Once Upon a Kiss Page 3

  She blinked. Did his dates usually fall for a line like that? Her gaze skimmed over his broad shoulders. The black tuxedo hugged his muscles. Yes, she decided. They fell. But not just for his words.

  “There’s been a mistake,” she said firmly.

  “Best one I’ve made in a while.” He raised his glass to his lips and downed the remaining champagne.

  “Sir,” she began again, drawing her shoulders back. Her breasts strained against the strips of fabric and the cutout expanded. His gaze followed the lines of the dress.

  “Carter,” she continued. He looked up at his name. “I’m not who you think I am.”

  “Oh, no?” he said mildly. “You’re not my wildest adventure to date?”

  Her tapping fingers stilled against her flute. “What?”

  “That’s precisely what you look like, Ms. Grant. A mystery waiting to be unraveled.” He reached out and took her glass. Then he returned the flutes to the table and offered his arm. “Shall we move on to the gala?”

  So he wanted suspense. Fine, then. Later, when he learned who she was and why she was in his office, she would remind him that he’d asked for mystery. She’d merely played her part.

  “I hope my enigmatic nature can tempt you to dance,” she murmured as she placed her hand on his forearm.

  “Whatever happens tonight, Ms. Grant, you are by far the most intriguing woman I’ve met in a long time.”

  Just wait until I start talking science.

  Chapter 6

  Ivy Grant walked through the hotel lobby with the confidence of a vengeful angel. Her long blond hair spilled over her shoulders in a cascade of perfect ringlets. She’d traded her sparkling lipstick for a nude gloss. And her gown…

  The dress was reminiscent of her lips. Intriguing. Exciting. The material’s sheer fabric flowed around her long limbs, offering a tease of the woman beneath the skirts.

  He drew her close to his side, her right hand still resting on his arm. But she slowed as they approached the steps leading down to the hotel bar.

  She’s nervous.

  “Would you like another drink before we enter the ballroom?” he asked. He wasn’t eager to join the who’s who of New York’s social elite, or share the angel on his arm with a roomful of acquaintances.

  “Yes, please.”

  He turned and guided her across the lobby’s black-and-white checkered floor. Inside the Art Deco space, a golden bar beckoned from the end of the marble path. He took a right and led Ivy over to a two-top tucked behind a square pillar. A marble fireplace flickered at his back as he drew out a green velvet-lined chair.

  “Thank you.” She settled into the chair, her gown shimmering under the soft light from the crystal chandelier overhead. He stepped back before he gave in to the temptation to run his hand over her bare shoulder.

  A tourist proudly wearing his I ♥ NY t-shirt sat at the bar, and a couple dressed for a night out in the Big Apple huddled around a table across the marble walkway. In the far corner, a jazz pianist played. The waiter appeared and handed Ivy a tall, slim drink menu.

  “Champagne, please.” Ivy pointed to a listing at the bottom. “This one.”

  “I’ll have the Never See It Coming,” he said.

  She scanned the list and glanced up at him as the waiter slipped away. “Pineapple vodka?”

  “They make it in-house.” He leaned back in his chair. “It’s refreshing.”

  “And apparently frothy,” she said, glancing back at the menu. Then she set the list aside. “You’re full of surprises.”

  “I could say the same about you.” His gaze followed the fabric draped over her shoulder. The silver tulle screamed “glamour,” and was seemingly at odds with the fact that she technically worked in his lab. He was once again reminded of the risk he had taken to be with her tonight.

  “Mr. Burke.”

  She waited until he returned his attention to her bright, determined blue eyes.

  “You should know that I’m not your real date for tonight, or the person you planned to spoil with fancy dresses and hair and all that.” She waved her hand in the air as if the suite were situated above their heads.

  “Ms. Grant, I made a few calls after you burst into my office,” he said as the waiter reappeared with their drinks. “I knew who you were and where you worked five minutes after you left the building. After I’d called for a dress and ‘all that.’” He took a sip of the vodka, savoring the sweet, tangy taste. “I planned to spoil you, Ivy.”

  “Why?” she demanded. “If you knew that I worked for you…why go through all of this?”

  “You’re intriguing.” He took another sip of his cocktail. “I’ve met with the scientists working on the cancer project. I’ve spoken at length with the lead researcher on that project, the man responsible for the team’s success. What’s his name?”

  “Peter Dunn,” she ground out.

  He nodded. “I’ve met with him and his team of scientists a half dozen times in the last month. But not one of them radiates passion and determination like you do.”

  She sat up straight. With one hand, she brushed the train of sparkling fabric that hung from her shoulder, down her back. Her lips formed a thin line and her blue eyes demanded attention.

  There you are, he thought. The fearless person who marched into my office.

  He sat back and scanned the woman sitting across the table from him. For the first time since he’d seen her at the hotel, she appeared in command of the gown.

  “That passion you saw? That was the direct result of a major breakthrough in my research. I’m close—very close—to a potential cure for amyloidosis.” She lifted her chin. “I know it is not cancer, but I burst into your office because I need additional funding.”

  Ah, hell.

  He should tell her. Now. Before they walked into gala. He’d drawn out this adventure long enough. One look at her expression and he knew he was sitting across from a warrior, not a woman who would set aside her goals while he wined and dined her. He’d bet his fortune that funding ranked close to the top of her priority list. Gowns and makeovers probably didn’t make the cut.

  He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. Tension rippled through his biceps. Every muscle in his body felt tight. This poised and determined woman had walked away from one victory determined to pave the way for the next step. She’d come to him. And then she’d endured an unexpected makeover, which he hoped she’d enjoyed because this next part wouldn’t be fun.

  He had to tell her.

  But first…

  “What is amyloidosis?” he asked.

  “When abnormal protein builds up in organs or tissue. It can be treated with early detection and drugs, but we don’t have a cure. Without one, amyloidosis can lead to death. There are several strands. Some affect dialysis patients, for example. My work to this point has focused on a new blood test to detect the protein. That’s what I found today. A test that will help doctors diagnose and treat patients. Early detection is critical, especially if it affects the heart or kidneys.”

  “An abnormal protein? Like an abnormal cell or cancer?”

  She nodded. “But cancer is the second leading cause of death in America, and only an estimated four thousand individuals suffer from amyloidosis. The Burke Initiative is one of the few places willing to fund my research. Without you, we never would have made it this far. But we need more.”

  He looked into her blue eyes and recognized the glimmer of hope. Once upon a time, he’d fought to preserve that flicker. He’d struggled to remain optimistic while serving his country. He’d needed to believe that something good could come from the seemingly endless misery war rained down on everyone involved.

  But the reality of war had crushed his hopes and dreams for a happy ending. He hadn’t been prepared for it. The loss of hope, the feeling of helplessness that accompanied the void—he wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

  He needed to tell her the truth, even if it brought their adventure to a
close.

  “I’m closing the lab, Ivy.”

  Chapter 7

  Ivy gaped at the man. He’d dressed her up, made her feel like a princess, and then destroyed her world with a simple sentence. If he thought a designer dress and a manicure would lessen the blow…

  I’ll cut up the Marchesa and stomp on the pieces.

  But she couldn’t let anger win. Not now. Not yet.

  “Why?” she demanded.

  “It’s the best move for my shareholders.” His fingers toyed with the rim of his frothy vodka drink.

  “That’s a horrible answer.” She heard the panic in her voice. Control. She needed to set aside shock, pretend she hadn’t heard those words—I’m closing the lab—and convince him to change his mind.

  “The Burke Initiative’s investors know that tripling our investment in cancer research and moving to a facility closer to the National Institutes of Health facilities makes sense,” he said. “But they expect a return. Most of them invest because my funds historically offer a strong profit. They aren’t necessarily using their money to feel good about saving the world one vaccine, or one cure, at a time.”

  He took a long sip of his Never See It Coming. Maybe she should have ordered the same thing, because when she’d stepped off the elevator, determined to tell Carter Burke the truth—which he already knew—she hadn’t “seen” this detour coming.

  “Your interest in scientific research is purely monetary?” she demanded, struggling to keep the note of dismay out of her voice. “What about saving lives?”

  “I want to help people,” he said firmly. “But my days of playing the hero, rushing in with my unit to execute a rescue…those days are over. Now, I spend my time buried in spreadsheets, analyzing profit and loss statements.”

  But part of him still wanted to be the man who saved the day. She would bet—well, not her lab, seeing as he planned to take that away from her anyway—but she’d wager her savings that there was still a chance she could convince him to fund her research.

  She couldn’t walk away forever because she’d hit a roadblock.

  She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. The Marchesa pulled across her back as if the dress expected perfect posture. She refused to adjust her position. She was done trying to fit into the gown’s world. Now it was time for the fancy dress to accommodate her.

  She slid the velvet-covered chair away from the table. With a sideways glance at the golden bar, she stood and smoothed her hands over the layers of tulle. “I’m ready. Let’s go to the gala.”

  He rose and offered his arm. A smile graced his movie-star features and a curl of dark hair fell across his forehead—a reminder that he was out of her league.

  But I’m playing for something bigger than the man himself.

  “You’re not leaving?” He led her up the marble steps and out of the bar.

  “Oh, no, I’m taking full advantage of your invitation.” She propelled them both forward. “I’m going to dance at the gala.”

  “You’re planning to convince me to keep it open, aren’t you?” he mused as they stepped into the lobby.

  She paused and glanced over her shoulder. With her shoulders on display and see-through fabric billowing around her legs, it was no wonder her self-appointed prince for the evening could see right through her Cinderella moment to her true motives.

  “Right now, I’m just a girl determined to get to the ball.”

  Chapter 8

  A gentleman would point out the flaws in the determined scientist’s plan. Carter could have explained that he couldn’t be convinced. He had an obligation to his investors. Her lab was a proven money pit. A single, small success did not justify additional funds. But one look at the woman walking through the maze of decorative trees hung with whimsical lights and he left his noble intentions on the steps leading down from the ballroom’s grand entrance.

  “I feel like I’m walking through the set of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream with an orchestra playing in the background,” she said, a smile dancing on her lips. “There are fairies hanging in the tree branches. Paper ones, but still, fairies.”

  Her grin faded as she glanced around the room. She couldn’t have missed the curious stares from the other attendees. He felt as if all eyes were on them.

  Sure, he’d grown accustomed to drawing attention. The society pages paid careful attention to his love life, or lack thereof, as he generally brought aspiring models or socialites to these events. Sometimes the women reached out to him. But mostly he brought clients’ sisters or daughters. And he made the connections clear when he introduced his dates to other attendees. As per usual, tonight, everyone would want to know the identity of his mystery date.

  Carter frowned as he glanced around the ballroom. He wasn’t interested in sharing his scientist with any of them.

  “I don’t belong here,” Ivy whispered.

  He moved to her side and placed his hand on her lower back. His palm rested against fabric, but his thumb brushed bare, smooth skin.

  “With the fairies? Of course you do.” He placed his free hand on her shoulder, slipping his fingers beneath the train of glimmering tulle cascading down her back. He fought the temptation to wrap the fabric around his hand and pull. He wished to draw her away from here, retracing their steps to the elevator, all the way until they reached the door to the suite. He wanted to strip away the fuss and makeup until he saw her.

  Ivy Grant. Determined scientist.

  “But it’s…they’re…the whole place is gorgeous,” she said.

  “You belong here, beautiful.”

  She glanced down at her dress.

  “It’s not the dress,” he murmured, leaning close enough to brush his lips against her ear. “It’s you.”

  “I think that frothy vodka drink just snuck up on you.” She stepped forward and broke his hold on her.

  No, Ivy. I never saw you coming.

  But she was more than just a chance to pursue the unexpected.

  She took his hand and gave it a small pull forward until he began to walk. They reached the edge of the polished wooden floorboards that separated the dance floor from the round, elaborately decorated tables. The fairy-filled trees created seemingly private “wooded” areas across the open, pillar-less space.

  “Dance with me,” she said.

  “And give you the chance to whisper sweet nothings about science and lab costs in my ear?” he protested.

  Ivy stepped closer, leaving barely an inch between the triangles of fabric covering her breasts and the lapels of his tailored tux. He could reach out and trace the cutout nestled between her—

  “Would you listen?” she asked.

  No.

  He should have walked away from the beautiful scientist in the seductive dress. Mixing business with the hope of pleasure spelled disaster. He’d indulged his desire for mystery long enough. But there was something so irresistible about her…

  He looked into her bright blue eyes and studied the firm set of her jaw. “Would you back down if I refused?”

  “No.”

  The fire in her low tone took hold of his desire and refused to let go. “Good,” he murmured.

  She placed her hands on his shoulders and shifted closer. Instinct, riding high on desire and lust, took hold. He reached for her. His hands wrapped around her waist, covering the gown’s elaborate folds. Her hips pressed against him as her back arched.

  That cutout might push me over the line.

  His grip tightened on her waist as he stared down at her breasts, which were threatening to play peek-a-boo with her gown. Did she realize her precarious position?

  “You will let me explain why you need to keep the lab open?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said. Because you have no clue how sexy you sound right now. Then he added in a low growl, “But don’t expect me to roll over and give in.”

  Her hips swayed as she guided him onto the dance floor. The contact toyed with his sanity.

>   “You don’t submit easily,” she said.

  “Never,” he murmured.

  “Good.” Her hands ran over his shoulder and down to the lapels of his tux. “But I should warn you, this might take more than one dance.”

  Take all night. You feel so damn perfect right here, I never want to let you go.

  She tried to maintain a straight face—and failed. Her lips formed a playful smile. The temptation to kiss his scientist in the middle of a crowded ballroom battled with his common sense.

  Dr. Ivy Grant wasn’t here for romance. She had walked into his life wanting the one thing he couldn’t freely give: his investors’ money. Part of him wanted to take the risk, and bet on her. He wished he could toss aside his judgment and give her a damn good reason to kiss him.

  He couldn’t give her what she wanted. But that didn’t mean he had to give up on stolen kisses and the promise of adventure.

  He glanced over her shoulder and spotted familiar faces tracking his movements. First, he needed to lead her away from the curious crowd’s prying eyes.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw three potted plants. He danced her over to the pseudo-hedge. The ballroom seemingly disappeared. Lights sparkled behind her. The music persisted, but he spun her in a circle behind the trees.

  “Ivy Grant, you have my undivided attention for the rest of the evening.”

  Chapter 9

  The song ended and Ivy froze. A fairy danced in the lemon tree behind Carter’s left shoulder. A chorus of voices rose up on the other side of the branches. But on this side, with her back to the ballroom wall and his to the potted plants, it was just the two of them.

  And she had Carter Burke’s undivided attention. She needed to make her case. She had to find a way to convince him.

  Kiss him.

  Her hormones issued the demand. But she silenced them with a shake of her head. They were here for science. Just because her body’s chemical messaging system wished to follow the Marchesa’s lead and win kisses instead of fighting for her lab didn’t mean she had to listen to them.