Chapter Thirty-Two

Smack in the middle of the hotel restaurant, seated at the best table where everyone is forced to notice her, is Yineris da Costa. Just as Jaxon predicted.

The photos had lied. They’d let us believe she was pretty. But she’s not pretty. Not at all. Yineris da Costas is stupidly stunning.

With her pore-less skin, waist-length black hair, bright emerald eyes, and plump, pouty lips, the forty-nine-year-old divorcée appears fifteen years younger than her true age. She’s tall, svelte, leggy. Built like a goddess. Rich is written in soft italics all over her strapless red gown and the diamonds twinkling in her ears, around her neck, and hanging off her wrists.

“Hot damn,” Collin murmurs as he brushes past us, as though we’re complete strangers to him. “Seems I won’t be needing liquid courage, after all.”

We’re at the double-door entrance to the hotel restaurant, waiting patiently for our table. Instead of making reservations prior to our arrival, Jaxon calculatedly decided it was better just to show up and pretend the decision to dine here is last minute, knowing we’ll have to wait for a table to become available. This allows him ample time to study, assess, and evaluate Yineris in person before we sit down and go ahead with the plan.

“Only fools rush in,” he’d explained.

As far as the plan goes, we’re not supposed to know Collin. Jaxon and I are traveling lovers on a date, and Collin is a wealthy, sauntering American playboy traveling solo for business.

Thus, we were waiting at the restaurant ten minutes before him. We watch as he brushes past us at the entrance and struts toward the bar situated at the opposite end of the expansive dining room. His shoulders are squared with confidence and self-importance, his signature smirk on his lips. His eyelids dip lazily as he tosses winks and come-hither stares to every salivating female he passes.

He exudes sex and carnality, sin and lust. Collin Cumberland is in full-on con mode, and holy shite he’s hot! I mean, I’ve seen him in action before but never like this. In a room overflowing with wealthy, puff-chested men, he stands out like a platinum-haired sex demon in a suit made of fire.

“Look away, Timber,” Jaxon warns through a whisper, his lips pressed to my temple as though he’s planting a kiss there. “Or I’ll make sure you die a virgin.”

My jaw drops. How does he know? How does he know I’m 100 percent turned on right now by Collin’s sexy persona? “But— He’s so— Wow.”

“I know he’s so wow. That’s why I brought him.” Jaxon’s arm around my waist flexes. “I didn’t, however, bring you here to get wet for him.”

Oh. My. God. Did he really just say that? “I didn’t— It’s not—”

“You either want him, or you want me, but you can’t have both,” Jaxon cuts through my stammer. “Choose, a better man would say. But I’m not a better man. I’m the best man. And I’m not giving you a chance to choose. Because I already chose you.”

Sweet Virgin Mary.

I stop breathing, and the thoughtless act affects my ability to speak.

Mercifully, a hostess materializes and saves me. “Mr. Cussler, thank you for waiting.” Her English rolls off her tongue as if it’s her first language. “A table just became available. If you could just wait a few more minutes, we can have it ready for you.”

A curt nod is all Jaxon gives, coming off as pompous and uppity, mimicking the attitude of every other man in this ostentatious restaurant. Blending in is paramount.

Although he’s not looking in her direction, I know he’s watching Yineris, who’s just signed a receipt before sticking it into the bill folder. All the while she’s throwing glances over to the bar, curiosity in the arch of her brow as she bites her bottom lip.

I follow her gaze and almost smile when I realize what—or rather, who— has captured her attention. Collin. Of course.

He’s leaning against the bar, a whiskey glass in one hand, his attention directed at a buxom bottle blonde who’s so close to him her breasts are touching his chest. Her eyes are glazed over as she gazes up at him as if he’s a god.

His answering smile is crooked and welcoming, but his gaze keeps flicking over her shoulder and across the room.

I trace the path of his gaze.

Yep. Straight to Yineris.

Blimey, but the guy is ace at this. Within minutes of sauntering in here, he’s got Yineris in the palm of his hand.

Sure enough, she picks up her half-filled flute, empties it, and snatches up her purse as she gets to her feet. Without so much as a break in her confident strides, she weaves around the tables and makes a beeline for the bar.

However, instead of going straight for Collin, she goes to the opposite end of the bar. Seems she intends on making him work a little harder for it.

With a sexy, sizzling smile, he lifts a hand to the blonde’s neck and begins caressing her. She presses closer into him, touching him with purpose—his chest, his biceps, his…crotch?

At this, Yineris’s eyes narrow to slits, and she flat-out scowls.

Worried, I ask through my teeth, “What the hell is he doing?”

Not worried, Jaxon replies, “His job.”

“Mr. Cussler,” the hostess interrupts again, “your table is ready.”

Jaxon is posing as William Cussler tonight. Yep. He has an actual driver’s license, a foreign passport, and credit card to support this name. A legit alias. Uh-huh. I’m in lust with a man who has legit aliases.

Yes. There are more than one. He told me so.

As we make to follow the hostess, I stumble on my unfamiliar high heels and almost twist my ankle. Le sigh.

Remember when I said we were standing at the entrance to the restaurant? Well, that was a half truth. Jaxon was the one standing while I propped up against him, using him as a fulcrum.

On our way to the city, we stopped at a boutique owned by one of Jaxon’s friends—aka a beautiful, petite Spaniard he’d obviously had a fling with at some point.

“She needs to fit in” was all he said. And the next thing I know, I’m being given a makeover.

So, tonight I’m wearing an off-white, off-the shoulder, skin-tight dress that ends just below the knees. Complementing this dress is a diamond-studded choker, a stunning diamond-studded cuff bracelet, diamond earrings, and a white-gold ring that spirals up the length of my middle finger—which, by the way, is extremely uncomfortable, seeing as it restricts my finger from moving. Why do people wear these things?

While I’ve acclimatized to the tight dress and extravagant jewelry, the shoes are taking the piss with me. Strappy four-inch stilettos rob me of my balance. As a result, I’ve been using Jaxon as a human crutch.

I cling to him as he walks, doing my damnedest not to face-plant and embarrass us both. While both Collin and Jaxon’s Spanish senorita had gushed about how hot I look, I just don’t feel it. All this getup does is make me self-conscious.

Once we’re seated, the hostess hands us our menus and leaves.

“Are we going full course?” I ask him. “This dress is so tight I don’t think I’ll be able to eat more than a single green pea.”

His head is lowered as he scans the menu, but I still see the small curve to his lips. “We’re supposed to be big spenders, darling,” he murmurs to the menu. “You’ll blend in less if you order a salad than if you order a whole roasted pig, so just order the most expensive thing on the menu. You don’t have to eat it, just pick at it and act unimpressed. They’ll be more worried about whether you’re displeased with the meal rather than if you can afford it.”

“Pick another endearment,” I tell him. “Darling makes me think of ducks.”

His eyes sweep up from the menu, alight with humor. Briefly, he seems so…human. “Why ducks, sweet niblets?”

“I don’t know. Ducks just look like darlings.” I frown. “Sweet niblets won’t work, either. That makes me think of corn. Or baby chicks.”

He sets his menu down. “Why baby chicks, sugar dumpling?”

“Same reason as darling. Also, no to sugar dumpling. That makes me think of Chihuahuas.”

He clasps his hands on top his menu. “Why Chihuahuas, pookie poo?”

“Because sugar—” I break off, noticing the laughter in his eyes. He’s enjoying this way too much. “Sod off.”

He just grins wider.

A waitress appears with a jug of ice water and takes our orders. I follow Jaxon’s suggestion of ordering the priciest dish on the menu, along with a bottle of champagne I don’t intend to drink.

As the waitress leaves, I glance over to the bar. What do you know? Yineris is at Collin’s end, their barstools swiveled to face each other. Yineris’s long legs are provocatively crossed so the split of her dress falls and exposes her whole left leg. She’s reeling Collin in. Or so she thinks.

I scan for the bottle blonde and spot her standing two stools down, shooting daggers at the back of Yineris’s head.

“Dammit,” I grumble under my breath. “I can’t believe I missed Yineris’s hostile takeover.”

Jaxon gives me an amused blink. “This is a job, sugar puffs. Not a Broadway play.”

I glower at him. “Your endearments suck.”

“That’s okay, cream pie.”

Sending my gaze heavenward, I return my attention to the bar.

From my peripheral vision, however, I see Jaxon pour water into both our glasses. He picks his up, leans back in his chair, and sips. “Perfect, pumpkin pudding. You’re doing a wonderful job of blending in.”

I swing back to him. These endearments are truly ghastly. Is he mocking me? “How?” I ask.

“You’re wholly mesmerized by the white-haired boy. Just like every other woman in here.”

“I’m not mesmerized,” I hiss. “I’m taking notes.”

“No need. I can teach you everything you need to know.”

“Yeah?” I murmur through sarcasm. “Then why is Collin here?”

“Timber, this really is a one-man job. This contract is meant for me, and me alone.” He sets his glass down and idly taps a finger to the stem while his eyes pierce mine. “Let me ask you this. How enthralled would you be if it was me sitting over there instead of Col?”

Once again, I turn to the bar. Collin’s hand is on Yineris’s bare thigh, and neither of them are being shy about it. Raw desire and open sexual tension oozes between them. Collin is playing to the hilt, and Yineris is all but drooling.

“I wouldn’t—” I start but clamp my mouth shut at a vivid mental picture of Jaxon in Collin’s position. The imagined scene causes me visceral pain.

No. Bloody hell no. I most definitely would not be enthralled. I would burn. Not with lust but with jealousy and possessiveness, and possibly anger.

“That’s what I thought.” A tiny smile tugs one corner of Jaxon’s mouth. “You can thank me later with one of your experiments.”

My face heats. But then I become irritated. And annoyed and turned on and disgusted. So much so, I full-on scowl at him. “I’m thinking I liked you better when you were a brick.”

At this, he throws his head back and laughs.

And I think, beautiful. So bloody beautiful.

Just like that, I’m not scowling or irritated anymore. I’m smiling like a fool. Mesmerized. By him. Only him.

Like a bloody fool.