Exposed (Tropical Nights) (6 page)

Rachel thought she detected a hint of satisfied knowing in the look Allison shot her,
but that didn’t make sense.

“Oh, I think this party is going to be a big enough deal,” Allison said as she shooed Rachel out of the building.

“Whatever. I don’t suppose it’ll matter much if I’m late, anyway. Leo’s going to be so busy with clients he probably won’t even notice if I’m there.”

“He’s going to notice,” Allison promised
. “After I’m done with you, he will definitely notice.”

Chapter Four

Rachel pulled on the hem of her dress
—or rather, Allison’s dress—as she stepped out of the cab. She was trying to keep the slippery fabric of the cocktail dress from riding up too high while simultaneously keeping her balance on the strappy heels Allison had insisted she wear. Both the dress and the heels were a good three inches higher than she was normally comfortable with.

She brought a hand up reflexively to smooth her hair, but it was already out of her face
so Rachel dropped her arm. Allison had pulled Rachel’s curls back into a loose chignon at the nape of her neck, with just a few soft tendrils left to frame her face. Allison had also insisted Rachel wear a little make-up, and after much arguing, they had finally agreed on a little eye shadow, mascara, and tinted lip balm. Allison had declared her absolutely stunning, and while Rachel knew her friend was wildly exaggerating, even she had to admit she cleaned up fairly well.

The party was in a plane hangar in New Jersey, which didn’t seem like it should be elegant, but Rachel was impressed as she entered the building. There was a shiny new Hanlon jet parked in the hangar, ready
to be toured by the prospective clients. A metal frame had been erected near the plane and it was draped in strips of lush, cream-colored fabric to create a beautiful and defined party space in the giant hangar. There were large flower arrangements in the corners and more on the tall tables standing throughout the space, filling the hangar with pops of gorgeous color. Candles on the tables and strings of lights wrapped around the metal frame bathed everything in a soft, glowing light. There was a DJ in one corner playing music of just the right tempo and volume to lend an excited energy to the room without being overbearing. When Rachel looked back out the huge open hanger door, she saw the Manhattan skyline twinkling across the river.

There were waiters in black tie
circulating throughout the crowd of extremely attractive, well-dressed people, and when one passed by Rachel with a tray of champagne, she happily accepted a glass. She sipped it, welcoming the tingling sensation it sent through her limbs, hoping it would help loosen her up. She was dressed in borrowed clothes, attending a party filled with extremely wealthy people looking to buy their own private jet, and Rachel felt uncomfortable and out of place. She’s been living in New York City for four years now, but she was still just a girl from a small town upstate. Her family fixed planes, they didn’t own them.

“Rachel, so glad you made it.”

Rachel looked up from her champagne flute to see Mark Laniard, Hanlon Enterprises’ Chief Production Officer, walking toward her.

“Mark, hi.” Rachel smiled, relieved to see a familiar face. She had managed to have several conversations with Mark
over the last few days and he was always so nice and engaging she felt like he was already a friend. “Looks like you have a good turnout of people interested in buying a plane.” She gestured with her champagne flute to the crowd of people mingling with Hanlon employees.

Mark smiled. “Leo knows how to generate interest. He’s always been good at marketing the business, bringing people in and getting them excited about the planes.”

“I’m glad you’ve noticed,” said a voice right behind Rachel. She couldn’t stop a thrilled shiver from coursing through her as she turned and saw Leo standing at her side. He was dressed in a dark suit and tie, which he was filling it out
very
well. Of course, he was always handsome and impeccably dressed, but here, tonight, in the soft, warm light and festive atmosphere, Leo looked absolutely mouth-watering. “Rachel,” he said in greeting. He put a hand to her elbow and kissed her lightly on the cheek. It was a completely harmless gesture people like Leo routinely did at gatherings like this, but it made Rachel suck in her breath and wobble on her heels as her knees went weak.

“It’s an amazing party, Leo,” Rachel said as she tried to steady herself.

Leo’s fingers were still on her elbow, sending shocks of sensation through her skin. He looked at her intently with that inscrutable expression he had sometimes. “I’m glad you like it,” he said.

It was a perfectly polite thing to say, but Rachel thought she detected a note of something
…
more
underlying his words. She couldn’t place it, though, and she decided she was reading into things. It must be the champagne and party atmosphere that was making her giddy. Or maybe it was that Leo was standing so close to her, touching her. His nearness always did strange things to her.

“I should go mingle with the clients,” Mark said as looked from Rachel to Leo.

“Good idea, Laniard,” Leo said to Mark, but his eyes didn’t leave Rachel, and she had to pull her gaze away to nod to Mark. “You look beautiful tonight,” Leo said to her once the CPO had wandered off.

Rachel’s heart jumped
.
Calm down
, she told herself. Leo was merely saying the types of pleasant compliments a man gave a woman when they were dressed up at a cocktail party. It was exactly what he would say—and probably already had—to every woman there. “That’s an impressive plane,” Rachel said with a nod to the Hanlon jet. She had no idea how to respond to Leo’s compliment, so she decided to gloss over it by changing the subject.

Leo’s gaze lingered on Rachel before turning to the plane. “It’s
the new heavy jet we’ve just put into production. Everyone here would love to be one of the first people to own it. Do you want a tour of it?”

Rachel drained the last sip of her champagne. “
Oh, I don’t want to monopolize you. I’m certainly not in the market for a plane, so I’m not a good time investment for you.”

Leo grinned at her.
“Are you seriously doing a cost-benefit analysis of how I should spend my time at a cocktail party?”

Rachel blushed. “I’m only saying I don
’t want to take you away from your guests. The purpose of your party is to generate interest in your planes in order to sell them, so you need to be investing your time with the people who will actually buy them.”

“Mark and the other C-levels are out there mingling
, and they can handle the clients. I’ll have plenty of time to talk to everyone later in the night. Right now, I want to show you my plane.” Leo extended his arm to her and Rachel threaded her hand through it, glad that she had him to lean on as she toddled across the hangar in her too-high heels.

Rachel climbed the stairs to the plane with Leo’s hand at her elbow, steadying her. He often made little gestures like that, and while she was sure he was barely even aware he was doing them, those little touches and brushes of his hand on her arm or back never failed to send her heart racing.

Leo walked her through the plane and pointed out features and options like a kid showing off his new Christmas present. Rachel couldn’t help but smile at how animated Leo got whenever he talked about any aspect of his company. His face lit up and his eyes sparkled, and Rachel wanted to melt into him until she, too, was enveloped by his excitement.

“Here, let me show you
the cockpit,” Leo turned abruptly and went to move past her in the plane’s narrow aisle, but he accidentally knocked into her with his shoulder. Leo was a big, solid man, and Rachel was already having difficulty balancing on her heels, so she would have gone sprawling if Leo hadn’t grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him.  “Whoa. Sorry about that. Are you okay?”

Rachel
knew she would have melted into a puddle on the floor if not for Leo’s strong arm encircling her. Her chest constricted at his nearness, her breath hitched, and she could only manage a nod in response to Leo’s question.

“You haven’t twisted an ankle, have you?” Leo looked down at her heels. “I’ve never understood how women can walk in those things.”

Rachel smiled wryly. “Some of us do a better job than others it seems. But, no, I’m fine.”

“I had thought you’d be safe in the plane, what with the lack of subway grates and innocent bystanders to ter
rorize, but I guess I was wrong.”

Rachel laughed. “Apparently, there is no place safe from my klutziness.
Although, really, it’s your fault this time, not mine. If you weren’t so massive, you’d be able to get around me.”

“Massive, huh? Good of you to notice.”

Rachel knew she wasn’t imagining the challenge in his voice this time. Leo was still holding her around the waist, pressing her body into his, and he was looking down at her with curious interest. He brought his face closer to hers, the movement so slight it was almost imperceptible, and Rachel went weak. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears so loudly she was sure Leo would notice it too. The air around them felt heavy and charged, the sounds of the party outside the plane seemed to melt away, and time itself seemed to slow down. Rachel was aware of nothing but Leo’s arm on her back, his hard, broad chest against her body, his eyes locked onto hers. She was full of desire and impulsiveness and nervousness and doubt. If he kissed her, she wasn’t sure which emotion would take over, but she suddenly wanted to find out.

Leo brought a hand up to her neck, tilting her face
to his as his gaze traveled to her lips, and Rachel was dimly aware she was holding her breath. Then Leo’s mouth was on hers, tasting her, and his hand at her back pulled her nearer, as if he couldn’t get her close enough to him.

Rachel couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Her body surged with pure sensation. Her hands were on Leo’s chest, clutching at his shirt
in an almost mindless gesture. She wasn’t consciously aware of what she was doing, only that she wanted him closer, without the few inches of distance or the millimeters of fabric that stood as barrier between them.

              The kiss was exactly like the man: strong, possessive, and all consuming. Leo put one hand in her hair and gently tilted her head back, exposing her neck. Shivers coursed through Rachel in anticipation of his lips on her sensitive skin, but then his head flew up suddenly and he looked to the open door. He took a step back from her and withdrew his arm from his waist, and Rachel immediately felt the cold of its absence. It took her moment to realize someone was about to enter the plane, and that was why Leo had broken off the kiss so abruptly. She tried to calm down and act like nothing happened, but it was difficult; she still felt shaky and weak. Her breathing was heavy and her heart beat a rapid tattoo against her chest.

“Ah, I didn’t realize anyone was in here,” Mark said as his head appeared through the doorway. “I was just showing the Faircliffs the new model.” Mark stood aside to let
a regal-looking older couple onto the jet.

“Yes, of course,” Leo said
. He cleared his throat as he walked over to them. Rachel envied how quickly he was able to compose himself. “Mr. and Mrs. Faircliff, I’m Leo Hanlon.” He shook hands with the couple. “Ms. Hoffman is a journalist doing a piece on Hanlon Enterprises. I was showing her around our new jet.”

“Oh, we don’t want to interrupt you,” Mrs. Faircliff said.

“We were finished,” Rachel said with forced brightness as she moved toward the door. Mark led the Faircliffs down the aisle, pointing out the features as he went. “I’ll let you do your thing,” Rachel said quietly to Leo as she turned to go down the stairs.

His hand brushed hers
—the gesture so quick and subtle the Faircliffs wouldn’t have noticed it even if they hadn’t moved to the opposite end of the plane—and Rachel froze. “Yes. I need to talk to them, but I’ll come find you when I’m done,” Leo promised.

“No worries.” Rachel tried to sound casual, but her
heart was still in her throat and it made the words sound slightly strangled. “I’ll go mingle with the crowd.”

She wanted to run down the stairs, but she knew that would only invite a broken neck. When she was finally on the ground again, surveying the party crowd, she decided she needed a moment alone to compose herself before talking to anyone.

She found the bathroom tucked into a distant and dark back corner of the hangar. She washed her hands and dabbed cool water on her cheeks, trying to make her flushed skin return to its normal color. She saw in the mirror that the navy color of her dress had made her eyes go dark sapphire blue, and she was startled to see the look of stormy hunger in them.

“Come on, Hoffman, get it together,” she told her reflection. “
You’re acting like a lunatic. It was just a simple little kiss, no big deal.” But there was nothing simple about it, and she knew it. And it wasn’t just the kiss; it was the way Leo had looked at her when she first arrived, the way his hand had rested on her elbow in more than just a polite gesture, the way he had curved his fingers around her neck and leaned into her, ready to stake his claim. It was the electricity that coursed through her when his lips first touched hers.

“Whoa, hey, let’s not get carried away,” she said out loud. Seriously, her writer’s imagination was working
overtime. She was a journalist; he was the businessman she was writing about. Tomorrow was their last day together. They had got caught up in the moment and kissed, yes, but anything deeper she thought she saw or felt was only in her imagination.

Rachel straightened her dress, although there really wasn’t enough to the tight-fitting outfit to really require adjusting, and checked her hair. Then she opened the door to the bathroom, determined to march
—well, hobble in a pointedly determined but careful manner—back to the party and interview people about Leo Hanlon.
              “Ah, there you are,” a man said as he walked toward her.