Landon (Swanson Court Book 4)

by Serena Grey

  One night of the best sex of my life.

  I take a deep breath and leave Duane’s office, shutting the door behind me before I descend to the VIP area. Duane is chatting up a table of football stars and their groupies, and he raises a glass to me as I walk past. I nod in acknowledgment and settle at a table, from which I have a good view of the part of the dance floor where Rachel is moving to the thrumming music like she was born to dance.

  A waiter arrives to replace my drink, but my eyes stay on Rachel. An image of her body, flushed and soft beneath mine, flashes through my mind, and my cock hardens.

  Go home, Landon. The voice of common sense in my head is not used to being ignored, but I can’t bring myself to leave. I watch her dance, pretending she’s dancing for me alone. I stare shamelessly, enjoying every movement of her body.

  Some hopeful guy tries to dance with her, and she shoos him away. She shimmies and twists until it’s all I can do to remain in my seat. Then, as if she can feel me watching, she turns in my direction and her eyes lock on mine.

  Everything stops. The music, the dancers, the conversation…everything except that wide green gaze and the shocked expression in their depths.

  I’m not above feeling a perverse satisfaction at the puzzlement on her face. She stands frozen, gaping at me, and I stare back, daring her to make the next move…or to run. Not that it would matter. I’d always find her.

  I release her from my gaze for long enough to drain my glass then I’m watching her again, watching her walk slowly toward me. I don’t make a move until she’s standing right in front of me, looking almost as if she’s in a daze.

  What’s the matter, Rachel? Don’t you like it when your lies catch up with you?

  I give her a careless smile, enjoying it as her confusion intensifies. “You’re a great dancer.”

  Her brow furrows. “Thanks?”

  Her voice stokes my memories from our night together and blood rushes toward my groin. I hold out a hand, willing her to take it. I want to feel her skin again. I want to smell her hair, taste her lips… “Come on,” I say, like we’re old friends. “Join me.”

  Her hand is soft in mine, and my skin tingles where we touch. I draw her down beside me, still holding her hand as I order more drinks. She smells of peach shampoo and a soft flowery perfume, and the combination is intoxicating.

  “What are you doing here?” The curiosity in her voice is tinged with accusation.

  I lean toward her, close enough to see her pupils dilate. My voice is silky. “I was in the area.”

  She pulls back from me. “Really?”

  “Really.” I’m enjoying her suspicion, and I bring my face close to hers again. She’s trembling, and when her lips part on a soft breath, all I want to do is taste that pretty mouth and make it mine.

  Something flares in her eyes. I take a deep breath, drawing back just as our drinks arrive. I release her hand and she gulps her cocktail. She’s nervous.

  “So…” she starts, and I can sense the effort behind the lightness in her voice. “Are you on the prowl or what?”

  I hold her gaze. “Are you working tonight?”

  That confusion again. “Working?” she repeats.

  “Are you working the joint?” My words are deliberate, and I watch with satisfaction as her face shadows with a quiet indignation. I wait for her to come clean, but she doesn’t.

  “Not tonight.” She meets my gaze in a silent challenge. “I’m here with my cousin and her boyfriend.”

  Her tone makes me want to apologize, but that makes no sense. She should be the one apologizing to me. She should be telling me the truth right about now.

  I sip my drink. “Does she know what you do for a living?”

  “No.”

  Tell me the truth, Rachel.

  Her eyes search the club. Is she looking for her cousin? Thinking of leaving? She rises from the seat.

  I should let her go. Whatever I hoped to achieve here, to make her confess or explain…I haven’t achieved it. Yet, I can’t bear for her to walk away. I catch her hand in mine. “Don’t go.”

  She loses her balance and falls back on the seat, closer to me than before. She inhales softly, lips parted and as soft as temptation. I’m aching to taste her, to send everyone out of the club so I can bury myself deep inside her, right here and right now.

  She licks her bottom lip and my cock presses against my pants.

  “Don’t do that,” I warn.

  Her breath catches. “Why not?”

  Because I’m in danger of forgetting myself. I want her, and I can feel the arousal like a drug, clouding my senses. My hand is on her thigh, and my fingers are aching to go higher, to explore more, to touch, to possess. I pull in a breath and lift one hand to stroke her cheek. “I think your cousin is looking for you.”

  She looks a little dazed. At the sound of her name, she turns to face Laurie, who is approaching us with her boyfriend in tow.

  “I was looking for you.” Laurie frowns in my direction as if I’m to blame for Rachel’s temporary misplacement, which I am. “Why’d you move tables?”

  “I… This is Landon,” Rachel says, her eyes on Laurie.

  Something passes between them, and I realize her cousin knows about that night. I rise from my seat and hold out my hand. “Please join us,” I say with a smile. “I’m Landon Court.”

  Laurie looks suspicious as she takes my hand, and I can see her inner lawyer assessing me. “Laurie,” she says.

  “And Brett.” Brett takes my hand with a warm smile.

  “We were just going.” Laurie looks from me to Rachel. “Do you want us to wait or…”

  “Just wait for me,” Rachel says quickly. “I’ll be right out.”

  Brett gives me an appraising glance. “Well, it was nice to meet you.” Then to Rachel. “We’re right outside, Rach.”

  They both walk away, and Rachel turns to me. I don’t want her to leave, and I’m sensing she feels the same. I can tell that, if I asked her to come home with me, she would.

  I’m tempted, but the next time I fuck her, it won’t be behind a lie.

  She needs to tell me the truth.

  “I’m leaving,” she tells me.

  I take her hand, tracing patterns on her skin with my fingers. “I gathered.”

  She hesitates. “It was nice to run into you.”

  “It was nice to run into you Rachel,” I reply with a chuckle.

  She doesn’t move, and I wonder what it feels like for her, knowing, or at least believing if she walks away now, she’d be leaving me with a lie.

  Tell me the truth, Rachel.

  I release her hand, watching her eyes cloud with something that looks like disappointment.

  “Good night,” she says, before hurrying away. I take a deep breath. A car is waiting outside to take her home, but I’m not done with her yet. She had a chance to tell me the truth, but she chose not to. Now, I’ll have to confront her with it and give her a taste of what it feels like to be played for a fool.

  Chapter 6

  “This has been a great meeting, gentlemen.” I walk around the desk to shake hands with Verne Matthews and Alistair Cordwell, co-owners of an online booking service.

  “It’s a pleasure doing business with you,” Verne says.

  I smile as they leave then turn back to my desk, tapping my fingers on the polished surface. In less than an hour, I have the one meeting I’ve been looking forward to attending all day, and I’m oddly nervous.

  Rachel.

  She’s like a fire in my blood, hot and spreading, unquenchable. After that night at Insomnia, my desire for her has only grown and spread until I can’t go more than a few minutes without my thoughts going back to her.

  Well, I will see her today, and I’ll watch her reaction when her lies explode in her face.

  Anticipation makes me smile. Just then my assistant, Tony Gillies, opens the door and sticks his head inside my office.

  “Joe is waiting,” he tells me. “You
have the Gilt Building in twenty.”

  “I’ll be right down.”

  He leaves me alone again, and I see Rachel’s face in my head. I imagine her expression when she walks into her boss’s office and sees me there. Almost too eagerly, I button up my jacket and head downstairs.

  On the ground floor, a low hush descends once I walk out of the elevator into the cavernous marble and glass lobby. I know every marble tile, every stone, every pane of glass in this place almost as if I built it with my own hands. My building, a culmination of years of dreams. Without breaking my stride, I head out the main doors, where Joe is already opening the rear door of my car.

  I settle into the back seat, checking my phone for pertinent emails.

  “Gilt Building?” Joe asks, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror.

  “Yes, Joe.”

  Silently, we make the short drive to the building where, right now, Rachel Foster has no idea what’s about to hit her.

  Me.

  “This is such a pleasant surprise,” Jessica declares, rounding her desk to place kisses on both my cheeks. She’s lovely for her age, which is something around the mid-sixties. I’ve known her for most of my life, first as one of those people who orbited around my parents, and later as part of the whole circle of events and patronages that make up my social life.

  “I was in the building and I had to stop by.”

  She smiles at me, her eyes showing that she’s not quite taken in by the lie. She’s probably guessed that I want something, and now she’s curious.

  “Have a seat, Landon.” She walks back to her side of the desk. Behind her, the view of Central Park is almost like a painting. “So, tell me, what’s going on with the Swanson Court hotels?”

  I shrug. “Business is good.”

  “Oh, don’t be modest. What you’ve achieved in a few short years is simply incredible.” She smiles and continues in a softer voice. “Your parents would be proud.”

  My smile is bitter. “Yes, I suppose they would.”

  Her voice brightens. “How’s your little brother?”

  “Aidan…he’s fine. Raising hell on Broadway.” I pause. “So, the article about Insomnia Lounge.”

  “Yes, that.” She smiles. “It went up on the website today.”

  “Yes, and it was very well written.” She gives me a queer look and I respond with a charming smile. “I’ve been considering the feature you pitched to me some time ago, about…the new hotel in San Francisco.”

  “I’m still interested.” She sits. “A new Swanson Court hotel rising out of the ashes of the Gold Dust. It’s the sort of thing our readers want. Have you changed your mind?”

  “I have.”

  “Well then.” She grins. “I’ll get a team on it.”

  That’s not what I want, but I don’t argue. Instead, I meet her eyes and smile. “As a matter of fact, I’d like to meet the writer who did the article about the lounge. I had a chance to read a few other pieces she has written and I’m curious.”

  “Oh…” She raises an arched brow as her eyes dig into me. “You were specific about wanting her for the lounge article.”

  I hold out my hands. “As I said, I read some pieces she wrote, and I was curious.”

  “Of course. I’m sure she’ll be glad to meet you.”

  She makes the call to her assistant, asking for Rachel to join her in her office. We talk about Aidan’s play and how eager she is to see it. It seems like an eternity before the door opens behind me and Rachel enters the room.

  I want to see her face, but I force myself to hold on, to give her a moment to approach Jessica’s desk. She takes a few steps then stops, and I can feel her eyes on me. That’s when I turn around and meet her gaze head on.

  Her eyes widen in shock. Her body seems to freeze. Confusion and realization slowly wash across her face.

  Yes, Rachel. I know.

  “Rachel,” Jessica is saying, making Rachel turn her gaze to focus on her boss. “I’m glad you’re here. This is Landon Court.”

  I rise from my chair and take a step toward her. Her throat works and color stains her cheeks. I hold out my hand to her. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  She places her slim, small hand in mine, and I pull in a breath at the buzz from that small contact. No, I won’t be satisfied with this. I need more than her confusion and realization. I need her body. I need to lose myself inside her again.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” she stammers before facing Jessica, waiting for an explanation.

  “Landon was in the building for a meeting, and he stopped to say hello to an old friend—”

  “Definitely not old, Jessica.” I’m still holding Rachel’s hand, and I don’t want to let it go.

  Jessica preens at the compliment. “Thank you, Landon.” She addresses Rachel again. “He wanted to thank you for that lovely article on Insomnia Lounge.”

  Rachel looks from me to Jessica, her bewilderment deepening. “I don’t understand. Why…?”

  “Landon owns the place,” Jessica explains. “We had a little discussion earlier in the week and decided an article about it would be the right fit for our website, and Landon requested that you write it. Luckily he’d read a couple of similar articles you’ve written…”

  I’m still watching Rachel, and her expression gives way from confusion to understanding and then to anger. She jerks her hand from mine as if she’s been stung. Then, she takes a deep breath and gives me a polite smile that doesn’t reach her flashing eyes. “I’m glad you like the article, Mr. Court—”

  “Landon,” I offer. “Of course I liked it. You’re obviously good at what you do.”

  She can barely hide her scowl. “Mr. Court,” she says in a firm voice, “I had a great time at your club, and the article reflected that. If that is all, I have to get back to work.” With a smile in Jessica’s direction, she turns and heads out the door.

  I watch her leave. I haven’t gotten what I came for, though I’m not exactly sure what it is I want.

  “It was great to see you,” I tell Jessica, ignoring her bemusement as I follow Rachel out of the office.

  A short hallway leads to the office where Jessica’s assistant sits like a bad-tempered guardian. On the wall, portraits of Jessica with a variety of high-profile people announce her importance and achievements. At the end of the hallway, Rachel is about to open the door.

  “Wait.”

  She stops and turns around to face me. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are still blazing with anger. I take a step forward.

  “Why the rush, Rachel?”

  She glares at me. “I have work to do.”

  “As you said.” I wait for a reaction. “Although this is a strange workplace for a hooker.”

  She inhales sharply. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”

  She’s going to put the blame on me? “Why did you lie to me?”

  “I didn’t lie to you,” she says through gritted teeth. “You made an assumption.”

  Unbelievable. “And you didn’t think you should have corrected my mistake? I spent the weekend wondering why you didn’t leave your number, but I thought it didn’t matter since I could always get it from my brother. Try to imagine how surprised I was when I called him and he had no idea what I was talking about.”

  She gives me a defensive glare. “Look, I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but you had no right to get me to your lounge under false pretenses just so you could…” Her glare deepens. “How did you even find out who I was?”

  I don’t bother to answer the question. Finding out her real identity was easy. What I want to know is why she persisted in the lie and what it will take to get her back into my bed. “You had every chance to tell me you weren’t who I thought you were. Why didn’t you?”

  She ignores the question. “Why are you here, Landon?”

  Because I want you. I close the distance between us. I stop when I’m standing right in front of her, so close I can smell the peaches in her hair and see the fa
int quivering of her lips.

  “I’m here because you owe me an explanation.” I watch her face as I speak. “That night at my apartment—why did you stay? Did you know who I was?”

  She shakes her head, telling me what I already know. “I didn’t, and I don’t owe you anything. I wanted a one-night stand, and you wanted a hooker.” She shrugs. “We both got what we wanted. Why can’t you leave it at that?”

  Why can’t I leave it at that?

  Because I can’t get her out of my mind.

  Because I want her.

  And because I can see she’s not as unaffected by me as her words suggest. I move closer, pinning her against the door. She wets her lips, nervous and more. I smile down at her, hearing her breath quicken, watching her skin flush.

  My voice is soft and taunting. “I didn’t get what I thought I was getting, and in any case, my hooker didn’t get paid, did she? That’s unacceptable to me, Rachel. I always pay my debts.”

  “Maybe your hooker decided to make it a charity case.”

  That makes me laugh. “I’m sure I don’t strike you as someone who needs charity.”

  “Well then.” Her eyes challenge mine. “Back to my original question: why are you here?”

  I inhale, drawing in her sweet scent. “Maybe…” I murmur, bringing my face close to hers. “Maybe I want to fuck you again.”

  Her chest rises as she sucks in a gulp of air through parted lips. I wanted to shock her, and it’s clear I have.

  “If that’s why you’re here,” she says evenly, “you’re wasting your time. Jessica could walk into this hallway any moment,” she continues. “So, if you don’t want her to come in and find us like this, I think you’d better let me go.”

  I smile down at her, knowing she’s already mine, despite her words. “I couldn’t care less about Jessica finding us,” I murmur, “and I never waste my time.”

  Placing my arm around her waist, I lift her away from the door, ignoring her shocked gasp as I set her down. “I always get what I want, Rachel,” I say softly, and then I reach behind her and open the door, walking away without another word.