by Alexia Adams
Kat glanced around to make sure he was talking to her. “No, but I only came to collect my phone. I’m sure you have work to do.”
Wolfe nodded at Margaret-Mary, who immediately picked up her phone once more.
“Please, come in, I’d like to show you something.” He stood to the side and waited while Kat collected her bag and gloves. As she passed him, he turned back to Margaret-Mary. “Let me know when lunch arrives, and then please make sure we are not disturbed.”
“Yes, sir. I won’t let anyone through, even if I hear everything atop your desk crash to the floor,” she replied with another of her exuberant laughs. Wolfe closed the door on Margaret-Mary’s mirth.
“Your secretary has a vivid imagination. Or is this a common occurrence in your office?”
“Surprisingly, you are the first of my ‘girlfriends’ to visit my office, which probably accounts for all the curiosity about you. But before you distract me further, I have to ask: babies? I’d never pegged you for a maternal person.”
Kat shrugged and moved to admire the view. He really did have a nice office. Old world decor with a modern vista of the towers of Docklands and the City beyond. Past and future. And piles of money. “When a woman thrusts her newborn in your arms, it’s bad manners to run away screaming.”
“Do you want a family? Children?”
Hell yeah was her initial reaction to his question. “What I want and what I’m going to get are two wildly different things in my world.”
“They don’t have to be.” He was standing right behind her now. She could feel the warmth of his body, smell the hints of lemon and sage in his cologne. The hairs on her nape stood on end waiting for the caress of his lips on her neck, his arms to circle her waist and draw her against him.
“Is that why you asked me in here? To discuss my baby-making plans?”
“Actually, I wanted to show you my new designs. I was up most of last night working on them. But if you want to talk about the mechanics of making babies, maybe even have a practice session, I’m game.”
From the way her body reacted, so was she.
…
Wolfe forced himself to move away from Kat. She intoxicated him, and he didn’t have time for that. He had masses of work to do, and for once in his life, he lacked the drive to get it done. Now was not the moment for his ambition to slip. He had to be the best in his business. Never forgotten. Remington Wolfe would be a name spoken for generations as a preeminent jewelry designer. This competition was the way to launch his company into the stratosphere. For decades, jewelers had wanted to get their hands on the Adjmani loose gemstones. To be the one to set them, show their beauty to the masses, would be a dream come true.
Then he’d opened his office door and found the current object of his lust-filled fantasy holding a tiny baby and looking on it with such love that for the first time in his life, he’d questioned his priorities. Only for a second, but long enough to leave him winded.
He picked up his sketchbook and flipped the pages past the drawing he’d made of Kat last night and stopped on the page for the signature piece in the Adjmani collection, a fifteen-carat natural bicolor sapphire.
“What do you think?” It’d been years since he’d sought an opinion on a design, but he wanted to know what Kat thought, without telling her she’d been the inspiration. He could imagine her wearing the gem, encased in delicate filigrees of silver, nestled between her breasts. Even better if that was all she wore. Once he had the prototype finished, he’d convince her to model it for him.
“It’s amazing. It makes me think of a man’s arms holding the woman he loves. Protecting her but still allowing her to stand on her own.” Her voice had softened and a warm blush suffused her skin as she handed the sketchpad back to him.
His gazed bounced between the woman and the design, intrigued by the image she presented. His goal had been to show the beauty of the stone without actually mounting it. Kat’s analogy was startlingly accurate, though. Had that been in his subconscious when he’d designed it? She was definitely a woman who could stand on her own. That she’d want a man to give her support now and again filled his chest with warmth. Too bad he couldn’t be that man. Jewels would always be his first love and a woman like Kat was unlikely to settle for second place. The warmth turned to a burn. “I’m glad you like it.”
She stared longingly at the design for another moment—the same way she’d looked at baby William—then took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. The wistfulness was gone from her voice when she said, “It’s perfect. Now if you’ll give me my phone, I’ll get out of your hair and you can get back to work.” She picked up her handbag and began to pull on her gloves. If she looked this sexy with all those clothes on, how would she look with them off? He was already having to take cold showers with the image of her in a skirt and camisole burned into his retinas. As soon as he had the competition entries completed, he’d seduce Kat into his bed. If he could wait that long.
“Lunch is on its way. And as for being in my hair, you haven’t even touched it yet. What will Margaret-Mary think if you leave so soon?” He took her bag from her hand and returned it to his desk then drew her toward the sofa.
“Margaret-Mary knows this girlfriend thing is a ruse.”
“Is it? We had dinner last night, and you came back to my place then conveniently left your phone so you’d have an excuse to come by today…” He caressed her cheek with the back of his finger, gratified at the shuddery indrawn breath she took.
“I thought we decided that a physical relationship between us was a bad idea.”
“We didn’t decide anything. You put forward an argument then walked out the door before I could refute it.”
“Well, it is. A bad idea. A very, very bad idea.”
His lips were on hers by the time she finished the sentence, but she didn’t protest as his hand slid into her hair, the other around her waist. He sipped at her mouth, sampled and nibbled until she moaned and molded her body closer to his. “Very bad ideas are usually the best ones,” he said as he kissed his way along her jaw and then down her throat. God, she tasted fantastic. And from the rapid rise and fall of her chest, she was as affected as he was. He ran a hand under the hem of her dress, up her leg until he encountered the top of a stocking and suspenders. Bloody hell.
The sharp rap on his door was so ill timed he cursed.
“Come up for air, lunch is here,” Margaret-Mary called out. Without waiting for his invitation, she opened the door then pushed a wheeled table into the room, not seeming at all fazed by the sight of her boss in a semi-reclined position on the sofa with his cyber security expert underneath him.
“Saved by the spaghetti,” Kat said. She removed her bare hand from his hair and the gloved hand from his back and used both to push against his chest. Reluctantly, he helped her sit up.
“Glad to see you’re hard at work,” Margaret-Mary said, door in hand. “I’ll be remembering this during my next performance review.” Not even the closed panel could mute her laughter.
“One day I’m going to fire that woman,” Wolfe grumbled as he went to retrieve their lunches from the cart now parked in the middle of the room.
“And rehire her ten minutes later because you can’t find anything.”
“Probably. I hope you like seafood pasta. I noticed you ordered fish last night.”
“I love seafood pasta. Thank you.” She took the plate from him and then set it on the coffee table while she removed her one remaining glove. “Margaret-Mary’s not wrong, though. We are meant to be working. I made a thorough sweep of the accounting and HR programs last night and didn’t find anything amiss. I’ll do the purchasing and document databases next. Did you have those fake designs sorted yet? I can put trackers on them as well.”
“I can show you which ones this evening.”
“Oh, actually I can’t tonight. I have a ticket to the ballet.” There was an odd hesitation in her voice as she told him of her plans, but she was
so intent on twirling the pasta on her fork he couldn’t see her face fully.
“I’ll join you.”
She kept her head down. “I think the performance is sold out. Tomorrow is the last night the Bolshoi is in town. I had to buy my ticket off a scalper and it’s not even a very good seat.”
“They’re performing at the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden, aren’t they? I have a box.”
“Of course you do.” Her ruby-stained lips closed around a forkful of pasta.
“The opera and ballet set are my bread and butter.”
“Lots of purchases from the ejection collection?”
He laughed at her reminder of the jewelry line for terminating relationships. “No, they’re more the multi-decade-anniversary purchasers. Although some probably get a few pieces for their mistresses as well.”
“You don’t miss a trick, do you?”
“I can’t vet the relationship credentials of everyone who buys my jewelry.”
“I guess not.” She put another forkful of food in her mouth. He hadn’t even taken a bite of his yet. Before her arrival, he’d been starving.
“I have one request for tonight.”
She cocked her head to the side. “I don’t remember saying you could come with me.”
“By having a box, I also have an automatic invitation to meet the dancers backstage after the performance.” Maybe that would tilt the table in his favor.
She didn’t even hesitate. “Sold. What’s your request?”
“You wear a set of my jewels.”
Her right eyebrow quirked upward. “You want me to be your walking mannequin?”
He wanted to spend his evening imagining her wearing nothing but his creations. “Something like that. Besides, as I said, people will expect my girlfriend to wear my jewelry.”
“All right, then.” God, he’d never had to cajole a woman to wear his gems before.
“What will you be wearing?” More importantly, what would she be sporting underneath? If anything? His fingers still itched to explore the top edge of her stockings. He shifted in his chair. Thank God his box seats allowed for more legroom, although it may not be his legs that needed additional space.
“I had planned to wear what I have on now, but if I’m going with you and wearing your jewels, I’d better up my game. I saw a nice navy dress in the window of a shop this morning. I’ll pick it up after I’m done here.”
“No need. I can have someone get it for you.” He grabbed for his phone, but she stopped him.
“I buy my own clothes. And the jewels are on loan. You’ll be getting them back as well.”
“I will decide what happens to them. What’s your problem with presents?”
“They come with strings. No one ties me down.”
He shook his head. “One day you’ll tell me who taught you that lesson. Then I can beat the crap out of them.”
She smiled and his chest tightened. “Maybe one day.” A mischievous glint shone in her eyes as she put her now-empty plate on the coffee table. “In the meantime, eat your lunch while I play with your equipment.”
If he wasn’t careful, this woman would have him questioning his own name before the week was out.
Chapter Five
Kat fidgeted in her seat beside him. She’d taken his breath away when she’d appeared in the lobby of the Shangri-La wearing her navy silk gown. The portrait-collar neckline was the perfect frame for the sapphire and diamond necklace he’d chosen for her. And she’d slicked her hair back so the drop earrings showed to full effect.
But nothing was as amazing as the woman herself. And based on the way her breasts were pushed up like they might spill from the top of her dress if she bent over, she wore a corset. Did she have old-fashioned stockings on as well? Damn the tightness of his bowtie.
The chatter of the people in the dress circle below his box got louder as the orchestra began their tune up cacophony. What was up with Kat? Her knees shook so much her tiny silver bag slid off her lap. He handed it back to her and laced his fingers through hers. “What are you nervous about? You handled the paparazzi very well.” As they’d exited the Rolls Royce he’d hired to bring them to the performance, two dozen photographers had been waiting. Kat had posed and smiled like a professional. Photogs had called out to him, asking the name of his companion, but he’d just grinned, put his arm around her waist, and escorted her into the building.
“I’m excited for the performance. It’s the world-famous Bolshoi. Are we really going to meet the dancers afterward?”
Provided we’re still here at the end of the performance and not elsewhere finishing what Margaret-Mary interrupted this afternoon. “If you want to.”
She shrugged but still seemed oddly nervous. “What can I say? I have a thing for men in tights.”
The lights in the theater dimmed, and he leaned over to whisper in her ear, “I have a thing for women in stockings. Do you still have them on?”
A sexy rumble of laughter preceded her answer. “Of course.”
“And a corset?”
“Yes.” This time her voice was even huskier.
Damn.
The lights went out, and Kat turned her attention to the stage, her gaze never once moving from the performance. Wolfe’s eyes rarely left her. It was the second act when he realized she’d slipped off her shoes and her feet pointed and flexed along with the dancers on stage. Her arm farthest away from him also moved and swayed with the music. She’d once been a ballet dancer; he’d bet his weight in diamonds on it.
As the lights came back on for intermission, Kat slumped in her seat as though exhausted. Yet her eyes glowed and a radiant energy shone in her smile. “That was beautiful, don’t you think?”
“Incredible. Would you like a glass of champagne, or perhaps a martini? Extra dirty.”
“Actually, I’ll have champagne tonight. I feel like celebrating.”
Hopefully her good mood would spill over to include an after-after party. “Want to come with me to the bar, or should I bring it here for you?” He should have preordered their drinks to be delivered to them. Having Kat wear his jewels was marketing gold, but he was oddly reluctant to have every man in the room stare at her chest, because he knew damn well they wouldn’t be admiring his necklace.
“I’ll come. I need to stretch.”
She bent over to retrieve her shoes, but he was on his knees in front of her before she could locate them. “Allow me.” He found her footwear—Jimmy Choo’s Cinderella shoes covered in Swarovski crystals and costing thirty-five hundred pounds. He knew, because a former girlfriend had tried to convince him to order a pair for her. As he slipped a shoe on her right foot, he glanced up at her. “Fits perfectly.”
“They should, they’re my shoes.”
“Touché.” Footwear restored, he stood and helped her to her feet. He resisted the urge to kiss her, knowing he’d be unable to stop.
The bar was crowded, so he took her hand as they wove through the throng, nodding at several couples he knew. He didn’t stop; he wasn’t about to share Kat with anyone. Glasses of champagne in hand, he turned to give one to her only to discover she’d disappeared. She’d been beside him two seconds ago. He scanned the area but couldn’t spot her. Maybe she’d returned to their seats.
She’d pulled her chair back into the corner, in the dark shadows. If it wasn’t for the light of her phone, he might have missed her.
“Everything okay?” he asked as he handed her the drink.
“Yes. Thank you. I…uh…I thought I heard the bell that the intermission was over and didn’t want to miss anything.”
The intermission wouldn’t be over for ten minutes. Why would she lie to him? He caught her gaze and a hint of vulnerability flashed through her eyes accompanied by a sadness at odds with the smile. He’d called off his private investigator, so he’d have to discover her secrets himself. Starting now.
He pulled his chair next to hers. “You were a dancer once, weren’t you?” He stared i
nto her eyes, daring her to lie again.
“Never professional. My mother put me in ballet as soon as I could walk. She’d been a ballerina, on the verge of becoming a prima, before I was born. But I was a big baby and a difficult birth, and she never regained her former position. She hoped I would achieve the greatness I’d cost her. Then I developed early, and try as she might, she couldn’t stop my, um, figure from…” She waved her hands in front, indicating her curves. “By the time I was thirteen, I weighed more than any ballerina had a right to. So she turned her attention to my younger sister who was more petite.” The recitation of her past was delivered in a monotone, no hint of emotion. Yet it soured the champagne in his mouth. How could her own mother not have seen how incredible Kat was, dancing ability or not?
“Do you miss dancing?”
“No. I only did it to try and please her. Dancing wasn’t my passion. But I enjoy watching others and can appreciate the sacrifice that goes into a performance such as this.”
“And your sister? Did she become a professional dancer?”
“Yes.”
“With the Bolshoi? Is she performing tonight?”
“No.”
And that was the answer to which question? Before he could ask, the bell sounded to signal the start of the performance. Kat moved her chair back to watch the stage but this time she kept her shoes on and her hands firmly glued to the chair arms.
They stood and clapped as the performance came to an end. While the principal dancers received their accolades, Wolfe glanced at Kat. Tears streamed down her face. He found himself more moved by her show of emotion than anything he’d seen on stage. He’d bought the box because it gave him access to an exclusive clientele. But only now did the expense seem worth it; and he hadn’t been awarded a single commission.
“Do you still want to meet the dancers?” he asked as the curtain came down for a final time.
“Yes. If you don’t want to come, I can meet you back at the hotel.” She dabbed the moisture from her eyes and once more seemed in complete control.
“I’ll stay.” No way was he letting her out of his sight.