Rochelle Alers - Always an Eaton - Sweet Dreams

Chandra sucked her teeth. “Don’t start with the bully attitude, P. J. Tucker, because I don’t scare easily. Now, are you going to tell me or not?”

Preston stared, unable to form the words to come back at Chandra. She was the complete opposite of any woman he’d ever interacted with. She was as strong and confident as she was beautiful.

“Well, if you put it that way, then I suppose I’d better tell you. There’s no way I’d be able to explain to my mother that I’d allowed a little slip of a woman to jack me up.”

A wave of heat stole its way across Chandra’s cheeks. “I wouldn’t hit you. In fact, I’ve never hit anyone in my life.” The seconds ticked, and her heart beat a rapid tattoo against her ribs as Preston glared at her.

A slow smile parted Preston’s lips, he pointed at her. “Gotcha!”

Pushing back her chair, Chandra came around the table, launching herself at him. He caught her in a split-second motion too quick for the eye to follow. She was sprawled over his knees when his head came down. Covering her mouth with his, Preston robbed her of her breath. The passionate, explosive kiss ended quickly, as quickly as it’d begun.

“Either you have a problem with your short-term memory or you want me to take you upstairs and show you just how romantic I can be. I’m not making an idle threat when I tell you that when I’m finished with you it won’t be today, tomorrow or even the next day. I will...” His words trailed off when the telephone rang.

“Excuse me,” Preston said as if nothing had passed between him and the woman in his arms.

He stood up, bringing Chandra with him. Instead of releasing her, he held on to her upper arm as he walked over to the wall phone; he tightened his grip when she attempted to extricate herself. Chandra wasn’t going anywhere until he settled something with her.

He picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

“What’s up with you, P.J.?”

Preston took a deep breath, holding it until he felt a band of constriction across his chest. It had taken his agent four days to contact him. “That’s what I should be asking you, Cliff. Why the hell did you send me three thousand miles across the country when you knew I wouldn’t agree to what the studio heads were proposing? Stop wiggling,” he hissed at Chandra.

“Who are you talking to?” Clifford Jessup asked.

“None of your damn business. Now, answer my question, Clifford.”

There came a pause. “I thought you would change your mind when you heard what they were offering.”

“I thought I told you that the deal wasn’t about money, but creative control,” Preston said through clenched teeth. “I don’t have the time or the inclination to fly to the West Coast for BS. I pay you twenty-five instead of the prevailing fifteen and twenty percent as my literary agent to protect my interests. But apparently you haven’t this time. And if I were completely honest, then I’d have to say you haven’t looked after my interests in some time.”

“What the hell are you trying to say, P.J.?”

“I’m firing you as my literary agent, effective immediately. You’ll receive a letter in a few days confirming this. Good luck, Clifford.” He replaced the receiver in its cradle with a resounding slam. “What?” he asked Chandra when she stared him. Her mouth had formed a perfect O, and her breasts rose and fell heavily under the silk blouse.

“Are you always so diplomatic?”

“Don’t comment on something you know nothing about.”

“You’re pissed off with me, so you take it out on someone else.”

Preston exhaled a breath. “I’m not pissed off with you, Chandra.”

Her gaze shifted from his face to his hand clamped around her arm. “No? Then why the caveman grip on my arm, Preston?” He loosened his hold, but not enough for her to escape him.

“I don’t want to know anything about the men you’re used to dealing with,” Preston said in a soft voice that belied his annoyance, “but at thirty-eight I’m a little too old to play games. Especially head games.” He leaned in closer. “I like you, Chandra. And it’s not about you collaborating with me. You’re pretty and you’re smart—a trait I admire in a woman, and you’re sexy. Probably a lot more sexy than you give yourself credit for. I want to work with you and date you.”

Chandra couldn’t stop the smile stealing its way over her delicate features. “You don’t mince words, do you, P.J.?”

“Nope. Too old for that, too, C.E.”

Chandra didn’t know how to deal with the talented man whose moods ran hot and cold within nanoseconds. “Why should I date you, Preston?”

“Why?” he asked, seemingly shocked by her question. “Didn’t I tell you that I’m a nice guy?”

“So you say,” she drawled, deciding not to make it easy for him. She wanted to go out with Preston Tucker. In fact, she’d be a fool to reject him. It’d been a long time, entirely too long since she’d found a man with whom she could have an intelligent conversation without watching every word that came out of her mouth. Chandra knew she’d shocked Preston with her off-the-cuff remarks, but she had to know how far she could push him before he pushed back.

It hadn’t been that way with Laurence Breslin. They’d dated for a year before he asked her to marry him. However, when she met his parents for the first time they were forthcoming when they expressed their disapproval. They’d always hoped that Laurence would eventually marry the daughter of a couple within their exclusive social circle. To add insult to injury, they’d demanded she return the heirloom engagement ring that had belonged to Laurence’s maternal grandmother. Laurence compounded the insult when he forcibly removed the ring from her finger.

“Okay, Preston,” she said, smiling, “I’ll go out with you.”

His eyebrows lifted a fraction. “Why does it sound as if you’re doing me a favor?”

“Don’t let your ego get the best of you, P.J.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re probably not used to women turning you down.”

“Whatever,” he drawled.

“Yes or no, Preston?”

“I’m not going to answer that.”

Standing on tiptoe, Chandra touched her lips to Preston’s. “You don’t have to,” she whispered, “but there’s one question I do expect you to answer for me.”

“What’s that?” Preston asked, as his lips seared a sensual path along the column of her neck.

Baring her throat, she closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth of his mouth on her skin. “Can I trust you?”

Preston froze as if someone had unexpectedly doused him with cold water. His arms fell to his sides as he glared at Chandra. “You think I’m going to be with you and another woman at the same time?”

“I’m not talking about infidelity.”

“What are you talking about?”

She stared at a spot over his broad shoulder before her gaze returned to meet his questioning one. “It’s about you not lying to me.”

“I’d never—”

“Don’t say what you won’t do,” she interrupted. “Just don’t do it, Preston.”

A beat passed. Preston knew without asking that something had occurred between Chandra and her former fiancé that caused her not to trust him and probably all men. He hadn’t slept with so many women that he couldn’t remember their names, but whenever they parted it was never because they didn’t trust him, and it wouldn’t be any different with Chandra.

A sensual smile tilted the corners of his mouth upward. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I’d like to take you out to Le Bec-Fin tomorrow night.”

Chandra lashes fluttered as she tried to bring her fragile emotions under control. Maybe he likes you. Denise’s words came back with vivid clarity. Maybe Preston did like her, and not because she was collaborating with him. And despite his literary brilliance and celebrity status she wasn’t ready to completely trust him.