by Robin Kaye
“Did it say that in the email?”
“No, I’m only taking this forward to a logical, yet positive, conclusion.” Rich waggled his eyebrows and grinned, but the way Becca looked at him, he might as well have given her the one finger salute.
“Positive for whom?”
Rich pulled the sheet from between her breasts. “Both of us. But you’d better hurry up and tell me what the problem is. We have a lot to do today, after the make-up sex that is.” He unwrapped her like a present, took the coffee out of her hands, and laid her back against the pillows. “You really need to start talking, Becca.”
Her phone rang, and before he could stop her, she grabbed it and checked the caller ID. “It’s Annabelle.” She pulled the sheet around her as if Annabelle would see her as she flipped open her phone.
Becca knew this was coming, and she wasn’t looking forward to the conversation, especially having it with Rich lying beside her. He definitely wasn’t taking the hint that he should leave.
“I was wondering how long it would take for Mike to tell you.”
“Not long. He’s in a state.”
“That’s too bad for him. But Annabelle, I don’t need a keeper.”
“You surprised him, Bec. Give him some time. He’ll be fine. Eventually. You and I are another matter entirely.”
“It’s not like that. Rich and I are just, you know.”
“Having sex? Yeah, I’m familiar with the concept. I’m just shocked. You haven’t had a date in like forever, and now you’re sleeping with my brother?”
“Can we talk about this some other time?”
“He’s there, isn’t he?”
Becca just nodded and handed the phone to Rich. “Hi, Princess. Becca can’t talk right now. We’re in the middle of a quasi-fight. I gotta say though, I’m looking forward to the make-up part.”
Becca couldn’t hear what Annabelle said, but she could imagine it involved a death threat. Mike wasn’t the only one who was idiotically protective.
“Uh huh, sure. She’ll call you later.” Rich flipped the phone shut. “There, I got rid of her.” He turned off her phone and handed it back. “She’s not expecting your call until much later.”
Rich stood and finished off his coffee. “Come on, we’ve wasted enough time, and if we’re going to leave, we better get a move on. It’s a long drive.” He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “We’ll talk in the shower and on the way.”
“Hold on. Where are we going?”
“To pick up your art. Come on Bec.” He tugged the sheet from around her forcing her to pirouette. “You gotta keep up with me, babe. I don’t have all day to explain this stuff. You said yourself we have to get your work out of storage, and today is as good as any. I guess since you’re not talking, the make-up sex is gonna have to wait.”
“I don’t need you—”
He kissed her, silencing her. When he sufficiently scrambled her brain, he smiled. “Of course you don’t need me, but you’ll appreciate my help. I promise.”
Becca let out a frustrated breath. She really hated when he took advantage of her lack of ability to think when he kissed her. It was becoming a habit. He led her, naked, to the bathroom, started the shower, and pulled her in alongside him. She’d never showered with anyone before, well, not since she was two years old, and she and her brother used to bathe together. She didn’t remember it, but she’d seen pictures—not that it counted. What the heck was she supposed to do with this huge hunk of man in a little tub? He pulled her close and spun her directly under the shower. Before she knew it, he’d switched places with her, had shampoo in her hair, and was well into the lather part of lather, rinse, repeat. Only Rich added a massage to his list. “Oh, God that feels good.”
He worked his way down, massaging her neck, shoulders, and back. By the time he turned her around to rinse, she didn’t know if she was more relaxed or turned on. The two had seemed diametrically opposed until now.
Becca wiped the water from her eyes and opened them before grabbing his shampoo. “Your turn.”
“Nope. I’m not finished with you yet.” He picked up the bar of soap and started lathering it in his hands. He pulled her back to his front and began washing her chest.
All the air shot out of her lungs as he teased and pulled on her nipples. His hard sex was cradled in the crack of her buttocks, and his breathing was affected. “Okay, you’d better hurry up, and tell me whatever you need to.”
“Huh?” His hands moved lower, dipping in and out of her bellybutton, sliding down her hips and back again. He might as well have been a nervous sailor the way he avoided the Bermuda triangle.
“Talk to me, Becca.”
She rested the back of her head against his shoulder and arched her back, pressing her bottom against him. “Okay, sure. Where are the condoms?”
“No, baby. Not before we talk.”
“What the hell do you want to talk about?”
“What you meant before when I said a guy who is sleeping with a woman should be willing to deal with her family.”
The pleasantly turned on feeling disappeared with the water down the drain. She turned, looked at him, and shook her head. He put her in a no-win position. “Just because we’re sleeping together doesn’t mean we necessarily need to have a relationship beyond sex.”
“Okay, you’re right. I’ve had sex without a relationship before. But you and I do have a relationship beyond sex, we’re friends, and we’re partners. We’re in this thing together.”
Becca took as large a step back as she could in the tub and eyed him warily.
“You still want Emily to see your work, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then that makes us a team. You and I working together to accomplish a goal.” Rich took her hands and pulled her back against him, under the water.
“Our goals are different.” Becca couldn’t believe how thick Rich was being. He just got shot down, and he still had an erection.
Rich nibbled on her shoulder, moving toward her neck. “Yes, but they are dependent on us working together. Without that, neither of us is going to succeed.”
“But our goals have nothing to do with our sleeping together.”
Rich stepped away, water suddenly hit her back. “Bullshit. We have a relationship, we have sex, we have conversation, we have a lot of things.”
She turned and looked him in the eye. “We’re pretending to have a relationship. There’s a difference.”
“When you agreed to pretend to be my girlfriend, that was true. When you and I made love, all the pretending went right out the window.”
“No it didn’t.”
Rich looked as if his head would explode. “So you’d sleep with anyone?”
She took a deep breath. No need for both of them to lose their tempers. “You know that’s not true.”
“Oh, okay. You don’t sleep with anyone in two years except me, and it doesn’t mean anything.”
Becca raked her bottom teeth against the side of her thumb before she let go of it and pointed it at him. “It doesn’t mean any more than you sleeping with me after just getting dumped by your last girlfriend.”
Rich smiled. “Would you feel better about us if I hadn’t had another girlfriend in two years?”
“Yes.” She looked at him and caught her mistake. “No. I…”
Rich wrapped his arms tightly around her, drawing her close, and kissing her. He made love to her mouth, crowded her against the cold tile, and pressed his erection against her, leaving her squirming.
Rich released her mouth as he picked the condom packet off the shower caddy behind her. “I want you, Becca.” He whispered in that deep gravelly voice that made her melt. “But I only make love to women I’m in relationships with. What’s it gonna be?”
“Sex?” She tried to kiss him back, but he pulled away.
“Don’t split hairs. Either you’re with me, or you’re not.”
She shook her head. “Then no.” She pulle
d the edge of the shower curtain open and got out of the suddenly cold water, grabbed her towel, and ran back to her room.
Chapter 10
“SHIT.” RICH PUT DOWN HIS RAZOR AND DID HIS BEST to blot the blood running down his neck while wondering what the hell he was going to do about Becca. One minute she was hot, wet, and ready, and the next she told him no and climbed out of the shower. “No” was not a word he heard often, and certainly not one he liked.
He tied a towel around his waist as he walked out of the bathroom, and without knocking, opened the closed door into Becca’s room. “You can’t just say ‘no’ and walk out.”
“You’re wrong. I can and I did.” Becca wore her old ratty sweats and was torturing a big hunk of what looked like clay. She slammed it on an old wooden table in the corner of her room, picked it up, and slammed it down again.
Rich took a deep breath, crossed his arms, and leaned against the dresser. “So that’s it. You’re going to ignore everything between us?”
“The only thing between us is a lie.”
“No it’s not, and no matter how much you pretend it is, it’s not going to work. Why don’t you tell me what the hell you’re so afraid of?”
She pushed the rolled sleeves of her faded green sweatshirt higher and pounded on the clay. “Let me get this straight. Just because I don’t fall in line and buy into your little convenient scenario, I’m afraid of something?”
Rich laughed. “Babe, there is nothing convenient about you. Nothing whatsoever. And believe me, if all there was between us was sex, I wouldn’t bother.”
Well, that stopped her. She looked over her shoulder at him and swallowed.
“I’m going to get dressed. If you want to go like you are, that’s fine. But in case you want to change, you better get a move on.”
She checked her wardrobe as if she didn’t remember what she’d thrown on before she took out her anger on that poor defenseless piece of clay.
“Huh?”
“We’re going to pick up whatever art you want to show Emily. Remember?”
“I can do it myself.”
“Right, I’m sure you’ll fit a whole hell of a lot of your work in that little Roadster you buzz around in. Get real.” He turned and walked out, leaving the door open. “You have five minutes.”
Rich refrained from slamming the door and left his open just to tempt her. He muttered to himself while he pulled on his clothes. He found himself muttering a lot since he met Becca. She drove him crazy and not always in a good way, though he had no complaints about the way she drove him crazy last night. No. No complaints at all.
Rich knew what it felt like to pretend. Hell, he spent his life pretending to be the perfect son, pretending to be the perfect professor, and even once or twice pretending to be the interested boyfriend. When it came to Becca, Rich wasn’t pretending, and from her reaction to him, neither was she. There was no pretending incredible sex. Meaningful sex. There was no pretending when it came to making love.
If anyone was pretending anything, it was Becca pretending that it was nothing more than a means to a mutually beneficial end. The hell with that. He’d play along for now, but somehow he’d prove her wrong. He had no idea how he’d do it, but he would. Maybe just being cooped up together for a whole day would do the trick. Since that was about the only thing he could think of, he’d go with it. She was smart. She’d figure it out in time. He just hoped she’d figure it out quickly because this pretending shit was getting really old.
Rich took his phone off the charger and speed-dialed his mother. “Hi Mama. Look, I can’t make it to dinner tomorrow.”
“What do you mean you can’t make it? What are you doing that is so important that you will snub your family?”
Rich sat on the bed and pulled on a sock. “Eh—I’m going to miss Sunday supper. That’s not a snub to the family so don’t break my chops, Ma. I have to help a friend move.”
“So you’ll come by on Monday and pick up your food?”
“No, Ma. I’m good. I started cooking a little for myself.”
“What? You don’t know how to cook. You can’t cook.”
Rich pulled on his boot. “I can too. It’s not rocket science, Ma. Thanks for the offer, but I’m cooking for myself, and I even did a couple loads of laundry.” He didn’t bother telling her that he dyed half of it and incinerated the other.
“You got a girlfriend cooking and cleaning for you. It’s that Becca your sister is so fond of. You’re living in sin with her. Your Aunt Rose said she was staying there—”
“Mama. Stop. I’m not living in sin.” Well, at least not as much as he’d like to be. “But a man’s gotta know how to take care of himself. A very intelligent woman once told me that no matter how wonderful a mother you are, you don’t like doing my laundry.”
Rich expected his mother to deny it and was surprised when she didn’t.
“Richie, you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine, Ma, but I’m running late. I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later in the week. Bye.”
For an SUV, the Highlander was tiny. Rich took up all the space, and even with the sunroof opened, most of the oxygen. Becca opened the book she brought along, pretended to read, and did her best to ignore him. It wasn’t working, but she wasn’t about to share that little tidbit.
Rich cleared his throat. “Do you want to tell me where we’re going? I’m heading in the general direction of Philadelphia, but it would help if I had an exact location.” He took the GPS off its stand and tossed it into her lap. “If you’re afraid to speak to me, you can just punch in the address.”
“I’m not afraid to speak to you. I choose not to.”
He turned on the radio, and the song they’d danced to last night filled the car. She switched the station. He raised an eyebrow and switched it back. “My car, my tunes.”
Becca punched the address of her father’s house into the GPS, handed it back to him, reopened her book, and turned as much as possible to face the window trying to ignore him.
The ride seemed interminable. She concentrated on turning the pages of her book even though she hadn’t read a word. By the time they pulled into the driveway, she was ready to scream.
She directed him through the estate, past the stables, the pond, the greenhouses, and several servants’ houses to the main house. She was out of the car before he killed the engine.
Rich took his time peering through the windshield at the mansion. She remembered Annabelle’s first reaction, sure Rich had no doubt been exposed to more than his sister, but she doubted he’d seen anything quite like it. She always referred to it as the living mausoleum. When he climbed out of the car, he surprised her when he didn’t say a word. He just followed her up the steps to the front door.
When Becca stepped inside, Madge, who had been their cook since Becca and Chip were in diapers, came running toward her and enveloped her in a hug.
“Becca, why didn’t you call to say you were coming? I would have cooked something special.” Without letting go of Becca she eyed Rich. “And who might you be?”
Rich held out his hand, or at least Becca thought he did, since Madge reached around Becca, and it felt as if Madge was shaking hands.
“Rich Ronaldi. I’m Becca’s—”
Becca pushed out of Madge’s forceful hug. “Roommate.”
Rich nodded. “Right.”
It didn’t sound as if Rich believed it. The way Madge eyed him told Becca she didn’t believe it either. Great. There was nothing worse than Madge when she thought Becca kept something from her. Madge could give Rich’s Aunt Rose a run for her money when it came to knowing stuff.
“Rich is Annabelle’s brother, and through no fault of our own, we got stuck sharing an apartment until the renovations are done with mine, so stop looking at me like that.”
Madge smiled. “Oh, I see how it is.”
Becca rolled her eyes. “No you don’t. Rich and I are here to pick up some of my work. He has a big car, and I don�
�t. We won’t be staying for dinner.”
Madge smiled at Rich and nodded. “Yes, Ms. Becca. Whatever you say.” She turned to Rich. “So, it looks as if you’re just a delivery boy.”
Rich smiled back. “Yes, ma’am. It looks that way, doesn’t it?”
“Madge, we’re just going to get a few pieces, and we’ll be out of your way.”
Madge tsked. “You’d better call your father. I’m sure he’d like to see you.”
Becca forced herself to smile. “I will.” She reached over and gave Madge another hug and kissed her cheek. “We’ll be down in a little while.”
Becca was halfway up the main staircase before she looked back to find Rich hadn’t followed. He was kibitzing with Madge, which was exactly what Becca wanted to avoid. “Rich, are you coming?”
He winked at Madge and took the steps two at a time. “Ah, right. We’re pretending I’m a delivery boy now. You’ll have to tell me when we start pretending something else so I can follow along.”
Becca ignored him and kept walking.
The only thing keeping Rich from gawking at the crystal chandelier and the hand-carved woodwork and the massiveness of the place was that he was too busy gawking at the way Becca’s ass looked in the jeans she’d changed into. He thanked God that she did have a few pieces of clothing that actually fit her rather spectacular body that, for some reason he’d yet to discover, she worked so hard to hide. He followed her up the stairs to the third floor and down a long hallway. He waited for her to open one of the closed doors they passed, but she strode to the end and then up another set of stairs. These stairs weren’t as wide and not carpeted. They curved like the steps into an old basement, only they led to the fourth floor.
“These are the servants’ stairs. Not that the servants live up here anymore. All of them have their own homes on the estate, but old service quarters make great playrooms and storage rooms. Chip and I ruled up here.”