Confessions of the World's Oldest Shotgun Bride

by Gail Hart

  “I’m pissed off because you want to treat me like a piece of meat. I deserve better, and so do you. I’ve known you for a long time. I know that’s not who you are.”

  In general, she’d have agreed with him. But they were on vacation. She’d thought it was understood that special rules applied—that what happened in the islands, stayed in the islands. She gave him an exasperated look. “So you want to take me out in public and spend a lot of money buying me dinner, instead of going straight to dessert?”

  “That’s an affirmative.” His expression said he meant business.

  She threw her hands up in resignation. “I guess I’d have to be a moron not to agree to that.”

  “I knew you’d see it my way. I’ll pick you up at your room at seven.” He slipped a finger under the right strap of her tank suit and snapped the Lycra. “By the way, if you want people to take you seriously as a bimbo, you need to dress right. This suit looks like something your grandmother would wear.”

  The fact that she agreed with him only made her all the more annoyed. She put her hands on her hips. “This suit is practical for diving. Do you have a better suggestion?”

  Without hesitation, he reached for the rack and pulled off a size four bikini. “This.”

  Kathryn eyed the garment skeptically. It was made of a shockingly small amount of some metallic-looking brown fabric. She doubted she had the equipment to do it justice. “I don’t think it’s me,” she said.

  “Sure it is. It matches your eyes.”

  She shot him a wry smile. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that if I were wearing this, you’d notice my eyes?”

  Steve gave her his patented brain-scrambling smile. “Try it on and find out.”

  She shrugged. What the hell. “Back in a sec.” She ducked into the dressing room, drew the curtain shut, and changed facing the curtain. When she was done, she turned around to check out the effect in the mirror.

  And gulped. In her humble opinion, she’d never looked hotter.

  She wouldn't have been caught dead in an outfit like this at home. Showing so much cleavage was tacky.

  No, not tacky—sexy. And wasn't the main point of this vacation to do things she never would at home? Unless she was seriously mistaken, this minimalist getup was just the ticket to make her flyboy forget he'd suddenly developed an annoying moral streak.

  Lifting her chin to disguise a niggling feeling of self-consciousness, Kathryn opened the curtain and stepped back into the shop.

  Steve’s eyes widened and his lips pursed into a small O as he stared at her. “Wow.”

  “I assume you’ll take it?” a woman’s voice asked. Kathryn turned her head and saw the cashier, a college-age girl, looking on with a knowing smile.

  “She’ll take it,” Steve said.

  Kathryn gave him her best imitation of the Steve smile. “I shouldn’t. Calculated on a per yard basis, the cost of this fabric is astronomical. Though it does match my eyes.”

  “She’ll take it,” he repeated. “Charge it to my room.”

  “Not necessary. I’ll sign for it.” Kathryn went to the cash register to sign for the book as well as the bikini. Out of Steve’s line of vision, the cashier gave her the thumbs-up sign.

  If she said the word now, Steve would drop this silly game and they could go to her room and cross a few more items off her to-do list. But that wasn’t how she wanted to play out the scenario. They’d both draw a pleasure dividend if she let the sexual tension build a while longer. She returned to him and rested her hand on his biceps with a light, teasing touch. “Since you insist on eating out, I need to change.”

  * * *

  At seven on the dot, Steve knocked on Katie’s door. She answered in a black sundress cinched at the waist with a red silk scarf. The dress was made of some flimsy, nearly sheer material, the top hinting at the goodies below. He smiled. “You look beautiful, Katie.”

  “Kathryn. You’re only allowed to call me Katie in bed, where you say we’re not going.”

  He ignored the bait. “All right, you look beautiful, Kathryn.”

  “So do you. You shaved. I like a smooth man.” She stepped forward and stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. Her musky perfume drifted up to his nostrils, and her breast brushed against his arm. Deliberately, he was sure. She wasn’t wearing a bra. His cock responded, as she’d obviously intended, and he stifled a groan. She was doing a bang up job of torturing him.

  Seeing the smoldering look in her eyes, it took all his self-control to kiss her on the cheek instead of shoving his tongue down her throat and dragging her into the room. But he was more determined than she gave him credit for. Getting into her pants was too easy. He had his eyes on a bigger prize—getting into her soul. He wasn’t putting out physically until she put out emotionally.

  The restaurant he’d chosen sat on top of a duty-free shop facing the harbor. The breeze ruffled Katie’s skirt and tossed her thick curls as they climbed the outside stairs, his arm draped lightly across her shoulder. He sensed she wouldn’t like being held too closely or any other sign of possessiveness. She was a hundred pounds of strength and determination in a beautiful, feminine package. The combination was hotter than sin and totally irresistible.

  The hostess led them across the airy room, past a harried-looking thirty-something couple trying to control an ornery redheaded girl of about three, to a table by the picture window. They sat down side by side, and a few seconds later, were joined by a young waiter.

  After handing them menus, the waiter said, “The drink special tonight is a banana daiquiri.”

  Katherine smiled at the man. “That sounds great.”

  Her smile was too bright, and the waiter was too much the ruggedly good-looking, buff type women went for. Steve frowned. “That’s a girl’s drink.”

  She leaned against him, her breath on his neck teasing him. “And I’m a girl.”

  He’d walked right into that one. He squeezed her shoulder and spoke into her hair. “You sure are, sugar.” Turning back to the waiter, he added, “Okay, a banana daiquiri for the lady, and I’ll take a local brew.”

  “Would you like an appetizer?” the waiter asked.

  Katie looked at the menu, and an impish grin crossed her face. “Come here,” she said, gesturing to the waiter. The man moved to stand next to her and she whispered in his ear.

  Steve gave her a questioning look. “What are you up to?” Obviously no good.

  “I’m not telling.”

  He eyed the menu and took a shot. “The raw oysters?”

  “Oh, please. As if you and I need an aphrodisiac.”

  “What then?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Across the aisle, the redheaded child, who hadn’t stopped screaming for more than a few seconds since they’d sat down, let out a piercing shriek. Katie winced. “Little monster. I hate these yuppie parents who let their devil spawn ruin everyone else’s meals.”

  “I take it you don’t like children?”

  “I like them fine... in another room, out of sight and earshot.”

  Steve laughed. “So your biological clock isn’t ticking?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Bite your tongue!”

  “Seriously, haven’t you thought about having one of those of your own?”

  She shrugged. “Not really. I’m not the maternal type. I have no patience. I’d be a terrible mother.”

  “That’s not true. If you decided to become a mother, you’d be amazing. You’re always the best at everything you do.”

  She squirmed. “You’re still seeing me the way you did back home. You give me too much credit.”

  There she went again, using their age difference to put emotional distance between them. Screw that. His direct stare held a challenge. “No, you don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re terrific with kids. You were a great babysitter.”

  She looked away first. “Anyway, I never had to think about whether I wanted kids, since I never got married.”
>
  Deciding to let her change the subject, he wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Technically, getting married isn’t a prerequisite for having a baby.”

  She laughed. “It is for me. The execs at my firm are very old school. They’d shit a brick if I became an unwed mother. Besides, I’m a good girl. I never color outside the lines. I never cheat on my boyfriends or my taxes. I never do anything scandalous.”

  He touched her hand. “I know better.”

  “No. The person you met last night is the vacation me. The real me is serious and boring.”

  He wasn’t fooled. No way had the author of the Boy Toy To-Do List been faking anything the night before. He’d seen the list and he knew the truth. Underneath the buttoned-down businesswoman façade lay a tigress.

  As he considered the tantalizing puzzle that was Katie, the waiter arrived, took their dinner orders, and dropped off their drinks and the appetizer. While Katie attacked her giant-sized drink, Steve studied the appetizer. He couldn’t identify it, but it looked inedible. “I give up. What the hell is that... stuff?”

  She smirked. “Not much of a gourmet, are we? It’s calamari.”

  The clue bird landed on his head. “Squid.”

  “Exactly. Now we’ll see whether I really do have you eating out of my hand.” Katie picked up one of the slippery critters, dipped it in the accompanying marinara sauce, and raised it to his lips. “Open up.”

  Shit. He hated calamari. He’d tried them in Italy, and in his humble opinion, they had the consistency and taste of rubber. “The things I do for you,” he grumbled.

  “The things you won’t do for me,” she answered with a smile that oozed sex.

  He leaned toward her, opened his mouth and accepted her dubious offering, sucking on her sauce-covered fingers as she withdrew them. Then he looked into her eyes. “The difference between me and the stingrays is I won’t leave when you run out of squid.”

  Her lips curled into a smirk that was part come-on and part mockery. “Is that a promise or a threat?”

  “Neither, it’s a fact.”

  By the time Steve had let Katie feed him the last of the calamari, their entrees had arrived. For a few minutes they were quiet, focusing on the food, but once the edge was off his hunger, he decided it was time to shake things up. He touched her arm to get her attention. “You never had kids because you never got married, but how come you never got married?”

  Her face reddened. “That’s kind of a personal question.”

  He gave her a lazy smile. “You didn’t mind getting personal with me last night.”

  Her answering smile acknowledged his point. “If you ask my mother, it’s because I’m too picky and too hard to live with. There’s some truth in that. I can take care of myself, so I haven’t been tempted to settle.”

  “You must have had your chances.”

  She looked away. “I was with the same man for ten years, and I assumed we’d end up getting married, but we were never ready at the same time. The relationship ended about a year ago.”

  And she’d spent that year celibate. Her asshole ex must have done a real number on her. “What happened?”

  “He traded me in for a younger model. A nice, shiny new trophy wife fresh out of college. The perfect accessory for a partner in a snooty, politically connected D.C. law firm.”

  A lawyer. That explained a lot. “What a jerk,” Steve said, angry on her behalf.

  She shrugged. “You win some, you lose some, and some get rained out.”

  He covered her hand with his. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend with me. I know he hurt you.”

  Her shoulders stiffened. Damn it, he’d screwed up. He’d insulted her pride by letting her know he saw her pain. He added quickly, “You don’t have to pretend you’re not pissed off. You have every right to be.”

  She relaxed and her expression turned serious. “No. I realize now I’m better off without him. We looked like the perfect couple, but that was about as deep as it went. I deserve more.”

  Steve grabbed her hand. “Damn straight.” And it’s sitting right next to you, if you’ll just reach out and grab it.

  She freed her hand. “Anyway, I don’t have time for a relationship right now.”

  He frowned. “Why not?”

  Her face took on a new intensity. “I’m at a crossroads in my career. The president and co-founder of our firm is about to retire. Everyone assumed the other founder’s son would get the job, but I decided to make a play for it. Now I’m on the verge of winning. Over the past year I’ve brought in twice as much new business as he has, and I have us in position to win a massive new Navy contract. All the finalists will make formal presentations to the Navy in San Diego in February. If I bring in this contract, the board of directors has promised to name me as the new president.”

  “So after February, some of the pressure will be off.”

  She shook her head. “No. I’ll still need to prove myself in my new role, and if I screw up, Whitley will be waiting to swoop in and take back what he thinks of as his. So I’ll need to stay focused on the job. There won’t be room in my life for a man for quite a while.”

  No room in her life for him? If she expected him to accept that, she didn’t know who she was dealing with.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Where had the time gone? Kathryn and Steve stayed in the restaurant until last call, laughing, flirting, talking about everything and nothing. She thought his resistance was wearing down, but maybe those banana daiquiris, milkshakes with a fiendish kick, had warped her judgment. She’d know soon, now that they were back at the hotel.

  They stopped outside Kathryn’s door. Tension built in her body and she felt warm all over. Warm from the rum. Warm from Steve’s fingers skimming over her arm. Most dangerously, warm from the conversation, which made her feel close to him as a person, not just a body. Making love now would be the perfect end to a perfect evening. Please, please, please, she begged with her eyes.

  She touched his arm and looked him in the face. “So, flyboy, where do I stand?”

  He smirked. “In the hall.”

  “Smartass. Are you coming in, or do you still not want to make love?”

  His smile disappeared, and she saw desire as fierce as her own in his eyes. “I never said I don’t want to make love. I said I don’t want to be used.”

  “And do you still feel used?”

  “That doesn’t seem so important now. I’m open to the possibilities.”

  Her pulse raced. Not wanting to give him time to change his mind, she jammed her keycard in the slot, shoved the door open, and pulled him inside.

  She needn’t have worried. Once the door clicked shut, he took charge. Pushing her backward, he pinned her against the door with his hard body. Hard in every way, she was happy to note as the heat of his erection reached her through his jeans. One hand tangled in her hair while the other cupped a breast. He leaned down and took her mouth, his tongue occupying her completely, hungry yet tender. Her body tingled all over.

  By the time he ended the kiss, she could barely breathe. As her inflamed nipples pressed into his chest, she felt his heart thump in time with hers. “Do me, flyboy,” she whispered.

  He shook his head. “When I say it’s time. You’re not calling the shots tonight.”

  Oh yes! She’d gladly let him run the show. There was a freedom in giving up control to this man who’d shown himself to be so... well, honorable. It was an old-fashioned word, but it fit Steve Tyler. She slid her hands up his steely arm muscles to his shoulders and smiled. “Tell me what you want.”

  His lips twisted into an ironic smile. “I want to know you’ll respect me in the morning.”

  “You bet. The check’s in the mail and I’ll respect the hell out of you in the morning. Now get on with it. You know you want it as much as I do.”

  He shook his head and frowned. “Damn it, Katie, I’m serious.”

  She rolled her eyes. “We’re back to that again? All right, flyboy, seriously�
�I do respect you. I know you’re one of the good guys.”

  Her statement was true. For some reason, she trusted him—trusted him enough to let go of her inhibitions, to be wild and wanton and totally unlike herself. Even knowing that he wasn’t an anonymous stranger, that he knew people in her real world—she trusted him.

  “That will have to do for now. Reach into my pocket.”

  She did, and pulled out a package of condoms. Her already overheated body temperature rose a few degrees, and her lips spread into a smile. “You tease! You never meant to say no.”

  His expression combined equal parts lust and tenderness. “I hoped I wouldn’t have to.”

  “So what’s next?”

  “Give me your hands.”

  What was this about? Obeying his command, Kathryn stuck her arms forward, palms up.

  Steve grabbed both of her wrists, easily trapping them in one large fist. His other hand fell to her waist and snagged the red silk scarf she’d used as a belt, undoing the loose knot without any trouble. He wound the scarf around her wrists several times, then let go so he could tie a double knot.

  Kathryn knew the smooth fabric wouldn’t hold a tight knot and she could easily escape, but she had absolutely no desire to do so. Making love while restrained was near the top of the To-Do List, just below becoming a human ice cream sundae. Her breath came out in sharp bursts and she murmured, “Wow.”

  He raised her hands over her head, his gaze boring into hers. “Spread your legs.”

  She did as she was told, her pulse throbbing.

  Steve dropped to his knees and maneuvered his head under her dress. He fingered the edge of her panties. “Red satin. You pulled out the heavy artillery. But we don’t need these.” He yanked and the unnecessary garment ripped away in his hand.

  At the sound of fabric tearing, Kathryn’s body hummed and she let out a low growl. He slid a hand between her legs, where she was wetter than the Atlantic Ocean. His touch made her gasp and buck forward.