by Leanne Banks
Mallory’s eyebrows shot upward. “Sounds like you’re getting to know him pretty well.”
Emma winced. “Not really. Not as much as I’m supposed—” She broke off again, because she didn’t know how much Alex had told his sweet bride. “So,” she said as brightly as she could. “Tell me how I can help.”
Mallory frowned. “Are you okay?”
“Uh-huh,” Emma said, quickly composing herself. She wondered why it was so easy with Mallory and so difficult with Damien. “Are you?”
Mallory gave a start. “Well, yes. So how was your date last week?”
“He was very nice.”
Mallory’s face fell. “Okay, I get your message. We’ll move along to bachelor number two. Is next Tuesday good?”
“Let’s try the week after. Next week is busy for me,” she said, her heart skipping a beat when she thought about the trip to Miami. Should she tell Max or Alex? Why did she feel so conflicted? Emma shook off her craziness. “I’m waiting. How can I help?”
Mallory paused for a moment, then nodded. “We got some last-minute big rollers and they’ve totally messed up my seating arrangements. Help.”
Emma smiled. Now she was on familiar ground. “Give me the list.”
Damien took a seat at the bar and ordered a scotch. Struck by the sumptuous luxury of the ballroom, he couldn’t help remembering that lean time when he’d been declared an independent child and lived hand to mouth. Even before his father had died, his family had never been wealthy. They’d never owned their own home.
He caught sight of an advertisement on the wall for Megalos-De Luca proudly announcing their charitable contributions and felt bitterness roil through him like acid. The irony of the De Luca family being the least bit connected to anything charitable was a joke.
When Damien thought about how the De Lucas had cheated his grandfather out of the Medicis’ beloved estate, the fire roared inside him again. The once solid family had scattered, and were still scattered. One of his uncles had committed suicide, an aunt betrothed to a prince had been dumped. Children had been orphaned. Someone had to make this right. That someone was him.
Emma caught his eye as she passed him by. She glided with confidence through the ballroom and smiled at the waitstaff in a much friendlier, more open way than she did him. That fact stuck in his craw. He wondered what it would be like if she were that open with him. He felt an odd growl in his gut and watched her through narrowed eyes. Why should it bother him?
He would have her. In every way a man could have a woman, he was determined to have her, and he would. He took another swallow of whiskey and felt the burn all the way down. Not only would she give him herself, she would give him all the information he wanted to make Max De Luca pay.
“What do you want to drink?” Damien asked her as he played blackjack at the charity high-roller table.
Emma noticed he was winning against the house. No surprise there. “I don’t drink very often. I’m always the DD.”
“No need tonight,” he said. “A limo will safely transport you home.”
She met his gaze and felt the frisson of something between them. How could that be? He was the devil. The obscenely wealthy devil and she, well, she was just Emma. “Something with peach schnapps,” she admitted in a low voice, leaning toward him. “A lady’s drink.”
“Got it,” he said and turned to the waitress in the ultra-short black dress. “Sex on the Beach,” he said. “Water for me.”
Emma frowned at him and he lifted his hands. “Hey, I’m gambling,” he said. “I have to keep my head.”
“Does winning matter that much?” she asked as the dealer shuffled the deck for another game. “Since the money goes to charity anyway.”
He gave a low, dirty chuckle and shook his head. “Winning always matters,” he said.
Sipping her fruity drink, Emma watched him rack up the chips until it appeared he’d accumulated a mountain of them. “I’ll cash them in now,” he finally said to the dealer and rose from the table.
“That’s a lot of money,” she said after he cashed in his chips and collected a receipt for charity.
“It’s deductible.” He shot her a sideways glance. “Plus I had to deliver on your promise to Mallory that I was going to drop a bundle.”
Emma fought a twist of discomfort. It had been presumptuous of her to promise Damien’s money. On the other hand, it had been presumptuous of Damien to insist on attending the event with her.
“Don’t worry. I know you were protecting me,” he said.
“Protecting you,” she echoed in disbelief. “Why would I do that? Why would you of all people need protection?”
“Because Mallory Megalos wanted to scratch off my face.”
“I can’t believe you would be concerned by Mallory.”
“I’m not. I learned long ago not to rely on anyone’s opinion but my own, but it’s good to know you were looking out for my best interests.”
His comment was so far from the truth it was all she could do not to correct him. She remembered, however, that it was part of her goal to get him to trust her so that she could get information for Alex and Max.
Managing a tight smile, she glanced at the buffet and moved toward it. “After all that gaming, I bet you’re hungry. See anything you like?”
“Yes, I do,” he said in a low, intimate voice that snagged her attention. She looked at him and his gaze was focused totally on her. She felt a rush of heat. “The food does look delicious,” she said, attempting to distract him.
His gaze didn’t budge. “Delicious,” he said, but he clearly wasn’t referring to the food.
Emma felt as if she needed a fan.
A hand brushed her back and she turned to find Doug Caldwell, her blind date from the previous night. “It’s good to see you. Mallory didn’t tell me you were coming tonight.”
“Probably because I was going to be helping her. Damien Medici, this is Doug Caldwell.”
“Good to meet you,” Doug said. “You don’t mind if I borrow Emma for a dance, do you?”
Wearing an inscrutable expression, Damien remained silent for a long, uncomfortable moment.
Doug gave an uneasy laugh. “Just one,” he promised. “Unless you’re engaged.”
“Of course not,” Emma replied. “Excuse me and enjoy the buffet.”
Inwardly fuming, she allowed Doug to guide her onto the dance floor.
“Who is that guy, anyway?” Doug asked.
“My boss,” she said and watched him lift his eyebrows. “Well, not exactly my boss. I’ve been assigned to work with him while he performs a service for the company.”
“He seemed territorial about you. Maybe he’s interested in more than business.”
“Oh, no. He’s just one of those men who come across as intimidating the first time you meet him.” And the second time, and the third….
“If that’s the case and you’re up for it, I’d like to take you to dinner next weekend.”
She wasn’t, but she also didn’t want Doug to think anything romantic was happening between her and Damien. “I wish I could, but I’m going to be out of town next weekend.”
“Then how about the weekend after that?”
“My schedule is tight right now, but maybe we could meet for cocktails again.”
“I was hoping for something more,” he said.
“I’m sorry. I’m taking some classes, so I’m very busy.”
He gave a put-upon sigh. “Okay, I’ll take what I can get. Cocktails on Saturday night in two weeks. Don’t forget.”
She nodded and the music stopped, saving her from further discussion. Just a few feet after parting with Doug, she felt a warm, strong hand close over hers and looked up to find Damien.
“Hello,” she said, taken off guard, distracted by the sensation of his closeness.
“My turn,” he said and as another song began, he pulled her into his arms.
She quickly glanced over her shoulder, wondering who was w
atching. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I wouldn’t want to start rumors.”
“I’ve never been bothered by rumors. Are you worried that all the MD people are going to think you’re making nice to the hatchet man?”
She gasped at his bluntness. “I’ve always made it a practice to keep my professional relationships completely professional.”
“You’re telling me you weren’t attracted to your previous bosses,” he said.
Feeling his crisp tuxedo jacket beneath her hand, she couldn’t help wondering how his naked shoulder would feel. How would his skin feel? She tried to squelch her curiosity. “Well, I didn’t mean to say they’re not attractive men. They are and they’re very good men, but my relationships with my bosses have always been work-focused.”
“But they didn’t affect you like I do.”
Her breath stopped in her throat. She swallowed hard.
“You’re not denying it,” he said.
Emma grasped for her usual rational, cautious mind. “Just because there’s some sort of odd, fleeting, marginal chemistry doesn’t mean anyone should act on it.”
He lifted a dark eyebrow. “Marginal, fleeting,” he echoed.
“Exactly,” she said, wishing her heart wasn’t racing so fast. “Chemistry is just chemistry.”
“One of the things I noticed about MD is that they don’t have a policy against employees fraternizing with each other.”
“Yes, but fraternization just muddies the water.” And the mind, she thought, determined to keep her own mind clear as the sound of a saxophone oozed through the room.
“You don’t need to be afraid,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“I would never force you. I’ve never had to force a woman.” He leaned closer, brushing his mouth just an inch from her ear. “You would come to me.”
Fighting his knee-weakening effect on her, she pulled back. “I’m not that easily seduced,” she whispered.
“I never said you were easy,” he told her. “I just said there was something between us. Not the usual attraction. At some point, we’re going to need to explore it to get past it. We may as well enjoy it.”
Part of her may have felt he was right, but she refused to give into it. She stepped backward. “We won’t have an affair. I won’t come to you. Count on it,” she said and turned away. Florida was going to be oh-so-great, she thought as she stalked toward the bar to get a bottle of water. She might as well be walking through hell.
Later that evening, Mallory Megalos announced the winners of the raffle items. One person won a vacation to Greece, another to Italy, another to France. Someone else won a sports car. Emma wasn’t paying attention to the names of the winners because she hadn’t entered any of the drawings. With her mother’s problems, she never gambled.
“The winner of the Tesla Roadster, with taxes absorbed by an anonymous donor, is Emma Weatherfield,” Mallory announced.
“Emma!” a coworker exclaimed.
She snapped her head around to meet the manager’s excited gaze. “Excuse me?”
“You just won a car.”
Emma frowned. “That’s not possible. I didn’t enter. I didn’t buy any raffle tickets…”
“Emma, you won a Tesla Roadster,” Mallory announced from the platform. “Come and get the keys.”
Confused, she shot a quick glance around her and walked toward the platform. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to Mallory. “There must be some mistake. I didn’t buy any tickets.”
“Well, someone must have entered your name,” Mallory said, lifting the ticket with her name scrawled on it. “This is the coolest car in the world. I would be jealous if Alex didn’t let me drive his.”
“How—”
“Congratulations, Emma Weatherfield!” Mallory said.
Still disbelieving, she reluctantly accepted the keys. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” Glancing into the crowd, she caught sight of Damien. He wore a mysterious yet knowing expression on his face, and she immediately suspected he was behind her win. She also knew she couldn’t accept the car.
Seven
Emma pressed the keys into Damien’s hand as he assisted her into the waiting limo.
Following her inside the car, he looked down at the keys. “What’s this?”
“Those are the keys to the car that you won from the raffle tonight,” she said.
“Couldn’t be mine. I didn’t enter the raffle.” He extended his arm to drop them into her lap. “I’m not big on counting on luck.”
“I didn’t enter the raffle, either. The tickets were too expensive. Twenty-five dollars each,” she said, her frustration rising. “It had to be you.”
“Why?” he asked. “Don’t you have other friends and admirers? Couldn’t someone else have just decided to buy several tickets and put names of friends on them?”
Emma studied his face, her gaze sliding to the scar. The mark of imperfection was incredibly sexy to her and the fact that she knew he’d gotten that scar protecting someone got to her every time she looked at his face. She tried to read his expression, but it was inscrutable.
Narrowing her eyes, she shook her head. “Something about this is fishy. I almost feel as if I should give the car back.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “I wasn’t aware that your current mode of transportation was in such great condition that you could throw away a brand-new car.”
“Well, a roadster isn’t very practical,” she countered.
“True. It’s only a two-seater. You don’t have children, do you?”
“You know I don’t,” she said. “But there’s also not a lot of space for packing things in the trunk.”
He nodded. “You take a lot of driving trips?”
“Not really,” she admitted. “But I do visit my mother in Missouri sometimes.”
“I hear it will go two hundred and twenty miles on one charge,” he said casually.
“I know all about the specs. I was in charge of making sure Alex Megalos got his the first possible second.”
“Nice company car,” Damien said in a tone brimming with disapproval.
“The company didn’t pay for the car,” she quickly told him. “He paid for it out of his own money. Which leads me back to my original point. I didn’t buy a raffle ticket, so how could I have won it?”
“Apparently someone entered for you,” he said. “Someone wanted you to have the car.”
She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not comfortable with this at all.”
“Many people aren’t comfortable with change,” he said.
She glanced at him again, wondering if he was talking about the changes that would be taking place within MD. Or other possible personal changes. Her gaze dipped involuntarily to his mouth and she felt an unbidden rush of warmth. She forced her gaze away, but was still aware of him, the scent of his cologne, the closeness of his body. His hip was mere inches from hers. She glimpsed his long legs in her peripheral vision. His hand rested on the leather seat just above her shoulder.
He confused her. If he was trying to buy her loyalty or something else, wouldn’t he have taken credit for entering her in the lottery and held it over her head?
She turned toward him, looking up into his face. “If some mystery person had bought a lottery ticket on your behalf and you’d won, what would you do?”
“I don’t have personal experience. No one has ever bought a lottery ticket on my behalf,” he said in a dry tone. “I’ve had offers for free headstone markers—”
“You haven’t received death threats?” she asked, feeling a chill.
“Too many to count, but that wasn’t your original question. If I won a car and liked it, I would keep it. If I’d won this car and didn’t want it, I would sell it because the demand for the car is so high.”
“Sell it,” she echoed. “That sounds almost mercenary considering I got it because of a charity drive.”
“If you sell it, you could buy yourself a new car a
nd put the rest of the cash in the bank.”
The idea tempted her. “If I bought a good used car…”
“I didn’t suggest you go that far,” he said. “If you insist on selling it, the least you can do is get yourself new, reliable transportation.”
She threw him a sideways glance. “Considering you didn’t enter the lottery for me, you seem to have a strong opinion.”
“You asked my opinion.”
True, she thought.
“Do you like the car?”
“I haven’t even driven it yet. I was told it could be delivered as soon as Monday. I don’t even know how to drive the thing.”
“I’m sure the person who delivers it will be glad to show you.” He paused a moment. “You could wait to make your decision after you’ve taken the car for a ride. It’s often wise not to judge before you’ve had a chance to evaluate the car for yourself.”
His gaze held hers and she couldn’t help comparing him to a fast, dangerous sports car. What kind of ride would he give? Emma should have been horrified by the direction of her thoughts, but when he lowered his fingers to brush back a strand of her hair, all she could do was stare.
He lowered his head and she held her breath. Was he going to kiss her? She should turn away, push him away, but she couldn’t move.
“It’s your call, Emma. No one is going to force you. You can give the keys back before, or you can take a ride and decide for yourself.”
His voice was low and intimate, the same way he would talk to a lover. She felt an ache start in her breasts and slide lower into her nether regions. She couldn’t remember feeling this aroused by a man, and he’d barely touched her. What if he’d kissed her? Would she be able to resist him? Would she want to?
The limo pulled to a stop, distracting her. Glancing out the window, she saw that they had arrived at her apartment’s parking lot. She cleared her throat and decided to say goodbye here before he made her have another sensual meltdown. “Well, thank you for your generous contribution to charity this evening.”
“I’ll walk you inside,” he said and gave the chauffeur a quick nod. The chauffeur opened the door. Damien got out and extended his hand to help her.