The Allure of Dean Harper Page 12

  I reached for the phone beside my bed and dialed Jo’s number, praying she’d answer.

  “Are you calling to gossip? What happened to ‘blah blah blah stays in Vegas’?” she asked as soon as the call connected.

  I smiled, though it felt wrong. “How’d you know it was me?”

  “Lucky guess. What are you doing? Aren’t you busy? Julian said he was going to explore the casino before the meet and greet later.”

  “I just got kicked out of a meeting, so it looks like I have the rest of the afternoon to myself.”

  “What do you mean? Who booted you?”

  “Dean.”

  “Are you serious?”

  I nodded, though she couldn’t see me. “He’s not like Julian. I don’t even know how they can be friends. They’re so different.”

  “I’m sorry, Lily.”

  “I’m tempted to book an earlier flight and come home. I don’t care what it costs me.”

  “What? Are you serious? You’re going to throw in the towel and come home? Who are you and what have you done with Lily Black?”

  “Ha ha.”

  “I think you should stay and give Dean a taste of his own medicine. You’ve never let someone get away with treating you like that. Do you remember in the third grade when you cut off Betsy Higgins’ pigtail because she stole your Lisa Frank folder?”

  I laughed.

  “Seriously. Take that little black dress out of your suitcase, add a little smoky eye, and get your ass down to that club.”

  I stared down at Josephine’s black lace dress sitting on the top of my luggage. When I’d tried it on at home, the material on the bodice had curved perfectly around my breasts and sloped up to a thin halter that buttoned behind my neck. I knew if I put it on, I’d gain back a sliver of the confidence Dean had stolen earlier that day.

  “How’d you know I have that dress?”

  “Because I have an empty hanger in my closet where it should be. That thing had better not stay in Vegas.”

  Damn, she was good.

  “I promise I won’t get anything on it,” I said, stepping closer and running my fingers over the lace.

  “Don’t worry about that. Send me a picture of you after you get ready. I’ll be living vicariously through you.”

  I stared up at myself in the mirror. My hair was flat and my mascara was smeared beneath my eyes. I’d need a major overhaul if I intended on meeting the group at the club downstairs in a few hours.

  “I’ll make you proud,” I said, pulling the dress out of the suitcase and then reaching for a pair of black strappy heels that I’d nabbed as well. “PS, I also have your black Manolos. Okayloveyoubye.”

  I crammed all the words together and hung up before she could berate me for stealing her shoes as well. She immediately shot me a text.

  Josephine: Don’t let Dean’s tears ruin those shoes.

  I didn’t want Dean to weep; I wanted him to realize how wrong he was. He didn’t take me seriously as a friend or as a coworker. He underestimated me just like everyone else, and that night, I planned on proving him wrong.

  I reached for the hotel phone, dialed the front desk, and asked to be connected to the salon.

  After I’d scheduled a hair and makeup appointment, I hung up, grabbed everything I needed for the evening, and headed for the salon. I was standing in the central elevator bank, waiting for a lift when a family joined me. I glanced over to see a little girl staring up at me, confused by the mascara on my cheeks. I’d forgotten to wash it off before leaving my room.

  “Mommy, can I get my face painted like a monster too?” the little girl whispered loudly.

  I smiled and turned back to the illuminated numbers above the elevator.

  Not a monster. A phoenix.

  Chapter Thirty

  Dean

  “Are you an idiot?” Zoe asked.

  “You asked her to go home?” Julian was in complete disbelief.

  My explanations fell on deaf ears: she’d been disrespectful, she’d jeopardized a relationship that had taken me years to cultivate, and she was a constant threat to my self-control. I didn’t tell them the last reason, of course. They’d have a field day with that knowledge, especially because it was the only reason that really mattered. She’d been out of line in the meeting with Antonio, but hardly terrible enough to send home. No, I wanted her gone because having her in Vegas was a constant reminder of my struggle. I could look, but not touch. I could berate her for screwing up a meeting, but I couldn’t kiss her. I’d slept on the couch, ten feet from her, and I’d lain awake the entire night, listening and praying I’d hear a sound coming from her room, some kind of invitation. Nothing had come and I was tired as shit.

  She needed to go. It was the only way I could focus for the second half of the week.

  Still, a part of me hoped she’d meant what she’d said as she’d walked away earlier.

  I’ll see you at the meet and greet later.

  …

  The Bank was filled to the brim with industry people. I recognized half of them from years past, and the other half I’d read about in the food sections of newspapers and magazines.

  The celebrity chefs already had crowds around them and I steered clear, opting for a table across the room. Hunter, Zoe, and Julian followed me in, taking in the scene in silence. I ordered bottle service and threw Zoe a pleading look. She shrugged and stared down at her phone. Good enough. I couldn’t stand another hour of her anger.

  Our waiter returned with bottles of Hendrick’s Gin and Deep Eddy Vodka. I watched him set out ice, glasses, and a slew of mixers. Once he was gone, I motioned for them to make their drinks first and turned to scan the room.

  I couldn’t admit to myself that I was looking for Lily until I found her. Her long blonde hair was curled and slipping down across her back. Her black dress was tight and short. I scanned down her tan legs and then lingered on her, too aware of the kick drum in my chest.

  She laughed and reached out to touch the arm of the guy across from her. It was nothing more than a harmless gesture, but the guy’s smile almost split his face in two. I couldn’t blame him; I knew what that touch felt like.

  Hunter, Julian, and Zoe were talking behind me, carrying on an entire conversation that I ignored. Someone tapped my shoulder, but I was too interested in Lily, too aware of her movements in that black dress. She turned in my direction and her eyes found me. I didn’t glance away. It was a challenge, just like always. One slender brow arched in acknowledgement and then she excused herself from the group. Their faces fell and the man she’d touched reached out after her, like he wasn’t ready to let her go yet.

  Too bad, asshole.

  You never even had her.

  I watched her walk toward the table like a mirage. If I blinked, if I turned away, she’d disappear.

  “Lily!” Zoe yelled, jumping up to greet her.

  Lily smiled, but her focus was still on me.

  She looked different, like for once she wasn’t shying away from her absolute beauty. She was making a show of it, as if she knew exactly the kind of power she wielded.

  Her red-stained lips curled into a smirk and she pressed a piece of paper to my chest. I reached for it, gripping her hand along with the slip of paper.

  She shook her head and pulled her hand away.

  This was a game and the rules were clear: she wasn’t mine for the night. I didn’t deserve her.

  “That sheet of paper has the names and emails of three prominent food bloggers who would like to be invited to our grand opening.”

  I smiled.

  “Jessica Kepner writes a weekly column for the Times. She’s a tapas fanatic and wants to do an in-depth interview with you and the team. Her info is on the back. She’s expecting you to call her next week.”

  I thought I might have fallen in love with Lily in that moment.

  She leaned closer so that her lips were a few inches from my face. I focused there as she bit out the last few words. “I might
not know as much about this world as you do, but I deserve your best semblance of respect. You don’t get to send me home because I didn’t kiss that chef’s ass. This is my job, and it's time for you to realize that I’m good at it.”

  She walked away before I could pick my jaw up off the floor. She wasn’t going to let me win that easily. Hell, she probably wasn’t going to let me win at all. I stood and smiled.

  Game on.

  …

  I found Lily by the bar, waiting on a drink.

  “Can we talk for a second?” I whispered against her ear. “Alone?”

  She ignored me, bending forward to try to get the bartender’s attention. Fortunately for me, he had a hundred other customers vying for a drink. I reached out and gripped her arm. Her skin was so soft beneath my fingers, I wanted to trace the curve of her arm, up to her neck and beyond.

  She flinched and tried to pull her arm back. “Let go of me, Dean.”

  “Come talk to me.”

  She tilted her head and narrowed her smoky eyes up at me. “You know, I think I’d rather stay here. Maybe another time.”

  She twisted around, trying to walk away, but I still had a grip on her arm. She winced and I knew I was hurting her, but I couldn’t let go. My fingers were wrapped around her arm and if I let her go, she’d slip back into the dim lights of the club, free to do whatever she wanted.

  “Lily, you good?”

  The guy from earlier—the one who’d hated to see her walk away—was back and about to find my last nerve. His too-tight Izod shirt was tucked into his jeans and the bright salmon color confirmed the fact that he wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like Lily if he were ever lucky enough to have her.

  “Who’s this? Is he hitting on you?”

  She laughed and the hollow sound sliced through me.

  “No. This is my boss.”

  Her tone was icy and distant. When she turned back to stare at me, I knew I’d lost whatever grip I’d once had on her. My fingers slid from her arm and I stared down at the red imprint I’d caused. It faded almost instantly, her tan overwhelming the redness as she let the guy lead her toward a dark corner of the club. I stood immobile, letting the crowd press into me, jostling and yelling out drink orders I couldn’t hear.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Lily

  It was painful to walk away from Dean. I’d thought it would feel good to take Jo’s advice and give him a taste of his own medicine, but it left me on edge. What if that was it? I’d wanted to push a little, but what if I’d pushed him away for good? Was I prepared to see him with another woman? Prepared to never share another night with him?

  I grabbed a linen paper towel from the club’s bathroom sink and wiped my hands, steering my gaze clear of the mirror. I knew if I looked there it’d be harder to ignore my true desire. The makeup, the dress? It was all for him. I’d told myself it was for the job, that I needed to look my best for the meet and greet, but mostly I’d just wanted Dean to eat his words. I wanted him to see me for the asset that I was and beg for one more night with me.

  I shook my head free of those thoughts and pushed through the bathroom door. I could smell Hunter’s cologne before I saw him. It was a heavy, spiced scent that felt the same as secondhand smoke when it hit my nostrils.

  “There you are, Lily,” he mumbled, practically licking his lips.

  I sneered. He was one of the few people that made my hair stand on end whenever he was near, and I took it as a sign to stay away from him.

  “What do you need, Hunter?”

  He stepped forward and the top half of his drink slipped out over the edge. That’s when I picked up on his heavy eyelids and half-untucked shirt—the man was three sheets to the wind.

  “Lily. Lily. Lily. You’re so beautiful. It’s so painful to work with you every day.”

  I swallowed and stepped to the side, toward the end of the hallway. The club was packed, but the small alcove with the bathrooms was annoyingly empty. I didn’t think Hunter had it in him to attack, but even so, I wanted to get away from him and his waterlogged words as soon as possible.

  “Thanks Hunter,” I said with a flat tone. “I’m going to head back out there now.”

  He frowned and reached into his shirt pocket.

  “Wait. Wait. Lily, here. Take this.”

  He shoved a piece of paper into my hand before I could flinch back.

  “It’s the room I rented for us. Nobody has to know. Come find me later, baby,” he said, trying his best to smirk. At best, it looked like some sort of grimace. At worst, it looked like his lips were falling off.

  I shook my head and glanced down at the piece of scrap paper in my hand. On one side of it, there was a logo for Ivy & Wine—a restaurant name I didn’t recognize—but when I turned it over, I saw the numbers he’d scrawled. It looked like two 8s and a 4. Or it maybe a 6…oh, Hunter.

  I tossed the paper into the trash and set off to find Nick. Or was it Rick? Shit. He was a food critic from San Francisco and I’d been putting up with his terrible breath for the last two hours in the hopes that he would feature one of Dean’s restaurants on his website.

  I searched through the club to no avail. Nick-Rick was gone and I needed another drink if I was going to get through the rest of the meet and greet. I’d already handed Dean more than enough names, but I wanted to go above and beyond anything he could imagine. I needed him to know how valuable I was.

  The lights in the club changed colors every few seconds, flickering in and out in a rainbow effect. Blue, green, yellow, red. Each moment that passed painted my skin a different hue.

  What was Dean doing?

  Who was he talking to?

  I wedged against the bar and was waiting for the bartender’s attention when I felt his hand on my hip. Not Nick-Rick. Dean.

  His hand gripped my waist, branding me through my dress. I glanced down and his hand skimmed an inch lower. I hated how happy I was that he’d come back. He wasn’t done. I could push and push and push, and he would just pull and pull and pull me back.

  “You’ve proved your point,” he whispered in my ear.

  “Excuse me?” I asked, barely getting the words out without a stutter.

  “You’re punishing me,” he said, his hand biting into my hip. “Enough.”

  The bartender slapped his towel down onto the bar and met my eye.

  “You gonna order or what?” he asked.

  “She’ll have a lime juice margarita.”

  “Wrong. I want a dirty martini.”

  The bartender shook his head, annoyed with the two of us. He bent to retrieve a glass and I was left alone with Dean once again.

  “Let go of me,” I huffed over my shoulder. “Nick will be back soon.”

  “Fuck Nick.”

  I inhaled a sharp breath, registering his anger. He was a nine on the Richter scale and I knew if I pushed him any further, my world would shake because of it.

  “You and I are nothing, Dean. We had sex—“

  “Mind-blowing sex,” he corrected.

  I swallowed and chanced a quick glance over my shoulder. He was right there. That jaw, those lips, the scent of his body wash—I wanted it all.

  “But as you’ve clearly shown, we’ve moved on,” I continued.

  He took a step closer, pinning me to the bar with his hips. I could feel him against me as he pressed one foot between my legs.

  “I’m not done yet,” he said.

  “Well I am.”

  The bartender set down my drink. “Here ya go. Do you have a tab?”

  Dean threw a few bills down on the bar and reached for the drink. I twisted around and watched as he swallowed down my alcohol. He handed the glass over and met my gaze as I brought the drink to my lips. I tasted him on the glass; the martini was nothing compared to him.

  He jutted his chin up. “Prove it.”

  “Prove what?” I asked.

  “If it was just sex, then let me take you back to the villa. No harm in round two, right
?”

  I took another sip of the drink and his fingers skimmed beneath the hem of my dress. He bent low, bringing his mouth parallel to mine.

  “Answer me,” he demanded as his brown eyes searched my face, landing on my lips with a plea.

  He wanted to test me? He thought he could handle round two?

  Fine.

  I reached down, gripped his hand on my thigh, and yanked it away. Hard.

  “Let’s go,” I said, dropping my forgotten drink back on the bar. I didn’t want it any more. Dean had ruined it, just like he’d ruined me.

  He mirrored my steps, keeping control of my body. I may have been leading us out of the bar, but it was clear that I was the puppet on his strings. He reached forward and pushed the door open, skimming a kiss along my neck as he stood back to his full height. The goose bumps that bloomed beneath his kiss betrayed my attraction to him. I straightened my shoulders as the doors opened and I took a step out, righting the mission in my head.

  Once again, he was trying to wrest the steering wheel out of my hands. I had to do something. I had to get the upper hand.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Dean

  Our villa was tucked into a quiet corner of the property. To access it, we had to take a private path that snaked past the pools and the ballrooms. I held Lily’s hand as I led her down the path, and I could feel her body humming like a live wire. When we were nearly at the entrance to our villa, I paused and turned toward her.

  “I was harsh earlier. After the meeting—”

  She didn’t let me finish my apology. She took two steps to close the gap between us and threw her body against mine. I wasn’t expecting her assault and my body fell back against the wall before I could stop it. I caught her waist, steadying the two of us before we toppled over. She gripped my face and kissed me like her life depended on it.