The Lonely Apprentice (The Lonely Girl Series Book 1) Page 2

  “Hmm, I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before,” she said with an amused smile, one that said she could see right through my farce.

  “I used to come here a lot, but it’s been a while.”

  “Well, have fun, Delia. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Wait,” I said when she started to turn away.

  “Yes?” She looked bored.

  “Since we’re here, maybe I could buy you a drink and we could discuss what sort of qualities you’re looking for in an assistant?”

  “You expect me to conduct an interview in a crowded bar?”

  “More like a pre-screening,” I said. “The truth is, I really want the job, so I’d hate to waste this opportunity to talk with you about it.”

  “Aren’t you a go-getter. I like that. Follow me. I think I wouldn’t mind hearing what you have to say. I love your dress, by the way.”

  “Thank you. I designed it.”

  “Very nice. I’m impressed so far.”

  I scurried behind her as she led us to the VIP room which was separated from the rest of the bar by two huge double oak doors. A bouncer nodded at her without her saying anything and opened them. I stepped onto a crimson colored carpet and found myself in a huge lounge. The atmosphere immediately changed. It wasn’t really a room. It was a whole other bar. The walls were lined with black leather chairs. The lighting was dim and at the far wall straight ahead was a mammoth sized aquarium that cast an ocean blue hue over the place, giving the atmosphere a strong sense of serenity. There was a wet bar tended by a pretty woman who looked to be around my age. I’d known this club was a hot spot. On a Friday night, it was all but impossible to get in unless you were a regular or friends with someone who worked here. Yet, I’d never known anything this elite existed behind the heavily guarded doors. How much of a jet setter would one have to be to get into this place on their own merit? I got my answer when I recognized the daughter of a Houston oil tycoon from a picture I’d seen in a magazine. She sauntered past us without even a nod of acknowledgement.

  “Have a seat. I’ll get us a drink,” Nadine said, motioning to one of the empty chairs.

  It was a slow night for a Tuesday, at least for the VIP crowd. There were only a few other people there, mostly one small group of women who sat together near the aquarium.

  “Nadine, come join us,” one of them called.

  “I’d love to, but I have a guest,” she responded.

  “She’s welcome. Bring her.”

  “We’re having a private conversation. Maybe in a while.”

  “I see. I wonder what that’s about,” the woman said, her voice full of sarcastic amusement.

  “Behave, Christine.”

  I kept my eyes on the wall straight ahead, practicing what I would say to her, going over the words silently in my head until she returned with two glasses of white wine. She handed me one and sat down next to me. In an instant I forgot every word I’d planned to open with and stared at her blankly.

  “Is something wrong, Delia?”

  “No, mam.”

  “Oh, no, don’t call me that. It makes me sound so old. I’m only thirty-three. I’m not a mam just yet. At least, I don’t feel like one. Do I look like a mam to you, Delia?”

  “No, Ms. Robertson, of course not.”

  “Why don’t you call me Nadine?”

  “All right.”

  “Now then, tell me why you think you’d be right to work as my assistant.”

  “I-I’m not sure what you want to know.”

  “You aren’t?”

  “No.”

  “What happened to that feisty girl who came clamoring up to me a few minutes ago? I was under the impression you had a lot to say then.”

  “Should I be honest with you?”

  “Always,” she smiled.

  “I’m feeling a bit out of my league.”

  “How so?”

  “I’m not sure I am right for the job. I have a degree in fashion design, but I don’t have any real experience working in the field.” Why was I talking myself down?

  “Don’t be silly. You designed this lovely dress your wearing, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, but one dress doesn’t make a business. My goal is to start my own line someday and I know I could learn from you. Therefore, I’m not going to lie. I’m desperate for the job. I’d get down on my knees and beg for it if I thought it’d do any good.”

  “That won’t be necessary. Unless, of course, you want to get on your knees for me. I certainly wouldn’t stop you.” She ran her tongue over her lips and gave me a coy grin.

  Was she flirting with me? Was Nadine Robertson honestly hitting on me? If she liked my dress so damned much, why were her eyes glued only to my bare cleavage? Cheyenne had been right. I could flirt my way into this job, except that I didn’t know how to flirt well. I didn’t do the teasing kitten thing. My short conversation with Elsa proved that. Besides, I wasn’t a whore. I had no intention of sleeping with anyone just to get a job, no matter how beautiful she happened to be, or how attracted I was to her. And there was no denying that I was attracted to this woman. Worse, I was afraid she could sense it. It was evident by the way her emerald shaded eyes gazed into mine that she thought she had me where she wanted me, job or no job.

  And she was right.

  Chapter Three

  Nadine

  I knew it was wrong to toy with the poor girl. She looked as if she were about to pass out from a bad bout of nerves. I was used to that, being a very powerful woman in the world of fashion. My money made me just as powerful in other realms as well. People who hadn’t known me before I’d worked my ass off to get where I was found it impossible to see me as just another person. I wasn’t sure what this pretty girl saw me as. Perhaps a mentor, or a goddess holding the key to everything she wanted out of life. One thing she didn’t remind me of was a gold digger. She wasn’t poised enough to play that game. In fact, she seemed to really want the job and the dress she wore truly was fabulous. She had a talent, raw though it was. It was something I could work with if I chose. The potential was there, but my instinct told me she wanted more, too. Her body was sending electrical charges my way, that wonderful thing we call chemistry. My mind was going places I knew it shouldn’t go.

  “Delia, why don’t we forget about the job for now and have some fun. You look like you could use it.”

  “But, Nadine, this job means everything to me.”

  “I promise I’ll give your application a fair amount of consideration when we conduct our real interview, but I’m a very busy woman. I don’t get out as much as I wish I did. Tonight, I want to dance. What do you say?”

  “I guess I’d like that. I don’t get out much these days, either.”

  “First we’ll finish our drinks and then we’ll go back out there and hit the floor. Agreed?”

  “Sure,” she relented in a defeated, disappointed tone. She’d tried to come in like a lioness and had been transformed into a lamb. She was so very new and so bad at this. She definitely needed a guiding hand as seasoned as mine.

  I wanted to put her at ease, to make her feel comfortable with me, because there was no denying that I wanted to take her to my suite. It was probably for the best that I didn’t, but I wanted to, and I probably would. That’s who I was, a woman who got what she desired. There was no resisting this beautiful girl. I hadn’t met someone that drove me this crazy in a while, not since Madeline, but I wouldn’t think about her. She was long gone, and Delia was here, looking at me as though her very existence rested on my shoulders. In a way, it did. It was a shame, really. I never mixed business with pleasure. I’d take her to the room I kept reserved at the Brownstone hotel for occasions like this and fuck her. That unfortunately meant I couldn’t hire her. Luckily, she didn’t know that. I’d make it up to her. Maybe I’d connect her with someone who could help her in the business. Maybe I’d even invest a little something so she’d have her startup costs. I’d think of something. She wouldn
’t go away empty handed. I had to have her tonight. I’d justify using her however I could. In the morning, I’d deal with the guilt. I’d handle it.

  Just the fact that I could have a woman anytime I wished was usually enough to turn me on. I didn’t need to know them. That’s what was so unnerving about this girl. I found myself tempted to ask her more than I should care to learn. She had me curious and I didn’t like having my curiosity provoked. It usually led to more than I had to give. For one thing, she appeared so unsure of herself. It struck me that she didn’t realize how beautiful she was. I wondered how the hell that could be. Did she own a God damned mirror? Her smoky blue eyes alone did it for me. She also had luscious, wonderfully kissable lips and that body! Long lean legs, a trim waistline and tits out of this world. I’d have her quivering in my arms begging me to fuck her before the night was through, and then I’d show her the door. She was too dangerous to keep around for more than one night. She could be addictive. I didn’t need that shit. I’d never go through that again. There would never be another Madeline. By this time tomorrow night, this girl would be forgotten.

  “Drink up. I’m really in the mood to dance,” I said with my best disarming smile.

  It wound up taking two drinks to get her back out to the main area and onto the dance floor. After the first one she still looked uptight, so I ordered another. Once she relaxed some she led me out there. I was pleasantly surprised at what a good dancer she turned out to be in the end, shaking her hips to the beat and smiling like she didn’t have a care in the world. I began to wonder if I’d gotten her drunk, but she seemed lucid enough. It was such a drastic change I had to ask. I was the most sought after single woman in the city of Austin. I had no need to take advantage of someone in such a way.

  “Are you okay? You aren’t the shy girl you were less than an hour ago.”

  “I know I’m not getting the job. I don’t have that kind of luck, so I just said fuck it. Do you want to have a good time or not?”

  “What makes you think you aren’t getting the job?” She wasn’t, but how’d she know? And why didn’t I just let it go? This was perfect. She was going to let me fuck her and I didn’t have to let her down gently. Why was I messing with that again?

  “Like I said, I’ve got no luck. No luck in my career. No luck in my love life. I’m a loser. See that girl over there at the bar?”

  I looked in the direction she was pointing. “Yeah?”

  “Her name is Elsa. She’s probably the easiest date you could hope for and I blew it because I went chasing after you, so yeah, let’s have a good time. It’s the least I should get out of the deal, right?”

  “If it’s any consolation, I think you could do better than Elsa. Cheer up. Maybe your luck is about to change.” Why the hell did I say that? Her luck was most certainly not about to change, not if it depended on me. I was taken aback at her sudden change in demure. I’d misjudged her. She was a lot tougher than I’d given her credit for.

  A slow song started to play and she put her arms around my neck. “You really think so?” she asked with a hint of a slur.

  I could have kissed her with her gorgeous face so close to mine. I ached to kiss her, but instead I simply said, “Sure, it will. We all go through hard times.”

  “Even you? Don’t you have everything, a successful perfect life?”

  “No one has a perfect life, Delia, but I do okay.”

  “I bet you do.”

  I stared into her eyes as our bodies swayed to the music, not touching but so close it was driving me out of my mind. “Did you want to get out of here, Delia?”

  “I’d love to,” she replied.

  “Let’s go.”

  “Where are we going?” she asked as I took her hand.

  Good question. The Brownstone was only a few blocks away. I paid a monthly fee to keep my suite there available at all times, my home away from home. I never took the girls to my house. That was too risky. They might get too comfortable.

  In the parking lot, I opened the passenger side of the SUV so she could climb inside. I got into on the driver’s seat and rummaged through my purse for my keys.

  “Should I move a little closer?” she asked.

  My fingers had just closed around the keys. I hadn’t pulled them out of my bag before I dropped them and gave her a sultry stare. When was the last time I’d made out in a car? What year of high school? Senior? “Do you want to move closer?”

  “Yes.” She slid across the seat, twisting her body sideways to face me.

  I ran a finger over a stray strand of her hair and moved it back from her forehead. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

  She nodded with an eagerness that sent a throbbing ache coursing between my legs. Her eyes, suddenly skittish, darted out the windshield at a couple passing by.

  “Tinted windows. No one will see,” I assured her.

  In a bold move, she reached up and unbuttoned the bodice of my dress until it fell open at the waist. It almost seemed she was hurrying before she could change her mind. I leaned in to kiss her and her hands cupped my breast as her mouth opened for me. My arms slid around her, pulling her against me. I moaned, forcing myself to hold on to some semblance of restraint, no matter how badly I wanted to get her out of her clothes and feel this luscious body writhing against mine. I pulled back and let her bury her head in my chest, her full moist lips finally finding a nipple through the lace of my bra. I was almost ashamed at how quickly it hardened into a pebble. My hand went to her leg and traveled up underneath the hem of her skirt, stroking her lean thighs so tempted to search for the wetness between them.

  “Touch me,” she whimpered. “Let me feel your hands all over me. I haven’t wanted this with anyone in so long.”

  Something in her voice, a sincerity I didn’t often hear out of anyone, brought me to my senses. She wasn’t the fuck ‘em and leave ‘em type, even if she thought she was. In the morning, she wouldn’t be pissed that I’d used her. She’d be hurt. There was a big difference, one I knew well. The guilt wouldn’t be so easy to shrug off. I had to stop this for both our own good.

  “Put your seatbelt on. I’ll drive you home,” I whispered, giving her a nudge back before beginning to refastened the buttons on my dress.

  “What? Did I do something wrong?”

  “No, I’m just not interested.”

  “You seemed fairly interested a second ago.”

  “I changed my mind. Don’t take it personally. You aren’t my type. That’s all, but please do let me take you home. You’re in no condition to be behind the wheel.”

  “I took a taxi. I don’t drink and drive,” she said.

  I saw the sting of rejection on her face. It was nothing compared to what she’d feel later if I went through with this, but she made it hard to stay firm in my resolve. I’ll give her that.

  Thirty minutes later, after a very silent drive, my SUV pulled up at her apartment complex. She opened the door and gave me a questioning look.

  “You have my address, I assume.”

  “Yes, Professor Mason gave it to me,” she answered in a sullen tone.

  “Jack Mason? Of course, you’re the applicant he suggested. Be in my office at nine sharp.”

  “Are you kidding? I don’t get it.”

  “I’ll need to look over your resume and interview you formally if you’re still interested in the job. What’s not to understand?”

  “You still-

  “Naturally. I told you not to take it personally. I don’t fuck my employees.”

  “It didn’t seem that you had a problem with it earlier,” she reminded me again of my weak moment.

  “It’s lucky for you I changed my mind, or you’d be out of the running.”

  She gave me an icy stare and then seemed to realize she might well be directing that insolent look at her new boss. That fast her expression softened, or I should say went blank. It was clear she had no idea what the hell was going on in my head. I wasn’t sure I did, either
. I didn’t usually give out mixed signals. I’d had every intention of owning her for one night and walking away, but something about her wouldn’t allow me to do it. She had something in her I recognized, a hunger. The way she looked at me was how I’d looked at Madeline nearly a decade ago. I’d never be able to send her on her way, so like it or not, she was my new protégé. That meant she was off limits in all other aspects. It was going to be a long night lying awake thinking about that body never being curled up next to mine, but I’d get over it.

  I really believed that. I was wrong.

  Chapter Four

  Delia

  I’d only had a few drinks. There was no reason it should have been so hard for me to roll out of bed the next morning, unless you counted the fact that I was completely humiliated. I’d attempted to seduce Nadine Robertson-and failed miserably. Fuck. I’d not only tried to seduce her. I’d been outright rejected. Maybe I could get over that if I didn’t have to face her in two hours. It didn’t help that the smell of her perfume still lingered on my skin.

  I reached up and grabbed my cell phone off the night table beside my bed without sitting up. I had a feeling if I tried that the room would spin. I never had been one to handle my alcohol. Cheyenne used to say I made for a hilarious drunk, but a funny drunk was never the less a drunk. I no sooner shut off the beeping alarm I’d set when the damned phone rang in my hand.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, how did it go last night? Did you run into Nadine?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?” Cheyenne pressed.

  “It didn’t go quite as planned, but I do still have the interview this morning.”

  “Did something happen?”

  Was that a hint of jealousy in her voice, or my wishful thinking? “Nothing major happened. We just didn’t get to talk a lot of business. She liked the dress. She thinks I have potential as a designer.”

  “See, I told you.”

  “I’m a little nervous about the interview.”

  “Why? The ice is broken.”

  “Like I said, we didn’t talk much about the job.”