Her Boss by Arrangement. Teresa Carpenter
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and breathed in the salt-tinged air. Malibu was one of her favorite places in the world. She scanned the driveway filled with world-class vehicles. All was quiet. She continued down the front steps to the valet station.
“Hey, Matt, what’s the problem?” She rubbed her bare arms. The fresh ocean air was heavenly but a bit crisp in early November and the black dress she’d chosen for tonight had a halter neck, leaving her arms bare to the elements.
“Sorry, Boss, I need a quick restroom break and John is taking a car down to the church.” The driveway and garage held a good number of vehicles, but for the overflow they’d made arrangements to use a church parking lot down the hill.
Matt had been out with the flu last week and looked a little pale. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah, just not pushing my luck right now.”
Shivering, she nodded. “No problem. I’ll cover. Go ahead.”
“Thanks. It’s slowed down a lot so maybe no one will come along.” He shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to her. “Here. I’ll try to be quick.” And he ran up the drive and around back to the service entrance.
She shrugged into the jacket, which was oversize but not too bad, Matt being on the smaller side. Crossing her arms, she rocked on her three-inch heels, deciding in that moment to allow the valets to use stools. What she wouldn’t give to sit for a minute.
With no one around she slipped out of her black pumps. What Lauren didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Against Tori’s protests, Lauren demanded they wear the punishing shoes for evening events. Of course Lauren wore the spiked torture devices for hours without flinching.
Tori flexed her sore toes. She preferred no shoes at all. The cold of the stone step felt good.
The rumble of a powerful engine filled the night and a Maserati Spider turned into the drive. Tori forgot all about shoes as the beautiful machine pulled to a stop in front of her. She clasped her hands behind her back to keep from rubbing them together at the prospect of driving the Italian muscle car.
“Thank you, sir.” Focused on the car, she paid little attention to the driver until he refused to release the keys, and then she looked up into pale gray eyes ripe with irritation.
He looked familiar but she couldn’t quite place him. When he’d stepped out of the car, he’d turned so his features were shadowed. He wore an ill-fitting black suit over a black sweater. And from the little she saw, he didn’t look in the mood to party. His square jaw was clenched, his fine features drawn into harsh lines.
One thing for certain, this guy was no wannabe, not with this car, and it bothered her that she couldn’t bring a name to mind.
He towered over her, a belated reminder she’d forgotten to put her shoes back on. When she wore the thee-inch heels, it made her five-seven, but even at that height, he’d top her by several inches.
She smiled all the brighter, hoping he wouldn’t notice. She tugged on the keys. “I’ll take good care of your vehicle, sir.”
The brooding gaze he ran over her disabused her of that notion. She had the feeling he missed little. “What do you drive?” he demanded in a gruff voice.
Now that was just rude. “A Mustang 500GT.”
“Huh,” he grunted but still held possession of the keys. “Is there a male attendant?”
“In the restroom.” She took delight in informing him.
“Be polite,” Lauren warned in her ear.
His thin lips took a downward turn. “Park it close by,” he ordered as if he knew of her longing to put the car through its paces on the downhill trip to the church. “I won’t be long.”
The keys dropped into her palm and she nearly danced on her pink-tipped toes. She half expected him to inspect the car so he’d know if she added any dings to his beauty. But then he probably didn’t have to.
She moved into the V of the open door.
“Miss.” She glanced up at him. He’d stopped halfway up the steps to pick up her shoes. “I prefer you to use these.”
“Of course.” Skipping up the wide steps, she reached his side and accepted the black pumps shoved at her. She bent and placed them on the ground, putting her headset on Mute as she did so. “Thank you. Let’s just keep this part between the two of us.”
“Worried for your job?” he mocked, his lack of sympathy obvious. Up close he took her breath away. Well-defined features and shadowed eyes were framed by a square jaw and broad brow. Too masculine to be pretty, he was a beautiful man.
“Worse, a lecture.” She teetered a bit and a suit-clad elbow was thrust at her. She shot him an appreciative glance that did nothing to soften his stern demeanor and used his arm to steady her as she slipped into the heels.
Hard muscles flexed under her fingers, triggering a feminine response, which flat-out annoyed her. She refused to be attracted to a jerk. Ignoring her protesting toes, she released him as soon as she had her feet encased in leather. Flipping her blond ponytail over her shoulder, she reengaged her headset.
“Enjoy your party, sir.” She gave him another bright smile and turned back to the car, tugging Matt’s jacket down around her hips as she went.
In the car she adjusted the seat. The interior smelled delicious, of rich leather, linseed oil and a hint of spicy cologne that must belong to Mr. Rude. She turned over the motor and it purred like a lion. She bit her lip, half tempted to take the beast down the hill after all. But she reigned in her impulsive side and pulled the lovely car into an open slot in the garage. Penance for being seen without her shoes.
Not that Lauren would see it that way.
When Tori reached the front of the house, both Matt and John were there. She gave Matt his jacket and the keys to the Maserati, told him where it was parked and made her way inside.
Lauren was waiting for her. “You went off-line. What was the problem?”
“Really?” Tori tapped her headset. “It must be a short.” She gave a quick look around but her brooding combatant was nowhere to be seen. “Did you see a big guy in an oversize suit come in?” She’d hoped for a better view of him in the light to help her place him.
At least that was her story and she was sticking to it.
“No. You shouldn’t lie, Tori. You’re not good at it. What did he want you to use?” Lauren’s honey-brown eyes, identical to her own, narrowed. “Tell me you didn’t take off your shoes.”
“I didn’t take off my shoes.”
Her sister’s hands went to her hips. “We talked about this.”
“And as long as you require me to wear these stilts, we’ll be talking about it again.”
“It’s unprofessional.”
“No one was around,” she protested.
“Except for the big guy in the oversize suit.”
“Who drives a Maserati.” She couldn’t hide her awe. “OMG, Lauren, it’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever driven. I lost my head for a few minutes.” She confessed.
Lauren drew her down the hall toward the kitchen and away from the crowded front room. “I suppose you already tagged Dad.”
“I may have texted him a picture.”
“Tori, this is an important event. We can’t afford for anything to go wrong.”
“Relax, Lauren. The event is already a success.” Two waitresses passed them carrying trays of delectable sweets. “There go the desserts. After I put out the candy table, it’s all smooth sailing.” Hoping to avoid further lecturing, she swung toward the kitchen.
“Black drives a Maserati.”