Ruthless Rival

A laugh spills from my lips.

She's teasing me because she's nervous.

But I'm nervous too.

I can't remember the last time I was this nervous.

Simon: You liked the balcony.

Vanessa: I did.

She's an exhibitionist.

Simon: Let's meet there. Tomorrow.

Vanessa: Tomorrow?

Simon: On the balcony. We can stay there. Take things to the hotel room. Go back to your place.

Vanessa: Yours?

Simon: Opal has a friend staying over. She asked me to clear the apartment.

Vanessa: And you said yes?

Simon: No. But I can.

Vanessa: You'll leave her home alone, really?

Simon: Of course not.

Vanessa: She is an adult.

Simon: Do you want to fuck me after breakfast, or do you want to argue about my sister?

Vanessa: Both.

Fuck, I like her.

I like her too much.

Vanessa: But I have to get back to work. Tomorrow.

Simon: Eight. On the balcony. Wear a dress. Nothing under it.

Chapter Eleven

VANESSA

For a few hours, my thoughts quiet. I run, I work, I lead meetings.

The second I finish, say good night to my assistant, find myself in my office, alone?

I think of him.

After an hour, I give up on work. I change in my office, fix my hair, apply an extra coat of lipstick.

I look good.

No, I look sexy.

This dress is all play, no work. Black silk, low neckline, high hem.

Revealing.

Sensual.

Perfect for this.

I grab my purse, walk the five blocks to the hotel, lose my panties in the bathroom.

Then I check my makeup one more time.

One more coat of lipstick.

There.

I'm ready.

And I can handle it.

I step into the lobby. Walk past the bar.

To Simon, sitting on the balcony in his suit, prepared with a glass of bourbon and an Aviation.

His eyes light up when he spots me.

He stands. Pulls me into a tight embrace. Wraps his strong arms around me.

This time, my thoughts really do disappear.

No work.

No issues.

No family troubles.

Only the hard, safe feeling of his body against mine.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

Chapter Twelve

VANESSA

"I appreciated the favor." Simon brings his lips to my ear. "Even if it was sarcastic."

The favor.

My thong on the table.

The thank you note with it.

I teased him.

He's teasing back.

And tonight—

He's really teasing back.

"Was it?" I'm not ready for the other tease. I need to banter. To stay in control.

For a little longer.

I know I need to release my vice-grip on control. At least a little.

But I did take off my underwear. As he asked.

That's something. A lot.

"You appreciate the hospitality?" His fingers curl into my skin. "Really?"

It's strange being here. Déjà vu.

Because we were here before.

Because I've been here before, with other people, when I was another person.

No one since my relapse.

Only him.

"When did you find it?" I ask.

"I didn't."

"Oh?"

"My assistant."

A laugh spills from my lips. "Really?"

He nods. "I sent him to check the room before a client meeting."

"Housekeeping didn't move it?"

"No."

"Nice hotel. I should refer donors."

"I have a discount." He pulls back with a smile. "If you need it."

"Generous."

"It's not lingerie." His fingers brush the thick straps of my dress. Intent drops into his voice. "Do you always wear silk?"

"For formal events."

"It suits you." He traces the strap over my shoulder. Down my back.

"I'm expensive?"

He doesn't come back with his own banter. He traces the line up my back, over my shoulder, down my chest. "You're nervous."

I swallow hard.

"It barely shows." He presses his other hand into the small of my back.

I am nervous. But I hate admitting it to him. He's always the picture of cool. "You're never nervous."

"I am."

"Now?"

"Yes."

"Because of your brother?"

He brings his hand to my cheek. Runs his thumb over my temple. "Because I like you."

My heart thuds. It should set me at ease, this proclamation. Simon Pierce likes me. He likes me likes me.

But it only makes my stomach flutter.

He's still calm and in control, even when he admits affection.

"Did I offend you?" he asks. "Leaving quickly?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry."

The words feel strange in my ears. Simon Pierce apologizing.

But he seems sincere.

"I'll stay tonight," he says. "But I'll have to leave early in the morning. Early enough to check on Opal before work."

"I get up at seven most days."

"To run?"

My stomach flutters. He remembers. "Yes."

He steps back enough to take my hand. Helps me to the couch.

I sit. Fold one leg over another. Smooth my skirt.

His eyes go to my exposed thighs. The hem of my black dress.

The short skirt demands every ounce of his attention.

It's intoxicating, affecting this calm, in control man. Having his deep blue eyes on me. Controlling my ruthless rival.

No, not control.

Something else.

Something symbiotic.

Leading him.

This is a dance. Only there isn't one lead and one follow.

We're both vying for position.

"What did he say?" My hands go to the edge of my dress reflexively. "Your assistant?"

"He played dumb."

"He didn't call you a stud? Ask who you'd fucked?"

He looks at me funny. "A stud?"

"People say that."

"Older people."

"We're older."

"You're thirty-one."

"You're thirty-two."

"Our parents' generation." His eyes lock with mine. "Or Liam."

"What would Liam say if he saw it?"