Jo Leigh - A Dash of Temptation

Maybe, if she could pretend to be as smooth and confident as she sounded, she wouldn’t feel like throwing up. She’d had the gift always. No one ever saw her sweat or shake or fumble for words. Which didn’t mean she wasn’t quaking inside.

The black stretch limo, complete with uniformed chauffer, the red dress, Dash…who wouldn’t be a complete wreck? God, but he was gorgeous. The tuxedo was something out of a James Bond movie, and Dash was made to wear it. He was the ultimate playboy, the elegant scoundrel who broke hearts as easily as she broke her nails.

At the thought, she looked down at her hands. The press-on nails were still attached, shiny with red polish to match her dress. No one would guess she really had gardener’s fingernails, so short they didn’t even reach the tip of her fingers.

Her gaze went back to Dash, to his expression. The frown line between his brows had gone, and he looked back at her with real interest. “What?”

“I was just thinking,” he said.

“About?”

“Your business proposal.”

Her stomach clenched and she almost dropped her drink. “Thanks a lot. I’d managed to put that terror on hold for a while.”

“Sorry, although I don’t see what you have to be afraid of. Cullen is going to love you.”

“From your lips…”

He grinned, and she felt it down to her toes. Perfect teeth, that bottom lip. Oh, my.

“Don’t sweat it. I mean it. What had me puzzled was why you didn’t approach me.”

“For what?”

“For the funding.”

“Why would I do that?”

“For the same reason every other entrepreneur in the city does. Because I could help.”

“I work for you. This is separate.”

“It never occurred to you?”

“No. Don’t look at me that way. I’m serious.”

“I believe you.”

“Okay, then.” She finished off her martini, then handed him the empty glass. “I did want to say again how much this means to me. It’s way over and above the call of duty. You’re helping me big time.”

“No thanks necessary. I’m getting as much out of this as you are.”

“Which is something I don’t fully understand.”

“Not much to understand. I get to escort a beautiful lady to a party.”

“Yeah, uh-huh.”

His grin turned a little sheepish. “Okay, so there’s a bit more. All those pictures you see of me smiling? That’s work. And it’s not easy work. Not that I’m complaining. I know I’m the luckiest sonofabitch in the world, but still. It’s not easy to be happy twenty-four-seven.”

“So you don’t have to work tonight?”

“Not in the same way. If I was with, say, an actress or a model, there would be speculation, constant photos, questions, innuendoes. With you, they’ll be curious, of course, but not rabid.”

“So I’m not going to appear on the cover of People?”

“Most likely not,” he said. “Are you disappointed?”

“Crushed.”

His grin faded. “I—”

She touched his arm. “I was kidding. I’m very happy to be whatever you need me to be tonight. Honestly.”

His gaze moved down to his arm, where her hand touched his sleeve.

She knew she should take it back, let him go, but she felt frozen. It was absurd, but she could swear she felt his heat. Impossible through shirt and coat. It hadn’t started out as an intimate gesture, but it had turned into one. Stoked by his gaze, the heat spread through her. And still, she didn’t move her hand.

“That could get a little tricky,” he said, his voice lower, huskier than just a moment before.

“What could?”

“You being whatever I need you to be.”

“Oh.”

He leaned toward her and she held her breathe. He was going to kiss her. Oh, God. But he stopped short, inches away from her lips. His breath, a ridiculously intoxicating blend of scotch and spearmint, slipped inside her. “Very tricky,” he whispered. And then his lips touched hers.

Before she could even close her eyes, he was gone. She blinked, tried to remember how to breathe.

He cleared his throat. Tugged his cuffs down. Looked out the window, at the moon roof, at the bar. Finally, at her. His frown surprised her. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“There are no strings attached to this evening. I apologize.”

“Don’t worry on my account.” She gasped the second the words were out of her mouth.

He laughed, but not at her. Not making fun. In fact, the sound made her feel a fraction less foolish. “Okay, so at least we know one thing.”

“That I need to learn to keep my big mouth shut?”

“No. That we’re both a little nervous about tonight.”

“I can understand me, but not you.”

“I’m always a little nervous around a beautiful woman.”

She nearly made a smart remark, but something stopped her. His eyes, or maybe his hint of a smile. Something made her entertain the idea that he could be telling the truth. That he thought she was beautiful.

She wasn’t a hag or anything, but please. She was just Tess. Ten pounds overweight, ugly nails, hair that looked like it was done in a blender. Not Nicole or Meg or Julia. She was a hick from Tulip, that’s all. And he was the most sophisticated, debonair man on planet Earth.

Which, of course, explained it. He was working tonight. Despite his protests. He couldn’t help it. When you seduce women for a living, it must come naturally, like breathing or sleeping. So it would be wise not to let her imagination run away with her.

This wasn’t a coach, he wasn’t a prince, and she sure as hell wasn’t Cinderella.

“Tess.”

She focused on him with a start. She’d been far away in the land of insecurity. “Yes?”

“No matter the reason. Favor to you, favor to me. Whatever. I’m glad I’m here, now, with you.”

She smiled as warmly as she could, but she wasn’t fooled this time. He was the embodiment of a smooth operator. A man so suave he made Cary Grant seem like an oaf. Of course he was going to flatter her. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m glad, too.”

If ever there was a Man To Do, Dash Black was him. Never, not in a million years, would he become a Man To Marry. Not to her, at least. Never to her.

SHE DIDN’T ACTUALLY SEE the house for a long time. The gate had come first, ornate wrought iron with an incongruously hi-tech security box on the driver’s side. Then it was like riding through a park. An extraordinarily well-kept park. Manicured lawns. A rogue blade of grass wouldn’t dare show up there, let alone a weed. The trees, all native to this part of the country, were stately and thick, providing ample shade for their flowered skirts.

A full-time staff would be essential in keeping this gorgeous lawn so pristine, and she wondered about the budget. They probably spent a fortune on fresh flowers and plants for the house, too. Whoever had the account must be doing very well.

Dash shifted beside her, and her thoughts of plants and bank accounts fled. He’d been quiet since the kiss, in deference to her, she thought. Someone more savvy would probably have played the moment better. Teased him. Chastised him. But her famous aplomb had deserted her, and no soothing thoughts or distractions could bring it back.

“Have you been out here before?”

She didn’t jump when he spoke, and that was a bonus. “No, I haven’t. It’s stunning.”

“This house used to belong to one of the Duponts,” he said. “It’s got twenty-two bedrooms, not counting the guest house.”

“Well, that’s got to be a pain to vacuum.”

His laughter eased her somewhat. However, his proximity— They weren’t touching. But there was only enough space between them for one hand. If she let hers fall, she’d touch him, and that wasn’t smart.