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“Why don’t I show you ladies to the pool?” said the guy in the blue trunks, his pearly whites blinding. “The groomsmen are all chilling out back.”
Marcel cleared his throat. “I thought it might be too crowded outside, so some of the women are going to work in here.”
“Oh, there’s plenty of room.” Kevin motioned with his head toward the French doors. “Besides, it’s much too nice outside to be cooped up in here. Don’t you agree, ladies?”
Behind her, Dominique heard her coworkers giggle.
“Would you like something to eat before we get started?” Marcel addressed the group, but he was staring right at her. “I could show you to the food tables if you’d like.”
Heart pulsing, mouth dry, she combed a lock of hair away with her hands. Dominique would like nothing more than to have some one-on-one time with the wealthy businessman, but the guy in blue trunks seemed intent on spoiling her plans.
“Marcel, you’re in charge of the barbecue, remember? You finish grilling the steaks, and I’ll help the ladies set up out back. Don’t worry, man. I’ll handle it.”
The matter decided, Kevin took Dominique by the elbow and led her out unto the patio.
Fingers splayed, Dominique kneaded the muscles between the groomsman’s shoulder blades, applying more pressure as she inched down his spine. Lying flat on his stomach, his eyes closed and his head cocked to the side, Tobias Carlson complained bitterly about his court-ordered child support payments and the financial toll his divorce had taken on him.
Dominique hated working bachelor parties, but since the clients were willing to pay more for the in-home service, she’d canceled her blind date and reported to work. As Tobias droned on about his twelve-room vacation home in Bel Air, Dominique searched the backyard for a distraction—a tall, toned distraction with a titillating French accent. Her gaze fell on Marcel Benoit, and time stopped. His arms cut powerfully through the water as he swam the length of the pool. The wind blew warm against her face, intensifying her already sweltering temperature.
Watching him, she wondered why he wasn’t already married. Her friends all liked bad boys, but she’d always been attracted to quiet, respectable guys. Good manners were a definite turn-on, and Marcel was polite and gracious. He wasn’t the life of the party, but he didn’t need to be. He was the best-looking man there, and although he hadn’t tried talking to her again, Dominique was confident he would. They’d been sneaking covert glances at each other, pretending to be uninterested, but when their eyes met she felt a rush of divine pleasure.
With extreme interest, she watched as Marcel trudged up the steps of the circular pool. His body was overrun with taut muscles, and seeing his bare chest made her mouth water. To regain control of her loose mind, Dominique forced her eyes away. But as she glanced around the yard, she noticed that her colleagues were ogling him, too. Back off, vultures! He’s mine!
“Your hands are magic,” Tobias praised. “Are you available on Wednesday mornings? I could use a good rubdown after my weight class.”
Dominique didn’t answer. The extra money she made working weekends helped pay the bills, but she wasn’t going to jeopardize her position at First Centennial Trust for anyone—not even a high roller like Tobias Carlston.
“Sorry, but I only work weekends.”
Turing onto his side, he propped his head up with his elbow. Not only was he failing miserably at appearing cool but it looked like he was posing for a trashy magazine. “Then, we’ll have dinner instead. Eight o’clock sound good?”
Dominique retrieved a cloth from her bag, and cleaned the massage oil from her hands. With as much sympathy as she could muster, she slowly recited the line she fed all of her clients who hit on her. “Call me next week, and I’ll try to see what I can do.”
His frown spoke of his disapproval. Breathing heavily through his nose, he reached into his pocket and offered her a wrinkled fifty-dollar bill. “This is for you.”
“Thank you.” Without touching him, Dominique slid the money out from his fingers. Her cell phone rang, and she fished it out of her purse. “I have to take this call. See you later.”
Tobias eased off the portable bed and stood with his hands splayed on his hips. He looked pissed, but Dominique didn’t care. Her sister was calling, and his massage had officially ended five minutes ago. Wanting privacy, she rushed inside the house, ducked into the main-floor bathroom and locked the door.
“How are you guys doing?” Dominique asked after greeting her sister.
“Good, but we miss you. You promised to come by last night. What gives?”
“I was planning to, but I got asked to work at the spa at the last minute. Now that I finally have my massage therapy certification, I’ve been working as many hours as possible.” Only a year apart, Taryn and Dominique were often mistaken for twins, and despite their furious schedules, they talked several times a day. “Now, pass the phone to Summer. I saw her profile on Facebook, and Ms. Thang definitely needs a talking to. A thirteen-year-old has no business wearing miniskirts and fishnet stockings!”
After chastising her niece, Dominique ended the call. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she decided another trip to her dermatologist was in order. Botox scared her, but a facial reflexology treatment would give her skin a soft, healthy glow. Two hundred dollars was a steep fee, but she was a thirty-three-year-old woman living in a city overrun with college students, and it was important to stay ahead of the competition.
Exiting the bathroom, her thoughts on her sister and the kids, she failed to notice Marcel in the kitchen until he called out her name. “Is everything all right?” he asked, stepping out from behind the granite island. “I don’t mean to pry, but you look worried.”
For a moment, Dominique couldn’t speak. The sensual sound of his voice aroused her, making her feel nervous and excited at the same time. Hoping she didn’t look as stupid as she felt, she held up her phone. “I was just talking to my sister. She was giving me a hard time for not coming over for dinner last night.”
“It’s tough being the oldest, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” she said, puzzled by his assessment. “How did you know I was the oldest?”
Dark, slanted eyes focused on her face, and heat flooded her cheeks. “You’re a woman who likes to be in control, who likes to take care of others. Those are some of the traits of the first child. Am I wrong?”
“Let me guess, you’re the oldest, too, right?”
His smiled matched her own. “I have four sisters and one brother.”
“Your poor mom. All that estrogen in one house makes for a whole lot of drama. I have two sisters, and every time my dad left for work, he’d say he wasn’t coming back!”
“Were you raised in Seattle?” Marcel asked once her laughter died down. “Or are you from somewhere else like half the people in the city?”
“I’m a native. My mom lives not too far from here in Loyal Heights, and my dad…well, he died a few years back.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was his time.”
“That doesn’t make it any easier though, does it?” His features softened. “My father passed away eight months ago, and there are times when I still can’t believe he’s gone.”
Dominique started to speak but stopped. Talking about her dad brought bittersweet memories, and she feared that if they remained on the subject she’d break down like she had at his funeral on that cold November morning he’d been laid to rest at Mountain Gardens.
“I hope you’re going to stay for dinner.”
After spending the past two hours on her feet, she welcomed an opportunity to sit down and enjoy a good meal, especially with such a handsome man. “I don’t know. That depends on the other girls. We came together and…” When Dominique heard a loud shrill of laughter, she glanced at the French doors. Her coworkers were sitting around the patio table, stuffing their faces with shrimp and guzzling goblets of wine.
“I guess we’re staying,” she announced, laughing. “But we better get out there before all the food is gone. Electra used to be an amateur bodybuilder, and I once saw her eat a whole turkey for lunch!”
“Why don’t we sit in the living room? It’s quiet, and we’ll be more comfortable than out on the patio.”
“Shouldn’t we join your friends? After all, you are the one hosting the party.”
“They’ve got food, beer and five very attractive women to keep them company,” he pointed out. “They don’t need me. And besides, I’d much rather spend more time talking with you.”
Her blood pressure spiked. Dominique could feel the energy pulsing between them and wondered if he did, too. He was standing astoundingly close to her, but she didn’t—no, couldn’t—move away. “Well, in that case I just have one question,” she said, slanting her head to the right. “Do you have any crazy ex-wives or baby mamas I need to know about?”
“Not that I know of.”
Dominique wore a sultry smile. “Good, then let’s eat!”
They relaxed comfortably on the sofa and discussed current events while they ate dinner. Conversation came easily, and Marcel loved hearing such a smart, savvy sister talk about business and politics. Overflowing with confidence, Dominique didn’t shy away from sharing her opinion or challenging his views. She loved art and music and shared his passion for literature. Without fear, she spoke like a woman who had all of the answers to life’s problems, and when she closed her eyes and began reciting a Prodigal C. Lewis poem, he was blown away.
“The beauty of your smile consumes my soul; lost, I turn to you for self-control.” She whispered the lines, the words flowing gracefully off her lips. “For love and all the pleasures it can give, are found in you and we’ll eternally live.” Dominique placed a hand on her chest. “Have you ever heard anything so moving?”
“I toured Prodigal C. Lewis’s village when I went to Marco Island a few years ago.” Hoping to impress her, he spoke truthfully about the experience. “Seeing his childhood home had a profound effect on me, and even after all these years, I still remember how inspired I felt reading the notes scribbled on his bedroom walls.”
“Wow, I’m so jealous. I’d love to see where he grew up.” Her voice dripped with awe. “Prodigal C. Lewis is one of the most prolific poets who ever lived, and every time I read Enchanted Souls I always break down and cry.”
“Me, too.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Uh-huh. I’m one of those deep, sensitive brothers who isn’t afraid to show his emotions,” he said, fighting to keep a straight face. When Dominique rolled her eyes, he chuckled. “Isn’t that what every woman wants? A man with a soft, tender side?”
“That’s not what I want! That’s how I like my steak!” She tossed back her head and laughed. “The truth is I want to be wined and dined and romanced.”
“Well, in that case, I better keep the Chablis coming!” Marcel lifted the wine bottle and tipped it toward her goblet. “There’s just enough to fill your glass.”
Dominique stretched out her hand, preventing him from pouring. “I can’t. I’m the designated driver tonight, and I’ve already reached my limit.”
“If you need to, you’re more than welcome to spend the night.”
“Right,” she quipped, “me and the girls will sleep on the couch.”
“This estate has five master bedrooms, so if you’re not up to driving, you can all stay here.”
At first, Dominique thought he was joking, but when she saw the concern in his eyes, she knew he was serious. Lean and dark with clear brown skin, Marcel had governance about him, a gentility that instantly put her at ease. She’d only known him for a few hours, but she wasn’t put off by his shocking offer. “We’ll be okay. It’s a short drive back to the spa and—”
Marcel touched her leg, and her voice failed. Stunned by the tenderness of his caress, she put a hand to her chest, hoping to control her staggering heartbeat. Reminding herself that he was a stranger—albeit a very attractive one—helped her remain focused. Apprehension tempered her desire, but he had lips she wanted to kiss, hands she ached to hold, and eyes so dreamy that she felt light-headed just looking at him.
“I hope you don’t think I’m coming on too strong. I just want you to be safe.”
Kissing a man she’d known for all of three hours was unimaginable, but it was all Dominique could think of. To keep from acting on her feelings, she shifted over ever so slightly. Better. Now their legs weren’t touching.
Needing a distraction, Dominique stared out the living-room window. A recreational haven, the upscale suburban community had it all—a sports complex the size of a football field, wide bike paths that sloped around steep valleys and inspiring mountain views. “This is a lot of house for one person,” she noted, stealing a quick glance at him. “Do you live here alone?”
“I wish,” he said, with a light chuckle. “This is my uncle’s place. I’m just house-sitting while he’s away on business.”
She wore a surprised, slightly puzzled look on her face. “This is not your house?”
Marcel heard the disappointment in her voice and wished he’d said something sooner. Of course she thought the mansion belonged to him. And wasn’t that what he’d wanted her to think? He’d never met such a smart, vibrant woman, and their connection was unlike anything he’d ever known. Dominique King was a standout beauty living the good life, and he had nothing to offer her. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy her company for a few more minutes, did it? Still he decided to remain truthful.
“Do you live nearby?” she asked.
“No, I’m all the way up in Hurst Park.”
Dominique gulped. The working-class neighbourhood was a far cry from Beacon Hill, and according to the evening news it was a hotbed for gang activity. Let down, she tried not to let her disapproval show. “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a full-time graduate student and part-time research assistant.” Wearing a self-conscious grin, he rubbed a hand over his fine, textured hair. “As you can imagine, the biomedical engineering program at the Seattle University is very demanding. I spend a lot of hours studying, and that doesn’t leave me much time for anything else.”
Her face fell. Marcel was a penniless graduate student living in the east end? The best thing Dominique had ever done for herself was to kick her lazy, philandering ex-husband to the curb, and she wasn’t interested in dating another broke man. Dating a student—even one as fine as Marcel Benoit—wasn’t an option.
Feeling a twinge of guilt, she dodged his intrusive gaze. An awkward silence ensued. During dinner they’d talked to each other, and now she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Was it true what her sisters said about her? Was she an uptight snob who gave men a hard time?
To assuage her conscience, she asked Marcel about his plans for the future. Finding an engineering position was his goal, and although graduation was still four months away, he’d already been on a dozen interviews.
“I know we don’t know each other that well, but I was hoping—”
“I can’t go out with you,” she blurted. Remembering her father’s own humble beginnings made Dominique readjust her attitude. Her dad had worked a slew of minimum-wage jobs to put himself through law school and had graduated at the top of his class. “You’re a nice guy, but I just don’t have time to date.”
Marcel forced a smile, but inside he was seething. What was it with these career women? They complained about not being able to find a good man but constantly overlooked guys like him. Status-conscious, Dominique would never consider dating a guy outside of her tax bracket, and as he watched her fiddle with her designer watch, he felt his interest wane. “I don’t have time to date either. I’m involved in several committees at school and busy with assignments and research papers.”
Dominique’s cheeks burned when she realized her mistake. This had to be one of the most humiliating moments of her life. He must think I’m a real snob now, she thought, sinking further into her seat. I turned him down, but he wasn’t even asking me out! Skin prickling with embarrassment, she lowered her eyes to her lap. Wishing she could disappear, or be magically transported back to her condo in Montlake, she bit the bullet and apologized. “I’m sorry for interrupting. What was it you were going to ask?”
“One of the students I tutor is looking for an office administrator position, and I was wondering if you needed anyone at Destination Wellness. Helene is very meticulous about her work, and she’d be an asset to any business.”
“Sure, tell her to come by with her résumé, and I’ll see what I can do.”
The wall clock chimed, and Dominique glanced over at it. Laughter flowed in from the patio, and when she heard chairs scrape against the floor, she stood up. “It sounds like you have a very promising future ahead of you, Marcel,” she said, meaning every word. “I hope everything works out for the best.”
“Me, too, and thanks in advance for putting in a good word for Helene.”
They were joined by their friends and remained in the foyer talking for another fifteen minutes. Marcel grabbed some bags and escorted Dominique and her colleagues out to her SUV.
Mindful of him watching her, she slipped behind the wheel and started the engine. While her coworkers counted their tips, she watched Marcel through the rearview mirror. The muscles in his arms flexed when he heaved the portable tables inside. Her eyes slipped over his shoulders and slid down to the hard walls of his chest. Perspiration dotted her forehead. The rapid acceleration of Dominique’s heartbeat made it almost impossible to breathe. Ordering her body into submission, she put the car in Drive and waved as she pulled away. Her feelings for Marcel were lust-driven, but as she stole another peek at him in her mirror, she knew it was going to be impossible to forget the hot graduate student with the killer physique.
Chapter 2
Sunday morning dawned bright and clear. The sun had a faint halo around it, and a sweet, floral fragrance drifted on the summer breeze, filling Dominique’s Range Rover with its heady scent. Seeing a vacant parking spot in front of Campion Residence Hall, she slowed down and eased her SUV carefully into the narrow space.
Balancing the tray of tea from Starbucks in her right hand, Dominique closed the driver’s-side door with the other. Mindful of the puddles dotting the sidewalk, she strode cautiously toward her sister’s on-campus apartment.
As Dominique passed the engineering building, she was reminded of a sexy hunk with a dreamy smile. Her thoughts were overrun with images of Marcel Benoit. They shared the same interests, and his way of thinking fascinated her. And as Dominique reflected on the hour-long conversation she’d had with him last weekend, she wondered if she should have given him her phone number. Marcel might not be rolling in dough, but he was obviously a great guy—the kind of man who wouldn’t mistreat her or dog her out. Why not get to know him better?
Anxious to see Jenna, Dominique sailed into the Seattle University dormitory and climbed the stairs to the second floor. Jenna’s door was ajar, and when Dominique pushed it open, she found her sister hunched over the desk writing furiously on a yellow notepad.
“I brought breakfast,” she sang, stepping over a mound of dirty clothes. “Now get over here and give your big sister a hug!”
Jenna leaped to her feet. “Dominique, what are you doing here?”
“I came to check up on you. I haven’t seen you in weeks, and I wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”
Within minutes, the sisters were sitting on the unmade bed, sipping ginger tea and munching on apple muffins. A self-proclaimed tomboy with a penchant for hooded sweatshirts, Jenna was the quietest of Dominique’s sisters, and despite being born with a heart defect, the nineteen-year-old sophomore never complained about her health.
“Everything okay?” Dominique asked, studying her sister closely. Aside from the dark rings under her eyes, she looked like her usual bubbly self. “Have you had any more fainting spells?”
Jenna shook her head. “I think the new medication Dr. Petrov prescribed is working. Sometimes after taking it I get queasy, but that’s about it.”
Remembering the conversation she’d had with her mom yesterday, she wondered if now was a good time to discuss her sister moving back home. Dominique didn’t like the idea of her mom living alone, especially since there had been a string of robberies in the area. “Jenna, Mom really misses you, and—”
“I’m not going back home.”
“Would you at least hear me out before you say no?”
Pouting, she crossed her arms. “I’m tired of Mom babying me. That’s why I left. To get away from her constant nagging.” Jenna stuffed her empty cup into the trash. “I’m not a kid anymore, Niq. I don’t need Mom to fix my meals or make my bed. I’m almost twenty.”
