Dash Black. The sexiest man on earth.

Tess moved beneath the silky sheets, her body pleasantly warm from their amazing lovemaking earlier. Dash lay beside her breathing gently. She wanted to get up, call all her friends with the news. Why not? It was her bed, after all. He was a guest. A lover.

Her lover. If she wanted him to be.

Could she just have a fling? Or would she end up losing? She was half in love with him already. Then what? Long lonely nights wishing he was with her? Jealousy every time she saw him in the National Enquirer?

It was foolish to get involved with him. What could he possibly see in Tess from tiny Tulip, Texas, who was trying to make it in the Big Apple?

Dash wasn’t going to fall in love with her. This was about fun and sex. Sex and more sex. Which was by no means a bad thing. As long as she didn’t confuse it with love. If she said yes to the sex part, what did all the rest matter? He belonged in her bed…and boy, did Dash belong in her.

“So to do Dash,” she whispered. “Or not to do Dash?” She grinned and gazed over at his nude body.

Even in the dark he was a beautiful man. With that sculpted chin, strong nose and eyes that made grown women weep.

All in her bed. Hers. Tess from Tulip, Texas.

A Dash of Temptation
Jo Leigh

MILLS & BOON

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To Lawrence, who is my Man To Keep

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

Prologue

To: Erin

CC: Samantha

From: TessThePlantLady@hotmail.com

Subject: Men I’m NOT Going To Do!

Okay, picture this: I’m with Brad. He’s wearing Armani and he smells like cashmere on ice. His hair is perfect, including the obligatory rakish bangs across his forehead. His frown is fetching, his gaze hurt.

Me: I’m sorry, Brad. I just can’t do this. I want more from a relationship than you can give.

Him: Oh, Tess. You’ve made me realize you’re the only woman in the world for me. I’d be lost without you. (He drops to one knee and whips out a Tiffany ring box. Flicking it open, the diamond blinds me for a moment.)

Him: Marry me, Tess. Be mine forever.

Me: Put that 1.2 million dollar ring back in your pocket. We’re not meant to be together. I must go.

Him: Wait! Tess! (He bursts into racking sobs.)

Me: (I wipe a tear as I head for the subway. My posture is excellent.)

Nice, huh? Okay, so here’s what really happened.

Me: I don’t think we can, I mean, uh, I don’t think I can see you anymore.

Him: Okay.

Me: (pulling the knife from the center of my heart) Bye.

The first one’s better. MUCH better, don’t you think? Unfortunately, Brad, bless his pointed little head, didn’t understand that he was losing a gem. That I am, indeed, one hell of a catch and he’s a fool for letting me go.

Really. I mean that. Honest.

I love it, Erin, that you’ve been so lucky with your Man To Do. And I really mean that, too. I sit here and wonder where I went wrong. Dating dangerous, fabulously wealthy, terminally handsome boys seemed like a good idea at the time. What was a broken heart (or ten)? Nevertheless, I’ve learned my lesson. No more Men To Do… I’m doing Men To Marry now. Period. The end. Well, not the end so much as the beginning. A new beginning with a whole new me.

I’m going to do all the things Dear Abby suggests: church socials (note to self: find church), night classes (note to self: ditto), afternoon concerts in Central Park, maybe some golf lessons. I am determined to find Mr. Right and become Mrs. Right by the end of the year. Or next year. Soon, okay? No more Brads. Ever!

So don’t you guys worry about me. You just crawl into your respective beds with your respective hunks and don’t give your poor, desperate friend a thought. I mean it.

Okay then. I’ll just go cry myself to sleep. TTYS!

Love and kisses,

Tess

1

DASH BLACK FINISHED his e-mail and sent it off, wishing he didn’t have fifteen more to go. It would take hours, when all he wanted to do was lock himself in the music room and reacquaint himself with his piano.

Kelly, his assistant, was a godsend and handled his life with practiced ease, but she wasn’t a magician. With the ever increasing success of Noir, he was just damn lucky he could work at home once in a blue moon. Given all the travel, public appearances and investor relations he’d had to do over the past year, sitting in his home office should have been reward enough, but he was a selfish bastard. He wanted it all. Most people would say that’s just what he had. He said it to himself often enough. Like the prince who wants to see how the pauper lives, he had never rebelled, never known anything but his life of privilege. It was sick, the way he thought about it, when all he should be was grateful.

Screw it. Self-pity bored him even more than self-aggrandizement. Just do the work, and shut the hell—

“…the wonder dick. He wasn’t even that good in bed, for heaven’s sake.”

Dash swiveled in his chair, but the startling feminine voice with the slight southern accent had come from outside. It wasn’t Kelly’s voice. Today was his housekeeper’s day off. It was, damn, what was her name? The plant lady. Teresa, Toni? Tess. That’s right. Tess. Tall, curvy, lips like Angelina Jolie. Somewhere in the back of his mind he’d known she came to his place to tend his plants, but he’d only seen her a couple of times. Which was a damn shame. He’d thought about those curves, and how they’d feel in his arms. Maybe he’d find out.

He sure as hell hoped she was talking on the phone, and not to an invisible “friend.” In any case, he doubted she knew he was here, or she would have been a lot more discreet.

“Erin, I’m not rationalizing. Well, maybe I am, but I can’t help it. This weekend is the most important of my life. Cullen is expecting me there, and if he comes through, I’ll be able to put down the deposit on the store. I can’t hang in limbo like this. It’s now or never.”

He shouldn’t listen. This was obviously private. Especially that “wonder dick” comment.

“Okay, yes, I understand that it’s a sign of immaturity to want to show up Brad and Lacey, but I don’t care. I need someone spectacular on my arm and I’m running out of time. The party is Saturday night.”

Dash frowned. Cullen? Could she mean Jim Cullen? He was a venture capitalist with a powerful track record. And he was going to the Hamptons this weekend for a party at Rain Nickleby’s.

Her laughter drew him back to her conversation, his curiosity piqued even further. Were they both going to the same party? It would make sense. He’d seen Tess at social functions before. She worked for a lot of influential people.

“…the mice are sewing up my dress right now, and the pumpkin is reserved. Now all I need is Prince Charming, and I’ll be the belle of the ball.”

He grinned. With her body, if he remembered correctly, she shouldn’t have any trouble finding her prince, even if it was just for the night.

“And if I don’t find Prince Charming, I’ll settle for a rent-a-stud. Oh, God. Do you think they expect sex? I mean, is he going to be put out if I don’t put out?”

Rent-a-stud? Dash stood and moved closer to the door.

“Yeah, like I’ve paid for escorts a hundred times before. Come on, Erin, I’m desperate here.”

It occurred to Dash that this might be an interesting situation. If she was referring to the same party. He was no prince, but he also didn’t charge for his services. No, that wouldn’t work. His attendance wouldn’t be for pleasure. He’d have to work the party, and what that required was someone useful on his arm.

She laughed again, a rich, throaty, uninhibited sound. He smiled. Screw it. When was the last time he’d had anonymous sex? Jeez, he couldn’t remember. And when was the last time he’d had a woman who wasn’t connected to Noir? Being a celebrity was great if you wanted a nice table, but it sucked if you wanted a one-night stand.

He walked into the hallway, wondering if he should cough or something so Tess wouldn’t get scared. He rounded the corner to the living room, and there she was. At least part of her.

He had an exceptional view of her backside. And a nice backside it was. She was tending a plant, doing something with a bag of soil. If he coughed now, she’d be embarrassed. But if she stood up and saw him, she’d be scared. Which would be more to his advantage?

As he debated his next move, his gaze never wavered from the tantalizing view in front of him. Her jeans fit snugly over very voluptuous hips. He didn’t see enough curves in his life. Even the models who posed for Noir were so damn skinny he kept wanting to cook them pasta. He’d never admit it, but the women in his magazine weren’t exactly his taste. Heresy, but what can you do? He liked a woman who looked real. Shapely. Someone he could hold on to.

“Oh, right,” she said.

She must have a headset on, because both hands were busy.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s dying to take me out. I haunt his dreams. Did you see last week’s People? He was with Nicole Kidman, for God’s sake.”

Nicole… She was talking about him. He’d taken Nic to a premier, a charity event. This was getting more interesting by the moment.

“Don’t I know it. He’s so gorgeous. Just being here makes me wet.”

Dash grinned. This was too easy. Like taking candy from a baby.

“Erin, you wicked creature. And here you try to pass yourself off as so nice. I know better, woman. You’re evil. And I love that about you.”

He wanted to know what Erin had said. He had the feeling he would have liked it a lot. Tess reached for more potting soil and he held his breath, certain she was going to see him. But she didn’t. She did, however, crouch down. Damn. He’d better get the hell out of—

“Oh!” Tess jumped up, turned to face him, flinging dirt in all directions. Her horrified expression gave him a twinge of guilt.

“What are you…? When did you…? Oh, God.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Startle me? I’m in the middle of a coronary, here. You shouldn’t do that to people.”

“I didn’t realize you were here. I would have announced myself.”

“A cough would have been fine. Oh, Jesus.”

She put her hand over her heart, and his gaze moved down with it. Curves. Lush, touchable curves.

“What?”

He looked up at her, but she wasn’t talking to him. There was the earpiece, the wires leading to a pocket on her apron.

“I gotta go,” she said. “I’ll explain later.”

She reached into her pocket, then took the headset off. Her short, dark hair was in disarray, spiky and wild. He hadn’t noticed how blue her eyes were but he sure as hell remembered that mouth. Damn, but he’d like to see those lips wrapped around his cock.

“You’re home,” she said.

“Yes, I am. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“But you’re never home.”

She sounded so shocked, he had to smile. “I come here from time to time.”

“Oh.”

“Why don’t we go to the kitchen. You can get cleaned up.”

She looked down at her hands, her short nails darkened by dirt, then her gaze went to the carpet. “Oops.”

“It’s fine.” He nodded toward the other room. “Come on.”

She swallowed, blinked, then let out a big breath. “Am I in trouble?”

“From what I could hear, I’d say so.”

The panicked look came back to her face. “You heard me?”

He nodded. “We need to talk,” he said as he headed for the kitchen, but he caught her whispered, “Oh, shit.”

It wasn’t nice, his little game. He should be ashamed of himself. Should be, but wasn’t. Once in the kitchen, he got busy making some coffee. He’d have opened a bottle of wine, but it was a bit early in the day for that. After grinding the beans he measured the grounds, then added the water, and still, Tess hadn’t come in. He was tempted to check on her, but decided to let her have some time to gather herself. So he just brought down two cups and sat at the table.

She came in a moment later, looking as scared as she was embarrassed.

“How do you like your coffee?”

Her brows came down as she studied him. “Do you always serve coffee to people before you fire them?”

“Who said I was going to fire you?”

Her relief lasted only a moment. A slight sigh, then she shook her head and stared at him through narrowed eyes. “Then what was all that about me being in trouble.”

“The party this weekend. You don’t have a date.”

“Excuse me?”

“Wash up while I pour,” he said.

A brief glance at her hands spurred her over to the sink. As she scrubbed her hands and nails, she kept looking at him, puzzled as hell.

He brought out cream and sugar, a couple of spoons, then sat down at the table, bringing the carafe with him. A moment later, she sat across from him, her confusion making her eyes sparkle.

“I have a proposition for you,” he said, enjoying the play of emotion on her face. Nothing was hidden in this one. She was an open book. Which could be dangerous in a town like Manhattan.

“What kind of proposition?”

“You’re going to Rain Nickleby’s this Saturday, right?”

She nodded.

“So am I.” He poured the steaming coffee into her mug, but she didn’t touch it. She did, however, clutch her spoon like a lifeline.

“And?”

“I don’t have a date. I was hoping you’d be kind enough to accompany me.”

She blinked several times. A sound came out of her, something between a gasp and a squeak. He tried hard not to look too smug.

“Are you kidding?”

“Not at all. You’d be doing me a great favor.”

“I’d be doing you a favor.”

“You would. Up until an hour ago, I wasn’t looking forward to the party, and now I am.”

She blinked again. Her long, dark lashes splashed against her pale skin. Soft skin. “I thought you were dating Nicole Kidman.”

“No. We’re not dating. Our evenings out have been strictly business.”

“Gee, that must be so rough.”

He laughed. “With Nic, it’s not rough. But that’s not always the case. Sometimes it’s pretty hard pasting a smile on.”

She sat back in her chair, her T-shirt snug around her breasts. Abundant, full breasts. Her whole body was ample and curvaceous, and he felt the familiar pull at his groin. He hadn’t wanted to go to the party at all. Now, he could hardly wait.

“Why?” she asked.

“Why, what?”

“Why would you want to take me?”

“Why not?”

“I water your plants.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I’m no Nicole Kidman.”

“No, you’re not. You’re Tess, and I’d be honored to have you be my date. I’ll pick you up at five on Saturday. It’ll take us a while to get out to the island.”

She sighed again, then nibbled a bit on her lower lip. He averted his gaze, finally taking a drink of his coffee. It had been a long time since he’d had this kind of reaction to a woman. Not that he was immune to the considerable charms of the ladies he met through Noir, but this was something unrehearsed. A surprise in a world that held very few. Whatever happened Saturday night, it would keep him on his toes. Which appealed greatly.

“I don’t understand it,” she said, “but I’d be a total loon to say no.”

He grinned. “Good, then. It’s settled.”

“I suppose you heard why I’m going?”

“I know Cullen. He’s very savvy, and he makes most of his business decisions based on his reaction to the person, not the proposal. I think you’ll do very well.”

“Really?”

“You’ll have to tell me about your plans on the way to the party. Unfortunately, I have to get back to work.”

She stood up quickly, a splash of pink coloring her cheeks. “I really appreciate this, Mr. Black.”

“Dash.”

“Right.”

He stood next to her, took her hand in his, felt her tremble. Her scent, subtle, slightly citrus, made him want to touch far more. “I appreciate this. More than you can know.”

She looked down at her feet, then brought her gaze up to meet his. “I think you have that backward.”

“Five o’clock, Tess.”

“Do you know where I live?”

“I’ll find you.”

“Maybe I should just meet you here.”

He shook his head slowly. “I’ll find you.”

She swallowed. Blinked in that way she had. “I’ll be ready.”

He kissed the back of her hand, instantly registering that he’d been right about the softness of her skin. He didn’t particularly want to let her go, but he did. “Until then.”

“Uh-huh,” she whispered, looking a little dazed.

“You okay?”

“Oh, sure. No big deal. So what if you’re Dash Black. Frankly, I’m a little bored with it already.”

He laughed. “We’re going to have us a good time, Tess.”

She shook her head. “I think maybe you’re a little crazy.”

“A little.”

“Cool.”

He took a step toward his office, then turned back and kissed her cheek. Mostly because he’d wanted another hit of her scent. He’d expected her to smell like flowers, and she’d surprised him. Her blush was an added bonus. So was the spark of mischief in her eyes.

“Uh, Dash?”

“Yes?”

“I’m not really bored.”

“Cool,” he said back, liking the feel of the word almost as much as her pleased reaction. No, boredom wasn’t going to enter into this at all.

TESS HAD NO IDEA HOW LONG she’d stood in his kitchen after he’d left. It was still daylight, which was a good thing. She had to clean up her mess in the other room, and finish the plants. But her whole mind, hell, her whole being, was totally transfixed by one thing.

She was going on a date with Dashiell Black.

The most gorgeous man she’d ever seen in print or in life. She knew more about him than she should. That he was six foot three, that he had a passion for music. She could verify the first fact, but the music thing was something she’d read in the Enquirer. She’d also read that he’d had an illicit affaire with an ex-first lady, but come on. One thing she didn’t get from reading the tabloids was that luscious, slightly spicy scent of his. Or the way his hazel eyes snapped with amusement.

And he was taking her, Tess Norton of Tulip, Texas, to a party in the Hamptons. How could she think of anything else? This was huge. This was monumental. This was going to give her a heart attack. What was she going to wear? She had no shoes! Hair. Her hair looked like someone chopped it off with a bread knife.

Oh, God. Dash Black. It had taken her months to get over the fact that she worked for the man. Every time she’d seen him, she’d practically swooned. Swooned. He was…

Perfect.

And she was…

Tess.

Oh, God.

2

TESS STOOD IN THE MIDDLE of Rags to Riches, her favorite resale shop, holding a vintage Chanel when it hit her again. In two days, she was going on a date with Dash.

Dash Black. Who made her legs turn to jelly, her heart palpitate, her mind go blank. It wasn’t just that he was famous. In her years in Manhattan, she’d met lots of famous people. Everyone from Robert De Niro to Trent Reznor. She’d been lucky. One of the first people she’d met in the city was an interior designer to the stars. Shelly had unbelievable contacts, and when Tess started her plant-care business, Shelly had used her influence to introduce Tess to the A-list.

At first, it had been overwhelming. Scary. She’d been intimidated and shy, which wasn’t her natural state of being. But walking into the luxurious penthouses of the incredibly rich and famous was enough to turn her into a little mouse.

Eventually, as she became more relaxed, she began to see the similarities instead of the differences. Even Academy Award winners had bathrooms.

Then, when Cole Darden of daytime drama fame had asked her out, she’d been introduced into yet another strata. The club scene. Not the clubs she would have been able to get into. These clubs had bouncers that made a hundred grand a year. It was heady and wild and she found herself knee-deep in celebrity gossip that never made the Post.

The downside was that she wasn’t in a financial position to be a player. It wasn’t the drinks or the dinners or the tips. She didn’t drink much, and her dates usually paid for the rest. It was the clothes. Damn those women on Sex and the City. They had to be millionaires to afford those wardrobes. Unfortunately for Tess, she didn’t have a studio behind her, and she sure as hell couldn’t pay for a Prada scarf. So it was resale shops, Goodwill, flea markets for her. It stretched her creativity, that’s for sure. But it also made her terribly aware that while she was allowed inside, she’d better not get too comfortable. She was on a guest pass, which could be revoked in ten hot seconds.

Not a good train of thought, given her situation. She still couldn’t figure out why he’d asked her to go with him. Pity, probably.

She could handle that.

She went back to the rack of dresses, most of which were here for a reason. Every once in a while, however, she found a gem. Please, let it be today. So much was riding on this one Saturday night, not the least of which was showing Brad that she didn’t miss him at all. That other men, fabulous men, wanted her.

Well, maybe not wanted her, but Brad didn’t have to know that. Dash would treat her like a queen. Because that’s how he treated every woman. She just prayed she wouldn’t turn into a frog. Do something stupid, say the wrong thing, act like a fool. Her usual.

“Well, if it isn’t fabulous Tess Norton.”

Tess grinned at the haughty voice behind her. It was Mary, her friend, neighbor, partner in crime. She turned and waggled her brows. “Mary Neal. I never.”

“Like hell, you never.”

“Such language.”

“I’m not even warmed up yet.”

Tess eyed Mary’s outfit du jour. Doc Martens, jeans that rode low on her impossibly slim hips, a sweater circa the 1960s, and a furry coat that might have belonged to Attila the Hun. On her, it worked. “I’m desperate, girlfriend.”

“Tell Aunt Mary all about it.”

The store, close packed, a little too warm, was one of their usual haunts, not just for the occasional finds, but because there was this great coffee shop next door that served the best apple strudel in the universe.

“I will. In aching detail. But first, I need something fabulous. Something transcendent. Something that will give every male above eighteen an instant erection.”

Mary glanced at the dress in her hand. “That won’t even get you a slap on the ass.” She spread the clothes on the rack like Moses parting the sea. “Let’s rock.”

Two hours later, after having tried on everything from Versace to Polo, Tess cried uncle. She grabbed Mary’s hand and pulled her outside into the balmy spring air. Her gaze moved automatically toward the downtown skyline, and, as always, her breath hitched when she saw what was missing. Turning back to Mary, who had pulled out a compact and was busy dusting her perfect little nose, Tess pointed to the café, with the improbable name of Frog and Thistle. “Food. Now.”

“Okay. Jeez.” Mary slipped the cloisonné powder case into her Kate Spade pocketbook, then smiled. “But you have to tell me what this mad search is all about.”

“I will. Come on,” she said, dodging a guy on a skateboard as she headed toward the Frog. “I have to find a dress today. Tomorrow, latest. I need it by Saturday night.”

“Don’t keep me waiting. It’s mean.”

Tess slipped inside the café and told the scrumptious young man at the counter that she wanted a table for two. She followed his tightly clad butt across the crowded restaurant, past the tables with their gingham cloths and fresh carnations, to a snug booth in the back. Mary shrugged out of her coat, then sat down. “Well?”

“Okay, okay. No need to get all huffy.”

“Tess…”

Tess didn’t smile. She was pretty sure she didn’t look smug. And she kept her voice low, so only Mary would hear. “I have a date with Dash Black.”

Mary screamed so loudly a waiter dropped his tray, all chatter came to an immediate stop, and every eye in the place zeroed in on their booth. Mary finally closed her mouth, then seemed to realize they were the center of attention. She turned to the stunned restaurant patrons. “She has a date with Dash Black.”

Tess couldn’t hold back her grin as she saw utter understanding come over the mostly female crowd. Several women nodded. More than a few stared at her with awe. He was, after all, Dash Black. And he was hers, hers, hers for one whole night.

She felt like she might throw up.

WHEN DASH WALKED INTO HIS brother’s office, Patrick was already studying the glossy photos spread out before him. His expression was serious, his focus sharp. It was time to pick the September centerfold. Dash had made his choice. Although a whole editorial team helped narrow the field, the family—himself, Patrick and their father—had the final word.

Dash headed over to Patrick’s bookshelves and gave them a cursory glance. The only new entries were a James Patterson book, a biography of Napoleon, and the latest bestseller on business communication. Slim pickings.

With nothing to keep him occupied, he gave in and settled himself on one of Patrick’s leather chairs. Sprawled with legs out, he waited for his half brother to look at him, but clearly Patrick wasn’t going to budge until he was damn good and ready.

The office was too similar to his own to be of interest. Lots of square footage decorated in masculine colors, mostly hunter green, with bits and pieces of their various enterprises represented in knickknacks, photographs, logo promotions, and, inevitably, stacks of the magazine.

Noir’s circulation was at an all-time high. Millions of men bought the magazine each month, and some of them probably read the articles. His father had set out to make Noir a household name, and he’d succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. In the old days, Black had been the front man. Suave, sophisticated, charming as hell, he’d been the driving force behind Noir, but he was done now. Tired. He had every right to be. He’d worked his ass off most of his life. Dash had been his ace in the hole. He could hand over the keys to the kingdom with little fear. With every expectation that their success would continue, that the companies would grow. That Dash would be as enthusiastic and tireless as his father.

The flesh was willing, but the mind was weak. Dash stared at his future with a kind of stunned resolve. The world on a string, and he didn’t like yo-yos. He’d better damn well get to like yo-yos. There was no way he was going to spend the next thirty years dissatisfied and resentful.

Actually, that wasn’t fair. It’s not that he hated running the show, he simply wasn’t his father. Dash was a private man thrust into the spotlight. He envied Patrick, with his focus on the real guts of the operation. The money.

Dash jumped a bit when he realized he was staring at Patrick, and that his brother was staring back. “How long have you been watching me?”

Pat shrugged. “Long enough to wonder what’s bothering you.”

Dash waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing a lobotomy wouldn’t fix.”

“Ah, well. We do have that excellent health insurance plan. I’m sure we could work something out.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Come on, Dash. What’s up?”

“I like Marie, what’s her last name? Clymer? The redhead on the second row.”

Patrick looked at his proofs. “Yeah, that’s who I was leaning toward, but don’t change the subject. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Patrick’s right brow arched. “Fine. Have it your way. Why did you come to see me?”

“I’m going to that party in the Hamptons this weekend. I was thinking we should send a photographer out.”

“To the Nicklebys’ place?”

Dash nodded.

“Already taken care of.”

Now it was Dash’s turn to raise his eyebrow. “Efficient little sucker, aren’t you?”

“I strive for excellence in all areas.”

Dash gave him the old raspberry. “Excellence, my ass.”

“No wonder you’re the heir apparent,” Patrick said. “Your maturity and class are a shining example to all.”

Dash stood up, stretched his neck. “Hey, you know the plant lady?”

“Tess?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m taking her.”

“To the party?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because she needs a date, and I’m a goddamn prince of a fellow.” Dash headed for the door.

“Wait a minute. I don’t like it.”

He stopped. “Don’t like what?”

“She’s a nice girl, Dash. And she’s an employee.”

“So?”

“It’s not a good idea, that’s all.”

“What do you mean?”

Patrick shuffled some photos. “You know perfectly well what I mean. She’s not a toy.”

Dash went over to the edge of Patrick’s teak desk. He leaned forward, balancing on his flattened palms. “Are you interested in her?”

Patrick’s gaze shot to his. “No. I’m not. But I like her. She’s bright and ambitious, but she’s also young as hell, and she comes from the middle of nowhere. So don’t set her up for a fall. That’s all I’m saying.”

“I’m taking her to a party, Patrick. Not to a wedding.”

“Yeah, well, women tend to fall in love with you. God knows why.”

“Yeah, I love you, too.” He straightened, fully aware Patrick was dead-on serious. “I’ll be good,” he said. “I promise.”

“Why aren’t I taking comfort from that statement?”

Dash shook his head as if he had no idea.

“Oh, get the hell out of my office. Some of us have to work for a living.”

Dash decided to let Patrick have the last word. He nodded once, then headed in the direction of his own office. His brother didn’t usually stick his nose in Dash’s business. It made Dash all the more intrigued with Tess. She had clearly made an impression on someone who wasn’t that impressionable.

Based on their history, Dash believed Patrick about not being interested in Tess, but still, there was some connection there. The two of them had clearly talked, which made sense. It was Patrick who’d originally hired her to do the plant maintenance in the Midtown offices. What was it about her that made his brother so protective?

Actually, what was it that made Dash so hot to trot? Maybe he shouldn’t have been so flippant with Patrick. Tess was a damsel in distress, and he was playing the role of knight. It wasn’t a good fit. He normally played the rake.

But for one night? Why not. He could be Lochinvar. Hell, most of his public life was all an act anyway. It would be a change of pace, and that was a plus. He remembered her curves, the way her breasts had looked in that T-shirt. Pity. But everything in life wasn’t sex. It only felt that way.

RED, ANKLE LENGTH, NO LABEL, no mars in the luxurious silk, fifty dollars. The dress was a gift from kind gods, and fit her as if designed with her in mind. Fifty dollars. Tess grinned madly as she paid the woman with the bad teeth, then hugged her package close as she made her way out of the small resale shop.

Tomorrow was the big day. Dash Black day. His secretary, Kelly, had called that morning to make all the arrangements. The car, which Tess knew was actually a limousine, would be at her apartment shortly after five. The drive to Amagansett took about three hours, what with the tolls and the traffic.

Three hours alone with him.

What would they talk about? Would they have champagne? Champagne gave her a headache. She’d suffer.

Dammit, she had to calm down. This wasn’t a real date. It was a mercy date, and she’d better remember it. Right. As if she hadn’t been writing, “Mrs. Dashiell Black” and “Mrs. Tess Black” on every napkin from the Brooklyn Deli to Capizio’s Pizza by the Slice. Mature, Tess. Real mature.

She made her way across Christopher Street, blinking into the late afternoon glare. She had major girly stuff to do tonight. Mud mask, fingernails, toenails, plucking, shaving, waxing. The fun never ends. Maybe Mary would come by. Or maybe Tess would just drown herself in her bathtub.

She walked two long blocks, forcing herself to ignore the three shoe store displays, staring, instead, directly in front of her. She didn’t have money for shoes. She’d wear her black strappy heels. So they were almost two years old. Who was going to look at her feet?

God, the dress! It caressed her curves…not her words; the lady with the teeth had been eloquent. But it was a knockout. And she felt pretty in it, which was even more important.

Why was it that she could be so self-assured about her business and her plans, but when it came to her private life her insecurities had insecurities? It didn’t seem fair. She wasn’t the rube from Texas anymore. She’d lived in the big, bad city long enough to have been mugged, evicted and dumped by some very high-class guys. Dash Black should be just another fascinating peek at New York, like the Rainbow Room or the bag ladies outside Central Park.

Uh-huh.

She got bumped twice on her way down the stairs to the subway, and some great galoot nearly crippled her when he stepped on her toe, but she made it to the train, and even got a seat, although she had to sit next to someone who used garlic as aftershave.

The ride was only twenty minutes to her stop, and then she’d have a quick five minute walk. She would stop at the market on the corner and pick up some salad for dinner.

Dash Black.

It had become her mantra. And like women who couldn’t get pregnant and saw babies everywhere, Tess had been deluged with pictures of her dream date.

He’d been on the cover of Esquire wearing the most scrumptious charcoal-gray shirt. The color made his hazel eyes look blue. His smile had been sly, as if he knew a secret, and maybe he’d tell her what it was.

He’d also been in Vogue, Cosmo, Mademoiselle and the National Enquirer. Not that she read that…she’d just been killing time in the checkout line.

Every picture had been beautiful, and she’d pasted each one, except for the tabloid, in a brand new scrap-book she kept hidden under her bed. It might look naive to save his pictures, but she’d be glad in twenty years when she wanted to show her grandchildren that granny had been a hottie.

Besides, she liked looking at him. His wide shoulders and slim hips. His dark hair that fell ever so provocatively across his forehead. That nose! Mary said it was big, and maybe it was, but it was strong and had much more character than one of the waspier models. And then, oh my, there were the lips. The bottom one in particular. Pouty, lush, perfect but not fem. Designed for kissing. The thought of that mouth on hers…

She shivered, and got a glare from Garlic Man.

Ignoring him, she opened her bag and took out her to-do list. Yep, she had everything she’d need. Sunday, she had to go to the flower mart, Monday, she’d start the new account over at Trump Plaza, and Tuesday was Eve’s Apple night, so she had to finish reading The Pearl, which she hadn’t even opened yet, but for tonight, she was good to go. She’d listen to some Linkin Park and maybe some Creed. Throw in a little Joni Mitchell for flavor. She even had that bottle of Merlot Brad had given her after he’d stood her up for the second night in a row. But that was then. This was now and tonight was going to be wonderful as long as she didn’t dwell on tomorrow. As long as her nerves held steady and her tummy didn’t go nuts. As long as she could pretend it was like any other night in a perfectly ordinary universe.

Uh-huh.

3

DASH CLIMBED TO THE second floor of the old brownstone, then looked at his watch. It was four-fifty. He wondered how far along Tess was in getting ready. Experience had shown him that women were genetically predisposed to lateness connected in any way with makeup or hair products. So, he’d wait. He just hoped the limo would be safe downstairs. The neighborhood left something to be desired.

He walked up two more flights of stairs trying to ignore a scent he didn’t want to think about, then down a murky hallway. Three lights had burned out. Tess should ask the landlord to fix them. It wasn’t safe. Anyone could hide in one of the shadowy doorways.

Then he found apartment 42. He knocked, straightened his bow tie, pulled his tux jacket down in back, and with some effort, relaxed. He’d mention the light situation casually, while she was puttering around with her last-minute touches. He wouldn’t say a word about the smell.

When the door swung open, his hello caught as a strange woman smiled at him.

“I’m looking for Tess?”

The woman, thin, attractive with her large eyes and button nose, stepped back to let him in. “Tess is almost ready,” she said. “I’m Mary, her neighbor.”

“Nice to meet you, Mary.” He took her hand in his and kissed the back. Women liked that. Mary’s grin confirmed a direct hit. “I’m Dash Black.”

“Yeah. I kinda figured.”

He smiled, hiding his surprise at her interesting wardrobe choices. A Scooby-Doo T-shirt over a pair of jeans so large she could fit in them twice, held up by red suspenders. Her hair was seminormal, if you considered a streak of purple normal.

“You want something to drink?” Mary shut the door. “There’s some Merlot that’s pretty decent.”

“No, thank you. There’s going to be enough of that at the party.”

Mary led him into a small living room. Really small. Dash hadn’t been in an apartment like this in years. He’d forgotten people actually lived like this. Typical in Manhattan, it would be considered a shoe closet in most other cities. There was room for a love seat, a chair, a lamp and a coffee table of sorts. When he looked closer, he saw it was a tree stump with a glass top.

“Have a seat.” Mary plopped down on the chair, so Dash took the love seat. He sank into it until his knees were above his waist. Getting up wasn’t going to be easy. He prayed Tess was almost ready.

“So, what’s it like being you?”

He looked sharply at the Scooby-Doo woman. “I don’t know. I haven’t given it much thought.”

“Are you happy?”

Who was this strange girl? She looked to be in her mid-twenties, and from what he could see she didn’t have a speck of makeup on her squeaky clean face. “For the most part.”

“Hmm,” she said, sounding too much like a therapist for his taste.

“What?”

“I’ve only seen you smiling. In magazines, and stuff. So I guess I’ve just thought of you as happy all the time.”

“No one’s happy all the time.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Mary, stop bugging the nice man.”

Tess’s voice came from the doorway behind him, and using his hand on the frame for leverage, Dash stood, relieved as hell. He wanted out of here, to be on his own turf. He turned, then stopped dead still. Tess was a vision of luscious womanhood in a red dress that made his throat dry. Her hair looked wild, like she’d just gotten well and lustily laid, and her eyes were luminous with mischief and something else he couldn’t peg. But where he got stuck was her lips.

Red, like the dress, full, like her breasts. He wanted to pull her to him, feel that body from shoulder to knee, and kiss her senseless.

“Please excuse my friend,” Tess said, walking toward him with a sinful sway of hips. “We normally don’t let her speak to strangers unless she’s taken her Prozac.”

He smiled as he caught Mary’s surreptitious one-finger salute. But his attention was on Tess. Only Tess. “You look stunning.”

She lowered her lashes as her cheeks pinked. “Thank you.” Shyly, she looked at him again, her gaze moving down his tuxedo, then back up. “So do you.”

He laughed. “Stunning? I don’t think so.”

Her head tilted to the side. “You are.”

He waved away the compliment, and took hold of her hand. This time, when he kissed the delicate skin on the back, he lingered, inhaling deeply her sweet honey scent. “The coach awaits,” he said, reluctant to let go of her.

“I just need my bag.”

Her hand was lost to him, but in recompense, he got to watch as she walked to the tiny kitchen to collect her purse. The curves were just as impressive from this side.

He tried to remember why he’d decided to keep his hands off Tess. Patrick’s face came to mind. For about two seconds. He took one more look at Tess’s backside and banished his brother for the night.

“Okay, I’m all set,” she said.

He crossed the room in three strides and captured her hand once more. “It’s going to be a great party,” he said as he led her toward the front door. “And I’m going to be the luckiest man there.”

Tess faced him with a frown. “Maybe you should take Mary. You two have a lot in common.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’d understand if you knew her.”

He nodded at the woman still curled up in the chair. “While I’d be delighted to get to know you better, tonight is for Tess.”

“Be good,” Mary said. “And if you can’t be good, be safe. Remember, no glove, no love.”

“Mary?” Tess said sweetly.

“Yes?”

“Remind me to kill you when I get home, okay?”

“I’ll leave you a note.” She waved all five fingers this time. “Have fun, kids.”

Dash got the door, and once he and Tess were in the hallway, his gaze went right to a burned-out bulb. “This isn’t safe,” he said. “You need those lights fixed. You don’t even have a doorman.”

“I know,” she said. “But I’ve come to the conclusion that the super here is a hologram.”

“Then you should contact the landlord.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Promise?”

She nodded. “It’s okay. Honest. Thanks for your concern.”

“Well, it’s dangerous.”

“So is walking in these heels.”

He got the hint and led her down all the stairs to the street. Some kid had his boom box on painful-death-bass, and some other kid was screaming up to his mother on the fifth floor, but the limo was still intact, the engine purring, waiting for them.

Moe, Dash’s driver for over five years, smiled as he opened the back door. Moe was forty-seven, with a shocking thatch of thick black hair and a mustache to match. He didn’t look it, but he was also a bodyguard. His CIA training had been supplemented by years mastering karate.

“Good evening, ma’am. Let me help you into that seat. The step is a little tricky.”

Tess thanked him while Dash went to the other door. A moment later, they were happily settled in the quiet of the car. “Get comfortable,” he said. “It’s three hours.”

“I could run up and get my bunny slippers.”

“Or I could pour you a cocktail.”

“Bunny slippers are highly overrated.”

The limo was well stocked, and after a moment of concentration, Tess decided on an apple martini. Dash got the shaker, the ice and the vodka, but he almost dumped the whole thing in his lap. Inattention. She’d leaned back, taken a deep breath, and he was all thumbs. It wasn’t like him. He disconcerted women, not the other way around. Pulling himself together, he poured her drink, fixed himself a scotch and water, then leaned back next to her. Not close enough.

She sipped, moaned with pleasure, then sighed. He felt inordinately pleased.

“I can see why Mary asked you those questions,” she said softly.

It took him a moment to remember. “About being happy?”

Tess nodded. “It’s tricky when you only see a public image. I don’t know you at all.”

“Why don’t we fix that.”

“Right. Three hours.”

“Ask ’em if you’ve got ’em. If, that is, I get to ask you questions in return.”

“My life’s an open book. I wish I had skeletons in the closet, but so far, it’s only dust bunnies.”

“I see a motif shaping up here. Did you have bunnies as a child? Did you have an issue with a bunny?”

She laughed, throaty, rich. “Nary a bunny crossed my path. It’s Mary’s influence, I’m convinced. Being around her too long would make anyone a little nuts, and she’s my best friend.”

“I’ll wager you have lots of friends.”

She sipped her drink, then put the glass down between them on the leather seat. “I have enough. I grew up in a very small town, and so I had a gang there. Mostly out of self-defense. The boredom factor was daunting. One movie theater. No mall. It wasn’t pretty.”

“And now?”

“New York isn’t exactly the easiest place to make friends, but I have a few. Mary. The woman who brought me into the plant business. My online girlfriends, of course. And Tate.” At the name, her face softened.

“And who would Tate be?”

“He’s a wonderful man who takes me to the theater.”

“Oh?”

“No, it’s not like that. He’d old enough to be my father. He’s someone special, though. I’m glad I know him.”

“What makes him special?”

She shrugged her shoulders, reminding him again of her proximity and his hormones. “He’s incredibly passionate about what he loves, and he shares that with me. There are no compromises in Tate.”

“It’s a lucky man who doesn’t have to compromise.”

“I’m not sure it’s about luck. I think, in his case, he simply was prepared to pay the price.”

Dash brought his glass up to his lips and savored the aged scotch as it heated a trail down his throat. Some compromises were harder than others, that’s all. She didn’t know that yet. She was so young.

Tess felt the change in him, although she had no idea what had caused it. One moment she was dizzy in the focus of Dash’s scrutiny, and then she’d lost him. She’d only been talking about Tate…

Oh, God. Maybe that was it. He’d assumed she’d told him about Tate so he would know the coast was clear. But this wasn’t a real date, and he wasn’t really interested, just polite.

Maybe, if she could pretend to be as smooth and confident as she sounded, she wouldn’t feel like throwing up. She’d had the gift always. No one ever saw her sweat or shake or fumble for words. Which didn’t mean she wasn’t quaking inside.

The black stretch limo, complete with uniformed chauffer, the red dress, Dash…who wouldn’t be a complete wreck? God, but he was gorgeous. The tuxedo was something out of a James Bond movie, and Dash was made to wear it. He was the ultimate playboy, the elegant scoundrel who broke hearts as easily as she broke her nails.

At the thought, she looked down at her hands. The press-on nails were still attached, shiny with red polish to match her dress. No one would guess she really had gardener’s fingernails, so short they didn’t even reach the tip of her fingers.

Her gaze went back to Dash, to his expression. The frown line between his brows had gone, and he looked back at her with real interest. “What?”

“I was just thinking,” he said.

“About?”

“Your business proposal.”

Her stomach clenched and she almost dropped her drink. “Thanks a lot. I’d managed to put that terror on hold for a while.”

“Sorry, although I don’t see what you have to be afraid of. Cullen is going to love you.”

“From your lips…”

He grinned, and she felt it down to her toes. Perfect teeth, that bottom lip. Oh, my.

“Don’t sweat it. I mean it. What had me puzzled was why you didn’t approach me.”

“For what?”

“For the funding.”

“Why would I do that?”

“For the same reason every other entrepreneur in the city does. Because I could help.”

“I work for you. This is separate.”

“It never occurred to you?”

“No. Don’t look at me that way. I’m serious.”

“I believe you.”

“Okay, then.” She finished off her martini, then handed him the empty glass. “I did want to say again how much this means to me. It’s way over and above the call of duty. You’re helping me big time.”

“No thanks necessary. I’m getting as much out of this as you are.”

“Which is something I don’t fully understand.”

“Not much to understand. I get to escort a beautiful lady to a party.”

“Yeah, uh-huh.”

His grin turned a little sheepish. “Okay, so there’s a bit more. All those pictures you see of me smiling? That’s work. And it’s not easy work. Not that I’m complaining. I know I’m the luckiest sonofabitch in the world, but still. It’s not easy to be happy twenty-four-seven.”

“So you don’t have to work tonight?”

“Not in the same way. If I was with, say, an actress or a model, there would be speculation, constant photos, questions, innuendoes. With you, they’ll be curious, of course, but not rabid.”

“So I’m not going to appear on the cover of People?”

“Most likely not,” he said. “Are you disappointed?”

“Crushed.”

His grin faded. “I—”

She touched his arm. “I was kidding. I’m very happy to be whatever you need me to be tonight. Honestly.”

His gaze moved down to his arm, where her hand touched his sleeve.

She knew she should take it back, let him go, but she felt frozen. It was absurd, but she could swear she felt his heat. Impossible through shirt and coat. It hadn’t started out as an intimate gesture, but it had turned into one. Stoked by his gaze, the heat spread through her. And still, she didn’t move her hand.

“That could get a little tricky,” he said, his voice lower, huskier than just a moment before.

“What could?”

“You being whatever I need you to be.”

“Oh.”

He leaned toward her and she held her breathe. He was going to kiss her. Oh, God. But he stopped short, inches away from her lips. His breath, a ridiculously intoxicating blend of scotch and spearmint, slipped inside her. “Very tricky,” he whispered. And then his lips touched hers.

Before she could even close her eyes, he was gone. She blinked, tried to remember how to breathe.

He cleared his throat. Tugged his cuffs down. Looked out the window, at the moon roof, at the bar. Finally, at her. His frown surprised her. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“There are no strings attached to this evening. I apologize.”

“Don’t worry on my account.” She gasped the second the words were out of her mouth.

He laughed, but not at her. Not making fun. In fact, the sound made her feel a fraction less foolish. “Okay, so at least we know one thing.”

“That I need to learn to keep my big mouth shut?”

“No. That we’re both a little nervous about tonight.”

“I can understand me, but not you.”

“I’m always a little nervous around a beautiful woman.”

She nearly made a smart remark, but something stopped her. His eyes, or maybe his hint of a smile. Something made her entertain the idea that he could be telling the truth. That he thought she was beautiful.

She wasn’t a hag or anything, but please. She was just Tess. Ten pounds overweight, ugly nails, hair that looked like it was done in a blender. Not Nicole or Meg or Julia. She was a hick from Tulip, that’s all. And he was the most sophisticated, debonair man on planet Earth.

Which, of course, explained it. He was working tonight. Despite his protests. He couldn’t help it. When you seduce women for a living, it must come naturally, like breathing or sleeping. So it would be wise not to let her imagination run away with her.

This wasn’t a coach, he wasn’t a prince, and she sure as hell wasn’t Cinderella.

“Tess.”

She focused on him with a start. She’d been far away in the land of insecurity. “Yes?”

“No matter the reason. Favor to you, favor to me. Whatever. I’m glad I’m here, now, with you.”

She smiled as warmly as she could, but she wasn’t fooled this time. He was the embodiment of a smooth operator. A man so suave he made Cary Grant seem like an oaf. Of course he was going to flatter her. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m glad, too.”

If ever there was a Man To Do, Dash Black was him. Never, not in a million years, would he become a Man To Marry. Not to her, at least. Never to her.

4

SHE DIDN’T ACTUALLY SEE the house for a long time. The gate had come first, ornate wrought iron with an incongruously hi-tech security box on the driver’s side. Then it was like riding through a park. An extraordinarily well-kept park. Manicured lawns. A rogue blade of grass wouldn’t dare show up there, let alone a weed. The trees, all native to this part of the country, were stately and thick, providing ample shade for their flowered skirts.

A full-time staff would be essential in keeping this gorgeous lawn so pristine, and she wondered about the budget. They probably spent a fortune on fresh flowers and plants for the house, too. Whoever had the account must be doing very well.

Dash shifted beside her, and her thoughts of plants and bank accounts fled. He’d been quiet since the kiss, in deference to her, she thought. Someone more savvy would probably have played the moment better. Teased him. Chastised him. But her famous aplomb had deserted her, and no soothing thoughts or distractions could bring it back.

“Have you been out here before?”

She didn’t jump when he spoke, and that was a bonus. “No, I haven’t. It’s stunning.”

“This house used to belong to one of the Duponts,” he said. “It’s got twenty-two bedrooms, not counting the guest house.”

“Well, that’s got to be a pain to vacuum.”

His laughter eased her somewhat. However, his proximity— They weren’t touching. But there was only enough space between them for one hand. If she let hers fall, she’d touch him, and that wasn’t smart.

She tried to think what her friends would do. Erin would tell her to wait. Samantha would tell her to go for it. Neither option felt right. There was a whole evening to get through, and she couldn’t afford to fall apart. Cullen would be watching her. Not to mention Brad and the Bitch.

Lacey. What a piece of work. Her nose was so far in the air it was amazing she didn’t constantly walk into walls. And that smile—

“Tess?”

She turned to Dash. Smiled. “Yes?”

“Where did you go?”

“Actually, I was thinking about Lacey Talbot.”

His expression hardened, which made Tess like him even more. “She’s an interesting young woman.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“Don’t pay any attention to her,” he said, as he leaned over to place his glass back in the bar. “She has issues.”

Tess couldn’t help but giggle. She hated to giggle. Hers was all girly, making her feel too young to handle her job let alone this date. Sort of date. Whatever.

“But I will warn you. The way you look tonight, you’re going to set her on edge.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. I told you before, you’re stunning.”

She held her breath for a moment, then let it out slowly. It didn’t mean anything. How could it? But she steadied her gaze and said, “Thank you,” just like her mother had taught her.

He looked at her quizzically, but said nothing, then his gaze moved forward and he nodded. “The palace.”

She turned to see lights. Lots of lights. The house, which did actually remind her of a palace, was bathed in white, and the long trail of parking lights from the limos in front of them reminded her of a red carpet.

She’d never seen a home like this. If it was even called a home. Estate, maybe. Or mansion. By any other name it was huge and she felt every year of her Tulip, Texas, education bite her in the ass. This was a mistake.

“If we get separated inside, just set off a flare. I should find you in two or three days.”

She smiled, although it didn’t seem like much of a joke. “I can’t imagine this. It’s like going to the moon.”

“Kay Nickleby has an eating disorder that’s sent four shrinks back to the minors. Her daughter, Phoebe, is a card-carrying kleptomaniac who once tried to steal one of Princess Diana’s tiaras. Not to mention William, who has been kicked out of every prep school on the east coast. Roger Nickleby is having his day with the SEC, and I expect he’ll be spending a large part of his fortune before he’s through.”

“So, you’re telling me it’s better to be poor?”

He frowned. “Hell no. I’m saying wackos come in every tax bracket.”

She had to smile. “What about you? Are you a wacko?”

He nodded. “Oh, yeah.”

The limo slowed to a stately crawl as they inched up the drive. Doormen stood at the ready, offering steady hands to extravagantly dressed women as they stepped out of their coaches.

Tess’s heart picked up its pace. She ran her fingers through her hair, then pulled her compact from her purse. After a brief dusting of translucent powder and a refresh with her lip gloss, she turned to Dash. “It’s show time.”

“Don’t worry. You’re going to knock ’em dead.”

“Frankly, I’m more worried about tripping on the stairs.”

He touched her hand. “I’ll be there. Don’t sweat it.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

Then her door swung open, and a dark hand helped her to the curb. Dash was at her side a few seconds later, and when she felt his arm curl around her waist, she felt her shoulders relax.

All relaxation fled as they approached the steps. A small cadre of photographers spread around them, the flashbulbs making her squint.

“Dash, over here.”

“Who’s the babe?”

“Smile.”

The shouts were good-natured, but insistent, and she felt utterly out of her element. Dash’s arm tightened around her but his body felt loose and easy. This wasn’t a big deal to him, of course, and she tried to adopt his casual air. Unsuccessfully, as it turned out.

A photographer breached the tacit space agreement and popped up inches from her shoulder. “Hey, babe!”

When she turned, he snapped her picture, blinding her with the flash, and she stumbled on the step. Dash held on to her, although it was a near thing, and his hold tightened as he straightened her up. She couldn’t see his face, but she felt him tense like a bow string. Their pace changed into a quick march past the reporters and past the reception line until they were safely inside. He didn’t let her go, though.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded. The black dot that was her vision dimmed and his features came into focus. “That was interesting.”

“Whoever that jackass was, he’s not going to be around for long. I’m sorry that had to happen to you.”

“It’s okay. He just scared me a little. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” He relaxed a bit as he smiled. “But you will be as soon as I can make my way to the bar. Another apple martini?”

“That would be nice.”

“Stay right here. I’ll return in a trice.”

His hand disappeared from the small of her back and took some measure of confidence with it. She watched him walk into the large room to her right, skimming past women in Versace and Prada and men in Armani tuxedos, all of them perfectly coifed, smiling with even white teeth, holding drinks with their manicured hands.

Dash caused a remarkable stir. Everyone looked at him and either smiled broadly or moistened red lips, depending on the gender. Conversations broke midsentence. Men stepped back, stood up straighter. It unsettled her. She’d realized she’d be on display, but her imagination hadn’t been up to the task. Being in the company of Dash Black had its price.

She didn’t envy him this. How difficult to always be at the center. It was as if he’d run a gauntlet of starving beggars, and he was a juicy steak. Even from this distance, perhaps because of the distance, she could feel the pull on him. They all wanted something.

Was she any different? Sure, he’d asked her to this shindig, but still, hadn’t she been doing the happy dance because she’d be with him? Didn’t she fully expect the world to react to her differently?

Man, she needed a drink after that sobering thought. She inhaled deeply, trying to dispel some of her nervousness. As she let the breath go, she realized the focus of the crowd in the foyer had switched from Dash to her. Her first instinct was to hide. If she’d known where the bathroom was, she would have run. But Dash would be back soon, and then things would be all right.

The stares wouldn’t quit. People were undoubtedly curious about who she was, but at least when Dash was next to her, he ran interference.

Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. Her jaw was starting to ache from holding her smile in place. Where was he?

A painting on the far wall caught her attention. She’d hardly registered her surroundings, which was astonishing considering the room. It was a foyer, and it was larger than her apartment. The floor was marble, the walls eggshell, and the décor screamed money.

The painting in question was a Monet, and she’d be willing to bet the house that it was real. No regular prints for the Nicklebys. Every piece, from the secretary under the mirror to the wall sconces were perfect and gorgeous. And so were the flower arrangements.

She headed over to the nearest pedestal, one of six that lined the room. Whoever did the flowers was a master. They were gorgeous and lush and perfectly suited that space. The central focus was calla lilies, her personal favorite, and the way the florist had used the stargazers was nothing short of exquisite.

“I should have known that’s where you’d be.”

She turned at Dash’s voice. “They’re fabulous.”

“Certainly no more beautiful than the arrangements at the office.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“I’m counting on it.”

She flushed a little at his rejoinder as he handed her the martini. He’d gotten himself a drink, too, more of what he’d had in the limo from the looks of it. “This house is amazing.”

He looked around. “There is a certain art to ostentation, isn’t there?”

“Indeed.”

He took a sip of his drink and met her gaze. “Think you’re ready for the ballroom?”

“Why not?”

He held out his arm. “Let’s do it.”

She linked her own arm with his, praying her trembling wouldn’t spill her drink all over the floor. They headed toward the sound of live music and the murmur of a great many voices. She sipped her martini a little too quickly, but dammit, she needed the courage.

The second they passed the doorway, she was struck still at the size and scope of the party. The music she’d heard was from an honest to God big band, like Tommy Dorsey’s or the Eddy Duchin Orchestra from the forties. They began “Moonlight Serenade” as Dash guided her through the beautiful people.

The ballroom itself reminded her of the one from Beauty and the Beast, including the domed ceiling. Hundreds of sparkling lights dotted the dome and it felt as though it was raining stars.

“Wow,” she said.

“I know what you mean.”

She caught the humor in his voice and sure enough, when she looked at him he wore a gentle smile. “It must be old hat for you.”

He shrugged. “Being with you is remarkably refreshing. It’s like seeing the place for the first time.”

“I’m glad I can keep you entertained.”

“Oh, there’s no problem with that. In fact…” he plucked her martini out of her hand and put it, along with his drink, on the tray of a passing waiter. “…come with me.”

His arm went around her waist again, and nope, the last time hadn’t been a fluke. Her tummy did that strange little dance and her breath caught as the heat of him warmed her.

He led her to the dance floor, and the panic rose again. She was about as good at dancing as she was at bullfighting. The band was playing another Glen Miller song, “String of Pearls,” and the other couples on the dance floor swayed easily to the music. Maybe if you’re rich enough, you could buy rhythm.

Dash grabbed her hand and swung her into his arms. They touched from chest to thighs, but by the time she opened her mouth to tell him she couldn’t dance, they were.

His hand on the small of her back steered her with gentle caresses. Moving with incredible grace, he made it seem so easy. When she didn’t step on his feet after the refrain, she relaxed. As much as she could, that is.

She smiled into his handsome face, and he rewarded her with a grin and a slight lift of his right brow. “You okay?”

“Yes,” she said. “But don’t get all excited and start doing a tango or anything.”

“I promise. No tangos.”

She thought of that film, The American President, when Annette Benning dances with Michael Douglas for the first time. When he tells her everyone in the room isn’t looking at him, but at her.

If Tess didn’t look around, she’d be okay. Of course it was no hardship to keep her gaze on Dash. The longer she stared at him, the more she liked his face. The more real he became.

They danced as if they’d danced a hundred times before, as if the music was made to order. He held her close enough for her to catch his spicy hint of cologne.

“So, what do you think, Ms. Norton? Is the ball to your liking?”

She thought a minute, wanting to get her answer right. “It’s a nice place to visit, but I’m not sure I’d want to live here.”

He smiled. “No one really lives here. Even the Nicklebys are putting on the dog. It’s a fantasy.”

“Like our date?”

“On the contrary. It may have started out as a favor, but it’s turning into my lucky night.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think you’re going to be that lucky.”

His laughter pleased her way too much. “Touché.”

“I am grateful, though.”

His smile faded. “You don’t think I’m expecting anything in return, do you?”

“I don’t know. I barely know you.”

“Good point. Rest assured. I expect nothing.”

She struggled to keep the disappointment from her face. “Thank you.”

The song ended, but he didn’t let her go. They stood, his hand still on her back, while couples shuffled around them. “Don’t look now,” he whispered, leaning in so only she could hear. “But there’s Cullen.”

She instantly tensed as she followed his gaze. Cullen stood by one of the bars, the one farthest from the band. He looked elegant and easy in his tuxedo. She’d met him only once before, and that was at a crowded restaurant. He’d seemed pleasant enough, but he hadn’t been terribly interested in her. His willingness to look at her business plan was more of a favor to Brad than due to any excitement on his part.

He sipped some champagne as he canvassed the room. She watched him nod to a burly fellow, then again to a startlingly tall woman in a see-through blouse.

Tess figured he must be in his sixties. He had a thick mane of white hair with bushy matching brows. She wondered if he even remembered that they were supposed to meet here.

“Come on,” Dash said.

“Wait.”

“Okay.”

She took a deep breath. “No. Let’s go.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “No time like the present.”

“You’re going to knock his socks off.”

“Oh, my God.”

Dash led her slowly through the crowd. He could feel her tremble beneath his hand, but he doubted anyone could see her nervousness. She had handled this trip into the twilight zone with aplomb. He could see why she’d been so successful with her plant company.

Naturally, he’d done some checking on her. No need to be foolish, not in his position. Aside from the fact that Patrick liked her, the other recommendations he’d gotten had been glowing.

He didn’t know Brad well, but the man was a fool. If it wasn’t so impossible, he’d make a play for her himself. Not just for tonight, either. He’d like to get to know her, spend time with her. She was bright and witty and he liked the fact that she wasn’t part of his crowd. Which was the problem. She didn’t belong to his world. On a personal level, that meant nothing to him. Professionally, however, it was a different story.

Cullen was watching a busty blonde drink champagne, his gaze on her cleavage. Typical Cullen. The man had made some wise investments when a great many others had chosen poorly. His net worth was in the hundreds of millions. He did the venture capital bit because he enjoyed it. He liked to take risks on people, and he was rarely wrong. He was going to love Tess.

“Mr. Cullen?”

He looked up, slightly annoyed at being disturbed, but when he saw Tess he smiled. “Hello there.”

“I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m Tess Norton. I met you a few weeks ago at Le Cirque.”

His eyes narrowed. Dash knew he was drawing a blank.

“Jeez, Cullen, I hope you’re investments are stronger than your memory.”

“Dash Black, you scoundrel.” Jim held out his hand, and Dash shook it firmly.

“I am a scoundrel indeed. But then, it takes one to know one.”

Cullen laughed, then slid his gaze back to Tess.

“Tess was telling me that you’re going to look at her business plan. I can see age hasn’t dulled your good sense.”

“So you’re with Dash, eh?” Cullen asked Tess. “I should be worried about that. He’s got something of a reputation.”

“We’re friends.” Tess took a step away from him, and Dash sensed something wrong, although he couldn’t imagine what.

“Friends?” Cullen’s eyebrows rose with a hint of a leer. “He has good taste.”

“Thank you. I just wanted to mention that you should have my business plan at your office on Monday. I appreciate you taking the time to look at it.”

“It’s all numbers,” he said. “I don’t invest to lose money.”

“Of course not. I think you’ll find I’ve put together a solid proposal.”

He studied her more carefully. “I’ll give you my honest appraisal, Ms. Norton. That’s all I can promise.”

She smiled, and Dash knew she had him. “That’s all I ask.”

“We’ll be in touch.”

Dash slapped Cullen on the back. “Good to see you, Jim. I’m sure you’ll understand why I’m going to steal Tess away?”

“Lucky man.”

“I am that, also.”

Cullen laughed, then started searching for the breasts he’d found so appealing before their interruption.

Dash found Tess’s hand and led her back toward the dance floor. Once they were well clear of Cullen, she pulled him to a stop.

“Mr. Black.”

He frowned. “We’re back to Mr. Black?”

“All right, Dash. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but you didn’t need to do that.”

“Do what? Shake hands with an old friend?”

“I could have handled it myself.”

“I know. You were doing great. My intention wasn’t to interfere. Just to grease the wheels a bit.”

She looked at him with puzzled eyes. “I should be thrilled. I am thrilled. It’s just that…”

“You wanted to do this on your own.”

“Yes.”

“You did. You have. I’m just window dressing. If the man likes your proposal, it won’t have a thing to do with me. That’s not how Cullen works.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“I am. However, I apologize. I should have kept my big nose out of your affairs.”

“No, no. That’s not—I mean, I’m glad. I don’t mind. Really. You were great.”

Dash caught sight of a small woman with big diamonds. In addition to the sparklers on her wrist and neck, she also had possession of one Brad Sunderland. Lacey Talbot had arrived, and in style, too, from what he could see. Her entourage surrounded her like secret service agents. Lacey turned his way, and her eyes widened as she spied his date. A second later, Brad had a similar reaction.

Dash smiled as he looked into Tess’s beautiful eyes. “Perhaps I can make it up to you,” he whispered. Then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her like there was no tomorrow.

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