Beautiful Distraction (30 page)

The plane landed at Malpensa airport nine painful hours
later, which was the longest period I had ever spent on a plane. I knew I didn’t
look my best. My head reeled, my eyes burned from a lack of sleep, and my
thighs ached for a jog, but at that moment, I couldn’t be more excited.
Milan’s ancient buildings and twinkling city lights were
waiting just outside the sliding doors. I was ready to explore each and every
part of this wonderful city on my days off, of which I hoped I would have plenty.

Smiling, I gathered my unruly hair in a high ponytail and
pinched my cheeks to look more presentable, then picked up my luggage from the
carousel and made my way through customs. The arrivals area was filled with
waiting families and taxi drivers. I spied a cardboard plaque the size of a
notebook with my name written on it and walked over, expecting my new boss to
be waiting for me. The middle-aged guy greeted me in broken English, and I knew
it couldn’t possibly be Mayfield.

“Seniorita Stewart, I’m your driver. May I take your
luggage?” He didn’t wait for my answer. He grabbed my suitcase and heaved it up
in a fluent motion, then carried it to the parked SUV, dodging the dissipating
crowds and taxi drivers vying for tourists’s attention. I hurried after him,
concentrating hard to keep up with his chitter-chatter as he went on to tell me
about the weather, the country, sightseeing opportunities, and who knows what
else.

Night had descended, but the airport was brightly
illuminated, allowing a breathtaking sneak peak at the mountain scenery I had
seen outlined through the plane’s window. I smiled and nodded politely as he
opened the door for me, and I jumped onto the back seat of the car. He paused
in his conversation for all of five seconds, or as long as it took him to pull
out of the parking lot. As we headed up the highway he resumed his chat.

“You had a nice trip but very long?” I nodded, and he
laughed. “But now it’s over and you’ll have a beautiful vacation.” I didn’t
want to point out that I wasn’t on vacation, so I just nodded again. The driver
continued his half-English, half-Italian monologue through the drive to
Bellagio. By the time he pulled over thirty minutes later, my head was reeling,
and not from the fresh air and stunning backdrop I had glimpsed outside the
window. I jumped out on shaky feet, my hand clutching the car’s door for
support, as I gawked at the hotel in front of me.

The architecture was definitely neo-classical, reminding me
of Ancient Greek and Rome with its little columns, capitals, and beautiful
sculptural bas-reliefs that my fingers itched to touch. It was big but not
oversized, about five stories high with a beautiful illuminated fountain
spewing up water onto two embracing angels from which a thick, red carpet was
stretched out to the heavy glass door. As I entered my home for the next two
weeks, my breath caught in my throat.

Holy cow.

The reception hall, though not big, was absolutely stunning.
Glass candelabra dangled from the high ceiling, illuminating the polished ivory
marble floor below and accentuating the flower reliefs adorning the
ivory-colored walls. But what impressed me most were the two Corinthian columns
behind the reception desk.

Silvio passed my luggage to a uniformed bellboy and
instructed him to bring it straight up to my room, while I waited at the
reception desk to check in.

The receptionist smiled. She was a woman in her thirties
with glowing olive skin and glossy hair to die for.

“Welcome, Miss Stewart,” she said in heavily accented
English. “You’ve been booked on the upper floor. This is your key.” She held up
a white piece of plastic the size of a credit card. “The restaurant’s open from
seven to midnight. Room service is available around the clock. If you have any
questions, I’ll be happy to answer them. Let me show you the way.”

I shook my head and returned her generous smile. “That won’t
be necessary. I think I’ll be fine.” Architecture had always been my thing,
only I never had the chance or money to visit a place this grand. I didn’t want
to have to make small talk when I’d rather gawk at every single detail without
anyone watching over my shoulder.

“But I insist. The elevators are over here.” She pointed
behind her at the narrow corridor leading past the columns and around a corner.
I followed her upstairs while listening to her recommending Italy’s must-see
sights and excursions. And then she let me into my room and closed the door as
she left, wishing me a pleasant stay.

I tossed the swipe card on the nearby coffee table realizing
I hadn’t thought of tipping her, the bellboy, or the driver. “Oh, crap,” I
muttered. Was it too late to run downstairs and do it now? Should I wait until
the morning? I had never stayed in anything remotely expensive, so my knowledge
of proper tipping etiquette was rather limited.

“Are you okay?” The male voice coming from my right startled
me. I shrieked and jumped a step back, dropping my handbag in the process. My
head turned in the intruder’s direction, and my mouth opened to let out an
earsplitting sound, but what came out resembled more a surprised grumble that
slowly turned into a sensation of anger pounding against my skull.

“Are you following me?” I was so angry I almost choked on my
words.

“I could ask you the same question, since I was here first.”
Mystery Guy cocked a brow and moved closer until he stood mere inches from my
face. From this distance, or lack thereof, I could take in each and every
detail of his face. His luscious lips were slightly curved in the most arrogant
smile I had ever seen. Almost hidden by his day-old stubble were two tiny
indentations in his cheeks, which I knew could turn into full-blown dimples.
Dimples were my weakness. My fingers itched to reach up and touch them, touch
his skin, feel his stubble to see whether it was as deliciously scratchy as it
looked. His beautiful green eyes shimmered. His lips parted slightly, and I
knew he could either sense my naughty thoughts or had some of his own. Maybe he
remembered something I didn’t about our night together. My cheeks were on fire.

Swallowing hard, I looked down his delicious body and
instantly regretted it. His shirt stretched over broad shoulders, leaving no
doubt that the guy worked out. A lot. A dark patch of curly hair peeked from
beneath his undone top button. It was the same color as his happy trail I had
glimpsed when he didn’t bother to cover up in my bed.

In my bed.

God, I liked the sound of that. My cheeks flushed again as I
cringed inwardly at my thoughts. What was wrong with me? The guy had trouble
written all over him, and yet I behaved like a pubescent teen in heat, unable
to control my own hormones. I had to find my wits, or what was left of them,
before the guy’s ego grew bigger than the Eiffel Tower.

“What are you doing here?” I asked bending down to pick up
my handbag from the floor. His gaze followed my ass and stayed glued to it a
bit too long. I hurried to straighten up but not fast enough. A low,
appreciative growl escaped his throat.

“Looking at my favorite spot. Need help with that?” He
pointed in the direction of my heavy suitcase, but his gaze remained glued to
my ass. My clothes seemed to evaporate into thin air. I fought the urge to
shrug into my coat and keep it on for the rest of our unsolicited conversation.

“I’ll be just fine, thanks.” Irritated, I turned to face
him, which in turn forced his gaze away from my ass and back to my face. A
glint of disappointment appeared in his expression, as though, unlike my ass,
my face wasn’t quite worth his time. I crossed my arms over my chest and
regarded him coolly. “What was your excuse again for breaking into my room?”

“I’m staying here.”

I smirked. “Unless Mayfield invited you over for the ride,
and he’s a stingy SOB, I don’t think that’s the case.”

He laughed. His voice sounded like satin silk caressing my
skin, velvety soft yet luxurious. I shuddered lightly.

He’s bad news, Stewart, I reminded myself.

“I’ll try not to be offended this time, but for future
reference, my employees don’t usually talk to me like that.” His lips remained
curled into that gorgeous, lopsided smile, which made it hard to focus on
anything else. It took me a few seconds to realize the meaning of his words. We
were in a different country at the same time. I was supposed to meet my new
boss, whom I had just called a stingy SOB, and Mystery Guy felt offended.

“You’re Mayfield, aren’t you?” My voice came low and hoarse.
He nodded slowly, staring at me. “But you said your name was Jett Townsend.”

He nodded again. “Townsend was my mother’s name. I like to
use it when I meet potential employees. It makes the whole recruitment process
easier and, let’s say, refreshing.”

All heat drained from my face.
Holy shit.
I hadn’t even started my new job and already I was
insulting my new boss…right after sleeping with him. I was worse than Sylvie.
“So you’re—”

My speech eluded me.

“Jett Mayfield, the stingy SOB who just hired you.” He held
out his palm. I didn’t want to touch him but what choice did I have? I placed
my hand into his and flinched at how deliciously warm and manly his touch felt.
His calloused palm scratched my skin, sending an electric jolt into my lower
body. I wondered how it would feel to have Jett Mayfield’s hands stroking the
inside of my thighs.

Get a grip, Stewart.
After this stunt you’re lucky if you still have a job. Let’s keep it at that.

“I’m so sorry,” I said pulling my hand away and jumping a
step back to put some much needed distance between us. “I didn’t know who you
were. Usually, I’m way more professional. I take my job very seriously and know
my place.”

“I hope you do because I have great plans with you.”

My breath hitched in my throat. Why did I keep hearing
double meanings in his words?

“Ready to see your room?” Jett grabbed my suitcase and set
off through what looked like a living room, toward three doors. I hurried to
keep up with him. He opened one of them and moved aside to let me through.
“This is it. If you need anything I’ll be next door.” He pointed at the closed
door. “I’ll leave you to unpack. Work starts at eight sharp. I like my
employees to be punctual so don’t be late.”

The guy was sleeping next door. With only a few inches of
wall between us. I wondered whether he slept naked. He sure had been in my bed.
The picture of a naked Jett Mayfield looking all self-assured and
not bothered
flashed before my eyes. My
cheeks began to burn.

Not again.

Talk about being doomed.

He smirked as though he could sense my thoughts. My temper
flared. What sort of sleeping arrangement was that? Was it even legal? I opened
my mouth to protest when he pressed his index finger against my lips, silencing
me instantly.

“I like to keep my personal assistants at my beck and call.
I hope you don’t have a problem with that.” His gaze bore into me, challenging
me to show just how much his proximity blew off any sense of self-control. Did
I have a problem with that? You bet, and yet I shook my head no. He was just a
man, for crying out loud. I could deal with his kind. Besides, I had a million
other questions that needed addressing. Like why he employed me and brought me
in on such an important job at the last minute, when it’d take me ages to get
acquainted with all the details.

“Eight a.m. it is.” My voice came lower than expected and a
little bit hoarse, but at least I managed to speak.

“Sleep well, Miss Stewart. I’ll make sure to make this stay
worth remembering.” He smiled and my heart dropped into my panties. A big neon
light flashed before my eyes:

BIG MISTAKE, BIG MISTAKE!

I had to get the heck away from him, and yet my feet
remained glued to the spot as I watched him stroll into the living room. His
narrow waist accentuated the broad shoulders and sculpted upper arms that were
clearly visible beneath his thin shirt. My gaze moved down to his long legs and
strong thighs—thighs I imagined parting and settling between my legs.

I groaned, irritated with myself, and slammed the door a tad
too hard.

When my alarm went off, I could have screamed. I had been
right in the throes of a fantastic dream during which I was holding on tight to
a hard muscular back while being devoured by soft luscious lips. I glanced down
at my wet naked skin and the crumpled silk sheet between my thighs. One more
second and my nerve endings would have exploded like stardust. Instead, I was
left panting and frustrated with a delicious ache in my lower body.

It was official. Jett Townsend was haunting my dreams. As my
pulse settled down again, I got up and straightened the sheets as best as I
could. What the hotel staff thought of me should have been the least of my
worries, but for some reason it mattered because I cared about my job and
reputation. Deep in my heart I knew having sex on a business trip was nothing but
a meaningless fling. If Mayfield propositioned, and if for some stupid reason I
wouldn’t be able to resist his sexy charm, the whole hotel would know I had
succumbed to the temptation and surrendered to his lust. I didn’t want anyone
to think Mayfield scored with the arguably professional assistant on the first
day. It didn’t feel right.

But isn’t that exactly
what happened back home?

Pushing the irritating yet accurate thought to the back of
my mind, I implored my brain to become obsessed with something or someone
else…and failed. I hadn’t heard a sound since last night when Jett had left me
standing in front of my door, which led me to believe that he was either very
quiet or didn’t spend the night in his room. Call me opinionated, but I was
ready to bet on the latter. He was the bad boy type all right. The type my
mother warned me about. The type you have a good time with, then forget about
as you go home to live your boring life, while he moves on to the next skirt
ready to give him the time of day.

Only this bad boy wouldn’t be so easy to forget because we
worked together. I had only two options: either get rid of him or find a way to
ease those hormones that followed me even in my dreams. Quitting my job wasn’t
an option so Number Two it was. If only I knew how to stop turning into a
drooling teen every time I so much as heard his voice.

Maybe it won’t be so
bad in the light of day.

Guys tend to be hot when you’re under the influence of
either horniness or beer goggles. I was neither, so Mayfield was powerless. Besides,
he couldn’t possibly be as good-looking as I remembered. If my horniness
wouldn’t stop anytime soon, I was sure seeing his flaws in broad daylight would
do the trick.

After a brief shower I dressed in Sylvie’s navy suit, pinned
my hair up in a strict bun, and nervously perched on the sofa to await
Mayfield’s arrival. Last night’s questions popped back into my mind, and I made
a mental note to get answers straight away. First I’d find out why he employed
me, and then we’d establish a work routine and what he expected of me. As a
professional, nothing could faze me. Absolutely nothing. Not even his lean,
muscular body with rock-hard six-pack abs, strong shoulders, and a wide chest.
And surely not his stunning green eyes, full lips, and beautiful face.

He was off limits. Forbidden to touch or drool over.

Everyone but him. Got it, Stewart?

I breathed in and out as I steadied myself, centering my
resolve in the knowledge that I had it all under control. I thought I was doing
great…until my weak body betrayed me.

My heart began to thump a little harder. As I took deep
breaths to calm my nerves, the door opened and in he walked… six foot two of toned
muscles. I knew I was blushing, but I couldn’t stop. Just like I couldn’t stop my
knees giving way beneath me. Thank goodness I was sitting, otherwise I might
have landed flat on my ass. Staring at him, I ran my tongue along my suddenly
parched lips to moisten them. He looked so darn sexy, dressed in a tailored
business suit and a crisp white shirt; the upper button was undone, revealing
that delicious patch of skin I had started to look out for. His thick dark hair
was shiny, but unruly, and looked as though he’d just stepped out of the shower
and didn’t bother brushing it. I wanted to run my fingers through it. Without
thinking I sniffed, and a sassy non-invasive cologne intermingled with a more
masculine shower gel shot my reserve to pieces. It instantly turned me on,
making me want to—

Dammit.

It wasn’t just my body that betrayed me. My mind wouldn’t
stop conjuring images of Jett and me, together, doing naughty stuff. I bit my
lower lip hard as I fought the urge to jump on his lap and bury my fingers in
his hair and draw us onto the couch with him on top of me. His weight would pin
me to the spot and—

“You okay? You look a bit flustered.” Jett Mayfield sat down
opposite me and inched forward, lower arms resting on his thighs, as though to
inspect me. An amused glint played in his devilish green eyes.
The
guy was a piece of sin. If he were the devil holding a contract, this would be
the moment I might just give in to temptation and sign over my soul.

What was it with my inability to focus around this guy?

I leaned back to put a few more inches between us. “I’m just
surprised you scrub up so nicely in a suit.”

He raised a brow. “Was that a compliment, Ms. Stewart?” It
was, but the guy’s inflated ego was already so big I doubted he would fit it
through Manhattan. I wasn’t going to contribute to mankind’s doom by letting it
grow to even bigger proportions.

“Not really. After what you were sporting at that club, even
a lumberjack shirt thrown over a spandex bodysuit would be a vast improvement.”
My brain only realized what I’d just said after the words left my mouth. Not
only was I incapable of keeping my body heat under control, my potty mouth also
couldn’t stop insulting him. I swallowed hard and peered at him. An apology
rushed to my lips.

“Spandex bodysuits, huh?” His eyes twinkled. “If that’s what
turns you on—I’m all for giving it a try.”

My breath hitched. “I’m sorry, Mr. Mayfield. I don’t know
what came over me.”

He raised his hand to stop me. “We can discuss today’s
schedule over breakfast. And please call me Jett.
We’ll have to work
together around the clock, so we might as well drop the formalities and start getting
to know each other better in every sense.” There was that double meaning thing
he kept doing. Or was it all in my head?

Stop putting words in
his mouth, Stewart.

“Great. I’m Brooke.” I smiled and followed him out the door
to the restaurant downstairs, aware of the jealous glances from every single
female we passed. As Jett began to talk about my job and what he expected of me
in a no-nonsense voice I assumed was his business tone, I relaxed a little and
even managed to swallow down a few bites of the best butter croissant I ever
had.

It was just a job. He was just some (I admit way beyond the
usual standard) good-looking guy lucky enough to inherit the hotness gene. I
could deal with him.

I stared at the urns overflowing with blossoming flowers
lining the sidewalk outside our window and inhaled the clean, morning air
wafting in through the open door. Bellagio was so beautiful and serene; I felt
I could deal with anything…until Jett smiled that lopsided smile of his that
screamed trouble.
I frowned. Why was his gaze lingering on me longer than was
acceptable? His gaze dipped slowly from my eyes to my lips and then to my
shirt—or what I hoped was my shirt rather than my breasts—before shifting
back to meet my eyes. My heart skipped a beat.

“Do you like your room?”

I nodded, not quite understanding the sudden change in
topic. “It’s beautiful.”

“I want you to pack your bags.” He stood and held out his
hand to help me up. I ignored it.

“Why? Where am I going?”

“No need to waste company money on a hotel when I own a
property on Lake Como. It’s very private. Very secluded. I’m sure you’ll like
it even more than this place.” He signed the bill on the table and tossed the
pen on top of it, then turned to me. Danger shimmered in his eyes, and for a
moment he reminded me of an eagle closing in on his prey.
I
felt like butter melting under his sexy gaze full of dark and sinful and forbidden
promises.

“You have half an hour. Can you do that?” Jett asked,
breaking our eye contact.

“You could have told me last night,” I said, trying to keep
my voice strong. All I could think of was Jett and I, alone in a secluded place
with no one to bother us. No one to ask questions. No one to watch what we were
doing. Why did the outlook seem so erotic?

“I could have told you.” His gaze bore into mine again and a
flicker of amusement played on his lips. “But I didn’t.” My mouth went dry as I
tried to read his enigmatic expression. An inner voice told me he wasn’t as
unpredictable as he pretended to be. It was just a game. But there was
something about him that kept me on edge, wanting—waiting for his next
move, reaction, word— anything that might give away what was going
through that damn mind of his. Either he liked to keep his employees on their
toes or this was nothing but an experiment to test my patience, devotion, and
consequently my aptness for the job.

I raised my chin a notch and stared him down. He could test
all he wanted. I was born to do this job, and nothing he said or did could
break my reserve.

He peered at his watch, signaling I was wasting his time.

“I’ll be back in twenty.” I hurried past, my heart thumping
in my throat. Private and secluded were two adjectives I’d rather avoid with
Jett Mayfield around, and yet here I was—running to do as he bid instead
of protesting and insisting I stay behind, even if it meant paying for my room
out of my own pocket.

Could you have
afforded it?

I smirked. Not likely.

As I passed a mirror in the hall, I noticed how incredibly
ridiculous I looked with that grin on my face.

There’s nothing to be so excited about, Steward. It’s
just a job. A job for which you get paid.

For some reason I couldn’t shake off the feeling spending
time with Jett came at a price, and sooner or later I’d have to decide whether
it was worth it.

***

Jett’s reluctance to engage in business conversation rather
than focus on the road ahead was understandable, given that we were stuck in
his convertible Ferrari driving down the narrowest, most winding, cobbled paths
I had ever seen. I would have literally soiled my pants sitting in the driver’s
seat and was thankful for the fact that driving didn’t seem to be part of my
job duties.

During the half hour drive, he kept our conversation
businesslike and mostly focused on my duties as his personal assistant. Upon my
asking, he mentioned our job here was a deal running in the millions, but he
remained tight-lipped on the details. He gave me a short verbal list of
important names to remember and an even longer list of names he didn’t want to
be bothered with. His deep, smooth voice kept conjuring the wrong pictures in
my head, so I remained mostly quiet, as I tried to focus on his instructions.

It was late morning when he finally took a sharp turn and
parked the car, then held the door open. I stepped out gingerly, minding my
step on the gravel stones.

“What do you think?” Jett asked.

Inhaling the air thick with the smell of trees, water, and
sunshine, I spun in a slow circle as I tried to take in the picturesque scenery
stretching out in front of us. To me professional meant not wearing my emotions
on my sleeve. But how could I keep my cool with mountaintops covered in
sparkling snow surrounding a shimmering Lake Como as a backdrop, green ivy
climbing up the sides of the balcony, and blossoming flowers at my feet?

“I love it,” I whispered because no other words could convey
how I felt. My answer seemed to please him because he smiled. As he held the
door open so I could enter, I thought I caught a glint of lust in his dazzling
green eyes.

“After you,” Jett said, still staring at me.

I nodded, unable to bring out a simple ‘thank you’ under the
spell of his gaze.

What Jett had called ‘his place’ was in reality a
three-level villa situated on a raised, secluded spot overlooking the lake and
beach below. As I moved from one immaculate room to the next, I could smell the
sultry scent of lavender, roses, and other fragrances you’d normally only find in
expensive Eau de Toilette. Eventually, we stopped on the patio overlooking Lake
Como.

“This is my favorite view in the world,” Jett whispered in
my ear. I turned my head to look up at him, expecting him to gaze at the
scenery ahead, and was surprised to find his eyes focused on me. His heated
gaze penetrated the cotton material of my suit and sent shivers down my spine.
I froze to the spot as everything else faded to nothing. His lips were slightly
parted. His tongue left a shimmering wet trail where it flicked over his lips.
I stared at that moisture, wondering what it would taste like. What his skin
would smell like.