by Caro LaFever
Before she could articulate the thoughts running in her head, he walked straight to her side and dropped to his knees once more. “But here’s the thing, mi amor.”
She knew enough Spanish to know he’d just called her my love. Although he’d confessed his love for her a few minutes ago, something about the casual way this endearment rolled off his tongue, struck her. The fact that he’d said the words in Spanish hit her harder than when he’d said them in English. He only spoke Spanish when he lost control of his emotions, spilling himself out for a woman to see the reality of his feelings.
He did love her.
He really did.
Her. Jessica McDowell with her too-red curls and stick figure and freckles. The Jessica who’d never managed to convince her father she was worthy. Had never managed to make true friends in college. Had never had a man say I love you and really mean it. The last of her insecurities slid away, replaced with a knowing so deep and broad, she knew she’d never sink again. This man in front of her lifted her into the air, into his freedom.
“Nick,” she whispered in awe, a well of tears threatening to break.
“No, wait.” He sucked in a ragged breath, and for the first time, she noticed how pale he was underneath the warmth of his olive skin. “Let me finish.”
“All right.” The fact he was scared at this moment turned her hope and her heart into a blend of sweet serenity. She was going to take him. He didn’t even have to say whatever he was going to confess, it didn’t matter.
She was going to marry him because he’d set her free with his love.
Not knowing her decision, he plowed on. “I’m not marrying you for your hotels.”
“No?” She knew that. It was written all over him. His rumpled curls, the frantic look in his eyes, the tight line of his mouth.
Her heart tumbled some more.
“No.” Grabbing her hand, he let her know his turmoil by sliding his sweaty palm on hers. “I’m marrying you for you. The hotels be damned.”
“Yeah?” The ring. She wanted that ring on her finger. And yet, she wanted to hear all of this before she said yes. His words went through her like a love song, bringing a strange sort of healing in their wake.
“Your dad is an ancient relic.”
A puff of surprised laughter came from her.
“He is.” Nick’s fingers tightened on hers. “I like him, don’t get me wrong.”
“I like him too, though you’re right. He’s old-fashioned.”
“So when we talked, I thought about buying his hotels, but I could have bought a thousand other hotels.” He gazed at her, straight and sincere. “Do you understand, Jessie? I could have easily bought another hotel chain with less hassle than dealing with your father.”
The reality punched her again. Nick was right. With his money, he could have practically any hotel in the world he wanted. Hell, he could build a hotel chain that dwarfed the McDowell franchise in just a few years.
He didn’t want her for her hotels or her money.
Not like all the other men that had come through her life.
Nick Townsend loved her. For herself.
“Where’s that ring?” she husked.
The celestial blue of his eyes brightened, like a starburst of angelic relief. “Are you sure?”
Laughing, she grabbed both of his ears and pulled him in for a sweet, seductive kiss.
Chapter 25
“You did what?” Jess stared at her new husband in disbelief.
“I bought our Painted Lady.” Nick grinned at her, before sliding the key in the lock and opening the front door of the house. “I can be persuasive on occasion. My friend finally capitulated.”
“On occasion?” Her voice turned dry.
Laughing, he grabbed their suitcases and eased through the door into the narrow hallway. “I couldn’t think of anywhere else I’d rather spend our honeymoon.”
“Paris?” she murmured from behind him. “Venice?”
He dropped the luggage and turned to face her, his expression growing concerned. “Sorry. I know I went ahead and planned everything fast.”
He had. On the very night of the day she’d said yes, he’d picked her up on his motorcycle, driven her down the main street of Las Vegas, to arrive at a corny little white chapel.
“Drive-through weddings?” she’d gaped at the sign. “You can’t be serious.”
Glancing over his shoulder, he’d thrown her a reckless grin. “Why not?”
“But…but…” she sputtered. “My dad? Your family?”
A dark cloud passed through his eyes. “I want it to be just us.”
She didn’t want to poke into his pain, except she’d always assumed her father would be a part of her wedding. “My dad.”
The forlorn tone in her voice caused every muscle in his body to tighten along the length of her torso. “Jessie.”
She looked at the spire shooting straight into the moonlight, thinking about wedding dresses and bridesmaids and having her father walk her down the aisle. Yet, during the last few days, her dad had seemed disinterested in everything, and if she were truthful with herself, he might not be physically able to walk her anywhere.
Grief clutched in her throat. She loved this man in front of her, though, and she’d taken his ring and agreed to marry him. That’s what she needed to focus on, not the inevitable loss of her father.
“Jessie,” Nick said again, his voice low and rough. “Please.”
“What?” At the plea, she dropped her gaze to meet his.
“¿Qué,” he corrected her.
His voice held a calm confidence, yet the look in his eyes told her he was anything but. The realization soothed her worries for some reason. They were both scared. Both hurting and loving and jumping. Together. “All right, cowboy. Let’s do this thing.”
He’d thrown his head back and laughed, before zooming them to the window.
To have and to hold. For better, for worse.
To love and to cherish.
Within minutes, the deed had been done, and she was officially Mrs. Townsend.
“Mrs. McDowell-Townsend,” she yelled at him, as they raced out into the desert.
He’d laughed again, and laughed some more when he’d guided her onto his private plane, and she’d questioned what was happening and where they were going. “You’ll see,” he’d cooed at her as they lifted off. “Don’t worry, I talked to your dad before we left, and he knows we were getting married and going on a short honeymoon. He was pleased.”
She hadn’t been surprised. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know her father would be ecstatic at this news. In his usual blunt way, he’d made it clear what he wanted.
“Hey.” Nick walked through the Painted Lady’s door and grabbed her hands, pulling her out of the memories. “If you want to go to Paris—”
“No, I don’t.” Liking the feeling of his fingers twined through hers, she smiled. “This is exactly what I want.”
“Only this?” He came right at her to nuzzle her neck. “Or something else, too?”
“Maybe.” A giggle escaped her when he licked the shell of her ear.
“Certainly.” Her husband smirked as he tugged her closer. “That was a laugh, Mrs. Townsend. Which means we should head for the bedroom.”
“Mrs. McDowell-Townsend.”
Leaning back, he gave her a fake glare. “No woman of mine is going to have a hyphenated name.”
“No?”
“No.” Swinging her into his arms, he stepped through the doorway, slamming it behind them. “I have a surprise for you.”
“Another one?” A giddy joy flowed through her.
It was only now sinking in that for the rest of her life, she’d have this beautiful man. She’d have his lusty body next to hers in bed. She’d have his teasing and challenges. And more than anything, she’d have his love. A love that thought she was magnificent, not deficient. A male love for her body. A firm, loyal love who knew the importance of her hotels, and honor
ed her talent for running them.
How could she have gotten so lucky?
“You’re looking a bit dazed, Mrs. Townsend.” His gaze flew over her. “Is there a problem?”
“Not at all.” She grinned her joy at him. “I don’t have a single problem I can think of.”
“Hold that thought.” Grinning back, he dropped her to her feet and drew her up the narrow stairs. “I had some renovations done to our balcony.”
“In less than a week?” she said. “You bought this place and had construction completed in just days?”
“Yeah.” He pulled her into their attic retreat and waved at the terrace. “Go see.”
Feeling like a little girl at Christmas, Jess rushed to the double doors and threw them open. “Oh, wow.”
When she’d investigated the balcony the last time they’d been here, it had been populated with a couple of simple wooden chairs and a small table. Now, the balcony had been extended in a circular curve following the unique lines of the house. The table and chairs were gone, and in their place was a sofa bed lying low on the floor, piled with cream cushions. Fat candles stood in the center of an adjoining table, along with a pile of white-and-red Chinese-food boxes.
Looking up, she noted the string of dainty lights wrapped around the top of the new overhang, which effectively shielded them from the outside world.
“You like?” His voice was suave and cool.
Laughing, delight exploding inside her, she swiveled to look at him. “You’re a romantic.”
A baffled look crossed his face before being replaced with his usual cocky expression. “If you say so.”
“I know so.” The man didn’t like the thought of being tagged a romantic, which amused her. “You’re emotional and romantic. I have a feeling you also have a soft heart.”
“I thought you might be hungry.” He brushed past her to fiddle with the half-dozen boxes of food. “I ordered dim sum.”
Deciding not to pursue the subject any longer, even though she reveled in knowing her new husband was a softie, Jess went to the sofa and plopped down. “Nice.”
“Just nice?” His brows rose and his mouth pursed in pretend dismay.
She threw herself down on the wide expanse of cream loveliness, her arms over her head, her heart flying above them. “More than nice.”
“You really shouldn’t lay like that if you don’t want to be ravished.” The words were gruff and growly.
Lifting her head, she gave him a new smile. One she’d only ever found with him. “What if I want to be ravished?”
In one flat second, he was on her. His mouth sucked on hers, his hands rode her hips, his heated, spicy scent wrapped around her like a sorcerer’s fantasy.
“Te amo,” he muttered on her skin. “I love you, Jessie.”
“I love you, too.”
A smile lit in his eyes and slid to his luscious lips. “Don’t ever stop. No matter what.”
The intensity in his voice shook something deep inside her. Something she immediately dismissed by yanking on his sweater. “Take this off.”
“Demanding woman.” But he did as she asked, pulling it over his head.
A female grunt of approval came from her throat. Again, she was astonished this man loved her. His beauty still made her breath catch. The candlelight slid over his olive skin, burnishing it with a warm golden glow. His shoulder muscles bunched, showing the male strength under the glow. A gleam of sweat covered the center of his chest and his sides, telling her his body was anticipating their joining. Wanting her, only her.
She wasn’t stupid. She’d take the unexpected gift of this beautiful man and enjoy him for years and years to come.
He leaned back on the cushions, the muscles of his arms going lax, the breadth of his chest lifting as he took in a deep inhalation. “Come here.”
Jess climbed onto him, her lips stringing a long line of kisses from his chin to his neck to his nipples. He grunted too, as she sucked on them. The taste of him, the sweetness of his response, shot into her like the thrilling drop of a roller coaster. In the next few minutes, they pulled and yanked and tugged their clothes off, until they both lay naked in the cool night air. She supposed it was pretty cold to be out here like this, but the furnace of their passion pushed away any awareness of anything else other than their union.
“No condoms this time.” His head reared up from her neck, his gaze intense and focused. “Is that okay with you?”
A flutter of shock trembled in her stomach. She saw what he meant in his eyes. The possibility of a baby. Nick’s child. “So soon?”
His mouth firmed at her hoarse question. “Sí. I want us to be a family. A family I’ve never had.”
Frowning, she stared at him in the dim glow of the candles and lights above. What did he mean? She’d met his family—a big, boisterous family who loved him, although there were clear problems.
He distracted her by sliding across her body, nestling his hips into hers, his cock brushing on her curls. “We love each other, don’t we?”
“Yes,” she said, the truth of that centering in her chest.
“And we both have plenty of resources to take care of a child.” His palm rested on her ribs, and then moved to her breast to tweak the nipple.
Gasping, she arched into the touch, her brain trying frantically to hold on to reason.
“Are you on the pill?” he murmured above her.
“No.” She hadn’t seen the need with her non-existent love life. Plus, the medication made her slightly nauseated. “I’m not on anything.”
“Bueno.” His intensity turned to satisfaction.
From her little knowledge of Spanish, she understood him. “Is it good?”
“Sí.” One knee slithered between her legs. “I want you to carry my child.”
The image his words conjured pushed into her mind and thrilled her. Scared her. Was she ready to be a mother? “I want to run my hotels.”
“Ginger Snap.”
“What?”
“¿Qué,” he corrected her, his mouth quirking. “I know you.”
“You do, huh?” Her hands slowly ran across his broad shoulders to his biceps.
“Yeah, I do. And the woman I know could have a family of a dozen babies and run an empire without batting one red eyelash.”
Her startled gaze latched onto his. “A dozen?” she squeaked.
His chuckle wrapped around her like a warm fist. “Maybe not that many.”
“I hope not,” she huffed, and the movement of her torso rubbed the tips of her breasts on the crisp hair of his chest. The touch made her brain fuzzy again, and all she wanted at this moment was him inside her body. “But I don’t want to talk.”
“I agree.” His hand reached down and grabbed his cock. Nudging closer, he planted himself at her entry. “Quiero que usted, Jessie, te amo.”
She gave in to him. His powerful passion, his demand for all of her, his need. A child still seemed unreal to her, yet she wanted him to be happy, this new husband of hers. She wanted to give Nick everything. There must have been something on her face that told him her truth, because he flashed her a grin and arched his hips.
His cock slid into her in a soft glide that made both of them gasp with pleasure.
“Mi esposa,” he husked. “Mi amor.”
The rush of Spanish love words continued to flow, as he surged into her and then retreated. The gleam of sweat oiled his skin into pure beauty, and the blue of his gaze never wavered from hers. She fell into him like he held all the cards of her heart in one hand.
“Nick,” she whispered.
And then the wave of pleasure took her, tossing her from end to end, tipping her over into bliss.
“Jessie,” he moaned above her, his face growing tight in the agony of his own orgasm. “Sólo tú. Sólo tú.”
She didn’t understand the words, but she understood the emotion in his voice.
They were one.
The ring of her cell phone woke him.
/> Nick rolled over to stare at his wife. It didn’t surprise him that she slept on. One of the many things he’d learned about his Jessie was the woman slept hard. It took a big cup of coffee, a thousand kisses on her nose and mouth, and a hot shower before she managed to string more than a few words together.
He thought it was adorable.
In fact, he thought pretty much everything about her was adorable. The way she blushed when he’d pulled her into a lingerie shop and showered her with quite a few see-through nighties. The way she laughed when they rolled around in bed, she tickling as much as he. The way she wore her new-found confidence with a shiny, winsome pride that made his heart swell.
There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her.
These last four days of their honeymoon had been like finding paradise in the middle of hell, and he had no intention of letting anything ruin it. Gracias a Dios he’d spoken to Clyde McDowell before he’d swept his daughter away. The old man had assured him the contract was well hidden. A layer of lawyers and security lay between the wretched deal and Nick’s new wife.
The phone buzzed once more on the bedside table.
Glancing at the clock, his mouth tightened. Whoever was calling at six a.m., bothering them on their honeymoon, better have a damn good reason for doing so.
Reaching over Jessie, he grabbed it. “Sí?”
A pause echoed through the line. “I need to talk to Jessica.”
Her bodyguard. The English accent and the tough, hard tone brought back the memory of how the man had glowered at him as Nick had picked her up to drive her to the chapel and marry her. “She’s sleeping.”
“Then wake her.” The man’s voice dropped into a growl. “Now.”
“Why?” He kept his voice low and calm, but his fiery temper lurched to life. “We’re on our honeymoon and that means we get to be alone together without interference. Deal with it.”
His wife liked this man. He was willing to play along because of that, however, he wasn’t willing to put up with crap.
Another pause. The man finally coughed. “Her father’s dead.”
Jerking up to sit on the side of the bed, Nick rubbed his face, his heart sinking for her. “Mierda.”