Filthy Rich (9 page)

“You've got style, Nartan Lupan.”

For just a moment she felt a tingle of apprehension on the nape of her neck. Every little luxury could become a bar in a lavish cage. The perfectly performing staff could transform into a network of spies that would make it impossible to breathe.

You're building your own prison…

Nartan's words rose up from her mind and snapped her back into the moment.

She reached for the silver teapot that was also on the table and poured hot water into a delicate teacup. A selection of teas sat in a box alongside a small pot of honey and a miniature pitcher of cream. Celeste unwrapped a tea bag, dropped it into her cup, and took it out onto the viewing patio. She settled into the large, rocking love seat, smiling as she sunk into the thick cushion, and sipped her tea.

She refused to notice how everything was built for two people.

She wouldn't notice it because she'd made her choice to be single.

But
you
do
still
feel
Nartan's kiss…

She drew another sip from her tea, letting the hot liquid override the memory.

Her choice.

And she was happy with it.

Bullshit…

She took another sip and realized how easily Nartan had become the ghost lurking in her thoughts.

Well, at least that was a step forward.

The real question was: Would she let him kiss her after dinner?

***

Celeste primped in front of the bathroom mirror.

She was avoiding thinking about what she was doing. Going with the flow; letting herself enjoy the buzz of dressing up.

Why
not?

God it felt good to think like that!

She finished her makeup and loosened the soft dressing robe that had been hanging in the bathroom for her.

The matching lingerie set she had on made her pause. She looked down at one of her garter straps, almost feeling the brush of Nartan's fingers against her thigh.

Ghost.
Only this one was far more welcome than the specter of her ex-husband.

Drawing in a deep breath, she walked over to where her dress was hanging. She tore off the plastic covering in which the pressing service had encased it and lifted the dress over her head.

As overwhelming as Nartan was, it was a relief to have memories of someone other than Caspian.

You're enjoying the idea of seeing him again…

Actually, she was, and she wasn't going to get her panties in a twist over it.

Nartan wasn't the only one who knew how to make an entrance. She was going to knock him off his stride tonight and enjoy every second of seeing him on edge.

Playing
with
fire…

Yes. And high time too.

The dress was spring green, matching her eyes, and settled just above her knees. She stepped into a pair of heels that clicked on the tile floor, and reached into the closet to pull out a wrap in case she wanted to venture outside. The Alaskan summer was packed with eighteen hours of sunlight. Maybe she'd get a look at the peak before sunset.

She tucked her room card into her bra and left her purse on the bedside table.

No cell phone.

Nope.

She was on vacation.

You're going on a date…

Date, vacation—there was no need to overthink the moment.

Whatever emergencies were brewing in the Lower 48 could be resolved without her tonight.

She was working on her to-be-dealt-with list.

She took her time walking toward the restaurant, the scent of dinner teasing her nose before she arrived. The hallway was constructed to allow for an unobstructed view of the granite peaks in front of the hotel. She heard the low rumble of conversation coming from the restaurant before she turned the last corner and arrived in front of the reception desk.

“Good evening, Ms. Connor.”

The way everyone knew her name was a little unnerving. Of course, she was a guest of the boss, so everyone would be betting on just how much influence she had with Nartan. It wasn't much but no one would believe her if she claimed otherwise.

The gentleman smiled and gestured her past his desk. Instead of taking her into the spacious dining room, he led her past the floor-to-ceiling wine cellar to another more private dining area. Large tables were set into secluded dining alcoves with velvet curtains that could be closed to provide privacy. There were also small, intimate tables.

“Please mind your step.”

The man took a moment to point out the first step of a staircase with the help of a small flashlight. He led her up the stairs silently, the mark of a professional butler. The stairs took a right-hand turn and rose another floor. Once she stepped onto the landing, the restaurant below and its sounds dissipated, leaving her immersed in the wide expanse of Alaskan wilderness surrounding her. Some sort of soft music was playing,

“The Denali dining room…”

The man gestured her forward but that wasn't really necessary. The table was set in a section of the restaurant that overhung the viewing patio below. Floor-to-ceiling glass created a temperature-controlled environment with a breathtaking view.

“May I take your wrap?”

“Yes, thank you…” Celeste surrendered the garment as she moved closer to the table. Another waiter had appeared while she was absorbing the grandeur of the view and now held her chair out.

He reached for a wine bottle that was nestled in a silver bucket and opened it, then poured a small measure into a glass for her approval. She swirled it once around the glass and inhaled before taking a sip.

“Perfect.”

He nodded before filling her glass and a second one. The waiter finished with a twist of the bottle to keep it from dripping and set it back in the bucket. He disappeared quietly while she looked over her shoulder.

There was a little swish as doors slid shut, ensuring complete privacy. A chef was waiting beyond the glass doors to speak with the waiter. They conferred for several moments before the waiter disappeared.

Celeste turned back to look at the second wineglass.

“Your neck is tight.”

She didn't jump. Nartan's voice washed over her and every muscle tightened. Her lips parted as her heart accelerated and she fought the urge to look behind her.

She lost.

She did a double take, blinking as she drank in the sight of him. He was hot. And mouthwatering. The realization sunk all the way into her brain. Nartan was watching her from beneath hooded eyes, gauging her reaction and looking like he was taking her apart like some sort of complex math equation.

At least, she felt that vulnerable.

Totally stripped down in front of him.

She was tempted to label him intimidating, but the truth was it was her own failing that made her so susceptible to him. There was some reaction brewing inside her on a cellular level that was reducing her to a bundle of responses that operated on a purely instinctual level.

She noticed every little detail about him.

Like that what he did for a suit should be bottled and sold. The gray wool was loose enough to show how fit he was, his tie the same ocean blue as his eyes. All of that rich fabric lay over him like wrapping paper made to be ripped away.

He moved closer, his fingers brushing her nape. It was just a light touch at first, gauging her acceptance. She took another sip of wine and let him rub the tense muscles in her neck for a moment.

He moved away and sat down. She watched him, feeling on edge.

“Admit it, you're impressed with me.”

Maybe…

“I can always check out if you get too presumptuous,” she countered softly.

One inky, dark eyebrow rose. “Only if you're willing to admit you're too chicken to be in the same room with me.”

She tapped her fingernail against the pristine tablecloth. “Touché,” she admitted. “Even if I think you're a bit of a cad for voicing that thought.”

“Cad?” He picked up the folded napkin and gave it a snap before laying it across his lap. “I call it persistent.”

“Hmmm…” She battled the urge to let her lips curl up with enjoyment. “Stalkers are persistent too.”

He tossed his head back, laughing. The column of his throat snagged her attention, and the desire to lick him flared to life.

The doors behind them swished open. One waiter lit the candles on the table while two more delivered a starter to both Celeste and Nartan at precisely the same time. The waiters lifted the polished silver domes off the plates with a flourish before disappearing as quickly as they'd appeared.

“Don't I at least score points for originality?” he asked.

Celeste picked up her fork and considered the plate in front of her for a long moment. “Only if I were interested in being the point of a game.”

Nartan was considering her over the rim of his wineglass. “You think I'm playing, with you as the prize?” He was hiding behind a polished business demeanor, leaning back in the chair to give the illusion of being relaxed, but she could feel how sharp his attention was. The man was sizing her up.

She lowered her fork. “I'm really not trying to be a bitch. The afternoon was amazing.”

“But you're still not sure what you think about me following you?” he clarified in a smooth tone that raised the hair on her nape in warning.

“I'm not sure what I think about the fact that I had a hell of a lot of fun with you this afternoon and that I put this dress on with you in mind. Because it's possible that you just hate getting the brush-off. You didn't build all of this by being a pushover.”

He raised one dark eyebrow. “You kissed me back. Whatever you want to label my appearance, make sure you allow for the fact that you're right. I don't get the brush-off very often, and if all I wanted was sex, I'd have gotten it somewhere else by now.”

“Like I said, I'm not sure what I think.”

She reached for her wineglass, which she regretted once she had it in her fingers. Dulling her wits wasn't a wise course of action. She had dressed for him. She
had
kissed him back.

And dreamed about him…

She drew a slow sip of the dark liquid into her mouth before setting it aside. “The lodge is impressive.” It really was, and she could see how much care and excellence had gone into it. That kind of quality could only come from the top.

He finished and sat back, his lips rising into a grin. “Thank you. Changing to a safe topic?”

She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Forgive me. I thought you wanted to actually have a conversation with me.” She pushed her chair back and stood, disappointed beyond measure. “As I told you at the wedding, I'm not interested in hooking up with you.”

His gaze slid down her body. “Then why are your nipples hard?”

She stepped away from the table like it was on fire. “Screw you.” Her disappointment was transforming into full-out anger. Now he was just being a jerk—as if to live up to the worst of her expectations.

“That is the main point of contention, isn't it? You want to give in to me, but it clashes with your ideas of what good girls do. So you label me arrogant, when in fact, you don't want to face your own reaction.”

“Facing it and jumping you before the salad arrives are two different things.”

“Bull.” He cut her off. “That's just an excuse for not being daring enough to take what you want from life.”

“I love cupcakes too, but I don't grab one and shove the entire thing in my mouth the moment I get a craving for them. Ruins the experience.”

His expression became carnal. There was a savage beauty to it that captivated her, hypnotized her.

“I could handle you shoving me into your mouth.”

She pushed her chair back and turned her back on him, but there was a soft click and the window she faced frosted. It brought her up short, and she turned to find Nartan dropping a small remote control into the breast pocket of his suit jacket.

“You can't control it any better than I can.” He stood up and came around the table. He had a prowl to the way he moved, something very uncivilized that sent fire to all of her logical decisions. Choice seemed to be nothing but ashes now. There was only stimulus and reaction. Honestly, she wasn't sure who was pinned in the room with whom. He might be fire, but she wanted to consume him too. She took a breath and fought for a hold on her logic.

“Just because I find you attractive doesn't mean I'll cut straight to the ‘get naked' part.” She faced off with him, needing to make her point. Or stand her ground. Or something else that seemed impossible to name.

Maybe she just needed…him.

He'd stopped a couple of feet in front of her and looked like he was trying to decide what to do with her about-face. Hell, she was trying to decide what to do.

They stared at each other, her heart accelerating, his eyes narrowing. Each of them becoming more aware of the other with every second.

“You have to stop running at some point.” His voice had changed, deepening into something that struck her as genuine.

“You don't know what you're talking about, Nartan.” She tried to deliver her brush-off softly, kindly, because it wasn't his fault he sent her sex drive into high gear.

He gave her a shrug. “Maybe, maybe not because I'm guessing I'm the first man who's kissed you since your divorce.”

“Only because I want it that way.”

She was such a liar.

His eyes narrowed. “Really?” There was a soft, seductive tone to his voice that sent a shiver down her spine. She'd never been so conscious of her body and the craving to have his pressed against her.

“I don't want to talk about my past.” She took a step toward him.

He stepped forward, allowing her to flatten her hand against his chest. She shuddered, feeling the connection down to her toes.