Ethan rolled his eyes. “I should have known no good deed ever goes unpunished. No, this isn’t a movie scene; it’s more like a magazine photoshoot. The judge is going to want pictures, and you won’t look like a happy bride wearing a travel-creased business suit. The judge has to buy this, or I’m sunk. The concierge thinks this is the real thing; she insisted on including an assortment of other things you might find useful.”
Of course, it was all for appearances. Nothing romantic intended. Why was she continually looking for hidden agendas?
“The concierge here is eager to please. I’m sure she checked me out on Google while Nicole was making the reservations. The prospect of reeling in a new high roller has her pulling out all the stops. Nicole probably told her I like roses that smell nice.” He looked at a tag hanging from the branch of a fragrant, crimson bouquet. “Looks like she ended up getting us rosebushes from the Home and Garden show going on in the pavilion. They’ll go back once we’re gone. They’ll provide a nice backdrop for the pictures.”
That made financial sense. Why buy something you were only going to use for a few hours? Of course, it was totally unromantic. That shouldn’t bother her in the least. So, why did it? This wasn’t about romance. It never would be. This was a business deal, and the roses were like renting furniture to stage a vacant house for sale.
She tried not to sound disappointed. “Is that why you reserved the bridal suite? To impress the judge?”
Grimacing, he shrugged. At least he had the decency to look embarrassed. “Um, yeah. I usually stay at a chain motel when I have to travel. As long as it’s clean, I’m happy. But this was the only thing available on short notice.”
Ethan plucked a handful of grapes from the complimentary fruit basket. He held out his hand to offer her some. “I’m starving. Order something off the room service menu. I’m not picky, the only thing I absolutely refuse to eat is scrapple.” He shoved two fingers into his mouth and faked a gag. “Ya gotta love the thriftiness of our forefathers, but that disgusting conglomeration of pig parts should only be fed to dogs.” He paused. “Come to think of it, that might border on cruelty.”
Another dog reference. It was hard to hate a man who cared so much about the welfare of animals. “I think that’s a regional thing. I doubt it’s on the menu here, but if the concierge is any good...” She scooped the grapes out of his hand with a shrug.
“That crap makes Spam taste like filet mignon. I’d rather eat liver, but only if I cook it.”
He cooked? Imagine that. Big, bad Ethan Webb pummeling opponents by day, dishing up delicacies by night. She knew so little about the man she was about to marry, the man who would hopefully give her a baby. There was only one way to remedy that. She was going to have to get to know him. Superficially, of course. The way she would get to know a new client. One she didn’t particularly like and would only have to deal with for a short time. “What’s your specialty?”
He popped a grape into his mouth. “I like Italian. I make a mean Alfredo sauce and my lemon artichoke pesto over chicken on a bed of linguini is to die for.” He kissed his fingers with a loud smack. “I make my own pasta. Once you’ve had mine, you won’t want anyone else’s.” He winked.
He certainly had a healthy ego, no surprise there. Not for long. “To be clear, we are talking about limp noodles, right?” She winked back.
He pulled back slightly and ran his hand over his mouth. What was he up to? He looked like her brothers right before they uncorked the quirky senses of humor.
He turned back to the fruit basket, blocking her view, then turned back to her holding... a banana. Seriously? Well, his options were rather limited, she had to give him credit for quick thinking. But she had trained at the feet of the masters; she could more than hold her own. She pulled out her best Mae West impersonation. “Is that a banana next to your pocket or are you happy to see me?”
“Why wouldn’t I be happy to see you? You’re very a-peel-ing.” He waggled his eyebrows.
Uh-oh, she knew that look, the one that said, “Game on!” She grabbed her own piece of fruit. “We make a great pear.”
He groaned. “That was bad, but not as bad as this.” He made another selection. “You are the apple of my eye.”
She snickered. “I can do worse. I like you berry much.” She bit into one of the decadent chocolate-covered strawberries from the plate next to the fruit basket. “Oh my God! This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. Take a bite.” She offered him the berry that was half the size of her hand.
He took a step closer, reached out to capture the juice running down her chin with the back of this finger, then offered her his finger to lick. A zing shot through her as her tongue met his finger. Her entire nervous system short-circuited, zapping, and fizzing like the downed wire that had blocked her driveway after last month’s ice storm. That had scared the hell out of her. This was worse. Or better.
“I can think of a few things that could find their way into your mouth you might enjoy as much. I know I would.” He bit into the berry and chewed slowly before swallowing. He licked a stray drop of juice off the corner of his mouth.
The warm creep of a blush bloomed across her face. She looked down at her feet to hide the glow she’d always hated.
Ethan ran his finger up her neck, detouring under her chin. Gently, he forced her chin up to make her eyes meet his. “What has the floor done that was special enough that it deserves to see your face? You are a beautiful woman. Don’t you know that?”
She snorted. “You sound like a pop song.” She squeezed her eyes shut to push the tears back inside where they belonged. But she couldn’t hold back the litany of her shortcomings. “I’m too tall, too fat, my boobs are too small, and, worst of all, I have this mop of orange hair that won’t behave.” She forced her eyes open. “The only other man who has ever told me I was beautiful was Daddy, and only because I look exactly like him. My brothers used to call me Uncle Jamie in drag.”
Ethan caressed her cheek. His brow furrowed; his lips pursed in a silent no. He shook his head. “You aren’t any of those things. You are tall. But too tall? Not for me. I love not having to bend nearly in half to do this.”
He leaned in, barely brushing her lips with his before pulling back.
Her head tracked his withdrawal, wanting more. The big tease. He was turning her inside out, and he knew it. Damn it, he knew. But why? Why would he make the effort to pump her ego when all that was required was that he pump her? Okay, that was crass, but helped remind her not to buy into this. Whatever this was.
He pulled her hair free from its clip, letting it cascade over her shoulders and down her back. “There’s no way I’d call your hair orange. Don’t you know every man fantasizes about having a redhead in his bed?” He threaded his hands through her spirals. “The thought of these gorgeous curls spilling out across the pillow next to me is nearly driving me insane.” He let her tresses fall. “Imagining how they’re going to bounce over your shoulders when you ride me, how they’re going to fall over your breasts to tease me with a glimpse here and there, it’s almost too much to bear.”
He traced his way over her chest to her breasts, pausing to softly pinch her nipples. He cupped her. “Your breasts are perfect.” He massaged them gently as his thumb made ever-smaller circles until they flicked at her nipples. “Feel how they fit my hands?”
The heat of his touch blended with his velvet-soft voice. He was a giant chocolate covered jalapeño she wanted to devour, knowing he would burn her in the end. She sighed.
“You like that? Baby, this is only the beginning.” His hands caressed her stomach, wandered over her hips and behind to massage her ass. “And fat? Not a chance. You’re curvy and ripe and luscious. I’m a big guy.” He pulled her into him to prove his point. He rocked his hips, letting his hardness burrow into her stomach. “Knowing that you’re going to be able to take every inch of me, that you’re going to be able to handle everything I want to give you, that I’m not
going to have to hold back out of fear I might break you, babe, that makes me want to cancel our appointment so I can start tasting every inch of you right now.”
Baby? Babe? She didn’t believe one flattering word that fell from his beautiful mouth. She couldn’t because, at least this time, she knew those words weren’t sincere, they weren’t real, but so what? He was going to rock her world and hopefully give her a baby. She would play his game. It was a game, wasn’t it? How could it not be?
But the bulge in his pants? That was real. She reached out to stroke it. From its base, slowly up the shaft, to the head now straining to meet her touch.
He caught her hand to pull it to his lips for a kiss. “I don’t do quickies, but if you don’t stop, that’s what’s going to happen. I haven’t done this in a long time, and I want to make it last. To make it good for both of us. We’ll have all night, and make no mistake, it will take all night.” He caressed the skirt covering her swollen nub and circled slowly. Once. Twice. “Think about that during the ceremony.”
Stephanie cursed the cloth separating them. Her pebbled nipples chafed against her bra. Every muscle, every fiber, tightened, reaching for him. This was torture of the best and finest kind. Sweet and painful, unfulfilling, but with a promise. Her body buzzed with anticipation; she heard bells. Church bells? Was this some kind of bridal top-ten? “Are we expecting someone else?”
He groaned. “The jeweler is bringing some rings for you to choose from.” He kissed her softly on the forehead, pulling back to smile at her. “Order us some dinner while I let him in.”
CHAPTER 18
ETHAN TURNED TOWARD the suite door, his smile fading as he walked. That went about as well as could be expected. He had been an eager and willing student in the art of seduction, soaking up the nuances of what women wanted to hear, how they wanted to be touched. Time and pain hadn’t erased those skills. Everything had flowed out of him as easily as they had years ago when he had meant them.
Yeah, that part was easy. It wasn’t so different from convincing a jury or manipulating a witness, but what about the next part? Would he remember how to make love to a woman? Was it like riding a bike? Not that he’d ever learned how to ride a bike unless you count the stationary bike at the gym. Sex? Yeah, that he could handle. But making love? The right spot, the tempo, all the things he’d been so carefully schooled in, all the lessons designed to turn a novice into a master. In the end, it had been the only thing Valarie had declared a success.
Once upon a time, Valarie had been his everything, but to her, he had been little more than a human dildo. Glorious cock. Words that at one time would have boosted his male ego now echoed through him to remind him that he hadn’t been good enough. Rich enough. Successful enough. He was all of those things now, mostly due to his own efforts, but he had to acknowledge that without his benefactors, he would be working at a gas station in Swampoodle.
He’d practically blackmailed Stephanie into marrying him. Would she ever have considered him a suitable husband otherwise? No. In this so-called egalitarian society where hard work and success were supposed to be the great equalizers, he simply wasn’t good enough for Stephanie any more than he had been good enough for Valarie. At least this time, the human dildo had been upgraded to stud service. Was that an upgrade? He might not be good enough, but his sperm was, so, yeah, upgrade. Maybe someday what came out of his heart would be as good as what came out of his dick.
Valarie. That particular slice of hell hadn’t invaded his sleep for years, and it wasn’t difficult to figure out why it had chosen today to torture him again. Now that he was fully awake, bits and pieces of his last moments with Valarie continued to assault him. The night everything inside him had been smashed, the last time he’d had a woman in his bed, replayed in an endless loop.
His bed. It hadn’t been his bed. It had never been his bed.
Tonight wouldn’t be his bed either, but tomorrow? They hadn’t gotten that far. His place? Her place? All of Pete’s things were at his place, so it made sense they’d camp there, but did anything about this whole mess make sense?
It was a good thing Smitty was already dead because if the man was standing in front of Ethan right now, he wouldn’t be standing for long. Or breathing. No, the asshole would die slowly and painfully. Because of what he’d done to Megan. To Stephanie. But mostly for the risks Smitty’s lies had forced him to take.
Not to mention the lies that Ethan would have to live with. He couldn’t treat Stephanie the way he treated nearly everyone else he did business with. Not if he expected her to stay long enough to keep Pete safe. He would have to be nice to her. Play the part of a devoted lover at least for a few weeks. Thank God parts of him could function on autopilot without engaging his heart or emotions.
Would she eventually figure out it was all an act? As long as she got pregnant, why should it matter? She would get the baby she wanted, and he would keep the baby he loved out of foster care hell. They would part not as friends, but at least friendly. Cordial enough to provide a family for the babies. For now, that was all that mattered.
Ethan held the door as a man barely bigger than the suitcase he pulled behind him entered the sitting room. “I have some excellent choices for you and your bride. I guarantee you won’t be disappointed,” the man said as he opened his case.
Disappointed wasn’t the first word that came to Ethan’s mind as the jeweler started setting up his wares. Eye-popping, dazzling, but most of all, bank-account-draining came to mind. He didn’t want to think about that now. The charge would show up on the hotel bill, Nicole would pay it, and life would go on. It was part of the price he had to pay to convince the judge that this marriage was real.
He wouldn’t be surprised if Judge Banner had a jeweler’s loupe in her desk drawer. Or maybe she could judge a diamond’s quality with her naked eye. Everything was under that critical eye; he couldn’t afford a single misstep. He had to convince Her Horror, and a chip the size of a grain of rice in a cheap setting from Walmart wasn’t going to do the trick.
Pete was barely a week old, and he had already been bought. Like his uncle.
“Stephanie, we have company,” he called out. “Come pick your new favorite piece of jewelry.”
Her eyes lit up as she surveyed the stunning bridal sets shining against black velvet; not one of them was less than two carats. Each one was mesmerizing in its own way with plenty of fire and brilliance.
“They’re all beautiful and shiny,” she said.
“They are shiny.” If not for the black velvet absorbing some of the brilliance, Ethan was sure he’d need sunglasses to protect his eyes. They sparkled like the Christmas star against a pitch-black sky.
She zeroed in on the ring in the middle, and Ethan knew she had made her decision. Once she noticed it, it was as if the others didn’t exist. She plucked the ring off of the table: a brilliant square-cut, two-carat solitaire engagement ring nestled into a wedding band that would have been spectacular all by itself, encircled with half-carat channel set brilliant round diamonds in eighteen-karat gold. She slipped it on; it fit perfectly.
She held out her hand to him. “What do you think?”
Ethan never looked at the ring. Never took his eyes off her. “I think it’s beautiful, like the woman wearing it.” He leaned in for a soft kiss. “Now help me pick out mine.”
“Yours? It never occurred to me that you would want to wear a wedding ring.” Her gaze fell to the floor again. “Smitty refused. He’d claimed he was allergic to gold. The only thing he’d been allergic to was being faithful to me.” She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. Were they happy tears because he wanted to wear her ring or sad tears because Smitty had hurt her?
“Hey, no crying on our wedding day.”
Ethan was no stranger to weeping women. Most of his clients had been women, and they had all broken down at one time or another. He had held them in his arms, urging them to let it all out so they could face the rigors of trial with
dry eyes. He’d badgered a few witnesses, male and female, to tears. Not to mention he wasn’t sure when, or if, his favorite Metallica T-shirt would dry from all the liquid grief Megan had drenched it with the past few days. But by all that was holy, he desperately wanted Stephanie’s tears to be joyous.
Those were the only kinds of tears a bride should shed on her wedding day. So what if this was a business arrangement? Stephanie deserved to feel special because she was special. He wanted to be the one who made her feel special; he needed to know that somehow, he was the reason she was happy. And damned if that didn’t scare the spit out of him.
STEPHANIE WALKED NEXT to him, matching his long stride. It was nice to have someone who was able to keep up with him. Finally, an opponent who would keep him on his toes. Wife, not opponent, he reminded himself.
She twisted the ring on her finger. “That was so different from my first wedding,” she admitted. “This whole trip will end up costing less than Daddy paid for the appetizers. And for what? A party with people I didn’t like, a roomful of gifts I didn’t need, and a dress I’ll never wear again. Oh, yeah, and a man who cheated on me. So not worth it.”
“Pardon my ignorance, but is there a compliment in there somewhere?” he asked.
Her giggle twisted his insides. Why? It wasn’t as if he cared.
“Yes, thank you. This could have been cheap and quick, but you made it special. I couldn’t hear the slot machines, and there wasn’t a single neon bulb in sight,” she said.
“Oh, there are plenty of theme chapels we could have used, but I’ve never been an Elvis fan, clowns creep me out, and delusional middle-aged women who think they can still pull off the Vampira look, well, let’s not go there. Plus, this one was an elevator ride and a walk across the lobby.” He took her hand and squeezed it. Husbands did that, right? Damned if he knew; it felt like the thing to do. “A short hop from I do to we did.”
For Pete's Sake: An Enemies to Lovers Marriage of Convenience Standalone Romance Novel (Tobin Tribe Book 1) Page 9