The Safe Bet (Hidden Truths #1)(2)

Noticing Mr. Red Beard was out of sight, she brushed away a loose strand of long, blonde hair that had escaped her ponytail and decided to get one more drink.

“French martini, please,” Kate ordered. She shifted in her four-inch, nude heels, which she was beginning to regret, and checked her cell phone. Two missed calls from her father. He was damn persistent, but that was the story of her life.

“Kathryn?” the spiky-haired bartender said, eying the credit card she placed before him. He shook his head and slid the card back to her. “No need.”

She followed his pointed finger to find her fifty-something-year-old martini buyer, who gave her a slight nod. At least it wasn’t the strange guy who had been watching her dance moments earlier.

Kate pressed her lips together in a polite smile but prayed he wouldn’t attempt to join her. Maybe if she just shifted away . . .

She slammed into what felt like a concrete post. What the! The contents of her glass sloshed and cascaded over her wrist and onto a dark-gray, luxuriously soft fabric.

“Shit. I’m so sorry.” She set her glass back down on the bar and reached for a napkin.

She began to dab at the stain, taking note of the nicely sculpted abs beneath the shirt. But when she dragged her gaze back up to the hard jaw of the man in front of her, she inhaled a sharp breath, and her hand froze.

The man was staring down at her with the most intense blue eyes she had ever seen.

Cerulean blue. Cobalt. Sapphire. She couldn’t decide as she rummaged through the crayon color list in her head to find a match for those unbelievably blue eyes.

I seriously had to spill my drink on Michael freaking Maddox?

He was a man who could have been carved out of granite. That’s what she had thought about him when she looked at his photo the other day as part of the research she’d done in preparation for her appointment. Before her now, he was hard as steel.

And yet, his firm lips were curving at the edges with the hint of a smile.

“Let me pay for your shirt,” Kate offered in a small voice, once she was able to look away. Michael’s hand gently wrapped around her wrist, and she realized she was still touching his chest with the napkin. Oh, God.

“That won’t be necessary. Let me replace your drink.” His voice was deep, but also like silk, blowing across her skin in a hot caress. She kept her eyes on his, feeling lost for words. Then she cleared her throat and retracted her hand from his grasp.

She was free, but he’d left a mark. His touch had lit a sudden fire inside of her.

The feeling of desire was . . . unplanned. And Kate didn’t handle the unplanned very well. No, she needed lists and predictability, which was one reason she wanted to swear off weddings. Even coming to the club tonight had already been a rather wild step for her.

“Please, I insist on paying for your shirt.” Even though he was worth millions, she had to do the right thing. “I think my martini ruined it.” As she reached for her purse, he placed his large hand over hers, his touch warming her body.

“Just tell me what you were drinking, and that will be payment enough.” He pushed back a brownish-black lock that had escaped the gel of his purposefully unruly hair. His gaze penetrated deep into her eyes, and his lips parted. He edged closer to her, and she breathed in his cologne. He smelled exotic, like rosewood and amber.

Her mind raced, trying to come up with something to say—hell, anything, at this point. All that dared escape were the words, “French martini.”

“Michael, sweetie, I thought that was you.” A woman with long, brown hair and perfectly honeyed skin, placed a hand on Michael’s shoulder before briefly glancing at Kate.

Michael ignored the woman, his gaze never swerving from Kate’s.

“I—um . . .” What is wrong with me?

“Michael?” The woman’s clipped voice rang sharply in Kate’s ears as she touched the side of Michael’s face, attempting to guide it toward her. His chest lifted as the muscles in his face became tight—and she hadn’t thought he could get any harder. She wondered if he would be cool to the touch.

“I have to go,” Kate said once she realized Michael had no desire to look anywhere but at her. Before she could give him a chance to respond, she pivoted in her heels and started for the exit.

What the hell just happened?

She’d worked with plenty of powerful and good-looking men before, but God, Michael Maddox was in a league of his own. She’d had an instant crush on him when she saw his photo online, but his picture was a pale substitute for meeting him in person.

She hoped to hell he wouldn’t be at the meeting tomorrow. Of course, if she landed the job, she’d have to work with him eventually, wouldn’t she?

Damn my bad luck.





CHAPTER TWO




KATE SIPPED A SKINNY VANILLA latte as she walked to Julia Maddox’s office at the epicenter of town. It was about ten minutes before eight a.m., and she soaked in the sun as it slipped between the two towering structures to her left, splashing onto her arm.

She stopped a few minutes later once outside the tall glass building that housed Maddox’s office.

The doorman tipped his head in greeting to Kate before opening the door. “How you doing, Miss?”

His Southern accent washed over her, warming her like the sun. People were so much nicer here than in New York. “I’m wonderful. And you?”