by Weaver, Lisa
Their table was exquisitely set, right down to the linen tablecloth and antique candelabra with its gently flickering candles. It would be all too easy, Lauren mused, to be drawn in by the romantic backdrop and lose sight of the fact that the man seated across from her was the same man who had callously cast aside the gift she’d given him of her body, heart, and soul.
The menu was an epicurean’s dream, presenting a mind-numbing selection of dishes. Their waiter arrived to collect their order, placing a loaf of fragrant stone-baked bread on the table. It wasn’t long before her appetite was revived by the delicious aromas emanating from the kitchen. She chose seafood lasagna while Rafe ordered steak carbonara and selected a vintage wine to complement both their choices.
It would be wise, Lauren determined, to set down some ground rules before his potent charm combined with the cozy atmosphere, wine, and gourmet delicacies weakened her resolve. If she allowed herself to be led by her heart rather than her head, he’d eat her alive tonight. It was time to counter that charisma with an offensive of her own.
“Just so we’re clear, this is not a date,” she asserted, her eyes alight with barely suppressed anger. “I’m only here because you forced me into this little tête-à-tête by insinuating that my refusal to meet with you could negatively impact my brother.”
The kitten had claws, Rafe was amused to find, as Lauren attempted to secure an advantage in their negotiations. “I haven’t forgotten why I invited you here,” he assured her, his voice laced with sarcasm. “If you don’t care to humor me by engaging in polite conversation, that’s your prerogative. But certainly we can enjoy a meal with some degree of civility before we discuss my proposal? As you pointed out earlier, I’m quite adept at mixing business with pleasure.”
And the company was very palatable indeed, he acknowledged wryly. Lauren was far more tantalizing a delicacy than anything the menu at this five-star restaurant had to offer. She glowed in the soft candlelight. The light gloss she’d slicked over her lush lips accentuated their fullness, beckoning him to rediscover them.
No other woman’s kiss had come close to sparking the intense desire that a single taste of Lauren’s mouth had the power to ignite. His eyes wandered past her attractive pout to linger on the tantalizing curves revealed by the deep neckline of her dress.
When they’d first made love, he’d been shocked to discoverthat the enchanting siren he’d saved was a virgin, but he hadn’t had the resolve to put a halt to their intimacy. The passion they shared had rocked him to his very core.
A clap of thunder ushering in an unexpected storm jolted him from his reflections. The woman was a seductress. Just a few moments in her presence, inhaling the heady fragrance she favored, and he forgot all about the treachery she was capable of. Despite her devious ways, he needed her. She was the key to closing the Fullerton deal, and he couldn’t afford to lose sight of that.
They made it through the meal relatively unscathed. When their waiter returned to the table to offer them dessert, they both chose cheesecake and coffee. An uneasy truce in the war of words ensued, but it was only temporary. Lauren took up arms again as soon as their dessert plates were cleared away.
“Now that you’ve enjoyed your meal, can we get to the point of why you wanted me to meet with you?”
“I presume you’ve heard of Gracious Living magazine?”
“Of course. They’ve has garnered accolades for offering the best interior decorating, cooking, and home and garden advice. It’s a household name.”
“That household name is about to change hands. Chuck Fullerton, the magazine’s founder, is retiring. He doesn’t have any children to pass ownership of his publication along to, so he’s decided to sell.”
Rafe had every intention of being the publication’s new owner, but he wasn’t the only one who coveted it. The most disconcerting of his competitors was Milton Payne, his unscrupulous rival. Unfortunately Milton presently held the advantage, thanks to a little caveat Chuck Fullerton had placed on potential buyers. He was adamant that he would only accept offers from married bidders.
While Rafe’s single status currently placed him at a distinct disadvantage against Milton, there was no way he was going to allow his rival to gain control of the publication without a fight. He didn’t have the upper hand now, but he knew how to get it.
Rafe was proud of his reputation for being an ethical and principled opponent in the business arena. Raised to uphold a strict code of honor, he didn’t associate with untrustworthy liars. Milton was among the worst of them, and he left Rafe with no other option but to starkly disregard the Dimitriou creed for the first time in his life. The prospect of playing dirty left him with a bitter taste in his mouth, but the alternative of suffering the dishonor of a third defeat at Milton’s hands was simply unacceptable. The snake may have bested him both personally and professionally in the past, but he was about to go down hard.
“To ensure Gracious Living continues to espouse the family values the magazine was founded upon, Chuck Fullerton is only entertaining offers from married parties,” Rafe explained. “I intend to own the publication, but I need to remedy the little problem of my single status in order to do so.”
“Ah. So your playboy reputation precedes you? No doubt Mr. Fullerton is aware the tabloids have a devout following of female readers who buy their papers just to keep track of your arm candy of the week.”
“Chuck knows better than to believe everything he sees. It’s a shame you still haven’t learned that lesson. I’d hoped you would have seen the light after you jumped to the wrong conclusion about my father. But I digress. I intend to own Gracious Living, and to do so I must first secure a wife.”
“Sounds like you’re going to have to do a little thinking outside the box to resolve that dilemma,” she tossed back flippantly.
“I already have,” he assured her, his eyes glinting dangerously. That’s why you’re here. You’re going to help me solve the problem.”
A problem of his own making. Having learned of the marriage prerequisite, he’d met with Chuck, assuring the man he was engaged and that he would be tying the knot within a few weeks. The proclamation had allowed him to secure a foothold in the bidding, but he’d created a headache for himself in the process.
When the older man had congratulated him and pressed for details about the lucky woman, Lauren’s image had inexplicably sprung to mind. He’d been surprised to find himself recounting how they’d met. What insanity, he wondered, had spurred him to relay how he’d been instantly attracted to the woman he’d saved from drowning? And yet he’d done just that, waxing eloquent about how he’d fallen for Lauren’s beauty, intellect, and spirit, discovering a passion far fiercer than the vicious undertow that had almost taken both their lives that day.
The man had just nodded and smiled, his eyes suspiciously bright. Then he’d insisted he and his wife must meet the special woman who had claimed Rafe’s heart. They were hosting a four-day getaway at their Long Island estate for prospective buyers and their spouses, and they would be thrilled to have Rafe and his new bride join them. The long weekend would culminate with the announcement of the successful bidder during a fiftieth anniversary celebration for Gracious Living Sunday evening.
Rafe had made excuses, of course, explaining he was tied up overseeing a new advertising campaign that was at a sensitive juncture. Though he’d insisted business demands mandated he return to his main office after placing his bid, Chuck had smoothly countered his objections until he’d had no choice but to agree.
Lauren quirked a blonde brow in his direction. “I still don’t see what your lack of a wedding band has to do with Luke and me.”
“As of today, I own Alfond and Rumes Publishing.”
“And I should be impressed by this because?”
“It’s simple, really. I’m now at the helm of the publishing group that employs your beloved brother. Work with me and the transition will be benign. Choose not to, and things will get very rough for
him.”
Irritation and frustration vied for dominance in Lauren’s eyes. “What is it that you want from me?”
“I want you to change your name. Mrs. Rafe Dimitriou has a certain ring to it, don’t you think?”
“You’re suggesting I marry you?” she choked out, incredulous. “You’re crazy.”
“Perhaps. The fact remains I need a wife. I’m not proposing a love match, simply a mutually beneficial agreement.”
“And what if I refuse?” Lauren demanded, her heart pounding with the realization that this was a game after all . . . a cat-and-mouse game. And she was the mouse.
“Then things could get awfully tough out there for your brother . . . and for you. I’d hate to see Luke become a victim of downsizing. Editor-in-chief positions for major magazines aren’t exactly a dime a dozen, and it would be a shame if he were to lose his only source of income. And although you are a very successful freelancer in your own right, you might find your usual markets suddenly start drying up.”
Incensed, she faced him down with a reproachful glare. “You’re threatening our livelihoods if I don’t agree to your ridiculous ultimatum?”
“I’m not threatening. I’m promising. I need a wife to close this deal. Fill the role for a year, and not only will I secure your brother’s position, but at the end of that time I’ll also hand him Intrepid Explorations on a silver platter.”
Chapter Three
“If you think I’m going to marry you, you’re crazy,” Lauren fumed. “And how dare you drag my brother into this? He means the world to me, but I won’t enter into a loveless marriage for him. Nor would he want me to. Besides, with all the eligible women vying for your attention, you don’t need me to carry out your plan. You only have to snap your fingers and one of them will come running.”
“That might be true, but I’m not interested in them. It’s you I want. The chemistry between us is unmatched, and your style and intelligence make you the perfect choice for the role of Mrs. Rafe Dimitriou. Chuck will love you.”
“Because I’m not like your usual playthings, you mean? Well forget it. It isn’t happening.”
Silence reigned supreme save for the lashing of the wind and rain against the restaurant windows as he digested her response. “Very well,” he drawled after an interminable lull. His dark head dipped in a nod that spoke of confidence rather than defeat, and Lauren knew she was in trouble. His answer might suggest acceptance, but clearly the war wasn’t over. This was not capitulation. It was a battle cry.
It was only a matter of time before Rafe brought out the big guns. But he was sorely mistaken if he thought she was going to wave the white flag.
The drive home was fraught with tension. Rafe had shrugged out of his blazer when they’d left the restaurant, insisting she wear it as protection against the rain still pouring down in torrents. The garment he’d draped over her shoulders radiated his warmth, its fine fabric carrying the compelling scent of his cologne. Wearing his clothing felt oddly intimate, teasing her emotions.
The blowing wind and the rain-slicked roads made for precarious driving conditions, so when Rafe accelerated unexpectedly and the car surged forward in a burst of speed, she shot him a censuring look. “I appreciate you’re anxious to be rid of me, but I’d like to make it home without losing any body parts.”
He aimed a concerned glance at the rearview mirror. “And I’m trying to make sure you don’t find yourself missing any. The guy behind us is driving erratically. He was getting a little too close to our bumper for comfort, so I thought it prudent to put some distance between us. I think he may have been partying before he got behind the wheel.”
Lauren’s training had instilled the importance of maintaining constant awareness of her surroundings, but to her chagrin she realized she’d been too absorbed in the man beside her and the feelings he invoked to take note of the other vehicle.
She saw the danger, now. The glare of headlights behind them indicated the other motorist was closing the distance Rafe had placed between them with alarming speed. A scant moment later a black SUV drew up to the driver’s side of their vehicle, squeezing them precariously close to the edge of the narrow bridge they were crossing.
Rafe murmured a curse and shifted. The powerful car responded with another surge of horsepower, allowing him to pull around the SUV and away from the dangerous precipice. A second longer and they would have been forced off the bridge and into the turbulent waters below.
Once the other vehicle’s headlights were no longer visible, Rafe slowed the car to a reasonable speed. “That guy shouldn’t be behind the wheel,” he asserted, blowing out an angry breath. “You didn’t happen to see his license plate number, did you?”
“I only caught the last three digits. Five-one-one, I think,” Lauren stammered, appalled at the other driver’s recklessness. “The darkness and the glare from the rain made it impossible to get a clear view.”
“I’m going to call this in to the authorities before he gets himself or someone else killed,” he told her, outrage at the other driver’s dangerous behavior still sparking in his eyes.
While he used the car phone to place the call, Lauren contemplated his expert avoidance of what could easily have been a disastrous crash. Her training had included tactical driving techniques, but she would have found the maneuvers he’d taken the car through on the rain-slicked road surface challenging.
“Where did you learn to drive like that?” she asked when he ended the call.
“There are some risks inherent in belonging to a very influential and wealthy family. The potential for kidnapping attempts, coupled with the fact that in my line of work collecting an enemy or two is inevitable, concerned my father. When I refused to use the services of his security detail, he insisted I take a self-defense class. The program also offered a defensive-driving course, and since it interested me, I took it as well.”
“I’m glad you did. If you hadn’t been such a good student, they’d be fishing us out of the ocean.”
“Hopefully the authorities will find the car based on the minimal description I was able to give them,” he told her, pulling up to her driveway. He cut the engine and turned to face her. I’ll see you to your door.”
“That won’t be necessary,” she countered. “I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for years.”
“Humor me,” he drawled, stepping out of the car. He came around to open her door, and when she stepped out, he used his body to shield her from the pouring rain. His chivalrous act kept her dry, but he was soaked to the skin by the time they reached the cover of her porch. Lauren couldn’t avert her eyes from the enticing sight Rafe presented. His now transparent shirt was plastered to his chest, outlining every rock-hard muscle and sinew.
Furious at the direction her thoughts were taking, she pulled her rebellious eyes away to fumble in her purse for her house key. The man had just callously presented her with a marriage ultimatum, and all she could think about was how, with every fiber of her being, she longed for a repeat of last night’s kiss.
The dark storm raging in Rafe’s eyes made it obvious he shared that desire. In the next heartbeat he was reaching for her, pulling her close and bending down to pay homage to her neck. He pressed soft kisses there until she burned with the need to feel his mouth joined with hers.
She was positive she couldn’t endure another second of his ministrations when he moved on to plunder her ear, tracing it with his tongue in the way he knew drove her crazy. She would surely be at his mercy if she allowed the exploration to continue, yet she panted with the desperate need for him to command her lips.
Finally his mouth greeted hers. She welcomed him with soft moans of pleasure. He tasted of rich chocolate cheesecake and fresh summer rain. Heady stuff that made her greedy for more.
Boldly sliding her hands up to the smooth, warm skin revealed by the open collar of his rain soaked shirt, she wound her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in the thickness of his dark hair.
“It’s difficult to resist a bit of reconnaissance, isn’t it, agapi mou?” he queried softly, breaking the kiss for just a moment before reclaiming her mouth again with intoxicating urgency. This time instead of teasing, he invaded, and she reveled in the onslaught.
It was insanity, but she was past the point of putting a halt to it. A willing slave to the pull he held over her, she knew she would have let him take her if he hadn’t ended the kiss, abruptly putting a halt to their lovemaking.
Dizzy with need and confused at his sudden retreat, she blinked up into his eyes. Impossibly long lashes shuttered his expression.
“You insist you want nothing to do with me, agapi mou, but your body tells me differently,” he challenged smoothly, making it abundantly clear he was the one in control. “I’m going to give you one last chance to change your mind, and I have every confidence you’ll give me the right answer when I do. I’ll call you in the morning for your decision.”
She wanted to wipe the smug look of confidence from his face. “I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you,” she asserted, fighting for composure. “I’ve already given you the right answer, so save us both the trouble and don’t bother calling.” She slipped off the blazer he’d loaned her and handed it back to him before unlocking her door with shaking fingers.
Closing the door firmly behind her without a backward glance, she sagged against the supportive oak and closed her eyes against the sensual overload, her head spinning.
The nerve of the man, she fumed. There was no way she’d cave to his ultimatum. Luke would back her decision. They held a trump card that Rafe wasn’t aware of. Like her freelance photojournalism work, Luke’s position at Intrepid was merely a cover career.
Determining she should give her brother a heads-up all the same, she tapped his name on her cell phone.
