A Calculated Romance Read online

  Jim drifted off to sleep thinking of the way Ireland's body felt beneath his and that otherworldly face framed by unruly curls. He slept better than he had in several years, only waking when his father roused him around ten a.m.

  "Katrina's on the phone, and she's anxious to speak with you, Jim," his father bellowed from down the hall.

  When he took the receiver from his dad, he knew he was in for it.

  "James," his sister began without saying hello. "I understand from Dad that you took Ireland out last night for dinner. I don't want you pursuing that girl, understand? She's off limits! Thanks to you, I'm going to have to rearrange the bridesmaids' order."

  "What are you talking about, Sis?"

  "I mean, I'm not going to throw you two together as partners at my wedding. You've broken enough hearts that belong to my girlfriends, and—"

  "Whoa there, Kate," he interrupted. "I think you're getting carried away. I just asked her to dinner because you weren't around, and she looked like she could use a good meal. I mean, she's a nice kid and all, but are you paying her enough to eat? She's awfully scrawny, and her apartment seems like it's in a dumpy, unsafe neighborhood."

  James employed a standard tactic of distraction and defense. He put Kate on the defensive while shifting the subject matter.

  "Of course I'm paying her a fair wage! She has done a wonderful job so far. I didn't realize she might not have enough to live on. My rent controlled apartment is so cheap. Hmm, maybe I should give her a raise." Katrina's voice trailed off.

  His sister had a habit of daydreaming and drifting off topic.

  "That would be a good idea, Kate. Now, tell me more about the rehearsal dinner."

  The siblings had a friendly conversation from there on, discussing the restaurant where they'd be dining, the groom, Bowzer, their father, and his own job prospects after the service. He agreed, grudgingly, to come down for dinner that night. His sister wanted him to spend more time with Robert before the big event.

  The rest of the day, Jim relaxed around the house, chatted with his dad, played with the dog, and enjoyed being home. He'd spent the last several weeks driving across the country, and staying put in Palmdale would have proved a welcome change. Instead, he drove into Los Angeles and had dinner with his sister, Robert, and his former girlfriend, Kiki. Somehow, she'd been invited to join them. He and his sister's best friend had recently made peace, and Jim stayed on his best behavior all evening, proving to Katrina that he could be trusted as Landi's partner at the wedding. He went to bed thinking of the striking girl and slept well again that night.

  The next week passed uneventfully, with James relaxing at home, visiting with his dad, and giving Bowzer extra attention. He kept his own counsel and only discussed light topics with his father. Each day, his anticipation at the thought of seeing Ireland grew. When Thursday arrived, he suggested that his dad drive separately to the rehearsal. The wedding party might be out late after the dinner, he explained. James chose a navy blue suit, a crisp white shirt, and an electric blue tie sporting tiny green dots. He recalled the mint dress Landi would be wearing and wanted his tie to match. In fact, he remembered every detail about the girl's appearance.

  He arrived at the church early and sat out front in his red sports car waiting for Ireland. Just as he spotted her, arriving in an old beat-up compact car, his dad appeared. Donald Crimshaw met the girl and escorted her inside the church, running an endgame around his son. By all appearances, his father already knew Landi. She greeted him with open affection.

  Donald led Ireland to a pew, where they waited for the rest of the group to arrive. She always enjoyed spending time with her boss's father. He seemed so different from her gruff foster dad. Bill Lincoln had died from emphysema before Landi graduated from high school. She often wondered if Rick would have become so aggressive had her father lived. Her boyfriend always behaved respectfully with Bill around.

  As the wedding party trickled in, she noticed James sulking near the back of the church. She caught quick glimpses of him whenever she could. At last, the bride and groom appeared, and looking gloriously happy, they organized the group.

  Katrina assigned the groomsmen partners. Since she couldn't very well place James with Kiki, and her brother had convinced her he didn't have his cap set for Landi, she relented and allowed him to escort her assistant.

  Kate had seen fit to give Ireland another warning regarding her brother. Now, the girl stiffened whenever he touched her and would hardly look directly at him. His grin didn’t help either.

  He'd be so much easier to ignore if he weren't so handsome.

  James escorted Landi from the sanctuary to the foyer, where the party planned to regroup before practicing the ceremony again. The skin under her dress tingled wherever he touched her. She felt his thumb caressing her back as he guided her up the aisle and took the chance of looking at him. The eyes she'd known as blue appeared steely grey today.

  "What's wrong?" she whispered before she could stop herself.

  From past experience, the girl knew that a change in eye color signaled a more serious mood, or perhaps anguish or even pain. She caught James off-guard with the question. He fixed his eyes on hers until they reached the altar, searching for the source of her intuition.

  "I'll tell you later," he whispered in her ear before releasing her to join the other bridesmaids at the front of the church.

  As the wedding coordinator droned on and on, Ireland felt the heat of James's stare. She directed her gaze everywhere except near him. She knew if she allowed her eyes to wander in his vicinity, she wouldn't be able to resist taking a glimpse of the man. She had to stay away from this playboy and concentrate on her role as a member of the wedding party. He'd be leaving the area soon anyway, according to his sister.

  At the close of the rehearsal, they were instructed to exit the church just as they would after the wedding. Ireland found her arm encircled by James's, and she was escorted straight from the chapel to his sport scar.

  "I have my own car," she said feebly, looking around.

  James stood next to the open passenger door, waiting to help her inside.

  "Don't worry. I'll drop you back here later," he said, widening his eyes as if to say will you get in now?

  She found it difficult to resist his take-charge manner. Behind her, bridesmaids chattered and people broke into small groups to ride to the restaurant. She felt like the odd duck, and her fear of getting stuck alone got the best of her. Without another word, she slipped into the red vehicle with the grace of a trained acrobat. James slammed the door at once in case she changed her mind.

  "How did you know something was wrong earlier?" he asked, looking askance at the waif beside him.

  "Lucky guess," she said, not wanting to reveal she'd made a study of his eyes.

  "I don't think so, Landi. I'll tell you what—you tell me how you knew something was wrong, and I'll tell you why I was upset. Deal?"

  She glanced his way and observed that puppy dog expression. She began to suspect it was as phony as his grin—part of an arsenal of weapons he used to get his own way, but she still found the look hard to resist. She'd collected strays and outcasts her whole life.

  "Your eyes appeared grey. Normally, they are a bright blue. When there is a shift in someone's eye color from lively to dull, it can signify pain, stress, or even a bad mood."

  The girl looked at him in earnest. Her countenance appeared so serious, he didn’t know how to react.

  "Really, Landi? I've never heard that," he said at last, fighting to keep the corners of his mouth even to hide his amusement.

  She saw the twitch of his lips and the pulse at the corner of his jaw, and she looked straight ahead. She feared he mocked her.

  "You must have something there, because I was upset. I'd been looking forward to seeing you all week, yet you ignored me once you got to the church."

  Now, Ireland fought to keep a smile from her lips. She kept telling herself not to fall for this player. He
was so out of her league anyway—older, educated, polished, and from a good home.

  "That's a nice thought," she stated in a business-like tone as the car pulled to a stop outside the Italian restaurant Katrina and Robert had chosen for their rehearsal dinner.

  She kept her eyes focused ahead and didn't see the astonished look cross his face or his features compact with frustration as she exited the vehicle.

  Once inside, a maître d' escorted them to a large, private room. The first to arrive, they had the place to themselves. James pulled out a chair for Ireland and sat right next to her. His presence unnerved the girl, so she trained her energy on taking in the details of the space. Low floral arrangements in whisper-soft pink and cream blooms added an elegant touch to the candle-lit tables. Monogrammed silver chargers lent formality to the setting. Each place had multiple forks, which could have sent Ireland into a panic had she not studied up on the subject once she knew she'd be a participant in the wedding instead of just a guest.

  She placed her hand on the table and soon felt James's envelope hers. Her breath caught in her throat, and she closed her eyes for a moment. When her lashes fluttered open, she examined the top of his hand. Several veins bulged from his tan skin while darker freckles, a sign he'd spent much time outdoors, splattered across his knuckles. She could see calluses on the sides of his fingers. She tried to withdraw, but he gave her a squeeze, trapping her hand beneath his.

  "What do you like to do for fun, Ireland?" he asked.

  "I don't have much time. I keep busy with school," she replied without meeting his gaze.

  The candlelight enhanced the girl's delicate features and skin tone. James thought she resembled a fairy or sprite.

  "If you tell me what you enjoy doing in your spare time, I'll tell you what I like to do," he bargained.

  She sighed. The man didn't give up easily.

  "Whenever I get the chance, I drive out to the desert and search for rocks. Not too exciting, is it?"

  She chanced a glimpse in his direction and saw his face light up with enthusiasm.

  "You mean you're a rock hound? I've got a collection of geodes I found in Cadiz when I was a kid. But I don't get out very often anymore. I really miss it," he said, his voice trailing away.

  Ireland pulled back and stared him in the eye.

  "You're a rock hound?" she asked, incredulous. He didn't resemble any enthusiast she'd ever come across.

  "Oh, yeah. I've been meaning to get back into it and—say, I've got an idea! Why don't you take me out to the Mojave the next time you go? How about Sunday after the wedding?"

  "I-I'm not sure I can, and—"

  "James! Are you bothering Landi?" Katrina bent at the waist and placed her head between the couple. "Because I can always have Sue escort you down the aisle on Saturday," she threatened, lowering her voice.

  Jim raised his palms, releasing Ireland's hand, and feigned a look of innocence. Katrina moved on, distracted by the arrival of Robert's mother.

  "Sue is scary with a capital S. Promise you won't ever give me up, Landi," he whispered, leaning next to her.

  His face was positioned dizzyingly near her own, and she got an up close look at his thick, blond hair, masculine jaw, and neck. She couldn't help laughing at his mock fear of Sue even as she drew in his scent. When he turned to smile at her, she noticed his eyes had returned to a bright shade of blue.

  He sat back up in his seat and draped his arm over her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. She could feel his breath on her neck as his masculine fragrance of spice and leather surrounded her. His lips were at her ear, asking her something. She could no longer think straight. She nodded, feeling at that moment as if she couldn't deny him anything.

  Ireland felt relief when Donald Crimshaw took the seat to her left, commanding her attention with friendly conversation. Katrina's dad managed to monopolize the girl during dinner, and she enjoyed his fatherly interest. She could see the resemblance between him and James. They shared laugh lines around the eyes and mouth and had the same nose and coloring, although his father's hair had faded to silver around his face.

  After dinner, some members of the wedding party gave speeches or toasts. Sue rambled enthusiastically about the bride and groom. Her voice boomed through the banquet room, and Jim managed to shoot Landi an I told you so look, making the girl giggle. Eventually, things at the restaurant wound down as relatives and close friends of the couple retired for the evening.

  "Where should we go?" Douglas, a cousin of the groom, asked as the wedding party huddled on the sidewalk while waiting for valet parking to return their cars.

  Robert LaSalla suggested Sinclair's, an exclusive dance club in Santa Monica. The owner had been a friend for years and his father's client. He gave hasty directions to the out-of-towners, and everyone began to split up.

  Ireland thought she'd call it a night, but when she tried to move closer to deliver the news to Katrina, she realized Jim had her by the elbow.

  "You're coming with me," he said.

  Her expression must have given away her intent, because he added, "You already promised."

  Landi was about to protest, but she realized she'd probably agreed to his request by nodding at the dinner table when she'd found his presence so overwhelming.

  "All right," she said, her voice cracking.

  During the ride to the club, James carried the conversation, chatting about music, dancing, and the wedding. Ireland remained quiet, smiling and nodding at the appropriate times, although her nerves got the better of her.

  "Now it's my turn to ask what's wrong," he said, reaching across the center console to give her hand a gentle squeeze.

  She turned to see if his concern was real. She thought she observed genuine worry and empathy in his expression. She checked his eyes, just to be sure.

  "I don't know how to dance," she confessed, fearing he'd think her a complete rube.

  She watched as his jaw dropped, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward almost immediately. He turned his head forward to keep his eyes on the road, a slight smile playing across his face.

  "I can't wait to teach you," he said in a low voice, still holding her hand.

  Chapter 3

  -Learning Something New-

  Sinclair's took up an entire floor in a boutique hotel just across the Pacific Coast Highway from the ocean. A private elevator whisked guests to a Moroccan-themed bar, which gave way to the dance club. A large balcony allowed for a space to escape the loud music and flashing lights and enjoy the relaxing sound of waves crashing against the shore. Spotlights trained at the beach provided a limited view of sand and the Pacific.

  "Do you want something to drink?" James asked above the din, leading Landi to a booth in the corner.

  He'd left his tie in the car, and now he removed his jacket, loosening his collar. She caught a glimpse of his throat and Adam's apple and wondered what it would feel like to stroke his neck.

  "Maybe later," she said, her voice raised.

  "What did you think of Robert getting us past that velvet rope?" he asked, his lips grazing her earlobe and shooting sparks through her.

  "It was amazing. I felt like I was walking a red carpet," she replied, trying to hide her reaction to him as other members of their group filled in the empty spots around their table.

  James made sure that he stayed next to Ireland. As soon as the DJ played a slow song, he tugged on her wrist.

  "Come on. Time for your lesson," he whispered against her ear.

  Ireland felt a shot of electricity run from her earlobe to her toes as her heart began to race. He pulled her from the booth, then guided her onto the dance floor with his hand at the small of her back.

  "This is the easy part," he coaxed, leading her to the far side of the floor. "Your hands go here," he said, gliding his own slowly up her arms until he'd lifted them to his shoulders.

  The sheer netting of her sleeves scrunched and rumpled beneath his touch, causing the most delicious sensations a
long her skin. Contact with him brought a fire to her cheeks, and she hoped he didn't notice. His fingers played with hers before he placed them at the nape of his neck. Then, he ran his hands back down her arms and sides, finally stopping at her waist.

  "So far, so good, right?" he said in a serious tone, stepping back to look her in the eye.

  It was a loaded question. Landi bit her lip. He took his job as dance instructor seriously.

  "Uh huh," she murmured, barely keeping her wits.

  He tugged her closer, pulling her against his chest. She felt his muscles ripple beneath his shirt, then go taut. Without any space between them, Ireland allowed herself to melt against him. She'd never experienced this kind of closeness with a man, not even Rick. She shut her eyes and immersed herself in his scent. What harm could one dance do?

  "Now, just move to the music, and you're dancing," he whispered, allowing his lips to graze her ear and linger close to her neck.

  He tightened his grasp on her waist, then slid his hands to the girl's hips. She didn't notice when the music ended, segueing into a more upbeat song. James lifted her chin and gave her the warmest smile, his mouth matching his eyes this time. He held her gaze for several seconds before placing his lips on her forehead. He let his kiss linger a moment before he snatched her hand and pulled her off the dance floor and towards the balcony.

  "It was getting a little warm in there, don't you think?" he said once they were seated outside.

  They had the area to themselves, except for two smokers at the far end of the patio. The rhythm of the pounding surf and fresh sea air—or maybe the fact that he no longer held her—broke the spell of the dance floor.

  "No," she answered before she could stop herself, realizing he might have meant something other than room temperature. She'd always been a truthful person.

  He shot her a quizzical look, then laughed.