Chapter 18
Jordan
I had to admit it was hard to sleep that night. Obsessing over someone will do that to you. Her scent, still in my nostrils, was lush and enticing—like how you’d imagine a princess like Snow White to smell. How you’d imagine her to taste. Sweet, soft, succulent. I wanted to taste more of her. And those thoughts ran endlessly through my mind until the wee hours.
The raging hard-on was not helping, either.
At this point, I had too much dignity to crawl off into a corner and start jerking off. So I suffered through it, and thus insomnia ensued. I hadn’t had sex in a while and going cold turkey was kicking my ass.
I’d come too close—way too close—to shattering all my good-intentioned resolve. Until she’d put on the brakes and brought me back to my senses.
At least she’d spoken up for herself. It was hard, I could tell. Even when she’d been furious at me the day before when she’d found out that I was her anonymous hookup, she’d fought to leave instead of confront me. Because she was always afraid to stand up for herself. And why? That I’d like to know.
I wanted to smack the crap out of whoever had done that to her, made her feel like she wasn’t worthy of standing up for herself. Because whoever did it was a bastard, son-of-a-bitch or an asshole. Possibly all of the above. I stayed up long hours thinking about it—thinking about her—until I pulled out my tablet and queued up a movie to watch. Sometime around three a.m., I finally passed out.
The wake-up call came too early the next morning, and I washed the sleep out of my eyes and got ready. The next time I saw her was in a room backstage as other speakers went through their spiels. She was wearing a sheer white blouse that clung to her curves and a pair of form-fitting black pants that made her look as alluring as ever. Forcing myself to focus, I opened up my laptop, preparing to hand it over to the AV guy who would copy my file onto the presentation computer so they could display my slides.
But when I fired up the presentation, my stomach dropped. “Motherfucker,” I muttered.
She was at my side in an instant, and I was assailed with the scent of honey. “What? What’s wrong?”
I slammed my laptop shut so she wouldn’t see. “I copied the wrong slides.”
She frowned, her eyes still on my laptop. “Wrong slides? What do you mean?”
“My placeholders—for brainstorming and stuff. It’s an earlier copy of the same presentation.”
She shrugged and peered up at me. “It’s the dress rehearsal. We can get the real slides copied over later once we log into the Draco VPN from the hotel room.”
“I can’t use these slides.”
“You already know what you’re going to say, right? Just use the placeholders.”
I blew out a breath and ran a hand through my hair. Then, by way of explanation, I opened my laptop and gestured to the screen.
It flickered back to life and the first slide came up.
Her eyes grew round. She straightened, throwing glances around the room. “Why do you have pictures of naked women on your placeholder slides?”
I gritted my teeth. “It was for brainstorming purposes. It helps me think.”
There was a brief moment when she looked like she was about to bust a gut laughing, but she contained it. “I’m sure all the guys here would love those slides. Are these your ladyloves?”
I glared at her. “No.”
“So where is the real presentation stored on the Draco Network?”
“In my work folder.”
“You mean, the same one I’ve been saving all that crap work you’ve been giving me to do?”
“Yeah, that one. But I left the dongle with the code to be able to log into the VPN at the hotel.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You know what you could use?”
“Besides a fifth of Jack?”
She smiled and reached into her bag. “No. A really smart assistant who preemptively copies your work folder over from the company network before you travel in case you do something stupid like bring porn slides for the rehearsal.” She triumphantly brandished a flash drive in her hand and presented it to me.
The tightness in my chest loosened in relief. “I could kiss you.”
Something flashed in those beautiful blue eyes, but her mouth thinned. “Mr. Fawkes, you are being inappropriate.” She smirked at me and I was reminded of that godawful sexual harassment seminar. Our own private little joke, then.
“How about a raise?”
“I’m an unpaid intern,” she deadpanned.
“Exactly.” I grinned. “It won’t cost me anything.” She grimaced and playfully mimed an uppercut punch to my gut. “Try a sucker punch to the kidneys, Weiss. Much more effective.”
I plugged the flash drive into the USB port to open the files. She bent over the computer right beside me—standing far too close for my comfort or equilibrium. I was beginning month two of Friar Jordan’s New Law of Celibacy, which meant I was horny as hell and focused on all the stunning physical attributes of every woman I came into contact with, particularly this woman.
I noticed that she was silently laughing beside me.
“You keep laughing at my misfortunes, Weiss, and I’ll make you pay for that later.”
Her dark blue eyes cut to mine and there was something there...heat, maybe? “Promises, promises,” she said in a low voice. Yup, definitely heat.
I slid my eyes with forceful purpose back to the computer screen, calling up the correct file off her flash drive and then copying it onto my computer. She was goading me. Easy to recognize, easy to dismiss. Usually.
As if I didn’t already want it so badly I could scream. And below the belt, my body was shouting, “Challenge accepted!” I took a deep breath—through my mouth so I wouldn’t keep smelling her—and let it out, opened the file and then handed the laptop off to the audiovisual guy to copy it onto his equipment.
Minutes after that, I was called on stage to deliver my talk. Just like when the real deal would go down tomorrow, a countdown clock starting at 18:00 flipped numbers backward. I had that time—and only that amount of time—to deliver my “ideas worth spreading.”
I closed out my remarks with less than thirty seconds to spare. Given the near tragic mishap with the slides, it ended up being a surprisingly smooth rehearsal. When I stepped out of the room, April tagged behind me as we made our way out into the hallway.
“That was really good,” she said in a hushed voice.
I adjusted the laptop case on my shoulder and slipped my hands into my pockets. “But…?”
“No ‘buts.’ It was a fascinating talk.” I glanced at her, as if to verify she wasn’t mocking me. She wasn’t. Her brows were knit, indicating intense interest. “So Dragon Epoch has a virtual economy that behaves exactly like real-world economies?”
“Most of these types of games do. And the best ones employ economic experts to advise as to how it should work in the game.”
She shook her head. “That’s amazing. And beyond that, I’m surprised that economists can study how economics work in a game and actually learn things about theoretic economics.”
Several people coming toward us in the narrow hallway were on a direct collision course, so engrossed in their own conversation that they weren’t paying attention. I wrapped my hand around April’s arm and tugged her out of the way, causing her to almost collide with me. She put her hand against my waist to steady herself, and even that touch had my body perking up and wanting more. Hell, a stiff wind would perk it up these days. My eyes slid over the beautiful bone structure of her face, the perfect, porcelain skin that resembled a certain Disney princess and the slight build that still managed to boast curves in all the right places. April was far more interesting than a stiff wind.
“Thanks,” she muttered as she sluggishly pulled away from me. I swallowed, checking my watch. “What else do we have going on today?”
“You’re on your own for dinner, but there’s that cocktail mixer with the press tonight. I don’t have to be there, but I was going to show up in case any scheduling needs arise. I have a feeling that after your rehearsal today, you are going to be a pretty popular interview subject.”
I raised my brows. I thought it had been a competent delivery of a decent speech, but she seemed far more impressed with it than I could have hoped.
“And then, of course, you need to get a good night’s sleep. They suggest practicing your speech before you go to bed, when you wake up, and again in the green room before you are on.”
“Well, the less we discuss this, the less nervous I’ll feel. Let’s go get some dinner.”
“You—ah—want me to come with you?”
“Why not? You can ask me more about my talk if you want, and I can ask you why you are going to business school when theoretic economics is obviously what gets you giddy.”
She darted a glance at me, then put her head down and continued walking in silence. I arranged for a driver to take us to one of the nicest restaurants in Vancouver, hoping she liked Hong Kong fusion cuisine. It was original, delicious and she obviously enjoyed it, though she refused the wine pairings with each dish as they were suggested.
We ate while we talked, enjoying ourselves, and she appeared fascinated as she continued to pepper me with questions about my speech.
“What made you decide on business school if you enjoy economic theory so much?”
She shrugged. “It seems more practical.”
“The idea of being able to tap into a virtual economy like the one in Dragon Epoch doesn’t get you hot and bothered? If you studied theoretical economics, you could do your entire thesis on DE’s economy.”
She took a spoonful of her desert—vanilla bean mousse. She eyed me for a moment before answering. “There are a lot of things that get me hot and bothered.” Her dark pink tongue snaked out to lick her spoon.
I wasn’t wearing a tie, but if I was, I would have had to loosen it. That familiar knot of desire was tightening, twisting and making everything below the belt feel heavy and a little achy.
I cleared my throat and looked at my watch. “Well, let’s get this cocktail shindig over with.”
“We have enough time to get back to the hotel and change clothes. The reception is at the hotel.”
I smiled. “Even better then. If it’s boring, I can just bow out.”
“Or you can pull that move where you get the hot babe’s room key.” Her blue eyes glittered. “I won’t wait up.”
I already have the hot babe’s room key…and it’s the same as mine. I fought saying it but, oh, I thought it. April didn’t know about Friar Jordan’s New Law of Celibacy, so she threw out the occasional, sexy little snark bomb.
Two could play at that game, though. “Well, ya know, I’ve got condoms in my pocket at all times…just in case.”
I hadn’t brought condoms. Too tempting to carry them around. With those suckers handy, I’d know there was always a chance I could use them. Not having them accessible would help me stay on the straight and narrow.
“Of course you do.” She primly wiped her mouth with her napkin and stood.
Forty-five minutes later, I was pouring myself a mineral water from the minibar in the hotel room when April stepped out of her cubbyhole, fully dressed. She paused when she saw me, running her eyes over me from head to toe. I tried to ignore how much it turned me on when she looked at me like that. And, of course, she looked elegant and regal in her party attire.
She wore a light blue cocktail dress that came to just above her knees. It had a strap over one shoulder and fell down in waves around her breasts and hips like a Roman toga, only artfully tailored to show her feminine curves. She wore silver high-heeled sandals and jewelry to match. Her long hair was brushed out, shining around her shoulders and down her back. She looked like a million bucks, and I could have a lot of fun spending every dime of that.
I took a deep breath and jerked my attention away, taking a long gulp of my drink before I actually started drooling.
“You look very dashing,” she said.
“Thanks,” I grunted. She was probably waiting for a compliment in return, but I didn’t want to chance it. I already wanted to slip that toga off her shoulder and taste every inch that it covered. Shit. Even the thought of it was getting me hard. I didn’t even have to look at her. Goddamn it. Friar Jordan was struggling.
“Well, let’s get this bullshit over with,” I said and April nodded, tucking her phone into her sparkly clutch purse. “You need to be back before midnight or your carriage will turn into a pumpkin.”
She darted a look at me out of the corner of her eyes before slipping out the front door ahead of me. “Wrong princess. I’m supposed to eat an apple and fall into a death coma ‘til my prince comes around and wakes me up with a kiss.”
“It’s always a kiss that wakes them up…did you notice that? Snow White. Sleeping Beauty. Why a kiss?”
“Because the right kiss from the right person can wake anyone up.” She pressed the button for the elevator to take us down to the ballroom level where the reception was being held. “A touch of lips is such a simple thing…but ‘where heart, and soul and sense, in concert move, and the blood’s lava and the pulse ablaze, each kiss is a heart-quake.’”
I watched her lips, those full, ripe lips as she recited each and every word. “Is that from one of your books?”
“Don Juan. A poem,” she said simply, as if everyone should know that.
When we entered the reception room, April encouraged me to mingle, though I was reluctant to leave her side. I knew it was expected of me to mix with conference attendees, TED employees and journalists, but I had no real desire tonight. Plus, this was hardly my kind of scene. Too sedate.
There was no shortage of beautiful women, though—I did notice that. A few gravitated to me rather quickly and struck up conversations, but the minute April peeled off from my shoulder and went to stand at the edge of the room, I found myself seeking her out regularly, no matter who I was talking to, no matter what was said.
I refused the glasses of wine and cocktails being passed out on trays and did my duty while resisting the urge to look at my watch. What I couldn’t resist was watching April, who had found a group of people to stand with, one of whom seemed to be having the same problem I was.
And I couldn’t even get mad at the guy who was chatting her up, stroking her generously with his gaze. Because who could blame him? That ice blue dress, her shiny dark hair, those full, pink lips—she was a knockout.
And the surface was pleasing to the eye, sure, but what was hopelessly drawing me in was that undertow. Just like standing in coastal waters when a wave was about to break, that deeper current underneath that threatened to sweep you off your balance was more formidable than the flashy whitewater bathing your shoulders. That undertow could drag you under and not let you up until it was too late.
April was like that—what was deeper was more alluring. And I had to remind myself of it over and over again, because otherwise, as with any powerful undertow, I was in danger of being sucked under and drowned by it—by her.