Bad Boys In Black Tie

by Erin McCarthy; Morgan Leigh Lori Foster

  Next to her ear, Pete rasped, “Why the hell do you keep staring at Duke?”

  Did he sound jealous? No, that was absurd. Because she wasn’t about to tell Pete that she’d been comparing them, she shrugged. “He looks different in a suit. Nice.” She twisted around to face him. “My parents will be pleased.”

  “He doesn’t normally wear a suit.”

  “What an understatement. Duke is a jock through and through. But that business degree surprised my parents.” She smiled. “I think old Duke is full of surprises.”

  “You like him?”

  She realized she did. How could she not like Duke when he was so good to her sister? “You know, I really do. He’s not flighty like I thought. He’s got a plan, and a backup plan. And he’s going after what he wants.”

  Pete groaned, then tucked his face against her neck. “You know, Cassidy,” he murmured, and she could feel his lips on her skin, “I was thinking there were a few things—just small things—that you could possibly change about yourself. What do you think?”

  Heat rushed into her face. “The dress is awful, I know.”

  Pete straightened. “What?”

  Holding out the sides of the hideous tent, she repeated, “This dress. But it’s the only black thing I own.”

  Confused, Pete shook his head. “I like you better in shorts, sure, but you look great no matter what you wear.” He smoothed his hands up and down her sides. “You’re such a goal-oriented person.”

  What that had to do with her dress, Cassidy didn’t know. “Sensible Cassidy, that’s me.”

  “Sleeping with me wasn’t all that sensible. You told me so yourself.”

  “I’ve changed my mind on that. Sleeping with you is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.”

  “Yeah?” He started to grin.

  From behind them, her father said, “Well, I think we can segue right into good-byes.”

  Cassidy gasped, Pete turned, and they both saw that it wasn’t just her father standing there. Her mother, Holly, and Duke were all within earshot. Well, hell. Couldn’t they have made a little noise? Cleared a throat? Whistled?

  Without missing a beat, Pete asked, “Is it time to go already?”

  Frank stepped into the kitchen. “For us, yes. But my daughter looks tortured at the moment, so perhaps she’d like to skip it.”

  All eyes turned to Cassidy. She wanted to shrink in on herself. “Uh, no. I’m all right. Really. I can—”

  Duke smiled. “We’re getting along fine, Cassidy. You don’t need to run interference, though Holly and I both appreciate the effort.”

  Gina hooked her arm through Frank’s. “It’s not that we don’t want your company, but I think Pete has a few more things to say.” Gina turned to Pete. “Cassidy has always been an overachieving tomboy. Put her in a dress and she’s miserable. She’ll be happier staying here and, ah, working things out with you.”

  Cassidy groaned. Her mother’s attempts at matchmaking weren’t all that subtle.

  Her father sent her a fond look. “My sensible Cassidy. She’ll have things squared away in no time.”

  Just what was she supposed to square away? Pete?

  Pete left the ball in her court. “Whatever you want to do is okay by me, Cass.”

  No way did she want to go, but she’d feel guilty if she didn’t. “You’ve already rented the tux... .”

  “Naw. I borrowed it from Gil.” Pete flashed her a grin.

  “Then it’s all settled,” her mother said before Cassidy could reply. Behind Pete’s back, Gina gave Cassidy the thumbs-up. “We can see ourselves out. Have a nice night, kids.”

  Her family managed a mass exodus in record time, leaving a heavy silence behind.

  Pete zeroed in on Cassidy. “About that dress.”

  He looked so intent, she started to fidget. “Horrible, huh?”

  “Let’s get it off you.”

  So he wanted to head straight to bed? Did he intend to just skip past everything else that had been said? Would he now ignore his statement about adoring her? “In a hurry, are you?”

  Pete nodded. “If you strip, I can, too.”

  Relief sent a grin across her face. Slowly, she pulled the knot from his tie and opened the top button of his dress shirt. “Poor baby. You’re really uncomfortable in this suit.” Almost as uncomfortable as she was in the dress. Of course, Pete looked delicious, while she didn’t.

  “Yeah, but for the right incentive I can suffer through anything.” The way he said that left no confusion: he considered her the right incentive.

  Using the tie like a leash, Cassidy led him down the hall to her bedroom. Her heart beat fast in anticipation. “Then by all means, let’s get you out of it.”

  He followed along willingly enough, but as Cassidy closed her bedroom door, he said, “About those changes I mentioned ...”

  Did he have to keep harping on that? To distract him she pushed the coat off his shoulders and finished unbuttoning his shirt. “Let’s get this off you.”

  “But I wanted to talk.”

  “We’ll talk in bed.” She reached for his belt, and Pete gave up with a groan. The dress pants came off easier than his stiff jeans, and in no time, Cassidy had him buck naked. He looked so gorgeous, and for the moment, he was hers.

  Remembering how he’d teased her earlier, chasing her and wrestling with her, Cassidy decided to get back a little of her own. She picked up the length of black tie and beckoned Pete into bed.

  His dark eyes glittered. “What are you going to do?”

  “Just have a little fun.” She patted the mattress. “Put your sexy self right here while I lose my dress.”

  “Now, there’s an idea.” With no sign of modesty, Pete stretched out on her bed, his arms folded behind his head, one leg bent. “Go ahead. I’m ready.”

  Man, he looked good on her sheets. Sighing, Cassidy said, “No you aren’t. Not yet.” She went to the bed and looped the tie once, twice around his erection. “Leave that right there for a moment.”

  Eyes wide, Pete stared down at his decorated penis. “Uh, Cass ...”

  After kicking off her pumps, she reached beneath her dress and stripped off the strangling pantyhose. Forgetting the tie, Pete gave her his undivided attention.

  Cassidy smiled, pulled her dress up, over her head, and tossed it aside. Now that it was gone, she felt better. She’d burn that thing before she wore it again. Now she stood in front of Pete in her new underwear, and judging by his expression, he liked what he saw.

  Striking a pose, Cassidy asked, “Is this the kind of change you mean?”

  Pete’s gaze was glued to her belly. “What?”

  “You want me to change. Does the sexier underwear help?”

  As if someone had doused him in ice water, Pete shot upright on the bed. Furious, he growled, “I do not want you to change!” Then almost as an afterthought, he said with less heat, “I like the panties, though.”

  Cassidy propped her hands on her hips. “You said I could change a few things.”

  He groused and grumbled his way out of the bed to tower over her. The tie remained looped around his penis, the long ends dangling down. Cassidy pursed her mouth to keep from snickering.

  Pete didn’t even seem to notice. “Not your hair or your clothes.” His vehemence made the tie shiver. “Not anything that’s you.”

  Cassidy stepped closer and smiled up at him. “That doesn’t make any sense, Pete.”

  He ran a hand over his head, drew a huge breath, and blurted, “I love you, Cassidy McClannahan.”

  That statement, sort of falling out of nowhere, rendered them both mute. Pete scrutinized her, waiting. All Cassidy could do was stare. She tried to reply, but nothing would come out of her throat. He loved her. Tears threatened.

  Seeing that, Pete groaned. “Ah, damn it, Cass, please don’t cry.”

  No, she wouldn’t. She sniffed, took several necessary breaths, and licked her very dry lips. “So ... you love me?”

&n
bsp; “I do.”

  He sounded almost wrecked about it. Here he was, the most gorgeous, wonderful, impossible man she knew, in her bedroom, wearing a most unconventional black tie, declaring himself and looking morose about it. Cassidy covered her mouth but she couldn’t stifle her euphoric giggle.

  Pete’s eyes narrowed. “You aren’t going to cry now?”

  She shook her head. “No.” And she smiled.

  Clearing his throat, Pete said, “Good.” He propped his hands on his hips and took an arrogant stance as if he didn’t have a black tie embracing his manhood. “So do you think you could change your mind about wanting a guy in a suit?”

  She wanted him. “Maybe. What do you have in mind?”

  Pete rubbed the back of his neck. “I did some thinking today. I’m going to get my teaching degree. I only need a few credits—”

  Excitement shot through her and Cassidy threw herself into his arms. “Pete! That’s wonderful. I’ve always known you’d make a great teacher.”

  Pete held her away. “A gym teacher, Cass. No suits.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  Exasperated, Pete shook her. “You want a black tie kinda guy. You told me so, remember?”

  Feeling very impish, Cassidy pointed out, “You’re wearing a black tie right now.”

  His expression was comical. He looked down and said, “Damn. I forgot.” He reached for the tie but Cassidy caught his hands.

  “I love you, too, Pete. Just the way you are. I can be myself with you. If you were a guy like my dad, then I’d need to be a woman like my mom, and I’m not.”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  Oh, see, how could she not love him? Ready to swoon, she said, “I’m glad you think so.”

  Pete bent his head and kissed her, long, deep, and the next thing Cassidy knew, they were on the bed. With a little maneuvering, Pete got between her thighs and then she felt the head of his erection pressing in. “I need you, Cass.”

  “Yes.”

  He pushed her hair away from her face. “I don’t have anything with me.”

  “Will you marry me?”

  He grinned. “That was my next question to you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He pressed in, the friction incredible, the pleasure complete. They both groaned. “Do you want a big wedding?”

  “My mother will insist.”

  Pete quickened his strokes. “All right.” His arms tightened, holding her closer. “I guess I can borrow Gil’s tux again.”

  “Whatever.”

  “You want kids?”

  “Sure.” She barely knew what she was saying, but she knew she loved him and didn’t want him to pull away. Not now. Not ever.

  “Me, too.”

  “Pete?”

  “Yeah?”

  She wrapped her legs around him and arched her back. On a gasp, she said, “Shut up.”

  “Yeah.” Pete slid his hands down her back to her hips and lifted. The position pressed his chest closer to her breasts, abrading her already stiffened nipples. Cassidy cried out at the onset of release.

  “I love you,” Pete told her again, and that did it. She came, squeezing him tight, moaning and shivering. And just as the wild contractions ended, Pete went taut over her, grinding out his own orgasm. Cassidy knew she could end up pregnant, but it didn’t worry her. She was twenty-seven, on track with her career, and now ahead of the game with love.

  Pete slumped against her, boneless and breathing fast and hard, giving her all his weight. But she didn’t mind. Not at all. In fact... “Pete?”

  He grunted.

  Hugging him, Cassidy said, “I love you in your jeans. And you’re pretty loveable naked.”

  He puckered up enough to press a kiss to her shoulder, then went limp again.

  Cassidy caressed the long length of his strong back. “But Pete,” she whispered, still a little in awe and more than willing to tease, “the way you wear a black tie is phenomenal.”

  Two seconds passed before Pete stiffened and shoved himself off her. “Oh, hell.” He stared down at his lap, where the mangled black tie was crushed. “I think it’s ruined.”

  Cassidy started laughing and couldn’t stop. “You think?”

  He tugged it loose and dropped it over the side of the bed. “I’m going to have to buy Gil a new one.”

  “Maybe we’ll buy ten.”

  “Ten? Why?”

  So happy she was ready to burst with it, Cassidy said, “I’ve decided I like the effect black ties have on you.”

  Slowly, Pete grinned. “Fine by me. As long as I don’t have to wear the suit with it.”

  MISS EXTREME CONGENIALITY

  Erin McCarthy

  One

  CJ White hated Wyatt Maddock. She hated the way he walked, always leading with his dick, and hated the way he talked, like he was determined to coax a giggle from every woman he approached.

  She hated the way he grinned, all white teeth and wolfish charm. She hated the way he propped his feet up on her desk at work, and she hated the way he was leaning over Special Agent Dempsey right now, whispering in her ear as he held her close enough to inhale her, breasts first.

  Yep, she hated him and every single minute of the last lousy three months that she’d been stuck working this insider-trading case with him for the Bureau. It hadn’t been as bad before, when they’d been working a price-fixing investigation, because she’d had Agent Knight to buffer her from Wyatt’s stupidity. On this case it had been just the two of them until tonight.

  Yet despite that stupidity, somehow Wyatt had managed to snag the exciting side to this investigation. Their boss Nordstrom had claimed Wyatt fit the corporate image, and she had to admit he was right. The man dressed like a CEO instead of an FBI agent, and could charm the bite off a snake. So Wyatt got to head off to the Chicago stock exchange every day and play stockbroker undercover, while she got stuck transcribing tapes, filling out forms, and dealing with Nordstrom and his temper tantrums. Then, at the end of each long day spent playing secretary, she had to deal with Wyatt and his amusing stories of his adventures as a fake financial whiz.

  Which didn’t amuse her at all.

  “Hey.” Fingers snapped in her face. “Get that table cleared, we’re running behind.”

  CJ looked at the man frowning in front of her and promised herself she would be a good FBI agent and not fling him over her shoulder like she really wanted to. His name was Fisher Carter, and he was just one more reason to hate Wyatt. Somehow it just had to be Wyatt’s fault that she was stuck being a catering assistant to Fisher at Sharecron’s annual Christmas party/offensive display of wealth and ego. Sharecron was the target of their current investigation, and the company was knee-deep in insider trading.

  “Sorry, Fisher, I’ll get right on it.” CJ started slapping dishes onto the metal cart she had pushed over to the table.

  The plan was that Wyatt was supposed to use his image as corporate playboy to feign drunkenness and whisk his date off down the hall to his office for a little Christmas cheer in private. Really, he was going to search the computer database for evidence. CJ was supposed to be the lookout, making sure no one followed him, since he needed a good agent covering his back.

  At least, that had been the official reason given to her by Nordstrom. Somehow she thought it wasn’t coincidence that Brandy Dempsey, a blond and buff agent just helping on the case for tonight as Wyatt’s date, looked a hell of a lot better in a dress and heels than she would. CJ didn’t even own a pair of heels and she suspected her hair was stuck into the permanent shape of a ponytail.

  Not that she cared that she was here wearing a waitress white shirt and Wyatt was in an expensive tux, looking like he’d been born in it. She had too many concerns in life to worry about being anything but comfortable in her clothes. Let Brandy deal with Wyatt Maddock and his roving hands, which were now sitting right above the curve of Brandy’s ass. Like that was necessary.

  She snorted as she finished loading her tra
y, hearing Wyatt’s deep laugh as he bent over Brandy’s neck. She should be absolutely grateful that she’d been spared the hell that Brandy was enduring in the name of the Justice Department.

  Hell. Hah.

  Because that was the real reason CJ hated Wyatt.

  She hated him because every time she looked at him, she wanted him. In her bed, over her, under her, sliding into her hard and deep, pleasing her the way he had pleased so many other women, reminding her that somewhere locked inside her frozen body, she was still a woman.

  Like that was going to happen.

  He didn’t think of her that way, and even if he did, she’d never let him. He was all wrong for her, the exact opposite of what she needed in her life right now, when she needed to concentrate on her son.

  So if Wyatt ever did decide he was up for a challenge and put the moves on her, he’d be wearing his balls like earmuffs.

  Let’s see how Pretty Boy liked that with his tux.

  Wyatt was having trouble breathing. Brandy’s chest was too large to allow for adequate air circulation as he pretended to stumble and plant a kiss on her cleavage.

  Brandy gave a laugh and shoved at him. “Oh, stop it, Wyatt.”

  He shot her a grin as he straightened up and sucked in some air. Brandy was good at this bimbo bit. Maybe he should ask her out for real.

  In a low voice, he said, “Is White watching? We should probably head out now. If anyone gives a shit, I think we’ve proved I’m drunk and horny.”

  Not that he thought anyone would notice. This party was unlike anything he’d ever seen actually sponsored and paid for by a corporation. It was like a prom for adults, but the alcohol was legal, and there was slightly less hairspray. Half the room was dancing to the Cher impersonator, while the other half was engaged in various forms of drunken debauchery with spouses, not always their own. Weirdest of all was a woman hired to sit in a bathtub of pink balloons, encouraging men to pop her bubbles.