Seducing the Playboy (A Hot Nights Series Book) (Entangled Brazen) (14 page)

He dropped their bags in a corner, resigned to answering her questions. In fact, he was surprised she hadn’t interrogated him in the elevator and assumed he was in for it now. He turned to find she’d disappeared.

“Wow.”

He followed the sound of her voice and found her in the bedroom, staring at the enormous, four-poster bed. It was draped with swathes of sheer fabric and piled with dozens of satiny throw pillows, a fantasy bed fit for the queen of the Castle.

“Where would you like me to start?” he asked.

She darted out of the room. “I don’t know. Let me see the bathroom first.”

He trailed after her, deciding to start at the beginning. “Alex and I dated in culinary school. It ended at graduation.”

“Okay.” She took off her shoes, shirt, and wriggled out of her jeans. “It’s like a cave in here. I love it. Definitely the bathroom first.”

He blinked.

She turned on the lights, flipping switches until the room was lit with soft light from strategically placed electric candelabras. He stared as she stripped out of her underwear and bra and stepped into the rock-lined sunken hot tub in the center of the room.

“Oh, wait. Did I see champagne out there?” She grabbed a towel, dried her feet, and padded into the suite, naked. She returned with a sweating bottle and two glasses. “Will you do the honors?”

He nodded, accepting the bottle from her. If she didn’t care about his ex-girlfriends, he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to explain, but the words tumbled forth anyway. “Lexi and I have had a couple of things over the years…nothing serious.”

“Great.”
Was she laughing at him?
“I imagine we’re going to run into a few more of your playmates over the course of the next few days, so I think we should stick to the room as much as possible.”

“Jealous?” he asked, finally grinning back.

“More like selfish.” Her voice was breezy as she stepped back into the hot tub. “They can have you back next week.”

His smile slid off his face and his heart sank as she closed her eyes and stretched out on the underwater bench with her head pillowed on a towel. Slowly, he began to take off his clothes. “We have dinner reservations at Paris, and the show is at New York, New York.”

She opened her eyes. “That sounds lovely, but I’d prefer room service and a private performance, if you know what I mean. You owe me sex in a hot tub, remember?” Her eyes gleamed gold in the soft light, and her smile dared him to finish what they had started in the limo. She arched her back and her breasts floated temptingly above the surface.

Roman rescued a condom from the pocket of his pants before he dropped them to the floor. He stepped into the water, and Jenna drifted over, wrapping her warm arms and legs around him. As he embraced her, his frustration dissolved. He responded to her in the usual fashion—instant erection and a sense of everything right in the world. She moaned and wriggled closer, pressing against him in obvious enjoyment. He wanted to wine and dine her, dazzle her with the sights in Vegas until she was so impressed, she wanted him to show her the rest of the world, forever, but she seemed to only want one thing from him.

What the hell was he going to do about that?

Her hand closed over him, chasing away thoughts and replacing them with urgent need. He’d figure it out later. Easing her out of his lap, he scanned the hot tub for a convenient spot. He found an arrangement of smooth faux-rock at the perfect level, half in, half out of the water. He lifted her onto the ledge, placing a towel behind her head, then reached for the champagne, popped the top, and poured a glass, accidentally-on-purpose spilling icy foam across the tops of her breasts. Her nipples, soft from the heat, pebbled, and she gasped.

He pressed the glass into her hand and watched her take a sip before he bent his head to lick wine from her breasts. He concentrated on her sensitive nipples, teasing her with his tongue for long moments while she moaned and clutched his hair. Slipping his fingers under the water, he found her clit, swollen and slick.

If she wanted a private show, he’d give her the performance of a lifetime.

…

The wine went straight to her head. Or maybe it was just Roman, making her dizzy and needy, driving her mad with desire as he made her come with his fingers then with his mouth, each orgasm punctuated with a glass of champagne. She spluttered and gasped, surprised to find herself entirely out of the water, safe in his arms by the side of the hot tub. Or had she drowned and gone to heaven? She took another gulp of champagne and moaned as he rolled her onto her back and thrust his fingers inside her.

Ecstasy crashed through her, and she shuddered, whispering his name. Her voice was barely audible, but she hoped he would understand she wanted him inside her, a part of her.

“That’s it,” he growled, moving his fingers faster. “Come for me again.”

She lifted her hips, willing to go wherever he took her, but wishing he would come with her. He withdrew his fingers, and the sound of foil ripping filled her with anticipation. He moved into place above her, and she lifted her legs, holding her knees in her hands, and opening to him completely.

Her gaze caught his, hot and powerful, as he entered her, and the need in his eyes was as great as the howling beast he’d awakened in her. Her head spun. The power of his thrusts shook her, and the slap of their bodies echoed in the room. She screamed as her climax hit, a maelstrom of pleasure that lifted her up and out of her body as he poured himself into her. The room swirled around her, and she surrendered to whirling blackness.

When she came back to earth, she was lying on top of Roman, and they were in bed.

She lifted her head. “What the hell?”

His chuckle was a deep, satisfied rumble. “I’m going to take full credit for knocking you out.”

“I’ve got the spins,” she admitted, resting her forehead against his chest.

“I wish I could take credit for that, but it’s probably the champagne. You want some water? Or food?”

She shook her head, clutching him as the room tilted. Slowly, carefully, she slid to the side. Maybe if she got herself completely level on the bed, the room would slow down, maybe even stop if she was lucky. Suddenly all of this struck her as hilarious, and she giggled. “That was quite a show. I can see why everyone raves about Las Vegas. Did I drink
all
the champagne?”

“A little more than half. I think you need something to eat.”

“Room service.” Another giggle erupted. “I love room service.”

“A sandwich from the lobby would be faster.”

He started to slide out of bed and she clutched his arm. “Don’t go.”

He settled beside her again, and her panic receded. If he left, he might run into more women from his past and never make it back to the room, and the thought of surrendering him next week made her feel lonely enough. She’d pretended not to care, but who could compete with high-powered chefs and big-boobed television stars? And she was fairly certain his mother was going to snap a leash on his neck the next time they ran into her, and she’d never see him again.

He stroked her arms and caressed her breasts, pulling the covers up over both of them and settling them deeper into the pillows. Her head whirled again. It felt right to be beside him in bed, settling down for the night. It felt real—as real as the ring on her finger. “This is Vegas, right?”

He chuckled. “The earth moved, but we’re still here.”

“So I can do anything I want? And deny it tomorrow?”

She felt him nod. “I think that’s why they made this place.”

“The perfect place for fantasies.” She might as well live the dream while she could. Just once. She raised her head and lifted herself up onto one arm, blinking until she only saw one of him. She memorized every plane of his face as she ran her fingertip over his cheekbone, nose, and chin, and then leaned to tickle her lips with his dark-tipped lashes. Finally, she kissed him, a mere brush of lips, but she felt it down to the roots of her soul.

His eyes blinked open and heat connected them. It wasn’t quite like her dream because she was on top, but it was close. “I love you, Roman.”

She felt his arms tighten around her as the room tilted, and she tipped into blackness again.

Chapter Eleven

Jenna woke dreaming of croquembouches shrinking on the plates, getting smaller and smaller until they resembled tiny piles of rabbit turds with spun sugar halos. Then she was shrinking, too, swirling down the drain in the tile floor of the Beach House kitchen.

Her head throbbed. What time was it? The last thing she remembered was being in bed, still damp from the hot tub, desperately wishing their honeymoon was real…

Her memory returned in a dizzying rush. Her stomach tilted, and it felt like her heart stopped for a long moment while she came to terms with her massive idiocy.

Goddamn champagne.
She lay sweating, Roman’s arm heavy across her breasts, while he snored, deeply asleep. Holding her breath, she inched out of his embrace and slid out of bed. It was ten o’clock, prime time for her, considering her new schedule, and she’d rather face Alex than Roman. She might as well work while she freaked out about what the hell she was going to say to him when he woke up. Thank God she’d passed out before he could respond. Maybe they could both pretend nothing had happened.

The room spun again, and she grabbed the back of a chair for balance. She might be able to fool Roman, but she couldn’t fool herself any longer. She’d fallen in love with him, and her drunken confession was going to make it awfully hard to pretend she only wanted sex. How the hell was she going to fix this?

She dressed in her whites and made her way down to the busy kitchen. Alex was nowhere in sight, thank God, so she approached the most officious-looking person. “Hi, I’m doing the dessert for the Lexi Larson event tomorrow night. Is it all right if I use an oven and some space? I’ll stay out of the way.”

“Sure. No problem.” He directed her to a corner spot with a stainless steel table, a sink, an oven, a stove, a baker’s rack, and a garbage can.

She located the equipment room and grabbed a stack of sheet pans, then got to work refreshing cream puffs in a low oven. Once they were cool, she began filling them. She was about halfway through the first bucket of white chocolate saffron mousse when a hubbub caught her attention as Stella Gallagher swept into the kitchen.

Adrenaline surged through Jenna. She tightened her grip on the pastry bag, and mousse oozed out of the overfilled puff. She set the bag on the table and swiped her finger over the hole, wiping the excess on a clean towel. Was there any chance Ms. Gallagher wouldn’t recognize her?

She moved to the other side of the table, putting her back to the commotion. The thought of meeting Stella Gallagher without Roman made her heart race and her armpits prickle.
Shit, shit, shit.
The hair on the back of her neck stood, and Jenna held her breath, frozen in place, feeling her approach.

“I assume you’re the reason my son isn’t returning my calls?”

Jenna turned to face her, feeling as though every scrape of Roman’s stubble and too hard nip on her neck was glowing under a fluorescent light, but unwilling to be cowed. “I imagine it goes a little deeper than me.”

“May I ask what are you doing with Roman?”

The glimpse she had caught of Ms. Gallagher outside the elevator had been intimidating—a beautiful woman commanding attention. Now that she was closer, Jenna saw worry in her piercing blue gaze. Roman was her only son, and they had built Gallagher Holdings together. She respected the woman’s no-bullshit approach, and decided to tell her the truth. “Loving him…for one more week. Then I’m going home to New Jersey to help my parents rebuild our family restaurant. You can relax—we’re not really engaged.”

“That ring looks pretty real to me.”

“I’m sure he kept the receipt,” Jenna said dryly, picking up her abandoned pastry bag and beginning to fill cream puffs again. Roman’s mother wore a sequined black sheath and high heels, but Jenna sensed it wouldn’t take much to get her to don an apron and get to work. Like her son, she vibrated with restless energy.

Testing her theory, Jenna asked, “Would you like to help?”

Slowly, Ms. Gallagher nodded. “I think I would.”

Jenna smiled and handed her a pair of gloves and the pastry bag. Ms. Gallagher filled a puff, then held it up for inspection. Jenna nodded, loaded another bag with mousse, and snipped the tip. They worked in silence for several minutes before Ms. Gallagher said, “Are you really in love with my son?”

Jenna nodded. “Don’t quote me. I’ll deny it. We’re just friends…enjoying a few added benefits until I go back home.”

“I think you’d better start at the beginning, young lady.”

Jenna flashed her a wry grin. “All right, but I’m going to skip all the good parts.”

She began talking, and by the time they’d reached the bottom of the second mousse bucket and filled the third full sheet pan with puffs, her headache was gone, and Roman’s mother knew everything.

“So did it work?” Jenna asked. “The Beach House is headed into the black and Roman looks like Mr. Family Values. Did you get the funding for your resort?”

“Not yet.” Ms. Gallagher sighed. “I’ve spent my whole life making sure I was never powerless again, making sure my son never had to suffer because of my mistake, but I don’t know what to do. Jeff…” She sighed again. “Jeff wants to marry me.”

Jenna forgot to stop squeezing and ended up with mousse all over her hand. “Holy shit.”

“To say the least.”

“Do you like him? Do you love him? Um…congratulations?”

Ms. Gallagher worked faster, filling puffs with speed and efficiency. “I have no idea. I don’t know how to do this. I’ve been a little busy for the last thirty years.”

“You haven’t dated?” Thirty years without sex? Was that possible?

Ms. Gallagher looked up. Their eyes met, and Jenna knew what she was going to say before her lips moved. “I dated chefs who work as much as I do.”

Jenna sucked in a sharp breath then slowly released it. “Right.”
Plenty of sex, no commitment.

She popped a cream puff into her mouth while she thought about that. She chewed and swallowed. “Naturally, you’d want to punish yourself for getting knocked up. At least you’re as hard on yourself as you are on Roman. That’s good. Consistency is hugely important in this business.”

Ms. Gallagher reared back like Jenna had slapped her and dropped the pastry bag on the table. “I’m not punishing myself. My career is important to me. Roman and work are all I’ve ever needed. And I’m not hard on him—not usually.”

“Um…he’s not speaking to you. He’s given up on making you happy, which I think is actually a good thing for him. Because if
you
don’t know what will make you happy, he’s probably not going to get it right, either.”

Ms. Gallagher scowled, making Jenna chuckle. “If I had a dollar for every time Roman has looked at me like that,
I’d
be able to back your resort project.”

The other woman stared at her for a long moment. Then her blue eyes widened and her shoulders slumped. “I’m such a fool. I’ve been obsessed with getting funding for Oasis, jumping through hoop after hoop while Jeff harped on Roman the entire time. I think he’s been using my son to manipulate me, and I played right into his hands by demanding Roman keep a low profile, which is next to impossible for him, then criticizing the Beach House menu because Jeff didn’t like it. Ridiculous. Who doesn’t like beer and cheeseburgers? It was also Jeff’s idea to buy a table at the Larson banquet when he heard Roman was doing a course. How much do you want to bet Jeff has already decided he hates the dessert?”

“As far as pick-up techniques go, it’s unique, but Jefferson Morgan didn’t become a billionaire by being stupid. Is it working?”

Ms. Gallagher stripped her gloves into the trash. “It
was
working. You’ll have to forgive me for deserting you. Jeff’s in the poker room, and his luck has just run out. Would you mind keeping this between us until I talk to Roman myself?”

“Of course.” It wasn’t her rift to mend. However, as much as she hated that Roman had become collateral damage while Jefferson Morgan courted Roman’s mom, she sensed Ms. Gallagher wasn’t a woman who was easily manipulated. According to Roman, his mother had spent her whole life working, and it was time for her to relax. She wondered if Morgan had come to the same conclusion. “If I had to make a guess, I’d say Roman got his stubborn streak from you. It took a hell of a lot of effort to get his attention. I’m going to go out on a limb and say it’s probably hard to get your attention when you’re working, too. Perhaps Jeff did what he had to do. Maybe you should give him a chance.” She shrugged. “Or maybe he’s a jerk and doesn’t deserve another minute of your time. Only you know the answer to that, but who says you can’t fall in love?”

Ms. Gallagher’s eyes narrowed. “Who indeed? But by your own logic, who says you can’t
stay
in love?” Her voice was doubtful and her gaze lingered on Jenna’s sparkling ring.

“You know Roman.” Jenna’s throat felt tight.

“Yes, yes I do.” Ms. Gallagher nodded, looking thoughtful. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

As Roman’s mother left the kitchen, a bead of cold sweat rolled down Jenna’s arm. Her heart was a dull thud in her chest, and her head buzzed.
Now I’ve done it.

Ms. Gallagher had unwittingly echoed the thought that had been in the back of Jenna’s mind all week. She didn’t just want the added benefits. She wanted Roman. The snowball she had envisioned rolling right over her plan
was
her plan, a snowball’s chance in hell that had turned into the most amazing ten days in her life, landed her with a pretend ring on her finger, and culminated in an honest-to-God profession of love she wanted to blame on champagne, but couldn’t.
I don’t want to leave him.

As she acknowledged that truth, another one hit her.

Selfish.
She was so selfish. Staying with Roman meant deserting her family…or asking Roman to desert his. They couldn’t simultaneously exist on both coasts, and each endeavor was a full-time job. Roman’s mother was counting on him, and it meant the world to him to take the burden of Gallagher Holdings off her shoulders. Even if he wanted to continue their relationship, which was a big
if
, she couldn’t ask him to give up his responsibilities.

And as for her responsibilities…

It was time to admit she’d used Cooper’s as an excuse to pursue Roman, and the ring on her left hand was a conspicuous reminder of exactly how far she’d go to get what she wanted. Had she suggested their fake engagement to get good press for Gallagher Holdings? Or had she just wanted Roman to put a ring on her finger, so she could find some way to make it stick?

Sadness welled up inside her so hard she had to brace her hands on the table to keep from sinking to her knees. Dizzy, she looked for somewhere to sit and ended up resting her butt on the shelf under the table. She curled over her knees, knowing she couldn’t pretend anymore. No wonder her parents didn’t trust her to carry Cooper’s into the next generation. No wonder Cole had accused her of not having a plan. Left to her own devices, she didn’t fix things. She made them worse, and true to form, she’d created a big, fat mess.

A sob built in her throat. In her mind’s eye she saw Roman smiling across the dinner table at a blond child with his blue eyes. She pictured Roman and her working side by side in the kitchen, surrounded by their family. She added her parents, Cole, Angela, and a baby. Everyone was smiling and celebrating. She savored the image…and then she let it go.

That life could never be hers. The desire to go home overwhelmed her.

Come home to Cooper’s.

The idea dropped into her head like a tiny seed, then exploded, growing roots and branches.
Home. Family. Community.
She couldn’t have a family with Roman, but that was the perfect niche for Cooper’s. She knew exactly how she would create an environment that would be far more conducive to raising kids than a normal restaurant would allow.

Roman had been right about her that day in the Beach House office. When she imagined her future, it held kids and a man who would put family over work, and Roman wasn’t that guy. He’d always own a piece of her heart—first love was like that—but it wasn’t fair to ask him to change his life and give up his responsibilities for her. Likewise, she would never forgive herself if she didn’t follow through with her plan for Cooper’s, and now she knew exactly what to do.

As she got to her feet and picked up the pastry bag to finish the job, she wondered how long the idea for Cooper’s had been hovering at the edge of her subconscious, waiting for her to wake up. Guilt flashed through her. She’d been too busy falling in love with Roman to pay attention.

No, that wasn’t quite fair. She’d learned a lot from Roman during the Beach House renovation, but there was no magic secret for reinventing Cooper’s. There was nothing Roman could tell her that would convince her family to have faith in her. She would have to earn it.

It was time to go home.

…

Roman drifted, enjoying the most heavenly sense of rightness he had ever felt.
She loved him.
Her words rang in his heart, loud and clear, resonating like a bass drum, announcing the end of something. Or the beginning. So what if she was drunk? Now he had something to build on. He reached for her…and got an armful of pillow.

He opened his eyes and discovered he was alone in the bed, alone in the room, alone in the suite. Damn, she’d flown the coop. He thought it would take her longer to sleep it off. He grabbed his phone and sent her a text, then heard a
ping
from the other room that told him she hadn’t taken her phone with her.

He’d check the kitchen first.

He slid into clothes and then grabbed his wallet, phone, and key card, tucking everything into his pockets as he waited for the elevator. The casino was packed, but no one stopped him as he made a beeline for the kitchen. He saw her working in a corner and relief soared through him that she hadn’t flown farther than the kitchen.

He closed the distance between them. “I thought I’d find you here.”

“A lot of puffs to fill.” She kept her eyes on her work.