Lucky 7 Bad Boys Contemporary Romance Boxed Set

by Pineiro, Charity

  She turned her attention to Veronique’s suitcase. Luckily, it was unlocked. Daisy flipped the top open and noticed everything inside was a jumble. She held up one sundress after another, scrutinizing every detail with a critical eye.

  Nick paid her a generous salary, and she was saving most of it. She wished she could unload her son and have total freedom. Manolito was cute enough, but he was a lot of work and everyone expected her to be the perfect mother—which she wasn’t. It had been a huge mistake getting pregnant so young and she was paying for it now. The constant guilt trip from Papi and the pressure from Manuel to marry her were driving her up the wall. She wished they’d butt out and leave her alone. She was at the top of her night classes, especially the computer ones, and her English was flawless, with no accent.

  She had big plans.

  One day she would not only be Nick’s wife, but she’d be his right hand in everything. She had to convince Mami to take Manolito off her hands. She was better suited at caring for him anyway. She was only thirty-eight, and she loved pretending that Manolito was her own. She always said she wished she’d had a boy, so here was her chance. Let her enjoy him so Daisy could go after her goals without being shackled. The biggest obstacle was Manuel. He was a rutting bull with her and he constantly managed to get what he wanted. He didn’t have to force her either. His rough moves always had her panting for more. Damn him!

  Daisy sped up her actions as she rummaged through Veronique’s suitcase. Underneath the clothes, she found several files of papers. When her hands dug further, she touched something hard and metallic. She pulled the object out of the suitcase and gave a silent whoop when she saw it was a digital camera. She quickly stashed it in her bag and opened one of the files. She rifled through the papers, reading as much as she could, her eyes widening at the startling information.

  Pinpricks of excitement made her pulse race as she read about Nick’s trial and learned his full name was Nicholas Cameron. Daisy Cameron. She tried the name on her lips and liked the sound of it. Instant wealth, instant power. She just needed to get rid of the bitch and restore Nick’s need for her services. This time she’d lure him into bed and make sure he was a happy man. Men only needed sex and food to keep them satisfied, and she was an expert at both.

  He was very generous with his money. If she played her cards right, she’d have a whole staff waiting on her hand and foot, and she’d work them hard.

  A dose of black magic might get rid of the bitch. Santería? That was a thought...

  She opened another file and read about a woman named Elizabeth Remington who was Nick’s ex-wife. The tiny hairs on her nape lifted as she read more, realizing the golden egg she’d stumbled upon. She grabbed a marker from the desk and scribbled Elizabeth’s name on her wrist for future reference. If she was going to win Nick over, she needed to know all about his ex.

  She jumped when she heard Nick’s car pull up the driveway. Crap! There wasn’t enough time to check out his office. That was the only room in the house she wasn’t allowed to clean. Situated on the second floor next to his gym, it overlooked the ocean. She could only imagine the view from up there because she’d never seen it. He always kept it locked with strict orders for her not to go in, which made her all the more curious.

  When she heard a car door shut, she shoved the file back under Veronique’s scrambled clothes where it had been with the other ones. Grabbing her bag, she ran out of the kitchen back door. Crouching at the back of the house, she hid behind the orange and red croton bushes as she watched Nick and Veronique.

  He was shirtless and in faded jeans. Veronique wore his damp shirt—one that clung to her slim curves—and nothing else. Seething with jealousy, Daisy stared at the bitch, hating her with every cell in her body. Her stomach clenched when Veronique leaned forward to pick up her backpack from the trunk and Nick stroked her bare thighs with the hands of a man already familiar with her body. Veronique smiled up at him as he looped his arm over her shoulders and pulled her in for a lingering kiss.

  Daisy inhaled sharply and turned away as bile rose in her throat. They’d had sex all right, she thought as bitter resentment and the urge for revenge seared her veins. She wanted Nick more than ever and she’d have him no matter what.

  She would find a way to get rid of that bitch…even if she died trying.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Out of the blue that evening, Nick said, “I’m not planning on getting married again, Ronnie.”

  They had just finished eating dinner and Veronique was still in a euphoric daze after their lovemaking on the beach. Nick’s blunt comment slapped her back to reality. She hadn’t expected him to bring up the touchy subject so candidly, and for a moment she didn’t know how to respond. She wasn’t really surprised he felt that way, but it hurt that he felt compelled to tell her so she wouldn’t get the wrong idea. Now that he’d had his fill of her, had he lost interest and come down to earth with a thud?

  “How do you feel about that?” Nick said, not taking his eyes off her.

  “It’ll take more than that to drive me away, Nick,” she said, her heart squeezing at the burden in his eyes. “Why do we have to talk about it now?”

  “I want to be straight with you, Ronnie.” He paused reflectively and then continued in a quiet tone. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  That hurt most of all. He was already pulling away from her, trying to dissuade her from becoming emotionally attached. “I’m a big girl. You don’t have to protect my feelings,” she said, harnessing her emotions as her confidence began to crumble.

  He shook his head. “You’re only twenty-eight, honey. You’ll want more eventually. Marriage, children…all the stuff I’ve written off,” he said wearily.

  She put her finger over his lips. “Shh, don’t say anymore. Please.” She took a deep breath and tried to calm her anxious heart. She didn’t want to see the concern in his eyes, the troubled emotions that made him doubtful. “Let’s live in the moment. Pretend we’re marooned on a deserted island,” she urged, touching his arm.

  “Can you really do that?” He sounded dubious, but his eyes held the barest glimmer of hope that made her heart lift. Would he agree to living in the moment too?

  “Yes,” she said fervently. “I want….I want to enjoy this time with you. Without a ticking clock. Without you getting all serious and practical-minded.”

  He remained silent, watching her intently.

  “Today is almost over. We’ll never have it again.” She couldn’t continue without her voice breaking. She swallowed against the thick emotion clogging her throat and tried to calm the hitch in her chest. She couldn’t let him back away. Not now. Not ever, if she could help it, but she was willing to enjoy the present—for now.

  He brushed a lock from her forehead. “You’re wrong, Ronnie. We’ll always have today.”

  Her heart soared. “Yes. You’re right, Nick. Thank you,” she said, wishing she could call him darling. She was timid about calling him endearments, even with the way he’d made love to her, fiercely, possessively, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. He’d always been her darling, had been since she was a child. “I don’t live in the past or the future. I live in the present. Let’s take it one day at a time. Okay?” she asked, kissing the warm hollow behind his ear as she slowly glided her fingertip over the seam of his firm lips.

  “Okay, baby,” he said, his voice a sexy rumble in his chest. He kissed her finger and nipped at the fleshy pad of her fingertip. A tremor of exhilaration coursed through her. Ablaze with desire, she gave him a seductive smile that earned her a ride in his arms to the bedroom.

  “I don’t want to be a mood killer, but I’m not on the Pill,” she said when he set her on her feet. Now she was being practical-minded, but it had to be said. Not that she didn’t want to be pregnant with his child. Nothing would have made her happier, but she wouldn’t do it to rope him in.

  “No problem,” he said smoothly. He unzipped his jeans and pulled them off.

>   “Aren’t you worried we didn’t use protection earlier?” she said, trying not to be distracted by the play of muscle and sinew as he reached for her.

  “No. You won’t be getting pregnant with me.” His hands settled on her waist as he held her before him.

  What did he mean by that? “What makes you so sure?”

  “I always wanted to have children. My ex and I talked about it before getting married, but after a year of trying it didn’t happen. All the medical tests came back that Elizabeth was fertile. She blamed me for not getting her pregnant.”

  “Were you ever tested?”

  He gave a cynical shake of his head. “No, by then I had rethought starting a family. Elizabeth wasn’t the same person I married. She became obsessed with wealth and power. It was an addiction.”

  “That bad?”

  “Yeah. She spent longer hours working than I did.” He gave a disgusted snort. “Yet in spite of all that, she didn’t have a problem getting pregnant with Zack,” he said, his tone harsh.

  Veronique hadn’t expected him to say that. “Oh. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

  “Don’t be. I’m glad it’s over,” he said, gently squeezing her waist. “I haven’t thought about Elizabeth in a long while. I’d rather think about you. Here,” he said, removing her top and sliding her panties down her legs with a fluid motion. “With me.” He smoothed his warm hands over her cool skin and backed her onto the bed. “Gorgeously naked,” he added, his voice gravelly and aroused.

  She lowered her body on the bed and when her back made contact with the sheets, she winced. “Ouch.”

  “What’s wrong?” he said, pulling her into his arms. “You okay?”

  “No, I mean yes. Well maybe,” she said, wriggling against him.

  He chuckled. “Which one is it?”

  “All of the above. My skin feels a bit raw in some places. Especially my back.”

  “Let me take a look,” he said. “Roll over.”

  “Hey, I’m not Baxter,” she quipped, suddenly shy to lie before him naked and exposed in the waning daylight. Realizing it was silly to refuse, she turned over and clutched the pillow under her head.

  “Relax.” He blew softly on her flushed back and the cool air sent shivers skittering through her. “Poor baby. No wonder it’s bothering you.” He trailed tender kisses down her spine. “You’re all pink and irritated from the sand and sea shells.”

  She craned her head to look behind her. “I am?”

  “Yeah, mostly on your upper back and shoulders.” He patted her bottom. “Good thing my hands protected the best part.”

  She shot him a quizzical look and his hands squeezed her buttocks in response.

  She blushed at the amused sparkle in his eyes. “Oh, you mean when you held my… Um, never mind.” She smiled at the delicious memory. “Yep, I was in good hands all right.”

  His smug smile was so sexy, she wanted to roll over and pull him in for a kiss, but his big hand was intimately pressed against the small of her back as the other hand reached for the pot of the honey almond cream she’d left on the nightstand. He leisurely smoothed it on her skin, starting at her neck, skimming the small indentation of her waist, over the crest of her bottom, the length of her legs down to her ankles. He took his time on each leg and then returned to her bottom and upper thighs, massaging them deeply until she was squirming and biting the pillow.

  “I thought you said that part had been spared,” she murmured with a muffled groan.

  “Just making sure every inch gets pampered. Feel better now?”

  “Mmmm, hmmm.” Rosy-faced, she rolled over and fluffed her hair out on the pillow. Taking hold of his hand, she kissed the rugged back of it, and then turned it over to kiss the center of his hard palm. “You have wicked hot hands.”

  “For you,” he said, his guttural voice promising a passionate night. He began to kiss her in earnest, his lips roving her curves and valleys as if she were the most succulent treat. The feel of his facial scruff grazing Veronique’s skin made her toes curl and her pulse beat out of control.

  “Your skin is so delicate, it’s turning bright pink. Maybe I better shave.” He stopped kissing her and rubbed his jaw.

  “No, don’t shave,” she said huskily. “I like you that way.”

  The corners of his mouth turned up into a lazy grin as he reached for more cream. She’d never seen him smile like that—bad boy to the core. She caught her breath in anticipation of the night ahead.

  Using the gentlest of strokes, his warm hands circled her breasts and lifted, plumping them upward and together. His thumb and forefingers tugged and squeezed her nipples with a deft touch that made her mindless with wanting him.

  “Ohhh, Nick…Nick,” she crooned, closing her eyes. His touch grew lighter, barely brushing her skin, teasing and tormenting until she could hardly bear it.

  “So beautiful …your skin is so incredibly soft,” he murmured hoarsely. He captured her mouth with plundering kisses as his questing hand roamed over the throbbing juncture of her thighs. “You taste good too. I’m gonna make love to you all night,” he growled in her ear, his warm breath raising gooseflesh on her acutely sensitized skin.

  Her eyes flew open and she licked her lips in anticipation. The pressure of his kisses had brought blood to the surface, making her mouth feel tender and engorged. Her pulse thrummed rampantly as she relived their fevered lovemaking on the beach. He’d been a masterful lover, drawing wild, uninhibited responses from her until she was limp with pure pleasure. A full night of that kind of intense, intimate bliss was almost inconceivable…

  “All night,” she repeated in a strangled voice, her thighs clenching and her pelvis bucking under the slippery caress of his fingers.

  “Yes, baby,” he said, taking her earlobe in his mouth. “All night. In every position. Until I get my fill of you.”

  He trailed voracious kisses down her neck and on her breasts, taking each nipple in his mouth for extra loving. The sweet rasp of his tongue made her sweet spot clench. Her stomach leapt as desire pooled inside her like lava, creating an internal blaze.

  She wound her arms tightly around his neck and kissed the warm hollow of his throat, inhaling deeply of his heady scent. His prominent arousal pressed against her insistently, and she caressed the steely length of him.

  “I’m yours, darling. All yours. Take me now,” she whispered raggedly.

  * * *

  Much later, Nick rested his chin on Veronique’s tousled hair. They’d made love all night, learning each other’s bodies. He’d taken his time, drawing out her pleasure, following up fiery climaxes with tender kisses. She’d returned the attention, pleasuring him until he was wrung out and satiated.

  Sprawled on top of him, her head was tucked under his chin, her face resting on his chest. He loved the way her soft breasts and velvety nipples pressed against him and her knee nestled between his legs. Her throat purred with soft, contented sounds like a cuddly kitten.

  Kissing the top of her head, he held her tight, delighting in the way her body hummed with aftershocks of their recent lovemaking. She’d matched his lust with fervor and a total lack of restraint. She’d been wild and magnificent—so beautiful and trusting.

  How would it feel when his house was empty again? He didn’t need to be alone and isolated anymore. He didn’t want it either—he wanted her.

  His life had been turned upside down with her arrival, especially when she’d told him, “You’re still that successful, self-made man, Nick. What I admire most is your integrity. Nobody can take that away from you unless you let them. I never believed a word of all that crap the media put out there.” Her loyalty had floored him then and it did now. They hadn’t had any contact in the fifteen years since he’d last seen her, yet she’d never lost faith in him.

  Maddening, irresistible and stubbornly loyal, she’d entrenched herself so deeply in his life that just thinking about her leaving gave him a cold, hollow ache in the pit of his stomach.


  “Nick, tell me about your childhood,” she said. “You mentioned your father had been a mean drunk. How mean was he?”

  Nick shook his head. “I don’t think you want to hear about it. It was ugly.”

  “Well, you already know about my disastrous childhood.” She smiled at him. “Look at us, we turned out all right in spite of it. Yours couldn’t have been much worse than mine.”

  “Trust me, it was. I still have nightmares.”

  “About what?” Veronique kept her face tilted upward as she listened. “Tell me.”

  “As a kid, I never used to get a good night’s sleep. I’d sleep fitfully until my father would get home and he was usually stinking drunk. Then the violence would begin. My old man would beat my mom viciously and if I tried to stop him, he’d whip me with his belt until his arm got tired. Then he’d finish up what he started with her.” Nick shuddered as bile rose in his throat. He couldn’t bring himself to mention the darkest part of his nightmares when his old man would kick and pummel his mom, leaving her in a crying heap on the floor.

  “Oh, God,” she moaned. “I’m so sorry, darling.” Veronique cradled the side of his face and tenderly kissed his clenched jaw. “You don’t have to say anymore if you don’t want to.”

  He sucked in labored breaths. He couldn’t believe he was sharing the vile memories of his childhood, the dark ones he never wanted to revisit. He hadn’t told anyone about it, not even his ex-wife. Now that he’d started, he needed to finish.

  “I used to climb into my baby sister’s bed and cover her ears so she wouldn’t hear the horror outside her bedroom door. No matter how I try to shake it, the awful sound of my mom weeping and desperately pleading is engraved in my mind. When I was eight, I told the school counselor about my dad and she helped my mom escape with me and my sister. The shelter we stayed in was for women hiding from their violent partners. Dad used to yell at us that he’d kill Mom if she ever left him.”