Reckless Envy

by Joss Wood

  Their precious princesses had been eager to walk on the wild side and Matt had been happy to be their guide.

  But certain girls, even back then, had been off-limits to the likes of him, and Emily Arnott, had she been closer to his age, would’ve been one of those girls. The Arnotts were, possibly, one of the most respected families in Falling Brook, and the town was super protective of the single father with a special-needs son and angelic-looking daughter. Not only had Leonard’s wife left him when he lost the bulk of his fortune in the Black Crescent embezzlement scandal, but she’d—as the gossip went—also cut all ties with her ex and her kids.

  Leonard was left to rebuild his company and raise two kids on his own. But soon—the hot gossip even reached Matt’s less salubrious side of the tracks—Leonard’s main focus became his company and his work and Emily was left to not only raise herself but to look after her brother, as well.

  She’d had a rough time and, according to the rumor mill—and yes, his ears perked up every time her name was mentioned—life for the gorgeous blonde was, finally, evening out. Her brother was now a resident of Brook Village, a home for adults with intellectual special needs, and Emily was about to graduate college and was going to join her father’s wealth-management firm.

  She was a town favorite and she did not need the town’s biggest rebel and player—no matter how much he wanted her—messing with her head.

  And Matt didn’t need her tap-dancing her way through his.

  Because something about Emily Arnott intrigued him, fascinated him, and his fascination went beyond some bed-based fun. He had the insane need to find out what was going on behind those luminous eyes, what thoughts were tumbling around her pretty head. Sure, he wanted to know how she tasted, whether her skin was as smooth and creamy as he suspected, her hair as soft, but images of her being in his life kept bombarding him. Rolling over and seeing her in his bed, early-morning cups of coffee at the breakfast table, curling up on the sofa at night, watching a movie. The normal and the mundane...he instinctively wanted that with her.

  But Matt didn’t allow himself to want, wouldn’t allow himself to dream. Because when he wanted too much, dreamed too hard, life—and his parents—never delivered.

  It was easier not to wish or want; that way, he could avoid disappointment.

  The woman in his arms pulled away, tipped her head back and handed him a sensual smile. “Do you want to get out of here?”

  Matt, his thoughts on Emily, almost said no but caught the words behind his teeth. “A couple of hours, no commitments and no promises?”

  She nodded, her hand stroking the lapels of his tuxedo jacket. “If that’s the way you want to play it, lover.”

  With her—and every other woman he met—it was.

  Matt, without allowing himself to look at Emily Arnott again, followed her out of the room and into the chilly night air, desperately trying to ignore his raging disappointment that he was leaving with the wrong blonde.

  But dreams were for fools, reality was what mattered, and hey, at least he wasn’t seeing in the new year alone.

  One

  Matteo Velez sped up the winding tree-lined road to Falling Brook’s country club, enjoying the leashed power of his new, eye-wateringly expensive AMG Roadster. Resisting the temptation to keep driving, he gently touched the brakes. The car instantly responded and he pulled to a smooth stop in front of the valet station. Matt considered parking his brand-new baby himself—he loved this car—but eventually, and reluctantly, dropped the keys and a tip into the open palm of the valet.

  “Thank you, sir. I’ll take good care of it.”

  Matt winced, remembering that those were the same words he’d often used when he’d parked cars at this same venue more than twelve, fifteen years ago. He’d been fired after two weeks because he hadn’t been able to resist the urge to take a guest’s Porsche 911 for a spin. He’d nearly lost control of the car and was grateful he’d only lost his job, not his life. The thought of having a teenager in control of his state-of-the-art, furiously powerful car sent chills up and down his spine.

  “Can you drive a stick?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Matt cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at the young man. Matt watched as he carefully slid into the driver’s seat and pulled on his seat belt to make the fifty-yard drive to the parking area. He studied the controls before gently easing the gearshift into gear. He pulled off without grinding the gears and kept his speed just above a fast walking pace. Matt relaxed; this kid was, unlike him, a Boy Scout and wouldn’t dream of taking a wild ride in his fast car.

  Matt watched his car until it was out of sight before buttoning the jacket on his dark gray designer suit, perfectly content to walk into a swanky fundraiser alone. He was used to operating solo; he’d been doing it most of his life, and this was just another cocktail party and silent auction to raise funds for Falling Brook’s independent K-through-12 school. He was pretty sure that the well-funded school wasn’t short of money, but flaunt-my-designer-threads fundraisers were an important part of the town’s social calendar, somewhere to be seen and to show off how wealthy and generous you were.

  It was also a great place to mine the town for gossip, for anything Matt could use to his advantage. MJR Investing only had a few clients from Falling Brook, but he was always on the lookout for more. It was at functions like these where Matt heard whispers of infidelities, of divorces, of inheritances and of business losses, all of which could influence MJR’s clients’, or potential clients’, stock portfolios. Forewarned was, as the cliché went, forearmed.

  Matt stepped into the luxurious lobby of the country club, idly noting that nothing had changed. It was what it was, a place for the great and good of Falling Brook to gather, and membership of the club was harder to obtain than a jaunt around the moon.

  To his parents, the Falling Brook Country Club was the height of sophistication and the pinnacle of acceptance, and they’d been over the moon when his brother—the academically brilliant Juan—had been admitted into its hallowed halls just a few months before. They didn’t know, or care, that their younger son had been a member for years. Then again, Mama and Papa Velez were all about Juan and his achievements; they hadn’t shown much interest in the life of their second son, the family “mistake.”

  When perfection was handed to you the first time around, why waste time, energy and money on your unwanted second son?

  He rarely thought of his estranged parents these days and Matt pushed the memories, and the hurt, away. He glanced at the mirror in front of him and caught the reflection of a woman walking into the lobby, blond hair pulled back, highlighting those magnificent cheekbones and wide, purple-blue eyes. It would be easy to say that Emily Arnott still looked like an angel, and with her blond hair and big, round eyes, and fine features, it was an apt comparison to make.

  And others often had. But to Matt, older now, the oft-repeated words showed a distinct lack of creativity...

  There was no denying that she was beautiful; she was. Tall, slim, composed. Her dress was floor-length, a skin-hugging fabric the color of steel, with a slit parting to display a slim, toned thigh with every step she took. It was a sexy dress, but Matt knew that Emily Arnott could wear a garbage bag and he’d still find her enchanting.

  He’d never forgotten her clumsy pass at him so many years ago and the memory was still farm fresh. Six years had passed since he’d turned her down and it was still one of his biggest regrets.

  Sure, she’d been too young and a little drunk—and he’d been rocked to his toes by desire—but he could’ve been kinder when he rejected her, or here’s a thought, not rejected her at all. But she’d knocked him, metaphorically, off his feet—something that never happened to him—and he’d been so tempted to take her up on her no-strings offer. But, because his heart had been jumping out of his chest, his blood had been rushing south and his world had
been shifting and sliding away, he’d slammed on the brakes, terrified.

  A dozen images had flashed through his mind during that brief conversation: her in a simple wedding dress, his ring on her finger. Blond-haired, dark-eyed children, those extraordinary eyes dominating a face lined by age and experience. He’d known he’d find her as beautiful at seventy as he did now.

  He’d never known love, had never felt like a part of the family he’d been born into and had decided at an early age that he was better off alone, and not before or since had any woman threatened his lone-wolf status. Emily Arnott, in the space of an ultrabrief conversation, had him thinking of weddings and babies and forever.

  Jesus.

  Nobody but she had ever managed to knock him so badly off-balance and he hadn’t cared for the sensation. He’d craved her with a ferocity he’d never felt before. There had been so much he’d wanted as a child, from toys to affection to attention, and slowly, he came to realize that the more he longed for something, the less chance he had of receiving his heart’s desire. He didn’t want. Even as a kid, he’d never allowed passion to sweep him away; he’d made distancing himself into an art form.

  If you didn’t wish for or expect anything, you never found yourself disenchanted and disillusioned.

  But, young and stupid, Emily Arnott had knocked him off his feet. And, because he felt a little—no, a lot—out of control, unhinged and off-kilter, he’d acted like a jerk in his attempt to put as much distance between them as possible. Because, he reluctantly admitted, he’d recognized her as being dangerous...

  But he was older now and even more committed to his career and his single life. He wasn’t a monk, far from it, but a relationship didn’t feature on his list of priorities. And it never would. He didn’t allow situations, and definitely not women, to knock him off his stride.

  Sure, Emily was still fire hot, and it helped that she, on the very few times she’d acknowledged him since then—either by an arched eyebrow or an I’ll-drop-you-where-you-stand look—made it very clear that she had no intention of forgiving his clumsy, jerkish “thanks but no thanks.”

  Matt moved toward the bank of elevators, conscious of her long-legged stride across the lobby. He pushed the nearest elevator button and inhaled her light, fresh perfume. Three steps, two steps, one...

  “Are you going up to the ballroom?” Emily asked, her voice holding a sexy rasp causing the fabric over his crotch area to tighten. He still, dammit, wanted to hear her sexy voice in the dead of night, when they were alone and naked, painting dirty words in the darkness.

  Yep, the chemistry and attraction hadn’t faded. Great.

  Matt slowly turned and looked into her purple-blue eyes, noticing the shock and the annoyance. Distaste slid into her eyes but underneath that emotion, something else flashed. “Oh, it’s you.”

  Matt gestured her into the open elevator, followed her inside and pushed the button to take them to the ballroom. When he turned around to face her, her eyes jerked up and Matt arched his eyebrows, pretty sure she’d been checking out his ass.

  He gripped the railing behind his back and smiled at her. “Like what you see?”

  Emily’s cool expression didn’t change. “It’s a nice package.” She shrugged. “But I’ve grown up—I now like a bit of substance underneath the pretty wrapping paper.”

  Ouch.

  Matt, not the type to back down, opened his mouth to retaliate but quickly swallowed down his hot response. And the urge to kiss her senseless. He hauled in some air and tightened his fingers around the railing, words that normally came easily deserting him.

  He needed to break the tense silence but had no idea what to say. He didn’t socialize much when he was in Falling Brook, preferring to use his house here as an escape from people and the pressures of working in Manhattan, that intense, fast-moving environment. He’d only encountered Emily three times in six years and he didn’t know when he’d next have a chance to get her alone.

  He might as well bite the bullet and address the elephant in the room. If they dealt with what happened six years ago, then maybe the tension between them would dissipate, hopefully taking his desire for her with it. He really needed to stop thinking about Emily Arnott and all the wonderful and wicked things he’d like to do to, and with, her.

  “Let’s talk about that night,” Matt suggested, hitting the button to get the elevator to stop.

  The car shuddered to a halt and Emily scowled at him. “Let’s not. And restart the elevator, Velez.”

  Matt wasn’t the type to take orders from anyone. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings but you were drunk and I don’t take advantage of drunk young girls.”

  It was the truth but only a fraction of it.

  Emily’s eyes contained chips of ice. “You also told me I wasn’t your type.”

  Did he say that? Man, he was an even bigger idiot than he thought.

  “And ten minutes after you swatted me away, you had your hand on the ass of another blonde in a black dress.”

  Matt winced, now remembering. He’d been so tempted to go back and find Emily but, knowing he shouldn’t and couldn’t, found a very inadequate substitute. And he’d obviously hurt Emily’s feelings, and that he did regret.

  “I am sorry,” Matt said, hoping she’d believe him. “Will you please forgive me and can I take you to dinner to make it up to you?”

  Where the hell did that suggestion come from? He was supposed to be staying far away from her!

  Shock crossed Emily’s face, quickly followed by panic. Closing her eyes, she muttered a quiet but quite dirty curse. Not something he thought he’d hear falling from her lips. Well, well. Interesting to realize that the blonde wasn’t as angelic as he thought.

  Good to know.

  Emily opened her eyes and when she stepped toward him, Matt sucked in a breath...was she making a move on him? All thoughts of distance and moving on evaporated and all Matt could think was that he couldn’t wait to taste her, to peel that dress off her slim but curvy body, to kiss the tender skin behind her knee, to dip his tongue into her belly button, to skate his hand over her sexy butt. They’d be good together; he just knew it. Good? Hell, they’d probably set the bed on fire.

  Matt lowered his head so that she didn’t have to stretch her neck to kiss him; her silver heels gave her another two inches of height but she still only came up to his shoulder. His eyelids started to lower and he held his breath, thinking that he’d waited a long, long time to do this...

  But instead of his heart lurching when her mouth met his, the elevator shot upward as she slammed her open hand against the button and Matt was caught off-balance, physically and mentally.

  Emily sent him an evil smile and her hand came up to pat his cheek. “Did you really think that I’d just fall into your arms because having me now works for you?”

  The doors to the elevator opened and Emily sent him a smile cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey.

  “Six years ago, I thought you were my cup of tea, but I drink champagne now.”

  Matt watched her walk away, thinking she was a beguiling mixture of sexy, sensitive and savage. And, because he was obviously an idiot, she was also now a hundred times more intriguing.

  And that, to a man who thought the height of commitment was an occasional sleepover and breakfast the next morning, was terrifying.

  Matt felt the vibration on his wrist, looked down at his watch and saw that his phone was sending him multiple alerts. Frowning, he tapped the black screen and stared at the colorful map. It took him a moment, maybe two, to work out that the dot flying down the road leading away from the country club was his car, his brand new, stupidly powerful AMG Roadster and that someone—a certain choirboy-looking valet—was taking it on a joyride.

  The little shit. Matt just prayed that the same god of stupidity who’d protected him when he was sixteen was on
duty tonight and that the kid didn’t find himself wrapped around a light pole.

  What else could go wrong, Matt wondered as he stepped out of the elevator.

  As it turned out, quite a lot, actually.

  * * *

  She didn’t have the time or the inclination to deal with the still-sexy Matt Velez, Emily thought as she stepped out of the elevator and headed for the ballroom, the diamond ring on her left ring finger both heavy and hot.

  And why, oh why, did her body still betray her every time she and Matt shared the same air? Her heart started to sprint, her boobs tightened, her nipples ached and yep, the space between her thighs heated. Her eyes kept going to his sensual mouth; she wanted to trace his thick brows with her thumb, run her fingers over his flat stomach and over the masculine bulge in his pants.

  Six years had flown by but her lust for Matt hadn’t diminished. So annoying.

  Emily glanced down at the unfamiliar ring and all thoughts of the smoldering and ripped Matteo Velez retreated as her stomach flew up to lodge in her esophagus, cutting off her air supply.

  Yesterday, her life was normal, maybe even a little boring. Tonight, she was, very temporarily, engaged to a raging lunatic.

  How the hell had it happened?

  Unable to face the crowds within the ballroom, people she’d known since she was a child, Emily walked down the hallway and slipped inside a small, thankfully empty meeting room. Gripping the back of a chair, she dipped her head and stared down at the expensive carpet, trying to get her nausea under control.

  She kept to herself, worked hard, obeyed the rules, tried her best. Why was this happening to her?

  Emily heard the door open behind her and she whirled around, releasing a relieved sigh when she saw Gina closing the door after her. Gina, her oldest friend and her PA at Arnott’s Wealth Management, hurried over to her and placed her hands on Emily’s shoulders, her expression radiating her concern.