Much to Tempest’s relief, dinner went off without a hitch, all thanks to the three-star Michelin chef she’d hired to organize the event’s five-course meal. Since Tempest had helped with the evening’s seating chart, she’d strategically placed Kyle across the room from the table where she’d sat. Despite what he thought or felt, they weren’t a couple, and she hoped this deliberate separation would make him realize that he needed to move on and find a woman more interested in him than she was. So far, she’d managed to avoid running into him but didn’t think her luck would hold out for the rest of the night.
Forty minutes after dinner was served and guests were mingling again, Raevynn started her second and last set of songs for the evening, kicking it off with one of her upbeat pop tunes that drew a crowd around the stage to watch her perform. Tempest did a quick sweep of all the various rooms, including the area where the silent auction was being held, just to make sure there were no issues before allowing herself to relax and enjoy the rest of the festivities herself.
As one of the hosts of the ball, she stopped and thanked many of their big donors for their generous contributions to the Wilder Way Foundation . . . and just as she moved on from a wealthy older couple, she found herself distracted by the one man who’d always made her stomach flutter with awareness and her body tingle with heat and desire . . . along with a fair amount of lust.
Remy Lowell. Even his sexy, seductive name made her sigh internally, and she didn’t hesitate to detour toward where he was standing near the bar, nursing a drink and looking a bit uncomfortable in this whimsical fairy-tale atmosphere.
She’d met Remy a little over three years ago when she’d been twenty-three and he’d just turned thirty. At the time, he’d been fresh out of a nasty, unpleasant divorce and had barely spared her a second glance. As a friend of Maddux’s and a contractor, he’d been hired by her eldest brother to help renovate this old abandoned warehouse and turn it into a functional, practical structure that included office spaces on the second floor and luxurious living quarters for her, Maddux, and Hunter on the levels above that. Despite the fact that she’d worked directly with Remy on the various concepts for her own apartment, he’d been all business and clearly not interested in women on any level after his ex-wife’s betrayal.
His structural designs had been unique, precise, and well thought out, and Tempest always knew that when she was ready to hire someone to bring her ideas for Wilder Things to life, which was only months away, she wanted Lowell Construction to be that company. It didn’t hurt that the owner was a delicious piece of man candy she wanted to take a bite out of—albeit one who was a bit rough around the edges despite the formal tuxedo that molded to his well-built frame. From what Tempest had seen and knew of Remy, he was a man who thrived on manual labor and was far more relaxed in worn jeans, a T-shirt with his company’s logo, and steel-toed boots layered in dust.
He always wore his dark brown hair longer than most professionals yet somehow managed to pull off a disheveled style that was sexy as hell. She often daydreamed about what it would feel like to run her fingers through those thick, silky strands or watch as those intense blue eyes of his darkened in the throes of passion while doing dirty, sinful things to her with those big, work-roughened palms of his.
A naughty smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she strolled closer. Yeah, it was a hot fantasy she’d had about him a time or two—or a dozen—and just thinking about having that wicked mouth on her body or those calloused hands caressing between her thighs made her more than a little breathless. He was, quite possibly, that male unicorn she’d been searching for . . . if it wasn’t for the fact that he kept himself so unattainable.
Three years ago, he’d been clearly jaded by one woman in particular, and while Tempest still found him a bit closed off and guarded emotionally—not to mention being oblivious to the appreciative and interested female glances being cast his way—the brusque, brooding man she’d originally met had thawed a bit over time. At least now when she saw him with Maddux in the MadX-Tech offices discussing other business and she stopped by to say hello, their conversation was warmer and much friendlier. There had even been a few times she’d enticed a slow, sexy smile out of him with her not-so-subtle flirtatious overtures.
Now, the mutual attraction was undeniably there between them, even if Remy did nothing to acknowledge the awareness or act upon their growing chemistry. The man had an impressive amount of willpower.
The amusing thought ran through her mind just as he downed the last of his drink and set it on the bar, then casually turned his head in her direction. As soon as he saw her heading his way, the bland, neutral look on his face momentarily changed, revealing that flicker of interest he tried so hard to keep from slipping past his collected composure whenever she was around. But for a brief moment, his attraction to her did emerge in the appreciative way his gaze slid down the length of her body, taking in her curves displayed by the formfitting gown she was wearing.
A muscle in his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, as if he was fighting off just how much she appealed to him, and by the time she was only a few feet away and his eyes reached hers again, he’d managed to school his expression. An amicable smile tipped up the corners of his made-for-sin mouth, and for now, she let him fall back on the pretense of being cordial and friendly and pretending the desire between them didn’t exist.
But she knew better, and so did he—whether he’d admit it or not.
Remy stood by the bar, sipping on an after-dinner drink while the guests at the ball gravitated toward the evening’s entertainment. God, he was beyond ready to blow this joint.
He was all about supporting the Wilder Way Foundation, a worthwhile organization that was focused on helping kids living in poverty and low-income situations by offering scholarships, mentorship programs, and other educational classes that gave them the tools they needed to succeed. He’d once been one of those destitute youths struggling to change their lives, and he knew what it was like to face adversity. And because there had been no charitable organization around to give him any kind of advantages as a teenager, it was even more important to him to donate to the cause in hopes of helping someone else’s future.
He could have just written a check and done without attending the whimsical ball, but out of respect for his good friend Maddux—who’d pretty much saved his company from ruin after his ex-wife had sucked him dry financially in their divorce—he’d made the effort to put in an appearance in show of his support. He’d made requisite small talk with acquaintances and business associates, spent an agonizing dinner between two women who kept vying for his attention and he had zero interest in, and he’d even helped to drive up the bid on a rare piece of signed sports memorabilia at the silent auction. He’d been outbid and wouldn’t win the memento, but the charity would definitely benefit from the astronomical price.
So, as far as Remy was concerned, he’d fulfilled his obligations and put in his time. He was more of a lone wolf than a social butterfly, and lavish parties were not his thing, let alone a black-tie affair that had forced him to rent a tuxedo since he didn’t own one.
And the frivolous theme for the night’s festivities? He exhaled on a dry, cynical laugh. In his experience, fairy tales and happily ever afters were nothing but an illusion. All smoke and mirrors that obscured the truth that real life, as Remy well knew, was filled with hard knocks, emotional upheaval, and tragic, heartbreaking lessons he wasn’t about to repeat.
Yeah, it was time to leave. He tossed back the last of his drink and set his empty glass on the bar, then turned his head to gauge if he could slip out unnoticed . . . and felt his entire body tighten with awareness when he saw Tempest Wilder heading his way. He’d seen her throughout the evening flitting about with guests and her brother Hunter, but now she’d seemed to set her sights on him, and it took genuine effort to keep his attraction to her at bay.
He’d always thought she was a strikingly beautiful woman, but tonight, she was absolutely stunning in a scarlet-red gown—so appropriate to her name and bold personality—that showcased every seductive curve of her luscious body. The plunging neckline displayed a mouthwatering amount of cleavage, and the material of her dress clung to her firm breasts, the indentation of her waist, and the flare of her hips. He already knew that the back of her gown was cut low, exposing an expanse of smooth, silky-looking skin—and revealing the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra. And then there was that thigh-high slit running up the front of the dress that gave him a glimpse of her toned, slender leg with every other step she took in those fuck-me heels.
And God, the woman had long, incredible legs. The kind that induced fantasies of having them wrapped high and tight around his waist as she arched against his driving thrusts and moaned his name when she came.
Fuck. He tightened his jaw as his dick stirred at the arousing thought, just as it always did when he imagined what it would be like to have Tempest pinned beneath him as he finally slaked three years of growing, burning lust in that sweet body of hers. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t given him enough seductive signals for him to know that she was just as interested, and her flirtatious behavior definitely made it difficult for him to keep resisting her.
But resist this gorgeous, enticing creature he would. For one thing, she was seven years younger than him—the epitome of a princess who undoubtedly saw the world through pretty, rose-colored glasses compared to Remy’s more jaded experiences and views. And more importantly, her brother had become a very good friend, and Remy owed Maddux for the overwhelming success of his construction company after his divorce had left him near destitute, not to mention his own psyche damaged.
Out of respect for his friend, he wasn’t about to mess around with Maddux’s baby sister. And that’s all it ever could be—a no-strings hookup. Dating, let alone any kind of relationship, wasn’t on his radar after being duped, rejected, and royally fucked over by his ex-wife. Literally and figuratively.
All that said, it had been three years since he’d been with a woman. By conscious choice, because he’d chosen to spend all his time rebuilding his business and cultivating the high-profile clients Maddux had sent his way. And while he knew remaining celibate forever wasn’t a viable option, he wasn’t about to touch a woman who could potentially shatter him again. He already knew Tempest Wilder had the ability to get under his skin, to make him want things that weren’t meant to be his, and he was better off keeping things between them platonic.
But Jesus, that knowing, inviting smile of hers—the one currently curving her full, lush lips as she came closer—tempted the hot-blooded man inside of him that desired her.
“Hello, Remy,” she said in greeting when she finally reached him.
“Tempest,” he replied with a cordial nod.
She cocked her head playfully to the side, momentarily drawing his gaze to the way she’d swept her dark hair into an intricate style that was held together with crystal and pearl pins. The elegant updo left her shoulders and slender neck bare, emphasizing the pair of sparkling ruby earrings hanging from her lobes.
“Dare I say you look like you’re about to bolt for the exit,” she said, a light accusation in her tone.
He inhaled a deep breath—big mistake—because the scent of her soft, feminine perfume went straight to his dick. It took effort to remain outwardly unaffected, and for her, he allowed a smile to ease across his lips. “Guilty as charged.” He planned on doing exactly that as soon as she went on her way.
Her perfectly shaped brows furrowed in a concerned frown. “Are you not having a good time?”
“Don’t take this personally, but fairy tales are not my thing,” he replied, his tone wry.
“How do you know that for certain?” she countered, a flirtatious glimmer now sparking in her amber eyes. “If you leave right now, you’ll never know if something magical might happen tonight.”
He huffed out a laugh at her whimsical, romantic notion, though the sound that erupted from his throat was as rough as sandpaper. “I’m not looking for anything magical to happen.” In fact, he’d do his best to avoid anything even remotely close to it.
She shrugged a smooth, bare shoulder. “Sometimes, it’s better to leave all expectations and cynicism at the door and just see where the evening takes you.”
He shook his head in disagreement. “Trust me when I say my cynicism is well earned.” And now he was determined that all that skepticism would protect what little was left of his soul from being further ransacked. “I was happy to come and support the Wilder Way Foundation, and now that I’ve done that, I think it’s best if I go. Good night, Tempest.”
He started to walk away, but she grabbed at his tuxedo sleeve. “Remy, wait.”
Not wanting to be rude, he stopped and glanced back at her.
The smile she gave him was so sweet and persuasive it made something in his chest shift ever so slightly. “You can’t leave without having at least one dance.”
Oh, yes, he could, and he shored up his resolve against that imploring look of hers. “I don’t dance.”
The hand on his arm slid down, until her cool, slender fingers curled around his, not only startling him but ensnaring him in more ways than one. “It’s a ballad,” she pointed out of the song Raevynn Walsh was now singing. “Everyone can slow dance. It takes minimal skill . . . unless you don’t trust yourself to stand that close to me?”
Her comment was underscored with a subtle challenge, an undeniable dare that alluded to the attraction between them that was getting increasingly difficult for him to resist.
“Just one dance,” she persisted oh so sweetly, her husky voice taking on a teasing lilt as she leaned in closer. “I solemnly promise not to cast any kind of fairy-tale spell on you.”
Bold and determined Tempest Wilder didn’t give him another chance to turn her down. With her hand secured in his, she pulled him toward the dance floor in front of the stage, which was already filled with other couples, and he would have looked like a jackass if he rebuffed her at this point. Once she found a spot for the two of them, she turned back around and didn’t hesitate to step as close as their bodies would allow.
The provocative feel of her soft breasts pressing against his chest and her supple thighs skimming along his was like a fucking shock to his celibate system, and he automatically tensed in response to the sexy female curves aligning perfectly to his more masculine frame. It was all he could do to keep his dick from getting hard as a spike against her lower stomach.
Still holding his one hand, she smoothed her other one up the lapel of his jacket and around his neck. Clearly sensing his discomfort, she tipped her head back and gave him a flirty smile, no doubt meant to tease him.
“So, when it comes to slow dancing, the man usually puts his arm around the woman’s waist,” she suggested, since he hadn’t yet done so. “And if he really likes the woman he’s with, he’ll splay his hand low on her back and pull her in close.”
Oh, he knew how to slow dance, but just the thought of putting his hands on her so intimately was wreaking havoc with his libido, and he had a feeling she was well aware of his predicament, too. It was another sexy dare from her, and while he’d spent the past few years avoiding this kind of close contact with Tempest, the sexually starved man in him who desired this woman slipped past all his carefully erected walls.
Fuck it, he decided. What could happen in a room full of people? Giving in to the temptation to touch her, to enjoy the feel of her in his arms, even for a few minutes, he placed his hand on her bare back and slowly caressed his palm all the way down to the base of her spine. The subtle pressure of his hand against her smooth skin drew her as close as the two of them could get, aligning their hips in a way that was suggestively carnal.
Breathing became difficult . . . He hadn’t been this close to a woman in over three years, and there was no denying she felt so damn good. She was incredibly soft, she smelled like heaven, and she made him want to do something wild and wicked and uncharacteristic—like take her somewhere dark and private where he could give in to the lust clamoring inside him.
An unmistakable shiver coursed through her as they shifted in time to the slow song. With her staring into his eyes, her own darkened with awareness as she moved her head to the side of his to speak into his ear. “See, touching me wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“You’re bad,” he murmured, shocking himself with his own playful response when he’d been so indifferent to women for years. It was as though this woman was rousing his sex drive, along with a more indulgent part of him, from a long, deep slumber. The thought was both frightening and exhilarating.
She drew her head back and laughed. To his surprise, the light, sensual sound eased the rest of the tension in his body, allowing him to just enjoy the moment with her.
She gave him a cheeky grin. “Just for the record, Mr. Lowell, I can be very bad, depending on the circumstance.”
He had no doubt, and his mind didn’t hesitate to conjure a few dirty scenarios with her in the starring role. Which he promptly shoved right out of his head before those erotic thoughts got him into trouble. As it was, keeping his body from reacting to the feel of her gorgeous body pressed against his was becoming a lesson in self-control.
She stroked her fingers through the longer strands of his hair that fell over the collar of his jacket, a fanciful glint in her eyes as they met his again. “So, just for fun, considering this is a whimsical night, if there was one fairy tale that described you and me in this moment, what would you say it would be?”
He absently skimmed his thumb along the soft, bare skin of her back, trying not to think how natural it was beginning to feel having her in his arms. “I already told you that fairy tales are not my thing.”
“Come on, Remy,” she cajoled in a beguiling tone while her fingers brushed seductively along the nape of his neck. “Don’t be so serious and uptight. Indulge me.”
He arched an incredulous brow at her unflattering description of him, even though he couldn’t deny that he’d been more reserved since his divorce. His ex-wife’s betrayal had undoubtedly sucked the fun right out of his personality, and he’d yet to find any real joy in life again other than work. The success of Lowell Construction fulfilled his need for security and having control over his own destiny again . . . but any real pleasure in his day-to-day life had been nonexistent over the past three years.
Except right here, right now with Tempest, he was beginning to feel a glimmer of enjoyment. She was like a ray of lighthearted warmth finding its way into places that had felt stone cold for so long.
“I’m not uptight,” he begged to differ, forcing a lightness to his voice so he didn’t sound defensive. “I’m practical. There’s a difference.”
The impudent minx had the audacity to roll her eyes at him. “You’re changing the subject.” Her chastising tone was softened by the carefree smile curving the full lips he suddenly ached to taste. “And practical is boring. Be a little spontaneous, Remy, and don’t overthink my question.”
As they continued to slow dance, he glanced down at her upturned face, his mind truly unable to come up with a response that would satisfy her inquisitive mind. So, he opted for a shockingly honest reply instead.
“Growing up, I didn’t read about or believe in any kind of fairy tales,” he said, keeping his reply superficial since he had no desire to delve into his less-than-idyllic childhood. “So, I’m not avoiding your question as much as I don’t have any fairy-tale knowledge to draw from. How about you tell me what fairy tale comes to mind that describes you and me in this moment?”
He’d shocked himself by turning the question on Tempest but had to admit he was sincerely intrigued by what her answer might be.
“Hmmm.” The soft sound rumbled in her throat as she thought for a moment, her eyes suddenly sparkling playfully. “I think I’d go with Lady and the Tramp.”
He laughed, the genuinely amused sound a bit rusty to his ears. While he’d never read fairy tales or watched Disney movies as a child, he at least knew the premise of that story, which was pretty damned close to the truth. “That description is probably more apropos than you know.”
“Do tell.” She tipped her head, her expression openly curious. “You can’t make a cryptic comment like that and not explain.”
He lifted his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “You’re every inch a lady. A veritable princess who lives in this castle of a building,” he said of the once-dilapidated structure that was now a prime piece of real estate worth millions. “And me . . . well, I’m about as scrappy as a mutt can get.” They came from opposite worlds, and not being good enough for someone was the fucking story of his life.
Thank God Raevynn’s song ended, which meant their ridiculous conversation was over, his obligation to dance with Tempest had been fulfilled, and he could finally leave. Because while the sexy, sensual woman standing in front of him might not have cast a fairy tale spell on him as she’d promised, she’d definitely spun a seductive one that was sorely testing his resolve to be a gentleman with her.
Before he could issue a goodbye, she reached out and lightly touched the sleeve of his jacket. “I know you’re dying to get out of here, but before you go, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you,” she said quickly, as if sensing his need to escape—everything. Especially her. “It’s business related.”
He could have told her that he’d rather talk business at his office or on the phone during the week. Both options would establish much-needed space between them, as well as provide a safe, nonsexual, work-related environment for his benefit that would keep his desire for her firmly in check. But he was intrigued enough by her request and what she could potentially want from him—businesswise—that he relented.
He exhaled a deep breath. “Sure.”
She gave him a delighted smile. “And here I thought you were going to shoot me down.”
He laughed at just how close he’d come to doing just that. “So, what kind of business did you want to discuss?”
She glanced around the loud, crowded ballroom as if searching for a quiet place to talk, which was nonexistent. Her gaze narrowed in on someone or something in the distance, then she quickly inclined her head toward the bank of elevators that led to the upper floors of the building—which included the offices for MadX-Tech Security Systems and, above that, three other floors with private living quarters that Remy had designed and constructed for Maddux, Hunter, and Tempest three years ago.
“Follow me,” she said, lifting the front of her dress a few inches so she didn’t step on the hem and starting in a direction that took them farther away from the party.
He fell into step beside her. “Where are we going?”
She smiled at him as she walked a bit faster and with purpose, as though she was trying to escape something or someone. “Somewhere where it’s not so noisy and there aren’t three hundred people around to listen in on our conversation.”
“The MadX-Tech offices?” he guessed. On a night like this, it was unlikely that anyone would be working, which meant the place would be deserted and quiet.
“No. My apartment.” She cast a quick look over her shoulder, then glanced up at him, an imploring look in her eyes. “I’ve been running around all day and all evening getting everything ready for this party, and I could really use a break for a little bit, and we can talk without being interrupted. And to be honest, there’s someone here at the ball who is looking for me that I really don’t want to deal with right now. Do you mind?”
He frowned, concern shifting through him. “Are you in some sort of trouble?”
She shook her head quickly. “Oh, God, no,” she assured him as they reached the elevators, and the lack of fear in her voice and expression made the crazy and unexpected protective vibe in him ease. “I can handle the person just fine. I’d just rather avoid them right now, and preferably for the rest of the night, if possible. Are you okay with going up to my apartment for a bit?”
Her final question was giving him an option and an out if he didn’t want to be completely alone with her. But truth be told, he was partied out. The noise. The people. The forced smiles and small talk. He’d met his quota for the year.
Going somewhere quiet appealed to him immensely, and clearly Tempest needed a breather, too. Going up to her apartment was all about business, he told himself. Nothing more.
“Let’s go,” he said, and pressed the call button for the elevator, and the gratitude that filled her eyes told Remy he’d made the right decision for Tempest.
He wasn’t so sure about himself.