by Calista Fox
Whatever you want …
That was such a loaded comment. A double-edged sword, really.
She could take Christian up on his offer and then grab a cab to her place. Easy enough. Except that she was attracted to him in the sort of way that would make vying for the hostess job difficult, because he was a near-impossible-to-resist temptation. And it wasn’t in Bayli’s nature to sleep with a man to get what she wanted.
Yet if she were to just say to hell with the job…?
She sighed inwardly.
Yeah, if she said to hell with the job, then sleeping with him would be her first order of business. Particularly if that fire in his eyes had anything to do with her.…
Still wanting the hostess position, though, made standing her ground imperative. Added to that challenging feat was the fact that there was no goddamn cab coming for her. No one else to rescue her. And honestly, it’d be a fantastic opportunity to chat up Christian and then discuss the possibility of the part-time job in his restaurant.
So she told him, “I guess my driver got lost. I’d love a ride into the city. And thanks for the offer.”
Total savior, but she was still a little too embarrassed over being stood up by the cabbie to say that out loud.
Christian gestured for her to precede him toward the limo, where the chauffeur held the back door open for them. Bayli slid across the black leather seat. Christian divested himself of his tuxedo jacket before joining her. He unraveled his bow tie but left the ends resting against his crisp white shirt, which he unbuttoned at the throat.
There was no way she could escape his virility, his magnetism. His very essence seemingly surrounded her. And good Lord, he took up a hell of a lot of space with his broad shoulders and his powerful thigh brushing against her bare leg. Sending a wave of desire rushing through her veins.
He asked, “Where are we off to?”
Every fiber of her being wanted to agree to his apartment. Especially with all the zings he incited homing in on her erogenous zones. Along with the suggestive expression on Christian’s too-handsome-for-words face.
Seriously, the man was a masterpiece from head to toe, and Bayli’s fingers itched to work the rest of those tiny disks through their holes, sweep back the flaps of his shirt, and just enjoy the sight of all that bronze skin and sinew. Though that’d hardly be enough, and she knew it. She’d want to do so much more than look. She’d want to touch this fantastically built man. Everywhere.
Her stomach fluttered as the thought of running her tongue over his hot, hard flesh overruled her more sensible thoughts. Like the fact that in addition to not being able to cave to a “drink” at his place, she also didn’t want to tell him where she lived.
Talk about humiliation.
So she forced the tantalizing ruminations from her head—as best as she could, anyway—to focus on the appropriate answer to his query.
And lied through her teeth to Christian Davila.
“Actually, I’m staying at The Cleveland. It’s a boutique hotel.” She gave the crossroads.
Christian relayed the information to his driver.
Meanwhile, Bayli’s heart thudded in her chest, echoed in her ears. Not just because of the highly stimulating man sitting so damn close to her, but because Bayli didn’t like bending the truth. But The Cleveland was near enough to her apartment that she could walk the few blocks home. Not exactly a smart thing to do by herself, late at night. Not in that neighborhood. So she hoped she’d be much more successful this time around in securing a cab. At least the hotel’s doorman would help her with that.
So okay. It was a viable solution. A safer one than being anywhere near a bed when in Christian’s company.
She breathed a discreet sigh of relief. She could still play this hand calmly and coolly.
Bayli sat back in her seat and crossed her legs. Christian’s gaze followed her movements. Then slid slowly over her thighs to the extremely short hem that stretched taut and just barely covered her red lacy thong.
So much for being calm and cool. His eyes roving her body singed her as though he’d just blazed a trail over her skin with his fingertips.
She was ridiculously turned on and incinerating from the inside out.
And he hadn’t even touched her yet!
Yet …
Bayli groaned inwardly. She wasn’t doing herself any favors by being tucked into the back of a limo with the ultimate sexual lure. Except that at least she now had a ride home.
Christian said, “Since you’re off the clock, how about a glass of champagne? Or brandy? Scotch?” He indicated the side bar. “Whatever you’d like.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a sexy, inviting way.
There he went, once more putting all sorts of indulgent possibilities on the table.
“Champagne would be wonderful.”
Christian seemed to have a little trouble tearing his gaze from her to reach for the bottle in the chiller. He eventually did and popped the cork. He poured for both of them and handed over a flute. They clinked rims and he said, “Meeting you was the highlight of my evening.”
Bayli laughed softly. “Somehow I find that hard to believe, flattering though it is of you to say. I happen to know you won three coveted silent auction items and the grand finale in the live auction during dessert. Then there’s the matter of enjoying a cigar even Bill Clinton has difficulty getting his hands on.”
“Best damn stick I’ve ever smoked, no doubt about it. But the real pleasure was in the presentation.” He winked.
Shivers cascaded down her spine. Her gaze dropped to her glass so that he didn’t see in her eyes the flash of excitement he’d evoked. It was one thing to be aroused by a photo in a magazine—something entirely different in person. Because Bayli wanted to act on this obviously mutual attraction.
She sipped her bubbly as the limo passed through the tall gates at the entrance of the estate. Hands down, this beat the hell out of a cab and the ominous possibility that existed of her not making it safely back to Manhattan.
Christian said, “I’m curious as to how you know so much about me.”
“That’s an easy one.” Bayli smiled. “I’m a huge fan of your flagship California restaurant.”
“Bristol’s?” He looked taken aback. “How on earth—”
“I was born in River Cross. I still remember when the restaurant opened. I was seventeen, so it was the year before I went off to San Francisco State University.”
“A decade ago,” he said with a slight shake of his head. “Sometimes it seems like only yesterday. Sometimes it feels like an entire lifetime ago.”
“You’ve been busy, from what I understand. A new eatery every two years. I’d call that extremely ambitious. Aggressive, even.”
“What can I say?” He shot her a determined look, tinged with heat—a look similar to the one Rory had given her when he’d helped her to her feet, his gaze drinking her in from head to toe.
Both men looking at her with lust in their eyes did things to Bayli. Made her breath catch and her heart hammer.
“When I want something,” Christian told her with steely conviction in his voice, “I go after it.”
The tingling returned between her legs. Actually, it’d never fully gone away. It was just a bit more powerful now. She pressed her thighs together in an attempt to stave off the incessant thrumming.
Christian’s gaze dropped to her crossed legs as she squeezed them tight. A low, sexy sound slipped through his parted lips. A soft groan of desire.
He said, “You’re incredibly stunning. Damn tempting.” His eyes lifted, the pale-blue pools glowing seductively. “But you know that already, don’t you?”
“Just because I’m a model, don’t think I’m big in the head. I chose this career because I have a really short attention span and I like that every assignment is different. I never know what I’m going to be doing a week from now.” She let out a small, self-deprecating laugh. “Which can be thrilling for someone like me, but also nerve-wrac
king.”
“How so?”
“I don’t know when I’m going to get paid next,” she admitted.
“Ah, yes. There is that.” He considered her comment, then added, “What if you had a more permanent job that still offered variety and a steady paycheck? Travel, even.”
She instantly perked up. “I’d love to travel. That’s another reason I got into the business. But those gigs are hard to come by—I mostly do studio work, nothing really on location. Ironically, that made it easier to, uh, well … apply for a hostess position. At Davila’s NYC.”
Bayli paused a moment so Christian could digest her revelation. He stared at her with an inquisitive look. Was he wondering if she’d intentionally maneuvered the “lost driver,” forcing Christian to play knight in shining armor?
Yes or no, she might never figure that out. So she surged on, earnestly saying, “Unfortunately, my invasion of Chef St. James’s space didn’t go over all that well.”
Christian suddenly grinned, surprising her. He had beautiful teeth that were quite brilliant against his bronzed skin. “Rory can be a bit intense. Don’t take it personally.”
She studied him a moment, then asked, “You’re not bothered by the fact that I’m trying to get a job at your restaurant?”
“Why would I be bothered? I’m flattered you’d be interested in working there. And if you saved that cigar to impress me, more power to you.”
“I saved that cigar for the exact reasons I stated previously—I thought you deserved it for celebratory purposes. Opening a restaurant in New York City to such an esteemed response is certainly worth commemorating. But of course you already know that.”
He took a long sip from his glass, clearly weighing options she knew nothing about. Finally, he said, “Will you excuse me for just a second? I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to make a quick call.”
“Sure.” She tried to appear nonchalant, though she eyed him curiously, dying to know what went through his mind when he looked at her. She wondered the same thing about Rory. Which made it particularly unsettling when Christian whipped out his iPhone and hit a number, mere moments later saying, “Rory, did you interview a woman named Bayli Styles?”
Her stomach launched into her throat. She gasped around it.
Oh, fuck!
Bad move mentioning the interview. Bad. Move!
Rory was going to tell Christian what a complete and utter disaster she’d been the other day and then—
“Hmm, yes, that’s what I think as well.” A short pause. Then: “No, actually, I have a completely different idea now for that project. Just hit me this evening.” Christian slid a glance Bayli’s way, one dark brow lifting. “Let me run it by you in the morning. New concept, new platform.” He listened a while longer, and as he did Christian’s gaze dropped to her legs. “Yes, she does.” Once more, lust lit his ice-blue eyes. “I’ll talk to you later.”
Christian disconnected the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket.
Meanwhile, Bayli tried to remember how to breathe.
She’d lost her breath not just over the scorching expression on Christian’s face but also because that had been an extremely favorable-sounding conversation.
She inhaled deeply, strove for as calm a tone as possible, and asked, “What exactly was that all about?”
“You.”
Christian refreshed their drinks.
“Could you be a little more specific?”
And could I be a little less breathy?
“Have dinner with us on Tuesday night. At the restaurant. I’ll send a car to The Cleveland for you.”
Uh-oh.
She swallowed down some champagne. Tried not to sound panicked as she said, “I’d love dinner. No need to send a car. I’m really good with the subway lines and buses. Got them all down pat.”
He frowned. “I’d prefer you didn’t have to take the subway. Especially if you plan to wear anything that looks remotely like that dress.”
“I have one in mind,” she said suggestively. Christian Davila easily brought out the flirt in her.
Whereas Rory St. James … that man needed to be tamed.
Oh, what an enticing thought!
But not exactly a convenient one at the moment.
“I’ll make the arrangements.” Christian tapped the rim of his glass to hers again. “And know Rory will enjoy your company as much as I do.”
The hint of mischief in Christian’s eyes sent goose bumps along her arms. Thoughts of Jewel and her two men popped into Bayli’s head again, and a wave of exhilaration washed over her at the mere notion of both Christian and Rory “enjoying her company.”
What might that lead to?
It was probably all too dangerous a liaison to entertain, especially since she could end up with the door slammed in her face, after she’d just gotten her foot in. But, honestly, it’d been so long since she’d had sex, so long since she’d felt true gratification and satisfaction, that it just might take two men at once to sate her.
She sipped some more as the fantasy continued to blossom in her mind. Christian topped off her champagne, an expensive brand that tasted heavenly. She’d skipped dinner and was buzzing a little from the alcohol and the devilishly handsome man sitting next to her. By the time they’d reached Manhattan, she was regretting not having taken Christian up on his original offer to stop at his apartment. She didn’t need another drink, as his invitation had stated. But she was definitely in need of him.
It wasn’t just virility the man exuded … the pheromones were most certainly affecting her.
So, too, was the way he watched her closely. Leaned in when he spoke to her. Got her caught up in the private moments they shared in the back of his limo as he asked more about her and what other modeling jobs she’d had, which consisted of a few photo shoots for book covers and some stock images. Two clothing catalogs.
She told him, “I also did an entire ad campaign for the Wax Museum complex on the Wharf, back in San Francisco. The campaign targeted Japanese tourists. Apparently, I’m fairly popular in Asia. Received a bit of fan mail as a result, in fact.”
The majority had been extremely complimentary. Some, however, had been unsavory communiqués. E-mails from men looking for a bride, an adulterous Internet affair, the exchange of nude photos via text messaging, a meet-up when they were in town.
One guy in particular had been persistent enough—and downright lewd, suggesting they masturbate together over a Skype session—that she’d had to change her e-mail address. But Bayli figured that was the nature of the beast in this business. It wasn’t difficult to attract unwanted attention. And she wisely deduced that if one put herself out there like that, a few of the crazies were invariably going to make an attempt to get close to her.
Though Bayli had always lived a bit of a sheltered life—with most of her time spent in hospital waiting rooms and libraries where she’d studied up on her mother’s congenital heart disease—so she’d never been easily accessible.
Now that she was trying to get her career off the ground, she surmised it’d be advantageous to have more of a social media presence, despite the online stalkers. Her selfie count was tragically low. And she didn’t always have time to keep up with Facebook or Twitter. Just when she had news to impart, which she also posted to her Web site. A blog was in her future, she’d decided a few months ago. But nothing exciting had happened to her of late to inspire routine blogging, so she’d shelved the idea for now.
Christian said, “I can certainly see where you’d have an international appeal. That could work in your favor. You just need greater exposure.”
“Easier said than done,” she lamented. “Let’s be honest. I’m practically a dime a dozen in this city, and over-the-hill by global standards. Not to mention with so many actresses, singers, reality TV stars, and female athletes landing product endorsement deals it narrows the playing field for models. Which is why I’m so grateful for people like the Rutherfords who use professio
nals for various roles at an event.”
“You’re following your dream, Bayli. That’s admirable. And…” He grinned again, keeping her insides blazing. “You’re much too striking not to make it big. Plus, there’s so much more to your look than the physical aspects. You radiate a genuine, palpable sense of charm and grace. Very modern-day Audrey Hepburn.” He chuckled, a warm, rich sound that reverberated deep within her. Then he asked, “You do know who that is, right?”
Bayli playfully swatted his arm with her free hand. “Please. First, she’s iconic. Second, you’re only five years older than me. Which is a little disconcerting.”
His brow jumped. “I’m too old for you?”
“No!” She choked on a sip of champagne. Her cheeks flamed. “That’s not what I meant. I was just pointing out the obvious—I’m twenty-seven and trying to launch a modeling career. Since I’m a bookworm, you’d think I was much smarter than that. But what can I say? When the fire’s burning inside, you have to do something about it, right?”
Okay, perhaps she’d had a bit too much of the bubbly. She was spewing her guts here. But something about Christian Davila’s own inner fire called to her. Yes, he was ambitious and aggressive. And that excited her. Challenged her. Told her that committing to a dream was the only way to achieve it and if she never tried, if she gave up too soon … she’d regret it for the rest of her life. Never forgive herself.
Not that she wasn’t clever enough to know that sometimes a girl reached that point when it was time to hang up her ballet shoes. Yet Bayli didn’t think her time for that was now. She was just getting started, she mentally contended. Even if she was ten years behind in coming to New York. That had been unavoidable with her mother’s illness, because Bayli had refused to leave her side.
But in the long run, Bayli hadn’t been able to help save her mom’s life.
And now … here she was.
She intended to seize every moment, every opportunity offered. Take the bull by the horns, as she’d done tonight when she’d reserved that special cigar for Christian. A strategic move that was helping to pave her way with the hostess position she wanted.