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“Good night.” His voice sounded strained and no wonder. His lungs weren’t working.
“’Night.” She licked her lips and raised her lids to reveal slightly dazed eyes.
Instead of releasing Holly and stepping away the way his brain ordered him to do, Eric found his arms encircling her, pulling her closer. He kissed her again and again. He couldn’t help himself. Even as he consumed her mouth, his conscience shouted, “What are you doing?”
Her arms twined around his neck, pressing her soft breasts against his chest. His fingers glided upward from her waist. He had to feel her weight in his hand, to cup her fullness. Had to.
The sound of a car starting and crunching down the gravel driveway barely registered, but the barking dogs hurling themselves at the other side of the front door managed to infiltrate the haze clouding his mind. His hand stopped inches short of its target. He lifted his head and swore.
Holly stiffened, jerked her hands from around his neck and pushed against his chest. She looked past his shoulder. “Octavia’s gone. I, um, think that probably convinced her.”
She licked her lips again and need clawed at him, but Eric released her and stepped away.
What in the hell had just happened?
Whatever it was couldn’t happen again.
He, more than anyone, knew that strong emotional attachments made a man weak. If he ever needed a reminder, all he had to do was look at his henpecked father.
He backed away from temptation and left as quickly as he could and still maintain his dignity. Two miles down the road, he realized he still had Holly’s check in his pocket, but he couldn’t risk turning the ’Vette around. Until tonight, no woman had ever rattled him enough to make him forget that money and the power attached to it made the world go round.
Who’d have thunk it?
Holly leaned against the inside of the door and sank to the floor. Monet and Seurat crawled all over her, jostling for attention. She absently scratched them while willing her pulse to slow.
If anybody had told her uptight Eric Alden’s kisses held more sexual promise than the pages of the Kama Sutra, she’d have laughed. And darn it, she could not turn the page to see what the next chapter revealed.
How unfair that when she finally met a guy who could singe the toes out of her panty hose, he was the one man she couldn’t have. Not only had she tried and failed to fit into Eric’s world, she’d promised Juliana after the auction that there was nothing sexual about buying her brother’s date package.
Those melt-her-mascara kisses had made a liar out of her. Her body still hummed and her lips wouldn’t stop tingling, no matter how hard she bit them. If he’d been anybody but Eric, she would have invited him in for more than a nightcap, thereby breaking her born-again virgin vow. But she’d promised herself she wouldn’t settle for anything less than happily ever after next time. If such a thing existed. And she had her doubts. Waiting for a prince—a prince who didn’t need fixing or financial assistance—to love her and all her foibles hadn’t worked thus far. Better to do without a man altogether than be disappointed yet again.
Holly shoved to her feet and dodged the dogs all the way to her kitchen. She’d have to do a better job of keeping her distance from Eric Alden. She sifted through the pile of magazines and junk mail that had piled up on the counter while she was finishing her current project until she found the bachelor auction brochure. She read over the eleven enchanted evenings promised in Eric’s date package to refresh her memory and groaned. “Talk about monotonousness. Jeez.”
As long as he didn’t kiss her again, then his offering of meals at stuffy see-and-be-seen restaurants where even the wait staff had condescending attitudes would make ignoring the chemistry between them easy. Each date would be a reminder of the world she’d left behind—the world that had turned on her when she’d dared to sully her hands at manual labor.
Juliana and Andrea were the only friends who’d stuck by Holly when she’d said to hell with being miserable doing what was expected of her, quit her job at the Caliber Club and moved to her grandparents’ farm. Being happy was more important than being accepted.
Eric thrived in society with all its restrictions, expectations and conventions, but Holly was a debutante dropout who’d suffocated until she’d escaped. He was a banker who lived by the bottom line, and she was a bleeding heart who’d given away more than she could afford, a situation illustrated by her current predicament. One she needed to address ASAP.
Despite the smoldering kisses, she and Eric couldn’t be a more mismatched pair—a fact she’d better not forget if he ever hit her with another one of those break-her-celibacy-vow kisses.
Three
Holly tried to ignore the coffee klatch going on behind her as she double-checked the measurements of the living room window she’d been hired to replace.
If she hadn’t left the Caliber Club behind, she could have been one of this group. But instead of designer duds and jewelry that cost more than her Jeep, she wore chain store jeans, simple gold stud earrings and a Timex. As usual, she didn’t fit in.
But you’re not here to fit in. You’re here to work at a job you adore.
“What made you bid on Eric, Holly?”
The metal tape measure retracted so fast it almost cut Holly’s finger. She faced her client, a woman a few years older than herself, and searched for an acceptable answer. The truth wasn’t an option. Finally, she shrugged. “Why not? He’s good-looking.”
“And good in bed,” one of the other women said.
Holly’s gaze zipped to the ultrathin, high cheekboned brunette. The woman scanned her friends’ faces. “Oh, please. I am not the only one of us who shared Eric Alden’s bed before marrying my husband. And Eric was absolutely fabulous between the sheets, wasn’t he?”
Three of the six heads nodded. Holly struggled to keep her jaw from dropping. These women had slept with Eric? Holly blew a floppy hank of hair off her forehead and turned back to the window to hide her consternation. Why was she surprised about the affairs? The upper class was its own school of predatory fish, inbreeding and feeding off one another. That was one of the many reasons she’d chosen to get out.
And Eric was…well, sexy in a take-charge kind of way.
“But why did you buy him, Holly? Handsome or not, he’s hardly your type,” her hostess pressed. Charlise Harcourt had been one of Holly’s students for the past eighteen months, so she’d met Lyle, the mistake who’d run off with Holly’s money.
Think fast. Why did women want wealthy alpha males? “Um…to be treated like Cinderella?”
The women nodded like bobble head dolls, and Holly struggled to conceal her disgust. As far as she was concerned, Cinderella and all her fairy-tale-princess cousins needed to get off their duffs and learn to solve their own problems rather than wait around for a guy to swoop in and do the job.
“Eric can certainly be Prince Charming as long as you remember the party ends at midnight. He isn’t the type to commit to any woman who can’t further his career.”
An unspoken, “And that’s not you,” hung in the air.
“That bank is his wife and his mistress, too,” the brunette said. “A mere woman can’t compete.”
“Look at his engagement,” a third woman chimed in. “That was no love match. Eric was willing to marry to cement the bank merger. Too bad Priscilla wasn’t smart enough to hold on to what she had. I’d take a lifetime of great sex and bottomless pockets over love any day. That’s what friends, personal trainers and tennis pros are for.” A suggestive laugh followed the words.
TMI. Way too much information. Holly quickly stashed her tools. “Ms. Harcourt, I’ll have a rough sketch of the design you described ready for your approval early next week.” Her cell phone rang. “Excuse me.”
Holly turned her back on the women. “Rainbow Glass. This is Holly.”
“We need to set up our next date.”
Eric. Her heart clogged her throat and her back itched with the knowledge that a half-dozen pairs of eyes stared at her. “Twice in one week?” she whispered.
“The auction package stipulates two dates per week until this is done.”
Why hadn’t she bothered to read the fine print before jumping into this? Because she’d been certain she could get out of the dates, that’s why.
Conscious of the eavesdroppers behind her she carefully weighed her words. “I can live with that. But I can’t talk now.”
“I have your check.” He didn’t take the hint.
“That’s what you said last time.” As long as she deposited the money and transferred the funds before her credit card bill came due, she’d be okay. She nearly laughed aloud. A banker bought on credit. No doubt Eric would be appalled.
“Do you need it now? I can run it by your house during my lunch hour.”
“I’m not there. I’m working and I need to get off the phone.”
“Tonight, then. I’ll pick you up at six.” That sounded more like an order than a request, but she couldn’t call him on it with a roomful of gossipers behind her.
“Fine. Tonight. Whatever.” She hung up without waiting to see if he had more to say, and then turned to say her goodbyes. The knowing smirks on the women’s faces turned her cheeks into fireballs. “I’ll get back to you with the preliminary drawing. Have a good afternoon.”
Charlise walked her to the door. “Holly, have a great night, but don’t forget what we said.”
As if she could.
Eric Alden. Good in bed.
Not something she needed to know.
Eric had never had to work so hard to hold a woman’s attention. Frustrated by his failure, he glanced at Holly and then turned his Corvette down Carolina Beach Road, heading toward her house. He hoped the reporter wasn’t waiting for them because another kiss wasn’t on his agenda. Too risky, and he wasn’t into risky ventures.
During dinner, he’d exhausted every topic of conversation from weather to work to Holly’s brothers. They’d found very little common ground other than the physical awareness between them that each seemed determined to ignore.
His mother had planned the auction package and the dates behind his back, but she’d done so knowing his preference for quiet restaurants, spectacular food, a good wine list and exemplary service. Clearly those qualities didn’t rate as high on Holly’s list.
Would he have to pull another tourist attraction out of his hat to salvage the evening? And what did he know about tourist spots except whether they were a good financial risk when the owners submitted loan applications?
Holly straightened abruptly, her gaze fastening on the brightly lit miniature golf place. She hadn’t shown that much animation all night. Before he could think twice Eric steered his car off the highway, found a spot in the gravel lot and killed the engine.
Holly eyed him as if he’d lost his mind. “I don’t remember this being part of your date package.”
“Neither was the haunted theater tour.” He thrust open his door. By the time he rounded the hood, Holly waited for him on the sidewalk. She’d worn another figure-concealing outfit tonight, but it didn’t matter how loosely the paisley skirt and blue-green top fit. He’d seen the generous curves Holly concealed. Unfortunately. It didn’t help that the irregular skirt hem fluttered around her legs in the balmy evening breeze, reminding him exactly how long and sleekly muscled her limbs were.
“I’m going to kick your butt, you know. I’m good.”
The excitement shining in her eyes hit him hard and fast. He blamed the swift adrenaline rush on his competitive nature. “Don’t issue challenges you can’t back up, Ms. Prescott.”
He paid the fee, chose a ball and selected a club. Holly took the putter away from him and wiggled her fingers at the clerk behind the counter. The guy dragged two clubs with longer shafts from under the counter. That Holly knew the guy had a secret stash made Eric wonder how often she’d frequented the place.
Holly handed Eric a putter. “Have you ever played?”
No, but he played golf and he putted well. How hard could miniature golf be? Too bad he didn’t have his custom-fitted clubs with him. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Would you care to make a wager?”
He rarely gambled. “Like what?”
“If I win, we substitute one of my favorite restaurants for one of the stuffy places on your list.”
“You didn’t enjoy tonight’s meal?”
She wrinkled her nose. “The food was good, but every time I took a sip of wine the waiter rushed forward to refill my glass. It got to the point where I didn’t want to drink anything because it made extra work for him, and I had no idea how much I’d had to drink.”
“He gave exceptionally good service and was rewarded for it. That’s his job.”
“Good or not, it’s disconcerting to know someone is watching your every move. Jeez, what if I’d picked up the wrong fork?” She lined up her putt and talked right through it. “And what if you and I had been on a hot date and we wanted to be alone? Having Don hover, however nice and attentive he was, was like having a chaperone.”
Eric had never had the kind of date she described. Even if he’d known the woman in question would end the evening in his bed, he had never noticed or minded the interruptions. He never allowed himself to become that needy for a woman’s attentions. And he never would.
“How can you relax and enjoy your meal when the whole point of eating in a place like that is being seen by the right people?” Holly’s ball rattled in the cup.
Eric frowned at the L-shaped green. Her statements had surprised him so much he’d forgotten to study her technique. “There isn’t a straight shot. How did you make a hole in one?”
She shrugged. “Physics. You have to bank the ball off the right spot in the wall. Like billiards.”
Billiards he understood. He lined up, tapped the ball and missed the cup by inches. Holly’s lipstick-free lips curved. Had he ever dated a woman who didn’t excuse herself immediately after the meal to freshen her makeup? Holly hadn’t bothered. She’d been too eager to leave the restaurant. And him?
Eric gritted his teeth, studied the artificial turf, lined up and then stroked again. And missed.
“Don’t give up now. It’s a par three,” she said too cheerfully, clearly anticipating a victory. The constant awareness of her made concentrating difficult, but he focused and made the shot. “Eric, relax. It’s just a game.”
Just a game. Clearly, Holly didn’t remember from their basketball games how badly he hated to lose.
Seventeen holes later, she’d trounced him, truly and embarrassingly trounced him, and her grin as she bounced back to the car was wide enough to drive a truck through.
“You made that look easy,” he said before turning the key in the ignition.
“And I’m sure you’ve heard the cliché, ‘Appearances can be deceiving.’ This is the course closest to my house, so it’s familiar terrain. How else would I know Ira kept the good clubs behind the counter?”
Card shark. Pool shark. Was there such thing as a miniature golf shark? Because without a doubt he’d been hustled, and he had only himself to blame. He’d underestimated Holly. He wouldn’t again.
Traffic was light. In twenty minutes he could drop Holly off, head home and study the latest merger data in preparation for tomorrow’s meeting. Why didn’t that plan appeal?
“What other sports should I avoid if I want to escape total humiliation at your hands?” Her chuckle washed over him like a warm summer breeze, and her scent tantalized him in the close confines of the car.
He needed to buy her a bottle of perfume. Smelling an expensive concoction worn by thousands of women would be easier than knowing the alluring scent filling his lungs was uniquely Holly’s. He cranked up the air-conditioning.
“Just be glad Octavia wasn’t there to witness your loss or she’d have eviscerated you in her Saturday column. She has a thing about dominating men. But your secret’s safe with me.”
Holly had evaded his question by bringing up a larger issue. He let her get away with redirecting the conversation to focus on the gauntlet ahead. How could he escape kissing her again? Not just tonight, but each of the next nine dates? “Do you think she’ll be waiting at your house tonight?”
Holly flashed him a guilty glance. “I didn’t tell her about the date.”
Satisfied that he could end the date without a casualty, he nodded. “Neither did I.”
“According to the auction’s fine print—which I finally read this afternoon—we’re supposed to tell her about each date ahead of time so she can observe if she wants.”
“She saw the end of our last date.” The memory of Holly’s kisses brought a flash fire of heat. “We’ll tell her next time.”
By then he’d have devised a few evasive techniques. He turned down Holly’s driveway. A canine chorus shattered the silence. “Something wrong?”
“Probably just a raccoon or a possum sniffing around the barn for food, or maybe just the sound of a strange car, but I always check the kennels before going to bed, so soon I’ll know.”
“You check them alone?”
“What? You think I need a bodyguard to protect me from the boogeyman?”
She lived in a rural, sparsely populated area, and while her yard might be well-lit, there was no telling what or who could hide in the shadows of her outbuildings. And why did he care? Holly wasn’t his concern. “I’ll walk with you.”
“That’s really not necessary, but c’mon if you insist. You might decide to take someone home with you tonight.”
His gaze jerked toward hers. “Pardon?”
“A four-legged someone,” she clarified. “I have a Shepherd mix that would be perfect for you. He’s picky about his food and full of himself, too.”
The comment shouldn’t have surprised him. Holly had needled him subtly, but consistently throughout the evening, like an adversary trying to pull an opponent’s head out of the game. Why did he tolerate it? He didn’t have an answer, but he suspected it had something to do with enjoying a woman who didn’t agree with everything he said. Dating a woman who dared to challenge his opinions was a novel experience. Money, he’d discovered, not only brought power, it bought people. But not Holly.
He followed her to the barn. She flicked on the lights and he stopped in surprise. He’d expected to see wooden stalls as weathered as the exterior, but instead the structure had been gutted. A concrete floor stretched from end to end, and a half-dozen spacious chain-link kennels lined either side of the wide aisle. Each cage held at least one dog and a plush bed for each mutt. The closest held a lab-type bitch and her pups. “These are all strays?”
“Yes. It’s disheartening how some people can discard a loved one when she no longer suits them.”
She? Eric’s gaze sought Holly’s face, but she’d turned away. She was talking about the animals, wasn’t she?
She walked along the aisle dispensing dog treats and chatting with each occupant for a moment before pulling a lever that opened exterior doors to the dog runs surrounding the barn. Apparently, each kennel had a private run.
“Your renovations must have been expensive, and upkeep must be costly.”
Her gaze hit his and her cinnamon eyebrows arched, disappearing beneath shaggy bangs. “Why do you think I agreed to buy you? You promised money for my family. Thanks for the check, by the way.”
He’d given her the check the moment he’d arrived this evening, leaving no chance for another oversight.
But what did she mean by referring to these mutts as her family? Her family owned the most prestigious country club on the east coast, complete with a marina and an award-winning golf course. “You’re welcome.”
“See anyone you want to take home? They’ve had all their shots and been neutered except for Cleo. She can’t be spayed until the pups are weaned in a few weeks.”
“I don’t have time for a dog.”
Holly stepped into the bitch’s cage and lifted a fat black puppy. “How can you resist an adorable face like this one?”
The dog’s face didn’t interest him half as much as Holly’s as she nuzzled the squirmy ball of fur. There was an overwhelming sense of satisfaction in her eyes and a softness in her features he hadn’t seen before, as if she’d finally let her prickly guard down. “You enjoy caring for these mutts.”
She looked up at him through copper-tipped lashes. “Everybody needs love.”
She shoved the pup into his arms. He stiffened. “I don’t think—”
“A dog would help you unwind, Eric.”
He held the mutt and made a mental note to take the suit to the cleaners tomorrow. A long pink tongue swiped his chin. Yuck. “I don’t need to unwind.”
She snorted. “This from the guy who had a white-knuckled grip on his putter. Give me a break, Alden. You’re as tightly strung as a clothesline.”
He’d never owned a dog or even a fish. His mother hadn’t allowed pets of any kind in her professionally decorated home. But he had to admit holding the warm, wiggly creature wasn’t entirely unpleasant—if the mutt would quit trying to French-kiss him.
Holly grinned, took the pup back and returned him to his pen. She lavished attention on each of the remaining littermates before letting herself out of the kennel.
“Okay, if I can’t convince you to take a friend home, then I guess we’re done here.”
“We could post bulletin boards in the bank branches showing the dogs you have for adoption.” What in the hell was he saying? Banking was business. There was no room in his bank or his life for sloppy sentiment and that’s what these castoff mutts evoked.
Holly’s eyes widened in surprise. “That would be great, but I have a feeling your mother will veto that idea.”
That lifted his hackles. Margaret Alden ran the banking chain with an iron fist, but on this he would not bend. He’d never let his mother dominate him the way she did his father. Holly wanted to find homes for her menagerie and he had the power to help her.
“It’s a public service and good community relations. She’ll agree.” He’d make damned sure of it.
And before he did something else stupid like kiss that wide smile off Holly’s unpainted lips, Eric turned on his heel and headed for his car. Holly had him using sentiment instead of sense, and that was a dangerous practice he had no intention of continuing.
Entering Alden Bank and Trust as a customer was one thing. Showing up at the main branch on Friday morning and demanding to see the VP without an appointment was another.
Holly felt the curious gazes of countless bank employees like glass slivers in her back as she climbed the wide marble staircase leading from the main floor to the offices on the second-floor balcony. The weight of those stares added ten pounds to the load she carried.
Her heart thumped harder. Why did being here make her nervous? She’d grown up in affluent circles surrounded by the community’s movers and shakers, and she’d visited Alden’s corporate offices before. In fact, Juliana’s office lay on the opposite side of the balcony overlooking the lobby. Holly glanced that way and saw her friend’s dark head bent over her desk. The glass-walled offices on this floor reminded Holly of cages at a zoo. How could Juliana stand it? Holly knew she’d go nuts locked away and on display.
Holly followed the directions the teller had given her to Eric’s office and caught a glimpse of him through the open blinds as she approached the desk of the woman guarding his domain. Before she could tell his dragon of an administrative assistant that, yes, she was the pushy broad who’d dared to ask the teller to call up and announce her arrival, Eric looked up from his desk. Holly’s pulse stuttered and her steps slowed as their gazes met through the glass.
Great kisser.
Good in bed.
Girl, don’t even go there.
She wished the women had never told her of Eric’s prowess between the sheets. That was the last thing her I-haven’t-had-any-in-a-long-while body needed to hear. Her dates with Eric had nothing to do with either kissing or sex, but her deprived hormones seemed to have trouble getting the message. She’d even dreamed about him last night. Ridiculous, considering all she wanted to do was get through these dates so she could focus on locating Lyle and her money.