Dirty Rich(7)

"If I know you, there's a package of Oreos on the table next to your lawn chair."

"You're right!" Bee's smile is incandescent. "I never wait for food. Not  these days. So, where were you headed, Cate? Are you going to some  Fourth of July party? Your dress is perfect for it!"

I can't tell her the truth-that the only plan I have in mind is to walk  to the office, check in on things, then walk home. "Yeah! A couple of  the girls from the office are having a rooftop cookout."

"Oooh!" Bee bites her lip. "I wish I could come hang out with you in the city."

"You know you're welcome any time," I promise, even though the thought  of having to entertain on top of work nearly makes me break out in  hives.         

     



 

"Maybe when I'm not so pregnant!" she shouts, then dissolves into  giggles. Bee loves the summer, loves holidays, loves an excuse to lounge  around on the deck all afternoon. When her laugh settles down into a  smile, she lets out a satisfied sigh. "Well, I won't keep you." Then she  peers at her phone's screen. "Are you doing okay, Cate? Your makeup is  gorgeous, but you look a little … tired."

"It's just long hours," I say dismissively, giving her a huge, played-up  smile that she can't help but laugh at. "I'm headed in a great  direction, though."

Bee's face turns serious again. "Just … remember to take a little time for yourself, okay?"

"I will."

Dex's voice, halfway filtered by the phone, crackles across the connection.

"What did he say?"

"He said have a beer for him! And one for me, too. But be responsible,  okay? Love you! Talk soon!" Bee blows me a kiss, and I wave frantically  right up until the video call disconnects.

I sigh, missing her already, then stand up and smooth my dress.

I might as well stop by the office. It'll eat up another hour, at least.





Chapter 9

Jax





I'm a block away from the office, drumming on the armrest with one hand  and steering my Aston Martin with the other, when I spot her on the  sidewalk in a red sundress that's just long enough to be flirty instead  of slutty, striding along in low heels, sunglasses covering her face.  The mere suggestion of the curves of her petite body underneath the red  fabric has me hard in an instant.

I don't know what I was planning when I got into my car this morning.  Because I'm a decent human being, I gave my driver the day off. Not my  personal trainer, though. Carl showed up at my penthouse at 7:00 sharp  and put me through my paces until the session ended at 8:00.

After that, all I had to do was kill time until noon, when I planned to  leave for Marie Hantz's Fourth of July party. We run in the same circles  populated mainly with wealthy assholes like ourselves, and every year  she throws puts on a huge production at her home on Meadow Lane in  Southampton. I almost always go alone. Marie likes to invite her hottest  single friends, and every year for the past four years I've taken a  different one home with me at the end of the night.

Until this moment I've been dreading making small talk with all of those  women, but as I wait at the light and track Catherine Schaffer's  delectable ass as she crosses at the intersection, scanning the street  over and over for oncoming traffic, an insane mood strikes me.

When the light turns green I gun it across the intersection and glide  into the only available empty space-right in front of a fire hydrant. I  can see Catherine coming closer in my side mirror, and as she gets level  with my car I roll down the passenger-side window.

"Miss Schaffer," I call to her, and she startles, coming to an abrupt  halt in the middle of the sidewalk. "Don't tell me you're going to the  office on a national holiday."

She raises her glasses an inch and bends down to look in through the  window, giving me an incredible view of the soft curves of her breasts.  Her face, already flushed from the heat, goes a darker shade of red.

"I don't think that's your concern, is it, Mr. Hunter?"

I give her my most winning smile, and the edges of her lips turn upward a little. "So you were heading to work."

"You know," she says, glancing up and down the block, "you don't have to  worry about when I plan to be in the office. I'm sure we won't be  seeing each other much."

New strategy. "We didn't have the chance to get to know each other  yesterday." My original plan in the five seconds that it took to steer  my car over here was to ask her to have coffee, which now strikes me as  the worst goddamn idea on the planet. It's eighty-five degrees out and  climbing. Still, the words that come out of my mouth next surprise me as  much as they surprise her. "I'm going to a party. Come with me."

Once I'm finished speaking, I realize that this is the solution I've  been looking for. I absolutely cannot allow myself to get hung up on  Catherine Schaffer. I won't allow it. All I need is one day with her.  This godforsaken bank holiday presents the perfect opportunity.         

     



 

Catherine opens her mouth, closes it, and slides her sunglasses back  down like they'll help her consider her options in relative privacy. "Mr  Hunter-"

"Outside of the office, you can call me Jax."

Now she really does smile, and my brain splits in two. Half of me wants  to do nothing but make her smile for the rest of my life. The other half  recoils from the way the happiness in her face makes me feel-like I'm  spiraling out of control.

"Jax." She tastes my name in her mouth, then presses her lips together  for a split second before she speaks again. "We've only spoken for what,  a minute total? This is a pretty major holiday. Isn't there someone  else you'd rather take?"

I dart my eyes toward the empty passenger seat, then focus back on her  face. "Does it look like it, Ms. Schaffer? Regardless, you don't have to  worry. I'm not looking for a romance. Just company at a party."

Her shoulders relax a little.

"Outside the office, you can call me Cate. Everyone else does."

It's my turn to smile at her, even as images of her bend over the  leather sofa in my living room flood my mind. "Get in the car, Cate."

She hesitates one more time. "Where's the party? Is it in the city?"

"No. The Hamptons."

She blanches. "Where in the Hamptons?"

I can't help but grin a little wider. "Southampton."

Cate takes a step away from the car, straightening her back, and puts on  a smile that rings false. "I can't … " She pauses, swallows. "I can't go  to a party like that." She gestures at her outfit.

I take in the red sundress. "I disagree. But if it'll convince you to  come with me, I'll take you shopping for a different outfit right now."

Her laugh is musical with a hint of confusion. I'm not entirely sure why  I'm going to all this trouble. The insane energy between us will  probably be gone by the end of next week. Who knows? Maybe the end of  tonight.

There's only one way to find out.

"If you wait much longer to decide, Catherine Schaffer, I'm going to get a ticket."

For the first time, she glances down at the bright red fire hydrant, and her mouth forms a perfect O.

Then, without another word, she pulls open the car door and slides into  the opposite seat, closing the door firmly behind her and pushing her  sunglasses up over her hair. I get a glimpse of her unforgettable hazel  eyes.

"What are you waiting for?" she asks, glancing over at me with a look that sends a rush of heat to my cock. "Drive!"





Chapter 10

Cate





It's nearing 6:00 when Jax Hunter turns into a winding driveway on none  other than Meadow Lane in Southampton. Three years in the city, and I've  never been to the Hamptons before-much less the ritziest avenue on the  island.

I have no idea why someone like Jax invited me to a party like this one, but once I got into the car, it was out of my hands.

He made a couple of calls on his cell and whisked me to a high-end  boutique in the Garment District. When we got there, the owner had put a  temporary closed sign on the front door and was waiting inside next to a  rack of dresses in my size. Inside of thirty minutes, my red sundress  had been seriously upgraded. My new dress was also red, but that was  where the similarities ended. Dressing well has been a major part of my  job ever since I started at Basiqué, but this dress was on another  level.

Christine, the owner of the boutique, sent me out the door fully styled  with new heels and jewelry and a sassy wink. "You owe me, Hunter," she  called as he opened the passenger door to the Aston Martin for me.

"I won't forget." Even from the car, I could see the pink in Christine's  cheeks. What is it about arrogant playboys that makes women fall so  hard?

Jax drove fast on the way here, cutting the nearly two-hour drive down  by at least twenty minutes, and thank god for that. My heart never  stopped pounding with nervous jitters.