One Exquisite Touch: Book One in The Extravagant Series Read online

They’re things I ought to do at The Invitation too.

  But first, this show makes me think about what it’d be like to have someone of his caliber at my hotel. I make a mental note to run this up the flagpole with Daniel when I see him in a few minutes.

  An A-list rocker like that could be a coup for The Invitation.

  That’s exactly where all my energy needs to go. Not on the sexy, filthy, fascinating woman who runs the it hotel, the feel-good property on the Strip.

  But I can still taste her kiss on my lips.

  Can still hear her sexy murmurs.

  Can still picture the arch of her back, feel the shudder of her body.

  And just like that, I’m aroused again.

  Not helpful.

  Best to put her out of my head entirely.

  Focus on plans for my business.

  Plans I’m reminded of as I return to my hotel and a text flashes across my screen from my good friend Wilder in San Francisco, who recently purchased the city’s NFL franchise, the Renegades.

  * * *

  Wilder: We’re going to be playing the Vegas Hawks in two months. Plan on destroying them on the gridiron. What do you think the chances are I could get a discount for my players on some rooms in the city?

  * * *

  I laugh as I pass through the revolving doors into my hotel.

  I reply like the asshole I am.

  * * *

  Cole: I hear the Motel 8 off the Strip is running discounts for washed-up football teams.

  * * *

  Wilder: That settles it. I will indeed take the deal that the Carmichael sisters are offering me at The Extravagant.

  * * *

  I bristle as I read that text. No fucking way. She’s angling for my business with my friend?

  That shit is not okay. Wilder and his playoff-winning team are mine to score.

  I burn with frustration as I step onto the escalator heading down to the casino floor. This is not the time to text. This is the time for a phone call. But I don’t need everyone to overhear. I step off, say hello to a few dealers, and spot the high rollers club. I walk in, give a quick nod to the manager running it, then signal that I need to use the back room.

  Quickly, with the kind of alacrity that I like, the manager opens the door, lets me in, and says, “The room is yours for as long as you need it, sir.”

  I thank Angeline, pull the door shut, and ring my friend in California. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  He cackles. “Aww. Jealousy looks good on you, dickhead.”

  My jaw ticks. Just fucked the woman, and she might win this contract. And yet, weirdly, a part of me is turned on by this competition of sorts with her. Riddle me that. “Level with me. Are we truly in contention with The Extravagant?”

  “Cole, what did you teach me? Isn’t it all fair?”

  “Is that what I taught you? That all is fair in love and war?”

  “My God, it’s so easy to rile you up. It always has been. No. Listen. I’m all about loyalty. Well, that is unless I get a better deal. So maybe you want to give me twenty-five percent off your best suites,” he says, and I swear I can see him waggling his brows.

  “You wish.”

  “No deal, then,” he says, his tone full of sarcasm. He clears his throat. “But I do hear that The Extravagant is the shining star of Vegas now.”

  My eyes narrow. “Is that what you hear in California?”

  “Yeah, they turned that ship around. And now what are you going to do? You’re going to try to take all their business,” he says, teasing like I’m the big, bad wolf.

  Maybe I am.

  Maybe I like it that way.

  “Just like you’re going to try to take the Lombardi Trophy from thirty-one other teams.”

  “Damn straight.”

  I turn completely serious. “All kidding aside, it would be an honor to be the team hotel for you,” I say, then I offer him a great package.

  We firm up some of the details, toss around some numbers, and settle with a virtual handshake.

  He whistles appreciatively. “Let’s do it. Let’s go into business together.”

  I run a hand through my hair, relaxing now that we’ve struck the deal. “Consider it done.”

  “Great, I’ll have my people call your people,” he says with a laugh. “By the way, how’s everything going there?”

  I flash back on the last unexpected hour. On the most delicious sex I’ve ever had. On the most fascinating woman I’ve ever met. “I have nothing to complain about,” I say in the understatement of the year.

  “How’s Professor Donovan? Is she keeping you in line?”

  I laugh. “You’ve never stopped calling her ‘professor’ since the day you joined us for Thanksgiving and launched into a debate about ancient medicine.”

  “And she was all too happy to debate the efficacy of ancient medical techniques,” he says.

  “You can’t resist debating with anyone.”

  “That is true.”

  “And to answer your question, she’s great. She’s in town, and I’m taking her to the airport later today.”

  “You looking out for her?” he asks, a little more serious this time.

  “Always. Isn’t that what I do? Just like you do for your family.”

  “Always, my man, always.”

  I say goodbye to Wilder, leave the high rollers lounge, then return to the executive suite. I duck my head into Daniel’s temporary office, where he’s working until he returns to London in a few weeks. Ready to hash out whether we can nab an act like Jane Black, The Heartbreakers, or Zoe, a Christina Aguilera-esque rising star.

  But my longtime friend is looking quite smug. Kind of pleased with himself. Daniel’s eyes twinkle with mischief. The man is a born troublemaker.

  As he swivels the computer screen around, he says, “Cole, why don’t you say hi to our darling friend, Scarlett?”

  I grin as I see her face on the screen, her clever eyes meeting mine. “And how is our most fantastic business partner?”

  She flashes a fantastic smile. “You mean your better third?”

  “As if you’d be anything but our better third.”

  Scarlett smiles like she has a trick up her sleeve. “I’m fantastic, but I really think the operative question, Cole, is . . .” She shoots me a grin like she possesses a treasure chest of secrets. “How is Sage Carmichael?”

  I blink as I stare at her on the screen and Daniel at his desk, the two of them looking like they just pulled off the biggest magic trick.

  And once I think that, it occurs to me that I ought to make some other calls too, to try to nab Max and Alex, the hottest new pair of magicians in years.

  But first, what the hell are my two business partners up to?

  14

  Daniel

  My favorite time of day.

  Time to check in with Scarlett.

  In my office, I flip open the laptop screen, settle in at my desk, then start a video call to my business partner in Paris.

  She answers a few seconds later, her beautiful face filling the screen, her wavy brown hair spilling along her shoulders, her elegant yet still sexy sleeveless blouse revealing just a hint of décolletage.

  Just the way she likes to look.

  Professional, but feminine, with just a touch of something more.

  “Hello, stranger.” Her stunning eyes are etched with mischief. That’s how she is. Such a feline.

  I lean back in the comfy leather chair. “Good morning to you, Scarlett.”

  She arches a well-groomed brow. Everything about Scarlett is well-groomed and deliciously put together, never a hair out of place. “Did you lose track of time again, darling? You do know that it’s nearly wine o’clock here?”

  I park my hands behind my head. “Isn’t it always wine o’clock where you are?”

  A soft chuckle falls from her pink lips. “That’s certainly true. We love our brasseries and big fat glasses of wine, but you know that.”

 
“Of course I know that. I haven’t been away that long. And I’m sure you miss me terribly.”

  She pouts, all over-the-top and insanely sexy. “Terribly.”

  Stretching an arm out of view of the screen, she reaches for something on her desk, perhaps a book to tuck into her purse. “I’m about to meet some clients at Abelard on Rue Violet.”

  “Stab me in the heart, why don’t you? That’s my favorite spot on my favorite street.”

  “Shall I lift a glass in your honor? Give a toast to my dear friend Daniel, who can’t join us because he’s having far too much fun in Vegas?”

  “Who said I was having fun?” I counter.

  She rolls her eyes. “You always do.” She drops a paperback into her purse, just as I suspected, then stands, smoothing a hand over her blouse, giving me an enticing peek at just the tops of her breasts. My eyes follow her every move, enjoying the way her delicate hand runs over the silk of her clothes. “Don’t you look lovely for your wine meeting.”

  “Are you jealous about who’s going to see me tonight?” she tosses back at me.

  Leaning farther back in my chair, I steeple my hands in front of me. “You know jealousy is not an emotion I’ve ever experienced,” I say, but that’s not true. That is, in fact, a horrid lie. I experience it all too often in the most inconvenient ways. And at the worst of times. Briefly, I catch sight of the scar that runs across my hand, and I tear my gaze away from the jagged mark, zeroing in on the woman in front of me instead.

  She rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “Yes, of course. You’re so magnanimous, never jealous, always eager to share. Speaking of . . .” She lets her voice trail off, her lovely eyes going wide and inquisitive. It’s been a few days since I last spoke with her. But she knew what my plans were. Played her own part in them. “How did your plans go?”

  “I would say they went swimmingly. Also, hello. Your plans.”

  She deals me a skeptical glance. “They were mostly yours.”

  “They were definitely yours too, love.”

  “But it was your idea.”

  “And you loved the idea. You said, if memory serves, ‘Ooh, that sounds brilliant and perfect for him,’” I counter.

  “Because you’re such a matchmaker, it’s hilarious. I simply couldn’t resist giving you my seal of approval.”

  “You’re a matchmaker too.”

  She brings her hand to her chest, acting all innocent. “Moi?”

  I nod vigorously, pointing at her. “Vous.”

  “Daniel,” she chides. “I just happen to know what’s good for the men in my life, and I want to make sure they’re happy. When you told me your plans, I saw a chance for Cole to be happy again.”

  “Oh, so does that mean you’re going to matchmake me next?”

  She waves a hand dismissively. “You? Please. You’re impossible. You would never settle down with anyone.”

  Is that true?

  I decide it is.

  It’s absolutely true.

  I can’t and I won’t settle down.

  I wouldn’t be able to.

  The only thing that’s fulfilled me since I lost what I value most is detaching myself, rather than attaching myself.

  But it’s fun to play with her. Playing is the balm to loss. Playing is the cure-all. “And why would I want to settle down? What’s enjoyable about that?”

  She shrugs, shouldering her handbag. “Some people supposedly like it.”

  “Not people like you and me.”

  Her eyes lock with mine, her gaze going pensive, as if she understands me completely, but I’m not sure anyone can, or that I’d let anyone. “And I suppose that’s true,” she says.

  We chat for longer, catching up on business matters for a few minutes, then she asks when I’m returning to the City of Lights. “Scarlett, does that mean you miss me?”

  “Of course I miss you. Nothing is the same without you.” She pouts her lips, bringing them closer to the camera. My God, those lips look so thoroughly kissable that if I saw her, I would have a hard time resisting them. “I just don’t know how to run a hotel without a man around.”

  “See? You’re just like me. You don’t need a man just like I don’t need a woman.”

  “But somebody does,” she says, her eyes meeting mine pointedly. “Give me the details. Does he know she’s his mystery woman?”

  A grin takes over my face. Perhaps a wicked one. Machinations have a way of doing that to a person. “I have a feeling he learned who it was this morning, because he had a meeting with her,” I say.

  A second later, the man in question strides into the office. I swivel around the computer screen. “Cole, why don’t you say hi to our darling friend, Scarlett?”

  They chat briefly, then Scarlett tosses out, “I really think the operative question, Cole, is . . . how is Sage Carmichael?”

  And there it is. The truth of the tryst the other night. The tryst Scarlett and I maybe possibly engineered.

  “How’s Sage?” the normally unflappable Cole, repeats.

  Scarlett waves from the screen. “Yes. Tell me everything.”

  His brow knits. He stares hard at the screen. “Why are you asking?”

  “Oh, no reason. Now I’m off to go have some wine and make some deals. See you gentlemen later.” She blows a kiss and then turns off the call.

  Cole tilts his head, looks at me, and lets out a curious sigh. “Why did she just say that?”

  I shrug with an I’ve got no idea grin. That’s answer enough.

  “Were you engineering things?”

  I crack my knuckles. “Just because I happen to know what’s good for you doesn’t mean I engineered it, now does it?”

  He parks his hands on his hips. “Did you?”

  “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.”

  “Why would you do that?” He sounds mildly annoyed, but also mildly not.

  I strip away the light mood, the banter. I shove off the games we play. Because this is serious in its own way. “Because I happen to think she’d be good for you. I’ve read about her. I know about her. And you haven’t been the same since Georgia.”

  He sighs like it comes from the depths of his dark soul. He shuts the door, then sinks down onto the couch. “Daniel. You don’t have to keep making up for that. I’m fine. Perfectly fine.”

  That’s what he thinks. But I know better. “You say that, but . . .”

  He shakes his head. “Nothing is going to happen with Sage. It can’t. She’s the competition.”

  I give him a quick once-over. Some things are obvious, from the less than perfect hair to the satisfied glint in his eyes.

  I tap my chin like a detective. “And yet all the clues add up to ‘you just fucked her.’”

  He shakes his head, laughing. “How is it that nothing ever gets past you?”

  “I’m so good at reading people. It’s one of my many skills. Admit it—you had a little morning sex fiesta in her office. You’re unstoppable,” I say.

  “Okay, yes. Moving on. Let’s talk about anything else.” He shifts to intense speed, cranking the gas pedal. “I have a new idea. I want to try to get Max and Alex.”

  “The magicians. They’re fantastic,” I say, liking that idea, and we zoom into all-business mode.

  After we make some calls and agree to put together a pitch, Cole heads to the door, then glances back at me. “So you threw the bet?”

  “What if I did?”

  “You should play fair and square.”

  “Then we should play again,” I suggest, dangling that tidbit in front of him. He won’t be able to resist.

  He shakes his head. “Won’t happen. Can’t happen. Definitely a bad idea.”

  And with that three-times-no, he gives himself away. “Methinks the gentleman doth protest too much.”

  He flips me the bird and walks out, but I know he’s bluffing.

  15

  Cole

  That afternoon I take my mother to the airport, say goodbye to her, and than
k her for having visited.

  She wraps me in a big hug, and tells me she’ll be back soon.

  “I’m going to miss you, and especially our breakfast dates. They’ve been lovely the last few days,” she says.

  “I’ve enjoyed them too, especially since I usually head to the gym and skip breakfast. Just grab coffee and an apple.”

  “Yes, and I worry about that, Cole. You’re so busy, and I want you to take care of yourself.”

  “I just said I went to the gym,” I say.

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “I know, I know.”

  “You’ve done great here. I’m very proud of you. Make sure you’re taking time to enjoy yourself now and then though,” she says, giving me a mother knows best look, reminding me once again of Georgia.

  Without saying her name.

  The last woman I remotely felt anything for. We were together five years ago. We dated for a few months in Los Angeles, and were falling in love, then she was killed in a car accident.

  Mourning a woman you’re only just starting to fall in love with is a special kind of hell. A uniquely terrible type of pain. But then, all pain is unique. All pain shapes us in its own way.

  Mine makes getting close to someone again particularly risky. I prefer other risks when it comes to women. I prefer games that are out in the open. I prefer pleasure, since pleasure can’t hurt you, unless of course you want it to.

  “I’m enjoying everything,” I say.

  She’s relentless though. “You risk all sorts of things, but you don’t ever risk your heart.”

  I want to say, And do you risk yours?

  But she has. She’s met someone new. Someone she loves. Someone she trusts.

  The last time that happened to me, she died on the way to the hospital.

  “Hearts aren’t for risking. Money is,” I say, then I put her on her plane.

  When I’m in my suite that night, I find the barrette that my stranger left behind at the masquerade party. I run my finger over the metal, then along the inscription. I had planned to give this back to her the following Saturday at the party. But that night isn’t going to happen.