Again with the stupid Mr. B. “What? Why not?”
“I have my life in Austin. My sister and niece live with me, and I help Mom with everything. My mother acts tough, but she has all kinds of stress-related issues. She’s had an ulcer in the past year, her blood pressure needs monitoring, and at the rate she works, I don’t think things will get any better.”
He thrust his fingers in his hair. “I’m sorry about your mother. I truly am.” He had never met her mother but assumed she had to be a special person for raising such a caring daughter. “Just consider, though. I’ll give you a worthy raise, and you can continue to help them any way you want. Your mother will get the best medical care; I will make sure of it. Plus, think about all the experiences you can have in the city. This is not the kind of opportunity people say no to.”
Of course, asking for her instant acquiescence was maybe too much.
Alice chewed on her bottom lip as she entertained the idea. “There’s more to it. My sister is bipolar, and sometimes she can’t even take my niece to school. Who knows when she’ll disappear for a few days again? I don’t know if you are familiar with the disease, but she gets overwhelmed easily and has mood swings. She has energy-sucking episodes. I can’t just run away and leave my mother to deal with it all herself. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“Is sacrificing a better opportunity for yourself fair?”
“A better opportunity for myself or for you? I thought coming here would mean job security, and I just learned it’s the exact opposite.”
He put his hands in his hair, his fingers clenching the strands as if he could extract a solution. Anything to take the pain from her voice. “I’m sorry.” A sigh fled from his mouth. What was it with him and women? Some way or another, he was always apologizing. He’d apologized all through his doomed marriage, and now to the only woman he hadn’t literally screwed but felt like he had. Especially because one look at her kissable lips and the way the wind messed her hair, and all he wanted was to have sex with her, have those legs wrapped around him, plunge inside her wetness, nip her big breasts, and explode.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” she said, raising her voice. She shook her head, then lifted her hands in midair as if trying to keep composure and talk herself out of whatever she really wanted to scream at him. “Sorry is not enough. I’ve just learned that it’s only a matter of time until I’m out the door. Do you have any idea what this means to me?” she asked with glossy eyes and trembling lips.
Shit. The last thing he wanted was to upset her like that. Or to make her cry.
“My world, that wasn’t stable to begin with, just exploded. And you say you’re sorry? You aren’t really encouraging me to go the extra mile in assisting you to nail this deal, especially when I know I’ll be jobless when we get back to Austin.”
What was she saying? Could she use the New York move against him? A shiver zapped down his spine. Nope. He wasn’t going to let her ruin his plans. His career. His life. “You don’t have a choice.”
Anger lit her eyes. “Why not? I told you I would come and pretend to be your fake fiancée. I have. But don’t expect me to keep peppering in lies about our fairy-tale life as a couple. Not when I’m really mad at you for misleading me.”
“If you dare sabotage things to get back at me, trust me, you will be sorry.”
She thrust her hip to one side and wiped the tear off with her index finger. Then, she chewed on her lower lip, and he could tell her throat worked visibly. In all the months she’d worked for him, he’d never seen Alice like that. Upset. Determined. And ready to fight. “You’re threatening me?”
“I’m warning you. If you screw me over, I’ll do the same. Forget about job security. I’ll see to it that you don’t find a job anywhere.” When he heard his own threat, he curled his fists. Shit. That wasn’t the right way to go about it. “This doesn’t have to be complicated, and you know it, Alice,” he said in a lower tone, attempting to backpedal.
“Of course it doesn’t.” She leveled him with a look of unbridled disgust. The kind he had received before, when Kristin used to slap her knowledge of his father in his face. “As long as you get what you want, it’s all good, right?” she said before striding out of sight.
Alice headed to the library, now empty and not a thing out of place. She eyed the bar and opened the cupboard to fetch a square glass. Hard liquor wasn’t her thing, but tonight, she needed all the help she could get.
She found the scotch, which was probably worth more than her dress, and filled the glass. How could he? How could he expect her to be motivated to continue helping him get those paintings knowing that would render her jobless? Without her free health insurance? If she didn’t need the twenty grand so badly, she’d be tempted to tell him to screw himself and find a flight back early. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option. She lifted the glass to her mouth, but the smoky liquid only added to the lump clogging her throat.
Placing the glass on the console, she forced the scotch down and wiped her lips. Yuck.
“Problems falling asleep?” The female voice came from behind her, and she jumped.
Turning, a cold shiver snaked down her spine, and she blinked. Viola wore a long, silky pearl-colored robe over her burgundy nightgown. She smiled, this time without the makeup she had on before. Even with the wrinkles and small imperfections visible on her face, there was something regal about the woman. Something inspiring and real.
Alice clutched the glass so tightly she was sure she would break it if she didn’t let go. Great. Let’s keep to just one broken glass per day. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to invade your bar stash.”
“No problem. Did you enjoy it?” Viola walked to the console and lifted the bronze bottle.
“Not really, kinda strong for me.” Alice took another gulp, managed to swallow, and put the glass back on the counter. If nothing else, at least her alcohol tolerance would improve after this disastrous trip. Oh, she should have known this was a bad idea from the get-go.
Viola poured herself some whisky and winked. “You just snubbed a twenty-year-old scotch.”
Alice shrugged. “Sorry.”
“Don’t ever be sorry for speaking your mind. That’s one of the things I like about you, Alice. We haven’t known each other long, but I get this feeling you’re always genuine.”
Genuine? Alice touched her throat to will away the nausea floating up. The woman was being nice to her, and worse, maybe even liked her—and what was she doing? She was lying about an engagement that never took place. To a selfish man that no sane woman would ever commit to. “Genuine gets me in trouble.”
Viola took another step toward her. Clearing her throat, she studied Alice in such a way that Alice had no choice but to draw in a breath as deep as the Grand Canyon. Was Viola on to her? Oh no. She might hate Mr. B right now, but damn it, she still needed the money. Now more than ever. Which meant keeping the charade going.
“You didn’t know he wanted to move to New York, did you?”
Alice eyed the half-empty scotch and shook her head. “No.”
“I could tell. What do you want?”
Alice brought her hands together, her fingers fidgety. “It’s complicated to explain.” The understatement of the millennium. Jeez. If she explained her conundrum, she’d be toast. And no money—yup, somehow her fake engagement stint had to go on.
“Then don’t.” Viola flashed a reassuring smile.
“It hasn’t been about what I want for a while. And I’m not talking about Lorenzo. He’s wonderful to me.”
“Your sister?”
She nodded. Was it wrong to vent to Viola? Of course she knew it wasn’t just about her sister. Sure, Rachel was in the center of it all, but there was also Brenda. She couldn’t expect the six-year-old to raise herself. Mom was great, but she just wasn’t up for it. Such a cliché… The hard-working nurse who didn’t take good care of herself.
“I don’t want to pry into your personal life, my dear, but something
I learned from my failed marriage is that you can’t rely on someone for everything.”
“I don’t. But I’ve had people rely on me for so long, I don’t know what I want anymore.” Was she lying to Viola or to herself? She had delayed, no, buried her dream of pursuing a career as a fashion designer because it was an indulgence she couldn’t afford.
“I hope you’ll sort things out. Buonasera.”
Alice licked her lips. She couldn’t tell Viola she had to drop college and decline a couple good work opportunities because of her family. She had promised Dad to look after them, and that’s what she’d been doing. He had attended and cheered her on at all her softball games as a child. He had taught her to ride a bike. He had even bought her the first professional-grade sketch pad and pens so she could practice to be a stylist one day.
How could she deny him anything?
Although caring for her sister on her bad days was draining and depressing, she knew her mother couldn’t handle it alone. And what fault did little Brenda have in all this? Wasn’t she worthy of a somewhat normal childhood, like she and Rachel had? Alice would ensure that. It was the only way Brenda would have a shot at a healthy, caring upbringing.
What do you want? The accented words from the Italian woman rang in her ears long after she’d gone to her room, showered, and slipped into a pair of pink pajamas. She sat on the bed, glanced at the empty side next to hers, and wondered where Lorenzo could be.
In three days, everything would change. They would go back to Austin, and she would have to start looking for a new job—and responsibilities would fall and crush her like a boulder. Missing taking care of Cara would be the worst—she’d grown to love her as if she were her own. Almost as much as she loved Brenda. Sadness welled up, and she closed her eyelids to avoid the tears brimming her eyes.
If anything, the fancy-ass whisky only made her more emotional. Fantastic. The click of the handle prompted her to straighten her shoulders and face the French doors. Lorenzo walked in, his dinner jacket hanging on his shoulder, hair tousled, and shoes in his hand. He dropped the shoes and jacket on a chair and dashed to the bathroom without a glance her way.
The sound of running water had her sit up. God, this would be awkward. Should she pretend to be asleep? She fluffed the pillow. Nah. That was way too Lifetime Movie.
What do you want?
She wanted him. No. Had wanted, until he acted like a grade-A jerk at the beach, blackmailing her into not changing her mind. The en-suite door opened, and a cloud of steam announced his presence. He wore a pair of black pajama bottoms, and her mouth dropped at the sight of his wide chest. Droplets of water that had undoubtedly survived his vigorous towel drying glided down the hair of his pectorals, and she couldn’t stop ogling his taut nipples and washboard abdomen. The patch of hair dusting his olive skin vanished under the waist of his pants. Sweet Jesus.
He opened the closet and stared at his shirts hanging there before closing it and reaching inside his leather suitcase. Was he looking for a pajama top to put on and deny her that gorgeous view?
“Is it okay if I take the right side?” she said, lounging on the bed like this was her casual Friday night.
Lorenzo nodded, rubbing his eyes. Great, so Mr. Selfish was so mad he couldn’t even look at her? And she was drooling over this jerk? Yes.
She reached for the carafe and poured some water in a glass, which she swallowed faster than she had the whisky. Not even the minty toothpaste had yanked that smoky aftertaste from her throat.
He turned off the lamp and plopped beside her. The heat from his skin was like an electric force, sending currents to her in waves, each time harder. When she dreamed about going to bed with her boss, this wasn’t it.
Hell, was Lorenzo Baldi one more thing she couldn’t have? One more college? One more career? One more regular, semi-decent boyfriend? One more healthy sister?
She flipped to her side, facing away from him. Her cute pajama top burned on her skin, and she undid one button, anxious for a breeze to sweep in and save her from overheating. His leathery scent teased her nostrils, and she scooted to the very edge of the bed, her foot pushing out the sheet. One more inch and she’d face-plant on the floor.
The mattress shifted beneath her, and she could tell he was also fidgeting. Great. Sharing a bed with Lorenzo, the nearness of his body, triggered a tingle of excitement that rushed through her.
“Alice.” His voice cut through the room. “There’s still a lot we need to talk about. I apologize for being abrasive at the beach. I’m not good at this stuff.”
She cleared her throat. “Really? I thought being abrasive came naturally to you.”
“I mean apologizing. You are very important to me. I lost my cool,” he said, and she could kick herself for sucking in her breath. Apologizing wasn’t his forte, sure, but what kind of idiot was she? Her bones were almost melting under his statement that she mattered to him.
“Why did you lose your cool?” she asked, deciding not to let him off the hook so easily. “I understand this situation is stressful, but you acted like a real prick back there. Why?”
A hissing sound cut the silence, like he was sucking air through his teeth.
“You can’t stand me, right? You can’t stand the fact you kissed me at the grotto,” she said, and slapped her forehead with her palm. What the fuck, Alice? Why did you just say that?
“Oh, I can stand you. What’s killing me is just how much I can stand you…and how inappropriate that is. You have been nothing but incredible since we got here. You’re loyal, you’re kind, you’re…”
Oh. My. God. Keeping still was a problem. Her thighs trembled, and her sex throbbed. She was in bed with him, and unless she shook off that sensual sensation flooding her body, there was no way in hell she would fall asleep. “Go on.”
“That’s it. I was a prick. I’m not good at voicing my emotions nor do I want to be. I’m lucky you came along with me on this trip, Alice, even though I may act like the opposite.” She heard him popping his knuckles.
“Okay. You’re forgiven. Care to elaborate on the inappropriate part?” she asked, rushing to say the words before she changed her mind. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger, desperate to find something to do. Her stomach sank. Was there a possibility he, too, wanted her? Or did she misread the whole situation?
He turned to his side. She could make out the outline of his body in the pale moonlight seeping through the curtains. The man was staring at her, for crying out loud. What was he thinking? That she didn’t have a pulse between her legs? “You work for me, Alice. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable in any way. You don’t have to kiss me or do anything else to keep your job or to get that money. That’s not how I operate.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. I kissed you because I wanted to,” she said in a throaty voice. God. God, God, God. She clamped her eyes shut, like she hung at the edge of a precipice and had to choose between jumping to the other side or falling. Unable to stay still, she crossed and uncrossed her legs, her blood on a low simmer. “Sorry. Don’t mind me. I get kind of riled up every time I sleep in a new bed.”
“Tell me more. Does that happen often?”
She shifted until her back pressed against the mattress. Carefully, she made sure her limbs didn’t touch his, even though his posture was a lot more relaxed. “That I get riled up?”
He scooted just a notch closer, and her heart set into an untrustworthy race. “No. Sleeping in a new bed.”
Why did his rich accent have to make it sound so dirty? “Why, do I detect a hint of sexism there?”
A hearty chuckled filled the air. “I’m just curious.”
“Well, I’m a healthy woman with an okay sexual life. I mean, I don’t sleep around, but I have a little pink book I can go to if I need.” Yeah, a book that had a one-inch layer of dust on it. But she decided to keep that info to herself. Let him think she was a skankilicious goddess. Who cared?
The bed seemed to shrink
.
“Interesting.”
She turned to her side and realized she was dangerously close to him. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and she had to swallow a couple times to clear her dry throat. “How about you? Aren’t you supposed to be the hot Italian stallion?” she asked, even though she had never seen him with a woman. Sure, he probably dated at least a couple times, she conceded; after all, he had asked her to babysit a few weekends when he wasn’t out of town. But unless he was having an affair with his secretary, good ol’ Mrs. Goodwin, the man was super discreet.
He drummed his fingers on the mattress. “I’ve been busy.”
Who in the world was too busy to screw? She studied the outline of his hand, powerful even in the dimming light. “How long?”
“Long,” he said, his voice strained.
She clenched her legs together in a vain effort to suppress the pounding pulse from spreading everywhere. Too late. She touched her chest to ensure her heart was still in its place, the beat so strong it could have jerked away from the confines of her weak flesh.
Shoving the sheet to her side, she drew in the bubble of oxygen around her and let it out carefully. What was going on? Could she be dreaming if she hadn’t even fallen asleep? “I’m sure there are some women who wouldn’t mind being in your little black book. Make a list.”
He outlined the collar of her pajama top and, lord, her nipples perked up. “After I compile such list, what do you advise I do?”
“Well, you act on it.”
Don’t move. Whatever you do, just lie still.
A part of her—the dutiful daughter, sister, and aunt—urged her to assume an Egyptian mummy position or just play dead like he was some sort of grizzly bear. But her resolve diminished with every passing second. The remaining distance nearly dissipated between them.
“What if I want you to be on the top of my list?” He whispered into her ear, and the scent of his skin and the breath fanning her earlobe destroyed any common sense she may have left over. “Or better, on the top of you?”
A Weekend of Misbehaving Page 6