Red Hot Rose Boxed Set Read online

  “I don’t know,” I mumbled, looking out the window up at the massive walls that rose two very tall stories into the night sky, “probably nothing.” The fountain on our left, that I could clearly hear now that Jessica’s door was open, gave the place a presidential feel almost.

  I let my misgivings slide into the background as I took the offered hand of the valet. He helped me out of the car, and I stood waiting for my friend to join me. She was gamely flirting with the guy who’d gone to retrieve her keys and park the car for us. She flashed him some cleavage, leaning over to show him they were still in the ignition, earning her a big grin.

  “Come on, Jess. Time to party,” I said wryly. I worried momentarily that she was going to use up all her flirting powers before we even got in the front door, but then quickly dismissed that thought out of hand. Who am I kidding? Jessica’s powers are limitless. She sucks the energy out of lesser women and uses it to enthrall every man from fifty feet around.

  Watching her confident, almost model-runway stride coming in my direction, I was struck by our unlikely friendship. She was elegance, grace, and rowdy confidence. I was quieter, shy, preferring to watch rather than participate. But we’d been inseparable since freshman year when the dormitory people had somehow screwed up and put us in the same room.

  Jessica took me by the arm and forced me along the red carpet leading up to the front door, where a man in a tux was waiting to open it for us. “Now just relax and enjoy yourself. Tonight is going to be easy peasy squeazy my beezies.”

  I pasted a nervous smile on my face. “Isn’t that what you said right before you accidentally lit our dorm room on fire in sophomore year trying to do that little chemistry lab experiment using our hot plate?”

  She squeezed my arm and smiled at the man opening the door for us. “Shut up. Quit worrying. Stand up straight. Tits out.” She shoved her ample chest out in front of her and lit the room up with her teeth.

  I shook my head and swallowed the giggle that rose up in my throat, trying to copy my friend’s graceful moves and knowing, sexual air. She made it look so easy; and yet, giving it everything I had, I felt more like Lucille Ball than Sharon Stone. Oh well. Not everyone is cut out to be an escort.

  I let myself be dragged into the main party room, a huge study with a bar set up at the end. Within a minute I had a drink of bubbly water in my hand and Jessica had abandoned me to dance with a guy twice her age wearing a pinkie ring that had a diamond bigger than my thumbnail in it.

  My eyes scanned the room as my toe tapped on the ground. I was trying to figure out who exactly had thrown the party and who the other escort-invitees might be when I felt something brush up against my arm.

  I turned to look at what it was and found myself staring at a tie. It was mostly silver with some tiny black accents, and it melded perfectly with the jet-black tailored suit it was paired with. My eyes went up a few inches until they made contact with the owner of the ensemble. Holy Mary mother of Jesus sitting in a bathtub.

  He was the most gorgeous, intimidating-looking human being I’d ever been in the same room with. And he was standing less than a foot away from me in my tight dress and way-too-high heels.

  I lifted my drink up to my face and clamped down on the small straw sticking out of it, taking a sip to calm my nerves.

  “Hello,” he said simply, smiling the tiniest bit and so quickly, I wasn’t even sure I’d seen it.

  I released the straw from its prison in my teeth. “Hi.” It was the best I could do. Please don’t ask me my name. What’s my name? What’s my name?! I can’t remember! My mind had gone completely blank. All I could do was stare at him. I felt a curl escaping my hair helmet, and tried not to panic when it fell down over my eye. I blew up at it, trying to make it at least move to the side and stop obscuring my vision. I was afraid to take my hands away from my glass to manage the wayward lock or to try and wrangle it back into one of the two hundred bobby pins that hid in my hair.

  His nostrils flared ever so slightly and the muscles in his jaw clenched.

  I tried to think of something to say, but words escaped me. I opened my mouth, hoping the act of starting to speak would make the conversation just flow out, but before my brain could start to work in concert with my lips, I saw his hand move.

  He slowly reached up, his fingers coming towards my face.

  I watched them making their way up, inch by inch, getting closer and closer to my face. I was frozen in place, unable to move, unable to say anything as I wondered what he was about to do.

  His long, thick fingers took the errant curl and slowly drew it over to the side of my head, attempting to put my hairdo to rights. But as soon as he pulled his hand away, the curl bounced right back to the spot in front of my eye.

  He smiled, without any trace of humor in his face at all. And then he spoke, his smooth, soft but masculine voice sending shivers up my skin. “It seems your hair has ideas of its own.”

  I nodded, lowering the drink down to waist-level. I had to clear my throat before my voice would work properly. “Yeah. It, uhhh, always does. I have to beat and lacquer it into submission.”

  He raised an eyebrow at me, making me want to die with shame.

  Oh, God, tell me I did not just totally flirt all S&M-style with this guy! I spoke quickly, just in case he was jumping to the wrong conclusions. “What I mean is, it’s really curly and frizzy and misbehaves all the time.”

  Without missing a beat, he said, “And we don’t like things to misbehave, do we?”

  I knew I looked panicked, but I couldn’t help it. It was exactly how I felt. I searched the room for my friend, but couldn’t find her. Everyone was having a good time, laughing and talking to people standing nearby, drinking or dancing; and I was standing next to the hottest guy in the room, probably in the entire county or state even, and mucking up my very first day on the job and the only thing that was going to assure my last three years of college weren’t going to go up in smoke.

  “You seem nervous,” he said.

  I smiled tremulously. “Is it that obvious?”

  “No, not really. But I can feel the heat coming off your body right now and your cheeks are pink.”

  Ground, could you please do me a huge favor and swallow me up right now? Like right this second? I put my iced drink up to my face, resting in on my cheek to cool myself down. “Sorry about that. It’s a little hot in here.”

  “No need to apologize. If you’d like, I could show you a cooler area of the house.”

  I examined his expression closely, wondering if this were some sneaky move to get me alone. But he seemed innocent enough; he stood with a bland look on his face, just waiting patiently for my response, his hands casually at his sides.

  “Uh … okay. That’d be nice.” The room was making me feel suffocated, causing his offer to sound all the more inviting. Sweat was coming out on my upper lip, so I quickly wiped it away as he turned for a moment to lead the way.

  He reached his arm back and put his warm hand on my elbow, giving me shivers. It was blowing my mind that I was burning up enough to sweat, and he was warm enough that I felt the heat on my arm; yet, I was quaking with something that felt like cold.

  As we walked out of the room, my nipples got hard under my dress and I felt myself getting wet down there. Holy crap, I need to get out of here. I looked left and right trying to catch a glimpse of my friend, as the man led me from the main room and into the front foyer. Jessica! Where are you, you stupid hooker! I need to go home!

  I should have jerked my arm out of his grip, but the polite girl in me who’d been taught never to be rude to nice people who looked like politicians refused to allow it. I walked along with my uncomfortable stiletto heels clicking on the shiny marble floor, praying I wouldn’t slip and break something. Or split my dress.

  We went down a long hallway lined with artwork that looked like it belonged in a museum, the noises of the party fading behind us. I began leaning back the farther we went, eventually to t
he point where I felt like I was being pulled along. The man stopped a few feet from the end of the hall, turning to look at me.

  “We’re nearly there. Are you having second thoughts?”

  “Yes. I mean, no! I mean … maybe.”

  “It’s a yes or no question. Do you, or do you not, want to sit for a while in a cooler room? Or perhaps you prefer to stand in the middle of the party, sweating your hair out of its coiffure …”

  The way he said coiffure made me think he must speak French or something. For some insane reason it made me feel more secure. Someone truly sophisticated enough to speak that romantic language couldn’t possibly be a threat, could he? I decided in the negative and stood straighter, lifting my chin, suddenly a little pissed at myself that I was being such a baby. The instructions for the job had been really simple: act sophisticated and smile. I schooled my features appropriately, channeling my roommate’s enthusiasm and dedication as best I could. “I prefer to be cool, actually. Lead the way.”

  He nodded his head once and stepped forward to open the door in front of us, gesturing for me to proceed into the room ahead of him.

  As soon as I walked through the door, I was struck by the heavy, masculine furniture and dark, wood-paneled walls. This room screamed man-cave. Sophisticated, cultured man-cave. The only thing saving it from looking like a gentlemen’s smoking club was the large vase of fresh, blood-red roses on a pedestal near a desk.

  The end of the room was dominated by this huge desk, also in a very dark wood, topped with a hunter-green leather inlay. A set of fountain pens, a large black-enameled box, and a lawyer’s lamp made up its only decoration. There were two chairs positioned in front of the desk, both of them without arms. A couch sat against one wall, done in caramel-brown leather, buttons making cushioned dimples all along the seat and back.

  The man left me to go to the corner of the room where a wet bar stood waiting. He came back to me, handing me a heavy crystal glass of clear liquid with ice cubes floating in it.

  “Here. Start with this. It’s just water.”

  I sipped it and then had to control myself to keep from guzzling it down. I had never tasted anything so wonderfully refreshing. It wet my tongue and throat, finally making it possible for me to speak properly again. “Thank you. This is really nice.”

  “I have it sent from France. It comes straight out of the Alps.”

  “Wow,” I said, not knowing what else to say. I guess that means this is his office. Which makes this place his house. Impressive. I wonder who he is. My eyes wandered the room, taking in the leather-bound books on the shelves, the paintings of hunting and forest scenes on the walls, and the small statues and sculptures that sat in different stands with lights shining down on them. I searched for photos, hoping they might clue me in to who I was sequestered away with here, but there were none. But one of the sculptures in particular caught my attention, so I moved across the thick carpet to get a closer look.

  Halfway there, my heel caught one of the fibers and caused me to lose my balance. I felt myself going down, and threw my hands up to try and save myself. My dress was too tight for me to do much else than head straight towards the ground. I closed my eyes automatically, wondering how I’d ever be able to admit this epic embarrassment to my friend after the night was over, while at the same time, hoping I wasn’t going to be bleeding in the next few seconds from grave injuries.

  Instead of hitting the nearby table in my tragic journey to the floor, I landed in the arms of the man who’d somehow managed to get from five feet away to the spot where I was falling to catch me. His arms wrapped around my upper body, stopping my downward motion.

  My face smashed into his chest, my cheek sliding down his silky tie. The water splashed out of my glass and hit me in the eyes, waking me up fully with its very cold temperature and forcing me to blink over and over so I could see again.

  God, my makeup has to be running everywhere now!

  The butterflies that had started in my stomach as I felt myself tipping forward were now flying acrobatics inside me. I wasn’t sure whether I should laugh hysterically or throw up with it, but before I could really let myself go to wallow in the embarrassment my klutziness had caused me in front of this god-of-a-man, my nose caught a whiff of his cologne, sobering me up instantly.

  Oh. My. God. What is that smell? It was pure man. If I were the person in charge of the marketing campaign for this product, that’s what I would have called it, too. Pure Man. The Scent for Power Players the World Over. It went straight to my head first, and then send tickling-like sensations to all my most secret places. I had been wet between my legs already from our earlier contact; now I was pretty much soaked. I prayed I wouldn’t have to sit down, worried I’d leave a wet spot on the back of my dress if I did. What is wrong with me? Do I have a medical problem or something? This never happens to me! Jessica was going to have a hysterical laughing fit when I told her.

  The man’s strong arms righted me, setting me back on my feet. It was then I noticed he was a couple inches taller than me, even with my heels. He said nothing - just reached into his inside jacket pocket and came out with a black handkerchief, using it to gently wipe my cheek dry.

  As we stood face-to-face, only inches away from one another, two more of my curls escaped their prison to hang down over my forehead.

  He slowly moved his hand away from my face, tucking his cloth into his jacket again.

  I stood breathlessly, staring up into his eyes which were the most intense blue I’d ever seen in my life. They nearly sparked out of his face, standing in stark contrast to his dark, salt-and-pepper-colored hair. I could tell he wasn’t nearly old enough for the gray hair that shot through the black, making him seem even more mysterious than he already had. Who is this guy? How old is he? How could he have such a huge fancy house and be so young? And what is he going to do right now? Oh, God, he’s going to touch me!

  I probably should have backed away, but I was struck dumb and paralyzed, waiting to see what he would do next. He nudged one of his shoulders out of his jacket, letting it slide down off his arm, first on the left side and then the right. He caught it at the collar, tossing it carelessly over at the couch.

  My pulse rate climbed rapidly as I watched him.

  He put a finger up to his throat, loosening his necktie a few inches and undoing the top button of his shirt. And then his arms came out to the side, moving to go up to my head.

  I waited breathlessly while his fingers went into my hair.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered.

  “Shhh. I’m just fixing your hair.”

  He pulled each of the pins out, one by one, dropping them carelessly to the floor. As my hair escaped the tiny bits of pinching metal, it fell down around my face and ears, big chunky lacquered curls bouncing around until they were all free and flowing around my head in one big mass of awfulness. He lowered his hands to his sides and just stared at me.

  Hello, ground? Let the swallowing of me commence. I’m totally ready now.

  “You are so beautiful,” was all he said.

  My face burned red, the cool room now suddenly hot and uncomfortable. “My hair’s a mess,” I mumbled, reaching up to grab some of it.

  He intercepted my hand and pulled it hard, jerking me towards him.

  The last few inches separating us disappeared, and I fell into his chest, this time a little less embarrassingly. My breath came rapidly, my chest heaving up and down as my heart raced out of control.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered.

  “Do I really need to explain that to you?” he asked, before reaching up and putting his hand on the back of my neck, pulling my mouth to his as he dipped his head down to meet me.

  I tried to respond, but my brain was misfiring, unable to help my body operate the way I thought it should - namely to run away.

  My lips met his and spread apart, giving his tongue instant access to mine. He used his other arm to grab me around my waist and pull me
into him tightly. His hard length pushed right up against my juicy mound, through the front of my dress, making me instantly want to hike my leg up.

  I resisted the urge.

  His hand moved down from my waist to knead my backside, pulling my cheeks apart and making my private area gush some more. I could actually feel the dripping between my legs. Soon it would probably be running down into my shoes. I wondered distractedly how I would possibly be able to make it out of the room and the party without anyone noticing. But half a second later I totally didn’t care.

  His tongue was going in and out of my mouth, his lips pressing against mine so hard, I could feel the beginnings of his beard shadow scraping my sensitive skin. The sensations slammed into me along with the smell of his cologne and the juices that had escaped my panties, making me so aroused I didn’t know what to do with myself.

  He growled, moving his hand from my backside to my thigh, pulling it up so he could press his hardness against my slit. I willingly complied, pushing my hips forward to feel his solid length against my sensitive and now hard clit. I knew it would be standing out, begging for a nice rub from his hard member or even his tongue.

  My own thoughts shocked me, causing me to pull my face back away from him. What in the hell has gotten into me?

  “Did you spike my drink?” I asked breathlessly, frowning at him in accusation.

  He dropped his hands from my body and stood up straight, running his fingers through his hair. He took one step back, putting some cold air between us.

  My heart flipped, seeing this perfectly-put-together man now before me with his tie askew and his hair on end, his lips swollen from our kisses. It made me feel powerful.

  “Trust me,” he said in a low voice, sounding almost angry. “I don’t have to drug women to get them to come for me.”