Celia Taylor stood back, wineglass in hand, and surveyed the crowded ballroom. The fund-raiser was supposed to be more pleasure than business, but business was uppermost on the minds of her competition.
Across the room, Evan Reese stood in a large group of people. He looked relaxed, seemingly in his element, an easy smile making his extraordinarily handsome face even more gorgeous.
It should be a crime for a man to be that good-looking. Tall, rugged, he looked every inch the kind of man who'd be at home in the athletic wear his company designed and sold. There was an aura of confidence and power around him, and above all, Celia loved a man who was sure of himself.
Given the long, searching glances they'd exchanged over the last few weeks, she'd be a fool not to entertain the idea of seeing where things could lead.
If he wasn't a prospective client.
A client she wanted to land very much.
She wanted the account—her boss and the agency was counting on her—but she drew the line at sleeping with a man to get what she wanted.
Celia turned away from the sight of Evan Reese before she became too enthralled in just watching him.
They'd performed a delicate dance around each other ever since he'd fired his last advertising agency.
He knew she wanted him—in the professional sense of course. Hell, he probably knew she wanted him naked and in bed too, but she wasn't going to dwell on that. Maybe later tonight when she could afford to indulge in a little fantasy.
The problem was, anytime a big company like Reese Enterprises fired an agency, it became open season. The other agencies circled like sharks. It was a dog-eat-dog world, and in reality, she should be over there, shoving herself down his throat like the rest of her competition, but she couldn't help but believe Evan Reese was secretly amused by the attention. He took a different hand. She was sure of it.
"Celia, glad you made it. Have you spoken to Reese yet?"
Celia turned to see her boss, Brock Maddox, standing a foot away. He wasn't drinking. He didn't even look particularly thrilled to be here.
Her eyebrow rose. "A tux. Why, Brock, you look positively decadent. However are you keeping the ladies at bay?"
He grunted in response, his lips curling in distaste. "Cut it out, Celia. I brought Elle along."
Celia looked beyond his shoulder to see his pretty assistant standing a few feet away. When Elle looked her way, Celia smiled and waved.
"You look beautiful," Celia mouthed.
Elle smiled and ducked her head self-consciously but not before Celia saw the faint blush that colored her cheeks.
Brock gestured impatiently toward Evan. "Why are you standing over here while Evan Reese is over there?" Brock scanned the room and his expression hardened. "I should have known the old bastard would be here."
Celia followed his gaze to see Athos Koteas holding court within hearing distance of Evan. Though she wouldn't admit it to Brock, it made her extremely nervous to see their business rival hammering so relentlessly on Evan Reese. Koteas owned Golden Gate Promotions, and not only had Koteas lured away a few of Maddox's top clients in recent months, he'd also launched a PR campaign against Maddox. It was dirty pool, but it in no way surprised Celia. Koteas was ruthless, and he'd do anything to win.
"Well, yes," Celia murmured. "His ad execs are busy working Evan over."
"Any reason you aren't?"
over the rim of her glass. "Do I?"
Evan snagged a flute from a passing waiter and turned his attention fully on her. It was all she could do not to gasp under his heated scrutiny. It was as if he undressed her right then and there in front of a roomful of people. Her blood simmered and pooled low in her belly. He had beautiful eyes, and they were currently devouring her, delving beneath the modest evening gown she'd chosen. He made it seem like she wore the most scanty, revealing dress imaginable. She felt nude and vulnerable under his searing gaze.
best dance partner."
He threw back his head and laughed. Several people around them turned to stare, and she had to resist the strong urge to flee the room. She hated the attention that Evan seemed to have no issue with whatsoever. How nice it must be not to have to worry what people thought about you. To have your reputation intact and not have suffered the stupidity and vindictiveness of others. But then men rarely suffered in cases like hers. It was always the woman. The vilified other woman.
Knowing no graceful way to bow out of the dance, she set down her own glass and allowed Evan to lead her onto the ballroom floor.
To her relief, he held her loosely. To anyone looking on, they could find no fault or impropriety. She and Evan didn't look like lovers, but she knew the thought was present in both their minds. She could see the desire in his eyes and knew he could probably see it in hers.
She wasn't practiced at hiding her emotions. Maybe being the only girl in an all-male household growing up was the reason. Her family was a loud, demonstrative lot, and she'd always been regarded as the precious daughter and sister.
It would make her life easier to be able to hide her thoughts from this man. Then she wouldn't concern herself over whether he was giving her a shot because he thought she deserved it or whether he was thinking only of the powerful sexual pull between them and how best to capitalize on it.
Wow, Celia. Lump him in with all the other jerks you've known, why don't you? Nothing like being tried and convicted based on your gender.
"Relax. You're thinking way too much," Evan murmured close to her ear.
She forced herself to do as he'd instructed and gave herself over to the beautiful music and the sheer enjoyment of dancing with a man who took her breath away.
"So how is next week? I have Friday free."
She jerked back to reality, and for a moment couldn't for the life of her figure out what he was talking
about. Some professional she was.
"I was thinking we could meet informally and you could go over what you have in mind. If I'm interested we could do the whole shebang at your agency. Maybe that'll save us both a lot of time and hassle if I'm not loving your ideas."
"Sure. I can do Friday. Friday is good."
The music ended, and he held her just a bit longer than necessary, but she was so affected by the intensity of his gaze that she couldn't formulate a single objection.
"I'll have my assistant call you with the time and location then."
He picked up her hand and brought it to his lips. The warm brush of his mouth over the back of her hand sent a bolt of pleasure straight down her spine.
"Until Friday."
She watched wordlessly as he strolled away. He was immediately swallowed up by a crowd of people again, but he turned and found her gaze. For a moment they simply stared at one another and then the corners of his mouth lifted into a half smile.
Oh, yes, he knew. He knew exactly what her reaction to him was. He'd have to be a complete moron not to. And he was anything but. The man was smart. He was driven. And he had a reputation for being ruthless. He was the perfect client.
She turned to walk toward the exit. She'd done what she'd come for. There was no reason to stick around and be social. If there was any gossip over her dance with Evan, she certainly didn't want to hear it.
On the way, she passed Brock and Elle, who were standing somewhat awkwardly to the side. Brock didn't say anything. He just lifted an inquiring brow. Of course he would have seen her dancing with Evan. Brock probably hadn't looked at anyone but Evan all night. A shame, really, since Elle looked fabulous in her black sheath.
Friday," she said in a low voice. "I meet with him Friday. No formal pitch. He wants to hear my ideas first. If he likes them, he'll arrange a time for us to hit him with both barrels."
Brock nodded, and she saw the gleam of satisfaction light his eyes.
"Good work, Celia."
Celia smiled and resumed her path to the door. She had a lot to do before next Friday.
Evan Reese loosened his tie as soon as he walked into his hotel suite. He left a trail of clothing from the door, where he threw his jacket over one of the chairs, to the bedroom where he peeled off his socks and left them on the floor.
The desk with his laptop and briefcase beckoned, but for once, the idea of work didn't appeal to him.
He was too preoccupied with thoughts of Celia Taylor.
Beautiful, seductive, impossibly aloof Celia Taylor.
His body had been on heightened sense of alert ever since she walked into the ballroom, and though he'd known the moment she left, he was still tense and painfully aware of her scent, how she felt in his arms, how her skin felt under his fingers the one time he'd been bold enough to touch her.
he hadn't come down with hypothermia.
And now he was going to have to cancel because his mother thought that he should go see the woman he was supposed to have married instead marry his younger brother.
He needed to find a date. Preferably one who would convince his mother he wasn't secretly pining over Bettina. He wasn't. He'd gotten over her the moment she'd dumped him for his brother when Mitchell was appointed the CEO position in their family jewelry business.
She preferred the glitz-and-glamour facade of the jewelry world over the sweaty, athletic image of his company. It was just as well she wasn't bright enough to have done any research. If she had, she would have known that Evan's company's earnings far exceeded those of his father's jewelry business. And it had only taken him a few years to accomplish it.
His mother wouldn't believe it but Evan was grateful to his brother for being a selfish pinhead. Mitchell wanted Bettina because Evan had her. Thanks to that deep need for one-upmanship, Evan had narrowly escaped a huge mistake.
But it didn't mean he wanted to spend quality time with his controlling father and his spoiled, self-indulgent sibling. He'd agreed, however, and now he needed a date.
With a shake of his head, he began scrolling through his address book in his BlackBerry. He had narrowed his options to three women, when the solution came to him.
It was brilliant, really. He was an idiot for not having thought of it immediately. It certainly solvedall his problems.
Finally he had a way of luring Celia to him. It would be business, of course, but if the setting happened to be intimate and she was for all practical purposes stranded with him on Catalina Island for three days…
A satisfied smile raised the corners of his mouth. Maybe the wedding wouldn't be such a bad thing after all.