Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
marlowe
D espite the ridiculously short notice , the mansion’s enormous living room is overflowing with guests the following Saturday. At least two hundred people have showed up for Gunner’s impromptu dinner party. It’s the not-to-be-missed social event of the weekend, apparently.
I’m stationed at the front door to greet arriving guests. They’re the movers and shakers of Austin: tech executives, entrepreneurs, billionaire investors, socialites with massive trust funds.
They pour out of chauffeured cars in designer tuxedos and glittering evening gowns. I can practically smell the power, luxury and privilege wafting off them. It makes me feel like a pauper in my plain white blouse, slim black skirt and tall black pumps—the uniform assigned to me for special events.
During a lull in arrivals, I sneak down the hall to peek in on the party. Strains of Chopin float romantically through the air as the guests mill around laughing, chatting, sipping champagne and nibbling hors d’oeuvres.
In the center of the room, Gunner is swarmed by a small crowd. He’s wearing a bespoke tuxedo, one hand tucked casually in his pocket.
He looks so good it takes my breath away—and pisses me the hell off. I don’t want to find him attractive. After the way he cockblocked my date with Dawson— again! —I want to stay mad at him. But it’s so damn hard when the mere sight of him sends my hormones into a tailspin. After not seeing him all week, I find myself drinking in every smile, every wink, every lift of his sexy eyebrow as he converses with his guests.
He rocks a tux like no man I’ve ever seen, and I positively hate him for it.
Gnawing my lower lip, I watch as he raises his champagne glass to his mouth. As if sensing my gaze, he turns his head and looks straight at me.
All the air leaves my lungs.
He stares at me for a long moment, then slowly takes a sip of champagne without breaking eye contact.
Pulse rioting like crazy, I duck out of sight and hurry back to my post by the front door.
Hearing the roar of a motorcycle, I open the door to see a man rumbling up to the house on a black Kawasaki Ninja. He’s wearing a black tux with black cowboy boots.
I watch as he kills the engine, lowers the kickstand and pulls off his helmet to reveal thick dark hair spilling over a drop-dead gorgeous face. I instantly recognize him as Maverick Ransom, Gunner’s twin brother.
He runs a hand through his hair, trying but failing to tame the unruly locks. I watch with equal parts fascination and enjoyment as he smoothly climbs off the bike and flashes a grin at Mr. Leland, who’s overseeing the valets tonight. The two men exchange a few laughs before Maverick glances toward the house to see me lurking in the doorway. His lazy grin widens, a white slash against his dark beard stubble.
Holy smokeshow!
After a few more moments of banter, he claps Mr. Leland on the shoulder and then starts up the front steps. He’s built the same as Gunner—tall and broad shouldered with narrow hips and long legs. Though fraternal twins, their square-jawed good looks are similar enough to leave no doubt that they’re brothers.
As Maverick reaches the top of the steps, I open the door wider to let him in.
He stares at me in stunned recognition. “Holy shit. The babe from the bar.”
I can’t help smiling. “I knew you looked familiar when I saw your picture on Pantheon’s website. You were there the night I met your brother.”
“I was.” He grins down at me, as insanely sexy as his twin. “Gunner didn’t tell me you were coming tonight.”
“I didn’t have much of a choice. I work for him.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. I’m his new housekeeper.”
“Is that right?” Maverick slowly looks me over and grins, shaking his head. “That sneaky son of a bitch.”
“You can say that again.” Some petty impulse makes me confide, “Did he tell you that he impersonated my date that night?”
Maverick blinks at me. “Come again?”
“I mistook him for the guy I was supposed to meet, and he kept up the charade until my real date called and blew his cover.”
Maverick stares at me in disbelief, then bursts out laughing.
The sound is so rich and infectious that I feel my lips twitch. “I’m glad you find it amusing.”
“I’m sorry,” he says between sexy chuckles. “What Gunner did was dead wrong. But it’s totally unlike him. He doesn’t do shit like that.”
“Well, he did.”
Maverick grins. “I apologize on his behalf. Sincerely.” His eyes are lighter than his brother’s, an icy blue that sucks you right in and locks you in place. “What’s your name, beautiful?”
“Marlowe.”
He shakes my hand, his skin warm and slightly callused. “Pleasure to meet you, Marlowe.”
“Same to you.” I smile. “A ton of people have been asking for you, Mr. COO, so I guess you’d better get in there and start schmoozing.”
He grins. “How long are you on door duty?”
“Just until the last guest arrives. Then I’ll be helping the waitstaff.”
Maverick’s eyes twinkle at me. “I’ll find you,” he promises before sauntering off to join the party.
Half an hour later, I’m weaving through the crowd offering champagne on a silver tray. I feel invisible, completely insignificant in this glitzy world of elites. Such a thing wouldn’t normally bother me. But tonight, for some reason, it does.
As I circulate around the room, I can’t help stealing glances at Gunner. He still has a crowd buzzing around him, and now there’s a tall blonde latched onto his arm. She’s gorgeous in an off-the-shoulder silver gown that hugs her sleek curves. I don’t remember greeting her at the front door, so she must have arrived late.
My focus is broken when someone swipes the last flute of champagne from my tray. Instead of returning to the kitchen to replenish my supply, I drift behind a marble column to continue secretly watching Gunner.
He’s telling a story, gesturing with one hand as he talks. His audience looks enthralled, hanging on his every word. At one point the blonde tilts her head back and laughs, showing off perfect white teeth.
When Gunner smiles at her, I feel a strange twist in my chest.
“Having fun?”
I jerk, startled, and nearly drop my empty tray.
Maverick catches it, laughter dancing in his eyes. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I, uh, was just, um?—”
“Spying on your boss?”
Heat floods my face.
Maverick laughs. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.” He hands my empty tray to a passing server.
I frown at him. “I need to get more cham?—”
“Relax. They’ve got it covered.”
“But—”
“No buts. You’re taking a break, I insist.”
I give him a wry look. “No offense, but you’re not the Ransom who signs my paychecks.”
He grins. “Touché.”
When another server approaches offering champagne, Maverick takes two flutes from the tray and hands one to me.
I shake my head. “I can’t. I’m work?—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He overrides my protest, pressing the chilled glass into my hand. “You need to loosen up a little, let your hair down. It’s gorgeous, as I recall.”
I can’t help grinning at him. “You’re gonna get me in trouble.”
“Who, me? Never.”
“Yeah right,” I laugh. “Something tells me you have plenty of experience leading women astray.”
“I have no idea what you mean. Cheers.” He taps his glass against mine.
I look around guiltily before sneaking a sip of champagne.
“Atta girl.” Maverick’s eyes gleam with wicked approval. “So you are corruptible.”
“Apparently so.” I grin and swig more champagne.
“Her name’s Laurene, by the way.”
I blink at Maverick. “Who?”
“The blonde you were glaring at a minute ago.”
My cheeks burn. “I wasn’t glaring.”
Maverick grins knowingly but doesn’t argue with me.
After a few moments, I find my gaze wandering back to the woman clinging to Gunner’s arm. “Old girlfriend?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
“Ex-fiancée.”
I feel a jolt of surprise. “Your brother was engaged?”
Maverick chuckles. “Shocking, isn’t it?”
I nod and gulp more champagne, watching as the blonde eases closer to Gunner. Any closer and they’ll be fused together.
“She’s a hotel heiress,” Maverick volunteers.
“Really?” Of course Gunner dates heiresses. He’s a superwealthy sex symbol with a plethora of beautiful women at his disposal. He doesn’t have to go slumming with the hired help—me, specifically.
“So what happened? Why’d they break up?” When Maverick hesitates, heat rises in my cheeks. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry.”
“You’re not.” Maverick lifts his glass to his lips. “Laurene thought Gunner worked too much. She wanted him to spend more time with her, whisk her away on romantic trips, be more attentive.” The corner of Maverick’s mouth tilts up as if he’s amused. “Gunner didn’t respond well to her ultimatum, so she broke up with him.”
“ She ended the engagement?”
Maverick nods. “She learned the hard way that ultimatums rarely work in favor of the people demanding them. She wants him back and is hoping they can work things out.”
“Oh?” I feel like I have cotton in my throat. “Well, I wish them the best.”
“Mmm.” Maverick sips his champagne, pale blue eyes studying me over the rim of the flute. I wonder what he sees in my face. I don’t think I want to know.
Gunner suddenly glances in our direction, his eyes narrowing with something resembling displeasure. The blonde follows his gaze and frowns, first at me and then at Gunner.
A knowing chuckle rumbles out of Maverick. “Interesting.”
“What?” I ask.
“Watch this,” he murmurs, shifting closer to me. When Gunner’s expression darkens, Maverick laughs a wicked laugh that could have come from the devil himself.
I shake my head at him. “If I get fired, I’m blaming you.”
He chuckles. “No worries, beautiful. Believe me, you’re not going anywhere.”
I don’t know what that means. Before I can ask him to elaborate, he winks at me and then saunters off into the crowd. Two women immediately glom onto him, simpering and batting their mink lashes.
Resisting the urge to look in Gunner’s direction, I drain my glass and make my way to the kitchen. The caterers are bustling around preparing dinner. I’m nearly mowed down by a server rushing past with a tray of hors d’oeuvres.
Across the kitchen, Mrs. Calder is conferring with the catering director. She’s been super bossy all evening, ordering everyone around like a maniacal drill sergeant. I don’t want to get in her crosshairs, so I grab a tray of champagne flutes and hurry back to the party.
My bosshole and his ex are drifting through the crowd, laughing and mingling with other guests. Determined to keep my distance, I head to the opposite side of the room and remain there.
My avoidance strategy seems to be working until I spot Gunner and Laurene moving in my direction. I feel a cold stab in my gut when I make eye contact with the blonde. Before I can pivot and scurry away, she raises her hand to summon me as if I’m a waitress at a restaurant.
Smothering a curse, I start forward with my tray carefully balanced on one hand. Gunner watches me come closer, his expression intense yet guarded. It’s so unnerving that I have to force myself to relax and breathe before I end up dropping the drinks I’m carrying.
When I reach the couple, Laurene plucks a flute off my tray, her silvery green eyes raking me from head to toe. With her icy blond hair and sun-kissed skin, she’s even more gorgeous up close. Intimidatingly gorgeous.
“Gunner tells me you’re his new housekeeper,” she says haughtily.
I nod, smiling. “He was kind enough to hire me when I needed a job.”
“That’s my Gunner,” she sighs, smoothing a perfectly manicured hand down his chest. “Always a champion of the underdog.”
“Indeed,” I murmur, meeting Gunner’s silent gaze. “He’s been very generous.”
Laurene narrows her eyes. Flawlessly garbed in haute couture, she oozes glamour, wealth and sexy sophistication. Next to her, I feel drab and dowdy in my servant’s attire.
I hold out my tray to Gunner. “More champagne?”
He slowly takes a glass, his eyes never leaving my face. “Enjoying the party?”
“Absolutely, sir,” I gush like some breathless ingénue. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be on a Saturday night.”
A faint glimmer of amusement sparks in his eyes. I can almost hear him calling me smartass, and I want to laugh.
Laurene divides a look between us and frowns, then sets her untouched glass on my tray with a sharp clink. “So Margaret?—”
“Marlowe,” I correct.
She blinks innocently. “Isn’t that what I said?”
“You said Margaret. It’s Marlowe.”
“My apologies.” She barely contains a smirk. “I can’t make out your accent. Where are you from?”
“Pittsburgh.”
“Goodness. You’re a long way from home, aren’t you?” She eyes me suspiciously. “Do you plan to stay in Texas permanently?”
“Um—”
“She just got here,” Gunner drawls with wry indulgence. “She’ll cross that bridge when she finishes grad school.”
“Right.” I smile at Laurene. “What he said.”
Her lips tighten with displeasure.
Gunner regards me silently, running his thumb around the lip of his glass. I stare at his long fingers and can’t help remembering the way they felt inside me, stroking, thrusting, bringing me to the hottest orgasm I’ve ever had in my life.
As heat floods my cheeks, I lift my gaze to his. I can tell by the devilish gleam in his eyes that he knows exactly what I was thinking about, and he likes it. Bastard.
Laurene waves at someone across the room and then links her arm with Gunner’s, clearly staking her claim for my benefit. “Let’s go say hello to Hugh. I want to hear all about his new yacht, and maybe you can talk him into throwing one of his fabulous sunset parties next month.”
Gunner downs his champagne and places the empty flute on my tray, looking me in the eye as he murmurs, “We’ll let you get back to work.”
“Of course. Enjoy yourselves.” I smile sweetly and walk off. Hazarding a glance over my shoulder, I catch Gunner staring back at me with the barest hint of regret before he and Laurene disappear into the crowd.
I serve champagne until my tray is empty. On my way back to the kitchen for a refill, Mrs. Calder intercepts me.
“You play the piano, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I reply, giving her a wary look. “Why?”
She motions to the gleaming concert grand piano tucked into a corner—wing raised, strings exposed, ivory keys shining. “I’ve seen you admiring it every time you clean the living room. Why don’t you play something for our guests before dinner?”
“Oh no,” I say hastily. “I haven’t played in months. I’m so rusty?—”
“This isn’t Carnegie Hall, dear. No one is expecting Mozart.” She plucks the tray out of my hand, ushers me over to the Steinway and practically shoves me down onto the bench.
Several people glance our way. A few start drifting over, lured by the prospect of an entertaining performance. Others soon follow, and before I know it, a large crowd has gathered.
I gulp hard as I look around. Maverick stands near the front of the crowd with an attractive woman on each arm. Laurene stands off to one side, fingering her diamond choker as she watches me with a look of bored disinterest.
Gunner, thankfully, is nowhere in sight.
“This piece was composed by my father,” I nervously announce to my audience. “It’s called ‘Blue Wish.’ His work isn’t well known, so I’m hoping if I mess up a few times, you won’t know the difference.”
Laughter ripples through the crowd. Maverick grins at me, his eyes gleaming with appreciation. Mrs. Calder gives me an encouraging nod.
I can’t remember the last time I played “Blue Wish.” But as my fingers start moving over the keys, the familiar melody comes back to me, and suddenly I’m transported back to my childhood, sitting at our old piano and plinking out the notes of the song under my father’s proud gaze.
Just as my nerves are starting to settle, I look up to see Gunner framed in the entryway.
Our eyes lock.
The connection is palpable, jolting me so hard that I almost hit the wrong note.
He starts slowly toward me, his eyes never leaving mine as the crowd makes room for him.
My palms become clammy with sweat. I force myself to look down at the piano keys, focusing on the music and not my battering heart or the weight of his gaze.
When I finish the song, the crowd bursts into applause. Maverick claps the loudest and whistles his approval.
Gunner just stares at me. His face shows no emotion, but his blue eyes seem to burn brighter. Hotter.
I stand and take a bow, grinning as the applause grows louder.
Laurene starts whispering in Gunner’s ear. He nods distractedly and scrapes a hand through his hair, a now familiar gesture that betrays his agitation.
Mrs. Calder walks up to me with a delighted smile—the first such sighting of the night. “That was lovely, dear. You play quite well.”
“Thank you,” I say sheepishly. “I’m so out of practice.”
“I don’t think anyone noticed. But you’re more than welcome to practice on the piano anytime you want.”
“Really? You don’t think Mr. Ransom will mind?”
“Why would he? He spent a fortune on that piano and it hardly ever gets any use. Besides,” she adds with twinkling eyes, “he clearly enjoyed your playing.”
“Think so?” I can’t hide my uncertainty. “He’s hard to read sometimes.”
“I’ve known him all his life and I can read him like a book. Believe me, he was very pleased.” Mrs. Calder tucks her arm through mine and winks. “Let’s go check on dinner, shall we?”
The party moves outdoors, where paper lanterns strung across the lawn sway in the evening breeze and candles glow on tables covered with white linen. Soft jazz drifts through the open air, soothing and romantic.
The guests mingle after dinner, wandering from table to table as they enjoy the pleasant summer night.
Now that I’m off the clock, a hot bubble bath is calling my name. But instead of heading up to my room, I slip off my heels and make my way down to the dock. The grass beneath my feet feels warm and spongy, stretching down to the water’s edge.
Passing a large boathouse with an upper deck, I walk to the end of the dock and sit down, letting my legs dangle over the edge. The moon reflects off the glassy surface of the lake, the water rippling under a soft breeze.
I tug the elastic band off my ponytail and shake my hair loose with a deep sigh of appreciation.
It’s been a long day but I really can’t complain, especially not after receiving my first paycheck yesterday. When I saw the healthy sum deposited into my checking account, I felt like I’d just won the lottery. Not only was I able to pay all of my bills two months ahead, I even had enough funds left over to make a generous donation to my favorite animal shelter. I also gave Quinn seven hundred dollars to cover Sansa’s care expenses and buy something nice for herself. She balked at the amount and had to be bullied into accepting it. But she did, with tearful gratitude.
With more money on the way and a warm breeze caressing my face, all feels right with the world.
When I hear footsteps behind me, goose bumps break out across my body. I don’t look over my shoulder to see who’s approaching. I already know.
He comes to a stop beside me, silently staring out over the lake. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that his tuxedo jacket is gone and his shirt is untucked, the sleeves rolled to his tanned elbows.
I wait for him to speak, my heart beating faster with each passing second.
“Beautiful night,” he says quietly.
I nod without looking at him.
He sits down beside me, his long legs dangling over the water. My pulse races, every breath filled with his scent. I can feel his heat, can practically taste him on the air.
“Thanks for all your hard work tonight,” he tells me.
I force a shrug. “Just earning my pay.”
“Mrs. Calder says you’re doing a wonderful job. I happen to agree.”
I look at him then. “Does your fiancée know where you are right now?”
His eyes flash in the moonlight. Then he chuckles, sounding both amused and annoyed. “I see my brother has been running his mouth.”
I cross my ankles. “We’ve become friends.”
“Is that right?” Gunner gives me a lazy half smile. “You like him better than me, kitten?”
“I like everyone better than you.”
His deep laugh rumbles through the night air. I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling.
“Such a smartass.” He shifts closer, his muscular leg pressing warmly against mine. My heart stutters and my thighs clench beneath my skirt. I should move away from him, but I don’t. Truthfully, I don’t want to.
When a breeze blows my hair across my face, he brushes back the loose strands, looking into my eyes. “I’m not engaged to Laurene. Not anymore.”
I search his face. “But you might get back together, right? That’s why she’s here tonight, isn’t it?”
He stares down at me.
I find myself holding my breath, half dreading his answer even though his love life is none of my business.
He looks away without responding, staring up at the stars. “That was an incredible song you played. Your father wrote it?”
I let out a small breath and nod. “It was the first song he ever taught me.”
“Yeah?”
I nod again. “He used to give piano lessons to earn extra money. As a kid, I loved peeking around the corner and eavesdropping on him. He always knew I was there, but he pretended not to see me. One day after his student left, he sat me down at the piano and played one of his new songs for me. I loved it so much that I begged him to teach it to me. He did, and many other songs after that.” I laugh quietly. “We both knew I wasn’t a child prodigy or anything. We just cherished our father-daughter bonding time.”
Gunner smiles, his expression almost tender as he watches me. “That’s a wonderful memory.”
“It is,” I say softly. “I have lots of them.”
“Then you’re very lucky.”
I smile at him before we both fall silent, gazing out across the moonlit water.
“It’s really beautiful out here,” I whisper, as if not wanting to break the spell. “You must love living on the lake.”
“It’s nice.” He pauses for a few moments. “I was thinking about taking the boat out tomorrow. Maybe you’d like to join me.”
I swallow hard and lick my lips before looking at him. His gaze locks on my mouth, sending hot flutters to my core.
“I couldn’t keep my eyes off you tonight,” he confesses huskily. “I couldn’t focus on my guests or the conversations I was supposed to be having. I couldn’t think of anything but you.”
I stare at him, my heart pounding like thunder in my ears. “Gunner?—”
He touches a wayward strand of my hair, following it down to the end. His gaze lingers there before slowly, very slowly, lifting to my face.
Heat twists my insides. Heat and longing.
As we stare at each other, everything else ceases to exist—the starry sky, the shimmering lake, the distant music from the party. In that moment, it’s just him and me and our insanely powerful attraction.
Then a woman’s voice calls out, “Gunner!”
We both turn our heads to see Laurene standing at the other end of the dock. Even from a distance, her anger is palpable.
I look at Gunner.
He silently returns my gaze.
A minute passes, my heart counting each second until he stands and gently pulls me to my feet. When he kneels down to help me step into my heels, I think of the dashing prince sliding the glass slipper onto Cinderella’s foot, and my stomach flutters.
But I’m not Cinderella, and Gunner Ransom is no Prince Charming.
Even if I’m starting to wish he was.