He pulled back, cradling her face, but holding it firm, when that luscious mouth tried to take his again.
“I thought you didn’t date,” he murmured. His mind screamed at him to shut the fuck up and kiss her. Keep kissing her until he made her scream his name in pleasure, until he relieved the painful ache in his cock. But he had to be sure that she really wanted him first. Had to figure out what the hell this was.
“I don’t date.” She nipped at him playfully.
“What are we doing, then?”
“Getting caught up in the moment?” Unease crossed her face and she scooted back from him. Hands aching from the effort of it, he let her go.
“I’m not seducing you for real?”
“You wish,” she teased. “But that wouldn’t be right.”
Hell yeah, he wished. “It felt pretty damn right.” But he’d stopped it? Why? He was an idiot, obviously.
“Charles. I’m not a virgin.”
What the— “I could have told you that.”
She grinned. “I like being alone. Going solo. It’s the way my life stays comfortable. But this”—she gestured between them—“I thought it was just me. It should totally be just me because you’re so far out of my league.” Her eyes widened in sudden panic. “I mean—is it just me?” Her face scrunched. “No, you definitely kissed me. I just kissed you back.”
Hell, no matter how it complicated things he couldn’t let her think that he didn’t feel the heat, too, for even a second. “It’s not just you. And don’t put yourself down. So…what are you saying?”
“We’re adults. Kissing you back felt right. Despite the blackmail and shenanigans.” She smoothed his shirt, her palm firm against the material, and his body pulsed in response. “What is it that you want so badly from Brent, anyway? It can’t have anything to do with boats of any kind. The man knows as much about sailing and yachting as I do about ice-skating.”
How much to tell her? Strangely, he wanted to tell her as close to the truth as he could, which didn’t leave much anyway. “It has nothing to do with yachting—even though I’ve dangled an amazing opportunity under his nose in the field.”
She went still. “An amazing, imaginary opportunity?”
“Perhaps.” He tapped her nose. “But I do need him to keep me around a for a while anyway, so your blackmailing ways should continue to work just fine on me.”
She sighed heavily. “I know it’s wrong to kiss the guy I blackmailed into helping me break up my sister and her soon-to-be, but in a week, you won’t be in our lives anyway. I guess I thought—no, scratch that, I didn’t think.”
A week. She kissed him knowing they had only a week, and he was pretty certain, despite the stubborn line of her jaw and the seriousness in her eyes, that he could convince her to kiss him again. Could convince her to let him see what was under her oversize sweater and comfortable jeans. Convince her that an affair with him would be mutually satisfying, and something that they could make work in the circumstances.
But he didn’t want to convince her. She was unfailingly honest. Not something he was used to, and worse, she thought he was honest, too. In reality, he lied to her every time he spoke, even if he was doing it more and more by omission.
She thought she knew him, but she didn’t. And she never would.
“Unless you want to make out some more, we should probably get our plan straight for tomorrow,” he said, forcing a casualness into his tone. His body still thrummed with need, and she was so damn close. Close enough to touch.
The smile on her lips turned uneasy. “This could be tricky.”
…
They’d decided the only definite way to make sure everyone got the right idea was to wait for them to come to Rachel’s room, letting them essentially catch them in the act. In an effort to make it look real, Charles showed up at six o’clock in the morning, hair still mussed from sleep, wearing the same outfit he’d worn to dinner. She let him in with butterflies in her stomach, and suppressed the urge to smooth his hair.
They were supposed to meet everyone for breakfast at seven, so they could get to the slopes early and get a full day of skiing in. But instead of meeting everyone as planned, they waited.
“Are you certain they’ll both show up?” He’d asked the same thing the night before. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who was nervous.
“Yes. When neither of us show, and don’t answer our phones, Brent will definitely come with Kristen.” Not out of concern for Rachel, she was sure of that, but because he’d love to catch her in a compromising position. He’d always thought she looked down on him—which she did, but he also totally deserved it—and would jump at the chance to do the same.
“He is kind of a bastard.”
“Why is it you want to work with him, then?”
“I want nothing of the sort.”
“Well, isn’t that evasive?”
“Thank you.” He sprawled on her bed, arms wide, and closed his eyes. “Now stop trying to get info out of me. It’s too early.”
Gingerly, she sat next to him. The kiss they’d shared the night before felt so fresh, so real. Her lips had buzzed for hours after he’d left. Why had she kissed him? No, not only kissed him, she’d practically suggested that she was adult enough to handle a short-term affair with him. And she was almost certain that wasn’t true.
Besides, she knew so little about him. Or did she? She’d always been a great believer that actions spoke louder than words, and his actions had said volumes about the kind of man he was.
Vampire. The kind of vampire he was. Sheesh. How could she keep forgetting that?
But none of that was something she wanted to talk about with him, especially since she was so on edge already. “It’s not that early.”
“I’m a creature of the night.” Slitted eyes peered at her suspiciously. “Good God, you’re not a morning person, are you?”
She arched a brow at him. “And if I am?”
With a deep sigh, he closed his eyes. “That would settle it, I’m afraid. We could never be friends.”
“How unfortunate.”
“Mmm,” he murmured. Then, as she still searched her mind for an appropriate response, Charles began to quietly snore.
Pressing her hand against her mouth, she stifled a laugh. It would probably be an hour or so before Kristen texted. Another fifteen minutes after that, maybe, before there was a knock at the door. Might as well let the man sleep. It was, after all, Rachel who had insisted he get here so early. She hadn’t wanted to chance any of the other members of their group seeing him sneak down the hall to her room. That sort of sloppiness would ruin the plan.
So she let him sleep. It would have been polite to let him be, to pull out her laptop or go look at the dark landscape beyond her window. But she couldn’t seem to pull her eyes away and let the opportunity to study him pass. His hair just brushed around his forehead and ears, still disheveled and unbrushed, but in a sexy sort of way.
Most people appeared more relaxed while sleeping, like the weight of their issues was finally off their shoulders for a few brief hours while they slept. Charles didn’t look much more relaxed than normal, but then, he rarely appeared to carry any tension. It would be easy to think that he didn’t care much about anything. That everything slid off his back easily. But somehow, she didn’t think that was true.
She shook her head and pushed up off the bed. Now she thought she knew him well enough to assume so much about him? Silly and fanciful.
Besides, he’d shown a more serious side last night. She’d seen it the instant he pulled back from their moment, from the intimacy of their kiss, from their easy conversation. His expression had closed off, yet his lips turned into the perpetual flirtatious grin he seemed to never fail to wear. And as quickly as the connection between them spiked into something almost tangible, he’d cut it off.
The text message came not long after she’d finished replying to a few emails. And the knock at her door came almost exactly ten min
utes later. She shut her laptop and then went to poke the sleeping vampire. But he was already awake, and sat up at her approach.
“Showtime,” she said quietly. “Put on your game face.”
With a wink, he went to answer the door while she kicked off her slippers and burrowed back under the covers.
“Charles?” The shock in her sister’s voice was clear, and it would have brought a smile to Rachel’s face had it no been followed by a loud, derisive snort.
Brent.
The dishonesty of what they were doing hit her. Charles’s typical light tone flowed, and though it registered that he was being charming, she couldn’t concentrate on the actual words. Too many worries pounded in her skull.
Surely Kristen would see through this bit of theater. Rachel was a terrible liar, and had never been able to hide her real feelings.
The voices grew closer.
“Rachel? Are you all right in here?” The worry in her sister’s voice clenched her heart. She was a terrible person. Not only trying to break up her sister, but lying to her and making her worry.
“I’m here,” she forced out, sitting up in the bed.
Kristen’s concern immediately dropped away, only to be replaced by a smile that lit up her face. “Oh, my. I see we’re interrupting.”
Rachel opened her mouth to argue, then snapped it shut. Heat rushed to her cheeks even though she knew she hadn’t done anything worth being embarrassed about. Her thoughts ricocheted between wanting to correct her sister’s assumption, and telling herself to keep her mouth shut because the plan was actually working.
Kristen backed out before either voice in her head could win. In record time, she’d cleared the door with a “We’ll see you on the slopes!” and a laugh that was only partially muted by the door shutting behind her.
Silence overtook the room, and she stared at the spot her sister had practically run from. Then she collapsed back onto the bed. “Oh my God.”
“You okay?” Charles asked, sounding like he wasn’t sure if he should be amused or worried.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” She so wasn’t. But she would be. Things were going according to plan. That was a good thing. “Did Brent look convinced?”
A pause. “He looked as satisfied as a cat that just killed a bird.”
“That’s graphic.” But she couldn’t help a sudden surge of happiness. “This just might work.”
“It might, indeed.”
…
Giving Rachel the cold shoulder officially blew.
They sat across from each other in a quiet restaurant just down the road from the lodge. The urge to give her a reassuring smile was like an itch beneath his skin. One he couldn’t scratch, no matter how much it ached. Not that he was being openly rude to her—they’d decided against that. But his polite-yet-distant attitude made it plain to all that what had happened the night before hadn’t been serious. Not to Charles, at least. Rachel was taking the opposite approach.
“The waitress is waiting for you,” Kristen said, giving Charles an icy glance. How her attitude had shifted since discovering them together this morning. Of course, they’d made an effort to ensure everyone noticed how they were acting.
Brent hadn’t seemed to notice the undercurrent, or maybe he just didn’t care. Hell, maybe he had something more important to worry about—namely planning the exact wording for more threats against Alice. Or worse, plotting how to carry out those threats.
Cole had seemed equally clueless. Although even now, his eyes alternatively seemed to lock on Kristen for a hair too long, or avoid her completely.
“I’ll take the salmon special,” Charles told the waitress.
Keeping his distance from Rachel had proven more difficult than he’d imagined. After a couple of runs, she’d been limping slightly. Obviously she was trying to cover up the pain from her sore ankle, but he saw through her, even if no one else was able to. But he couldn’t help her without screwing everything up.
Worse, all day long on the slopes, Rachel had acted the part of a lovesick woman. She had made an effort to be near him. To talk to him. To ride the lifts with him. To sit next to him at lunch. And he’d had to make an effort to stay away. It was more than awkward. Even knowing her reaction wasn’t real, seeing the flash of disappointment in her eyes every time he blew her off was painful.
Hell, there had been a couple of times that her reaction had felt real. As if she also felt the pain of his forced reactions. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done about it right now. They were too close to success.
And they had to get this done tonight, because Noah was getting restless.
Charles studied the man sitting on the other side of Rachel’s sister. Nary a hair was out of place on Brent’s head, and as he had most of the day, he seemed rather amused. Now was as good a time as any. With a pointed toe, Charles nudged Rachel under the table.
She shot him a glare and he gave her his best innocent expression, before sliding his gaze purposefully to her sister. Understanding dawned, and she turned to Kristen. “What do you say to some sister time tonight? We could watch a movie or something.” Her voice was thready and a little high. She sounded like a woman trying very hard to sound nonchalant and failing.
Kristen hesitated, but only for a moment. “That sounds great.” Another chilling glance at Charles. “Why don’t we go to the spa first? They offer massages until nine.”
She gave her a halfhearted smile. “That sounds great. Thanks.”
Kristen took her hand in her own and squeezed it. “Sure.”
“Well,” Charles said, filling his voice with as much false bravado as he could muster, “since the girls are off to the spa, what do you boys say to getting a few drinks? I know a great place.” He shot Brent an arrogant smile.
The man immediately reacted—a grin split his face, but his voice was casual. “Might as well.”
Keep trying to play it cool, Brent. With any luck, this will all be over tonight.
Brent proved not only happy to find the “local establishment” was a gentleman’s club, but ecstatic. And Charles had to grudgingly admit to himself that this was a good plan, even if he’d rather be getting his fangs pulled than hang out with Brent in a club full of scantily clad women.
He could press Brent for information about Alice—and maybe figure out if he was making the threats—and help out Rachel. Cole had begged off, saying he had to get some file off before the night was through. Charles suspected that, in reality, Cole’s tastes were quite different from his best friend’s. Then again, might be that he was reading too much into the man. Assigning him positive character traits Brent’s minion didn’t actually possess. His refusal wasn’t suspicious, but Charles made a mental note to search his room at the first opportunity.
But there was no danger of reading too much into Brent. The second they stepped through the door into the upscale club, he was slapping Charles’s back and smiling and chatting in a way he hadn’t done since they’d arrived in the quaint little overpriced ski town. When he could drag his eyes away from the women, that was.
In the midst of the lounge, surrounded by scents both floral and candy-sweet, Brent opened up. Just as Charles had hoped.
“I tell you what, Charles. Watching a woman plan a wedding is ridiculous.” He waved for another bourbon from the cocktail waitress, eyes locked on a dancer on the stage, even as he spoke to Charles. “I get it. Not like I want some shabby affair. But ever since we went to that cruise ship wedding of my brother’s, her focus has been insane. I mean, come on. What’s the damn rush?”
“It’s not as if a man wants to say those vows any sooner than he has to,” Charles offered, handing the waitress another bill for their drinks. If getting Brent drunk was what he needed to do to get him to hurry up and step out of line already, then that’s what he’d do. Besides, if he plied Brent with enough alcohol, maybe he’d say something about threatening Alice, then fall into some woman’s arms. Wouldn’t that be convenient? Two birds, one ston
e. And his mission here would be done. He could head home, secure in the knowledge that he’d helped Rachel and helped to ensure Alice’s safety. He’d be a damn hero, twice over.
And he’d no longer have an excuse to spend time with Rachel.
Something twisted in his stomach, and he shook off the thought.
“Exactly!” Brent said. “You know what I mean.” His voice lowered, and his gaze finally locked on Charles for half a second. “Didn’t look like you were eager to tie yourself down today, either.”
Charles snorted, as if the idea of tying himself down was ridiculous. Not that it was a possibility, but the idea of it was oddly less amusing than it had been only a few short days ago. “I’m not keen to settle down anytime soon. Nothing wrong with Rachel. Not saying I won’t go there again, but not if I can find something…fresher in the meantime.” It actually pained him to say that. The realization was sobering.
Brent guffawed and Charles did his best not to cringe. “She’s such a little mouse. But I guess she’s probably a firecracker in the sack. She’s got that pissy attitude—full of fight.” He shook his head. “Whatever floats your boat, my man.” His gaze shifted back to the women around them. “Too bad there aren’t any topless joints around here. This is just a tease fest.” He downed the rest of his drink, spilling a dribble down his chin.
Counting to three in his head and forcing what he hoped looked like a grin instead of a grimace onto his face, Charles reminded himself that hitting Brent would screw everything up. Not just for him, but for Rachel, too.
Brent continued to eye the dancers appreciatively, even leaning far too close to a waitress when she brought him another in a long line of bourbons, but he never moved in for a phone number or a close whisper.
“You almost got married before, right?” Charles didn’t miss the sharp glance Brent shot his direction at the question, but he pushed anyway. “Rachel mentioned it.”
“That girl doesn’t care for me. Kind of a busybody, if you ask me. But I guess you can’t always pick your in-laws.”
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