The Dare Collection June 2019. Rachael Stewart
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last contestant of the day pitched a sex-centric app that held zero interest for me.
It set the tone for the next few days.
By Friday afternoon my nerves were fried from being subjected to Damian for several hours a day. It was no use telling myself I shouldn’t have let him goad me into taking the seat next to him. I was committed for the duration of the series.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to deny with every ounce of my being the hyperawareness generated by being this close to him. It really wasn’t fair that he was so jumpable. And the guy didn’t just look good. His aftershave made my mouth water with every breath I took and the smug bastard knew it, if his lingering glances when the camera swung away from us were any indication.
I gritted my teeth and attempted to focus on the producer’s notes. Three more presentations before filming ended for the next five days. Another couple of hours and I’d be on my way home. I loved hotels, especially boutique hotels with their own charming identity, but I’d grown tired of New York.
I preferred the tranquillity and fresh air that surrounded my Westport resort, had done ever since my first visit to my grandparents’ B & B when I was eight. The unforgettable summer when the planets had aligned and my mother and her estranged parents had attempted to patch up their differences.
The trip had been an unmitigated disaster, and by the time Mom had bundled me into her beat-up Corolla, their relationship had strained beyond repair. Somehow the blame for that had landed at my feet, just as every misfortune that occurred to Priscilla Nolan somehow found its root cause at my existence.
Of course, that hadn’t stopped my mother from dumping me on my grandparents every school holiday after that summer.
But as much as it’d hurt to know I was a burden she couldn’t wait to be rid of whenever the opportunity arose, I’d treasured the visits to Connecticut, had grown to love the quaint Quaker two-storey characterful B & B painted a buttercup-yellow.
Almost as much as I’d treasured the relationship with my grandparents. In their eyes, I’d seen the dashed hopes and dreams they’d harboured for their own relationship with my mother and had striven to make up for that emptiness, selfishly absorbing the affection lacking in my own relationship with my parent.
Finding out they’d left their beloved property to me in their will had seemed like a sign, a way to hang onto their legacy and to keep their memory alive; a way to hold onto a precious connection filled with love and compassion, not disappointment and bitterness.
The moment I’d scraped a decent business plan together, I’d poured my heart and soul into making my dream come true. I might have five other resorts on the East Coast, but the Westport branch of Nevirna remained my favourite place in the world.
I couldn’t return just yet though. Not until I’d achieved my end goal and knocked Damian Mortimer to his knees.
‘Something wrong with the notes?’ the man asked, igniting a deeper awareness that made my body hum as he approached where I stood in one corner of the converted warehouse.
‘What?’ This little light-headedness whenever his raw masculinity hit me was becoming a problem.
‘You’ve been staring at that paper for the last five minutes and you’re wearing an adorable little frown. Did the producers miss something?’
I opened my mouth to chastise him for ruining my concentration but the words that tumbled from my lips were the last I expected. ‘Did you just call me adorable?’
His lips twitched. ‘What if I did?’
‘I’d remind you that we’re in the workplace. I could sue your ass for saying things like that.’
One eyebrow lifted. ‘You’re in a tetchy mood. Anything I can help with?’
Yes. Stop looking so damn mouth-watering. Stop wearing those ties that match your eyes and make them look so incredible that I want to keep looking into them. I need clarity of purpose.
‘Unless you have a time machine handy, no.’
Speculation flickered through his eyes. ‘You’re in a rush to get somewhere?’
Reluctant to tell him I missed my cottage by the lake, I shrugged. ‘I’m a hands-on boss with a demanding business to run.’
‘And business is your only reason?’
I frowned, irritated that I’d given myself away somehow even before I’d been able to formulate a clear plan of how I’d get Damian in my bed. ‘What other reason would there be? And why would it concern you?’
The flicker in his eyes intensified. ‘You’ve sat next to me all week. I know you’re intense when a pitch interests you but otherwise you’re frustratingly... buttoned-up. Maybe I’m interested in what else makes you tick.’
This was my chance to test the waters. ‘It’s a little late, isn’t it? Didn’t we already put the cart before the horse, so to speak?’
Shadows crossed his face but he still shrugged. ‘Maybe you’re not the only one who craves time machines.’
My breath knotted in my throat. ‘You sound like you have regrets.’
‘A bloody boatload of them.’ His gaze met mine, and a wave of heat slammed into me. ‘But in other ways, I wouldn’t change a thing.’
Right. The sex had served its purpose, insulated him from whatever demons had hounded him that night for a little while. Even if he’d regretted it after, he’d still indulged himself.
His asshole ways, however, were ones he wouldn’t change. Not if it allowed him to walk away with the deal that should’ve included me.
‘Well, I’m not interested in your little getting-to-know-you expedition, so save us both the time-wasting, hmm?’
His gaze swept down for a moment, his mouth twisting ruefully. ‘It might make for good television but, as sexy as they are, I’m growing weary of you glaring at me all the time. You have a spectacular smile. I’d love to see it again.’ His low, deep voice shot flames straight to parts of my body that made me want to clench my thighs.
‘The whole point of a one-night stand is that it’s uncool to keep bringing it up.’
He stepped closer and leaned against the wall next to me. The stance threw his body into a sexy position that made my heart beat faster.
‘Do you regret it?’ he demanded abruptly, a throb of something indefinable in his voice.
I bit the inside of my cheek, resisted the urge to lie and tell him that I regretted every moment of it. ‘I’m an adult. I made a consensual decision to sleep with you, and the experience wasn’t awful.’ I should’ve left it at that, but again my tongue got the better of me. ‘Do you?’
Aquiline nostrils flared ever so slightly, and his gaze dropped hungrily to my mouth before rising again. ‘I regret certain aspects of it.’
I was weak enough to step through the door he’d left open. ‘Which aspects?’
His silence lasted a few seconds too long. ‘There was a...recklessness I could’ve done without. I’m not the type of man who follows women to their hotel rooms.’
‘Because you’re too busy fending them off when they throw themselves at you? Got it.’
He sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He seemed...weary. Worn down by a heavy weight. I steeled myself, yet again, from asking what that burden was. ‘What’s it going to take for you to change your mind about me?’ he rasped.
‘Admitting you fucked up would be a great start,’ I returned sharply.
‘I didn’t fuck up. I fucked you and I don’t mean that even remotely metaphorically. I fucked you as thoroughly