Worth the Challenge (5 page)

Within minutes, she was exiting the bathroom, her face flushed from the heat, her silken hair spilling down her back in natural waves. She slipped a hoop earring into one ear as she searched about the room, her gaze locked on the floor. “So sorry to keep you waiting. I’m almost ready.”

He stood because he thought he should, clasping his hands behind his back as she approached the table. “No need to apologize.”

“Good, because I am feeling a bit scattered at the moment. I guess I’m more like my father than I—oh! There they are.” She extended her leg, offering him a glimpse of her knee and slender calf as she slipped first one shoe on, then the other. The same simple flat sandals she’d worn to the Worth offices. She must’ve kicked them off when she arrived at the hotel and they’d landed under the table. “I’m ready to go,” she said primly once she had the shoes on.

It was rather intimate, watching a woman get ready to go out. Padding around barefoot, her skin flushed and damp, a little harried, a lot sexy.

A
lot
sexy…

“You have everything?” he asked.

She grabbed her purse, which was slung over one of the chairs. “I do.”

His gaze flickered to the contract that sat on the bedside table. “Were you able to spend some time reading over the contract?”

Nibbling on her lower lip, she followed his gaze, a little frown marring her expression. “I tried.”

“And did you find the terms satisfactory?”

“Can we not talk of it until we arrive at the restaurant?” She flashed him a brilliant smile.

“All right.” She was avoiding talking about the contract and worry immediately consumed him. What if she planned on backing out? She might be looking for a free meal, a one-night stay at a luxurious hotel and then she was out the next morning. Leaving him exactly where he started.

In the shit hole and looking like a failure.

They left the hotel and Rhett escorted her to a taxi that sat just outside, allowing her entry first before he followed her inside. He shut the door behind him with a loud slam, the silence within seeming extra quiet, and he breathed deep, taking in her unique, fresh scent.

“I stink of cheap soap,” she muttered disgustedly.

He burst out laughing. “Was I that obvious in smelling you?”

“Yes. The hotel is lovely, but the soap they carry is mediocre at best and stinks terribly.” She wrinkled her nose, shook her head. “I apologize if it’s offensive.”

“It’s not offensive at all. I think you smell good,” he drawled, keeping his voice soft so he wouldn’t make her think he was flirting.

Because he wasn’t. Not really. It was work talk. Right?

Her cheeks turned a rosy pink at his compliment. “I’m being rude, insulting the soap from the hotel of your choice.”

“You’re the professional.” He shrugged. “I don’t normally pay attention to things like that.”

She frowned. “You don’t care about scent?”

“Oh, I care. Why else do you think I’m heading the project?”

“Now I’m insulting you. I should keep my mouth shut.” She ducked her head.

“You’re not insulting me.” He knew an insult when he heard one. He’d had enough experience with them, especially from Hunter. “You have a sensitive nose so that’s why you notice such things. You’re trained to do so.”

“I do have a sensitive nose. And I’m highly trained.” She lifted her head, her blue gaze meeting his. If she was trying to run down her resume to impress him, she didn’t need to. He had faith. Maybe blind faith, but there it was.

“So let me ask you a question.” He leaned in a little closer, his eyes riveted to her face. There didn’t appear to be a hint of makeup on her skin, maybe some shimmery gloss on her lush mouth but nothing else. Her cheeks were flushed from her earlier embarrassment, giving her an innocent air he found impossibly alluring. “Do you think I smell like cheap soap?”

Her lips parted, the faintest gasp emitting from her and he knew he shocked her with his blatant question. But hell, he wanted her opinion. He’d been told he smelled good in the past. He wasn’t going to deny it. He wasn’t one to slather on a variety of scents, either. And he knew he’d get an honest answer out of her. “No,” she whispered, her eyes wide.

He cocked a brow. “That’s all I get? A simple no? No analysis, no breakdown of the various products I use?”

She shook her head. “You don’t use much.”

“And how can you tell?” He was challenging her but he was truly curious.

“You don’t smell like a variety of products.” She sounded stiff, nervous, and he instantly regretted making her feel that way.

They remained silent for a moment. Rhett glanced out the window, watching the city lights pass by as the driver headed to the chosen restaurant. He looked at his watch, saw that they had plenty of time and thankfully, traffic was light.

But he couldn’t stop mulling over Gabriella’s assessment. How did she know that he didn’t use much? What exactly did she mean by that? And did she think he smelled bad? Odd? Good?

He was dying to know. Jesus, he was acting like a vain, arrogant ass.

“So what exactly do I smell like?”

Their gazes met yet again and she studied him for a moment before she answered. “You’re not wearing cologne.”

“You’re right.” He’d run out of the last one he’d owned and never replaced it.

“Your deodorant is unscented.”

Right again. Though for whatever reason, he was embarrassed to confirm that observation. No one he knew spoke of deodorant.

Rhett frowned. Now he was thinking like a prim little miss.

“The soap you use has a hint of pine. Musk.” She shook her head, her lips turning up at the corners. “If you knew what the base of musk was, you’d stop using it.”

“That bad?”

“Awful.” She smiled and it was like an arrow pierced his heart. She was gorgeous in her simplicity. Like a ray of sunshine. “I’ll spare you the details.”

“I’ll let it go for now. But eventually, I expect you tell to me.” He shook a finger at her.

She laughed. “I think your shampoo matches your body wash. You do use body wash, right? Versus a bar of soap?”

“Right again, to both questions.” He was impressed. She was dissecting him by scent and so far, she was dead-on accurate.

“Interesting. Most men lay it on thick. Too thick.” She wrinkled her nose again, a gesture he found endearingly adorable.

“So do most women.”

“Agreed.” She tilted her head toward him with a delicate sniff. “Without all the false layers, your true scent comes through much more clearly.”

“And do you find that offensive?” He had to ask. He knew she wasn’t made up of layers of false scents either. Besides the soap, which was starting to wear off, he could smell something else. Flowery, delicate, sweet and simple, she smelled much like he thought of her.

Interesting observation.

“Of course not.” She reared back, as if shocked by his question. He sounded like a wimp, asking such a thing but he couldn’t help it. Her opinion mattered. “Scent is a very powerful thing you know, especially when it comes to attraction.”

“I know.” Hell yeah, he knew. Just spending the last few minutes with her, sitting so close, he was becoming aroused by her nearness. Her scent.

“You have a very pleasant smell,” she stated primly.

He wanted to laugh but held it in. She sounded like a proper schoolteacher from the nineteenth century. It made him wonder if she felt the same crazy attraction as he did. He couldn’t act on it. It would be career suicide if he did. For once in his life, he was on the straight and narrow and he found he liked it. He didn’t want to screw it up either, since he was desperate for his brothers’ approval.

If he could make this happen, if he and Gabriella could create the perfect women’s scent that turned into a rousing success, then he could take it to the next level. A men’s scent, an entire scent family, it was all possible. He would be president of the parfum division and Hunter would finally have to agree Rhett knew what the hell he was doing. He wasn’t the screwup, fuck-around baby brother any longer.

He’d grown up, damn it. And he wasn’t about to allow himself to become distracted by the pretty perfumer who had him intrigued.

No matter how badly he wanted to be distracted.

Chapter Four

“More wine, miss?”

Ella parted her lips, ready to decline, but the waiter proceeded to refill her glass, not waiting for her reply. Worry whispered through her and she nibbled on her lower lip.

She was drinking too much and eating little—a lethal combination. Her third glass of wine and it was all going straight to her head. Cold and crisp, with a delicate, fruity taste and heady fragrance, it was by far the most delicious wine she’d ever consumed.

And consume it she did.

Besides the wine, the food was amazing, what little she ate of it. The restaurant was beautiful, dark and intimate, and the service impeccable. She felt like a princess, her every whim indulged.

“Want dessert?”

The deep, rich voice of Rhett Worth was another, albeit secret, indulgence. Gooseflesh erupted all over her skin every time he spoke and she was acutely aware of the intimacy of the situation. It didn’t feel like a dinner meeting between business associates, though they’d certainly discussed the terms of the contract, Rhett putting any of her spoken worries at ease.

But there were other deeper, unsaid worries. Sexy worries that screamed
caution
. She was detrimentally attracted to him, everything about him. And she labeled it detrimental because even having these feelings was dangerous to her well being. Her career, her future, her…everything.

“No, thank you,” she finally said, grabbing her glass and gulping from it. Big mistake. The moment she set the glass on the table, her head spun. She was definitely tipsy. She needed to lay off before she progressed into full-blown drunk.

Had she ever been full-blown drunk? She didn’t think so.

“They have the best cheesecake in the world.” Oh, he was a devil, tempting her with cheesecake, her absolute favorite dessert. His blue eyes twinkled and his smile was full of mischief. He must’ve been a hellion as a boy, probably got away with anything and everything, what with how he exuded so much natural charm.

Charm she was falling for, though she was a fool to even consider it.

“I hate cheesecake,” she lied.

His smile grew, a faint dimple appearing. Oh, he was cute. Handsome.
Sexy.
“I think you’re lying. Who hates cheesecake?”

She sighed. “Fine, you twisted my arm.” He hadn’t twisted anything, she’d caved way too easily and his wicked grin told her he knew this.

With her luck, he’d use it against her later. Maybe hold his body against her too…

Ella slapped her hand over her mouth, covering her unwanted gasp. Where did
that
thought come from?

“You won’t regret it,” he said just before he stopped the waiter from passing by. “One slice of cheesecake, please, and we’ll need two forks.”

“We’re going to share?” Oh, dear. That felt even more intimate. This bogus dinner meeting was more like a date. Not that she’d been on a lot of dates, considering the guys she’d been with in the past had been friends that morphed into relationships. She’d been younger then and terribly broke, as her past boyfriends had been too.

“It’s a huge piece,” he explained, sounding perfectly logical. “It’s smarter if we share.”

“Oh.” Well. She couldn’t protest that, could she? “Listen, I don’t know what’s happening between us here.”

He arched a brow. Wow, he was good at that. “What do you mean?”

“This dinner meeting we’re having.”

“I thought it went well.” He paused and studied her, as if carefully gauging her mood. “We’re still in agreement, aren’t we? You’re not going to back out.”

“No,” she said vehemently, shaking her head. “Of course not.”

“Then what’s the problem?” He sounded genuinely perplexed.

Which in turn, filled her with doubt. Was she overreacting? Maybe the wine had gone to her head faster than she thought. “Never mind.” She waved her hand. “I’m being silly.”

“No, tell me. What’s bothering you?”

The waiter magically appeared, brandishing a plate with the most heavenly looking slice of cheesecake she’d ever seen. “Enjoy,” he said once he set the plate between them, resting each fork on either side.

“Wow.” Ella eagerly reached for her fork, thankful for the interruption. Crisis avoided, thank goodness. The last thing she needed was to make an utter fool out of herself. “This looks amazing.”

“Dig in,” he encouraged, and she did, though she noticed he held back. He watched her, making her incredibly self-conscious, and she hoped he wouldn’t bring the uncomfortable subject back up.

But the moment the bite of cheesecake hit her taste buds, all thoughts of embarrassing admissions disappeared. “Oh, my God,” she groaned, trying her best to savor the bite before she swallowed. The slight tartness of the cheesecake combined with a hint of lemon, the sugary graham cracker crust and the homemade whipped cream…