Stocking Stuffer, page 12
She was escorted through the main dining room. The back wall was a massive aquarium with a full coral reef filled with tropical fish. It was a detailed habitat that rivaled any of the best aquariums in the United States. The floor-to-ceiling glass let the dinner guests view the underwater world in all its stunning glory. Suddenly her lips parted in shock at what she saw.
“First time?” The man escorting her to her table smiled and nodded at what had captured her attention.
A man and a woman were swimming in the tank. No . . . a merman and a mermaid. Their blue-and-green tails shimmered in the light as they drifted past a part of the reef. It was an utterly breathtaking thing to witness.
“Those aren’t . . . ?” She laughed nervously, wondering if she was imagining it.
“Real?” He laughed. “No, but they are wearing the most expensive, most realistic silicone tails available. Mr. Ramsey wants guests to have a magical experience while they’re here.”
It was definitely magical. And it completely changed her initial vision for the ad campaign she had planned to pitch him.
“Here at the Seven Seas, we want you to feel like you’re part of the ocean,” the hotel employee added as she followed him around the back side of the aquarium. They passed by dozens of candlelit tables with couples dining in the dim gold light. The faint clink of silverware on expensive china and the distant roar of the sea was a lulling combination.
As they rounded the side of the aquarium, she entered a private area with a single circular booth that faced the tank from the opposite side of the dining hall. Of course, the owner of a hotel would have a discreet place to dine with his guests or alone.
Blair halted as she saw a tall figure in a suit standing silhouetted in front of the glass of the aquarium.
“Here we are,” the employee announced before abandoning her.
The tall figure turned around. She had known it would be Denver, but seeing him in person, with a glowing underwater world of magic and color behind him, was something she would never forget as long as she lived.
“I’m glad you came,” he said, a teasing smile on his lips. “I was afraid you might not.”
“I almost didn’t . . .” That wasn’t a lie, at least.
“I’m Denver,” he said and held out a hand to her.
“Blair.” She smiled back, glad she didn’t have to say her last name. He held her hand a moment too long, while an electric shock of pure feminine awareness rippled through her. Now more than ever, she wished their fathers didn’t have a dark history, that she and Denver really were just two strangers who had bumped into each other on the most gorgeous beach she had ever seen and were now about to have a romantic dinner together.
“Please, sit.” He waved for her to slide into the booth. Then he joined her on the other side.
“So, according to the person who delivered the dinner invitation, you own the hotel,” she said, still playing the game of not knowing who he was and hating herself for it.
“I do.” He was studying her, his gaze intense, as though if he looked at her long enough he would be able to read her every thought. “Let’s not talk about mundane things, like what we do for a living. I want to know you. What makes you you?”
Blair hadn’t expected that. He was purposely keeping her off guard, and she didn’t know why. If he knew who she really was, he’d be shouting at her—or calling for security.
“Like . . . like what?” She reached for her cloth napkin on the table, absently twisting the fabric in her lap. When she noticed him looking, she put one hand on the table, trying to straighten her silverware.
He reached across the table and caught her hand in one of his, holding it still.
“You’re nervous,” he observed.
“Yes, of course I am.” She tried to laugh.
“Is it because of me?” He stroked his thumb over her hand, and again, sparks seemed to leap between them. “Are you afraid of me? Afraid I’ll ravish you right here on the table, Miss Ashworth?”
Her gaze shot to his in sudden panic as he said her name.
“Yes.” His lip curled in a cold half smile. “I know who you are. I also know that you secured a meeting with me through my operations manager for later this evening.” Denver’s eyes never left hers as the teasing warmth from moments ago completely vanished.
Blair started to slide away, but his grip tightened on her wrist. He wasn’t hurting her, but she couldn’t get free.
“Stay, Miss Ashworth. This is what you came for, isn’t it? I must say I’m impressed that you had the courage to set foot on my island.”
Blair bit back the retort that he didn’t own the Bahamas, but she kept quiet because she wanted to try to last long enough to pitch her campaign to him.
When she forced herself to relax, he let go of her hand and leaned back with a smug expression that should not have turned her on, but God help her it did. She couldn’t help but hate him for hating her and how that turned her on. She was going to need therapy, thanks to him, because if he tried to ravish her on the table like he said, she’d not only let him—she’d be begging for it. This was not a side of herself she was familiar with. She’d always enjoyed sex, had a healthy appetite for it, but she’d never wanted someone as bad as she wanted this man, and it made zero sense. It was like a rabbit wanting to cuddle up beside a wolf.
“If you know why I’m here, then why are you letting me stay? Why haven’t you tossed me out?”
“That’s just it—I don’t know why you’re here.” A flash of puzzlement appeared in his eyes as he continued to study her.
“I’m here to pitch an advertising campaign to you.”
He laughed, the sound both harsh and beautiful all at once.
“There’s more to it than that. I want the whole story. You tell me—and be honest about it!—and I’ll let you make your pitch before I send you packing.”
Blair held her tongue. She couldn’t tell him the full truth; it was too personal, and he would think she was hoping her dad would get back into the company he had been forced out of. None of that would help her cause. So the only option was to keep it simple.
“I’m trying to earn a promotion. Right now I’m just an art development director, but if you become a client for five years, then I’ll be promoted to an account executive. It’s been my dream for a long time.”
“That’s it? A simple promotion? Miss Ashworth—” He scoffed.
A flash of anger made her interrupt him. She wasn’t going to let him push her around. “It’s not simple. My boss is an egotistical jerk who will never promote me unless I do the impossible . . .”
“Like win over someone impossible . . . like me.” Comprehension lit his eyes, and then pity slipped over his features for a second before he masked it.
She didn’t want his pity. “I told you the reason. Now will you still hear me out and let me pitch you?” She didn’t dare mention anything about regaining control of her father’s half of the company. That would be the last thing to win him over as an ally.
Denver leaned in, a crooked smile curving his lips as he spoke. “Miss Ashworth, I’ll be blunt. There’s only one thing I want from you, and I’m quite sure it’s the last thing you would agree to.” His voice was deep, full of wry amusement, and it rattled the battlements of her defenses, threatening to reach the very core of her. How could a man like him be so damn hot when he was insulting her? The lust burning in his hazel eyes scorched her.
“If you think I’ll sleep with you to get your business, you’re not as brilliant as I thought.” She paused, reined in her temper, and regained her control. The heat, both of desire and anger, still simmered between them, but she forced herself back on track. She licked her lips, and his eyes tracked the movement and she swallowed. Blair straightened her shoulders and projected more confidence than she actually felt. “Please, just let me pitch to you. Half an hour, then you never have to see me again.”
He didn’t take his eyes off her. “Very well, you have the floor.” He gestured like a king, giving his royal permission to begin her plea.
Shit . . . She wasn’t ready, not after having seen the place up close. There were so many things that she wanted to include in her pitch. She felt now that her presentation was utterly inadequate. But this was her one chance to get through to him. Blair cleared her throat and leaned forward, letting herself fall into work mode.
“Well, now that I’m here, there are things I want to add to my presentation. Your current marketing strategy is missing some key points. What I’ve seen here makes Seven Seas magical. But that glow is missing from your current materials. Right now, online at least, this feels just like another high-end resort, of which there are hundreds.”
“Ouch,” Denver replied with a dark smirk at her bluntness.
“You wanted honesty.” She let that statement fill the air between them.
His answer was a slight nod of acknowledgment, his eyes heavy on her face.
She continued, more confident now. “This place is incredible. Truly. You have taken it to another level. It’s not just expensive aquariums and cabanas by the beach. It’s the dedication to details, and it’s a focus on the magic of the sea in an alluring and mysterious Atlantis sort of way rather than a Disneyland approach. Not that Disney is bad, but you have a different clientele, and we need not only to sell them on this place, but we also need to captivate them with the magic you bring to the resort.”
She faltered as she realized the various meanings he could take from that. Her eyes widened and her breath stopped, and he watched her, the aquarium light dancing on his strong jaw. She buried the sudden swell of a dozen confusing emotions within her. She had to finish her comments strong while she had his full attention.
“That needs to be essential in your branding, and it’s missing right now. If you ever want to expand this to a new location and need new investment partners, you’ll have to solidify your brand.”
Blair stopped talking as she realized she had gone into strategizing mode in front of a man who seemed torn between strangling her and fucking her brains out. He didn’t say anything for a long second. She tried to ignore the heat the man was giving off, and the way her senses picked up on everything. Her own skin felt hot, and a faint sheen of sweat emerged on her face, but she didn’t move. She didn’t say anything else, even though she was desperate to plead with him to give her a fair shot. Just being near him had awoken something fierce inside her that wasn’t simply physical attraction; she felt challenged to prove to him that she was skilled and every bit his equal if they worked together on this campaign.
“I will give you two days to do whatever you want on my island and add whatever you need to your pitch.” He leveled a dark, serious look at her that made her entire body burst into invisible flames. “Two days, Miss Ashworth.”
He got out of the booth and strode away, leaving her completely alone. The light from the massive aquarium rippled across the dark-blue leather of the booth and the table and onto her hands. They were trembling.
She was still alive. She was still here, and she had bought herself a few days’ time to try to win him over. Had she really gotten through to him? Maybe a little. She shivered as she recalled the look in his eyes a second before he stood. It was a look of raw lust. He had only one thing on his mind, and it wasn’t her presentation. He had warned her; all he wanted was her in his bed. While the most basic animal part of her wanted that too, it would be the worst idea she’d ever had.
Focus on the project. Not the insanely gorgeous sea god who probably would give you the best hate sex of your life. Yeah. Definitely don’t think about that.
* * *
If you’d like to know what happens next, get the book HERE!
About the Author
Lauren Smith is an Oklahoma attorney by day, author by night who pens adventurous and edgy romance stories by the light of her smart phone flashlight app. She knew she was destined to be a romance writer when she attempted to re-write the entire Titanic movie just to save Jack from drowning. Connecting with readers by writing emotionally moving, realistic and sexy romances no matter what time period is her passion. She’s won multiple awards in several romance subgenres including: New England Reader’s Choice Awards, Greater Detroit BookSeller’s Best Awards, and a Semi-Finalist award for the Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley Award.
To connect with Lauren, visit her at:
www.laurensmithbooks.com
lauren@Laurensmithbooks.com
Lauren Smith, Stocking Stuffer
