JAYNE AWOKE LATE New Year’s Day to an empty bed. It took her a moment to figure out where she was and why. When her memory returned, it hit with a winter-cold slap.
What. The. Hell. Had. She. Done?
On the positive side there wasn’t any awkward postcoital morning chitchat. No uncomfortable scramble from the bed, wondering how she compared in the cold light of day with his image of her from the night before. No morning breath or makeup smears. She’d also have the bathroom to herself. And best of all, she would have time to recover from the most utter and complete ravishment she’d ever experienced in her twenty-nine—no, thirty—years.
Unfortunately, there was a downside. She closed her eyes, her breath gusting out on a sigh. How would it have felt to awaken in Jonathan’s arms? To have him sweep off his mask and bandana and look at her with those incredible dark eyes. To have them glitter with the same passion they had all through that amazing night. To let her know in some small way that what had happened between them was more than a one-night stand.
Instead, she’d have to face him Monday morning at work, with both their professional masks firmly in place, hiding their true thoughts and feelings. What would she read in his eyes then? Warmth or amusement? Hunger or triumph? Her hands balled into fists. Interest or intense indifference?
Erupting from the bed, she made a beeline for the bathroom. Guttered candles lined the swimming pool-sized jetted tub they’d shared the night before. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she paced to the shower and turned it on full blast. Instantly, she calmed. Ten minutes later and feeling more like her old self, she wrapped up in a thick, fluffy bath sheet and returned to the bedroom.
That’s when it struck her. She’d have to wear her Cleopatra outfit home. Sure, she’d have her cloak to cover herself, but still… She could see the costume folded neatly on a chair, which surprised her. To the best of her recollection, it had been tossed and scattered across most of the suite. She approached and then stilled.
A stack of women’s clothing rested next to her costume. Perched on top was a note on Centoria Mark stationery and a single red rose. She picked up the rose and sniffed it with a tender smile and then opened the folded note.
You were sleeping so soundly I didn’t want to wake you. I also thought you might prefer returning home in street clothes. Thank you for a night of magic. Until the next fantasy….
To her amusement, a large Z scored the bottom of the page.
Curious, she examined the clothes he’d provided. Discreet labels clung to each garment, carrying the exclusive name of one of the pricier international designers who’d been granted space in the lobby to peddle their wares. She found a cashmere sweater in deep wine-red and a pair of wool slacks in ivory. Beneath were delicate undergarments, so light they practically floated through the air like feathers.
Jayne was so happy, she could have floated, as well. With a sigh of pleasure, she dressed. It only took a few minutes to gather up the rest of her belongings and head out. She stopped by the registration desk before leaving. A woman wearing a gold name tag that read “Selene” greeted her politely and accepted the key card Jonathan had left behind.
“I believe I owe something on the suite,” Jayne began.
“That’s already been taken care of.” Selene leaned forward with a confiding smile. “We were warned that you’d insist on paying the full, nondiscounted rate for the suite. I’m to inform you that it’s been paid in full.”
Jayne could feel herself light up. “He took care of it? Really?”
“Every last penny.” She straightened and resumed a more professional air. “I hope everything was to your satisfaction?”
“Trust me. I was more than satisfied.”
With that, Jayne swung around and left the hotel.
MONDAY MORNING ROLLED around with all the urgency of a snail. Jayne took extra pains with her outfit for the day, struggling to find something that maintained her professional image, but also revealed a feminine softness that discreetly said “Cleopatra.” Since nothing in her wardrobe quite matched that criteria, she picked up a red rose on her way to work and pinned it to the lapel of her suit jacket, hoping Jonathan would read the intent behind the gesture.
The morning dragged endlessly without any word from him. Shortly before noon he waltzed into her office. She smiled at him. Smiled? She beamed, every ounce of pleasure and hope—and hunger—bubbling out of her.
“I’m so glad you came,” Jayne whispered. “Close the door.”
Looking instantly intrigued, Jonathan did as she asked. “What’s up? Hear some juicy gossip?” He rubbed his hands together. “Rumors from the New Year’s Eve bash?”
She tilted her head to one side and wrinkled her nose, laughing. “No, silly. I just wanted to give you this…” She circled her desk and approached. She touched the soft petals of the rose decorating her lapel. “I wore this just for you.”
His brows came together in a slight frown. “You did?”
Gathering her nerve—though after the incredible night they’d spent together, why be nervous?—she slid her hands up his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Yes, I did. And I want to thank you for giving me one of the most amazing nights of my life…Zorro.”
Then she kissed him, putting every ounce of passion she possessed into the kiss. For an instant, Jonathan didn’t move. In fact, he stumbled backward a step before catching himself. She caught her name, muffled somewhere in the mess of interlocking lips before his arms came around her and he hiked her into his arms, returning the embrace with greedy pleasure. The instant he took control of their embrace, she knew—knew without the least doubt and with total and intense horror.
Jonathan wasn’t Zorro.
NICK SHOVED A CONTRACT to one side, fighting for focus. Focus. Yeah, right. How the hell was he supposed to focus when all he could think about was Jayne and the night they’d spent together? He’d noticed her almost from the moment she’d come to work for Fontana, Inc., but he hadn’t acted on his attraction. It didn’t seem appropriate, considering he was her boss.
So he’d patiently waited for her to earn her way up the food chain to a point where his attention wouldn’t cause too much gossip. The charity ball had given him the perfect opportunity to test the waters. So far, his plan had worked perfectly. One of the charity workers who Jonathan had his eye on had unwittingly assisted by urging him to change his costume to Don Juan. That had left Nick free to take on the Zorro role.
Even after two and a half days he couldn’t get the image of Jayne out of his mind—his Cleopatra spread naked across the duvet, open and eager and willing. Who would have guessed so much passion seethed beneath such a calm, proficient exterior? He’d hoped. Hell, yes, he’d hoped. But, until they’d kissed, he hadn’t been certain.
He’d been with passionate women before. Since he’d become an icon in the business world he’d gone from being an intelligent, fairly good-looking, ambitious man with a good sense of humor to Mr. Intimidating. Multimillionaire. Elite businessman. Women saw the public mask, not the man behind it. Playing the part of Zorro had given him the opportunity to change all that, to relate to a woman without the Nick Fontana mystique. Without all the labels.
Yet, he’d still been forced to wear a mask, hadn’t he?
He capped his pen and tossed it onto his desk. This was ridiculous. Why sit here and brood? He’d already planned his next move, one that would have Jayne realizing that Zorro and Jonathan were two entirely different people. One that would reveal his true identity in a way that he hoped would help them move from delightful fantasy to delicious reality. Time to put the next step of his plan into motion.
He paused in the doorway of his strategic analyst’s office to ask how she was holding up. Her due date was fast approaching and he’d been watching her like a hawk to make certain she didn’t overdo. She glanced at him, revealing a nervousness that caught him by surprise.
“What’s wrong, Linda?”
“The gentleman we hired to fill in for me while I’m out on maternity leave just emailed to say that he’s accepted a position in San Francisco. I called our second choice, but she’s accepted a job elsewhere, as well.”
Damn. “Okay. Go on to lunch and we’ll take another look at the list later this afternoon. I’m sure there’s someone down in the arena who can do the job. At least, that’s what all their fancy diplomas say.”
Choosing to take the steps rather than the elevator, Nick headed down to the twenty-fifth floor—aka “the arena”—where he stashed his clutch of MBAs. He only hired the best, and even those didn’t all make the cut. He’d discovered long ago that tossing them in together on a single floor made them work harder than their competition to prove they deserved to move up the corporate ladder and onto one of the five “golden” floors above them. Some, like Jonathan and Jayne had risen to the point where they’d been awarded prime office real estate—one short step before the big leap upstairs.
He strode down a long, wide corridor studded with huge containers of live plants to a closed door one shy of a corner office. Tapping lightly on the wood panel, he didn’t wait for a response, but pushed open the door.
He didn’t remember moving. He sure as hell didn’t remember knocking Jonathan Blair on his ass, though he sincerely wished he did. When he came to his senses, Blair was laid flat on the office carpet while Jayne struggled to wriggle off the top of her desk.
She wore a robin’s egg-blue suit that perfectly matched the color of her eyes. Her fitted skirt was hiked to her upper thighs, no doubt by Blair, and revealed a delicate ivory garter that matched the pearl-buttoned silk blouse she wore. The pale flesh of her thighs gleamed between the top of her stockings and the hem of her skirt—flesh that he’d explored in intimate detail just a few nights before.
She levered herself upward, gasping for air, her lips rosy from Blair’s kisses. Her honey-blond hair, which she normally wore in a sedate knot at the nape of her neck, was loose and flowing across her shoulders, just as it had been when he’d taken her that first time on New Year’s Eve.
He spared the man on the floor a single glare, one filled with rage and threat. One he feared claimed ownership to the woman Blair had dared to touch. Catching himself before he said something he’d regret, he turned his back on the two and made a point of closing the door. It gave him the precious few seconds he needed to regain his self-control. Then he faced his employees.
“I won’t bother to ask what the hell is going on since that’s abundantly apparent,” he informed them through gritted teeth.
Jonathan sat up, rubbing his jaw. He pointed an accusing finger in Jayne’s direction. “She came on to me. All I did was accept her offer.”
Jayne fought to get buttons into their proper holes. Straightening her suit jacket she watched the crushed rose petals drift to the floor and winced, no doubt reacting to the symbolism.
She reluctantly glanced at Blair. “I thought you were someone else,” she attempted to explain.
“You’ve known me for eighteen months,” Jonathan snarled. “Just who the hell did you think I was?”
She couldn’t meet either of their eyes. “Zorro,” she whispered.
Nick kept his expression carefully blank. “I assume this has to do with New Year’s Eve?”
Jayne nodded, still unable to meet his gaze. “Yes, sir.”
Jonathan’s eyes narrowed. “You thought I was Zorro? At the New Year’s Eve party Friday night?”
“You said you were going as Zorro and to save you a dance. Then you—I mean…Zorro showed up and I thought… I assumed…” She trailed off, catching her lower lip between her teeth. Then she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and faced Nick. “I’m really sorry. Jonathan’s right, Mr. Fontana. This is all my fault. I thought he was someone else, and I initiated the embrace. All he did was accept the offer.”
“I changed my mind about my costume at the last minute and came as Don Juan.” Jonathan flashed a set of perfect white teeth, looking quite pleased with himself. “If I’d known you were interested, sweetheart, I would have stuck to my original plan.”
Her cheeks warmed, almost matching the color of the rose petals scattered at her feet. Now she did look at him, her light blue eyes arctic. “Lovely,” she said in a clipped voice. “Except that you’ve just proven that—having had Zorro—Don Juan doesn’t come close to stacking up.”
Nick struggled to smother his bark of laughter.
Blair wasn’t slow on the uptake. He shot to his feet, anger and insult warring in his face. “Why you little—”
“That’s enough.” Nick stepped between them, fixing his most intimidating expression on Blair. It stopped him in his tracks. “Obviously, Ms. Myleston has made an error. She’s apologized. I expect this to be the end of it. And I expect what’s happened here to remain within the confines of these four walls. Am I understood?”
Reluctantly, Jonathan nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Jayne didn’t show the same hesitation. She nodded with patent relief. “Thank you for understanding, Mr. Fontana.”
He swept an impatient hand through the air. “It was Nick before this mess. It’s still Nick now.” He fixed a stern gaze on Jonathan and jerked his head toward the door. “Get moving. I’ll speak with you about this tomorrow.”
Aside from a single disgusted glare in Jayne’s direction, Jonathan turned on his heel and exited the office. Nick folded his arms across his chest, silently swearing. This was all his fault. He’d allowed Jayne to believe that Zorro and Blair were one and the same person. He hadn’t corrected that assumption in time to prevent her from ending up in the humiliating position in which she’d found herself. And worst of all, she’d been pawed by a man who’d managed to find a way beneath just about every female skirt at Fontana, Inc.
Blowing out his breath, Nick approached Jayne. She stood in the middle of the room looking utterly miserable. Without a word, he peeled back her jacket. Her eyes widened in alarm and his mouth curved to one side. “Relax, Jayne. I need you to come with me and you can’t leave the office looking like you do right now.”
“What…?” She glanced down and closed her eyes, turning a delicate shade of pink. “Oh.”
One by one, he rebuttoned her blouse until each pearl button rested in the appropriate hole. Then, he helped her with her jacket, giving the hem a quick jerk to pull out the wrinkles. Finally, he straightened the lapel. The remains of a crushed rose dangled from a pin and something raw and painful ripped through his gut. She’d worn that for him.
No, not him. For Zorro.
“I really, truly apologize, Mr.—Nick.” She stared at a spot over his left shoulder. “And I promise that nothing like this will ever happen again.”
“I know.”
Her gaze jerked upward to meet his. “You do?”
“You’ve been my employee for eighteen months, Jayne. I’m well aware of your abilities…as well as your flaws.”
She winced. “Of course.”
“I’m also well aware of Blair’s abilities and flaws. Until today his most serious flaw has never interfered with his job performance. Nor has it adversely impacted anyone else’s.”
“You mean the women he’s dated.”
Nick’s smile turned grim. “He has an uncanny knack for keeping women happy, even when he leaves them.” He gave her clothing a final check. Satisfied, he indicated the door. “Come with me, please.”
“Yes, sir,” she murmured.
“Relax, Jayne. You’re not in trouble. I have a business proposition to suggest.”
He could tell he’d intrigued her. Her eyes brightened and her natural self-confidence reasserted itself. “That sounds interesting.”
This time he bypassed the steps and led the way to the elevators, pressing the button. They waited for the elevator with several other employees. Each one greeted him respectfully, but the silence couldn’t have been more leaden. He ignored it, accustomed to it by now. When you were known as Mr. Intimidating, it had a dampening effect in situations like this.
The doors to two cars opened almost simultaneously, one headed down, the other up. Everyone piled into the down elevator with the exception of Nick and Jayne. When they reached the thirtieth floor, the doors opened smoothly to the plush foyer of the executive level and he escorted Jayne through a pair of double doors to a private dining room off one of the smaller conference rooms. Her curiosity was almost palpable.
“I thought we could discuss my proposal over lunch,” he explained.
“Oh.” She blinked in surprise. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me until you hear what it is. You may not be quite as appreciative.”
Speculation gleamed in her eyes. “That bad?”
He lifted a shoulder in a quick shrug. “That’s for you to decide.”
“You definitely have me intrigued.”
He held the chair at a table situated by the office windows, overlooking the hustle and bustle of the city. The view was reminiscent of the table they’d shared on New Year’s Eve and, though her expression didn’t offer any indication, he wondered if it roused her suspicions. They’d only just settled into their seats when a side door opened and one of the catering staff entered with a rolling cart that contained a selection of drinks.
“Lunch will be out shortly,” the waiter said, once they’d made their selection. “For your starter today we have the chef’s favorite, a heart of palm salad with braised radishes, pea tendrils and garnished with a delicious sesame seed puree. To follow, we are serving roasted sea scallops with green almonds and grapes, which the chef has accompanied with broccolini florettes accented with a Serrano ham vinaigrette.” He nodded in Nick’s direction. “I hope that will be satisfactory, sir?”
“Tell Georges it sounds perfect.”
“Thank you, Mr. Fontana.”
Nick caught a questioning look from Jayne and lifted an eyebrow. “Problem?”
“Not a problem, no. I’m just curious… Do you dine like this every day?”
Now that they’d gotten past the awkwardness of what had happened in her office, she relaxed. It was one of the qualities he’d always admired about her. He’d never been able to intimidate her. She just deflected it with a smile and moved on. Now if he could just get her to see the “real” him instead of the public image.
Instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own. “Would you enjoy dining like this on a regular basis?”
She flashed him a quick grin, one which gave a whimsical bent to her elegant features. “Not every day, no. It’s like the New Year’s Eve ball. A treat on special occasions.”
“I gather you enjoyed the party?”
Her smile faded ever so slightly. “Very much. Thank you again for allowing me to attend.”
“I enjoyed myself, as well.” He reconsidered. “Well. I enjoyed myself once that endless receiving line broke up.”
“One of the downsides of your position, I gather.”
“One I can live with.” He waited a moment, then dropped his next question, curious to see her reaction. He lifted his glass and swirled the ice cubes. “So I gather you rang in the New Year with Zorro?”