All the Pretty Poses (4 page)

The perfect clone of the perfect
bastard,
I think for a moment before I push the thought aside
and return to my anger.

“I don’t have time for this,” I snap,
stepping forward to take Kennedy by the arm and tug her along with
me as I stride across the room to the door that leads to the
conservatory just off the library.

“What the hell is the matter with you?”
Kennedy hisses when the door shuts behind us and we are out of view
of the people in the library. She wrenches her arm free.

“I’m the one asking questions. Now would you
like to tell me what you are doing dancing in one of my clubs?”

She raises her chin defiantly. “I didn’t know
it was
your club
until last night when you accosted one of
the waitresses in the men’s room. Word got around pretty fast after
that,” she spits in disgust.

I grind my back teeth together. I don’t know
why I care that she knows about that. Even though she did little
more than lick my dick before I stopped her, it still pisses me
off. “Don’t change the subject. Why are you dancing in a place like
that?”

Kennedy narrows her eyes on me. “What’s the
matter? Feeling a little ashamed of the type of businessman you’ve
become, Reese?”

“I’m not ashamed of anything. My clubs are
some of the best in the world. They’re just no place for a girl
like you.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean? Just what
kind of girl am I?”

“You
used
to be a nice one.”

“Just because I do what I love in a club like
yours doesn’t mean I’m not a nice girl. It’s not a strip club, for
god’s sake.”

“It’s still not a place for someone like
you.”

Kennedy’s laugh is bitter and so is her
expression. “I hate to break it to you, Reese, but most of the
world has to work for a living. And, just in case you didn’t
realize it, your clubs pay very, very well.”

I stare at her and she stares at me. I want
to yell until she hears me, to grab her and make her promise she
won’t ever return there, but I also am suddenly overcome with the
desire to help her. She’s just working a job to pay the bills, like
ninety-nine percent of the population. But knowing that she’s
forced to dance for the pleasure of men hits me in a soft place
that I didn’t even realize I had.

“Then let me get you a job in the
administrative offices. There are dozens of other positions I could
put you in with the company.”

“I’m sure that’s your way of trying to be
nice, but I don’t need your charity, Reese. I’ve done just fine on
my own all this time. Besides, dancing is what I love. It’s what
I’ve always wanted to do. Your club is just a stepping stone. Trust
me,
Reese,
I have dreams far beyond dancing in
your
club.
”

“And what are those?”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I just do.”

A frown wrinkles Kennedy’s brow. Her sea foam
eyes search mine as though she’s discerning whether or not I’m
genuinely interested or if there’s a trap somewhere ahead.

“You really want to know?”

“I do.” And that’s no lie. Just as when we
were kids, I find that I’m unusually interested in Kennedy.

“Ultimately, I’d love to dance with an
amazing troupe like Altman American Dance Theater. But since that’s
not very likely, I’d settle for small theater dance. My dream is
just to dance.
Really
dance.”

Her voice is quiet. Sincere.

And for reasons I’ll never know, I do
something incredibly stupid.

“Come work the summer for me, then. On my
boat. Then I’ll get you an audition with Chance Altman.”

CHAPTER SIX- Kennedy

“What? A-are you serious?” I stutter.

“Deadly,” Reese replies flatly.

“Work for you. Doing what?”

One dark brow arches suggestively, sending a
little shiver through me, but then it falls back down before he
answers. “Nothing you haven’t done before.” When I open my mouth to
take exception to such a vague description, he continues. “Some
dancing, socializing. Maybe serving some drinks. Nothing too
taxing.”

“And for that, you’ll get me an audition.
With Altman. How?”

“Very easily. I’ve had the pleasure of
Chance’s company on one of my boats before. As well as in a few of
my clubs. Let’s just say he owes me.”

“I just…I can’t…And all I’d have to do is
work for you. On a boat. For the summer.”

Reese smiles. That smile that turned my world
upside down. And then left it in a smoldering heap of burned
ruin.

I am so overcome with emotion right now, I’m
finding it hard to keep a grip on rational thought.

Seeing Reese last night was like a bullet to
the heart. Feeling those aqua eyes on me brought back everything in
one mind-numbing rush.

The draw, like gravity.

The desire, like obsession.

The pain, like annihilation.

I thought I was over him. For years, I’ve
thought I was over him, but seeing him again…even for three
minutes…right out of the blue…God, it was like being hit by a car
going ninety miles an hour. All over again. The instant I saw him,
everything I ever felt for him came crashing back down on me, like
an avalanche. One that it took me half my life to crawl out from
under.

But then, finding out what he did with
Pandora just a few minutes after our eyes locked… it was like
losing him all over again. The disappointment was devastating. I
spent the night holding back tears, both old and new, reminding
myself that I left Reese behind a long, long time ago. As I finally
drifted off to sleep, I kept reminding myself that I have to leave
him in my past, not let him touch my
now
in the tiniest
way.

Yet here I am, listening to his proposition,
actually considering it, because he’s dangling the
one
carrot that could make me question whether or not I should turn
around and walk away. For good. Forever.

“What if I’m married? Did you ever think of
that?”

For the blink of an eye, I see his nostrils
flare in anger, but then Reese surprises me by giving me a
half-grin, his sparkling eyes intense as they shine down into
mine.

“You’re not married.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because if you were mine, I would never,
ever
let you dance like that.” Reese takes another step
closer to me, reaching up to touch my cheek with the very tip of
one finger. “Unless it was just for me.”

I’m breathless. I shouldn’t be. But I am.
“Maybe he just likes to watch me dance,” I say, struggling to keep
from falling under the spell of his closeness.

“I wouldn’t blame him.
I
loved
watching you. But I didn’t love
everyone else
watching
you.”

Reese’s eyes flicker down to my mouth, making
my lips tingle again. I’m stuck in some surreal place between what
was
and what
is
. Some part of me is teetering on the
edge of the ocean of passion and desire that Reese and I once
drifted within. But another part of me, the scarred part, remembers
what it felt like to drown in those waters.

Helpless. And all alone.

I take a step back. “Well I guess it’s a good
thing I’m not yours then, right, Reese?”

“But you could be,” he says softly, not
moving any closer, eyes just as intense.

My heart is aching in my chest. The girl in
me, the one who loved him so deeply so many years ago, wants to run
to him, to throw myself in his arms and ask him where he’s been all
this time. But the woman in me, the woman who had to clean up the
mess of that girl, the one who suffers the echoes of all those
tears, knows that there is nothing to run back to. There never
was.

“Is that what this is about? You getting
another shot at little Kennedy?” I can’t keep the bitterness from
my tone, so I don’t even try. “Because I’m not that little girl
anymore.”

“Oh, I can see that.”

“I won’t retrace her footsteps, Reese. You
should know that now. If you make this offer, and if I accept,
it’ll be strictly professional.”

Reese sighs. “I want to help you, Kennedy. I
really do. And I will. But I won’t deny that I
want
you.” He
takes one easy step toward me. “Or that I intend to have you.”

My insides quake. His words…the memories…that
look in his eyes…

But I reach down deep for the strong Kennedy
that rose from the ashes of the girl that knelt at Reese’s feet. I
wrap myself in her confidence, in her resolve. It’s
her
that
gives Reese my most stunning smile. “Then I hope you’re okay with
disappointment, because there’s no way in hell I’d go down that
road again.”

Reese nods his head regally, a silent
Touché
. It’s as I turn to walk away that he lands his
parting shot.

“Just don’t expect me to help you resist me,
Kennedy. In fact, I promise you that I’ll make it as hard as I
can.”

My legs falter only for a moment as they
carry me resolutely, albeit unsteadily, away from Reese.

CHAPTER SEVEN- Reese

There’s no reason for me not to make plans
for Kennedy’s arrival on my yacht. Part of it is being sure of
myself and my powers of persuasion. I’ve spent most of my life
getting what I want. I’ve learned how to do it effectively, no
matter who I’m negotiating with. But part of it is anticipation.
I’m ready to get this show on the road. I’m anxious to spend some
time getting to know this new Kennedy, the one who dances like
she’s dancing just for me. The one whose legs are longer than ever.
The one whose lips are made just for mine. The one who I’m going to
gorge myself on until I can’t stand the sight of her.

I need to get Kennedy in my bed and out of my
system as soon as possible.

Being the owner of the club at which she
works, I have access to all of Kennedy’s records—her mandatory
health exams, including the results of her labs that show she’s
clean as a whistle; the brands of products she orders for her
shows, from makeup to body glitter (which she never orders); her
shoe and clothing sizes; and even the fact that she loves hats. I
pass most of that information along to Kimmie, the woman in charge
of the entertainment on my cruises. She can order outfits and
accoutrements for Kennedy based on what she’s worn in the past.

So, in essence, I have all the information I
need to make sure Kennedy’s room is prepared for her when she
boards. And she
will
board. I was even able to get the son
of a friend of my father’s to find out if she has a passport that’s
up to date, which she does.

The last thing I have to do is let Kennedy
know what time the car will be around to pick her up. I punch in
the number that I got from her contact information sheet into my
phone and listen to it ring.

“Hello?” comes a sleepy, husky voice.

“Mmmm, that sounds like an invitation,” I
murmur. And it does. It says to me that she’s lying warm and naked
beneath her sheets, her skin supple, her body willing.

After a short pause, during which I can
almost hear Kennedy’s eyes opening wider as she comes awake, she
speaks. “Then you would be mistaken,” she replies, prim and curt.
She doesn’t ask who’s calling or mistake me for another man. She
recognizes my voice, which means she’s been thinking about me.
Maybe remembering. Maybe wishing.

“Get someone to look after your cat for three
months, and be packed and ready by four o’clock. I’ll send someone
to escort you to the airport. And bring your passport.”

“How do you know I have a cat?”

“Educated guess.”

She sniffs at my reply. “Aren’t you being a
little presumptuous?” she asks sharply.

“Not at all. You’re a smart woman. You’ve
looked at your options. You’ve weighed the merits of working the
summer in my club and planning for the dream you may or may not
achieve on your own, versus working for me and getting a
once-in-a-lifetime audition that you could likely never get on your
own, and you’ve concluded that there’s only one sensible
choice.”

“Just like you knew I would,” she says
quietly.

I can’t help but smile. I’m sure she hates
that I’ve engineered the situation so perfectly. But if I didn’t
know how to make offers people can’t refuse, I wouldn’t be where I
am today. I wouldn’t be
who
I am today.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. There are
very few people who can deny me.”

“And, aside from me, who might those be?”

“You’re not denying me.”

“I’m taking you up on an offer, but you can
rest assured that I’ll be denying you in every other possible
way.”

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

I hear her soft huff and I smile again. This
might be even more fun than I anticipated. And I anticipated a
whole hell of a lot!

Before she can argue further, I cut her off.
“I’ll see you at four.”

I hang up.

I’m still smiling, thinking, planning when
the phone rings in my hand. It’s a number I don’t recognize. The
switch to Harrison Spencer is swift and automatic.

“Spencer,” I answer brusquely.

“Mr. Spencer, my name is Oswold Bingham. I
represent Malcolm Spencer’s estate. Would you be available to
attend the reading of his will today? You’ve been mentioned in a
recently-notarized codicil.”

I frown. I never expected to be named in
Malcolm’s will. It makes me feel even worse about my protracted
absence.

“What time?”

“Three pm, sir. The reading will be done here
at Bellano. In the study.”

I don’t bother to hide my sigh of irritation.
“Fine, but I can only give you until 3:45. No later. I’m flying out
this afternoon.”

“I’ll make sure to accommodate you then, sir.
I’ll be seeing you at three?”

“Yes,” I respond.

“Thank you.”

I hang up in a much pricklier mood than I was
two minutes ago.