Playing Mr. Right

Her eyebrows lifted and he couldn’t help the smug sense of satisfaction that crept through him. Laurel wasn’t so easy to surprise. He’d have to repeat that a whole bunch more, simply because he liked the idea of knocking her off balance before she did it to him.

“Well, then, I have to say yes to strategizing.”

Innuendo dripped from her voice and the suggestion pinged around inside him, doing interesting things down below. He let the charged moment drag out because it suited him and then smiled. “Wear black.”

“Duh. You, too,” she suggested with a once-over that clearly said she found his jeans and T-shirt lacking in some way.

“I’ve been to my share of society events. I think I’m good.” Finally, he’d have a chance to slip back into his old self, the one that wore three-thousand-dollar suits to the office as a matter of course. He could even pull his Yacht-Master out of the box in his closet. “See you at seven thirty.”

She lifted her chin in amused acknowledgment that he’d won that round and took off to do whatever female rituals she’d lined up to get herself ready for tonight.

Xavier was dressed in his favorite tux by seven, but forced himself to cool his heels. Laurel did not need any ammunition, and showing up early would clue her in as to how much he’d been anticipating this not-a-date—and not just because he had an agenda of his own for the evening. He wanted to see her.

Labels were simply a mechanism to drive them both toward what they wanted using acceptable parameters. They’d be spending the evening together in formal wear, eating dinner and attending an art show, all of which could lead to something very good. Sure, it was pitched as an opportunity to scout out how another charity did fundraising, but they were both adults who shared a sizzling attraction.

There was no reason he couldn’t enjoy the results of seducing her, even if his motives weren’t entirely pure. Women who hid things didn’t get to be self-righteous about how their secrets came to light.

Besides, if she hadn’t wanted to play with fire, she’d have picked a fundraising field trip with a lot fewer matches. Like the 5k run through Highland Park that the Chicago Children’s Advocacy Center had on tap for tomorrow. No chance to get the slightest bit cozy in the middle of the day while sweating your butt off. Probably that’s what they should have signed up for.

But he had to be honest and admit that he liked a good fire, himself. As long as he was the one controlling the flame.

The moment he rang Laurel’s doorbell at 7:31, she swung it open as if she’d been standing there waiting. Clearly she had no qualms about letting him know she’d been eagerly anticipating his arrival. And then his brain registered the woman. Whatever illusion he’d cooked up that had given him the idea he might have the slightest iota of control vanished like smoke in a hurricane.

Holy hell. “Laurel...”

His brain couldn’t form coherent sentences after that. She was so far past gorgeous that she bordered on ethereal. Angelic. Something a man with far more poetry in his soul than Xavier LeBlanc would have to immortalize because all he could think was wow.

Black was Laurel’s color. There was something about it that paired with her skin and eyes to make both luminous. The dress was exactly the right length to be considered modest, but also to make a man wishful. And her stilettos—sexy enough to make his teeth ache along with the rest of his body.

“I got lucky,” she said with a laugh, like everything was fine and his entire world hadn’t just been knocked from its axis. “This was the first dress I tried on and the price tag wasn’t the equivalent of my mortgage.”

“It’s...” Perfect. But his tongue went numb. He swallowed. What the hell was wrong with him? It was just a dress. With a woman inside it. He’d participated in hundreds of similar scenarios where he’d picked up a date at her door.

But none of them had ever intrigued him as much as this one. None of them had irritated him beyond the point of reason. None of them had caught him off guard as many times in a row as Laurel. None of them had stirred something inside that he couldn’t explain or even fully acknowledge.

It was far past time to stop ignoring it and start figuring out how to deal with it.

Because he still didn’t trust her. No matter what. He couldn’t think of her as a hot date or he’d never regain an ounce of control—and he needed control to get through the evening. She was his companion for a fundraising research trip. Nothing more.

“You look great,” he said and cleared his throat. That husky quality in his voice would not do. “If you’re ready?”

He extended a hand toward the limousine at her curb and waited as she locked the door behind her, then he followed her down the sidewalk, trying to keep his eyes off her extremely nice rear. The dress wasn’t backless but it did dip down into a V beneath her hair, which she had worn down. She didn’t seem to ever put it up, which he appreciated. Hair like hers should never be hidden in a ponytail or bun.

And he’d veered right back into thinking of her as a woman instead of his partner in all things fundraising. The problem was that she wasn’t really his partner and he didn’t want her in that role. But he had to do something with her now that she’d shuffled off daily operations to Adelaide, if for no other reason than because Val liked her and had asked Xavier to keep her around. Dinner and an art show it was, then.

The atmosphere in the limo bordered on electric, and he cursed the fact that he’d specifically instructed his staff to skip the champagne because this wasn’t a date. It would have been nice to have something to occupy his hands.

Come on. You’re better than this.

“LaGrange is an interesting restaurant choice,” he said more smoothly than his still-tingling tongue should have allowed. “A favorite?”

Laurel shrugged, drawing attention to her bare shoulders. They were creamy and flawless, like her long legs. This field trip was either the worst idea ever conceived or sheer brilliance. He couldn’t decide which.

“I’ve never been able to score a table there, but oddly enough, when I throw your name around, people jump.” She winked. “Don’t judge, but I’m enjoying my ride on the Xavier LeBlanc train.”

Hell on a horse. The train hadn’t even left the station yet and she was already impressed? He bit back forty-seven provocative responses about what else might be in store for a woman on his arm and opted for what hopefully passed as a smile. “I know the owner of LaGrange. Not everyone jumps when I say jump.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” she murmured. “You seem like the type who takes no prisoners. Tell me about running LeBlanc Jewelers. I bet you’re magnificent in the boardroom.”

As ego strokes went, that one could have done some damage, but he’d caught the slightly off-color tinge to her tone. She was fishing for something. That alone put an interesting spin on the conversation. He couldn’t help but indulge her, mostly to see if he could trip her up enough to spill bits of her agenda.

“I’m magnificent in every room.” He let that sink in, gratified by her instant half smile that said she caught the innuendo. “But in the boardroom, I do my job. Nothing more.”

“So modest. I read up on LeBlanc Jewelers. It’s almost a billion-dollar company, up nearly 20 percent since you took over five years ago. That’s impressive.”

The reminder tripped some not-so-pleasant internal stuff that he’d rather not dwell on tonight. “Again. That’s my job. If I didn’t do it well, the board wouldn’t let me keep it. What about you? Once we organize a fundraiser for LBC and I go back to LeBlanc Jewelers, what do you envision yourself doing?”

Val wouldn’t keep her in the role of fundraiser, or, at least, Xavier didn’t think he would. Honestly, he didn’t know what Val might do and that was at least half Xavier’s problem. The inner workings of his brother’s mind had interested him even less than LBC, and that had left him clueless when thrust into this new role. Xavier had helped Val through some sticky mining contracts, and Val had sat in on the interview with Laurel, but then they’d drifted back into their respective corners. Their relationship didn’t feel any more cohesive. Maybe by design.