Mr. Irresistible

by Karina Bliss

  Though she agreed with him, Kate felt inexplicably piqued. “No, I’m far too ordinary for glamour.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” He opened the car door for her. “You rely on class, not cleavage. There’s nothing worse than a woman flaunting her charms inappropriately. There’s a time and place for that.”

  “On the weekend, in bed and with the lights out?” Kate regretted the joke as soon as the words left her mouth.

  “Honey, I’m trying to give you a compliment here.”

  “Sorry,” she said meekly, and got into the dark blue Volvo. Peter’s conservatism had proved irresistible when his family had moved next door twelve years earlier, at a time when Kate needed respite from her father’s disreputable private life.

  When they were eighteen, she’d been the one who decided it was time to lose their virginity. Confident in his love, Kate had been curious to see what all the fuss was about.

  Not much.

  No, that was unfair. Sex proved very pleasant, occasionally even satisfying. But it had served to deepen her contempt for her father. To betray her mother for something as insignificant as that…

  By the light of the dashboard, she looked affectionately at Peter’s square profile. Close-cropped sandy hair—one shaver setting away from military—and a physique as solid as his character. As always, he was immaculately groomed, tonight in a black tuxedo. He threw her a sideways glance. “Tell me again why we have to wait?”

  Kate sighed. “I thought we agreed to drop that subject for a few months.”

  “But it’s far more sensible for us to get engaged now, and married as soon as possible.” Peter had been doggedly proposing marriage for at least three years, and Kate’s last excuse had just resettled in Australia. “We’re throwing money away on two rents when we could invest in one mortgage.”

  “Oh, you mad, passionate fool, you,” she teased. “And I thought you couldn’t bear to live without me a minute longer.”

  “That goes without saying,” he said briskly. They pulled up at the function center.

  Kate hesitated. Being free of responsibilities felt empty right now, but she might never have the opportunity again. She had explained that to Peter and he’d understood—last week. Her door was swung open by a valet.

  Thankful for the reprieve, she allowed herself to be helped out, then impulsively popped her head back in. “Tell you what, I’ll ask you, when I’m ready.”

  Getting out, Peter handed the keys to the valet and strolled around the vehicle to join her. “If you leave it too long I’ll run off with someone else,” he warned, but he tucked her arm possessively under his.

  “I’ll bear that in mind.” Kate kissed his cheek. “I won’t keep you waiting long, I promise.”

  They started down the flower-decked hall leading to the function room. Peter stopped. “Listen, you know how I feel about Jordan King…. If by some remote chance he’s here, instead of one of his partners, please stay out of his way.”

  Kate nodded, determined not to feel hurt. Peter had been anxious ever since he’d read her piece about his biggest client, despite her assurances that King couldn’t possibly make the connection between columnist Kate Brogan and the guy overseeing Triton’s software upgrade. Not for the first time she wished her boyfriend was more supportive of her work. He never understood the humor, and hated the adversarial approach she took when she got, as he called it, a bee in her bonnet.

  She tried to categorize this failing like color blindness—not his fault. Plenty of people complimented her intellect; no one else offered her the emotional security Peter did.

  They reached the doorway and paused for a moment arm in arm. It was an attractive room, long and narrow, the opposite wall more glass than plaster with its bank of French doors.

  The panes were aglow in the light of the chandeliers, reflecting the bright colors of women’s gowns, the snowy table linens dressed with gold bows, the glint of cutlery and crystal.

  Kate squeezed Peter’s arm. “I can tell it’s your design, there’s so much of the Midas touch.”

  She felt him relax, and realized he’d been scanning the room. “He’s not here. His partner has come instead.”

  Kate accepted a glass of champagne proffered on a silver tray, secretly just as relieved. “And I so wanted to pull Jordan’s hair.”

  “Not funny, Kate,” Peter growled. She was glad she hadn’t told him she’d ignored three messages to call King. She wasn’t interested in hearing his spin. Beside her, her escort stirred restlessly. “The thing is, I should really go and talk to the Triton guy.”

  “Go ahead. I understand why you’re not keen to introduce us.” She waved to a group of women by the bar. “I’ll get in some practice and join the other neglected wives.”

  “You’re wonderful,” said Peter, and was gone.

  Kate watched his retreating back, knowing she wouldn’t see him until dinner, and then only briefly. He was an ambitious and tireless worker. Yet another point of difference from her father, who had flitted from one crazy scheme to another.

  Exchanging pleasantries with the other women, Kate eyed Peter’s target with some surprise. Jordan King’s partner, also gorgeous, was urbanity personified, as suave and dark as King was brash and blond.

  As she wondered idly whether he was as tall, the comparison became unnervingly easy. Jordan King, his arm around the waist of a stunning blonde, appeared beside him. His horror almost comical, Peter sought Kate’s gaze. Abruptly, she turned away, startling one of the women, who had been detailing her child’s case of chicken pox. “It’s not that contagious,” she insisted.

  Kate forced herself to turn around again. “I’m sorry.” She searched for an excuse but found none. “Actually, there’s someone over there I don’t want to meet,” she confessed, then could have kicked herself as four pairs of eyes swept the room.

  “Male or female?”

  “Female,” lied Kate. She knew King’s attention had settled on the group, drawn by the frisson of excitement, and she kept her face averted. It wasn’t in her nature to avoid a confrontation, but she had to do this for Peter.

  “What a honey that one is,” said the sales manager’s wife, sending a come-talk-to-us invitation.

  Kate gave up. “Excuse me.” Bolting for the powder room, she reflected that if she wanted to remain undetected she’d have to stay away from Peter, plus stick to the company of men, who’d be unaffected by Jordan’s sex appeal.

  JORDAN WATCHED HER GO.

  Run, Kate Brogan! But I have you in my sights.

  It had been so easy picking her out of the crowd. Peter Walker had betrayed her location with one glance. The guy was as good as a heat-seeking missile.

  “How the hell did you persuade Jordan to escort you to such a civilized gathering, Monique? I didn’t know a sister carried that sort of clout.”

  Jordan turned back to his partner. They’d been friends too long for Christian to really be startled by anything he did.

  “Believe it or not, he asked me to come.” She turned to Peter, holding out her hand. “We haven’t met. I’m Monique King, and it appears we’re gate-crashers.”

  Though obviously dismayed, Peter managed to say all the right things, Jordan noted with wry amusement.

  Until Triton’s software developer had tapped on Jordan’s door that afternoon, their previous acquaintance had been limited to quarterly updates. Christian, who handled the company’s acquisitions, and Luke, before he’d spearheaded their new charitable trust, worked more closely with their contractor. Jordan’s restless vitality better suited him to operational concerns.

  Fuming because Kate Brogan wasn’t returning his calls, Jordan hadn’t been in the mood for a quiet word with the project manager, but by the end of the man’s speech he’d been riveted.

  Peter would “hate it if Jordan discovered his relationship with Kate from someone else.” He wanted to “reassure” Jordan that none of Kate’s information for her column had come from him. Peter would ne
ver be that “disloyal.”

  Jordan had assured him that he was now fully aware of Peter’s capacity for loyalty.

  “Champagne?” Accepting the glass Peter offered, Jordan returned the man’s toast, and wondered what the hell Kate saw in him. Not that he could criticize, given his own recent poor judgment.

  Though he was as angry with Penny as her cuckolded husband, Jordan saw no honor in petty revenge. So when the scandal broke, he’d kept his mouth shut and hunkered down to weather it.

  That’s why he’d declined Kate’s request for a profile. Plus, he’d promised his partners to stop talking to the press altogether.

  They still remembered the time a sense of mischief had prompted him to tell one pompous business reporter that Triton was thinking about diversifying its portfolio into raising grasshoppers for the pet market.

  The scoop had gone to print, and the temporary drop in Triton’s share price had convinced Luke and Christian that their partner’s black humor was best shared only with those who knew him well.

  The same sense of mischief had made Jordan ask Kate out after refusing her interview. He knew he’d pricked her professional ego by his refusal, knew she hated finding out she had one.

  Her response had intrigued him enough to start reading her column.

  Jordan lifted his glass. “To an interesting evening.” He laughed when Christian narrowed his eyes.

  BY KEEPING A CAREFUL distance, Kate found the evening passed quite pleasantly. After dinner, she even discovered a quiet corner to sit alone with a coffee and jot down a few ideas, grateful for the respite from networking.

  A shadow fell over the table and, intent on her work, she put a hand over her cup. “No more coffee, thanks.”

  “Actually, I wanted to ask you to dance.” The voice was deep, powerful, definitely not that of her waitress. Kate looked up to see Jordan King regarding her with such a charming smile, she immediately felt like Little Red Riding Hood.

  “At least,” he said approvingly, “you’re not going to feign surprise at seeing me.”

  She looked pointedly at his long hair, lying loose around his shoulders, and the gold hoop in his left ear. Tonight, the shirt was ironed, but the fineness of the cream silk gave it a transparency that was almost indecent. He wore camel-colored pants and well-worn boots in a room where every other man wore a suit. “I think everyone’s seen you.”

  He threw back his head and laughed, a deep, melodious sound that turned heads. “About that dance…”

  Remembering her promise to Peter, Kate said nicely, “Don’t tell me your dance card’s empty. I won’t believe it.”

  “I had a cancellation.”

  “Then a little rest will do you good.”

  “I’d love to join you, of course…” he paused to enjoy her alarm “…but I have commitments elsewhere.”

  Kate lifted her chin. “Let’s talk about the column in business hours, Jordan. I don’t want any civilians caught in the cross fire.” She resisted the urge to check where Peter was.

  “I tried that,” he said. “You wouldn’t return my calls. But contrary to what you think, I can behave myself when I have to.”

  Because she doubted that, Kate tested him. “You really want to dance with someone who called you Tarzan in a business suit?”

  “The reference to the business suit was libelous,” Jordan said. “I don’t own one.” He held out a hand. “One dance, Kate, then I’ll go away.”

  Reluctantly, she put her hand in his, felt his grasp like a brand and pulled away.

  “Sparks.” Jordan reclaimed her hand and tucked it firmly under his forearm. “Next you’ll be accusing me of betraying my eco convictions by wearing nylon underwear.”

  Kate bit her lip. She would not be amused.

  “I don’t think you’ll be needing this, do you?” He removed her protective crimson shawl as carelessly as a child unwrapping a birthday present, and dropped it on an empty chair. “It’s so hot in here.”

  Kate narrowed her eyes, but his expression was guileless. She turned toward the dance floor and her steps faltered. With the evening drawing to a close, couples were enjoying the intimacy of the low lighting and the slow, sensual beat of the music.

  Swinging around to face Jordan, she held her arms out stiffly, determined to keep some distance between them. She caught the amusement in his eyes as he stepped forward, gesturing toward the bar, where Peter sat in animated conversation with a colleague. “Your boyfriend, I believe?”

  Kate hesitated. “Yes.”

  “Pity.”

  She blushed. “Is that some sort of compliment?”

  “No, pity. He seems like a nice guy.”

  Choking back a laugh, Kate looked up at Jordan, then wished she hadn’t. She could see eternal possibilities in those eyes.

  “But I still have to take you away from him,” he said. She stumbled and he drew her closer, his arm dropping to encircle her waist.

  “What did you say?”

  “I have to take you away from him.” He stared at her. “For the dance.”

  Feeling foolish, she shifted her gaze. “He’ll probably be grateful. He hates to dance.”

  “But you love it, especially on the moral high ground.”

  It would take better bait than that to get a rise out of her.

  “Don’t marry Peter. You don’t suit.”

  Kate stopped dead. “You’re very opinionated, for someone who barely knows me.”

  “Funny, I was going to say the same thing about you. Writing about me in your column.” He moved his hand soothingly on her bare back, and she found herself dancing again, somehow closer than before.

  “‘By their deeds ye shall know them,’” she quoted softly. “My column looks at social inconsistencies, including the differences between what people say and what they do.” As a columnist satirizing human foibles and failings, she had grown accustomed to the disgruntled seeking their revenge. And she knew how to handle them.

  “You’re leading, Kate.”

  She stumbled and bit back an automatic apology. No apologies tonight, not to this man. “It’s the legacy of learning to dance at an all-girls’ school.”

  “Yeah, I had you pegged as a convent girl.”

  Kate quelled another pang of annoyance. “Let’s get back on topic. A family disintegrated because you played around with a married woman. Isn’t that inconsistent with your support of family charities?”

  His eyes darkened and she realized how angry he was. “While linking my scandal to a kids’camp that relies on public goodwill is consistent with your support of family charities.”

  Kate gave up any pretense of dancing. “How like a man to evade responsibility by shifting the blame.”

  “And how like a woman to jump into a situation she doesn’t understand, and start moralizing.”

  They stood glaring at each other, both breathing hard. Behind Jordan, a woman laughed nervously, and Kate woke to her surroundings. The couples around them were barely moving, too busy listening with unabashed interest.

  Horrified, she glanced toward the bar. Peter still sat there, engrossed in conversation. “We’re making a scene,” she hissed.

  “What?” Jordan stared at her, incredulous.

  “A scene. We’re making a scene.” Kate indicated the surrounding couples.

  He crossed his arms. “I’m not finished.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “LOOK,” SHE SAID through gritted teeth, “I’ll hear you out. But not here. I don’t want Peter’s boss seeing his employee’s girlfriend squabbling with a client.”

  With a sharp glance Kate couldn’t interpret, Jordan placed a hand under her elbow and steered her through an adjacent set of French doors.

  The night had grown cool and the terrace was empty; white chairs tilted forward against abandoned tables. Wisps of gray cloud, backlit by the full moon, mounted forces for an early autumn storm.

  For a moment they stood in silence, looking down into the garden, where the pl
ants took on mysterious shapes in the moonlight. Warily, Kate turned to face him.

  “What do you want, Jordan, an apology? A retraction? You won’t get one.”

  “A promise. Say what you like about me…‘Tarzan in need of a haircut’…hell, I don’t care. Public opinion has never concerned me. But don’t make a connection with the camp again.”

  Kate stiffened. That sounded suspiciously like a threat. “The behavior of anyone involved in a charity must be open to public scrutiny. You must have known that when you had the affair.”

  He made an impatient gesture. “I didn’t know I was having an affair. Penny told me she was separated.”

  “And you believed her?”

  “I don’t lie and I don’t expect other people to.” He had the ability to come across as terribly sincere. But that didn’t mean it was real.

  “Will she verify your story?”

  “Strangely, she’s reluctant to acknowledge herself as a liar as well as an adulteress,” he said dryly.

  Kate’s tone matched his. “So there’s only your word for this new twist?”

  “You know why you’re reacting so badly to all this, don’t you?” Jordan asked conversationally. “I’ve disappointed you.” She blinked. “You’re disappointed,” he continued, “because despite our skirmishes, you’ve always liked me. Go with that instinct.”

  “Actually, I’ve never liked you.”

  For a moment Jordan stared down at her, his expression inscrutable. “So as well as throwing down the gauntlet professionally, you’re denying we have an attraction?” He reached out to cup her chin.

  His eyes, as he looked into hers, held a challenge at once compelling and terrifying. Kate had thought living with her father had immunized her against the wiles of unpredictable charmers. She’d been wrong. “You should be with me,” Jordan said.

  She jerked away. “Let me get your seduction technique quite clear. You try and intimidate me into keeping quiet over your sordid affair with a married woman, and then you proposition me?”

  Jordan laughed, and it was fortunate they were outside, the sound was so loud. Kate stared at him, torn between getting away from this madman and choking the life out of him.