More Than You Know (3 page)

The bartender came and set their drinks down before them. Dane turned for a moment to hand her a fifty-dollar bill, took a very deep breath, then turned back to Julia. Yes, he loved looking at her, he'd established that the minute he'd laid eyes on her. But talking to her was beginning to feel like a carefully orchestrated chess match. She was tough, edgy. His somewhat legendary powers of persuasion would obviously be needed to secure this deal. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Shay. Or can I call you Julia? It's a beautiful name.”

“Julia's fine,” she said.

Dane extended his arm for a handshake. Slowly she slipped her hand into his, her somber eyes scanning his features warily. Her skin was warm and soft, as he'd thought it would be, and something in his belly stirred at her light touch. Yup, he thought. Instant chemistry.

At least, for him. It seemed like for her, not so much. Again, not what he was used to when it came to women. He made himself focus, get back to the business at hand.

“I spoke to the manager here about you,” he said as she pulled her hand back.

Her brows furrowed as her gaze sharpened. “What? Why?”

“To ask him about you. To get an idea of your professionalism—what you're like when you're off the stage.” Dane lifted his drink to his lips and took a swallow. “I mean, I know how you handle yourself up there. You're seasoned, in the good way; I can tell the difference between a newbie and a pro within a few bars of a song. I've seen enough to know you're the real deal. I wanted to know some other things.”

“Checking up on me?” she said with an edge, clearly put off.

“Yeah, I was,” he said without apology. “I'm not going to make an offer of employment to someone I'm asking to represent my hotel, my
name,
who doesn't take her work seriously.”

“And? What'd Everett tell you?”

“That you're a pleasure.” Dane smiled softly. “That you've been doing gigs here—with your accompanist—regularly for the past two years. That you've only cancelled on him once, and that's because you had the flu. That you're always on time, have never had a problem with a member of the audience, that there are times you have them downright eating from the palm of your hand, and that you sing as well as any of the pros.” Dane smirked as he added, “He said he tried more than once to get you to audition for
American Idol,
but you wouldn't hear of it.”

“I'm too old for that show,” she sniffed. “I'd never get past the first round.”

“Bullshit. You're gorgeous and you have a killer voice.” He stared at her, studying. “How old are you that you think you're too old? I never ask a woman her age, but you brought it up and now I have to know. You can't be more than thirty-three, thirty-four tops.”

Her eyes lit up, and she couldn't hold back the delighted smile. “Yeah? Wow. Thanks.” She was genuinely pleased, and that pleased him way more than it should have. “Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but you're wrong. In fact, I bet I'm older than you.”

“No you're not,” he scoffed. “I'll be thirty-six at the end of July.”

She smirked, a triumphant sparkle in her eyes. “Yup. Told ya so.”

Dane's eyes went wide as he sputtered, “No way.”

“Way. Just turned forty-one in April.” Her lips curved seductively and her dark eyes danced. “Forties and fabulous, that's me. Go ask Everett if you don't believe me.”

He let out a puff of air, genuine surprise clobbering him. “Whoa. You look
great.
I mean . . . I didn't think that at all, and I'm usually dead on with guessing a woman's age.”

One of Julia's thin red brows arched. “Yes, I'd bet you've been around
lots
of women.”

“What?” He felt a flare of irritation, but played it coy. “Hey now. Did you just insult me, Julia?”

“Nah. Just an observation.” Her mouth went from a judgmental twist to a barely concealed smirk. “Don't play modest, or dumb. It doesn't suit you. You're pretty gorgeous yourself, and you know it. You have that way about you . . . like you don't have a care in the world. So something tells me you don't lack for female companionship.”

“I'm going to let that slide.” He swallowed another gulp of his drink. She was sexy as hell, but her attitude toward him was unfounded—and really, it kind of pissed him off. Yet he pressed on. Something told him she was worth it. “So. I take it that you don't believe me,” he said. “That I want you to come sing in my hotel.”

“No, I don't,” she said plainly. “Sounds like a line if I ever heard one.”

Jesus, honey, who hurt you?
he thought. Wariness came off her in palpable waves. “Well, it's not.” He pulled out his wallet, and a business card from the leather. She took it from him with small, slender fingers. “You can call and check anytime to see I am who I say I am. My assistant will gladly tell you how I've been combing New York for two months, looking for the type of singer I had in mind for this job.”

Julia placed the card down beside her fresh drink with barely a glance at it. “Mm-hmm.”

His eyebrows shot up. Now he was getting a little agitated. The other women he'd considered had all jumped at the chance when he'd mentioned it, and he hadn't really wanted any of them. He hadn't felt that certainty in his gut. With Julia, he had. This woman was the one he wanted, he'd finally found what he'd visualized, he was even drawn to her himself—and apparently, she couldn't give a shit about the job, much less be interested in him.

He wanted her in his bed, sure. But even more than that, he wanted her to headline in his hotel. And he almost always got what he wanted.
Especially
when it came to women. So with a new resolve, he cleared his throat, speared her with his gaze, and smiled. “Julia. Do you want to hear about the job before you dismiss me so readily? Or should I just leave you alone, since that seems to be what you want? I can walk away right now.” He moved as if to leave.

“No, I—wait.” Her features softened, and she huffed out a breath. “I . . . I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. I apologize. But cut me some slack—how do I know you're really who you say you are, or what you want from me is legit? I don't. You know?”

“Yes, I know.” God, that voice. He could've listened to her talk all day. She could probably read the phone book and make it sound sensual. “You're obviously an intelligent woman, not easily snowed. But listen. It's a solid job, it's real. I'm a legitimate businessman, not a pimp. You can google me if you like.” He grinned to break the tension, and she grinned back.
Okay. Better.
He lifted his drink and sipped before continuing, drawing out the moment to make her wait. A sideways glance told him she was willing to listen now.

“So here's the deal,” Dane began. “I own a few hotels around the country. My first one was in midtown New York, a block away from Radio City. That one caters mainly to a business clientele, tourists, etcetera. Now, in June, I'm opening a new hotel. This one's sweeter. A little more glamorous. Elegant, top-notch.” He smiled; just thinking of it excited him. “Luxury suites, a few upscale brand-name boutiques, full day spa and salon, all of that. Every amenity thinkable. And the highlight, to me? What will set it apart? A swanky lounge and bar that'll have a piano and a small stage. That's where you come in.”

He paused to make sure he had her attention. Her big, gorgeous eyes were glued to his. “I want a kickass singer who'll pull in my high-end clientele and keep them there, make them want to stay all night and buy lots of drinks. Make it a hot spot for the hotel. I envisioned having a singer who's gorgeous, sharp, professional, has charisma and stage presence, and is heaven to listen to. A musical seductress, if you will.” His eyes locked with hers and held. “I've been canvassing New York for over two months now. I've seen a lot of singers, a lot of performances. None of them have held a candle to you, Julia.”

She blinked and her breath caught.

“You have a fantastic voice. And frankly, I really like looking at you. But you probably hear that a lot.” He caught the split-second flash of surprise in her eyes at that, but she recovered immediately. She was like steel. He grinned as he went in for the hard sell. “You're very talented, you're gorgeous, you're sexy as hell, and I like the way you carry yourself. You hold an audience spellbound when you perform—I saw that here myself, so I know that firsthand. You certainly captivated me.” He leaned his hip against the bar, crossing his long legs at the ankle as he gazed down at her. “Maybe it's
because
you're ‘forty-one and fabulous.' Maybe it's because you're fucking beautiful and obviously don't have rocks in your head, thank God. Maybe it's because you can sing your ass off. But what I know is: all combined, you're the whole package, Julia. You're what I've been looking for.”

Still and silent, Julia's eyes went wide and her lips parted slightly. He imagined it was her cool, collected way of her mouth dropping open in surprise. He smiled again and reached for his drink. Finally, she murmured, “I . . . wow. That's all very flattering. Thank you.”

“You're welcome, but I wasn't flattering you. I was listing what I consider your assets, why you're qualified for the job, and why I want you to be the headliner at my hotel. Would you consider a job like this?” he pressed, his gaze spearing her.

“I might,” she hedged, still frozen. “Tell me more.”

He nodded, both irritated and intrigued that she wasn't jumping at it. She was really making him work for this. “Okay. You'd work from ten to one on Thursday night, Friday night, and Saturday night, and do the occasional event if someone requests it. The rest of your time, all week long, is yours.” He took another quick sip, watching her face. “You'll have an accompanist, who I'll hire as soon as I've hired you, and you can rehearse during the week anytime that works for you both. The two of you can select your song list, but I get final approval.” He grinned to try to lighten the moment, to offset the tone of all his demands. “You seem to be responsible, a professional. The manager here gave you a glowing review. For now, that's good enough for me.

“But know I'd expect you to show up on time, if not early, and to give it your all every single night. And I'll ask for permission to do a basic background check. Just your employment history, that kind of thing, nothing personal. Like I said before, you'd be representing my hotel, my name. So I expect nothing short of the best.” He stared more intently. She was listening now, that was for sure. And damn, he couldn't take his eyes off her. “Do you have a day job too, or is this it?”

She blinked. “I, uh . . . yes, I have a day job. And I hate it.” Blushing, her eyes fell away. That intrigued him. She obviously hadn't meant to blurt that out. It was the first time she'd been anything but controlled. Fidgeting with the rim of her glass, she added, “It's just that it's boring. But it pays the bills. My singing gigs don't.”

“Then why do you sing?”

“Because I'm good at it, and because I love it. Music is my passion.” Her gaze and her tone were unflinching. “I've been singing all my life. I wasn't going to give it up altogether, and I haven't had to. I do weekend gigs, that sort of thing.”

“Did you ever pursue it as your only career?” Dane asked, truly interested.

Something shuttered in her eyes. “I wanted to. . . .” Her voice went soft and flat. “Things happened. Life happened. Didn't work out.”

“Okay.” His casual tone belied his sudden burning curiosity. He wanted to know her story. Something about this woman compelled him, made him want to dig and find out all her secrets, her stories, what made her tick. He also wanted to back her up against a wall and have his way with her, but at least
that
part made sense to him. The rest didn't. He was drawn to her like a magnet, and while his brain didn't understand it, his body was painfully aware of it. “What's your day job?”

“I'm a secretary at a construction company,” she said evenly.

He surveyed her face. He didn't mean to be elitist, honest work was honest work, but something told him instinctively she wasn't cut out for that—that she was capable of much more. There was another story there. “How long have you worked there?”

“Six years.”

“What do you make in salary?”

Her eyes narrowed and her mouth tightened. “How is that your business?”

“Because whatever you're making, I'll match it, and then some.”

Her big dark eyes got bigger. “Bullshit.”

“Try me.” His mouth quirked as he took in her surprise. “Tell me what you're making.”

“What if I said a hundred thousand?” she challenged.

“Then I'll pay you that much and more,” he said without hesitation. He leaned in and said in a firm but quiet voice, “Julia, I really want you to work in my hotel. I'm prepared to do whatever's necessary to make that happen.”

Now her mouth did drop open in shock. “Really.”

“Really.”

“And do you always get what you want?”

“Um . . . no.” He smiled slowly. “But
almost
always.”

She smirked back. “You've got big money to throw around to make sure you do, huh?”

His smile faded only a bit, and his eyes intensified on hers. He leaned in closer to murmur smoothly, “Yes, actually, I do. But it's usually my dashing looks and dazzling charm that win people over, not my bank account.”

“I'm not like most people,” she said, not dropping the locked gaze. “You're smooth and you're handsome, and you're rich. That's lovely. And oh yes, you're charming. You
ooze
charm.” Pure steel flashed in her eyes. “But big-time charm, to me, usually reeks of insincerity. So, you know, that doesn't do it for me.”