I laugh as he opens the door for me. “Yeah, just a little.”
As he joins me in the car, he’s still talking. “But, I will admit, she’s fun to drive. And listen to this engine purr. Maybe if I ever get one for myself, I’ll get it in silver. This looks more like Riley. Have you ever seen his neon green Viper?”
“I have. And out of all the cars he has, that’s still his baby. It was his 18th birthday present, right?”
“Yep. That’s a tradition in the Johnson family. All the men get together and choose your first car.”
“What’d you get?”
“A modified silver BMW,” he says, which makes me like him even more. “So where are we going?”
“It’s a gorgeous day. I think we should have lunch and drinks poolside at Chateau Marmont.”
“I’ve heard of that place. Isn’t it a hotel where lots of famous people stay?”
“Yeah, the history of the place is pretty great. And don’t be alarmed when we get there, but I’ll have to check us into a room.”
There’s an amused look on his face and I wish I knew what he was thinking. Probably that I want him.
Which, let’s be honest, I do.
“A room?”
“Yes, a poolside bungalow. So that we can enjoy lunch and drinks poolside.”
“Oh, I get it. You can’t use the pool without a room.”
“Exactly.”
He drives to the hotel and when we get there he says he’ll check us in.
Knowing what a suite costs, I balk. “Oh, I’ll do it.”
“Absolutely not,” he says, as he takes my hand to help me out of the car.
When I stand up, we’re face to face and he’s staring at my mouth again.
“I changed my mind,” he says. “This car matches the color of your lipstick. That alone might be reason enough to love it.”
My mouth goes dry, my knees feel weak.
He totally made me swoon.
When’s the last time a man made me swoon with his words and not his wallet?
I smile, I can’t help it.
Plus, I don’t know how to respond.
And I always have a quick comeback for everything.
Once we’re checked into our suite, I open the doors to the outside.
He stands close behind me, looking out at the view.
“I have to say,” he says, “I thought a lot about what my first day would be like. I never imagined this.”
When I turn around to reply, my chest grazes across his suit.
Even in my heels, I have to look up at him.
Our eyes lock and we share a moment. That perfect moment right before a kiss. I tilt my chin ever so slightly upward, giving him permission.
A flash of sadness washes across his eyes and he backs away from me.
In that moment, I vow to discover the reason for his sadness.
And make it go away.
“Too bad we don’t have swimsuits with us,” he says. “The pool looks amazing.”
“I can fix that. Let me make a quick call. Why don’t you go out and order us drinks.”
“Were you serious about a martini?”
“Yes, please. And, just so you know, I like it dirty.”
Dawson swallows—no, he gulps—when I say I like it dirty. And I realize that may have sounded a bit suggestive.
He narrows his eyes. “You’re talking about the martini, right?”
“Yes, of course,” I say.
“Okay. One dirty martini coming up.”
“Wait! You can’t go out like that.”
He looks down at himself. “Like, what?
“In your suit. May I?”
He nods, so I help him take his jacket off, fold it in half, and lay it over the back of a grey velvet lounge chair. Then I unbutton his shirtsleeves and roll them up.
“And this tie has to go.” I loosen it, remove it from around his neck, and then unbutton the first two buttons of his soft cotton dress shirt. As I’m unbuttoning his shirt, I notice that he gulps again. I’m making him uncomfortable.
Which is not the reaction I’m used to.
I place my hands on his rock hard chest and playfully push him away to ease his tension. “Much better, now you can go.”
He gives me a shy smile and heads out the door.
I immediately call my butler and ask him to bring me an overnight bag with a few essentials, including a new red bikini for me and swim trunks for him.
I peek outside, making sure Dawson is where I can see him, and call Captive Films.
“Tyler,” I say quietly when he answers. “I need the scoop on Dawson Johnson.”
“He is a fine looking man. You on the prowl for that? Meooowww.”
“No, I’m not on the prowl. I’m not even interested in that,” I lie. “Keatyn wants us to work closely together on some projects, and I just wanted to know his story.”
“His story, why Ms. Flanning, if you’re working closely with him, you should ask him yourself.”
“Tyler, stop playing with me. Is he married?”
“No, he is not. And that’s all I know.” But then he lowers his voice. “I can tell you what was on his resume. He’s had high profile positions in numerous designer companies, but he hasn’t worked in the last two years. I thought that was a little strange.”