Sleepless in Manhattan (13 page)

“She lost a shoe, that’s what happened to her, which is what happens when you’re stupid enough not to carry flats on a night out.” Frankie stood up, too. “Better take a spare pair in your bag, in case.”

“I always do. And gel inserts and plasters for blisters.” Paige walked toward the door, thinking about all the work they still had to do. “Do you have everything you need, Frankie?”

“Yes. I have a meeting with the lighting company later and I need to call Buds and Blooms. I’m working on the color palette and tomorrow I’ll check out the flower market. Hello, early start. Still, at least I won’t be partying late into the night like you.”

“I’m not partying. I’m working. I’ll probably be there for less than an hour, and then I’ll be back home in my pajamas.”

“Or you might be in Jake’s bed, naked.” Eva waggled her eyebrows suggestively and Frankie rolled her eyes.

“He’s a client. You can’t have sex with a client. Company rules.”

“We own the company. We make the rules. If we want to eat cupcakes for breakfast, we can. If we want to drink champagne in business meetings, we can do that, too.”

“Except then we’d be fat and broke.” Frankie opened the door. “Paige sets the company rules. And the dress code, while flexible, does not including wearing your underwear around your ankles.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Confidence is like makeup. It changes your appearance and no one needs to know what’s underneath.

—Paige

J
AKE
CHANGED
INTO
his tux in the back of the car on his way from the airport without interrupting his phone conversation.

“You need to look at the flow and think about the end user.” He buttoned the shirt and looped the bow tie around his neck, intending to tie it at the last minute. He hated ties so much he only owned two. This one, and a Tom Ford bought for him by a date who had wanted to gentrify him.

The roads were gridlocked, which meant that by the time his driver pulled up outside the building he was already late.

He strode into the foyer, past security and saw Paige pacing by the bank of elevators, her thin, spiky heels tapping a rhythm on the polished marble floor. Dressed in a simple black evening dress, she looked classy, stylish and efficient. Ready to work.

And then he took a closer look at the shoes.

They were the same hot red as her lipstick and those heels were as high as a Manhattan skyscraper.

Shit.

She looked sexy.

One of the security guards was clearly thinking the same thing and Jake stepped in front of him, blocking his view and ruining his fun. He briefly considered ruining other things for the guy, too. Like his ability to walk in a straight line and keep his teeth to old age.

“Paige?”

She turned. “You’re here!” The warmth and spontaneity of her greeting knocked him off balance. He rarely saw her unguarded and by lowering her own defenses, she sneaked under his. For a moment he couldn’t remember why he was holding back. The car was just outside. He could power her into the backseat, strip her naked of everything except those hot red shoes and taste every inch of her.

Why not?

And then she smiled at him, that lovely open friendly smile that was all Paige.

And he remembered why not.

A fling with Paige would never be simple.

No matter how hot, intense and satisfying it might be at the time, ultimately it would end, as all his flings did. He’d learned at an early age that love was fleeting and unpredictable. It was something that could be taken away as easily as it was given. His preferred way of dealing with that was to keep himself emotionally detached. Which was one reason why Paige would always be off-limits.

She was a risk he wasn’t prepared to take.

And then there was the promise he’d made to her brother...

“I’m late. Bad traffic.” He cooled his tone. “I apologize.”

“For the traffic? Even you can’t control that, I imagine. And it doesn’t matter.” Her smile dimmed a little. “You’re the client. You’re allowed to be late. Are you ready?”

Client. That’s right, he was her client.

He relaxed slightly.

All he needed to do was put her firmly in the box labeled Business. And forget about the hot red shoes.

“Jake?”

“Mmm?” He realized she’d asked him a question. “What?”

“I asked if you were ready.”

“Ready for what?” Ready to find a dark corner in this building, undress her and screw her until neither of them could walk in a straight line?

Hell, yes. He’d been ready for that for a long time.

“I presume we need to go upstairs? The party?” She said it slowly, as if he were a tourist with a language problem. “You seem a little distracted.”

Distracted was one way of describing it. Turned on would have been more accurate.

“Party. Yes. Let’s go.” He strode past her, keeping her out of his line of sight. It would have done them both a favor if he’d taken the stairs but he wasn’t about to run up fifty floors wearing a tux, so instead he chose the express elevator.

The doors slid open and Paige walked in, giving him a perfect view of her back.

Jake admired the straight column of her spine and the line of her shoulder blades.

He wanted to ease those narrow straps over her shoulders and embark on an exploration of all the parts of her body hidden by the dress.

He wanted to drive her to the back of the elevator, close the doors and make the most of every one of those fifty floors.

It was only when her gaze met his that he realized that the elevator walls were mirrored.

Emotion flickered briefly in her eyes. There was confusion and a hint of something else that she tried to hide. He pretended he hadn’t seen.

She was silent, her chest rising and falling unsteadily as if breathing was a conscious effort.

“Jake?” Her voice held a question he had no intention of answering.

He stepped into the elevator and the doors slid closed.

The heat was stifling, the space smaller than he had imagined. Or maybe it was being with Paige that made the space seem small. Torture, he discovered, was being alone in an elevator with a woman you wanted and couldn’t have.

He lifted his finger to loosen his top button and discovered it was already undone.

There was nothing else he could do to cool himself down.

He was probably supposed to be making conversation, but his tongue had twisted itself into a knot.

“I like your dress.” It was the least imaginative compliment he’d ever paid a woman but it was the best he could do. “Linguini.”

“Excuse me?”

“The straps. They’re wider than spaghetti. Linguini.”

She looked amused. “Given that you grew up around linguini, I’m not arguing with you. Aren’t you going to finish dressing?”

For a moment he wondered if she’d been picturing him naked, too, and then he realized she meant his bow tie.

He was about to tie it, but she got there first.

“I can do it. I’m good at this. My dad taught me.” She stepped closer to him. Her fingers tangled with his as she took the tie, and her eyes were fixed on the task as she concentrated.

Even though she was wearing those thin spiky heels, he was still more than a head taller than her. When he looked down he had a perfect view of the thick sweep of her eyelashes, the soft curve of her lips and the slope of her bare shoulders. She held her breath as she concentrated and he closed his eyes, disorientated by lust.

She was dressing him, not undressing him. It shouldn’t feel this intimate.

There was the scent again, summer meadows and wildflowers, and this time there was no escape. His mind picked up the scent and ran with it, providing him with disturbingly vivid pictures. He pictured her in the shower, water flowing over that perfect body, sliding into all the parts he wasn’t allowed to touch. He imagined droplets of water and opalescent bubbles of soap clinging to that creamy skin.

Trying to shake off the images, he opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on the illuminated buttons, willing the elevator to rise quickly, trying to ignore the gentle brush of Paige’s fingers against his throat. Never before had he considered having sex with a woman in an elevator. He was a man who thought that if something was worth doing it was worth doing well and sex in a moving capsule would be like eating fast food while walking to work.

Why had he suggested visiting the venue?

He could have seen it perfectly well from the picture.

He could have—

“There—” she stepped back, releasing him from his erotic thoughts. “That’s better.”

Not for him.

He pressed his shoulders back against the mirrored wall, putting as much space between them as possible. If there had been an emergency exit, he would have taken it.

“How was your day?”

“Busy.” She checked her lipstick in the mirror. “Frankie was talking to one of your designers and she has come up with an idea for a floral design in binary code. It’s original and very cool.”

“Binary code.” He glanced at the illuminated buttons—35, 40, 45—
hurry up
. “That sounds innovative.” He didn’t care if the flowers sang and danced, he just wanted to get out of this damn elevator.

The doors slid open, releasing him from his torment and he forced himself to let her walk out first.

When her back was turned he ran his hand over his forehead and straightened his jacket.

Security staff stood aside to let them pass and they were greeted by their host.

Alysson Peters was CEO of a successful tech start-up. Jake had been an early, and generous, investor and it was that generosity that earned him an enthusiastic greeting.

“I didn’t think you were coming!” Alysson embraced him. “This is great.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it.” Jake kissed her on both cheeks, ignoring Paige’s raised eyebrows. “Where’s the bar, Aly?”

“Of course that
would
be your first question. You’re a Bad Boy, Jake Romano. Which is why I love you, of course.” Amused, she slapped him gently on the arm. “Everyone will want to be introduced to you, but as you’re at the top of the food chain you can afford to ignore anyone that doesn’t interest you. And anyway, I see you brought company.” She smiled at Paige. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your date?”

“Paige Walker.” Paige stepped forward and shook hands.

“Paige is CEO of a new start-up, Urban Genie, an event and concierge company.” Jake dropped it in casually, his eyes scanning the room. “If you ever want a fabulous event and flawless execution, you should give her a call. If she’s able to fit you into her schedule, it will be your lucky day. She’s the best there is.”

“Is that right? In that case—” Alysson held out her hand. “Do you have a card?”

Paige handed one over and Alysson glanced at it and slipped it into her purse.

“I’ll be in touch. Have fun!” She walked away to greet more guests.

“Thank you for the introduction—” Paige sounded breathless “—but it might have worked better if you hadn’t all but told her we were too busy to fit her into our schedule. Now she won’t call.”

“She’ll call. First rule of human nature—people always want what they can’t have. If you’re in demand, everyone will want you.” He lifted two glasses of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter and handed her one.

She took it, but only because he gave her no choice. “I’m working.”

“Tonight you’re working for me, and I order you to drink champagne.”

With a faint smile she raised her glass. “What are we drinking to?”

To the ability of alcohol to numb the senses.

“To your exciting future. Soon you’ll be too busy to drink.”

“I hope so. Do you want me to show you around and talk you through my vision for the event?”

“Yes.” He steered her into the center of the room. The more public, the better as far as he was concerned. The wall of glass separating the dance floor and bar area from the roof terrace had been opened up and the crowd spilled out onto the rooftop garden, drinking in the breathtaking views of starlit Manhattan. The city dazzled and charmed, seduced the eye and bewitched the brain.

“You need to see this view.” She walked to a section of the terrace with no crowds, leaving him no choice but to follow.

“I’ve lived in New York my whole life. I’m familiar with the view.”

“But each time you look, it’s different. This place is so New York. It’s vibrant, exciting, the views are spectacular—” She lifted her face to the sky and closed her eyes.

“I thought Eva was the dreamer, not you.”

“Everyone is capable of dreaming.” She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Aren’t you?”

Right now his dreams were all X-rated.

He glanced over his shoulder.

The center of the terrace was dominated by an elaborate water feature, the bubbling water muffling the sounds of traffic from the streets below.

He wondered whether he was the first to contemplate stripping off and dipping in the temptingly cool water.

“It’s a great place.” He kept his eyes away from Paige and scanned the crowd. “Do you know why so many women wear black to an event like this?”

“Because black is classic. Timeless.”

“No.” Jake lifted the glass to his lips and drank. “They wear black because it’s safe. They know they won’t stand out. They’re afraid to take a risk.”

“Maybe. But Jake—” she sounded amused “—I’m wearing black.”

He knew what she was wearing. If someone had handed him a pencil he could have drawn every detail of the dress.
And the woman.

“That’s different. You’re working. You’re not allowed to upstage the guests.” He leaned on the railing, staring out across the city.

Paige looked out at the view, too. “My dream was to be here, in New York City, living this life, looking at this view, being part of it.” Memories misted her eyes. “When I was at home, I was addicted to any TV series that had New York as a backdrop. I imagined how it would feel to stand at the top of the Empire State Building, to row across the lake in Central Park or walk across the Brooklyn Bridge. There are days when I still can’t believe I’m actually here. I step out of the door, run past the magnolia trees and the street vendors, catch a glimpse of the Manhattan skyline and think, ‘Wow, I
live
here.’ I am a small-town girl living in this amazing city and I feel like the luckiest person in the world.” She broke off and gave an embarrassed laugh. “That probably sounds crazy, but there were so many times I never thought this could ever happen. That it would only ever be a dream.”

There had been times when none of them had thought it could happen.

She’d been at death’s door at least twice in her teens, when there had been complications following heart surgery.

He didn’t mention it. A shared past provided a foundation for intimacy. He didn’t want to tighten the loose threads that bound them together, didn’t want to do anything that would draw them closer.

He’d tried to forget it, just as he was trying to forget that she was standing next to him in her little black dress. One small movement and he could have buried his face in her hair, and from there he could reach her mouth in seconds.

“You don’t miss home?” He kept his eyes forward and his hands on the rail. “Puffin Island?”

“No. Not that I don’t love Puffin Island, I do, but it’s so
small
. Not only the place, but the pace. Everything is so slow there, which is what some people love about it, of course, but not me. Growing up, I felt as if life was going on somewhere else, across a stretch of water. I felt as if I was on the outside of a big party, looking in, excluded. I always felt as if I was missing something. That probably sounds stupid.”