Adam shifted into third, glanced her way. With the Ferrari’s top off, sunlight picked out the blond in her hair.
“It’s a narrow window in life,” he pointed out. “Be glad they’re able to enjoy it.”
“I might, if they weren’t cuddled up like puppies. In Lucy’s bed.”
“Which you wouldn’t know if you hadn’t poked your head into her room.”
She crossed her arms. “I knocked. She didn’t answer. I had to make sure she got home okay.”
“Gerard would’ve alerted us if there was a problem.”
“Says you.”
He laughed. There was no winning an argument with Maddie. She was stubborn and unreasonable, and she was in snit because Lucy and Crash were heading off on the yacht to cruise the Riviera for a few days, unchaperoned.
“They were snoring like chain saws,” she groused. “I don’t know how either of them could sleep through that racket.” She stared out the windshield as they pulled onto the main road. “He had his hand on her breast. Like he had a right.”
“Darling, we slept the very same way. And it didn’t hurt a bit, did it?”
She aimed her aviators at him. “Don’t get too comfy with my breasts. You had permission, not rights.”
He chuckled, more at his own perverse taste for this prickly woman than at her absurd declaration. Of course he had rights. She just hadn’t admitted it yet.
Predictably, she was in push-back mode, reacting to an intimate evening and mind-blowing wake-up sex by lobbing grenades and machine-gunning civilians.
“Where’re we going, anyway? Another pointless meeting? One day of farting around with the idle rich is okay, but I don’t want to make a habit of it.”
He pulled off on the shoulder. “Should I turn around, then? You don’t want to test this car on the racetrack?”
She rubbed her hand along the leather seat. “You didn’t tell me we were going to the racetrack.”
“I’m telling you now. Do you want to keep going?”
He watched her struggle with it. She’d boxed herself in with the idle rich nonsense. “I guess we’ll have to,” she said, feigning reluctance. “You got everybody hopping, right? Changing plans so the big cheese can play around on his speedway.”
He swung a U-turn and punched the gas, streaking back toward the villa. He picked up his cell phone, driving one-handed. “Change of plans, Marco. I don’t need the track today. Ciao.”
Maddie huffed. “How’s that better? Now you made them change plans twice.”
He tossed the phone in her lap. “Call him back if you want to. I can turn around again.”
She squeezed the phone in her hand. He bit down on a smile. She wasn’t used to anyone calling her bluff. Especially not twice in two minutes.
“Seems like a nice day for it,” she said.
“Seventy degrees and sunny. It’s a nice day for anything.” He wasn’t helping her out of this. If she wanted to go to the track now, she’d have to ask.
She fidgeted. “So now what? The track sits there unused all day?”
“I suppose so.” Adam shrugged as if it made no difference to him.
“Isn’t that a waste of money?”
“I can afford to waste some.”
“Damn it.” She slapped her hand on the seat. “All right, okay. I want to go.”
“Darling, that’s all you had to say.” He pulled another U-turn, held out his hand for the phone.
IT WAS, HANDS down, the most fun Maddie ever had in her life.
Adam made her wear a helmet and a fireproof suit, the latter of which was a few sizes too large, but it didn’t lessen the thrill of flying around the track at warp nine. She’d had her heart in her throat the whole time.
Now as the cute waiter poured a sparkling Prosecco into her glass, she didn’t even think to flirt with him. She was too busy ogling Adam. His hair was sweaty from the helmet—hers probably was too, but who cared?—and dark glasses hid his heart-stopping eyes, but his smile was as wide as hers. He’d had fun too. Cool as a cucumber around the hairpin turns, but she sensed the adrenaline still pumping through his veins.
“Did they open the dining room just for us?” she asked. The trackside view was stupendous.
“If I say yes, will you berate me for ruining everyone’s day off?”
“Nope.” She grinned. “I’m sure you’re giving them a week’s pay to compensate.”
He was like that, she’d discerned, surprisingly thoughtful, and generous with money.
Generous in bed too. Or on the dinner table, as the case may be.
“We’ll take the Bugatti to Watkins Glen next week,” he was saying. “I’ve already arranged it.”
Whoa. Next week was another kettle of fish.
“I’ll be back at work,” she said. “At the firm.”
“Hawthorne hasn’t conceded. He’ll hold out as long as he can.”
She shook her head. “One of two things will happen. Either your buddy Gio will find the painting within the next few days, or it’ll be gone for good, in which case Hawthorne will pay up. Trust me, he doesn’t want a trial.”
Adam smiled. “Only because you frightened him.”
“Exactly. My work here is done.” She lifted her glass, an air toast, and took an icy swallow.
He didn’t drink along. “Maddie, I’ve already notified Adrianna that I’ll be using you through the summer.”
She stiffened. “Using me? Is that Italian for fucking?”
“Sorry. Poor choice of words. I meant that I need you to see this through. And to reorganize my legal department. And a few other matters that will take us into September.”
“You just said summer. Now it’s September. I don’t like moving targets. And I don’t like being used. I’m a lawyer, not a hooker.”
“For pity’s sake, Maddie.” He sat back in his seat. “I’m not paying you for sex. You’re the finest attorney I know, and as you’ve pointed out repeatedly, my organization needs help in that area. My attraction to you is beside the point.”
“Then why am I here at the racetrack instead of hunched over contracts or helping Brady pack up his office?”
“I thought you enjoyed yourself today.” He sounded hurt.
She dialed down, softened up. To be fair, she’d wanted to come. “I did. It was great, the chance of a lifetime. I can cross it off my bucket list. But it’s not legal work, Adam. It’s fun and games.”
“So consider it a vacation. A few days of rest and relaxation before we head back to New York.”
“R and R and mutual orgasms?”
“Why not?” He smiled one of his devastating smiles.
She set her glass down, ran her fingertips through her matted hair. Things were getting too serious. He needed to understand that their little fling would end when they got off the plane.
“Listen, Adam. The orgasms are great. So’s the car, the yacht. And I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but you’re a nice guy. The thing is, I’m still me, you’re still a felon, and I don’t do long-term anyway.”
“You don’t even do short-term,” he said. “Why not?”
“Because it’s easier to keep things light from the start. Getting involved isn’t an option for me.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged. “I’ve seen a lot of bad marriages. A lot of kids caught in the middle. I don’t want to be part of that.”
“Everyone’s seen those things,” he said, taking off his sunglasses, hitting her with a bolt of blue. “I’ve seen them myself, close up. My parents were so focused on their art—and so committed to torturing each other—that they more or less forgot about me.”
She hadn’t known. “That sucks,” she said, “but except for the stealing thing, you turned out all right.”
“Did I?” He spread his arms. “Do you see a doting wife? Loving children?”
“Oh please. Every unmarried woman on the planet and most of the married ones would give ten years off their lives to be Mrs.
Adam LeCroix.”
“And yet you begrudge every moment in my company.”
She let out a laugh. If he only knew how she’d come to dread the end of the week, to count the shrinking days. She’d had to admit it to herself that morning when she woke up spooned against his chest.
All the more reason to shut him down.
“Everyone’s seen bad marriages,” he said again, circling back to his point. “It doesn’t stop them from hoping for something better for themselves.”
“I’m one of those rare individuals who actually learns from others’ mistakes.”
“And what have you learned?”
“That women come out on the short end every time. And once they become mothers, they’re toast.”
“How so?”
“Kids are leverage.” That’s as far as she was willing to go.
“And you think that only goes one way?”
“Probably not,” she admitted. “But most times it’s the mother who has to toe the line. That’s if the father even takes responsibility at all. Either way, Mom ends up holding the bag.”
The waiter appeared with their plates. Sole, pan-fried in lemon butter. The aroma had Maddie salivating.
He brought a plate of risotto too, setting it between them to share, alongside a lightly dressed salad and a loaf of fresh bread. Adam had ordered it all brought at once because he knew she liked it that way.
She forked some risotto, savoring it. “I haven’t had a bad meal since we met.”
“So I’m good for something.”
“You hit a ten on every sensual scale. Food, wine, and sex.” She gave him a grin, determined to keep it light. “And cars,” she added, lifting her glass. “Definitely cars.”
He plinked his glass to hers. “Relationships have been built on less.”
“The Roman Empire too,” she said, making the point with her fork. “And look what happened to that.”
“So you’ll never marry and have a family?”
“Nope.” She broke bread, handed him half. “You’re looking at a crazy cat lady in the making.”
“And if you fall in love?”
“I won’t.”
“You might.”
“I’m immune. I was inoculated at sixteen.”
“What happened at sixteen?”
She kicked herself, literally, a sharp toe to the ankle. Why did she have to win every argument, no matter the cost?
“None of your beeswax,” she said, still keeping it light.
“Your father abused you, didn’t he?”
It was a sucker punch, hitting her where she hurt most. She shot to her feet like he’d jabbed her with a cattle prod. “You sick fucking bastard.” With both hands, she tipped the table into his lap.
He shoved his chair back so most of the meal missed him, but she didn’t stick around to watch. She was halfway to the door when he caught her arm.
“Maddie—”
She shook him loose so hard she staggered when he let go. “Stay away from me. Stay away from my sister.” She was a tiger, ready to claw out his eyes.
He held up both hands. “Forgive me, please. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Liar. That’s all you ever wanted to do. That’s what all this is about.” Enraged, she flung an arm wildly, taking in the clubhouse, the track. “That was always the plan, wasn’t it? Sucker me in, then humiliate me.” She sneered. “Sorry I didn’t cooperate by falling in love. What a blow to your ego that must be.”
“Darling—”
She slapped him. “Don’t darling me, you piece of shit.”
She yanked open the door and got out of there.
OUT IN THE parking lot, Maddie eyed the Ferrari. She’d steal it in a minute if only she could drive.
She walked instead. The sky was cloudless, the breeze light and steady. It fluttered her skirt, navy silk with white polka dots, and tickled her arms, left bare by her white sleeveless top. On such a lovely day, she could walk five miles without breaking a sweat.
If not for her shoes.
Wedges, they were designed for slinking a few yards between cars and restaurants and yachts and villas, but decidedly not for hoofing miles of asphalt. She’d be hobbled before she reached the road, bleeding before she found friendlies who’d call her a cab.
Looking over her shoulder, she watched the Ferrari back around, then start her way. Surrender was a bitter pill she wasn’t sure she could swallow.
Adam pulled up alongside, slowing to her speed. “Madeline. Get in the car.” His voice was all business, the Adam LeCroix who’d forced her from her office at gunpoint. And why not? The jig was up. No reason to fake it any longer.
To her disgust, that hurt more than her feet.
She kept walking anyway.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “Let me take you home. You and Lucy can leave as soon as you’d like. Take my plane if you want to, or I’ll book a commercial flight if you’d rather.”
She stopped walking and he stopped the car. She got in without looking at him and they drove out of the racetrack in silence.
Staring out the side window, she tried to put her feelings in order.
Most were familiar to her—anger and humiliation and the blackhearted desire for revenge—but there was pain too, and she didn’t know what to make of it. Centered in her chest, it throbbed along with her heartbeat, jagged and insistent, refusing to be ignored.
It sharpened when she thought about waking that morning, her rump backed up against Adam, his arms wrapped around her. She’d felt warm and snug and . . . safe.
Now she felt sick to her stomach. Hollowed out. Panicky.
It killed her to admit it, but Adam had gotten to her on a personal level. Made her care about him.
Anger rose up to the rescue. Damn it, she’d gotten involved. Fallen for his bullshit—
“Maddie.”
She swiveled to face him. “Don’t. Talk.”
“You can’t stop me.”
She dug in her purse, came out with a nail file and held it to his throat. “Yeah, I can.”
“You won’t do it. It’s a crime.”
“No jury will convict me.”
He gave a rueful smile. “Your conscience would eat you alive.”
“You don’t know me as well as you think,” she ground out, hating that he was right.
“I know you’d blacken my eye given the chance, but you won’t stab my jugular.”
She threw the nail file over her shoulder. It landed on the road, never to be seen again.
She resumed her vigil out the window, glad to see in the side mirror that her cheeks wore red flags. Fury was better than heartbreak.
Oh Jesus. Heartbreak.
That’s what it was. And it was everything she’d imagined, all that she’d shunned. A migraine, the flu, a bad fall down a steep flight of stairs. A hand around the throat, six broken ribs, the worst menstrual cramps in the history of the world.
Adam pulled into a turnout overlooking a breathtaking view. He killed the engine and angled toward her in his seat.
Her throat had narrowed to a slender straw. “You said you’d take me home.”
“I will. But I need to talk to you first.”
“No talking. Drive.” She stared blindly off the overlook.
“Maddie. Darling.”
That brought her head around. “I told you not to darling me!” And he had the stripes across his cheek to prove it.
“I’d like to oblige,” he said, “but you are darling to me.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “I wish it wasn’t so. You’re the last woman I’d imagined feeling this way about.”
The pain in her chest didn’t know whether it was coming or going. She managed a snort. “Quit bullshitting and drive.”
“No, I won’t drive. And don’t bother pretending you’ll walk in those shoes. We’re miles from home, and you’re not foolish enough to take a ride with a stranger.”
Grrr.
“Fine. Spit it
out. Unburden yourself. Lie. Cheat. Steal. I don’t care, just get it over with.”
For a long moment he watched her, his eyes a deeper blue than the sky above him. He hadn’t shaved, and stubble shadowed his jaw. The wind riffled his hair across his brow. She wanted to brush it back with her fingers.
She sat on her hand instead.
He brushed it back himself, frustration in the movement. “This is all new to me,” he said, “and I keep screwing up. I’m not used to screwing up.”
She could take a shot there, but she held her tongue. And her breath. Because she was hanging on his words.
“I’m not inexperienced with women,” he went on, the understatement of the century. “But I can’t put a foot right with you. You’re a minefield, and I keep stepping on them. Hurting you—hurting both of us—without meaning to.”
He laid an arm along her seat, slid his hand into her hair, and shaped it to her scalp. “I’m trying to find out why. Why you’re so sensitive—”
“I’m not sensitive,” she belted out, proving his point. “Okay, I’m sensitive about some things. So why can’t you step off?”
“Because I want to understand you.”
“I’m not that interesting.”
“You’re the most fascinating woman I’ve ever met.”
He was getting to her. She was starting to eat it up.
She did a mental cheek slap. “I’m sure you say that to the legions.”
“I’ve never said it to a soul.” His fingertips stroked. Her nerve endings quivered.
She bucked up. “You brought me into this insurance thing to humiliate me.”
“I brought you into it to put the arm on Hawthorne. But you’re right, at first I took some delight in making you squirm.”
“And you’re still getting off on it. So to speak.”
He smiled. “You see? Until last week, I never knew you had a sense of humor. I never saw it five years ago.”
“You never saw my panties then either.”
“No. But I did see your bra.”
She glared. “Did not.”
“Did too. In that dreary conference room with the buzzing fluorescents. You leaned across the table to shove some particularly damning bit of evidence under my nose, and your blouse gapped. I got an eyeful.”
The Wedding Vow Page 20