Quick Dirty Luck: A Love Between the Pages Novel

by Heather Guimond

  Fuck it. Had I come here expecting to be Alexis Lane, I’d have brought more conservative clothes, but this was a Reina Dare occasion. I was selling an image as much as I was trying to negotiate terms for a business deal. With that in mind, I picked the red dress. It may have been off the shoulder with a deep V neckline, but I could easily disguise the plunging décolleté with my long, triple-strand pearl rope necklace. Mama, in her never-ending wisdom, taught me pearls were a lady’s jewelry. That’s what I needed to portray. A woman to be reckoned with while still being attractive and feminine.

  The red dress brought another dilemma with it. It matched perfectly with my favorite heels, the ones Kent seemed to have an unusual appreciation for. I didn’t want him to think the red ones were the only pair I owned, nor did I want him distracted by them all night long, so I picked up my gold, pointed-toe stilettos. They were sky-high as well, but there was nothing to be done about that. I didn’t wear any other kind.

  Laying my clothes at the foot of the bed, I went into the bathroom to begin my beauty routine. I’d never been afraid of make-up, having been fascinated with it as soon as I became a teenager. I’d spent hours in front of the mirror perfecting my look. I knew how to look light, sweet, and natural and how to paint my face to wow everyone in a room. I settled for somewhere in between for dinner.

  I decided to wear my long hair up in a tight French twist. It was tidy without being too severe while also very businesslike. I added pearl studs, then stood back to admire my appearance in the full-length mirrored closet doors. What I needed were stockings. Fortunately, I’d brought a pair with me. Unfortunately, they were the variety that went with a garter belt. On the plus side, I’d brought my red lingerie just in case I wore the red dress, but I hadn’t planned to wear either it or the underthings tonight. I hemmed and hawed for a minute. Pretty underwear always made me feel like I had a sexy secret. That was counterproductive to my goals. Yet so were bare legs. I flipped a mental coin and decided to wear the stockings. From the outside, it made me look respectable. Surely, I could get through a few hours without being in danger of removing my clothes. It was just underwear, for Christ’s sake.

  I unbelted the short robe I’d spent the afternoon in and put myself together, purposely avoiding the mirror once I had the lingerie on. I was proud of the final product when I finally assessed myself. I looked like a pretty lady, in my opinion. Maybe not a sharp businesswoman, but the contrast might work in my favor.

  A few minutes past seven, there was a light rap at my door. Close enough to the appointed time to be considered punctual, I smiled. I liked a reliable man, especially when business was afoot. Tardiness was disrespectful and just pissed me off. I made it a policy to never be late, fashionably or otherwise, for any reason. I appreciated the same in other people.

  I opened the door and nearly fainted. Standing on the other side was a meticulously groomed, sharp-dressed man with the look of a polished billionaire. His deep grey suit was clearly expensive, and his bold red tie screamed he, too, should be taken seriously. The fact we’d unconsciously matched our outfits was not lost on me. Maybe it was a sign. I shoved that thought right out of my head and smiled as my eyes traveled back to his face, which was masked with a blank stare. He was a little pale when I looked closer. Score for me.

  “You look devastating, Alexis,” he choked out. His eyes wandered down to my feet, and I watched as he swallowed hard, then softly coughed. “Are you ready to go?”

  Turning to grab my clutch purse, I smiled again to myself. I had the upper hand here. I could focus on that, rather than him looking equally devastating. So long as he didn’t turn on the charm, I could make it through dinner. Giving myself a short, inner pep talk, I strolled through the door feeling rather smug.

  You know what they say. Pride goeth before the fall.

  Seven

  Kent

  It was a superhuman feat to walk normally from Alexis’ room to Barnaby’s. My trousers were nearly bursting at the seams from the moment she opened the door. Not only were these gold shoes almost as hot as the red ones, the pearls around her neck nearly did me in. I was further assaulted by visions of her posed provocatively in front of the massive windows in my suite, wearing nothing but the shoes and those fucking pearls. I swear she was trying to kill me with a terminal erection.

  When we finally reached the restaurant, I was grappling with trying to rouse the ruthless businessman in me with some rallying self-talk. Time to nut up, Kingsley. She’s here to work a deal, just like you. Ignore the motherfucking pearls and heels, it’s just window dressing. If you really want her, it’s time to find out what else she’s about.

  That did the trick because I realized over the last twenty-four hours, a one-night stand with Alexis was never going to be enough. I was attracted to her physically—powerfully so—but she’d engaged a different part of me with her fire and passion. It didn’t just bring out the hunter in me—the one who wanted to capture his prey—but something on a much deeper, more complex level I had yet to understand.

  The hostess, a new employee Bob must have hired because I’d never seen her before, led us to the best, but quietest area in the room where my dad had always conducted his business dinners. After we were seated with our drinks in front of us, I decided to forego any pleasantries and launch right into the plan that had been simmering in the back of my head.

  “So, Alexis—or wait, did you say it should be Reina? I don’t remember.” I couldn’t help myself. I may have had a handle on my business side, but I could never quite lock the smartass in me away completely. She didn’t even react, just gave me a bored stare.

  “Alexis it is, then. Anyway, after I left you this morning, I spent the rest of the day in my office going over Ms. Cifelli’s request for services. While we can certainly accommodate everything you require, I think your event would be better served by an upgrade to almost everything. It would cost more—” I began, but she cut me off.

  “That’s why I’m here. We really want to make this a successful showing, so we can grow the event in the future to a full-scale reader and writer conference that offers the attendees and authors so much more. To do that, I think your deluxe event package, not unlike your top wedding package, would best suit our needs.”

  “I agree with you one hundred percent. It costs a substantial amount more, but—” She cut me off again.

  “We’re aware. That’s why I’m here. Andrea’s promotions company is responsible for everything, but I’ve agreed to sign on as the major sponsor of this event. While I have a substantial amount of funds I can throw in, Andrea is committed to sticking to as rigid a budget as possible. I have a proposal for you,” Alexis said coolly. I knew this was the part where she thought she’d have to wrangle and negotiate with me, but she didn’t know I was already on board and probably about to top whatever paltry offer she was going to make.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet. I have an offer to make to you as well. I’m certain together we can come up with a mutually beneficial arrangement. Before we get to that, let’s have a look at our menus, shall we? I find the best deals are struck over a fine meal.”

  Normally, I would have heard her out right away, but her professional demeanor was exciting me almost as much as the other sides I’d seen of her. I needed a minute to collect myself before I lost the grip on my business self because I knew before this conversation was over, that control would be in tatters.

  Alexis’ expression revealed she wasn’t happy with being shut down. Served her right for interrupting me not once but twice. Aside from toning down my reaction to her, I wanted to keep this negotiation as balanced as possible. It should be a meeting of the minds rather than one of us trying to gain the advantage over the other.

  She turned her attention to the leather folio in front of her. Of course, I knew the menu inside and out, but I pretended to study mine as well. It was a no-brainer though. I always had the Filet Mignon with Porcini Mushroom Compound Butter and asparag
us. Normally, I would have a nice red paired with it, but with the electricity already firing between us, I knew I needed to stick with vodka to keep me relaxed with a nice warm buzz going.

  Our server, a young man with close-cropped hair and a very tidy goatee—I’d have to talk to Bob, facial hair was a big violation of our restaurant staff rules, I didn’t care how short it was—approached us with a genuine smile.

  “I’m Oscar, and I’ll be your server tonight,” he said smoothly. Beard aside, I already liked him. “Can I interest you in an appetizer, or would you like to hear the chef’s special entrees for tonight?”

  “Do you like seafood?” I quickly asked Alexis. She ignored me and turned to Oscar.

  “I’d like to order the Drunken Shrimp cocktail.” She turned to me as an afterthought. “I hope that’s fine with you, Kent.”

  “Of course, it is,” I said, discreetly trying to adjust my position. Goddamn if her taking charge like that didn’t test my inner beast. “It’s what I’d have ordered.”

  “Good. Then please bring us two orders of that. I’m also ready to give my dinner order. Are you, Kent?”

  I tried hard to strangle the whimper rising in my throat. She might as well castrate me right here at the table.

  “I am. Please, go ahead.”

  “I’ll have the Filet Mignon, please, very rare if you don’t mind.”

  I almost launched myself over the table. While the filet is typically served rarer than other cuts of meat, I always wanted it a half step away from mooing. We had more in common than I wanted to admit. I went back to telling myself I just needed to get her to accept my business offer, then find a way to get her in bed. I’d been deluding myself she was somehow different. I’d shag her, then her mystique would be gone after that, and I could go back to my devil-may-care lifestyle. That’s all it was. All it could be. All I would allow it to be. That nagging voice in my head laughed hysterically.

  “I’ll have the same,” I said, closing the menu and handing it to Oscar. I drummed my fingers on the table softly as I watched Alexis sip rapidly at her dirty martini. She seemed anxious about something. I liked watching her sit uncomfortably. From the moment I met her, she’d had the upper hand. Now, at least for a little while, I was the one holding all the cards, and I was going to make the most of it.

  “So,” I began, searching for something to say that would get her to open up about herself personally. This dinner was about business, but I hadn’t forgotten my other agenda and wasn’t above trying to advance it a bit. “Tell me a little about Alexis Lane.”

  “What do you want to know?” she replied uncomfortably. I could tell she wasn’t sure what she should say. She was off balance and scrambling to get her footing back. Personal talk wouldn’t help her win that battle, so I grinned wickedly inside and pressed on.

  “Where do you come from, what was young Alexis like? You know the typical getting-to-know-you stuff.”

  “Well, I grew up in Palos Verdes, California where I still live today. I guess it was an upper-upper-middle class life. My dad is a comedy writer. He worked on several successful network sitcoms. Mom dabbled in a little of everything. She was a real estate agent for most of my childhood though. I guess my parents were happy enough. They stayed together even though my dad is something of a scoundrel.

  “I attended a series of private schools for my primary education, then went on to the University of Southern California where I majored in English.”

  “And is that when you realized you wanted to be a writer, or is it in the blood, considering your father is one?”

  “Oh. Well, I’ve always written in some form or another. Journals, poetry, the odd article for a magazine, whether it was home decorating or how to mix the perfect cocktail. It wasn’t until I found myself at home, lonely with nothing to do to fill up the time, I sat down at a computer with a story that had been brewing in my head for days, opened a document, and started typing. I haven’t stopped since.”

  “Why were you home alone and lonely?” I asked, knowing there was a story there.

  “After college, I had my first solid lapse in judgment and married a successful businessman I’d met at a singles function one of my friends dragged me to. He was considerably older, pampered me, and made me feel cherished. After the wedding, it was obvious he only wanted a pretty prize for his arm when he went out. Most of the time, he worked long hours, then cavorted with other pretty young things. It took me a while to realize it, so I started writing the fantasies I wished I was living.”

  “So, you caught him cheating, and that’s what ended it?”

  “Honestly, no. I was too young and naïve to question his activities. He’d made me feel so treasured when he was around, I never suspected a thing. Once I started writing, then publishing, it opened a whole new world for me. Suddenly, I was socializing in a different circle, and Charles didn’t like it. Once my schedule began conflicting with his, he went out and found a new filly to prance around.”

  “Ouch,” I said, feeling sympathy for young Alexis.

  “Nah, it’s all right. By the time things got that far, we’d been fighting over my budding career, and I was catching on to the idea maybe I wasn’t quite as valued as I’d thought. Things were tense whenever I wasn’t at his beck-and-call, escalating to friction whenever he was home. Eventually, I packed up my things and took off. That’s when the other trophy wives came out of the woodwork to tell me about his many dalliances. Not that I cared at that point,” she said before draining the remnants of her martini. I signaled Oscar to bring us both another.

  “How long were you married?” I asked, genuinely curious. Was young Alexis as headstrong as the one sitting in front of me?

  “Three years start to finish. I left him after two and a half and took the quickest route to a divorce I could. I didn’t ask for a thing but my maiden name back.”

  So, at least a little of her stubbornness was inborn. I suspected the rest had built with time and hard lessons learned. Again, we weren’t so dissimilar. While I was contemplating that, she struck.

  “What about you? Did you ever take the trip down the aisle?”

  “No,” I coughed and laughed at the same time. “I managed to dodge that bullet, but only by a hair.” She raised a questioning eyebrow at me. “I was engaged briefly.”

  “What happened? Did you get cold feet?”

  “No. Ironically, she would have been the perfect wife for your ex-husband. I thought we were in love, she thought I was the perfect meal ticket and then some.”

  “Gold digger, huh?” she nodded knowingly. I nodded back, wishing Oscar would reappear with our drinks. Thoughts of Marguerite were always followed by a desire for the best vodka money could buy.

  “How long were you with her?” Alexis pressed on.

  “Long enough for me to think I was madly in love and to pop the question. Long enough for her to play the dutiful girlfriend while fucking the pool boy on the side,” I said uncomfortably. The look on Alexis’ face showed empathy, but an obvious desire to know more. I sighed and continued.

  “I proposed to her about a year after we met. She was planning an elaborate wedding, which took almost two years. I caught her laughing behind my back with one of her girlfriends two weeks before the wedding. In total, we were together about the same amount of time you were married.”

  “You must’ve been so angry. I’m angry just hearing about it.”

  “I was destroyed. We’d always gotten along so well. We almost never disagreed, in fact, I used to congratulate myself on finding a woman I was so compatible with. I should have realized it was too good to be true. She was hiding her true self to get my ring on her finger and her hand in my wallet.”

  “Where is she now?” Alexis asked, her eyes gleaming with unspoken malice.

  “Hell, for all I care. I packed up her stuff when she wasn’t home and changed the locks. I never spoke to her again.”

  Alexis nodded, apparently approving of my actions.

 
; Silence fell across the table, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. I realized we were having a bonding moment, sharing the knowledge we’d both been used for superficial ends. The quiet stretched on just a bit too long, yet I struggled for something to say. She rescued me.

  “And since then? Have you had any other near misses?” she asked as Oscar finally set our drinks in front of us. I picked mine up and took a slow sip before replying.

  “No, I have a firm policy against intimate romantic relationships now. They’re a myth. I have yet to meet another woman who wasn’t after something that wasn’t my heart.” Hearing the words coming from my own mouth made me sound overly cynical and pathetic. “Besides, I’m way too busy with this hotel now. It would be impossible to keep up a healthy relationship with the amount of my time running this place takes.”

  “Hear, hear,” she said lifting her drink in toast. “I’ve never gotten deeply involved with anyone since Charles, myself. There were one or two men I persuaded myself into thinking could be something more than just a fling, but in the years since I left Charles, I’ve concluded I’m a magnet for assholes. Liars, cheaters, self-righteous pricks—apparently, that’s my type. Better to keep them all at a safe distance since my radar is faulty.”

  Again, I had the notion we were two sides of the same coin. I took another sip of my drink, at a loss for anything to say. I was quickly losing my upper hand. Surprisingly, I didn’t mind it so much.

  Oscar reappeared again with our steaks. I was rescued from having to think of something witty or interesting to say as we both immediately cut into our meat.

  “My God, this smells delicious,” Alexis half-moaned. Of course, my body responded viscerally. “And look, it’s perfectly cooked!” I poked my own cut of meat, watching the thin red juice flow from it.