At the back of the grounds stood a small gazebo, bordered on three sides by a thick
hedgerow broken only by a quaint gate that led to the side street. He’d used that
gate earlier to slip in undetected. Although given his family’s prestige, he never
remained undetected anywhere for long. But he never stopped searching for the security
provided by anonymity. Luckily his spotlight-hogging brother usually took up the bulk
of the glare, and tonight was no exception. Dillon’s new romance would keep the local
gossip hounds busy for weeks. And if that picked up the foot traffic in the store,
so much the better.
He just wished he’d gotten pictures
.
Ah well. The important thing was to focus on his priorities.
On his way past the gazebo, he glimpsed a slim figure leaning against the railing.
He couldn’t make out many details in the dark, other than she had long, blond hair
cascading down her bare back. The closer he got, the more he was able to discern.
She wore what looked like a glittery gold scarf, except that scarf happened to wrap
low on her back to cover her ass and upper thighs. Just barely. It probably counted
as a dress in some obscure usage of the word.
He picked up his pace, intending to continue on, until he heard her voice. It was
like silken honey, layering over his senses. His knees locked, halting his forward
progress. He
knew
that voice.
Victoria, his interior designer and magazine consultant on
Simply Home
. As much as she annoyed him, she was also scarily efficient and had more creative
ideas in one gold-toned fingernail than he had in his entire body. Hence why he hired
her.
The annoying thing? He’d known Victoria since high school and they’d clashed numerous
times. Pretty much every time they spoke. Their combative style of communication probably
wouldn’t have worked for others, but it suited them just fine.
“You’re sure you’re okay, Bry? No, I know. Yeah.” The pause that followed was broken
up by her continuous fidgeting. She played with her caramel-colored hair, stuck out
her hip, even bent from the waist to stretch, accentuating the swells of her barely
concealed ass.
Cory glanced away, but not before his stolen glance at that curvaceous part of her
anatomy made him so hard so fast he didn’t even have time to curse. Jesus. Victoria
didn’t make him aroused.
Ever
. That was statistically impossible.
He was overtired, that’s all. Too consumed by the conversation he’d just had with
his parents, and his no-show photographer—
Speaking of the photographer, if Victoria could get service, he should be able to
now as well. Cory whipped out his phone.
Voilà
. Actual bars.
So why was he continuing to listen to her phone call instead of making his own?
“I’m just worried about you,” Victoria went on. “If you’re hurting, you need to make
sure you ease back. Boinking blond triplets does not qualify as relaxation.” Her laughter
made Cory smile in spite of the erection from hell he was currently sporting. “Enough.
TMI, dude. I’m serious. You need to take care of yourself. I need my big brother strong
and healthy.”
The low plea she’d added to the end of that statement made Cory take a few steps forward,
until he caught himself. What was he going to do? Comfort her?
Him
? He didn’t even know what was wrong. Even if he did, he didn’t console people. No
one snuggled with work-obsessed CEOs when they were…crying.
Oh fuck, was she crying?
She’d ended her call and now stared out into the night. She’d bowed her shoulders
and sniffled a few times, then seemed to gather herself enough to answer her ringing
phone. “Hey Jill. Yeah. I’m at that stupid gala thing.” Cory frowned. His gala was
not stupid. Okay, so it was technically Dillon’s gala, but still. It was for charity,
for pity’s sake. “No, it’s totally lame. I mean, the cause is great. I donated and
offered some stuff up for auction. But the rest? The pasta salad was full of peppers.
Not just green, but red, too. And the table arrangements? I think some people from
the hardware store put them together. You and I and Alexa would’ve come up with something
way better. Ugh.”
Cory narrowed his eyes, his concern evaporating. Sure, if
she
didn’t have a hand in decorating something, it wasn’t up to snuff.
“No, I know. I’m just in a mood.” Victoria rubbed her forehead, her slim gold watch
sparkling from the twinkle lights that ringed the gazebo. “I have something to take
care of tomorrow. Yeah. That. I’m just so tired of being like this. Exhausted. Afraid.”
He frowned at the idea that Victoria ever got frightened about anything. Impossible.
She seemed fearless. “Sometimes it’s really overwhelming having to hide things all
the time,” she added in a near-whisper.
What exactly was she discussing? Perhaps she had a secret lover? He knew he shouldn’t
eavesdrop. He also knew he couldn’t leave yet.
She talked for another moment before slipping her cell into her tiny purse. Her heavy
sigh lingered on the breeze, wafting over him much like her voice. Then she turned,
already moving quickly, only to look up, see him, and come to an immediate halt.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
The exasperation that flashed over her beautiful features was a relief. He really
hadn’t wanted to be put in the role of confidant, not when she’d insulted his pasta
salad—those peppers had been perfectly robust, even if she couldn’t appreciate them—and
his flower arrangements. And his gala, period.
“I’m on a nature walk.” Smiling thinly, he reached up to adjust his lapels. “There
are slim pickings inside, so I decided I’d head down to the water tower and see who
I might come across.”
He’d poked that sore spot of hers intentionally. She’d been caught making out with
the captain of the football team at the water tower in high school and people still
joked about it. Small towns were like that. If you did something notable—or even better,
notorious—be prepared to hear about it until everyone in town alive at the time of
the incident died.
It seemed like a low blow, but there was a method to his madness. Better to annoy
her than to hear her start sniffling again.
Victoria cocked her head. “Oh? You didn’t bring a date tonight?”
“No.” He tucked his hands in his pockets as he walked up the steps of the gazebo to
join her. He figured, what the hell? Sparring with her always got his blood pumping.
His work could wait. “Neither did you, it appears.”
“I didn’t try to arrange one.” The diamond stud in her nose sparkled madly, somehow
matching her subtle air of irritation.
Cory lifted a brow, almost unconsciously moving closer to her. She smelled as earthy
and mysterious as the grounds that surrounded them. That woodland fragrance always
teased his senses, drenching him in her whether or not he wanted to be. “And you’re
assuming I did?”
“You’re just the boring—oh, I’m sorry—
traditional
type who usually avoids attending social functions alone.” She grinned up at him.
“What will the masses think?”
“You honestly think I give a whit about public opinion?”
“Honestly? Hell fuck yeah.”
He stepped forward before he registered the impulse, his pelvis brushing against hers
unintentionally. She went still, then her witchy eyes flickered up to his. “You’re
not serious. You’re actually ha—”
“Don’t say it.” It had been a tactical mistake to move so close. He gripped her arm,
hoping that would silence her mouth.
No such luck.
“Oh, let’s discuss this. You have an erection. A nice-sized one, too, from all appearances.”
She tapped her fingers against her glossy mouth and stared in the vicinity of his
painfully aroused groin. “Could it be that you’re attracted to me, a real, flesh-and-blood
woman? Have you ever enjoyed one of those?”
Her line of questioning skirted way too close to the conversation he’d had with his
parents. This notion that he couldn’t get a woman made his blood boil. He certainly
could. He’d even go so far as to say he could get just about any woman he wanted,
at least for long enough to make it worth both their whiles.
Even
this
one.
She moved into his space again, getting right in his face with help from her ice-pick
heels. “Not that I can compete with the vixens in your daily life. C’mon, what’s sexier
than spreadsheets, projections, and ooh, those long, hard calculations—”
He stepped closer and she fell silent. His entire body pulsed with tightly leashed
need. For
her
. She’d pushed him to this point. Had been pushing him for way too long. Why not take
what he wanted for once? Besides, if she kept talking, his brain would simply explode.
So he shut her up the only way he knew how—he kissed her.
…
Cory’s lips were on hers. Softly molding, gently pressing. His tongue, tasting of
fruit and mint and
him
, twisted around hers, toying with her flesh the way she now wished he’d play with
her tightly beaded nipples. And between her legs? Complete forest fire, no extinguisher
needed. She’d brought her own moisture, thank you very much.
Holy fracking
fuck
, she wanted him.
Then the jerk pushed her back and rubbed his wrist over his mouth. It was an oddly
sensual gesture, the way he brushed her taste away while his smoldering silver eyes
told her he wanted to taste every part of her. Slowly. Thoroughly. Until she died
from the pleasure.
She was already halfway there.
Still, she knew better. Cory might be as delicious as sin and twice as hot, but he
was also a workaholic who thought being emotional meant springing for a Hallmark card
on holidays. Even though she wasn’t some spineless chick who was looking for a man
to prop her up, she still had feelings. She waged a daily battle against the ghosts
of her past that wouldn’t quite stay gone, and she was mostly winning, through lots
of hard work and attentive self-care. That meant minimizing contact with disruptive
influences.
Like Cory Santangelo. His wavy dark hair, gunmetal gray eyes, and sinfully sexy body
added up to a lethal package. His cunning brain and razor-sharp wit only magnified
the potential destruction.
Getting involved with a guy like him—even just sexually—was a one-way ticket to a
train wreck, especially for a girl with mommy issues and a desire to be in a relationship
with a guy who…actually knew how to have a relationship. And that wasn’t taking into
account potentially jeopardizing their work relationship if they hooked up.
Though, seriously, she’d never been smart before about men. Why start now?
Vicky stepped forward, her only intent to get more of him. He held her back with two
fingers lightly pressed between her breasts. Which he looked at, his gaze as heated
as a caress, for a moment before he spoke. “Victoria, no.”
What was she, a bad puppy? His clipped tone nearly killed the desire kindling in her
belly. She forged on, pushing against his hand, smiling in triumph at the brush of
his fingers against the side of her very appreciative breast. At least until he chilled
her to the bone with his impervious expression.
She
might be horny, and so might his dick, but his head? Nope. Not engaged. Despite the
fact that he was still breathing hard from their kiss, he didn’t want to want her,
so to hell with the dictates of his body.
Well, screw him then.
She gripped her purse and turned away. “You know what? Never mind. We’ll just forget
this ever happened. Your virtue will be safe from any further breaches from me, I
promise. Now I bid you good-night.”
She’d made it two and a half steps before he locked his hands around her waist and
whirled her back to face him. For one startling instant, he stared down at her, a
wild kaleidoscope of emotions ranging over his face. Fury, concern, amusement. Lust.
Definite lust, overriding everything else. Now that he’d unleashed its full power,
it practically emanated from his pores right along with his richie-rich cologne that
made her eyes cross every damn day.
Not that he deserved to know that she’d kind of had an underground thing for him since
high school, in the sense that one had a thing for Bradley Cooper. Hot, utterly doable,
but never gonna happen. Cory was her Brad Pitt, during
Legends of the Fall
days. Her—
—ass was in his hands.
Both
of his hands. He had a full handful in each, and he wasn’t letting go anytime soon.
She didn’t want him to.
“Better?” he whispered against her cheek, pulling her up so that every part of her
lined up just right with every part of him. The important ones, anyhoo. She let out
a sound caught between a moan and a sigh at the thick length of his erection. She
couldn’t think for the hazy longing that clouded her brain.
“Much.” Her lips twitched as she looked up at him. “I don’t want to take advantage
of you. Maybe you’re drunk.” He glowered down at her and his chest rose and fell in
those heavy heaves that reminded her of a runner’s after a series of laps.
His head dipped closer, so close she could smell the strawberries on his breath from
dessert. She’d passed on the beignets and fruit, choosing instead to drown her sorrows
in pricey champagne—sorrows about her impending visit to her mother in the group home
and her worry about her football player brother’s injured knee. But it looked like
she’d get to taste summer’s bountiful splendor right now. If he’d just lean in…
“You’re a horrible tease,” he said. “How haven’t I noticed?”
“Because I never teased you. We have a very somber, serious relationship.”
“Except when you’re chucking priceless artifacts at my head.”
Ah, the memories. “Stop arguing with my choices so much and we’d get somewhere. You,
suit. Me, designer. My role doesn’t stop with picking out a pretty coffee table. You
not only wanted me to set up the room shots, but also coordinate the articles that
went with the layouts. As I understood it, my job was to create a lifestyle magazine
without you having to oversee the placement of every cushion. You wanted to step back.
So, yanno, do that.”