The Allure of Dean Harper

  I worked through the entire plane ride, doing my best to block out her and Zoe’s laughter. Eventually, the flight attendant brought me a pair of headphones with a little wink. She probably wouldn’t have left my house at four in the morning, I thought as I took them from her and blocked out the sound of Lily.

  By the time we arrived at the Bellagio, I was exhausted.

  “Oh, VIP check-in? Very fancy,” Zoe quipped as I lead the group past the front of the lobby. The Bellagio was packed with people waiting to start their Vegas vacation. Sweaty tourists in Hawaiian shirts fidgeted on their feet, anxious and impatient.

  “I rented one of their private villas for a few days. It was the only thing available.”

  Everyone nodded, seemingly impressed. “Unfortunately, it’s a three bedroom.”

  Julian arched a brow. “I could have made arrangements at a different hotel.”

  Lily’s eyes widened. “No. You have to stay with us.”

  I knew she was nervous. This was her first big work trip and she thought Julian was her only ally. I could have been her ally had she not left at 4 AM.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said to Julian. “You can have your own room. I’ll bunk with Hunter and the girls can take the last room.”

  Zoe coughed. “No can do. I snore. Like really bad.”

  Lily laughed. “Is there a couch? I’ll just sleep on that.”

  I nodded and spun around before Lily could see my shocked face. Most women I’d dated would have cut my balls off if I’d suggested that they sleep on a couch.

  “Do I have time to change before our meeting?” Lily asked, sidling up beside me at the check-in counter. This was supposed to be VIP, but there was no one manning the desk. I pushed the bell two more times and finally slid my gaze to Lily.

  “Actually, I won’t be needing you at the meeting any more.”

  Her face fell. “What do you mean?”

  “The meeting with Antonio Acosta is tomorrow. That’s what I want you to focus on. The meeting today is just with a graphic designer I may hire.”

  She nibbled on her bottom lip and then her eyes shot up to me with excitement. “I could still go with you. I’d like to see what kind of graphics—”

  I cut her off with a sharp shake of my head. “No need.”

  Finally, a skinny kid in a suit two sizes too big for him pushed open the door from behind reception. He looked flustered and the sweat coating his brow warned me not to berate him for making us wait.

  “Hello, I’m sorry. I was helping another guest with a, er, bathtub situation.”

  He faltered at the end of his sentence and Zoe started laughing. Clearly some kinky shit was going down in the rooms of the Bellagio.

  The kid’s face went beet red and he started typing away on his computer. “What name is the reservation under?”

  “Dean Harper.”

  The entire time he checked us in, I tried to ignore Lily’s presence beside me. She seemed hurt that I didn’t want her at the meeting any more, but that didn’t make sense. She was the one who’d wanted to leave my house before the crack of dawn. She couldn’t get away from me fast enough. I stared down at her hands, clasped in front of her dress. She was picking at her nail, focusing all of her attention on that one cuticle. Those hands had been around my neck, gripping onto me for dear life just a few hours earlier.

  “Lily,” I said hesitantly, unsure of where my sentence would lead.

  Her gaze shifted to me and she offered up a fake, flat smile. “Have fun at your meeting. Zoe talked about hitting the pool, so I guess I’ll join her.”

  “Woohoo! Let’s go now, Lil. This is dullsville.”

  Lily turned back to her and laughed. “I guess the guys can take our bags to the villa.”

  Julian nodded. “Go ahead. I got your stuff.”

  She thanked him and bent down to retrieve her bikini from her suitcase. It was a little white string thing and suddenly I wasn’t sure I wanted her to go to the pool.

  “Sir. Sir?”

  The kid was trying to get my attention so he could explain the hotel policies, but I was watching Lily walk away with Zoe. Fucking Zoe. She was a bad influence.

  Julian nudged me in the shoulder. “Can you sign the papers so we can go to our room already? I need to call Jo.”

  I shook my head and turned back to the reception desk. Once the papers were signed and I had five room keys in hand, Hunter, Julian, and I set off to find the villas. Hunter took the lead with the hotel attendant, helping to ensure none of the bags fell off the cart.

  “You want to tell me about last night?” Julian asked, blindsiding me.

  I slid my gaze to him. “That was quick.”

  Julian narrowed his eyes. “News travels. You realize how terribly this could end, right?”

  “It won’t. Nothing will change.”

  He chuckled in disbelief. “Those sound like some famous last words if I’ve ever heard them.”

  I ignored him and checked my watch. My meeting was set to start in thirty minutes and I still needed to confirm the location. “I’m going to head back to the lobby. Could you make sure Lily’s bags get placed in the third bedroom? I’ll take the couch.”

  Julian chuckled. “Wait, what’s that? Is Dean Harper actually putting someone else’s needs before his own?”

  I glared at him. “Wait, what’s that? Did you just offer up your bed for me? What a good friend.”

  He laughed and started walking backward to catch up with Hunter and the hotel attendant. “Sorry man, didn’t hear that last part. I’m sure that couch will be really comfy!”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Lily

  If I saw one more slot machine or frozen daiquiri, I was going to lose it. I’d been in Vegas for twenty-four hours, prepared to work, and instead, I’d lounged by the pool and worked on my tan lines. I should have been involved with the graphic design meeting the day before, but Dean was keeping me out of the loop on purpose. Fortunately, that was about to change.

  “What time is your meeting with Antonio Acosta supposed to end?” Zoe asked from the bathroom door.

  I paused with my mascara wand a few inches from my face and met her eyes in the mirror. “Probably around five.”

  She nodded. “Okay cool. I think we’ll all get dinner and then the convention is hosting this meet and greet at The Bank later.”

  “The bank?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

  She laughed. “It’s a club inside the casino.”

  I nodded.

  “You’ll probably have time to change before that,” she said, scanning down my outfit. I was wearing a white button down tucked into a dark red pencil skirt. My nude heels were a sensible height and my makeup was minimal. All in all, I looked like I was running for Congress.

  “You don’t like my outfit?” I asked.

  She narrowed her eyes, pretending to study my prim and proper attire. “I mean, I think you could stand to unbutton that shirt a bit, but if you’re going for the Quaker look, that’s cool too.”

  I laughed. I was going for the Quaker look. I wanted to look older than twenty-three. I needed Antonio and Dean to take me seriously at the meeting, especially after the way Dean had treated me the day before.

  “Lily, are you almost ready?” Dean’s voice boomed through the villa. “We need to head out.”

  Zoe puffed up and tapped her wrist as if she were wearing an imaginary watch. “Mr. Punctual is ready for you!”

  I concealed my laugh. “Yes!” I yelled back. “Just two more seconds.”

  I finished swiping on my mascara and then rubbed lip balm across my lips. Zoe did her best to distract me, but I ignored her reflection in the mirror.

  “Don’t you have a meeting or something?” I asked as I adjusted my watch.

  She grinned. “I had two this morning while you were getting your beauty sleep.”

  Ah, yes. I had gotten beauty sleep—in a bed that should have been Dean’s. When Zoe and I had returned to our villa the
night before, I’d found my bags inside the third bedroom. Julian insisted Dean wanted me to have it, but Dean hadn’t been around to ask. I’d laid down on the king size bed covered in soft linens and plush pillows, and figured Dean would come yank me out of it if he wanted me on the couch.

  He hadn’t, and I was eternally grateful.

  “Lily!” Dean yelled.

  I rolled my eyes and yanked my tote bag over my shoulder. “I’m coming!”

  I pushed past Zoe and found Dean standing in the foyer of the villa, staring down at his watch. He’d avoided me for the last twenty-four hours, but we were about to go to a meeting together so he’d have to at least acknowledge my presence.

  He was wearing navy pants and a light blue shirt. The top few buttons were undone and his dark brown leather shoes matched his leather belt. The wave in his hair was tamed away from his face and his jaw was clean-shaven again. He looked as debonair as Cary Grant and for a moment I second-guessed my outfit.

  He pulled open the door. “C’mon. The meeting is across the hotel.”

  He was being impatient with me for no reason. We were thirty minutes ahead of schedule and I’d spent the morning going over the list of questions I had for Antonio. I was more than prepared.

  “Did you have a productive day yesterday?” I asked as we hit the back entrance of the hotel.

  “It wasn’t a total waste,” he replied as his fingers worked away on his phone.

  “Zoe and I ran topless through the hotel yesterday,” I said, to see if he was paying attention. “It was really fun.”

  His brown eyes sliced over to me without a trace of humor. “I hope you spent your time a little more productively than that.”

  Oh my god. I wanted to strangle him. Where was his sense of humor? Where was his fun side?

  “Well, well, look who it is.”

  I turned toward the voice and found Antonio Acosta standing near the entrance of the ballroom. He was wearing a chef’s coat over black pants and flashed us a friendly smile as we approached. He was younger than I’d expected, maybe mid-thirties.

  After shaking Dean’s hand, he turned his attention toward me and beamed. “Ah, I didn’t realize Dean would be bringing a beautiful woman as his date for the meeting.”

  I smiled and held out my hand. “Lily Black. I’m consulting on the menu for Dean’s new restaurant.”

  His bright, almost amber eyes lit up. “And she’s familiar with the arts? Where did you find this one, Dean?”

  Dean smiled good-naturedly, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Come, come. The hotel has partitioned off a small section of this ballroom for us,” Antonio said, pressing his hand to the small of my back and ushering us into the room. The expansive ballroom was much too large for what we needed. The ceilings were nearly twenty feet high and long ornate curtains were drawn to keep out the afternoon sun. There was a small round table set up in the corner nearest the door. A row of tea candles lined the center and a white tablecloth draped over the sides. Antonio pulled one of the two chairs out for me and I smiled up at him in thanks.

  “The hotel is allowing me to use the kitchen attached to this ballroom. I’ve spent the morning creating the dishes I had in mind for your restaurant.”

  I smiled as he picked up my napkin from beside my plate. He popped it open with a flick of his wrist and then draped it across my lap. I could feel Dean’s eyes on us, but he held his tongue until Antonio had excused himself to get the first dish.

  “Please don’t encourage him.”

  I retrieved my notes from my tote bag and shook my head. “I’m not.”

  He grunted and pocketed his phone. Apparently, this meeting was worthy of his undivided attention.

  A moment later, Antonio backed out of the swinging door with two small plates in hand. A rich garlic flavor wafted through the room as he stepped closer and set down a plate in front of each of us. My smile fell as I registered the dish.

  “I’m starting you two off with a simple dish called gambas al ajillo. It’s fresh shrimp sautéed in olive oil infused with garlic. I’ve also added a touch of Spanish paprika and brandy.”

  Antonio Acosta was the most sought after Spanish chef in the United States and he was starting us off with this? Before Dean’s bite reached his mouth, I shook my head.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to cut right to it. There’s nothing unique in this recipe.” I pointed to the plate where four limp shrimp sat in a bath of olive oil.

  Dean’s gaze met mine and I could see the warning there. He wanted me to proceed with caution, but I couldn’t. I’d spent an entire semester on Spanish cuisine, and by the time I’d finished, I knew my tapas. For the ungodly sum of money Antonio was being paid for this tasting, he’d just opened with the tapas equivalent of PB&J. He should have known better.

  Antonio swallowed and nodded slowly. “I see. As a chef, I like to honor culinary tradition while striving for measured amounts of uniqueness," he explained deftly. “But let’s not dwell on it, let’s move on to the next dish.”

  He reached forward and yanked the plates from the table before Dean could set down his spoon. Clearly, I’d offended him.

  Dean arched a brow at me after Antonio had disappeared back into the kitchen. “Next time let me taste the dish before you overstep your bounds and insult the chef.”

  I narrowed my eyes quizzically at him. He’d brought me there as a consultant, so I was consulting.

  We sat in silence until Antonio brought out the next dish. It was a slight alteration of another standard tapas dish: patatas bravas. Instead of using Tabasco sauce, he’d swapped in a chipotle mayo for us to dip the potatoes into. The dish was good. Was it worthy of being on our menu? No. Every food critic in New York would pan us.

  And that’s how the tasting went. Antonio’s dishes fell flat every single time. The ingredients were expected. The flavors were standard. There was nothing unique about his presentation and I doubted Antonio had even spent more than five minutes coming up with recipes for our restaurant. Either he was lazy, or he was purposely sabotaging our menu.

  I shook my head. “This dish is served in every tapas restaurant in America,” I said, pointing at the short ribs in front of me. “Where’s the creativity? Where’s the effort?”

  “Excuse me?” Antonio asked, rearing back as if I’d struck him. For twenty minutes, he’d brought out dishes for us to sample, and for twenty minutes I’d held my tongue as best as possible.

  “Lily that’s enough,” Dean spoke up with a sharp tongue.

  I flinched. “Are you serious?”

  Dean tossed his napkin onto the table and shook his head. “Let’s go. You’re excused from the rest of the meeting.”

  My cheeks flamed as he pushed his chair back and crossed around to escort me from the room. I saw red as I reached down for my bag. He was being taken advantage of and now he was punishing me for standing up for him?

  Dean pushed the ballroom door open so hard that it swung back and hit the wall.

  “That was completely unprofessional. What were you thinking?” he hissed, reaching up to grip my arm so I couldn’t storm off.

  “You’re delusional. That man is taking advantage of you, and if you don’t see that, you’re blind.”

  “He’s one of the most influential chefs in America. If his dishes are bad, you eat them and discuss the rest with me after the meeting is over. This is my business, my name you’re tarnishing by acting like a picky toddler.”

  I stepped closer. “He just served us glorified french fries. How much did you pay him for that meeting, Dean? Ten thousand dollars? Fifteen?”

  “I don’t care if he scraped the gunk off his shoe and passed it off as escargot. You have to understand how this world works. Until you do, you can head home. Pack your bags. I don’t need you in Vegas any more.”

  I could feel the flush spread from my cheeks, down across my chest. He could have stabbed me in the heart and it would have hurt less than those eight words. I don’t n
eed you in Vegas any more.

  I’d slept with him less than forty-eight hours earlier and since then he’d ignored me, chastised me, and now he was dismissing me like I was last week’s trash.

  “Fuck you, Dean,” I hissed, shoving my finger into his chest. “Fire me if you think that’s what’s best, but don't think you can just tuck me away when it’s convenient for your ego.”

  “Don’t test me Lily,” he said, bending low so that his lips were aligned with mine.

  I flashed him a dark, sardonic smile, scraping together my last bit of self-confidence. “Have a great rest of your meeting. I’ll see you at the meet and greet later.”

  “Lily!”

  I ignored him and walked away.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Lily

  My confidence broke down somewhere in the middle of the Bellagio lobby. I had tears streaking down my cheeks and everyone was subtly getting the hell out of my way, pulling their children away from me like I was deranged. I’m not going to attack your kid just because I’m crying. Jeez.

  I walked past the pool, remembering how naive I’d been the day before. I’d lounged on those chairs and assured myself that Dean had brought me to Vegas because he respected me and valued my opinion, no matter how strong it might be. Perhaps I’d overstepped my bounds in that meeting, but that was no reason to send me home. He’d just treated me like scum and he thought I was going to go hide away and lick my wounds? If he thought that was a possibility, then he really didn’t know me at all.

  I pushed through the door to our private villa and thanked all the gods of awkward moments that it was empty. I hated having to be there. If I could have, I would have grabbed my bags and found my own room, but the hotel was completely booked, and let’s face it, I couldn’t have afforded my own room anyway. The living room, with the sectional Dean had slept on the night before, was quiet and empty. The courtyard with its fruit trees and ivy vines remained untouched.

  I bypassed the mini bar, the giant kitchen, and the gym. Who needs a gym? I’m not working out on a work trip. The same rules of vacation apply. I shut myself in my room and sneered at the opulent decor. I’d appreciated it the day before, but now it just made me want to barf. This was Dean’s villa, and I hated it.