Beautiful Distraction (43 page)

“How can I help you?” My voice sounded a little hoarse from
the lack of sleep, but you could still hear the frosty undertones.

“Miss Brooke Stewart? My name’s Jake Clarkson from Clarkson
& Miles. I’ve been trying to reach you for two weeks. Did you get my
letter?”

Holy cow, he didn’t beat around the bush. “I don’t think I
have,” I said, slowly scanning the glossy magazines and newspapers stacked
neatly next to the phone, when I remembered Sylvie had mentioned a mysterious
envelope. I had asked her to leave it in my room so it wouldn’t freak her out.
“Actually, I haven’t opened it yet since I only just arrived back home.”

“No problem. We can discuss its contents. Would you be
available to meet with me, preferably sooner rather than later?”

His questions struck me as odd. Why would he want to meet
with me, unless it was an emergency? “Did anything happen?”

He laughed briefly, and I knew it was fake. “No, of course
not, Miss Stewart. Please understand that I’m not in the position to discuss
such important business with you on the phone. I’ve come all the way from
London, and I really need to talk with you in private.”

Important business
sounded
grave enough without the serious undercurrent of his tone.
And if a person came all the way from wherever he came
from, I figured it was double serious business.

“What did you say your name was?” Regaining my wits, I
grabbed a notepad and pen. As he repeated his details, I scribbled them down.

“Jake Clarkson. I’m an attorney with Clarkson & Miles.
London headquarters.”

An attorney. And he seemed even more no-nonsense than me. I
didn’t like lawyers. They had brought me nothing but bad news. My pulse sped up
and my hands turned clammy. I wiped my palms on my bathrobe and cleared my
throat to get rid of the sudden lump. The Britain part was pretty obvious from
his accent.

What would someone like him want from me…unless I did
something wrong and the offended tried to resolve the issue with the help of an
attorney before the whole thing escalated into something ugly?

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Everything’s fine. Are you available today?” he persisted.
“Any time would work for me. Even evening. It wouldn’t take long.”

“Today? It’s that urgent?” Given that the digital clock on our
answering machine stated it was already ten past six, the guy sure seemed
anxious to get a meeting. I briefly considered whether it was a bright idea to
meet up at this time of day. It probably wasn’t, so I decided against it.

“I could meet with you tomorrow after work. Maybe around
six-ish?” I offered.

A pause, then, “Let’s make it six.”

I gave him the address of a café which was on my route home,
about half an hour away. Good enough not to inconvenience me, but not close
enough so he could follow me in case he had stalking tendencies.

“Thank you. Have a lovely evening.” He hung up, leaving me
no chance to ask him for his phone number in case I couldn’t make it.

“Weird, huh?” Sylvie said from the doorway, not even hiding
the fact she had been eavesdropping.

“Hm.” I motioned her to follow me as I rushed into my room
and found the envelope on my desk. With a quick flick of my wrist I tore it open,
ignoring the look of dread on Sylvie’s face. When nothing blew up, she inched
closer to peer over my shoulder.

I pushed the white crisp paper into her hand. “It’s just a
formal letter inviting me to get in touch with them regarding
urgent matters
.”

Skimming the contents of the letter, Sylvie nodded slowly
and then placed it on my desk. “What do you think he wants?”

“No idea. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” I couldn’t
quite hide the worry in my voice.

“Do you want me to accompany you?” She trailed off, leaving
the ‘in case’ part hanging between us.

I shook my head. “Looks like he is who he says he is, so
I’ll be fine. It’s probably not important. Maybe I won the lottery or
something.” In spite of my attempt at infusing humor to take off the heat, my voice
didn’t quite manage to hide my nervousness. Luckily, Sylvie always knew when to
make me feel better.

She wrapped her arm around my shoulder and leaned in
conspiratorially. “Tomorrow’s your first day at the new office, huh?” I nodded,
unsure where she was heading with this, and let her continue. “We never really
got a chance to celebrate.”

And that’s when her intentions became clear. She wanted to
party. Of course.

“Oh.”

She nodded, and a huge smile lit up her big blue eyes.
“Yeah.”

I shook my head, laughing. “No, Sylvie. I can’t. Not today.”

“Just one drink. I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer.” She
pursed her lips and scrunched up her face to give me a puppy look worthy of an
Oscar. I knew her tricks. One drink never ever literally equaled one drink, but
she was my friend, and I hadn’t seen her in two weeks. Vowing to stick with
soda and be back before nine, I grinned at her. “All right. But if you get
drunk, I’m not helping you home.”

“You won’t have to. You know I’m not a lightweight. Unlike
you. I should text Jett to join us, just in case you need a hot guy to tuck you
into bed.” She winked. “Like last time.”

“You
texted
him?”
My cheeks flamed up.

“Someone had to invite him to join our crew. After your hot
night together, I thought I was doing you a favor,” Sylvie said, sheepishly.

Oh, god.

“As my best friend, it’s your duty to ask me before making
such a huge decision.” I pondered whether to be grateful, angry, or downright
mortified. In the end, a mixture of all three won. “And you should have told me
you got his number.”

“Well, someone had to get it for you since you didn’t have
the guts to ask him about it. Thank me later.”

I stared after her, open-mouthed, as she rushed out of my
room sporting a self-satisfied smirk.

Manhattan was abuzz with life at any given time of the day,
but this morning it seemed as though half of it had gathered in the elevators
of Trump Tower, waiting to be beamed up into the corporate world. Waving my
temporary security clearance card, I swooshed past security, and fought my way
through the crowd of expensive haircuts, tailored suits, and high-fashion
accessories. At eight
a.m.
sharp, I
pushed through the heavy glass double-door to enter the Mayfield Realties
lobby, holding my head high and my back straight, even though the throbbing
pain in my temples was nearly strong enough to make me puke. Of course joining
Sylvie in her quest to get hammered had been a mistake, and I shouldn’t have
trusted she’d stop after one drink, but as usual I had let her persuade me. And
while I stayed true to my conviction to stay away from alcohol, the jet lag and
subsequent lack of sleep had pretty much the same effect on me as an all-night
bender. It had taken me an hour to shower, dress in one of my best suits, twist
my hair up in a presentable knot, and apply makeup—enough to cover the
dark circles around my eyes and the unnatural pallor of my skin, but not so
much I would look like I was trying to woo the boss.

The brunette who had greeted me on my first visit was
standing behind the reception desk, whispering into a sleek silver device I
assumed was the newest and probably one of the most expensive phones on the
market. Soft music intermingled with the sound of splashing raindrops echoed in
the background, giving the impression I was entering my doctor’s office. I
swallowed hard and neared the brunette receptionist, not really expecting her
to recognize me. To my delight, instant recognition sparked in her eyes, and
she rewarded me with a pearl-white, warm smile.

“Miss Stewart—”

“Please call me Brooke,” I said, figuring I could use a new
friend at work.

Her smile widened. “Brooke. I’m Emma. Mr. Townsend hasn’t
arrived yet, but I’d be happy to show you to your office.” Not waiting for my
answer, she led the way down the corridor, and then turned the right corner at
the huge plant I admired the last time. I followed a step behind her, through a
broad corridor with see-through offices on both sides. The glass walls provided
no privacy from prying eyes. It didn’t bother me in the slightest. Since my
desk at Sunrise Properties had been situated in the middle of a wide, open
space within James’s shouting range, I was used to having people around me at
all times.

“Did you have a nice trip?” Resuming her small talk, Emma
shot me a glance over her shoulder. My face caught fire as countless memories
flooded through my mind. It had been a great trip, definitely one I’d never
forget.

Grateful she couldn’t see me, I nodded. “Yes, thank you.
Italy’s beautiful.”

“That’s true.” Her brief chuckle and sudden bounce to her
stride made me avert my attention from my surroundings to gawk at her. She was
tall with slim legs, a well-defined waist, and glossy brunette hair that
reached down her back. She was pretty, and I wondered whether she was Jett’s
type. The thought of Jett kissing her sparked an instant pang of jealousy.

“Have you been?” I asked, focusing hard to keep the bite out
of my tone. Even if Jett took her with him to Italy, it was before we met. His
past was none of my business, and I wouldn’t concern myself with it, just like
he wouldn’t meddle in my affairs.

“Last summer.”

I swallowed hard to get rid of the sudden choking sensation
in my throat. I was over analyzing. A few friends of mine had been to Europe, so
what? Her statement didn’t have to mean anything.

“Lake Como was divine,” Emma continued. “And even though it’s
just a lake and doesn’t really have a proper beach, I liked the privacy of it.”

Shit. She was there—at Jett’s private place, which
meant they most certainly spent the night in the same house rather than in a
hotel. Bile rose in my throat, and the throb inside my head turned up a notch,
as I imagined her in his bed.

“His place is heavenly, isn’t it?” she gushed. “
He
showed me everything.”

My stomach twisted into tiny knots as pangs of jealousy hit
me with full force. Emma stopped in front of another glass office and turned to
face me, unaware of the hurricane wracking havoc with my insides. Her smile was
still in place, and a tiny glint played in her eyes as she continued down
memory lane. “Did you get to visit the beach?”

“Once.” I blushed again at the memory of Jett perched
between my legs, lapping at my lady parts for the first time. He had such a
gifted tongue, it couldn’t possibly be an innate talent. He must have gained
the experience from somewhere, which drew my attention back to Emma, and my
initial fondness for her began to dissipate into thin air. Maybe being friends
with her wasn’t such a bright idea after all. I walked past her into the room,
suddenly intimidated by her infectious smile and her perky ass.

“Is this my office?”

When she nodded, I tossed my handbag on the desk and slumped
into my swivel chair. Booting up the desktop computer, I figured she’d get the
hint and leave. Unfortunately, Emma seemed to have taken an instant liking to
me and harbored no such plan. She popped into the leather guest chair opposite
from me and crossed her sky-high legs, triggering another pang of jealousy. It
wasn’t her fault she was so gorgeous, and I sure couldn’t blame Jett for being
attracted to her. Heck, even I liked what I saw, when I had never been one to
show bisexual tendencies.

Emma leaned forward and lowered her voice conspiratorially.
“Between you and me, Mr. Mayfield has hinted he might be taking me again this
summer.”

My breath caught in my throat.

Over my dead body.

I smiled a saccharine smile so sweet I felt sick just
imagining it. “Isn’t he generous?”

“Yes.” Sighing, she brushed her hair back. “The house
belongs to his son though, and he’s not so keen on Mr. Mayfield popping over.”
She trailed off, letting me fill in the blanks.

Son?

My eyes narrowed on her as my head put two and two together,
and a flash of relief washed over me. She was talking about Jett’s father.

“Isn’t Robert Mayfield married?” I was vaguely aware of the
idiotic grin on my face, but I couldn’t help it. Jett wasn’t a whore—his
father was, which was perfectly acceptable as long as he hadn’t passed that
trait to Jett.

“He’s been divorced for a few years. Told me he was heartbroken
because his wife cheated on him, and this is the reason why he won’t remarry so
soon again,” Emma said, probably believing every word that womanizer told her.
She didn’t even know he was the cheater and not his ex-wife.

I nodded, playing along, because having one Sylvie in my
life was enough. I didn’t need more friends who’d drag me to the local bar
whenever yet another unfaithful guy broke up with them. But she was the only
person I knew here and, most importantly, she wasn’t sleeping with Jett, so I
figured I wouldn’t mind her tagging along. “Do you drink?”

“Not often.”

An evening in Sylvie’s company and that would change in a
heartbeat.

“I’m meeting a few friends for after-dinner drinks on Friday
night. You should come. You and my friend Sylvie will have lots in common.”

Her smile beamed back into place. “Thanks. I’d love to.”

We chatted for a few more minutes, during which Emma
introduced me to my working schedule before she returned to the reception desk.
At eight-thirty, the hall began to fill with people. Some walked past, ignoring
me. Others peered in to introduce themselves, eyeing me up and down as though
to determine whether I was fit for the job. These were the big players in real
estate. While the prospect of meeting them had scared me two weeks ago, I found
them no more intimidating than Sylvie’s hair stylist, who kept pursing his lips
in sheer horror every time he caught a glimpse of my unruly locks.

By nine
a.m.
the
soothing background music was replaced with the shrill ringing of phones. I
began to skim through Jett’s meeting schedule for the day, officially starting
my first day of work at Mayfield Realties as Jett’s personal assistant, when a
tall figure appeared at the periphery of my vision.

“Brooke, a word please.”

My head snapped sharply in Jett’s direction, and my heart
jumped into my throat.

Holy cow.

He was steaming hot. With that disheveled bedhead, broad
shoulders, strong chest, and moss-green gaze of his—he belonged on the
front page of a fashion magazine. He was dressed in a black well-tailored
business suit, white shirt, and a black silk tie. His trademark upper button
was undone, allowing a glimpse of bronze, smooth skin. Skin I had licked and
trailed with my fingertips all the way down his smooth torso to the narrow line
of dark hair that—

“Brooke?” His tone was detached, but the flicker in his eyes
betrayed his amusement.

He knew I found him attractive, and he made no secret of it.
Damn him and his inflated ego. Somewhere in the back of my mind, it registered
that I was still staring. But as much as I tried, I couldn’t peel my eyes off
him. The way his slacks rode low on his hips, emphasizing a bulge and strong
quadriceps, reminded me I had rode on those thighs merely twelve hours ago.
I could still taste his skin on my lips as we moved in
perfect unison. Damn! Why couldn’t I get the picture of him naked out of my
head?

“You want me to come to your office?” Stupid question since
he’d already said so.

He nodded slowly. “Only if you don’t mind.”

“Okay.” I jumped to my feet and wiped my clammy hands on the
front of my skirt nervously. Jett held the door open and motioned me to walk
past, not moving an inch. I squeezed myself between his towering body and the
hard doorframe, my ass brushing the front of his slacks, sending my dirty mind
into a frenzy.

“This space is crammed. No wonder people can’t wait to get
the hell out of here for an early release,” Jett whispered.

My gaze flew up to meet his. His poker face was still in
place, but his eyes seemed to poke fun at me.

“I like crammed places,” I muttered through gritted teeth,
and headed down the corridor into what I hoped was the right direction.

“Shame,” Jett whispered behind me.

Trying my hardest to ignore my acute awareness of him, I
inhaled a sharp breath and held it as I slowly counted to five. It was my way
to keep my calm in the face of a storm, only this storm was raging right inside
my panties.

“Next door to your right,” Jett said.

Even without his instructions, I would have been able to
distinguish his office from his co-workers because it was the only one boasting
blinds that were half-drawn.

Amazed by the design, I stepped into the large room and
stopped to admire his workspace. His office resembled the one in his house in
Bellagio, minus the mountain views, expensive art, and personal touch. A
polished wood desk and swivel chair were set up in front of the window
overlooking New York’s skyscrapers. To my right was a huge sofa in chocolate
brown leather and a glass table. To my left was a closed door that blended in seamlessly
with the light gray wall. Two large palm trees and a minibar gave the
impression of a laid-back attitude which, given Jett’s reputation, couldn’t be
farther from the truth.

“You don’t work here very often, do you?” I turned to face
Jett and instantly regretted it. My statement sounded like he didn’t work at
all. The same thought probably crossed his mind, and his green eyes immediately
darkened. An instant later, it was gone and his lips stretched into a hint of a
smile.

“What gives me away?”

Swallowing past the sudden need in my throat, I pointed
around me. “The barely used couch. The plants someone probably picked up at
Plantworks
. The fact that there’s barely
anything on your desk.”

“Good observation skills, Ms. Stewart. I’m impressed.”

His flattery shouldn’t have had the effect it had on me, and
yet I found myself grinning, pleased like punch that Jett Mayfield thought I
had good observation skills. “You should see what other skills I have in
store,” I purred, not quite sure where I was heading with this.

His brow quirked up, and an amused glint appeared in his
eyes. “I was planning to…right after discussing new developments in the
Lucazzone case. Now that you’re mentioning it, checking your skills is a
priority indeed.”

Ever so slowly, he closed the blinds and locked the door,
sending my insides into a raging storm.
A
delicious shiver rocked my body. As our eyes connected, a heated ache began to
throb between my legs.

Sweet mercy. He
wouldn’t do it here, would he?

With measured steps he inched closer, pushing me against the
hard edge of his desk. I fought for breath, suddenly panting even though he
hadn’t even touched me yet.