At the Brink (21 page)

“None of the above,” Josh said. “Now, if you’ll excuse us...”

“An exclusive would be such a coup.” The woman kept up with us as we made our way across the crowded room. “We could make it all about you. A war hero, rich, smart, successful, handsome. Boston’s dearest, darling of the world.”

“It won’t happen,” Josh said.

“Just one question then.” The woman insisted. “What do you think is the secret to Phoenix Prime’s success? Is it your personal charisma? Your stamina? Your ferocious competitiveness?”

Josh took a deep breath. “The secret to Phoenix Prime’s success is its people, the team that works tirelessly on behalf of the investors who put their trust in us. That’s your line, Susannah. Enjoy your evening.”

We left the woman behind.

“Christ, she’s aggressive,” Josh said under his breath.

“It goes to show,” I said. “A woman’s balls should never be judged by her breasts’ size.”

Josh laughed so hard that people turned around to look. I smiled like a fool. I loved it when he laughed like that, unscripted, spontaneous, freely.

“Josh!” The gorgeous strawberry blond woman from the podium barreled toward us.

I recognized her now. She’d been at the benefit for the Healing Warrior Development Fund. She threw her hands around Josh’s neck, riling me by planting a kiss on his lips.

“I knew you’d make it,” she said. “How good of you to come.”

“Lisa Artiaga,” Josh said, disentangling from her arms. “Lily Boswell.”

“Hello,” I said.

I might as well have been invisible. The woman focused her attention exclusively on Josh. “What are you doing after the party?”

“I’ve got plans,” Josh said.

She scowled. “You should come over. I’ll give you a private after party. Remember the last time?”

The last time
?

Great. Fan-freaking-tastic, just peachy. I turned away and went looking for more champagne, concentrating on the maddening sensations teasing my body, ignoring the crowded room and the specter of Josh’s past.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Lily

An extensive buffet ran the length of the room. I picked up a small plate and filled it with a bite-sized quiche lorraine and a tiny cheesecake. My sex gnawed on fare of its own. My God. I was aroused in a room full of strangers, salivating at much more than the cheesecake that sat uneaten on my plate.

Josh’s husky voice came without warning. “Are you running away from me?”

The feel of his warm breath blowing against my ear cranked up my body’s need. The sensual scent exuding from him captured my senses and weakened my knees. Answering some primal command, my hips swayed into his grip. Impervious to the crowd around us, he kissed my neck and pressed my ass against his groin.

“I wasn’t running from you,” I said, close to swooning. “Only from your admirers.”

“Christ, Lily,” he whispered in my ear. “The things you do to me. Do you want me to fuck you right here and now?”

“That would be scandalous.”

“Scandalous but delicious.”

The lust in his gaze spoke of a vision, a mental picture of me bent over the buffet table with my skirt hiked and my ass bared. The balls inside of me chinked in anticipation. I clung to my plate.

He checked it out. “Not hungry?”

“Famished.” My cheeks burned. “Unfortunately, it’s not for dessert.”

The heat in his eyes smoldered my soul. I looked around like a teenager seeking a make out spot under the bleachers. But there were no bleachers here, only lots of fancy people and frantic waiters, crowding every cranny and nook of the place.

The little ring dangling between my legs tickled the inside of my thighs. My friends felt heavier than before. They tested my body’s endurance, wading in a pool of my own making. My sex squeezed, a reflex that sent me smarting from the unexpected pleasure.

I blanched. “Josh?”

He took my arm. “Come on.”

“What about billion dollar man?”

“The hell with the son of a bitch.”

We were on the way out when the man who’d introduced Martin to Josh at the Wounded Warrior Development Fund gala intercepted our escape.

“Good evening,” Thomas Stratton said. “Mr. DaSilva just stepped out to the balcony. He’s waiting for you. This is your chance.”

“Damn it.” Josh pulled out a stool at the end of the bar and patted the seat. “Wait here. I won’t be long. Thomas,” he added. “Stay with Miss Boswell.”

“Of course.” Thomas took Josh’s place beside me.

My hopes for quick relief plummeted. I watched through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows as Josh stepped out to the terrace and greeted Mr. DaSilva. Josh pulled out a leather case from his breast pocket and offered the other man a Cuban, a fat one, by the look of it. Knowing Josh, that cigar was not only one of the best in the world, but also Mr. DaSilva’s personal favorite. Within moments, the two men were engaged in intense conversation.

I groaned inwardly. This was going to take a while. I pressed my legs together and chewed on my lips, trying to repress the lust coursing through my body. I sipped on my champagne, mentally urging Josh to hurry up. Unbeknown to anyone but me, the enormous tower swayed and the floor shook beneath my seat, echoing with the crowd’s steps, teasing the puddle of nervous anxiety slushing at the bottom of my stomach.

All those people. Under any other circumstance, I would have been cowering, about to fall prey to a panic attack that would’ve surely sent me running. Instead, my body ruminated on Josh’s gift, savoring the amazing sensations that took precedence over the old fears.

“Can I get you anything?” Thomas said.

“No, thanks,” I said. “I’m good.”

“A drink, a ride in the elevator, a taxi cab home?”

I stared at the man’s impassive face, wondering if I’d heard him right. The glare I spotted in the slightly distorted brown eyes behind his glasses confirmed I hadn’t been mistaken. “If you don’t mind,” I said. “I’ll wait for Josh.”

“Personally, I couldn’t care less,” he said, “but I have to account to Phoenix Prime’s investors.”

“I don’t understand,” I said. “What do I have to do with your investors?”

“Phoenix Prime thrives because of Josh’s tremendous dedication to growing the company,” he said. “If Josh is distracted, the company stops growing. You see, Miss Boswell, you have become a problem. You’re interfering with Josh’s performance.”

Distracting? Interfering?
In a more private setting,
I might have laughed in Thomas’s face. Didn’t he know Josh Lane? Didn’t he know that nothing, not even I, could stand between him and what he wanted?

“I don’t think you know Josh very well.” I gulped down the rest of my champagne. “He works like an ox. He’s a man of his word. He has high standards. He doesn’t shy away from effort and would never knowingly shortchange his investors.”

“‘Knowingly’ is the operative term here.” Thomas drew his slight frame into a taller stance. “When a woman leads a man astray, he hardly ever notices, until it’s too late.”

“I suppose that’s where you come in.” My voice’s dangerous edge surprised me. “You’re going to have to give Josh a little credit. He’s by no means neglecting Phoenix Prime. He’s here, isn’t he? Talking to Mr. DaSilva, doing exactly what he has to do, better than anyone else. So what if after five years of continuous work, Josh stayed away for a few days? He deserves that. He deserves more than that. So back off, and let him do his thing.”

Thomas’s brows climbed high on his forehead. “You’re wasting his time.”

“If you knew Josh, you’d know he doesn’t waste any time,” I said. “I’m inconsequential to Phoenix Prime. For all I know, I might be gone tomorrow, but Josh, he’s sticking with his company and you fools should be grateful for it.” Another thought raised my hackles. “And if you think that you can scare me off with those nasty scrawls on my door, you’re in for a shock. There’s a police report filed and an investigation in progress.”

“What are you talking about?” Thomas said.

“Stop trying to intimidate me,” I said. “It won’t work.”

Thomas’s face puckered. “Are you insinuating that I—”

“Pardon me?” Someone tapped on my shoulder. “Are you Lily Boswell?”

“Yes?” I turned to find a pair of sparkling green eyes set on a classically handsome face looking down on me. “Who are you?”

“Excuse me for interrupting.” The elegant gentleman who’d been accompanying Mr. DaSilva at the podium earlier offered his hand. “My name is Ernest Chamberlain. I’m a friend of Josh’s.”

I recognized him as the man who wanted to buy Josh’s Phoenix Prime.

“Hello, Thomas,” Ernest Chamberlain said. “Miss Boswell, correct me if I’m wrong, but from afar, it doesn’t appear that you’re enjoying your present company. Am I right?”

“You’re very observant, Mr. Chamberlain.” I rode a satisfying wave of belated indignation.

“Please, call me Ernest.” The man turned to Thomas. “You are free to go.”

“But Mr. Chamberlain,” Thomas stammered. “Josh asked me to take care of Miss Boswell. I can’t leave.”

“In that case, perhaps Miss Boswell would like to join me for a dance?” Ernest offered me a perfectly manicured hand, “It might be the only way in which she might find relief from your presence. What do you say, Miss Boswell?”

Dancing was something I might have been able to do easily, if I hadn’t been wearing Josh’s gift. On the one hand, I was doubtful of my ability to get through a dance without experiencing some notable and intensely embarrassing occurrence. On the other hand, Ernest Chamberlain was the only graceful option I could see to shaking off Thomas.

“Please, Miss Boswell.” Ernest flashed a charming smile. “Don’t make me beg.”

“I don’t think Josh is going to like it,” Thomas warned.

The hell with Thomas Stratton.

“I suppose one dance is okay.” I took Ernest’s hand, steeling myself for the feat.

The dance floor was crowded. The band played an old Frank Sinatra song. Ernest put his hand around my waist and pulled me into his arms. Tall, fair and flaxen-haired, he took charge. He was an excellent dancer and a commanding lead. I fell into a disciplined pattern, step, smile and clench, step, smile and clench. The sequence didn’t help. On the contrary, it seemed to rev up my body.

“Poor Thomas,” Ernest said. “He’s like a dog with a bone, so very protective of Josh.”

I wondered if Ernest had overheard our conversation or if he just knew Thomas. I felt a little sorry for Thomas, who stood by the dance floor wringing his hands. He looked nervous. Well, maybe now that we’d had a heart to heart, he’d change his behavior.

“Lily—may I call you Lily?” Ernest said. “You must be having the time of your life. Flying around in private jets, enjoying exotic locales, fine dining, expensive clothes...”

How did he know all of that?

“I do hope you know that it’s all meant to come to a sudden end,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re quite appealing,” he said. “Not in the usual glamorous way, not in a femme fatale way either—Josh’s usual fare—but rather in a more subtle, girl-next-door style. But you and I both know better. If Josh is keeping you around for longer than a weekend, it’s only because you must be a remarkably good fuck.”

My face burned and the knot between my shoulders tightened. The little balls clanked in me as if announcing the beginning of a new game.

I let go of his hand. “I don’t think that dancing with you was such a good idea.”

“Don’t be hasty.” He recaptured my hand and tightened his grip around my waist. “You’ll finish this dance, listening very carefully to everything I have to say.”

I tried to shake off his hold. “You’re going to look like a total creep if I make a scene.”

“Be still.” He clutched me even tighter. “I’ll give you two good reasons not to make a scene. First, this dance will buy Josh Lane valuable time with Mr. DaSilva, time Josh wouldn’t have if you leave the dance floor and I go out on the balcony right now and interrupt what I’m sure is a masterfully orchestrated pitch.”

I didn’t want to dance with Ernest Chamberlain, but I knew how important this meeting was for Josh. He’d come here tonight just to meet Mr. DaSilva.

“Dance, Lily.” Ernest aimed his dazzling smile at the couple next to us.

Reluctantly, I swayed on my feet.

“Good.” He kept smiling. “It seems to me, if Josh is brazen enough to steal Mr. DaSilva right from under my nose, then it’s only fair that I should be able to reciprocate with an equally brazen deed.”

“What if I don’t care?” I said. “What if I don’t give a rat’s ass about Mr. DaSilva?”

“Oh, but you do,” Ernest said. “I can see it in your face. You’re a little inept at hiding your emotions and, as you noted before, I’m very observant. Pay attention, Lily. Here comes the good part. You’re going to dance with me some more because I’m going to offer you a valuable incentive, compensation you need badly, now and in the near future.”

Compensation?

“I’m here to make you an offer that you can’t refuse,” Ernest said. “I want to buy something from you, information, about Josh Lane. It’s easy money, really. I want you to tell me about Josh’s whereabouts, moods, thoughts. I want to know everything you learn from him.”

I gawked. “You want me to spy on him?”

“‘Spy’ is a strong word,” Ernest said. “I need to pinpoint Josh Lane’s weaknesses. He’s a very private man, hard to know, difficult to track and even harder to define.”

“I don’t think you’ll like what he’s going to say when I tell him about this conversation.”

“Now, Lily, you’re smarter than that,” he said. “If you tell Josh what we talked about, I’ll tell him that you came to me offering information about him in exchange for money.”

“He won’t believe you.”

“He might,” Ernest said. “I can be very convincing. But either way, you’ll be compromised. You’ll never see him again, because he treasures his privacy and his security team won’t allow you to stick around. He’ll substitute you with one of the many sluts who lust after him. You won’t have him and you won’t have me either. What good would that do you?”

My stomach ached. If Josh believed Ernest Chamberlain’s accusations, he’d be livid. He’d boot me out of his life for sure. Martin would blame me for his project’s demise, my mom would end up who knew where, and I’d be stuck in the same situation as before. Worse, I’d never see Josh again. I’d never suffer his obsessive attentions, or endure the mind-blowing sex that I was beginning to prize, or indulge in the odd pleasure of his company.

“Surely you’re smart enough to have made the necessary inquiries when you landed a big ticket item like Josh Lane,” Ernest said. “If you did, you know Josh’s pattern. He never keeps a woman around for long. He doesn’t commit or get involved. It’s all about sex for him, intense, short-term and swift. Josh might be paying you well to be his whore at the moment, but you’ve got a time stamp on your forehead.”

My belly plummeted to the ground.

“Let me show you.” He spun me around the dance floor. “See that busty blonde over there? She’s one of his many one-night stands. The bonbon behind her, the one with the fat ass? She lasted all of twelve hours on his radar.”

Ernest turned on the dance floor again, this time, pointing me in a different direction.

“The short haired beauty in the back,” he said, “she’s a big time heiress. She lasted no longer than the rest. He fucked the stunner in the corner a few times, but not even her renowned sexual skills managed to tie him down. These are just a few of the women who have taken turns in Josh’s bed. They are beautiful, powerful and rich, much more than you could ever be.”

The room whirled about me increasingly faster. The faces around me blurred. A feral fear clutched my throat. Was it true? All those women?

“You know it’s true.” Ernest smirked. “Everyone knows.”

I’d known as well—at least intellectually. Why then were my lungs poised at the verge of a panic attack?

Never date a womanizer.
My mother’s voice replayed in my mind like a scratched CD.
You’ll be like a bus stop at rush hour, nothing special.

The old memories slammed me, my parents fighting; my mother accusing my father the accomplished philanderer; my father, shouting back; rage, tears, violence, desperation...