And he did mean every part.
They hadn’t discussed rules, but each had known the score—he wouldn’t call and she wouldn’t want him to—so they’d made the most of that night. She’d tasted like every debased teenage fantasy he’d ever had, and she’d delivered. He’d left that morning with a smile on his face that matched hers.
When he’d stepped into the shower at home that morning, he’d experienced a brief pinch of regret that he wouldn’t see her again.
Though, hell, maybe he would see her again given lightning had already stricken them twice. He hadn’t wanted to let her get away that night at the bar—not without testing the attraction between them.
He felt a similar pull now.
“If you’ll excuse me.” His brother Chase moved off, arm extended to shake the palm of a round-bellied man who ruled half of Texas. As one-third owner of Ferguson Oil, it was Zach’s job to know the powerful players in his brother’s life—in the entire state—but this man was unfamiliar.
“Just Zach,” Pen snapped, drawing his attention. Her blue eyes ignited. “I thought you were a contractor in Chicago.”
“I used to be.”
“And now you’re the mayor’s brother?”
“I’ve always been the mayor’s brother,” he told her with a sideways smile.
He’d also always been an oil tycoon. A brief stint of going out on his own in Chicago hadn’t changed his parentage or his inheritance. When Zach had received a call from his mother letting him know his father, Rand Ferguson, had suffered a heart attack, Zach had left Chicago and never looked back.
He wasn’t the black sheep—had never resented working for the family business. He’d simply wanted to do his own thing for a while. He had, and now he was back, and yeah, he was pretty damn good at being the head honcho of Ferguson Oil. It also let his mother breathe a sigh of relief to have Zach in charge.
Penelope’s face pinched. “Are you adopted or something?”
He chuckled. Not the first time he’d heard that. “Actually, Chase and I are twins.”
“Really?” Her nose scrunched. It was cute.
“No.”
She pursed her lips and damn if he didn’t want to experience their sweetness all over again. He hadn’t dated much over the past year, but the way Penelope smiled at him had towed him in. He hadn’t recognized her at first—the briefest of meetings at a Crane Hotel function three years ago hadn’t cemented her in his mind—but there was a pull there he couldn’t deny.
Pen finished her champagne and rested the flute on a passing waiter’s tray. With straight shoulders and the lift of one fair eyebrow, she faced Zach again. “You didn’t divulge your family status when I met you on Saturday.”
“You didn’t divulge yours.”
Her eyes coasted over his tuxedo, obviously trying to square the man before her with the slacks and button-down he’d worn to the club.
“It’s still me.” He gave her a grin, one that popped his dimple. He pointed at it while she frowned. “You liked this a few weeks ago.” He gestured to himself generally as he leaned in to murmur, “You liked a lot of this a few weeks ago.”
Miffed wasn’t a good enough word for the expression that crossed her pretty face. The attraction was still there, the lure that had existed as they came together that night in her bed twice—no, wait, three times.
Zach decided he’d end tonight with her in his bed. They’d been good together, and while he wasn’t one to make a habit of two-night stands, he’d make an exception for Penelope Brand.
Because damn.
“I’ll escort you to the dining room. You can sit with me.” He offered his arm.
Pen sighed, the action lifting her breasts and softening her features. Zach’s grin widened.
So close.
She qualified with, “Fine. But only because there are a lot of people here I would like to meet. This is a business function for me, so I’d appreciate—”
The words died on Penelope’s lips when a female shriek rose on the air. “Where is he? Where is that son of a bitch who owes me money?”
The crowd gasped and Pen’s hand tightened on his forearm.
Zach turned in the direction of the outburst to find a rail-thin redhead in a long black dress waving a rolled-slash-wadded stack of paper in her hand. Her brown eyes snapped around the room, and her upper lip curled in a way that made him wonder how he’d ever found her attractive.
Granted she wasn’t foaming at the mouth when they’d exchanged their vows.
“You.” Her eyes landed on him as the security guards positioned around the house rushed toward her. Zach held up a hand to stop them. He’d try and talk Yvonne down from whatever crazy idea she’d birthed before they caused a bigger scene.
“V,” he said, hoping to gain ground with the nickname he’d coined the night they met. A night soaked in tequila. “You’re at my brother’s birthday party. You have my attention. Is there something I can help you with?”
A big, bald security guy with an ugly scar down one cheek stepped closer to Yvonne, his mitts poised to drag her out the second Zach gave the signal.
“Write me a check for a million dollars and I’ll be on my way.” Yvonne cocked her head and waved the crumpled stack of papers in front of her. “Or else I’ll tear up our annulment.”
Tearing it up wouldn’t make it go away. What was her angle?
“Marrying you entitled me to at least half your fortune, Zachary Ferguson.”
It was laughable that she thought a million was half.
Penelope’s hand slipped from his forearm and Zach reached over and put it back.
“Ex-wife,” he corrected for Penelope’s—hell, for everyone’s—benefit. “And no, it doesn’t.”
“I’m going to make your life miserable, Zachary Ferguson. You just wait.”
“Too late.” He gave a subtle nod to the beefcake guard who circled Yvonne’s upper arm in his firm grip as he warned her against fighting him.
To her credit, she didn’t struggle. But neither did she go willingly. Yvonne’s eyes sliced over to Penelope. “Who is this? Are you cheating on me?”
Here they went again. Yvonne had asked that question so many times in the two days they were married, Zach would swear she’d gone to bed sane and woken crazy.
He’d had the good sense to get out of the marriage, which was more than he could say for the sense he’d had going in. The details were fuzzy: Vegas, Elvis, the Chapel of Love, etcetera, etcetera... Getting married had seemed fun at the time, but spontaneity had its downfalls. Within twenty-four hours Yvonne had grown horns and a forked tongue.
“Make it two million dollars,” Yvonne hissed, illustrating his point. The guard tugged her back a step, looking inconvenienced when she fought him.
Zach had money—plenty of it—but relinquishing it to the crazed redhead wasn’t going to make her go away. If anything, she’d be back for more later.
“Get her out of here,” Zach said smoothly, putting his hand over Pen’s. “She’s upsetting my fiancée.”
“Your what?” Yvonne asked at the same time Penelope stiffened at his side.
“Penelope Brand, my fiancée. Yvonne, uh...” What was her maiden name? “Yvonne, my ex-wife.” Yvonne’s eyes burned with anger—flames Zach was only too happy to fan. “Penelope and I are engaged to be married. It’s real, unlike what you and I had. You can contact my lawyers with any further questions.”
Yvonne shrieked like the eels from The Princess Bride as security dragged her away.
Another security detail, this one slimmer but no less mean-looking, stepped in front of Zach.
“How the hell did she get in here?”
His eyes dipped to his shoes in chagrin before meeting Zach’s angry expression again. “We’ll call the police department, sir.”
“No, don’
t. She’s exuberant, but harmless.” He took a breath. Who wanted to deal with the paperwork?
“Very well.” Security Guy Number Two followed in the path of the beefy guy.
Chase took his place, using his extra two inches of height to scowl down at Zach. “Let me get this straight,” his brother said in that exaggerated calm way he had about him. “You’re engaged...and married?”
“Was married.”
“You didn’t tell me you were married.”
“Well, it only lasted forty-four hours.”
“And you—” Chase’s hawk-like gaze snapped away from Zach to lock on Penelope “—didn’t tell me you were engaged to my brother.”
“I—” Pen started.
“It’s not true.” Zach couldn’t bullshit a bullshitter, and his brother was in politics, so he was overqualified. “I wanted to refocus Yvonne’s attention.”
He would come clean with Chase, even though he’d been left out of the loop where Stefanie was concerned. Zach had known Stef was having some issues but he didn’t realize his brother had called in the cavalry in the form of Penelope’s PR services.
“You succeeded,” Chase said. He smiled amiably at Penelope. “Looks like you’ve secured your next client, Ms. Brand. I trust you can clean up my brother’s mess.”
A few truncated sounds that might have been Pen struggling for breath came from her throat, but she reined in her simmering argument to say, “Yes. Of course.”
“Excellent.” Chase lifted his voice to address the guests milling around the bar. “If everyone would find your seats in the dining room, dinner will be served shortly.” He turned his attention back to Zach and Penelope. “I assume you two would prefer to sit together.”
Zach simply smiled as he looked down at a wide-eyed Penelope. This evening had fun written all over it. “I wouldn’t allow my fiancée to sit with anyone else.”
Three
Penelope strolled into the oversize ballroom on Zach’s arm. The mansion boasted enough round tables and slipcovered chairs to seat the mayor’s one-hundred-plus guests. Similar to a wedding, there was a head table for the guests of honor. In this case those guests were Mayor Chase Ferguson, Stefanie Ferguson, Zach and the recent addition of Penelope.
The rectangular table was set apart from the others and dotted with votive candles and low vases with flower arrangements.
A few staff members from the mayor’s office were also seated at the head table. A plucky, talkative woman named Barb, Roger, who looked and acted the part of secret service, and a scowling, large-framed man named Emmett Keaton.
Emmett, who had been introduced as the mayor’s “friend and confidant,” had short, cropped hair, a healthy dash of stubble on his face and eyed Stefanie with disdain the entire time he ate his pear and Gorgonzola salad. Stefanie had glared at him from her spot across the table before rolling her eyes and drinking down her white wine.
Clearly there was no love lost between those two.
Penelope wasn’t surprised. Stefanie’s recent scrape had drawn attention to the Ferguson family—and not the good kind. It would make sense that she wasn’t favored among the mayor’s staff.
Speaking of scrapes, Pen now had another to deal with in the form of Zach’s ex-wife. Pen didn’t know what shocked her more—that Zach had married the unhinged woman, or that he’d been married at all. It might be a tie.
Zach wasn’t the marrying type. He was the one-night-stand type. Or so Pen had thought.
Slicing into the sun-dried-tomato-crusted rack of lamb on her plate, she kept her voice low and asked Zach the million-dollar question.
“Were you married when we slept together two weeks ago?”
His jaw paused midchew before he continued, smiling with his mouth shut, and then swallowed down the bite. He swept his tongue over his teeth and took a drink of water before responding. Pen didn’t mind the delay. The lamb was spectacular. She sliced off another petite bite, this time plunging it into the ramekin of balsamic dipping sauce first.
“No,” he finally said.
She patted her lips with her napkin. “When did it happen?”
“Last New Year’s Eve.” He glanced around the table, but no one was paying them any attention. Barb was chattering to Stefanie, and Emmett and Chase were having a low conversation of their own. Roger wasn’t at the table any longer. When had he left? He was sneaky, but then—secret service, so it made sense.
“In Vegas,” Zach finished.
Pen laughed, drawing Emmett’s and Chase’s attention before they returned to their conversation. “Cliché, Zach.”
“Yeah, as was the annulment.”
“And the need for our betrothal?”
Zach shrugged muscular, tux-covered shoulders. “You helped Stef. You’re a good ally to have.”
“You could have introduced me as an adviser. As anyone.”
He stabbed a bite of meat with his fork and waved it as he said, “Fiancée had a nice ring to it.”
“Very funny.” Fiancée. Ring. At least his personality was the same as the night she’d invited him home with her. He’d been cheeky then, too.
She smiled, glued her eyes to his and enjoyed the sizzling heat in the scant space between them for the next three heartbeats. Then she focused on her food again.
Once the dinner dishes were cleared, dessert appeared in the form of a dark chocolate tart, a single, perfect raspberry interrupting a decadent white-chocolate drizzle.
“Speech time,” Zach prompted his brother.
“Go get ’em, Tiger,” Stefanie said, clearly teasing him.
Chase stood and buttoned his suit jacket, then glided to the podium. From her side of the table, Pen wouldn’t have to so much as turn her head to watch. Unlike everyone else who had swiveled in their chairs.
Chase had great presence. Elegant. Regal. He talked and the world quieted to listen. She remembered the first time she’d seen him on television and thought—
A gasp stole her throat when warm fingers landed on her knee.
Zach.
Barb looked over her shoulder and offered a wide smile. Pen gave the other woman a tight nod as she reached beneath the table and removed Zach’s wandering hand.
Pen cleared her throat and refocused on Chase’s speech when Zach’s fingers returned. This time she managed to stifle the surprised bleat in her throat. She slanted a glare to her right where he lounged, elbow resting on the arm of his chair, his fingers pressed to his lips and his eyes narrowed as if hanging on to every word his brother said.
With the fingers of Zach’s other hand swirling circles on the inside of her knee, Pen couldn’t concentrate on a single word of the speech. A quick glance around confirmed that no one could see what was happening beneath the tablecloth.
She shifted in her seat, but before she could crush his fingers between her kneecaps, he gripped her leg with a tight hold. She swallowed down a ball of thick lust as he pushed her legs apart.
Pen flattened her hands on the tablecloth as Zach’s hand traveled from her knee and climbed the inside of her thigh. She closed her eyes, visions of the night they’d spent together flashing on the screen of her mind.
His firm, insistent kisses on her jaw, her neck and lower.
The deep timbre of his laugh when she’d struggled with his belt.
He’d ended up stripping for her while she sat on her bed and watched every tantalizing second.
She was snapped to the present when Zach’s fingertips dug into the soft skin of her thigh, and without warning, brushed her silk panties. Pen fisted one hand on the tablecloth, dragging her dessert plate to the edge of the table. Her glass of red gave a dangerous wobble.
She held her breath when he touched her intimately again, the scrap of silk going damp against his pressing fingers. When he pulled her panties aside and brushed bare skin, Pen bit do
wn on her bottom lip to contain a whimper.
Then the mayor’s voice crashed into her psyche.
“To Penelope and my brother, Zach. Many congratulations on your engagement.”
She jerked ramrod straight to find every set of eyes in the room on her and glasses raised.
“Cheers,” Chase said into the microphone.
Stiff as a cadaver, Pen managed a frozen smile. Conversely, Zach moved like a sunbathing cat, lazily tossing his napkin on the table before taking Pen’s napkin from her lap and standing.
He offered his hand and a smirk, and Pen prayed that the flush of her cheeks would be taken for embarrassment at the attention.
Placing her palm in his, she surreptitiously tugged her skirt down and stood with him to accept the room’s applause.
Smooth as butter, Zach pushed her dessert plate from its perch at the edge of the table, handed Pen her wineglass and lifted his own.
Then, they drank to their engagement.
* * *
“I like this.” Zach touched the F dangling from Pen’s bracelet with his thumb. “Makes me feel possessive.”
Her hand in his, Pen swayed to the music.
He liked her hand in his. He liked her laugh and the sweet scent of her perfume tickling his senses. He liked the way she smoothly handled Barb’s question about a missing engagement ring.
Where is your diamond ring, darling?
Oh, we didn’t want to upstage the mayor on his big day.
Pen was the right partner to choose for this particular snafu. She was a woman at the top of her game. Touching her under the table and listening as her breaths shortened and tightened was a bonus.
“What are you grinning about?” she asked him now.
“I think you know.”
She hummed, not confirming or denying. Like he said, top of her game.
He turned her to the beat of the music, pressing his palm flat on her back and drawing her closer. She came rather than resist him, which he liked a whole hell of a lot.
“It’s kind of your brother to give first-time guests such decadent gifts,” she commented, redirecting his attention back to the bracelet. She waggled their joined hands so the pendant moved against her pale skin.
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