Twice Tempted (Holland Springs) Read online

  He’d had fun verbally sparring with her. He’d had fun teasing her, and reading (very clearly) the expressions on her face. She also had a very lovely smile when she wasn’t scowling at him.

  Zoe. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the back of the chair.

  “My name is Vanessa not Zoe.”

  Christian’s eyes popped open. “What?”

  Vanessa’s narrowed and she walked over to stand in front of him. “You called me Zoe when I asked if you wanted to go out with us later.”

  Oh, hell. He examined the shot glass in his hand, trying without success to think of something to say.

  The twins joined in, planting fists on their hips. “Her name is Vanessa.”

  “A very lovely name.” He stood and strode to the bathroom. “This has been most…diverting, but I’ve need of a shower.” Imitating how Sebastian talked should send them scrambling for the elevator.

  “But we haven’t done anything,” Vanessa said.

  “Maybe he’s going to divert us in the shower,” said one of the twins.

  “Sorry, I’ll be diverting by myself,” he said, flashing an apologetic grin.

  Spiked heels clicking on the tiled floor followed him in, but he ignored it. He braced his palms on the vanity top and looked into the mirror only to find them staring expectantly at him.

  “Who’s Zoe?” Vanessa pressed.

  “Do any of you speak French?”

  “No,” they answered in unison.

  “Zoe means awesome in French,” he improvised.

  “We speak American,” Vanessa said with a disgusted look on her face. The twins nodded in agreement.

  He rubbed a hand over his face. “If you ladies will excuse me...”

  Of course, they stayed rooted in place.

  Why couldn’t he be an asshole and make them leave? Because he wasn’t a completely heartless bastard or a hypocrite, that’s why, and he’d been intent on having all sorts of fun with them, before he’d met a prickly brunette with lovely eyes and a thick-as-honey accent.

  Sighing, he walked over to the toilet and shut the door behind him. He closed the lid and sat on top of it. Maybe if he stayed in here for a while, they’d get the hint.

  A knock sounded on the door. Guess not. “I’m busy.”

  One of the women knocked again. Exhaling, he stood and opened the door. The trio stood in his way, blocking his exit. “Can I help you?”

  “Are you okay?” one of the twins asked.

  “Jet lag,” he lied. “I think a shower will help.”

  They moved as a group out of his way, whispering as he snagged a towel. He walked to the shower, turning on the multiple heads before shedding his clothes.

  As they continued to stare, he had an urge to cover himself. “Please don’t wait around for me. Go try your luck at the slots,” he suggested, stepping into the hot blasts of water.

  “Go on, Kylie.” Vanessa shoved her forward.

  “We, like, think that you should, like, introduce us to your friends, Wade and Brennen McGowan. You did say they would be here tonight, right?” Kylie asked. “Vanessa said there would be some producers here, too.”

  Christian grabbed a bar of soap, scrubbing at his skin to wash away the guilt that covered him. Kylie and her sister shouldn’t be here. They should at college parties, not trying to live the Hollywood hype. Vanessa, however, knew exactly what she was doing. As a B-list actress with A-list goals, she’d been playing the be-seen-with-a-celebrity game for years now. It was a game that every actor, male or female, had to play at first.

  He slathered shaving gel on his face. “Yes to all of the above. Brennen and Wade would love it if the three of you joined us tonight.” Well, Brennen would. Wade, however, would probably grunt and cross his arms.

  They clapped and squealed like little girls, almost making him nick his chin as he shaved. “All of you are over twenty-one, aren’t you?” That’s all he needed to place the final nail in the coffin: pictures of him doing coke and under-aged girls in his hotel room. Fantastic.

  All three nodded their heads and he relaxed. Again Kylie answered, “Oh yeah, we’re, like, twenty-three and stuff. Don’t worry it’s all street legal with us.”

  He quirked a brow, his reflection mimicking the movement in the fog resistant mirror hanging on the tiled wall. “Street legal?”

  “You know, like, the game about cars and stuff. We can’t, like, get arrested for partying here ‘cause we’re legal.”

  “That certainly clears things up.” He finished shaving, then leaned against the tiled wall and welcomed the hot water beating down on his body. His head ached and he felt closer to eighty than twenty-six.

  The trio sighed, startling him. He smacked his head against the wall, his eyes watering in pain. “You’re still here?” He blinked a couple of times and rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand.

  “Oh, were we supposed to go?”

  “I thought we were going to watch him diverting.”

  “My ex-boyfriend liked to record me when I’m diverting.”

  Christian wanted to bang his head against the tiles, on purpose this time. Instead, he breathed deeply and gave his signature smile. He got out of the shower, turning off the spigots and wrapping an extra large black towel around his waist. “Be at Shift around eleven tomorrow night. All of you will be on my guest list.”

  That seemed to appease even Vanessa. They gathered their things and headed to the elevator.

  “This is so zoe, Ian Romanov,” Kylie squealed as the elevator doors shut.

  He groaned, rubbing his hand over his face. Stupid, stupid, massively stupid. Zoe was French for awesome? Christ.

  Looking around the room, he zeroed in on the book sitting on a table by the elevator doors. He ambled over and picked it up, rubbing his thumb along the outline of the author’s name and paused.

  Was that a Z?

  He rubbed it again and frowned. Tilting it toward the lamp, he nearly dropped the book when the name caught the light. He barked out a laugh and walked back to his bedroom, tossing it on the dresser. Zoe Ambrose was the author. No damn wonder he’d pissed her off.

  Grabbing his phone, he texted Wade, then sank down into the mattress. A yawn cracked open his jaw.

  Tomorrow. He would find her tomorrow and apologize.

  ***

  Christian forged a wet path with his tongue down to her breasts, sucking on each nipple in turn as he plunged inside of her. God, it felt so good to be in her, to be gripped so tightly that he couldn’t see straight.

  She writhed beneath him, her lush curves an erotic contrast to his. Delicate hands ran up and down his back as he pleasured her. She slipped them beneath the waistband of his trousers to cup his ass, her nails digging in and making him growl.

  He bit the side of her neck and then laved at the spot. She trembled against him.

  “I’m going to come,” her words escaped in a breathless rush.

  Gazing at her, satisfaction filled him when he found the mask she usually wore replaced by the face of Zoe Ambrose.

  He bolted straight up in bed, his body covered in sweat and aching for relief. Cursing, he flopped back down. There was no way he’d be able to sleep. Gripping his cock, he stroked it, bringing back his dream. He focused on her face, her eyes and lips. The way she smelled as he pressed his nose against her neck. She moaned his name and he came, endlessly.

  After cleaning himself up, he fell back to sleep. In what seemed like seconds later, a shrill ringtone had him blindly smacking around for his phone. He found it under the pillow beside him. “Yes?”

  “Where the hell are you?” his agent shouted.

  He winced. “I’m in Vegas at The Oasis in my room and alone in bed, honey.”

  “Don’t you ‘honey’ me. I haven’t heard from you since yesterday,” she said, her voice a bit softer. “Where are you headed tonight?”

  Rubbing his eyes, he tried to get the fog to clear his mind. Was it already morning? “Shift with Wad
e and Brennen.” First, he would find Zoe.

  “Change of plans. You’re going to RARE’s for dinner with some suits from Peak Pictures and my favorite romance author.”

  “We’ve been over this a dozen times: I don’t want to meet with some dried up old biddy who writes for younger dried up biddies in training,” he grumbled.

  “I read those books, Ian. So watch your mouth,” Martha warned. What a surprise. Next, he'd find out that she liked to make money and yell over the phone at him. “The author is one of my clients, you know, and—”

  “Why should I know that? Is it in the fine print of my contract?”

  “Does it matter? Be at the damn restaurant at 8:30 pm and look sharp. No red eyes or glassy stares. Understand, Romanov?” Her voice cracked like a whip as she continued, “Don’t. Be. Late.”

  “No red eyes, no glassy stares and don’t be late,” he repeated. Martha would make his life more of a living hell if he didn’t show up. And those pictures lurked in her inbox, ready at a double-click’s notice to be spread to all major news outlets and gossip columnists.

  “One more thing. The author, old biddy that she is, expressed a preference for you to play the villain, after viewing the readings. Seemed she thought something of your work. Chloe informed her of the dinner yesterday, although Zoe declined.”

  It couldn’t be that simple. He couldn’t be that lucky. “Zoe Ambrose?”

  “Yes. Did you finally read one of the books I sent you?”

  “No.” He glanced over at the floor to ceiling windows. They were covered with a heavy fabric that blocked the morning sun, in order to provide the best sleep experience possible. However, The Oasis hadn’t counted on Martha Alfred’s phone calls.

  “Why she chose you over Wade, who has read her books, clearly boggles the mind.”

  Looked like he had some reading to do. “Clearly.” Pressing the remote beside the bed, the heavy drapes parted. “I happened to have run into Ms. Ambrose at the airport yesterday.”

  Martha continued as if she hadn’t heard him and said, “Only in public. Where people can see you and take pictures. No backroom shenanigans.”

  Backroom shenanigans? He blinked. “What kind of man do you think I am?”

  “You really don’t want me to answer that, do you?” Martha asked.

  “Has that ever stopped you before?”

  “I think is that she would be wonderful for your image.”

  If it had been anyone other than Zoe, he would have argued with her. He would have reminded her on their conversation that had taken places only two days ago. That he was to choose the woman to help him. “Your command is ever my wish.”

  “Spare me your theatrics.”

  “Yes, your highness. Whatever you say, your highness.”

  “God above give me strength.” Christian thought he heard a smile in her voice before she launched into another lecture. “One more thing.” Just how many one more things did the woman have? He popped his neck on each side. “Don’t scare her to death with your scandalous behavior while you’re showing her around Vegas,” Martha said before hanging up.

  Christian smiled at his reflection in the mirror. “I’m back.” Lady Luck was with him in Vegas.

  ***

  Zoe rolled over in bed and stretched, feeling refreshed from a good night’s sleep and an afternoon nap. She had checked into a well-appointed suite at The Oasis, her view of the strip framed by thick drapes.

  It looked like a sinner’s playground, beckoning for visitors to come. To lose themselves in the nightlife. “Ooh, that was a good one.” She reached for a small notebook and pen, scribbling her thought into it so she wouldn’t forget it later.

  Her cell rang and she struggled to answer it, falling off the bed in the process as she hit one of the buttons.

  “Oh, crap! Hello? Hello?”

  “No need to yell,” Martha Alfred gently chastised.

  Zoe blew hair out of her eyes as she righted herself. “Sorry, I dropped my phone.”

  “Feeling more yourself today?”

  “Yeah. Oh, remember how I told you that the airline lost my luggage before I went shopping? After the managers of the boutiques told me that they would deliver my stuff to The Oasis, I got someone else’s clothes, but at least I took my most important bag with me. Have you seen the lingerie stores here?”

  “Glad you took your sweet time getting to your point. I can’t believe you got used clothing? Girlie, that will never do.”

  “The clothes are new, but I didn’t pick them out.”

  “Are they the right size?”

  “Well, yes, but they’re so...” Zoe searched for the right word.

  “So what?”

  Zoe gave up her mental thesaurus search and finally settled for saying, “I can’t dress like that.”

  “Just because you usually dress like a bohemian rhapsody gone wrong doesn’t mean that you can’t shake things up a little. I can only imagine what you had picked out for your meeting and book signing.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with Retro Dayz,” Zoe protested. She loved the funky clothing store and all its one-of-a-kind pieces. It was also located directly across from her favorite apothecary store in her hometown of Holland Springs.

  “Only if you want to convey the I’m-channeling-the-musical-Hair look, not the I’m-a-best-selling-author-attire. Your mother dresses younger and better than you,” Martha pointed out. “Even if she can’t tell the difference between the softer side of Sears and Prada.”

  Well, neither could Zoe, but she wasn’t about to admit that to her aunt. “There’s no reason to fuss at me or talk about your sister like that. Anyway, why didn’t you tell me Ian Romanov was the big name coming out here? I thought it was Gray Campbell or Wade McGowan?”

  “You said you preferred Romanov out of the three.”

  Zoe gasped. “I most certainly did not.” Actually, she most certainly had. However, she hadn’t thought her aunt had been listening at the time.

  “You most certainly did. Besides, his schedule matched yours. When I talked with him early, he mentioned running into you at the airport.”

  “He did?” If Martha knew about their meeting, then everyone did. She grabbed a pillow and smacked herself on the side of the head.

  “I don’t have to worry about you doing something stupid like getting married by an Elvis impersonator, do I?”

  “Why in the world would I do that?” she snapped, then sighed and tossed the pillow away. “No, I don’t plan to do more than meet, greet and sign. Then it’s pool and spa time for Zoe.”

  “About tonight. Dinner at RARE, at 8:30. I want you to be seen and photographed with Romanov. Make sure you sit beside him.”

  “Why in the world would I want to do that?” She sounded like broken record. “I texted Chloe that I wasn’t interest in dinner. There’s no reason for me to be there. Peak’s making its decision.”

  Martha let out a sigh. “I would consider it a big favor and I can trust you. You know you’re my favorite oldest niece, and an old woman like me needs all the help she can get. You will help me, won’t you? We are family.”

  Family: the ultimate weak spot. Zoe capitulated with a sigh.“Fine.”

  In her next sentence Martha was back to business. “My assistant won’t be there, but it’s only a schmooze-and-booze type thing.”

  No booze for her. She needed a clear head to get through this dinner. “I’m sticking with water.”

  “Drink whatever you like; I’m more concerned with your wardrobe.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Pick out something pretty and purple. The color brings the green out in your eyes. Go get your hair and makeup done. I’ve seen the way you try to fix that horse’s tail and at least it’s one shade.” Her aunt paused. “On second thought, I’ll send someone up to you.”

  Zoe searched through the white bags hanging in her closet, finding a suspiciously purple wrap-dress in the first one. “Aunt M, did you have anything to do with my
wardrobe swap?”

  “Maybe I did and maybe I didn’t.”

  “Thank you for my birthday presents.” Zoe let the bags fall back in place.

  “You’re welcome,” Martha said before ending their call.

  Zoe roamed the room for a few minutes. Finally, she sat down at the desk and powered up her laptop. Quickly, she read the latest gossip website and frowned at the description of Ian Romanov’s latest fling gone wrong. “Vivian Cross might be missing you, but I’m not.”

  After x-ing out the internet browser and checking the time, she opened the last file she’d been working on. Five hours until dinner. Five hours until him.

  Maybe she should write a scene where Dimitri can’t get it up and have Katrina laugh at him, then run off with Joshua. Oh yeah, that would go over really well with her fans.

  She groaned, letting her head fall into her hands.

  Why in the world had she agreed to come out here? To have dinner with a man like Ian Romanov? No, not a man like him.

  Christian.

  He was a dangerous temptation. The type of man that had no problem loving a woman then leaving her. She knew his type all too well.

  If she weren’t careful, she’d be just as heartbroken as she had been over four years ago. She eyed the closet again and stood up. Steel crept up her spine and made her stand straighter. This time things would be different. She was different. Older and wiser, too. Without the need for a disguise that rendered her unrecognizable.

  All she would have to do is be pleasant. Be polite. Pose for pictures. Be calm, cool and collected. As if she did this all the time. She nodded at her reflection in the mirrored closet door and smiled. Christian Romanov wouldn’t know what hit him.

  Chapter Four

  It would have been a perfectly nice dinner if Zoe hadn’t stabbed Christian before the dessert course had come.

  A medic poured antiseptic over the shallow (thank God) wound on Christian’s hand.

  Christian alternately hissed and cursed under his breath. “Sorry, not your fault.” He sliced his gaze to Zoe.