How to Resist Prince Charming (2 page)

She seemed ecstatic, in fact. The woman simply glowed. While he’d been fantasizing about escape, she looked perfectly pleased to be present.

At least he’d been dreaming of getting as far away as he could until two seconds ago.

But now that she was here—whoever she was, standing there as if waiting for someone to greet her.

Feeling the urge to oblige, Braxton set his glass down and slipped off his bar stool. Welcoming committee, here he came.

He knew it was wrong to hit on someone here of all places, since she was obviously the date to one of his employees. But he couldn’t stop himself.

He just had to get closer. He hadn’t even made it all the way off his stool, though, when the person she’d been waiting for entered behind her and set a hand on her waist to guide her into the room.

A predatory growl of possessiveness filled Braxton’s throat. While he remained civil enough to stop the sound from escaping, he eyed his competition with a narrowed gaze.

The glare dropped abruptly, as did Braxton, smacking back onto his barstool with a thud. His jaw came loose from its hinges and fell open.

“No...way.”

This couldn’t be right. It certainly couldn’t be real. Any moment, Braxton expected to blink awake and discover he’d been stuck in a nightmare, because the man accompanying his mystery lady was none other than Thomas Davenport.

It was the irony of all ironies for
Tom
to be the man to walk in with the only interesting thing Braxton had seen all evening.

There was no way in hell she was Tom’s wife.

Okay, sure, he’d never met Tom’s wife, but no, this girl was...just that. A girl. She was a child compared to Tom and much too young for him, unless he’d traded for a newer model since proclaiming he’d been married longer than Braxton had been alive. But that had been last week, so the theory didn’t carry much weight.

Reassured, Braxton stared at Davenport and his escort.

Escort.

Oh, dear Lord, could she be an escort? A paid, professional escort? Braxton’s eyes widened at the very prospect. Maybe she was Tom’s plaything.

But then, why would Tom bring his plaything and not his wife to the company party?

Watching Tom and the girl wander toward Tom’s friends, Braxton noticed all the guys—Ben, Pat, and Charlie—knew her. They exclaimed in surprise. Ben even opened his arms to give her a hug. The girl grinned and hurried forward to throw her arms around crabby old Ben Hendricks, who beamed at her as if she were his very own daughter.

Daughter
.

Oh no.

No, no, no. Life couldn’t be that cruel.

Ben’s wife pulled her into a motherly embrace next, which threw out the whole paid escort theory. There was no way on God’s green earth Phyllis Hendricks would hug some call girl or any man’s plaything.

So, yep, she had to be Tom’s daughter.

Braxton swallowed and wiped the sudden perspiration off his brow. Damn, who had turned up the temperature in this place?

Fisting his hand, he set it against his mouth and blew out a breath. He couldn’t take his gaze off Tom Davenport’s daughter.

Tom’s. Daughter.

Okay, he could deal with this. It wasn’t like he even knew her. She was probably a brat, or uptight and snooty. She was
Tom’s
offspring, after all.

Maybe she talked with a spitting lisp. Or maybe—hopefully—she had a lazy eye and bad body odor.

Beauty was only skin deep, right? She was probably hideous on the inside. Braxton gritted his teeth. But, God, she had some amazing skin, skin he’d like to investigate up close, and personal.

In his head, she was already his, naked on his bed and moaning out her tenth orgasm. Realizing she was unavailable frustrated him. Fuck. He couldn’t even flirt with her.

Braxton gnawed on his bottom lip as he stared holes through Davenport’s daughter. Finally, he said, “Screw it,” before he drained his glass and slipped off his stool.

What harm could come from a simple introduction? He had to know what he was missing.

He wanted to sprint right over but held himself back. Casually, he slipped into mingling mode, smiling at a couple nearing the bar and thanking them for coming. He knew he should stop staring, but telling himself that and getting his eyes to cooperate were two different trials altogether.

She looked just as delicious from the back as she had from the front. The silver material of her dress cupped an ass that had his mouth watering and his hands itching to palm each glittery cheek.

Finally, she turned enough to give him a view of her side profile. Okay, so her tits weren’t the biggest he’d ever seen, but they were definitely more than a mouthful, which was all he needed.

Braxton swallowed, dazed by the force of his craving. This was the first time he’d been struck by such an intense wave of instant lust.

She listened to the conversation around her with a slight frown. He didn’t realize he was the main topic until Tom said, “Where is the kid, anyway? Tasha take him to the bathroom to change his diaper?”

“Dad,” the stunning woman at his side admonished, tapping him in the arm with her elbow. “Behave.”

Braxton grinned, utterly charmed. She didn’t even know him, yet here she was, defending him. He liked that. He liked it a lot.

“Actually, Tom,” he murmured from directly behind her. “I’ve graduated to the big boy potty these days. It’s got a kick-ass Mickey Mouse design on it and everything.”

Her entire circle of people whirled and gawked with similar expressions of horror. She was the last to swing around, her creamy, bare shoulders tensing before she rotated. And then the breath slammed out of him as she lifted her face and he met her gaze.

It was like staring into a glimmering sea of bright, curious, startled green.

He couldn’t help it. He smiled. “Hi,” he said, oddly winded. “I think you’re the only person here I haven’t met yet.” She was by far the only person here he’d like to strip naked.

He extended his hand.

And it all started with a single touch.

CHAPTER 2

Lenna couldn’t believe this place. The ballroom of Farris Industries was breathtaking. Half a dozen chandeliers dripped from the ceiling like fine jewelry and illuminated the room with a glistening glow. Her heels sank into the cushiony softness of the deep velvet red carpet with every step she took, making her fear she was going to trip and fall flat on her face any moment.

The members of the live band wore classy, fitted matching suit jackets and thrilled the crowd with a country western favorite. People packed onto the dance floor, which was tiled with an assortment of marble squares.

Others mingled at the bar and covered buffet, while most sat at round tables where waiters strolled past with silver trays full of champagne and
hors d’oeuvres
.

Decked out to the nines, everyone around her chatted casually as if this were their daily practice.

But seeing her father’s co-workers, Ben and Pat and Charles—who were all like second fathers to her—wearing distinguished tuxedos was so strange, she kept blinking to make sure she was awake.

She felt like a princess who’d just stepped into happily ever after. Realizing she probably looked like a dweeb with such a goofy smile plastered to her face, she lifted her eyes and decided to pay attention to the discussion around her.

“Tasha says he doesn’t drink coffee but comes in with a bottle of soda pop every morning,” Ben Hendricks said, making everyone around him snicker.

Lenna frowned, not sure why preferring soda to coffee was so gasp-worthy. She edged closer to her dad. “Who’re we talking about?”

“Our boss,” he said from the side of his mouth.

She lifted her eyebrows, surprised the group would so openly bash the very man sponsoring tonight’s event. “And who’s Tasha?”

Her dad sent her an impatient look. “His secretary.”

“I heard he takes the crust off his bread when he eats a sandwich,” someone else said. More snorts followed. “And he wore jeans and sneakers to work last Saturday.”

Turning back to the group, Lenna’s dad spoke up. “Where is the kid, anyway? Tasha take him to the bathroom to change his diaper?”

“Dad!” Lenna gasped, appalled. “Behave.”

She shot her elbow into his arm to remind him he didn’t want to be insubordinate.

But before her dad could respond, a voice spoke from behind her. “Actually, Tom. I’ve graduated to the big boy potty these days. It’s got a kick-ass Mickey Mouse design on it and everything.”

For a split second, Lenna froze. By the mortified expressions on everyone else’s faces, she had to guess the new arrival to their group was the very host they were belittling.

She turned slowly and almost let out a yelp of shock to find his gaze riveted on
her
of all people.

But, wow, what a gaze it was.

“Hi,” he said, the corner of his mouth hitching up with striking appeal. “I think you’re the only person here I haven’t met yet.”

She could only stare.

This
was her father’s new boss?

But he was frigging gorgeous. No one had mentioned he was a complete hunk in between all their degrading remarks. Why the hell hadn’t someone warned her about his total hotness? She felt entirely unprepared.

He reminded her of a young Pierce Brosnan. His eyes were even as blue as the actor’s.

Tall and built with the blackest hair she’d ever seen, he fit his tux to perfection. It hugged his wide shoulders and revealed the width of his deliciously narrow hips. A bizarre image of cupping those hips between her thighs as he pumped into her caught her off guard.

Dear Lord. What was wrong with her? She never had sex visions of a guy when she just met him.

He cordially held out a hand. She gaped at his extended palm. Holy shit, he wanted her to touch him? Staring at his long, tanned fingers and short nails, her eyes widened. Oh, no. No, she didn’t think she could touch him without melting into a drooling puddle.

She couldn’t tell if her dad sensed she was drowning in young Pierce’s blue gaze or not, but he latched a hand around her shoulder as if to pull her back to reality. She had to admit, she was grateful for the move, otherwise she might’ve lost it and thrown herself at the new president, peeling off articles of clothing as she went.

Her dad let go almost as soon as he grabbed her though. “Sweetheart,” he said, sounding reluctant to make introductions. “This is Braxton Farris, the, uh, the new president of Farris Industries. Farris, my
daughter
, Lenna.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lenna,” her father’s hot boss said.

She had to repress a shudder of delight as the resonance of her own name settled over her. Lenna had never sounded so pretty until
he
said it. She could actually picture him repeating it in exactly that same manner as he laid her on a bed of silky sheets and interlaced their hands so he could guide her in gliding the backs of her palms over smooth satin covers while he pressed his bare, heated chest to hers and lowered his mouth to—

Damn. There went her horny brain again. Seriously, she was really going to have to rein in her imagination. It was getting out of control.

Remembering he still held out his palm for a shake, she flushed and quickly took his fingers. His skin was warm and so inviting she didn't want to let go. She lifted her eyes to his, and a bolt of pure lust slammed into her; she immediately pulled away. As she did, the pad of his thumb grazed the knuckle of her thumb. By the zing it shot through her, he might as well have slid his hand up the hem her dress and inside the crotch of her panties.

And there went another vivid, dirty image exploding through her synapses.

“Oh,” she gasped quietly, not meaning to let the exclamation escape.

The humiliating part was that Braxton Farris heard her little slip. His eyes sprang to hers, where they glittered with awareness.

Guiltily, Lenna’s gaze darted to her dad. But he hadn’t seemed to notice any part of the embarrassing exchange.

“My youngest is sick tonight,” he explained. “Since my wife decided to stay home with her, I dragged Lenna here with me.”

Braxton Farris smiled at Lenna again. “Well, at least she’s stopped kicking and screaming, I see.”

Lenna grinned at his joke, but her father didn’t.

“Pardon?” Tom said, frowning slightly.

Mr. Farris cleared his throat, his smile faltering. “Kicking and screaming,” he repeated. “You said you’d dragged her here.” When Tom continued to give him a blank look, he added, “You know the saying,
dragged, kicking and screaming
.”

“Oh,” Tom grumbled.

Lenna wanted to pinch her dad. Then she wanted to sink into the floor and die of humiliation. Risking a glance at Braxton Farris, she noticed he looked just as uncomfortable as he yanked at his bow tie.

An uneasy silence fell among the three of them. She bit her lip, thinking she should somehow smooth ruffled feelings.

Mr. Farris rubbed the back of his neck and treated both Lenna and her dad to a tense smile. “Anyway,” he murmured. “I hope you both enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Then he backed a step away, turned on his heel, and escaped.

Lenna immediately spun to Tom. “Dad!”

“What?” He glanced at her with a don’t-start-with-me scowl.

Her mouth dropped open. “Are you always that rude to your boss?” No wonder the new Mr. Farris had threatened insubordinate termination.

Her dad’s answer was a small, unconcerned shrug. Lenna drew in a sharp breath, shocked to discover her father had an enemy. She’d never seen him so hostile before. He must truly and honestly despise having Braxton Farris for a superior.

* * * *

She’d seemed nice. Hell, she’d seemed
sweet
.

Braxton wanted to bash his head against the top of the bar where he sat.

Staring at the lovely stranger from across the room hadn’t been enough for him, had it? No, he’d just
had
to go over there and meet her. Yep, and now, every night when he went to sleep, he was going to see the little dimple on the corner of her mouth that had appeared when she’d smiled at him. At him! God, she’d even blushed when she’d noticed him ogling her with her dad standing between them. If that wasn’t asking for Tom to strangle him, he didn’t know what was. The man already thought Braxton was the anti-Christ.