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“No, Bailey…”
“Then what? What do you think’s going to happen?”
He reached for her then, his hands purposeful as he sank them into her waist and deposited her on the marble counter. “I might do this.”
He brought his mouth down on hers in a hot, hungry kiss that was equal parts punishment and absolution. She pushed her hands against his shoulders as if to reject him, but if he was jumping into the fire, then so was she. He cupped her jaw, gentled the kiss and called himself a complete and absolute fool. A sigh racked her as she buried her fingers in his hair and kissed him back, heated and without reserve.
When he finally lifted his head, it was to nudge her thighs apart, step between them and draw her closer. “You are pulling me apart, piece by piece,” he admitted huskily. “And I don’t like it.”
“I don’t, either.” She reached up and cradled his jaw in her palms. “But you hurt me this morning, Jared. Be honest with me, yes, but at least explain where it’s coming from.”
“I’m sorry.” He whispered the words against her mouth. Against the velvety softness of her cheek. Against the perfectly shaped earlobe he bit into, sending a shiver through her. It moved through him, made his heart race as his hands went to the hem of her dress and pushed it up, allowing his palms access to the smooth, voluptuous curve of her hip. The scent of her warm, heated flesh filled his head. He slid his hands under her bottom and dragged her to the edge of the vanity. He wouldn’t take her here…he just needed to feel her against him.
“Jared—” She moaned his name as if they should stop and start all at the same time. He pulled her hips into his and kissed her. Bailey whimpered and wound her legs around him, and if he’d been inside her it couldn’t have felt better than the sweet torture he was inflicting upon himself now.
He lifted his mouth from hers and framed her face with his palms. “As much as I want this, it’s not happening here.”
She nodded.
He lifted her off the counter and straightened her clothes, then his own.
“I need to fix my lipstick,” she murmured, looking a bit shattered. “You go.”
He nodded and pulled open the door. Was halfway through it, when he turned back, pulled her into his arms and stole one last kiss. She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back. He indulged it for a few seconds, then set her away from him.
“We talk when we get back to the hotel, okay?”
“Okay.”
He released her and left. He did not see Alexander until he just about walked into him. Stopping short, his gaze flickered back to the door he’d just exited from.
“Oh, I caught the whole touching kiss.” The Frenchman’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Am I allowed to say I’m jealous? Because I am, Stone.”
“Why don’t we say we’re overdue for a drink instead?” Jared resisted the urge to deck him. He was shutting Alexander Gagnon down and he was shutting him down now.
Alexander lifted his shoulders. “If you say so.”
Jared led the way to the bar by way of answer, ordered two scotches and took a deep pull of his before he deigned to speak. “Here’s how this is going to go, Gagnon. You’re going to stay away from Bailey, you’re never going to say another sideways word to her, and if you do, I will take you out at the knees.”
Alexander smiled, a lazy, loose twist of the lips that wasn’t at all concerned. “You have it bad, you know that, Stone?”
He did. He was only beginning to realize how bad.
Alexander eyed him over the top of his glass. “She said you weren’t sleeping together.”
“Things change.” Jared set his drink down, flattened his palms on the bar and leaned forward until the far-too-smooth soon-to-be CEO filled his field of vision. “You aren’t ever having her. Get that through your head.”
Alexander took a sip of his scotch. “No isn’t a word I tend to take very seriously. It only makes me want something more.”
His mouth twisted. “You couldn’t even buy her. What makes you think you could ever have her?”
A warning light flickered in those slate-gray eyes, but his shrug was elegantly dismissive. “This deal will make or break you, Stone. Decide your future at a very rocky point in your company’s history. Why not set Bailey free for a night? Donate her to the cause? You can put her in the shower afterward and pretend I never happened.”
He froze. Clenched his hands by his sides. A fury like he’d never known blanketed him. “You are a sick bastard, you know that?” he gritted out. “She told me you wanted what I have. Well, you will never have what I have, Gagnon. Ever.”
Alexander’s face tightened. “You are walking a thin, thin line Stone.”
“As are you,” he bit out, shoving his drink on the bar and pushing to his feet. “I should have taken her under your nose tonight. That would have given me a deep sense of satisfaction.”
He walked away before he lost his mind. Then thought he might already have. Because he shouldn’t have said that. He should not have gone there.
* * *
Bailey reentered the restaurant just as Jared got up from the bar, a coldly furious look on his face, and walked away from Alexander. The matching look the Maison heir wore sent alarm bells ringing through her. What could possibly have happened in the last ten minutes?
Before she could snare Jared and find out, Davide was flagging him down to introduce him to someone. Then they were being rounded up for dinner with both Gagnons, the Gehrig team and several marketing executives from Maison. Jared sat beside her at the round table of ten, quietly seething, leaving Bailey to carry the conversation from their end.
“So,” she offered valiantly, “you must all love living in Paris. It’s so gorgeous.”
Davide nodded. “Although I intend on retiring to the house in the Cap. To me it’s le paradis sur terre. Heaven on earth.”
“Agreed,” Bailey nodded. “I love the climate. Perfectly temperate.”
“But you must like the extreme heat,” Alexander interjected. “Given that you lived in Las Vegas.”
The edge to his tone made Bailey set her wineglass down with a jerky movement. “I do,” she agreed evenly. “But I much prefer the more moderate Northern California climate.”
“Speaking of Vegas,” Alexander waved an elegant long-fingered hand at her, “I remembered last night where I met you. I usually have such an impeccable memory…it was driving me crazy.”
Bailey froze. Jared’s gaze flickered to Alexander, a warning glint in it. “Gagnon—
“It was the Red Room,” Alexander continued. “How I could have forgotten when you were so memorable I don’t know.”
John Gehrig’s mouth dropped open. The room began to spin.
“Do you know the Red Room?” Alexander turned to one of his marketing executives. The perfectly put together Frenchman shook his head. His boss sat back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “You must go the next time you’re there. They have the most drop-dead beautiful women on stage; my clients used to salivate. But there was one dancer,” he commented, looking over at Bailey, a dark glitter in his silver eyes, “who called herself Kate Delaney who held us all spellbound. We couldn’t take our eyes off her.”
A buzzing sound filled Bailey’s head. Davide gave his son a confused look. “What does this have to do with Bailey?”
“Kate Delaney was Bailey’s stage name.”
“Oh.” Davide ran a hand over his jaw and looked at Bailey. “So you were one of those…what do they call them? Burlesque dancers?”
“No,” Bailey corrected quietly, bile climbing her throat at an alarming rate. “The Red Room is a high-end strip club.”
Davide’s eyes widened. “A strip club?”
The couple of execs who’d had their heads buried in their smartphones the entire meal looked up, eyes fastening on her. Bailey swallowed hard, heat flooding every inch of her skin. “Yes. It was how I paid my way through school.”
A frown creased the elder Frenchman’s brow. “That must have been…”
“Lucrative.” Bailey dropped her gaze to the candle flickering in the center of the table and absorbed the total and complete silence. Wished she could disappear into the red-hot flame.
John Gehrig cleared his throat. “Well, I for one love the Red Room. The ladies are all just beautiful and I’m sure,” he said, shooting a red-faced look at Bailey, “you looked just…lovely.”
“There wasn’t an unaffected man in the room,” Alexander agreed. “Isn’t it great to see the American dream alive and well? From stripper to CMO…how inspiring.”
The bile in her throat threatened to make an immediate appearance. She pressed a hand to her mouth and swallowed hard. Jared made a sound and pressed his palms into the table. Bailey covered his hand with hers. “Don’t.”
He stared at her hand for a long, hard moment, then lowered himself back into his seat. Davide flicked his son a reprimanding look.
“If you were a gentleman you would pick another line of conversation, Alexander, but since your manners often escape you, I will.”
