Wanted: Billionaire's Wife Page 8

  Something fluttered in her stomach, and she couldn’t attribute it to her lack of an evening meal. “Yes.”

  “By sticking to the preconceived pairing.”

  She wet her suddenly dry lips. “Yes.”

  His gaze fixed on her mouth. “If one were to, say, go in another direction, the result might be greater than anticipated?”

  The event planners needed to do something about the number of people in the room. She was struggling to take a deep breath. “When it comes to sushi—”

  “Or gambling, apparently.”

  A waiter tried to squeeze behind Danica. The hard edge of his tray jostled her right into Luke. Her hands flew up to brace herself. They landed square on Luke’s chest.

  His arms encircled her and kept her upright. “Are you okay?”

  No. She was not. His chest was hard and muscled under the thin wool of his jacket and finely woven cotton of his shirt. His leather and citrus scent teased her nose. But she would have been able to laugh off the incident if it weren’t for his gaze, deeply blue and full of concern. For her.

  Sound faded. The laughter and conversation, the jazz trio playing in a nearby room—all hushed save for the pounding of her heart. His arms tightened around her, creating a cocoon outside which no one existed. His gaze changed, turned deeper, darker. Concern faded to awareness. Then flared into desire.

  “Danica.” She felt her name more than heard it, a deep rumble reverberating underneath her splayed hands.

  Anticipation fizzed through her, headier than any alcoholic beverage. “Yes?” she whispered.

  He raised his right hand and brushed a curl off her face, his thumb lingering on the curve of her cheek. Thankfully, he kept his left hand locked at her waist, keeping her upright when her legs would’ve failed her. “What were you saying about serendipity?”

  “I welcome it,” she managed to breathe. Luke Dallas was going to kiss her. And she wanted him to kiss her. Wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything else. One more kiss for her memories. One more kiss to sweeten her dreams and warm her nights.

  He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. His gaze remained darkly intent, hot enough to leave scorch marks as it traveled the outline of her lips. She lifted her chin and tilted her mouth. Her lips parted. His hand tightened at her waist, pressing her closer—

  “Dallas!” a man said from behind Luke. “Just the man we were hoping to see tonight.”

  The bubbly anticipation fled. The sounds of the party flooded back: the clink of the glasses, the hum of voices, the occasional well-bred laugh. Luke straightened up and let go of her waist. “To be continued,” he said to her in a low voice. Then his expression changed to one she knew all too well from their first meeting.

  The man came up and shook Luke’s hand. He was tan and well over six feet tall, his custom-tailored tuxedo revealing a graceful, broad-shouldered physique most commonly seen in champion swimmers. His dark blond hair, streaked with the kind of highlights only constant exposure to the sun could provide, fell into his eyes. He looked like he’d be more at home on the cover of a surfing magazine, but she knew not to judge people by their looks. He was probably a brilliant programmer or a marketing genius.

  “I’m Grayson,” he said to her with a firm handshake and a slow, highly charming grin. Then he turned back to Luke. “Evan here thinks his start-up is not only a unicorn, it’s a decacorn. I say he might be right. What do you say?”

  “I say I haven’t heard of Evan or his company before,” Luke said. “But a ten-billion-dollar valuation? Pretty damn rare.”

  “I’d love to tell you more,” Evan said. “We have a great opportunity for a partnership with Ruby Hawk’s tech. Do you have a minute?”

  “Thanks, but I have a prior commitment.” Luke offered his arm to Danica. “If you’ll excuse us?” he said to the men, his words polite but firm.

  “Word is Ruby Hawk might miss its acquisition target date. You’ll need good partners for your next venture,” said Grayson.

  “Want advice on your start-up? Never pay attention to valley gossip.” Luke’s tone was breezy, but under her loose grip his muscles tensed.

  “That came from Cinco Jackson. But I’d still like to talk with you,” Evan said.

  Luke’s arm turned to solid steel. Danica dropped her hand. “Why don’t you three have a conversation? I’ll save some sushi for you,” she said to Luke.

  “I promised you dinner.” His gaze added, “And more.”

  “I can stand in line for my own food,” she replied with a smile. In a tone pitched just for Luke’s ear, she continued, “I’m curious what Jackson knows. If the real reason for our search leaked...”

  Luke regarded her. “You’re concerned.”

  She nodded, teeth worrying her lip.

  “Don’t be. I can handle whatever Jackson throws.” He turned back to the two men. “Sorry. Maybe some other time. But as you see, I have far more attractive plans right now.” He started to tug her away.

  She saw a flash of navy blue silk from across the room. When she tried to catch Felicity’s gaze, the other woman looked away, as if hoping to not get caught. “This is a charity event, right?” Danica asked. “And a key feature of this event is the auction?”

  Three pairs of eyes focused on her. “Yes,” Evan said slowly.

  She opened her purse and pulled out the scrip given to her by the roulette croupier. “These are my winnings, which I planned to donate during the auction.” She showed the total to Grayson and Evan. “I will let you have a half hour of my time with Luke if you each promise to match the amount.”

  “I wasn’t aware I was up for sale,” Luke said drily. She flicked her gaze upward, dreading to see the anger directed her way for selling him out. Instead, his gaze sizzled with appreciation. She flushed hot from her hairline to her big toe.

  Grayson laughed. “You drive a hard bargain,” he said. “But I agree. C’mon, Dallas, let’s go find a place to talk. I don’t want the other sharks milling about to hear about Evan’s company. Not until we’re ready, that is.”

  “Not so fast.” She held out her hand. “Your checks, please.”

  “Smart and pretty,” Grayson said to Luke. “You know how to pick them. Hope that goes for companies too.” He pulled out his wallet and took out a business card. “Here. You bid on what you want during the auction, up to the combined amount Evan and I owe you. When you win, give this to the cashier and say I will pay the balance.”

  She took the card, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Really—” she started to say, and then looked at the name. Grayson was Grayson Monk. As in Monk Partners, one of the top venture-capital firms in Silicon Valley. “I mean, really. You will.”

  Grayson clapped Luke on the shoulder. “Great. Now let’s go make another deal.”

  “Fine,” Luke said to the two men, but his gaze rested on Danica, that light still burning. “We’ll talk mythical beasts. And even more mythical company valuations.”

  A large grin spread over Evan’s face. “You won’t regret it.”

  “Your five-hundred-dollar chip says I will,” Luke muttered for Danica’s ears only. His warm breath stirred the sensitive hairs there, sending a shiver through her. “Meet you back here when I’m done?” When she nodded, he turned back to the men. “A deal is a deal. You have thirty minutes.”

  Danica watched them walk away. Then she turned to get into the ever-growing line for Chef Nagao. Just as she reached the end, a man in a white dinner jacket thrust two empty champagne glasses at her. “Take these, will you?” he said, and turned his back on her. She accepted the glasses out of pure reflex, and then stared dumbfounded at his jacket-clad back.

  What the...? She looked around for somewhere to put the flutes down, but no appropriate surfaces presented themselves. The low stone walls surrounding the terrace were roughhewn, the surface uneven. The high round cock
tail tables dotting the outer sweep of the terrace were three deep in elegant people. She doubted they would appreciate dirty glassware set down beside their plates of beautifully prepared food. No busing station could be spotted in the vicinity.

  Finally, she spotted a waitress carrying a silver tray overloaded with discarded china and glassware striding briskly through the throng and down the terrace steps to a flagstone walkway below. Danica hurried after her, catching up just as the waitress was about enter a white marquee tent set up behind a large, six-car detached garage.

  “Here.” Danica held out the empty flutes.

  The waitress looked Danica up and down, her upper lip curling into a sneer. “Take them yourself,” she said. “And where’s your tray?” She disappeared behind a pinned-back flap.

  If the guest handing her his empty flutes had been rude, the waitress was out of line. But it wasn’t the waitress’s exasperation that caused Danica to stare after her. It was her outfit. She sported a black dress almost identical to the one Danica wore. They even had on similar shoes.

  It was official. She didn’t belong at the party as a guest. Looking around the tent, she spotted a table full of dirty dishes. Quickly adding the flutes to the pile, she stepped out before anyone else could mistake her for a slack member of the catering team.

  She returned to the terrace, but Chef Nagao’s station had a Closed—Gone Fishing sign next to empty sushi display cases. Luke was nowhere in sight. When a woman wearing a gown Danica had seen in last month’s Vogue approached her, empty plates in her hand and an annoyed scowl on her face, Danica ducked down the terrace steps again.

  She should leave. She almost kissed Luke. Again. She was playing with matches, testing how long she could hold on to the sliver of wood before burning her fingers. But if she snuck out now, then her gambling winnings plus Grayson’s and Evan’s pledges would not go to the charity. She had to stay until the auction started.

  Might as well kill the time exploring one of the many gravel paths snaking through the mansion’s expansive grounds. When would she get another chance to wander through a billionaire’s backyard?

  The path she chose meandered through formal gardens of well-manicured bushes and profusely blooming flower beds. Danica took notes of the varieties, knowing her mom would ask. At the end of the walkway was a wrought-iron garden bench, set in a small cul-de-sac formed by shoulder-high hedges.

  It was hard to believe a party full of the Bay Area’s brightest and wealthiest was being held a scant fifty yards away. She sat down to admire the evening. The sky overhead had deepened to indigo blue, decorated by a shining crescent moon. A light breeze carrying the scent of nearby roses ruffled strands of hair that had escaped from her ponytail. Later it would be too chilly to be outside without a jacket or sweater, but for now the temperature was perfect.

  Gravel crunched on the other side of the hedge. She wasn’t the only one to escape into the gardens. She stood up to return to the house but sat back down when she overheard Luke’s name.

  “He said what?” a male voice asked.

  Danica frowned. The voice was familiar. “It wasn’t Dallas. It was the recruiter,” a female answered.

  That voice Danica knew. Felicity. The male voice must belong to Cinco Jackson.

  “You’re missing the point. It’s illegal to ask someone about their marital status in a job interview.”

  Danica’s blood chilled.

  Felicity protested from the other side of the hedge. “But the recruiter didn’t ask. I was so surprised anyone knew, I confirmed it.”

  “You’re still not seeing the point.” Jackson spoke to her as if she were a small child. “Does Dallas have something against employing women who are married? Does he only employ single women? Is this a behavior pattern?”

  Danica clasped her hands over her mouth. She needed to find Luke, quick. But if she left her bench now, the couple on the other side might hear her movements and know they had an eavesdropper.

  “Something’s up. I can smell it,” Jackson continued. “The acquisition is rumored to be going south, maybe because old man Stavros has something on Dallas. Let’s get back to the party.” Rustling came from the other side as the hedges, as if they were standing up. “I want to see who Dallas is talking to and what about.” The sound of gravel crunching underneath their feet drowned out anything else he said.

  Danica waited until their footsteps faded away. Then she unfolded herself from the bench, scrambling for her phone to contact Luke. The screen already had a message on it.

  Where are you? Sushi closed.

  She thought for a moment. With the party in full swing and the auction about to start, the entrance would probably be the least occupied space in the mansion.

  Meet you in the foyer. I have news.

  Good I hope? See you there.

  The crowd had grown exponentially in the time she had been gone. A few faces lit up when they saw her heading in their direction, but they turned dark as she pushed past without taking the dirty plates and used glasses they offered to her. It wasn’t her fault the hosts didn’t hire enough catering staff, even if she did accidentally crash the party dressed like a server.

  She reached the foyer, slowing her speed so she wouldn’t slide on the polished marble floor. Luke stood near the imposing double doors that led to the front drive and the valet station outside. He smiled, and the bands holding her lungs captive since she first overheard Cinco started to relax.

  “Excuse me.” Danica felt a hard tap on her shoulder. “You need to take this.”

  Danica turned her head to see the server who had scowled at her earlier. She held out a tray laden with empty champagne flutes, dirty dishes and crumbled napkins.

  “Sorry,” Danica said over her shoulder, picking up her pace again. “I’m not—”

  The server followed behind her. “I have to be at the bar station. Your hands are free.”

  “I—you don’t understand. I’m here as a—”

  “I have to go, now. Here.” The server thrust the tray at Danica.

  Six

  The tray left the server’s hands. Danica lunged to catch it. Her thin-soled shoes slid, slipping on the smooth floor. Her feet flew out from underneath her. The last thing she saw before hitting the ground was the server’s horrified face, her mouth in a perfect O.

  Danica belly flopped on the marble floor. The impact knocked all her senses off-line. Black fog mired her thoughts. She concentrated on her breathing, thankful her heart beat by itself. Bells rang in the distance.

  She wriggled her fingers to see if they worked. Good. Then she moved her left hand. A shard of glass sliced into her palm.

  The sudden pain shocked her into full awareness. Her gaze swam back into focus, and she realized the bells were her ears ringing from the tray and its contents clattering down around her. She inhaled deeply. Then she wished she hadn’t. It smelled like a liquor store had exploded around her.

  “Danica!” Luke knelt beside her. Evan and Grayson stood behind him. She struggled to sit up.

  “Wait,” Luke warned. “Look at me. Did you hit your head?”

  She stared into his gaze. His eyes were the color of the Pacific Ocean right before a thunderstorm. He was angry. And upset. For her? Or for the scene she’d caused?

  “I’m fine.” She broke the intense contact, giving Evan her uninjured hand so he could pull her upright.

  Guests and members of the catering staff crowded into the space. The server stood nearby, wringing her hands. Danica shook her head at her, to indicate it wasn’t her fault, and instantly wished she hadn’t. Voices echoed off the surrounding marble, adding to her disorientation.

  “I’m sorry—” she started to say to Luke, but her lips—her whole body—started to shake despite every effort to stop it.

  He grabbed her hurt hand and examined it. “You’re bleeding.”
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  “It’s just a scratch.” She kept her gaze focused on his shoulder. The foyer was starting to tilt and the last thing she wanted to do was fall again.

  “You need a doctor.” He handed her the pocket square from his tuxedo jacket to press against her palm, and then threw an arm over her shoulder. It was comforting and solid, and she sank into his side. “We’re leaving.”

  “But the auction—”

  “Don’t worry about the auction,” Grayson said from her other side. “I’ll make sure all the money gets to the charity.”

  Danica started to thank him, but the heavy wooden doors had opened and she was standing in the cool evening air before she knew it. The valet had Luke’s car ready and Luke opened the passenger door, guiding her in.

  She slid onto the smooth leather seat and buckled in, careful to keep her injured palm from touching anything, and closed her eyes to stop the last of the spinning. The car accelerated and she opened them to see Luke, his expression grim in the glow of the car’s display.

  “The closest emergency room is twenty minutes away. You’ll be okay until then?” His words were clipped.

  She took her head off the pillow-like headrest and sat upright. “Do you know how expensive a trip to the ER is? If you drop me off at the nearest Caltrain station, I’ll be able to get home.”

  “Don’t worry about money. Your hand needs to be looked at. And what if you hit your head?”

  She took the pocket square off her palm and looked at the cut in the dim light. “I think the bleeding has stopped. And I know I didn’t hit my head. I don’t need a doctor.” Thanks to Matt, she’d had enough of hospitals to last her several lifetimes.

  He made a sound in his throat like he didn’t believe her. Then he turned the car around in a smooth, tight arc.

  “What are you doing? Are we going back to the party?”

  “I live a few streets away,” he answered. “If you won’t see a doctor, the least I can do is make sure your hand is cleaned and bandaged.”