Seduction on the CEO's Terms (11 page)

But Ali knew the image in the mirror wasn't her. She hated the clothes she wore, and that hadn't changed. She'd hoped that slowly she'd morph into a woman who enjoyed dressing down, who enjoyed the conservative look of a businesswoman.

“You,” she said pointing to the mirror, “are not
me.
”

It wasn't only the clothes that bothered her. She'd faked her subdued personality, biting her tongue each time a sassy comment came to mind. She couldn't say what she wanted. She couldn't do what she wanted. So many times she wanted to express her feelings to Joe. She wanted to disagree with him about politics and religion and shout at him that rock music wasn't just a bunch of garbage.

She wanted to be herself.

She loved Joe Carlino with all of her heart, but she wasn't being fair to him or to herself with this charade. She was like a little kid who'd caught a big fish and then didn't know what to do with it.

Joe was her big fish. He was the love of her life. But he hadn't been even remotely attracted to the Real Ali Pendrake. One year's worth of hoping had proven that. So why on earth hadn't she let things be?

Now, it was too late. She was in love too deeply to get out without horrid injury. She didn't know if she was brave enough to tell him the truth.

“Who are you?” she asked again to the reflection in the mirror.

The week had been magical on the Joe front. She'd see him at the office during the day, and the hunger in his eyes reassured her that she couldn't let him go. He'd catch her in a private moment at work and steal a quick kiss, saying it was his sustenance until they'd met at night.

He'd come over with dinner each evening after work, but they never managed to eat their meal until the midnight hour, too consumed with each other to feel any other sort of hunger but the sexual kind.

Ali was in heaven while he was with her.

But she was in her own private hell when they were apart.

Tonight, she actually begged off with Joe. She needed an escape from Fake Ali for one night. She needed to be herself.

Joe had frowned when she told him she had a cooking lesson with Royce that would go late into the evening. She could see it was on the tip of his tongue to offer to come over after her lesson, but he'd held back. Maybe he'd hoped she would be the one to do the inviting, or maybe, he realized they needed a short break from each other. They'd been together every day and night for one entire week.

Ali kicked off her brown pumps, slipped out of her pantsuit and unbraided her hair. She ran her hands through the strands, and as her hair loosened from their bonds, so had Ali. She felt free, alive. Herself.

She turned on the radio, and a U-2 song blasted out. Ali danced her way to the shower, stepped inside and sang along with the radio, washing her hair, soaping her body and rinsing off as she moved with the music.

She toweled off, fingered through her hair, allowing it to dry naturally for the time being. Later, she'd take a
round brush to it and use the blow-dryer to add more wispy curls.

Ali walked to her closet and spread the hangers wide, ignoring her Fake Ali clothes. She picked out a pair of black jeans and nodded. “I've missed you,” she said, stroking the material as she would a long, lost love.

Next she searched for just the right blouse. She found a black silk that had gold tones of op art emblazoned on the front, the neck high on her throat, but the back dipping low with crisscrossing straps. She grabbed her leather boots from the floor of her closet and sighed. “I've missed you, too.”

Ali opened her jewelry box and went right to a pair of thin, gold hoop earrings. Without pause, she set them onto her earlobes and stepped back from her dresser to admire them. “Nice.”

She put her face on—a little blush on her cheeks, eyeliner and shadow to enhance the jade color of her eyes—and then lined her lips with cherry-red lipstick. She finished off her hair with the blow-dryer, then dressed in the clothes she'd picked out and stepped into her foyer where she could view herself in the full-length mirror. She liked what she saw.

The knock came at her door at precisely eight o'clock, and Ali was ready for Royce.

“Wow,” he said, glancing at her with keen interest. He had a nice way about him, and some women might think him incredibly handsome in that blond, surfer looking kind of way. He held a grocery bag full of items for the lesson.

“Come in,” she said, allowing him entrance. “What are we making tonight?”

“Well, I uh,” Royce didn't take his eyes off her. “You look dynamite, Ali. Are you expecting someone else, later?”

Ali laughed. “No way. I'm up for our cookout.”

“Really, because you look too gorgeous to stay home and make dinner. If I had half a brain, I'd offer to take you dancing. I have a friend who plays guitar in a band, and he's got a gig tonight in Yountville.”

Ali opened her eyes wide, tempted to take Royce up on it. “Gosh, I haven't been to a concert since I left New York.”

Royce narrowed his eyes. “Are you saying you want to go?”

Ali took the grocery bag out of his arms and marched to the kitchen. “How about we make dinner first, and if there's time, I'd love to go.”

Royce followed her into the kitchen. “Sounds good to me.” Then Royce cast a thoughtful look her way. “Hey, Ali, why'd you call me out of the blue?”

She turned away from the groceries she'd been removing from the bag and smiled. “We're friends, aren't we?”

“Yeah, but you've been busy lately.”

“I know I have. The truth is I missed having a friend to talk to.”

“You can't talk to your, uh, boyfriend?”

Ali only smiled. She couldn't give Royce a good explanation without spilling her whole sordid deception.

“Is he out of town?”

“No! I wouldn't do that to you, Royce. The fact is, he wanted to come over tonight, but I realized I've been neglecting my friends. Besides,” she said, poking him gently in the shoulder, “you need to teach me how to make—” She frowned. She didn't know what they'd be making tonight.

“Beef tenderloin with wild mushroom sauce.”

“My mouth is watering already! So go on, teach away.”

Royce laughed and gazed at her mouth in a dangerous way. She'd told him countless times they were friends and hoped he wasn't reading more into this evening than that. He'd never really made a pass at her, and she trusted her instincts.

The one really good thing about being with Royce was that he liked her for herself. And she could simply
be,
when she was with him.

Royce immediately began barking commands, teaching her about different cuts of meat and how to look for marbling in the pieces she'd find at the market. He showed her how to prepare it and then went on to teach her how to make the wild mushroom sauce. He was actually a very good instructor, and Ali could tell how passionate he was about cooking.

By nine o'clock the meal was ready and they sat down to eat. Ali felt a measure of guilt when she thought about Joe. What was he doing now? She missed him terribly, but at the same time, she felt good about herself tonight. Like she'd reconnected to Real Ali. So much so, that after they ate the savory meal, she agreed to go dancing with Royce.

“Just for a little while,” she said on their way to Yountville. “I've had a busy week, and I'm a little tired,” she said.

Royce agreed. “No problem, Ali. We'll have a drink and dance a little. I've been meaning to hear Charley's new band. He'll be glad I showed up. Consider this a favor for the cooking lesson.”

Ali relaxed more, glad that Royce didn't view this as any sort of date.

When Royce pulled into the back parking lot of the small club, music blared out from the open doors. He parked the car, and they walked around to the front of the building.
They entered Rock and a Hard Place, and immediately Ali loved the look of the small venue. It wasn't a trendy New York club but a more rustic place with sawdust on the floor and a long wall-to-wall dark oak bar.

“They're on now,” Royce said, pushing through a small crowd to bring her closer to the stage. He pointed to a band member with longish hair and ripped jeans. “That's Charley on the guitar.”

Royce shot him a quick wave, and Charley nodded.

“What's the name of their band?” she asked.

“Guts and Glory.”

Ali laughed and Royce joined in. “I know. Not exactly Bon Jovi or Queen, but they sound good.”

“They do,” Ali said, clapping her hands and tapping her feet to the music.

Royce leaned over to speak into her ear. “Want a drink?”

Ali had to raise her voice over the band to answer. “Sure. Whatever you're drinking is fine.”

A few minutes later, Royce returned with two mojitos. He handed her one, and she took a sip. “It's good. Thanks!”

Royce stood beside her until they'd both finished their drinks. “Want another?” he asked. “Or are you ready to dance?”

“Dance.”

Royce took her hand and led her onto the small, crowded dance floor. The band played all fast tunes, and Ali let loose, dancing in sync with the beat, despite bumping into other couples for lack of space. She laughed with Royce over the loud music, tossed her hair to and fro and shimmied with the best of them. After five back-to-back dances, Royce came close enough to ask if she wanted another drink.

Ali debated and finally nodded. “One more. But I'll
get them for us.” She felt better about paying her own way. Royce frowned but relented, and she stood at the bar with sweat dripping from her brow. She took a napkin and quickly wiped it away.

She was enjoying herself and burning calories, what more could a girl ask?

The band took a break, and as she waited at the bar for their drinks, she saw Royce speaking with his friend Charley by the stage.

A man sidled up next to her, and Ali turned, coming face-to-face with Nick Carlino.

“You're a great dancer, Ali.”

“Nick, hi.” Ali kept the panic from her voice. She could only imagine what Nick was thinking. Judging by his compliment, he must have been watching her dance with Royce. “Thanks. I love it.”

Nick smiled. “Do you come here often?”

He made his point with the cliché pickup line, and Ali also knew that he was darn curious about her being here with Royce.

“No, I've never actually been here before.” Ali brushed her unruly hair from her face, a gesture Nick didn't miss. “My neighbor Royce invited me to see his friend play. He's in the band.” She pointed, but Nick didn't bother looking.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I'm on a date.”

“Oh, really?” Ali scanned the room but couldn't find the woman he was with.

“She's in the back, taking care of business, I presume. There was a problem with one of her employees.”

Puzzled, Ali asked. “What kind of business?”

Nick grinned. “She owns the place.”

Ali shook her head and smiled back at him. “I should have known.”

“I like you, Ali. In fact, if Joe wasn't in the picture—”

“But Joe's very much in the picture,” she finished for him.

“Doesn't look like it tonight.”

“We don't spend all our nights together,” Ali said in her own defense. Although since their trip to San Francisco, they had been inseparable. “And Royce is a good friend. That's all.”

“Hey, I'm not accusing you of anything. I have my eye on your
friend,
though, just in case. If he'd so much as made an improper gesture toward you, I'd have decked him.”

“Would you?” Ali asked, not sure Nick was telling the truth. He was a charmer with a killer smile and a man used to getting his own way, yet she didn't figure him as the brute type.

“For Joe. Yeah, I would.” Nick braced his arm against the bar and looked her dead in the eyes. “Are you going to tell him about tonight?”

Ali blinked. “I suppose. It's no big deal.”

“Just be sure that you do. And don't mention you saw me here.”

“Why not?”

“Because then he'd be pissed at me for not telling him I saw you.” Nick winked. “He's a good guy, Ali. Don't trample him. He's been there and done that once already.”

“I wouldn't hurt Joe for the world.”

“Good. Just keep it that way.”

Ali sipped the mojito the bartender put in front of her. “You Carlinos stick together, don't you?”

“Like glue.”

Ali wished she had someone who watched her back,
the way Nick just had for his brother. Most times she was on the giving end with friends and family. Both her father and mother had sought her out when they needed help, and Ali was glad to give it. But she'd never asked for the same in return. She'd grown up independent of others out of necessity. Her mother's frivolous lifestyle hadn't allowed for her to develop close ties.

It was at this moment that Ali realized that she harbored resentment toward both her parents—maybe a childish notion, but she'd wished they watched her back and put her first, just once.

Nick picked up two drinks the bartender sent his way. “Gotta go find my date.” He began to leave, then stopped and turned around, his gaze flowing over her from top to bottom, assessing her hair, her face, her breasts and all the way down to her black leather boots. “I like the look, Ali. I think Joe would, too.”

Heat crawled up her neck, and she was darn glad that Nick had taken off before he saw how much his comment affected her. It was almost as if Nick had figured her out.

What if he had? What if he knew the truth? He'd seen her cut loose, dancing like a maniac, drinking and laughing with another man. Did he know she was a fraud? She feared that he did and that would spell disaster.

Ali knew her deception had to end. She had to call it quits and confess to Joe what she'd done. She had to hope he felt enough for her, to give his forgiveness. If she'd injured him in anyway, she'd never forgive herself.