Out of the Ashes (10 page)

“Yes, Gavin, my
roommate
,” I try to emphasize the word, “took me all around this morning to get ready for tonight.  And yes, he was with me at the club last night.  I want to apologize for that.  I had apparently celebrated my new job a little too much before we got there.  I would not normally behave that way toward you.”  I blush again and chew my lower lip knowing that I have behaved far worse with him and had no alcohol fueled state to blame it on.  “I hope you know that and don’t hold it against me.”  And I hope we can just forget about the first night altogether, I add silently.  It’s only my first half-day and already that encounter is making everything beyond awkward.

“Well other than a couple
issues, I thought last night was wonderful.”  He said in return.  I wondered which parts were the wonderful ones and which were the ones he regretted.  It probably wouldn’t take too long to guess at the latter. “Just in the future, if your roommate decides to take you out to celebrate would you please let me know so that I can send Connor to watch over you? 
Gavin
,” he says it like it’s a dirty word, “doesn’t appear to be very concerned with what happens to you when you are out with him.”

What the hell?  I feel like telling him that he is just my boss despite what
’s happened and he’s made it perfectly clear that that is all he wants to be.  So how is it his business if I go out and how I get home?  My first day on the job is probably not the time to address this issue though. 

Feeli
ng protective of Gavin, I say, “I don’t think that’s necessary really.  And please before you judge him, you should know that Gav always looks out for me.  It was my fault things got so out of hand with stubble guy.  I didn’t realize he was moving me away from Gavin while we were dancing and he got stuck in the crowd.  Plus he thought since I wasn’t protesting that maybe I wanted some time… Oh never mind.  Anyway, then later when I was going home, he was giving me
instructions
loud enough to make sure the cabbie heard so if there was anything weird Gav would know exactly who to go after.  So please don’t be angry with him; he was truly looking out for me.”

I didn’t realize it but at some point in my little speech
, I placed my hand on his arm in a comforting gesture.  When I pulled it back, I noticed he’d been paying more attention to my hand on him than to what I was saying.  “Ian, did you hear me?”

He returns his gaze to my eyes.  There is
a brief flash of emotion but then it’s gone.  Probably just me wanting to make more of the situation than there is.  He was probably upset that I was touching him after what happened last night.  “Oh yes, I’m sorry.  And really, I’m sorry.  I was just worried about you.  I didn’t know what had happened; I shouldn’t have reacted that way.” 

He goes to stand but again I put my hand out, “Ian, I understand why you did it and thank you.”
  The urge to pull him to me and cover his lips with mine is overwhelming; I’m almost dizzy with desire for him.  Some emotion I don’t understand crosses his face then he turns away from me.

“I want to get these phone calls returned before 5:00 p.m.
,” he says pulling out his phone and checking the screen, “and I need you to go through the emails before then as well.”  He walks back over to his desk and I sit down at mine and start on the emails.  Before I know it, Ian is standing in front of my desk. 

“Celeste, it’s 5:30.  I am going to head over to the apartment and get changed.  The car will be here at 6:30 to take us to the Ritz Carlton.”  His
demeanor is distant, almost cold.  I mentally kick myself; if this were any other job, I would view it as professional but still it’s such a change from the way he was earlier.  Maybe talking about last night wasn’t a good idea.  Well, I won’t make that mistake again.  As he walks into the apartment, I get up and go into the bathroom to change and touch up my hair and makeup.

I’m standing in the bathroom, wondering what I should do.  I have finished getting ready.  The spa had given
me the comb to put in my hair along with everything I would need for any touch ups on my makeup.  I have my perfume in my purse and I already put the thong, garter and stockings on.  It is when I go to put on the dress that I know I’m in trouble.  There is no way I can finish fastening the back.  Should have gone with a dress with a side zip.  I crack the bathroom door peaking out.  If I take my letter opener, maybe I can hook the zipper and get it up the rest of the way.  I don’t see Ian anywhere in the office so I quickly make a beeline for my desk.  At that exact moment, Ian steps out of the conference room with a glass of cognac in his hand.  His eyes go wide when he sees me half dressed, frozen mid-step.  Oh, let the ground swallow me up now.  Recovering, he walks over to me.  “Here turn around; let me help you with that.”  Sliding the curls that are draping down my back out of the way he proceeds to finish zipping and fastening the dress.  As he lets my hair fall back into place, I feel his hands skim my back between my shoulder blades.  I inhale sharply at his touch. I can only hope that he didn’t hear me do it.  His touch is like putting an electric current to my skin, wondrous and frightening at the same time.  I have never felt like that when a man touched me.

I thought I heard him mumble something about absolutely s
tunning but my head was so drunk from his touch that I wasn’t sure if he said it. Or maybe I imagined it because I wanted him to say it.  Ian breaks the long awkward silence by telling me it’s time to go down and meet the car.

Connor opens the door to
the limo for Ian and I, and Ian ushers me into the car first, climbing in behind me.  Once in the car in such close proximity to him, I feel myself start to sweat.  The tension between my thighs is back with a vengeance.  What is it about limos that are so sexy?  I can smell Ian’s cologne, musky and smelling very much like a man in charge, as I sit next to him.  Close enough to touch but not touching; we ride mostly in silence to the Ritz where we’re greeted by a red carpet lined with photographers.  Ian steps out of the car and then holds his hand out to help me.  I rise slowly out of the car not wanting to catch my dress on anything especially the heel of my shoe.  I will never recover if I fall flat on my face in front of all these people and photographers.  Ian places his hand on my back and we walk into the gala with flashbulbs popping all around us.

The ballroom i
s decorated beautifully in blues and silvers.  It’s like walking into a fairy tale.  Immediately, Ian sees some clients that he needs to speak with so we make our way over.  After that, it’s a whirlwind of conversations; I must admit it is a bit of a struggle to keep up with who is who after only studying the list for a few hours this afternoon.  But overall I do pretty well; I don’t ever call anyone by the wrong name though I do forget what Mr. and Mrs. Ryan do for a living but Ian quickly guides me out of that one by asking how her latest line of lingerie is doing in the States.  Of course, the one I should remember the easiest is the one I forget.  Waiters are circling the floor with various trays of hors d’oeuvres and champagne.  Ian picks up a couple glasses as one passes and hands one to me just as dinner is announced.  I’m surprised that we have already been here an hour.  Even more surprised that we have yet to see Rebecca.  I expected her to be here ready to pounce and stake her claim right when we walked through the door.  She’s probably off somewhere pouting because the photographs that will hit the press tomorrow will be of Ian and me since we arrived together.  If Ian were mine, he would be the first person I would seek out on arriving to something like this.  Hell, there would be no way I wouldn’t be the one to arrive with him.  Where did that come from?  If Ian were mine?  There has got to be a way for me to get these thoughts out of my head.  Oh, those stupid limo rides, messing with my hormones again.

Ian direct
s me to our table.  Our tablemates include the head of the marketing division, the head of the PR division, and their wives and then there’s Rebecca.  She’s in deep conversation with the PR director’s wife when we walk up but when Ian sits down next to her, she stops her conversation to turn toward him and give him a smile. Placing her hand on his thigh, she continues her hushed conversation with the woman next to her.  Casually, Ian reaches down and removes her hand from his leg, continuing his conversation with the two division heads.  I begin to wonder if they had some sort of quarrel earlier.  Rebecca seems to pause slightly in her conversation but other than that there’s no reaction from either of them.  As Rebecca continues her conversation, occasionally the other woman looks up at Ian and then over to me so it wasn’t too difficult to decipher what they are talking about.

After dinner and few remarks from the hosts and head of the char
ity, the band starts up and soon the dance floor is filled with couples.  Ian takes a few moments to talk with some prospective clients that he sees across the room and I decide that is a good time for me to head to the bar for something a little stronger that champagne.  I don’t want to get drunk; hello, I’m working.  But I definitely need something to take the edge off.

“So do you come here often?”  The guy that occupie
s the space next to me says.

“So that line work for you often?”  I sa
y in response barely controlling my laughter; I hope he wasn’t being serious.

“No, usually it only gets me laughed at but sometimes that’s the best way to break the ice.  I’m Patrick Baldwin.”  He
holds out his hand.

I finally l
et go of the laughter that I was holding onto, and place my hand in his.  “Celeste Brooks, it’s very nice to meet you.”

“So who are you here with?  I can’t imagine a woman as b
eautiful as you being here unaccompanied.”  Such formal language, I think finally allowing my gaze to fall on my new companion.

If the look on his face hadn’t been one of dead seriousness
, this line would have sounded even cheesier than the one he used earlier.  “Um, well I’m here for work.  So I don’t have a date.  My boss, Ian Jacobs,” I gesture over to where Ian is talking with a group of gentleman though it appears now that he has stopped the conversation and is staring at me.  I completely lose my train of thought.  “I’m sorry what was I saying?” I turn away from Ian’s intense gaze back to Patrick.

“Ian Jacobs.
”  He huffs out a laugh. “You’re here with Ian.  Well, isn’t this going to be fun?  Did I mention I’m Ian’s cousin?” The universe is out to get me; can’t I just have one good day, one day without some dramatic event.

“No
, you didn’t mention that.”  But then again why would you? I want to add but don’t.  Suddenly, for a reason I can’t quite identify, standing here seemed like a bad idea.  Patrick is nice enough and very easy on the eyes but the look in Ian’s eyes whenever I glanced up at him is one of absolute hatred.  I hope that the conversation the men around him are having isn’t something important because since he noticed me talking to Patrick, he hasn’t taken his eyes off me or paid any attention to their conversation.

“Well, Miss Brooks, being here with Ian and Ian being my cousin, does that mean I can’t ask you for a dance?”  Patrick look
s over at me with a dazzling smile.  It is a smile that could really light up a room, definitely not the same as his cousin’s.  No, Patrick’s smile will not have me dropping my panties but it will entice me to a dance.

“You know, I think a dance might be just the thing.”  Putting my hand in his, he le
ads us out onto the dance floor.  Patrick is a wonderful dancer.  I have never felt graceful dancing like this; clubs are one thing but dances that require you to know steps have always caused me problems.  Patrick makes it seem effortless as he whirls and twirls me across the floor before finally pulling me in close and wrapping his hand around my waist.  There is nowhere else to look except straight into his eyes.

“
You know originally when you said you were here with Ian I thought this might be a good excuse for some fun and to get under his skin; but now I’m really enjoying spending this time with you.”  He whispers and smiles down at me. Now I am really beginning to wonder what I have gotten myself into.  “Why are you with Ian?” he asks so quietly I’m not sure I even heard exactly what he said.  But the look on his face tells me he definitely asked exactly what I thought I heard.

Trying to maintain my composure, I look
back up at him. “I’m not here
with
Ian.  I told you; I’m his assistant and he invited me because there were going to be many business contacts here that I need to get to know.”

Patrick look
s like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.  “So then you can go to dinner with me tomorrow night.”  It didn’t come out as question; just a statement of fact. What’s with these men and thinking I’ll just do whatever they say?  “I’d love to have dinner with you but tomorrow night is no good.  I’m going out with my roommate and some of his friends.”

“Hmm.  The ‘I would love to but already have plans’ rebuff.  I’m wounded.”  Patrick joke
s but a small amount of hurt is clear in his eyes.  I can’t help but smile.  “How about Sunday night?”  I say so that he will know I really do want to have dinner with him.

“Now you’re asking me out.  I’m not sure I like women who are so forward.”  When my mouth turn
s down in a slight frown, his smile grows.  “Of course I would love to have dinner with you on Sunday.”