More Than You Know (8 page)

“You will,” he assured her. His mind had cleared, his heart rate was slowing, and as much as she was putting on a damn strong front, he'd caught a glimpse of something in her eyes before she'd shuttered it: fear. “Julia. Your contract is ironclad. You're safe. Don't show up drunk, don't be inappropriate in the hotel, don't get your name in the papers for anything negative, and your job is secure. Whether anything ever happens between us or not. Okay?”

She stared for another few seconds, then turned away. She went to the mirror and dropped her shoulder bag onto the counter. Her hair fell around her face as she rummaged through her bag, like a shield of fiery waves. She pulled out a lip-liner pencil and fixed her mouth, not meeting his eyes in the mirror as she worked.

Dane stared at her back. She'd brushed him off. She'd all but fucking dismissed him. He sat slowly on one of the sofas, trying to maintain an air of casual ease, but his insides were still throbbing and his mind was in a tailspin. To say she'd surprised him was the understatement of the year. She'd kissed him,
she'd
made the first move. He'd been, as Pierce would say, gobsmacked. He wasn't used to a woman taking what she wanted from him so boldly. She'd wanted it so she'd taken it, without apology and without restraint. It turned him on more than he wanted to admit.

He licked his lips, still tasting her. The sound of her soft moan of surrender still echoed in his head. Goddammit, he wanted her. She was fire and power and heat, and he wanted all of it. She could brush him off all she liked—the chemistry between them was undeniable. Those scorching kisses had proved it.

He drew in a deep breath and exhaled it slowly.

Maintaining a professional relationship with Julia Shay was going to be even harder than he'd thought.

Chapter Five

Dane made another pass through the lobby, shaking hands as he worked his way through the crowd. The party was in full swing and going smoothly. Food disappeared off the trays almost as fast as the waitstaff brought them out. Drinks were plentiful, music played, laughter sounded among the low rumble of conversation . . . the bash to celebrate the opening of the Hotel Alexandra was a success.

Dane had expected nothing less, but he always felt that click of relief and satisfaction once he was firmly in the game.

He heard a familiar voice call his name and looked over. His father, beside his older brother and sister in the corner he'd reserved for them, waved Dane over insistently. Dane held up a finger, telling him to wait, as he finished the chat he was having with the mayor's wife. When he was able to excuse himself politely, he crossed to where his family stood.

“How goes it, Harrisons?” he said amiably, and leaned in to drop a quick kiss on Tess's cheek. “You look fantastic,” he told her. His sister was a beautiful woman on her worst day, but all decked out in a hot pink halter gown, over six feet tall with the added height from her four-inch heels, she stood out even in a room of glamorous, beautiful people.

“Thank you,” she said with a pleased smile. She reached up to straighten his tie. “Having fun? Everything's going well?”

“All is well,” Dane said proudly. “I'm even going to have a drink soon. Think I can relax and enjoy now.”

“Hell of a party,” Charles Harrison II boomed at his son. “Another Harrison success.”

“Dad,” Tess said in a soft reprimand. “This is Dane's
own
success.”

“That too.” Charles II clapped his free hand on his son's shoulder. “Another notch on your
own
belt. Good for you.” He raised his glass of scotch in a toast and took a sip.

“Thanks, Dad,” Dane said, smiling, then turned to his sister and winked.

“So when does your singer start?” Charles III asked.

“Ten o'clock. She'll do two short sets: forty-five minutes each, with a fifteen-minute break in between. You won't be disappointed,” Dane promised. “She's really good.”

“And very easy on the eyes, from what your brother tells me,” Charles II said.

Dane chuckled. “Yup. She's sexy as hell, but with class and grit. You'll approve.”

Charles II nodded firmly at his son. “Good. Sex sells. Men will want her, and women will want to be like her. Smart move.”

“The only kind of move I make, Dad.” Thinking of his fiery vocalist, Dane grinned and checked his watch. “Well, it's almost nine-thirty. Grab a table soon if you want to. I'll meet you in there, save me a seat. Got a few more hands to shake.”

 

 

Dane slipped into the bar and lounge at five minutes to ten. To his satisfaction, the place was packed. Patrons filled the bar area, almost to overflowing, the sounds of the lively crowd music to his ears. Every table in the lounge was taken. Craning his neck, he spotted the backs of his family's heads at a table front and center. Of course his father would want the best seat in the house. Charles Harrison II always wanted nothing but the best, and usually got it.

Tess sat between both Charles Harrisons; Dane slid into the empty chair next to his brother. “Hello, kids.”

“Hey, there you are. I love it in here!” Tess said enthusiastically. “This is fantastic.”

“What she said,” Charles III agreed. “Great atmosphere.”

“Glad you like it,” Dane said. Pride warmed him and he smiled.

“What kind of stuff does this woman sing?” Charles II asked.

Dane caught the eyes of a waitress and he waved her over. “One set will be your type of stuff—standards, classics,” he added for his father's benefit. “The other set will be contemporary songs. But ballads, mainly.”

“She's a torch singer,” Charles II proclaimed. “Good. I like torch singers.”

The waitress got to Dane's side and he ordered a round of the house's best scotch for the table. “Wait, only three, actually,” he amended, knowing Tess wouldn't touch the stuff. “Just more sparkling water for her.”

The lights dimmed slowly until the large room was bathed in near darkness. The rumble of the crowd lowered to murmurs, then hushed altogether. The air crackled with excitement. Dane felt a tingle of anticipation run through him. This was it, what he'd been looking forward to for months: having a singer wow his clientele, and perhaps starting a new enterprise as a nightclub owner. Julia had to show her stuff. Thank God, she had the stuff.

Julia and Kelvin were both dedicated professionals. He knew they took their trade seriously, and it was important to them. But tonight, it was even more important to him. With this, his reputation was on the line. Whether she bombed or soared, either way, it would reflect on him.

He thought he saw something sparkle on the stage, only six feet away. And then, cutting through the dark, came Julia's voice. Smooth and sultry, without accompaniment, she sang the opening lines to the standard “Fever”. Her compelling voice reached out and caressed the crowd with velvet fingers.

The spotlight came on, focused only on Julia as Kelvin started to play along behind her. And Dane's heart stuck in his chest. Beautiful. Captivating. Absolutely electric. She was the very picture of tasteful glamour and sensual self-assurance—the musical seductress he'd wanted. Exactly what he'd envisioned all along . . . and damn, so much more.

He didn't recognize the silver sequined gown that hugged her every luscious curve until the hem poured onto the floor around her stilettoed feet. It wasn't one of the dresses he'd bought for her; he would've remembered that knockout of a dress. Her fiery hair flowed loose, sleek, and silky. Curled at the ends, her locks stopped just above her glorious cleavage, which was definitely showcased, but not in a vulgar way. Those big hazel eyes stood out even more with her dramatic, smoky makeup, and her red, glossy mouth was a beckoning tease. As her lips moved, he remembered what it was like to taste her....

Dane could only stare, completely mesmerized.

Julia cradled the microphone with one hand, her body swaying sinuously as she sang. The spotlight danced off her dress, making it twinkle and glimmer as she moved. He watched her hook her audience and reel them in with her enticing vocals like a pro. By the middle of the song, he could tell she'd relaxed enough to start enjoying it. She had them already, and she knew it. The look on her face was one of confidence, triumph . . . and even a hint of seduction. Dane felt his mouth curve up in a satisfied grin. He'd taken a huge risk with an unknown singer . . . and hit the jackpot.

The waitress discreetly placed his scotch before him, jolting him out of his trance. Feeling a little sheepish and slightly stunned by his visceral, almost primitive reaction to Julia, he knocked back a few hearty gulps of his drink, welcoming the warm burn as he sat back to enjoy the rest of the song. Julia and Kelvin were completely in sync, making it look effortless as only a well-polished team could.

When the song ended, the audience erupted in thunderous applause and approving shouts. Julia acknowledged the accolades with a poised nod and broad smile. She graciously waved her open palm back to Kelvin, making sure he was acknowledged too. Sitting so close, Dane could see the hint of pink in her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes he hadn't seen until now—she was happy. Relieved. She knew she'd killed it up there, and she was thrilled. Dane clapped as loudly as he could. He was thrilled
for
her.

Charles III leaned in and said to Dane, “She's phenomenal. And man, can she sing. You sure know how to pick 'em.”

Dane grinned softly, but gently tapped his glass to his brother's and they drank.

“What a voice!” Tess exclaimed. “Such presence. I'm so impressed. Jeannie was right about her!”

“Yes, she was, Tess,” Dane agreed. “I owe her, and you, a big one.”

“I'll remember that,” Tess trilled with delight.

“You've got yourself a future star there,” their father said. “Keep an eye on her.”

“Believe me, I will,” Dane replied, feeling elated and strangely proud. He stared at Julia, mentally willing her to look at him. She did almost immediately. He tossed her a wink and an admiring grin, nodding as if to say, “Well done.” Their eyes held and the corner of her mouth turned up in a hint of a pleased smile. Then her gaze flickered back out to the crowd before she launched into her next song.

“That woman is an old-fashioned bombshell,” Charles II proclaimed.

Dane snorted, but thought to himself,
She sure as hell is
.

Julia glanced back at Kelvin, and he started playing the opening bars of “Nice Work If You Can Get It.” Smooth and cool, Kelvin's long fingers moved along the keys with mastery, his dreads swaying as his head bobbed in time. Julia cocked her curvaceous hip and smiled as she launched into the song, having fun with it.

Throughout the set, Dane sat back to enjoy the music and bathe in her sexy, powerful glow. She had more than delivered. He was grateful, he was relieved . . . and he wanted her even more now. He wanted to lift her up, lay her across the top of the piano, hike up that sparkling silver dress, and take her right there.

But as the set went on, and her patter with the audience gave glimpses into her sharp wit and personality, he enjoyed seeing aspects of her he hadn't before. That she hadn't
allowed
him to see. She was outgoing, smiling, and open—which she rarely was to him. Whenever he'd poked his head in at a rehearsal over the past two weeks—which was almost every day; he couldn't help himself, he wanted to see her—she'd held him at bay. He watched her joke around with Kelvin, be friendly to everyone she met. But for Dane, she was cool, all business, an employee talking to her boss. He'd banter with her anyway, as he did with everyone, and sometimes she bantered back. But her unspoken message was loud and clear: the kiss wouldn't be repeated. The chemistry between them was to be ignored. Their interactions would be strictly professional. She kept her distance from him physically and emotionally; her manner and body language around him were guarded.

Or, most of her was. Not her eyes. Those expressive dark gold eyes sometimes betrayed her. If he stepped closer to her, wanting to push a little to see how she'd react . . . her eyes flamed for a second when they met his, and he knew she was remembering that off-the-charts kiss as much as he was. The melding and crashing of mouths, the wandering hands, the feel of their bodies pressed together . . .

He thought of it now, watching her body sway under the lights, sparkles coming off her dress like glittery diamonds. He gazed at her eyes, heavy-lidded as she beautifully sang a song of yearning, as if she were making love to the notes....

Damn.
Damn, damn, damn.

He sat back in his chair, crossed one long leg over the other, and made sure he caught her gaze when he lifted his glass in a toast to her before he sipped.

 

 

It was after 1:30
A.M.
by the time Dane made it back to the lounge. The grand opening party had been a success, most of the guests had dispersed, and as of six o'clock the following morning—now only hours away—the Hotel Alexandra would officially be open for business.

He'd pressed the flesh with members of the media, society mavens, politicians, and other movers and shakers in the hotel industry. Except for when he'd sat to watch Julia's first set, he'd been on his feet the entire night. He had laughed with friends and colleagues, sampled some of his new chef's fantastic cuisine, and seen his family into the limo that would take them back to Long Island. He should've been exhausted. But he wasn't. He was still pumped with adrenaline, not nearly ready to call it a night, and headed to the bar for a drink.

Ah, who was he kidding? That wasn't all of it. He was looking to see if the redhead was still around. He couldn't keep away from her if he knew she was in the building. The last two weeks had proven that. He'd found an excuse to see her almost every day. Just like he was now.

To his delight, the bar was still filled with patrons.
Ah, New Yorkers
, he thought,
you wonderful night owls, you never let me down.
He strolled toward the lounge area; no one was there. Maybe she was back in her dressing room?

“Everything okay, Mr. Harrison?” came a man's voice from behind him.

Dane turned and grinned up at his head bartender. “Better than okay, Tonio. It's been a great night. How's business in here? Looks good.”

“Hasn't let up since we opened the doors,” Tonio Ramos said. He gestured with his chin toward the four bartenders working behind the bar. “They're good. Smooth. Gonna be fine.”

“Glad to hear it.” Dane clapped a hand on Tonio's shoulder and noted it was like slapping concrete. Tonio was built like a linebacker—which he had been, back in his college days. After a five-year bartending and bouncing stint at one of Dane's favorite bars in Tribeca, Dane had hired him as head bartender for his midtown hotel three years ago. Then he'd moved Tonio to the Alexandra, wanting someone he knew he could count on, and given him a generous raise. “I trust your judgment, you know that.”

“Thanks, Boss.”

Dane scoured the area once more before saying, “Hey, any chance you've seen Julia Shay around? Or did she leave already?”

“No, they're back over there.” Tonio nodded toward the high-walled booths at the back, on the other side of the bar. “Her, the piano player, and another couple. I made sure they got fed and had a round of drinks on the house. Hope that's okay.”