Covet (30 page)

In his work as a reporter, Peter relied on his instincts and powers of observation, and a few minutes before dinner was served he became aware of someone watching him – or rather, watching
them
. But each time he glanced around to see who it might be, there didn’t appear to be anyone looking their way. He wasn’t able to shake that niggling little feeling, however, that
someone
was observing them very closely, and he fought off the urge to shiver in reaction.

“Tessa. A pleasure to see you here this evening.”

Peter didn’t miss the look on Tessa’s face at the sound of the deep, precise British accent – a combination of surprise, uncertainty, and pleasure. Still clutching his arm, she urged him to turn around and face the owner of that voice – easily the most compelling yet intimidating man Peter had ever seen before.

He was wearing a tuxedo, like many of the other men here this evening, and even though Peter knew next to nothing about clothes and fashion he could recognize the quality of this man’s evening attire, guessing that it had been custom made. The dark haired man virtually towered over Peter – and Tessa as well, since she was wearing flats tonight. His upper crust accent didn’t seem to fit with his broad-shouldered, muscular frame – a body that seemed as though it would belong instead to a professional athlete or dedicated weight lifter.

He had classically handsome features – a strong jaw, firm mouth, intense hazel eyes – and thick, expertly cut dark hair. He practically radiated power, as well as a bucketload of charisma, and Peter had never been more miserably aware of his own physical shortcomings as he was at that moment. But then, he consoled himself, just about every man in this room tonight – hell, in this
city
– would come up short when compared to this man.

“Mr. Gregson.” Tessa’s voice was respectful, soft, more than a little awed. It was obvious that she, too, felt the pull of this man’s attraction. “Yes, um, you too, sir. Um, this is my husband, Mr. Gregson. Peter – this is ah, my – my boss.”

It all made perfect sense now, thought Peter as he reached out a hand towards the other man. The reason this man gave off such an aura of wealth and power was because he
was
wealthy and powerful. Soon after Tessa had started working at the Gregson resort in Tucson, Peter had done quite a bit of research on the company. He knew that the luxury hotel chain was worth billions, and that the company was a private, family-owned one. As one of the heirs to the company, Ian Gregson’s personal fortune had to be staggering.
His
wife – if he had one – would never have to buy her clothes from a discount store, or scrimp and save to buy a replacement toaster, or worry if there would be enough money in the checking account to cover all their bills that month. Someone like Ian Gregson would cherish a woman like Tessa, would lavish her with everything her heart desired – including a normal, healthy sexual relationship, and the baby that Peter knew she longed to have one day.

Peter couldn’t help wincing just a bit at the firm, strong grip of Ian Gregson’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Gregson. Ah, nice party, too.”

Ian gave him a polite smile as he released his hand. “A pleasure to meet you, too, Peter. Ah, the call is being made for dinner, I see, so I’ll let the two of you get to your table. I hope that you both enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Tessa’s eyes were downcast, her rosy cheeks flushed an even deeper pink, as she murmured softly, “Thank you, Mr. Gregson. You – you, too, sir.”

The look Ian Gregson gave Tessa was brief, fleeting, almost imperceptible, but Peter was positive that it was a look of both tenderness and desire. He resisted the urge to smile as he realized that even a man as regal and powerful as Ian Gregson was besotted with Tessa, charmed by her pure, innocent beauty and kind heart.

Tess, of course, was completely oblivious to the fact that her intimidating employer was attracted to her. She had such a low opinion of herself – something that drove Peter a little crazy and that he constantly tried to change – that she would never in a million years believe that someone like Ian Gregson would even notice her, much less desire her.

But Peter believed it, for he knew better than anyone what a rare, special woman his wife was. And it was the biggest regret of his life that he couldn’t come close to being the sort of man she deserved.

Ian downed the rest of his wine, and then immediately reached for the bottle of the very expensive cabernet sauvignon so that he could refill his glass. He was aware that he’d had quite a bit more to drink this evening than was normal for him, but it was the only way to combat the burning, unreasonable jealousy that was threatening to break his ironclad control. He’d been fighting to maintain his unstable emotions all evening – ever since he’d spied Tessa clinging lovingly to the arm of that – that -
boy
.

He had always assumed that her husband would be as attractive as she was – tall and well-built, handsome, someone who would be her equal in looks and desirability. He’d been shocked, therefore, to get his first glimpse of Peter Lockwood – the young man to whom Tessa appeared completely devoted. Peter had been of medium height, a bit shorter than his wife, and slight enough to be deemed skinny. His complexion had been pale, his hair rather lank and pulled back into a low ponytail, with a small gold hoop in one of his earlobes.

Ian usually tried very hard not to act like a snob, despite his privileged upbringing and the high standard of living he enjoyed. But he was certainly very familiar with clothes and designers, and was rather fastidious about his own personal wardrobe. He’d been a little appalled, therefore, to notice Peter’s wrinkled, mismatched coat and slacks, and guessed that the younger man’s shirt and tie had been equally as inexpensive as the rest of his outfit. Peter was sadly out of place in these surroundings, and had acted as though he longed to be anywhere but here this evening. Ian assumed that Peter had only agreed to attend the holiday party to please Tessa, and that right about now he was counting the minutes until the evening could be over.

‘Probably anxious as hell to get her back home and into his bed,’ thought Ian darkly. ‘God knows if she was mine I’d want to lock her inside my room for days at a time.’

But as he continued to observe the married couple – with extreme discretion, of course – it didn’t seem that they were overtly affectionate with each other. Peter in particular never made an attempt to touch his wife, neither holding her hand or putting an arm around her shoulders. Occasionally Tessa would place her hand lightly on his arm to get his attention, and Ian could swear that Peter had actually flinched at the contact once or twice. He noticed that Peter drank only water, while Tessa had nursed the same glass of chardonnay throughout the entire meal. Both of them seemed more than a little uncomfortable in the presence of Tessa’s co-workers and their guests, especially since most of the group looked to be drinking rather heavily.

‘She should be here with me,’ he thought rather sullenly. “Here as my date, seated by my side, acting as my hostess this evening. And wearing a gown that’s far more worthy of her beauty.”

Not, of course, that Tessa didn’t look as lovely as ever this evening. The dress she wore had a sleeveless, wrapover top of cream lace, and a black fitted skirt that ended a few inches above the knee. The short hem showed off more of her long, shapely legs than any of her office dresses or skirts did, but the effect was somewhat spoiled by the plain, flat black shoes. Presumably she’d worn the unflattering footwear so that she wouldn’t be even taller than her husband, who was already an inch or two shorter than she was. And while the dress showcased her tempting curves to their best advantage, there was little doubt that the garment had been inexpensive and was nowhere near as elegant or formal as most of the other women’s gowns this evening.

At the office she often wore her hair pulled back into a neat coil or a thick braid, but tonight the thick blonde curls tumbled about her shoulders and more than halfway down her back in glorious abundance. She wore a bit more makeup than usual, but still had that fresh-faced glow that only the very young – or the genetically blessed – possessed. Her cheeks were flushed, likely from the wine, and her full, kissable mouth glossed over in a shiny mocha shade. Ian longed to wrap a thick strand of that beautiful hair around his fist, enough so that he could tug her head back and then claim that lush mouth in a deep, possessive kiss.

He shifted a bit awkwardly in his seat, very much aware of his growing arousal as he continued to sneak furtive peeks at the girl who haunted his dreams far too frequently. He finished his glass of wine, thought about pouring another, and instead motioned a waiter over to order a brandy. Ian was already well over the amount of alcohol he normally permitted himself to consume in one evening – as disciplined about that as he was about every other aspect of his life – and he was grateful that he’d arranged for his chauffeur to drive him home this evening.

His date – or more accurately, his escort – this evening was Kimberly Beaumont, a local news anchor. Kim was a few years older than he was, striking and stylish as opposed to classically beautiful. Her reddish blonde hair was cut in a short, feathery style, her makeup expertly applied, and her tall, slender frame clothed in a sophisticated evening gown of jade green silk. Kim was extremely witty and engaging, very much at ease in social situations like tonight, and Ian enjoyed her company very much. She was also very happily married to a close friend and associate of his – a man who had been battling Parkinson’s disease for several years now.

Ian had met Charlie Beaumont soon after moving to San Francisco, and taken an instant liking to the affable, jovial older man. He and Charlie belonged to the same private club, and had golfed together a few times before Charlie’s disease had progressed too far along. They were both on the board of several local charitable organizations, and Charlie and Kim were fellow patrons of the arts. Over the last six months Charlie had become confined to a wheelchair, and it was both physically exhausting and demoralizing for him to leave the house very often. He had always been a physically fit and active man, and he was having a very difficult time in accepting the limits he now had to place on himself.

Kim’s profession, however, called for her to make frequent public appearances and attend numerous social events. When Charlie had become unable to accompany her, he’d pleaded with several of his single friends – Ian included – to act as Kim’s escort on occasion. Ian had been happy to assist, especially since Kim was willing to reciprocate and accompany him to various events – such as tonight’s party. It was a very satisfactory arrangement for both of them, and Ian was grateful to have Kim’s company this evening. Her witty conversational skills provided him with a much needed distraction from his continued obsession with a certain off-limits blonde.

He took a sip of the expensive brandy before letting his gaze drift Tessa’s way yet again. Mentally he re-dressed her in a stunning ball gown – in pale pink or champagne, he thought, or perhaps a jewel shade – garnet, emerald, sapphire. The gown would showcase her perfect figure – displaying a tasteful amount of décolletage, nipping in at the waist, draping over her long legs. He would discard those flat shoes for a pair of sexy, high heeled stilettos. He couldn’t decide if he would leave all of that glorious hair down as it was now, or have it pinned up into some elaborate cascade of curls. And of course she would be wearing jewels – nothing too showy or overwhelming, but just enough to complete the total package. She would look even more irresistible than she did now, like a princess, a queen –
his
queen.

The dancing began just after dessert and coffee had been served, and as Ian guided Kim smoothly about the floor he couldn’t help imagining another female in his arms. He shut his eyes briefly, wondering how Tessa’s soft, curvy body would feel pressed against his, his arm holding her possessively and far closer than Kim was at present. He wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation of burying his face in her thick curls, inhaling deeply of her sweet, intoxicating scent. And then, not particularly giving a damn who noticed or what anyone thought, he would usher her out of the ballroom and up to the owners suite.

Every Gregson hotel and resort featured an ultra-luxe suite, the largest and grandest of all the lavish accommodations available at each property. The owners suites were typically only used by one of the family, though exceptions were made from time to time for a dignitary or celebrity. Ian kept a card key to the local hotel with him at all times, largely for the purposes of entertaining out of town business associates or friends. He did
not
use the suite for one-night stands or other romantic assignations, always determined to uphold the family reputation.

But he would certainly make an exception for his golden girl, wouldn’t hesitate to sweep her upstairs and lock them away from the rest of the world for an hour or so, and it would take a super-human effort to summon up the will to return to the party eventually. As he chanced another quick glance in Tessa’s direction, he pictured her spread out on the suite’s enormous king-sized bed, her glorious hair spilling over the pillows like liquid gold. He would take his time with her, undressing her slowly and savoring each caress, each kiss. Ian had never considered himself a particularly passionate man, had always taken a somewhat clinical approach to sex, and had most definitely remained in total control of his reactions at such times.