Under Her Skin. Сьюзен Мэллери
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Titan stood on the porch of Glory’s Gate, talking to a couple he didn’t recognize. Even from this distance he recognized her long blond hair piled on her head, the delicate, classic features of her perfect face. She laughed at something the woman said. The sound carried to him on the warm night air. It was a sound he remembered from a long time ago.
He knew all about Lexi—statistics were easy to come by and he’d taken the time to remind himself about her. But he also knew other things. Like the way her skin felt in the shadows and how her breath caught when she couldn’t help herself. That she hated her real name, and saying it would make her eyes narrow and her hackles rise. He knew pride was both her greatest strength and greatest weakness, that she played to win and unless her back was against the wall, she lost with a graciousness he’d never mastered.
She was old money and breeding. He was a guy who’d fought his way to the top. There were still plenty of social doors that were closed to him. Which was why he was here. He was ready to get those doors open…by force if necessary. And whether she knew it or not, Lexi was going to help him.
He took the half dozen or so marble stairs up to the front of the house, careful to keep several people between Lexi and himself. He didn’t want her to see him just yet. He would determine when and where they met. He would have the advantage. A less confident man might wonder if she’d forgotten, but he knew she hadn’t. No woman forgot her first time.
Once inside the house, he took a moment to admire the architecture of the structure. It had been built in the 1940s, when land was cheap and a man was judged by the power of his horses, the beauty of his women and the size of his house.
Twin staircases curved up to a second-story landing the size of an airport runway. The entry glittered with light that reflected on the black and white tiles. A grand piano hugged one of the curved walls because what was an entryway without a grand piano?
Although he’d never been to Glory’s Gate before, he knew that the twenty-foot-high ceilings were hand carved. He noticed that the seemingly impenetrable walls of the two living rooms and parlor actually rolled away, creating a massive space that easily held five hundred. Now he walked into an elegant room mostly done in gold and sage green, with touches of red. The center parlor had been set up with rows of armless chairs for the auction that was to follow the cocktail hour.
He’d come to be seen, to rub elbows with the Texas elite. To find a way in to their high-class society. A charity auction would allow him to announce his presence with subtlety and class. If he spent money here, he would be invited to other charity events. Over time, he would be accepted. At least that was the plan.
He went deeper into the room, ordered a Scotch, neat, from the bar, then looked at the people he knew by reputation alone. He knew the exact moment Lexi entered the room, was aware of her chatting with the guests. As he watched her move toward her sister, he wondered how she was going to react when she saw him. Lexi Titan could give him everything he wanted. There was only one problem—ten years might have passed, but he was sure that when she saw him she would be far more interested in killing him than offering help.
LEXI HUNG BACK until the senator had kissed Skye’s forehead and moved on. While she appreciated his great oratory skills, he was a known womanizer and she wasn’t in the mood to have some old guy patting her ass.
“Tell me why you do this,” she said by way of greeting. “Don’t you have enough money to do whatever it is you need to do with your foundation?”
Skye Titan, Lexi’s middle sister, took a sip of her champagne. “Do you want to know how many children go to bed hungry in America every night?”
“I’m having a bad day. Don’t make me feel small and worthless on top of that, please.”
“Sorry.”
The sisters hugged.
Lexi stepped back and studied Skye’s green gown. “You look fabulous. I resent the cleavage.” She glanced down at her own relatively flat chest. “I never got breasts.”
“They’re less exciting than you’d think,” Skye told her. “I didn’t think you’d come. You hate my charity events.”
“I don’t hate them. I support the cause. I’m not into all the small talk with the rich and powerful.”
Skye grinned. “I know it’s boring. But I need to raise the money. Just sending out a request for a check never works as well as throwing a party. How are you?”
Lexi thought about her desperate need for two million dollars, forced herself to smile and say, “I’m fine.” She didn’t, as a rule, lie to her sister, but this was different. There was too much on the line to risk telling the truth.
“You said you were having a bad day.”
“Just work stuff. Did Izzy come?” Izzy, Isadora, was their baby sister.
“Of course not,” Skye said. “Izzy hates these things more than you. She’s due back any day but for now she’s still on that oil rig off Louisiana.”
Working as an underwater welder, Lexi thought, wondering how it was possible all three of them were sisters. They couldn’t be more different.
“So who’s new on the party circuit?” Lexi asked. “Anyone flashing a lot of money they can’t explain?”
“Not really. Who are you looking for?”
Whoever was trying to shut down her business. The more Lexi thought about how she’d been offered the financing and then had it pulled out from under her, the more she felt set up. Had someone done it on purpose? Was she being played, and if so, by whom?
“I’m not sure,” she admitted, turning so she could scan the crowd. “Someone with a reason to—”
Her gaze slipped over well-dressed couples, groups in conversation, a man in a dark suit. The president of the second largest oil company was in the room, along with his wife.
Her attention returned to the man in the suit. There was something about him…something familiar.
He turned. If she’d been holding a drink, she would have dropped it. As it was, her heart probably stopped. Years had passed. If she’d had a calendar, she could have counted the time to the day. Maybe the hour.
She’d spent the first six months hoping to run into him. Literally. She’d been prepared to take him out with her car. The second six months she’d been more rational. More willing to be objective. She wouldn’t actually kill him—she would just wing him and call it even. Since then she’d managed to nearly forget about him. He was a mistake. She’d assumed their night together had meant something—it hadn’t. Their time together was a blunder women had been making since Ug had beckoned Ugette into his cave back in the Stone Age.
“Who are you looking at?” Skye asked, then followed her gaze. “Oh, yeah. Him. That car guy. Cruz something. He’s very wealthy. Car dealerships, a chain of auto parts stores and a race team. NASCAR and something else. I can’t remember. He offered us a huge donation. Do you know him?”
Not a question Lexi was going to answer, she thought as she looked around for an escape. But there was nowhere to go.
She wouldn’t react, she told herself. For all she knew, he wouldn’t remember her. What had been a significant event in her life had probably been nothing to him. She was merely cheap date number 157.
It had been ten years and they’d both changed. The guy she remembered had worn jeans and a T-shirt, not a custom suit and imported shoes. Not that his face was different. He still had the kind of smoldering dark eyes that made a woman want to lose herself forever. Well, other women. Not her.
She would act like he was a stranger, then she would excuse herself. He would never know how hot the humiliation from that night…and morning…still burned.
“Good evening,” he said as he approached, smiling at Skye. “I’m Cruz Rodriguez. Thank you so much for inviting