Captivate, book I of the Love & Lust (7 page)

“Really? That was you, huh?” Slade shakes his head and laughs. “You looked… different.”

“Yes, it’s amazing what a stain-free shirt can do for a girl,” she snaps. She rubs her hands down the front of her jacket, smoothing away imaginary wrinkles. She can already feel a slight tremble building in her hands and knows she’s starting to get antsy. Next will come the quaking in her voice, followed by the inevitable squeak that she will never live down.

“Let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

She plunges headfirst into the tube crowd and doesn’t pause to see if he is following. She marches ahead, too distracted by his presence to even be fearful of the people around her. He is even more handsome than she remembered.

His three-quarter length black coat makes his eyes appear dark and inviting. The light stubble along his chin keeps drawing her attention back to him over her shoulder. His smile… Oh, if only he would stop smirking at her like he knows exactly what she’s doing!

All she wants to do is get his clothes and go back to her hotel so she can take a hot bubble bath to soak her cares away. And maybe drown herself in a good chick flick. Tears and chocolate make everything better.

Slade grabs her arm and pulls her abruptly to a stop as she steps forward to cross the street. She’s heading for H&M, sure they’ll be able to find something suitable for him there. “What?”

“I didn’t mean to offend you.” His hair blows wildly about his forehead as a gale whips down the street. Ashlyn huddles deeper into her coat. “I was just really nervous about the shoot. I wasn’t exactly at the peak of my form that day.”

“That I could tell,” she says and pulls her arm out from his grasp. She tries not to think of how strong his grip is, or how nice his apology feels. The fact that he even thinks to give her one takes her by surprise and leaves her oddly unsettled.

Her plan of action for the day was to race through a couple of stores and talk as little as possible. She figured if she didn’t get to know him, she could forget him easier, but catching him from the corner of her eye as she looks for oncoming traffic, she knows that hope was dashed the moment he arrived. Slade Collins isn’t the sort of guy you can just forget.

When he steps up beside her, she can see that he’s still waiting for a response. “You got the job so you have nothing to worry about now.”

“Yeah, about that…” He starts but cries out as he is slammed from the back and knocks into Ashlyn. They tumble back into the wall, his weight crushing her.

“Get off me!” She shoves against his chest but finds him to be an immovable wall of solid muscle.

“I’m trying.” Slade pushes back off the brick and Ashlyn sucks in a breath. His hand grasps her elbow as she fights to regain her balance. “Sorry about that. Guess someone was in a manic rush.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She gingerly rubs her stinging elbows where the brick chaffed her through her coat. “Being pushed around seems to be my new M.O.”

Slade snickers and gently releases her arm. “Probably something you should work on, huh?”

Ashlyn smiles and averts her gaze. Cocky, rude, and yet sensitive all wrapped into a very confusing bundle. That sounds like the makeup for a perfect disaster if she’s not careful.

“What were you saying?” she asks, brushing loose strands back from her face. Her hair has begun to fall out of its haphazard bun, but she can’t find any way of fixing it without being painfully obvious. Sliding her hand up the back of her neck, she tugs at the hair tie and lets her loosely curled strands just fall down by her face. She prays she doesn’t have a massive crease going along the back of her head as she tucks her hair behind her ears.

“I was wondering why I got the job.”

“Oh.” Ashlyn blows out a breath, suddenly wishing she hadn’t reminded him. “Um, well, you got the job because you look like Tamsin’s character. With a new wardrobe, a slightly messier hairstyle, and a bit of work on your manners, I think you can pull it off.”

A slow smile spreads along his lips. “So you think I’m the right guy for the part?”

Ashlyn chews on her lower lip, not the least bit comfortable with answering
that
question. “I think you have potential,” she hesitantly admits. “Just do me a favor and don’t screw this up. I’ve… we’ve put way too much time and effort into this marketing plan for you to waltz in and tear it all to pieces.”

Slade’s confident smile falters slightly. His eyes narrow as he leans over her just enough to make her feel intimidated. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”

“Can’t say that I know you well enough to make that decision.” She chews on her lower lip, wishing her voice wouldn’t waver so much and give her away.

She starts to walk past him, but he grabs her arm to stop her. “First impression?”

Ashlyn takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. She is going to kill Sophie and Tamsin when she gets back to the hotel!

“I think your apparent arrogance is a cover-up for insecurity. Your swagger seems to be used to try to impress people because deep down you are actually rather self-conscious. I think you need people to like you.” She stares down at his hand still wrapped around her forearm. “Case in point.”

He instantly releases her with a smirk. “You sure seem to think you know a lot about me with hardly ever being around me.”

Eight

With the photo shoot behind them and the first batch of proof books in hand, Ashlyn turns her attention to next weekend’s book signing in the heart of London. Tamsin Archer has been invited to an event being held at the London Book Fair in Earls Court.

Concerns with security alone have managed to give Ashlyn quite the headache over the past days. When she adds the swooning fan girls who will chase after Slade, the whirlwind that follows Tamsin everywhere she goes, as well as the nearly 25,000 people who annually attend the fair, Ashlyn has to resist the urge just to curl up in a corner and cry.

Perhaps a prescription for Xanax is in order.

She’s never been very good with people, not in large quantities at least. Her ability to get tongue-tied at the drop of a hat makes it nearly impossible for her to communicate with Tamsin’s fans or coordinate anything more intricate than a lunch order. She’s even been known to screw that up from time to time.

Slade isn’t helping things either. His flamboyant personality only attracts an ever-growing squealing mob of teen girls and middle-aged moms still trying to cling to their prime. Any hint of bare skin or rippling muscle on Slade’s part and the crowds press in tight enough to leave Ashlyn searching for her inhaler.

“Don’t tell me you’re still sweating this signing.” Tamsin rolls her eyes as she flicks her cigarette toward the ashtray on the table beside her. Gray embers flutter to the floor, making Ashlyn grit her teeth.

She slips from the couch and scoops the ash into her hand and places it in the tray. Why is it that Tamsin always feels the need to crash her room? Is it so much to ask for her to use the room registered to her own name? “This is a hotel, you know, not your home.”

“Whatever.” Tamsin waves her off. She knocks back the contents of a small shot glass and winces, pressing the back of her hand to her lips as the fiery liquid goes down.

“That’s good stuff,” she grunts, lifting the bottle to read the label.

“It’s hardly noon,” Ashlyn scolds, holding out her hand for the bottle. “Don’t you think you should wait a bit? You have a fitting this afternoon?”

“I do?” Her gaze seems unfocused as she stares at Ashlyn through a mess of pomegranate-red curls. Tamsin’s roots have begun to show just enough to remind Ashlyn that she needs to be booked in for another hair appointment. A couple of her nails have torn off as well, no doubt sometime over the weekend when she was out enjoying London’s nightlife with Slade.

“Yes, you do.” Ashlyn scribbles an address onto a small notepad and tears off the sheet. “You need to be at this address by four. Please, don’t be late this time.”

“I won’t.” Tamsin scowls, snatching the address out of her hand. “Anything else on my schedule?”

Running her finger down the agenda, Ashlyn makes note of a dinner date with Slade this evening at Apsleys, a fine-dining restaurant within this luxurious Lanesborough Hotel. It is only when she thinks of the wonderful Italian food Tamsin and Slade will be dining on that she realizes she forgot to eat both breakfast and lunch, again. Her schedule has kept her far too busy this week.

“A dress will be sent up for you at 8:00 p.m. You are to meet Slade in the Garden Room at 9:00 p.m. I have already made the reservations for you.”

Tamsin twirls a thick lock of hair around her finger. “You won’t be joining us?”

Ashlyn winces at the thought of being forced into small talk with Slade all evening long. No thank you! “You know that really isn’t my scene.”

“And it’s not mine either.” Tamsin huffs as she rises in a billow of silk. Her emerald robe flows seamlessly behind her as she crosses the room to stare out of the window onto the street below. The rich wood paneling on the walls look warm and inviting in the early afternoon light as Tamsin leans against it. “Why can’t I just go out tonight instead? I’m sure Slade would feel more at home in a pub. I’ve been dying for a good pint.”

“I’m sure he would, but this isn’t about him.” Ashlyn looks up from her planner. Bits of paper and Post-it notes jut from its pages at odd angles as she closes it in her lap. “We both know what’s at stake with this book tour. You agreed to keep your partying to a minimum, remember? We have appearances to uphold.”

Tamsin chews on one of her broken nails, looking far more like a little girl than the sultry vixen who flaunts off her collection of Victoria Secret lingerie in public every chance she gets. “Fine, but just tonight. I’d rather order room service tomorrow. I’m exhausted from all of this traveling.”

Ashlyn holds her tongue, careful not to say exactly what she’s thinking. “One meal. That’s all I’m asking. Smile, make nice with the press, and then let them all see the chemistry between you and Slade.”

A perfectly penciled eyebrow rises as Tamsin turns from the window. “Chemistry? Do you really think so?”

“Of course. The press will be thrilled to know it is you on the cover with Slade. They will eat that up, especially if you lay it on thick at the release party at the Osterely Park and House this weekend.”

Tamsin grins. Her teeth are perfectly straight and bleached to perfection. Even without makeup she is stunning, but the small lines around the corners of her eyes can just be seen without the layer of foundation she usually cakes on. Not that Ashlyn would ever dare to point out
that
little detail.

“I’ve always loved that place. So rich in history and men that are, well… rich.” Tightening the sash about her waist, Tamsin spins and heads through the arched doorway that separates their two rooms. She pauses in the entryway and then turns back, leaning around the wall. “So what are you planning for the evening?”

Ashlyn sighs and leans back in her chair, casting an exhausted glance at her laptop. “I’ll be working.”

Nine

Slade whistles as a black town car pulls up in front of his mother’s flat two weeks later. Its shiny, sleek design would be impressive anywhere, but in his neighborhood, it stands out like a diamond among thorns.

“Now this is nice.” He grins as his driver rises from his seat and comes around to open Slade’s door as if he were someone important.

The gray-haired man bows low as Slade sinks into the plush leather. He closes the door and makes his way back to the driver’s seat. Slade runs his hands along the supple back seat, enjoying the silky texture beneath his fingers. He could really get used to this.

“How long until we arrive?” he leans forward to ask the chauffer as they pull onto the road and head toward the motorway.

“Little over an hour, sir, depending on the traffic.”

Slade leans back and closes his eyes.
Perfect.

The ride takes just under an hour in the end and by the time he arrives, his nerves have got the better of him. He rubs his palms down his black trousers, fighting to slow his rising heart rate.

Slade has no real idea of what to expect from tonight. Sophie gave him two rules to abide by and a blood-chilling threat to go along, should he choose to ignore them. The first is to stay glued to Tamsin’s side, unless asked to leave by one of the members of the press or publishing bigwigs. He thinks he can handle that one easily enough.

The second is to go home alone. Now the fact that Sophie felt the need to even mention this one is rather intriguing to Slade. After spending time partying with Tamsin, it’s no big secret she likes him. And when he says like, what he actually means is that she’s hot to trot.

On the dance floor at the Ministry of Sound nightclub, Tamsin proved that she can be both a tease and utterly mind-blowing. He has never met a girl who can move like she does, prowling like a panther, sleek and beautiful. He, for one, would love to be caught in her claws.

This whole hands-off warning from Sophie just might make this boring schmooze party interesting after all.

He has never been to an event this fancy before. To be honest, he’s never been in a tux before either. The pressed white shirt feels a bit tight around his neck so he unhooks the first couple buttons and leaves his bowtie on the back seat when the driver opens the door for him.

The old man’s eyes widen in surprise when Slade holds out a tip and tucks it into his coat pocket. “Cheers for the ride.”

“Certainly, Mr. Collins.”

Slade moves a few feet away from the car and pauses to look at the home sprawling before him. Osterely Park and House, situated in the heart of West London, is a grand estate all lit up with candles and white lights against the dusk sky.

“Stunning, isn’t it?” a voice calls from behind him.

He turns to find Tamsin Archer swaying her hips as she approaches. His mouth goes dry at the stark transformation before him. Her vixen halter and leather pants have been replaced by a jaw-dropping evening gown.

Crimson curls pile atop her head, held in place by mother-of-pearl clips on either side. Her makeup is bold but beautiful, her hazel eyes rimmed in black. Her full-length black dress sports a mid-thigh slit up one side, revealing her shapely legs and five-inch heels.

The straps of her dress are thin and tied at the back of her neck. They taper down to cup her ample chest, the neckline plunging below her belly button. At her bust, a waterfall of diamonds dangle over her well-defined abdomen. The back of her dress is nonexistent until you reach just above her tailbone, amplifying her curves to perfection. The silky material shifts over her body like water.

Slade can feel his mouth gaping open. No matter how he tries, he can’t seem to convince himself to lift his gaze above her torso to meet her in the eye. Tamsin laughs and slips her arm through his. “You look nice too,” she purrs in his ear.

He swallows hard and manages a nod.
Bloody hell! Sophie was right to warn me!

She leads him up the twinkling path, giving him details about the rare 18
^th
century garden that has been restored to its former glory by the new owner. She sweeps her hand before them as they approach the house and gushes over the gorgeous white pillars that rise high above them on the portico.

Stepping through the double doors, they enter a breathtaking entrance hall easily large enough to hold a hundred people. Slade fights to tear his gaze away from Tamsin long enough to notice the intricate details of the high-ceilinged room.

Tamsin’s heels tap against the floor as they pass through a long gallery with gilded framed paintings on the wall and exit out onto the west lawn where a massive white marquee has been set up. White Christmas lights weave through the trees, giving the lawn a warm glow. Lanterns flicker every few feet, lighting the path before them. Heaters have been placed evenly around the canopy, concealed by potted plants.

“Isn’t it gorgeous?” Tamsin whispers, pointing to the tent filled with people milling about. Slade can hear laughter over the din of conversation.

“Sure is,” he says, suddenly feeling very unsure of himself. A photo shoot was one thing, but even though he shares many of the same characteristics as Ender James, Slade is concerned he won’t be able to pull this off. Just how far does Tamsin expect him to take this?

She turns and smiles at him. He lifts his gaze from her chest just in time. “Are you nervous?”

“No.” He scoffs, praying he sounds convincing. His heart is pounding like mad in his chest as he smiles back at her. “I was born for this.”

She squeezes his arm and leans in so close he imagines she’s about to fall right out of her dress. Wouldn’t that be a highlight of the evening?

“You’ll do great. Just stick with me and follow my lead. You’ll know exactly what to do.”

Slade clears his throat as she removes her hand from his arm and slides it down to twine her fingers through his. “Come on. Let’s go show the world who Ender James really is.”

The evening chill hardly has a chance to sink through his tuxedo as Slade is pulled from one couple to the next. With each glass of champagne Tamsin consumes, the more hands on she becomes. Slade quickly realizes what his role is for the evening: look pretty and let Tamsin feel him up. That is a job he is totally on board with!

He dances with women twice his age, submitting to the frequent backside pinches as he twirls effortlessly around the dance floor. Ashlyn had been a nervous wreck when he first began practicing with Tamsin at the hotel three days ago, but his technique is flawless.

From time to time he glances up to see Tamsin firmly attached at the hip to several groups of men. It doesn’t surprise him in the least that as she weaves through the crowd, all eyes are on her.

She is simply stunning in that slip of silk she dares to call a dress. It molds to her with perfection, leaving hardly anything to the imagination, and if he isn’t mistaken, she is certainly on most of the gentlemen’s minds this evening.

“Thank you for the dance,” the woman in his arms gushes. Her cheeks are flushed and her hair slightly windblown, falling out of its coif at the back of her head. A diamond the size of a pound coin, if not bigger, hangs in the hollow of her neck. Her fingers glitter with more jewels than a gem shop.

“It was my pleasure, Mrs. Talbot.” He bows low and passes her back to her husband as the final song draws to a close.

The faces and names are all a blur to him as the evening winds down and a trail of taillights begins to weave back out of the estate grounds. Slade’s feet ache and he’s sure he will have a permanent grin etched into his cheeks for weeks to come.

Tamsin calls out a farewell to the last couple remaining and sinks into a chair beside him. Her hair has begun to unravel, falling in sexy ringlets about her face. Her eyes are slightly glazed but still bright with excitement from the night’s activities.

Slade watches as the waiters and grounds men begin to tear down the tables and buffet. Most of the food has been left behind, but he has no doubt every drop of alcohol was consumed. The nighttime breeze seems to be permeated with the scent of bubbly champagne.

He himself only had a couple glasses. He has never really had the taste for champagne, but it can take the edge off in a pinch.

“You did beautifully,” Tamsin praises as she flounces into the chair across from him and raises her hand to signal a waiter for another glass of champagne. “Everyone simply adores you.”

“Didn’t really do much,” he says, but she waves him off, lifting her glass just enough to capture the last few drops before passing it over in exchange for a new one.

“You smiled, you made women swoon, and if I had to guess, I’d bet a few guys are going to get lucky tonight because of you.”

Slade snorts and waves off the waiter’s offer to get him a drink as well. “Are you having a laugh?”

He can’t quite tell if she’s mocking him or just reeling from the effects of one too many glasses of champagne. If there’s one thing he’s learned about Tamsin over the past week or so, it’s that she enjoys drinking. It relaxes her, makes her feel alive.

“Trust me, you had those old ladies all hot and bothered!” Tamsin grins, eyeing him with her own mixture of barely restrained heat. She glances down at her glass. “I’m afraid I might have had a bit too much to drink tonight. Would you mind helping me back to my room?”

Slade glances toward the house, surprised. “You’re staying here tonight?”

“We,” she corrects. “I booked us a couple of rooms. Your driver left an hour ago so I asked for a reservation for us.”

“What time is it?” Slade feels almost naked without his watch. He left his cell phone at home as well. Ashlyn had made it very clear how unprofessional it would be for him to take a call while on the job. The girl certainly does love her rules.

Tamsin rolls her head back to stare at the moon just peeking out from the clouds overhead. “After midnight. The witching hour.” She grins mischievously as she stretches out her foot and rubs it along the inside of his calf.

“I didn’t realize it was so late.” He clears his throat and shifts his foot away.
Darn you, Sophie!

 
He is amazed at how quickly the night actually went for him. It hadn’t taken him long to realize that anyone who was anyone in the literary business was there tonight. This was a great opportunity for him.

“Thanks for choosing me to be here with you,” he says, leaning back into the chair. The sound of nighttime animals fades into the background under the shouts of men shifting chairs and putting tables away. A group of waiters have begun to tear down the final bits of the buffet table. A loud curse rises as a young boy trips with one of the hot plates.

Tamsin laughs and turns her attention back to him. “What makes you think I was the one who chose you?”

Slade smiles, thinking back on how miserable the shopping trip with Ashlyn had been. He’d never met a woman so adamantly distant or so rushed to escape, but it wasn’t all bad being with her. He did enjoy the ease with which he would make her blush. Deciding to make a game of it, Slade actually dragged out their time together just to see if he could make her blush ten times.

It only took him trying on a few outfits and parading them before her to win that personal competition.

“We both know I didn’t get any votes from your assistant.”

Her forehead wrinkles for a second but then lifts with recognition. “Ashlyn? Oh, she’s not really my assistant. More of a partner I guess you could say. I wouldn’t be here without her.”

“Be that as it may, she’s really got a chip on her shoulder when it comes to me.”

Tamsin sinks lower in her chair, lifting her bare feet to cross them on another chair in front of her. “You’d be surprised. She was actually the one who told Sophie that you’d be perfect for the role. Said you not only had the look but had great potential.”

“Really?”

“Well, that was before you were a dick and didn’t even recognize her at the photo shoot.” She laughs. “Classic move by the way.”

“I wasn’t a dick. I was just nervous,” he counters. Now that the topic has been broached again, Slade feels even guiltier about it. He didn’t like the pain he saw in Ashlyn’s eyes the other day. If he were to be honest, he would admit that he knows he did more than offend her. He hurt her.

Tamsin leans forward. “Would you have forgotten me?”

Slade purses his lips, knowing there was no way, short of blunt force trauma, that he would not have remembered her. “Not a chance.”