Suspicion tinted Mac’s eyes. “Such as?”
“There’ll be no more kissing in this marriage, Mac. No more sex.” Leah suddenly wondered if she’d gone too far. Mac had suggested marrying. He didn’t have to help her, yet he had offered. If she kept her distance from him, and they didn’t make love, it would be easier to walk out in six months’ time. “It’s only a business arrangement. Got it?”
For what seemed eternity, he said nothing, then at last he spoke, and with his first words, Leah realized her future had already changed. “You’re right,” he said, shrugging and confirming that it was truly a business deal to him. “This is the best option for both of us. Marry me, and Charlee gets to keep her mother.” Then he leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “No more kisses, huh? Are you sure you can resist, sweet Leah?”
Leah jerked backwards, aware of Mac’s heat, his scent. It hit her full force, threatening to topple her resolve. She clenched her fists, refusing to give in to temptation and fixed him with a hard glare. “Just watch me.”
Chapter Nine
Conflict soured in Mac’s gut. He should have told her about the investigation and the report that still burned in his jacket pocket.
Should have. But didn’t.
He’d chickened out the minute he’d seen the suitcase and realized she was about to leave him. Telling Leah would have given her another reason to hate him. So he’d panicked, and that scared the hell out of him.
He would tell her later.
But two days later, after putting his solicitors onto Charlee’s grandparents, later hadn’t come…and the truth remained a secret. Now, time had run out. He was about to get married.
Snatching up his phone, he punched the number for Connor Jackson. He didn’t wait for his friend’s response. “Did those pre-nup papers get signed?”
“Well hello to you too,” Connor quipped in his usual casual manner.
“I’m not in the mood.”
“The nervous groom?”
Mac’s stomach bunched in tight knots. “Cut it, buddy.” He and Connor went way back. They’d been childhood friends, and normally he’d take his friend’s chiding, but not today.
“You still there, Mac?”
Mac quenched the memories that had no place in his life today. “Yeah.”
“For a man about to tie the knot, you don’t sound too pleased.”
“And the custody papers?” he prompted.
“Don’t worry, they’re on hold.”
“Make sure of it, Connor.”
“You worried she’ll find out?”
“Definitely.”
“So tell her,” Connor prompted.
“No, not now. Later.”
Connor’s long, low whistle echoed down the phone line. “She sure must be a looker for you to make the jump, that’s all I can say. Thought you were a no-commitment kinda guy.”
“I was. Am.”
But with a last friendly chuckle, Connor cut the phone line, stamping out Mac’s acerbic response.
Mac never thought today would come. Hadn’t ever planned on it.
So why now?
Okay, so he’d tried to fool himself this was just about Charlee.
Wrong!
It was about him and Leah together. The thing was, he wasn’t sure if by marrying Leah, he’d be walking into the biggest mistake of his life.
The elevator doors slid open, and Leah had no chance to back out and run for the hills. Her groom stood inside, handsome as the devil in a charcoal gray suit, crisp white shirt and pink silk tie. “You’re here?”
“You were expecting someone else?” He lifted one brow. “Or perhaps you hoped I’d back out?”
Her mouth pursed, her response silence. Mac stepped aside, and clutching her bag in both hands as if it were a shield, she entered, turned and fixed her gaze on the closing doors. Flames of embarrassment colored her cheeks, because despite her vow, they’d made love this morning.
It had been almost a good-bye ritual.
They’d made love, not just had sex, but something quite different, with a slowness to it that was hauntingly beautiful. While they’d taken their fill of each other, neither uttered a word about what would soon take place and bring such a change to their lives.
But despite the beauty of the early hours and the almost regretful aura that hung over them, nothing had abated Leah’s rising panic or the dread at what she was about to do.
She was getting married. Again.
“Didn’t you want Charlee at our wedding?”
The threat of hysterical laughter closed her throat. “This isn’t something I’d want my daughter exposed to. It’s a business deal, after all.” She tried desperately to relax. She should be happy. She was a bride. But it was because of that exact fact that she struggled to latch on to any semblance of calm.
Married to a Grainger.
Okay, so Curtis and Mac were brothers, but so very different, she reasoned, trying for any semblance of sanity. A tiny part of her, however, couldn’t let go of that familial tie or allow herself to totally trust Mac, and she found a ubiquitous sadness corralling any joy because of that reality. A lifetime ago, her hopes and dreams had been decimated, snatched from her heart by a Grainger.
When Curtis died, she had vowed never to marry again. But then she’d vowed lots of things. To keep her daughter safe, to hold on to her haven. She’d failed at both.
A few weeks ago, everything she’d heard of Mac Grainger had been negative.
Bad boy. Rebel. The black sheep of the family. The ultimate male. Arrogant. Powerful.
Now she was ensconced in his bed and about to become his wife.
That was when she’d realized she had to take charge and put in her own rule to safeguard her heart. A rule not to be broken. She knew her reasoning was off kilter, but she’d had enough of being vulnerable.
Marrying Mac was simply a means to protect Charlee. Everything would always be about Charlee.
The door of the elevator opened to the lobby of Jackson and Partners.
“Mr. Jackson is in his office. We’re just waiting for the celebrant,” Connor’s secretary announced as Leah walked at Mac’s side into the vast reception area.
He cupped her elbow with a firm grip.
“I’m not going to jump ship,” she whispered, which only earned her a hard smile in return, a rebuke that said hell would freeze over before he let her go.
“I didn’t think you would. You need me, after all.”
To her chagrin, he was right.
Connor Jackson offered a broad grin as he stepped toward them with an outstretched hand. “Right on time, I see.”
For a few minutes, he and Mac talked in hushed tones; then Mac’s best man exited the office. The moment the door closed, fear pinned her in its clutches.
“Leah?”
Battling to refocus, she found herself staring up at her groom. How come he could remain calm when inside her nerves rioted a thousand-fold? There wasn’t a hair out of place, a wrinkle in his suit. Mac Grainger was polished to perfection.
“It’s almost over,” he said.
“Can’t come soon enough,” she shot back at him.
His mouth curled at each corner, his dimples deepening. He was enjoying her discomfort, that was obvious. He leaned a fraction closer, the fingers of his left hand caressing the side of her cheek, as he whispered, “Eager for our wedding night, sweetheart?”
Leah almost choked aloud. “This is a marriage of convenience. There won’t be one. We discussed it, remember?”
Dark eyes twinkled down at her. “Shame. I kinda liked the idea of a repeat performance of this morning, wouldn’t you?”
Leah’s throat tightened at the excitement his words prompted. Fight it, Leah. “We have a certain rule,” she said, breaking his sensual hold on her.
He pulled back and crossed his arms. “And rules are made to be broken.”
“Not this one.” This rule had to stay in place. “Sex won’t be part of this de
al.” He might want her in his bed for a while, but what happened when a replacement came along? Where would her heart be then? Broken, that’s where.
He shrugged. “Okay.”
Just okay? Leah couldn’t hold back her shock and her eyes widened. She knew she should be relieved. And she was. Mostly.
Rubbish.
In truth, part of her felt…deflated. Let down. He hadn’t even tried to argue the point, declare he really wanted her.
But you wanted no sex.
Just then, Connor and another man walked in—Leah realized it had to be the celebrant—and reality hit hard, a cannonball hurtling around her stomach. This was real. Happening. Now.
Mac’s strong fingers circled her wrist once more. There was nothing subtle about his intention. He leaned into her body, his heat enveloping her. Instinctively, she pulled back, though not far enough, as his breath fanned her skin in an intimate gesture.
Leah squeezed her eyes closed and tried to block out the swirl of activity: Mac talking to Connor and the celebrant, and Rowena, Connor’s secretary, entering the room and flirting with Mac.
The sounds became a chaotic tangle in her brain, firing the threat of a headache. Concentrate. Get married. Get out.
“Would the happy couple please stand in front of me,” the celebrant requested.
Happy? Mac looked sideways at his wife-to-be. Standing rigid, shoulders back, white-knuckled fingers clasped tightly in front of her, she stared balefully ahead.
Yet there was a strength of control to her too. The set of her jaw, the glint in her hazel eyes that spat diamond darts at him from the start and now shimmered the deepest of forest greens. That green matched her classy green shot silk suit. He looked closely and almost grinned. His soon-to-be wife wasn’t wearing a top under her jacket.
Mac could imagine a black lace and silk bra, perhaps, or maybe it was white cotton. Hmm. White. Cotton. Pure, but so darn sexy.
He dropped his gaze to her elegant shoes, a shiny matching green patent. But it was Leah’s legs that held him transfixed. Slim. In hose.
He wondered if they were stockings with a suspender belt.
Whoa! Too much right now. Later. He’d think about it later. And maybe, he could coax Leah to show him.
On the outside, she seemed stiff and unapproachable, yet between the sheets, when his skin touched hers, heat overrode common sense, and her formidable control slipped. Mac’s memory scrolled back to this morning and the feel of her, the taste.
Hell! And she wanted to play by the no-sex rule.
No way. He would change her mind. He’d take his time, play it his way, because he really wanted Leah back in his bed.
“The ring?” the celebrant intoned.
Mac’s head jerked up, a surge of panic taking over for a fleeting second till he stamped it right back down. He reached for Leah’s hand and linked his fingers through hers. He took the ring Connor proffered and recited his vows in a strong voice, aware of a deep sense of quiet instilling itself in him and drowning the thread of his guilt.
It surprised him that as he spoke his vows, they meant so much to him, that this moment felt right, and for the first time in a long time, emotions he had kept locked away were free.
Brushing aside poignant thoughts, he went to slip the gold band on Leah’s finger, but her fingers were curled into a tight ball. “You have to open your hand, Leah.”
Her eyes widened. “You brought rings?”
He tempered his tone. “Just call me a good Boy Scout, hmm?”
One by one, her fingers straightened, and holding still her shaking hand, he gently slid the ring on. “A perfect fit,” he said, easing out a long breath.
“For a perfect marriage.” Her words held a cutting edge, the tinge of bitterness blatant.
He offered a tight grin anyway. “Could be.” Actually, he hoped so. He really did.
“That’s a fairy tale, Mac. Perfection is an illusion.” Her reply was muttered, for his ears only.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride,” the celebrant commanded to a round of applause from Connor and his secretary.
Leah’s face bleached of color, and she went to pull her hands from his grasp. He held on tight.
“They’re waiting,” he prompted as his body kicked into overdrive, imagining kissing her and wanting to a whole lot. “Think of it as sealing the deal,” he said, trying to ease her tension.
It didn’t. “You don’t get to kiss the bride, remember?”
“We can’t disappoint them. They think this is love at first sight.”
“It’s not.”
He offered a lighthearted shrug. “Maybe, but it sure is whole lotta hot lust.”
Leah’s gaze slipped toward the expectant faces, then back to him in double quick time. “I was stupid to agree to this damned charade.”
Realizing he needed to get her alone for a minute and calm her down, he turned quietly to Connor and the others. “Leave us for a moment.” He caught Connor’s questioning look but instead nodded toward the door, grateful when his friend took his hint and ushered the celebrant and Rowena out. The moment the door shut behind them, Mac turned back to his bride.
Framed against the last light of afternoon sun, Leah stood at the window with her back to him. He walked over to her and rested his hands on her shoulders, pleased when she didn’t pull away. “We’re married, Leah. There’s no turning back.”
“I know.” She turned and faced him, and he saw such desolation in her eyes, it made him want to rescue her all over again, prove to her they could make this work.
You said it was for six months, remember?
Mac ignored that little reminder.
She’d told him of her innocence, and he’d refused to listen.
Tell her you believe her.
The silent condemnation slammed against his teeth, and only his breath escaped in a ravaged hiss. “I’m not Curtis.”
Her whispered gasp slipped against his skin, tempting him beyond all reason, when reason said walk away. He didn’t listen, and before she had the chance to react, he let his emotions rule, and he kissed her.
The urgency between them exploded, and Mac’s belief that this was right grew.
Leah sagged against him, arms linking around his neck, fingers threading through his hair. The intimate touch sent his pulse skyrocketing, and he gloried in the sensation.
When her mouth formed a soft moue, he took advantage, the tip of his tongue dancing with hers. She tasted pure, sweet, delicious.
He cupped her face, thumbs twirling in strands of auburn curls, silken smooth against the roughness of his hands. A curl brushed across his scars, an aphrodisiac to his senses. He kissed her till every ounce of his breath evaporated.
Voices echoed from behind the closed door, and Leah stiffened; the spell between them was sadly broken.
Eyes glistening, she lifted heavy lashes and looked up at him. Her lips were still parted, still kissable. Scarlet whorls colored her cheeks. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she said, wiping the tip of her fingers across her lips.
He couldn’t help watch her action and wish it was his fingers there. “Probably not,” he admitted, “but you didn’t pull away. You can’t deny you liked my kisses.”
“Kiss,” she said, returning to ice-queen mode. “One kiss, and there’ll be no more.”
Chapter Ten
That Mac agreed to her rule of a no-sex marriage without a hitch surprised Leah. He could have least tried harder to kick it to the curb.
The trouble was, the moment she announced her demand, she knew she’d weaken.
And she had. Mac had kissed her, and she’d kissed him right back.
The instant her husband led her back into reception, the sound of popping champagne corks erupted along with a round of clapping, and the nightmare became worse.
She had hoped, prayed, she could slip away and go home—which was where exactly? She had no home, not anymore.
“Our Mac’s a
sly devil. Didn’t know he was the marrying kind.” Connor Jackson chuckled with a wink in Leah’s direction.
Needing respite from her husband’s constant scrutiny, she offered Connor’s hovering secretary a tight smile and a silent plea for rescue. It didn’t come.
Rowena reached over to her. “How I envy you. Mac is a real catch.”
Leah bit her tongue. Catch would not be the term she would have used.
“Some bubbles to steady the nerves. I think you might need it.” Mac offered her a glass of champagne, his mouth angled in that quirky half smile she’d come to recognize and crave. When he smiled at her, something in her changed. Her heart lightened. Oh, Leah, you’re so weak!
“There’s nothing wrong with my nerves,” she said and slugged back the entire contents of her crystal flute, ignoring the teasing tickles as it slid across her tongue. She hiccupped. “Happy wedding day, darling.” Grabbing her bag, she headed for the elevator and fixed her attention on the door as someone exited. She scooted over the threshold and pumped the Door Close button. But luck wasn’t on her side, and Mac stepped in as the doors were about to close. Her frozen fingers clawed at her bag, anything to stop her from touching him, because the want was there, all the time. And damn it, it wouldn’t go away. “I’m going home.”
“Curtis called you his addiction.”
The shock of Mac’s statement king-hit Leah.
“You are an addictive woman, Mrs. Grainger.” And with that, her husband of barely a few minutes reached over and kissed her, obliterating the very last ounce of willpower she possessed as he imprisoned her in his arms.
And, darn it, she held on tight. In his arms she felt safe, wanted. Desired. Something she’d longed for…since forever.
As he kissed her again and again, Leah willed the elevator to actually stall for a while, give them time, because Mac Grainger was definitely her addiction in every way.
He pulled her so close she could feel his erection.
No! This had to stop. Head tipped forward and resting beneath his chin, her hands splayed on his chest, she drew in a deep breath. Tears threatened, but she held them at bay. She had to be strong. “Please, Mac. Don’t,” she at last pleaded.
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