Dirty Rich(8)

If Jax felt the same way, he didn't let it show. His confident driving  was a perfect match for his confident attitude, and over the music  playing low on the car's radio, he kept up a constant stream of  well-rehearsed banter.         

     



 

Like a fool, I fell for it. Hard.

For half the time, at least. The other half I spent furiously reminding  myself not to get derailed by a man, not when my career is in such a  damn precarious position. Especially not Jax Hunter.

You are just a distraction, I told myself at least ten times on the  drive. A man like him won't need a woman like you for long. And more  than that, he's a thorn in Sandra's side. Loyalty to my boss is the  strongest card I have to play at work if I don't want to end up in a  situation like the one my dad found himself in. All of it adds up to one  fact: Jax Hunter is completely off-limits.

Yet every time he says my name, my heart flutters with a secret joy.

It's embarrassing to feel so giddy over him, but it probably has more to  do with our destination than with the light, spicy scent of him that I  catch whenever he moves. He keeps his eyes firmly focused on the road,  but somehow I still get the impression that he's looking right through  me.

By the time we reach Marie Hantz's palace of a home, I look calm and  collected but inside I'm a hot mess. Jax holds out his hand to help me  out of the car and tosses his keys to a valet waiting by the edge of the  driveway.

The Aston Martin is pulling away and we're halfway to the door of the  house-the understatement of the year-when I lose my cool. Before I can  stop myself, I'm tugging at Jax's arm, forcing him to stop. I'm on the  verge of losing my breath.

He looks down at me, the expression in his eyes a shifting combination of concern and irritation. "What's wrong?"

"I don't-" I swallow hard. "I can't go to this party with you. Look at this house. I don't belong here."

Jax steps closer to me, looking like he's either going to laugh or sigh.  "Catherine-Cate. What do you think is going to happen in there?"

"I don't know," I say, the last word coming out in a shameful gasp. "I work in fashion, for god's sake. I'm not on their level."

Now Jax does laugh. "Who gives a damn what they think? They're just  people, Cate." He leans down, putting his strong hands on either side of  my waist, and puts his mouth next to my ear. "You look incredible. Not  one person in there will think for an instant you don't belong. You're  with me, remember?"

The heat from his breath sends shivers of pleasure down my spine. I want his hands all over me.

Maybe, just for today, I can go along with it, consequences be damned.  Once I make the decision, the muscles in my shoulders relax. Jax feels  it too, and presses in on my waist with just a hint of pressure before  letting go and offering me his arm again.

Yes. For one day only, I'll allow myself to enter his world. It'll all  be over by tomorrow. The carriage will turn back into a pumpkin, and  I'll be back on the other side of the wall with Sandra, fighting to keep  Basiqué-and my job-alive.

Today, I'm goddamn Cinderella.





The party is unbelievable.

On its surface, it's not much different than any other Fourth of July barbecue … but the details give it away.

All the food has been catered by some of the biggest names in dining in  all of New York. Basiqué doesn't run features on restaurants, but Sandra  demands nothing but the best. When she wants me to make reservations,  she usually identifies the location by the name of its owner and nothing  else, so as a result of hours of preemptive Googling I recognize two of  them on sight. They seem to be mainly enjoying the party and making  sure that all the dishes they prepared earlier are going out on time.  Gordon Ramsay, on the other hand, is manning a massive, professional  grill and trading jokes with a gaggle of men dressed, almost to a one,  in variations of preppy chic. Boat shoes are the hot item of the day,  although no one here would be caught dead in Sperrys. Gucci is the entry  level.

Marie Hantz turns out to be a woman who is a dead ringer for a  supermodel but with the personality of a bubbly southern belle, if that  southern belle was born in London.

"Aren't you darling," she says when Jax introduces us. She kisses me on  both cheeks, gives Jax a sidelong look, and flits back off into the  crowd.

Marie's beachside mansion is the largest house I've ever been in, but  the party is so well-attended that there's hardly any room, which has  made it very convenient to get closer and closer to Jax with every  minute that goes by … and harder and harder to remind myself that he's not  looking for a relationship. He's a man who has whatever he wants, and  what he wants right now is me-for a reason I can't fathom-but he was  clear. It won't last.         

     



 

"Do you have any siblings?" he says into my ear as he grabs me another glass of champagne from a passing waiter's tray.

"One," I say, my chest feeling warm and light from the drinks he's been  handing me all afternoon. "Her name is Abigail, but everyone calls her  Bee."

"It must have been hard, having a sister that was so jealous of you."

"What?" I say, confused. "She wasn't jealous … "

"Of course she was," he answers, his voice husky. "You're the most beautiful women on the planet. She couldn't help herself."

I give him a playful slap on the arm but I can't stop myself from blushing a deep shade of red.

As the evening wears on, Jax stops introducing me to people and starts  finding little pockets of seclusion-the corner of Marie's library, a  cocktail table that's only big enough for the two of us-and he takes his  game to another level, whispering softly into my ear, bringing me tiny  plates of delicacies, making excuses to brush his hands over my skin any  chance he gets.

It seems like only minutes have passed before the sun has set completely and pinpricks of starlight dot the navy sky.

I can't resist it.

Neither can he.

When the fireworks explode over the bay, lighting up all the beautiful  people in glittering reds and yellows, Jax slips his arm around my waist  and pulls me in. When I'm firmly pressed up against his side, his  hardness against my curves, something inside me breaks.

The night is almost over.

This is my one chance to act on the wild desire I felt in the office yesterday.

I snake one arm around his neck and pull his face down to mine, kissing  him with every ounce of pent-up sexual frustration I've been feeling for  the past year. He doesn't resist. Instead, Jax tightens his grip on my  waist and kisses me back hard and rough. He's so possessive, even in  sight of all of these people-some of them his friends, I assume-that it  takes my breath away.

Echoes from the fireworks booming in my ears, it takes me a second to  realize we're moving. Jax pulls away, breaking the kiss, and with one  strong arm pulls both of us through the crowd and inside the house.

Most of the lights inside are off to enhance the fireworks experience,  and when we get back to the library, it's bathed in a sexy gloom that's  only broken by flashes from the fireworks. The sharp cut of Jax's jaw is  illuminated every few seconds in sultry blues and greens.

We're barely inside the door before he's pressing me up against the  shelves, crushing my mouth with his. His hands are cupping my face,  sliding down over my shoulders, cupping my breasts...everywhere. I'm  drunk on the taste of him, on the expensive champagne, on the smooth  whisper of my dress against my skin.

The kiss deepens and he takes over, one of my wrists in each of his  hands, spreading my arms wide, pinning them against books on either side  as he drags his hot mouth down the side of my neck to my exposed  collarbone. I test him a little bit, tugging just slightly on my arms,  and he holds on tighter. I know he would let go if I asked him to, but  the pressure of his hands against my wrists has my panties soaked  underneath my dress.

He only releases my wrists to drop his hands to the hem of my dress and start shoving it up.

Jax Hunter is going to fuck me right here, up against a shelf full of  first-edition books in the American equivalent of a palace.

The heavy door to the library opens with an audible click.

Jax reacts immediately, pulling me away from the shelves. I'm tipsy and  still reeling from the hot attentions of his mouth, becoming aware all  at once that my hair is a mess, that my dress is shoved indecently high  on my thighs, that the fireworks ended a long time ago.

He reaches for my dress and pushes it down a few inches just before the intruder flicks on a small table lamp.

It's Marie. When she sees us, she lets out a cartoonish gasp.

"Jax Hunter, what are you doing in here?" Her voices rises in pitch and  then she laughs, waving away her fright. I'm so mortified I can't move  except to look up at Jax's face.

He gives Marie a roguish smile. "We just stopped to see your collection, Marie. We're on our way out."

Marie's eyes twinkle in the lamplight. "Is that so? Well, I won't keep  you. It was so nice of you to come to my little party. I'll let you know  about the next one."