looking at her. That was easy for him to say. She’d bet he didn’t feel like his heart was pounding a thousand beats per minute, and given that he was flying the helicopter, she seriously hoped the world wasn’t beginning to spin out of control for him like it was for her. If she made it back from this stupid coffee run alive, she was going to have her head examined. A problem with her brain was the only explanation for her sudden descent into insanity.
Chapter 4
Cade watched her out of the corner of his eye as he flew over the bright lights of Las Vegas. She was terrified and yet she’d climbed aboard anyway. The woman definitely had nerve—even if it was borne of aggravation over his taunting.
“You’re even braver than I thought,” he told her, and he meant it, even if he wished he didn’t. It was almost enough to make him turn around. Almost. Her courage gave birth to a newfound respect for her, and that bothered him. He wanted to convince her to open up to him, to let him find what it was about her that had him captivated. And then he wanted to get as far away from the beautiful temptress as his wings would carry him.
“Thanks, but anytime you want to put us back down on the ground, I’m good with that.”
He should have done exactly that, but instead, he continued on the flight path to his destination. The silver-haired beauty was silent beside him. He considered making small talk to pass the time for her to take her mind off the flight, but there were so many things he wanted to ask her, he didn’t know where to start. Her childhood? Is that where her secret was hidden? Did she have some mystical past he could sense unknowingly?
“So, what is it you do when you’re not on stage captivating the audience, Ava? What’s your story?”
“There isn’t much of a story to tell. I ended up in Vegas a few years ago and then landed a job with Adam. I’m sure it’s nothing in comparison to the flashy life of a billionaire like yourself. I have a feeling I spend a whole lot more time on the ground than you do.”
Not the most prolific answer, but it was a start. At least she wasn’t focused on proving he was an arrogant prick at the moment. And more than that, her answer seemed ironic, given his penchant for taking flight whenever he could. “You’re probably right. I do like to fly.” She had no idea how right she was. “But you must do something when you’re not on stage?”
“Not much, really.” That seemed about all he was going to get out of her at the moment, so he turned his thoughts inward, running possibility after possibility through his mind, though not one of them explained why he was so captivated by this human.
“Where are we?” she asked as he started to land the helicopter. “We can’t possibly be anywhere close to Las Vegas. Is that Carson City?” The tone of her voice said she was less than pleased.
“Actually, we’re in Santa Monica.” If she wasn’t pleased thinking they were in Carson City, then finding out she was in Santa Monica wasn’t going to thrill her either.
“You mean, Santa Monica, California? You said coffee, not California!”
“Yes, but I never said where we’d be having coffee.”
“Maybe you can up and go wherever you want, but I can’t just fly off to a different state on a whim.”
“Actually, you just did.”
“No, you did, without even checking with me first. I need to get back. I can’t be this far away from home.”
“Unfortunately, the helicopter’s not going to fly much further without refueling; certainly, not all the way back to Las Vegas. I suppose you’re stuck here with me for a while, so you might as well make the most of it.”
“You’ve got to be kidding!” The pallid color that her skin had taken by mid-flight suddenly gave way to a healthier—albeit angrier—hue.
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll put in a call for refueling while you join me for coffee on the beach. And the moment the helicopter’s ready, I’ll take you home. Deal?”
“Everything is about deals with you, isn’t it? Wait…did you say ‘beach’?”
He couldn’t tell by the tone of her voice if she was pleased or irritated. It seemed there was more shock in her tone than anything else, and that was precisely the vibe he was getting from her body, too.
“Yes. Why? Do you have something against the beach?”
Without answering, she stepped out of the helicopter and surveyed her surroundings. It was like he’d told her they had just landed on Mars, not some quiet strip of beach on the Pacific coast. He followed her out, utterly perplexed by her sudden change in behavior—and not too many things left him perplexed. The woman was bad news; she was just too fascinating. This couldn’t possibly be a good idea.
“That’s the Pacific Ocean,” she told him when he stood next to her. “I’ve never seen the ocean before,” she said simply, looking out at the moonlit water.
He’d only intended to try to throw her off guard a little, get her out of her comfort zone to the quiet beach with nothing but the sound of waves lapping at the sandy shore. This wasn’t what he’d had in mind, and yet suddenly, he wouldn’t go back and change it if he could.
Wonder was radiating from her pores as she looked out over the water. He wanted to absorb every drop, but at the same time, a slash of jealousy ripped through him at her sheer amazement. The world had become so dark, so bleak to him, and yet she could find so much beauty in something as mundane as a body of water.
He tried to remember back to the first time he’d seen the ocean. What was it—seven, maybe eight-hundred years ago? Had his response come anywhere close to the fascination he saw in her now? No. He’d long since hardened himself by then, to the world and everything in it.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked him.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m an alien from another world and you’re trying to figure out whether I’m friendly or hostile.”
“Maybe because I’m waiting to see if you’ll chew me out for flying you out of state, or if you’ll let me off the hook. What do you say we walk off some of your frustration before you decide?”
She mulled over his suggestion and then nodded her head in agreement. Her fascination with the ocean seemed to have tempered her ire with him. He typed a request for refueling in his phone quickly and then they started down the beach in silence, meandering close to the water’s edge.
“Ow!” she gasped all of a sudden, not thirty yards from where they’d started. Her hands flew to her eyes and she turned away. A gust of wind had picked up the loose sand on the beach and blown it into her eyes. “It seems the beach has a way of defending itself against intruders,” she joked. But instead of turning back to him, she looked out at the dimly lit ocean and was silent. She seemed completely engrossed in the view.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered after a moment, and there was none of the aggravation in her tone he’d heard there earlier. “My mother always talked about taking me to the ocean; a big family vacation with just her, me and my dad.” The shocked expression she wore told him she hadn’t thought about what she was saying. It just slipped out.
“But you never went. Why?”
“She died,” she replied simply.
Even if he couldn’t delve intuitively into her to
ne and her body language, he would have known there was more to the story than that. Not that he could blame her. She barely knew him, and if he was smart, he’d keep it that way. But then she turned to him, and his breath caught in his throat. Nothing had ever caught him more off-guard than the woman before him.
Her eyes, they were no longer murky brown. The sand must have irritated them and forced her to remove her contacts. The icy blue gaze that stared back at him should have seemed cold, but it didn’t. It was anything but cold. The fascination and wonder, and the sadness in those eyes left him speechless. And there was something else there that was unmistakable—desire.
It was unbelievable. Why the hell had she ever covered up something so beautiful with those brown contacts? And what was even more unbelievable than that was the realization her guard was coming down. And while it wasn’t like he could look into someone’s eyes and know everything about them, it was a glimpse.
Over the years, he’d learned to recognize shrewd eyes and hard ones, conniving eyes and even on rare occasions, kind ones. This was his chance; this is what he’d wanted from the moment he’d seen her on stage. Perhaps not the only thing he wanted from her, his own desire reminded him loudly, but he’d wanted to see what laid beneath the contact lenses. What she was like when she wasn’t in the midst of a performance or closed off in anger.
But Ava’s eyes were unlike any others. What he saw in hers left him even more puzzled because there wasn’t just one thing there. He saw everything. She was hard and soft at the same time; kind but bitter; skeptical, but God how she wished she didn’t have to be. On top of all that, right then she was fighting with everything she had to deny the fire that had begun its hot burn through her veins.
Why deny it so vehemently? She was a grown woman, and she had to know he wanted her, too.
Looking down at her, violent shocks of desire jolted through his body. There was no one around. He could lay her down in the sand right there on the beach and bury himself deep inside the most enigmatic woman he’d ever met. He couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman more. And yet, right from the beginning, she’d fought against it, as if she seriously worried that sex with him would leave her scorched.