by C. C. Piper
His dark brown hair looked almost black in the darkness, but as the light began to seep in past the curtains, I could see glints of red and gold within the gorgeous chestnut strands. Even in its current tousled state, I could tell that it was an expensive haircut. The longer hair on top had some wave to it and, in combination with the closely shorn back and sides, came off as both stylish and distinctly masculine.
I took in his long aquiline nose, making note of the minuscule bump along the top he’d told me about, and at his dark fringe of eyelashes feathering down toward his high cheekbones. Despite this minor flaw of an old injury, he was still gorgeous. Hell, having a broken nose actually made him more gorgeous. Maybe because I knew how he’d gotten it, that he’d suffered wrongfully.
He was as human and real as I was and knowing that made what I felt for him burrow in even more deeply. James Carter might be a billionaire, but he’d faced pain in his life and had been treated anything but fairly. More importantly, he’d come out the other side all the stronger afterward, which made him brave. For all the attractiveness he possessed on the outside, what he was like on the inside was just as attractive. Maybe even more so.
I peered into space as I comprehended something for the first time: I’d never stood a snowball’s chance in hell at resisting him.
Despite scamming him, despite the fact that I still owed him a debt I could never fully repay, despite the crazy living-together-at-his-villa deal we’d made, and despite all the things that were standing in our way, I couldn’t help falling in love with James. Everything he did, and everything he was, spoke to me in the most integral and indispensable of ways.
I glanced back at him, catching sight of his hand on his belly. His abdominal muscles were just as toned and beautiful as the rest of him. Even as relaxed as he was, I could still make out the soft lines of his six-pack. I didn’t want to disturb him, but I felt the need to touch him again. So I reached over and drew a finger down the side of his stomach, tracing the outlines of his obliques.
His body twitched the instant I did, squirming away from me before opening those startlingly blue eyes. The only drawback to watching him sleep was my inability to see those brilliant orbs. I would’ve loved to stare into them, to sketch their almond shape and the starbursts within those irises, but he’d seized my hand.
“What are you doing?” he asked indistinctly, still half asleep.
“Admiring you,” I answered, then went motionless. Wow, that was awfully revealing. I didn’t usually immediately admit to things that made me feel so laid bare.
His eyes fluttered back shut. “Felt like you were tickling me.”
“Why?” I questioned him, feeling more playful than I had in years. “Are you ticklish?”
James’ eyes flew open again. He actually looked a little leery of me now. “Um… no.”
“Ha!” I burst out. “That sounds suspiciously like a fib.”
He scooted backward across the bed. If it hadn’t been such a behemoth, he might’ve fallen off the mattress. “Stay back,” he warned, but there was merriment in his face now.
I didn’t stay back. Instead, I brought my hands towards him, shaping my fingers into something resembling talons. The moment I touched his side again, he wiggled and jerked away, releasing a bark of laughter I could tell was totally involuntary.
His complexion reddened visibly, which I found utterly adorable. Finding this new and unexpected vulnerability too tempting to ignore, I went after him again. I managed to get one more squeal of laughter out of him as we wrestled. Of course, once he put his superior physical strength into play, the battle was won with me on the losing end.
Not that I minded.
James stopped me by pinning me to the bed with his taller and heavier frame, hands clutching my wrists over my head. We were each huffing and puffing from the exertion of trying to overpower one another and avoid getting tickled—he’d discovered my underarms were as ticklish as his obliques were—with smiles stretching from ear to ear. All the tussling had led to us laying upside down on the bed with our heads were our feet were meant to be.
But as suddenly as our wild hilarity had erupted, it died. James was on top of me, and since we were both as naked as the day we were born, our bodies responded to this knowledge predictably. His erection had grown to rock hard levels against my bare hip, and I’d grown nearly as wet as I’d been last night.
He made the slightest of adjustments, and now the thick mushroom head of him rested right at my entrance, promising incredible things for my very near future.
Simultaneously, two things happened. James released my wrists and elevated my knees until they were snug against his shoulders, and I grabbed him around the neck and pulled him into a searing kiss. Instinctually, he plunged inside of me, and we groaned into each other’s mouths in unison. It became a mad dash to the finish line after that, with me coming first and James following me over seconds later.
God, we were just so hot together, our chemistry off the charts.
I laid there beneath him, enjoying the heat of him pressing me into the duvet, when he gasped.
“The condom,” he said, sounding panicked as he sat up. “I forgot the fucking condom.”
“I forgot too,” I said, not wanting him to feel bad or to take all the blame. “But I’m clean, I promise. And I have an IUD.”
That was just dumb luck, though. I’d gotten it about a year ago when I’d first made a tiny bit of profit from my freelancing business. I had thought maybe I could try dating again, but then Evan had almost overdosed, making me comprehend that living any sort of typical life was out of the question.
“Me, too. It’s just that I never do that. Not even when...” he trailed off, and I knew he’d been about to mention Sofia.
I was glad he didn’t because thinking about her made me want to run her over with my car. Besides, I knew enough about James to know he’d been faithful to her. He’d be faithful to me too, because that’s who he was. Loyal and steadfast. That was one of the many benefits of being in a monogamous relationship, I supposed. You didn’t have to worry so much about being safe.
In more ways than one.
“You okay?” I asked him.
He grinned at me sheepishly, pushing a hand through his mussed hair. “Yeah. Sorry for wigging out like that. I can think of a lot of worse things than getting you pregnant.”
I didn’t make any comment. I was barely capable of absorbing the fact that we were now well and truly married without thinking about going beyond that.
“So, I don’t know about you, but I’m famished.” He held my face in his hands and kissed me on the tip of my nose. “Breakfast sound good?”
“Breakfast sounds excellent.”
19
James
After breakfast, Emma and I split up so she could work on her graphic design projects and I could continue my negotiations with the real estate developer that made opening a restaurant located in Los Angeles possible. I’d always dreamed of opening up in such a venue even though the competition in L.A. was fierce.
Like New York, Los Angeles was a sprawling metropolitan area with lots of eateries to choose from. To succeed, a restaurant had to have top-notch service and a unique menu as well as a kickass marketing plan and basic tenacity. Many food places went out of business because the going became too difficult, but I’d been through that and knew what to do. Sometimes, it was just a matter of listening to the customers.
Give them what they want, and they’ll always be happy to come waltzing back through your door. Yet as much as work tended to capture my attention, I felt preoccupied today. I kept reliving the moment from earlier this morning when I thought I’d fucked up and possibly impregnated Emma. At first, the whole idea scared the bejesus out of me. But the more I considered it, the more I liked it.
Not now, of course. It was too soon to think of starting a family.
We needed time to build our relationship, to make sure we had a solid foundation. But later? I w
anted that. I wanted to have at least one kid, someone I could be there for like my parents had always been there for me. A little girl with Emma’s sparkling hazel eyes. Or a little boy with her lighter hair. Or both.
That’d be amazing.
And we were really doing this. Staying married. I was beyond over the moon about it, thrilled at having a bride. I needed to inform some people, most notably my mom and dad. They deserved to know. And then there was Mauricio and Richard. A few weeks ago, they’d called me a moron for marrying her. But things had changed between us. Now, if I could only get them to understand that I loved her and that she loved me.
Well, I hoped she loved me.
I tried not to focus too hard on the fact that she hadn’t mentioned those three little words out loud. Last night had been mind-blowing. Earth-shattering. She’d shown me she loved me over and over. And she’d been showing me bit by bit for a while now. I was the chef, yet she’d been making dinner for me every night. She’d confided in me and cried on my shoulder. She’d created that astounding collage of some of my favorite personal photos.
I’d been so touched by that. Blown away by the thoughtfulness of it.
My phone beeped with a text, dragging me out of my reverie, which was a good thing. I was supposed to be scrutinizing structural codes and architectural blueprints, and I couldn’t remain distracted. I glanced at the screen and saw that it was Richard. Excusing myself, I stepped out of the conference room.
“Richard, what’s up?”
“Chrissy and I will be in L.A. this evening,” he told me in that authoritative tone of his. He must’ve spoken to Mauricio so he could familiarize himself with my trip itinerary. Chrissy was his wife, one he’d met through one of the clubs belonging to the Wish Maker. “Thought you might want to meet up with us since you’re here too. Have dinner.”
“Sounds great,” I said, then hesitated. I was so used to being on my own that I hadn’t thought of whether or not Emma would appreciate me just assuming she’d go. I guess I could cancel if she refused. Richard might be annoyed, but he’d get over it. Besides, if she did go, Richard could meet her himself and see how suited we were for each other. Ultimately, that might help us avoid any unnecessary confrontations. “Haven’t visited here often. Have any place in mind?”
“Providence on Melrose Place. I’ll make reservations for eight.”
“Cool,” I replied. I’d heard of the Michelin-starred seafood restaurant, though I’d never eaten there. Reservations tended to be next to impossible to get, but my old Harvard friend was a resourceful guy. Not to mention if he desired something, he never took no for an answer. “Barring something unforeseeable, I’ll be there.”
He grunted at me in disapproval. “Unforeseeable?”
Richard wasn’t a man who missed much. “Yeah.” I hurried to get off the phone. “Gotta get back to my meeting, man.” After exchanging terse goodbyes, I disconnected.
Then, I reached out to Emma.
How do you feel about going out nice tonight at a restaurant across town?
How nice? She sent back. I only brought casual attire.
We can go shopping. My treat.
That might be fun.
And here was where Emma differed so dramatically from Sofia and most of the women I’d been out with. My wife wasn’t a woman who found my main draw to be my bank account. Now I needed to get her response to what might prove to be a curveball.
It’ll be with an old college friend of mine and his wife. I’d love to show you off as my new bride.
There was a long pause after I sent that message. So long that I began to get concerned. But finally, I heard that telltale beep again.
All right.
From that point on, all I could think about was our dinner plans. Seeming to sense that my head was no longer in the game, my colleague cut the meeting short and I bounded up to our suite.
Emma appeared to be overwhelmed by the boutique I took her to. She admired much of what she saw until she hazarded a glance at the price tags.
“Eight thousand dollars for one gown?” she turned to me incredulously. I didn’t have the heart to tell her the particular gown she’d sighted was actually on the low end for this sort of establishment. “I can’t let you buy me that.”
“Sure, you can.”
“James…” She sputtered out, seemingly downright out of her element. I knew the lifestyle I led was substantially different from hers, and I found her lack of greed quite endearing.
“The restaurant we’re going to tonight has a dress code, baby, and any place we shop for formalwear will be somewhere near this price range. Let me spoil you.” Then, I lowered my voice and ran a suggestive finger down her neck and towards the plump curve of one of her breasts. “Besides, I’m being more selfish than you realize. After dinner I plan to strip whichever one you pick out off of you with methodical purpose.”
She shivered in anticipation as I leaned in and planted an opened-mouth kiss to the side of her delectable neck.
“Fine.”
Providence was the sort of location where you might spot an A-list star at the adjacent table.
The outside had been landscaped within an inch of its life and had louvered wooden panels decorating the façade. Emma entered the place in a state of awe and nerves. I felt a little nervous myself, but shook it off. Richard could be brusque and forthright, but he wasn’t an asshole. I knew he’d maintain a sense of decorum even if he disagreed with my choice to stay with Emma.
And despite her obvious reservations, my wife’s enchanting beauty could hold its own against any actress or model in the world. Unlike Richard, Emma might come from humble beginnings, but so did his wife, Chrissy, and he was so over-the-top in love with that girl that songs could be written about them. That, if nothing else, boded well for our party of four.
The inside of Providence was upscale and funky, with a color scheme of blues and tans, seafood nets hanging from the ceiling, and metal columns decorated with randomly placed oyster shells. The bar showcased a selection of brightly lit bottles, velvety U-shaped seating, and a magenta back wall.
As the maître d’ led us through the various rooms, I caught sight of my dark-haired and impeccably dressed buddy from Harvard, Richard Boswell II. Next to him was his wife, a fresh-faced young woman a good ten years his junior. But as much as they might appear to be incompatible, his relationship with Chrissy had radically altered my workaholic and perpetually grumpy friend for the better.
These days, he smiled more and seemed genuinely happy. In fact, he was so captivated by his young wife that he didn’t notice Emma and me until we were a few steps from the table.
“Ah, there are the newlyweds,” I greeted them as Richard pushed himself to his feet. “Emma, this is my friend Richard Boswell and his blushing bride, Chrissy. Richard and Chrissy, this is Emma Morris, a graphic designer from Henderson, just outside of Vegas.”
“Hi, Emma,” Chrissy said, smiling sweetly at her. “It’s lovely to meet you.”
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Richard added, formal as ever, though his tone was friendly.
Surreptitiously, I summoned my courage and took a deep breath. “She’s also my wife.”
Chrissy made a little squealing noise, clapped her hands, and beamed at Emma. “Congratulations!” Then, she hopped up and gave Emma a tight hug. “I’m so happy for you two.”
“Thanks.” Emma’s expression was reminiscent of a deer in headlights. “Congrats to you too.”
“Oh, thank you. We may have met in a strange way, but it’s worked for us. Now, I wake up every morning counting my blessings,” Chrissy went on.
Although Richard had never been one for public displays of affection, he wrapped his arm around her and brushed a brief peck to the top of her head, his green gaze absolutely devoted.
A smiling server appeared to take our order and Richard took over from there. “My friends have never been here, so we’ll do the sixteen-course chef’s tasting menu.”
“That sounds like a lot of food,” I observed.
“It is. It also happens to be the best in all of L.A., so I hope you’re hungry.”
We each ordered our drinks, and the server disappeared again.
But then, Richard aimed all his attention on us. It felt similar to being examined under a microscope. “That must’ve been a whirlwind. When did you meet?”
“It’s been fast,” I answered. “We met a few weeks ago.”
“Ooh, tell me about the ceremony,” Chrissy asked.
“Well.” Emma suddenly found her clenched hands fascinating. “It was more like an elopement. We got married at a Las Vegas wedding chapel.”
My wife glanced at me, then at our dinner companions. Richard narrowed his eyes. He knew now, and all I could do was hope he’d keep any negative commentary he might want to make to himself.
“Speaking of relationships, why don’t you tell Emma how you two met,” I told Chrissy.
“Oh, it’s kind of embarrassing.”
I knew this. That’s why I brought it up. I wanted to remind my buddy that his wasn’t exactly the most traditional of romances, either.
“Well, I guess you could say we met on a professional level first,” Chrissy explained.
“Did you work together?” Emma asked gamely.
“I hired her,” Richard put in, bluntly. “To spend time with me as an escort.”
Emma’s expression went blank. “Oh.”
“I know that sounds… scandalous,” Chrissy took up the narrative again, haltingly. “But I was almost homeless at the time. I had my little sister with me—she was only eight—and I was super desperate. When I was offered the job and heard the strict regulations it entailed, it felt like my best chance to save us. So I agreed.”
“I have no right to judge you. James and I got married the night we met.” Emma breathed out. “I was desperate, too. I… I was there to scam him out of a bunch of money. I didn’t count on the rest.”