Remy arrived at the Lowell Construction office fifteen minutes late for his scheduled meeting with Tempest to go over the preliminary drawings for Wilder Things. It had been a long day helping his crew on a jobsite to bring a project in on time and on budget, and though he’d left early, there had been an accident on the highway and traffic had been a nightmare.
He hated being late for any appointment, and he was filthy, too. He thought he’d given himself enough time to get cleaned up before her arrival. He had dirt and dust covering him from head to toe, his boots were crusted with mud, and he smelled like sweat and hard physical labor. He cringed at his grimy appearance. Not how he’d intended to greet Tempest. When he met with clients at the office, he preferred not to reek like a barnyard animal and strived to look somewhat professional.
He parked his work truck in his designated space and strode toward the mixed-use building he’d purchased after his divorce. It was in a middle-income area of Brooklyn and nothing fancy, but the property conveniently provided both commercial and residential space in one. And this place was one of the few things he’d been able to afford on his tight budget after his ex-wife had left him with very little cash in the bank. Considering the higher-end clients he was now accumulating, he knew he really needed to find a nicer office complex. He’d just been so busy he hadn’t had the time.
He walked into the first floor of the building, which he’d turned into an office. Sally, his fifty-five-year-old secretary who had been with him since the beginning of Lowell Construction, sat at her desk, her fingers flying across the keyboard in front of her computer at a pace that always amazed Remy. Beyond her he’d partitioned three separate areas. A private office for him, a conference-type room where he drew up plans, met with clients, and held weekly meetings with his project managers, and in the back, he’d added a small, functional kitchenette.
“Is Ms. Wilder here?” Remy asked Sally, hoping that maybe Tempest had been caught up in the same traffic jam and was running behind, too, which would give him time to shower and change.
“She was right on time. Five o’clock on the dot.” Sally stopped typing and tipped her head down to look at Remy over the top of her reading glasses, taking in his grimy, unkempt presence with a frown. “I put her in the conference room to wait for you. She’s a classy-looking client, and you certainly don’t look fit to be in the same room with her.” She wrinkled her nose at him in distaste, adding insult to injury.
Abrupt laughter escaped him. He could always count on Sally to be blunt and not mince words. But it was that straightforward attitude that made her such a great secretary. She didn’t take any crap from his guys, she dealt with subcontractors efficiently, she wasn’t easily intimidated by anyone or anything, and crazily enough, she managed to do the work of three secretaries instead of just one.
“Yes, I know I look and smell bad,” he said, because there was no denying the truth. “I didn’t think I was going to be twenty minutes late and thought I’d have time to grab a shower. I’ll say hello to Ms. Wilder and let her know I’m going to clean up and change real quick before our meeting.”
Sally gave him a nod of approval. “Good idea. I was waiting for you to get to the office before I left for the day because I didn’t want to leave Ms. Wilder alone, and now that you’re here, I’m going to pack up for the night and be on my way.”
“Sure. Thank you for staying.” He gave her an appreciative smile. “Will you lock the front door when you leave so no one can walk in on Ms. Wilder while I’m upstairs?”
“Of course.” She started gathering the different invoices from suppliers that were strewn all over her desk in organized chaos, then put them into a neat pile to finish tomorrow. “Have a good evening, Remy.”
“You, too.”
With a deep exhale to shore up his fortitude, Remy headed down the short hall to the conference room. Admittedly, a part of him dreaded seeing Tempest for the first time since the ball and being the world’s biggest jackass to her. Undoubtedly, things would be awkward, which was why he had every intention of keeping their meeting focused on business. But beneath that apprehension, Remy couldn’t deny that there was also an unwanted stirring of anticipation in his chest. Unwanted because he still desired Tempest more than any other woman but didn’t deserve her, especially after the way he’d treated her that night. Most likely, she hated his guts, anyway—not that he’d blame her.
He was still trying to deal with the massive amount of guilt that had sat on his conscience the past two months—that he’d essentially used Tempest to alleviate the resentment and bitterness that Kyle’s presence had dug up. Yeah, kissing her so hungrily, so greedily had definitely started out as a way to assuage that pain, to forget the past, but by the time she’d been gasping for breath from the shattering orgasm he’d given her, that aching need twisting deep inside of Remy for Tempest had grown tenfold . . . and had absolutely nothing to do with an act of revenge.
Those unexpected emotions he’d felt for Tempest had been real and fucking scary. And shutting them down as quickly as possible had been his goal. But in the process, he’d hurt her, and he hated himself for that, too.
Doing his best to erase all those frustrating memories from his mind, he knocked briskly to let Tempest know he was entering. She casually glanced up from whatever she was doing on her phone as he opened the door, then her eyes widened in startled shock when she saw him.
In contrast to his grimy appearance, Tempest sat on a chair near the conference table, her slender legs crossed in a ladylike way. With her thick, dark hair spilling over her shoulders, she looked beautiful and sophisticated in a black formfitting skirt and a pristine white blouse that was buttoned just low and tasteful enough to hint at her cleavage but not blatantly show off her breasts. Her outfit was modest and feminine by anyone’s standards, but it was the bright red high-dollar heels on her feet that were sexy as hell and hinted at this woman’s sensual, seductive side.
The description Lady and the Tramp couldn’t have been more fitting and obvious in that moment.
“Hi,” she said, and moved to stand up.
He lifted a hand to stop her. “I’m really sorry I’m late. I was at a construction site and then got caught in traffic. Can you give me ten minutes to shower and change before we go over the preliminary drawings for your building?”
She tipped her head curiously. “You have a shower at your office?”
“Actually, I live right upstairs.”
“Oh.” Surprise lit her eyes. “Sure. Go ahead. I have a few emails I can answer while you’re . . . showering.” Something in her voice went low and husky at that last word, and she quickly glanced back down to her cell phone.
Just that easily, just that quickly, awareness filtered in the air between them—despite how things had ended between them two months ago.
He swallowed hard. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “Sally is locking the front door on her way out, and there’s water and soda in the refrigerator down the hall in the kitchenette if you’d like something to drink.”
“I’m good.” Her gaze remained downcast. “Thank you.”
Leaving the conference door cracked open, he headed to the back of the office and took the stairs to the second level. He used his key to get into his apartment and made his way to the bedroom. The entire place was small and sparsely decorated—one bed with an attached bath, a living room, and kitchen. Being a bachelor, it was all the space he needed.
Remy stripped off all his dirty clothes and dropped them into the hamper, then turned on the shower and stepped into the glass enclosure. Quickly as possible, he washed his hair, scrubbed the grime from the rest of his body, then got back out and toweled off, including his hair. He brushed his teeth, feeling clean, decent, and human again.
He was grateful that things weren’t completely uncomfortable between him and Tempest, but their brief exchange hadn’t been warm and fuzzy, either. That short encounter downstairs had happened so fast, and it hadn’t been nearly enough time for him to gauge her emotions or really know what she was thinking.
But God, she looked so fucking good. So gorgeous and classy and sexy, and way out of his league. She was a champagne kind of girl, and he was a beer-on-a-budget kind of guy. All the shit in his past notwithstanding, their lives just didn’t mesh.
Business, he reminded himself. Just focus on business and not the curiosity of what kind of lingerie she was wearing beneath that demure outfit. A woman who designed and created all sorts of provocative underwear for a living undoubtedly wore and tested the goods. He imagined her in any one of those three ensembles she’d shown him on the mannequins the night of the ball, and his body thrummed with desire.
He groaned and immediately stopped that train of thought before it made his dick too hard to tuck into his boxer briefs. Jesus, what was wrong with him?
Grabbing a freshly laundered Lowell Construction T-shirt, he pulled it over his head and stepped into a clean pair of jeans. Socks, sneakers, and a quick finger comb through his shaggy hair to pull it away from his face to let it air dry, as he always did because he didn’t own a blow-dryer or styling products.
He returned to the conference room less than ten minutes later, finding Tempest exactly where he’d left her. She glanced back up when he entered, her still unreadable gaze taking in his much cleaner appearance, though she didn’t comment, and he decided to get right down to business.
“I have the plans over here,” he said, indicating the drafting table at the far end of the room.
She stood up, followed, and came up beside him as he unrolled the drawings and spread them out on the large surface. She was standing so close that every breath he took was filled with whatever light fragrance she wore. Something with notes of vanilla, jasmine, and sandalwood. Soft, feminine, but way too alluring to his senses.
Trying like hell not to let everything about Tempest distract him, he tapped a finger on the large sheet of paper laid out in front of them, drawing her attention there, too. “Based on the plans I pulled from the city, here is a general idea of what the bar will look like in terms of design and placement on the first level.”
“Oooh, I like this layout,” she said, making him ridiculously happy with her validation. “This is very close to what I envisioned for the bar and lounge, and you left plenty of space for seating areas and couches, which I’ve already ordered. I want everything to be sleek and modern and sophisticated.”
Her growing excitement made him smile and eased them into a comfortable discussion of the floor plan and her ideas for fixtures and where she planned to put them so he could run electrical, and he made notes of changes and additions she wanted. The woman definitely had a vision in mind, which made his job much easier than working with an indecisive client.
Then he showed her the drawings for the hotel rooms on the second and third levels of the structure, each one with an adjoining bath. Every room looked square and basic at this point, and it was up to Tempest to use her decorating skills to transform a boring, plain room into whatever concept she had in mind.
Which made him curious about her unique idea. “You said that these hotel rooms will provide couples with a romantic getaway. How so?”
“Each room will have a certain theme,” she said, her amber eyes sparkling enthusiastically as she explained. “Some of them will be fun and flirty and whimsical, like having a classic heart-shaped bed and one of those iconic champagne glass hot tubs. I also have an idea for a Pretty Woman suite. Others will be more romantic, such as Grecian or Arabian Nights themed, or just rooms that are glamorously decorated that make a couple feel like they’ve escaped into their own little world. And of course, I’ll have a few sexier rooms, something pirate-themed, a suite with a dungeon décor, and a leather red room à la Christian Grey, minus the whips and chains unless the guests bring them,” she said on a laugh. “I think women will really love that concept.”
He had no clue who Christian Grey was, but the description of that last room definitely intrigued him, but he kept the thought to himself. “We’ll make any adjustments to these rooms as we go along, and now that I have your initial approval on the plans, I think we’re finished here for the time being.”
She nodded her agreement. “Escrow closes next week,” she said, giving him an update on the purchase, which he knew she and her brothers had paid cash for so they’d bypassed a more lengthy and complicated transaction. “As soon as I have the keys, we can meet at the building so you can see the inside to take measurements or any pictures you need, and we can talk about more specific details of construction.”
He rolled up the drawings and secured them with a rubber band. “Yes, that would be the next step, and from there I’ll get permits secured and supplies purchased and delivered to get the renovation underway.”
They were done, their meeting over. He expected Tempest to collect her purse and leave, but instead she met his gaze, stood her ground a few feet from him, and fearlessly tackled what he’d been avoiding.
“So, now that business is out of the way, are we going to finally address the elephant in the room?” she asked, that sexy, sassy attitude of hers like a precise stroke to his dick. “Or are you going to keep pretending as though that night never happened?”