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CHAPTER 1

Present

Camera flashes lit up the night sky. Sebastian took her hand as they exited the stretch limo. They were currently San Francisco's "It" couple, and the paparazzi took every opportunity to get in their faces, swarming and crowding as often as possible.

"Smile for the camera, beautiful."

"How does this not get old to you?" she whispered, plastering a fake smile on her face.

"It comes with the territory," he said, leading her to the door. "Once I'm in office, things will settle down. Trust me."

"Why are they even here?"

"You know how Wolf is. He never misses an opportunity for them to capture us together." He shook his head and held the door for her.

Sebastian's campaign manager, Kenny Wolf, used ruthless tactics. A very fitting last name, and why most people called him Wolf. He needed constant play-by-plays of their whereabouts. It was invasive and unnecessary. Relief filled her once they entered the corporate cocktail party and left the pack of obnoxious photographers behind. Sebastian was the current front-runner in the race for mayor of San Francisco. They were constantly hounded by the unwavering and relentless press

Sebastian strode over to the bar. She took a seat at a high-top table and scanned the room. Ah …San Francisco's elite never disappointed, showing off the latest fashions. The designer labels impossible to miss. How many Louis Vuitton, Chanel, and Birkin bags could fit in one banquet room? Two women tossed one another air kisses. Their outlandish diamond rings glittered in the light from the chandeliers above. Nothing beat people watching at these events.

"Would you like a bacon-wrapped shrimp, Miss?" A waiter approached with a fragrant fishy appetizer. Ewww. She and seafood — were not one.

"No, thank you, I'm okay." She scrunched her nose, and he walked away.

She smiled at the loud group of men sitting one table over, each clad in a fancier designer suit than the next. One guy laughed so hard he swiped the tears streaming down his face, and she chuckled. Sebastian returned with two glasses of Chardonnay.

"Thank you. I need this after the day I've had," she said with a sigh.

"Ah, the life of an interior designer."

"Trust me, running for mayor is definitely more stressful, but I still have my fair share of crazy days," she conceded.

"Of course, you do. While I try to win the people of San Francisco over, you need to make sure they're living in style."

"Good point. I win." Tonight's event, hosted by a few local interior design firms, bustled with past, present, and future clients. The room practically vibrated with loud conversations, chatter, and boisterous laughter.

He chuckled. "Yes, you do. Where are the girls tonight?"

"Elle's working late at the hotel. It's a large project, and she's trying to make her deadline. Dani went to a charity dinner with her clients for the Mathews Foundation. I'm the lucky one because I wrapped up with the winery yesterday. Camille said she has something new for me, so maybe she'll fill me in tonight." Rubbing her hands together, she flashed Sebastian a mischievous smile.

"Before you know it, people will line up to work with the famed Peyton Kroft."

"Hmm, could you be a tad bit biased?"

"It's possible. I am sleeping with you."

"Yes. Good point." She smiled, the insinuation generous at best. Sex with Sebastian proved to be vanilla and unimaginative. They made up for it, though, in other ways. They both shared a strong work ethic, supported one another at professional events, and they were compatible on an intellectual level. Would she call it a match made in heaven? No. Was she content with what they had? Yes.

The rich smells of caviar, scotch, and fresh-cut peonies filled the air. Her boss, Camille Chadwick, came her way.

"Have I got a surprise for you, darling." Camille displayed an eternal intensity when it came to the company she'd built from the ground up, Shine Design. Draped in a tailored-to-perfection gray pantsuit with her shiny white hair styled in a clean A-line bob. Not a strand out of place.

"Oh, do you?" She let her enthusiasm show. As Camille's go-to designer for the past three years, she loved everything about her job. On the list to make partner meant any opportunity her boss wanted to throw her way left her eager to impress.

"Yes. There's a new client opening what will be the restaurant to go to in San Francisco, and he wants Shine to design it. Permits and licensing are in place. This is a big-money project, Peyton. They plan to open three restaurants over the next eighteen months. He did his research on designers and requested you. I invited him here this evening. When he arrives, I'll introduce you. Bring your A-game, kiddo." Camille winked and scurried off to greet yet another client. Polished, experienced, and an expert when it came to interior design, Camille Chadwick never stopped working a room.

Peyton stood and smoothed the wrinkles on her black, fitted cocktail dress. This introduction might prove the professional turning point she'd been waiting for. She pushed the butterflies away and combed her fingers through her long dark hair, a habit to give it a little boost. Her mind raced over this new project, unable to focus on Sebastian, busy texting his over-the-top campaign manager.

"This room is full of potential voters, yet I can't take my eyes off you." Sebastian set his phone down, and his flirtatious tone returned her to the moment.

"You need to schmooze, and I need to meet my new client," she teased, straightening his already straight tie.

"How long are we staying?"

"A few hours. I promised Camille."

"Only for you." He pecked her cheek before picking up his phone when it vibrated once again.

She admired the exquisite pink and peach floral arrangements scattered around the banquet hall before taking a sip of wine. Camille greeted a man across the room and gave him a considerable amount of attention. Hmmm — this guy must be important. Unable to see his face, she did, however, get a fantastic view of his backside. Her cheeks heated with curiosity, studying the yummy-looking man, who hadn't turned around yet. Broad shoulders and defined muscles filled out his black, fitted jacket. Tall and lean with tailored slim-cut black slacks showing off his masculine shape. He ran his hand through his dark hair as he spoke to Camille, who looked thoroughly enthralled with the well-built man standing in front of her.

He must be the new client.

Time to take the bull by the horns. Why wait for him to come to her? She set her glass on the table before tapping Sebastian on the shoulder and silently mouthing the words, I'll be right back. Her boyfriend, still on the phone with his nutjob of a campaign manager. He nodded and kissed her cheek. Dabbing a bit of color to her lips before dropping her favorite pink lip gloss back in her purse, she pivoted on her sky-high Louboutin's and crashed right into a muscled chest.

Startled, she jumped back. "Oh, excuse me."

"Peyton, there's someone I'd like to introduce you to." Camille chuckled, standing beside the hard body Peyton just collided with.

Her gaze locked with unforgettable emerald-green eyes. Words escaped her. Her heart pounded in her chest.

"This is Jackson Vance. He's opening the new restaurant, which I'm sure will be the best thing San Francisco has seen in a long while. And you'll be the lead on this account."

"Hey, Peanut." His deep and sensual voice sent a ripple of awareness through her.

All the air left her lungs, and the room started to spin. She never thought she would see him again. How was this happening?

"Jackson?" The word came out just above a whisper.

He tilted his head and smiled. A flush of adrenaline tingled through her body. He pulled her close, wrapping her in a hug. She inhaled his scent — cedar and mint and all man.

Warmth flooded her. Her arms remained stiff against her side, unable to move. Though she enjoyed the feel of him pressed against her, she pulled away. He had no business touching her. Not now. Not ever. Warning bells sounded in her head. He'd torn her heart in two. She didn't know what to feel. Love or contempt?

"You know one another?" Camille gasped.

"Um, yes. Jackson and I were friends when we were kids. I haven't seen you in, what, nine years?" She forced herself to look up at him. Her voice strained and breathless.

Jesus. Jackson Vance. A familiar pain settled in her chest.

"Yep, it's been about nine years," he confirmed. His big, strong hand grazed his jaw as he spoke.

"Did you just call her Peanut?" Sebastian's tone held a sharp edge. He squared his shoulders and directed his question to Jackson.

"Yes," he said, his stare hard, assessing her boyfriend.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Jackson, this is Sebastian Worthington. You already know Camille."

Her cheeks heated as she remembered the way she'd eyed him just moments before. No wonder her boss was enthralled with the man. She, too, found it difficult to look away. A flash of her last memory with him raced through her mind. He'd cut her off with no warning and getting over him was the hardest thing she'd ever done. But she was different now, more cautious about who she trusted. And she most definitely did not trust Jackson Vance.

Jackson extended an arm. He and her boyfriend briefly shook hands. Sebastian wrapped a possessive arm around her waist and stood as close to her as possible without stepping on her feet. He'd never been a jealous man, yet his tight hold made it difficult to breathe.

"I bet you're thrilled to learn one of the most sought-after designers in the city is none other than your childhood friend," Camille said.

"She's always been talented. No surprise there."

"You two lost touch over the years?" Sebastian's voice remained clipped.

Talk about a loaded question.

She stammered, noting Jackson's calm, cool demeanor remained unruffled. "Yes, you know how it goes. Went our separate ways when we left for college."

Jackson's heated gaze met hers. Her nerve endings tingled. The familiarity in those green eyes threatened to knock her on her ass. An encounter with her first love was not on tonight's agenda.

"So Peanut is a nickname, then? Cute."

Sebastian's need to push this ridiculous topic irritated her. Why he decided to make it an issue left her baffled.

"Kids give one another nicknames when they're ten." It came out with more bite than she intended.

"Did you have one for him?" He shot her a curious look.

"Good question. What did you call me, Peanut?" Jackson teased. His deep, masculine voice oozed confidence.

"Well, I wanted to call him Stubborn Ass, but I was ten, so it wasn't an option."

"Did you find an alternative name?" Camille inquired, dazzled with the conversation and the connection to their new client.

"Peanut here refused to give me a name because I wouldn't change hers." His gaze never wavered from hers. Memories flashed through her mind, causing a sharp pain in her chest. They'd been the best of friends back then. A friendship which bloomed into so much more.

So. Much. More.

"I suppose it works to my favor. I wouldn't want you calling our client Stubborn Ass." Camille's head tipped back with an amused chuckle.

A man walked over and introduced himself to Sebastian, insisting the future mayor join the rest of his party at their table as they were huge fans. After mumbling something about duty calling, Sebastian excused himself and sauntered away with his new friend. Not an uncommon occurrence these days with the election nearing, but she admired her boyfriend's ambition.

"Okay, I'm going to let you two catch up. This project begins tomorrow, and we need to get you both on a plane to New York in the next two weeks. Jackson wants to design the bar area after a well-known restaurant in Manhattan. We'll meet in the morning at the office. Does nine work for you?" Camille directed her attention to him.

"Absolutely. I'll be there."

She walked off, waving her hand in the air. They stood alone for the first time. The space suddenly more intimate. Earlier chatter quieted, as guests made their way out. The air in the room shifted. Her belly fluttered at his nearness. Jackson's hungry gaze slid over her, and her heart pounded so hard she was certain he could hear it. His mouth curved, and she took in his defined shoulders and chest. Her fingers itched to touch him, but she would never allow herself to act on the attraction.

"How have you been, Peanut?"

Being alone with him left her — anxious. How could he be so familiar after all this time? So freaking familiar. "Fine. I mean, it's sort of a loaded question. It's been nine years since you've spoken to me," she said, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"Fair enough." His potent green stare never leaving hers.

"Fair? There isn't anything fair about it," she hissed.

He ran his hand over the shadow of stubble on his strong, square jaw. The move so sexy it made her squirm, shifting on her feet. Her lady parts tingled, and she bit down hard on her lip.

"I meant you were correct calling my question unfair. But make no mistake, we're in agreement — nothing about what happened was fair."

She sucked in a strained breath; memories flooded her. This man had been such a large part of her life for so many years. He'd taken a piece of her heart with him when he left. Maybe all of it, if she were honest with herself. The lump in her throat made it difficult to swallow. She nodded. "Agreed. How have you been?"

"I've been good. Missed you, Peanut."

Pleasure rushed through her like some sort of sick masochist willing to walk right back toward the fire. "I'm surprised to hear you say that."

"You shouldn't be." His intense stare left her legs trembling. Her control slowly slipped away.

She squared her shoulders and reminded herself why they were here. He needed a designer and hired her to do a job. Nothing more. "So you're opening a restaurant here in the city."

"Yep. That's the plan."

"Always was."

His tongue darted out to moisten his lips, and she remembered the soft feel of them against hers. She patted her sweaty palms against her thighs, hoping he wouldn't notice.

His slow smile built. "And the plan was for you to design it, right?"

"Right."

"How long have you been dating the want-to-be mayor?"

Her eyes widened. "You can't say things like that, Jackson."

"I believe I just did. Why are you avoiding the question?"

"I'm not. We've been dating for six months. He's a great guy."

He slipped off his jacket and set it over the back of the chair beside them. His muscles pressed against the crisp fabric of his white dress shirt, and she couldn't look away.

He tilted his head. "Are you happy?"

"What's with all the loaded questions? I don't know. I guess I'm pretty happy."

"Interesting answer."

"Forgive me if I'm not answering to your desire." She lifted her hands in dramatic surrender.

"Trust me. My desire isn't the problem."

With a frustrated sigh, she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. His appearance shook the ground beneath her feet. Did he want to hurt her? Again? Had he come back to turn her life upside down?

"I'm teasing you, Peanut. Your answers are fine. This is going to be good. Us working together," he said. A playful grin spread across his face.

Her breath quickened at his flirtatious tone. "You think so, huh?"

"I wouldn't have hired you if I didn't."

"Why exactly did you request me in particular?"

"You're extremely talented. No doubt about it. I want the best person designing my restaurant."

He was all man. Strong and powerful. "Thank you," she said; however, she didn't trust him or his compliments.

"You're beautiful."

Her cheeks heated, and she reached for her glass of wine, taking a long, slow sip.

"We were dealt a shit hand." His words stole the very air from the room.

"Understatement of the year."

"Is this where you want to talk about it? In a hotel ballroom with your mayoral boyfriend twenty feet away?" His voice remained smooth and controlled.

She sucked in a shaky breath. "No. Not here. Not now."

"Agreed."

A soft melody played in the background. The night sky peered through the windows, darkening the room, and the tiny lights from the crystal chandeliers danced on the walls beside them. She looked away for a moment, feeling exposed. The unmistakable familiarity zipped around them like a bolt of lightning.

All consuming.

"When did you move to San Francisco?" she asked, treading with caution.

"A few weeks ago."

With her hands on her hips, she cocked her head to the side. "Are you married?"

"No."

"Kids?"

He chuckled. "No. You?"

"No. Well, not really. I mean, there is Mr. Whiskers. He is sort of like having a child."

"What the hell is Mr. Whiskers?" He frowned.

"He's a maltipoo. A mix between a Maltese and a poodle."

"Why did you give your dog a salutation?"

"The name fits him. Trust me."

"Does he have some kind of kick-ass whiskers?"

She searched her phone and held up a picture of her pup. Jackson's fingers brushed against hers, and the slight touch sent shivers down her spine.

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Excerpted from "Beautifully Damaged"
by .
Copyright © 2019 Laura Pavlov.
Excerpted by permission of The Wild Rose Press, Inc..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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