“Says the guy who’s got a surprise bun in the oven.” Tucker rolled his eyes. “I know what I’m doing.”
“I know you do. It’s not you I’m worried about,” I said. We stared at each for a long, hard minute.
“Unlike you, I’m not afraid to go after what I want.” He pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it onto the bench. “I’d rather take a risk and lose than sit around on my ass watching the opportunity of a lifetime pass by.”
What if he was right? What if all my caution and fear led to the greatest disappointment of my life? If I hesitated with Venetia, if I chose to stay single for too long, I might lose out on a future filled with promise, a wife, and a family. An even more terrifying thought gave new shape to my misgivings. What if I missed out on her?
It was wrong, the way my heart skipped a beat when I saw her face. My palms dampened, and my mouth went dry. She wore a short denim skirt, an oversized knit sweater, and knee-high boots. I went instantly hard. Fucking unbelievable. Overcome with panic at the rush of need, I backpedaled toward the door. This had been a huge mistake. I wasn’t ready to admit my feelings. She hadn’t seen me. I could turn around and leave the furniture store before she noticed. I could send a text, leave a message, make some lame excuse for standing her up. Before I could choose an option, our gazes connected, and her big eyes sucked me into their vortex. I had no choice but to smile back and go to her.
“Hey,” she said. She looked away, studying the housewares sign at my left.
“Hello.” God, this was awkward. I wasn’t sure where to put my hands, so I shoved them into the pockets of my jeans.
“So, let’s get started.” The casual tone of her voice confused me. After the way we’d parted at her apartment building, I had no idea where I stood with her. Did she feel the same conflicting emotions for me? Or had I completely lost touch of reality in this situation. I didn’t want to be the fool, the sorry bastard in love with a girl who didn’t love him back.
We wandered through dozens of makeshift furniture clusters. I tried to pay attention while Venetia pointed out appropriate pieces and chattered about focal points, color cues, and texture. One sofa pretty much looked like another to me. I was too distracted by the way her hair kept falling over one eye. Loose waves cascaded down her back. The next time the glossy locks went astray, I brushed them aside with a sweep of my hand. We both tensed.
“Sorry,” I said and cleared my throat. My fingers tingled at the touch of her skin.
“Focus, Beckett. What do you think about this one?” She flopped back onto a leather sofa, long legs stretched in front of her, propped up on her elbows.
“It’s fine.” I wanted to follow her down onto the couch, part her thighs with my knees and settle against her sweet pussy. “It doesn’t matter to me. I don’t really care.”
“If you don’t want to be here, just say so,” she snapped. “I’m trying to be helpful, and you’re just being a dick.”
If she knew the twisted, dirty thoughts running through my head, she’d turn around and run the other way. The situation was getting way out of hand. I wanted her in the worst way. She haunted my thoughts, my dreams, and my sleep. I couldn’t get through the day without jacking off to a mental image of her perfect tits in that flowing blouse at the pub last week.
“Get up,” I ordered. I was just about to drag her into the men’s room and fuck her against the wall when my phone vibrated. Margaret’s name flashed over the caller ID. Talk about a reality check. I raised a finger to Venetia and answered the call. She frowned, shook her head, and walked toward the front of the store. “Mags, can I call you back?”
“I’ve got the rest of Seaforth’s documents,” she said. My gaze followed Venetia’s backside out the door. I hurried after her. “The wills for both parties and the final draft of the prenup. I need you to sign off on them.”
“Sure. I’ll be in Monday.”
“Not Monday. Today.” Margaret’s tone left no room for argument. “He wants this done.”
“Fine.” I burst out the door to find Venetia waiting in the parking lot, arms crossed over her chest, toe tapping on the pavement. “Later, Mags.” I shoved the phone in my pocket. “Come on. I’ll give you a ride home.”
“Go ahead. Be with her. I’m not stopping you.” In spite of her cool tone, her chin quivered. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she cared. The notion thrilled me.
“I told you. She’s a coworker.” I took her by the elbow and led her to my car.
“You’re screwing her.” She halted and pulled her arm from my grasp. “That’s more than a coworker.”
“I’m not screwing her.” We glared at each other. “Not since before New Orleans.” Not since you.
“I don’t believe it.” She cocked her head, the tension in her shoulders easing a tiny bit. “Once a player, always a player.”
I scrubbed an exasperated hand over my face. This girl challenged me at every step, and I loved every confusing minute of it. “I need to stop by the office for a minute. You can meet her and find out for yourself.”
“Really?” Her features softened. A ray of afternoon sunlight turned the color of her eyes to intense blue. I blinked at their brightness. “I’m sorry. That was out of line. I don’t know what made me say that.”
“It’s okay.” I opened the door of the Wrangler. The rusted hinges squealed in protest. I cringed. Venetia laughed.
“You’re still driving this?” She bit her lower lip, cheeks flushed with mischief, the tension between us forgotten. “Seriously, Beckett.”
“Don’t make fun of Harriet,” I said, shooting her a playful, warning glare. “She’s very sensitive.”
Chapter 28
Venetia
WE RODE the elevator up to his office in silence, our gazes locked. Something had changed in the way he looked at me after he met Etienne. His gaze lingered on my lips, lifted to my eyes, then back to my lips. A tremor shook my fingers. I pressed my palms against the wall behind me to hide the shaking. Our relationship changed directions with the swiftness of the wind, keeping me on edge, always uncertain.
“What?” he asked, voice textured and deep. My nipples tightened beneath my blouse. He could do that to me, turn me on with a single word or gesture.
“Nothing,” I said.
His eyes narrowed. “Not nothing. It’s something.”
I’d never seen a man smolder before, but that was the only way I could describe the heat in his eyes. The cotton fabric of his T-shirt stretched taut over the muscles of his chest and shoulders. The scent of laundry soap hung in the air. In casual clothes and with his hair mussed, he looked younger, more dangerous.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked and crossed my arms over my chest.
“How am I looking at you?” It seemed impossible, but his voice dropped lower still.
Where to begin? I felt like a mouse trapped in a cage with a hungry lion. The line of Beckett’s jaw squared, and a muscle ticked beneath his cheekbone. He was a virile, sexy beast of a man, filling the confined space of the elevator car with testosterone. My hormones jumped to attention. I blamed it on the pregnancy and not the attraction pulsing between us.
“You’re making me nervous,” I confessed. In fact, I was nervous about meeting his Margaret. His Margaret. I didn’t know the woman, but I already wanted to claw her eyes out.
“Why?” He took a step closer. Next to his towering tallness and his hard, flat muscles, I felt small and curvy and overtly feminine. I tipped my head back to look up at him. Dark, somber eyes stared down at me. His voice lowered to a husky caress. “Are you scared of me, baby?”
“No,” I said stubbornly, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. I was afraid he’d touch me, and I’d be unable to resist, unable to avoid falling under his spell. I weaved on my feet, drawn to him with a force beyond my control.
“I would never hurt you, V.” The backs of his knuckles drifted over my cheek.
Everything below my
waist clenched with need and wanton lust. “I know,” I whispered, because I did know. He wasn’t the kind of guy to lead me on or play with my emotions. His hand cupped the side of my face. I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch, breathless with anticipation.
Ding.
The elevator doors slid open. Beckett’s hand dropped to his side. I reeled with disappointment, then his fingers threaded through mine, and a new thrill ran down my arm. He drew me forward, along the marble corridor, our footsteps echoing in the empty office. Our palms melded together.
“Piers? What are you doing here?” A silver-haired man poked his head out of a set of black double doors. Even though it was Saturday, he wore a suit and tie. His curious gaze took me in. “Who is this?”
“This is Venetia Seaforth. Venetia, this is Joseph Daniels, senior partner.” Beckett’s tone carried a hint of annoyance. His fingers tightened on my left hand.
“Seaforth? Any relation to Maxwell?” Daniels asked.
“Yes, I’m his daughter,” I said and offered my right hand to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Daniels.”
“Is that so? I didn’t realize he had two daughters.” Daniels took my hand, his countenance warming.
“Well, he does,” I replied, feeling a surge of irritation. I was getting tired of people forgetting me.
“So I see.” Daniels didn’t let go of my hand. Instead, he enveloped it with both of his. “And the pleasure is all mine. Piers, where have you been hiding this lovely girl?”
“Piers, there you are.” A slim, dark woman exited a nearby office before Beckett could answer. She exuded confidence and capability, along with feline sexuality. She could have been the nicest person in the world, but I instantly hated her.
I pulled my hand from Daniels’s grip.
Margaret smiled at Beckett, but the heat in her eyes cooled when it drifted down his arm to our clasped hands. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had someone with you.”
“Margaret, this is Venetia. Venetia, meet Margaret.” Piers waved a hand between us. Jealousy pumped through my veins. His hands had touched her body. He’d been inside her. I felt sick to my stomach.
“Nice to meet you, Venetia.” She ran an assessing gaze over my face and figure. We shook hands. Her grip was firm and confident. I squeezed back. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Really? I’ve heard a lot about you, too,” I said, letting my voice trail off, and gave Beckett a raised eyebrow. He shrugged. I ran a hand through my hair, wishing I’d touched up my makeup before meeting this beautiful woman.
“Give me a minute to take care of this, V, and we’ll get out of here.” He let go of my hand and took Margaret by the elbow.
“I’ll watch out for her,” Daniels said. He beamed at me, no doubt jazzed up by my bloodline and bank account. “Come. Have a seat in my office, Ms. Seaforth, and tell me a little about yourself. Would you like some coffee or tea, perhaps?”
As he herded me toward his office, I cast a glance over my shoulder to find Beckett’s hand on the small of Margaret’s back. The hair on my nape bristled. I didn’t like the sight of his hand on another woman, any woman, coworker or not. By the way Margaret leaned into his touch, she still desired him. Maybe Beckett and I were only friends, and maybe we’d been forced into this relationship, but I had to face the facts. I wanted him, and maybe—just maybe—I was in love.
Inside Daniels’s office, I paced the length of the room and trailed a hand over the framed artwork on the walls. Although it had pretty windows and an organized color scheme, the room lacked a focal point. His gaze followed me. I had plenty of experience with men like him. He was a parasite, quick to capitalize on the fame and fortune of the unassuming. I decided to turn the tables and use his attention to my advantage.
“And what do you do in your spare time?” Daniels asked.
“I’m an interior designer,” I said, facing him with a bright smile. His eyebrows raised in surprise. He probably thought I sat around the swimming pool all day, eating truffles and drinking champagne. “This is a fantastic space. I’d love to get my hands on it.”
His face flushed with pleasure. “Thank you. I’ve been thinking about redecorating it. What would you suggest?”
“Well—” I squinted and rotated to get a better feel for all four walls of the space. “If it was me, I’d move your desk over here.” I pointed to the wall adjacent to the door. “That way you wouldn’t have your back to the windows and you could see the city.”
Daniels narrowed his eyes and scratched his chin. “Nice. I like that. What else?”
“I’d add pops of color. All this gray is uninspiring.” I cleared my throat. “I mean, it’s a very nice, but it’s been proven that bright colors are stimulating for the brain and increase productivity.”
“Go on.” He rested a hip on one corner of his desk and folded his arms over his chest.
Buoyed by his interested, I swept an arm around the room. “I’d replace this overstuffed furniture with something clean and more modern. Like your personality.” He beamed at me. “And this artwork? Too stuffy. I’d hang wall sculptures and add some lives plants or an aquarium for the corner.”
“Draw something up for me, will you?” His nod of approval made me forget all my insecurities about Beckett and Margaret. “And give me a budget. If you’re interested, that is.”
“I’m really very busy, but I’d love that.” I had nothing to do at all since I’d run out of job interviews, but he didn’t need to know that. My mind began to race with possibilities. I could do this. Tomorrow, I’d look for an assistant, someone to help with the legwork and day-to-day tasks. For the first time in a long time, I had a purpose.
“V? Are you ready?” Beckett walked through the open office doors. A worried frown marred his features.
“Sure.” I turned to Daniels to shake his hand. “I’ll get back with you by the end of the week.” Beckett led me down the hall to his office and closed the door behind us. “Is everything okay?” I asked, my previous euphoria tempered by his silence and the recollection of his hand on Margaret.
“It’s fine.” He gave me a reassuring smile. “What were you up to in there?”
“I’m going to redecorate his office,” I said, my confidence surging once more.
“That’s great. You can do mine, too.” He smiled, and once again his gaze dipped to my lips. “You know, when you smile, you have a dimple right here.” He touched a fingertip to my cheek. Tiny bubbles of excitement popped in my blood. Then I remembered his arrangement with Margaret and looked away.
"What about Margaret?"
"What about her?” He placed a hand against the wall behind me. "I told you we ended it a while ago. Why? Jealous?"
By the twinkle in his eyes, he was teasing me. I narrowed my focus on him, unconvinced. "You put your hand on her back."
"I did?" His brow furrowed in genuine confusion.
"Yes." I placed a hand on his chest to keep distance between us. "I didn't like it." The beat of his heart thudded against my palm. His breath hitched at my touch. The sound sizzled all the way to my core.
"We were fuck-buddies. And now we’re not." The way his tongue slid over his lower lip did crazy things to my girl parts. "I don’t want to be with her anymore. Do you believe me?"
"I believe you." Looking into his onyx eyes, I'd believe him if he said the sun set in the morning and cows gave chocolate milk. They were dark, infinite pools of sin surrounded by long, lacy lashes, almost too pretty for a man of his size. “But you shouldn’t touch her like that. It was—” I looked away and swallowed. “It was too intimate.”
“I won’t do it again.” His head bent closer to mine.
My life always seemed to change when I least expected it—Sam’s remarriage to Dakota, hooking up with Beckett, getting pregnant. It changed in Beckett’s office. I could no longer deny my feelings for him. This yearning, the undeniable need, went way beyond lust or attraction. I wasn’t ready to put a name to it, b
ut it was there.
“God, V. I know we said nothing would ever happen between us, but I really want to kiss you.” His thick, deep voice curled my toes. “Tell me you want that too.”
“Yes.” Goodness, I wanted it in the worst way. I let my hands skate up his chest and rest on his shoulders. He was hard and lean beneath my palms.
One of his big hands rested on my hip. The other spread out over my back. He leaned forward until his mouth was level with my ear. The heat of his breath sizzled against my earlobe. “I’ve been dreaming about you. Every morning. Every night. I jack off to memories of fucking you, of touching this sexy body of yours.”
His hand cupped my breast and lifted it, squeezing with a touch so gentle it made my knees give away. This wasn’t a man groping me; this was reverent and tender. Something deep inside yearned for him, for a caress, for some show of affection. Until now, I’d had no idea how much I craved a physical connection with someone. Not anyone. Him.
“Me, too.” I pressed into his body, needing to soothe an itch deep inside, one only he could scratch. “I can’t stop wanting you.”
“Are you wet for me?” The growl and purr of his deep voice did crazy things to my common sense.
“Yes.” I arched into his touch. The space between my legs throbbed and ached.
Keeping his right hand on my breast, he slid the other one beneath my skirt to trace a finger along the lace edge of my panties. “Can I see?”
“Yes.” Lord have mercy. The idea of his finger inside my panties caused my belly to flip. If he didn’t do something soon, I was going to melt down.
“Very nice.” I felt his smile against my ear as his finger breached the soft folds between my legs. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back against the door. “You must be the devil, because I’d sell my soul to taste you.” His finger caressed and teased me. “Right here.”
The heat and wetness of his mouth trailed down my neck. My eyes flew open when his mouth went lower to my breasts then lower still to my belly. Was he seriously going to go down on me in the middle of the day in his office? Beckett was one dirty boy. I bit my lower lip to hold back a surprised grin. He kneeled on the floor, lifted my skirt over my hips and hitched my left leg over his shoulder.
Pretty Dirty Secrets: An Unconventional Love Story (Pretty Broken Book 3) Page 17