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“How? She’s attractive and available just like the others,” Trent quipped.
Adam chuckled. “For one, she’s not falling all over you. I know you, you’re used to women dying to meet the great Trent Donovan.”
“Man, you know I don’t even fall for that act. It’s not me they’re trying to meet, more like my wallet they’re trying to get hold of.”
“But you still like the attention. And she’s the first woman to put you in your place right off the bat. She’s got guts and intelligence. Not normally two traits you look for in a woman.”
Trent thought about rebutting that statement but could only ask, “Whose side are you on? I mean, I know you’re in love and about to get married and all that, but you were once where I am. When you saw something you wanted, you just went after it. We’re Donovans, that’s what we do.”
“Until the right woman comes along and makes you rethink what we do,” Adam said simply, his gaze crossing the room to where Camille stood.
Trent took a quick gulp of the drink the bartender had just given him. “See, I’m not even looking for that commitment you and Linc seem so happy to jump into these days. I was just trying for a good time with Tia. But if Miss Supermodel isn’t interested then so be it.”
Adam shook his head and began to walk away. Then he stopped and turned back to Trent. “I’ll bet you five dollars you can’t stay away from her all night.”
“I don’t gamble,” Trent said seriously.
“No. You don’t give up.” With that said Adam went to stand by Camille, kissing her on her cheek as he glanced back across the room issuing a silent challenge to Trent.
She’d seen him and her stomach had done an immediate somersault. Yet Tia had refused to cower. His eyes were on her, hot and persistent, searing into every exposed inch of her skin. But she held her smile in place, moving and talking with people as if he weren’t even in the room.
Which proved to be totally unsuccessful.
Even now Camille was saying something, the ever handsome and charming Adam right by her side, and Tia had no idea what she was talking about. Her back was to Trent but he was still watching her. She could feel it in every pore of her body.
“That choker is exquisite with the dress, Tia. Now, since this is just the preamble to the big launch party I’ve only invited a few top reporters. There’s maybe one or two photographers moving about. So if you could make the rounds I’m sure they’ll see you.”
Tia’s hand shook as she reached for a glass of champagne. She prayed nobody saw it; however, the hostess, who was about two inches shorter than her, smiled knowingly. Suddenly very thirsty, Tia lifted the glass to her lips and emptied the contents, the champagne leaving a tingling trail of chilliness down her throat.
“Hey? You okay?” Camille asked touching a hand to her wrist as she brought the empty glass away from her lips.
“I’m fine,” Tia said trying to clear her head. If she thought of tonight as work she could probably make it through. If she didn’t let herself remember that in just a couple of hours the anniversary date and time of the worst moment of her life would be upon her, she would be all right.
But then she heard his voice.
“She certainly is fine.”
Oh God. Who am I fooling? I’m not going to make it. Trent Donovan was not going to let her get through this night unscathed. She could hear it in his voice even before she turned to look at him.
“Trent, I’m sure you remember my top model, Tia St. Claire,” Camille said in a tight voice that dared Trent to misbehave.
That left Tia to wonder if she had recently been the topic of conversation in the Donovan household.
“How could I ever forget her?” He reached for her then, surprising her when he only took the empty glass out of her hand.
To her dismay, another hostess miraculously appeared and he disposed of the glass. Turning back to her, Trent took her hand in his. It was a move that looked practiced and smooth as hell all at the same time. Damn, she hated this man.
“How have you been, Tia?”
Okay, first he needed to stop touching her. Even the gentle feel of her hand in his and the thumb he caressed over her long, tapering fingers, was too much for her already quivering insides to take.
“I’ve been just fine. And you?” Her voice was steady even if the rest of her wasn’t. And she didn’t yank her hand out of his no matter how much she wanted to.
As Camille had said, reporters and photographers were here. She couldn’t make a scene. The way Trent was looking at her said he’d figured that out before approaching her.
“I’ve been better.”
I’ll just bet you have. “That’s nice. Now if you will all excuse me, I think I’ll make my rounds now.”
“That’s a good idea,” Camille chimed in. “Isn’t it, Adam?”
Adam cleared his throat after Camille elbowed him in the ribs. “Ah, yeah. Good idea. How about I escort you out onto the terrace? I think Nigella from the Chronicle is out there soaking up the breeze.”
Tia gladly accepted Adam’s invitation but didn’t miss the heated glare that passed between the two brothers as she did so. Refusing to even look back at Trent she made a hasty, but classy, retreat.
“Whatever you’re thinking I want you to get it out of your mind right this minute,” Camille said to Trent when they were alone.
“Why does everybody insist on treating me like I’m the bad guy?”
“Um, because you’re military trained to take no prisoners.”
Trent had to smile at that one. “She’s a grown woman, Camille. You don’t have to protect her. Especially not from me.”
“I especially need to protect her from you.”
Two hours and about six glasses of champagne later Tia was draped over a lounge chair in one of the back rooms of Camille’s house. She’d made her rounds speaking to reporters and buyers making sure they all knew that she was wearing a CK Davis exclusive, taken pictures, smiled non-stop and modeled back and forth through the large living and dining rooms.
Her head pounded and her feet hurt. She was exhausted and she was afraid. About a half hour ago she’d stopped looking at the clock. She knew the time was ticking down. That’s why she’d searched out a place to be alone. If she were going to have a breakdown she didn’t need any of the press seeing it. Hell, she didn’t need any of the Donovans seeing it.
So for the past fifteen minutes she’d been sitting here in the dark, trying to get her brain out of its champagne-induced haze so she could drive herself back to her apartment. There she could fall flat on her face and let the grief claim her the way it begged to.
She was almost ready to get up when a stream of light invaded her sacred darkness. With an inhale of an intoxicatingly masculine cologne she knew her night had just taken another turn for the worse.
“Hiding out?” Trent asked as he closed the door and switched on a lamp.
Tia pressed her palms into her eyes, praying that when she moved them the pinpricks against her lids would cease. “I’m trying to be alone, if you don’t mind.”
“I’m looking for some company,” he said slowly. “If you don’t mind.”
Furious at his audacity Tia pulled her hands away from her face and gasped when she realized he was standing directly over her. “Yes. I mind. I’m sure you can find someone to keep you company out there. Lord knows there are plenty of women dying to catch your attention.”
“Jealous?” he asked in that cool yet firm voice of his.
“Hell, no! If they want to make fools of themselves for you, they are more than welcome.”
Even though she expected him to, Trent didn’t respond. He only watched her as if he were seeing something nobody else did. She turned away from him, only to have him grab her chin and turn her back to face him.
“Are you okay?”
“I will be if you’d leave.”
“You look sick.”
“I am. Sick and tired of being harassed by you.”
“You’re drunk,” he stated flatly.
“I am not.”
“I’ll take you home.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
And before she could say another word he was scooping her up off the chair. His strong arms cradled her against his chest.
Why did it have to feel so good? In the midst of all that was bad in her life, why did the touch of this man feel so damn good?
“I don’t need you,” she said in a small voice trying to hold her head up and not scream against the building pain.
He stopped walking at her words, peering down at her with an indescribable expression. Oh no, it was describable all right. It was a mixture of hunger and danger—a deadly mix, she knew, where Trent Donovan was concerned.
She opened her mouth to tell him to put her down, that she would get Adam or someone else to take her home. But the words died in her throat as his lips touched hers. Heat speared through her body at the contact.
This was no sweet just-get-to-know-you kiss. It was fierce, hot, demanding, stealing. Taking from her all that she’d had pent up for days, no months, or more like years.
She hated kissing. It was too intimate, touching parts of her she’d rather keep reserved. But again, this was no normal kiss. It was a fierce, blistering request—no, demand. Its lustful intent was clear and swept through her senses in deep, flowing waves.
For months, since the night she’d first met him, Tia had dreamed of this, imagining how good it would feel and knowing how easy it would be to fall for this man. And as difficult as it had been, she’d kept her resolve, had refused to call him, to accept the attraction that had sizzled between them since that first touch of hands on the runway.
Now she was powerless, not just because of the amount of champagne she’d ingested, but because as long as his hands were on her, his lips, his tongue, she had no choice but to acquiesce.
His tongue pressed past her teeth searching for hers and claiming it with an arrogant swipe. Hungry and what felt like enraged, he took her mouth, deepening the kiss until all Tia could taste or even think was Trent Donovan.
Chapter 4
Trent turned his black Hummer H3 Alpha onto Redwood Street heading toward the apartment complex Tia had told him she lived in. She was in the passenger seat that he’d reclined for her just before strapping her in. Her eyes were closed and every now and then she would moan, causing him concern over whether she was in pain or whether the champagne was taking its toll and she was about to vomit. The latter wasn’t going to be a good thing, especially not in his new truck.
Still he couldn’t help again admiring her beauty. It wasn’t such a shock to him since her profession was dependent on her looks. But there was something simple and untouched about her smooth skin, high cheekbones and long eyelashes. As she lay with her eyes closed, not speaking, not fighting with him, he was touched by a rarely-seen innocence.
Pulling into the complex Trent frowned. The Sahara West Apartments located just within the Vegas city limits was not a bad complex. Actually, it was a rather nice one, but Tia was making enough money that she clearly could have done better. He parked and went around to the passenger side, opening the door for her.
She hadn’t moved so he undid her seat belt and was bending over to lift her once more into his arms when she stirred.
“You don’t have to keep carrying me. I can walk,” she said slowly.
She was attempting to open her eyes, which didn’t look like an easy feat. Yet her speech wasn’t slurred. Trent was beginning to think that something else was bothering her, that this wasn’t just a result of too much champagne.
“I like the feel of you in my arms,” he said as he lifted her out of the truck. The words came out sincerely, intentionally. Trent was a man who knew what he wanted and didn’t hesitate going for it. His actions all had a purpose that he carefully worked out in his mind ahead of time.
So when she cuddled against him while he used his hip to close the door he knew the words had done what they were supposed to.
At the door of her apartment he put her down, slowly propping her against the wall. His hands lingered on her hips just to make sure she was steady. And she was, but still he didn’t move his hands. He liked touching her. She smelled good, too, like brown sugar and honey.
Her eyes opened easily as she looked up at him. Trent brushed his lips lightly over hers. She kept her eyes on him as if she wanted him to know that she was fully aware of what he was doing.
Struck by a swift slice of guilt at taking advantage of a woman when she wasn’t completely herself, Trent stepped away. “Where’s your key?”
Tia didn’t speak but reached into her small purse and retrieved the key. She tried to step around him to get to the door but he lifted the key from her hand slipping it into the door and pushing it open. Stepping to the side he let her enter first, then followed and closed the door behind them.
She switched on a lamp that shed only a small amount of light. The living room area was actually small but appeared spacious since she had only a couch, a glass coffee table and a big-screen television on the wall opposite the patio door. In a corner to the left was what Trent assumed was her dining room. There was a counter-height table and two chairs. To say that her furnishings were sparse was an understatement.
“Thank you for seeing me home,” she said in a quiet voice.
She’d crossed the room to sit on the couch. Trent hadn’t even known she’d moved she’d been so quiet and he’d been so absorbed in checking out her place. “No problem.”
In the dim light she looked frail and tired. He moved toward the couch intending to simply see that she was okay and say good-night. But once he was that close to her he couldn’t resist. He sat down next to her taking her hand in his. “Are you sure you’re all right, Tia?”
She nodded then looked away from him quickly. That was a definite sign that she was not okay. It was also a sign for Trent to get the hell out of there. He didn’t do pity parties and he definitely didn’t do emotional females. If she had something going on that was outside of being intoxicated or that didn’t require him to hunt down and possibly shoot someone, he couldn’t help.
“Is there someone you’d like me to call?” he asked already moving away from her.
“No,” she whispered. “There’s no one who can fix this.”
Yeah, that was his cue if he’d ever had one. “Okay. Well, I’ll leave you alone.”
He was about to stand up when she grabbed his wrist and said, “No. Please stay.”
In his lifetime Trent had heard more than his share of women saying those exact words. But none of them caused his chest to tighten the way Tia’s did. There was something in her eyes, an almost desperation that didn’t match her usual snippy attitude.
He sat back in the chair. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, knowing he didn’t want to hear about whatever it was that had her looking so shaky—especially if it was about another man.
Trent didn’t normally consider himself the jealous type. There were more than enough women in this world for all the men to have their share. So he definitely wasn’t one to hate another man for having a fine woman on his arm. But he’d be lying if he said the idea of Tia with some another guy didn’t rub him the wrong way.
“No. I don’t want to talk,” she said letting her hand rest on his thigh.
It was wrong, Tia knew. But in less than fifteen minutes it would be midnight. The exact time two years ago that Jake had been bleeding beside her, Jessica dying inside of her.
However, this year she wasn’t alone. Trent had brought her home. He’d walked her inside and he was still here. She didn’t have to be alone if she didn’t choose to be. She could be with Trent and this pain wouldn’t seem so bad. He wanted her; he’d made that no secret. So why couldn’t she have him? Just for this one night?
Taking another deep breath she inched her hand up his thigh, closer to his groin, and leaned into him. “Do you really want to leave me, Trent?”
He hesitated and for a moment she was afraid he was going to say yes. Instead his hand covered hers on his thigh. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
Tia broke eye contact because the longer he stared at her the guiltier she felt. She leaned closer kissing his neck. “I’m not drunk if that’s what you think.”
His hand tightened on hers but he didn’t push her away. That was a good sign.
“You’re not drunk but you’re definitely not yourself.”
