Holly looked up from the sheaf of papers in her hands and smiled at the woman walking beside her.

“Gina, I’m so excited about these plans. You’ve really nailed what I had in mind.”

The smartly dressed fifty-year-old inclined her chic, mahogany-colored bob. “Thank you. I’m glad you like them, but they’re only good because of your input.”

Gina Esposito was the consultant Holly had hired to help her draw up her restoration plans for the Halifax Hotel. For the past three days they’d worked hard together, and Holly had quickly come to appreciate Gina’s low-key but enthusiastic attitude.

They were walking back to the Halifax after a quick break at the corner coffee shop. As they neared the hotel, Holly paused to gaze at its faded edifice. The building looked so drab and forlorn, but in her imagination it was already transformed into the sparkling, elegant space depicted in Gina’s sketches.

“You don’t think the Gilberts will object because the new Halifax Hotel won’t be a faithful recreation of the original one?” Holly said.

She’d asked Gina to keep many of the art deco features but a lot of the hotel was awkward and dysfunctional. Just restoring it without major changes would have limited its potential and stymied its chances of success.

“In my opinion the design is refreshing and bold. It has all the elegance and romance of the Art Deco period, yet with the modern conveniences we expect in our hotels these days. So many of my clients want to cling onto the past, but very often find it’s not comfortable living in a museum.”

“Thank you,” Holly said. “That’s just what I needed to hear.” Especially with her father’s lack of confidence in her and the fierce competition she was up against.

Gina smiled at her. “You shouldn’t doubt your abilities, Holly. You’re very talented, and I hope you win the Halifax.”

Holly was just about to speak when something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She glanced down a side alley to see Dane, clothed in suit pants and dress shirt, talking to a couple of grungy-looking teenagers. As she watched, he passed them a handful of folded bills. The boys grinned and exchanged fist bumps with Dane before slouching away. Dane continued walking. When he emerged from the dim alley and saw Holly, he quirked an eyebrow.

“Hey there.” He strolled toward her.

“Hi,” she replied, restraining the grin that threatened to stretch across her lips at the sight of him. “This is Gina Esposito, my restoration consultant.” She gestured to her companion. “Gina, this is Dane Schofield, one of my fellow competitors.”

“Hi, Gina. I’m supposed to be meeting with my design manager.” Dane glanced up as another man in a suit hurried toward him. “Here he is. This is Jack Malone, from Schofield Inc.”

Everyone exchanged polite greetings and handshakes.

“Good to see you again,” Dane said to Holly.

His words were unremarkable, but the glint in his green eyes was anything but. She’d left his apartment just four hours ago as the sun was peeping over the rooftops. A little later than she’d planned, but that was because Dane had delayed her with a surprise breakfast of pancakes and maple syrup that had quickly gotten out of hand.

“You, too.” Holly smoothed down her dress. “Who were you talking to in the alley?”

“Those two teenagers? Didn’t get their names, but it’s tough being young and homeless.”

“It’s nice of you to give them some money.”

“I’ve got plenty to spare.” His gaze slid over her. “Hope you’re not working too hard.”

She flicked at her hair. “I don’t mind working hard.”

They’d spent the last three nights at Dane’s apartment. Each time she told herself this was the last time, that she would come to her senses and stay away from him. But he was like a drug, and she was totally hooked. Not just on the sex, but on him as well. In between the sex, they talked, about everything—except their families and the competition. They talked, argued, and laughed, until the physical need to touch became too strong, and they forgot everything for a while, and then it all started again.

The need to touch him was building right now. He looked damned good today. His business shirt was open at the collar, showing a glimpse of his chest, while his lightweight wool trousers contoured his hips and pelvis perfectly. Oh, yes, those pants were really distracting her…

Dane moved closer to Holly, turning her away from the other two, who were discussing marble tiles and parquetry, so they couldn’t be overheard.

“You’re making me hard right now,” he murmured.

She flushed, the heat rising in her cleavage. This was the first time they’d met in public since the start of the week, and she hadn’t realized it would be this difficult pretending nothing was going on between them.

“You shouldn’t say things like that.” She tried to sound stern.

“Then you shouldn’t stare at my cock.”

“I wasn’t—” She blew out a breath. All right, she had been checking out his package, but who could blame her? She plucked at the scooped neckline of her form-fitting, black-and-white dress. Was it just her or was it suddenly really hot out here?

“What’s the matter?” Dane’s gaze was fixed on the front of her dress. “Still got some syrup there you need me to lick off?”

Her nipples hardened like they always did at his dirty talk. She glanced at the other two a few yards away. They were still talking about the hotel.

Dane moved even closer without coming into contact with her. “I have the key to my suite upstairs,” he murmured in her ear. “Meet me there in half an hour, and I’ll lick every inch of you.”

Her thighs grew warm. Her hands trembled, and something slipped from her grasp and fell to the sidewalk. The sketches she’d been discussing with Gina. Dane bent down as if to pick up the sheaf of papers, but she was even quicker, scooping them up before he could touch them.

His eyebrows rose. “State secrets, huh?”

“Something like that.” She shook the dirt off the sheets before hurriedly pushing them into her briefcase.

“Ah. Your design plans.” Dane stroked his chin, his eyes thoughtful. “You know I wasn’t trying to peek at them, right?”

She lifted her shoulders. “Yeah, but better safe than sorry.

A small frown appeared on his brow. “I don’t cheat, Holly.”

“Of course, but this situation is...difficult. You know that.”

After a moment he sighed. “Yeah, but it’s not of my making.”

“We need to be careful.”

He cocked his head. “I guess that means you won’t be meeting me upstairs in thirty minutes.”

Before she could respond, Gina and Jack strolled back to them.

“Congratulations, Ms. Rochester,” Jack said to her, “on your company’s nominations.”

It took her a few seconds before she realized he was talking about the hotel industry awards. She hazily remembered Kirk and her father discussing them this morning, but she hadn’t paid much attention. All she knew was that the ceremony was taking place tomorrow night.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Schofields has also made the shortlist in several of the same categories as Rochesters,” Jack said. “Should be an interesting night.”

“Oh, right.” She glanced at Dane. “Are you going to the awards ceremony tomorrow night?”

He shrugged. “Doubt it. It’s more Dad and Eric’s thing.”

“I don’t think I’ll be going either.”

Which was a relief. She couldn’t think of anything worse than spending an entire night in the same room, no matter how large it was, with her family and the Schofields. A night like that could only end in disaster.

***

Later that afternoon, back at the office, Holly lifted her head from her desk. “What?” She blinked at her brother. “What did you say again?”

“I said, Dad and I will pick you up tomorrow night at six-thirty,” Kirk said. “The event kicks off at seven.”

“The hotel awards thingy? I didn’t think I’d be going. I’ve never gone before.”

Her brother leaned his hands on her desk. “You’ve never taken your career here seriously before, but that’s changed now, Holly. I’ve spoken with Dad, and he agrees that you should come to the awards night. It’s not a problem with you, is it? I mean, I know it’s short notice, but seeing how hard you’ve been working this week, I didn’t think you’d have anything on tomorrow night.”

Holly drew in a breath. “No, it’s no problem,” she said slowly. No problem because Dane wouldn’t be at the event. She could handle a night of schmoozing; as her brother had pointed out it came with the territory now that she was serious about her role in the family company.

“Great. I won’t be staying late, of course. I’ll want to get back to Cassie and Noah as soon as possible.” Kirk’s face turned slightly goofy.

“Of course.” Holly couldn’t help smiling when she thought of her week-old nephew. He and Cassie were now at home, where Kirk had spent most of his time this week except for brief forays to the office. “And thanks for thinking about me.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “I think you’re doing a great job on the Halifax. You made it through the first round despite your suite getting trashed, and I’ve seen the designs you’ve been working on with your consultant. They look fantastic.”

“You really think so? Dad isn’t so keen on the modern embellishments.”

“I’m sure he’ll change his mind when you win.”

Holly gazed at her brother. “You honestly think I can win? Against all the competition, like Simone Connaught?” Not to mention Dane Schofield, the biggest threat of all.

“I think you can,” Kirk said. “And I’m not just saying that. You’ve honestly impressed me this past week and a half, and I’m proud of you.”

She looked down at her hands. “Thanks, Kirk. I—I hope I don’t let you down.”

He reached out and playfully ruffled her hair. “Hey, where’s that sassy little sister of mine?”

She smacked his hand away. “Cut it out, you doofus.”

“That’s more like it.” He dropped into the visitor’s chair. “Okay, should we go through the numbers now?”

She nodded, patting the document she’d been trying to interpret for the past hour. Finance, she freely admitted, wasn’t her strong point. Her brother had put together the financial bid for the Halifax several weeks ago, and she’d asked him to explain it to her, figuring she ought to know the broad details in case anyone, like the Gilberts, asked.

“Please,” she said. “I’m determined to win the Halifax Hotel. A great design coupled with a great financial bid. The Gilberts won’t be able to resist.”

***

The buzz in the function room bounced off the high ceilings. Men in tuxedos and women in fancy eveningwear gathered in groups, gossiping and chattering while they sipped on wine and champagne.

Dane shot his cuffs and straightened his bowtie. Heads turned as he strolled through the crowds with his father and brother. Were they surprised to see him with his family at such a high-profile event? Well, so was he.

He hadn’t been given much notice. Just a terse phone call from his father this morning, telling him his presence was required at tonight’s award ceremony. And to wear a proper tuxedo, black, nothing outlandish. This was the industry’s night of nights, and Martin Schofield didn’t want his black sheep son to stand out anymore than he already did.

So now he was here, feeling a bit of an outsider, as usual.

His father paused and tapped him on the elbow. “I want you to meet a few people. People who can help you if you play your cards right.”

“Sure.”

Wonders would never cease. His dad, the same dad who’d labeled him a loser, who’d belittled and rejected him, now wanted to introduce him to his influential friends. Dane had spent years building his own life, his own success. He’d told himself the only reason he’d returned was initially because of the promise he’d made to his mom, and now because of his sister. Not for himself. But his dad’s approval still meant something, he realized, no matter how much he told himself otherwise.

Martin stopped by several men and introduced Dane to them. Dane shook hands and exchanged non committal remarks.

Martin clapped a hand on Dane’s shoulder as he spoke to a thin man with cadaverous jowls. “My son’s going to win us the Halifax Hotel,” Martin boasted. His color was good tonight and his energy levels high. He didn’t look like a man with a terminal illness.

“It’s not in the bag yet, is it?” the lugubrious man said. “I believe the Rochesters have a strong entrant, too.”

“Pfft! They don’t stand a chance.” Martin kneaded Dane’s shoulder. “Not against my boy.”

My son. My boy. Those accolades had always been reserved for Eric. But now it seemed they were Dane’s, too.

“They’re here tonight, you know. The Rochesters.” The man gave them a sly smile as he motioned with his head. “Over there. The girl’s a firecracker, I must say.”

Dane stiffened as he glanced over the man’s shoulder. Across the crowded room all he saw was a blur of people. Then, a couple of suits moved, and he caught a glimpse of a small, svelte woman in a figure-hugging metallic dress, her pixie haircut glowing like stardust.

He sucked in a breath.

Holly was here. With her brother and father. Why the hell hadn’t she told him? Well, to be fair, he hadn’t told her he’d be here, but still.

Martin was still yammering with the jowly man, while Dane chewed on the problem that both the Rochester and Schofield clans were here. Maybe they could avoid direct confrontation. It was a large function room, with over a hundred guests. Shouldn’t be difficult.

A pointed elbow jabbed into his side.

“Don’t get too carried away thinking you’re Daddy’s pet,” Eric hissed at him.

“Don’t worry, bro. I don’t have any plans to knock you off your perch.”

His brother’s mouth twisted. “I’m not worried. You’re a joke, and everyone here knows it. They’re just humoring Dad because he’s sick.”

Dane spread his hands apart. “Look, I didn’t come back just to put your nose out of joint. Let’s try to work together, for Dad’s sake, at least.”

“Why should I?”

“Because we’re family.” He glanced at his father. “And when Dad’s gone we need to take care of Saffron.”

The corner of Eric’s lip lifted. “Oh, I’ve already planned for that. She’ll be going to boarding school in Connecticut. I’ve already chosen one. Costs a bomb, but it’ll be worth it.”

“What? She’d hate boarding school.”

“She needs the discipline.”

“You don’t need to worry about her. I’ll look after Saffron.”

Eric shrugged. “We’ll see.”

Before Dane could argue any further, Martin turned his attention to them. “It’s getting on,” he said. “Let’s find our table.” He called over one of the ushers.

Dane fell into step, his mind split between two troubles—Saffron, and avoiding the Rochesters.

His father halted in his tracks, causing Dane to almost cannon into him.

“Damn it!” his father muttered. “I don’t believe it. Look who’s sitting at our table.”

Dane glanced over his father’s shoulder. All three Rochesters were seated at the table before them.

Martin marched up to them. “Looks like you’re sitting at the wrong table, folks.”

Ralph Rochester remained seated, scowling darkly. “No mistake. This is our table. Number three.”

That was their table number too. The organizers had royally screwed up putting the Rochesters and Schofields on the same table.

“What the hell?” Martin barked. “We’re sitting at the same table? Whose brilliant idea was that?”

“I—I’m so sorry,” the usher stammered. “The seating was done in alphabetic order. Er, do you want me to call over the event manager? I’m sure we can arrange something.”

“No.” Martin’s jaw jutted out. “This is our table, and we’re darn well sitting here.” He pulled out a chair and plonked himself down, waving at Dane and Eric to sit beside him. “If there’s some here who object, then they can sit somewhere else.”

“It’s no problem.” Kirk Rochester spoke this time, his tone calm and reasonable. “Please, sit.”

Eric had already grabbed the chair to the right of their father. The table held ten people, with four other strangers already seated. Dane took the remaining chair next to his father. When he sat, he saw he was two seats away from Holly. She’d remained silent throughout the tense exchange; now she lifted wide blue eyes to him. He could see the question she was asking: why didn’t you tell me?

He pulled out his cell phone and texted a quick reply: Why didn’t you?

She dipped her head as she checked her phone in her lap. Then she looked up at him and lifted her shoulders.

Up close she looked even lovelier. He’d become used to seeing her either in work-stained clothes or naked in his bed, but tonight she glowed like a rare orchid. The pale blue metallic dress brought out the creaminess of her skin, and the low-cut bodice drew attention to her breasts. Her eyes, highlighted with mascara and dark blue eyeshadow, were dusky and mysterious, her soft mouth outlined in rosy pink.

Her lips moved, and he realized she was saying something to him.

“Hi, Dane.”

“Hi, Holly.”

A couple of nights ago those dewy lips had trailed down his chest, pressing soft kisses over him until they had wrapped around his aching cock. He’d gripped his fingers through her hair, the whirlwind of sexual pleasure sucking him in. Heat rushed through him at the memory. He shifted in his seat. Fuck. How was he going to last a whole night like this?

He grabbed a glass of wine and took a deep gulp. Out of the corner of his eye he caught his dad frowning at him. Was he worried Dane would get roaring drunk? Huh, that might be preferable to sporting wood all night just because he was sitting opposite Holly.

“Our hotel in Palm Springs recently placed first in Condé Naste Traveler’s Top Ten List,” Ralph Rochester said to the guy sitting next to him, though his boast was clearly aimed at the Schofields.

“Pfft!” Martin scoffed. “Everyone knows those online surveys are rigged.”

With great precision Ralph set his wine glass down. “We take pride in maintaining a consistently high standard across all our hotels.”

“You mean you charge nosebleed prices,” Martin retorted. “Schofields, on the other hand, pride ourselves on giving our customers value for money. They don’t enjoy being ripped off by operators who jack up their rates just because they made some obscure top ten list.”

Ralphs face reddened. “Ripped off? Tell that to your patrons who don’t even get hand soap let alone a hairdryer.”

At that moment, Holly’s brother placed a hand on his father’s arm and whispered something in his ear. An awkward pause fell over the table while the other attendees darted nervous glances between the two families.

Dane turned to his father, intent on saying something to cool the atmosphere, but Martin was already huddled with Eric.

Dane glanced back at Holly. She had turned her head away, her attention focused on the podium, but he could tell from her faint grimace that the conflict had got to her.

Holly’s brother rested his elbow on the tablecloth and leaned toward Dane. “I’d just like to say thanks once again for helping me out when Cassie went into labor,” Kirk said. “We’re all really grateful.”

“No problem. I’m glad I could help. And congrats on your new baby. Everyone doing well, I hope?”

“Yes. Couldn’t be happier.”

“Good to hear it.”

“When it’s convenient, my wife wants to thank you personally. She was so relieved you got me through that traffic jam.”

“Anytime.” Dane nodded.

At least Holly’s brother didn’t seem to bear any ill will toward him. But Ralph was another matter. His chilly blue eyes swept over Dane, leaving him in no doubt as to his opinion. No leniency there.

A second later, his father tugged at his sleeve. “Don’t get too cozy with him.”

“With Kirk? He’s just grateful because I helped him out when he couldn’t get to his wife who’d gone into labor.”

“I heard, but it’s no reason to get friendly. He’s still a Rochester. And that goes for the girl, too. I see you eyeing her. Don’t let your dick lead you astray. She’ll get you tied up in knots and bamboozle you.”

For fuck’s sake— Dane bit off the retort with great difficulty. If they weren’t sitting in a table in public… But they were. And he was here because his father was finally coming to acknowledge that he had some talent. Although he hadn’t won complete acceptance from Martin. He had to keep that in mind.

“That’s not going to happen, Dad.”

“You’re sure about that? Not going to fall in lurve, are you?”

Dane’s back stiffened. “Not a chance.”

“Good.” His father leaned back. “I’m glad you’ve got your head screwed on properly.”

Holly was fascinating, but falling in love? No. He wasn’t made that way. They might be dynamite in bed, but when—not if—he won the Halifax it would cast a shadow over them. He knew it would. And he’d break it off with Holly; she’d know the best was behind them, and anything less wasn’t worth it.

He’d felt these amorphous sentiments all week, but now they were clarified in his mind. Regrets? Yeah, he had a few, the biggest being that he only had a week left with Holly. Not nearly enough time. He’d just have to make the most of what there was

***

Holly stood in front of the mirror in the restroom and tweaked the straps of her metallic evening dress. The awards ceremony had been going on for two hours now, and the muscles between her shoulders were a tangle of knots. That’s what came from sharing a table with the Schofields while her father and Dane’s glared at each other or exchanged barbs. She couldn’t even have a neutral conversation with Dane; not when she was so on guard, afraid she’d let slip that they were more friendly than anyone imagined.

What made it worse was that Dane looked so insanely sexy, his sharp black tuxedo and slicked back hair underscoring his dark masculinity. She’d had to force herself not to stare at him, an impossible task when he was sitting across the table from him.

And then, during a lull following the main course when several minor awards were handed out, he’d sent her a text message: Meet me out the back.

Out the back where? This convention center was huge, with lots of “out backs”. No, she wasn’t meeting him anywhere, not when a family member might stumble across them. The only reason she’d left the table was because she needed the restroom, that’s all.

She’d been here ten minutes already. She was stalling, and she knew it. With a final flick at her hair, she picked up her purse and walked out into the corridor.

Dane stood outside the door, hands in pockets.

Her heart jumped. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you,” came the perfectly reasonable answer. He hooked his fingers around her elbow. “This way.”

She should’ve pulled herself free and hurried back to the function room. She didn’t. Somehow the warmth of his fingers drained all free will from her.

“I heard they’re serving chocolate mousse for dessert,” she said as he walked her away from the function room.

“I’ll get you back in time for dessert.”

He pushed open a door and led her onto a small balcony overlooking a courtyard. It was dark and quiet out here, with a faint scent of fried onions in the night air.

His fingers slid down her elbow and curled around her hand. “Okay?” he asked gently.

She realized he was asking if the setting met with her approval.

“Yes.”

In truth, she wouldn’t have cared if he’d led her to the basement parking lot. All she could focus on was how amazing he looked in that tuxedo. The tailored suit fitted his broad shoulders perfectly and gave him an elegance that intoxicated her because she knew how raw and dirty he could be out of those civilized clothes.

“I didn’t tell you I’d be here because I didn’t expect to bump into you,” she said.

“Same here.” He stroked his thumb over her palm as he gazed down at her.

She could sense his heart beating fast just like hers, the threat of discovery lending an extra spice. She leaned against his chest, lifting her face to him.

“Well?” she whispered.

“Well, what?”

“Why aren’t you putting me out of my misery?”

His lips twitched. “Maybe I like just looking at you. Maybe I like teasing you.”

“I can tease you, too.” She slowly rubbed her thigh against the front of his pants. A thrill went through her as she registered he was already hard.

With a soft laugh he lowered his head and brushed his lips over her neck. As always the magic exploded, and she moaned her pleasure, running her hands up the solidness of his chest. She started to unbutton his shirt, but he leveled a hand over hers, stilling her movement.

“We don’t have time to get all mussed up.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t even kiss you. We can’t go back with your lipstick all over my face.”

“Well, what can we do, then?”

“Lots of things. Like this.”

He ran his hands over her shoulders, his touch light as he pulled down the straps of her dress. Then he leaned in to fit his face into the curve of her neck and brushed his lips over her collarbones. She shivered, his caresses turning her bones to slush. She arched her back, her breasts aching for his touch. He teased her by drifting his hands around her waist and ribs.

She bit her lip. God help her, she’d have to beg. But just as she was about to, his palms closed over her breasts, and she couldn’t help moaning. He massaged her for only a short while before reaching down and lifting the edge of her dress, the pleated skirt giving him free access. He ran his palms up her thighs, sparking trails of fire. Her core was melting, feverish with need. When he cupped her between her legs, she let out a gasp and clutched at his arms.

“Oh, god, oh, god,” she muttered.

“Glad to be your deity,” he murmured against her hair as he pressed the heel of his hand against her damp panties.

She ground herself against his hand, wanton and greedy, but it wasn’t nearly enough. She panted, her head buzzing.

“You need more, don’t you, honey?”

“Yeah,” she gasped. But could he? Here?

His fingers pushed aside the scrap of lace thong and sank into her entrance. Dots sparked and danced in her vision.

He growled against her throat. “You feel so good.”

He stroked her deep, plumbing her wetness and spreading it over her folds. She clung to him, her legs turning to jelly as he continued to pleasure her, the tension building up inside her like a tornado. When he dragged his thumb across her clit, she tensed up and then went to pieces as her orgasm took hold and tore her apart.

When she eventually floated back to reality, she found herself still clinging to him, limp and flushed.

“Uh, did I say anything?” she asked, trying to stand up straight. “I can’t remember.”

“Yeah, something about me being amazing.” He tweaked her underwear into position and straightened her dress. “There. You look better. We just have to wait for that post coital blush on your chest to wear off and then we’ll go back inside.”

She gulped, tried to order her thoughts. “What about you? I mean, you didn’t get anything...”

“We’ll just put it on your tab.”

“My tab?”

“Yeah. And then, later tonight, when we’re alone, I get to even the ledger.”

“What will you want?”

“You’ll just have to wait to find out.” He leaned in and nipped at her earlobe. “But it involves you kneeling in front of me.”

She shivered. That didn’t seem like a debt she’d mind paying off.