What was it about that auburn-haired woman that could wipe everything else from his brain except how good she felt in his arms? It certainly wasn’t because he was starved for sex. It may have been a little longer than Mike would guess since he’d been with a woman, but that was by choice. Right now, his business was more important than getting laid.
Except, just the thought of Gina Allen’s gorgeous violet eyes and silky smooth thighs sent heat spiraling through him. He shoved away from the counter to yank open the silverware drawer for a fork. Once the microwave dinged, he carried his plate into his office.
After a couple bites of the pasta, he let his fork clatter onto the dish and pushed it aside. Then he reached over and jabbed the speed dial button for his VP.
“Hey, man,” Mike answered. “Everything okay? You hung up pretty quick earlier.”
“Your sister opted to text me on her way out the door that my six o’clock appointment had arrived.”
“So?”
“So, we were a little too busy for me to even think of looking at my cell until well after six-thirty. I don’t know why she didn’t just come in and tell me.”
“You want me to fire her?”
“Of course not.” Dean rolled his eyes at his friend’s attempt to make it a joke. “I’m just venting, that’s all.”
“Who was your appointment with?”
He hesitated, but really, why else had he called? “Remember that girl at the club last night?”
Mike made an enthusiastic humming noise. “Who could forget sexy Cindy?”
“Her name is Gina.”
“You mean you tracked her down?”
“I think she tracked me down.”
“How’d she do that?”
“Through my mother.”
“What?”
Dean explained the call last night, Cinderella’s connection to Brady, and his suspicion about the real reason for her surprise appearance at his house. “I just can’t quite figure out how they got my mom to arrange the meeting so it sounded like a favor from her and not a set-up. Or why they’d pull the stunt at the club if they had the decorator angle set in motion.”
“Did you hire her,” Mike asked.
“Ah, no. You heard the part where I said I think she’s working with Jack, right?”
“I did. And I still think you should hire her.”
“Why in the hell would I do that?”
“Think about it, Dean. If she is working with Brady, you can keep tabs on every move she makes and get proof he’s trying to steal your work again. If she isn’t, you can still use her to maybe get something else we can use against him. We’re coming down to the wire on this one, so either way, it’s a win-win for us. Extra win for you if your house gets furnished in the process.”
He made some good points, and it wasn’t an altogether bad idea. Except for—
“Now that you know who she is,” Mike continued, “and after that kiss in the club last night, you should have no problem getting…friendly…with her.”
—for that.
“Um…after the kiss tonight, that could be a little difficult.”
“You kissed her again?”
He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Right before I accused her of working with Jack.”
His friend groaned. “Sonofabitch, Dean.”
That was his favorite swear word, so it left him with, “Yeah.”
“This is exactly why I handle the people part of the corporate espionage.”
“Yep.” He opened his eyes and stared out into the darkness beyond the windows in his office. No moon meant all he saw was his own reflection staring back. As the silence stretched, he rubbed the spot hammering between his eyes again.
“You do realize what you have to do, right?”
“Yes.” Frustration fueled his groan of protest. “I know exactly what the hell I have to do.”
* * *
Dean adjusted his black suit coat, double checked the collar of his black dress shirt and decided to leave the top button undone. Bending to glance in the side mirror of his SUV, he swiped a hand through his hair. His shower had freshened its tendency to curl at the ends, especially since it was longer than he usually wore it, but with his limited time these days, a haircut was low on his list of things to do.
Time to get this show on the road.
His left hand gripped the notebook of sketches he’d found on the floor of his room as his right caught the door of the Barclay Gallery as it opened. He stood aside for a departing couple, then made his way inside. The place was packed. Either Maria Clark’s daughter had a lot of friends, or she was a really good artist. At the moment, he was more interested in the people in room.
His gaze scanned the faces as he made his way through the crowd, searching for either his mother or Jack Brady’s ex. He wasn’t sure which woman he wanted to talk to less.
The sexy black dress caught his eye first. Damn, that thing was hot. The woman wearing it was even hotter.
Desire quickened his pulse yet again—until he noticed the guy standing next to her. Tall and dark, sporting slicked-back hair and a Viagra commercial smile. Though they both seemed to be admiring the painting on the wall in front of them, it didn’t take but a moment to realize the guy was hitting on her, and she was eating it up.
She cradled a glass of champagne against her chest with one hand while the other one twirled a lock of hair around her index finger. The sensual glance she cast up through her lashes made Dean’s gut tighten.
He’d been on the receiving end of that smile last night. Discovering he didn’t like anyone taking his place did nothing to improve his mood.
Threading through the milling art enthusiasts, he heard her laugh at something the guy had said. The musical sound hit him like a sucker punch as he stalked up to them. His abrupt arrival earned him a surprised glance, then Gina did a double-take and her smile disappeared.
He extended the notebook to her and let the corners of his mouth curve up the slightest bit. “You left this in my bedroom earlier.”
Widened violet eyes dropped to his outstretched hand. As she reached to take the pad of paper, Rico Suave cleared his throat and shifted back a step.
“Uh…I just remembered…”
Dean shoved his hands in his pockets and rotated his upper body toward the guy. “Don’t even bother. Just go.” Once it was the two of them, he turned back to Gina with his eyebrows raised. “Him? Really?”
Her stunned expression morphed into anger. “What do you care?”
Disconcerted by the fact he cared way more than he should, he shrugged and shot back, “I don’t. But it was fun.”
“You really are a jerk.” She gave him one last glare before walking away.
Shit. Maybe he needed to get Mike to handle his groveling, too. He followed her and reached out to catch her arm at the next display.
“Wait. Please.”
“Why?” She jerked her arm free and whirled on him. After a quick glance around, she leaned close and lowered her voice. “Do you have something else to accuse me of?”
“No. I’d like to apologize.”
Her gaze narrowed, but she didn’t try to leave again.
“You just met the girl, Dean. Why would you need to apologize?”
His mother’s voice from directly behind him sent a blast of heat up his neck.
Gina’s eyebrows rose this time. “I’m listening, Dean.”
Her gaze didn’t waver as his mother stepped up beside him. His jaw clenched as he kept his focus on the woman who wasn’t sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. A smart man would’ve waited and called to apologize tomorrow, but she had him so off-kilter he was doing stupid things left and right.
Hoping she wouldn’t totally call him out, he indicated the sketches in her hand. “I took a look at those after you left. They’re good—really good.”
He meant it, too. She’d written detailed notes on the pages depicting each roo
m of his house she’d been in. When he’d gone upstairs to shower and change, he’d found the notebook and discovered he liked most of the suggestions she’d written down.
“That’s not an apology,” his mother commented.
He shot her a scowl as she raised her glass of red wine for a sip and smiled at him over the rim. She was as elegantly dressed as the rest of the crowd, her blond hair swept up into a sophisticated twist. She looked so much younger than her fifty-one years, and the glint of amusement in her brown eyes told him she was enjoying herself immensely at his expense.
So much for familial support.
Gina watched his mother with open curiosity. She tucked the pad under one elbow and extended her free hand. “Gina Allen.”
“I know. Serena pointed you out just as Dean arrived.” The two shook hands as his mother offered her name. “Vanessa Baxter.”
Kissable lips curved into a genuine smile. “You set up the appointment this morning.”
“I did. But it sounds like my son screwed things up despite my recommendations.”
Gina opened her mouth, but Dean lifted his palm to halt the exchange as he faced his mother. “Mom, I’d really appreciate a moment to speak to Ms. Allen alone.” His tone was respectfully polite, but he was pretty sure she understood the warning in his eyes when hers narrowed.
“I’m sure you would.” She gave him a stern look. “Be nice.”
Gina’s laugh had the heat climbing his neck again. His mother then offered her a warm, downright welcoming smile that set off his internal warning system. That grin had baby names for her grandchildren written all over it.
“It was a pleasure to meet you,” she said to the younger woman. “I sincerely hope it’s not the last time.”
“Thank you. It was nice to meet you as well.”
As his mother moved away, Gina’s gaze met his for a brief moment, then she turned toward the painting on the wall. Dean studied her profile, his gaze skimming the elegant arch of her eyebrow, the thick sweep of her lashes, and her pert nose. For the first time, he noticed freckles sprinkled across her cheek. The shine from the bright gallery lights on her glossed lips tempted him to steal another kiss, and he wondered if she’d surrender with that throaty little moan like each time before.
Mike’s frown flashed in his mind.
He shifted his attention past her stubborn chin and noted she held her glass close to her chest once more. Only this time there was no sexy through-the-lashes glance for him, and definitely no hair twirl.
“Either say what you came to say or leave me alone,” she stated.
Realizing he wanted both the glance and the twirl sent his pulse tripping along at breakneck speed. He slipped his hands in his pockets and faced the art she focused on with such intensity. He took in the breathtaking mountain landscape full of majesty and color. The others on either side were equally stunning.
Thanks to the distraction, his heart rate settled down enough for him to say, “I came to offer you the job.”
He couldn’t really afford it, but Mike assured him he’d figure out a way to make it work. Not only was it worth it to him for the potential information source, he told Dean it wasn’t a bad idea to keep up appearances.
She angled slightly to study his profile. “You don’t even know how much I charge.”
He rocked back on one heel, keeping her visible in the corner of his eye without having to actually look at her. “Something tells me you’ll be fair.”
“I would’ve been.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Past tense?”
She lifted her chin and managed to look down her nose at him. “The thought of working for you holds absolutely no appeal.”
“But you will.”
“Oh, really?” She smiled as if his arrogant assurance amused her. “And what makes you so sure?”
“You forget…” He turned his head to meet her gaze. “I know how much you need the money.”
Color infused her cheeks, and the embarrassment that flashed in her eyes made him feel bad for attacking her dignity. Damn it all, he was no good at this, and if he stayed much longer, he would probably only make things worse.
“Listen, take the job or don’t, I don’t really care. If you want to show up for work in the morning, you know where I live.” He hooked a thumb toward the painting they’d taken turns staring at. “And I like that, so you might as well bring it with you while you’re at it.”
Chapter 7
Gina watched the infuriating man stalk from the gallery without once looking back or even taking the time to say goodbye to his sweet mother.
Bullshit he didn’t care. No way he’d have come all the way here when he could’ve easily called her tomorrow.
Question was, why did he care?
She held the rim of her champagne flute against her lips. The cool glass was the opposite of his warm mouth. Her heart skipped a beat at the memory of that second kiss in his bedroom, his hand on her thigh, and the solid weight of him pressing her into the mattress—
Do not go there!
First he accused her of working with Jackson to steal from him, now he was going out of his way to get her to come work for him. Why?
All of a sudden, that damn maddening adrenaline rush of realization hit hard. He was going to use her to find out everything he could about her ex. It was the only thing that made sense.
Well you know what? She was sick and damn tired of being used. First by Jackson. Now this guy. Screw them both.
She turned back to the painting he’d told her to buy and tilted her glass to drain the last of the champagne. Serena had an amazing gift, and Gina knew the perfect spot to hang the artwork in Dean’s house. She’d buy it for him, but only because it would benefit her friend and he was going to pay double for her trouble.
Then she’d drop it off in the morning and tell him exactly where he could stick his job. There were plenty of other clients. They may have been scarce over the past couple months, but now she was extra motivated to secure their business.
“Was that who I think it was?”
Gina turned to see Britt, Serena, and Jayne standing behind her. The talented woman of the hour handed over a second glass of bubbly. She deposited her empty on the tray of a passing waiter and accepted the next one from her friend.
“That was Mr. Dean Daley.”
Britt’s green eyes widened. “Wait—the guy from the club is the potential client you had an appointment with tonight?”
“They are one and the same.”
“You said you didn’t see him after you left.”
“I didn’t, until I found myself at his house earlier. Luck of the draw, I guess.”
“Odds like that, you should buy yourself a lottery ticket,” Jayne quipped.
She smiled past the resentment still coursing through her veins.
“I have no clue what is going on here,” Serena complained. “Someone want to catch me up?”
Britt volunteered and proceeded to entertain not only the girls, but their husbands, who chose that moment to join them. Gina sipped her champagne, kept her smile pasted on, and remained quiet. A twinge of envy wiggled its way in as she took stock of each couple. Britt and Joel had just had their first baby a couple months ago, Jayne and Casey were perfectly happy without children so far, and Serena and Emilio had a beautiful family of four.
She was the odd one out. The last single one of the bunch. Then again, with men like Jackson and Dean Daley, who could blame her?
A glance about the room caught Vanessa Baxter’s gaze. The woman smiled and discreetly toasted her before returning her attention to the distinguished gentleman at her side. She considered heading over to talk to her, but decided to minimize even indirect contact. Compared to the son, the mother seemed nice. Any more marks in the positive column for the man could be dangerous.
Any more? Why is there even one?
Unfortunately, she knew why there was one. Um, make that two. Fortunately, good looking and splendid kisser
didn’t convince her rational mind he was nice.
“Did you get the job?”
Serena’s question drew her attention back to the group.
“He wants a painting,” she replied to avoid a direct answer. “This one, in fact. I’ll take care of the purchase and deliver it myself.”
Excitement brightened her friend’s eyes. “That’s great!”
“It is.” She gestured with her drink to a second landscape while keeping her gaze away from the speculation in Britt’s eyes. “And you know what? He has such a huge house, I’m thinking he might need to start his own private collection of Perez artwork.”
* * *
Monday morning, Gina drove around the final corner of the driveway at ten a.m. and was once again awestruck by the grandiose log structure with the sun-lit mountains rising in the background. She parked her car and pulled out a paper-wrapped canvas from in the back. At the door, she balanced the large square on the top of her foot as she leaned over to ring the bell. While waiting, she tried not to think of her disappointment that she wouldn’t get to transform this beautiful house into a home.
Without an answer to her initial ring, she pressed the doorbell again and turned to survey the front yard. There would be a lot of work to do once the spring thaw was complete. Planting the lawn, landscaping, flowers, bushes…
How she wished she could see it all. But no way could she give him the satisfaction.
The sound of the door opening spun her around. Expecting to see the redhead from the day before, her pulse jumped when she was presented with the man himself in a white T-shirt, faded blue jeans, and bare feet. She flicked her gaze back up so he wouldn’t think she was checking him out.
“Good morning,” he said.
The low timbre of his voice made her stomach quiver, but the victorious grin that accompanied the greeting triggered her irritation.
She hefted the package in both hands. “Your painting, Mr. Daley.”
His eyebrows rose at her formal tone, but instead of taking the package from her, he stood aside for her to enter. She hesitated. Never mind the man, it would not be good to go inside and be seduced by his house again.
Trust by Design Page 4