Taming the VIP Playboy / Promoted To Wife?

Four

Nate shrugged. “Life can be pretty crazy.”

“I know it can,” she said.

“Sit down, Jen. Tell me what brought you here.”

She swallowed hard enough for him to see and shook her head. “That’s not a good topic of conversation.”

“Why not?”

“Because there’s a samba playing and I’d rather dance.”

And just like that she changed the conversation. He was no longer thinking about who she was and where she’d come from but rather how nice it felt when they’d danced together earlier.

He stood and led her to the dance floor. As soon as they were there he turned and she started dancing. The samba was a very quick-moving dance but he followed her moves perfectly.

When he’d been old enough to notice girls, he’d realized that they liked to dance and if he knew how—no matter how much ribbing he had to take from his friends—he’d be very popular with the ladies. That had worked to his advantage and he’d liked it.

Jen was a great dancer, her lithe body moving in time with the music, but she also kept eye contact with him and soon the dance felt as if it was just between the two of them.

He found the rhythm and their hips swayed in the same motion. He drew her closer to him as they moved and felt the brush of her body against his. He kept his hand steady in the small of her back even when she would have stepped back.

She looked up at him, confusion and desire evident in her gaze, and he knew that something had just changed between them.

The lust that had been there from the first moment they met was now blossoming into something stronger, something more solid. And as the song built up to the ending, he drew her into his arms and kissed her.

She didn’t think of the past or the future. She just lived in the now.

Somehow the night slipped away from her and though she’d meant to leave after one dance, one dance turned into just one more and she spent the night on the floor with Nate. For the first time since she’d been forced to leave the competitive dance world she felt alive.

It bothered her that a man was the reason why. And she knew that this night was a one-off. There was no way she’d ever be with Nate for more than this night. His crowd of friends consisted of people that she read about in glamour magazines and on the internet gossip websites. And though they were unfailingly polite to her, she knew tomorrow they wouldn’t recognize her.

“I need a drink,” Nate said, drawing her off the dance floor. “You might be used to dancing that much but I am not.”

“I didn’t notice you falling behind,” she said.

“I’ve got the stamina,” he said with a wink. “Plus, I couldn’t let a girl out-dance me.”

“A girl? Women don’t like being called girls,” she said to him.

“Ah, I meant it in a nice way. My dad was real old-fashioned when it came to ladies and we were never allowed to call girls women. He thought it was too harsh.”

Jen shook her head and had to laugh at that. “I guess it’s okay then.”

He hugged her close with one arm. They were both sweaty from dancing so much and she liked Nate’s musky smell. She leaned in closer for just a second before she realized what she was doing.

“Don’t,” he said, stopping her by holding her tighter. “I like having you close.”

“I like it, too,” she said, softly. She looked up into those dark obsidian eyes of his.

“Good. Now how about another mojito?”

“I think water would be better,” she said. She was already buzzing a little from the drinks and the dancing. And from Nate, she thought. He went to her head faster than any other man she’d ever been with. Maybe that was because in the past, a man would have had to compete with her dancing career, but now she was simply a woman. And this man … well, he was addictive.

“Water first,” he said. “Then mojitos … I don’t like to drink alone.”

“I’m sure that’s not an issue. You always have someone on your arm.” “Not always,” he said.

And as he walked away, she realized there was more to the playboy that she’d first suspected.

When he returned to her side, he led her out of the crowded part of the club and behind the stage where there was a roped-off area. There were not a lot of people back here—in fact, it took her a few moments to notice it was just the two of them.

He handed her the water and she drank it down, grateful for it after all the dancing they’d done.

“I love this view,” he said, pulling her closer to the railing that ran around the edge of the roof.

She glanced out over Little Havana and toward the Miami skyline. She could make out the bright lights on the Four Seasons Hotel, which was the largest building in Florida. It was a breathtaking view.

“I can see why,” she said. “Tell me about this club and how you ended up here.”

He arched one eyebrow at her. “I would have thought that was all common knowledge.”

She shook her head. “Not really. I mean I know the headlines and the speculation, but I want to know the real story. Why did Nate Stern leave baseball to help run a club in South Florida with his brothers instead of pursuing a career in front of the camera?”

She finished her glass of water and set it down on the wrought-iron table. Nate took her arm and led her farther away from the club sounds as the deejay played Santana. There was a padded bench set amongst some tall trees. The night breeze surrounded them and she felt more comfortable in her own skin than she had in years.

“If I tell you my secrets will you tell me yours?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m not nearly as interesting as you, but if you want to know about me, I will tell you if you get me a mojito.”

“Good.”

After a brief trip to the bar, he came back and he handed her the mojito, then gestured for her to sit down. He sat next to her, stretching his long arm behind her on the bench and drawing her closer to him.

Nate didn’t like to talk too much about the old days. He did it with guys like T.J. because they expected him to and frankly that was the only thing he and T.J. had in common. The old days.

But reminiscing about what was instead of focusing on what is had never seemed wise to him.

“I think you asked about why I’m here,” he said.

“I did. I’ve always thought … well, since I started working at the club you seem the least likely to actually be happy here in Miami. Why didn’t you stay in New York or head to L.A.?”

He shrugged. He’d thought about it. But to be honest, he had been injured and unsure and he’d needed the support of his brothers around him. And frankly, they weren’t going to give up their homes to move across the country.

“It just felt right,” he said.

She laughed as she turned to look up at him. “I can’t believe you made a decision based on your gut. I mean one that would change your life.”

“Why not? When I played baseball I made gut decisions all the time.” It was one of the things he thought had made him stand out.

“I never thought about it like that.”

“Most people don’t. So that’s it. My brothers were here. I’d invested in the club so I technically had a job, at least on paper, and my sports career was over so I came home.”

“You sum it up like you are stating facts,” she said, her voice soft and pensive. “Was it really that easy or did you struggle to give up your dream?”

“My dream?”

“Baseball,” she said.

He had had a rough patch but had worked through it. “The sad thing about me, Jen, is that I realized I didn’t want to be just a baseball player.”

“What did you want to be?” she asked, moving closer to him.

He knew he could talk about himself all night with her as an audience. Most people didn’t listen well and were just waiting for a chance to talk about themselves but Jen was engaged in what he was saying. He wasn’t sure why. Did she really want to know the man he was?

“Famous,” he said. “I know, shallow, right?”

“I wanted that, too,” she admitted.

He thought she was being kind and trying to make him feel better about his rather shallow goals. Cam always said that Nate was too pretty and that had made him believe he could skate through life. But Nate ignored what his brother said. He’d worked hard to be good at baseball and he’d done it because he thought it would pay off.

In a way, it had.

“Really?” he asked.

“You think I’m joking around?”

“Of course not. But I don’t know anything about you.

I know you weren’t a baseball player. Our paths would have crossed before tonight.”

“Indeed, they would have,” she said.

“So?”

She took a deep breath and then a sip of her drink. The mojito was smooth and minty and he saw her savor it as it went down. Since she hadn’t lingered over her drink like that before, he suspected she didn’t want to talk about herself now.

“Tell me, honey. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Honey? You don’t know me well enough to call me that.”

“Jen, I will before the night is over.” “Isn’t that a little presumptuous of you?” she asked.

“No. You are just as interested in me as I am in you.”

She nodded. “I am. I hate to say it but I really do want to know the man behind the flash.”

“Good. I hope you find him to your liking,” he said.

“You’re impressing me so far,” she said.

He took another sip of his drink. The February breeze blew around them stirring a tendril at the side of her face. Each time the wind blew, the strand of hair brushed over her high cheekbones and caught on her lips.

He reached up and brushed it back, tucking it behind her ear. “There you go.”

“Thanks,” she said, but her voice was softer, huskier than it had been moments earlier.

“What did you want to be famous for doing?” he asked.

He couldn’t stop touching her skin. It was soft, maybe the softest he’d felt in a long time. The women he usually kept company with were concerned about their looks and how they appeared to others—seldom did they let him touch them except in bed when they were making love. But Jen let him touch her face.

He stroked his finger over her lower lip until she pulled back. Her lips were parted and her breath brushed across his finger.

“I can’t think when you do that,” she said.

“Then don’t think,” he replied. He tightened his arm along her shoulders and drew her closer to him. Her mojito glass brushed against his chest wet and cold.

She licked her lips and her eyes started to close as he lowered his head. He wanted this night to go on forever but he knew he couldn’t sit here on the rooftop another minute without kissing her.

She tempted him on so many levels and he wasn’t sure how to deal with a woman who had that effect on him. He wanted to pretend that it was simply the unknown and the curiosity of being with someone who seemed so natural here with him. He didn’t have the feeling she was with him because she wanted to meet his famous friends or have her picture in the papers.

And that was a heady aphrodisiac.

Jen was surprised by her reaction to Nate—a non-dancer. She shook her head reminding herself dancing wasn’t her life anymore. It still was a shock to think of her world the way it was now.

“I’m sensing you aren’t thinking about kissing me anymore.”

She pulled back, nibbling on her lower lip. The smell of hibiscus filled the air from the potted plants that were stationed near the edge of the railing.

“No—I mean yes. I was thinking about you. How different you are than the other men I’ve dated.”

“I don’t want to hear about the other men in your life,” he said, his voice sounding tight.

“Why not? I’m just your one-night girl, right?” she asked. It was imperative to her that she keep her focus here. No matter that Nate was a life-changing man for her. The first guy she’d wanted to kiss since Carlos.

He tipped his head to the side, staring over at her. “Normally, I’d say yes, but I’m jealous, honey. I don’t want to hear you talk about other men when you’re with me. I want to be the only man on your mind.”

She understood that. She was finding herself struck with an uncharacteristic shyness as they sat here alone. It was because he was so different for her … no, he wasn’t, she thought. She was the one who was different. She wanted to own this change and not let it own her.

“You are staring very fiercely at me.”

“I’m sorry. I just had an epiphany.”

He leaned in. “That you should be kissing me?”

“Actually, yes,” she said. She should be kissing him. Like Alison had said, life was short and having fun wasn’t overrated.

She leaned over and let the shyness that really wasn’t a part of her drop away. She was a woman who had always been comfortable in her own skin. She hated that Carlos had stolen that from her.

And Nate was just the man to give it back. Nate Stern was the man she’d regain her womanhood with because she was tired of just existing. It was time to start living again. She glanced up at the full moon and made a promise to herself that starting this moment she would live with no regrets.

She leaned in close and Nate’s pupils dilated. “That’s more like it.”

Yes, it was. She brushed his lips with hers. His were firm and full and when he parted them the warmth of his breath brushed over her. He smelled like the minty mojito and she closed her eyes to just enjoy this moment.

To take from this night the gift it had given her in Nate.

He drew her closer to him. She felt the warmth of his body and slowed this moment down in her mind. The way she did when she was dancing. She wanted to capture every bit of this evening so that when she was old and gray and she told her grandkids about kissing the famous Yankees baseball player she’d be able to do it right.

Then his lips brushed over hers again and she stopped thinking about the future or capturing anything. She thought instead of the way his flesh felt against hers. She thought of the way his lips parted against hers and his tongue pushed past the barriers of her lips and teeth tasting her deep.

The way he took control of the entire embrace, the same way he’d taken control of her night. Control. It had always been something she prided herself on but now it hardly seemed worthwhile.

His arms were big and strong as he wrapped them around her and she felt the muscles of his upper arms, the strength in him. Though he was no longer a professional athlete, Nate Stern was still a very strong man.

She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed back to look at his face. The genial smile he’d worn all night was gone and in its place was a fierce expression.

“Too much?”

“Maybe,” she said. “Maybe. I came to work tonight expecting everything to be the same, Nate, and now it’s not.”

“Good. Life should never be predictable.”

She shook her head. “Yes, it should. How else do you find your balance if life is always throwing you off? “

He stood up and drew her up beside him. “You find it in the people.”

“Family?” she asked as he led the way to the railing.

“Or the city,” he said. “Miami never changes. Not really. Not at its heart. Sure there is a different political climate sometimes but for the most part, the beach and subtropical climate encourage a more laid-back approach to living.”

His arm around her waist was strong and guiding as he brought them to a stop at the far end of the railing. The sounds of Luna Azul’s rooftop club were even more muted here and she looked out over Calle Ocho and Little Havana.

“Did you grow up here in Little Havana?”

“No. I grew up on Fisher Island.”

“Oh,” she said. She’d known that from the reading she’d done on him and his brothers before she’d taken this job. But the way he spoke about Miami, well, it had sounded as if he knew the city. The city she’d grown up in. Being middle class—okay, lower-middle class—she’d grown up in a far different neighborhood than the affluent community of Fisher Island.

“You?”

“Here in the city.”

He tipped her head up. “Then you know what I mean.”

She closed her eyes and thought of the city and the rhythms of the Calle Ocho. She thought of the struggling lower-middle class who still knew how to have fun and remembered birthdays spent on the beach.

“Yes, I do.”

“Show me what you see,” Nate said. He moved around so that he stood behind her. His chest and front pressed along her back, his hands settling on her waist and his chin resting on her shoulder. “Show me your city.”

She started to point out the places she knew and what she heard when she was there. “Each part has a different rhythm, a different feel to it.”

“Like dancing?”

“Just like dancing. Some of it is hip and current, other parts sensual and emotional, some parts are the blues … the vibes all resonate around me.”

“Show me,” he said again, turning her in his arms and kissing her the way he had when they were sitting down. But this time he pulled from her so much more than a response to a kiss. He pulled out the song that she heard in her head. The song that was the very heart of who she was.

And she shared it with him with the sensual undulation of her hips. And the way she rested the curves of her breasts against the firmness of his chest.

Five

The sun was just coming up over the horizon when they arrived at his penthouse apartment in a skyscraper downtown. Nate had seldom enjoyed an evening as much as he had this one and he knew it was due to the fact that he was with Jen.

She stood in his foyer looking sleepy but happy and in this moment, Nate felt as if the night was a success. Somewhere between all the kisses and caresses he’d realized that despite the fact that she was a dancer and spent her life with people staring at her body, Jen was shy about letting anyone touch her too much.

He pulled her into his arms. He didn’t care about the city or what she thought of it, he wanted her. Had wanted her from the moment she’d sassed him in the club earlier. And the entire night had just reinforced that longing.

“I like this place,” she said as she walked across the Italian marble floor.

She stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass windows in his living room. “This view …”

“Incredible, isn’t it?” he asked, coming to stand behind her. He put his arms around her and drew her back against him.

“I had fun tonight,” she said. “I didn’t expect to.”

“Why not?”

“This wasn’t my best day,” she said.

“I thought you enjoyed yourself,” he said, leading the way to his modern kitchen. He directed her toward one of the high-backed stools at the counter.

“Tonight has been fun. But it started out worse … I’m tired, so I’m not making sense. I meant to say you made a bad day better.”

“I’m glad. What was bad about it?”

“Just some news I was hoping would be different.”

“What news?” he asked as he started gathering the ingredients for omelets from the refrigerator.

“Remember earlier tonight when you asked me about my secrets?” she asked. She didn’t look up at him but instead traced a pattern on the Mexican tile countertop. Her finger just ran across the pattern over and over again. He was struck by how long her fingers were. He wondered what they’d feel like on his skin.

“I do, indeed. Does the bad news have to do with your secrets?” he asked. He really hadn’t thought she was hiding much. She was a dancer and a choreographer. What kind of secrets could she have?