Getting Dirty with the CEO

The sounds of the salsa band irritated the hell out of Daniel Vargas, but as he rounded the outskirts of the ballroom, he pasted on a “life couldn’t get any better” smile, hoping everyone would believe he was having a great time at Graciela and Ethan’s wedding.

What he wouldn’t do for a little air and space. A reprieve from the what-ifs that kept urging him toward a dismal place in his head. He snuck a glance at his parents, who sat with their good friends, the mother and father of the bride. Their wooden expressions didn’t surprise him. These days, life happened around them, and they simply watched like bystanders to an event they hadn’t expected to attend. His parents had never learned how to hide their pain behind a cheerful exterior. Daniel, on the other hand, had perfected the skill.

He needed a distraction. His gaze floated over the faces of the wedding guests until it settled on a familiar face.

Mimi Pennington.

The bride’s best friend—and distraction in the flesh.

Bull’s-eye.

She stood by the open bar and typed on her phone, giving him a minute to watch her undetected. The bridesmaid dress she wore skimmed her delicate ankles and hugged her generous curves. She’d pinned her blond hair on top of her head, her bangs and a few runaway strands framing her face. Though she was petite, Mimi’s larger-than-life personality made her appear six feet tall to him. And damn, that mouth. It was an entity unto itself, and for reasons he had yet to decipher, its barbs had recently begun landing on him. Still, like a moth to a six-alarm fire, he was drawn to her anyway.

Didn’t matter that she would skewer him. He’d much rather focus on Mimi’s sharp tongue than the sadness in his parents’ eyes. So he strolled over to the bar and rested his elbows on the counter. “Hey, Fireworks.”

She stopped typing and raised her head—but she didn’t bother looking at him. “What do you want, Vargas?”

“I’m flattered. Do you have a sixth sense when it comes to me?”

She turned to face him then, her blue eyes sparkling. “You know how dogs have this supernatural ability to hear sounds at high decibels? Well, I have a similar talent for detecting pompous men. I could sense you from across the room. Watching. Plotting. Arroganting.”

He chuckled, the brief exchange already lifting his mood. This was why he chose to engage with her: A conversation with Mimi never traveled along a straight path, and the journey was just as enjoyable as the destination. “Arroganting?”

“Being arrogant. It comes so naturally to you, the word deserves to be a verb.”

Well, as to her, other more interesting actions came to mind: kissing, licking, sucking, fu— He stopped himself. Bad, Daniel. Pay attention to what she’s telling you. “But you don’t know me very well. How’d you come to that conclusion?”

She gave him a full once-over before responding in a flat tone. “I know enough.”

He raised a brow as though he were mildly interested in her answer. In truth, the need to uncover the source of her disdain had occupied more of his time than he cared to admit. She’d erected a wall between them, and he couldn’t help wondering what would happen if he scaled it. And since he was a man who thrived on being likable, her ire made him uncomfortable. He’d always played off his confusion well enough—a smirk being his go-to move—but the question remained: What the hell had he done to piss her off? “Care to clue me in?”

She swiped at her phone while she spoke. “Do you remember when I tried to pitch you for your business at the Blakely Awards Dinner?”

He recalled speaking with her at the event, sure. He’d been there in his role as a board member of her best friend’s community service organization. But he’d talked to Mimi only briefly, and he couldn’t recall what they’d talked about. “I’m sorry. I’m drawing a blank.”

“Yes, well, I’m not surprised.” She jabbed at her phone. “You were more interested in having a conversation with my breasts.”

That wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility. She had a magnificent rack. But he was usually smoother than her memory indicated, and certainly less boorish when admiring a woman’s body. Still, his gut told him that her resentment came from another source. Even before the Blakely Awards Dinner, she’d made it clear he didn’t impress her. Now he had no idea how to propel himself out of the sinkhole he’d apparently fallen into. He’d try, though. “I’m not saying this is what happened, but I do wear contacts, and it’s possible I might have been having an issue with them.”

Her eyes narrowed and she curled her upper lip. “You’re the butter knife in the drawer, Daniel.”

Well, damn. Sparring with Mimi required a full night’s rest and a clear head; he had neither. Maybe it was time to disengage and find a less lethal form of entertainment for tonight. He raised his elbows off the bar and opened his mouth to apologize and make a hasty exit, but before he could do that, a woman holding a small bouquet of flowers rushed to Mimi’s side and whispered in her ear.

Mimi’s eyes bulged and she nodded. “I’m so there. Give me a sec.” She faced him and smiled. Given that her smile was directed at him, he suspected it was fake as hell. If she invited him to kiss her lips, they’d probably be laced with arsenic.

“Do you speak Spanish?” she asked him.

“I do.”

“Great. So apparently there’s another party going on in the hotel. We’re planning to crash for a few minutes.” She pointed to the woman by her side. “This is Rosa, by the way. Gracie’s cousin.”

“Good to meet you, Rosa.”

Rosa gave him a shy smile. Now that smile seemed genuine. “Hi.” She placed the bouquet on the bar counter and tugged on Mimi’s arm. “Mimi, we should go.”

“Okay,” Mimi told her. To him, she said, “Want to join us?”

Rosa covered her mouth with her hand and gave Mimi a questioning look.

Mimi’s face looked hopeful, which made him suspicious, of course. Oddly, though, he was hopeful himself. Maybe he could use this as an opportunity to begin scaling that wall. “Why would you want me there?”

She raised her eyebrows as though the answer were obvious. “Because we’re crashing a party, and if anything goes down, it might be helpful to have you around. You know, to intercede on my behalf, particularly because I don’t speak Spanish.” She stuffed her phone in her clutch. “I can see the idea doesn’t appeal to you. No worries. I’m just going to pop out and come back in before Gracie and Ethan leave for their honeymoon.”

She spun around.

Despite his reservations, he touched the back of her arm to stop her and she froze. So did he, since the softness of her skin scrambled his brain for several seconds.

She twisted her head and glanced at his hand on her arm before pinning him with a heated gaze. “What is it?”

His brain cleared enough to register that her words came out choppy. Ah, she wasn’t immune to him after all. That morsel of information opened up so many possibilities. He’d always been attracted to Mimi’s crackle and pop, eager to stoke her fire simply because her taunts kept him grounded in the present, far away from his unpleasant past. But what if he were the object of Mimi’s desire? What if she channeled all her passion in a different direction? To his bed, for instance.

After clearing her throat, she repeated her question and flicked her gaze to his fingers on her skin.

He dropped his hand as though he’d touched a flame, which, in a way, he had. “I’ll come. I need a distraction anyway.”

“Excellent. It’s just a floor below this one, in Salon C.”

The women whispered to each other as he followed them out of the ballroom. After a few false turns, they found the sign for Salon C. Rosa descended the stairs beside him while Mimi led the way.

“So, Daniel, do you live in Washington, D.C., like Mimi?” she asked.

“I do.”

“Do you have family on the island?”

“Plenty. You—”

Mimi laid a finger against her mouth and shushed them. “Let’s try to be discreet.” She cracked open the door and peeked inside. The steady thump of dance music and flashes of light told him they’d found the right ballroom. Mimi and Rosa scurried through the door.

He followed them inside and stopped short to survey the room. And after his eyes adjusted to the strobe lighting and focused on the scene, his jaw dropped.

There were men. Everywhere. Half-naked men everywhere. Okay, maybe not everywhere, but certainly a dozen of them, and fuck, they wore thongs. Pink thongs. Blue thongs. Even leopard print thongs. Chests flexed and asses out, they gyrated around the room, competing with each other in an epic battle of the bulges. And he couldn’t un-see any of it.

Mimi whooped. “Now this is the kind of cock fight I can get down with.”

With his mouth still hanging open, Daniel spied a woman in a short red dress, her long hair covered by a cheap wedding veil. She was sitting in a chair of honor in the center of the room and waving dollar bills in the air. One of the men straddled her and she inserted the money between his ass cheeks.

For the love of…

By his side, Mimi held her stomach as she took in Daniel’s dumbfounded expression.

Damn her.

She’d tricked him into crashing a bachelorette party.

Mimi: 1. Daniel: 0.

Mimi debated whether to break out her iPhone and take a picture of Daniel’s face. It. Was. Priceless. Ha. Mr. Perfection looked less than perfect at the moment. He’d scrunched his face so that his brows almost touched, and he was running his hands through his hair as he backed up.

She laughed. “Where you going, Daniel?”

He stopped mid-step. “You knew this was a bachelorette party?”

“I did.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“I didn’t think it mattered,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. “Does it?”

“Do you think I want to stare at a bunch of men in thongs?”

“I don’t know. Do you?”

He smirked. “Even if I wanted to stare at a man in a thong, I assure you a leopard print would not be my first choice.”

Oh, good. He had a sense of humor lurking under that polished veneer. “Point taken. You’re free to leave, Daniel.” She waggled her eyebrows. “I’m going to hang out for a bit and watch the show. Make sure Rosa doesn’t get into any trouble.”

She glanced around the room searching for her fellow party crasher, but Rosa had disappeared into the throng. Go, Rosa. One of the male strippers was leading the bride-to-be back to her table while another fully clothed stripper crooked a finger at a woman in the audience. That woman nearly upended the chair in the center of the dance floor in her rush to sit on it. The emcee, meanwhile, pumped his hands in the air, inciting the crowd even more.

Beside her, Daniel made no move to leave and instead put two fingers to his mouth and whistled. What the hell?

Daniel motioned for the emcee’s attention and pulled the man to the side, speaking rapid-fire Spanish to him. Dammit. If only she’d paid attention to Señora Colon in high school. Mimi strained to hear what Daniel was saying, though the exercise was pointless. She did appreciate the sound of his voice, however, each roll of his r’s making him more attractive in her eyes. No, no, no. This was Daniel. An arrogant, self-centered ladies’ man if ever there was one.

The emcee exchanged words with one of the dancers, and before she knew what was happening, the dancer pulled Mimi to the center of the room and guided her to sit in the chair.

Daniel clapped and whistled from his spot in the audience.

She pretended to protest her situation, shaking her head and covering her face in feigned embarrassment. In reality, however, she mentally licked her lips in anticipation. The stripper was cute, a little young for her taste, yet attractive enough for a one-night stand.

But then he sauntered away, and Daniel took his place.

Her mouth went dry, and her face burned. What is happening? I cannot compute. I cannot compute.

In an unexpectedly suave move, Daniel spun around to face the crowd of women and loosened his tie. A collective cheer erupted from the audience, and playing to the masses, Mimi fanned herself.

He wouldn’t strip. No way. Right?

The music changed tempo, slowing to a sinewy Reggaeton beat that made her think of the slip and slide of limbs between silk sheets. Daniel rocked his hips as he flicked the top button of his dress shirt. The man had rhythm in spades, and his movements made her think of his body slipping and sliding with hers between silk sheets. Given that his smoky gaze had zeroed in on her face, she guessed that had been his objective.

Any minute now he’d laugh and pull her from the chair, bowing to the ladies who’d expected a lot more skin. Except he flicked another button. And another. And yet another. And then he slipped off his suit jacket and let it fall to the floor.

“More, more, more,” the women behind him chanted.

Mimi caught a glimpse of his defined pecs through his open shirt, and her breath hitched. No. Absolutely not. She closed her eyes and clamped her legs shut. Stand down, lady bits. Stand the fuck down.

The crowd roared. The floor shook. Her own sense of self-preservation forced her to open one eye. He’d taken off his shirt, and she blinked several times to make sure she hadn’t been transported to the set of Magic Mike. Nope. That was Daniel. Daniel with the six-pack abs. Daniel with the broad shoulders. Daniel with the so freaking happy trail.

In a trance, she watched him stalk across the dance floor and face her with his legs apart. Then he winked at her and held out his hand. “Had enough?”

Mimi had never been one to suffer bullshit, so she told him the truth. “Quite the opposite. I want more.” Just in case that hadn’t been clear enough, she trailed a single finger from his Adam’s apple to his navel. “A lot more.”

He bent at the waist and whispered in her ear. “You have ten minutes to head upstairs and say your good-byes.”

She leaned toward him and breathed in his scent. All male. All yummy. “Where are we going after that?”

He lifted her out of the chair and pulled her flush against his naked chest. “To your bed.”

As soon as Mimi hit the button for her floor, Daniel used his body to push her against the elevator wall. Her perfume, a tropical scent with a hint of citrus, drifted over him. With their bodies pressed together, her ample breasts touching his chest, he stared at her for a few seconds cataloging her features. They’d never been this close, her heat penetrating his shirt and warming him from the outside in. From this new vantage point, he could see that her eyes were blue-gray rather than true blue, and her pupils were dilated.

Instinctively, he tightened his hold on her hips, adjusting her body so she could feel his erection against her stomach. Her eyes fluttered closed as she lowered her head. “Yes,” she moaned against his neck, and then she grabbed his ass and pulled him closer, grinding herself against him. He mentally cursed the elevator that would take them to the hotel’s fourth floor. The mechanical cock blocker ascended at a leisurely place, its cables creaking and rumbling, and Daniel wondered if he and Mimi would be its last riders. Ever.

Mimi didn’t seem concerned about impending death as she escalated her exploration of his body. She slipped her hand between them and coasted her fingers over his crotch. Every muscle in his body reacted, tightening in anticipation of getting the same attention. His mind was already steps ahead of the present, picturing the moment when he would plunge into her, and he mimicked the motion by rocking his pelvis against her. Now he finally understood the appeal of sex in public places.

“Kiss me,” she said in a breathy voice as she continued to stroke him through his slacks.

A shudder ran through him as his mouth brushed over hers. Once. Twice. Unreal. Her lips were softer than he’d imagined. Foreign, too, because nothing on his own body possessed that smooth texture. Once his tongue found hers, a cascade of frenzied movements followed. The kiss couldn’t have been less choreographed. It was messy and all-consuming, more about getting all of their senses involved than about demonstrating their skill in this basic mating ritual. Finesse would come later. For now, they devoured each other.

His mouth never leaving hers, he skated his hands over her breasts, stopping at the hard peaks and rubbing them in slow circles. In answer, she moaned her approval and squeezed his erection. She established a rhythm with her hands: fast, fast, slow, fast, fast, slow. He deepened the kiss, hoping to interrupt her patterned assault. He’d come in his pants if she did that for more than a few seconds.

Finally, he drew back, inhaling much-needed air. When his breathing had slowed, he caressed the sides of her face. A dusting of freckles dotted the apples of her cheeks. “You’re beautiful,” he told her, his mouth inches from hers.

Mimi’s eyes clouded over, not with passion but with boredom. “You don’t have to whisper sweet nothings to me, Daniel. That’s not what this is about.”

She’d delivered the pronouncement in a matter-of-fact tone, her flat affect pulling him out of the moment. The elevator dinged as though she’d orchestrated the sound to serve as the period to her sentence.

He pulled her through the parted doors and faced her. “What’s this about then?”

With a wicked gleam in her eyes, she clasped her hands around his neck and drew him to her. “It’s lust. Plain and simple. It won’t change anything.”

He kept his face relaxed, her words never altering his demeanor, but inside an alarm went off in his brain, warning him to reconsider his plans for the evening. Taking the night to its logical conclusion was exactly what Mimi wanted—shit, he wanted it so badly he was hard as granite—but he also suspected she’d vote him off the island as soon as they were done. Today’s lust. Tomorrow’s old news.

Which would have been fine if this were anyone but Mimi.

Mimi engaged him in a way no other woman had. Who else would get him to channel his inner male stripper like he’d done this evening? And he wanted more of her, not less. Their chemistry hadn’t started in the bedroom, and he didn’t want it to end there, either. But convincing her to consider him as more than the guy she loved to hate wouldn’t be easy. To do that, he needed time. As much as it would kill him to walk away, he knew this with certainty: If he wanted her in his bed for more than one night, he had to stay out of her bed today.

I’m fucking insane.

He snaked a shaky hand around her and hit the elevator button. “Let’s pick this up again when we’re in the States.”

With her eyelids at half-mast, she dropped her arms and shook her head in confusion. “You’re leaving?”

“I am.”

She narrowed her gaze. “This is payback for the bachelorette party, isn’t it?”

Standing there with her flushed skin and languid gaze, she unknowingly tempted him to revert to his initial plans, but he held firm. “I’m glad to hear you think my leaving is a punishment of sorts, but no, that’s not the reason. I’m not interested in being your one-night stand, Mimi. I want more, and this just isn’t the right time for what I have in mind.”

She said nothing for several seconds, her furrowed brow and blinking eyes revealing that he’d stumped her. But she recovered quickly. “That’s too bad, because this is the only time for what I have in mind.”

If she thought that statement would make him second-guess himself, she was wrong. Now more than ever he knew he’d made the right call. “You don’t mean that, Fireworks.”

“Oh, Daniel, I assure you I do. What’s your objective, Vargas?”

He stepped forward and rested his hand on her waist. She didn’t pull back. An excellent sign, indeed. “It’s called delayed gratification.”

She puffed out a dismissive breath. “Someone’s never heard of self-gratification, I see.”

“I’ve heard of it, but it’s a poor substitute for what I can give you.”

The ding of the elevator caused her to jump back. When he stepped on, her eyes turned stormy and she rubbed her temples. “God, you’re the most conceited man I’ve ever met.”

He pressed the button for the first floor. “And yet you still want me.”

She dropped her hands to her sides. “That’s it? Seriously?”

He left her with one word. “Seriously.”

As the elevator doors closed, she let out a frustrated growl.

At least now he’d evened the score.

Mimi: 1. Daniel: 1.

A charitable bachelor auction? Seriously?

Mimi Pennington battled the urge to roll her eyes—and lost.

Her firm’s fiercest competitor claimed to be the premier public relations strategist in the Washington, D.C., area. Judging by the spectacle onstage, however, the company’s creative juices had been sopped by an extra-absorbent paper towel.

She stood in a corner of the large ballroom, processing the antics. Bachelor Number One, a tall, burly man with a Stetson, strutted across the stage, unbuttoned the jacket of his midnight blue suit, and gyrated his hips. Nope, nope, nope. As if that weren’t bad enough, Mr. Stetson then turned around and lifted his jacket to give the audience a view of his ass. Mimi howled with laughter. Oh, this is too much.

After she’d regained her composure, she scanned the sea of cream-clothed tables, noting that some of the guests wore wide-eyed expressions. When her best friend, Gracie, had offered her a ticket to this exclusive fund-raising gala, Mimi had snatched it up, recognizing the event as a plum networking opportunity. And because she never missed a chance to promote her services, she’d arranged to put up ten hours of her own consulting time for bidding in the silent auction. So the evening was about making connections and maybe snagging a new client. She hadn’t expected to be entertained, too. Bonus.

Now that the fund-raising festivities had begun, Mimi made her way across the ballroom and found her and Gracie’s table.

Gracie jumped up from her chair and hugged her. “Hey, sweetie. Had no idea you were already here.”

“I’ve been mingling,” she whispered in Gracie’s ear. “These people are dry as fuck. Did someone spike the punch with a sedative?” She pointed at the stage. “Are they not seeing what I’m seeing?”

Gracie covered her grin, her dark brown eyes laughing for her. “There’s no punch, wise ass. And please be good. I’m trying to raise some money for my charity here.”

Mimi took the seat to Gracie’s right, her gaze skating over the faces at the table. To her surprise, Gracie’s husband wasn’t one of them. “Where’s Ethan?”

“He’s traveling on business this week, so you get me all to yourself.”

“Lucky me.” Mimi angled her body toward the stage. “So how is this supposed to work?”

“Each nonprofit gets to put up a bachelor for bidding. The winning bid gets a date with the bachelor, but if the highest bidder wants to pass on the date, she—or he—can choose something else—like golf lessons with a retired PGA golfer. I’m really hoping we can make enough money to meet our renovation budget.” Gracie turned her attention to the stage. “Oh, look, the next bachelor’s up.”

Mimi followed Gracie’s gaze. A tall, wiry man with dirty blond hair dug his hands in the pants of his tuxedo pants and took center stage. He squinted his eyes against the bright lights that were trained on him, his face otherwise impassive—and very