Two for the Shrew (As We Like It Anthology)

by Green, Bronwyn

  Besides, the last thing she wanted was to answer to another man. Dealing with her father’s random intrusions into the business was bad enough. Having another man around who was likely to spout out unwanted opinions and demands would be a nightmare.

  She could always find a fairly spineless guy, she supposed, but what would be the point? Weak men didn’t do it for her. What she really wanted was a hot, no strings attached sort of relationship. Scorching, uninhibited sex without any messy emotional entanglements. That would be perfect. If not for the fact that they remembered her, she wouldn’t have minded having that with Simon or John—or hell, both of them, she thought, remembering Daphne’s earlier comment.

  “We’re here,” Henry said, interrupting that interesting line of thought.

  Catherine opened her eyes as the huge, wrought-iron gates slowly swung open. The circular driveway in front of the house was lined with delivery vans and throngs of people moving like waves up and down the wide marble steps in front of the house.

  A surprising jolt of nostalgia shook her as she tried to remember the last time she’d been there. Last Christmas, she supposed. Almost a year ago. Coming home hadn’t been the same since her mother had died. When at all possible, she preferred to see her family in memory-neutral places like restaurants or art museum galas.

  Searching the crowd of people teeming around the main house, she spotted Bianca gesturing wildly with her hands as some poor guy tried to balance what appeared to be long tent poles. Looked like her sister was running a bit behind schedule if the tents weren’t up. Catherine supposed she should get out of the car and see what she could do to help.

  The driver opened her door and helped her out. “I’ll see that your bags are taken up to your room.”

  “Thank you, Henry.” She sighed. “I’m going to go see if I can calm my sister down.”

  The old man’s eyes twinkled. “Good luck with that, Miss Catherine.”

  “I’m gonna need it.”

  Slinging her purse over her shoulder, Catherine climbed the steps to where her sister stood scowling with her hands on her hips.

  “Hey, B,” she said.

  “Thank God! I thought you’d never get here!”

  Catherine looked at her watch. “It’s only three o’clock.”

  “I know, but there’s so much to do. Please tell me you packed your contacts.”

  “Um…I can’t wear contacts, remember?”

  Bianca squinted up at her. “Well, you’re not going to wear those things at the wedding. They’ll clash with the dress.”

  “Then you’ve hired a seeing eye dog to get me up the aisle?”

  Bianca practically growled. “Fine, you can wear them during the ceremony, but they’re coming off for pictures.”

  “Of course,” she said, mentally rolling her eyes. Now, what do you need help with?”

  “I need to make sure that dinner will be ready to serve at seven sharp.”

  “You realize that’s four hours from now, right?”

  Bianca sighed in annoyance. “I know! But the centerpieces still need to be delivered and set up, and the caterers aren’t here yet, and—”

  “B, take a deep breath. Look, you’ve got a checklist, right?”

  Her sister nodded.

  “Why don’t you give me the list, and I’ll make phone calls and point people in the right direction as they arrive. Then you can do whatever it is that you need to do, okay?”

  “That sounds like a good idea. You won’t forget to dress for dinner, will you?”

  Catherine bit back a smile at the accusatory tone of her sister’s voice.

  “I’ll be dressed appropriately, and I promise not to get into any sort of debates or arguments with the rest of the bridesmaids.”

  “Good. After the bridal shower, Ashley’s convinced you’re a man-hating, heartless bitch. I told her she was totally wrong about the heartless part.” Bianca winked and gave her a hug.

  Catherine laughed. Her sister was a giant pain in the ass, but Catherine did love her.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Bianca said. “It’s hard enough doing this without mom. I couldn’t imagine doing it without you, too.”

  Catherine wrapped her arm around her sister’s shoulder and gave her a quick squeeze, blinking back a sudden sheen of tears. It was times like this that her mother’s loss struck her all over again. “You don’t need to worry about that,” she said. “You drive me nuts, but I’d never miss this.”

  “I’m glad.” Bianca laughed and handed her the list. “You sure you’re okay with doing this? You didn’t bring work that needs doing or something?”

  Catherine blushed guiltily. “It’s nothing pressing.”

  “Okay. I’m going to go see how Cameron’s coming with the tents.”

  Catherine nodded and scanned the list and worked on checking off as many things as she could. Three and a half hours later, everything was in place but she still hadn’t managed to get changed.

  Her father caught sight of her on his way toward the ballroom. “Kitten, how did the meeting go?” he boomed, his voice echoing through the marble foyer.

  She swallowed the bitter retort she was about to make. She refused to cause a scene—at least not here. She refused to hear about how she’d ruined Bianca’s wedding for the rest of her life.

  “It was fine,” she finally managed to choke out. “But don’t think for a minute that excuses what you did.”

  “Didn’t I tell you they were excellent?” he demanded, clearly focusing only on the parts he wanted to hear.

  “Yes, you did. I’m sure the campaign will be a success.” And it would be, too. As long as she managed to keep her past from resurfacing.

  “Good. Good.” Her father beamed. “Now, we just need to get you settled down, and this old man will be content.”

  “You’ll have to figure out a different plan for contentment, because I don’t foresee that happening any time soon.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it. “I should go get dressed for dinner. Bianca will have a cow if I’m late.”

  Her father laughed. “She does have an entrance to make.”

  By the time Catherine made it back downstairs, most of the guests were seated, the ballroom having been turned into a makeshift dining area for all of the extra guests. Snowy linens draped the circular tables filling the room. Candlelight glittered, reflecting off the crystal and china on the tabletops. Pale pink orchids and roses covered nearly every surface, softly scenting the room. Bianca’s touch was everywhere. She’d definitely inherited their mother’s flare for decorating.

  Her father approached and offered his arm. “You’ll be sitting up front with Bianca and Cameron and some of his friends.”

  “I can’t wait,” she said flatly.

  “Now, Kitten.”

  “I promise, I’ll behave.”

  “Good. I’m not up to dealing with your sister if you don’t,” he murmured.

  She laughed, surprised at his conspiratorial tone, but her smile quickly faded as he led her to her chair. John and Simon both rose from the table to greet her.

  “I’ll leave you with these capable young men and let you three get to know each other better while I see what’s keeping Bianca.”

  “I can go check on her,” she offered.

  “Nonsense. You sit and visit. It’s time you relaxed a little. You work way too hard,” he scolded. Turning to the other two men, he addressed them. “Now, you two make sure she enjoys herself.”

  Chapter Four

  Simon nearly laughed. He couldn’t believe Catherine had been seated between him and John. It was almost too good to be true. Dressed in a navy blue dress with a strand of pearls around her neck, she was gorgeous. The epitome of class. Her hair hung around her shoulders in loose waves, and he had to fight the urge to slide his fingers through it and muss it up. He’d only seen her hair down one other time that he could remember. She’d been nearly naked and dancing, drunk off her ass, atop a coffee table. He tho
ught it best not to mention that.

  Her beauty had only increased with age. Not that she was old—none of them were—but she was more elegant and stately than ever. More than anything, he’d like to see her lose control. He wanted to see her give herself over to passion. He’d like to see her drunk on lust. He imagined her pale skin would flush and her eyes would glaze. He couldn’t help but wonder what she looked like when she came. And those were dangerous thoughts to have about the woman who was, for all intents and purposes, his boss for the next few months.

  Catherine barely spoke a handful of words during the meal which involved lengthy slideshows on both Bianca and Cameron’s childhoods. Any attempts at drawing Catherine into conversation about the photos or any other topic had been shut down with one or two-word answers. She wasn’t rude, just the picture of controlled politeness. And she’d clearly been watching the clock, waiting for her chance to escape.

  As the tables were moved to the side to make way for the evening’s next event, she ducked out of the formal ballroom, grabbing a bottle of wine as she went. Following at a discreet distance, he and John watched as she made her way toward the back of the sprawling mansion and, after peering side to side, vanished out the back door.

  He looked at John, and they both nodded then followed her outside.

  “You realize,” Simon said as they stepped over her shoes that were lying in front of the door. “This may cost us the account.”

  John nodded. “I’m aware.”

  “Okay. Just so we’re both clear.”

  A nearly full moon hung low in the autumn sky, illuminating her briefly as she walked up the hill before the clouds raced across the heavens, dousing the bright light and leaving them in near darkness. The sound of waves grew louder as they moved closer to the shore. The Minolas’ expansive estate took up acres and acres of shoreline along Lake Michigan. The land around the compound held only trees, sand dunes and seemingly endless beaches.

  The sky grew darker as more clouds gathered, and the wind picked up, whipping sand around their ankles as they trudged after her through the tall grasses. Lightning brightened the sky over the water as a storm moved toward land. Thunder rolled ominously in the distance, and lightning flashed again, brighter this time revealing Catherine as she climbed the steps into a large, wooden gazebo.

  She leaned against the railing, bringing the pilfered bottle of wine briefly to her lips. The wind blew her hair, and she shoved it off her face as she stood staring at the waves as they crashed on the beach. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and the fierce stance she’d exhibited earlier seemed to have drifted away with the wind.

  She whirled at the sound of their footsteps on the stairs and subtly adjusted her grip on the neck of the wine bottle as if ready to use it as a club. Her eyes narrowed as her gaze darted between them. “What the hell do you two want?”

  “Just to talk to you,” John said.

  She took another swallow of wine. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “How about the fact that you’re sneaking away from your sister’s wedding in the middle of the night?” Simon countered.

  She sighed. “It’s not the middle of the night. And I’m not sneaking away.”

  Simon glanced around the deserted beach, the storm creeping closer. “If you say so.”

  “Fine, I am sneaking away. Just not for the reasons that you’re thinking.”

  He grinned. “And what are we thinking?”

  “What everyone else thinks about the unmarried older sister at these things.” The disgust was plain in her voice. “That I’m jealous. Bemoaning my single status.”

  “So you’re not looking to get married?”

  She snorted. “I have no intention to become part of that antiquated, patriarchal rite.”

  John grinned. “Now there’s the girl I remember from school.”

  Her eyebrow rose. “Girl?”

  John let his gaze travel down the length of her body until she shifted beneath his scrutiny. “I stand corrected.”

  “What about dating?” Simon asked.

  She leaned against the railing. “What about it?”

  “Are you as opposed to that as you are marriage?” he clarified, wanting to know where she stood on the topic before things went any farther.

  “I don’t have time to date. But obviously, you two didn’t follow me out here to get the scoop on my private life, so what did you want to talk about?” she asked.

  “I think we should start by clearing the air,” John said.

  From the wary expression on Catherine’s face, more ominous words had never been spoken.

  “About what?” she asked, even though he was sure she knew damn well what he was getting at.

  “About the night you stopped speaking to either one of us,” Simon answered.

  She opened her mouth and closed it again just as quickly, her lips pressing into a tight line.

  “And yes,” he added. “We know we’re risking our contract to even bring it up. But we both think it’s worth it.”

  Setting the bottle on the railing, she crossed her arms over her chest, the move pressing her cleavage upward. “There’s nothing to discuss.”

  “Nothing?” Simon asked. “How about the fact that you think we’d mention a ten-year old indiscretion to anyone? What kind of assholes do you take us for?”

  Surprise momentarily silenced Catherine—surprise at his words and the sudden burst of arousal rushing through her body. She pushed off the railing and stood in front of Simon, trying to ignore the fluttering in her pussy. There was no way she should be attracted to him. Not now.

  “An indiscretion?” She snorted. “That’s what you’re calling it?”

  “Got a better name for it?” Simon countered.

  “I don’t know…how about an excuse for blackmail?”

  “What are you talking about?” John stepped closer, too, looking just as annoyed as Simon did.

  And her body responded the same way as before, with needy trembles that had no business happening at the moment. But strong men had always been her weakness—not that she’d ever admit that to anyone—not even her best friend. She’d blame the wine, but she’d barely had the equivalent of an entire glass. Clearly, the stress of the day was getting to be too much. The wind picked up, molding her dress to her body, sand stinging her bare legs.

  “What possible reason would we have to blackmail you?” John asked. “We’re the ones that got the pictures taken off the website.”

  “But that didn’t stop you from sending them to me in the mail.”

  “What?” both men asked at once. The confusion and concern on their faces looked almost genuine.

  “What kind of pictures?” Simon asked, his voice deadly quiet.

  “What do you think? More shots of my stellar tabletop performance and other ones of the three of us crashed out on the floor together with me in the middle.”

  The guys exchanged a confused look, before turning their attention back to her. “We never sent you any pictures,” Simon said quietly.

  “That’s not entirely true,” John added. “We made sure you got the negatives, but that was it.”

  Catherine nodded slowly, not saying anything. It was possible they were telling the truth. She hadn’t received any other photographs after they’d slipped the negatives into her backpack one day during class. Thankfully, digital cameras had been ridiculously expensive and far less commonplace at the time.

  “All that other stuff aside, why would we want to threaten the girl we were both dying to date?” Simon asked, a smile quirking the corners of his mouth upward.

  “Exactly,” John added.

  She stared at them for a moment, knowing her disbelief was written clearly across her face.

  “Whatever,” she scoffed.

  And their story once again veered toward the unrealistic.

  “Why do you think we invited you to party after party?” Simon asked. “We kept hoping that you’d be into us—well, one of us,
at least.”

  “You’re trying to get me to believe that you two were interested in me way back then?”

  “Hell, we’re still interested now,” John murmured, his quiet voice carrying over the rising thunder.

  “Right. Look, I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I’m not buying.”

  “We’re not playing at anything.” Simon moved behind her and settled his fingers onto her shoulders. The warmth of his large hands seeped into her chilled skin. Excitement fluttered to life in her belly.

  “My father already gave you the contract,” she murmured, trying to remain focused on the problem at hand. “You can drop the fake seduction.”

  Unfortunately, her words sounded breathy and aroused, not irate as she’d meant them to be.

  John sighed and slid his fingers into her hair, the strands catching on his slightly callused fingertips. Her inhalation caught in her throat as he lowered his head. Motionless and incapable of doing anything else, Catherine waited for the brush of his lips across hers.

  “It’s not fake,” he whispered against her mouth before capturing it with his own.

  Simon’s hands stroked toward her shoulders then back, sliding down over her goose bump covered arms.

  A shocked sound escaped her parted lips. She might have been trying to say something, but at this point, she had no idea what. The sensuous slide of John’s tongue against hers and the warm press of Simon’s lips on the side of her neck chased away any semblance of coherent thought.

  Her arms circled John’s neck, and her nipples beaded tightly as he moved closer, pinning her to Simon, his cock stiff against her ass. His hands slipped to her hips, and he pulled her more firmly to him, a slight shudder of breath puffing damply against her neck.