THREE
THE SUN HAD SUNK and the crowds thinned. Clean up was the only thing left to do. Well, cleaning and counting, but only one was on her agenda.
Outside stalls were being broken down and packed up. The day had been long, but whatever the total, it had been worth it, someone, some people, would benefit.
“Sorry we didn’t get to work closer.”
Hmm, with her hands deep in the suds, running away from that rough brogue wasn’t an option. Head down. Maybe if she said nothing at all, he’d go away. Shoo, shoo, big Breckenridge. Read the room.
“You’re not going to talk to me?” No, but if she held her breath much longer, she’d pass out right there. Wouldn’t that be a great story to share at the country club? “You can talk about sex again.”
No, that wasn’t funny. She wouldn’t laugh or relax or… Mmmm, his cologne smacked like a one-two punch and her chin rose, tractoring her gaze to his.
“That wouldn’t be a good idea.”
Stupid voice was acting on its own again.
“I’m great at talking about sex,” he said. “Should we start with foreplay or just flirt a little? This happens at your pace, baby. How do you like it?”
He’d probably had it every which way. Was variety the spice of life or just the best way to tour pussy?
“You don’t know what’s good for you, Breckenridge,” she said, laying a spoon on the drying rack. The last thing she expected was for him to pick it up with a towel to dry it off. How did a billionaire know how to do that? “Your mom make you do chores at home?”
“A man should know what to do around the house.”
“Most of us don’t grow up with a staff,” she said, loosening as she washed and he dried.
This was normal. Two people. Could be any two people just shooting the breeze. Focus on the water and those dirty, dirty—wet, dirty, slick, slippery soap and—nope, switch route. No sex thinking, embrace logic. If she didn’t think it, surely her mouth couldn’t speak it.
“Don’t know much about my family, do you?”
“I’ve worked in the Breckenridge flagship store for three years,” she said. Work was safe. Boring. Normal. “I’ve heard a thing or two.”
“Such as?”
“There are a lot of you, I know that. The Breckenridge brand is known across the world in retail, fashion, sport, want me to keep going?”
“Get to the part where we talk about sex.”
She groaned and surrendered to her shame. “Okay, yes,” she said, slapping a whisk onto his palm. “I made an idiot of myself, want to take out an ad?”
“I wouldn’t say an idiot, but you made an impression.”
One her boss wouldn’t forget in a hurry. Probably one Alice Breckenridge would share with her husband. Were her Breckenridge days numbered already? A compliment maybe wouldn’t go amiss.
“Your mother is beautiful, refined.” She’d made an impression too. “Breathtaking.”
“Any Breckenridge you’re not attracted to?”
Shit, his tease wasn’t appreciated. No, breathe out, it was. She’d rather he took her with good humor than offense.
“Must be good genes.”
He laughed. “You really don’t know anything about my family at all.”
And did he have to mock her for that? “Do you know about mine?”
His laughter died. “Why would I know about—”
“Why would I know about yours? Because you’re rich?”
Nothing dented his confidence. “You’d know about them if we talked over dinner.”
The curveballs just kept coming. “Dinner? Why would we—” Her hands sank into the water when her arms relaxed. “You’re asking me to dinner? You’re asking me out? On a date?”
He shrugged. “You did offer me your cherry.”
Class didn’t come with a price, and in that she found her confidence. “Oh, so you didn’t mean dinner, you meant sex?”
“If we have one, the other might follow.”
Working again, her smile stayed low. Nothing wrong with his ego. Why should there be?
“I’m not Breckenridge material and like my job. I do not want to be a Breckenridge booty call.”
“Wouldn’t worry about that, I’d put money on you not being the first employee tapped by a Breckenridge. I can ask for a show of hands at the next family meeting, if that’ll help you decide.”
This guy was a jokester, she’d never have pegged that. Or he was playing with her, but it seemed in good fun. Maybe this was his attempt to put her at ease.
“Nice.”
“We employ thousands of people.”
“Because that’s what you meant.”
“No, I meant we’re all studs, always on the lookout for primo pussy.”
“Smooth, buddy. Real smooth. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“Darroch,” Alice’s abrupt voice put the woman right there. Nearby. Close. Too close. How long had she been listening? “Are you being rude?”
“Expressing a healthy interest,” he said, unperturbed by his mother’s proximity. “Did I offend you, Cherry?”
Okay, that wasn’t her name but… “No more than I offended you earlier.”
“We have the results,” Alice Breckenridge said, “if you’d both like to join your team.”
The others were gathering a dozen yards away.
“Results?” she asked, taking the proffered hand towel from Darroch.
Two distinct sides formed. In the middle of one was Caber.
“We’ve got it locked here,” Caber crowed to his brother. “Go back to your dirty dishes, Roch.”
“Everyone in their place,” Alice said.
Darroch laid a hand on the middle of her back to guide her into their cohort. The heat of it tickled up and down, but the span gave reassuring weight broad enough to support the width of her narrow waist.
“Hush, hush,” Celeste said.
Eager, electrified silence descended.
“The numbers have been tallied and verified,” Alice addressed her audience. “Though it was close, we do have a winning team…” Yes, yes, who? She’d never had a competitive bone in her body. Until right then. “Congratulations to… Breckenridge Intimates.”
As a wail of joy exploded from her group, the other mirrored it with outrage.
Yvette hugged her and Nessa smacked a kiss on her cheek at the same time she was pulled the opposite way, up against a solid column. The cologne betrayed that column had a name, one she hadn’t known that morning: Darroch Breckenridge.
“Now, please,” Alice said, barely audible over the furor until Darroch vibrated, his loud, sharp whistle quieted all. “Thank you, sweetheart. We would like to invite the winning team to have dinner at our family table tomorrow night.” More cheers and groans. “And in light of this incredible inspiration, my family and I would like to invite all of you to sign up to next year’s Breckenridge Walkathon in aid of Lighting Darkness.”
That got everyone chattering. The excitement was contagious.
“Are you going to sign up?”
Huh, oh, was he—he was. Darroch was talking to her. Only her.
“Oh, uh, I sign up for every charity event I can. We have another couple this month. Celeste and Maureen regularly go head-to-head.”
“And the charity wins either way. Great hobby.”
For her, it was more than that, but he didn’t need to know the truth. He didn’t need to know anything about her. If fate had any kind of mercy, they’d never cross paths again. And maybe a bout of viral amnesia could strike the group thus erasing this day of shame from everyone’s memory. Perfect. Worked for her. Should she send a memo?
“Savanna!”
Celeste’s cry startled her into jumping away from him and his still cradling arm. Though the momentary strengthening of his embrace suggested Darroch maybe didn’t want to let go.
She went to her boss, encircled by colleagues, phone aloft.
“What is—”
“Sign here, we’re putting your name in.” The others were all there, why shouldn’t she partake? “Don’t forget the bowling tournament next weekend.”
They’d see each other at work and at dinner too, apparently. It would be pretty difficult to forget their commitment.
“Are we doing the dinner thing?”
Because she’d get out of it if she could. Maybe the refined Breckenridge matriarch was only extending the invitation to be polite. Could be attendance wasn’t compulsory.
“Yes, we’re doing the dinner thing, and you better dress up. No one says no to Alice Breckenridge.”
Few people would say no to any Breckenridge, she imagined.
“Might not be a good idea,” she said, “for me. For obvious reasons.”
Her boss took her elbow to lead her away from the others.
“Mrs. Breckenridge is already talking about joining and supporting other events. This could be a breakthrough, imagine how much we could raise and the higher the stakes…”
The more the charity would gain. That was the presumed answer, the socially acceptable one. Though she couldn’t help but assume Celeste’s motivation was snatching higher glory from Luxe Leathers.
Maybe that wasn’t fair.
Cynicism was difficult to shrug off.
“I don’t want to embarrass myself again.”
“You were getting along just fine at the sink.”
“The unexpected throws me off; I’m terrible with surprises. It helps when my energy stores are low and I’m focused on something else… and when I don’t have to look directly at him.”
“Then skip sleep tonight. There’s no way any of our team are missing this meal.”
It was a lock. Oh, goody. Sigh.