by Kat Cantrell
Of course it would look that way to her. She didn’t have to live with Jesse’s high-handedness.
“He does, does he?” She firmed her mouth. Surely it wasn’t that simple, but she yanked on the door handle anyway. It didn’t burn off her fingers, so that must be a sign.
A cultured female voice broke the hushed interior of the shop as she greeted them. The place even smelled expensive and the carpet was so plush, her heels sank into it a good half an inch.
Shannon murmured to the lady, who smiled and gestured toward the rear of the shop. “Right this way. I have just the thing.”
The saleswoman took several items from a drawer and handed them to Shannon, who then dragged Alexia to a lushly appointed dressing room the size of Alexia’s old bedroom at her apartment.
Shan shut the door and raised her brows. “Strip. You have to try this stuff on so I can make sure it’s right.”
Alexia frowned at the tiny bra Shannon had extended between her fingers. “That’s not my size. That’s not even close to my size.”
She wasn’t a double D or anything but those cups wouldn’t cover a strawberry.
“It’s exactly your size. Put it on,” she said, snapping it a couple of times in the air until Alexia took it and held it up to her chest to demonstrate.
“See, it won’t even cover my nipples—”
“That’s the point, silly.” Shannon tsked, as if Alexia was a child who needed reprimanding. “I have one. It’s very nice. You wear it under a button-down shirt, the rougher the fabric the better, and the whole time it’ll chafe your bare nipples. By the time Jesse gets your clothes off, they’ll be good and rosy, and you’ll be aching for him to—”
“I get it.” Talking about sex when Jesse was the subject felt too invasive. They had way too much baggage tied up in their relationship as a whole and sex lay smack in the center. “Then I don’t have to try it on, right? Any size will do.”
The thought of wearing something so daring pulled at liquid strings between her legs, exactly as she figured Jesse had intended. The nerve of the man, coercing her sister into forcing dirty, sexy lingerie on Alexia.
Except now she had Shannon’s sales pitch running through her mind and she wavered. Was there something wrong with wearing dirty, sexy lingerie on a second honeymoon with the husband she well knew would make good on his thank you?
She glanced at the price tag and tried not to blanch. “Tell me there’s more than just this. Because I’m going to buy one for every day of vacation.”
The heart attack when he got the bill would serve him right.
Shannon nodded. “That’s exactly what Jesse said you should do.”
By the time Alexia got to the scraps of lacy underwear, she wasn’t even shocked to find the saleslady had selected items that would require a very close shave. She bought them all.
Funny how twelve hundred dollars of lingerie fit into a bag the size of a lunch sack.
“What else did Jesse suggest you help me buy?” Alexia asked with exaggerated two-finger air quotes as they left the shop. Jesse didn’t suggest, he mandated, ordered and commanded.
Which she’d deny to her grave she secretly liked, when it came with pricy, erotic lingerie that made her feel pretty and desirable. She couldn’t wait to wear it.
Alexia socked her sister in the arm. “By the way, when did you start wearing risqué undergarments—”
Shannon wasn’t even looking at her, her expression frozen as she stared at the crowd swirling through the mall.
A familiar blond head surfaced and Alexia smiled as Danny Denholm made eye contact, then walked toward them. Alexia started to wave at Jesse’s reporter friend and then did a double-take as Shannon meeped out a sound of distress. “Are you okay?” she whispered.
Shannon shook her head just as Danny halted in front of them, his fit body encasing a suit that showed off broad shoulders that could only be the product of hours at the gym.
“Hey, Alexia,” he said with the same easy smile he employed on and off the screen. “I heard Jesse is taking you to the Bahamas for a week. Don’t do anything I would do, otherwise he’ll never want to come back home.”
This was accompanied by a lascivious wink that made her laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind. How’s Layla?”
Points to Alexia for not gagging when she asked after Jesse’s new marketing director.
He nodded pleasantly. “Fine. She’s fine.”
The vague distance in his gaze told her more than he’d probably intended to communicate. That ship had sailed already and he wasn’t losing any sleep over it. Nothing less than she’d expected from the consummate ladies’ man. He went through women faster than a gynecologist’s office.
With another meep, Shannon elbowed her, knocking loose Alexia’s manners, which had apparently deserted her. “Oh, sorry. Shannon, this is Danny Denholm. Danny, my sister Shannon Ford.”
Alexia rubbed her arm. There better not be any bruising, not this close to a vacation where she’d be naked a lot. And wearing a swimsuit the rest of the time.
Danny treated her sister to his megawatt smile and held out a hand. Shan hadn’t lost that frozen, half-smile that she’d worn since the moment they’d stepped out of the lingerie shop. The longer she didn’t stick out her own hand, the more awkward the whole scene became until Alexia elbowed her back.
That would leave a bruise. But come on. She’d never seen her sister act so weird. Usually, she had social graces coming out of her ears, and when was the last time Shannon hadn’t had plenty to say about a subject? Not since birth. Maybe even before that.
Flinching, Shannon palmed Danny’s hand and shook once, then dropped it like she’d picked up a pit viper. “Nice to meet you,” she mumbled. “We have to go.”
She hooked Alexia’s arm and dragged her halfway to Nordstrom before Alexia could pry off the death-grip hold her sister had on her. “What is with you?”
“His name is Danny. Danny Denholm,” Shannon stage whispered, shooting a furtive glance over her shoulder as if concerned he might have somehow decided to follow them, when in truth, he’d probably run very fast in the opposite direction, more than thrilled to have escaped the crazy.
“I know. He’s a friend of Jesse’s.” Alexia’s eyebrows came together as she took in the tight press of Shannon’s mouth. “He’s a reporter on one of the local news channels. Have you watched him on TV?”
“No, I didn’t know what he did for a living, nor do I care. Did you see how he looked right through me?” The frozen expression had completely vanished to be replaced by the heat of righteous anger. “It was like he’d never seen me before. He definitely didn’t remember my name.”
“You’ve met, I take it.” Understatement of the year obviously, given Shannon’s inability to speak, shake hands or move her face while in Danny’s presence.
“We, um…met at a club and I might have…” She mumbled the rest but not well enough to disguise the words.
“You had sex with him in the bathroom?” Alexia repeated more loudly than was expressly necessary because oh, my God that was too good of an excuse to razz her holier-than-thou sister. “I must have details.”
Danny she could totally buy as a wham-bam, screw-a-stranger-up-against-the-wall type, uncaring about whether people milling around knew exactly what he was doing inside that stall. But Shannon? She eyed her sister with new respect. That wasn’t like her at all. The impulsiveness, the recklessness. The germs. There was literally no way to even envision Shannon unbending enough to do something so wicked.
Her uberlawyer sister wore nipple-commando bras and banged hot men in clubs. It was unfathomable.
“No details.” Eyes shut, Shannon’s face took on a greenish hue. “I shouldn’t have told you that much, but God, he was staring at me as if trying to place me and I panicked.”
That was putting it mildly.
“If you hadn’t told me, I’d have gotten it out of Danny later. Oh, wait.” She stuck a finger to her bottom lip in mock
dismay. “That’s right, he doesn’t remember you. Did you—”
“Shut up. I didn’t know you knew him or I’d have… Never mind. Let’s just forget any of this happened.”
Danny obviously had, and her sister’s mortification had ceased to be amusing, so Alexia let it go. Reluctantly. But filed it away for later. And of course she planned to mention it to Jesse because it was a juicy story involving one of his friends. She had a civic duty to ensure he had plenty of ammunition to bust Danny’s balls about it. After all, the clod had screwed Jesse’s sister-in-law and then forgot about her. It was unforgiveable.
Sobering, Alexia patted her sister’s arm. “I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. That was crappy. He’s a jerkweed. You deserve someone great.”
Shannon nodded her thanks and straightened her spine. “It’s fine. It was a blip in judgement and I’m over it. We have a lot more shopping to do.”
For the rest of the day, Alexia treated her sister extra nice because she was the only one who was allowed to give Shannon a hard time. Danny Denholm needed to be taught a lesson for sure. You didn’t mess with Ford women.
Chapter 10
Jesse left his cell phone on the counter, prominently, so Alexia wouldn’t miss it, and drove them to the airport. Every second of the ride, he was braced for Alexia to say she’d changed her mind. But she didn’t.
This was it. He knew it deep in his bones. If this trip didn’t put them on the right path toward fixing their relationship, he wasn’t going to get another chance. Somehow he had to find the magic wrecking ball to destroy all the walls between them, and he had to do it fast. Sattlewhite was on hold—precariously—while Jesse tried to rescue his marriage, but the acquisition wouldn’t stay on hold forever. Holloway waited in the wings for Jesse to screw up.
This trip alone might have tipped the deal into Holloway’s camp. It made Jesse’s chest hurt to have no options, no backup plan, and very little hope. But Alexia was worth the potential sacrifice, and if everything went well, he’d be back in his element, focused and primed to close the next deal.
The divorce had been all her idea and totally a surprise. When the papers were served, it’d taken him three swipes to slice open the envelope. His hands were shaking too hard to get a good grip. Plus he was too Catholic and too angry to see through the red film across his vision.
For weeks after he left, he’d tried to get through her defenses, find any explanation she’d listen to so he could apologize and come back home. Divorce papers had been the result of his effort.
But she’d never filed them. Because she knew they weren’t finished. He’d waited for her to contact him, to say she hadn’t wanted the divorce after all and wanted to try again. He’d waited in vain, and then forged ahead with his own plan. The patent had been the only mechanism he’d found to get her attention.
Jesse held her hand as she slept on the plane, studying her gorgeous face and baby-fine hair. When she wasn’t awake to be constantly denying her feelings, her lips smoothed out and rested in a pursed bow. An incredibly inviting bow, one he’d love to sink into. Hair the color of warm honey spilled over her shoulder, slightly tangled as if he’d run his hands through it. He loved that sexy, tousled look on her.
He still didn’t know how he’d convinced her to come on this trip. As he’d driven home from the factory after Moki called him with the ominous warning that he’d better get home lickety-split, strategies born out of rising desperation had rolled through his head. None of them seemed right, but he’d managed to be coherent while facing her down, and miraculously, the tide shifted.
They flew to the Bahamas and disembarked into the raw splendor of Nassau. Jesse arranged for a private car to the hotel, and every second of the thirty-minute ride felt as if they were speeding toward the future where everything worked out like it should—according to his painstaking plans. One way or another.
The outer wall of their room at the luxurious hotel spread wide onto a balcony several feet above the crashing ocean, and the bathroom had no door. Just as he asked. Alexia couldn’t have a panic attack with no door. The bellboy accepted the folded bill from Jesse and disappeared.
Alexia emerged from the bathroom where she’d freshened up after the flight, taming her hair into a smooth, orderly style. That wasn’t going to work.
In two strides, he was in front of her, plunging his hands into the silky mass. He gathered the strands into a rope and twisted, pulling her head back to expose her creamy throat. Her eyes turned fluid and luminous. He lowered his mouth to her skin and laved it, working his way up the expanse to the hollow behind her ear.
She was too far away. He drew her in closer with a firm arm to her waist, and she embraced him. God, she was so incredible, so beautiful and responsive and when she got so hot for him that she lost control, it was like the best gift in the world. He wanted to take her slowly, savoring all the flavors of her body. Fast had its place. Maybe they’d try fast next.
Nudging one knee between her legs, he curved his hips against hers, but the angle was wrong. Her sexy heels were gone. In one motion, he picked her up, laid her gently on the silk comforter covering the huge bed, and drank in the sight of her.
A tight knot behind his rib cage loosened. He hadn’t realized it was there until it was gone, but finally they were poised at the brink of the future, and it felt amazing. Like it used to.
She watched him, a small smile on her face. A hand reached out and threaded with his, then yanked. He took the hint and fell onto the bed next to her. Fell into her wide hazel eyes.
“I was going for you on top,” she said, but before he could correct the gross oversight, she ruffled his hair, raking it backward. “You smell like soap.”
He smiled at her wrinkled nose. “What would you like for me to smell like?”
“Normally you’ve got factory burned into your clothes and hair. I miss it,” she said, wistfully.
A feather could have knocked him over. “You hate the factory.”
Once, she’d been fascinated by his real-world experiences, prompting him with questions and peppering him with smoldering glances until the thrumming sexual tension threatened to explode. That had been part of the attraction between them, a sort of hero-worship that he’d reveled in. Who didn’t want to be admired for their accomplishments? To turn on a woman simply by virtue of your successes?
Since the miscarriage, nada. Which hurt. More than he’d like to admit, even to himself.
Was there a small chance she hadn’t completely lost her awe over what he’d created with Outlaw? The possibility took root, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. What would she say if she knew he’d put the Sattlewhite deal on hold for her?
She shook her head. “No work talk. My fault. What sort of punishment do I deserve, hmm?”
One slim brow arched and she stretched, provocatively, firm breasts straining against her simple, crisp button-down shirt. Her knees came together under her skirt, thighs sliding, a bare foot trailing up her calf.
All thought drained from his head, and his tongue turned to sandpaper as she performed the equivalent of a sexy come-hither routine. He’d planned to dive right into her, but if she had other ideas, there was no harm in being flexible.
A fingertip circled the top button of her shirt, then dipped into the crevice of her cleavage. “I definitely think you should make me undress. I’m wearing something naughty under here. Something you might recall you specifically ordered.”
Lingerie from her shopping trip. His lips were stuck together. He pried them open. “Definitely. Chop, chop.”
“Oh, you want me to do it fast?” She gazed up under lids at half-mast. “Or would you rather I do it more like this?”
Normally, she liked it when he was the aggressor and he liked being the one to call the shots. But if she wanted to do it her own way, okay.
The first button on her shirt popped out of its hole. She fingered the fabric on one side, drawing it away from her breast in peep-show style. Lace app
eared and right above the line of her bra, the half-moon of her dark nipple.
God in heaven. When he’d told Shannon he wanted to see his wife in a cut-out bra, he’d never dreamed she’d actually buy one. Or that she’d be wearing it right now.
Every muscle in his body went stiff, veins throbbed to life, and a sharp stab of desire pumped straight through him. She was killing him. Slowly.
The next button sprang free, and she repeated the show with the other side, shifting the fabric off a creamy shoulder. Both taut nipples peeped above the ridge of her pushup bra, then retreated behind her blouse, taunting him.
Then the world tilted as she leaned back, hooked the hem of her skirt, and bunched it up over her hips, revealing a frothy fragment of see-through lace the size of his palm. As if scanty lingerie that he’d bought for her wasn’t enough to jumpstart his still heart, she spread her legs and arched her back.
He swore. “What are you trying to do to me?”
It was a miracle his voice still worked.
“I want you to lose control, of course.” The tip of her pink tongue grazed her lower lip as she shot him a hot once-over and shifted to allow a nipple to peek out of her bra again, fondling it with her fingers as she watched him.
“It’s working.”
“Good. Don’t move. I want you to watch me.”
Was she kidding? He was afraid to move. Never had he been so hard and so ready to slake his driving need inside his hot, wet wife. But he’d chew off his own arm before stopping her.
With another sexy moan, she asked, “Would you like more?”
Was the Pope Catholic? He scarcely knew where to look next as her other hand came up to dip into her shirt, working in slow circles made all the more erotic because the sensual motions were hidden behind the fabric.
Suddenly, he couldn’t tear his eyes from her face as her half-open mouth and heavy lids relayed her pleasure. He’d seen rising tension splayed across her features plenty in the past, but he’d always been the one to drive her to the height and then shove her off the brink. Seeing it as she pleasured herself took it to a whole new level.