But damn, he’d wanted to kiss her again. Wanted to so badly.
On the kitchen counter, his phone began buzzing an SOS signal, the vibration pattern he’d assigned Susan. He answered and hit Speaker while at the same time opening his refrigerator. “What can I do for you, Miss Collier?” he asked as he scanned the contents.
“Did your teammates really dislike you?”
“That’s an odd way of starting a conversation,” he replied. It appeared his housekeeper had done some grocery shopping for him. There was a fresh gallon of orange juice next to the milk.
“Did they?”
“I never spent enough time with them to know one way or another. Hung to myself mostly. Unless there was a party.” He paused to take a swig of juice. “What’s this about?”
“I’m sorry. Something my brother mentioned. He said you bounced from team to team because no one liked you.”
“More like management disliked paying my heavy contract fees.” Although he wasn’t surprised to hear his bad-boy reputation had fueled different stories. Once again, his partying ways left their mark. “I take it your brother saw the paper.”
“He did. He called you a degenerate.”
“I’ve heard worse.”
The pause on the other end of the line made him uneasy. “He’s worried about scandal,” Susan said. “I hadn’t considered how this might affect the company. Collier’s has only recently gotten back on solid footing. If people discover...”
“They won’t. I promise. I’m going to be on my best behavior.” He had too much to lose.
“I know you will,” she replied.
Her faith surprised him. She was the first person he’d met who really believed he’d changed. “I don’t want to put you in a bad spot. If you want to back out, I’ll understand.”
“I don’t want to back out—I gave my word and I intend to keep it. Besides... I had a good time last night.”
Lewis smiled at the shyness in her voice. “We’re famous you know,” he said.
“Everyone in my office is whispering and giving me looks. They probably don’t think I’ve been kissed before.”
“You have been, right?”
“Yes. Although never quite so publicly.”
“You’re not still sore about my keeping the Mistletoe Camera thing a secret, are you?”
The soft sigh on the other end of the line sounded playfully exasperated. “I’ve recovered. But I want a promise that next time I’ll get a little advance warning.”
The memory of her glazed eyes popped into his head. “No worries there. I doubt there’ll be a Mistletoe Cam at our next outing.” Meaning he wouldn’t have an excuse—that is, a reason—to kiss her.
“I suppose there wouldn’t be, unless we were attending another basketball game. That’s...good.”
Was the clipped tone in her voice disappointment or relief? “I think so,” he said. “I mean, it being a good thing. Can’t go heavy on the PDA if I’m supposed to be changing my ways, right?”
“Right. Absolutely.” He still couldn’t tell. There was noise in the background. Maybe she was guarding her end of the conversation.
His ego took a little kick. A little disappointment would have been nice. It’d been a pretty decent kiss in his book. Heck, women were known to pull off their tops just to get his attention.
Those were women who wanted him though. Susan was with him as quid pro quo. She didn’t really want him...
“Lewis?”
He shook his head. How long had he been staring into the neck of the orange juice bottle? “Did you say something?”
“I asked about the next step. Now that people know we’re...that is, you know...”
“A couple,” Lewis supplied. The word felt oddly normal.
“Exactly. What do we do now?”
Good question. According to his list, step two was to be seen at a few more formal events. Fundraisers with the proper people to establish his new social circle.
And he knew exactly the event. “How do you feel about the Kew Gardens?”
“In general? They’re lovely. What does that have to do with us?”
“We’re going to make our first official appearance there,” Lewis told her. “This Saturday night. I hope you have a formal cocktail dress in your closet.”
“I think I can rustle one up,” she replied.
He had no doubt. “In the meantime, I’ll talk to Michael about keeping up the momentum.”
There was a pause on Susan’s end of the line. He imagined her pretty pink lips drawing into a frown. “What does that mean?”
“Keeping us in the public eye, luv, of course,” he said. “If all goes right, it’ll be a fun week.”
* * *
The next few days were unlike anything Susan had ever experienced. It was like she’d changed identities overnight.
“What’s he like?” became a common question.
Along with “Is he as wild as they say?”
The photo from the basketball game—with help from Lewis’s agent, no doubt—had set off a domino trail of publicity. A couple of local radio personalities had seen the story and it had become fodder for one of the morning talk show segments. That, of course, had led to more articles.
One, rehashing Lewis’s past romantic rendezvous, she found uncomfortable to read. Another focused on her, with the article playing up the fact that she had ties not only to Collier’s Soap, but to former sex kitten Belinda Quinn.
Thankfully, as she told Lewis, her mother was filming some island reality show in the middle of nowhere and was unreachable, saving them from having to deal with that particular crazy.
Susan felt like a rock star.
The best part? Courtney and Ginger were practically apoplectic with jealousy. Was it petty and childish of her to take pleasure in their envy? Yes, but she was enjoying it regardless.
The two women spent the first couple of days after the “Kiss-mas” article appeared whispering behind her back. Mostly disbelief that Susan was the woman Lewis had chosen to date.
Like he would have dated either one of you, Susan longed to say.
All right, given they were both gorgeous, Lewis probably would have dated them, but she bet he wouldn’t have remembered their names. Lewis would always remember hers.
And Lewis had kissed her. It might have only been for the cameras, but it was still a kiss—something Courtney and Ginger couldn’t claim.
It wasn’t until Day Three that their whispers became more pointed. And louder.
“A friend of mine used to tend bar at Narcissus and he said his credit card was always getting turned down for lack of funds.”
Susan was walking back to her office when she heard the comment. Glancing at the cubicle of her admin, Freema, she spied Ginger and Courtney hovering by the doorway. There was no doubt about whose credit card they meant.
“Ginger,” she called over to them. The blonde’s spine straightened the second she heard her name. “Shouldn’t you be working on our upcoming media buys? You, too, Courtney?”
Two wide-eyed, gaping expressions greeted her. At least they had the good sense to be embarrassed over getting caught. “We, um...were just chatting,” Courtney finally managed to spit out.
“Well, I suggest you save your chatting for your lunch hour and let Freema do her job. And...” Because she could, she took a couple steps closer for dramatic effect. “I’ll remind you—once—that my personal life is none of your concern. Do I make myself clear?”
Ginger’s red cheeks said it all. “Yes.”
“Good. Because I don’t want to have this talk again.” Folding her arms, she stood and maintained steady eye contact until the two women moved away. As she was leaving, she swore she heard the word Shrewsan muttered under one of their breaths. Lunchtime would be quite the gossip session, she ima
gined.
Let them complain. She was a rock star.
* * *
A giant illuminated tunnel greeted the car as they pulled through the main gate at Kew Gardens a few nights later. As they passed beneath, Lewis heard Susan gasp. “Oh, my! This is amazing.” Leaning forward in her seat, she looked upward. “It looks like something out of that sci-fi TV show where they enter the wormhole.”
“It does at that,” Lewis agreed. Hundreds of overhead lights twinkled all around them like stars. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
She looked across the seat at him, the lights reflecting in her eyes. “What?”
“If the car starts shaking uncontrollably, abandon ship.”
“Not in this dress I’m not.”
If it were another woman, he would have started pretending to hit turbulence and saying she’s breaking up in his best Scottish accent. She would have laughed and thought him rakishly charming, even if she were too young to get the reference.
Tonight however, he had a difficult enough time making any lame jokes. He was wound tighter than a drum. For Susan, this was just another event, but for him, it would be the first time he’d attended a black-tie event with the intention of staying and mingling. No signing autographs and blowing off early with a bootlegged bottle of whatever he could grab.
Susan’s diamond earrings sparkled as she angled her head to look upward again. “I think they strung Christmas lights over the entire driveway,” she said. “It looks absolutely magical.”
It certainly did. Lewis had never been to Kew Gardens—nature walks weren’t really his thing—but the Christmas lights were famous. “The flyer that came with the tickets did say we would be treated to a fantastical holiday light show. Guess they weren’t kidding.”
“What charity are we supporting anyway? I never thought to ask. Be embarrassing if I couldn’t remember the names of my boyfriend’s causes.”
Lewis tensed. No one had ever referred to him by that word before. It unsettled him. More nerves, he decided. Susan was only joking.
“You shouldn’t have too much trouble remembering,” he told her. “It’s for the Sports Trust for Children.”
“Isn’t that one of the prince’s charities? You don’t believe in doing things small scale do you?”
“Wish I could tell you this was part of some grand strategy, but the truth is, I’ve been donating to the Sports Trust for years. Usually I give the tickets to this event away though.”
“Why?”
“I’m not much for brie and crackers,” he replied.
“No, I mean why the Sports Trust? In case someone asks,” she said.
“Do people ask those sorts of questions?” Seeing how everyone in the room was a supporter, he would assume they didn’t care.
“Never hurts to be prepared. What if I run into a reporter or some person on the board of directors? They might wonder why you all of a sudden decided to start attending boring cocktail parties. If we’re smart, we’ll have our stories straight. I don’t want to scramble the way I had to with Thomas and Linus.”
“You handled that situation well enough.” Admirably actually. “But I see your point. In this case, you can tell people the truth. Football kept me off the streets. In fact, if it weren’t for sports, God knows where I’d be.” He wouldn’t be attending charity cocktail parties, that’s for sure. More likely he’d be working some dead-end job and trying to stay out of trouble. “Sports gives kids a way to escape and be kids, if only for a few hours. If my money can help a kid out of trouble then that’s a good thing, right?”
“A very good thing,” she replied.
He wasn’t sure why, but her smile made him feel like he’d aced a test. It mattered that she knew he was capable of sincerity.
In keeping with the season, the Victorian greenhouse hosting the event was illuminated with soft pink-and-blue spotlights, giving the building a purple glow. Lewis directed their driver to pull into the valet line to let them out.
“I haven’t been here since my grandfather took us as children,” Susan said as they stepped onto the sidewalk.
“Puts you one up on me,” Lewis replied. “I’ve never been.”
He looked around at the rolling lawns. They looked lush and manicured, despite it being winter. The building itself was an astounding stretch of glass and metal, its doorway guarded by a set of robed statues. “Lot fancier than I expected,” he said.
“I always assumed my memory of this place was distorted by childhood, but maybe not. If I remember correctly, this particular building was filled with all sorts of rare plants.”
They followed the other guests up the granite steps to the entrance where they were welcomed by a pair of giant poinsettia towers and a whoosh of warm, moist air. It was like stepping into a giant tropical forest. Plants of every shape and size surrounded them.
“Smells like spring,” Susan said.
Indeed. There was definitely a hint of fresh dirt to the air. A sharp contrast to the cold night air.
The coat check was in the corner, marked by a pair of ferns decorated with tiny Christmas ornaments. If he hadn’t been looking for it, he might never have found it. He turned to Susan intending to help her with her coat only to find she’d already slipped the garment from her shoulders. His breath caught at the sight of her. She’d been waiting on her steps when he picked her up, so this was the first time he’d had a chance to see what she was wearing and the sight took his breath away. At the wedding, she’d gone for a retro look: black, white and tight. Tonight she had a more graceful look. Her pale pink dress had a gathered bodice and long flowy skirt. While the dress didn’t hug her curves the way the dress at the wedding had, the outfit fit tightly enough to let people know she had a shape while the V-neck showed off her ample cleavage. He liked that her breasts were soft and natural looking too. He’d seen enough enhancements in his life to actually find them boring. In fact, he liked how everything about her looked soft and natural, right down to her hair which she let curl around her shoulders.
“You look great,” he said.
Her skin turned the color of her dress. “Thanks. I don’t go to a lot of formal events so I wasn’t sure if this would work. I was afraid this might be too...” She paused as a woman in a sequined minidress and with mile-long legs sauntered by. “Dowdy.”
“Nonsense. It suits you.” Shoot. That sounded like he was saying dowdy suited her. “I mean, not everyone is the sequined-mini type.”
“I’m certainly not, that’s for sure,” she said before adding in a lower voice, “Think I’d catch a cold baring that much skin.”
“Skin is overrated. Seriously.” She was giving him a look of disbelief. “I’m not saying I don’t appreciate a miniskirt as much as the next guy, but there’s something to be said about maintaining a little mystery, know what I mean?” He handed over their coats and waited for his claim ticket.
“Really? I always got the impression men wanted to get down to business as quickly as possible.”
“Obviously, you’ve been hanging around the wrong type of man.”
She blushed again. This time the color went past the V and the effect hit him square in the gut. He meant what he said. It was much more fun wondering how much of her very white skin was capable of blushing than seeing it from the start.
He reached out and twirled one of her curls around his index finger. “Trust me, luv. You look as good as anyone here. More so, even, because you’ve got class.”
“And you are a very smooth talker, Mr. Matolo,” she replied with a smile. “If things don’t work out in the broadcast world, you can always get a job selling used cars. Come on, we’ve got mingling to do.”
Lewis watched as she started along the leafy walkway. She didn’t believe him, but it was true. She projected a level of class that came from years of breeding. Even when drunk at the wedding, she’
d held herself with refinement. Lewis could barely muster it when he was sober. Sure, he had looks and charm, but at his core he was the little street kid being kicked from home to home. The one whom, if he hadn’t been able to block a ball, wouldn’t have been looked at twice by the people in Susan’s world. The one who didn’t belong...
“Are you coming?” Susan asked.
“One minute. Thought I’d enjoy the view a moment, first.”
Score blush number three, although she tried to cover it with an exasperated eye roll. “Now you’re just trying to get a rise out of me. If you really want a view, come check this out.”
It was a Christmas jungle. In addition to the tropical plants, strategically placed Christmas trees dotted the walkway intersections. Each was decorated with a different color of the rainbow. Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Violet. Only they weren’t covered with traditional ornaments. Instead, silk butterflies and flowers mixed with the lights.
It wasn’t the Christmas display that captured his attention, however. It was the dozens of men and women clustered around the display. All dripping with money and status. A couple close to them turned in his direction, their gaze subtly looking them up and down. Judging. Whispering.
Suddenly he was that little boy again, waiting to be told he didn’t belong.
“I need a drink,” he said. He headed to the bar.
CHAPTER FIVE
DID HE SAY he was getting a drink? Susan hurried after him, wishing her legs were longer so she could keep up. Amazing how the man could cut through a crowd like butter.
She finally caught up with him—nearly collided with him, actually—when he stopped cold about a foot from the bar. “What are you doing?”
“I—I...” He washed a hand across his lips. “Something stupid.”
Exactly what she’d feared. The question was why? After all his talk about reforming his image, why would he risk sabotaging himself right as his plan was taking off?
Her Convenient Christmas Date Page 6