by Lisa Childs
But there was a strange sensation in his chest, as if it was swelling and warming, and he didn’t like the feeling. He didn’t like feeling at all. Anything.
Lust. That was all this was, all it could be. Just attraction and lust...
* * *
Despite the warmth of his body pressed so tightly against hers, Muriel shivered. The look on his handsome face, with his clenched jaw, was so tense, so almost frightened, that it frightened her, as well.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice soft and quavering with the fear she felt in him.
He shook his head. “It should be wrong,” he murmured. “But it feels so right...”
“What?”
“This,” he said, and he slid his hand from her back down to her hip. Then he rubbed the erection that was once more straining the fly of his jeans against her belly. “Us.”
“It is wrong,” she said. But she couldn’t deny that it felt right between them. There had never been an awkward moment, never any hesitation, never anything but passion. So much passion...
He shook his head again, as if he couldn’t accept it.
But he had to; she had to make him—and herself—see that this was wrong. “What would the bar association say if they learned you were trying to coerce me to withdraw my complaint against you?”
He tensed and a breath escaped his lips, as if she’d punched him. “Would you go to them and say that?”
She could. She’d once been so angry with him that she would have. But the passion between them, and the orgasms he’d given her, had eased some of her anger.
“I wasn’t trying to coerce you to lie to them,” he said. “I wouldn’t do that...”
And she was beginning to believe him.
“But you admitted that you want me to withdraw my complaint,” she reminded him.
“Yes, but I want you to withdraw it because you believe those memos were forged,” he said, “because you believe me.” And his dark eyes implored her to do just that.
She closed her eyes. She wanted to believe him. But she couldn’t. He’d pretty much told his friends that he was just playing her. So she couldn’t believe anything he said.
She shook her head now.
“Muriel...” His breath whispered across her earlobe as he lowered his head and nuzzled her neck. “Believe me.”
“I—I can’t,” she stammered, “any more than you can believe me.”
He groaned now and shifted against her again. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
She could understand that. “You don’t want to believe me,” she said. “Because then you’ll have to admit you were wrong.”
His brow furrowed. But he didn’t deny what she’d claimed. Instead, he lowered his head and brushed his mouth across hers in another of those soft kisses. If she hadn’t experienced it, she wouldn’t have thought him capable of such tenderness. But just as softly as he kissed her, his fingers slid down her cheek with a light caress.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice raspy as she struggled to breathe with the passion overwhelming her. “You have no reason to seduce me now. I’m not going to the bar association for you.” No matter how much pleasure he gave her.
But he must not have heard her because he continued to please her. His lips slid down her cheek to her neck, and he nuzzled it again, his breath hot against her skin.
She shivered as sensations raised through her. Then his lips were on her exposed shoulder. And she shivered again, but it was heat racing through her—straight to her core. Her nipples tightened, and a moan slipped through her lips.
His mouth moved to hers again, but the gentleness was gone. He kissed her deeply, hungrily. When he pulled away, she panted for breath.
Excitement filled her, making her skin tingle and her pulse pound like mad. Madness was what this was—this obsession that Ronan was becoming for her. It was a madness.
She’d lost her mind.
And her breath...
And her ability to think or move...
It was as if his touch paralyzed her. Her body was going so limp that she might have collapsed if he hadn’t lifted her up. This time he didn’t carry her far; he just put her on the edge of his tall desk.
He stripped off her clothes until she sat naked on his desk, atop whatever file he’d been reading when she’d walked into his office. So intent on whatever he was reading, he hadn’t even noticed her standing there.
But now he’d forgotten all about it. He was totally focused on her. He kissed and touched every inch of her skin, every part of her body.
His mouth moved to her mound, his tongue flicking across her clit. She arched off the desk and cried out as the pressure wound tightly inside her. She needed release, needed him. And suddenly the paralysis was over.
She reached for him, tugging at his clothes—tearing them off—until he was as naked as she was. With her on the tall desk, she was the perfect height for him.
She locked her legs around his waist, pulling him closer until he was as close as he could be. His body covered hers, and she was barely able to tell where she ended and he began. They moved together in a rhythm that was theirs alone, like their song.
It swelled to a crescendo, and they both shouted as they came. Her body shuddered and went limp again on the desk.
And his body began to shake, as if he was as overwhelmed as she was. He stared down at her, and she saw the fear again in his dark eyes.
He had been as overwhelmed as she was.
And she was overwhelmed. He made her feel so many things, pleasure most of all. No wonder she couldn’t get enough of him. No one else had ever given her such powerful orgasms, such strong releases.
He had a reputation for being an amazing lover. That was why his exes were so upset when he dumped them—because he left them wanting more.
Muriel understood that now. Because even though he’d just given her so much pleasure, she wanted so much more.
And now fear coursed through her. She scrambled down from the desk, knocking off that file as she did. She bent over to pick it up—but he was already there, grabbing up the papers and shoving them back into the manila folder.
So she reached for her clothes, instead. As she dressed, she watched him. He hadn’t dressed. He was naked and gorgeous and she wanted him all over again.
This obsession was dangerous, so dangerous that she was tempted to do what he wanted. She was tempted to go to the bar association and withdraw her complaint—even if she’d had every reason to file it.
And she had.
She couldn’t forget what he’d done to her in that courtroom and in the media. What he must have done...
No matter how much he denied it, he had to have encouraged those witnesses to perjure themselves. Or maybe she was just like him. She didn’t want to believe he might be telling the truth because then she would have to admit she had been wrong—about him, about people she’d once thought were her friends.
About everything...
Like maybe what she was beginning to feel for Ronan wasn’t just sex. Maybe there was something more between them than just attraction. Too scared to stay, she headed for the door the moment she was fully dressed again.
This time he didn’t stop her. He was too focused on that file again, as if he’d forgotten all about her.
That was what she needed to do: forget all about Ronan. They had no future. And because of their past, they never should have been together. She shouldn’t have let him touch her. Now she was worried that his touch was the only one she would want. She should have stuck with the vibrator. She didn’t have to worry about her mechanical lover betraying her like every other lover had.
Ronan had betrayed her even before he’d become her lover. She would never be able to trust him.
CHAPTER TEN
THE FIRST TI
ME he’d met with this man Ronan had felt pity. The guy had been so broken, so upset that his new bride had played him for a fool. And Ronan had been determined to avenge the man, like he’d wanted to avenge his father for all the pain he’d suffered.
But Arte Armand and Muriel hadn’t been married very long. How much could he have actually suffered?
Ronan hadn’t known her very long, either, though, and he was suffering. His body was tense and aching for hers. And it had only been a couple of days since she’d come here and given him that envelope with her name smeared across the front of it. Had someone given her the memos in that envelope? Or had something else been in it and she was just claiming that it had held those forged memos?
He didn’t know what to believe anymore. That was why he’d asked Arte Armand to come to the office. They sat back by the bar where Ronan had had sex with the man’s ex. Arte sat across from him, his legs crossed. Ronan could almost smell Muriel—in the office.
A twinge of guilt struck him.
But Arte didn’t look as broken as he had the day of their first appointment. His eyes were dry and bright now. His face was tanned, his body relaxed. He wore jeans that were as artfully ripped up as Muriel’s had been and a bright pink silk shirt with the cuffs rolled back to reveal the black and white polka dots on the other side of the fabric.
“I’m glad you called,” the man said. “I was going to set up an appointment to talk to you, anyway.”
“You were?” Had the guy gotten married again? Only a little over six months had passed since his divorce had been granted. That was enough time to get into a serious relationship. But to get married again...
Why would he risk it if his marriage to Muriel had been as terrible as he’d claimed?
“Yes, but I’ve been busy with the musical I’ve been producing.”
With Muriel’s money. And Ronan felt another twinge of guilt—this time for her.
“Really?” Ronan asked. “I didn’t know you were interested in theater.”
Arte laughed. “Oh, goodness, yes, that’s why I moved to the city. I’m a triple threat. I can sing and dance and act.”
How good an actor was he? So good that he’d fooled Ronan?
“But you were modeling.”
Arte grinned, revealing perfect blindingly white teeth. “It was easier to break into modeling than acting. But I’ve found exactly the right vehicle now to launch my career.”
Muriel. She had been the vehicle. And Ronan had given him the keys.
“I can’t help you with entertainment law,” Ronan said. “I’m strictly a divorce lawyer.”
“Oh, that’s not why I wanted to see you again,” Arte replied. “It’s about this whole The World’s Most Beautiful Woman thing.”
Muriel. She was not a thing. Ronan clenched his jaw to hold back his remarks.
“That’s because of us,” Arte continued. “So shouldn’t we get a part of it?”
“I don’t want the title,” Ronan said. But he was beginning to wonder about Arte Armand.
His hair was expertly styled, the tresses highlighted in gold. The same color that was Simon’s natural hue.
Arte laughed again, and it was nearly as high-pitched as a giggle. “Of course not.”
“Then what do you want?” Ronan asked.
“Money,” Arte replied, as if it should have been obvious.
And it should have been—from their first meeting—that that was what he was all about. Money.
“I think she should give me a percentage of what she’s making now,” Arte said, “since we made her so famous.”
We. Ronan flinched, and his stomach pitched with queasiness from guilt. He wanted to shout at the man to stop saying that—stop giving him so damn much credit for what they’d done to Muriel.
“You weren’t married long enough to be awarded alimony,” Ronan reminded him.
“But you got me a great settlement.”
“Yes, I did.” Far more than what Ronan now realized the man had deserved. “And you agreed to that settlement, so you can’t go after any more.”
“But Muriel would still only be a face and a body with no one knowing her name if it hadn’t been for us,” Arte persisted. “That should get us something, some percentage of her earnings.”
It wasn’t Ronan or the PR firm that Muriel should have worried would send her a bill. It was her damn ex.
“It got me a complaint to the bar association,” Ronan said. “That’s why I called you.”
“Complaint?” Arte asked, and he tensed now.
“Yes, Muriel claims I suborned perjury,” he said. “She thinks I coerced all those witnesses to lie.”
Arte laughed again, but this time it sounded hollow with nerves. “Don’t worry about it. She can’t prove anything.”
“There’s nothing to prove, right?” Ronan asked. “I believed those people were all speaking the truth.”
“They were—of course they were.”
“The same truth, nearly line for line,” Ronan murmured. “As if they’d rehearsed it...” Why hadn’t he noticed that before? Why hadn’t he questioned them—and Arte Armand—more?
Maybe it was what they’d said about her cheating, about her orgies, that had distracted him from reality and plunged him into the fantasy of a naked Muriel Sanz, insatiable for sex.
Arte shrugged his thin shoulders. “They all saw the same things,” he said. “So, of course, they’re going to describe them the exact same way.”
Now Ronan knew who’d written the script.
“If they were lying, I could lose my license,” he said.
Arte reached out and squeezed his arm. “Don’t worry. You had no idea.”
“That they were lying?” He needed to know. But if Arte admitted to what he’d done, Ronan would probably be tempted to tear him apart. Even now, his hands were clenching into fists.
“No, no, of course not,” Arte stammered. “I don’t know why she’s so upset, anyway. It’s not like the trial hurt her or her career...”
That was the argument that Ronan kept giving her, too. But he heard how self-serving it sounded now. “She is upset,” Ronan said. And he was beginning to understand why.
Arte uttered a regretful sigh. “Because of her grandparents...”
“What?”
“They raised her after her mom flaked out and ran off,” Arte said. “They’re real sweet, real conservative people. They must have been devastated.”
Over what had come out of the trial, over what Ronan, using McCann Public Relations, had put out there for them to see and hear. He flinched.
Arte sighed again but straightened in his chair. “But they know her, so it’s not like they believed...” He pressed his hand to his mouth, as if trying to push the words back in.
“It’s not like they believed the lies?” Ronan prodded him.
Arte shook his head. “No, no, not the lies. The truth,” he stammered some more. “They wouldn’t believe the truth about her. They would only see the best in her.”
“That she’s straightforward and honest,” Ronan said.
And Arte turned toward him, his brow furrowed. “You believe that about her?”
“That’s what one of her true friends has said about her,” Ronan replied.
“Too bad she hadn’t had that person testify,” Arte said.
Too bad...
Her representation had been bad. But, ultimately, she’d agreed to the settlement once Ronan had had the prenup tossed out. So she was stuck with it now.
At least she wasn’t stuck with Arte Armand any longer.
The slighter man stood. “I wouldn’t worry about her complaint,” Arte said. “You’re a good lawyer.”
Ronan had believed that until now. Now he wasn’t certain how good he was.
“I’m sure you can get out
of it,” Arte said. “Are you sure you can’t get anything more—”
“No!” Ronan snapped as he jumped up from his chair. He wanted to slug the guy so badly, but he held his fists at his sides. “I think she’s lost enough already.”
Her money and her reputation. And maybe the respect of the grandparents she loved.
Ronan understood now why she was so angry. And he didn’t blame her. He was lucky all she’d done was turn him into the bar association. If he’d been in her place, he might have done far worse—like he wanted to do now to Arte Armand.
A knock sounded at his office door before it was pushed open and a blond head appeared around it. “Hey, oh, sorry to interrupt,” Simon said. “We were waiting for you to start the meeting. I didn’t realize you were with a client.”
“We’re finished,” Ronan said. For now...
He wasn’t entirely sure that he was done with Arte Armand, though. Not after what the man had done—and had made Ronan do—to Muriel.
The guy eagerly walked toward the door, as if anxious to escape Ronan. Maybe he’d sensed how close he’d come to getting the crap beat out of him. Or maybe he was just anxious to get a closer look at Simon, because it was obvious he was checking out Ronan’s partner.
How the hell had Ronan missed that?
How had Muriel? She couldn’t have known or she wouldn’t have married the man.
As Arte headed toward the elevator, Ronan walked into Simon’s office and dropped heavily into one of the chairs around the conference table.
“What’s wrong with you?” Trev asked.
Ronan closed his eyes and shook his head. He couldn’t even talk about what he had just learned, how big a fool he had been.
“Arte Armand just left his office,” Simon answered for him.
“And you realized the guy’s a sleaze?” Stone asked with a shudder of disgust.
“Do you know the guy?” Ronan asked, since his partner had made comments before. What worried him about that was that Stone was a criminal lawyer.
Stone shook his head. “I met him in the elevator a couple of times when you were representing him.”
“So you didn’t represent him?” Ronan asked.
