It was all so crazy. She would’ve loved being here under different circumstances. And Logan with those sexy hazel eyes? Under different circumstances, she would’ve loved meeting him.
Sharing the apartment would have been much easier if he’d been unattractive. And meeting him for the first time while she was wearing only a towel? Fantastic. At least they wouldn’t have much interaction this evening. She had to get ready to crash Holstrom’s reception at the Mandarin Oriental.
Kensey flipped on the light and walked into the large closet, a nice hint of cedar rising from the floor. She hadn’t noticed the scent before. Probably because she’d hung everything as quickly as she’d grabbed and purchased the clothes a few hours ago.
She looked at the long row of clothing: dresses, skirts, blouses, pants. All of it gorgeous. And sexy. Way sexier than anything she normally wore. But then, these were costumes. More expensive than anything she’d ever owned, and integral to the character she was about to play.
She’d been worried, at first, after she’d done a bit more research about Holstrom, that she wouldn’t be able to get his attention. From what she’d read, he didn’t seem to go for tall blondes, but that wasn’t enough to dissuade her. She knew he loved being the center of attention, and, tonight, she would bring that to him in spades. Then, after he was hooked like a trout, she would vanish into the night.
And come back here to have her coronary in private.
She decided she would go with the beautiful flowing number by Donna Karan for tonight’s party. The dress was the color of turmeric and clay, strapless and tight around her chest, with an airy, semitransparent skirt that flowed past her ankles. She hoped it was enough to get her into Holstrom’s reception and catch his eye. If he proved challenging, there were a few things she could do. The simplest of which would be to drop her small clutch at his feet. Eye contact would be easy once he picked it up for her.
God, all this reminded her of her father. Wherever he was. Before he’d taken a runner, she and her father had lived the high life. They went to extravagant parties and ate at the best restaurants in New York City, Paris and Rome. The memories made her heart race—but not in an entirely good way. Believing she could get Holstrom to show her his secret collection had seemed easier two hundred miles away in Tarrytown. But it wasn’t as if she had much of a choice.
After applying a good deal more makeup than usual and slicking her hair completely off her face, she checked her new dramatic look in the mirror. She decided against wearing any jewelry. It took her a minute to believe she was staring at her own reflection, and then she was ready to go, slippery clutch in hand.
“Hey,” Logan said, as he walked down the hallway from his bedroom. “I’m going to order a pizza. Want in?”
He blinked at her. Damn, he was good looking. The way his jeans fit him, the V of a tight waist and broad shoulders. His sun-streaked brown hair was slightly damp and slicked back. She would have loved to stick around and see if he was everything Sam claimed, but she couldn’t.
“I’ve got someplace to be,” she said.
He returned the toe-to-head scan. “Wow.”
Kensey smiled. Managed to look flattered but not overly so. “Thanks. Pizza would’ve been good, though,” she said, and probably shouldn’t have. “But now, I’ve got to run.”
“Have you ordered a taxi yet?”
“Yes. Thanks.”
The way his gaze moved down her body, slowly, then lingered on where the silky fabric grazed her thighs made her want to squeeze them together. If Logan’s reaction was any indication, the dress was doing its job.
His dark brows lowered. “Did you forget—” He met her eyes, cleared his throat and looked away. “Have a good time.”
Fairly certain she knew what he’d been about to say, she tried not to laugh. The flow of the dress was very tricky. Depending on the angle, the lighting, the motion of her body, it appeared as if she might be naked underneath the translucent fabric.
He turned around and headed back toward his room, the walls on both sides turning varying shades of red as he hurried down the hallway.
* * *
THE TAXI RIDE had been good for her, a way to settle and get comfortable in her role. Logan’s reaction had helped. She knew she’d picked the perfect dress. The slight alteration she’d made to the bodice made her breasts look larger than they were. But undeniably, it was the stunning gossamer fabric and what it revealed that would help her pass the next test.
A tall beefy man in a black suit stood at the entrance to the banquet room where Holstrom was hosting his reception. Thirtysomething, with hard features, she could tell he wasn’t an ordinary rent-a-cop. A member of Holstrom’s private security team, she imagined. This might not be as easy as she’d hoped.
“Good evening. May I see your invitation, please?”
Standing tall but looking at him through her eyelashes, she pretended to check inside her small clutch. She sighed with a hint of impatience, then snapped the catch shut and dipped her finger and thumb into her bodice, between her breasts.
The man tried not to stare. But he couldn’t seem to help himself.
Her smile turned pensive, not that he’d noticed. Interesting, because he seemed a little old and seasoned to be quite so mesmerized, but she’d take it. Of course she didn’t have the invitation, but she did have a tube of lipstick, which she pulled out. “I know I didn’t leave it at the hotel,” she said. “It may have come loose but I’m sure it’s here. I’d folded it so it would fit.”
She went in for a second time.
Kensey could have sworn his body had tensed, but his expression remained unchanged.
“It’s fine, ma’am. I’m sure you’re on the list.” He gestured to the open door. “Please, go ahead.”
She smiled and walked confidently into the elegant Mandarin Oriental ballroom, grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and sipped from it as she took stock of the party she’d just crashed.
She’d wondered why Holstrom wasn’t entertaining in one of the more intimate suites. Now she understood. There had to be over a hundred people in attendance, plenty of strutting men with beautiful women close at hand. Premium champagne and chilled bottles of imported vodka were on display, as were six young women in tiny outfits who were extolling the virtues of Holstrom’s battle tanks, RPGs, submachine guns, sniper rifles and Lord knows what else.
To make it seem even more like something out of a movie, upbeat elevator music played softly in the background, and there was a ridiculous ratio of waiters to guests. The people who had been invited to this reception wouldn’t be walking the exhibit hall during the conference. And they’d definitely not be attending any sessions. She doubted that there was one guest in that room who wasn’t worth at least a billion dollars. In Holstrom’s case, it was many billions.
More than half the men were Middle Eastern and she recognized a few bigwigs from Eastern Europe. Their plus-ones were mostly American women in classy but slightly immodest clothes, although there were two women in gorgeous abayas sitting in one of the tidy group lounges.
And there he was.
Ian
