To Win Her Smile

by Mackenzie Crowne

  He hugged her close, not at all surprised by her response. As much as he’d disagreed with her decision to keep Mandy a secret from the world, he understood, and had never doubted her love for her daughter.

  “If you haven’t come to brainstorm with me on how to break the news to Dad, what are you doing here? I figured he’d have you working triple time to ramp up for his big announcement.”

  She sniffed and straightened away from his chest. “He sent me to fetch you because you never returned Walter’s calls.”

  Wyatt snorted. His father’s campaign manager had left five voicemails in the past twenty-four hours, each one more insistent in tone. “You mean his summonses.”

  Familiar humor eased some of the starkness in her eyes. “Don’t blame Walter. He’s just following Daddy’s directives.”

  “Nothing changes.” As a boy, he’d often imagined the loyal Walter Crowley as Igor to his father’s Dr. Frankenstein. “I can hear Walter now.” Affecting an eastern European accent, Wyatt waggled his brows. “Yes, master.”

  Megan grinned and poked him in the ribs with her elbow. “Daddy said, and I quote, ‘Tell that stubborn brother of yours to get his ass home. I expect to see him standing right beside you at my news conference. It’s not every day a man’s daddy announces his intention to run for the White House.’”

  Wyatt lifted a wry brow. “Well, at least he referred to me as a man this time and not a boy.”

  Megan winced. “It’s important to him, Wyatt.”

  “Yeah, I don’t exactly consider that a compelling argument.” A quick squeeze of her shoulders, and he stood. “In case you’ve forgotten, the season has started, and I’ve got a couple of other irons in the fire as well.”

  Megan stood with a smirk. “No doubt the redhead waiting for you in the living room is the hottest one.”

  He laughed. “You know me so well. And speaking of Piper…”

  Megan held up a hand. “Okay, I’ll get out of your hair as soon as you promise to show up on Monday.” He opened his mouth to refuse, but she brushed by him and stalked toward the closed door. “After all, I came all this way to ask you to do me this tiny little favor, and I brought Mandy along—at no small risk, I might add—just so you could see her. So, dear brother.” She opened the door and glanced over her shoulder. “Can I expect you at my side in Oklahoma City on Monday at eight AM sharp?” Uncertainty momentarily clouded her eyes. “I’m going to need your moral support.”

  He frowned, but there was never any doubt he’d say yes. Which was the reason Dad had sent her. “Only for you.”

  Relief brightened her smile. “I love you, too.”

  Chapter 9

  “Sorry about that.” Wyatt found Piper in the kitchen, sipping a glass of golden wine. As he’d promised, his conversation with Megan had been short and sweet, but he’d had a hell of a time convincing Mandy she should return to the hotel with Megan and Tonya rather than spend the night with him. “Mandy must be tired from the flight. She doesn’t often have melt-downs like that.”

  “She definitely seems attached to you. And vice-versa.”

  He grunted and tore open the bag of Chinese takeout Morris had delivered during the chaos. If, or until, the truth of Mandy’s parentage was revealed, the less said the better. The need for secrecy bothered Wyatt, however, especially since Piper seemed to have connected with his niece in the short time he’d been speaking to Megan.

  He eyed the haphazard braid behind Piper’s right ear and grinned. “She wants to be a hairdresser when she grows up.”

  Smiling, she touched her fingertips to the knotted twists of her hair. “She’s the reason for your interest in the Down Syndrome Research Foundation.”

  With a nod, he plucked two dishes from a cabinet. “Actually, she’s the reason behind the DSRF. I wrote the check for its inception a week after she was born.”

  The mild confusion crossing her face tangled a ball of nerves in his gut. Cursing beneath his breath, he spun away to open the silverware drawer.

  What happened to the less said the better, dumbass?

  He selected a fistful of knives, forks, and spoons, and returned to the island where Piper had opened most of the containers. “Speaking of raising funds, we’ve got some terms to negotiate.”

  She spooned beef and broccoli onto her plate. “Yes, we do.”

  He slid onto the stool across from hers. “Before we start, I have a question.”

  She set aside the carton and selected the shrimp lo mein from the remaining dishes before meeting his gaze. “What would that be?”

  “Why did you come back?” She arched a brow, and he was quick to clarify the reason for his curiosity. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you, but you made it pretty damned clear you thought I was nuts.”

  She paused with her fork hovering over the open carton. “Technically, I still think you’re full-on barmy.” A single dimple popped in her cheek and her emerald eyes twinkled with laughter. “But I’ve been assured your money is quite spendable.”

  He didn’t have a fucking clue what barmy was, but if accusing him of being so made her smile like that, he’d gladly become the king of Barmyville. He poured himself a glass of wine. “So, you came back for the money?”

  He’d rather she’d come back for his body, but she was here. Sitting in his kitchen. He wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  She paused in scooping the Chinese noodles and shrimp onto her plate and cocked her head. “Even we duchesses are occasionally in need of coin.”

  “Touché.” He chuckled, then sipped at the chilled chardonnay. “If you don’t mind my asking, what’s V paying you for the Marauders’ deal?”

  Piper set aside the carton and picked up her fork. “Fifty thousand dollars, plus expenses, and the copyright purchase of all the photographs I produce.”

  He whistled between his teeth. “Not bad money for five weeks of work.”

  She nodded her agreement, and satisfaction gleamed in her eyes. “Added to the one hundred thousand you’ll be paying me, you can understand why I came back.”

  He dipped his chin and leaned in to tease her. “Yeah, duchess, now that I’m thinking about it, that amount is pretty high. Especially since the profits go to charity.”

  She didn’t blink an eye. “Sorry, that figure is non-negotiable. I’ll require half up front with the remainder due upon completion of the photographs, which is the same arrangement I made with V on the Fab Five project.”

  He bit back a grin and leaned toward her with his elbows on the granite countertop. “That’s all well and good for V, but if you recall, the one hundred thousand dollars was contingent upon your physical attendance at all twenty of my games this season.”

  She mirrored his position, leaning in. Challenge glittered in her eyes. “Which I’m willing to do, if you agree to your originally quoted figure, plus cover any additional travel expenses I’ve incurred once I’m back in England and have to return to follow you around the States.”

  He straightened with a jolt. “Hold on. Are you screwing with my head? You’re willing to show up at the games?”

  He’d all but given up on that happening, which sucked. Sharing a bed with her would be impossible from the other side of the Atlantic, but then, sleeping with her wasn’t a requirement of her lucky charm status. Neither, technically, was her attendance at his games when a weekly phone call would’ve covered it, but he wasn’t about to admit that now.

  Having her on his turf, live and in person, was worth a hell of a lot more to him than a lousy hundred K.

  Her lips flattened in a prim line. “It’s the least I can do, considering you’re paying me a fortune. And, I assure you, I have never screwed with anyone’s head.”

  He choked on a laugh. Jesus, with the exception of that bollocks slip, the woman spoke like Queen Elizabeth’s spinster cousin. The contradiction of
Piper’s upper crust speech and made-for-sin body, not to mention the way she’d kissed him… He shook his head. He’d bet his Aston Martin she hadn’t learned that skill at some dusty boarding school. Fuck, yeah. The enticing paradox of her was a definite head screw.

  He grinned. “Then you should try it sometime. You have a natural talent for it.” She slowly straightened on her stool and he held up his hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal. One hundred thousand plus any travel expenses to get you to and from the games after you’ve finished the calendar and returned to England.” And since it appeared this was his lucky day, and she was in such a generous mood… “One more thing. About that suite at the Plaza…”

  Blink, blink, blink.

  Just when he thought his heart was going to explode, she sniffed. “Now, you’re just being greedy.”

  Well, hell-o, duchess. She hadn’t said no.

  With a shrug, he picked up the carton of beef and broccoli and dumped the remainder onto his rice. “I want what I want.”

  Cool as can be, she spread a napkin over her lap as if they were dining at the Ritz and he hadn’t just propositioned her.

  Fucking sexy as hell.

  She wagged her fork in the air. “Maybe so, but you get what you pay for. It so happens, I’m not for sale.”

  He opened his mouth to point out she’d just jacked him for one hundred grand to take twelve pictures, but thought better of it. He had the next five weeks to change her mind.

  She slipped a fat shrimp between her lips and his mouth watered. Cocking her head, she studied him as she chewed. “Before I decide if I’ll be sleeping with you, there are a few stipulations you’ll need to agree to.”

  He choked on his wine and wiped the back of his hand over his lips. If he expected her to blush and stammer on about spouting absurdly inappropriate comments when nervous, he was mistaken. She met and held his gaze with a purpose in her eyes he wasn’t sure he understood, but wasn’t about to question.

  “Like?”

  “First, we’ll be working together on both the Fab Five project and your calendar. Ideally, I’d prefer to remain anonymous in those endeavors, but I’m aware that might not be possible. I will, therefore, settle for your agreement to keep my identity to yourself unless absolutely necessary.”

  She looked so adorably serious, he couldn’t resist teasing her. “Why don’t you want your name getting out there? You’re not a felon or anything, right? Escapee from a federal penitentiary?”

  Her lips turned down at the corners, and she ignored his ridiculous questions. “However, I insist that any personal association between the two of us remain strictly private.” She lowered the hand holding the fork to rest on the countertop. “On this, I’m firm. No offense meant, but I have no desire to have my name tangled with yours romantically.”

  Well, shit. That was a first. Most women went out of their way to have their names associated with his, but then, most women weren’t Piper Darrow. He rolled one shoulder in a negligent shrug. “None taken.”

  She dipped her chin in a curt nod. “And second, any expenses associated with our,” she waggled her fork in the air, “fling, will be split down the middle.”

  Humor creased his brow. “You want to go Dutch?”

  “Yes, I do. Business is one thing. I’m performing a service by taking the photographs you need and you’re paying handsomely for them, but I won’t have anyone accusing me of using a personal relationship with you for monetary gain. When you and I do check into that suite at the Plaza, I’ll be paying half.”

  He frowned and studied the hard gleam of intensity in her eyes. Why would anyone accuse her of using him? What the hell was she talking about?

  “If you have a problem with that, we can just forget the whole thing.”

  No way in hell was that happening. “Nope. Dutch works for me.” He lowered his wineglass to the counter. “But, you know, there’s a king-sized bed on the other side of that wall that won’t cost either of us a dime.”

  Her emerald gaze followed the jerk of his chin in the general direction of his bedroom. The nerves he’d expected had shown up by the time she looked back but, he had to hand it to her, nervous or not, she didn’t back down.

  “I’m sure there is, but the when I mentioned isn’t today.”

  He could live with that, as long as there was a when.

  “And third…”

  Of course, there was a third stipulation.

  “I want it understood from the beginning, when we sleep together, I expect no strings or obligations. Neither should you. My only condition is that you show me the respect of curtailing other relationships while we’re together. I’ll be returning to England in five weeks and if this…thing between us should last that long, it ends there. If that’s a problem for you, let me know now and we’ll keep our relationship on a purely business footing.”

  Was she fucking kidding? A five-week, all-access pass to her body, backed up by a no-strings-attached promise? He eased back on his stool with a shake of his head. “Duchess, you may be the most perfect woman ever born.”

  She smiled and the remaining tension eased from her shoulders. “It’s imperative to me that we walk away from any association, be it personal or business, on a friendly note.” She stabbed another shrimp. “And speaking of business, did you want to attempt to have the calendar finished for a late fall release, or will you wait and put it out next year?”

  He was slow to drag his mind from the bedroom back into the boardroom. When he did, his stomach plummeted. His calendar idea had been a shot in the dark. A vehicle designed to keep Piper in town. He hadn’t given the specifics of such an enterprise a thought, but he was now.

  V’s taunting smile earlier in her office flashed in his mind, and he cursed beneath his breath.

  He’d been set up by a pro. V knew him better than just about anyone. She would have known exactly what he’d been after with his bogus job offer. She’d called his bluff and he didn’t know whether to thank her or strangle her. After that surprising apology, thanking her seemed right. But considering he now had to convince eleven of his friends to pose for hunk pictures—taken by a woman who would soon be sharing his bed—he was leaning toward strangle.

  He cleared his throat and forced himself to recall Piper’s question. Right. The calendar release.

  “With the hype surrounding this season, we’d be guaranteed bigger sales come January and leading up to the Super Bowl. I’d rather get it out there sooner than later, but will that be possible with the Marauders’ project tying you up for the next five weeks?”

  She finished chewing and swallowed. “V and I discussed that possibility.”

  He’d just bet they had. Definitely strangle.

  Piper spun Chinese noodles around the tines of her fork like pasta. “Since the team is paying me a flat rate, she has no problem with my working concurrently on the calendar. If all the models for your project are Marauders, I’ll be working with some of them for the Fab Five production already.”

  She lifted the fork to her lips. “If you’ll let me know what you want in the individual shots, I’ll get them while I’m working with the particular models for V’s project. The rest of the men can be photographed on an off day of your choosing.”

  He’d have to convince them to say yes first. If he couldn’t, his entire deal with Piper would go up in smoke. The knots in his gut twisted tighter. “You’re the photographer. Shouldn’t you know what shots will work?”

  She arched a brow. “The production you’re asking for will require a bit more than snapping a few pictures and posting them together in a spiral binder. Theme first, then we’ll work on the content.” She’d lost him, and her sigh said she knew it. “We’ll work that out later.”

  That sounded like an excellent idea to him.

  “In the meantime, I can expedite the review process Caroline requested by inc
luding the calendar pictures in my Friday meetings with V and Jason. That way, I can have all the copy ready for you in five weeks. It’ll be up to you and the foundation’s marketing department to put the finished product together in time for a year-end release.”

  “Sounds very efficient.” And boring. He rose to his feet.

  She glanced up and shrugged. “I’m a professional.”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  She didn’t move a muscle as he rounded the island toward her with a single-minded intent. “When isn’t now, Wyatt.”

  “I know.” He stopped before her.

  “Then, what are you doing?”

  “Sealing our deal.”

  “Oh.” She switched her fork to her left hand and presented her right for him to shake.

  He wrapped his fingers around hers and tugged her from her stool.

  She stumbled into his chest, blinked, and the breathy way she said his name was an invitation he couldn’t resist. He’d meant the kiss to be no more than a quick meeting of their lips. A brush of skin to skin, close enough to assure himself the heady scent of her hadn’t been a figment of his imagination. To remind himself the razzing of his teammates and V’s smug satisfaction were a small price to pay compared to the pleasure of holding Piper in his arms.

  He’d intended to settle for a taste today, knowing the full meal would soon be his but, as she curled into him, his mind shut down and every good intention fled. Releasing her fingers, he slid his hand around her back and over the sweet curve of her ass. Firm and full, her cheek filled his palm.

  Her whimper of pleasure urged him on, as did her beaded nipples stabbing at his chest wall through the silk of her blouse. He plunged deep with his tongue, projecting the need of his body to be buried hard and fast in her hot channel. She squirmed closer and, as she sucked at his tongue, he feared the top of his head would blow off.