Flirting With Disaster (8 page)

If anyone was going to ruin her, by damn, it was going to be him…again.

Nine

“There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle.”

Albert Einstein

S
tanding in the entryway of the large dining room, Jude rubbed her palms against her thighs, compressed in the ecru skirt she’d chosen for dinner. Castle Alainn truly was magical. The soaring beamed ceiling supported ornate, crystal chandeliers. Sparkling light spread throughout the room like glitter. Second story balconies gave the atmosphere that true old world feel.

“We have a date.”

She flinched and inhaled Beck’s familiar woodsy cologne. Amazing how, when attracted to a potential mate, the human species could tell who they were without seeing them, and be stimulated sexually by their scent. “We no longer have an arrangement, Mr. Beckette. You deceived me and I cannot enter into any contract with a person I do not trust.”
And am hopelessly attracted to.

“I didn’t deceive you. You jumped to conclusions all on your own, Sweetheart. Isn’t that in your studies somewhere? How, when a person wants something so bad, they see what they want to see?”

Jude sneered at him over her shoulder. She should have never looked. He was impeccable in a charcoal suit, black shirt and black tie. So typically
Phantom of the Opera.
“What I want is no longer any of your concern.”

She needed to keep her wits about her. Any further emotional enticement toward this beautiful, dark creature would incite the dissolution of her plans.

She gasped as his cheek brushed hers from behind. His scar branded her, marked her, made every nerve tingle with need to be a soothing balm that tore the shadows from his eyes.

“Jude.” His breath was warm, his voice the decadence of thick, rich chocolate. “Everything you do is my concern. There is no reasoning this away. It’s too late to avoid our inevitable connection.”

She needed to break his spell. She turned and confronted his magnificent face. “Our inevitable connection has no bearing on my choices. Emotional connection is cumbersome, capricious, emotive. I want disconnected sex, which means I don’t want you anymore.”

His succulent lips tipped up at the corners, one side slightly askew due to the mysterious scar. “There is no such thing.”

He leaned in, a mere centimeter away from touching her lips with his, and waited, staring intently into her eyes, reading her mind, delving into all her secret desires. He knew…knew she wanted him with her every breath. Knew she found herself lacking. That she’d want forever and a man like Beckette…whatever…would only want one night. He was a loner, an injured soul harboring his grief. Her plans called for a shallow, unfeeling cyborg
. 

He placed a scarred hand along her face and touched his cheek to hers. “And Miss Jude Duffy, I want
you
.”

He kissed her softly on the neck then turned and left with a flip of his invisible vampire cape.

Jude stood frozen, speechless and tingling.

“Miss Duffy?” She startled at the whiny, high-pitched voice of The Hulk at her shoulder. She turned and plastered on a smile, reaffirming the most pertinent course toward her goal. An emotionless, indifferent, unthinking, idiot. Someone she’d feel no regret over, forget in no time.

“Hello, Mr. Fantome.”

“Call me Dick, please. Everyone does.” He shot her that too-white smile, in that fake tan face.

“I’m sure.” She took the arm he offered and followed him to their table. This was going to be a long, exhausting night, but there were usually many in the face of research and attaining one’s goals.

* * * *

Beck took his place on the hidden balcony above the dining room. He pulled out the bench to the baby grand and sat as he tried to calm his nerves. He had a perfect view of the woman he couldn’t get out of his mind.

She was a romantic. And he was nothing but a cynical jackass. A self-destructive, heartless asshole who was about to commit yet another selfish act. While he wanted Jude with every breath, what he should do was to stay far away and leave her to her safe, silly little dreams.

Especially since she was trying to save him.

She saw him as a mourning widower who might be hurt by a clandestine affair.

And yet, he was going to fuck it all up by sleeping with the most intriguing, irresistible woman he’d ever met, and then leave before he tore her life apart like he did so many others.

It was his only option. Get in and get out.

Could she handle it? Could he?

He didn’t have time to ponder the questions. She’d set her sights on Fantome. A man Beck couldn’t trust to be gentle. Beck would give her what she wanted then let her take her newfound knowledge into the future. A safe future. A future without him. And he’d carry the memory of her with him into his lonely abyss.

He placed his hands on the keyboard and got lost in the music that was such a part of his life. He couldn’t play in front of other people. Not anymore. He’d refused since Elizabeth had died. Music was a reminder of his how his destructive ways had killed her. It had become a window to his barren soul. But here, in the shadows, he could let the songs take him away without anyone in the dining room knowing whose soul was being bared behind the notes.

* * * *

“So, my current net worth is one point two million.” The Hulk was killing her with his garlic breath and the apparent need to lean as close as possible whenever he spoke so he could glance down her blouse. Ignoramus.

“That’s wonderful.” She sipped at her second Long Island Iced Tea. She was becoming rather fond of the drink. Especially tonight. Alcohol might be the only thing that kept her sane.

Fantome smiled as the waiter arrived and placed a new drink next to Jude’s plate. “So, what’s your favorite kind of music, Sweet Cheeks. Rap? Maybe Rock and Roll?”

Oh, for God’s sake. It was like she was on the speed version of “Teen Jeopardy.” “I prefer classical or vintage rock.
Unchained Melody
would be one of my favorites but, I have to say, I have a true affinity for The Beatles. My parents always sang
Hey Jude
to me before bed.” She tasted the new drink and glanced at the waiter. “What’s this?”

“Sparkling water sent by a secret admirer.” He winked then took his leave.

Thank goodness her cell phone beeped, as The Hulk asked which was her favorite, SpongeBob or Patrick. She had no idea whom he was speaking of so she just smiled and looked at the text.

Did you know when you’re frustrated you purse your lips and create the sexiest dimple to the left of your mouth?

Jude inhaled.

And did you realize when you discuss your work your eyes sparkle with mischief and wonder?

Who is this?
She texted back. As if she already didn’t know.

If your dinner date looks down your shirt one more time I’m going to hit him…again. You’ve had enough liquor tonight.

Jude glanced around the room. Of course, Mr. Beckette wouldn’t be here. He was an employee. But he was watching from somewhere like a ghost in the night.

How did you get my number?

I have my ways.

She smiled.
Stop bothering me. I’m on a date.

He’s not a date, he’s a punishment.
Is he regaling you with an account of his comic book collection and video game scores?

Jude laughed.
I’m hanging up now
.

Finish your dinner and meet me in my room at ten.

ABSOLUTELY NOT!

Wow, CAPS LOCK. You are in a saucy mood. Perfect for what I have planned. Do you want to know what that is, Ms. Duffy?
You’re going to tell me what you want. Every intimate detail. Dirty talk? I’ll give it to you. You want gentle or to be fucked hard, that’s what you’ll get. Be naked on my bed in one hour. There are places on your body that need my attention. Places I’ve fantasized about. Places that make me hard every time I’m near you. It’s time you took care of that.

Jude dropped the phone like it had spontaneously combusted. Shit, the sensuality in his voice echoed right through the letters. The man was a villain. A monster. A multifaceted, sexy, irresistible temptation.

Caps lock is not saucy. It indicates rage and anger. Now leave me alone. My date and I are having a wonderful time.

I doubt discussing the attributes of SpongeBob wearing underwear is stimulating conversation. Are you wearing underwear?

“Damn spying waiter,” Jude mumbled.

There is something about you… Something that makes me want to…overcome. You’ve enchanted me, Jude Duffy.

No, no, no. She didn’t want to enchant him. She didn’t want to be drawn in by his wounded soul. She just wanted sex. Sex and a baby. That’s it. If she gave in, she’d fall in love. And he’d get over his lustful infatuation by the end of the week and tear out her heart.

That’s a lot of responsibility on me.

Who was she kidding? She was already falling for him. Ridiculous.

She held the phone in the air to be sure he saw her click the power button. “Now, Mr. Fantome, are you currently in a relationship? Have you recently been tested for sexually transmitted diseases?”

What the hell was she saying? The beautiful piano music slowly shifted into
Unchained Melody
. The sensual chords were more drawn out than the popular rendition, the new version eerie and lovely and yearning. That song had the Count written all over it. Damn the man. Was there anything he couldn’t do? Oh yeah, fall in love with her.

She sat captured by the seductive aria until a deep tenor from the man who wanted to
overcome
floated around the rafters.

I’ve hungered for your touch…

She silently recited the entire song along with him. Words she’d always wished applied to her.

God speed your love to me…

At the conclusion, after her emotions had been ripped, torn and shredded by what would never be, after a fatal burst of God-I-could-love-this-man erupted in her chest, she slammed her fork down and leaned back in her chair. “I’m not feeling well, Mr. Fantome.”

“It’s Dick.”

She smirked. “Yes, it is. Do you mind if we call it a night?” She stood and gathered her belongings, then rushed toward the lobby to escape to her room and regroup.

As she rounded the corner, she bumped directly into her phantom. His scent, emanating from the warmth of his chest, enveloped her in a fog of precocious need.

She stepped back and straightened her blouse, hoping to emotionally distance herself from Beck and his assault on her senses. “I didn’t know you were so musically talented.”

“It’s a gift I don’t often share.” A rueful smile played across his lips. One that seemed forced. As if he’d shared some clandestine confession.

She understood. Certain activities churned up heart-wrenching pain for those with great loss. How long did one need to suffer? Her eyes locked on his. She was done suffering, done with cowardice. “Do you believe in love, Mr. Beckette?” If he did, would she consider taking a shot at love again?

His head tilted, and he gazed at her as if looking upon a silly, naive child. “For others, maybe.”

She ignored the clench of her heart, her courage receding. “Yes, that’s what I thought.” She needed to protect herself from falling in love with any more emotionally unavailable men. It was time to give up. To focus on her goal and have a child she could love and be loved by.

She tried to maneuver past him, but he caught her around the waist with one arm. The pocket of her suit jacket ripped, and she slipped it off to examine the damage.

He pulled the jacket from her hands. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t know if he meant for the jacket or for not being what she wanted him to be.