“But I want that job,” I admit. “I at least want a shot at it. Damien, I can do the work, and I think my proposal will catch their attention.”
“I know it will.”
“But Dallas. My mother.” I shiver. “I’ll be walking through the ghosts of my old life. How can I do that?”
“You can do it because you’re not alone. I’m right there with you, baby. And if there are ghosts, we’ll fight them together. And I promise you, we’ll win.”
“I love you,” I say.
“Oh, baby, I know. But I never get tired of hearing it.”
Chapter Nine
The aptly named Pearl Hotel stands out like a gem even in a city as charming as Santa Barbara. The mission-style building gleams in the California sun, with two sparkling pools, burnished red roof tiles, and multiple rooftop patios with views of both the city and the white sand beach.
One of those patios graces the roof above the Presidential Suite, and as I stand at the railing, Damien’s arms encircle my waist. I lean back against him and sigh deeply as I look out over the rooftops of nearby houses, a small park, and the ocean in the distance.
“I love it here,” I say. “It’s like an oasis in the middle of the city.”
“At night it’s even better,” he says, as he looks out at the sun that still hangs well above the horizon. “Why don’t we move the meeting with Bertrand earlier, then come back here in time to watch the sunset and have dinner here on the roof?”
“Tempting,” I say, leaning back in the circle of his arms. “But too many moving parts. Ryan and Carmela and Wyatt, not to mention Evelyn and Charles for one. We’re meeting them in just a few, remember? And Carmela if she can think of an excuse to sneak away from Bertrand.”
It’s just about time to dive into the Bertrand plan, and we’re meeting to go over the plan one final time. And, of course, I have to consider all the puzzle pieces that Damien doesn’t know about. Like the three dozen guests who are currently stashed away in their own rooms at this hotel or its sister property three blocks over.
They’re staying out of sight until Damien and I are safely in Evelyn’s room, which we’re using as a staging area. As soon as we enter, Evelyn is going to call room service for cocktails. True, we want the drinks, but that will also be the cue for the concierge to not only call all the guests so that they can hurry to the Presidential Suite, but also to signal the event team to move in and set up the room.
In theory, it’s going to go off like clockwork, and by the time everyone has played their part and Damien has laid down the law with Bertrand, the guests will be in place, the food will be set out, the decorations will be up, and Damien and I will walk through that door to a full-on, one-hundred percent surprise.
Just a few more hours, and I can stop worrying, because one way or another, the party will have started.
“All right,” Damien says. His hands are around my waist, but as he bends his head so that he can press his lips to my ear, his hands slide higher to cup my breasts. “We’ll just have to work with the schedule we have,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear.
“Yes,” I say, arching back as he cups my breasts and his tongue traces the curve of my ear. “We’ll make do.”
“Fortunately, I don’t anticipate a long meeting. What I’m most looking forward to,” he says, “is when we come back. I have very definite plans for the evening.”
“Oh?” I say innocently.
“Oh, yes. First, I’m going to bring you back up here to the roof. Then I’m going to very slowly remove every bit of clothing until you’re naked under the stars, the cool wind soothing on your hot skin. Then I’m going to have you stretch out on one of the chaise lounges, your eyes up toward the sky. Not that you’ll see the stars, because I’ll have a blindfold on you.”
“Damien. . .” I’m not sure if I want him to stop or continue. All I know is that I’m already wildly aroused, and that we have to leave very, very soon.
“Shhh,” he says, pressing a finger over my lips. “Next, I’m going to tie your arms down. Then I’ll spread your legs wide, your feet on either side of the chaise, so that you’re wide open, baby. Open and hot and wet for me.”
I swallow and squeeze my thighs together to quell a building need.
“Then I’m going to touch every inch of you without actually touching you. A feather. My breath. An ice cube. . .” He trails his finger down the side of my neck, and I have to reach out and hold onto the railing because my legs seem incapable of holding me up.
I whimper softly. Damien notices and smiles, the bastard.
“I’ll run my fingertip over your skin next, paying special attention to your nipples. And then I’ll kiss my way up your thighs, getting close, but never quite where you want me. Do you know why?”
“Because you’re a cruel man?”
“Pretty much. Mostly because I want you desperate. I want you to beg me. And,” he adds in a lighter tone, “because it’s my birthday.”
“Is it?” I ask innocently. “In that case, sir, I’m at your disposal.”
He chuckles. “I like the sound of that. But right now, I think you have a scam to pull off. But,” he adds, pulling me close enough that I can feel his erection pressing against me, “we’ll be back here soon enough.”
We will, I think. But I won’t be getting my rooftop seduction.
I sigh.
I really, really hope that Damien enjoys the hell out of his party.
“How did it go?” I ask, as Evelyn and Charles shut the door behind them. We’re in Evelyn’s suite, using it as our base of operations, and Damien, Ryan, Jamie and I have been waiting for the last twenty minutes for her and Charles to return.
“Brilliant,” Evelyn says, pouring herself a glass of bourbon before sinking into one of the overstuffed armchairs. “He’s familiar with both me and Charlie, so he was primed to believe I’m representing Wyatt and some of the lesser models for the catalog shoot. Wyatt’s still in there, by the way. Bertrand wants some candids of him and Carmela behind the scenes.”
I’m sitting on one of the stools by the kitchen island with Jamie beside me. Ryan and Damien are by the window, and though I may be projecting, to me they both already look forbidding.
Beside me, Jamie turns on the stool, looking between Charles and Evelyn. “He knew who both of you were, but he didn’t think about Damien?”
It’s a valid question. Evelyn was a very public representative for Damien back in his youth, and now it’s no secret that they remain good friends. And Cha
rles has been his primary attorney for at least as long. Considering Damien features so prominently in Bertrand’s blackmail pictures, it’s surprising he didn’t make the connection.
But Charles just shakes his head. “Maybe he’s a damn good actor, but I don’t think so. I think having Wyatt’s editor friend call first made the whole thing seem more legitimate. He wasn’t thinking in terms of scamming or getting scammed. He was thinking about his bank account.”
I nod, grateful that Wyatt had been able to coax a friend at one of the top fashion magazines into helping us. She’d called to tell Bertrand that she wanted to do a spread with Carmela during Fashion Week.
“And Carmela?” Damien asks. “She’s still in with him?”
Evelyn nods. “She’s playing the role brilliantly. Thrilled about her modeling comeback, but cold and standoffish to Bertrand.” She shifts her attention to me. “Did she tell you she couldn’t act? I’d say she’s doing a fine job.”
“In my experience, Carmela has a knack for acting in whatever manner will get her what she wants,” Damien says with affectionate humor. “I think that trait is serving her well now.”
“When are we going in?” Jamie asks.
“You’re not,” Ryan says. “It’s just me and Damien.”
“And Nikki,” Damien adds. “She should be there for Carmela.”
I meet his eye, and see just the hint of a smirk. Apparently he sees the irony in me being there for Carmela as much as I do.
Jamie takes a step toward Ryan, undoubtedly to argue the point, but I grab her arm. “If you’re there, he’s going to be even more defensive,” I say. “Besides, you can stay here with Evelyn and Charles. Hang out. Go get a drink. We’ll find you when we’re done,” I say, looking her straight in the eye so that there’s no way she can miss that what I mean is that we’ll find her in my suite. Because that’s where she’s supposed to go next, to organize the party for Damien.
She crosses her arms and makes a face, but she nods. Then she pokes me in the chest. “You owe me one.”
“Definitely,” I say.