To Win Her Smile

by Mackenzie Crowne

  Wyatt cleared his throat. “If you need…”

  She shut him down with a shake of her head. “Stop. You’re helping already, more than you know. In fact, the completion of your calendar project will put us back in the black for good, so don’t say another word.”

  He held up his hands in surrender. He didn’t know a damn thing about the real estate market in northern England, but five hundred acres of virgin woodland had to be worth a bundle. Walking away from Cody Beckett hadn’t been much of a hardship as far as Wyatt was concerned, and he was damned glad she had, but she’d also been willing to roll up her sleeves and go to work rather than cashing in.

  Jesus, a chainsaw. She obviously loved the estate and the people who helped her run it. Delaney Manor and its staff was something he planned to check out.

  He shook his head, spun on his stool, and held her gaze.

  “Do we have a deal, duchess? We let this thing between us play out and see where it leads?”

  She studied his face, her eyes full of sober consideration. “Maybe. If we keep things between us private. For the time being, anyway.” He dipped his chin in a nod. “And you agree to follow the guidelines set out in our original agreement. I won’t have anyone suggesting the Gold-Digging Baroness is at it again. I pay my own way or it’s a no-go.”

  He resisted the urge to grind his teeth. Like anyone who truly knew her would believe something like that of her. If he was ever in the same room with Cody Beckett again, he was going to rearrange the fucker’s face. Sliding from his stool, Wyatt scooped her from hers into his arms.

  “Done.” Covering her mouth with his, he sealed the deal with a kiss, straightened, then plucked her wineglass from the island.

  She grinned and wrapped an arm around his neck.

  “Grab the wine, if you don’t mind.”

  Reaching out with her free hand, she snagged the bottle, and settled into his chest. He spun toward the stairs and she dropped her head onto his shoulder. The flick of her tongue behind his ear nearly buckled his knees before he’d made it halfway to the second floor. He had to pause to regain his balance.

  “Have mercy, duchess, or we’re both going down.”

  “Oh, I’d planned to and I’m glad to know you will be as well.” She laughed as a guttural growl climbed up and out of his throat.

  He took the remaining stairs two at a time.

  Chapter 19

  “I thought we agreed to keep our relationship quiet from the public for the time being.” Piper frowned as Wyatt parked the SUV in front of the Malones’ Long Island farmhouse.

  He slid a hand behind her neck and drew her forward to receive his kiss. “The Malones and the others aren’t the public. They’re friends.” Straightening, he removed the key from the ignition and opened his door. “And they already know we’ve been spending time together.”

  Of that, Piper was certain, and she had no one to blame but herself. Well, except Wyatt, of course. It was his fault she was walking around grinning like a ninny. Those eighteen hours they’d spent locked away in his loft condo had set the pattern for the past two weeks. She’d maintained her hotel suite, returning there each afternoon to shower and change at the end of her work day, but her nights had passed wrapped in Wyatt’s arms in his bed in Long Island City.

  She couldn’t remember ever being as happy and, apparently, it showed. CC had taken one look at Piper’s face when she’d arrived at the Tuckers’ home the next morning and announced, “I told you so.” V had had much the same reaction when Wyatt had popped his head through her office door, interrupting their first Friday Fab Five meeting to wink at Piper. The Marauders’ PR consultant hadn’t said a word. Hadn’t needed to. The smug satisfaction in her smile spoke volumes.

  Piper hadn’t bothered attempting to defend herself against either woman. She had no idea if this fling between her and Wyatt would last, but she’d agreed to give it some time. And she couldn’t regret the decision. He was a fabulous lover. Generous, attentive, and fun loving, he could make her believe she was the only woman he’d ever looked at in that hotly sensuous way.

  That was a whopper if she’d ever told herself one and, in the dark recesses of her mind, the saying If something is too good to be true, it probably is haunted her. Wyatt Hunter was definitely too good to be true. There was also the specter of some enterprising reporter catching them together, not to mention the interest from his father’s campaign but, God help her. She couldn’t bring herself to care.

  She’d never met a man who could make her laugh the way Wyatt did. A trait she found incredibly sexy and impossible to resist. Whether the heat between them proved to be a quick flash or a banked fire, she was having a bloody blast and planned to enjoy every moment while it lasted.

  She exited the vehicle and hefted the strap of her camera bag onto her shoulder, then rounded the hood to take the hand Wyatt held out. As they climbed the steps to the porch, he tucked her close to his side. Lifting their linked fingers, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. She couldn’t prevent her shiver, then dug her elbow into his side at his self-satisfied chuckle.

  “There you are.” Gracie Malone swung the door wide. She smiled at Piper, then smirked at Wyatt. “Tuck bet the guys you wouldn’t show.”

  Piper blinked and turned to Wyatt, who snorted.

  “Tuck’s an ass.”

  “That is the general consensus.” Gracie grinned and waved them inside. Piper’s confusion must have shown, because Gracie grimaced and linked arms with her to explain. “At one time or another, we Gridiron Girls have done some matchmaking for each of the guys inside. Tuck is convinced we’ve got Wyatt in our crosshairs.”

  Matchmaking? Oh, bugger it. Her and Wyatt’s relationship was complicated enough without their friends sticking their noses into the mix, no matter how well-meaning their intentions. Piper tensed and chewed her bottom lip.

  “Jesus,” Wyatt grumbled beneath his breath.

  Gracie patted his chest as she passed by him. “Lighten up, Hunter. We’re fresh out of available leg shackles this evening. Tonight is dinner with friends, nothing more.” Tugging Piper down the hallway toward the back of the house, Gracie didn’t seem to care that Wyatt could hear every word she said. “Besides, from what V and CC say, you’re doing just fine on your own.”

  Piper didn’t have a chance to respond as the hallway opened into a large family kitchen. Wyatt caught up to them at the doorway. In front of a room full of his friends, he lifted Gracie’s hand from Piper’s arm and replaced it with his own. He moved his gaze around the kitchen. Beginning with Gracie, he paused on all five of the Gridiron Girls.

  “V and CC are right. Piper and I are doing just fine. So, ladies, although I’ve heard you have a damned fine track record, butt out. We don’t need your help.”

  Male snickers competed with several feminine snorts. Caught between horror at the not so subtle power play, and delight at his blatant possessiveness, Piper curved her lips in her best yes-I’m-a-baroness-and-above-all-this smile.

  V met Wyatt’s gaze with an approving grin, then turned to Piper. “You haven’t technically met my husband, Sam.”

  Gracie handed Piper a glass of wine as Wyatt made introductions. She knew all the women, of course, and had met Tim Tucker, Kris’s husband, when they’d passed through London last year. New to her were Sam Fitzpatrick, Jake Malone, and Max Grayson—Jessi Tucker’s cage-fighting champion husband.

  Talk about a power group. Wyatt’s friends and their wives represented more talent and success than one would expect to find in half a dozen Fortune 500 outfits.

  As the wine flowed, and friendly laughter filled the air, Piper glanced around in wonder. There must be something in the Manhattan water that grew larger than life men who were too handsome for their own good. She snapped several photographs and was tempted to send a few along to Moira, but thought better of it. Her friend was likely to burst
a few blood vessels.

  Two hours later, with dinner behind them, Piper wondered if her thoughts hadn’t somehow reached across the pond. The sound of muted bagpipes caught her ear, and she glanced toward the hallway where she’d left her camera bag.

  Wyatt leaned close to speak in her ear. “I think Scotland is calling.”

  She smiled and met his gaze. “It’s Moira, actually, but you’re close. The manor is less than twenty minutes from the border.”

  “Do you need to take it?”

  She bit her lip. She spoke to Moira every morning, including today. If she was calling again, she must have a reason. “I probably should.” Rising, she excused herself and retrieved her phone, moving farther into the hallway before answering. “What’s wrong?”

  “How do you know something is wrong? Maybe I’m just calling for an update on Operation Sex God.”

  Piper grinned. “I told you, details of that operation are on a need-to-know basis.”

  “But I need to know,” her friend insisted in a whiny tone.

  Piper laughed and shook her head. “Sorry, dearest. What’s going on?”

  A hesitation, then a soft sigh came through the phone. “It may be nothing.”

  “You wouldn’t have called if you weren’t concerned. What is it? Is Angus okay?”

  “He’s fine. Okay, he’s not fine, exactly. In fact, he’s rather upset.”

  “Moira.” Concerned and frustrated at her friend’s evasiveness, Piper switched the phone to her other ear. She happened to turn toward the dining room doorway and found Wyatt watching her from his seat at the table. Warmth spread from her belly to other, more sensitive parts of her body.

  She forced herself to look away. “What happened?”

  Another sigh. “Actually, I was hoping you could tell me. We had a visitor this afternoon while I was off to Glasgow. Apparently, Abigail arrived with her estate agent and demanded Angus give them both a tour of the property.”

  Piper shivered as her blood chilled. “Bugger.”

  “That’s exactly how Angus reacted to her demand. He told her to bugger off. You can imagine how that went over.”

  With a grimace, Piper turned her head and her gaze found Wyatt’s. He lifted a brow in question. She attempted a smile but, if his sudden scowl was any indication, she failed. He shoved back his chair to stand and she turned away.

  “What did Abigail say?”

  “She called him a snooty Scot.” Moira’s snort spoke volumes. “If anyone would know snooty, it’s her. But then she went into the office and confronted Mum. She demanded to speak to you and, when Mum told her you couldn’t be reached, she insisted her estate man be allowed access to the house and grounds. Mum didn’t tell her to bugger off, but she may as well have. She suggested Abigail and her friend vacate the premises before the authorities were called. Your cousin threw a fit and said, come the first of the year, we’ll all be looking for a new home.”

  Fury tightened Piper’s chest. She may owe her cousin a great deal of money, but the manor was her home and had no bearing on Da’s stipulation.

  “What’s going on, Piper? What did she mean?”

  Her eyelids slid closed. She’d hoped to pay her cousin off without the residents of the manor ever having been aware of the deadline. With Abigail pushing her way onto the property and making demands, keeping them in the dark was no longer an option. Thanks to the Marauders and Wyatt’s projects, meeting the deadline wouldn’t be a problem, but explaining why she’d kept the detail to herself was something Piper would prefer to do in person. How she was going to pull that off when she was close to six thousand kilometers away, she hadn’t a clue.

  With a sigh, she answered Moira in the only way she could at the moment. “Nothing. How did Abigail leave things?”

  “She said she’d be back on Wednesday.”

  Bollocks. Two days. Piper rubbed at the headache blooming between her brows.

  “Trouble at home?” Wyatt’s deep voice spoke near her ear.

  She jumped and suppressed a shiver as he ran his hand down her spine to her waist.

  “Is that the sex god?” The breathy demand whispered through the phone Piper held to her ear.

  Telling Moira to hush would only encourage her. Dipping the phone from her mouth, Piper shrugged. “A tiny bit of trouble. Nothing I can’t handle.”

  With the other half of your payment and a restraining order.

  “It’s him, isn’t it?” Moira didn’t bother to whisper this time. “It is utterly unfair for the man to look like that and come with a smoky bedroom voice as well. Bugger. Now I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight.”

  Piper covered her laugh by turning into a clearing of her throat. “Please tell Angus not to fret, Moira. I’ll have an answer for you tomorrow.”

  Wyatt cocked his head and held Piper’s gaze. “With this week’s bye on the team schedule, I’ve got four days free and a private plane. If we leave now, we could be at Heathrow in eight hours.”

  Moira’s squeal nearly pierced Piper’s eardrum. Slapping her hand over the ear piece would have been a waste of time. From the grin on his face, Wyatt had heard.

  Piper shook her head. When the bloody hell had she lost complete control of her life? “I appreciate the offer, but that’s not necessary.”

  “Are you daft?” Moira complained loudly. “Bring him to visit. In his plane!”

  “But I insist.” Wyatt plucked the phone from her hand and held it to his ear. “I assume this is Moira.”

  The lilting murmur of her friend’s voice reached Piper’s ears, but she couldn’t make out the words, which was more than a little disturbing, considering the source. Wyatt held Piper’s gaze. The way he twisted his lips said he was fighting not to laugh. She bit her bottom lip. Perhaps it was a blessing she couldn’t hear what Moira was saying.

  “That’s the plan, if Piper agrees.” He dipped his chin. “What do you say, duchess? I’d love to see your manor.”

  Damn him. He knew exactly what he was doing, appealing to her with that rakishly charming smile. The fact he was asking instead of plowing forward with his own agenda only made denying him more difficult. Especially since taking him up on his offer would allow her to speak to her friends in person. Still, a transatlantic flight to visit her home wasn’t part of their original deal.

  “Fine, but I’m paying for my airfare.” He smirked, but she stood her ground. “Those are my terms.”

  He shook his head while speaking into the phone. “We’ll be there in the morning, Moira.” A slight pause. “No, we’ll pick up a car and drive ourselves.” He laughed. “Oh, I’m definitely looking forward to meeting you as well.”

  Thumbing the screen, he handed Piper the phone. Dimples bracketed his anticipatory grin as he plucked her camera bag from the hall table and turned her toward the front door with a hand to her lower back. “Thanks for dinner, Gracie,” he called out, “but we’ve got to go.”

  “Where?” Several of the women, including V, called back.

  Wyatt swung the door open and spoke over his shoulder. “Road trip, and that’s all you need to know.”

  Chapter 20

  Wyatt cast a sidelong glance at Piper. Head turned toward the passing scenery, she sat stiffly in the passenger seat of the Land Rover that had been waiting for them upon their arrival in Glasgow. He frowned. When he’d asked after the problem on their way to LaGuardia last evening, she’d claimed it was nothing more than a slight hiccup in the running of the B&B. The tension riding her shoulders since she’d spoken to Moira said otherwise.

  After two weeks of holding Piper as she slept, he knew her body well. Something more than a hiccup had kept her from relaxing completely in the plane’s comfortable bed. Though she’d slid into his arms without complaint, she hadn’t been able to settle and had dozed restlessly throughout the overnight flight.

&n
bsp; He dropped his gaze to her hands, twisted together in her lap. The knuckles had gone white from being clenched so tightly. He bit down on a frustrated sigh. Her lack of trust in him rankled. She’d clearly opened herself up to him physically but, emotionally, she was still holding back. Call him greedy, but he wanted it all. He wanted her laughter and her tears. Wanted to be her everything, not just a warm body she slept with for a time.

  He’d told her he was in danger of losing his heart, but he’d been wrong. He hadn’t lost it. He knew exactly where it lay. In fourteen short days, his sexy redheaded duchess had managed something no other woman had. With her soft heart and scrupulous sense of responsibility, she’d somehow plucked that beating organ from his chest and held it in her hands.

  Fuck yeah, he wanted it all. He wanted to wake up to her smile every morning for the rest of his life. He wanted Piper, all of her. And if he was going to win her, it was time to up his game.

  “Talk to me, duchess. You’re wound up like a spring, so don’t try to tell me there’s nothing bothering you.”

  Her gaze cut to his, and the smile she offered him was strained. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  He shook his head and turned his eyes back on the roadway. “I don’t doubt you could handle just about anything, but I’m here. I want to help.”

  “I told you, you’re already helping enough.”

  He bit down on a scowling smirk. By hiring her to create the calendar was what she’d said the last time he’d tried to offer his help. “Then the problem is financial in nature?”

  It must be. Thanks to his father’s investigation, the minute details of her financial situation were the only question mark left, and it was only a matter of time before Jennings finagled a way into opening those records. Just as Wyatt had predicted, Walter Crowley had figuratively shit himself at learning Piper held a legit title in Europe. The savvy political advisor would eventually find a way to spin that tidbit to the campaign’s advantage. In the meantime, he hadn’t made much of a fuss over the Gold-Digging Baroness crap. Apparently, Walter was not a Cody Beckett fan. Who knew?