Suddenly his muscled chest was bare against hers, his tanned skin gleaming in the moonlight. Her br**sts grew heavy with arousal. Restlessness hummed in her blood. She arched against him, wanting more, wanting that firm mouth of his on hers. Standing on tiptoe, she opened her mouth as he dipped closer to her. Closer, closer…Anticipation vibrated through her. Almost…
The image turned black.
He disappeared.
Like magic, one second he was there, the next gone. Frustration coursed through her. Where had he gone? Why—
She made a muffled sound of dissatisfaction and was suddenly aware of her rapid breaths and the sheet twisted at her waist. Her eyelids fluttered and she opened her eyes to the semidarkness of her room and the whir of the ceiling fan overhead. Her body was hot, aroused, ready.
Emma covered her head with her hand and groaned. “Oh, no.” It was bad enough that she couldn’t stop being aware of Damien every second she was in the office. Now he was invading her dreams. She was going to have to do something drastic. She was going to have to take Mallory Megalos up on her offer to set Emma up on a blind date. Emma needed a distraction. A male one.
Three
Arare rainstorm hit the Las Vegas area as Damien left the MD parking lot in his Ferrari. The car was one of his indulgences and the only times he didn’t drive it were during a hailstorm or in snow. About a mile from the office, he braked at a stoplight and caught sight of a stranded motorist on the side of the road.
Taking a second look, he realized the person wearing the bright yellow rain slicker looking beneath the hood of the subcompact was his assistant, Emma. Checking his rearview mirrors, he motioned for the driver in the next lane to let him pass. Moments later, he pulled into the parking lot and lowered his window.
“Need some help?” he asked.
Emma whipped her head around to gape at him. “Damien?”
“Yes. Do you need some help?” he repeated.
Her eyes wide with surprise, she shook her head. “No, I can handle it. I was just seeing if it was something obvious like a loose battery cable or something.”
“And?” he prompted.
“And it looks like I’m going to have to call the car service. They guarantee to arrive in an hour, so I’ll just wait in the car. Thanks, though.”
“How were you planning to get home?” he asked.
She paused, then smiled. “Didn’t think of that.”
“I’ll call my service and you can ride with me. Slide in,” he said, unlocking the passenger door and pushing it open.
Emma hesitated, looking at the door with what appeared to be trepidation in her eyes. He wondered what could be going through her brain.
“Come on,” he said. “You’re just getting wetter.”
“Okay,” she said and he called his car service as she slammed her hood shut. He hung up just as she scooted into the leather seat. “Yikes, now I’m getting your seat wet.”
“It’ll dry,” he said with a shrug and noticed her gaze lingering on his shoulders. She quickly glanced away, but he couldn’t prevent a quick surge of pleasure at her admiration, although he suspected it was reluctant. She’d seemed remote to the point of skittishness this week. He’d thought it was due to her antipathy at his role in cutting jobs at MD. Now he wasn’t so sure.
Her cell phone rang, interrupting the silence. She grabbed it from her bag and winced. “Oh, no.” She pressed the call button. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I got stranded with car problems. May I reschedule?” She paused. “As late as possible,” she said. “Next Wednesday at six-thirty, thank you so much.”
“You sure I can’t get you there tonight?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. It’s a gift certificate for a birthday present I never used. Hair, makeup, a makeover kind of thing. I decided I should finally take the plunge.”
“Why? You look beautiful,” he said.
Her cheeks flared with color. “Thank you. I just thought it was time for a change. You and I talked about how we don’t have much of a social life, so I decided maybe I should try to get one. A social life,” she clarified. “But don’t worry. I won’t let it interfere with my job.”
“I’m sure it won’t,” he said. “Is Brad finally going to get a break?”
Emma shook her head. “No, but Mallory Megalos has been trying to set me up for ages. I may regret it. We’ll see,” she muttered and looked out the window. “Oh, look. The car service is already here.”
“Do you have a garage you regularly use?” he asked, pushing open the driver’s-side door.
“You don’t have to go out there. You’ll just get wet,” she protested.
“I’ve been in worse situations. Give me your keys and stay where you are. I’ll handle this. What is the name of your garage?”
She oozed reluctance, but he felt a spurt of victory when he saw her cave. “Ray’s Auto Service.”
Emma sat in the car, stewing over her predicament. If her goal was to stay as far away from Damien as possible and to squelch her hyperawareness of him, she’d just lost what little progress she’d made over the last week.
Everything about him felt sexy and forbidden to her, and sitting so close to him in the car just made it worse.
He ducked inside the car and slid his fingers through his damp, dark hair. Droplets of water clung to his high cheekbones. She knitted her fingers together to keep from reaching to wipe the water from his tanned cheeks. Mere inches from him, she couldn’t help staring at the sensual shape of his mouth.
She took a deep breath to clear her head and instead inhaled the combination of leather, rain and just a hint of his cologne.
He turned to meet her gaze. “It’s all taken care of. You should get a call from the garage tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you,” she said, taking another deep breath in an effort to curb her frustration.
“Have you had dinner?” he asked.
“No, but—”
“I haven’t either. Would you like to grab a bite?”
She bit her lip. “That’s not necessary. You’ve already done enough.”
“We may as well eat,” he said. “Unless you had other plans.”
“No,” she said reluctantly.
“Okay. Do you like seafood?”
“Love it,” she confessed.
His mouth turned upward into a sexy smile that made her stomach dip. “Good. I do, too.”
He drove to one of the most exclusive restaurants in Vegas and pulled his car to the valet at the entrance. Three young men stepped toward the car, appearing to salivate at the chance to drive the vehicle. One opened the door for her. “Welcome, miss,” he said.
Rising from the car, Damien nodded toward the young man who had greeted Emma. “You,” he said and tucked a large bill in the man’s hand along with his key. “The name is Medici. Treat her nicely,” he said.
The young man smiled and handed Damien a valet parking ticket. “Like a baby.”
Damien stepped beside Emma and escorted her through the door. “How did you decide which one should take your car?”
“Easy,” he said. “The one with the best manners. He helped you out of the car.”
The maître d’ took her coat and handed it off to an assistant hostess.
“Hmm,” she said, impressed. “I feel a little under-dressed,” she said. “When you said a bite to eat, I didn’t expect this.”
“You don’t like it?” he asked.
“I didn’t say that,” she said, glancing around at the chic, sophisticated décor and the chic, sophisticated clientele. “I’ve never been here.”
“And you live in Vegas?” he said in surprise. “Even I knew about this place and I’m new to town.”
She shook her head, but couldn’t help smiling. “You forget. I pack my lunch.”
“Ah, well, not tonight,” he said. Seconds later, they were guided to a table for two next to a window with a view of a fountain.
“This is lovely,” she said. “I feel guilty.”
“Don’t. It will be nice for me to look at something besides reports while I eat dinner at my desk.”
“I don’t think you would have a difficult time finding someone to fill this chair,” she said.
“But they wouldn’t fill it like you do,” he said, then glanced at the wine list. “White or red?”
“Either,” she said, still hanging on his comment about how she filled the chair. What did he mean by that? “Whatever you prefer.”
“What doyou prefer?” he asked, meeting her gaze across the candlelit table.
“White,” she said.
“Good,” he said, and the candlelight glinted off his scar. Although she didn’t want to stare, the jagged line captured her attention and curiosity. She caught his quick glance and tried to look away.
The waiter arrived and she forced herself to look at the menu. After they placed their orders and the waiter returned with their wine, Damien lifted his glass to her. “To a rare rainstorm, car trouble and a mutual appreciation for seafood.”
She smiled and nodded, lifting her glass to clink against his. “Here, here,” she said softly and swallowed a sip of the fragrant Pinot Grigio. “Very good.”
“Yes,” he said as she took another sip. “I noticed you staring at my scar.”
The wine caught in her throat and she coughed. She cleared her throat several times, wishing he hadn’t seen her looking at him so intently. “I’m sorry,” she finally managed. “That was rude.”
“No, it wasn’t,” he said. “Natural curiosity.”
She couldn’t think of a good response, so she said nothing and didn’t attempt to push any more wine through her tight throat.
“You wonder how it happened, don’t you?”