The Player:Moorehouse Legacy(13)

Joy shrugged, moving faster to gather her things. When her gum eraser popped out of her hand and made a swan dive for the floor, it was a relief to reach under the table.

"How long have you been interested in Gray?"

Joy gave up all pretense of being busy and considered the merits of passing out cold. There were quite a number of them, the first being that the topic of Gray Bennett would get dropped. That alone seemed worth the risk of banging herself on the head when she hit the beautiful rug. Besides, maybe the impact would knock some sense into her.

"I'm sorry, Joy. I can be a little too direct sometimes."

"I don't mind that." Joy brought her head up with care. "But I have to be honest with you. I don't feel comfortable talking about him."

"I totally understand." There was a pause and then Cassandra smiled. "May I at least ask what you're going to wear tonight?"

"Ah, I don't know. I don't really have anything fancy. I didn't expect to be going out."

"How'd you like to borrow something of mine?" Cass asked.

As Joy looked at the woman, she could have sworn the redhead had a twinkle in her eye.

* * *

GRAY STEPPED OUT OF the elevator and looked down Cassandra's hall.

His seminar had gone fine, but overall, he'd had a hellish day. Chasing down the gossip about Roger Adams's infidelity wasn't fun. And he'd hoped Beckin's source about the affair would be equivocal. The guy hadn't been. Apparently, the reporter, Anna Shaw, had come out of Adams's room, and when confronted with a witness, had run red-faced in the opposite direction. With her heels kicking up, the rear slit of her raincoat had flipped open to reveal a tiger-print Victoria's Secret number. And a whole lot of skin.

Now, again, one story didn't mean Senator Adams was the leak or that he was cheating on his wife, Allison. It just didn't look good.

And there was something about the whole situation that troubled Gray. He couldn't put his finger on it yet, but he'd learned long ago that when his instincts started to fire, he better dig until he found out why.

He rang Cassandra's bell.

The door opened.

And a whole new Joy Moorehouse was revealed.

Gray felt his eyes pop out of his head and tried to compose himself.

No luck. He could not dial down his stare reflex and only prayed his tongue hadn't rolled out of his mouth and onto his tie.

She was wearing a low-cut black dress, the creamy swells of her breasts revealed more than they were concealed. There was no way she was wearing a bra and the silk was so fine, laid so lightly on her skin, it would only take a fingertip to brush the neckline aside. He could see himself nuzzling her while he went to work on the dress's zipper, wherever the damn thing was.

He looked up. Her hair was brushed out straight and lying down her back. He wanted to touch it, bury his face in it.

He wanted her all over him.

Gray cleared his throat and quickly buttoned his double-breasted jacket. Hiding what was happening to his body seemed not only polite, but an act of self-preservation. Not that she didn't know how affected he was. The high color on her cheekbones told him he'd embarrassed her, ogling her like that.

Yeah, he'd once been smooth with the women. Truly.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked, praying the answer was yes.

Because the caveman in him was pointing out, with admirable if tragic logic, that since she'd answered the ring, it was likely that Cassandra and the maid were not home. Which meant if he were to come inside and the door were to be closed behind him, he and Joy would be all alone. With plenty of privacy. And quite a number of beds to choose from.

"Uh, yes, I'm ready," she said, lifting her chin. Her fingers fiddled with the dress's neckline as if she weren't quite comfortable with what she was wearing.

Well, that made two of them.

She picked up a little black bag off the hall table and walked past him. She was wearing some perfume that drove him nuts it was so sexy. And those heels. They were a mile high and made her ankles look so delicate he wanted to carry her down to the car.

Ah, hell, she could have had combat boots on and he'd still want to pick her up.

He shut the door and followed her to the elevator. When the doors opened, he reached out to touch the small of her back to guide her. He stopped himself.

No. No touching.

Not unless she was taking a fall because of those skyscraper pumps. And then only to save her from hurting herself.

Because if he got his hands on her-

"Where are we going?" she asked.

Her voice, low, quiet, was like getting stroked. He punched the button for the lobby and refused to look at her, focusing instead on the little blinking numbers overhead.

"The Congress."

"What?"

"It's an old private club here in town."

"Oh. Do I look all right?"

Yeah, how to answer that one without using the words "sexy," "as" or "hell."

"You'll pass."

The elevator came to a stop and he held the gate open for her. When she stepped by him, it was all he could do not to yank her back inside, hit the emergency stop button and get up under that dress of hers.

As they walked through the lobby, he thought it was clearly pep-talk time.

So listen up, Bennett, he lectured himself. She's someone else's woman. And whereas that wouldn't matter to most of the ladies who could fill out a dress like that, it was still Joy Moorehouse inside the stunning, sexy creation.

So back the hell off.

* * *

MAYBE THE DRESS wasn't such a good idea, Joy thought as she got into the limousine.

You'll pass.

Now there was a ringing endorsement.

In fact, ever since Gray had given her a once-over at the door, he'd fallen into a tense silence. She had to wonder if he knew she was just posing as a sophisticate. Maybe the lie annoyed him.

She really wished she could go back up and change into the black pants and sweater that were hers. However modest, at least she'd felt like herself in those clothes.

As the limousine took off down Park Avenue, Joy glanced across the leather seat. Gray was staring out the window, elbow on the door, chin on his fist. His eyebrows were down low, as if he were in the middle of an argument.

"You know, maybe this wasn't such a good idea," she blurted.

His head turned. "Are you tired?"

Ah, not likely. Starbucks had nothing on the nervous buzz she was riding.

"You just seem preoccupied," she said. "And I really don't have to go to dinner with you. I can go out on my own. In fact, why don't we just head our separate ways when we get-"

"Joy, no offense, but shut up."

Her eyes flared as he turned away.

Okay. Clearly she'd misread him. He wasn't silent because she'd irritated him, he was rip-roaring mad.

She studied his profile. Underneath that expensive black suit, behind the civilized guise of the flashy silk tie and gold cuff links, he was rigid with some kind of dark emotion. As if she'd offended him. Or said something that had pissed him off.

"I'm sorry," he muttered a minute later. "I'm a bastard when I get in this kind of mood."

"What's the matter? Did your meetings go badly?"

He laughed in a harsh burst. "Right now, I can't even remember what I did all day."

"Do you want to be alone?"

Gray's eyes slid over to her face. His expression was so intense, she had to blink. It was either that or have her retinas toasted.

"No. I don't want to be alone," he said in a low, husky voice. His eyes flickered downward for a split second before he looked away. "And that's my problem."

Joy let her breath out slowly and glanced down at herself. In the dim glow of the interior lights, the curves of her chest were obvious. Lush. Even to her, her breasts looked swollen, inviting.

The limousine came to a stop and the door was opened by a man in a green-and-gold uniform. Gray got out first and then offered her a hand.

Joy thought back to what Cassandra had said, about the two of them not being lovers. The woman didn't strike Joy as a liar. So if there was nothing going on between Gray and the beautiful widow, then what happened that night in his library just might have had nothing to do with the other woman. And everything to do with Joy.

And he'd wanted her when they'd danced together, hadn't he?

An utterly reckless thought occurred to her. After a decade of dreaming, she was actually out in the big city with Gray. On what might be considered some form of date. And he'd noticed her.

It seemed as if she had a shot at making her pipe dream come true.

Gray leaned down and looked into the limousine. "You coming?"

One shot. And she was going to take it.

Joy reached out and slid her palm into his so their skin rubbed together. Gray's fingers twitched, as if he felt the same heat she did, and then he gripped her hand and pulled her up.

As she got out, she led with her upper body and turned so she was half facing him. She didn't have the nerve to meet him in the eyes, but she made sure she brushed her hip against his body as she stepped forward.

His sharp intake of breath gave her some confidence.

As they walked through a set of ornate doors, she sifted through every romantic movie she'd ever seen. She'd never tried to come on to a man before and she wished she was better prepared.

Seduction for Dummies. Now why hadn't someone written that bestseller?

"Bennett! How are you?" A man in his forties came up to them, eyeing Joy with admiration. "And who's this?"

"Joy Moorehouse, this is William Pierson IV," Gray said tersely before steering her away from the man.