One Perfect Night (2 page)

“Really?” McCormac raised one brow as his gaze brushed her cleavage. Instantly, her nipples tightened.

The traitorous reaction of her body incensed her. Normally she’d pour her drink over any man who checked her out in such a presumptuous manner but there were three problems with such an action.

One, her glass was empty.

Two, he was her boss.

And three, she didn’t want to. It had been months since her body had responded to the charms and attention of a man that she’d forgotten how fabulous being female could be. Still, better to try and ignore her hormones and face the matter at hand.

“Yes.” She gulped a shot of oxygen before explaining. “In the car park earlier, a huge orange cat dashed out in front of my car. I swerved to avoid killing the poor thing and accidentally brushed up against your vehicle.”

His eyebrows encroached on each other ever so slightly and his lips twitched at the edges. “Brushed up?”

“Well…perhaps ‘clanged up against’ would be a more accurate description.” She bit her lip, trying to steady her breathing as she waited for his response.

“Clanged up?” Any hint of a smile vanished. “I think we’d better step outside and take a look.”

It wasn’t a question, or a suggestion. The big boss had just ordered her to step outside.
Alone. With him.

She tried to read his expression. Annoyed? Furious? Menacing? Or maybe something else entirely? Her stomach churned as if a flock of blackbirds were flying laps inside. She made the effort to stand but her legs felt like they’d just ran a marathon and she wondered if she’d actually be able to make the short distance from the function room to the car park.

What was it they said about wild animals? Don’t let them see your fear?

“Good idea,” she said, standing tall and trying to maintain some semblance of control. It wasn’t like her to get hot-under-the-collar about alpha males. Then again, Tim had been about as far from alpha as a man could get and look where that had landed her. Perhaps it was time to stop judging books by their covers.

Suddenly she felt Cameron’s hand on the small of her back, bare where her wings had been attached moments earlier, and any chance of maintaining a level head evaporated. She sucked in air as the after effects of his hot touch ricocheted to every nerve ending of her being.

Despite heat pooling between her thighs, goose bumps erupted across her skin.

Aware of a zillion eyes bearing into them as they crossed the polished floor, Peppa’s heart raced as she fought her reaction to his touch, pondered
his
reaction to the damage and racked her mind for a solution to the little issue of how to pay for the car’s repairs.

Minutes later they stood eyeing his convertible, which now looked a little too bedraggled for its CEO car space.

McCormac shook his head slowly before speaking. “You’re right. It’s definitely clanged.” The flirty tone he’d used when he’d offered her a refill was well and truly ancient history. Peppa felt foolish for thinking he’d ever been interested in more than his car or his business. In offering her a drink, he’d merely been thanking her for her role in the party.

She looked into his eyes hoping to gauge the exact extent of his fury. But looking too deeply into those slate depths was hazardous to her mental health, not to mention her body. She clamped her legs together, desperate to quell the burgeoning heat. Needing to do something, she fished her own car keys out of her bag, ready to escape the moment she could.

Finally, his face a blank canvas, he said dryly, “I hope you’ve got insurance.”

“Of course.” She held her chin high. “What do you take me for? A fool?”

“No.” He sighed and ran a hand through his mop of gold-tinged hair as he stared sadly at his less-than-shiny car. The expression reminded her of a little boy whose remote control car had broken two hours after receiving it. Strangely the proof that he was only human made him all the more appealing.

“I am really sorry,” she said. “I’ll get on to my insurance company straight away.”

He waved a hand in front of his face. “Don’t bother. Give me the details and I’ll get my PA to handle the liaisons between insurance companies.”

“Okay. I’m with BB Complete.”

At her words, his eyes widened. Then closed. He shook his head and a curse slipped from his lips.

“What’s the matter?”

He cleared his throat as if finding it difficult to speak. “You haven’t read the headlines this morning, have you?”

“No.” The news generally depressed her and, lately, her life had been depressing enough. “Why?”

“BB went bust yesterday. They can no longer honor any of their contracts.”

“That can’t be true.” Bile crawled up her esophagus. “I only signed with them last week.” Their rates were significantly lower than all the big insurance companies.

As if reading her mind, he spoke, “Because they were cheaper, right? And you could save your money for more important things.”

“Yes. Exactly.” Thank God he was human enough to understand.

“Like shoes?” He glared down at her pointy fairy heels.

His condescending tone incensed her. What gave him the right to judge? He who sat on the twenty-third floor in an illegally massive office with views of Sydney Harbor. She’d never actually seen said office but she’d heard about it. The office rumor mill was alive and churning. Apparently the decor was minimalist, the room decked out in mostly granite furniture—dark and hard like the man himself. Exactly the type of man she’d vowed to avoid.

She opened her mouth, about to bombard him with a lesson in common courteous conduct—one his mother had obviously failed dismally on—but at the last minute she bit her tongue. She’d do best to rein in her notorious temper, grovel and get out quick.

She looked up and met his gaze. “You know nothing about me, so I’d appreciate you keeping your misguided judgments to yourself. And you don’t need to worry about your vehicle—” she spat the word with the same tone of distaste he’d used for
shoes,
“—I’ll ensure you receive whatever is necessary to bring it back to all its shining glory.”

Not waiting for his response, she fled toward Sadie, her pink Volkswagen Beetle, on a mission to find a pen and a scrap of paper.

Leaning into the front of the car, Peppa took a deep breath, racking her brain for some kind of get-rich-quick scheme as she retrieved a pen and an old receipt from her handbag. Only extravagantly wealthy folk could afford to fix the likes of his car without insurance. She scrawled her first name and her mobile phone number on the scrap of paper, reasoning he could easily get the information from his employee register but probably wouldn’t appreciate the hassle.

When she turned back, McCormac had his arm along the top of Sadie’s door as if it were the most natural pose in the world. Her eyes zeroed in on the way his jacket sleeve puckered over what had to be pure muscle and for a split second she cursed the car, wishing his arm on her instead. Good God…had she suffered a head injury in the accident? How preposterous to be jealous of a vehicle. Jealous because of
him.

His cat-got-the-cream grin said he’d noticed her gawking.

“Here.” She shoved her details toward him, pressing herself against the car as she did so. Scared to get any closer for fear of how her body would react. “When you have a quote, call me?”

She meant to escape after that. Get the hell out of Dodge before she did something she’d regret—like offer up her body as payment for the damage—but his fingers clamped around her wrist as his other hand plucked the keys from her grasp. Her pulse thundered under his thumb. Seemingly oblivious, he made a show of reading her scrawl.

“Just Penelope?” he drawled. And somehow he managed to make a name she’d always despised sound sweet and wicked.

She wet her lips, made a half-hearted attempt at shaking free. “Take down my license plate as well if you want. That way if I do a disappearing act, you can set the authorities on to me.”

He shook his head. “I settle my own scores.”

She gulped. So damn peeved as she did so because it wasn’t her nature to be intimidated by men who thought themselves the center of the universe. No matter how gorgeous the man.

“And right now, I’m concerned about your ability to come good with the money.” He paused long enough to offer a devil’s grin. “Which is why I have a proposition.”

“Proposition?” Penelope’s voice caught on the word.

Cameron watched as two pools of luminous jade bordered with long, lush, dark lashes widened only centimeters from his own eyes. Lashes slightly shimmery, making him wonder if she were close to tears.

He loosened his grip, finding himself strangely reluctant to completely let go. Her skin felt smoother than satin sheets and the thud, thud, thud of her pulse beneath his thumb soothed like a massage. Still, he didn’t let any of this reflect in his voice.

“Yes. A proposition. Call it an alternative means of payment.” Truth was he didn’t give two hoots about his car. A few quick phone calls and his not-so-shiny vehicle would be shiny again soon enough. It wasn’t like the Lamborghini was his only mode of transport. But dents or no dents, he wasn’t a man to waste an opportunity, especially not when that opportunity came in such a delightful package.

And, earlier when he’d left the safety of his office and stepped into Christmas party hell, he’d been hit with the perfect solution to a problem he’d been battling for years. The cost of repairs would be a small price to pay for the look on his family’s face when he turned up with a woman wearing a skirt his aunt would liken to a belt. That’d teach them to meddle in his affairs.

“Am I correct in assuming you may find it difficult to pay for repairs?”

Those lashes dropped in time with her shoulders and she gave one reluctant nod.

“Then tonight you’ll be my date to a Christmas Party.” He smiled, trying to keep the bitterness from his tone. Today was Christmas Bloody Eve and if he didn’t appear at his aunt’s annual party he might as well kiss goodbye the only family he did have. Although sometimes the idea appealed, he couldn’t do that to Auntie Rose, the woman who’d taken him in when his parents had died.

“What?” Her cry pierced his ears and for a second he realized she could have somewhere else to be on this particular night of the year. Another booking. Tough, she was hardly in a position to refuse.

“Tonight you’ll be my date to a Christmas Party,” he repeated, noticing her balk at the word
date.

This amused him. Most women were thrilled at the idea, had high hopes of getting their manicured fingernails into his wealth and becoming the next Mrs. McCormac.
Hah!
But the fairy’s nails were clean-cut and short, real as could be and he’d known from the get-go she wasn’t the type to fawn over success. Something in the defiant tilt of her chin and her attempt at bravado told him she wouldn’t be wowed by fast cars, designer suits and platinum credit cards. She was the antithesis to all the names in his little black book, which made her perfect protection against his family’s incessant questions.

He’d get his aunt and cousins off his back and she wouldn’t go getting any high and mighty ideas about the significance of meeting the “parents.” Once the evening finished, there’d be no reason to ever cross paths again.

“Do I even have a choice?” Her words were icy despite the fact she should be sucking up.

“There’s always a choice,” he replied, reasoning she had a mighty fine pout. Yet with lips like that, so full, so red, so enticing, it was hardly surprising. After tracing a soft circle on the inside of her wrist with his thumb, he grudgingly let her go and dangled her car keys in the air between them. For a second their gazes locked and the air between them seemed decisively lacking in oxygen. “If you’d prefer I’ll have my contacts arrange a quote this evening and will expect payment in full tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning?” Despite her previous attempts to hide any desperation, the shriek in Penelope’s voice betrayed her.

“Yes. Will that be a problem?” He felt a bit like the Big Bad Wolf but he didn’t want to part ways just yet. Whether it was her feisty, almost insolent attitude or the fact she was covered in more glitter than he’d ever before seen on a grown woman—and she was most definitely grown—something about her fascinated him. He couldn’t deny she’d had his libido in agony from the moment he’d seen her pert behind and this conversation had been the most enjoyable he’d had in some time.

Lord knew he’d need a little enjoyment in the hours ahead. His trousers tightened at the thought and he indulged in a languid glance from her golden hair to the tip of her pointy shoes, mentally appreciating everything in between.
Simply irresistible
was an understatement.

She narrowed her pretty eyes, then let out a scathing sort of hiss before kowtowing. “I might be a little underdressed. Do I have time to go home and get changed?”

“Another coat of glitter…and you’ll be just fine.”

Fine? Was he kidding? Peppa could guess the type of functions Cameron McCormac graced with his formidable presence. Attending any one of them wearing a scanty fairy costume would make her the laughing stock of Sydney’s elite. “I’ll come with you but
please,
let me go home and change into something more appropriate.”

Her words fell on deaf ears as Cameron leaned back against his car and punched a number into his phone.

While he spoke into his mobile, she tried to recall the breathing techniques she’d learned that one time Izzy had convinced her to try yoga.
Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.
Months had dragged by since her last proper date with a man and although this set-up couldn’t exactly be categorized as such, her stampeding heart and clammy hands didn’t appear to have read the memo. Neither had her traitorous eyes. As if she had no control over them whatsoever, she found it impossible to drag them away from the face and Adonis-like body of the man who paid her salary.

Ending the conversation, he shoved his phone into his jacket pocket and shot her the smile of a wolf. Her knees knocked together. It was futile to wish she’d chosen the virtuous angel costume now—a full-length gown that covered every bit of skin below her neck. It wouldn’t have been as appealing to the children but perhaps if she’d been wearing that she wouldn’t be feeling so
unvirtuous.
Who’d have known clothes could have such an amazing effect on a person?
Inhale, exhale.

Glancing at his convertible, Cameron informed her, “I’ve called for another car. They’ll be drawing things to a close now, so I need to go back inside. I’ll meet you out the front of the building in ten.”

Peppa made her way back inside and tried to distract herself with conversation, but the ten minutes dragged. Although she talked to oodles of colleagues and kissed goodbye many of their adorable kidlets, she’d never be able to recall exactly who she’d spoken to. Her heart pumped overtime and her nails, unbitten for several years, received a flogging as she counted down the minutes and seconds. At first she thought her symptoms indicated nerves but, as her gaze kept trekking to the captivating Cameron while he worked the room, as her spine fizzed with anticipation, she had to concede she wasn’t so much anxious as excited.

Emergency sirens blasted in her head. Although her ex-fiancé, Tim, hadn’t made an appearance at the afternoon party—after a shotgun wedding, he was honeymooning in Paris with his new,
pregnant
wife—he was a colleague and she knew firsthand how messy office relationships could become. The questions, the awkwardness when they’d broken their engagement, should have been enough to turn her off the idea of office romance for good but again, her libido seemed to have taken a rain check on common sense.

Finally, with thirty seconds to go by Peppa’s count, Cameron looked up to find her watching him—again—and the wink he gave her as he nodded toward the exit was slow and suggestive. She swallowed, threw a feigned carefree wave to Izzy who was chatting up one of the new technicians and sent her feet precise instructions—move one foot forward, then the other, repeat—to ensure she made it out the door in one piece.

“Evening,” Cameron drawled as he bestowed on her the kind of smile that could sell sex toys to nuns.

“Almost,” she replied sassily, meanwhile her heart, stomach and ovaries quivered. She came to a stop alongside him as they waited on the footpath outside the building that housed Lyrique Recordings and a number of legal firms. They stood, so close she could feel the heat emanating from his shoulder against hers. Together they watched Sydney rush-hour traffic stream by.

A slick, black limousine slid to a stop a few meters in front of them. Before Peppa could make the connection that this was their ride, Cameron took her hand and bent down to scoop up his gym bag with the other. It was as if an electric shot had just zoomed straight to her heart.

Feeling stupid to be so affected by his mere presence, hoping he hadn’t seen her jolt or noticed the sweatiness of her palm and, hating the awkwardness of silence, she said the first thing that came into her head. “No briefcase?”

He glanced down at his bag and then raised one eyebrow. “It’s Christmas,” he replied, as if that said it all.

Not exactly able to tell him that in his short time with Lyrique he’d earned the reputation of being a complete workaholic and therefore the idea of him taking any notice of such an occasion surprised her, she simply nodded and tried to keep up with his brisk pace as he strode toward their waiting car.

Reprieve and the chance to give her hormones a stern talking to came when Cameron chatted to the chauffeur as if they’d been friends since high school. She slid into the back unnoticed, relishing the support of the luxurious leather seat. Its coolness alerted her to her near-bare thighs. Tugging at the hem on her tutu, she rested her head briefly against the window, grateful for the cold glass on her hot forehead.

“Champagne?” asked Cameron, his voice booming.

She startled and knocked her head against the glass as she wondered how he’d slipped into the cabin so quietly. A tall, muscular body like that would surely make some kind of noise when folding itself onto the seat. She turned and wet her lips, trying to regain some semblance of control as she settled back into the leather and flashed Cameron a smile. A smile that said she traveled in expensive cars with hot men on a regular basis. “Sure, why not?”

And indeed, why not?
A shot of Dutch courage might be exactly what she needed to survive the evening ahead.

Leaning forward from his own seat, Cameron filled two crystal glasses meticulously, untroubled when the driver pulled out into the traffic. Not one to usually notice small details of a person’s hands, Peppa found herself practically gawking at his. Long tanned fingers; short, clean nails; a kind of roughness that made her wonder if he partook in climbing or some other extreme sport in his spare time.

He handed her a glass and those hands brushed briefly against hers. She lifted the drink to her lips and took a swig. Hmm…The kind of hands that made her wonder what they’d feel like traversing the planes of her naked body…

Stop!

“Are you okay?” Cameron’s hand settled once again on her skin. This time on her upper arm as he leaned forward in apparent concern while she choked on a mouthful of the finest bubbles ever.

She nodded profusely, coughing and cursing silently at her inability to tell him to remove his hand. He didn’t appear to be fazed at all, which only unnerved her further. The last thing she needed was a severe case of unrequited lust.

“Do you want some water?” Cameron asked, turning away to locate a bottle of ice-cold spring water and then unscrewing the lid.

She took it, careful not to land her fingers anywhere near his. “Good. Idea,” she managed when the spluttering had subsided. This time she drank slowly, cautiously, glancing around the interior of the limo and reasoning it was time to turn her attentions to its exquisite decor and banish the ridiculous thoughts about her boss.

“Nice upholstery,” she murmured, sliding her free hand along the smoky-colored leather. “Pretty Christmas lights.” A delicate string bordered the windows and doors. “Plush carpet.” She tapped her fairy shoes on the thick shag as her eyes came to rest on what looked to be a plasma television.

“Yes.”

She could hear the amusement in his reply, yet realizing she must sound like a child marveling over a new doll’s house—babbling was a terrible habit of hers—she dared not check his actual expression.

“And that there is a high-tech karaoke system linked to the internet, meaning you can choose practically any song ever written.”

“Oh.” Her heart stammered at the thought. Fact was she’d always been partial to karaoke. Nothing like belting out a favorite tune for lifting the spirits.

“Feel free to have a play.” He shifted toward the TV screen and opened a drawer underneath. “The mics and remote are in here.”

Any other time, any other place, any other man and she’d be in that drawer, rifling for the remote and then singing Shania Twain or Abba to her heart’s content, but moments after realizing she’d gotten herself into a bit of a scrape, she’d vowed to keep as low a profile as possible. “Oh no, I couldn’t.”

“Suit yourself.” He slammed the drawer shut with his Italian-shoe-clad foot and leaned back in the seat, taking a swig of champers before commenting, “I suppose your voice gets enough of a workout while you work.”

Having just taken another sip of water, she let the cold caress her tongue as she nodded. At least his words confirmed he knew who she was. For a moment, back there in the car park, she’d wondered, and she’d been debating ever since whether or not to clear the air and make certain. Their paths had never directly crossed at work, yet it appeared he not only recognized her as one of his employees but knew she was one of the fifty or so voice talents.

Respect for Cameron sky-rocketed.

“Relax.” His voice seemed to come from nowhere and she startled, shaking the bottle and then watching in horror as water spurted out of the spout and splattered into a pool in her lap.

Fabulous.
Now not only did she look like a glitter-overdosed hooker but also like she’d peed in her pants. She sighed. A great big sigh of resignation.

Before she could say anything or even return the lid to the bottle, he’d located a box of tissues and proffered them with a smile. The first smile that evening which seemed warm and genuine. A smile that had more power than hot chocolate, electric blankets or rustic wood fires in the way it warmed her insides.

A smile ten times more dangerous than his playboy grins.

“Sorry,” she muttered, squeezing her lips together as she yanked tissues from the box and patted them against her dress. “I’m not usually this much of a klutz.”

“As I said before, relax.” He returned the tissue box to its designated crevice, then turned back to steal her gaze. The way he looked right into her eyes made her helpless to look anywhere else. “Truth is I don’t give a damn about the car. So if that’s what’s making you nervous, forget it.”

“You don’t?” She bit her lip to stop the grin that threatened at the thought she was nervous about the car. His presence had the effect of making her forget all else.

“Nope. I’ll admit seeing that mammoth dent in the beast did take a chunk out of my heart but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”

“So what am I doing here?”

“I need you to play a role tonight,” he explained. “Act like you were made for the nook of my arm and you’ll have paid your debt. I’ll take you back to collect your car and we’re even. It’s not like I expect anything
more.
”

At the word
more
her cheeks instantly flamed. The thought that
he
expected sex from
her
had never crossed her mind but now…well…the idea was shockingly enticing.

And laughable. Guys like Cameron McCormac didn’t need to coerce women into sleeping with them. Women’s knees buckled at the feet of men like him.

Which begged the question…exactly why did he need
her
specifically this evening? Surely he had a little black book thick to bursting with numbers of women more appropriate than she.

Stop thinking, Peppa. Now might be a good time to actually open your mouth and speak.
She’d been uncharacteristically mute thus far. “I’ll be happy to play your handbag,” she said with a Cheshire grin.

At his bemused expression, she tried to explain. “You know…hanging off the nook of your arm?”

Still blank.

“Oh never mind.” She waved her hand in front of her face and then leaned over to locate her bag and retrieve her mobile. “I’ll pay my debt but I just need to send a quick message first.”

Aside from the tap tap tap of her phone keyboard as she composed a message to her parents explaining she’d been delayed at work and wouldn’t reach their home in the Blue Mountains until tomorrow, silence filled the air. Once she’d pressed Send, she took the opportunity to glance out the window and suddenly realized they’d taken an exit out of the city. Toward the
suburbs.

“Where exactly is this party?” she asked. She’d been thinking the Ritz, the Four Seasons or some swanky all-exclusive-members-only night club but unless they were taking a very long detour, she’d have to think again.

He named a southern suburb, one that screamed “working class” and didn’t have the cleanest reputation.

As she repeated the name, she failed dismally in keeping the surprise from her voice. What could someone like Cameron McCormac possibly find to draw him to such an area? Sure there were pockets of nice streets and the real estate was shooting upward but the majority of residents there were blue-collared families. Something he could never be accused of.

“Yes.” Cameron registered Penelope’s shocked expression and decided perhaps he’d been wrong about her being different from the money-hungry women who frequently angled their cleavages in his direction. Stupid really to judge someone when you hadn’t known them five minutes. To be fooled by an overcoat of glitter and wacky shoes when he knew they were only a costume. “Is that a problem?” he asked dryly.

“Well, no, but…I thought we were going to a party.”

“We are. Christmas at my aunt’s.”

He watched as her eyes widened. He waited for some sort of objection. Instead she blinked and her cherry-red lips curled into the sweetest smile, as if he’d just told her he helped old ladies across busy highways in his spare time. He tried to ignore it, determined to change the subject, but she got in first, doing that thing all women are good at. She asked a leading question.

“If it’s a family thing, won’t they be surprised to see me?”

He took another sip of champagne, fighting a full-blown smile as he imagined the shock on his aunt’s and female cousins’ faces when he walked in with Penelope. He knew most of them had given up hope of him ever hooking up with another woman again. “That’s the idea. In fact, they’ll be delighted to see you.”