by Robin Kaye
“Tristan, this is Rich Ronaldi.” She stepped closer to Rich. “Tristan and I grew up next door to each other. He and my brother, Chip, were best friends.”
Rich nodded, but didn’t like the guy on sight. He didn’t know if it was the way rugby boy looked at Becca, like he was undressing her with his eyes, or the way he looked down at Rich as if he’d just stepped in something. Probably it was way he looked at Becca, since Rich couldn’t give a shit what this bozo thought of him.
The dark-haired woman, Kendal, pulled Becca away and whispered something in her ear while staring at Rich. It probably would have been a good idea if Becca had told him what he was supposed to be pretending now. Becca was more tight-lipped than usual, which only served to stir everyone’s curiosity. It took awhile for everyone to settle down and make room for the newcomers. Rich rubbed the back of his neck and surreptitiously looked around for a server. Unfortunately servers were scarce, and Rich was thirsty.
He leaned over and whispered in Becca’s ear. “I’ll go get us drinks. Be right back.”
She smiled at him and returned to her conversation.
Happy for a reprieve from the weird vibes coming from Becca’s friends, he made his way to the bar and signaled the bartender, content to listen to the guitarist play a Beatles tune, while he checked out the beer taps. He turned to see the other set of taps and caught the rugby boy approaching. Rich nodded an acknowledgment and wished the bartender would hurry up. When she noticed what’s-his-name, she came right over.
“Hi, Tristan. What can I get you?”
Tristan. Right, that’s his name.
Tristan leaned over the bar and smiled at her. “My friend was here first. It’s Rich, isn’t it? What’ll you have?”
“Yeah, thanks. I’ll take a Grey Goose dirty martini, a pale ale, and whatever he’s having.” She nodded and turned away, obviously knowing Tristan’s drink.
They watched in silence as she poured and delivered the drinks.
Rich took a sip and then pulled his wallet out of his pocket.
Tristan set his beer back on the bar. “So, Rich. Is Becca all right?”
Rich looked back over at Becca. She seemed fine to him. “Yeah, why wouldn’t she be?”
“After what happened, I’m surprised to see her back here. I mean, going through something like that’s got to be devastating, not to mention social suicide.”
The only thing that Rich knew of that must have been devastating in Becca’s life was her brother dying, but it wasn’t as if that had happened yesterday. It had been a few years. As for social suicide, Rich knew Becca well enough to know that she had the social aptitude of a diplomat. He’d seen her in action. He crossed his arms and without a word dared Tristan to continue.
“I’m talking about Becca losing the entire estate and half her trust fund to her father’s bastard son just a few months ago. It wasn’t surprising when she turned tail and ran to New York. The only surprise is her having the guts to show up back here as if nothing happened.”
Rich calmly paid the bartender and thanked her. He tucked his wallet back into his pants and motioned for Tristan to move closer. He put his hand on the guy’s shoulder and brought his mouth close to his ear, so as not to be overheard.
“A couple things you should know. First is, that bastard you spoke of is my brother-in-law and one of my best friends. The second is that Becca found him and welcomed him into her family. Unlike you, she is not ruled by money or the whims of the social elite who have nothing more pressing to do than sit around pronouncing judgment on their so-called friends.” He released the guy’s shoulder when he realized how hard he’d been gripping it. “Obviously all your money and your position in The Social Register haven’t given you what you really need: manners. Now excuse me, I’m going to take Becca her drink.”
Rich turned back to the bar to get the drink and found Becca already sipping her martini. She had her mask firmly in place, which made Rich want to rearrange Tristan’s face. A broken nose and jaw would be one way of giving the man a little character. “Hi Tris. I see you and Rich are getting to know one another.”
Rich wrapped his arm around Becca and kept his mouth shut.
“Becca. I was just telling Rich—”
“That I turned tail and ran. Oh, and I committed social suicide. My my my. You sure make my boring move to Brooklyn to be closer to my brother and sister-in-law so much more interesting than it really was. I know you see work as a four-letter word, but if you should ever decide to do something useful with your life, you might want to try writing fiction. You seem to have a real gift.”
God she was sexy when she completely deflated someone. Maybe it was the regal way she held her head while delivering the final blow. Rich considered the differences in their styles and decided he’d much prefer cleaning the asshole’s clock, but then Becca’s way did have some advantages. Every time she got that queen-of-all-things look about her, Rich’s pants got tight.
Becca finished her drink, slipped an olive between her lips, and slid it off the toothpick. Rich couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth. She chewed, swallowed, licked her lips, and set the glass on the bar before taking his hand. “Let’s go say good-bye to everyone and then go home.”
Oh yeah. He definitely liked the sound of that.
Chapter 11
BECCA SHRUGGED HER JACKET ON AND WALKED OUT OF the restaurant into the stark cold and away from her world. Well, she thought, that was a bit dramatic, but no less true. She never fit into that world, but still, it was what she knew, what she spent most of her life rebelling against, and today, what she’d finally put behind her.
Rich had held the door for her with one arm and wrapped his other around her as she walked through. She tilted her head until it rested against his and took a deep breath, soaking in the comfort he offered.
When they reached his car, instead of opening the door, he pinned her against it and kissed her. She was expecting a pity kiss, but when her eyes met his, she saw no pity there. She saw need, hunger, urgency, and something else she was unable to label. It whipped around them like a live wire, and as his mouth met hers, the shock of it stole her breath. The taste of Rich mixed with the bitterness of the beer he drank and the rage of emotion that bubbled within him was as sharp as his teeth against her lips and tongue as he ate her mouth.
Rich pulled away, and breathing heavily, he stepped back and scrubbed his face with his hands. “Jesus, I’m sorry.”
Becca almost melted onto the pavement. If he didn’t look as shaky as she felt, she’d have taken offense. Still, since she was unable to speak, all she could do was raise an eyebrow.
“It’s that queen thing you do. It turns me on so much I can’t control myself.” He inched closer to her and pushed her hair out of her eyes. “You were amazing in there. I would have preferred to make it so he spent the next six weeks eating through a straw, but I enjoyed watching you decimate him.”
“Happy to entertain.”
Rich did a double take. “You didn’t let that asshole upset you, did you?”
Becca took a shaky breath. “Assholes, plural. And no, I didn’t let them upset me. I don’t know why I’m surprised they turned on me. I’ve seen it a hundred times before.”
Rich looked like a cartoon character just before its head blew off. “I got the weird vibes, but I didn’t know they—”
He turned as if to stomp back and take them all on. She caught his hand to stop him. “It’s okay. They just saw most of the money they thought I had, half my trust and the entire estate, go to Mike. Since they don’t have much in their lives except their trusts and their estates, they’re suffering from ‘there, but for the grace of God go I’ syndrome. They’re afraid it might be catching. After all, if it could happen to the ultra uptight and respectable Larsens, it could happen to any one of them.” She looked into his very confused face.
“So that huge windfall that Mike was given—”
She shook her head. “He wasn’t given anything.
The trust and the estate are Mike’s birthright.”
“But still, if you hadn’t found him, all of that would be yours.”
Becca shrugged.
“And you still told your dad about him?”
When she looked into Rich’s eyes, she expected to see the same disbelief and in more than a few of the people she’d once thought her friends, the same disgust. Instead she saw pride and what looked like admiration. She wasn’t sure she was comfortable with that either.
“He’s my brother. I wanted him in my life and in my father’s life. I love him.”
“You didn’t know him.”
“I didn’t need to. I already lost one brother. I’d give the world to get Chip back. How could I ignore the one brother I still had?”
Rich pulled her to him. “Bec.” He almost sounded hoarse. “You’re doing that queen thing again. What’s it gonna be? Are we going home, or are we going to the nearest trashy hotel so I can make love to you all night without having to be in pain for two hours beforehand?”
Becca pulled away from him and climbed in the car. “I choose door number three. Let’s go to a nice place I know. It’s a B&B with room service. That way we can have breakfast in bed, and it might actually be edible.”
Rich closed the door and walked around the car, gingerly sat, and turned to face her. “Hey, I’m working on the breakfast in bed thing.” He looked longingly out the side window. “But Bec, the trashy hotel is right across the parking lot.”
She laid her hand on his fly, pressed against his erection, and squirmed in her seat. The way he sounded made her melt. Okay, it was way more than that. It was the way he looked at her and saw all of her, even the messy parts, and seemed to think they were okay. It was the way he was ready to do damage to anyone he thought would hurt her, but let her handle the situation on her own. And it was the way he wanted her. God help her, she wanted him too. Bad. “I guess you better drive fast then.”
“God, you’re killin’ me here, Bec.”
“There’s a nice place just a couple miles down the road. I’ll make it worth the wait.”
Rich pulled up in front of the B&B and left the engine running. “You wait here, and I’ll see if they have any rooms available.”
Becca shrugged “I don’t mind coming in.”
He kissed her quick and pulled away. “Yeah, but I’ll have a really hard time keeping my hands off you. I’m hoping that little cottage over there is free.”
“It’s a carriage house.”
“That’s just a snooty way of saying garage. Frankly, I’d rather stay in a cottage than a garage any day, but I want to be as far away as possible from other people. I love making you scream.”
“Okay, but Rich?”
“Yeah?”
She squirmed a little more. “Hurry.”
His face split into a grin that shone in the dashboard light just before he got out and jogged up the front steps of the main house.
Becca tried to remember what underwear she had on. She peeked and was glad she wasn’t wearing an ugly sports bra because when she got dressed that morning she was so mad, the last thing she thought about was sleeping with Rich Ronaldi. Killing him, sure. Having wild monkey sex, not so much. Making love to him, never.
So much had changed, but she wasn’t sure what caused it. Maybe the forced confinement made her open her eyes to what was going on between them. He had a way of holding a mirror up to her and not only making her look at herself, but telling her what he saw in that mirror too. She let out a laugh. The first time she met him she thought he was no deeper than a puddle. She never thought she was one to jump to conclusions about people, but she sure did with Rich, and that fact embarrassed the hell out of her. He must have thought she was just like Kendal, Tristan, and the rest of the crowd they’d just walked out on.
She was wrong to tolerate her friends’ behavior over the years, but she never acted like them. Today her friends crossed the line. It was one thing when they started with the pity comments about her losing the estate. She couldn’t really care less about that or her diminished net worth—not that they or anyone but the IRS knew what it was. When they asked how it felt to go slumming and talked about Rich the way they’d always talked about her mother’s men, that was when she’d lost her temper.
Rich opened the door, got in, and tossed a key in her lap. “Wanna tell me what that look is for? Please say you just got off the phone with your worst enemy because I don’t think I could handle it if I did anything to piss you off.”
“No, I’m not mad at you. I was just thinking.”
He slid his hand up her back, wrapped it around her neck, and pulled her toward him for a long, deep kiss. “Bec, I want to hear all about what you were thinking later. But right now, I want to take all your clothes off using nothing but my teeth, starting with that cute little top you’re wearing.”
“Oh.” She swallowed hard. Thank God they were only fifty feet from the carriage house.
Rich pulled up in front of the carriage house and killed the engine as Becca flew from the car and ran for the front porch, key in hand. He was right behind her. By the time she had the door unlocked, her pants were unbuttoned, unzipped, and his hand was already firmly entrenched in her panties. Incapable of moving, she braced herself against the door jamb as his other hand slid beneath her shirt and unhooked the front clasp of her bra to tease her breast. His teeth scraped her neck as he pressed the heel of his hand against her mound and slid two fingers deep inside her. Her breath froze in her lungs. His fingers, like heat-seeking missiles, came in contact with their target, and air mixed with a ragged moan ripped from her throat. Becca’s short nails bit into the wood as she came apart in his arms.
Still shuddering in the wake of the most amazing orgasm she remembered, Rich licked the side of her neck, soothing the spot he’d raked his teeth over, and slid his hand from her pants, making sure she could stand on her own before nudging her inside. “It’s a damn good thing it’s cold out, and everyone has their windows closed. Still, we better get inside before someone calls 911.”
When she turned her head to look at him, he had both fingers in his mouth, sucking on them like a five-year-old with a grape popsicle. “God you taste sweet. Now hurry up, we only have an hour before they bring dinner over, and I want you as my appetizer.”
Becca was still in a post-orgasmic stupor, or at least she hoped that’s what caused the fact she had to repeat what he’d said in her mind once or twice before she made sense of it. “You ordered dinner?”
He grinned as she stumbled over her own feet. It didn’t help that her pants were sliding down her legs, and her ass was suddenly cold without having Rich pressed against her.
“For us and Tripod. I called Henry and Wayne and asked them to feed him. He can be scary when he’s hungry. As for our dinner, I told the owners we were going to check out the Jacuzzi tub.”
Becca hiked up her pants and tried not to fall on her face. “Dinner and breakfast?”
“I know, it boggles the mind. But right now, I’m more interested in sating other hungers. I’m not done with you, babe. Not by a long shot.”
God she hoped not.
Rich flicked on the light switch, illuminating the small cottage. He took Becca by the hand and led her to the steps. “The bedroom is on the second floor.”
She caught glimpses of warm, creamy walls and antique furniture before being nudged up the stairs. The bedroom was painted a soft celery, with gleaming cherry furniture and a king-sized canopy bed.
Rich stepped in behind and pulled her into his arms. “Thanks, Bec.”
She tilted her head back against his shoulder to see his face. “What for?”
He slid her jacket off her shoulders and tossed it on the chair. “For nixing the trashy hotel idea. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
She laughed, pulled her sweater over her head, and tossed it in the direction of her jacket. Her bra, still undone, hung from her shoulders. She let it drop to the floor wh
ile she spun around and threw her arms around his neck. “There, does this spark your memory?”
“I want to make love to you. No one makes love in a trashy hotel room.”
His eyes locked on hers, all signs of humor vanished. He stared as if he could read her mind. She wondered if he could. It would help if he’d clue her into what he saw, because right now, all she knew was what she felt. There was the ever-present lust, a fierce protectiveness of him, fear for herself, and the terrifying feeling that she’d completely lost control of her life. She couldn’t choreograph this dance. He led, and she seemed to have no choice but to follow.
“You’re thinking too much. Don’t think, just feel. We’ll deal with the rest in time. Right now, I just need you.”
Need. Need was dangerous. Love didn’t scare her because she could control it. Becca loved her brothers, her parents—yes, even her mother, and she loved Annabelle. But loving someone was very different from needing someone. Loving meant she cared for them and shared only that part of herself she felt safe to share.
She’d avoided needing people at all costs. Her shrink said it was due to revolving nannies and the lack of stability she and Chip suffered since birth. Maybe he was right, or maybe she just saw how weak Chip seemed when he begged for everything he needed, from love and attention to money. Becca had vowed that once she became an adult, she’d never put herself in the position to need anything from anyone. She’d been extremely successful until Rich.
The thought that she might actually need him paralyzed her. He had a way of taking a part of her without her permission. It was as if he held a key she never knew existed to the lock on the side of herself that kept safe all she refused to share. But looking into Rich’s eyes, she knew that had changed, and she didn’t know how to get back to the safe place she’d been in just that morning.
His kiss was soft and undemanding. He didn’t try to take. He gave. He breathed life into her, and she put herself in his hands, trusting him to cushion her fall. She landed gently between soft sheets and hard man. Their clothes disappeared along with her anxiety, and once she accepted that there was no safe way to go back, she gave into it and experienced freedom.
