The Fiancé Trap: A Honeytrap Inc. Romance

by Tabitha A Lane

  She yawned. The arm around her tightened, but in an instinctual way, rather than consciously. Jace’s breathing was slow and regular, and without looking, she could tell he had surrendered to sleep.

  Rule one was shot to hell. She could wake him and boot him out of her bed, out of her temporary, rented home, but they had so little time together remaining, she wanted to experience every moment of it.

  Rule two: No mushy stuff. He was asleep; he wouldn’t know how she was replaying their lovemaking in her head, luxuriating in the feel of his body holding her so tight.

  Rule three: What harm could there be in imagining what it would be like to have this every night? To actually have someone to love, who would love her in return? Everyone is allowed a fantasy—a temporary escape from reality. The side of her that knew the truth—that everybody cheats, and there’s no such thing as happy ever after, was being suffocated by hippy-dippy, rose-tinted romantic daydreams that never afflicted her usually.

  This is dangerous.

  Screw it. If this is dangerous, bring it on.

  Ally woke in a sunbeam. The sun streamed in through the half-open drapes, filling the room with light. She reached behind her, turned, flattened her palm against the cold indent Jace’s body had left in her bed. Where is he?

  There was no sound from the bathroom. She climbed out of bed, and went to check. The shower stall was beaded with water drops, and a damp towel hung on the rack. Maybe he’d left. Her stomach hollowed at the thought. Was this how he felt when she disappeared on him after their first night together? At least she knew his name, his number, and where he lived. When she ran, she left him no way of finding her again. She’d left him nothing.

  The realization was sobering.

  She shoved her feet into slippers, tightened the belt of her robe and went into the kitchen.

  Jace was seated at the kitchen table drinking coffee and reading something on his phone. Her heart swelled in her chest, and for a moment she just stood in the doorway looking at him, trying to make sense of the emotions swirling within. Relief. Joy.

  He looked up. “Hey.” His mouth curved into a smile. “You’re awake.”

  How could she feel shy around him after last night? They’d woken a couple of times during the night, their bodies silently finding each other in the room’s inky darkness, and there was no way to describe their coupling apart from making love. Because it was more than fucking. More than the collision of two bodies for mutual satisfaction. Now, in the cold light of day, wrongfooted and unsure, words dried up in her throat.

  “Come here.” Their gazes were locked, but he didn’t move, just waited.

  Ally swallowed. “We should talk about finding this girl.”

  “Not yet. Come here first.”

  Slowly, she advanced toward him. When she was within touching distance, he snaked his hands around her waist. The heat of his palms through the thin silk, the way he stared into her eyes, made her antsy and nervous.

  “Kiss me.”

  She swiped her tongue over her lips.

  “Kiss me,” he repeated. “I won’t bite, unless you want me to.”

  “Last night was…”

  Jace shook his head. Placed a finger on his lips.

  Fine. She could kiss him without losing her mind, without losing herself in him again. Ally teased his lips with a featherlike caress.

  His hands tightened, and his lips curved. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he murmured against her mouth, then he was kissing her back, increasing the intensity until they were once again whirled away into a land where being separate entities wasn’t possible.

  Her hands were in his hair, digging into his scalp. It was hard to breathe, and all thoughts of coffee, of Sophia, receded in the overwhelming urge to get closer, skin to skin.

  Fingers unfastened the ties at her waist, then the robe was open, and his hands were on her breasts. She arched into his palms, gasping at the sensation of her erect nipples brushing against him, tugged his T-shirt up, and stepped away a couple of inches to pull it off and throw it to the floor.

  Could she ever get enough of this man?

  Her fingers moved to his waist, unfastening his jeans with a haste born of desperation. She’d never fucked in a kitchen. Never been taken on a kitchen table, but it looked as though there was another first in her immediate future, as he cleared a space and lifted her to the smooth pine surface.

  His mouth was on her breast. His tongue circled her nipple, then he drew her into his mouth and sucked hard, causing her inner muscles to clench and moisture to flood her pussy.

  She was ready, so ready.

  He retrieved a condom from his pocket, shoved down the jeans and boxers, and lunged into her in one quick move.

  Ally lay back onto the table, her legs gripped around him, and she cried out as he moved fast and frantic. There was no foreplay, no need for any; she was so wet for him she couldn’t even think straight. With every thrust, her inner muscles clenched around him. The brush of his pelvis on her clit so delicious she couldn’t hold back the moans and gasps that had to escape. Heat rolled through her, head to toe. She stared into his eyes, watching the change come over his face as he started to come. A series of unfamiliar emotions slammed into her, pride, that she was responsible for this man losing his control so thoroughly. Possessiveness, an alien acknowledgment that he was her man, and she his woman. Warmth, longing, love.

  The last emotion should give her pause, but she was too far gone, too incredibly overcome to fully process her reaction to it. Instead, she held on to him for dear life, as her body spasmed, and he collapsed onto her, chest to chest as his orgasm followed hers, and they found nirvana together.

  Jace’s face was buried in the soft curve of Ally’s neck where it met the shoulder. His parted lips rested on her skin. The rise and fall of her body slowed as she came back to herself. With every breath, he inhaled her scent, and just as ever, it went to his head, intoxicated him. Warm, fragrant, undeniably Ally. Her soft hair tickled his face, and he pressed a kiss there, feeling her move her head to the side closer to him like a cat angling up to its human’s hand. He was squashing her, he had to be. And the kitchen table was hard and unyielding, it couldn’t be comfortable. He smoothed a hand over her hair, lifted himself a fraction so he could look into her face.

  She smiled. “Good morning.”

  “That’s how we should greet each other in the morning.” Every morning. But how many mornings did they have left? He could tell the same thought was running through her mind because her face changed, the smile dimmed, and her eyes closed as if she were committing this moment to memory.

  He stood, pulled on his boxers and jeans, and fastened them. Then took her hand, and helped her up to sitting. “I’ll put on some coffee.”

  “I’ll be back in a minute.” She scooted off the table, holding the silky robe closed with one hand.

  Alone again, he stared out of the window at the rented house’s back yard. Sex on the kitchen table. Another first. And an experience they’d have little chance of repeating. The day after tomorrow, Rory would be back home, and this, whatever this is, would be over.

  The tiny garden was neat and trimmed. Someone must have cut the grass in the last few days.

  Unlike his own yard, which he’d neglected since Ally showed up. Back home, his grass was overlong, and the tire hanging from the old oak was motionless without Rory sprawling on it. There’d never been a time when a woman had been part of their picture, part of their present. Rory’s mother hadn’t even been to the house they lived in now. He hadn’t been a monk, but any time he slept with anyone it was somewhere other than the home he shared with his son.

  He’d even been reticent to share his home with Crystal, the woman he’d been considering marrying.

  He wanted Ally to meet Rory. Their previous meeting didn’t count, although it was the meeting that had brought her to him. For the first time, he wanted to introduce her to Rory as the woman who meant something to him. As his
girlfriend.

  He washed out the french press and loaded it with fresh grounds.

  Rory was becoming a man. They were both moving into a new phase in their relationship; they were both growing up. Once, the presence of his son meant that no woman could be in their house. Now, he wanted to be able to sleep with her in his bed with Rory’s blessing and understanding. He wanted them to be a family.

  The thought struck so hard he had to sit down. He wanted her to be in his family. He loved her.

  When had that happened? How had Ally’s presence in his life become not just fantastic, but vital?

  Her life was in Seattle, and there was no way he could up and leave his home to be with her. This arrangement had been a temporary thing, a stolen week. She’d left before without a glance back, and he didn’t know how she felt about him, whether she felt the same gut-wrenching ache at the thought of their parting.

  There would be challenges ahead—heck, it wouldn’t be easy, but for the first time in years, he knew exactly what he wanted. Who he wanted. And he wouldn’t let this chance of happiness walk out the door without at least letting her know how much he wanted to keep her.

  “Hey, where’s my coffee?”

  She stood in the doorway, fully dressed, with her hair damp from the shower. Sunshine picked up the red glints in her hair as she walked over, not reticent and worried like before, but confidently, with a purpose in mind.

  She walked up to him, and snaked her arms around his waist. “I want breakfast.” She pouted, grinned, and pressed her lips to his. “And this time I’m talking actual food.”

  THIRTEEN

  He’d looked so different when she walked back into the kitchen. Lost in thought, just as she’d been upstairs.

  She’d stripped off the robe and turned on the shower, then spent long minutes looking at the woman in the mirror, noticing the difference in her face. Her lips were slightly swollen from their kisses. Her hair was so mussed from his hands it would take a miracle to get it under control again. But it was the look in her eyes that made everything fade away. Complete, thorough satisfaction. As though she was exactly where she was supposed to be, and everything was right with the world. As if she was home. As if Jace was home.

  For the first time ever, the urge to run, to escape back into her own world, her own life, was absent. Because he felt like her world.

  She’d come here on a mission to test his fidelity. To see if he could be tempted away from a woman who believed they would spend their lives together. She’d done what her sister and Lewis were sure was her job. She’d seduced him away, and stolen him for herself.

  That’s what an outsider would think, anyway.

  But she knew different. There’d been an instant connection between them that new year’s eve, one she’d been determined to ignore. He was only supposed to be a one-night stand, and she disappeared before the sun even appeared on the horizon. But she’d thought of him. She’d dreamed of that night, and held it in her heart as the perfect experience, something that couldn’t be real, couldn’t transition from a magical night to anything more.

  When she walked into the kitchen less than an hour ago, her nerves were on edge. She didn’t know what to do with the feelings racing through her, didn’t know how to handle what had happened.

  She’d tried to steer their relationship off course. Had been planning to bring the conversation around to the search for Kenna, because the familiar routine of tracking someone was something she could do without effort, without a problem. But he’d stilled her with a look, and with his words.

  He’d refused to let her hide away from the truth between them. And once she was in his arms, all that tension bled away, and she felt herself relax into the safety of being with him, of being truly wanted.

  Then that sex.

  Their time together was measured in days and hours, rather than years and decades. He was on a break from his regular life, just as the first time they fucked. And she could hide from what happened with Crystal for only so long before she had to go back and face the music. Sort out the chaos this affair caused in her career. There was no way she could continue to work with Crystal, not after what happened between them. And she was under no illusions that she would be taking up Crystal’s job when Crystal moved on to the Portland office. But easy come, easy go.

  The question of her job seemed small and insignificant when compared to the question of what the fuck to do about the rest of her life.

  Once they’d eaten something, they sat at the table nursing coffee mugs, and playing footsie.

  “So, tell me about Sophia.”

  “Kenna,” Ally corrected. “Kenna Miller. Does that name ring any bells?”

  A tiny line formed between his eyebrows as he concentrated; it was darned cute. “I don’t think so, but I don’t know everyone in this town, not like my mother does.” He darted her a glance. “If I wanted to know anything about anyone I’d ask her, but what with this being Rory’s girlfriend, and all...”

  “Yeah, I understand.”

  “I’d like you to meet her. You two would get on.”

  “I don’t know when I’d get the time.” Her stomach hollowed out. “I won’t be in town for much longer.”

  “About that.” He stared across the table, reached for her hands. “You’re not getting away this time.”

  “I have to. I have a life. And it’s not here.” She half expected him to pull away, looking hurt. But he didn’t. His expression didn’t change at all, as if he hadn’t even registered her words.

  “Bullshit. Your place is here. With me.”

  “Seriously?” Her eyes widened so wide her eyebrows arched. “That’s a bit caveman.”

  “Me Tarzan, you Jane.” A grin flickered over his face for a split second, then was gone. “I’m sick of pretending this is just a casual thing. You belong here.”

  “I’ve got work.”

  He nodded.

  “You’re a father.”

  “I have a son, not a disease. I have a life, and I want you in it.”

  “I guess we could get together sometimes—when you’re in Seattle...”

  He shook his head. “No. I want more. I want you to leave Seattle and move to Shepherd’s Crook.”

  And what, move in with him and his son? “That’s crazy.”

  “I’m not saying you move in with Rory and me. He’ll need some time to get used to the idea, and you need time to get used to the idea too. I’ll pay the rent on this place or somewhere like it for a while until you get yourself settled.”

  “You’re planning to set me up in a rental, like I’m your fucking mistress?”

  “I’m trying to make a way for this to work.”

  “Leaving my job, and upending my life after a few days with you seems pretty damn reckless.”

  “I’m just telling you what I want.” He traced eights in her palm with his fingertip. Eights, or infinities. “This is the beginning of a negotiation.” He brought her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to it.

  “I need to see Kenna. If she’s being abused, she needs my help.”

  “I’ll come with you.” The look on his face brooked no argument, but she was determined to do this alone.

  “No. She needs her friends. She needs Rory. And if she knows you’re involved, the first thing she will do is sever ties with him. She’ll feel betrayed. I have to go alone.” She stood, walked over and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’ll call you after I’ve spoken to her.”

  Ally found Kenna’s house and parked a little distance away so she had a clear view of the front door. There were lights inside, so someone was home. This was a poor area of Shepherd’s Crook, the small houses were crowded tight together, with only a narrow space between them. Kenna’s house looked well-tended though. The front yard had been recently mowed, and a couple of children’s bikes were propped against the front of the house. Some of the houses had borders planted, but Kenna’s garden was more utilitarian: a handkerchief of grass, a couple of chipp
ed pots with flowers in them, and a concrete path that led to a gate at the side of the house.

  Ally clipped the top off the cup of coffee she’d bought on the way to this stakeout, and took a sip. Jace had been reticent to see her leave alone. He’d argued that she’d need backup in case Kenna’s father turned out to be violent, and suggested coming along for the ride. If he knew of some of the assignments she’d been on in the past—assignments where the men she investigated had not taken kindly to her walking away after she got what she wanted—his hair would have turned white. And even though she was a modern woman who sure didn’t need a man to guard her, his caveman protective instincts warmed something in her deep inside. Maybe it was just because he cared, and since the dissolution of her family, it didn’t seem as though anybody cared for her in a long, long time.

  Time passed. The dregs of her coffee were stone cold by the time the front door opened, and a small blonde boy dashed out onto the lawn to grab a football lying half-hidden next to the fence. Kenna appeared, calling something to him as she walked around the side of the house and opened the gate. Then she grabbed both bikes, and wheeled them through the gate. The boy threw the ball and chased it into the backyard. Kenna fastened the gate after him. Walked back to the front door and after a moment, appeared again, putting on a denim jacket and carrying a small black backpack.

  There was someone just inside the door, but from her position Ally couldn’t make out who it was. Kenna spoke to the person for a few minutes and then set off down the path to the sidewalk. She started walking away from Ally’s position. Ally drove after her and parked a little way further ahead, got out of the car and locked it.

  Kenna was absorbed by something on her phone. She didn’t see Ally until they were a few yards apart.

  “Kenna.”

  The shock of recognition was followed by a look of dawning realization that Ally used her real name.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I know who you are—no, Rory didn’t tell me, I found out by myself. I’m here because I really need to talk to you.” Ally pitched her voice low and calming, so as not to frighten off the skittish girl.