Pretending with the Playboy

by Tracey Livesay

  Three ibuprofens and copious amounts of water later, he atoned for his sins with an hour of tennis, matching his skills against the top-of-the-line tennis ball machine, varying the oscillation and propulsion for a thorough punishment. The workout lessened a majority of the alcoholic aftereffects, which was more than he deserved. But he’d learned his lesson. Repentant, he left the courts and headed inside for more water and a shower before checking on his aunt.

  The smell of freshly brewed coffee welcomed him into the kitchen. Dorothy had renovated it since he’d left, the dark woods and somber coloring of his childhood replaced with neutral tones, an open layout, and windows that provided an unobstructed view of the back lawn.

  Across the room, LoLo leaned back against the oversize island, her hair straightened and pulled off her face in a sleek ponytail. Her beauty seemed out of place in such mundane surroundings. She cradled a mug in her hands and her mouth was stretched into a smile as she watched Maria push through the swinging door into the formal dining room.

  His stomach tightened. Because of LoLo or his residual hangover, he wasn’t certain. But he knew he could lay his racing pulse squarely at her feet. There was no reason for him to go in there. He could head upstairs, take his shower, and by the time he returned, she’d be gone. He could enjoy his coffee in peace. Anticipation fluttered in his stomach. Peace was overrated. He’d relished their verbal sparring more than any other interaction with a woman in a long time. Maybe the next couple of months wouldn’t be so bad. And as a bonus, it’d give him something to focus on other than Dorothy’s prognosis.

  He breached the entrance and tapped his tennis racket against his leg. “Coffee?” he asked.

  She whirled to face him, her ponytail flinging over her shoulder to rest against her sleeveless navy blouse. Her eyes widened and she ogled him from head to toe. Her tongue slid out and flicked against her lower lip, before her lashes dropped down and she turned away from him.

  He knew that look. He’d given that look. That “touch me, tease me, taste me” look. That was the look she’d just given him. And it was hot.

  She raised her cup and pursed her moistened lips, blowing softly on the liquid inside. His imagination blasted his mind with an image of her down on her knees, pursing her lips and blowing him. His body stiffened as hard as the stone countertops.

  “Self-serve,” she said, with a flat voice and a pointed look at the sleek machine recessed into the cream-glazed cabinetry.

  “Oh, come on. A little help, please.” He held his arms out to the side. “I’m all hot and sweaty.”

  Her gaze scorched him like a cascading wall of flame.

  Well, well, well.

  But what she said was, “I am not your maid.”

  And that didn’t help because the outfit in his BJ fantasy changed from what she was wearing now to a skimpy black dress with a ruffled white apron.

  “True, but you will be my wife. At least, that’s what we told Aunt Dorothy last night.”

  Expelling air like a rapidly deflated balloon, she set her mug down on the counter and crossed to the appropriate cupboard. He grinned when she pulled out a neon pink cup that said World’s Prettiest Princess. She moved over to the espresso machine and turned it on.

  He came up behind her and slid his hand along her waist. She stiffened and almost dropped the cup.

  “Careful,” he said, placing his other hand on hers and setting the cup on the dispensing tray.

  Desire sizzled through him. Oh man, she smelled good. Her tropical scent infused every molecule he inhaled. He actually licked his lips. “What’s next?”

  She didn’t respond, just reached up and pressed a button.

  “What’s that for?” he asked, his lips close to her ear.

  She shivered. “The amount you want.” Her voice was hoarse and she cleared her throat.

  “Hmmm, I want a lot. Did you push the right button?”

  She nodded jerkily.

  “Good.”

  Neither moved as they stood there watching the coffee drip into his mug. He knew he’d get a reaction out of her. What he hadn’t anticipated was the strength of his own response. His fingers tingled where they sat on her waist, and he could hear his heart galloping in his chest. If he’d already taken his shower, he wouldn’t have settled for a hand on her waist. One of her rules had been no outside dating. Would she have a problem with his dating…inside?

  Finally, with a whoosh of steam and a light that turned from red to blue, his coffee was ready. She turned to hand him the cup.

  His fingers caressed hers as he accepted the drink. They were so close he could see the tiny, V-shaped scar on her chin from a fall on the beach when she’d been fifteen. “Thank you,” he said.

  She nodded and her lips parted. He focused on her mouth and wondered if she tasted as sweet as she had the last time they’d kissed.

  “Good morning, Mr. Carter,” Maria chirped.

  LoLo’s eyes widened and he cursed inwardly. What was he doing? He’d crossed beyond verbal sparring. He’d been a moment away from backing her against the cabinetry and discovering the answer to his question. Which would be a huge mistake. LoLo wasn’t a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of woman. She believed in commitment and the c-word was his kryptonite. She pushed against his chest and he shifted his body. She immediately scurried away.

  “Good morning, Maria,” he said, conjuring up a smile for her.

  Maria placed an empty platter in the sink. “You can join Mrs. Allison and Mr. Edworth for breakfast. What can I make for you?”

  Carter went from raging hard-on to roiling nausea in two point six seconds flat. He set his mug on the counter and grabbed the edge of the island, concentrating on breathing through his nose.

  “You know what he’d love?” LoLo gleefully told Maria. “Two eggs over easy, extra runny, a side of sausage, and a large glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.”

  He narrowed his eyes. So she wanted to play?

  He took several quick, shallow breaths through his mouth then straightened. “Thanks, but I’ll stick with coffee.” He paused then rushed on, as if he’d just thought of something. “Maria, remember when I was twelve and I asked you to marry me?”

  Maria smiled and patted his cheek. “The most handsome man to ever ask.”

  “Will you forgive me if I rescind the offer? Dr. Olsen asked me to marry her and I couldn’t say no.”

  Both women froze, but Maria recovered first, wiping her hands on her apron and gathering LoLo in a hug. “Congratulations!”

  Over Maria’s head, LoLo’s eyes promised him a slow and painful demise. His blood raced through him, sending his pulse soaring.

  Bring it on.

  When Maria stepped back, LoLo tried to retreat, but he slid a steely arm around her waist and anchored her to his side. She tensed, her body stiff as a board, but warmth seeped from her body to his. He basked in their closeness, even though he knew she couldn’t wait to get away from him.

  “Only family knows for now,” he said. “She’s been chasing me forever so I let her catch me.”

  “I tried to throw him back, but he wouldn’t let go.” She raised her voice and spoke directly into his ear. “Isn’t that right, babycakes?”

  He winced as the grenade of sound exploded in his head. He released her and collapsed onto the nearest stool.

  “I always knew it was just a matter of time,” Maria said, smiling, as she disappeared into the pantry.

  “How did you know?” he asked LoLo through gritted teeth.

  “About your hangover?” she asked quietly. She stared at him. “If you want your benders to remain private, you should probably put the decanter and glass away yourself. I found them when I went into Dorothy’s office this morning.” She moved over to the sink and discarded her cup, a tiny smile dancing upon her lips. “We can finish our chat later, Maria,” she called out, “when we won’t be disturbed.”

  A rueful smile curved his lips. Her intelligence was a total turn-on. He wou
ld cede this bout to LoLo, but not before one last jab.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something, sugar lips?” he said. “Where’s my kiss?”

  She couldn’t deny his very reasonable request without it looking odd. Now that Maria knew, it wouldn’t be long before the game of telephone began and the entire household staff was informed of their engagement. Anything suspicious and word would get back to Dorothy.

  He could tell by the set of her jaw she knew he had her. And she didn’t like it. She stroked the edge of her ponytail, letting it fall against the front of her shirt and stalked over to him, stopping when they were several inches apart. She hesitated for only an instant before brushing her lips against his. He’d proven his point, shown her he wouldn’t back down when they went toe-to-toe. It was over and he should’ve let her go. But when she went to pull back, he reached out and snagged her ponytail, refusing to let her escape.

  Her gasp of surprise gave him the opening he needed and he slid his tongue into her mouth, deepening the kiss. Her scent drove him wild. Wanting to get closer, wanting everything she offered so this feeling wouldn’t end, he leaned back against the counter and drew her farther into the vee of his legs. She moaned, her fists thawing into hands that curved around his shoulders. The shiver that went through him was unexpected and intoxicating. He knew in that instant one kiss wouldn’t be enough. His body would ache for a repeat of the experience as fervently as his lungs craved air. And he wasn’t one to deny himself anything he wanted.

  “You two are adorable,” Maria announced, as she walked back into the kitchen, her words sparkling with indulgent happiness.

  He lifted his head and stared at LoLo. Her lips were plump, her cheekbones were flushed, and her breathing was a churning locomotive. Her unfocused gaze ricocheted around the kitchen before landing on him. She parted her lips, closed them, then turned and rushed out of the room.

  His heart crashed against his chest. Now he knew. She didn’t taste anything like he remembered from their first kiss. She tasted sweeter.

  Fuck.

  Carter decided to check on Dorothy first, despite his earlier intentions. His run-in with LoLo had taken longer than he’d anticipated and he didn’t want to wait too late to make plans with his aunt. He was unaware of Dorothy’s daily routine and meant to interrupt it as little as possible.

  She was sitting up in bed and she smiled when she saw him. “You’re still here.”

  “There’s no place I’d rather be.” He bent down and kissed her cheek, then settled on the bed next to her. “You look better today.”

  Her eyes shined. “I’m so glad you’re home. I’ve missed you.”

  This wasn’t his home, but it wasn’t the appropriate time to reiterate that point. “I know. I’ve missed you, too. Although I did enjoy seeing you when you came to DC.”

  “I’ll take any opportunity to spend time with you, but what I’ve wanted, more than anything, is to have you here, in our family home.”

  And there wasn’t anything he wanted less. Except maybe to get married.

  His horror must have shown on his face, because she frowned. “I know this place holds some painful memories, but it’s part of your heritage. Your father, Edworth, and I grew up here. It’s been in our family since 1917.”

  He didn’t want to think about his father, his family’s heritage, RichCorp, or the expectations she was placing on his presence. “Have you looked into putting the house on the state’s historic preservation list?”

  Dorothy touched his leg. “Don’t do that.”

  “What?”

  “Put on a front. Crack jokes—”

  “I wasn’t joking. That’s a serious question,” he protested, laughingly.

  “You don’t have to hide from me. Or Lauren.”

  What did she expect him to do? Unburden himself in a moment of familial catharsis? Not going to happen. As for LoLo, the less he exposed himself to her—he smiled at his own pun—the better. But he’d tell Dorothy whatever she needed to hear to keep her sedate.

  “I’ll work on it, I promise.”

  “Good. Have you set a date?”

  “For what?”

  “The wedding,” she said with an indulgent smile.

  He shifted on the bed, seeking a comfortable position. “We just got engaged.”

  “Any acceptable venue will have a wait list two miles long. Of course, that wouldn’t be an obstacle if you found a place you loved. The Richardson name holds a lot of sway in this city.”

  “There’s no rush.”

  She squinted and tilted her head to the side. “You are committed to her, aren’t you? I know that’s been an issue for you.”

  He clenched his jaw and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t have an issue with commitment. It’s a fairy-tale concept. Relationships always end. Better they do so on my terms than on someone else’s. Some might call that a fear of commitment. I call it being smart and realistic.”

  The truth of the words didn’t lessen their bitter flavoring, something Dorothy must have picked up on because she frowned.

  “But you’ve since changed your mind? Now that you’re marrying Lauren?”

  He couldn’t forget that while the illness may be affecting Dorothy’s body, her mind was as sharp as ever. He couldn’t afford any more slip-ups like that one. But conversations about Lauren and commitment were bound to push his “speak first, think later” buttons. The risk of setting a few ground rules now would be better than the blowout from their lie unraveling.

  He leaned forward and eyed her with a flinty stare. “LoLo and I want to include you in our engagement as much as possible, but if you want to ensure things work out between the two of us, don’t get in the middle of our relationship. If we have a problem, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

  Her chin trembled. “Can I ask if you brought your tux with you?”

  Now he felt like a jerk. But he knew his aunt. If he didn’t draw a line in the sand, she’d take over the whole damn beach. “I don’t usually travel with formalwear, so no. Why?”

  “Because Saturday is the Picasso and Chicago gala at the Art Institute of Chicago. Lauren is going, and as her fiancé, I’m sure she’d want you to escort her.”

  A weekend night walking around a stuffy art gallery looking at weird paintings. Not on his list of top ten fun things to do while in Chicago.

  “She hasn’t mentioned it.”

  “She’s had a lot on her mind, bringing you back from DC and finally announcing your engagement. She may have forgotten it’s this week. I’ll remind her. It’ll be the perfect opportunity to let everyone see that you’re back. For a visit,” she added at his look.

  He nodded.

  “Wonderful. Get Nicholas’s number from Lauren and give him a call.”

  Some things never change. His family had been using the custom tailor for more than forty years. “He’s too old for all that delicate work. He has to be at least seventy.”

  “His son and daughter have taken over most of the business. As it should be. Just like you’ll do with RichCorp when you’re ready.”

  “Aunt Dorothy—”

  “He’ll take you as soon as you can get there,” she rushed on. “You don’t have time for anything custom, but there’ll be something off the rack he can tailor. And while you’re there, have him measure you for a custom tuxedo for the engagement party.”

  “What engagement party?”

  “Not now, dear. I’m feeling a little tired.” She patted his leg absently. “Let’s have lunch together, okay?”

  He shook his head in surrender. Who was he kidding? There wasn’t much he would refuse her right now, although he wouldn’t make it easy. “Of course.”

  Her lashes fluttered against her cheek and she appeared to sink down into the mattress. He left her room, his thoughts in turmoil. So much for no one seeing them together but Dorothy. An evening out with LoLo. This would be their first test. They had to make sure nothing negative got back to Dorothy. He would be wal
king a fine line, between giving her too much attention to be out of the ordinary, or not enough. He recalled the brief kiss they’d shared in the kitchen. His problem wasn’t worrying about staying away from her. He was worried that he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself.

  Chapter Six

  Lauren lifted her hand and waved when her best friend, Sophie, emerged from the revolving glass door of the downtown office building. Admiring glances followed Sophie’s leggy, svelte body as she moved, her long dark ringlets flowing behind her as if she were equipped with her own personal wind machine. Sophie was confidence personified, a trait Lauren envied.

  “Thanks for meeting me,” Lauren said, greeting Sophie with a quick kiss on the cheek.

  Sophie squeezed her arm. “I can only spare a few minutes but I wanted to see you. We haven’t talked since you got back from DC. How’s Dorothy?”

  “If you can believe it, a little better.”

  Lauren moved closer to Sophie, letting a woman pushing a baby stroller hurry past. The tall skyscrapers blocked the sun from shining on all the people who hurried along East Randolph Street.

  “You’re kidding? Carter came home and it actually had an effect?”

  “He’s a walking miracle worker,” Lauren intoned. She rarely agreed with Allison, but his return did have a “prodigal son” vibe.

  “Someone’s swallowed a shitload of bitter pills.”

  “Yeah, the big, horsey ones.”

  Sophie laughed and the sound evoked memories of cute boys, co-ed dorms, and a titanium-strong friendship forged during the battle of the Freshman Fifteen.

  “How has it been for you having him back home?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Lo—”

  “No, really,” Lauren insisted. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “You’re lying. Even if I couldn’t see your face, I could hear it in your voice.”

  “Be serious.”

  “I am. It’s my PR superpower. When you handle numerous lying actors and athletes, it becomes a sixth sense. In fact—” She stepped closer to Lauren and lowered her voice. “In the vault, okay?”