counter that she wanted a table for two. She followed his tightly clad butt across the crowded restaurant, past the tables with their gingham cloths and fresh carnations, to a snug booth in the back. Mary shrugged out of her coat, then sat down. “Well?”
“Okay, okay. No need to get all huffy.”
“Tess…”
Tess didn’t smile. She was pretty sure she didn’t look smug. And she kept her voice low, so only Mary would hear. “I have a date with Dash Black.”
Mary screamed so loudly a waiter dropped his tray, all chatter came to an immediate stop, and every eye in the place zeroed in on their booth. Mary finally closed her mouth, then seemed to realize they were the center of attention. She turned to the stunned restaurant patrons. “She has a date with Dash Black.”
Tess couldn’t hold back her grin as she saw utter understanding come over the mostly female crowd. Several women nodded. More than a few stared at her with awe. He was, after all, Dash Black. And he was hers, hers, hers for one whole night.
She felt like she might throw up.
WHEN DASH WALKED INTO HIS brother’s office, Patrick was already studying the glossy photos spread out before him. His expression was serious, his focus sharp. It was time to pick the September centerfold. Dash had made his choice. Although a whole editorial team helped narrow the field, the family—himself, Patrick and their father—had the final word.
Dash headed over to Patrick’s bookshelves and gave them a cursory glance. The only new entries were a James Patterson book, a biography of Napoleon, and the latest bestseller on business communication. Slim pickings.
With nothing to keep him occupied, he gave in and settled himself on one of Patrick’s leather chairs. Sprawled with legs out, he waited for his half brother to look at him, but clearly Patrick wasn’t going to budge until he was damn good and ready.
The office was too similar to his own to be of interest. Lots of square footage decorated in masculine colors, mostly hunter green, with bits and pieces of their various enterprises represented in knickknacks, photographs, logo promotions, and, inevitably, stacks of the magazine.
Noir’s circulation was at an all-time high. Millions of men bought the magazine each month, and some of them probably read the articles. His father had set out to make Noir a household name, and he’d succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. In the old days, Black had been the front man. Suave, sophisticated, charming as hell, he’d been the driving force behind Noir, but he was done now. Tired. He had every right to be. He’d worked his ass off most of his life. Dash had been his ace in the hole. He could hand over the keys to the kingdom with little fear. With every expectation that their success would continue, that the companies would grow. That Dash would be as enthusiastic and tireless as his father.
The flesh was willing, but the mind was weak. Dash stared at his future with a kind of stunned resolve. The world on a string, and he didn’t like yo-yos. He’d better damn well get to like yo-yos. There was no way he was going to spend the next thirty years dissatisfied and resentful.
Actually, that wasn’t fair. It’s not that he hated running the show, he simply wasn’t his father. Dash was a private man thrust into the spotlight. He envied Patrick, with his focus on the real guts of the operation. The money.
Dash jumped a bit when he realized he was staring at Patrick, and that his brother was staring back. “How long have you been watching me?”
Pat shrugged. “Long enough to wonder what’s bothering you.”
Dash waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing a lobotomy wouldn’t fix.”
“Ah, well. We do have that excellent health insurance plan. I’m sure we could work something out.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Come on, Dash. What’s up?”
“I like Marie, what’s her last name? Clymer? The redhead on the second row.”
Patrick looked at his proofs. “Yeah, that’s who I was leaning toward, but don’t change the subject. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Patrick’s right brow arched. “Fine. Have it your way. Why did you come to see me?”
“I’m going to that party in the Hamptons this weekend. I was thinking we should send a photographer out.”
“To the Nicklebys’ place?”
Dash nodded.
“Already taken care of.”
Now it was Dash’s turn to raise his eyebrow. “Efficient little sucker, aren’t you?”
“I strive for excellence in all areas.”
Dash gave him the old raspberry. “Excellence, my ass.”
“No wonder you’re the heir apparent,” Patrick said. “Your maturity and class are a shining example to all.”
Dash stood up, stretched his neck. “Hey, you know the plant lady?”
“Tess?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I’m taking her.”
“To the party?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because she needs a date, and I’m a goddamn prince of a fellow.” Dash headed for the door.
“Wait a minute. I don’t like it.”
He stopped. “Don’t like what?”
“She’s a nice girl, Dash. And she’s an employee.”
“So?”
“It’s not a good idea, that’s all.”
“What do you mean?”
Patrick shuffled some photos. “You know perfectly well what I mean. She’s not a toy.”
Dash went over to the edge of Patrick’s teak desk. He leaned forward, balancing on his flattened palms. “Are you interested in her?”
Patrick’s gaze shot to his. “No. I’m not. But I like her. She’s bright and ambitious, but she’s also young as hell, and she comes from the middle of nowhere. So don’t set her up for a fall. That’s all I’m saying.”
“I’m taking her to a party, Patrick. Not to a wedding.”
“Yeah, well, women tend to fall in love with you. God knows why.”
“Yeah, I love you, too.” He straightened, fully aware Patrick was dead-on serious. “I’ll be good,” he said. “I promise.”
“Why aren’t I taking comfort from that statement?”
Dash shook his head as if he had no idea.
“Oh,
