Taste of Temptation (7 page)

Briefcase in hand, Jason walked up to Dolce's darkened storefront. It was familiar, unpleasant, being there again. But it would be worth it in the end. He depressed the bell and rocked back on his heels, checking out the neighborhood. Not much had changed in the years since he'd been here last.

The door to the bakery opened, and Jason waited for Sophia to invite him in.

"Fine. Let's get this over with,” she said in her lilting English. She stood back from the door, one eye squinting slightly at him as she pulled on her imported cigarette.

Jason adjusted the briefcase in his grip and followed her over to a small table by the counter. He swung the case up onto the tabletop, popped it open and spun it around to face her.

Sophia leaned forward, greed in her eyes. It was what he had banked on.

Jason glared at her over the payoff. “Give me the ring, and the money is yours."

Sorting through the bills, she piled them up, fanning one bundle with her thumb. “You're a fool, Jason. You always have been. You were a lovesick puppy ten years ago and looking at you now, I'm guessing you're lovesick for someone new. This ring isn't worth half of what you are paying me, but you want to see it on her finger. Are you so sure she won't make a fool out of you too?"

He didn't doubt Laine. He knew her. Loved her. He wouldn't let old hurts from someone else undermine the faith he had in her. “Just take your money."

"Gladly."

And that was it. After all these years, his grandmother's engagement ring rattled across the table, and back into the Henley line.

It would be perfect on Laine's hand.

Jason sat in his Mercedes and stared in disbelief at the jubilant wedding party emerging from the hotel's front lobby. The bride and groom looked ecstatic, grins plastered from ear to ear as they ran through a spray of birdseed to the cover of the waiting white limo. It looked as though everything had been perfect ... for someone.

His heart sinking, he removed the small velvet box from his coat pocket and opened it up. The two karat solitaire caught the sun streaming through the dash, reflecting a rainbow of lights around the interior of the car.

How could she have kept the truth from the bride? He'd been so sure. But then he'd been sure about Sophia—a woman who never loved him, but wanted his name and every man she could find between her legs. No one had wanted to tell him, but everyone had known. If he hadn't found her himself that last night before the wedding...

"Damn it,” he growled, snapping the lid closed and stuffing the box back into his pocket, before heading into the hotel.

The doors swished open for him, and he caught sight of Laine tucked into an overstuffed sofa in the lounge. She turned to face him, a sad smile breaking across her face.

Anger hardened inside of him. It was too late now for regrets. The wedding was over. She'd played her part, and he couldn't console her.

Jason turned away and headed to his elevator, where the car was waiting. Stepping inside, he plugged in his key and turned the car to private service. As the doors closed, he looked up and saw Laine, now standing by the exit looking back at him.

In his mind's eye he saw her staring up at him with cake smeared in her hair, looking more beautiful than he'd ever seen her. He saw her waiting half-naked to lure him into the elevator earlier that morning. He saw her the way he had that first night two years ago, giving a toast about romance, love and marriage. About what weddings really meant.

His heart plummeted in his chest. He was making a monumental mistake. There had to be an explanation. All she had to do was give it to him.

He slammed his hand against the door open button, but the car had already started up. Shit, he flicked at the stop switch twice, reversed the car and felt a sheen of sweat break out across his brow as he waited the eternity for the doors to open. The round trip hadn't taken more than thirty seconds, but Laine was already gone. He ran through the front doors just as a cab pulled around the far lane of the lot. “Laine!"

Cutting through the rows of parked cars, he headed off the cab, slapping his palm down on the hood. The rear window was half-open and Laine was huddled against the padded bench seat.

"Can you just tell me what happened? Make me understand how you could care more about a job than someone's life? Damn it, I saw you hesitate this morning, but I wanted to believe so much that you were different. How could you do it?"

Her eyes, glistening with unspent tears, wouldn't meet his. “Yes, Jason. I hesitated. There is no single answer that is right for every question. Sometimes things happen that make you question your instincts ... I—Never mind. It doesn't matter what happened. Just let me go, I don't want to talk anymore."

Jason backed away from the cab, raking his fingers through his hair. She couldn't face him. Maybe it was for the best. The small box in his pants pocket pressed against his thigh. How could he have been so wrong again?

Walking back to the hotel, one thought rose above the rest. Sophia had been right. He was a fool, again.

He shook his head, trying to clear the muddled emotions. No, trying to stop them all together. He didn't want to feel anything.

By the time the lobby doors swished shut, an icy calm had embraced him. He wasn't staying down this time.

Scanning the lobby, he caught sight of Dil leaning casually against the check-in desk, giving the new girl a reason to smile. Just the man he wanted.

Flagging him over, Jason laid out what he was looking for.

Dil pursed his lips. “So when you say as different from Ms. Malone as I can find, you mean you want an ugly, dim-wit who's going to agree with everything you say?"

"I don't need it from you too.” He couldn't get a break. Even Dil was giving him a hard time. “Just find me some company. Someone ... distracting.” He looked back at Dil and narrowed his eyes. “Not a hooker."

He wasn't going to be some chump drowning his sorrows over a pint down at the bar. And he wasn't going to take a year to get back in the saddle again. It wouldn't be another repeat of his Sophia breakup. Not that Laine was anything like Sophia, but—God damn it, he didn't know what the hell he was thinking. She was enough like Sophia to leave him feeling like a complete schmuck being led around by his dick.

No more.

Jamming his hands into his pockets, Dil shifted his gaze around the office. “Okay, sir. I think I have a girl for you."

"Not for me, for tonight.” No one was going to be right for him.

Patsy Cline's “Crazy” poured out of the jukebox in a slow painful assault on Laine's heart. Wanting to grab her glass of Chablis and rocket it at the person responsible for the song selection, she instead smoothed her hand over the polished oak bar and reined in her emotions. It wasn't the time to get all weepy over Jason and his holier than thou attitude.

Asshole.

No, now, this very minute, was the start of her future.

One door closed and another door opened. It always proved true, but the timing in this instance was rather shocking, even to a professional in an industry known for serendipity. Laine adjusted herself on the bar stool and, crossing her legs, angled herself toward the man seated beside her, Max Johnson. He was watching her intently, waiting for her response.

One last time she let her gaze run the length of his body, taking in the details. This guy was a catch, if ever she saw one. Clean cut good looks, nice dresser, a smooth smile, and trusting eyes that stayed focused on her, proving she was the center of his attention—an essential skill. The body was a plus, no doubt about it, talk about a strong back. He was old enough to have some experience, young enough where he was still eager to learn.

He'd been pursuing her for months and looking at him now, she knew he was exactly what she needed.

Taking a deep breath, the deliberation was over. She smiled and offered him her hand. “Okay."

"Oops,” Pammy tittered, pulling the scrap of her dress back over her nipple. Peering up from beneath a thick mane of bleached blonde hair, she bit into her bottom lip and shrugged.

Jason smiled and raised his glass, draining the last drop of Belvedere before returning it to the table with a thunk. Glancing around the restaurant, he saw an unusual number of his staff lingering at the perimeter of the room, each looking away with obvious embarrassment as his gaze landed on them. The hotel restaurant had been a poor choice for dinner. Well, at least with this many prying eyes, he wouldn't have to wait on the refill. Holding the glass up, he clinked the ice around and raised an eyebrow for a taker.

A new glass was on the table within ninety seconds.

"Five star service,” he said, daring a glance at Pammy. The suggestive manner in which she ran her fingers up and down the stem of her wine glass set him on edge, and he found himself pulling at his collar. She was eyeing him like a piece of meat. “How's the risotto tonight?"

He sounded like her waiter, not the man about to slam his cock into her. What the fuck was the matter with him? This was just the kind of girl he'd asked for, and here he was mentally cursing Dil for hooking them up. Eighteen months ago she would have been perfect. They would have been playing footsy under the table, whispering conversation thick with innuendo. Hell, eighteen months ago, he probably would have been fingering her panties in his suit pocket by now.

As if on cue, the pointed toe of a stiletto jabbed into his shin, making him jump back.

"Sorry.” Her nose wrinkled up, and she started to lick the tines of her fork. “I'll have to kiss that owie for you later."

Her mouth going anywhere near what promised to be a swollen purple bruise on his shin was decidedly unappealing. The date wasn't working. He didn't feel better. He wasn't distracted from the flesh rending pain of his heart being broken. All he could think about was Laine, and all he wanted was to stop.

Drastic measures were in order.

Downing half the contents of his freshly-filled glass, Jason leaned forward and took Pammy's hand, stroking his thumb across the palm. “What do you say we get out of here?"

Her tongue slid in a slow caress over her teeth. “I thought you'd never ask."

Jason flagged a waiter, and finished the rest of his drink. His stomach was starting to revolt, but the edge was off, and that's what he needed.

"Call down to the front desk, and get me a room. Any room. Have the key brought to the elevators."

"Sure thing, Mr. Henley.” And he was gone.

Just like the old days. Before Laine.

Jason helped his date up and escorted her, palm resting at the base of her spine, out of the restaurant to the bank of elevators. His skin felt clammy, and his mind kept wandering off, looking for the familiar cascade of chestnut hair at every table, listening for her laugh behind every door.

What was she doing right now?

A cool hand circled his, drawing his thoughts back into the hotel, to the pretty blonde ... who had just started sucking his finger. His dick felt like it was trying to crawl up his leg to get away. Shit.

The elevator doors swished open, and the night manager stepped out. “Jason, we're booked up tonight. There was some problem with the Fitz downtown, and we got a flood of their customers about an hour ago."

No rooms. No beds, except for the empty one in his apartment that still carried the scent of Laine's conditioner on one of the pillows. Hanging his head, he wondered why he'd let the date go on as long as he had. He should have known what a mistake it was when he'd picked Pammy up and his first thought hadn't been some acknowledgement of her hotness, but to wonder whether she flossed. “Can you get Dil for me? We'll be down in the lobby."

Turning to Pammy, he said the only lame thing that came to mind. “It's not you. It's me."

Behind the wheel of the Henley limo, Dil wore a look of utter disappointment. “You used to be my idol, man. Now, I don't even know what to say. Pammy was a sure thing. What a waste, makes me sick to think about it."

Jason, slumped in the front passenger seat, nodded, then shook his head and finally just shrugged. The vodka was catching up with him. “I'll send ‘er a dozen roses tomorrow. Enough. Let's focus. It's go time."

Dil turned a slow skeptical eye toward him and then through the passenger window to the apartment building beyond them. “You sure you don't want to call her instead? I've got the phone right here. Or better, wait until tomorrow."

"No, I screwed up. A romantic gesture is in order. I'm going to do it.” He grabbed the coins off the dash and shouldered into the limo door. On the second try he made it out and started toward the darkened side of the brick building. Most of the lights were out.

Dil came up beside him, hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders shrugged forward. “Tell me again why we can't use dimes or pennies?"

Jason let out a snort. “She's special.” Then, after testing the loft, he threw the first silver dollar at the window.

Obscenities ran out of Dil in a steady stream as the first coin rustled through the leafy branches behind them and finally dropped onto the ground. “That wasn't even toward the building, man."

"Don't start with me. Practice throw."

"Don't lie to yourself. It was a pussy throw."

"Fuck, Dil. Language. People live here. This is a romantic gesture."

"Yeah, yeah, boss. Sorry."

"And now with the boss business.” Emotion clogged Jason's throat as he turned to Dil. “I thought we were friends."

"Throw."

Jason tottered, picked up the coin and then focused on the building.

"Which window are you aiming at?"

Jason ignored him. Dil wasn't a romantic; he didn't understand about fate.

"Which window?"

"The one this hits.” Using all the strength and coordination he could muster, Jason launched the coin.

"You don't even know? Is this even her building?"

Jason stared up at the night sky.

Laine was going to love this. She'd come to the window, her hair all falling down around her shoulders, maybe a tissue in her hand. She'd see him and wipe away her last tear.

"Watch it!"

Jerked back into the now, Jason blinked, his face still tilted skyward, there was no one at the window. But what the hell was that coming straight—"Fuck!"

Jason was on the ground, blinking at the warm goo oozing into his eye where the heavy coin had hit him.

Dil's face popped into this line of vision. “For crissakes, you're a bleeder too? That's it. Night over. We're going back to the hotel."

Wiping at his eye, the back of his hand came away wet and sticky. He was an ass. “Is she going to take me back?"

"I don't know, man.” Dil's voice softened as he hefted Jason off the ground. “But definitely not tonight."

[Back to Table of Contents]