Always an Eaton: Sweet Dreams. Rochelle Alers
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They’d dated for a year before he asked her to marry him. However, when she met his parents for the first time they were forthcoming when they expressed their disapproval. They’d always hoped that Laurence would eventually marry the daughter of a couple within their exclusive social circle. To add insult to injury, they’d demanded she return the heirloom engagement ring that had belonged to Laurence’s maternal grandmother. Laurence compounded the insult when he forcibly removed the ring from her finger.
“Okay, Preston,” she said, smiling, “I’ll go out with you.”
His eyebrows lifted a fraction. “Why does it sound as if you’re doing me a favor?”
“Don’t let your ego get the best of you, P.J.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re probably not used to women turning you down.”
“Whatever,” he drawled.
“Yes or no, Preston?”
“I’m not going to answer that.”
Standing on tiptoe, Chandra touched her lips to Preston’s. “You don’t have to,” she whispered, “but there’s one question I do expect you to answer for me.”
“What’s that?” Preston asked, as his lips seared a sensual path along the column of her neck.
Baring her throat, she closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth of his mouth on her skin. “Can I trust you?”
Preston froze as if someone had unexpectedly doused him with cold water. His arms fell to his sides as he glared at Chandra. “You think I’m going to be with you and another woman at the same time?”
“I’m not talking about infidelity.”
“What are you talking about?”
She stared at a spot over his broad shoulder before her gaze returned to meet his questioning one. “It’s about you not lying to me.”
“I’d never—”
“Don’t say what you won’t do,” she interrupted. “Just don’t do it, Preston.”
A beat passed. Preston knew without asking that something had occurred between Chandra and her former fiancé that caused her not to trust him and probably all men. He hadn’t slept with so many women that he couldn’t remember their names, but whenever they parted it was never because they didn’t trust him, and it wouldn’t be any different with Chandra.
A sensual smile tilted the corners of his mouth upward. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I’d like to take you out to Le Bec-Fin tomorrow night.”
Chandra lashes fluttered as she tried to bring her fragile emotions under control. Maybe he likes you. Denise’s words came back with vivid clarity. Maybe Preston did like her, and not because she was collaborating with him. And despite his literary brilliance and celebrity status she wasn’t ready to completely trust him.
Dating Preston Tucker openly would no doubt thrust her into the spotlight for newshounds and the paparazzi, and she had to prepare herself for that. Denise had also revealed that Preston tended to keep a low profile, yet he wanted to take her to a restaurant long considered the best in fine dining. Being seen with him at a fancy, four-star Philadelphia restaurant was hardly what she would consider maintaining a low profile.
“Would you mind if we go another time?”
“Of course I don’t mind,” he said. “We’ll go whenever it’s convenient for you.”
Chandra decided to flip the script. “How would you like to go out with me tomorrow?”
Preston’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you weren’t available?”
“I can’t have dinner with you because I have a prior engagement. I’m going to Paoli to join my family in celebrating my twin nieces’, Sabrina’s and Layla’s, thirteenth birthday.”
“You want me to go to a teenage birthday party?”
“No, Preston. You just fired your literary agent, which means you’re going to have to replace him. I just thought if you talk to my brother-in-law, perhaps he’ll consider representing you.”
The impact of his firing his friend and agent weighed heavily on Preston. He hadn’t wanted to do it, but Cliff had left him no alternative. If his friend was having personal problems, then he should’ve confided in him. After all, there were few or no secrets Preston kept from his agent.
But, on the other hand, business was business, and he’d entrusted Clifford to handle his career without questioning his every word or move. Unfortunately, the man had screwed up—big-time and with dire consequences.
“Who is your brother-in-law?”
Chandra flashed a sexy moue, bringing Preston’s gaze to linger on her lips. “You’ll see tomorrow.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You expect me to go with you on a whim?”
“Is that how you see me, Preston?” she spat out. “Now I’m a whim?”
“No, no, no! I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”
Crossing her arms under her breasts, Chandra pretended to pout. “Well, it did.”
“I’m sorry, Chandra.”
She bit back a smile. “Say it like you mean it, Preston.”
Preston took a step and pulled her into the circle of his embrace. “I’m sorry, baby.” His mellifluous voice had dropped an octave.
Why, Chandra asked herself, hadn’t she noticed the rich, honeyed quality of his voice before? It was the timbre of someone trained for the stage.
“Apology accepted. I don’t want to tell you my brother-in-law’s name because I want you to trust me.”
“So, we’re back to the trust thing?”
She smiled. “It will always be the trust thing, Preston.”
“I thought most women concerned themselves about the love thang,” he said, teasingly.
“Not with you, P.J. Why would I take up with a man who professes not to be romantic? Women don’t need sex from a man as much as they want romance and courtship.”
“Maybe I’m going to need a few lessons in that department.”
“You’re kidding, aren’t you?” Chandra asked. “You’re thirty-eight years old and you don’t know how to romance a woman?”
“What I’m not is romantic,” he retorted.
Lowering her arms, she rested her hands on his chest. “Porbrecito.”
“Which means?”
“You poor thing,” she translated.
Preston winked at her. “Now, don’t you feel sorry for me?”
“Only a little. However, I’m willing to bet if you follow Pascual’s lead you’ll do quite well with the ladies.”
He wanted to tell Chandra that he was only interested in one lady: her. Not only had she intrigued him but also bewitched him in a way no other woman had. “What time do we leave for Paoli tomorrow?”
“Everyone’s expected to arrive around three.”
“What time do you want me to pick you up?”
“I’ll pick you up at two,” Chandra said. Her father would drive her mother in his car, and she would take her mother’s car.
“Okay. I want you to relax while I clean up the kitchen. Then we’ll go to the office and talk about the play.”
“Wouldn’t it go faster if I help you?”
Preston