Caught on Camera (4 page)

“Ouch.” JP took a step back and rubbed a hand across the center of his chest, humor filling his eyes. “Am I that unattractive?”

“Hardly.” The muttered word brightened the glow in his features. She crossed her arms over her chest and smirked at the ego trip her admission had given him. “I won’t allow unsubstantiated rumors to be spread about me, and being seen with you would, without doubt, result in rumors.”

He nodded his head in concession, then produced a low hum that came from his throat. “We could make them fact?”

Vega narrowed her eyes and he threw back his head and laughed out loud. Once the laughter ceased, his posture relaxed, and for the first time since they’d begun their conversation, Vega felt as if it were the real JP standing in front of her instead of the playboy the world knew.

“Then how about at my place?”

“Your place?” she squeaked. She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

He grew serious in thought. “My sister’s house, then? She has a lovely,
private
home, and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind having us over for dinner.”

Cat’s house? Vega pictured the woman they’d interviewed early that morning. She’d been every bit as nice and down-to-earth as JP was a flirt. Guilt poked at her for even considering intruding on the woman without being properly invited, but she was having a very hard time turning down this opportunity.

“You don’t think she’d mind?”

“Not a chance.” His tone wasn’t entirely convincing, but she ignored the fact.

With a chaperone, there’d be no risk of tossing her inhibitions out the window and doing what every woman who came within the man’s circle of space wanted to do.

JP studied her, his features suddenly as frozen as a stone sculpture, and she found herself wondering if he actually wanted her to say yes or no. But for one more chance to talk the country’s golden boy into his first personal interview? She had to try. She nodded.

“Thank you for the opportunity.” She felt as if she was walking straight into the devil’s den. “I would love to accept dinner with you and your sister.”

J
P
LIFTED HIS
mobile phone and stared at the small screen as if he could conjure up a call from the woman who’d been on his mind for the last twenty-four hours.

“Mr. Davenport?” The intercom on his desk broke into his thoughts.

He pushed a button. “Yes, Beverly?”

Beverly Brubaker—his staunchest supporter and longtime family assistant—refused to call him by his given name. Though she’d seen him at his worst as a kid, from the moment she’d stepped foot in his office seven years earlier, she’d addressed him as nothing but “Mister.”

“I spoke with the Montessori school. They wanted confirmation you’re okay with the change of schedule for next week.” Beverly was also the only person outside immediate family who knew his secrets. At least his oldest secret. “I assured them there was no problem, then moved your one o’clock back to ten in case it ran long.”

“Thanks, Bev. You’re the greatest.” JP straightened from the intercom and flattened his back to the Italian leather of his chair. The Montessori school was a huge reason he had no interest in politics. Along with the fact that he preferred the thrill of high-dollar real-estate development, he hated to stop his work with the school. Accepting the senatorial seat would not only take time away from that but would also offer his entire life up for inspection. As it stood today, though the media was aware he visited the school on occasion, they had no idea his reasons for stepping foot in the halls of the century-old building. He intended to keep it that way.

With an audible grunt, he pushed from the chair and crossed to the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Peering out over the bustle of Atlanta, he considered the other secret that reporters would salivate over. The one he wouldn’t act upon until he had all the facts. Only then would he make a move, bringing Beverly into this new part of his life as well. It would be required in order to protect his family. He shook his head. The woman deserved more money than he paid her.

He took in the sight before him, skyscrapers filling his view. Office buildings, condos, hotels, all with their glass windows gleaming in the midday sun, clustered proudly around the city. His chest expanded at the image. Not only did he own the forty-story building his office and penthouse were housed in but several others dotted throughout the skyline as well.

The glass-and-steel scene was even more magnificent after dark. He groaned, remembering the previous night’s darkness, and braced one hand against the warm glass. The vista in front of him had barely registered in the wee hours of the morning. Instead, it had been Vega. Her lithe body and curvy hips, eyes tilted up just the tiniest fraction at the corners, and dark hair, down and flowing around her bare shoulders. She’d filled both his fantasies and his dreams.

This morning she’d also haunted his shower, and now here she was, smack-dab in the middle of his business day too. He had to get her out of his head. Lifting the hand still clutching his phone, he searched his contacts for the number she’d shared. As he hit the option to send a text message, he chastised himself for his actions, though he didn’t stop them. He was behaving like an uncontrolled teen drooling over the first girl to give him the time of day.

7:00, right? You got directions from Cat?

He hit Send and stared at the device as he waited. Texting a woman simply because he couldn’t wait to see her—to get his hands on her—was not normal operating procedure. He preferred to have more control over his urges. He scowled in disgust, the frown disappearing the instant the phone vibrated to signal her return message.

Yes, thank you. I’ll be on time. Thanks again for the opportunity to discuss.

All business? That’s the way she thought she could play this?

Irritation flared, making the custom-tailored jacket suddenly seem tight. She was coming over knowing full well he would have her in his bed before the night was over. All business wouldn’t cut it. He used his thumbs to punch in a quick reply.

Wear a skirt.

The thought of Vega’s long legs, bare in a short skirt, stroked heat through his body. He slipped a finger under the edge of his Armani shirt and ran it around the collar. He still had no intention of allowing her into his personal life with a damn video camera, but he’d been unable to walk away without making sure he saw her again. The fact that he’d promised to reconsider when he had no real intention of doing so sat heavy in his gut, but he consoled himself with the knowledge that she was as aware as he the reason for the invite.

How he’d get his hands on her at Cat’s dining room table, especially with Cat’s two children present, he had no idea. But he was excellent at thinking on his feet.

His phone and intercom both buzzed at the same time. Glancing down at the phone, he moved to the desk. “Yes?”

“Mr. Davenport, Lexi Doguard is here, insisting on seeing you.” Beverly’s clipped tone was unmistakable. She didn’t care for the woman.

Neither did he.

He, at least, knew why.

Lexi Doguard was a roadblock that needed to be taken care of. Only, she was either a very good con artist or she held the card capable of ruining both his political career and his family’s name. Not to mention what it would do to his mother.

He glanced down at the waiting text message and temporarily pushed thoughts of Lexi and his mother to the side. Right now he had an exciting, beautiful woman on the other end of a text.

Will it help me win the interview?

He loosened his tie.

Couldn’t hurt.

“Mr. Davenport?”

JP jerked back to the intercom. He hadn’t answered Beverly. “Give me a couple minutes, then show her in.”

He pulled his jacket off and settled into his chair, the hand holding his phone poised in front of him as he waited. His breath released the instant the device buzzed.

I’ll wear one if you’ll answer a question of mine.

Ask.

Why did you text me? You know I got directions. You were standing right there.

His gut seized. Vega was calling him out. Refusing to let him pretend he wasn’t desperate to see her. Brazen.

He liked it.

Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you for a second. Make it a short skirt.

The door to the office opened, and he centered the device flat on the desk as the stylishly dressed, barely twenty-five-year-old woman entered his office. Beverly backed out of the room without a word, and Lexi began to prattle on as if she’d been a part of his life for a long time. She ended her monologue by explaining how she had no intention of tipping the valet at the front door because he’d been so rude to her.

“Honestly, JP. You really should look into hiring more personable servants.”

JP’s shoulders tightened. He never referred to any of his employees as servants, whether here at the office or in his personal life. He motioned to a chair in front of his desk, but she headed for the sitting area instead, her cloying perfume swirling in her wake. He merely rose and followed, gritting his teeth over the thought that this woman had held money for all of seven years now—his
father’s
money—yet she acted like one of the snooty women he’d spent most of his life around.

His way of dealing with those women was to either sleep with them or outright avoid them—sometimes even good sex couldn’t overlook certain personality traits. This time, however, he had no desire for the first, but also couldn’t do the second.

She made herself at home, sinking into the dark-brown leather of the couch as if she intended to stay a while. He didn’t sit.

“What can I do for you, Lexi?” His cell phone buzzed across the room, but his texting games would have to wait.

“The test results.”

His jaw twitched. “I haven’t received them yet. I made it clear I’d contact you when they arrived.”

“No, silly.” She dug into what he recognized as a multi-hundred-dollar bag at her side and came out with a large envelope, the flap on one end folded back. “I have them.”

He lifted a brow. “I gave explicit instructions for the lab to send the results directly to me.”

She shrugged, her fake-tanned shoulder wiggling under her sleeveless top. “I told them I wanted a copy too. I picked them up about thirty minutes ago.” She waved the envelope in the air between them, a predatory gleam on her face. She had what she wanted and they both knew it.

Truth be told, he’d known it the instant he’d seen the picture of her son two weeks ago. Blue eyes, dark hair, the boy looked just like him.

The kid really was his brother.

He returned to his desk and pressed the intercom, wanting his own copy of the results in case she really was that good a con artist. “Beverly, has anything been couriered over from the lab I mentioned last week?”

“Not that I’ve seen,” she replied. “Should I call them?”

“Please.” He paused, knowing the time had come to bring Beverly in on everything. “I’m waiting on test results. Get them faxed over, then bring them right in.”

“Yes, sir.”

The room grew quiet until Lexi broke the silence, her voice not quite as confident as it had been a few minutes earlier. “You’ll give me money now, right? I don’t have to go to your mother?”

Damn woman. His back teeth ground together. She’d shown up two days after rumors had broken that the governor planned to announce him to fill his cousin’s senatorial seat, and had demanded money from the second she’d stepped foot into his office. If he didn’t pay, she’d explain to his mother how his father had slept with a seventeen-year-old while on the campaign trail. He couldn’t let his mother lose the respect she’d always held for her husband, no matter what kind of mess the man had left for JP to clean up.

But he wasn’t simply playing Lexi’s game, either.

“Let me get this straight, first.” He turned back to her, remaining behind his desk. “When you told my father about the pregnancy, you didn’t want your child thrust into the spotlight of our family?”

“Right.”

“And this is still your wish? You don’t want it known he’s a Davenport?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “He doesn’t need that kind of attention. He deserves to grow up normally.”

“Right.” He nodded, not quite believing her story, but understanding the sentiment. “You just want enough money to raise him as if he
were
a Davenport. To
put him through the best schools
, you said.”

Cold eyes stared back at him, but she didn’t reply. He wondered if she knew where he was headed with this line of questioning.

“Yet my father already paid you over a million dollars, not the quarter million you previously claimed.”

At her look of protest, he held up his hand. “Save it.” His voice was flat and hard. “I know it as fact because I had you investigated. Around the time you would have gotten pregnant, two large deposits hit your account. One for a quarter million. A couple weeks later for another million. What I can’t figure out is why that wasn’t enough to put your son through school. The kid is only seven. We’re talking elementary school, not an Ivy League private college.”