At The Playboy's Command. Robyn Grady
never known what amazing experiences and sights were out there, she wouldn’t miss it so much now.
Wistful, she pushed back her chair and meandered down the hallway, down the stairs, past that clock, the media room and the library, the area which had previously been her father’s trophy room. Every nook and cranny lived, embedded in her brain, as clearly as the computer had stored that remarkable shot of Scotland. No denying, she felt comfortable here. This was home.
How would she feel, how would she cope, if she ever decided to ignore the clause in her parents’ will and simply fly away?
When Elizabeth arrived at the kitchen, tonight’s dinner with Daniel came to mind again. She wouldn’t try to cook. In France she’d taken lessons in cuisine preparation, but, frankly, while she adored the flavors and textures, whipping up fabulous dishes didn’t come easily. She truly admired people like Nita who effortlessly created mouthwatering meals.
She dialed the Royal Hotel to pass on the change of plans. When the receptionist answered, Elizabeth gave her name and asked to leave a message for Daniel Warren, but at that moment, the receptionist told her that Daniel had walked into the hotel lobby. A few knocking heartbeats later, Elizabeth heard his deep, sexy voice on the line.
“I hope you’re not going to renege on our arrangement tonight,” he said.
His tone was teasing, but also curious. Did he honestly think she’d cancel?
“Nita won’t be home tonight. And I need to be up-front and say my attempt at barbecue leaves a lot to be desired.”
“Can you suggest a place? Snails don’t need to be on the menu.”
She laughed. “We’ll save that for France.”
The sentiment was an innocent one but once it was out, a shard of panic dropped through to her toes. It sounded as if she were inviting him to Paris. With almost all of her two months vacation time this year gone, she couldn’t and wouldn’t. Although the idea certainly had its merits.
She brushed over the gaffe.
“I can recommend Claire’s. It’s an upscale place that serves delicious food.”
“I’ll make the reservation and collect you at seven. And, Elizabeth?”
“Hmm?”
“If you want me to last through dinner, show some mercy and don’t wear those heels.”
* * *
Smiling, Daniel reluctantly hung up from the sound of Elizabeth’s laughter. Crazy but he’d missed it more than he’d realized.
While he’d inspected the club earlier he’d kept his mind on the job, working through new ideas. But now that he was back in this environment, the memories of his and Elizabeth’s time spent filtered back. The scent of her, the silken heart-thumping feel. He’d been with women before—plenty. But there was something truly unique, and inspiring, about Elizabeth Milton. Something he couldn’t get enough of. That what they shared was purely “here and now” made its promise all the more appealing.
Standing at the far end of the polished timber counter, he motioned to catch the receptionist’s eye. He wanted to know if Rand had checked out yet. But it seemed the woman was engaged in what was fast becoming a heated conversation with someone else. He didn’t want to eavesdrop but he couldn’t ignore the spat, particularly when it centered on Abigail Langley and her push for the club’s presidency.
“We women have no right shoving our noses in their business,” the second woman with a helmet of light purple hair was saying.
“You’re entitled to your opinion, Addison.” The receptionist nudged her chin higher. “And I’m entitled to mine. Men don’t have dibs on leadership. Not anymore. There’s a lot of us who feel the same way.”
“You know she wants to tear down the club,” Addison said, “and start again, like suddenly that century-old building’s not worth a dime.”
The receptionist flicked an uncomfortable glance Daniel’s way and lowered her voice. “We have company. This isn’t the place.”
The other woman shifted her focus then her gaze sharpened. “You’re that architect she brought down.” Her eyes narrowed. “We don’t want your kind here. Go home.”
“Boss, everything all right?”
Taken aback, Daniel rotated to find Rand, standing at his back, jaw set, ready to do whatever needed to be done. The woman named Addison looked big enough, and angry enough, to ram a steer.
“Everything’s fine.”
Rand followed as his boss crossed to a settee. “Sounds like the natives are growing restless.”
“Local politics aren’t my concern.”
“Not unless you get lynched.”
“The Civil War’s over, remember?”
“Tell Mrs. Robert E. Lee over there that.”
Daniel stifled a chuckle. Matters surrounding elections often drove high feelings. He wished Abigail all the best with her efforts to infiltrate this previously held man’s domain. Other than that, he wasn’t interested. Wouldn’t get involved.
Daniel nodded at the laptop case Rand carried.
“You heading off?”
Rand nodded. “Sure you want to stay?”
“I have a job to do.”
“And a certain lady to see?”
Daniel opened his mouth to deny it, but what was the point. “As a matter of fact, yes. I’m taking Elizabeth Milton to dinner this evening.”
“She must be special.”
“I’m not staying because of Elizabeth.”
“It’s none of my business, boss.”
“Then why are you grinning?”
“Was I grinning?”
He knew damn well he was and, for a moment, Daniel thought Rand had somehow learned about his and Elizabeth’s escapade this morning. But that wasn’t possible, even if Chadwick Tremain obviously had his well-founded suspicions.
Daniel shook his second-in-charge’s hand and moved off toward the lifts. “I’ll see you when I get back.”
Rand reminded him. “Be careful not to overstay your welcome.”
When Daniel received a message from Elizabeth saying she’d meet him at the restaurant, he wondered why she wouldn’t want him to collect her.
Where women were concerned he was the old-fashioned type. A man should collect a lady, be on time, open her door. He couldn’t say he’d slept with a woman he’d known less than twenty-four hours before. To balance that anomaly, he couldn’t remember wanting to enjoy that time again so much.
Perhaps she’d planned to already be out and about, he decided, nodding to the doorman as he entered Claire’s Restaurant that evening. And if Elizabeth had her own transportation, was he still on for looking over more of her home later this evening, or was she planning on saying goodnight here?
Daniel rubbed the back of his neck.
After being so forthright this morning, would she play hard to get now?
But then, as the maître d’ inquired about a reservation, Daniel saw her, dressed in a red satin cocktail number, alone in a secluded corner. Her hair was down, flowing around her shoulders and back like a silken river. She sat as poised as a princess, but he knew firsthand she possessed the spirit of a tiger. With his gaze combing her arms and legs, Daniel’s blood stirred and heated. Damn, he’d forgotten just how gorgeous she was.
Noting she hadn’t seen him arrive, he thanked the maître d’ and sauntered over.