Solving for Nic (Self Made Men...Southern Style Book 2)

by Lexxi Callahan

She leaned into him. “I can’t let you buy me clothes.”

  Nic blinked. This wasn’t a false protest. She really didn’t want him to spend money on her. He’d never met anyone like Lizzie before. His former girlfriends, his stepmother and even his sister walked into his resorts and charged whatever they wanted to him. He never saw the bills. Pam took care of those details. It had never occurred to him she wouldn’t expect him to pay the bill. Most people in his life treated him like an open line of credit.

  Fascinated by her concern, he leaned down, rubbing his face along her cheek until his mouth was close to her ear. “I kidnapped you remember? You have to do what I say until I let you go.”

  Her face dissolved into laughter. The sound filled his chest until he couldn’t breathe. Radiant now, she smiled from ear to ear as she…blushed. He wasn’t used to the soft sweep of color or the way it made his lower body turn to stone while the rest of him felt so light he might float away.

  He felt her breath on his cheek. “My dad will kill me.”

  “Then we won’t tell him.”

  “Is this what you do with your women, Nic? Bring them for facials, buy them expensive clothes and—”

  “I’ve never brought a woman here.” It was out of his mouth before he could stop it. Something about her disconnected his brain from his common sense. “Key Largo is my sanctuary. I don’t even let Pam come down here.”

  Her lips parted again and she gave a smile of surrender. “Since I have no choice…”

  “Lizzie, you always have a choice, but it’s okay to choose to have fun occasionally. So, shop.” He squeezed her hand before letting it go. “Enjoy yourself. If you want to pay me back you can write me a check later.”

  Her expression narrowed on him as she tilted her face. “Will you cash the check?”

  “No.” He choked on laughter then turned her toward the large display across the room. “Did I mention the shoes?”

  It was like a choir of angels sang ahhh and a light shone straight down onto a pair of crystal encrusted Jimmy Choos. “You’re cheating.” She pouted.

  “Pick some things out and you can donate them when you’re done with them.”

  “I will never be done with those shoes.” She sighed. “If they fit, I don’t think I’ll ever take them off.”

  “Take a chance, Cinderella.”

  She glanced back at him, kissing him lightly on the cheek. “You’re a bad influence, Nic Maretti.”

  “Good. Now have fun, I’ll be in the executive office if you need me. Have someone call me when you’re finished.”

  Nic kissed her again. So sweet. He would never get enough. Reluctantly, he raised his head. “Bad, Nic,” she whispered and kissed him before he could step back.

  When he did step back, he couldn’t breathe. He was drunk on the way she smelled, how soft her skin was, and the way her hair felt in his hands. He ached to sink himself into all that softness again and see her expression when he did. He couldn’t remember ever wanting anything so much.

  On the way to his office, he caught himself before he started whistling. Hell, he didn’t know how to whistle and he wasn’t about to learn. All these emotions ping ponging inside him were starting to take their toll. He reminded himself why she was here in the first place. He wanted another night with her, wanted her out of the way to give his sister a chance at saving her marriage. It was a bonus she was enjoying herself. It made things easier.

  He passed the lounge and decided there was no rush to inspect the offices he knew would be perfect. This resort was one of his top three. The bar was mostly empty and the bartender straightened from watching a rugby game on the widescreen mounted above the bar.

  “Mr. Maretti.”

  Nic held up his hand before sliding onto a barstool. “You get straight A’s for watching a real ball game.”

  The younger man relaxed and started mixing a rum and coke before Nic could ask for it. David had been busy since they’d walked into the hotel. The drink was perfect, the day was gorgeous, and the game was good. He couldn’t focus on any of it. He groaned in relief when his cell phone started playing “Lady in Red.”

  Angie had programmed the ringtone in too, one last feeble attempt to match-make the unmatchable. He’d known Madlyn Robicheaux longer than he’d known Pam. They’d been thrown together a lot as kids by their families hoping to encourage a bond between them that would be a consolidation of power between their two families. They’d bonded all right. Their mutual hatred for the men who raised them and tried to manipulate them had made them close friends very quickly.

  “Madlyn, did you find a new office yet or are you ready to come work with me?”

  “We swore never to do anything that would make your father or my grandfather happy. At least not on purpose.”

  “True.” Nic sighed. “They get in enough trouble on their own.”

  “Your amazon gets territorial when I’m around.”

  “Pam? Territorial?”

  Madlyn sounded bored. “I guess I threaten her.”

  “You threaten everyone.”

  “What can I say? I’m the Red Queen. Besides, I’m not leaving New Orleans until I get custody of Robbie.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem with your grandfather in jail.”

  “Oh.” She laughed bitterly. “Haven’t you seen the news? Andreas Maretti posted bond for him. How thoughtful, but really, he shouldn’t have. The networks are having a field day.”

  Nic swallowed down the sudden rush of anger. Madlyn had been trying for eight years to get custody of her son from her grandfather. Winston Robicheaux was one of the most corrupt judges in Louisiana. He had powerful friends who owed him lots of favors and it was next to impossible to get the old man to do anything unless he wanted to. Now, since he’d been arrested on corruption charges, Madlyn had her first real chance of getting custody back.

  Nic hadn’t given Andreas the money so he could let a rabid dog out of jail. “Are you sure you don’t want the seat on the board?”

  “Not yet.” She sighed. “It’s not your fault, Nic. You couldn’t let all those people lose their jobs. I get it.”

  “I should have seen it coming and made it a condition of the deal.”

  “You and I both know my grandfather would have found a way to get the money from your father. Besides, you’ve been distracted. Or is Lizzie Sellers not in Key Largo with you?”

  Nic almost spit out a mouthful of rum and coke. “Excuse me?”

  “Is she down there or not?”

  “How do you know she’s with me?”

  “Doesn’t matter. She’s supposed to be in school. As soon as Mac Sellers realizes where she is, he’ll be down there with a shotgun and a priest.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Think about who you’re dealing with. Do you think logic applies?”

  He'd known Mac Sellers a long time. He could be a scary bastard, but Nic wasn't worried. “I’m the last person he wants for a son-in-law, Madlyn. Especially when he finds out Andreas bailed out Judge Robicheaux. Sellers is still furious with him about the Volikovneft deal.”

  “Yes, but you saved the deal from falling apart, didn’t you?”

  “I might have tipped them off, but Stefan did all the saving.”

  “Yes, Stefan has the whole white knight thing down to a science. You’ll find out first hand when he decides he needs to save his sister from you.”

  “Stefan owes me and besides, Lizzie is having fun. Tanning, shopping, the spa thing…”

  “She’s too young for you, Nic. She’s way too sheltered and won’t understand how things work with you. You sleep with her and she’ll think there’s a future involved.”

  There was a weird warm spark somewhere in his chest and for a moment Nic couldn't breathe. He downed the rest of his drink, the ice chinking against the glass. He waved his glass at the bartender, ignoring the younger man's surprise. “Less soda this time.”

  “Nic, do yourself a favor and put her on the next f
light out.”

  “This is the part where you butt out.”

  “Fine, be an idiot. You could do worse than Lizzie.”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “What? Are you saying Lizzie is different?”

  Nic opened his mouth to deny it but nothing happened.

  Madlyn sighed. “You’ll break her heart, Nic, then you’ll beat yourself up for it. I know you, remember? Put her on a plane.”

  “Maybe she’ll break my heart,” he suggested, sipping the fresh drink.

  “Do you still have one?”

  “Do you?”

  “No. I had it removed years ago.”

  She was lying. Her heart had been ripped out when her fiancé had been killed in a car accident about ten years ago leaving her alone, pregnant and at the mercy of her narcissistic grandfather.

  “Did Angie tell you Lizzie was with me?” he asked, changing the subject. “And don’t start with that privilege excuse. You’re my attorney.”

  “Yes, she called this morning. Apparently the divorce is off again.”

  Relief swept over him. The last thing he wanted was Angie getting divorced because then she would run back to Daddy. Nic didn’t want Andreas Maretti having any more influence over his nephew than he did now. Whatever other problems they were having, Rogan was a good father and adored his son. Zachary was a beautiful, thriving little boy. Andreas could end that with a few cutting words. Nic wasn’t going to let that happen. “I hope it sticks this time.”

  “Be careful, Nic. Lizzie isn’t what—”

  “Why do you care, Madlyn? After what the Sellers family has put you through, you should be encouraging me to break her heart.”

  It was silent on the other end. He was afraid he’d dropped the call. “Maddie?”

  “Forget I said anything. I called you because I need you to stop your father from bankrolling my grandfather. In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never asked you for anything, but I need you to do this.”

  “I’ll make a call.”

  “Thank you.”

  “If you need—”

  “I don’t.”

  She ended the call before he could. He stared at his phone for a long time before sending Pam a text asking her to check on the money Andreas was sending to Winston Robicheaux. If the old man was sending company money, Nic was not going to be responsible for what happened next. He’d had enough of Andreas Maretti.

  His team scored and the roar of the crowd on the television distracted him. He stared at the game but couldn’t focus. Madlyn was right. He should put Lizzie on a plane before this got out of control.

  He wasn’t sure how when all he could think about was how sweet Lizzie tasted. He stared at his drink and contemplated the ice cubes as they chinked against the sides of the glass as he moved it slowly back and forth.

  He shifted in the seat. Bringing her here had been a mistake. If Angie was calling the divorce off, there was no reason to keep her here at all. He'd take her to dinner. The resort had a great restaurant right out on the beach. Then he’d take her back tomorrow. No harm. No foul.

  His glass hit the bar too hard. He glanced at the bartender. “Scotch this time, neat.”

  He should take her home. To New Orleans.

  He wasn’t going to.

  Chapter Eight

  A few hours, a facial, a sea salt scrub, a mani/pedi and a massage later, Lizzie didn’t think it was possible to be any more relaxed. The girl at the salon had wanted to flat iron her hair but Lizzie wouldn’t let her. Nic wouldn’t like it. Then she realized she was making decisions about her appearance based on what she believed Nic would like and that really freaked her out. She was supposed to be getting Nic out of her system, not more entrenched.

  She told herself she picked out the blue-green dress because it matched her eyes. She glanced down at the five inch surprisingly comfortable heels. A thin strip of leather encrusted with crystals crossed over her freshly painted toes and swirled up to wide cuffs covered with more crystals as they closed around her ankles. She should never have tried them on but it was too late now.

  A girl never forgot her first pair of Jimmy Choos.

  She reassured herself that the dress was not too short. At five three, dresses were always too long for her. This boutique specialized in ultra mini dresses designed for clubbing. She’d never worn anything so short before but when she paired the dress with the shoes, it gave her the illusion of long legs. She couldn’t seem to take the outfit off. She didn’t recognize herself. The plain, pale math major was long gone and the pretty but ditzy party girl who stared back at her was up to no good.

  Perfect. She could be this girl for a week.

  It would be like a mental vacation. She could worry about shoes, toenail polish and perfecting her tan. No functions, and calculations, or trying to prove that prime numbers could reveal the secrets of the universe…even if the answer to the universe wasn’t a prime number. No creepy professor making her feel like a complete failure. She shivered, stuffing Hatton back past the barrier of this week. This week was fun and sun and kissing. Lots and lots of kissing. Whatever was left of her when the week was over, could worry about the universe.

  There was a sharp tap on the dressing room door and Nic walked in before she could respond. She spun around as he shut the door behind him, turned and stopped. Stunned, he didn’t move but his eyes swept over her with an intensity that lit small fires under her skin. He locked the door without taking his eyes off her. “Lizzie, you look…amazing.”

  Warm color brushed her cheeks. “You don’t think it’s too short?”

  His eyes slid slowly up and down as he approached. “No, it’s perfect. Keep it on. We’re having dinner.”

  When he reached her, he surprised her by turning her toward her reflection. His eyes met hers in the mirror, then he leaned down to kiss the curve of her neck. Her eyes drifted shut and she leaned back into him, tilting her head to give him better access.

  Warm fingers slipped into the draped opening at the back of the dress. She shivered as they traced over her rib cage to tease at the slight curve of her bare breasts. He stepped closer, his chest supporting her head so she could see them both in the mirror. She watched, fascinated, as his hand teased her under the soft layers of chiffon. Her nipples beaded into hard points that showed under the multiple layers of thin fabric. Color burned across her cheeks. He was watching her watch his hand.

  “Soft.” He breathed the words against the back of her neck, making the soft hairs dance. “So...”

  “Small?” she inserted, completing his sentence, trying to break whatever spell he was casting. She'd seen the women he dated. She was nothing like them.

  “You know better.” His hand cupped the modest weight, his thumb teasing the tip. “You're perfect.”

  She melted into him. She was a sucker for flattery. Who knew?

  Flattery from Nic was deadly, the sincerity behind it burned her alive.

  Her eyes fluttered shut and her skin ached as he continued to tease her. He pulled her back tighter against his chest, and his fingers skimmed along her thigh easing the hem of the too- short dress higher. She stopped breathing as those fingertips teased the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. She caught his wrist when he reached the edge of the lace boy shorts, but she wasn’t able to stop the lazy glide of his fingers across her skin. Or the release of liquid heat deep inside her.

  “No, someone might come in.” She gasped the words out, appalled at herself for being more concerned about getting caught than stopping him.

  “The door’s locked.”

  His fingers slipped inside the lace and her lungs stopped working. Electricity charged the liquid heat building in her and shock burned down her arms. He wouldn’t. Not here. He couldn’t.

  He did.

  Her mind and body went white hot.

  He groaned against her neck as he stroked her. “Lizzie, you’re drenched.”

  Blood scorched her cheeks
and she tried to wrench away from him. The hand on her breast moved down to flatten against her abdomen. He wasn’t going to let her go. The burn inside of her turned molten. Any minute now she would vaporize.

  “I missed this,” he whispered, as long fingers stroked deeper. His other hand smoothed down her belly, then around her until his arm was a tight a band across her, keeping her from sliding to the ground. “Open your eyes.”

  She struggled to process what was happening. Her knees threatened to buckle. Bones melted away. The crisp hair on his arm teased the sensitive skin on the underside of her breast. Was it possible to panic and die of pleasure at the same time? She was about to find out.

  “Open your eyes,” he repeated, the edge back in his voice, making her do things she couldn’t admit she wanted to do. “Open them.”

  Her eyes opened and shock lanced through her. His arm was through her dress and his dark hand was lost in the scrap of lace. Lizzie’s skin froze, melted, then froze again. Feeling his hands on her was one thing. Seeing it, seeing him and the hunger in his eyes, well… it was too much.

  “I can’t.” She turned her face away, shutting out the overwhelmingly erotic image.

  “Look or I’ll stop.” His teeth grazed across her shoulder, his fingers ruthlessly demonstrating what she had to lose.

  “Nic, please.” She was begging now. She didn't know what she was begging him for. Not to make her watch? Not to keep turning her into this person she didn't know? Not to stop?

  If he stopped, she would die.

  He increased the pressure and rolled his fingers against her until she couldn't breathe. She gasped without making a sound, still unable to comprehend that anything could feel so good. His fingers continued until she coiled tight enough to break.

  Then he stopped, dangling her over the edge. She writhed against his hand but it wasn't the same and she died as the gruff laughter warmed the skin of her neck. Was he punishing her?

  “Look in the mirror, bella. See what I see. Just for a second. Look.” The last word was a definite command. It overrode all the embarrassment keeping her eyes clamped shut.

  She opened her eyes again but didn’t recognize the girl locked possessively in his arms. That couldn’t possibly be her.