Seduced by Stratton (The English Brothers Book 4) (5 page)

No doubt startled by the bark he’d used, he felt bad and leaned down to pick up the magazine just as she did, which resulted in her clocking his chin with the top of her head.

He reeled back two steps, reaching for the reception desk and bracing himself as she stood up, massaging her scalp.

“Ouch! Oh, no! Are you okay?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say “No,” because his chin really smarted, but when he looked at her face, he realized she was desperately trying to suppress a smile and losing. For reasons he couldn’t possibly explain, because his chin legitimately ached, he felt his own laughter bubble up from deep inside as well.

Still rubbing his chin, he grinned at her. “What was that quote about ‘auspicious beginnings?’”

“The one from
Five Easy Pieces
?” she asked. She straightened her lips, narrowed her eyes, and adopted a passable Jack Nicholson voice. “
I'm looking . . . for auspicious beginnings, I guess. I'm trying to, you know, imagine your half of this conversation . . .”

His hand stilled, and he forgot the pain in his chin, taken aback by her handy knowledge of the quote.

“I love that movie,” he murmured.

“It’s a good one,” she agreed.

“Is it your favorite?”

“Nope.”

“Then why’d you memorize a line from it?”

“Oh,” she sort of sighed-slash-chuckled in a light, breathy way that was really distracting, especially because she was also looking up at him with her big, brown eyes. “My brain just does that.”

“For every movie you see?”

“Yeah, I guess. If I like a word or a line, it sticks with me. Plus, the word ‘auspicious’ is unusual, and I hadn’t heard it before that movie. Aus-picious. Auspi-cious. Good word.”

“Agree. You like Nicholson?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Which is your favorite of his movies?”

She grimaced, twitching her lips to the side in thought. “Good question. What’s yours?”

“
Five Easy Pieces
.”

“Ahhh,” she said, her eyes twinkling as she nodded. “I see.”

“Your turn.”

“Hmmm. Give me a minute to think, okay?”

As she looked down at the carpeted lobby floor in thought, Stratton could stare at her unobserved. Her black parka was open, and a pink and black plaid scarf hung loosely around her neck. His eyes dropped and widened to find her smooth, olive-colored skin on ample display, her breasts straining against the thin hem of some sort of clingy costume. Skimming downward, he noted a gauzy little skirt over pink tights. No, not a costume. Dancing clothes. Dancing clothes that showed every curve of her body and made him feel hot. Damn it. Who wore dancing clothes to a business meeting anyway?

A business meeting. Right. She was here to discuss her aunt’s dance studio. The sooner, the better, and he could stop being distracted by her and re-focus his attention on how to seduce Amy.

“Your aunt spends way too much on insurance!” he exclaimed abruptly.

“Does she?” Her eyes jerked up from the floor to capture his, and she surprised him by grinning. Her neck tilted up, compensating for the foot of height he had on her, and she searched his eyes for a moment before cocking her head to the side and murmuring, “I’m trying to, you know, imagine your half of this conversation.”

Five Easy Pieces
. Again. He didn’t know exactly what she was trying to say, but the look in her eyes made him take a step closer to her, closer to her coffee-brown eyes and full lips and—

“Don’t you want to know my favorite Nicholson movie?” she asked, staring straight up at him.

“Yeah,” he whispered, so close to her, he could smell her. She smelled like talcum powder and sweat and—oh, God—he twitched just below the belt. He needed to get away from her and—

She mumbled her answer.

“Come again?” he asked, leaning down to hear her.

“
The Shining
,” she said, her voice so low she delivered the information like a secret.

“Why are you whispering?” he whispered.

“Because it’s so scary,” she admitted with a grin.

He chuckled lightly. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

His face was so close, the breath from his mouth moved her hair like a light breeze. When he leaned away, her dark eyes were even darker than they’d been before, and her breasts heaved against her completely-inappropriate-for-business-meetings dance costume.

“But it’s a great movie,” he murmured, without taking his eyes off her.

She raised her eyebrows and nodded stoically, as though his was the only acceptable answer.

“It’s playing at the Ritz in Old City tomorrow night,” she informed him.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Mm-hm,” she answered, her heart-shaped face still tilted up, and her eyes still locked on his. “If you’re interested, we could—”

“Your aunt also needs to buy a buffer!” he blurted out. “For the floor.”

Her use of the word “we” had forced his guilty conscience to skate with precision to an image of Amy sitting beside him watching the cheerful but unlikely “Thirteen Going on Thirty,” and Stratton suddenly felt desperate to get off the topic of movies, and onto the safer ground of business.

Her voice was soft and sad when she answered. Deflated. “Oh. Okay.”

For the first time in their conversation, Valeria’s face flushed, as though she was ashamed or embarrassed, and she winced before finally dropping his eyes. Stratton couldn’t explain why this bothered him so much, but it did.

Softening his voice, he added, “There are several changes she should make to improve her bottom line. We can talk more in my office. Please, follow me.”

***

Valeria trailed behind Stratton, trying to get a grip. What had just happened in the lobby was a near-perfect reenactment of their interaction two months ago at Mulligan’s. Inside jokes, non-sequiturs, and hot glances. It was like talking to someone on a totally different plane than the rest of humanity, but for Valeria, who had never dated someone who really “got” her, it was the second most exciting conversation of her life . . . before she’d ruined it—
again
—by making a move on him.

What she didn’t understand was, she had clocked all of the physiological responses to attraction. While talking to her, Stratton’s eyes had dilated, his breathing had changed, and she was fairly sure something had happened south of his waist, because at one point he flicked a barely-there nervous glance down below. But when she had gathered the courage to ask him to go to the movies with her, he had cut her off with such determination, there had to be a reason.

After the way he’d rebuffed her outside Mulligan’s, she’d been sure to ask Emily if Stratton was single, and though Emily had definitively answered that he was, she
must
be wrong. What Valeria lacked in experience, she made up for in book learning. Stratton was attracted to her, yes. But Valeria would bet her bosoms that he wasn’t available.

He held open the door of his office for her, and she preceded him into the small room, taking a seat in one of two guest chairs as he rounded the desk to sit across from her.

“Oh,” he said, standing suddenly, as though reminding himself of social protocol. “Do you want something?”

“Like what?”

“Water?”

“No, thank you.”

“Coffee?”

“Not this late in the day, thanks.”

“Oh.” He stared at her, furrowing his brows with annoyance. “Water has no caffeine.”

“I know. I don’t want any.”

“Mint tea? It’s decaffeinated.”

She shook her head. “I don’t need a beverage, thank you.”

“Fine. Then let’s get down to it.” He sat down and pulled a soft yellow manila file out from under a few others, placing it in front of him on the desk, but instead of opening it, he placed his hand flat on top and looked at her squarely.

“Your aunt’s business is not hopeless, but it has been poorly managed. Simply put, there’s a formula she must adopt to avoid further financial distress: make
more
money or spend
less
money. I have some suggestions on both sides of the coin. A few things that I noticed right off the bat . . .”

Without once consulting the numbers and statements inside the folder, Stratton was able to quote actual figures, review every detail of her aunt’s financial transactions, and with a few direct questions, make suggestions for improvement. To say she was impressed by the way his brain worked would be an understatement. She was floored. She was breathless. She was incredibly turned-on. All of which was one hundred percent wasted. The way he concentrated without distraction on
Danse Allégre
’s financial distress left no room for flirtation.

By the time an hour was up, she was armed with tools and ideas. They could charge students a more competitive lesson fee, raise rates on individual lessons, and run promotions on group lessons. Stratton made a strong case for buying a floor buffer, and Valeria could ask Danny to buff the floors nightly instead of having an outside company come in once a month.

“And another thing,” said Stratton. “Insurance. Your aunt is insuring the space for twice what it’s worth. Also, she shouldn’t be paying insurance benefits for you or the other four instructors. You’re all students, and students are eligible for low-cost insurance programs through their universities. It’s simply a benefit she can’t afford, and cutting it would save her quite a lot and shouldn’t impact any of you too significantly financially. And, well . . . I guess that’s it.”

He tapped the file with two fingers and looked at her.

“That was amazing,” said Valeria softly, letting herself fawn over him a little. “
You’re
amazing.”

He looked stunned for a moment, then grinned, dimples on full display. “Oh, I just—”

“No.” She stopped him by putting her palm up like a stop sign. “That was wonderful. I can’t wait to take all of your ideas to my aunt. She’ll be so relieved that
Danse Allégre
won’t have to fold. Me too.”

“I’m glad I could help.”

Valeria reached for the file, but Stratton kept his fingers on top of it like he had something else to say, so Valeria withdrew her hand and sat back and waited.

“Can I ask you something?” he said.

“Sure, why not?”

“Did I . . . Did I hurt your feelings? Earlier? In the lobby?”

“When you gave me the Heisman?” She elongated her arm and put her hand up, then grinned, shaking her head. “No. I just didn’t realize.”

“Realize what?”

“That you’re with someone,” she said frankly, looking down at the edge of his dark wood desk. She didn’t know why, but it was difficult for her to hold his gaze as she said it. Maybe because she’d tried kissing him after Mulligan’s and had asked him out again today before realizing definitively that he wasn’t available. It embarrassed her that her own attraction to him was so strong, she’d ignored the signs that he was already taken.

“I’m not,” he said softly, “with someone.”

Surprised, she jerked, wrinkling her forehead as she looked into his eyes. “Well, you’re
not
available.”

He took his hand off the file and sat back in his chair. “What makes you think that?”

She stared at his blue eyes behind simple black frames, and his tousled blond hair. Taken or not, she couldn’t help the way he made her heart flutter, couldn’t help wishing he
was
available. “What else do you have to drink?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Water, tea, coffee, that’s it. Oh, wait. I have a bottle of Merlot in my desk. From Christmas. It was a gift from a client and somehow made its way to me. Probably because Fitz knows I like Merlot. It’s a pretty awful bottle. Would you like a glass?”

He leaned down, disappearing for a moment, and she heard two drawers open and shut before he sat up straight again, reaching forward to place the bottle on the desk in front of her like a trophy.

She stared at the bottle wordlessly for a long moment, trying to figure out what he was really asking her here, and wondering how much she cared to share. Did she want to have this conversation? Did she want to tell him that to earn a Ph.D. in early-American courtship you have to take dozens of classes on human courtship behavior? That, despite her appalling lack of in-the-field experience, she was a veritable expert on the birds and the bees, both historically and now?

“Do you really want an honest answer to the question you asked? Why I think you’re unavailable?”

He nodded.

“
Really
?”

“Yes. We barely know each other. I’m sure Emily told you I don’t have a girlfriend, so I’m curious about what made you draw that conclusion.”

Valeria leaned forward, pushing the wine bottle to the side, propping her elbow on the desk and resting her cheek in her palm. Her conversations with Stratton had never been ordinary. Why make a change now? She searched his eyes before continuing.