"What's to say, Fenton? Really." I shook my head and tried to shut the bathroom door in his face.
"I didn't think you'd be so judgmental. So she's an exotic dancer, that doesn't mean she isn't a good person," he said.
"A good person? That has nothing to do with it. She has nothing to do with it," I said.
Fenton crossed his arms. "Yes she does. Dana Maria matters to me. If I'm going to stay here, then she has to be welcome, too."
I shoved him back and slammed the bathroom door in his face. "Do whatever you like. The suite is yours."
"What is the matter with you, Kya?" He kicked the bathroom door. "I thought you were different. I thought there was someone underneath that country club shell."
"Yeah? Well, I thought there was a gentleman under your trash talk and stubble. I guess we were both wrong." I zipped up a white linen dress and tied the sash too tight. My hands shook as I clasped a string of pearls around my neck, but I refused to let that stop me. My curls were springy up wild, but all I did was tuck a white headband into place. I had to get away from Fenton before my temper tore me apart.
I whipped the bathroom door open. "Some people like the way I dress," I said.
Fenton's angry blue eyes swept down the V-neck dress to the tight white sash. Then, he lunged forward and caught me in his arms. His kiss was hard, hungry, and relentless. "I like the way you look, but I like what's underneath better," he growled.
His lips melded to mine and my futile pushes turned into a hard grip on his shoulders. I was hurt and angry and suddenly, so turned on. My entire body wanted to have him at my mercy, to feel him shuddering inside me.
I shook my head and broke free of his hold. "I have a lunch meeting."
"I'm late for the gym," he said.
He stormed out of the suite ahead of me. I rode downstairs in the elevator alone, smoothing my hair down. Fenton's kiss had left me on fire. I was jealous that he could take it out on punching bags and sparring partners. Instead, I had to sit at lunch and smile politely.
"Is that a little sunburn I see?" Jackson asked. He met me just outside the elevator and slipped my hand into the crook of his arm.
I willed the hot blush to dissipate and smiled up at my well-mannered date. "I'm just a little warm."
"Well, I got us a table inside so you can cool off in the air-conditioning." He led me into the hotel's high-end restaurant, where a table was waiting for us.
"Thank you," I said, sitting down as he held the chair out for me. "You didn't need to go to any trouble."
"I love the salmon here," he said.
"Then, how about I let you order while I get my pitch out of the way?" I asked. "It's always nicer to get business done before the food arrives."
"Alright, Ms. Allen, let's hear it." He sat forward and fixed his brown eyes on mine.
"There's actually not too much to it," I said. "Our agency represents a vitamin supplement company and they are looking for a long-term endorsement. Your m
agazine covers and publicity are just the sort of kickoff hype they were hoping for, but whatever exposure you decide you want in the future is fine with them. Really, all they ask is that you were a discreetly placed logo, share a testimonial of the product, and show brand loyalty."
"Doesn't sound too taxing." Jackson reached for my hand. "Are there any catches?"
"Just the non-compete. All they ask is that you do not sign on with any other vitamin or diet supplements in the future. All other product endorsements are fine, they just want their niche secure," I said. "If you think about it, that does not exclude you from any big money or brand name deals. It's a sound investment, a steady agreement, and a mutually beneficial contract."
"Well said, well-pitched," he said. The waiter came over and Jackson apologized for the interruption then ordered for us both.
While he ran through his choices with the waiter, I tried not to fume. It was the first time I had run through my pitch since landing in Las Vegas. It was a solid deal and saying it out loud only made me angrier at Fenton. His stubborn need to be a lone wolf was keeping him from a good investment and me from completing the task I had been given. I wondered if he was doing it just to challenge me. Everything Fenton did seemed designed to chip at my exterior and get under my skin. Was that why he threw the stripper in my face? Was it some kind of test to see if I was able to keep my cool? If so, I had failed miserably.
"Is that the same pitch you gave Fenton Morris?" Jackson asked.
I blinked my eyes, scared for a moment he had read my mind, but he had just finished with the waiter. "No, actually, I never even pitched him. Mr. Morris is not business inclined."
"A very diplomatic answer and another way Mr. Morris and I are completely different." Jackson hitched his chair closer to mine. "I appreciate a sound business deal and I am more than happy to sign your endorsement deal."
"Excellent," I said. "Here, let me send you the forms. That way we can get everything done before the salads arrive."