She gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as she eased her BMW down the driveway. Joshua Martin’s French chateau–style mansion hunkered on the edge of the lake. Blooming azaleas frilled in pink and white blooms, hemmed in by a low shin-height stone wall and a paved circular stone driveway that looped around a large fountain. On the far side of the house a wing extended with six identical garage doors in a row. Fog swirled in, hanging low, as it clung to the surface of the lake and eddied up the manicured lawn.
The chilly air caressed her face; it smelled of damp stone and wood. Her car door’s closing sounded loud in the pulsating stillness created by the fog. It interrupted the splashing sounds of water dripping off three different tiers from the fountain behind her. Even her shoes seemed to echo on the gray flagstones when she walked to the front door. Another dragon, this time the head, in black wrought iron held the door knocker between his toothy jaws. She raised her hand to grasp the knocker, only to have the door suddenly swing inward to find Josh smiling at her.
He stepped back and held out a hand. “Welcome to my world.”
She stepped past him, trying to ignore the heat that radiated off his large frame. The smell of him, clean male, soap, and shaving cream caused her to inhale more deeply than she normally would. Her pulse kicked up a notch. He closed the door behind her as she sternly reminded her traitorous body that he was a client. Off limits physically. For an instant she closed her eyes and forced herself to focus not on the man beside her but on what his home could reveal about him.
Caroline opened her eyes and looked for details. She could tell from the color palette and the furniture style alone that he’d hired an interior decorator. The furnishings were too polished, the setting too formal, and the color scheme too well matched for it to be his doing. There was a huge entryway mirror in a thick black frame that reflected the black-and-white checkerboard pattern of the marble floor, and a huge round glass vase of white Casablanca lilies with clear stones holding their stems in place was neatly positioned on the high walnut entry table just across from it. The heady, sweet fragrance of the lilies perfumed the entryway. Left to Josh, he’d probably have wall-to-wall television monitors and C-3PO instead of a medieval suit of armor in his entryway.
“You look lovely today.”
The light, warm touch of his hand at the small of her back as he guided her in deeper to his home sent an arc of electrical awareness snapping along her nerves and she quickly stepped out of his reach.
“What can I show you first?”
Caroline didn’t miss the double meaning in his tone. Joshua Martin found her attractive. While she wanted a tour of the entire house, especially if he had a home office where the plans for Aeon’s big secret might be hidden, Caroline had to remind herself she was here under the guise of the image consulting business. “Your closet.”
“You know that’s in my bedroom, right?” he said arching one brow and giving her an inviting smile.
“I should hope so. Having it in the six-car garage would be kind of inconvenient.”
“But it would be spacious.”
She found herself liking his sense of humor and the mischievous spark in his blue eyes. They were probably his best feature, but it was hard to tell behind his retro black glasses. She’d have to have him take those off—to see if contacts might be a better look. Just the thought of running her fingers under his dark hair to remove the glasses made her body intimately aware of him again in ways that were very unprofessional.
His black Converse tennis shoes squeaked on the highly polished floor when he spun on his heel and marched across the foyer and up the staircase. “Come on,” he said. She stepped forward and he laced his hand in hers. His big hand nearly swallowed hers, and the contact of his warm skin started a wholly inappropriate ache in her most intimate places.
“Everything you’re looking for is right up here,” he said as he winked at her.
Caroline carefully pulled her hand from his. “It’ll take me a bit longer in heels, you go ahead and I’ll follow.”
He nodded, but a clear look of disappointment appeared in his eyes for a moment, then was gone. “Suit yourself,” he said as he bounded up the stairs two at a time.
For a second, Caroline envied his enthusiasm. He was at ease and carefree. Comfortable in his own skin, he didn’t appear to give a damn who knew it. That could be of use in shaping a new image for him. Perhaps it would be enough to even motivate him to overcome his aversion to crowds. What she really wanted was to grab hold of Josh’s shirt and demand why he’d sent her father the letter, why he’d felt it was any of his business in the first place who she dated or what they did. Instead, Caroline held it together, banishing the ache that always accompanied the memories as she climbed the stairs two steps behind him and then followed him down one hall that branched into another. She was going to make sure she ruined his perfect little world, Mr. X or no Mr. X. Just like he’d ruined hers.
“Just how big is this place?” she murmured as she took it all in. From the plush carpeting to the original artwork, everything screamed wealth.
“A bit under ten thousand square feet.”
“All just for you?”
He shrugged. “It was an investment. Totally not my style. I’ll sell it when the market goes back up.”
“Let me guess, you’d like something a little less traditional and a little more sleek and modern.”
He looked over his shoulder and shot her a grin that made her do a double take. It was a genuine smile that went all the way to his eyes and showed off his dimple to its best advantage. He had a great smile, one any woman would welcome having thrown her way… That smile would be fantastic for the cameras.
“Actually, I’d love to get a wood-pole lodge place built, you know the kind where you look like you’re in a rustic log cabin? But they were a bit short of those out here on the island and I didn’t want to live too far from work. I hate wasting time commuting.”
Just the image of antlers, swaths of plaid, and pinecones for decor almost made Caroline break out in hives. She didn’t mind the great outdoors; she just didn’t like the idea of things like bearskin rugs or stuffed heads mounted on the walls. The twenty-mile hikes with a fully loaded military pack her father had insisted they take hadn’t endeared her, either. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for the outdoorsy type.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” he said with a waggle of his thick black brows.
“What about getting your lodge as a summer place?”
He gave another noncommittal shrug. “Don’t have time for summers off.”
They reached the end of the hallway and Josh shoved open the white double doors with a flourish. “This is my bedroom.”
And here was the real Josh.
The furniture was black on black, glass and chrome. Sleek, modern—space age. A huge flat-screen television took up the entire space over a gas fireplace surrounded by black marble. One wall was decorated with nothing but the night sky, complete with a swath of the Milky Way blown up into wallpaper size and spread across his bedroom. Combined with the dark furnishings, she imagined lying in his bed would be a little like feeling you were floating in space.
Caroline gave herself a mental shake. She had no business thinking about what being in his bed or any other in the house might be like. She didn’t get involved with clients, especially not this one, no matter what. Manipulated their lives, yes. Remade their public image, yes. In this case, perhaps even tamper with their business. But get involved in a way that was anything more than business? No. Hell no. If there was one thing she learned from the painful experience of her teen years, it was that reputations took years to establish and only seconds to destroy.
“Closets are this way.” He gave her a long look, smiled as if he’d known what she was thinking about his bed, then walked through an arched doorway into a dressing area roughly the size of her living room and bedroom put together. It was filled with racks, built-in drawers, and shoe shelves, complete with a built-in iro
ning board, which he’d never apparently touched if the fine layer of dust on it was any indicator. It could have been the men’s section at a department store…except for one small thing. It was virtually empty. A small section of hanging clothes, with not more than about six hangers, stood sad and alone.
She turned and stared at him. “Where are your clothes?”
He walked over to a chest-high set of drawers and pulled one out. “Most of it’s in these three drawers. I think I have a suit hanging somewhere, maybe between my rain jackets.”
She could already see the suit jacket, and there was the same fine layer of pale dust on the dark shoulders.
“When’s the last time you wore that?”
He paused for a second, shifting his weight as if uncomfortable. “My dad’s funeral.”
“Sorry.” She paused for a moment. “Is that what you bought it for?”
“Yep.”
No wonder it looked new. “And you’ve only worn it the one time?”
“You got it.”
“Do you mind if I take a look at your drawers?” The minute the words were out of her mouth she realized the double meaning, and heat washed over her skin.
He leaned against one of the mirrored doors inside the dressing room/closet. “You can look at anything I’ve got. Be my guest. That’s what you’re here for, right?”
She set down her purse on the floor and opened one drawer, intimately aware that he was standing close enough for her to touch him. There was nothing there but T-shirts, most of them faded and well-worn. The next drawer had seven pairs of jeans, one pair of dark pants, and two pairs of khakis, and the third held a few sweatshirts and socks. Caroline’s curiosity grew. “So, I hate to ask, but where’s your underwear?” She could do this…
His full lips broke into a big, wolfish smile. “Think the media really need to see those? Or are you just hoping to find some to auction off online later?”
Caroline glared at him. “Neither. And I never would do that to a client. I have a strict set of ethics.” Well, she usually did. He was quickly becoming the exception to that rule…whether she liked it or not.
“You don’t have to get bent about it. I was only teasing.”
“Underwear?” A woman could tell a lot from the type of underwear a guy wore. Caroline had him pegged for briefs, likely tighty whities.
His grin came back full force. “Don’t have any,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.
That she didn’t expect at all…or the images that started to bombard her brain.
…
Josh waited for her reaction. It pleased him enormously when her calm and polished demeanor cracked and her mouth dropped open, her green eyes widening. He’d waited over a decade for her to ask about his underwear.
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t. Wear. Underwear.”
Her mouth snapped shut, making her teeth click. Caroline muttered a few choice words too quietly for him to hear and then closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again, leveling her gaze at him. The professional shell was back in place. “Well, I think it’s clear we need to take you shopping.”
Shopping? Couldn’t they pay someone to do that? He hated shopping. Hell, it was half the reason why there wasn’t anything in his closet to start with. If something wore out, he tossed it and often didn’t bother to replace it. And if he did need something he just ordered it online and had it shipped directly to him. “I don’t go shopping.”
“You may not like to go shopping, but you need to go. If we’re going to have a few things tailored for you, they’ll need your exact measurements.”
“Why don’t you measure me? I’ll strip down if that would help.”
Caroline cocked her head to the side, stroking her full bottom lip with her finger. The idea of kissing her and what that lip might feel like against his immediately leaped to mind, and his mouth went dry.
“Just how much are you willing to pay?”
For a kiss from Caroline? How much would it take? It took half a second for his mind to track back to what she’d just said versus thinking about how she looked, and how she’d feel. She’d dressed slightly more casual today with a white-and-navy-striped T-shirt peeping out from under the top of a navy pantsuit. The smooth fabric of the pantsuit still clung to her legs when she moved, giving him a tantalizing view of her shape. “You mean if I don’t have to go shopping?”
“Yes.”
Josh crossed his arms, trying to ignore the growing pressure in his groin. “Anything. Whatever you want. But I am not going shopping. That’s not up for negotiation.”
He’d hoped time and distance had made him somewhat immune to the charms of Caroline Parker. He’d been wrong. Dead wrong. And his damn dick grew harder to prove it. The one woman who’d gotten away from him still intrigued him.
She nodded. “Fine. I think I know a few tailors who might be willing to come out here to fit you for some shirts, a few suits, and a tux or two. We can likely shop online for the rest.”
Josh nodded. “Good. I like that idea a lot better.” Though getting mostly naked in front of her was tempting as hell.
Her brows drew together. “You really don’t like crowds, do you?”
She had no idea. It was stupid. He couldn’t do anything about it, and his anxiety level only went up as the number of people went up in the room. It was part of the reason he’d never appeared at the company conventions in person, only by teleconferencing. He was reclusive for a reason, dammit, and had enough money that he didn’t need to explain.
He frowned. “Fine. Have whomever you want here, but I don’t need droves of people roaming all over the house.”
“No problem.” She picked up her purse and started to walk out of the closet, her thin stiletto heels sinking into the carpet as she strode away. He’d missed the backside view of her when he’d led the way to his closet. The way those pants hugged her hips and ass and accented the femininity of her curves sent another pulse of heat straight to his groin. For a second he was grateful she was walking away and that he was wearing a baggy shirt that hung well past his waist. She didn’t need to see how she affected him. “What next?” he asked.
“We take a look at your car.”
“Why?”
“What you drive says a lot about you. Almost as much as your underwear…or lack thereof.” She glanced back over her shoulder at him, flipping her hair with her fingers. His eyes fixated on the creamy length of her neck and his imagination supplied all the details of what it might be like to kiss her just beneath the shell of her ear.
“I’m assuming the six-car garage you’ve got isn’t just for show.”
He nodded. “There are a few.”
He led her down to the garage by the back hall and stairs. It was faster that way, but took them straight through the kitchen.
Caroline let out a long, low whistle, her fingers trailing over the shiny black granite countertops. “This is gorgeous. Do you cook?”
“Only if you count barbecue and mac ’n’ cheese. Otherwise, the only time I see the inside of this kitchen is when my cook Maria is making some of her world-famous tamales.” The large windows let in plenty of light, which made the deeper red highlights in the dark cherrywood cabinets stand out. The thing he liked best about it was the large black and white tiles in the floor that reminded him of a chessboard. Well, that and the custom stainless steel fridge that looked like a replica of Han Solo frozen in carbonite.
“Interesting choice of appliances.”
He grinned. “Had to put my stamp on the kitchen somewhere, didn’t I?”
“And you don’t cook?”
“No. Why?”
“That’s a shame. This kitchen is absolutely amazing. Oh! You even have a chilled pastry marble inset.”
He assumed she was talking about the wide slab of marble set into a section of his granite counters, but he had no clue what it was for. “I take it you like to cook.”
She smiled at him as her fing
ers trailed over the cool surface of the stone, and his gut did a double backflip. For a moment the thought of her fingers trailing over his skin that same way flashed through his mind. “I took a few lessons at a local culinary school when I left home and found it’s one of my passions. With a gas stove like this I could do amazing things.”
“So why don’t you cook for a living?”
Caroline laughed and he found the soft, husky quality of it enchanting. He wanted to find ways to hear it more often.
“There’s the chance no one but me would actually like what I cook.”
He sincerely doubted that. Hell, he could think of several things he’d like to try cooking up with her right on the kitchen counter.
“And most people in the profession have horrible hours. If I wanted to work pastries, I’d be up all night. If I wanted to work dinners, I’d never have an evening or a weekend free.”
“Small price to pay to follow a passion.”
“Not when freedom is just as big a passion. Besides, I like what I do. It’s not often that someone can say they change people’s lives for a career.”
“Do you think changing the packaging really makes that big a difference?”
“Sure! If it didn’t matter, then why would companies spend millions on updating what their products look like? It’s all about making it more appealing, mainstream.”
“And is that what we’re doing, essentially? Making me more appealing, more mainstream?”
“We’re polishing you up a bit.”
He stepped closer to her. “And how do you plan to do that?”
She didn’t back away, which surprised him and made his heart nearly explode out of his chest. “We start,” she said slowly as she reached up and pulled off his glasses, “by getting rid of these.”
She was standing close enough that he could have leaned forward and kissed her. Hell, he should just do it. The potential of the moment blazed in vivid clarity across his mind. He could see the scene unfolding in full 3-D HD color. The fragrance of her skin, a mix of soap and jasmine, had already invaded his air space and mind, and the minute she was within range where he could feel the warmth of her skin, his whole vision narrowed down to her lush mouth.
The Geek Billionaire Makeover Page 3