A Dash of Temptation. Jo Leigh
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party? It would make sense. He’d seen Tess at social functions before. She worked for a lot of influential people.
“…the mice are sewing up my dress right now, and the pumpkin is reserved. Now all I need is Prince Charming, and I’ll be the belle of the ball.”
He grinned. With her body, if he remembered correctly, she shouldn’t have any trouble finding her prince, even if it was just for the night.
“And if I don’t find Prince Charming, I’ll settle for a rent-a-stud. Oh, God. Do you think they expect sex? I mean, is he going to be put out if I don’t put out?”
Rent-a-stud? Dash stood and moved closer to the door.
“Yeah, like I’ve paid for escorts a hundred times before. Come on, Erin, I’m desperate here.”
It occurred to Dash that this might be an interesting situation. If she was referring to the same party. He was no prince, but he also didn’t charge for his services. No, that wouldn’t work. His attendance wouldn’t be for pleasure. He’d have to work the party, and what that required was someone useful on his arm.
She laughed again, a rich, throaty, uninhibited sound. He smiled. Screw it. When was the last time he’d had anonymous sex? Jeez, he couldn’t remember. And when was the last time he’d had a woman who wasn’t connected to Noir? Being a celebrity was great if you wanted a nice table, but it sucked if you wanted a one-night stand.
He walked into the hallway, wondering if he should cough or something so Tess wouldn’t get scared. He rounded the corner to the living room, and there she was. At least part of her.
He had an exceptional view of her backside. And a nice backside it was. She was tending a plant, doing something with a bag of soil. If he coughed now, she’d be embarrassed. But if she stood up and saw him, she’d be scared. Which would be more to his advantage?
As he debated his next move, his gaze never wavered from the tantalizing view in front of him. Her jeans fit snugly over very voluptuous hips. He didn’t see enough curves in his life. Even the models who posed for Noir were so damn skinny he kept wanting to cook them pasta. He’d never admit it, but the women in his magazine weren’t exactly his taste. Heresy, but what can you do? He liked a woman who looked real. Shapely. Someone he could hold on to.
“Oh, right,” she said.
She must have a headset on, because both hands were busy.
“Yeah, I’m sure he’s dying to take me out. I haunt his dreams. Did you see last week’s People? He was with Nicole Kidman, for God’s sake.”
Nicole… She was talking about him. He’d taken Nic to a premier, a charity event. This was getting more interesting by the moment.
“Don’t I know it. He’s so gorgeous. Just being here makes me wet.”
Dash grinned. This was too easy. Like taking candy from a baby.
“Erin, you wicked creature. And here you try to pass yourself off as so nice. I know better, woman. You’re evil. And I love that about you.”
He wanted to know what Erin had said. He had the feeling he would have liked it a lot. Tess reached for more potting soil and he held his breath, certain she was going to see him. But she didn’t. She did, however, crouch down. Damn. He’d better get the hell out of—
“Oh!” Tess jumped up, turned to face him, flinging dirt in all directions. Her horrified expression gave him a twinge of guilt.
“What are you…? When did you…? Oh, God.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Startle me? I’m in the middle of a coronary, here. You shouldn’t do that to people.”
“I didn’t realize you were here. I would have announced myself.”
“A cough would have been fine. Oh, Jesus.”
She put her hand over her heart, and his gaze moved down with it. Curves. Lush, touchable curves.
“What?”
He looked up at her, but she wasn’t talking to him. There was the earpiece, the wires leading to a pocket on her apron.
“I gotta go,” she said. “I’ll explain later.”
She reached into her pocket, then took the headset off. Her short, dark hair was in disarray, spiky and wild. He hadn’t noticed how blue her eyes were but he sure as hell remembered that mouth. Damn, but he’d like to see those lips wrapped around his cock.
“You’re home,” she said.
“Yes, I am. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“But you’re never home.”
She sounded so shocked, he had to smile. “I come here from time to time.”
“Oh.”
“Why don’t we go to the kitchen. You can get cleaned up.”
She looked down at her hands, her short nails darkened by dirt, then her gaze went to the carpet. “Oops.”
“It’s fine.” He nodded toward the other room. “Come on.”
She swallowed, blinked, then let out a big breath. “Am I in trouble?”
“From what I could hear, I’d say so.”
The panicked look came back to her face. “You heard me?”
He nodded. “We need to talk,” he said as he headed for the kitchen, but he caught her whispered, “Oh, shit.”
It wasn’t nice, his little game. He should be ashamed of himself. Should be, but wasn’t. Once in the kitchen, he got busy making some coffee. He’d have opened a bottle of wine, but it was a bit early in the day for that. After grinding the beans he measured the grounds, then added the water, and still, Tess hadn’t come in. He was tempted to check on her, but decided to let her have some time to gather herself. So he just brought down two cups and sat at the table.
She came in a moment later, looking as scared as she was embarrassed.
“How do you like your coffee?”
Her brows came down as she studied him. “Do you always serve coffee to people before you fire them?”
“Who said I was going to fire you?”
Her relief lasted only a moment. A slight sigh, then she shook her head and stared at him through narrowed eyes. “Then what was all that about me being in trouble.”
“The party this weekend. You don’t have a date.”
“Excuse me?”
“Wash up while I pour,” he said.
A brief glance at her hands spurred her over to the sink. As she scrubbed her hands and nails, she kept looking at him, puzzled as hell.
He brought out cream and sugar, a couple of spoons, then sat down at the table, bringing the carafe with him. A moment later, she sat across from him, her confusion making her eyes sparkle.
“I have a proposition for you,” he said, enjoying the play of emotion on her face. Nothing was hidden in this one. She was an open book. Which could be dangerous in a town like Manhattan.
“What kind of proposition?”
“You’re going to Rain Nickleby’s this Saturday, right?”
She nodded.
“So am I.” He poured the steaming coffee into her mug, but she didn’t touch it. She did, however, clutch her spoon like a lifeline.
“And?”
“I don’t have a date. I was hoping you’d be kind enough to accompany me.”
She blinked several times. A sound came out of