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“So we’ll call it a business trip.”
Who was he trying to kid? “A party hosted by Lena Kent is more like monkey business.”
He laughed. “That’s true. But Lena isn’t that bad. She donates a lot of money to my charity.”
“I know how generous she is.” Carol also knew how important the nonprofit organization he and his foster brothers had founded was to him. “But this isn’t a charity gig. It’s one of her nutty parties.”
“Yeah, but just think of what a smashing time you’ll have, sipping the most expensive champagne in the world and eating the most delicious food imaginable. Not to mention lounging around in your bathing suit, with the sea at your beck and call. We’ll probably go crabbing, too. I’ll bet you’ve never done that before.” He stood, coming to his full height. “This would give you the opportunity to expand your horizons and experience new things. It’s crazy how reluctant you are to let down your guard and have a good time.”
“I’m not afraid of enjoying myself.” She wasn’t the bore he was making her out to be. “I hang out with my girlfriends. I haven’t had a boyfriend in a while, but I go on online dates.” So far none of them had worked out, but she was still trying to meet someone. “I’m just cautious, that’s all.”
“Of what? People like me? Come on, Miss Proper Employee, spend a recreational weekend with your big, bad boss and his spoiled band of misfits.”
“Are you actually daring me?”
“Hell, yes.” He poured on the charm, being as insistent as ever. “So what do you say? Are you game?”
She wished that his foster brothers were going to be there. She felt safe around Garrett and Max, with how cautious they always seemed, preferring to lead more private lives. They’d grown up with Jake in the same foster home and remained as close to him as anyone could be. But they didn’t socialize with Jake’s party crowd.
He moved forward and put his hands on her shoulders. “Come on, just do it. Jump headfirst and see where you land.”
Carol squeezed her eyes shut, as if she really were diving off a cliff. One...two...three. She counted the breaths that left her lungs, then opened her eyes and looked straight into his, intending to decline the invitation. But somewhere in the insanity of the moment, of standing just inches from him, of absorbing the warmth of his touch, she heard herself say, “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll go with you.”
“That’s my girl.” Jake removed his hands from her shoulders and stepped back, leaving a silent gap between them.
Heaven help her. Had she actually agreed to this?
A sense of panic hit her, in more ways than one. Not only was she going to be stranded on a tropical island with her big, bad boss and his spoiled band of misfits, she was going to have to fuss over her clothes.
“I have no idea what I’m supposed to wear to the party,” she said. She wore professional ensembles to work and comfy threads on her days off, but this was a whole other ball game.
He waved away her concern. “Just call Millie and have her bring a bunch of stuff to your house. Then pick whatever you want and have her bill me for it.”
Millie was his stylist, a woman who also worked with celebrity clients. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. Besides, you wouldn’t be able to afford this type of couture on your own.” He shot her a playful grin. “I’d have to give you a ridiculously huge raise.”
She returned his smile. “Heaven forbid.” In actuality, he already paid her a generous salary. But if he said the clothes were out of her price range, then she believed him. “I’ll call her later today and see what her schedule is like.” The party was less than a month away, and Carol wanted to be prepared. She never did anything last minute. “At least Millie already knows that I’m not a model or actress or Beverly Hills type. I could never wear anything straight off the runway. I have too much meat on my bones.”
Automatically, his gaze traveled the length of her. “There’s nothing wrong with having curves.”
She could have kicked herself for drawing his attention to her shape. “I didn’t mean it that way.” She’d already learned to accept her fuller figure and stop trying to be skinnier than her body type allowed.
He kept checking her out, not overtly, but still looking, still being a guy. “Be sure to tell Millie to include beachwear,” he said. “Just so you’ll have a complete weekend wardrobe.”
“That’s fine.” At this point, Carol wanted to hightail it out of his office. But she couldn’t run off without wrapping things up. She hurriedly asked, “What sort of accommodations do they have on the island?”
“It’s a mansion that Lena is renting. There are caretakers who live on the property, but she’ll be hiring a full staff to run it like a hotel while we’re there. When you RSVP, make sure to let her assistant know that we need two rooms. Otherwise, he’ll assume that my plus-one will be staying with me.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll take care of it.” After a beat of anxious energy, she said, “I better get back to work.”
“You are working.”
“I meant on something other than the arrangements for Lena’s party. You have other commitments besides that.” His calendar was filled with business dinners and charity events and city council meetings.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re good at keeping me organized.”
“I’m just doing my job.” But even so, this discussion seemed oddly personal. She hoped that she wasn’t making a mistake by going to the Caribbean with him. How was she going sit beside him on the beach, wearing nothing but a swimsuit?
Just as she thought about the part of their trip when they’d be scantily clad, the sun shifted in the sky and the light from the windows spilled into the room, brighter than before.
He stood there for a moment, in the afternoon glare, looking as gorgeous as ever, before he picked up the remote from his desk and closed the blinds.
“I’ll talk to you later,” she said, telling herself not to worry, even if she could feel him watching her, much too closely, as she walked out the door.
* * *
Jake pulled his Gullwing Mercedes coupe, one of the many classic sports cars in his collection, into a guest parking spot at Carol’s apartment. He didn’t believe in letting his cars sit around, all pretty and polished and untouched. It didn’t matter how rare or pricey they were, he drove the hell out of them. He treated women with the same reverence and vigor. But Carol wasn’t his lover, and he had no business being here. Still, he’d decided to stop by because he knew that she was meeting with the stylist today. He figured the appointment was over by now. Of course, he’d timed it that way on purpose. He was curious to see what Carol had chosen.
He was curious about all sorts of things about her. Jake had been having some crazy fantasies about his assistant.
Carol was a fascinating woman, with a sinful body and modest values. An enigma, if there ever was one. And damn if her good-girl nature didn’t turn him on. It was weird, too, because proper girls weren’t his usual type. He’d never had the urge to pull someone into the fray, not the way he was doing with her.
Maybe it was because they shared similar backgrounds. Maybe that was why he was daring her to let down her guard and have a good time. Whatever the reason, he needed to curb his desire. He couldn’t seduce her when they were on their trip. He absolutely, positively couldn’t, no matter how tempting the thought was. Jake knew better than to cross that line with a woman who worked for him. Besides, she prided herself on being well-behaved and corrupting her would be wrong.
He glanced toward Carol’s apartment. He’d never actually been inside her place before; he didn’t make a habit of visiting his employees at their homes. He did own this building, though. It was one of his favorite properties. He gave her a discount on the rent, a perk that came with her job. But regardless of the deal they’d worked out, he wasn’t her landlord, at least not directly. A management company ran the day-to-day operations and collected the rent.
Jake got out of the car and strode to Carol’s door. She lived in a unit on the ground floor surrounded by foliage. Built in the 1930s, the complex boasted Spanish-style architecture and was within walking distance to restaurants, shopping centers and farmers’ markets.
He rang the bell, and she answered the summons with a surprised expression.
“Jake? What are you doing here?”
“I just thought I’d check on how the fashion meeting unfolded.” He gestured jokingly to his ensemble. “Not that I’m the epitome of style today.” He was attired in a plain white T-shirt, jeans and scuffed leather boots. “These are snazzy, though.” He removed his sunglasses. They were the pair she’d given him last Christmas, similar to the kind James Dean used to wear. They were even trademarked with the actor’s name.
She looked him over. “In that getup, you really could be him.”
“Oh, sure.” He mocked the comparison, even if he was flattered by it. “Maybe I should get a Porsche like his, the one he smashed himself up in.”
She sucked in her breath, as if the wind had just been knocked out of her. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
“I was just goofing around.” And being stupid, he supposed. He should’ve known that she wouldn’t think his comment was funny. “It was a great car, a 550 Spyder that he was driving on his way to a race. That’s a pretty good reason for me to get one.”
She stared at him, unmoving, unblinking. “I’d prefer that you didn’t.”
He leaned against the doorjamb, trying to ease the tension.
“Are you going to invite me in to see your clothes?” For now, she was wearing shorts and a loose-fitting khaki shirt, with her strawberry blond hair fastened into a ponytail at her nape. He imagined undoing the clip and running his hands through it. She had the silkiest-looking hair, with each piece always falling into place. Not that he should be thinking about messing up her hair. He was supposed to be keeping those types of thoughts in check.
“Yes, come on in.” She stepped back to allow him entrance. The brightly lit interior featured hardwood floors and attractive window treatments. She’d decorated with art deco furnishings from the era of the building, mixed with crafty doodads. He noticed a patchwork quilt draped over the sofa. He knew she liked to sew. Sometimes she gave the quilts she made to the other women in the office, for birthdays and whatnot.
“You’ve done a nice job with the place,” he said.
“Thank you.” She had yet to relax. She still seemed bothered by what he’d said earlier.
Now he wished he could take it back. Not his interest in the Porsche, but the way he’d joked about it. He hooked his sunglasses into the V of his shirt, and she frowned at him.
“Do you race cars because you have a death wish?” she asked, rather pointedly.
Cripes, he thought. She had it all wrong. “I do it to feel alive.” Everything he did was for that reason. “I don’t want to look back and regret anything.”
“I hope that’s the case.”
“Believe me, it is.” After waiting for the smoke to clear, he gestured to the quilt. “When I was a kid, we had one sort of like that hanging on our living room wall that my paternal grandmother made.”
Carol inched closer to him. “You did?”
He nodded. “She died before I was born, but the design was associated with her clan.”
“Do you still have it, tucked away somewhere?”
He shook his head. “It disappeared when I went into foster care. It was sold, I suppose. Or given away, or whatever else happened to my family’s belongings.” He glanced at the fireplace mantel, where he spotted a framed photograph of what he assumed was her family: three towheaded girls and a forty-something mom and dad, posing in a park.
He picked up the picture and quietly asked, “Are you in this?”
“Yes,” she replied, just as softly. “I’m the older sister. I was about ten there.”
He studied the image. Everyone looked happy. Normal. Like his family had been. But he didn’t keep photos around. He couldn’t bear to see them every day.
Jake was lucky that he’d bonded with Garrett and Max. They’d been a trio of troubled boys in foster care who’d formed a pact, vowing to get powerfully rich and help one another along the way. The goal had ultimately allowed them to become the successful men they were today. Without Garrett and Max, Jake would’ve wanted to die, for sure.
He wondered if anyone had helped Carol get through her grief or if she’d done it on her own. They rarely talked about their pasts. Jake didn’t like revisiting old ghosts, his or anyone else’s, but he was doing it with her now.
“It’s a nice picture,” he said, placing it back on the mantel. “It must have been a good day.”
“It definitely was. It was taken at my dad’s company picnic.” Her voice remained soft, loving. “We all had a great time that day, especially my sisters. They were only a year apart and were really close. Sometimes people mistook them for twins, and they always got a kick out of that.”
“I had two sisters, too. Only, they were older. I was their pesky little brother.”
Her light green eyes locked on to his. “How old were you when...?”
“Twelve. How old were you?”
She let out her breath. “Eleven.”
His heart dropped to his stomach. He knew that her family had died from carbon monoxide poisoning from a faulty appliance in their home. But he didn’t know the details. “How did you survive when the rest of them didn’t?”
“I wasn’t there. I was at a neighbor’s house. It was my first slumber party. I was younger than some of the other girls, so my parents were hesitant to let me go, but I begged them, so they gave in.” She breathed a little deeper. “Not being home that night saved my life.”
“It was different for me. I was in the car when it crashed. The impact was fast, brutally quick, but I remember it in slow motion.” It had been like an out of body experience that never ended. “I have a scar.” He pushed back the pieces of hair that fell across his forehead. “Here, just below my hairline. It was noticeable when I was young, but it’s faded over the years.”
She approached him and reached out to touch the scar, running her index finger along the pale line. She was painstakingly gentle, and it made him want to kiss her. They were standing so close he could’ve leaned forward and captured her mouth with his. But he didn’t take the liberty. They stared at each other instead, steeped in a strange kind of intimacy.
“I’m glad you survived the accident,” Carol said, smoothing his hair across his brow.
“So am I.” But before things got unbearably awkward, Jake stepped back, trying to restrain the tenderness between them. “After the crash, I used to pray to Uncta, a deity from Choctaw mythology who steals fire from the sun. I was the only one who was rescued from the car before it went up in flames.”
“Did you think Uncta had saved you?”
“No, but I wanted to steal fire, too. To have his powers.”
But that wasn’t going to help Jake now. He’d already jumped straight from the frying pan and into the flame, feeling things for Carol that he wished he didn’t feel. He still wanted to kiss her, as passionately as he could.
Two (#udcea36ee-578b-5f8c-aeff-5caf22f1d965)
Carol wondered what had gotten into her, touching Jake the way she had. She shouldn’t have traced his scar or tried to subdue the unruly strands of his hair. Those types of things were reserved for lovers, not your boss.
But she wasn’t going to apologize. That would only draw attention to what she’d done. She could already feel the discomfort it had caused.
Breaking the silence, she said, “I’ll go get my new clothes so you can see them.” It was the purpose of his visit, after all. But she wasn’t going to offer to model them for him. That would be way too weird.
Carol dashed into her room and grabbed the garments.
She returned to the living room and laid them out on her couch. She went back for the accessories, and then lined them up on the coffee table.
“That’s a cool bounty,” he said.
Yes, it was, with at least two different outfits per day, along with shoes, purses and beach bags to match. “I have you to thank for it.”
“As long as you’re happy with everything.” He reached for a hanger with a flowing fabric draped around it. “What’s this?”
“That’s my party dress. It’s a sarong.” It was made from the finest silk in the world, decorated with a hand-painted design and trimmed in shiny glass beads.
“The material is beautiful, but how does it work?”
“There are lots of different ways to wrap it. Millie showed me how she thinks it will best suit me. This goes with it.” She grabbed a big sheer scarf and swished it back and forth. “It’s called a body veil. It goes around the dress for a fluttery effect.”
“A body veil.” He spoke softly. “That even sounds pretty.”
She forged ahead. “Both pieces are from a Brazilian designer who just exploded onto the scene.” She’d already memorized his name in case anyone at the party asked who she was wearing. “Millie said that they don’t use beach towels in Rio. Instead, they lay a sarong in the sand and the women use them as cover-ups, too. But you probably already know that since you go there every year for Carnival.”
Before she envisioned him doing wicked things in the streets of Rio, she quickly added, “My outfit was created as an evening gown and is much fancier than the sarongs they use at the beach. It’s from the designer’s most recent collection and hasn’t even hit the stores yet. So I was wrong about not wearing something straight off the runway.”
Jake put down the dress, treating it gently. “It has a romantic quality.”
She supposed it did, especially with the inclusion of the body veil, but dang if she could come up with an appropriate response.
Was Jake as attracted to her as she was to him? Was that even possible? It was sure starting to feel like it.
