Million Dollar Devil (Million Dollar #1)(29)

I can’t help but steal a glance at the bulge in his jeans. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” I try to pull away when he loosens his grip, but I quickly realize that this is a trap. Can the guy tell I’m curious by nature?

“Come closer,” he says, motioning for me.

“I don’t have time for your . . .”

He locks his hand around my neck and drags my ear to his mouth, where he whispers, “If we weren’t at Tim’s Bar, I would’ve taken you from whimpers to moans in less than a minute. Next time you wake me up, think about that.”

“I will indeed.” I want to sound and act professional, but his hot breath on my neck sends a cascade of goose bumps straight down my back.

He smiles. “Good. Now how about I take you somewhere for a change?” he asks.

“Where?”

“To eat. I’m hungry.”

Oh, I’d love to see just what he considers to be food. Probably something as unpalatable as that tequila behind the bar. “Sorry. We need to meet Michael. I’ll pick you up a bagel on the way.”

“And Michael is . . .”

“A genius. You will meet him soon. Come on, Devil. He will love you.”

I lure him out of the bar and his ridiculous office with a sway of my hips, his long footsteps quickly catching up with me.

“And you,” he croons as he swings open the bar door and lets me pass, “will love me too. Baby.”

His eyes glimmer.

I jerk my own eyes away as quickly as I can, because I’m not sure whether the wicked shine in his baby blues excites or scares me.





OUT WITH THE DEVIL

I sip my Starbucks latte and sit on the large chaise in the main fitting area of Banks LTD. I keep looking down the hallway, hoping no one else from the company will come in and see my work in progress.

“Where’s LB?” I ask Michael, our head tailor, as I pull the plans for the West Coast Fashion Week from my files and email them to my nemesis, as promised.

“Probably slinking along the sewer, where he belongs,” he mumbles, his lips closed upon straight pins.

Ah, one of the millions of reasons why I love Michael.

When it comes to LB or me being the top dog eventually, I know for a fact Michael is rooting for me.

For the past hour, Michael has been all over James like a bee on honey, covering him up in the suits I selected for this fitting. I can see James is a bit irritated. He seems completely moody, and I sense that a guy like him doesn’t like other men to be sliding their hands up and around them while they ooh and aah.

Now Michael smooths his palms over James’s back, then steps aside to contemplate the fit. “Puuurfect, love. This jacket embraces that toned body. Oh yesssss, darling, it does.”

James is just looking at me with a glare that could shoot bullets.

I wish James would act a little less like the brooding tough guy from the streets and more like the person I want him to be. But Michael is clearly in love, nonetheless. Plus, I know I can trust Michael, even if I can’t trust many other people in my life.

Dragging my eyes down the perfect pitch-black suit draped around James’s frame, I brush some imaginary dust off his rounded collar. “Is it hot in here, or is it just me?”

“Oh, darling, it’s not just you.” Michael jabs his finger at James.

James doesn’t miss it, and if his expression is any indication, he’s had enough of fittings. He’s still caught up on the pair of cuff links we’ve given him. All the Banks shirts require cuff links. When I handed them to him, he said, “I don’t fucking wear earrings.”

I showed him how to use them, and he watched me, his gaze dark. “What the fuck is the purpose of this shit? Buttons aren’t good enough?”

Michael strokes James’s collar before he eyes me. “Fitted look is elegant, don’t you think?”

“Definitely. It’s—he’s—perfect.” I thumb through a few styles and locate a notch collar on one of the dinner jackets. “Let’s try this one.”

Michael immediately removes the current jacket from James’s shoulders and snaps his fingers at one of his assistants, who hurries to set it aside.

“Your father must be so ecstatic about our new face. I can see it across every billboard in the country already,” Michael tells me.

I glance back toward the doorway. It’s empty. I’m going to have a heart attack if I have to keep skulking around with James like this to get my work done. “Yes. My dad is, uh . . . thrilled.”

Michael raises his head. “Or has he even met our delightful model yet? LB got in touch with me this morning. You know him, snooping around. He mentioned your father had asked him to keep an eye on it.”

My flush is suddenly rising up my neck and cheeks. Anger mingled with frustration over my dad not trusting me. Hardly taking my phone calls but still having plenty of time to discuss me with LB. And also mortification, because when I lift my gaze, I can see James’s blue, blue eyes fixed on me.

He sees me.

Before him, I’m naked and bare.

I look through a rack of ties and select a simple red one, since he said that was his favorite. I avoid his hot gaze as I drape it around his neck. “Know how to tie one of these?”

He shakes his head. “Like I said. Didn’t even wear a tie to my parents’ funeral.”