For Pete's Sake: An Enemies to Lovers Marriage of Convenience Standalone Romance Novel (Tobin Tribe Book 1)

by Caitlyn Coakley

  Their lips crashed together again, sending shock waves through her. Death by foreplay seemed totally possible and not entirely unpleasant. At least she’d go with a smile on her face.

  “That’s a victory high. The first time I won a case, I felt like that guy in Titanic: king of the world. Only an orgasm is better. Put the two together...”

  She smothered his words with a kiss, pulling his lips into her mouth, gently massaging them with her teeth, over and over, until they pulled apart, both gasping for air. “Give me a victory orgasm.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, their mouths melded as he walked her backward until her thighs hit the edge of the table. Her hands found his tie and with a single jerk, it went flying past his ears and across the room. Somewhere. Who cared? They’d find it later. One by one, the buttons of his shirt yielded to her fingers. She stroked each new piece of his chest as she revealed it until, finally, she yanked it from his pants and sent it in the general direction of his tie.

  His customary finesse replaced by urgency, he made short work of her blouse and bra. He bent to kiss one pebbled nipple, then the other. “You are so beautiful.” His hands snaked down to caress her ass, then pulled her into him. “Feel what you do to me.”

  She unlatched his belt and pulled down his zipper then pushed his pants over his hips, freeing his beast. She grasped him. “Still not wearing underwear?”

  His fingers dug deep into the soft twin globes of her ass. “Never do. Not since Chuckie ‘accidentally’ packed them with his when they transferred him to a new foster home. My foster mom didn’t have money to buy me new ones, so I learned to do without.”

  She tightened her grip. Did his eyes cross? “You’re joking.”

  “Baby, I will never lie to you.”

  She knew that. Honesty and decency were the bedrocks of his character, regardless of what he had led the media—and the world—to believe. And she was one of only a handful of people he’d let close enough to figure that out.

  The knowledge humbled her.

  “I trust you.” Did she? Well, she was getting naked with him in a room where mere inches separated them from more than a dozen people conducting business as usual; didn’t that speak for itself?

  And the room? The control room of her family’s fortune for more than fifty years. Her grandfather’s control. Her father’s control. And now, thanks to Ethan, her control. She drew a sharp breath as he found her nipple again, and with that breath drew in the heady aroma of old leather, polished wood, and power. The intoxicating mix blended with the already bubbling brew as he attacked her other nipple with his own special blend of pleasure and pain. And she wanted more. She wanted it all. Everything. Her company. Her baby. And him. Not for today. Not until Megan was better. But forever.

  Fueled by the sudden epiphany, she whirled around until it was his naked ass on the table. She pushed his strong, broad shoulders to the same surface he’d slapped Bengtsen’s incriminating envelope onto. With a quick flick, her skirt hit the floor.

  “Damn, woman, the garter belt and stockings again?” He reached out to help her onto the table. “I would never have let you out of your office if I’d known that.”

  She straddled him letting his hardness nestle between them. She leaned over him for a kiss, her breasts dangling onto his chest. “If I’d know you were commando, we would still be in there.”

  She rose to her knees and guided him into her.

  “SO THAT’S A VICTORY orgasm. I think I like it.”

  He pulled her closer. “It was way better than I thought it would be.”

  She pulled up onto her elbow. “You’ve never had victory sex before?”

  He waved his right hand in the air. “Not with a woman. Truth is, you’re my first lover in more than seven years.”

  “No wonder you were so mean. Oh, my God, I’m so sorry. That slipped out.” Stephanie pushed a lock of hair off his forehead. “She must have done one hell of a number on you. On behalf of women everywhere, I apologize.”

  “Thank you, but I’ve made my peace with her. With them. I’ve made my peace with a lot of things lately.”

  Her? Them? His body went rigid as she ran her finger behind his ear and down his jaw. She’d noticed it before, that well-healed plastic surgery scar. There was only one logical explanation.

  “The Cougar Crew. Maria, the plastic surgeon. Laura, the ophthalmologist, and Valarie the oral surgeon. But you’re way too old for them.”

  A battle raged behind his incredible eyes. Fight, flight, or freeze, which would he choose? Or would he lay down his weapons in surrender, and let her in the rest of the way? Would he trust her the way she trusted him?

  “I wasn’t fourteen years ago. I’m patient zero. The prototype. Kind of their little social experiment—hatched one rainy afternoon during an Audrey Hepburn movie marathon while drinking too many bottles of wine. Somewhere between Breakfast at Tiffany’s and Sabrina, My Fair Lady sparked the imaginations of the good Doctors Frankenstein. I was their first Eliza.”

  She put her finger on his lips. “You don’t have to tell me.”

  He kissed her finger. “I want you to know. Only Father Jim knows the whole story. But, somehow, it feels right for you to know.”

  Her heart did a dance in her chest. This was it. “I’m listening.” She could barely breathe through the mounting anticipation.

  “It was about three weeks before my eighteenth birthday. Megan and I were living at St. Al’s rectory after Father Jim caught us sleeping in the choir loft. We’d split from our last foster home because of an incident. Ironically, a crying baby. I’d been badly beaten: my nose and left cheekbone shattered, my jaw broken in two places, four teeth missing, but the baby was safe. I was starting to heal when Father Jim got me a gig as a valet for a charity event. It was a masquerade party, and everyone thought I was in costume. Except for Valarie, she recognized the facial trauma. I went home with her that night, and she ended up taking a lot more than my virginity.

  “Over the years, they fixed me. Pulled strings to get me admitted to UPenn. Hired a tutor to fill my huge knowledge gaps. Paid my tuition. They didn’t pay me, per se, but they let me use their credit cards and never questioned any charges. It was their idea to send me to law school. But they couldn’t just train my mind, I had to be polished and poised. They sent me to comportment school to learn how to dance, and talk, and about wine, even taught this metalhead to appreciate classical music.”

  His voice broke. He squeezed his eyes shut with a nearly silent sniffle. “And, uh, in exchange, I...” he let out a huff. “I warmed their beds. So, uh, if you, uh, like that little thing I do to the bend of your knee, you can thank Maria.”

  She drew slow circles on his chest to soothe him. It wasn’t much, but what else could she do? Somehow, this seemed like the wrong time to tell him that she loved him. Maybe there would never be a right time.

  “I don’t know what to say.” That’s the best you can do?

  “You don’t have to say anything. Just listening is enough.” He wrapped his arms and legs around her. “I fell in love with Maria, but once she’d done her part, she passed me off to Laura. And I fell in love with Laura, but she eventually sent me to Valarie. I fell hard for Valarie. I proposed. And, uh... well, let’s say the Philadelphia production of My Fair Laddie didn’t have the same happy ending as its Hollywood inspiration.”

  She stroked his face. “It’s their loss. You’re a fantastic husband.” She took a deep breath. She could do this. Riding the wave of victory sex, she was invincible. She counted down from ten. Here goes. “Ethan, I...”

  “Baby girl! We have work to do!”

  The simultaneous knock and the shout brought Stephanie crashing down. She groaned.

  “He’s right.” Ethan disentangled himself. “Let’s get cleaned up and face the world. It’s time for your victory lap.”

  CHAPTER 49

  ETHAN HEFTED THE FINAL Bankers Box onto the massive dining room table. “That’s the las
t of them.” He took the lid off one of the boxes. More interoffice envelopes. Now there was a once-thriving industry that was a mere shadow of its former self. Not much need for an envelope to send hardcopies up three flights when you could scan and email. Somehow, there was an odd kind of poetry in the quaint, nostalgic quality of Irene’s files.

  Stephanie stepped up behind him, snaked her arms around his waist, and laid her cheek on his back. And didn’t that make his blood pressure—and certain other things—rise? The simple gesture felt different somehow. Less like sex, and more like... love?

  Slow down.

  Okay, maybe not love, but affection? Possibly, but more than likely, she was still riding the crest of her victory wave and the orgasmic afterglow.

  “Pete’s been bathed and fed and should be down for the night. Most of it, anyway. Have you found anything interesting?”

  He took the first envelope off the top. “This one’s marked 1963. Considering what we found this afternoon, I wouldn’t be surprised if she has the real scoop on the Kennedy assassination in here complete with pictures and Lee Harvey Oswald’s signed confession.”

  “She was nothing if not thorough. She knew about my disastrous senior prom date with Quinn, right down to the name of the other girls and the limo driver. It kind of freaks me out,” she said.

  He put the envelope down. “Tell me about it.”

  She hesitated.

  “Hey, compared to what I’ve confessed, how bad could your ‘disastrous date’ be?” He reached over to take her hand.

  “You’re right, you have me beat in the embarrassing history contest.”

  Embarrassing? That was one word for it. He motioned for her to continue.

  “Daddy and Uncle Brian decided Quinn and I would be a couple for senior prom. Quinn was pissed, and I wasn’t all that pleased either. If I can believe Shane, which is always a gamble, Uncle Brian threatened to take Quinn’s car keys and credit cards to force his hand.”

  Ethan shook his head. Credit cards and a car in high school. Poor Guy. “You let your father and your uncle pick your prom date? That doesn’t make sense. There had to have been at least a half dozen horny teenage boys dying for the privilege of escorting you to the highlight of your high school experience.”

  She shrugged. “It was either that or not go. I wasn’t popular in high school. I went to an all-girls high school across the parking lot from the all-boys high school where my brothers went. Most of my classmates used me to get close to them. Other than that, I was an outcast. Like I said, too tall, too fat, Bozo hair, and tiny boobs. Not a lot there to make me a candidate for homecoming queen. If we’d had a homecoming queen.”

  The pain radiating from her beautiful eyes gutted him. “You’re my queen,” he said softly. And damn it, it was true. She was his. But what the hell could he do about it? There had to be something. And his new mission in life was to figure out what. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

  She threw her head back with a snort. “There’s nothing wrong with your lawyer radar. Quinn sent the limo driver to get me. When the guy opened the limo door, Quinn had three other girls with him. I was the last one they picked up and the first one they dropped off. He danced with everyone but me. Rumor around school Monday morning was that the four of them had a good time once I wasn’t around to cramp their style.” Her voice quavered. “It was a humiliating evening from start to finish.”

  Anger stabbed through him. How in the hell could anyone have been so cruel? And to someone who was supposed to be family? People who had always had family didn’t appreciate how precious, how sacred that bond was. Or was supposed to be.

  Ethan had always relished his role as karma’s cosmic debt collector, a legal Robin Hood taking from the rich and giving to the poor. But this time, it would be personal. Nobody messed with what was his and Stephanie was his, even if she didn’t know it yet. Quinn Tobin was officially at the top of Ethan’s shit list.

  God help him. God was probably the only one who could.

  But that was a project for a different day. Right now, they had two more boxes to go through. “Let’s see what happened to Irene in 1963.”

  He grabbed the red string and unwound it, letting the contents fall to the table. “Looks like letters. That’s a lost art. Nice paper, beautiful handwriting, all tied up with a fancy ribbon.”

  He untied the first packet and hefted the top envelope. It felt smooth and heavy in his hand. They didn’t make paper like that anymore. He opened the flap. A glossy, rich green inner sleeve lined the envelope that matched the stripe along the left edge of the paper. Simple, classy, and expensive as hell. He unfolded the note and started to read.

  “Holy shit.”

  Stephanie dropped the paper she was reading. “What?”

  Ethan held up one finger and continued to read for a few more seconds. “We weren’t the first ones to make love on that boardroom table.”

  Stephanie grabbed the letter. “Irene?”

  He tilted his head to one side. “And your grandfather.”

  Stephanie dropped the letter as if it had scalded her. “Ew.”

  He carefully pawed through the rest of the pile. “There must be twenty or thirty letters from your grandfather to Irene. Did you know they were an item?”

  “I... I had no clue.”

  Ethan sorted through the rest of the envelopes in the box. “It looks like the letters stopped in 1988.”

  “That was the year Grandpa Jamison died. Massive coronary in... oh, God.”

  “What?”

  “He died in the boardroom. Irene said they were in there going over third-quarter reports. Do you think they were... you know?”

  “Would you like to read about it?” He handed her the envelop marked 1988.

  She pushed his hands away. “No thanks, that’s okay. I can live the rest of my life not knowing the answer to that question.”

  “Then why don’t you let me finish going through these boxes? I can weed out the ones that have too much of an ‘ew’ factor, but something tells me these letters are the key to figuring out if Irene is behind the altered prenup.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  Would he do that for her? In a heartbeat. Then it hit him: there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for her. He pulled her into his lap, tucking her into the nook between his head and chest, his orangutan arms encircling her. And felt whole. For the first time in his miserable life, everything came in second to the woman in his arms.

  He stroked her hair. “I would do anything for you. To keep you happy. To keep you in my life. In my arms. We make a great team, this afternoon proved that. Do you think there might be some wiggle room in our contract?”

  CHAPTER 50

  WIGGLE ROOM? WHAT, exactly, was he asking? If he wanted her to wiggle her ass in his lap, all he had to do was ask. It wasn’t like she hadn’t done that a time or two with spectacular results. But the soft pleading in his eyes told her sex was a far distant second to whatever was brewing in his brain.

  Her imagination bolted out of the starting gate like a thoroughbred hellbent on winning the Triple Crown. She reigned it in ruthlessly. After her earlier aborted attempt at declaring her love, it might take days for her to work up the courage to take another stab at it. Or weeks. If they had weeks left. But if that’s what he was thinking, it was a totally different situation. Caution was the name of this game.

  “What did you have in mind, counselor?” She cringed. That might have been too cautious. Too clinical. One of these days, she was going to have to figure out a way to tame her renegade tongue.

  He blew out a short breath, and, just like that, her sexy, confident—dare she say arrogant?—husband melted into a mere mortal before her eyes. Whatever he had racing around inside his head, it was serious. Her imagination was off to the races again. She could practically hear the hoofbeats as that metaphorical thoroughbred chewed up the track.

  His vulnerability didn’t last long. He cleared his throat, transforming into the l
awyer who had frightened her so badly that first morning in his office. “Well, since you put it that way, I’d like to point out that our original agreement seems to have grown inadequate for our current needs. Perhaps renegotiation is in order.”

  Her heart stuttered. The deal. They were back to being nothing more than business partners. Okay, she had negotiated a thing or two in her time. If he wanted to play it this way, she could handle it. “I’m listening.”

  He nodded. “First, I’d like to revisit the clause that prohibits me from purchasing stock in Kerrigan Financial Services. It seems you are in need of an influx of capital to meet the demands of the severance packages for your now-dissolved board of directors. I happen to have the means to satisfy that need.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  Okay, so sex wasn’t such a far distant second. “I see. But, from my perspective, there isn’t much of a difference between kowtowing to Walter and his cronies and being under your thumb. How do you propose to alleviate that concern?” Oh, man, she hadn’t meant to hit that word so hard. Maybe he hadn’t noticed.

  His raised eyebrows complemented the tilt of his head, mimicking his stance from the Great Vegas Fruit Pun Marathon.

  Damn, he’d noticed.

  He cupped her breast, circling her nipple with his thumb. “You’ve never minded being under my thumb before.”

  She cleared her throat, but his thumb continued its path.

  “I think a jointly-managed trust fund could be mutually beneficial,” he said.

  Now he had her attention. “For the benefit of who?”

  He gently bopped the tip of her nose with his index finger. “All your fancy education and you don’t know to use whom?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Okay, smartass. For the benefit of whom?”

  He chuckled and punctuated it with a kiss on her forehead. “Much better. Benefiting Pete and any siblings or cousins he may acquire during his hopefully long and happy life.”