The VIP Room (51 page)

"I know we're all very excited about the new Photos feature, but before I praise the dev team--you're all great, but this is a party." Blake holds up his glass. "Let's talk about something interesting, huh?"

There's laughter, some genuine, some sucking up to the boss. Everyone with a glass toasts. Well, when in Rome. I polish off my glass in one very long sip.

Blake does the same. Not like him. The real him anyway. He wipes a few drops from his face. If I didn't know better, I'd swear that he's nervous. But that could be an act, too.

He makes eye contact with me. Something passes between us--something real--but I can't place it. The flutter in me goes into full effect. Concentration, gone. I'll miss it.

"There's something I want to capture forever." He steps off the stage. "Something even better than Sterling Tech."

The crowd parts until it's a straight shot between Blake and me. Good thing his mic is cordless, because I can't move a muscle. He walks to me slowly. Someone takes his champagne glass out of his hand.

The expression in his eyes is pure love. He's a damn good actor.

He takes my hand and strokes my fingers. "Kat, I love you more than I've ever loved anyone."

Flutters, oh they're everywhere. My stupid body still hasn't gotten the message that this is all a lie. I nod like I know what's going on. His touch is so light on my hand. It's comforting even if it's bullshit.

"You make the happiest man alive." He drops to one knee.

Holy crap.

Blake pulls a ring box out of his pocket. "Will you marry me?"

He pulls it open, revealing an enormous diamond. It's a solitaire on a platinum band. Four carats, five maybe. Sleek, like everything else he owns.

The room goes quiet. Every ounce of attention is on us. I catch glances from his mother. Her mouth is hanging open, but there's no mistaking the joy on her face.

There's no mistaking my options.

I go for a big smile. I throw my hands over my mouth like I can't believe my luck. "Of course."

His eyes stay glued to mine. He slides the engagement ring over my finger and rises to his feet.

Blake leans into a kiss. Our lips meet and fireworks explode inside my body. Fake, fake, fake. All of this is fake! Everything except the ring.

Lights go off around us. Cameras and camera phones. Everyone wants to talk to us. Everyone has questions.

I'm engaged to Blake Sterling.

This is either the best decision I've ever made or the biggest mistake of my life.

Want More Crystal Kaswell

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“
A
lmost there
,” he muttered, his fingers flying. “Almost have you…”

Marcus Hawkins hunched over his keyboard, determined to find every last back door his former programmer buried in their latest software. Damned if he’d let the snot-nosed kid worm his way in and play havoc.

Everything around him became white noise when he focused on code. His brother Graham teased him about it, and told him once even a naked woman begging him to take her didn’t stand a chance when he had code in front of him.

“Not that bad,” he mumbled. It just took all his attention, all his focus—

Her scent hit him a second before she spoke. Floral, with an edge of spice.

“Mr. Hawkins.” His assistant, Leah Frane, stood in front of his desk. The tone of her husky voice told him she’d said his name more than once. “Your phone is ringing. Again. It’s your brother.”

“Thanks.” Still staring at the screen, he groped across his desk for the phone. “What?”

“Don’t put yourself out, Marcus.”

“I’m working, and I have a deadline. Spit it out, Graham.”

“Your presence is required at the charity event tonight.”

“What charity…” His mind caught up with him, and he slumped in his chair. “Is that tonight?”

“Shutting out the world is never to your advantage, Marcus, when you have responsibilities—”

“I got it, Graham. No brotherly lecture necessary. What about Elias? He can represent—”

“Elias is in Europe, dealing with issues.”

“Right.”

Marcus rubbed his forehead. Even though he was the youngest, Elias had the most experience handling the often stiff-necked board members in their foreign office. It helped that he also spoke fluent French.

Graham’s voice jerked him back. “Since Elias is unavailable, both Father and the board expect you to be there. I expect you to be there. With a date.” He sounded smug as hell when he said the last part.

Relief flooded Marcus when he remembered he did make a date, with his stand by. “Cassie is coming with me.”

“Really?” Marcus did not like the smirk in his brother’s voice. “I understand she accepted a modeling job. In Paris. Find another date, baby brother.”

Graham hung up before Marcus could start cursing. So he started by cursing his former date.

“Damn it! She had to pick tonight to skip out on me.”

He slammed the phone down so hard he expected the handset to shatter. A sharp gasp froze his fist right above the desk. He’d forgotten Leah was still in the office. With a mental curse he looked up, and his breath lodged in his throat.

His usually buttoned up assistant had taken off her hip length, squared off jacket at some point, revealing a blue and white striped blouse, the hem loose over her too long, too boxy blue skirt. He had never seen so much of her skin before.

She crossed her arms, which only accentuated her high, firm breasts. His cock stood at attention, pressing against the zipper of his jeans. Marcus had been fantasizing about his curvy little assistant since the first day she walked into his office. So proper, so sensible, so damn sexy because of it.

He ran one hand through his already disheveled black hair, and let out a sigh, staring at his computer screen. What the hell was he supposed to do about tonight? Graham would gloat, publicly, if he showed up solo. The board approved of his new tech startup—especially since he was raking in more each month than the family business—but his years as a playboy still rankled, and they wanted proof that he had actually changed.

Leah cleared her throat. “If that’s all, Mr. Hawkins, I should get back to my desk. I have several letters to finish before I leave.”

The obvious answer stood right in front of him.

“I have a question first.” He looked up in time to see the nerves before she managed to hide them.

“Yes?”

“What are you doing tonight?”

She stared at him. The faint blush coloring her cheeks turned him on. Damn it, why did she have to work for him? He had a strict rule about dating staff. Especially staff who would be gun shy of his former, well-deserved reputation.

“I—” She took a deep breath, her blouse outlining those luscious breasts. His cock became painfully hard. “I have plans.”

He stood, moving to her. She stumbled back, and trapped herself against the wall. This time the blush bloomed across her pale skin. She clutched the notepad in her hand to her chest, probably thinking it protected her. All that did was draw his attention to the way her blue striped blouse hiked up, revealing one shapely hip, and the soft curve of her belly. What he could see of her legs under that ugly skirt had his cock throbbing.

It was time to do a little pushing. Just enough to force her hand—and not send her screaming out of his office.

He rubbed at his stubble, kept his gaze on her flushed face. “Important plans?”

She took another deep breath and met his eyes. “Yes.”

Marcus wanted to soothe her obvious anxiety. Instead, he played his trump card. “More important than a charity auction, where The Hawkins Group’s reputation is on the line?”

Her shoulders slumped. “No.”

She looked so—alarmed. Marcus would have let her off the hook, but he only had a few hours to find another date. He needed—respectable. He needed the no-nonsense woman standing in front of him.

Besides, the chance to peel her out of her hideous suit and into a sleek gown that revealed what he expected hid under all that fabric—oh, that was too tempting to pass up.

“Yes,” he muttered, scanning her from the toes of her sensible black heels to the tight bun hiding her brown hair. She obviously didn’t know that several curly tendrils had escaped, tracing the graceful line of her neck. Marcus wanted to see the rest, tumbling over her bare, pale skin. “You’ll do.”

“For what?” She whispered the two words, clutching her notepad like it was a lifeline.

This was going to be an interesting evening.

“My date.”

N
o
. No no
no no—

Leah slid along the wall, trying to reach the door. Marcus paced her, like a big, graceful cat tracking his prey. And that’s what she felt like—prey.

“Mr. Hawkins—”

“Marcus.” He stepped between her and her goal, crossing his arms. “How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t like formality.”

She loved it, especially with him. It kept him at a distance. Untouchable. She needed him to be untouchable. Former bad boy, gorgeous heartbreaker—God, she couldn’t survive another heartbreaker.

“I can’t,” she said. “You’re my boss, and it’s such an important event, I wouldn’t—” She cut herself off.

“Wouldn’t what, Leah?” The way he said her name made her shiver. “Wouldn’t want to embarrass me?”

He moved to her and leaned in, those dark blue eyes intense, so close his breath warmed her cheek. Too close. She could smell his cologne, a mix of sandalwood and some warm musk that made her want to sniff his neck—and the rest of him. While he was naked.

Stop it.

His deep voice wrapped around her. “You have too much class to embarrass me. Do you have a gown suitable for black tie?”

She swallowed, incredibly aware of him. “No,” she whispered.

“I will have something sent to your apartment.”

Oh, God.

“Mr. Hawkins—”

“Go finish the letters, then head home, Leah. You have a party to get ready for.”

“But—”

“I will have a car sent for you at seven.”

“But—”

He caught her around the waist and turned her to the door, letting his hands slide down to her hips before he gently pushed her out of his office and shut the door in her face.

Shit. Holy shit.

Leah had a date with her boss.

M
arcus strode back
to his desk and called his sister’s friend Fantine before he forgot the feel of Leah under his hands. Fantine was the only girlfriend of Hope’s who had never hit on him. He always appreciated that, and they became friends over shared remarks about drooling girls and overzealous advances.

“What, Marcus?”

“Hello to you, sweetheart.”

“Sorry.” A long, dramatic sigh flowed out of the speaker. “I am having employee issues. Know anyone with impeccable organization skills that’s also reliable and doesn’t have a new boyfriend every other week?”

Marcus smiled, since she couldn’t see him. “Lost another assistant?”

“God—why are the creative ones so damn flaky? What did you want?”

“I need that favor you owe me.”

“Yes?” Caution edged the drawn out word.

“I need a gown, black tie.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

The expected explosion bounced off the walls of his office.

“Are you out of your mind? I have a show in less than a week and you want me to pull a gown out of my ass by tonight?”

“That I’d like to see.”

“Hilarious, Marc. I can’t do it.”

“I don’t need anything from scratch. Do you have a sample you’re not using? One that can be altered?”

“If you have her measurements, I just might.”

“I don’t have numbers, but I can come over and show you.”

He could almost hear her rolling her eyes. “I’m not going to ask how you got
those
measurements. I have half an hour I can give you, if you get here in the next ten minutes.”

“Already on my way.”

L
eah looked
up as her boss strode out of his office. He flashed her a smile, pushed up his wire-rimmed glasses, and jogged toward the elevators. She managed to wait until he was out of sight before she hunched over her desk, both hands pressed against her fluttering belly.

“What the hell was I thinking?”

She absolutely could not go on a date with him. To a fancy charity event on top of it. She would embarrass him, or herself—oh, hell, probably both of them. Nerves always made her clumsy, and she would be nothing but a giant bundle of nerves if she spent time with him.

Oh, God—what if they were alone? Like on the drive there? Plenty of ways for her to show how completely infatuated she was with the Hawkins bad boy, adding humiliation on top of embarrassment.

No—she had to cancel, and find a way to do it without losing her job.

M
arcus wandered
into the workroom behind Fantine’s small but sophisticated showroom.

Chaos surrounded him. Looking closer, he saw there was some sense of organization under the yelling, wild gestures, and madly flying fabric. Fantine caught sight of him and strode over, a length of rich blue velvet over her shoulder and a frown on her face.

“You took too long. You now have fifteen minutes.”

“I’m good with that.”

She pulled him into her tiny office and closed the door. Blissful silence surrounded them.

“I had soundproofing added during construction,” she said, collapsing into the chair behind her sleek lacquer desk. “Now I thank myself every day for it.” She pulled the fabric off her shoulder and spread it across the end of her desk. “This is all I have, and those alterations better be minor.”

The gown was—stunning was the only word that got through the noise in his mind at the thought of Leah wearing this. Of seeing her pale skin glow against the midnight blue velvet. Touching that bare skin—

Down, boy.

His rock hard cock wasn’t listening.

“I think you’ll only need to take in the waist. She has a tiny one.” He held out his hands, the memory of circling her waist, and the surprise at how small it was, making him itch to touch her again. Tonight couldn’t come soon enough.

Fantine wrote some numbers down. She always had a good eye for proportions. “And her hips?”

“Like this.” He spread his hands.

“What did you do, Marc, feel her up?”

“Not exactly.”

“Breasts?”

“I didn’t get that far.” He smiled at her burst of laughter. “About your size, from what I could see. She tends to cover up at the office.”

“If you stare at her like you’re staring at your hands right now, I understand why.” She shook her head, smiling as she dashed off a quick drawing. “Like this?” She held up the pad, and Leah’s curvy figure was there in crisp pencil, draped in the gown.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Oh, do you have it bad. She works for you?”

He sighed. “My assistant. My perfect, organized assistant.” He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is nuts, Fan. I have rules, and I’m breaking rule number one by even thinking what I’m thinking about her.”

“If she really has the figure you’re describing, I understand why. Classic hourglass. I’d kill to have her fit for my new collection. The walking sticks posing as fit models are driving me crazy. I’ve been using dress forms—they have more natural curves.”

“If you do this for me, Fan, I’ll loan her to you until you find a new assistant. And if you can talk her into it, I get to come and watch.”

“Pervert.”

He flashed a smile. “Guilty.”

She picked up the gown, and stopped long enough to hug him. “Leave her address with my showroom manager. We’ll get the gown to her in time for the auction.”

“Are you going to be there?” He figured Graham would be strong arming her, since her design house was backed by The Hawkins Group.

“I managed to talk my way out of it, showing Graham my pile of bills, and telling him if I didn’t meet my deadlines he’d be paying them.”

“Hit him in the wallet. That was a guaranteed pass. I wish I’d thought of it.”

She flashed him a wicked smile. “Not when you see your assistant in my creation. Now get out of here, so I can get to work.”

Marcus strode across the workroom, fantasies of Leah in the gown, and him peeling her out of it, filling his mind.

He was thrilled that he hadn’t found a way to get out of going tonight.