“You know, you and Pamela. Marriage of convenience 101.”
“You’re marrying someone to stop the merger?”
“I’m not getting married. We’re pretending to be engaged. And it’s not just about the merger. Not really. It’s for my aunt.” At Marcus’s blank look, he explained. “She’s concerned about my well-being. Wants me to be taken care of. So I told her Lauren and I were engaged.”
“Lauren? Dr. Olsen? The woman who came and got you?”
“That’s her.”
Marcus laughed. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
He stilled, as a feeling he could only describe as protective cascaded over his body. “Careful.”
He never thought he’d get into an argument over a woman. There were too many available and he didn’t care enough to bother. But he wouldn’t stand for anyone disparaging Lauren in his presence.
And that included his best friend and boss.
Marcus’s eyes widened like a cartoon character. “Not her. The situation,” he said in a measured tone that proved Carter’s message had been received and noted. “Even from our brief interaction I could tell she’s way too good for your cynical ass. I was talking about this scheme, the fake engagement. It’s ridiculous.”
“Since last year when you did it?”
“Yeah, well, that was different.”
“Right,” Carter said.
“We’re talking about you. Is it working?”
“Yes, but it’s complicated.”
“I bet. I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” Marcus said, crowing with laughter. “Remember when you lectured me on mixing business and pleasure?”
“I do. Which makes it worse now that I’ve gotten myself into this situation.”
“You’re the only person I know who lives a life more outrageous than a soap opera.”
Funny, how he’d thought the same thing about Marcus’s life last year. Was this the boomerang effect known as karma? He’d thought the dull ache behind his temple was a stress headache, but if he looked closely, would he see a wing-shaped dent?
“What are you going to do?” Marcus asked.
“First, I’m going to talk to Morgan. Maybe we can find a situation that works for everyone.”
“You’re doing a great deal for someone who doesn’t care about the family business.”
“I was wrong. I do care what happens to it. I just don’t want to run it.”
Marcus picked up his phone and pressed the home button. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. If you need anything, call me.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Do you want me to stop by on my way out to San Fran?”
“No, I’m good.”
“I can’t wait to tell Pamela about your situation.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Didn’t you last year?”
Yeah, he had.
“And Carter?”
Carter paused, his finger poised to click the mouse and disconnect their session.
Marcus leaned forward, his gaze intent. “You’re a huge part of this team and your contribution to PE has been invaluable. But you can’t be our general counsel and run a business like RichCorp. I know you think this is a temporary solution and maybe you’re right. But, sooner or later, you’re going to have to choose.”
Chapter Fourteen
“I don’t know how you stand it,” Lauren said. “I hate the paparazzi.”
The door to their suite at The Drake closed behind them with a click. After a show at the Steppenwolf Theatre Company and a late dinner, he’d insisted they stay in the city versus driving back to the house. When she’d agreed, his heart had rebounded roughly against his chest in anticipation.
“They weren’t there for us. At the valet stand, they told me Oprah was having dinner in the private dining room.”
Lauren strolled ahead of him, surveying the suite while he surveyed her curves on full display in a tiny yellow dress that had distracted him all evening.
She spun around to face him. “It’s a beautiful room.”
“Is it?” he asked, not the least bit interested in the décor. Fire burned in his gut and rushed through his body. He wanted this woman. More than he’d wanted anything in a very long time.
She inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled out her mouth, her lips forming a glossy “O.” Pushing her shoulders back, she threw her purse on the coffee table and closed the distance between them.
“I’m feeling a little hedonistic,” she whispered in his ear, a callback to their conversation at the pool.
Oh, baby!
He kissed her, seeking a response from her that matched the sensation of rightness settling over him. He slid his hands over the silky fabric of her dress, down to the small of her back, his fingers tingling at the pleasure of the journey. Releasing her mouth, he nibbled kisses along her jaw and down the side of her neck, where he stopped and inhaled deeply.
“You smell as good as you taste.”
The pulse in her neck leapt at his words and he licked it. She gasped and swayed into his embrace. The thrill that stormed through him was powerful and would have felled him to his knees if their entangled bodies hadn’t provided a brace.
He claimed her lips again, and this time, she opened willingly. Euphoria radiated through his body and he hugged her closer. His tongue dueled with hers, exploring the hot cave of her mouth, tripping over the terrain, learning its secrets. She tasted like she was made for him. Every flavor he liked, every tang he craved, was concentrated in her kiss. He couldn’t get enough, couldn’t have walked away if his life hung in the balance.
He shoved his hands through her hair, the curls encasing his fingers in a teaser of events to come. He buried his nose in the fragrant spirals. “I love your hair like this.”
“You do?”
“It’s surprising and beautiful. Like you.”
She pulled back and stared at him, a dazed look on her face. Then she smiled. She went to work unbuttoning his shirt. Each time a button slipped free, she kissed him, the tip of her tongue curling against his own. When the final button was undone, she pulled the shirt from his pants and ran her hands over his chest. He moaned when her fingers skimmed over his nipples. At his sound, her mouth replaced her fingers. Blood surged to his cock and his hand tangled in her curls, keeping her in place. She pulled on the bud with her teeth.
He hissed.
Her cheek moved against his skin. “I’ve wanted to do that since you opened your door in DC.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Can I show you what I’ve wanted to do since I saw you tonight?”
“Be my guest.”
He ran his hands over her body until he felt the zipper under her right arm. Not taking his eyes off hers, he slid it down and stepped back. “Take it off.”
She slid the sleeve off one shoulder and let it fall into a pool around her feet.
His breath caught in his throat. She was gorgeous, all creamy golden skin and curls.
She stepped out of the dress and walked over to him, her hips swaying, her full teardrop-shaped breasts bouncing, strappy heels making her legs look six miles long. His glance darted over her body. Like the picture at her friend’s house, there were so many places for his gaze to land.
She tugged on his buckle. “Your turn.”
She’d already taken care of his top half. A flick of his wrist and his pants slid down his legs. He toed off his shoes and got rid of his socks, kicking everything to the side. Her eyes widened when his cock sprang free. He took a full, deep breath, stood tall, and watched her watch him, growing impossibly harder with each second that passed.
When she’d had her fill, she pushed him back onto the bed and straddled him. She reached to unstrap her shoes, and her breasts swung tantalizingly before him. Hypnotized, he arched up and caught a ripe nipple, rolling it between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. She moaned and pitched
forward, his head bouncing on the pillow, her hands landing on either side of his head. Between the scorching heat of her core pressing against his erection and her breasts bobbing just above his face, he was ready to blow. He blindly reached out for the nightstand and extracted a pack of condoms.
There was no beating the benefit of a full-service, luxury hotel.
She took the protection from him, opened the package, and rolled it on, sending shockwaves through his already engorged erection. She lifted up and leaned forward, softly kissing his upper lip. She ran her tongue along it and smiled as she sank down on his dick.
A curse erupted from him. The agony of being sheathed within her was so delicious the feeling rocked him to his foundation. She rode him, one hand planted on his chest, the other…Good God, was she touching herself? He gripped her hips and thrust into her. Over and over. Stroking her torso, palming the heavenly weight of her breasts. The feel of her was fast becoming an addiction, the contact shattering his mind and robbing him of all ability to think or speak.
He stared at her, enthralled by the bloom that colored her cheekbones and the moue that shaped her lips. She threw her head back, screamed, and sweet bands of pressure trumpeted up and down his cock as she came. Her lashes swept up and what he saw threatened to drag him into a heart-sucking vortex from which he wouldn’t want to escape. His pulse boomed savagely, the telltale tightening beginning at the base of his spine, his balls contracting as a paralyzing pleasure coursed hot and thick through his body.
He struggled to catch his breath. He closed his eyes and tried to synchronize his pulse rate with Lauren’s, as she lay spent on his chest.
“I didn’t get to taste you,” he said minutes later, as he tugged on a curl that tickled him.
“It can be all about me next time.”
“Next time? I never imagined I’d be turned on by your bossiness, LoLo.”
“Guess my hair isn’t the only surprising thing about me, Richie.”
It wasn’t. This entire experience had been a revelation. From the moment she’d arrived on his doorstep, he’d had to up his game, using dormant muscles to impress her and retain her interest. Challenging. She kept him on his toes. And he liked it.
He bucked her off his body and she squeaked then laughed when he hooked her knees over his elbows. He pulled her to the edge of the bed and dropped to his knees before her, spreading her thighs wide.
“I know a little something about surprises, too. Now, about that taste …”
“I don’t like being unprepared,” Lauren said.
Carter exerted pressure on the small of her back, urging her through the threshold of the downtown luxury high-rise. He thanked the doorman and turned his attention back to her lovely, but tense, face. “We’re ready.”
“How can you be certain?” She shook her head. “We haven’t spent enough time thinking this through. We can’t afford for this to fail.”
He handed his ID to the young security guard. “We can’t afford to waste more time. I have thirty days to persuade the board to vote against the merger. A week has passed since the emergency board meeting. The time for planning is over. We need to act.”
Edworth’s refusal to vote for the family line threw his initial plans into a tailspin. He’d talked to the other members of the board, but even if they all voted for him—and that wasn’t guaranteed—he wouldn’t have enough votes to stop the merger. He hoped talking to Morgan would yield a result they could all live with.
Lauren nodded but she didn’t look convinced. She fiddled with the bracelet on her left wrist.
The need to reassure her ballooned within him. He fingered a curl that nestled against her collarbone, the strands silky smooth to his touch. “It’ll be fine,” he said softly. He let his gaze wander down her body, her curves leading him on a visual saunter. He’d have to constantly remind himself what was at stake or he’d be tempted to stare at her all night. “I’ve told you how stunning you look, haven’t I?”
She smiled and her fingers slid off the silver jewelry. “Once or twice.”
Her knee-length, simple black dress had slits in the long sleeves that teased him with peeks of her golden creamy skin. His fingers itched to peel the fabric away to access the treasure trove underneath. He leaned forward and kissed her. His heart thundered in his chest and for an instant, he forgot where they were and indulged in the manna of her kiss. Even with everything on the line, his desire for her was as close as his next breath.
Breaking apart, he slid his hand through her curls and rested it against her cheek. “This will work because there’s no other choice.”
“And you always get what you want?”
Her voice smoothed over him, like air-conditioned cool linens on a hot summer day. Goose bumps marched over his skin and he shivered. He wanted her. Now. Insanity considering they’d scratched this particular itch before they’d left the pool house. His always-helpful brain furnished an image of Lauren on her stomach, her face turned to the side, lips parted as he thrust into her from behind.
He stepped closer, until her personal space was theirs. Her beautiful hazel eyes smoldered and he knew he wasn’t the only one remembering. He whispered into her ear. “Don’t I?”
A rhetorical question. He’d always attained whatever he’d chosen to pursue. Goals, jobs, women. The problem wasn’t getting what he wanted. For the first time, it was determining what that was.
The guard cleared his throat. When Carter turned to reclaim his license, the other man was staring at Lauren. If eyes were the movie screens of internal thoughts, the guard was watching a porno. When he caught Carter’s hard stare, he made a quick, sudden upward movement of his head, a gesture of urban male approval.
Carter shifted uneasily. He knew that look, had seen it before. Had given it before. Like recognizes like. But it didn’t fit this situation. He wasn’t playing a game and she wasn’t some frivolous piece of eye candy. As they headed to the bank of elevators, he placed his hand low on Lauren’s hip in his own universal male gesture.
She’s mine.
When they got into the elevator, he pressed the button for the forty-first floor. He grabbed her hand and tugged her to him as he leaned back against the far wall. She landed against his chest, her full breasts cushioning the impact. The contact caused pleasurable tingles to ripple throughout his body. He promised himself he’d find an excuse to make her fall against him at least once a day. He swept aside her curls, slid his hands to her hips, and nuzzled the curve of her neck.
God, she smelled amazing, like all the best scents he’d ever encountered. He truly couldn’t get enough. Each drugging inhalation caused him to implement a corresponding pull on her skin. She moaned and gripped his upper arms, her clutch falling to the floor. That sound darted straight to his dick. Inhale, pull, harden. Inhale, pull, harden. He was lost in a euphoric cycle.
Suddenly, she gasped and her eyes flew open. She pushed against his chest with one hand as she simultaneously reached up and stroked the dime-sized bruise he’d left at the base of her neck. He shook his head to clear his mind when he noticed what she was doing. Heat traveled across his chest and he cringed. Holy shit. A hickey.
The elevator dinged, an alert they’d reached their destination. He couldn’t meet her gaze, choosing instead to smooth down the front of his shirt and run fingers through his hair, an attempt to bring order back to his person. But what about his life? What had he been thinking? Had the searing hot chemistry between them fried his brain? He’d actually given Lauren a hickey. He hadn’t done anything that juvenile since he’d been sixteen. The next thing he knew he’d be peeing in a circle around her, in an instinctive urge to stake his claim.
He wasn’t the only one unsure of what happened. Lauren was still staring at him when the doors slid apart. He waved his arm, motioning for her to precede him. She gave him one last inscrutable look then spun around and exited the car, turning left to approach the penthouse door marked “A.”
He came up, held out her
clutch that he’d retrieved from the floor, and reached around her to ring the bell. His mouth dried and his stomach rolled in response.
Don’t worry. You’ve got this.
He used the little pep talk to refocus his energy on the task at hand, not on what happened in the elevator. This was like any other business negotiation. He sat through more than his fair share of them and he always came out on top. Always.
The door opened.
“Carter, Ms. Olsen. Good evening,” Bill Morgan said, stepping back and motioning for them to enter.
The foyer was tastefully done, with marble floors, a crystal chandelier, and mahogany encased mirrors. But it paled in comparison to the downtown Chicago skyline, visible from the front door. Panoramic windows showcased lights from hundreds of office windows, illuminating the night like urban fireworks.
“You remember my wife, Gail.” Morgan’s tone was barely civil.
Yes, they were opponents in this current battle, but when Carter had suggested they sit down and talk and the other man had agreed and invited him to dinner, he thought there was a chance this feud wouldn’t turn overly contentious. Clearly, that was a desperate delusion. They were barely in the door and Morgan was acting as if they were boorish houseguests who’d stayed a week past their promised departure.
Gail Morgan held out her hands. “It’s wonderful to see you, Carter. It’s been too long.” She was still an extremely attractive woman and her tailored beige dress complemented her blond hair and brown eyes. She was as warmhearted and cordial as her husband was cold and aloof. Opposites must really attract between those two.
Carter kissed her cheek. “Thank you for having us.”
“I was sorry to hear about Dorothy,” she said, patting his arm. “I know this isn’t how she wanted you to come home.” She smiled at Lauren. “How are you, dear?”
“I’m doing well, Mrs. Morgan.”
Gail waved a hand. “Call me Gail.”
They stood in awkward silence, tension smothering them like an oppressive blanket. Gail nudged Morgan with her elbow and widened her eyes comically.
“How about a drink?” Morgan asked, as if he’d memorized the line from a script.
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