Set In Stone Read online

  Rubbing my hands together, I took one last glance at the card the woman from the pediatric cancer foundation gave me. Tressa Stone, one date with Killian Brenton. My eyes drifted over her number for the tenth time. For a few moments, I closed my eyes and let my mind linger on that look in her eyes when she was staring up at me. I’d had women check me out before, but that was different.

  She was different. And I intended on finding out every way that was true.

  I’d take her to one of the restaurants Mike suggested. Maybe the Italian one. Or French. I’d decide once I talked to her. Then we might go for a drive. One of my teammates had told me about this place he bought last year upstate. A nice drive on a gorgeous spring night would set the stage, and then I’d bring her back to my apartment. Or hers. Either would work.

  I remembered how she looked up at me when our eyes met. Those dark eyes possessed an intensity I had a feeling I’d enjoy once she was naked and riding my cock. Oh yeah, this was going to be a night she’d never forget.

  Eager to get things rolling, I made the call to Tressa Stone I’d delayed for nearly an hour and waited for her face to appear as I wondered what she’d be wearing at barely ten o’clock in the morning. Was she a T-shirt and shorts or silk pajamas kind of woman?

  That was easy. Silk pajamas.

  A second later, I saw I’d been wrong in my guess. Tressa stood in the middle of what looked like a luxury penthouse in a pair of black cotton shorts and a pale pink T-shirt wearing no bra. Pleasantly surprised, I had to admit even in something as casual as that, she looked incredible. Her dark hair was wet, as if she’d just come back from a swim, and clung to her T-shirt just above her breasts, making the shirt damp so I could see her nipples. Overall, it was quite the beautiful sight I hadn’t expected at all.

  She stood staring in shock for a long moment before rushing over to grab a white towel off the back of a chair to cover herself. The whole action made me smile at how cute she could be.

  “Don’t cover up on my account. I like what I’m seeing.”

  “How did you get this number, Mr. Brenton?” she asked, clearly flustered as she struggled to cover herself with the towel.

  “The woman at the event last night gave it to me since I’d have to call you to arrange that date we’re going on.”

  Shaking her head, Tressa put her right hand up to stop me as she clutched the towel near her neck with her other hand. “Oh, no we aren’t. I’ll be sending the money to the charity first thing tomorrow, but we won’t be going on any date. Sorry you made the effort when it wasn’t needed.”

  “What do you mean we aren’t going on the date you paid ten grand for?” I asked with a chuckle. “I’d think any woman who paid that much would be chomping at the bit to make plans.”

  Clinging to the towel as it threatened to expose her wet breasts again, she shook her head. “No offense, but I thought I was paying five, not ten, but that doesn’t matter. It’s for a good cause, so all the better. But I have no interest in going out on a date with you, Mr. Brenton.”

  Was this woman serious? My ego was beginning to feel bruised. Why wasn’t she interested in going on a date she paid ten thousand dollars for?

  No worries. I knew I could charm her into it. Maybe she was intimidated by my fame. That happened sometimes. “Please, call me Killian, Tressa. For the amount you paid, you can at least call me by my first name.”

  But even that dose of charm did nothing to make her warm up. Drawing her eyebrows in, she said sharply, “Mr. Brenton, I have to get to work today, but thank you for calling. Please feel free to consider yourself unobligated to have that date with me. I’m sure there are many women who would take my place, so choose one of them. Good day.”

  With that, she gave me one last glare and that was the last I saw of her before the screen went dark. I stood there in the center of the room in shock. Did that just happen? Last night, the woman couldn’t see enough of me as I walked down that catwalk, and this morning, she acted like I was some fucking leper she couldn’t get away from fast enough.

  Now my ego was more than bruised. Who did this woman think she was? She paid ten grand for a date with the highest paid quarterback in football. It didn’t matter if she thought she was only paying five thousand, although I couldn’t help but feel that a night out with me was worth more, especially considering all the proceeds went to charity. She acted like I was some fucking janitor who had offended her by asking her out.

  Nope. That wasn’t going to be the last word on this. No way. Why the hell didn’t she want to go out on a single date with me?

  Immediately, I called back but got her away message that in a delightful tone I hadn’t gotten the pleasure to hear a minute before now told callers that she was busy and couldn’t talk at the moment. There was no suggestion to leave a message or ever call back again. I was sure I’d never heard such a dismissive away message before in my life.

  What was the problem with this woman?

  Frustrated, I stood staring at the dark screen in front of me still stunned at what just happened. Or maybe I was angry. I couldn’t tell at the moment. All I knew was I’d never met anyone who could run so hot and cold. This woman wanted me last night, and now she treated me like I disgusted her.

  This wasn’t over. Tressa Stone wasn’t going to have the last word on this. No. I didn’t know who the hell she thought she was, but this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

  Irritated, I called my publicist to find out what more she’d learned about Tressa Stone in the past few hours. Her answer? Nothing.

  “What do you mean nothing? This woman isn’t some kind of ghost, Sherilyn. She’s a VP at a major company. She’s a member of one of the most important families in the city, and you can’t find out a damn thing about her?” I barked as my frustration began to overtake me.

  Sherilyn’s eyes grew wide at the bellowing sound of my voice. “I’m sorry, Killian. I can’t just make up information on this woman. I can’t help it if she’s kept her personal life very personal. For most people, the first time they’ve seen a picture of her was this morning. She’s just not like you.”

  “Does she have something against football players, for Christ’s sake? She didn’t last night, so I don’t know what I could have done between then and this morning to change her opinion. We didn’t even speak for the first time until five minutes ago.”

  My publicist nodded in her sympathetic way she thought helped when I got angry. It didn’t help, but I appreciated the attempt.

  “I don’t know why she wouldn’t want to go out on the date with you. Did she say if she planned to not give the money to the pediatric cancer foundation too? I can’t imagine why she’d do that.”

  I shook my head as I began to pace back and forth across the room. “No, she’s not doing anything like that. The woman isn’t a monster. She’s also not stupid. Going back on that bid would be a PR disaster for her and her company. No, she’s more than happy to pay the ten grand to the charity. She just has no interest in going on the date with me, which incidentally, was supposed to be the prize for the highest bidder.”

  Sherilyn looked down at her tablet. “Let me see if I can find anything now. Maybe this morning’s news blast about her has jarred some tidbit of information loose. Give me a second.”

  As she scoured her sources, I continued to pace. Maybe she thought she was too good for someone like me. She was a rich girl. That explained the temper tantrum she’d had a few minutes ago. Between being born with a silver spoon in her mouth and being a corporate bigwig, she was probably used to ordering people around.

  None of that turned me off her, to be honest. I liked powerful people, and I’d found powerful women made for incredible sex because they were happy to tell you exactly what they wanted. Unlike other men, I appreciated that. It also made for some really hot talk while I was fucking them, just as I suspected it would with Tressa. The spoiled, rich girl thing I could do without, but the allure of a powerful and sexy beautiful woman overr
uled that character flaw in my mind.

  As I marched past her, Sherilyn looked up and smiled. “I did find out something interesting about her father, though. Tristan Stone is a huge New York football fan and has had a box at the stadium for years. There was even talk a few years back that he considered buying the team when it was last up for sale. Keep that in mind if you’re thinking about doing anything with his daughter. Your new team wouldn’t appreciate you alienating one of the organizations’ biggest supporters.”

  This was good news. Having a family member of Tressa’s who was a huge football fan could only help.

  I stopped pacing and thought about how to use this information. “Is she close with her father, or is this one of those dysfunctional families where every member is trying to oust the others in some money grab?”

  Sherilyn shook her head. “No, I don’t think the Stones are like that. Every picture I’m seeing with her father they look happy. She’s worked at Stone Worldwide since college and all through her graduate school years when she was earning her MBA. From what I can gather, she’s the heir apparent to the company since neither of her siblings work there.”

  “Okay, then. This will be my plan: Get in tight with Dad.”

  Sherilyn scowled at me. “Don’t be so cynical. I’ve met Tristan Stone on a number of occasions. Despite his reputation for being a shark in business, nearly everyone likes him. He lost his entire family in a plane crash when he was young, and I hear there’s some family tragedy with one of his children. His wife is some kind of artist, if I’m remembering correctly. I don’t see why how her father feels about football changes anything anyway. She’s a grown woman, Killian. If she doesn’t want to go on that date with you, maybe you should just gracefully accept that and back off.”

  I looked at her through squinted eyes, not believing what I was hearing. “No way. This is a matter of pride now. The woman basically acted like she was too good for me. Nope. We’re going on that date. I have no intention of having people at that charity asking me why the date isn’t happening and why the press they’re expecting isn’t happening.”

  “Fine, but I don’t understand what you plan to do with the information about her father and how he’s a fan of the team.”

  “Let’s say I like to know everything that’s going on around me, on and off the field. Send me the information about where I can find Tristan Stone tomorrow.”

  Without missing a beat, she said, “Oh, that’s easy. The thirty-fifth floor of the Stone Worldwide building in Midtown. I’ll send you the address.”

  That she knew the man’s exact location so quickly impressed me. “Do you carry that kind of information around in your head?”

  Sherilyn laughed. “No. Well, I guess yes. Before I became a publicist, I was a reporter on the business beat. I interviewed him at his office a few times. Unless something’s changed, he’ll be in his office tomorrow morning like he always is.”

  “Good. Send me the address. Oh, and let’s see what my new employer might have to offer one of the team’s biggest fans, okay? I wouldn’t want to go see him empty-handed.”

  Sherilyn nodded and began making a second call even before our call had ended. “I’m on it. I’ll let you know what I hear.”

  “Good. Make sure it’s something impressive.”

  The picture went dark as I continued to pace back and forth across the room. A little visit with dad tomorrow morning would do the trick to soften her up. Since her father was a huge fan of the team, she’d see that living up to her end of the deal regarding our date was the least she could do.

  I winced at the reality that I had to do any of this to get the woman to go out with me, but a deal was a deal, and I had no intention of looking like some fool who could reel in ten grand for a charity but couldn’t get someone like Tressa Stone to have dinner with him.

  After all, who the hell said no to dinner with a star quarterback?

  Chapter Five

  Tressa

  Monday morning I awoke with the singular hope that the world had forgotten about me with that damn Killian Brenton. I’d been the name on everyone’s lips all day Sunday, enough that I couldn’t even leave the penthouse to go out and enjoy the nice May weather. After the fifth or sixth time I saw the pictures of us, I turned off the TV to spend the day working from my bedroom.

  But even that didn’t stop the day from being devoted to what happened. I ended up fielding calls from people far and wide, some of whom I hadn’t heard from since high school, because my picture had been in every paper, magazine, and gossip site up and down the East coast. Why they all seemed so damned interested baffled me.

  I walked out of the Richmont to start my workweek only to find the press and their cameras lurking around on the sidewalk waiting for me. A few of them yelled questions about my relationship with Killian, to which I wanted to yell back, “There is no damn relationship! Go away!”

  Thankfully, I was able to duck into the car the service had waiting for me at the curb and drove away before they could descend upon me like a swarm of locusts. However, I ran into a group of reporters outside the Stone Worldwide building when I arrived to work, which meant I had to dash through the lobby in four inch heels to get to the elevator. As I tried not to break my ankle racing across the marble floor, I silently cursed that bastard Killian Brenton.

  I hadn’t planned on a run so early in the day, especially in my favorite work shoes. A few of the paparazzi had gotten pictures, but I had a feeling they hadn’t expected me to tear off like I did.

  As I rode up in the elevator to my floor, I couldn’t believe all of this nonsense had been added to my life because of that man. I already hated him, and I’d only known he existed on the planet for less than forty-eight hours!

  How did people live like this, being hounded by photographers day and night because of who they were with? I’d never even had a full conversation with him that any of these people knew of, and still they hurled questions at me about the nature of our relationship.

  The very idea made my stomach roil. That man and I would never be anything to one another. He was an attention whore, pure and simple, and of all the things I hated in people, that was the worst. Attention whores thought the world revolved around them. Their narcissism never failed to make them truly ugly on the inside, no matter how impressive the outside was.

  I couldn’t deny that he had something I liked. More than liked. Fine. Something I really liked and possibly would have desired.

  So he was stunning. All right. He was. The man was gorgeous from head to toe. I’d never seen any man in the world who looked so sexy in a tux. Most of them looked like overstuffed penguins in tuxes, but Killian had worn his in a way that told me what those black pants and white shirt were hiding was nothing less than perfection.

  So what? So I ogled him. I did. I’m a grown woman who knew a good looking man when I saw him. Was it a crime to appreciate beauty now? I had no idea why everyone was making such a big deal about how I looked at him. Some of the articles said it was a look of love. Love! God, everyone in the world was so melodramatic.

  I liked what I saw and didn’t hide it when I checked him out. Period. Full stop. That’s all it was.

  As for Mr. Brenton, I’d been very clear with him about how I felt about this date I’d won. No thanks. Why would I go on a date with a man like him? So I could listen to him drone on about how important he was and how much money the team paid him just to come to New York?

  I’d pass, thank you. The idea that someone playing a game was paid three hundred million dollars made me question the sanity of anyone associated with that sport, but that was neither here nor there. I didn’t need to sit through a meal listening to him brag about how worthy he was to receive that amount of money to throw a ball down a field.

  The elevator doors opened as my phone began to ring, tearing me from my thoughts about that man. I looked to see my father calling.

  “Hi, Dad. What’s up?”

  “Can you come up
to my office?”

  This was exactly what I needed to get my focus back. My father and I would discuss something—maybe he wanted a progress report on the redo of the Richmont in London—and I’d get back to being my normal self instead of this distracted mess I’d turned into in the past two days.

  “Sure, Dad. I’ll be right up,” I happily answered.

  I’d even take some talk about his time with my mother and Diana yesterday. Not normally my favorite topic of conversation, at least it would get my mind off Killian Brenton and the upheaval he’d brought to my once idyllic life.

  My father’s assistant smiled at me as I walked across the black marble tile on the thirty-fifth floor where the executive offices were at Stone Worldwide. Although I’d been made a Vice President and the COO of the Richmont hotel chain, I chose to stay in my office on the twelfth floor where I started with the business for now, even though my father had offered to have the executive suite completely redesigned to accommodate me. My father would retire someday, and I’d be here soon enough. He deserved to be the only Stone on this floor until that day.

  “Good morning, Tressa,” Brenda said in her low voice.

  I nodded and smiled as I wondered if anyone else ever found the way she sounded jarring. “Good morning. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”

  “It is. Your father is waiting for you. There’s coffee in there, but I can bring in tea, if you like.”

  I waved off her suggestion. “No, coffee’s great. Thanks, Brenda!”

  Opening my father’s office door, I walked in feeling great and then instantly felt like someone had sucked all the air out of my lungs as I stopped dead. Standing there in front of me, I saw Killian Brenton with my father talking and laughing like they were the best and oldest of friends.

  Son of a bitch. What was he doing here?

  For a moment, the memory of what I did to Ethan with Summer flashed through my mind and I finally understood why he still to that day called it an ambush. The difference, though, was that he cared for Summer even then. I didn’t even like Killian Brenton.