by Naima Simone
She smiled, satisfaction sliding through her. Back on solid ground. Score one for the gold digger.
Moments later, he opened the rear door of the black, sleek town car at the curb and guided her inside. The sides of his long, wool coat gapped open as he bent and followed her, settling on the seat beside her with enough space to fit another person.
Even though it was Sunday, he wore another of his suits, this one a charcoal grey several shades darker than his eyes. With his perfectly styled, short, black hair and clean-shaven jaw, he was as impeccable as always. But she couldn’t help but recall the more relaxed man she’d intruded upon the night before. The one who wore thick sweaters and jeans that would’ve had Calvin Klein down on one knee begging him to model, and went barefoot.
Barefoot. Who would’ve thought the sight of his big, long feet could be so…hot?
Could make him seem almost human?
“So, I’ve been thinking.” She thought she caught a muttered “oh hell” from the other side of the car, but she continued, undeterred. “We need a story. As far as most people know, the first time we met was at the auction. And then working for you doesn’t look all that aboveboard. So we have to come up with a believable tale regarding our passionate love affair.”
“Let’s just keep it simple and stick as close to the truth as possible,” he said, his tone a bland whatever.
“That would mean we decided to get married after knowing each other for a whole two weeks. While that might be a long time for Britney Spears, it’s not for us. And claiming it is will only raise suspicion.” She turned, propping her back against the corner so she could have an unhindered view of his etched-in-stone profile. “Since I’m obviously the most creative one of this duo, I’ll take a shot at it. We met a month ago at a friend’s dinner party in New York. I was actually at that party, and I don’t think you were in Boston yet, right?”
He faced her, and she trapped a wayward sigh. The frontal view was even more stunning than the side. Not fair that someone as gorgeous as he was only two steps and a fake engagement away from being her mortal enemy. Now they were uneasy allies.
“No, I hadn’t,” he said. “But will your friend vouch for me being at her party?”
She waved a hand. “She was so plastered, she didn’t even know she was there. We’re good. I’ll just say you were a business associate of her husband’s. So our eyes met across a crowded room—” At his snort, she jabbed a finger in his direction. “I know, I know. Cliché, but it’s a cliché for a reason. So our eyes met across a crowded room, and time stood still. The earth paused on its axis. Everything ceased to exist—”
“I get it,” he drawled.
“So from that night on, we were inseparable. And what a coincidence that you were in the process of buying the very company I worked for? Fate, right? Because we wanted to keep business separate from oh so much pleasure”—she gave a mock shiver that had his eyebrows jacking down into a scowl—“we decided to keep our relationship hush-hush. But now that you’ve proposed, we can tell the world so they can celebrate our love with us. The end.”
“That was…inspiring. And anyone who knows me will never buy it.” He shook his head and returned his gaze to the side window. “Simple is best. We met at the auction.”
“But don’t you see? That’s the beauty of the story. You said so yourself, if we’re going to pull this off, then people are going to need to believe you fell head over heels onto your overly analytical, emotionally stunted ass. No offense.” She offered him a smile, when he glanced at her, eyes narrowed. “Our story needs to be so unexpected and contrary to your usual behavior that it’s actually believable. A secret love affair. Boss and the secretary. Insta-love. Harlequin would be salivating for this story. And so will everyone else,” she pointed out.
He didn’t reply, just continued to stare at her with that unnerving, steady focus. The silence in the rear of the car thickened until it seemed like another, invisible person occupied the interior with them. She barely squelched the urge to jerk the car door open and bail out the moving vehicle. Anything to escape his piercing scrutiny.
“Is that how it was with you and your ex? Eyes across a crowded room and time standing still?” he finally asked, his voice low, almost a murmur.
She flinched. Wasn’t fast enough to control it. The question slapped her, leaving a stinging pain behind. As if of its own accord, her hand slid into her coat pocket, and she curled her fingers around the invitation. She didn’t discuss Troy, not with anyone. And the very last person would be Alex. Not only because the topic still retained the power to humiliate her, but also… She tried to smother the sly thought, but it slithered past her mental guards anyway. The truth had a way of doing that.
Alex hadn’t known her before hell had broken loose. He hadn’t seen her in love, excited about her engagement, about her future. And he hadn’t witnessed her desperate attempts to keep it together after the shit had hit the fan.
She would rather be the shallow opportunist he thought she was than pathetic and damaged.
Shoving the pain behind brittle walls, she forced a smile to her lips. “No,” she said. “Actually, we met at a Phoenix House clothing drive. He helped his sister cart in a load of clothes and walked out with my number and a date for dinner that night. A real smooth operator.” Sometimes she’d wondered if Cynthia had been in attendance, would their history have been written differently. Would he have recognized Cynthia as his soul mate, and she would’ve joined him that evening instead of Morgan? Shaking off the thought, she removed her grip from around the invitation and clasped her fingers in her lap. “What about you and your ex-wife?” she questioned, and ignored the hint of desperation tinging the words. “Love at first sight? One-night stand you couldn’t force to go home?”
“The old-fashioned way. She targeted me as someone who could provide her with the lifestyle she wanted and arranged to meet me at a function.” His bland tone didn’t reflect anger, sadness, or regret. No hint of emotion shadowed his eyes. Just…nothing.
“That’s, uh, cold.” Cold, hell, it was mercenary. “How do you know that’s true? Maybe it just seemed that way in hindsight…”
“She admitted it to me,” he stated flatly.
“Well. Damn,” she breathed. No wonder he had a thing against gold diggers. His ex-wife sounded like a piece of work. The sadness missing from his tone settled like a rock in her chest. “We’re a pair, aren’t we? Two people left disillusioned by those who were supposed to love us.”
He didn’t reply. Instead, as the car pulled to a stop, he turned from her.
“We’re here.”
Then he pushed the door open and stepped out. Only his outstretched hand remained in the car.
I guess we’re here.
And just like that, the subject was closed. Good. Because thinking the two of them could have anything in common was ridiculous. A moment of lunacy.
Placing her hand in his, she braced herself for the same electrical current that had zig-zagged through her last night when she’d cupped his face and stroked his cheekbone. She’d overplayed her hand. Badly.
She hadn’t expected the charge of lust that had nearly sent her reeling away from him then. It’d required every bit of self-control not to snatch her hand back and tell him to forget it. But a stronger, deeper…harder need had kept her palm there. Touching him. Feeling the warmth under his skin soaking into her. She’d shivered then, but prepared, suppressed the one trying to work its way down her spine now.
Sliding him a side glance, she copped a peek at his mouth. The same mouth she’d brushed her fingertips across the previous evening. Even now, the firmness of his full bottom lip seemed grafted on her skin, like a damn fingerprint. A hot pulsing set up low in her belly, and she squeezed her thighs in response to the ache. Which only caused her to stumble since lust pooling between the legs and walking at the same time didn’t exactly go hand in hand.
Alex shot her a questioning look, but she waved it off. Fi
ne. Doing just fine. Turned on as all hell from a simple hand-holding, but nothing to see here. Carry on.
Good God. Last night, today—it had to be an anomaly. A side effect of abstinence. This was the most skin-on-skin action she’d seen since breaking up with Troy. That had to be why her sex was sending up SOS signals like a shipwrecked sailor. Not because she wanted to get naked with Alex. Because that was…was…ridiculous. Preposterous.
Yes, he possessed the kind of looks that would have that David Gandy model guy slinking off with a brown paper bag over his face. And he owned a body that would give Michael Phelps a run for his money…and make him lose. But as they’d stated and proven time and again since meeting: they didn’t like each other. And she knew how it was to give her body to a man who didn’t appreciate her, only saw her as a pretty face and a hot body to fuck. The men—using that term loosely—she’d been intimate with hadn’t cared about her dreams, her ideas, or that she’d earned two degrees in finance with a 3.9 GPA. They’d been more concerned with what lay between her legs than between her ears.
That’s why Troy had been so different. And she’d fallen so quickly. He’d listened. He’d cared. He’d respected her. And while they hadn’t exactly had Boston FD kicking in their bedroom door, it’d been warm and nice because of the emotional connection. Or so she’d believed.
As loony as it sounded, this thing with Alex was her most honest relationship.
We. Don’t. Like. Each. Other.
The words echoed in her head again. At least she knew where he stood—where they stood. Business. Supply and demand. No hearts or messy emotions involved, so no chance of pain, shame, or humiliation when it ended.
A short knock on a door drew her from the sticky morass her thoughts had become. Gratefully, she escaped and focused on the store they waited in front of. A small “Closed for Private Showing” sign hung in the window. Through the glass top half of the door, she spotted a short, impeccably suited older man emerge from the rear of the store, a pleased smile lighting up his face. Moments later, he opened the door. With a wide sweep of his arm, he welcomed them inside, locking it behind them.
Large windows and a glowing chandelier provided natural and artificial light for the shining displays showcasing gorgeous jewelry. Necklaces, earrings, bracelets, and rings containing every imaginable gem twinkled at her. The elegance and luxury of the store spoke of wealth that only a small percentage of people could afford. And though she had her own money, she was not included in that tax bracket that could purchase a seven-figure pair of earrings. But apparently, the man beside her was.
“Welcome, welcome, Mr. Bishop. We’re so pleased to have you and your lovely fiancée with us today.”
“Morgan, this is Mr. Hammond, owner of Hammond’s Jewelry. Mr. Hammond, this is my fiancée, Morgan Lett,” Alex introduced her, releasing her and settling his palm on the small of her back.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Hammond.” She accepted his outstretched hand, and he gave it a firm shake.
“You as well, Ms. Lett. And we’re honored you chose us to provide you with a ring for this special occasion.”
As if he’d emitted a silent signal, three women dressed in black dresses, all wearing the same polite smiles, appeared and moved to stand behind different sparkling glass cases.
“Let me show you several engagement rings that I pre-selected for you to view. Of course, none are as beautiful as your bride-to-be,” he gushed.
Niiiice. Morgan smothered a burst of laughter and followed Mr. Hammond and Alex to the nearest display. Large, blinding diamonds nestled in gold and silver settings winked up at them. She’d joked about wanting a ring that would require a security detail, but these…these definitely fit that requirement.
And they all left her feeling nothing.
All of them reminded her of the three-carat diamond ring Troy had given her. It’d been big, flashy, ostentatious…and so not her. That should’ve been her first clue. Something so important, a symbol of his intention to spend the rest of his life with her, and he hadn’t even known her well enough to see that it’d been too…much. Too cold.
Then again, maybe it’d been a perfect reflection of how he’d seen her.
And how Alex saw her, too, since he carefully studied the jewelry.
She made a pretense of surveying the rings as well, but already her mind wandered. Alex didn’t comment, and when he moved on to peruse another display, she remained behind. What was the point? This was just for show. Not even a real engagement. So what did it matter which ring he chose?
“Congratulations, Ms. Lett,” the slender brunette behind the glass counter said. “You two make a stunning couple.”
“Thank you.” She beamed. “He’s pretty wonderful…when he’s not being a grouch, that is.” She slid a glance in his direction, and though he didn’t glance up from his inspection of the rings, she caught the slight stiffening of his shoulders. Oh, he was listening. The devil inside her that insisted on raising its naughty head when it came to needling him, cackled in glee. “But that’s how I knew I loved him. When he gets all growly like a bear with a sore paw, and even while I wanted to smack him one, I still needed to smother him with kisses and soothe the pain.”
“Oh that’s so sweet,” the other woman cooed.
“He’s such a romantic.” Morgan leaned forward, folding her arms on the glass top and probably leaving a smudge Mr. Hammond would scrub clean as soon as she left. She leaned forward as if about to impart a huge secret. “I know this is scandalous, but he proposed after we’ve been together for a month. He just popped the question. And I couldn’t say no. Which is why we’re here buying a ring after the fact. But I had to accept. I can’t imagine spending my life without my cuddle bunny.”
She shot Alex another adoring look. He’d ceased studying the rings and slowly straightened, his long, rangy body unfolding and reminding her of a scary—sexy—jungle cat. His hooded gaze remained fixed on her. Ignoring the flutter in her belly at that weighty scrutiny, she turned up the wattage on her smile.
“It was the most romantic thing ever. He…” She sighed. “You tell them how you proposed, pumpkin.”
Alex stared at her, his storm-heavy eyes shuttered. But she could easily guess what thoughts crowded his head.
She’s crazy as a shithouse rat.
What is wrong with her?
I’m going to kill her.
Biting the inside of her lip, she struggled to maintain the besotted expression on her face. He should consider this practice for when they had to face his family and friends, as well as their nosy and avaricious social circle.
“This one.” He tapped the top of the glass, and Mr. Hammond bent and removed another velvet-covered platform. Carefully, he removed the ring, but she couldn’t catch a glimpse of it as he placed it in Alex’s cupped hand.
Turning back to Morgan, he pinned her with a stare that had her heart tap-dancing against her rib cage. Her breath short-circuited along with her brain, and she could only stand there, frozen, trying to conceal her soft pants as he strode over to her with a panther-like prowl. Or stalk. Because she definitely felt hunted.
All that dark intensity centered on her. It was intimidating, daunting…hot.
“We were dining at my home, and I made an awful joke. And I knew it was bad. Because until she came into my life, I didn’t tell jokes, didn’t find much reason to laugh. But then I met Morgan, and all that changed,” he murmured, finally reaching her. His big hands bracketed her hips, and she gasped. Both from his electric touch and his words. They stunned her into absolute silence, enraptured her. Held her as much a spellbound witness as the other people in the store. “But still…she laughed. Like I was the funniest, wittiest person who existed. And in that moment, I was. She made me feel that way. It was right then, as the candlelight reflected in her gorgeous, blue eyes, I knew I couldn’t let her go. That smile and laughter, I couldn’t live without it lighting up my days—my world.” That sin-and-sex voice deepened to a sensua
l caress that hypnotized her. Had her heart thumping, her blood thickening into a warm, molasses slide through her veins. She’d had no idea that underneath all that ice, he could match her acting skills word for word.
He shifted forward, and she moved backward until her ass hit the edge of the display case. His hands tightened on her, and between one blink and the next, he lifted her, settling her on the glass top.
Oh Jesus. A rush of arousal flooded her, and she just barely managed to stifle a whimper. The casual show of strength had her nipples beading underneath her bra. Had her poor, aching sex swelling. Right there in the jewelry store.
“So, I stood, shoved aside the dishes, picked her up, and sat her on the table.” He grasped a lock of her hair and tugged, twisting the strands around a blunt-tipped finger. She bit her lip at the minute, dull tingle on her scalp. The pull raced straight to the flesh between her legs, adding to the throb there. “I stared into her eyes.” The other hand pinched her chin, tilting her head back. “And said, ‘I wasn’t looking for you. Didn’t know I needed you. Not until I looked across that crowded room and saw you. In that moment, my life changed; I changed. From one second to the next I wasn’t the same man, and I owe that to you. And I don’t want to go back to a life where you’re not in it. I love you, Morgan Lett. But more than that, I can’t exist without you. Bring me in from the cold, and tell me you’ll be my wife.’”
“Yes,” she whispered, the answer popping out of her as if she were sitting on that table with the scattered dishes instead of a jewelry store counter. Fire streamed up her chest and throat and into her face. Oh damn. “I mean…”
But whatever she would’ve said stuttered and died on her tongue when he reached into his pocket and withdrew the ring he’d chosen for her.
The white diamond-encrusted, double-strand band twisted together like embracing lovers. And in the middle sat a large blush-colored diamond shaped like a pink tear. The smaller, paler gems surrounding it seemed to glitter under the store’s artificial light.