“Or?”
He turned to her. With a shiver, she realized perhaps Aisha wasn’t too off base in her estimation. He did look hungry. The tiger was back. “Or,” he said in a deep rumble, picking up her hand and pressing a kiss in her palm, “we go to my place.”
Heat instantly pooled between her legs. “You weren’t kidding about this being a real marriage.”
He shook his head, his blue gaze watching her closely. “No. But as I said, up to you.” His thumb gently caressed the back of her hand, drawing lazy circles. Her breasts ached to have the same attention paid to them.
He was hers now. Well, legally, and for as long as the contract was in effect. This may be a business arrangement, but she’d agreed because of the perks that went with it. Like a naked Luke Dallas, tangled in sweaty sheets, about to ensure his prowess would leave her unable to see straight. She smiled and let her hand settle on his thigh. “Do you have champagne at home?”
His blue gaze turned indigo dark. “On ice.”
She leaned her torso toward him until their mouths almost touched. “I’m in the mood. For champagne,” she whispered against his lips.
He raised his hands and tangled them in her hair. “So am I. But not for champagne.” Then he kissed her, insistent, demanding, thoroughly ravaging her mouth until stars pinwheeled around her. She whimpered, irrationally angry at the center console that separated their seats, and he broke away, his breathing heavy. He put the car into drive and they sped out of the parking lot.
This—the way she instantly flared into flame at his touch, the taunt excitement that tortured and pleased them both—would be enough. She could make it be enough. She wouldn’t have love, but she would have passion. She could be happy with that, for the duration of their time together.
Or so she told herself.
* * *
Danica put down the phone, happy to finish her conversation with her parents and Matt. Then she felt guilty for being happy. True to his word, Luke had paid Danica her promised fee plus bonus the day after the wedding, and she’d sent it to her family. Knowing she secured their house for the time being had been almost enough to make up for the twinges of conscience that had come with announcing her marriage to Luke. Her parents had been shocked she’d wed a man they hadn’t met, and she’d finally gotten out of that discussion by promising she and Luke would visit them as soon as Matt, whose recovery still moved too slowly, felt up to it. The weekly conversations since had been still a bit awkward, but so far she’d managed to answer their questions to their satisfaction.
She opened a file on her computer. Since the wedding, life had settled into something resembling a routine, if routine could ever be a word applied to life with Luke Dallas. Luke still needed a director to run Ruby Hawk’s community outreach, and Danica had several new candidates to interview. She also had to finish a report on the charitable causes the foundation could support, as Luke wanted Ruby Hawk’s technology to be involved.
What she should be doing, however, was concentrating on her business plan for her own executive-search company. She wouldn’t be at Ruby Hawk forever.
But facing up to that reality meant facing up to her inevitable parting from Luke. When she’d agreed to marry Luke, she’d known sex with him could be mind-blowing fun. She’d had no idea their first night only scratched the surface of the erotic gratification in store.
When work hours were over and they were alone...she shivered, her mind filled with images from the night before. His mouth, hot, plundering, exploring every inch of her skin, his tongue taking her to heights she didn’t know existed before she shattered into mindless shards. She never imagined—
As if her thoughts conjured him up, he walked into her office, his head down as he read something on his smartphone. Her heart gave a skip and a hop, noting the way his tailored shirt hugged his chest, skimmed over the six-pack of abs she knew was underneath. It would be the work of only a few buttons and her hands could glide over his skin...
He stopped in front of her desk. “Did you put together this proposal for using Ruby Hawk’s technology to make youth sports leagues safer?” he asked.
Ah. He was in work mode. She’d have to save those thoughts until that night. “Is there something wrong?”
“Not at all. It’s good.” He put the phone in his pocket and sat on the edge of her desk. “Why didn’t you say you were passionate about injuries in youth sports? Did you play?”
“Me?” She laughed. “I’m the proverbial wrong-way kid. My first soccer game, I kicked two goals for the other team. I’m much better at providing moral support.”
“But you must have some knowledge. This is a very persuasive proposal. You obviously care deeply about the subject.”
She wasn’t sure if she wanted Luke to probe into her personal life. They were married but their intimacy was strictly physical. The one area she could keep separate from him was her family. If she let him in, all the way, she might not have the strength to walk away when their contract ended. She chewed on her lower lip.
“I’ve done a lot of reading about concussions and their effect on the brain. Don’t get me wrong—involvement in team sports is beneficial. But Ruby Tech has an opportunity to put sensors using its biofeedback algorithms into equipment to make it safer.”
He nodded. “The proposal is very clear on those points. You should talk to one of the lead engineers, however. It’s hazy when it comes to tech specs.”
“See?” She smiled. “I knew there was something wrong with it.”
He got up from her desk and started for the door, allowing her to admire his perfect rear end in action. But instead of exiting he turned around to face her. “This is a good proposal. Stop selling yourself short.”
A tendril of exasperation curled up her spine. “I don’t.”
“You do. You could be the foundation director if you wanted.”
“I like recruitment.”
“You could do more.”
This felt like caring, coming from him. But it wasn’t. She was merely a convenient means to an end. That the sex curled all their toes was just the cherry on this sundae. She had to keep reminding herself. “I’m good at what I do.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t. I said you could do more. Make a difference.”
“Search does make a difference. I find people good jobs.”
“I’m giving you a compliment.”
“And I said thank you.”
“I—” His phone rang, much to Danica’s relief. She watched him take it out of his pocket and answer it. Then she watched a shutter fall over his expression, turning it blank and emotionless. “Yes... No... Yes...” he said at different intervals. Then he hung up and turned to leave her office. His movements were rigid, his shoulders held tight.
Her anger was doused, replaced by concern. She got up from her chair and blocked him from exiting. “Who was on the phone?”
“No one,” he said. “I’ll see you at home tonight.”
She narrowed her gaze. “What’s wrong? Cinco Jackson? Nestor? Irene?” The last name tasted like vinegar on her lips.
Irene had been friendly—too friendly. Every day brought a new invitation: lunch, a shopping trip, tickets to a charity event, seats at the San Francisco Symphony. Danica finally attended a tea to benefit a local women’s shelter. Much to her surprise, Danica enjoyed herself. Irene was friendly and very charming. No wonder Luke had had an off-and-on “benefits” relationship with her.
He shook his head as if trying to shoo off a winged insect. “An appointment I thought would be cancelled.”
The phone screen in his hand was flashing. “You’re getting another phone call.”
He cursed under his breath. Then he answered. “What? I just hung up with her... I said I would be there... No... I said, no.” His index finger punched End, but not before Danica saw the caller ID. Jonathan Dal
las.
“Family?” she asked.
“My father,” he agreed.
“That’s the appointment?” She knew Luke’s father had retired to West Palm Beach, Florida, while his mother and her current husband traveled between their homes in San Francisco, Paris and Cape Town. “Is he in town? Should we invite him over for dinner?”
His mouth twisted. “Hell, no. Lunch on neutral ground is bad enough. They’re suggesting we meet in Half Moon Bay. Driving over the mountains in the middle of a work day is supposed to be convenient for me.”
His phone rang again. This time the caller ID read Phoebe Ailes. Luke hit a button and the ringing stopped. He put the phone in his pocket and regarded Danica. “You should consider taking the foundation job.”
Nice try. She wasn’t biting. “If your parents are in town, why haven’t I met them?”
“You’re being nosy.” It was not a compliment.
“I’m always nosy. It’s what I do. I pry into people’s lives so I can find the right employment fit.”
“I have a job. To which I need to get back.” His words were reinforced with steel.
She sighed and stepped aside. “Fine. But if you want to talk about your family, I’m here.”
“I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Especially not on you.” He opened the door.
Danica was no stranger to Luke’s moods. He could be cold, dictatorial even, when people tried to cross him. But when the discussions were reasonable or philosophical, he was thoughtful, witty even. In their bed, he could be tender—so tender it caused her heart to ache with a longing she didn’t dare dwell on.
Right now he looked bruised. She never thought Luke could be hurt by others, much less his own parents. She couldn’t imagine not cherishing family and being cherished by them in return. The realization punctured her heart.
“I want to go to lunch with you.”
He blinked. She felt a momentary burst of pride. It took a lot to surprise him.
“No, you don’t.” His tone was final.
“Yes, I do.” No, she didn’t. She was scared spitless. And it meant canceling her appointment to look at a promising commercial real-estate site for her agency. But his parents were another piece to the puzzle that was Luke.
“Are you sure? The reason for the lunch is they heard about the marriage.” He grimaced. “Not from me.”
“You didn’t—” Her mouth snapped shut and she took three deep breaths. “Why wouldn’t you tell them about me? It’s not like it’s a real marriage.”
“It’s not that. I didn’t tell them because...” He shrugged. “Because in the bigger scheme, they didn’t need to know.”
She silently counted to ten. “Of course, they need to know if you’re married! You’re their son.”
“The only concerns my parents have about my marriage are how much value you bring to the family coffers and/or how much it will take to buy you off when necessary. I was hoping to avoid the confrontation.”
Now it was her turn to blink. “You’re kidding.”
“No. You sure you want to come to lunch?” He obviously expected her to say no.
He forgot she was the one who bet all her money on a turn of the roulette wheel. “I need to meet them at some point. After all, we’re married, even if there is an expiration date.”
“It’s your funeral.”
“Oh, come on.” She smoothed faint wrinkles from the shoulders of his shirt. “It can’t be that bad.”
* * *
It was, exactly, that bad. Danica and Luke arrived at the upscale bistro at one o’clock on the dot, thanks to Luke’s sports car. She gripped the armrest the entire way as he sped along the twisty mountain roads he took to avoid the traffic on the freeways. She was still recovering from the last switchback he took while overtaking another vehicle.
“Feeling better?” Luke asked.
“Save your concern for the driver of the minivan we passed. I think you took ten years off that man’s life.” She smoothed back escaped tendrils of hair. They bounced back to framing her face as soon as her hand fell to her side. Luke reached out and twisted a curl around his finger.
“I prefer it down.” The rumble of his voice and the stroke of his thumb on her cheek nearly took her knees out. Luckily for her, the hostess returned with a wide smile on her face.
“I’ll take you to the rest of your party.” The hostess beckoned, and Luke reached out for Danica’s hand without looking at her. The automatic gesture caused her to smile. She was still smiling when they arrived at the secluded patio table set for four. Two of the chairs were occupied, but the occupants were busy staring at their phones.
Luke cleared his throat. His grip on her hand tightened.
The older man, who had to be Luke’s father, looked up. “Well, hello there! Glad to see both of you,” he said with a cheery smile. “I’m Jonathan.”
“This is—” Luke began.
“We know who she is,” the older woman said, still staring at her phone. “Just not from you.” Luke’s mother was blonde and fair skinned, but Danica couldn’t discern any other distinguishing features thanks to the oversize sunglasses dominating her face.
“This is Danica,” Luke finished. “Danica, my parents. Jonathan Dallas and Phoebe Ailes.” He tightened his grip on her hand. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he breathed into her ear.
Danica nudged him sharply with her elbow and then removed her hand to hold it out to his mother. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Ailes.”
Luke’s mother looked up from her phone screen at the proffered hand, gave it one firm pump and let it go in favor of returning to her device. “Likewise,” she said, not a flicker of emotion on her expression. Her sunglasses remained on.
Luke pulled out the empty chair next to his father for Danica and helped her into it. “Call her Phoebe,” he said. “I do.”
His father reached for Danica’s hand and carried it to his lips. “Very charmed to meet such a lovely lady,” Jonathan said after slowly releasing her fingers.
“Thank you.” Danica smiled at Luke’s father. He was a remarkably handsome man. But there wasn’t much of a resemblance between father and son. Jonathan was Teflon slick, from his carefully coiffed salt-and-pepper hair to his impeccably manicured nails. Nor did Danica see much of Phoebe in Luke. His mother resembled a diamond, all polished and glittering surfaces, from her caramel-streaked hair shining like a helmet in the sun to the heavy gold chains wrapped around her neck and wrists.
Luke consisted of rough edges and dangerous angles. His dark hair was tousled, a sure signal he had run his hands through it more than once, his heavy brows drawn together. That was fine with Danica. She preferred the brooding man of the moors to his magazine-glossy parents.
“So.” Phoebe finally put down the phone. “This is a surprise. Luke said you were too busy to join us. Danielle, is it?”
“Danica.” Luke took the seat next to his mother and across from Danica. His loafer-clad foot nudged hers. “You know her name. And she cleared her schedule for this, so be nice.”
His mother waved him off. “Perhaps if you had told us you were married, instead of leaving us to find out from Irene Stavros of all people, I would be better acquainted with my new daughter-in-law’s name.”
Danica shot a look at Luke.
Luke shook his head, once. His loafer nudged her ballet-slipper flats under the table again, and then he cleared his throat. “Few people knew about the wedding. Danica and I decided we wanted something quiet and private.”
Luke’s mother huffed and launched into a rejoinder, but Danica didn’t hear her. Of course Irene told Luke’s parents. Wasn’t the reason Luke needed to find a wife because of the Stavros-Dallas feud? They belonged to the same world of high finance and cutthroat business deals, private jets and unlimited bank accounts. While she...she was just a temporary interlo
per. With a temporary contract.
“Is something wrong, dear?” Phoebe’s eyebrows rose above the rim of her sunglasses.
“Not a thing,” Danica said, flipping open her menu and running her gaze down the page. “What is everyone having? I can’t decide.”
“You’re so pale.” Phoebe’s tone shifted, turning so sweet it could be used to trap wasps. “You’re not...queasy, I hope? Or faint?”
“No. I’m fine.” Aside from the fact that meeting Phoebe and Jonathan thrust Danica’s sham arrangement into the light, exposing shady corners she purposefully tried to avoid.
Luke snapped his menu open. “The ceviche here is good,” he said to Danica. “You’d like it. Raw fish, no spice.”
“Raw fish? I don’t think that’s advisable,” Phoebe said. “Perhaps the petit filet mignon, although of course one needs to be careful of listeria.”
“Listeria?” Danica raised her eyebrows at Luke. “Is that like mad cow or E. coli?”
“She’s not pregnant, Phoebe.” Luke turned to Danica. “Listeria is a food-based bacterium that can cause serious health issues during pregnancy. Care to split the ceviche as an appetizer?”
“How do you know that?” Danica asked Luke.
“Ordering meals with Anjuli when she was pregnant with her twins,” Luke answered. “Maybe you should get your own ceviche. I know how much you like your fish.”
Phoebe cleared her throat. Danica and Luke turned to look at her. “If she’s not pregnant, then why did you rush into marriage?” She took her sunglasses off, revealing piercing dark blue eyes. They seemed to be the only feature her son inherited. But while Luke’s gaze could be cold and distant, it was never as icy as the arctic blast directed at Danica.
“Define ‘rush,’” Luke answered. “How do you feel about lobster rolls as a main course?” he asked Danica. “This place is famous for them.”
“Wait—you think I’m pregnant?” Danica blinked several times in Phoebe’s direction, struggling to wrap her mind around the question. Sure, she and Luke frequently engaged in the activity required for creating a child, but even if she were pregnant—and she wasn’t—she would barely be aware of it herself. A chuckle escaped her lips as she turned to face Luke. “Is this a question every woman you bring to meet your parents receives, or just me?”
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