“So you don’t think there will be any problem, Harv?” I sat across from the kind-looking man, who was likely not much older than I was, despite the weariness in his gentle eyes. His office, a term I was using generously, was in a small storeroom at the back of the building. A small desk piled with papers and a computer that looked to be almost as old as I was took up the rest of the tiny space. There was barely enough room for a chair and the tall stool I was currently perched on for our meeting.
“No problem at all, Mr. Barron.”
“Call me Blaze.” I smiled in an effort to put him at ease, not that it had worked thus far. Harv was a self-described Ash Jackson fan, which had been part of the research Sheila had done for me, and my surefire way in. I felt mildly guilty for not talking to Darla about my plans, but then again, maybe it was best that I waited. Up until now, the woman had proved to be somewhat of a mystery to me. One minute, I was getting very good vibes from her. Interested vibes. And the next…nothing. At the risk of coming off like a total asshole, I wasn’t used to women reacting that way to me. And it was…intriguing. As much as it was frustrating.
I was enjoying our little push-pull dance but I didn’t want to complicate the matter. And I definitely didn’t want to change the course of our relationship prematurely and make it about business.
No, dealing with Harv directly was the best strategy to get what I wanted. And what I wanted was to be involved with the Aspen Valley homeless shelter, or more specifically, getting an addiction treatment program off the ground for all the residents in need. If it cost me a few autographs and selfies to sneak in through the back door, then that’s what it would take. I wasn’t against using my celebrity status for good, but I was very much not in favor of having it work against me. And when it came to Darla, I couldn’t be sure which way it would go. Hence, the initial meeting with Harv.
“Harv, I’m excited for the opportunity to help you out and get Aspen Valley the facilities that are needed here.” I refocused on the matter at hand. “You’re sure it won’t be a problem with my direct involvement in the project? It’s important to me to be hands-on.” I didn’t need to get into the specifics of why it was important, nor did I plan to. So far I’d been able to keep that part of my personal life completely out of the public eye. And that’s the way I planned to keep it.
“No problem at all.” Harv’s face split into a smile so wide that his eyes all but disappeared beneath his cheeks. “In fact, I can introduce you to our managing director today. She usually comes in three times a week,” he continued. “She’s a very involved volunteer and our biggest donor. That is, until—”
I waved my hand to stop him.
“I look forward to meeting with her about the project.”
Harv glanced at his watch and pushed up from his chair, filling the tiny space with his body. “No time like the present. She’s usually in the kitchen, helping out on Thursday mornings. Shall we?”
I let Harv lead the way through the shelter halls. It was a clean space that smelled strongly like bleach, mingled with whatever they were cooking in the kitchen we were headed to. I heard Darla before I saw her. My body instantly responded to her melodic laughter coming from the kitchen.
“We like as much as possible to keep things light around here,” Harv was explaining as we came upon the scene.
Darla was leading three others in a conga line of sorts through the kitchen. She held a wooden spoon high in the air, shaking her hips in yet another of her long, flowy skirts.
Everyone was laughing and singing, but it was obvious that Darla was the ringleader.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her. My gut tightened and my cock thickened in my jeans as she twirled once more, this time close enough for me to smell that sweet lemon scent that was uniquely hers.
As she caught sight of us, Darla came to an abrupt stop directly in front of us, the spoon still in the air. Her face was an unreadable expression as her eyes fixed directly on mine. It wasn’t my imagination that I saw her breath quicken. I moved to step forward, inexplicably drawn to her the way I always was.
But Harv beat me to it. He stepped up proudly and waved his hand in my direction. “Darla, I’m so excited to introduce you to—”
“Blaze.” My name was almost a whisper in her soft voice. “I know. We’ve met.”
“Hi.” I raised my hand and offered her a small smile.
“I didn’t realize you two knew each other.” Harv looked between the two of us, and I felt a flicker of guilt for not telling him. “That should make this even more—”
“What’s this?” Darla cut him off and finally pulled her gaze from me to look at Harv, her eyes narrowed.
“Mr. Barron—Blaze,” he corrected himself. “Has made a very generous donation toward an addiction treatment program right here in Aspen Valley. Isn’t that fabulous?”
I watched as myriad emotions played out on Darla’s face. Not for the first time, I wished I could figure out what was going on in this woman’s mind. Finally, her eyes widened and she took in a deep breath.
“Wow.”
She looked at me, and for the first time, there was something in her expression that I might be able to interpret as impressed, or at the very least, it wasn’t complete indifference.
“That’s actually really amazing, Blaze. We’ve been fundraising for a program for quite some time. It’s just been so difficult to do it all.”
“I can imagine.” I offered her a small smile and, to my pleasure, her body moved closer to mine.
But whatever distance we’d closed was unexpectedly pulled away, an instant later when Harv told her the final detail. “And now we’ll not only have the funds,” he grinned, “but the help, too. Mr. Barron is passionate about working closely on the project himself, and since the two of you already know each other, I think—”
“Absolutely not.”
“That sounds great.”
“No.” It must have been at least the dozenth time I’d said the word, but Blaze still hadn’t stopped following me. “Absolutely not.” There was no way I was going to work closely with Blaze Barron, of all people, on something so important as an addiction treatment program when the only thing I would be able to think about was how much I wanted his hands on my body, his lips on my—no. No way. It couldn’t happen.
To my credit, I’d managed to hold my tongue in front of Harv. The poor man had enough to worry about without stressing about his biggest donor—okay, his two biggest donors having some sort of issue working together. Especially when there was no way I could begin to explain why I couldn’t work with Blaze.
What would I say?
I can’t work closely with the man because I’m afraid I’ll throw myself into his arms and demand he take me to bed because I’m absolutely certain he’ll be able to make me feel things I can’t even begin to imagine. And as much as everything in my being wants to do that, I promised my friends I wouldn’t.
No. I couldn’t tell him that. It was ridiculous. But I also couldn’t torture myself by working closely with the man. There was self-control, and then there was just setting yourself up for failure.
I waited until Harv left us alone before I’d told Blaze in no uncertain terms that there was no way I’d be working with him on this project. If it meant I had to turn up the amount on my own charitable donations in order to cover the amount he would have contributed, I would find a way. That particular thought almost made me stop in my tracks. My contributions were significant, but without even knowing the exact monetary value of Blaze’s donation, I knew I wouldn’t be able to match it. But he was right: having an addiction treatment program right in town so residents in need didn’t have to travel to the city, where they might not have the same support, was invaluable. I couldn’t let my own personal issues—issues that were completely ridiculous in comparison—stop the program from happening.
“Why not?” He was starting to sound like a broken record with his question. “Why won’t you work with me on this? I thought we were friends? I think we’ll make a good team.”
He’d followed me out to the parking lot. I needed to get a box of donations from the trunk of my car anyway. But mostly, I needed air. This man made me feel things. It was dangerous. I almost lost my balance when I spun around from my trunk, he was standing so close. I swallowed hard. Dammit, why did he have to smell so friggin’ good? I took a deep breath. “Because I know your type.”
“My type?”
He grinned, and it was equal parts cocky, sexy, and charming. I was very quickly beginning to regret the stupid pact I’d made with my friends. If he were anyone else…
Stop it. “Yes,” I said, regaining some sort of semblance of control over the hormones that were coursing through my body, wanting very much to close the already small gap between us and kiss the smirk from his face. I needed to say something to put distance between us. Something that would put an end to this before it became a thing. “The celebrity type who throws money at something for the promotional opportunity.” The type of man I’m afraid will make me want things I shouldn’t want. “Before you know it, we’ll have to push our way through the paparazzi, all trying to get a shot of Blaze Barron doing good. We have real work to do here. The last thing we need is a media presence, especially if that presence is only there to get the scoop on you.” It was true, I hated the idea of the paparazzi, but that had nothing to do with why I wanted distance from him. The real reason was just far too selfish and ridiculous to say out loud. So instead, I lied. “I don’t want anything to do with that.”
Confusion lined his face and for a moment, I was afraid I’d spoken my internal thoughts aloud. But then he swallowed and took a step back. “You really think I’m doing this just for attention?”
Something in his voice told me that wasn’t the case at all. Guilt filled me. But still, I nodded. “I do.”
Blaze dropped his gaze to the ground and when he looked up, his eyes were filled with sadness. “You’re wrong,” he said softly. “It has nothing to do with that at all. In fact, I’m choosing to keep my name out of this completely. There’s no reason for anyone to know who donated. But I insist on being personally involved as an anonymous donor.”
That was a twist. Although, not entirely unexpected. Despite the little act I was putting on, as I’d gotten to know him, he really didn’t seem like the type of guy to do things for attention. Besides, it’s not as though he even needed any more attention. Guilt washed through me for even implying something so terrible. And at the same time, his admission drew me to him even more. Dammit. The man just got more and more attractive. And that was not a good thing.
Damn my friends for seeing it before I did.
Which just made it all so much more complicated.
I was seriously attracted to the man. Even more so, if his intentions behind this program were pure.
I cleared my throat in an effort to clear my head. “Why do you insist on being part of the project?” I asked. “Why do you care so much?”
“It’s personal.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Fair enough.”
He took a step back, and I immediately missed his nearness—which was so crazy I almost laughed out loud.
“How about this?”
I was listening.
“You stop pretending you don’t like me long enough for me to take you to dinner.”
“I’m not—” I let the words die on my lips. “I like you just fine.” A massive understatement.
He cocked his head, that sexy little wry grin on his lips again. “I’m happy to hear it. Then let me take you out, and I’ll tell you why this is so important to me.”
“Okay,” I agreed, surprising myself.
“Okay?” Blaze didn’t bother hiding his own surprise.
Or was it his pleasure at my acquiescence?
I nodded.
“Great. I’ll pick you up tonight. Six o’clock?”
“Tonight?” That seemed a little rushed, but there was no way I could protest now. I swallowed hard. “Make it seven.”