Convenient Cinderella Bride
But every time she saw Jonas, her libido loudly reminded her that she hadn’t had sex in a very long time. Jonas Halstead would be damn good at sex. He’d had, it was said, a lot of practice.
But tonight he was here alone. “Is your guest not joining you tonight?”
Jonas placed his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. “Rowan will be joining me shortly.”
Kat widened her eyes in surprise. He was dating Rowan Greenly? The actress had just separated from her very volatile husband after a domestic abuse charge, and the hot-tempered rock star had threatened to kill anyone who made a move on his wife.
“You’re brave. I suggest you wear a bulletproof vest,” Kat couldn’t help murmuring, even though she knew she was being indiscreet. “Rock likes his guns.”
Jonas frowned, confused. Then his austere face softened as he released a low chuckle.
A thousand sparks danced on her skin as his smile turned his face from remote-but-still-hot to oh-my-God-I-want-to-rip-his-clothes-off. Kat placed her fist under her sternum and resisted the urge to scrunch her eyes shut.
No. God, no. She couldn’t have the screaming hots for Jonas Halstead. She’d married, and divorced, a ruthless and merciless man. A competitive and cutthroat billionaire should be the last person to interest her. She was avoiding the male species in general, and the hot and sexy ones in particular.
Jonas was not her type.
The front door to the restaurant pulled open and all six feet and five inches of the best basketball talent in the country stepped into the restaurant. Rowan Brady. God, of course it was.
Kat glanced at Jonas, who lifted one dark eyebrow. “My date.”
Rowan joined them, clasping Jonas’s shoulder as he did. “Joe, we’ve known each other since we were kids and I keep telling you you’re not my type.”
Kat heard the teasing note in Rowan’s deep voice and blushed as his dark eyes settled on her face. “And I’m curious as to why you’d want this gorgeous creature to think that I am.”
Jonas slid Rowan a droll look. “Katrina thought I was meeting Rowan Greenly.”
Rowan shuddered. “You have more sense than that. She’s hot but her husband is psycho.”
Jonas pulled his hands from his pockets and placed his forearms on her counter, the fabric of his suit bunching around impressive biceps. Kat lifted an eyebrow of her own, annoyed that she could easily imagine pushing that jacket off his shoulders and down his arms, ripping that shirt apart to find out whether his skin was as hot as she imagined.
She swallowed a moan. It was time to do her job. “Let me take you to your table, Mr. Halstead.”
“Since you felt comfortable enough to make assumptions about my love life, you should be comfortable enough to call me Jonas. Or Joe.”
Kat walked around the podium and gestured to the already full dining room. She deliberately ignored his provoking statement and his friend’s amused expression. “I’ve placed you by the window. It has the most wonderful view of the beach below. This way, gentlemen.” Kat started the familiar walk into the restaurant, forcing her expression into one of calm serenity.
Please don’t look at my ass, Kat thought as Jonas fell into step behind her. Or, if you do, please like it.
For God’s sake, Katrina! What is wrong with you?
“You have a—”
Thankful they were at his table, Kat turned and waited for his cocky comment.
But Jonas said nothing. He just moved to stand behind her, his height and width dwarfing her. He lifted his hand to her neck and Kat felt the tips of his fingers graze her skin. He barely made contact but suddenly her feet were glued to the floor and every cell in her body was set to vibrate. If he kissed her she’d spontaneously combust. She was sure of it.
Jonas twisted his hand and quickly snapped off the tag to her dress and held it up. “You obviously forgot to take it off. Here you go.”
Kat’s eyes bounced between the tag in his hand and his eyes, horror smothering the burning attraction she felt for the man.
Oh, crap, oh, crap, oh, crap. He’d ripped the tag when he pulled it off and she wouldn’t be able to reattach it.
Oh, God, Tess had made it very clear that the bar code had to remain intact, that it could not be reproduced. Kat wouldn’t be able to return the dress.
Her stomach climbed up her throat and lodged behind her tonsils. She was quite certain the air in the room was fast disappearing.
“Are you okay?” Jonas asked from a place far away. “Katrina?”
His voice pulled her back from the abyss, just a foot or so, enough for her to get some air into her lungs and oxygen to her brain.
You can’t faint. You can’t yell at him. You can’t even react.
You need this damn job.
But she couldn’t speak. She was unable to command her tongue to form even the smallest response. Intellectually she knew he thought he’d been doing her a favor, but his assumption had just piled another suitcase of stress onto the load she was already struggling to carry. Was this the straw that would break her back?
Kat suspected it might be. She snatched the tag from Jonas’s hand and spun on her heel, praying she made it to the staff restroom without throwing up.
She now owed more than a thousand dollars on a dress she couldn’t afford and it was Jonas Halstead’s fault.
God, sexy man or not, if he had been eating with Rowan Greenly, Kat would have called Rowan’s psycho husband and told him where to find Jonas.
And she would have suggested he bring his biggest gun.
Two
Kat, reaching her desk at the entrance of the restaurant and its adjoining bar, looked at the rows of liquor above the bartender’s head and wished she could order something long, strong and alcoholic. Her eyes danced across a group in the corner, a girl and four guys, all pierced and tattooed. They were drinking the Mariella, the world-famous cocktail named after Harrison’s wife. She could do with a Mariella, or three, right now. Actually she could really do with one of Mariella Santiago-Marshall’s limitless, solid black credit cards or access to her bank account.
Crap. What the hell was she going to do?
“Please, please tell me you’d left the tag on the dress as a mistake—that you weren’t planning on returning it in the morning.”
Kat spun around and blinked at the multicolored creature standing in front of her. Her dress was a slinky cocktail number with a plunging neck and spaghetti straps the color of lemon sorbet. It was the perfect foil for the ink on her body. Pulling her eyes up from the amazing artwork, Kat looked into an elfin face dominated by a pair of warm brown eyes. The woman had a series of piercings in her lower lip and along her eyebrow; she had a tiny butterfly tattoo on her temple.
“You look amazing,” Kat said. She sighed. It was obviously her night for allowing her mouth to run away with her.
“Thank you. But you didn’t answer my question. Were you returning the dress?”
Kat looked into the restaurant and scowled in Halstead’s direction. She never discussed one customer with another, but this woman would join her equally inked friends in the bar—birds of a feather—and she didn’t see the harm in answering her question. Kat could spot a trust-fund baby at sixty paces and this woman was not one of them.
She lowered her voice. “Yes, it’s borrowed. I was returning it in the morning. Now I’m going to have to pay for it, which was never the damned plan.” Not sure what it was about this painted fairy that had her spilling her secrets, Kat continued, “God, I could just kill him. I don’t have a thousand dollars to spend on a dress! I don’t have a thousand dollars, full stop!”
“Thirteen hundred.” The girl bit her lip. “It’s a Callisto. Thirteen ninety-five, including tax.”
Kat resisted the urge to bang her head against her desk. She swore, softly. “Dammit. I swear, I don’t care that he’s as sexy as sin and hotter than the sun, he’s a stupid, idiot man!”
Before the painted fairy could reply, Elana Marshall interrupted their conversation by placing a hand on Kat’s shoulder.
Kat spun around and smiled at the youngest Marshall and prayed that Elana hadn’t heard her last emphatic statement. “Hi, Elana, did you have a nice evening?”
The dimple in Elana’s cheek flashed. “I did. Thanks, Kat.”
Elana looked at Pixie Girl, her eyes bouncing from tat to tat, her mouth curving upward. “Love the angel on your arm.” Without waiting for a response, Elana turned her attention back to Kat. “So who is the idiot man?”
Kat wanted to scrunch her eyes shut in mortification. She and Elana were friends, sort of, in a “hey, how are you” sort of way. Elana was an heiress and Kat was Elana’s father’s employee. Kat’s eyes darted to Pixie Girl, silently begging her not to answer. She didn’t want Elana Marshall, who was the ultimate trust-fund baby, to know that her dress was on loan.
Pixie Girl smiled. “Aren’t they all, at one time or another?”
Elana nodded. “Pretty much. And here is one of mine.” Kat smiled at Elana’s date and thought that Elana could do a lot better than the married casting director. She could also do better than her fiancé, Thom, who was really nice but...not for Elana. She needed someone with a personality as strong as hers.
But Kat had bigger problems to worry about than her boss’s daughter’s complicated love life. She had a job to do...a job she needed now more than ever.
Kat said good-night to Elana and turned back to the vision standing in front of her. “I am so sorry, you’ve been standing here forever. Let me walk you to the bar.”
Pixie Girl grinned. “Actually, I’m joining Jonas Halstead’s table.”
Kat groaned and wondered if there was any way this night could get worse.
“Yeah,” said Pixie Girl. “I’m meeting my boss and his friend for dinner.”
“Please tell me that you work for Rowan Brady,” Kat begged her.
She smiled, giving Kat a flash of her tongue stud. “Nope. I’m Sian and I work for Jonas Halstead.”
Well, she had wondered whether this evening could get any worse.
Yep, Life answered her, challenge accepted.
* * *
The next morning, after a night long on worry and light on sleep, Kat heard the sound of a key in a lock. She brushed her hands across her wet cheekbones and rubbed her hands over her thighs, transferring her tears onto her old yoga pants. She heard the familiar thump of Tess’s heavy bag hitting the floor and then her friend, with copper hair and freckles, stepped into Kat’s small sitting area, holding—bless her—two cups of coffee.
“Yay, you’re awake. I didn’t know if you would be,” Tess said, handing Kat a cup. “I got your text message this morning so I thought I’d pop in and see what the ‘catastrophe’ was.” Tess sat next to Kat and peered into her face. “God, have you slept? At all?”
“I got home after midnight and I was too wound up for sleep.” Not wanting to delay the bad news, she nodded at the designer dress lying over the chair. “I need to pay for the dress.”
Tess’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, crap, why?”
“Last night a guest, thinking he was being helpful, pulled the tag off,” Kat told her, her voice flat. “The tag is toast.”
Tess softly swore and wrinkled her nose. “Dammit, Kat, if you’d spilled something on it we could’ve had it cleaned. If it ripped, I would’ve had it mended, but I can’t give a reasonable explanation as to why the label was ripped off.”
Kat held up her hand. “I get it, Tess, I do. Stupid Jonas Halstead.”
“The property mogul and one of California’s hottest bachelors?” Tess’s eyes widened. “He’s an idiot for pulling the label off but, oh, my God, he’s so sexy.”
“He might be but he’s put me in a hell of a position,” Kat grumbled. “How soon do you need the money?”
Tess thought for a minute. “Miranda is away on vacation in Cancun for a month. So, basically, you have that long. And if you give me the money, I’ll buy it and that way you’ll get the staff discount. It’s not much, only ten percent off, but it’ll help.”
Kat squeezed her knee. “Thanks, Tess.” She rested her head on the back of her couch and closed her eyes.
“Or I can pay for it from my savings and you can pay me back,” Tess added.
“Ah, Tess.” It was a sweet offer. It didn’t matter that Tess was her oldest friend. She couldn’t accept her help. Thanks to her father and her ex-husband, Kat had massive issues around money. And trust.
It was easier, safer, cleaner, to go it alone.
Tess placed her coffee cup on the battered table with a thump. “You can’t keep this up, Kat. You can’t keep trying to do it all. You’ve even dropped weight. Are you eating?”
She ate at the restaurant most nights, with the chefs at the end of a shift. In between she lived on coffee and fresh air.
“Kat, something has got to change,” Tess insisted, sitting on the edge of the seat.
“But what, Tess?” Kat demanded, resting her elbows on her knees. “The house June lives in is mine but my evil stepmom has the right to use it for the rest of her life and, in the terms of the will, I have to pay for the utilities and the upkeep. I have to carry the costs on a property I can’t sell or use to get a loan.”
“Why the hell didn’t your dad leave you any cash?”
“Because he thought that, by the time he died, I’d have a kick-ass, high-paying job. He also knew I had a rich husband to take care of me. He thought that if I couldn’t pay for the house, Wes would pay for what I needed. I had someone to look after me. June did not.”
“Your ex was such a psycho,” Tess muttered, her expression dark.
Yep, beneath that charming all-American-boy exterior lived a sardonic, selfish narcissist who thought the sun disappeared when he sat.
“Okay, there’s nothing you can do about the house but I don’t understand why you are taking on the burden of Cath’s medical bills,” Tess stated, taking a sip of her coffee. She waved her hand. “I understand why you feel obliged to—when your mom died and your dad remarried Cruella, your aunt was there for you—but Cath is financially stable.”
Kat pushed her hands into her hair. “She’s really not, Tess. She has insurance but it’s limited. Her cancer is rare and complicated and requires treatments her insurance doesn’t cover. She’s also paying for a full-time caregiver, which has wiped out the little disposable income she has.” Kat shrugged. “So, between June’s demands on the repairs to the house and sending cash Cath’s way, I’m flat broke.”
“Is she getting better?”
Kat felt her heart spasm as she shook her head. “I need her to see a specialist, but even if there wasn’t a ridiculously long waiting list, they always seem to want money up front to cover the cost of her tests.”
Kat rubbed the back of her neck and looked around her small but cozy apartment. It was her favorite place in the world, a haven of color, the place where she could relax. After leaving the restaurant last night she’d returned home and spent a few hours crunching numbers on a spreadsheet.
One column held a list of expenses: rent, utility bills and food for herself; the repairs, maintenance and utility bills for the home her stepmom occupied; projected figures for Cath’s medical expenses.
The other column, woefully small, held her income. There was a massive shortfall between the two amounts and she’d had yet to include paying for the damn dress.
God, how she wished she could roll back the years. She wished she hadn’t taken a gap year between school and college to travel Europe. She wished she hadn’t met and—in a haze of lust—married Wes. She’d managed to complete her degree in business administration, but there were lots of people with the same degree. She needed her MBA to earn the big bucks that would keep her head above water.
Over the past four years she’d managed to scrape together enough money to earn some credits toward her postgrad degree, but she still had a few courses to do. And she had to write her Leadership and Corporate Accountability exam in a few months. God knew when she was going to get time to study for that.
Yesterday she’d been treading water financially, but with a designer dress to pay for, she was now sinking below the surface. Tess was right. Something had to change, and fast. But what?
“I’m going to have to move,” Kat reluctantly stated. “I’d save some money if I did. I can move back in with Cath.”
Cath would love to have her and would refuse to charge her rent. If she did move back in, she could keep a better eye on Cath and monitor her health. But...damn, this apartment was her bolt-hole, her escape, the only place that was completely hers.
“This apartment block is owned by Harrison Marshall. Can’t you ask the company to give you a break, to carry you for a month or two?” Tess asked.
Not possible. “They already give me a subsidy on my rent as part of my salary. I can’t ask for more.”
“So, essentially, you have a month to find the money to pay for the dress and to try to keep this apartment.”
A month? God. “When you put it like that I want to bang my head against the wall,” Kat muttered.
“Maybe something will come up. You never know.”
“And I believe in unicorns and fairies...” Kat murmured, feeling utterly defeated. “God, Tess, for the first time ever, I’m totally out of ideas. What the hell am I going to do?”
Tess’s eyes were full of compassion. “You’re going to keep on believing that something amazing will happen. You’re going to use your big brain and find a way because you are the smartest woman I know.” Tess stood, took Kat’s coffee from her hand and placed it on the coffee table. Pulling a throw off the single chair and then patting a pillow she placed against the arm of the sofa, she said, “But right now, you’re going to sleep for a couple of hours.”
“I’ve got stuff to do,” Kat protested, her eyes heavy at just the mention of sleep.
“You need to decompress and you really need sleep,” Tess insisted and watched as Kat curled her legs up onto the sofa and rested her head on the cushion. “You can’t think straight without sleep, my darling. When you wake up, you’ll feel so much better and you’ll think of a solution.”
God, she hoped so, Kat thought, closing her eyes. She was just about to drift off when she heard, once again, Tess’s footsteps on her floor. “What did you lose, Tess?”
“Uh...it’s not what I lost but what I found on your doorstep.”
Hearing a note in Tess’s voice that was a curious combination of both surprise and confusion, Kat forced her eyes open. She saw his feet first, trendy navy sneakers worn without socks. Indigo denim slacks covered muscular, long legs and a leather belt encircled a trim waist and what she suspected might be a washboard stomach. A striped blue-and-white shirt was tucked in and made his chest seem wider, his shoulders broader. The cuffs of his expensive shirt were rolled up to reveal tanned forearms and a Rolex encircling a strong wrist. His cotton shirt pulled tight across his big biceps and the collar of his shirt opened in a V to reveal a hint of his chest covered in a light dusting of hair.
Green, green eyes, messy hair, that sexy stubble on his strong jaw. Man, what had she done to deserve Jonas Halstead standing in her apartment at 8:05 a.m.?
Kat slowly sat upright and frowned when she saw Tess backing away. Huh, so Tess wasn’t sticking around for moral support. She frowned at her friend, who shrugged. “I have to get to work. I’m late as it is. Sorry,” Tess explained, walking backward into the hall.
Sorry? She didn’t look sorry at all. Kat slapped her bare feet onto the floor and stood, wishing she didn’t look like a bag lady on a bad day. She ran her tongue over her teeth and pushed her hand into her hair, sighing when her hand snagged on a knot. Really? This was now her life?
Kat forced herself to meet Jonas Halstead’s amused eyes. “What on earth are you doing here? How did you find me?”
He reached into the back pocket of his pants and tossed a check onto her coffee table. “Fourteen hundred dollars. It’s to pay for the dress I ruined.”
Bloody Sian. Kat had thought she’d keep her mouth shut! Dammit. Kat looked at the check, sighed and decided to lie her ass off. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Jonas jammed his hands into the pockets of his pants and narrowed his eyes at her. “The hell you don’t. You borrowed a designer dress. You were going to return it. I pulled the tag off, which, as Sian told me, was a stupid ass thing to do. You are now on the hook for fourteen hundred dollars. I’m taking you off the hook.”
Kat looked at the check, back up to his determined face and back down to the check again. God, it was so tempting to take his money. It had been his fault. He had pulled the tag off and it wasn’t like he couldn’t afford the donation. He was Jonas Halstead, billionaire.
But it was still a donation and she didn’t accept charity, ever. She especially didn’t take handouts from sexy men who threw cash around like it was confetti. Nothing was simple when it came to money and motives should always be questioned. Nobody, especially hard-assed businessmen, handed out money without wanting something in return.
Between her ex and her father, she was sick of men and the games they played with money. Kat folded her arms across her chest and shook her head. “I’m not going to cash your check.”
Shock ran across his face, through his eyes. “What?”
“I’m not taking your money.” Kat spoke slowly, as if she were her explaining her position to a three-year-old. “I chose to wear the dress, even knowing that I couldn’t afford to pay for it if something went wrong. Something did go wrong, but it’s my problem, not yours.”
“The hell it is!” Jonas snapped back, his green eyes flashing with frustration. “I should not have been presumptuous enough to take the tag off.”
“Maybe not, but I’m still not taking your money,” Kat told him, feeling stubborn.
“Consider it a tip,” Jonas suggested, matching her bullishness with a healthy dose of his own.
“Too late for that,” Kat said. “Thanks for the offer but...no.”
“You are the most infuriating, annoying, frustrating, sexy...”
Kat hauled in a breath when he said the last word and their eyes clashed and held. One little word and something hot and crazy buzzed between them. The air around them seemed to thicken and tighten, filling with electricity. God, he was as attracted to her as she was to him. She saw it in the way he clenched and unclenched his fists, in the green fire in his eyes. If she took one step toward him she’d be in his arms. She’d feel the heat and strength of him. She would know whether his sexy lips felt as good as they looked, whether sparks would jump from her skin under the warmth of his hands.
She wanted him. Annoying, cash-on-the-table cretin that he was, she wanted to taste him, feel him, make love to him. She was losing her mind; she was sure of it. Too much stress and not enough sleep...this craziness was the result.
Kat heard Jonas snap out a swear word, heard his “This is insane” mutter. Then his hand breached the space between them and his fingers encircled her wrist. He held her lightly, giving her the opportunity to pull out of his grip if she so wanted.
She didn’t.
Instead Kat allowed him to pull her in. She didn’t step away when his hand rested on her lower back and jerked her hips into his, allowing her to feel the hard length of his erection pushing into her stomach. His other hand covered her right breast; his thumb finding her nipple with deadly accuracy. He hadn’t even kissed her yet and her panties were damp.
If he didn’t kiss her she would die. From want, need, sheer frustration. Kat stood on her tiptoes, her mouth aligned with his. Not bothering to be coy, she slammed her lips onto his, her tongue darting out to trace the seam, to tempt him to open up.
This wasn’t her, Kat thought from a place far away. She waited for men to make the first move, to kiss her, to lead. She followed. But not today.