Dangerous Curves (6 page)

S
educing
a rogue was supposed to be easy, but Kevin Jackson was proving to be anything but. She'd been his driver for over a week now and hadn't made any progress. She still couldn't believe her deception had held this long. The agency hadn't called and Ferguson agreed to pay her in cash. No questions asked. She found it strange, but didn't want to press her luck.

She'd dropped Kevin off at home that first day, certain it would be her last. His questions had unnerved her and she felt her time was short so she'd come up with a new scheme as she parked the car in front of his house. A crazy scheme now that she thought about it, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

She knew he was a man with a seemingly insatiable appetite for women, so she thought of exploiting that weakness. Since he wanted to know a reason why she wanted to work for him, she'd give him one.

She held the car door open for him, and then said in a rush, “I took this job because I wanted to get close to you.”

Kevin stared up at her. “Why?” he asked, but she couldn't read his expression. He didn't look surprised or repulsed, not even really curious.

“What woman wouldn't?”

He smiled. “Do I look like I need to get my ego stroked?”

“No, but I do.”

“Why?”

Dominique counted to three. The man was like a kid, why did he have to ask so many questions? Wasn't he supposed to feel proud? She searched her thoughts for a good lie, then decided it was better to tell him something true. “I caught the man I love with another woman.”

Kevin slowly got out of the car. “How?”

She widened her eyes, amazed. Was he being dense or cruel? “What do you mean ‘how?'”

“How did you catch him?”

She closed the car door. “Does it matter?”

“Do you think I'd ask if it didn't?” He touched her chin. “I need to know what kind of woman you are.”

She cleared her throat. His touch was soft, tender, but his penetrating gaze held a lethal intensity. She had to remember not to underestimate him. “And how I found out will tell you that?”

He nodded.

She bit her lip. “It was by mistake. He was supposed to take me to a concert and he forgot. I showed up at his house and she was there.”

Kevin frowned. “That's very sloppy.”

Her brows shot up. “There's a clean way to find out your boyfriend's cheating?”

He rested against the car. “No, it was sloppy for him to get caught that way. Why didn't he pick you up at your house?”

“He thought it would be better for me to meet him since he gets home late and we'd then go to the concert from there.”

He shifted his position again, making Dominique wonder why he didn't seem to keep still. “That still doesn't make sense.”

“Does cheating ever make sense?” She waved the question away, remembering who she was talking to. “Never mind.”

Kevin lifted a brow as if reading her thoughts. “I've never cheated on a woman. I've never had to and never will. I have my standards. What was his name?”

She hesitated then said, “Berton.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I'm sure.”

“And you loved him very much.”

Not very much.
She'd never loved a man very much, but it had hurt. “Yes.”

Kevin absently rubbed his leg. “Until he hurt you and you want to use me to forget him?”

“Yes.”

“I don't believe you,” he said softly. So softly that at first she wasn't sure she'd heard correctly.

She blinked. “What?”

He shifted his weight again and looked up at a slowly moving patch of clouds. “I believe you're angry, but he's not the reason why you're here.”

“You think I'm a liar?”

He turned to her. “No, I don't think you're telling me the truth.”

“Isn't that the same thing?”

He grinned, then walked away.

He'd turned her down! A free invitation, carte blanche, and he'd walked away. Her face burned with anger and humiliation at the memory. The man with no scruples had turned his back on her and left her standing there like an idiot. Had she come on too strong? Not strong enough? Why didn't he completely believe her story? It was true, dammit! And wasn't a woman who'd been cheated on an ideal plaything for a man like him? A woman desperate and emotionally vulnerable was like a velvet cake to a sugar addict. Where had she gone wrong?

Five hours later, Dominique pulled up to the DC club and parked in front of the entrance, glad she'd quickly recovered from the incident. He hadn't brought it up again and she certainly wouldn't. She'd thought of leaving—her pride still bristled with outrage—and thinking of another plan, but this was the best way to get close to him. As his driver she could find out his habits and routines.

At least that was what she'd told her sister when Gloria had caught her packing. She'd hoped to get out of the family house without being spotted by anyone, but Gloria had returned from her yoga class early. Thankfully, she'd recovered quickly and spent only one night in the hospital. The family used their influence to avoid getting police or psychiatrists involved.

“What are you doing?” Gloria asked, coming into the bedroom.

Dominique took some shirts off their hangers and put them in her suitcase. She could lie, but then that would make her sister curious. “I'm going to get back at Kevin.” She told her about the mistake and becoming his driver. “But don't tell Mom or Dad about this.”

“What should I tell them?”

“I told Mom I needed space and she'll believe me and convince Dad. This shouldn't take too long.”

Gloria sat down on the bed and stared at her, tears shining in her eyes. “I can't believe you're doing this for me.” She jumped up and hugged her. “You're the best.”

“No need to exaggerate,” Dominique said, pleased. She loved helping her little sister; at least she appreciated what she did for her.

“Let me help you pack.”

“I'm already done.”

Gloria searched through the suitcase with a frown. “But there's nothing interesting in here.” She opened Dominique's drawer and pulled out a cream blouse. “At least take this.”

Dominique smiled at her sister's naiveté. “I'm supposed to be a driver, I can't go around wearing a three-hundred-dollar top.”

“But you got it on sale.”

“I know…for three hundred dollars.”

Gloria frowned, still confused. “But don't those people wear sale items all the time?”

“Right,” Dominique said, taking the blouse. She wouldn't wear it but she didn't want to explain why it was inappropriate either.

Gloria clapped her hands together. “Oh, and there's something else.” She disappeared then came back moments later holding a gold chained necklace with a hanging pendant. “I was going to wait for your birthday, but since you're being so sweet I want to give this to you now. Turn around.”

Dominique looked at the expensive gift in dismay. “But I can't wear--”

“You can wear it under your blouse,” Gloria said, forcing her sister to turn. “It's to give you courage.” She draped the necklace around Dominique's neck. “You'll need it against Kevin.”

“But I—”

Gloria stood in front of her. “Listen to me. He's dangerous.” Her eyes filled with tears again. “He hurt me more than any man ever has. Don't fall for his tricks.”

Dominique affectionately patted her sister's cheek, a little surprised by her sister's changing emotions. That wasn't like her. “I don't plan to.”

“You will if you're not careful.” Gloria tapped the chain. “Keep this on at all times so you'll remember me. So that you'll remember what he did to me.”

Her sister's words are what kept her going. That first day Dominique hadn't found out enough about Kevin that would be useful, but after a week she knew plenty.

She'd learned one major truth—Kevin Jackson took the word ‘playboy' to its own dimension. She knew he lived off of inherited money from a lucrative export business his great-grandfather, a Haitian immigrant, had developed.

Twice she'd heard him mutter a sigh and say ‘I hate these things' when he received a text, and then he would text for several minutes before he put his phone away. He hadn't gone back to the university and when she'd asked about his art class, he admitted that he'd done it one time as a favor to Elizabeth.

She didn't know a man who did nothing—he didn't seem to work or do anything with a purpose—could be so active. He went out partying nearly every night. If he wasn't hosting a party, he was going to one at a friends' home. If he wasn't at a friend's house, he was in an exclusive club. She'd pick him up at two or three in the morning. He also had the strange habit of wearing dark shades at night or early morning as the case may be.

He had the stamina of a college freshman although he was in his mid-thirties. No wonder he'd worn out his other drivers. She wasn't sure she'd last much longer. Especially when he had his marathon nights where he'd go to three parties in one evening.

Tonight had been one of those nights. She could feel the drum beat of the music from inside the club, and saw the neon sign reflected in pink on the dark finish of the car. She looked up and saw Kevin emerge from the club. He seemed to have had too much to drink. He stumbled and caught himself against the hood of the car. Dominique opened the door for him, hoping he wouldn't be sick. She wasn't in the mood to clean up after him. Strangely, he didn't smell as if he'd had anything to drink.

Another thing that surprised her was how he always came home empty handed. For a man with his reputation, she'd expected to be driving him home with a female companion. She'd had images of him making out in the back seat, embracing a woman with long hair and a short skirt—make that two or three women. But that never happened. She'd see him with ladies—beautiful ladies and some not so beautiful—but he never took them home with him.

Dominique waited until he was settled in his seat with his seatbelt on before she closed the door and she got in the driver's seat. She glanced at him through the rearview mirror and saw him pop two white pills in his mouth. He washed them down with water. His hand shook and his mouth looked tight as if he were in pain. But maybe he just felt ill. She knew hard partying could have that effect. But she wasn't going to scold him. It served the bastard right. If he wanted to live recklessly then he'd have to deal with the consequences.

But as unfeeling as she wanted to be, she grew concerned when they arrived at his house and she saw his hand tremble as he gripped the side of the car door's frame to pull himself up to get out of the car. When he stumbled, she reached out and caught him. She buckled a bit under the force of his weight, but managed to keep him upright. She looked at him and mingled with the moonlight and porch light she saw beads of sweat drenching his skin.

“Maybe you should go to the hospital,” she said.

“I'm fine,” he said through clenched teeth. He straightened. “Sorry about that.” He turned and headed for the front door.

She stared at him, alarmed, realizing he wasn't drunk, but in pain. “But I think—”

“I don't care, just open the door.”

Fortunately, she didn't have to. Ferguson beat her to it. “I'll take it from here.” He pulled Kevin inside and closed the door in her face.

Dominique stared at the door for a long moment, then sighed in frustration. She didn't care. She didn't want to care. What he was up to was none of her business. She'd stayed longer than she should have anyway. Maybe it was the aftereffects of some party drug. He was Ferguson's problem now. Not hers. He'd never be her problem. She should only think about what he'd done to her sister.

But as she lay in bed later that evening, she wondered about the tightness of his mouth, the labored breathing, the sweating and the little white pills. What could they mean? A playboy with a drug addiction wouldn't be anything new, but it might prove useful.

“
H
ow bad is it
?” Ferguson asked, helping Kevin to a couch, knowing he wouldn't be able to make it to his bedroom even with the elevator.

Kevin collapsed onto the couch with a grimace. “I'll be okay in a minute.”

“I shouldn't let you do this.”

He closed his eyes and managed a weak smile. “You can't stop me.”

“It's not going to make things better.”

He didn't care. He had to dance, he had to party, he had to stop the thoughts that threatened to consume him. He had to keep busy, he had to keep smiling, he had to keep up appearances. It was the only way to survive.

Ferguson sighed at Kevin's silence. “You still don't want me to do something about Dominique?'

“No,” he whispered, barely able to speak, the pain in his head gripping him.

“We'd better think of something soon because if she finds out that you can't—”

“I'll take care of it.”

S
he couldn't believe
he was the same man from three nights ago. Kevin looked bright, sexy and full of energy. Dominique watched him from a distance as he spoke to a hostess who helped him select items for lunch. The restaurant was designed for a casual dining experience with a buffet setting and expensive decorative accents like real crystal vases and real wood flooring. She'd chosen a table in the corner because he'd insisted she come inside with him. She wasn't going to eat anything here, although she wanted to. She'd never heard of this place and the options looked delicious, but the prices were out of her present budget. She had her savings, but had to prepare for when she looked for proper work and she didn't know how long that would take. Plus, she doubted he expected his driver to eat lunch with him. He didn't tell her he had a date, but she suspected that was the reason they were there. She glanced at her watch, wondering when the date would show up and what type she'd be. Likely a corporate attorney. Considering the neighborhood attracted more high-powered businesspeople, a party heiress likely wouldn't be in this part of the city.

And that could be a problem for her. She and Kevin didn't travel in the same circles, so she'd never worried about bumping into someone she knew. However, that was a possibility here in a place filled with executives, lawyers, investors and other professionals. Although she'd chosen a table that kept her out of view, she wasn't completely safe from someone making a connection with her and Kevin.

She saw Kevin thank the hostess and turn. Dominique quickly looked away. She didn't want to be caught staring. She watched a car drive by and then a man on a bicycle.

She jumped when she heard a tray settle on the table. She turned to him and surged to her feet. “What are you doing? You can't sit here.”

Kevin stared at her. “Why not?”

She couldn't have anyone see them together. Kevin turned heads and drew attention even when he wasn't trying. “Because…” She lowered her voice. “Because I'm your driver.”

He sat down. “So what?”

She sent a panicked look to the door. “What are you going to do when your date shows up?”

“I don't have a date.”

Then why are we here?
“You're not supposed eat with your driver.”

“Who says?”

Dominique scanned the room. She didn't recognize anyone and although two women had sent glances towards their table, their interest was fixed solely on Kevin and not her. “It's important to establish boundaries and distance and—”

“What's wrong with you?” he asked, spreading his napkin on his lap. “You want to sleep with me, but you don't want to eat with me?”

Dominique leaned forward and lowered her voice, hoping nobody had overheard him. “No, that's not—”

“Then stop talking and spoiling my appetite.” He gestured to the tray filled with three full meals. “Choose what you want and eat up.”

“But—”

“Want me to choose for you?” He set a plate of grilled chicken and broccoli in front of her. “There you go.”

“But—”

“You don't want that? Okay—”

She grabbed his hand, stopping him from removing the plate. The colorful sight and aromatic smell made her mouth water and stomach grumble. “It's fine,” she said, letting his hand go. She caught the quick satisfied grin on his face, but didn't care. She would eat, she just wouldn't eat with him. She eyed an empty table. “I just think you should be aware that—”

“I'm always aware of what I'm doing,” he said, taking a plate of sliced turkey. “If I want to eat with you I will, if I don't, I won't. I don't need you to tell me about protocol.”

Heat burned her cheeks. He was right. She had no right to lecture him. She'd forgotten that he was the employer and had the right to do whatever he pleased. His phone buzzed. He checked it, then muttered, “I really hate these meetings,” then started texting. As usual it didn't take long before he looked satisfied and put the phone away. “All done. Just made five million.”

Dominique blinked. “Five million?”

He nodded. “I like to keep my business meetings short.”

“That was a business meeting?” she asked, surprised. The ones she'd known all her life were never like that.

“Yes, I like to keep them short. At least I'm not stuck in an office so I can't complain. But I have to keep track of the businesses I own or co-own.” A slow smile spread over his face. “Did you think I just live off of my family's money?”

“It's none of my business,” she said, heat burning her cheeks. She'd misjudged him again.

“Don't worry, you wouldn't know most of the businesses I'm connected to.”

“Right,” she said, feeling foolish. All this time she'd been with him and she still knew so little about him. She took a deep breath, then noticed a small piece of dried food still on his fork. She shouldn't make a big deal of it. It was a classy place and it appeared he'd been there before. It was none of her business. He probably wouldn't even notice. But as he put the fork to his mouth she cringed and grabbed his wrist. “No.”

Kevin looked at her startled. “What now?”

Dominique couldn't hold his gaze so she waved to a waiter. “Excuse me, but we need new utensils.” She snatched the one out of Kevin's hand. “This one is filthy. And can he please get a glass of water, not a glass of ice?” she said noticing Kevin's glass stacked with so many ice cubes she could barely see any liquid. “Thank you so much.”

Once the waiter left, she hung her head, waiting for Kevin to berate her. She couldn't help herself; she didn't like when minor details were missed and… Why wasn't he saying anything? She slowly lifted her head. Kevin sat with his chin in his hands, a devilish grin on his face.

“What?”

His grin widened and his eyes lit with amusement. There were no shadows there, no hint of pain, just pure merriment. And for a moment she could picture him as a little boy, wrapping his mother around his finger.

But she wasn't his mother and she wouldn't fall for his charm. “What?” she asked again, wishing her skin didn't feel so warm, wishing she didn't feel a tingling in her stomach.

He lifted a brow. “Freeport or the Caymans?”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“Where does your family vacation?”

“I don't know.”

The waiter returned with the requested items.

“Maybe the South Seas, perhaps?”

Dominique thanked the waiter, then opened her mouth to respond to Kevin's question, but someone interrupted her. “Dominique, is that you?” a female voice said.

Fear gripped her throat and knotted her insides. She knew that voice. She'd heard it for years. And the owner of that voice could ruin everything.