Giving herself a mental snap-out-of-it slap, she changed direction, walking out of the park and up Fifth Avenue toward her office.
Suck it up. She’d be fine. She didn’t need anyone, anyway. She had her work and her Life Plan.
The following Saturday evening, Laura put the finishing touches on her appearance, then inspected her reflection in the full-length bathroom mirror. From her hair, which hung in a long sleek curtain down her back, to her ruby-red Carolina Herrera evening gown with the plunging neckline skimming over her subtle curves, she approved.
It was high time for a night out. She’d been working too hard. Even the peace and solitude she’d always looked forward to coming home to now felt more like a prison.
Scooping up her beaded evening bag, she headed for the door just as her intercom buzzed.
She hit the button. “Yes?”
“Ms. Armstrong, your car is here.”
Hitting the button again, she said, “Thank you, Marcus.”
Unaccustomed to the nervous jitters in her stomach, she took the elevator down to the lobby of her building. It was an important night in the advertising business. Advertising’s top agencies would be at the Sylbie Awards tonight, and she was up for her first award thanks to the success of Giddings-Rose’s Fiat campaign.
The nervous jitters had nothing to do with seeing Nathan again for the first time since the golf match from hell. Nothing at all. Nor with the fact that her campaign was up against a Hawk Media campaign in the same category: multimedia advertising. Nope. Not at all.
When she climbed into the limo, she could see her crew had already begun the celebration.
Katie held a glass of champagne to her lips, Havi stuffed a mouthful of caviar into his mouth, while Celeste threw back a shot of something.
“That should calm the nerves a little,” Celeste said as soon as she’d recovered her breath. “My first award nomination,” she explained.
“Me, too,” Laura said as she settled back against the plush leather seats.
“Then here.” Celeste poured another shot. “It’ll help.”
“Thanks.” Laura peered at the glass. “What is it?”
“Whiskey, I think.”
Laura tossed back the contents, the warmth spreading down her throat to her stomach. Inhaling sharply, Laura set the shot glass aside. “Okay, then.”
The Grand Ballroom at the Plaza Hotel served as the venue for this year’s Sylbie Awards, the opulent room’s mirrors reflecting the glitter and sheen of its occupants. Entering the room, Nathan set off in search of Hawk Media’s table. Finding it, he barely recognized his team, decked out in their finery.
Hawk walked up with his beautiful wife, Melissa, a former Buffalo Bills cheerleader. After the greetings were dispensed with, Nathan went in search of a drink. Well, that and a reconnaissance mission for one Laura Armstrong. He passed one of the Giddings-Rose tables, and wondered which one she would sit at. He also wondered if Jack would be with her.
Ordering a scotch, neat, he turned back to the entrance. And there she stood. Dressed to kill in a revealing red gown.
And she appeared to be alone.
His nemesis. His obsession.
That’s what she’d become. His research into her advertising portfolio had turned into research into her life. He’d learned things on Google she’d never shared with him during their short fling on the ship. Nathan snorted. Which was next to nothing. Where she went to college, her family. Plenty of information out there given her name and connections.
She hadn’t been lying about the gala, after all. He’d found photos of her standing next to the mayor at last year’s gala wearing a silver gown and looking like a Greek goddess. Perused the event’s website, no doubt created under her skillful eye, listing her as PR Committee Chair. The date and location for this year’s gala.
He’d read news stories about her family. The death of her paternal grandfather. The promotion of her father to CEO of the company not long after. The stories of her bad-boy brother’s escapades with starlets, high-paid escorts, and the occasional married woman.
Now she stood in the doorway, poised, confident, appearing to all the world as if she’d never wanted for anything in her life. Never been unsure where she comes from or where she’s going. But he knew better.
She turned to say something to the woman behind her and entered the room with all the grace her private school education afforded her. Cool. Self-assured. Beautiful.
As she headed in his direction, he debated whether to take his drink and retreat to his table or stand his ground. Choosing to stand his ground, he enjoyed her slight hesitation when she saw him. Regrouping, she continued toward the bar.
“Grey Goose Cosmo,” Nathan said to the bartender, “for the lady.”
“That was presumptuous,” she replied with a sniff.
“How do you know it’s for you?” he asked, his brow lifted in challenge.
She leveled him with an eat-shit look, and he chuckled, enjoying himself.
He took his drink from the bartender. “We meet again, in yet another challenge. I understand your Fiat campaign is up against Hawk’s Patrón campaign.”
“Maybe this time next year, we’ll be back for the award-winning Imperial campaign,” she returned with a smirk.
Wanting to wipe that smirk off her face, he leaned over, whispering in her ear, “With Hawk Media as the recipient, sugar,” relishing the shiver his breath on her neck elicited.
He spun and walked away without a backward glance.
“Damn him,” Laura muttered under her breath. Stubbornly, she left the Cosmo behind, refusing to accept a drink from him. How did he manage to make her toes curl by just whispering in her ear? And damn him and his ‘Nathan-time’ sex.
Scanning the room for her table she couldn’t help but notice how good he looked in that tux. She’d wanted to peel off his clothes and lick him from head to toe.
Taking a seat next to Katie just as the emcee took the podium, she turned up her nose and focused on the ceremonies. By damn, she was going to enjoy her first award nomination if it killed her. But first she had to make it through dinner and dessert before the agonizing anticipation would be over.
“Who was that gorgeous guy you were chatting up at the bar?” Katie asked. “He looks familiar.”
“That would be Nathan Maxwell, VP of Business Development at Hawk Media, and our competition for the Imperial account.”
“Da-yum! That’s too bad. You two would be great together.”
Laura pulled back as if Katie had slapped her. “Bite your tongue.”
As the emcee droned on with the introductions, Katie narrowed her eyes. “He was the spy, wasn’t he? The one on the ship.”
“Pfft. No.” Laura waved her hand, dismissing her comment.
Katie continued to stare, making Laura feel like a pinned butterfly.
“Okay. Fine. It was him.”
“Well, don’t look now, but he’s sitting two tables to the right, and he hasn’t taken his eyes off you.”
“Really? I mean, don’t stare,” Laura hissed, picking up her water glass, and throwing a casual glance over her right shoulder.
“You two seemed pretty cozy up there.” Katie took a roll from the breadbasket, broke it in half, and began to butter it. “Did you sleep with him on the cruise?”
Laura choked on her water. Snatching up her napkin, she covered her cough. Eyes watering, she glared at Katie, who wore a smug grin.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Laura grabbed her arm and tugged her close. “Don’t you dare say anything. I know where you live.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get your La Perla in a knot. I’m not going to say anything . . . if you answer one question.”
Laura released her and sat back. “What question?”
“How was he?” Katie asked, eagerness written all over her face.
Hawk pushed his dessert plate aside and propped his elbows on the table. “You might want to pay atte
ntion to the program instead of staring a hole in Ms. Armstrong’s back,” Hawk whispered.
Well, shit. So much for subtle.
Hawk chuckled at his expression and slid closer to his wife, putting his arm around her.
Nathan picked up the program. Only two more awards until the Hart Multimedia Advertising Award. Then he could gracefully bow out. Provided Hawk didn’t win, otherwise he’d have to stay for the post-ceremony celebration.
He had to get away from Laura. Just being in the same room with her brought back so many memories. Steamy memories, as well as tender ones. If he stayed, he’d wind up asking her for drinks, and drinks could lead to not keeping it in his pants per Hawk’s orders. Assuming she’d agree to meet him. Which was a pretty bold assumption.
The emcee interrupted his thoughts. “Next up, the Hart Multimedia Advertising Award. This award is given for the previous year’s best multimedia advertising campaign, utilizing all forms of media including TV, radio, digital and print content, as well as social media. This year’s list of nominees encompasses some of advertising’s most stellar agencies.” With each agency and campaign named, the corresponding tables erupted into applause.
“And this year’s Hart Award goes to—” Drawing out the anticipation, the emcee fumbled with the envelope. Nathan glanced around the table at all the hardworking members of his team who created the campaign pre-Nathan. Hawk clasped his wife’s hand, the only sign of his emotions.
“Cooper Media Group for their ‘Way to Go’ campaign, Platinum Airlines.”
Melissa leaned over, patted Hawk’s cheek in consolation, and kissed him.
Disappointment settled over the table, even as they clapped for the winners who were making their way to the stage.
Nathan looked over at Laura’s table. Okay. At Laura. Though she joined in the applause, her shoulders slumped a little, as if she could no longer handle the fatigue. Colleagues were patting her on the back, offering words of encouragement.
Dammit. Why did he feel like she’d been cheated? The Fiat campaign had smoked Platinum’s hands down. Hell, the Fiat campaign had smoked Hawk’s Patrón campaign.
After the acceptance speeches were made, and the emcee moved on to the next category, Laura rose from the table and headed for the door. He’d blame it on sour grapes, but he wanted to leave too.
He waited a few more minutes then stood, saying his goodnights to Hawk, Melissa, and the rest of the gang. He didn’t expect to see Laura. She’d probably caught a taxi home, but he headed into the bar, hopeful. And a glass of scotch sounded good about now, anyway.
She sat alone in the corner, her back to him, a highball glass in her hand.
Ordering his scotch, he took it from the bartender and walked over to her table. “Mind if I join you?”
Chapter 18
Laura lifted her eyes to his, surprised to see him standing at her table. “Come to gloat over my loss?”
“Why would I do that?” Nathan sat across from her, ignoring the fact that she’d never responded to his question. “We didn’t win either,” he pointed out. “Maybe I’ve come to drown my sorrows, too.”
She snorted.
“For what it’s worth, your campaign blew everybody else’s out of the water, including Hawk’s.”
Laura narrowed her eyes, wondering why he was being nice to her.
He continued, “It’s true. The ‘Find a Fiat’ contest? Pure brilliance. And the social media blitz, inspired.”
Still confused by his compliments, she did the thing she did best, sassed. “Damn right.” She hoisted her drink, said, “But, to the winner go the spoils,” then took a gulp and felt the heat.
“Where’s Jack?”
Turning the glass in her hands as if the ice cubes fascinated her, she hedged before answering. “We’re just friends.”
“I see. Keeping him in your back pocket then?”
“Jack doesn’t fit in anyone’s back pocket. And what you’re implying is insulting. To both Jack and myself.”
Nathan sighed. “You’re right.” He took another sip of his drink. “You look beautiful tonight.”
She lifted her own glass to her lips, gazing at Nathan over the rim. His eyes matched the whiskey in her glass, warm, golden . . . inviting. Heat settled in her belly, and it wasn’t from the alcohol. Memories of being naked against that hard, sexy body flooded her brain. She’d rather drown her sorrows in him. Or rather with him in her.
What the hell. Sex with him might not cure what ailed her, but it would go a long way to making her feel better. Tossing back the whiskey, she held her breath until the burn passed. “Come on.” She stood, holding her bag in one hand, taking his hand in the other.
“Where are we going?”
“You’re going to be a gentleman and see me home.”
As soon as she’d climbed in the cab and given the driver her address, she pounced, grabbing the back of his neck and hauling his mouth to hers. Stunned at first, he hesitated, then sank into the kiss, his tongue wrestling with hers. Oh yes! This is exactly what she needed after a big letdown.
Sliding her hands inside his jacket, she pressed them against that lean, hard chest, splayed them across his ribs, down his belly, taking pleasure in the muscles quivering beneath her touch.
Cupping her face, he withdrew, his eyes searching hers. She didn’t need a soul-reader, she needed a very hot and bothered Nathan. Maybe this would help.
“I’m wearing my La Perla. You remember, the red satin.”
He closed his eyes. “Sweet Jesus. The thong that barely covers your—”
“The very one,” she whispered huskily.
“Driver, could you step on it?”
Nathan didn’t even get a glance at the apartment before Laura shoved him against the front door and began removing his bow tie. What the hell, he thought. He wasn’t in the mood for slow and easy, anyway. But he wasn’t in the mood to let her take the lead either.
Hands around her ribs he quickly shifted so that her back pressed against the door instead. Her blue eyes simmered with frustration at the sudden power shift. He wrapped his hands in that long lustrous mane of hers, tilting her head back, giving him easy access to her throat, where he nipped and licked his way to her tender earlobe. Her breathy moans and pants filled the dark apartment, the only light coming from the city skyline outside her windows.
He spun her around again, so she faced the door, and unzipped her dress in one fluid movement. Peeling back the Jezebel-red fabric, he pressed open-mouthed kisses down her spine, reveling in the silky feel of her skin beneath his tongue, the exotic fragrance she wore filling his senses.
God how he’d missed this. All the anger, frustration, and jealousy over her relationship with Jack dissipated.
Reaching around, he cupped her full breasts, their weight delicious as they filled his hands. She moaned his name, setting him ablaze, the conflagration coursing through his veins like a molten river.
He slipped the dress from her shoulders, let it fall to the floor, and released a deep, throaty groan at the sight before him. Laura, naked except for a red satin thong and those sex-me-up stilettos she had a penchant for. Thank you, Jesus.
“Sugar, you look good enough to eat.”
“Then what’s stopping you?”
Laura had waited long enough. She wanted Nathan and she wanted him now. She turned to face him and heard his sharp intake of breath, as his eyes roamed her body with the intensity of a laser, sending sparks shooting up her spine. Reaching out, she took hold of his waistband and tugged him toward her. Yanking his shirt out of his pants, she shoved her hands up it to his pecs, where she began a slow descent, scraping her nails across his skin. He hissed out a breath.
When she met resistance at his waistband, she made quick work of his fly and found the thing her body craved more than air at the moment. He was hard for her. So hard. As she cupped him, he released a low, throaty groan and grasped the back of her neck to pull her lips up to his and tangle his tongue with her
s.
She walked him backward to the sofa, where she pushed him down. He landed with a soft oomph. Not bothering with the rest of his clothes, she straddled him, settling his erection between her legs and lowered herself over him.
“Look at me, Laura,” he ground out. “Look at me.”
She complied as she rode him, slowly at first, only picking up the pace when he gripped her hips and took control. She watched as his eyes glazed over, his expression intense, sensual, enthralled. Powerful in the knowledge that she did that to him, she rode him over the edge, shattering into a million pieces, as her name exploded from his lips.
What she’d intended to be a purely physical joining, a momentary distraction, had turned out to be so much more. And it scared the hell out of her. Dammit.
Her heart beat a staccato against his. His panting breath warm against her neck where he nuzzled her, pressing kisses against her skin. She shivered at the intimacy of the contact.
“God! I’ve missed that,” Nathan muttered against her neck.
“You have?” Laura drew back in surprise. She wasn’t the only one, then.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t.” He scooped her hair away from her face.
She snorted, then buried her face in his neck, nuzzling him. Hiding, really, so he couldn’t see what must be tattooed across her face: I missed you. “Since I all but attacked you, what do you think?”
He ran his hand down her hair, the gesture sweet and soothing. “Clearly this isn’t over between us.”
“What do you mean?”
He shifted so she lay next to him on the couch, spooning against him. He continued to stroke her hair, “I mean we aren’t done with each other yet,” he whispered in her ear.
Ship of Dreams (Dreams Come True Series Book 2) Page 17