It Happened in L.A.: Ms Match / Shockingly Sensual / Playmates

Ken made a rude sound. “Close only counts in horseshoes, buddy. You kicked her ass. Not that we don’t take a great deal of pride in our Gwen.”

Holly slugged Ken in the arm. “You’re only saying that because she’s your boss.”

“True.”

Gwen had to smile. She knew they all meant well. She wasn’t thrilled that she’d lost, but she did have to admit Paul hadn’t lied about his knowledge of baseball. Maybe the day at the park would be fun. And maybe he was telling the truth about the rest.

Maybe.

PAUL FINISHED HIS PHONE CALL with Maggie Crawford at Imagine Films, then leaned back in his chair to stare out his window. It had been a brutal week. Lots of people not being where they were supposed to be. People not signing contracts. Lawyers and agents and all the other crap that were part and parcel of the business but the stuff he hated.

At least it was over, and Sunday the Dodgers were playing the Braves. Plus one.

He’d almost canceled about five times since Monday night. He had no business asking Gwen to come with him, and yet he’d never managed to make the call that would put an end to it.

No wonder Gwen had looked at him as if he were nuts. He was. He had friends. Plenty of them. All of them were guys, but so what? He’d never thought much about having a woman friend, and he wasn’t convinced he could or should have one now.

Then what was this about? He didn’t want to sleep with her. He had nothing to gain by her acquaintance. They both loved baseball, but again, so what?

He tried to come up with good reasons for not canceling. All he could manage was that it wouldn’t be so bad.

As he relaxed, as his defenses went down, he remembered for the hundredth time the real reason for wanting to back out of this “date.”

When she’d implied he wasn’t someone worth knowing, it had hit him so hard he’d lost his bearings. Not for long, he was too good at his job for that, but shit, it had been rocky for a few seconds there. It had felt like a slap in the face. Like a gut punch. What had sent him reeling wasn’t that he’d been insulted. It was because he’d had no comeback. Nothing. Zilch. Why would she want to know him?

He was flash. The sizzle, not the steak. He got away with most everything, always had. It was so easy with women he hardly had to try. In his business his face was his most important asset and he knew it. No sweat there.

He’d come up with a lot of reasons he should be worth knowing. He’d graduated from Yale. He knew all the celebrities that mattered. He had money. He could get into the best restaurants all over the world. He was Paul Bennet, and that had always mattered.

Only not with Gwen. Not one of the things on his list would impress her. Except for Yale, though somehow he knew she understood he hadn’t gotten by on brains.

With Gwen, it was all about substance, and the truth was, he didn’t have much. His charity work and donations were less about giving than getting. He made sure every donation was well publicized. He didn’t have a belief system so much as a code that put him first, everyone else second. When had he last read a book that wasn’t about sports or money? When had he had a conversation about anything that mattered?

And why the hell did he want to?

It was crazy. He was crazy. Had to be. There was nothing about his life that everyone he knew didn’t envy. That was as it should be. He’d been born in the right place at the right time. Why shouldn’t he enjoy it?

All his life he’d, well, underestimated people like Gwen. Those who didn’t meet his standards. People who didn’t matter to the tabloids had rarely mattered to him. It had been easier that way. It kept his world view controllable. Why mess that up now?

“Paul?”

He clicked on his intercom. “Yeah?”

“Someone’s here to see you. She doesn’t wish me to give her name. She wants it to be a surprise.”

“Send her in.”

He straightened up, ran a hand through his hair, wondering if it could be Gwen. He felt a little surge of anticipation as he stood.

The door opened and in walked Autumn. The small stab of disappointment knocked him back to his senses. Autumn was all soft hair, big eyes and long legs. They hadn’t spoken since that night at Nobu, and for the life of him he couldn’t recall why he’d thought that was a good idea.

“I owe you an apology,” she said, moving toward him with a sway that would tempt a monk.

“For what?”

“For leaving you the other night. I was so naughty. And after all you did for me.”

She’d reached his desk, and then she moved around it so she was just in front of his chair. She put her hands on the armrests and leaned over close enough for him to catch a whiff of the essence of sin.

He tore his gaze away from her face just so he could appreciate the view of her breasts. They were perfect. Her low-cut dress combined with the modern wonders of the push-up bra and he stopped castigating himself about past mistakes to concentrate on mistakes he could make right now.

“You probably have a date tonight, so I won’t keep you.” Even her breath made him hard.

“There is no one but you.”

She smiled. “You always say the sweetest things.”

“Give me five minutes to make sure Tina’s gone. I’ll lock the door.”

That wasn’t the right answer according to her tiny pout. “That sounds nice, but I was thinking…”

He doubted that, but went along with it anyway. “About?”

“There’s a big party tonight at the Chateau Marmont. I thought we could go together. Just you and me.”

“And a hundred of our closest friends?”

“It’s going to be a really good party.”

He sighed. Autumn was Autumn. Knowing her, she’d had another escort lined up, but something had happened, so she’d turned to Paul. And, knowing her, at the end of the evening, there would be a kiss or two, maybe a little more, but even though the party was at a hotel with beds and room service there would be no sex.

Gwen had told him how to woo Autumn, but he hadn’t believed it. If he was smart, he’d send her on her way. Go home. Read a book. Watch something on PBS.

Autumn leaned down just far enough to run the tip of her tongue over his bottom lip.

After the shiver that went straight to his cock died down enough for him to breathe, he said, “Do you want dinner first?”

Chapter 7

THERE WAS SOMETHING sinful about riding in a stretch limo wearing faded jeans and an old Dodgers T-shirt. Gwen should have met Paul at the stadium, but he’d insisted on picking her up. If she’d known it was going to be in this gas guzzler, she’d have flat out refused.

“Come on. It’s not that bad. Some people would actually enjoy this little luxury.”

Maybe she was being too harsh. He was trying very hard to win her over, and for Paul, a limo equaled major points. “The whole day’s going to be like this, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “Extravagance and pampering until you just can’t take another minute of it. I wouldn’t blame you at all if you broke down in tears while having to choose between the lobster and the filet mignon.”

“I’ll be too busy watching the game. You remember. Dodgers? Baseball?”