“He’s my son.”
“Crap!” Heather whispered rather loudly. Worse than that! The deal, worth multi-millions, would launch Diamond Enterprises in a whole new stratosphere in the real estate development industry. If they nabbed this, Drake could be assured of like-minded resort deals just dropping into their laps. Like a chest of gold sitting there, they’d be the first to dive in and forge a new path to the treasure trove. We can’t screw this up! His entire company’s reputation and future depended on how well, or not so well, this moment went.
“Know him?” D.W. demanded.
“Nice guy,” Drake said.
Unlike his father at the moment. One wrong word from the old man, the rumored bank account holder, and the son might very well back out. Heather realized the enormity of the situation as Drake turned back to her, his eyes wide and beseeching.
“You want that job, huh?” he whispered. “The big contract? You’ll be in charge of it. On one condition.”
“Drake, what does this have to do with kissing me?”
“It will seal our deal.” He lowered his voice so only she could hear. “Trust me.”
Watching him, she knew his mind worked overtime, grasping at straws, anything to keep D.W. Shipley from destroying their partnership with his son. “Which deal?”
“The one where you marry me.”
She gasped, as did the couple. The M word? Was he serious?
Not waiting, he reached out and held the back of her head, sinking his fingers in her upsweep of hair, and then swooped in and kissed her. Long. Hot. Wicked. His warm, firm lips were everything and more she’d dreamt of. He parted her mouth with his tongue.
Heather moaned. Or was it him?
He tasted like heady champagne, sweet and decadent and addictive. A tiny sound caught in the back of her throat. She craved more.
Lost in him, her head spun. Her heartbeat galloped in her chest. She tumbled head over heels.
And Heather Talbert realized Drake Diamond was the best thing that happened to her and the very worst thing.
Nothing good could come of this.
Chapter 5
As dawn broke, Drake prowled his high-rise apartment, always coming back to the very adorable sleeping woman curled up in his bed, wearing nothing but his oversized white tuxedo shirt.
Her dark hair spilled over his pillow. He sucked in a sharp breath. How was he ever going to sleep there again without imagining her in his bed? He longed to run his hands up her bare legs and under his shirt, slowly parting each button and discovering more smooth, silky skin.
Petite, her curves were perfectly portioned and another ache swept over him at the vision of exposing and kissing every beautiful inch of her body.
His cell phone buzzed on vibrate yet again. That had to be the fifth or sixth time in as many minutes. He ignored the demands and the jammed buttons due to the dashboard debacle, focusing fully on her.
Her lips, soft and curved into a smile, dared to be touched again. She’d tasted like strawberry lip gloss and tequila. Innocence and experience. Yes, very dangerous. Heat coursed through Drake, desire curling and teasing.
“Heather?” he asked softly, still stunned to discover her actually there. She’d been off-limits for so long, yet now here she slept in his big bed. Something inside him knotted; it had taken everything he had not to join her during the night. Sitting and watching her had been pure agony.
Shocked he’d let the evening head in that direction, Drake replayed the events.
Business connections beamed bright in his mind when he’d accepted her invitation to escort her to the wedding. He never imagined it would turn so personal for him.
Confronted by the irate husband made him jumpy; it would any man pressured into the situation. However, the thought of his goons waiting to slug it out heightened his delicate situation. How many? How good?
He’d had his turn at street boxing matches growing up. What kid wouldn’t be picked on and teased when their mother ran away from her family to walk the streets?
Thankfully, he had his father to come home to and hash it out. His dear, old dad would teach him how to jab and duck until he’d gotten very good at it. Good enough to defend himself against two or three guys at the most, he recalled.
Growing up and out of that hellhole, Drake sought a better life, a better way to deal with his problems. He had.
Building Diamond Enterprises from the ground up gave him direction and purpose. It gave him a sense that he could master anything in his life.
But, being faced with the threat of the furious husband, it caused him to tumble backward last night. Drake refused to admit how close he was to throwing all caution to the wind and confronting the guy and his goons.
And then he’d discovered his prospective client happened to be D.W.’s son from his first marriage. The only child from the beloved wife he lost to cancer, Drake recalled the stories in that charged moment.
Fighting and winning against him and the goons meant jeopardizing so much more.
On the brink of losing everything he’d built, Drake called himself off the cliff and plunged into another very dangerous territory.
Far more dangerous than he’d ever been before.
Heather Talbert.
Somehow she must have heard his thoughts; for she stretched gracefully and sighed in her sleep. Had she moaned or was that him?
A delicious curl of desire tugged, low and deep.
He wanted her.
Always had.
Drake had put the brakes on it before he’d wrapped up his interview with her over two years ago. His growing company needed her more than his passionate thoughts undressed her or imagined bedding her. Or so he convinced himself.
On the outside, Diamond Enterprises had shone. He made certain of it. However, running things, keeping it all straight, just wasn’t his forte. Ever the salesman, Drake leaned on his strengths. One of those was surrounding himself with the right people.
The moment Heather walked in, he knew she was special. Her enthusiasm and ideas sparked something new and awe-inspiring in him. And she made him laugh at himself.
“Heather Talbert, you and I are going to make a great team,” he repeated what he’d said that day. This time it was personal though.
Now, if only he could get this part right.
He had a snowball’s chance in hell if she didn’t sign up for the deal he conjured up through the long hours of watching her.
***
In her dreams, she kissed him. Long and wet and wild. His hands were big and warm… “Drake,” she whispered, slowly coming awake to find him there, sitting on the edge of the bed. His bed!
“Mrs. Diamond?” he teased. His grin inched higher.
She gasped. “You can’t be serious.” Her heart skipped a beat as she gazed into his sinful, twinkling brown eyes.
He leaned down and dropped a light kiss on the tip of her nose. “You’re adorable when you sleep.”
The flush began at her toes and worked its way up. “You were watching me?” She tugged the front of his shirt closed and wished she’d had a blanket.
He shifted, surprising her when he joined her. The length of his tall body pressed into her side. Heat suffused her.
“You don’t want me.”
His chuckle teased at the butterflies fluttering in her belly. “Who says?” He brushed the hair off her cheek.
“Are you still trying to seal the deal?” she asked softly, reaching out to touch his bare chest. Her fingertips grazed him and he sucked in a sharp breath.
“Is it working?”
“No. Yes.” Was she still dreaming? Because surely this couldn’t be real.
“It’s me here—”
“Wrong. It’s Drake Diamond. The real estate developer.” Something hollow grew behind her ribs.
“The salesman?” He sighed and then rolled to his back, bringing her with him.
She nestled into him, her head on his shoulder. Tentatively, she placed a shaky hand on
his bare chest. His heartbeat drummed underneath her palm.
“You wouldn’t like the real me.”
“Ha! I’m not even sure if I like the fake you.” She giggled, destroying her credibility.
His soft chuckle caught. “I want a family.”
“And?” she prompted. But his silence spoke volumes. “Not so much a wife.”
“I’m not sure if I’m good at relationships.”
“You’re not. Look at how bad ours is right now.”
The rumble in his chest grew until they both burst out laughing.
“If it helps, my family sucks. Divorce does that. Awkward.”
He went still.
“Surely you knew this about me.” Hadn’t he?
“I think I did…”
Heather gulped hard and shoved away, sitting up.
“It’s not like it’s going to matter, right? Playacting might be a stretch for you. But this fake engagement is the perfect scenario for both of us. We get Grant to sign on and he gets the top-of-the-line assistance from the boss’s pretend fiancée. I grow my business to even more mega-dom. And, Heather dear, you get a big promotion along with an even bigger bonus. Everyone wins. Brilliant move.”
Fake? Something sharp and painful rushed through her. Disappointment? Or more like a crushing blow? “Wow! Can anyone say crash and burn?”
***
Heather scrambled into the quiet, serene Charmings Wedding Boutique, smiling tightly at the sweet, older receptionist who waved her through to the back. Having to put the ripped orange-peachy bridesmaid dress back on and hail a taxi outside of Drake’s apartment building yesterday morning could go down as her most embarrassing walk of shame ever.
Oh, that was on top of dragging a very unwilling guy into a closet at the wedding, holding him hostage while throwing him against the wall, and having him hate it.
Not to be mistaken with the other one, where Drake walked in on her.
And the one where he found her all squashed up and hiding in the limo and planting a devastatingly awesome kiss on her lips.
Right down to waking up and still crushing on him while he didn’t even recall her family circumstances. Did he even know anything about her outside of work?
Wait, it got much worse! The last one where he innocently dropped a bomb in the air and it exploded in her face and demolished her incredibly warped idea that maybe they could actually become a couple. A real one. Fake engagement?! So nice of Drake to let her know. Snark.
Heat whooshed in her cheeks, burning her there, as she ran smack-dab into Rico, the dashing wedding coordinator.
“Oh la la! Look at you! Smudges under your eyes and wearing a blush, too! Did we have a spectacular night or two with a certain someone?” Rico clapped his hands. “Do dish!”
Heather groaned and then shoved the garment bag at him. “Can you destroy this hideous thing? Nothing but bad luck.”
“Spill, spill! I love a juicy story.” He hefted the bag over one shoulder and tucked his other hand through her arm, steering her toward the upstairs dressing rooms.
“Over before it started.” Why did she even admit it?
“Ew! Like premature over?” He grimaced.
“Not that!” She chuckled, swatting him on the arm. “Thanks for making me laugh; I needed that.”
“Anytime, sweetie. Tell Uncle Rico your troubles. I don’t charge a dime for this.”
“Why do I think the price is so much higher, though?” She shot him a grin.
“Cheeky! I likee.”
Coming around the corner, she stopped in her tracks at the row upon row of wedding dresses hanging on racks.
“Remember? Charity wedding extravaganza? Next weekend? You, Lacey, and Ashley helping King’s? Girl, you are not backing out on me now!”
“Forgot.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. Wedding dresses! She so wanted one. The marriage and the family, too. Don’t let Lacey and Ash know I hate the single’s pact. But Drake’s pretend proposal came due to coercion. So she would get to savor the stinging humiliation later.
Rico snapped his fingers in front of her. “Earth to Heather! Come back. I’ve got a couple of dozen beauts for you to try on and you can unload your troubles. Deal?”
“Would you marry your boss?” she blurted out. Why even go there? That is not even a serious offer on the table.
“Mine? As if! Love Charlie, but seriously. A girl? And Griff, he’s too manly for me and married to one of my besties. Nope. That’s an H to the hell no for me. You?” He smiled. “Oh, Drake the Rake is such a hottie. Now, that, yeah, I’d marry.”
She followed his cue and went through the motions of selecting a few dresses and scooted in a dressing room. “Where’s Lacey and Ash?” Her two friends were missing in action.
“The divine Miss Ashley is talking business with the aforementioned bosses. Lace, on her way, I pray.”
All she had was the man in front of her. “He asked me to marry him while he was in a compromising position.” She left out the embarrassing part of it not even being real.
“No way! Like, in bed compromising. Oh, this just gets better and better. You’re not pregs, are you?”
“Again, not that!” Her cheeks scorched with heat.
“Hey, a guy can hope, right? Lift,” he instructed as he dragged up her shirt and undressed her.
“Wait, what are you doing?”
“Hurrying this along.” He tsked and motioned for her to shuck off the rest of her things. He held up a gorgeous pure white ballgown wedding dress with beading on the corset-like top.
“What should I do?” She slid into the gown and waited for him to tie up the back.
“You look like a white pumpkin.”
“Thanks. A bunch.” Sarcasm dripped from every word.
“You’re a hoot! Honestly, you’re too short for this.”
“About Drake,” she mumbled as he yanked the clips off and peeled this dress down. “You don’t waste time, do you?”
“Do you love him?” He threw the gown over his arm and helped her get into the next one.
Images and memories of him over the last two years blasted through her mind like flash cards. Her heart squeezed at the little slices of vulnerability he allowed to come through when they were working late and alone. The moments when he’d glance up and capture her stare made her breath shudder even now.
“Girl, if you’re taking that long to answer…”
“I do,” she whispered, her teeth gnawing on her bottom lip. “It’s just that—” She tried to form the words. “I don’t think he does.”
There, she’d said it. It sat, big and bold and heavy. It pulsed in the air.
“Sorry, where were we?” She shimmed into the next dress.
“Problemo, sweetie.”
“I know, right?” She struggled to pull the tight garment over her hips. “What size is this anyway?”
“Not the gown. You. Him. Can you walk away?” The unexpected tenderness in his voice tore a hole through her.
Could she?
Chapter 6
Armed with determination, Drake waited for Heather to finish in the bridal room. For over an hour now, he roamed the lower level, overhearing the dramas of brides-to-be and the dilemma of finding the perfect wedding dress.
Fathers groaned at the prices and mothers upped the ante. Friends or siblings chimed in with their two cents’ worth. Harried assistants kept their cools and returned with more options.
“Really?” He had no idea it could get this complicated. Thank God he wasn’t doing this for real. Strolling closer to the reception area, he hoped surprising Heather like this would not backfire on him.
For the first time in years, he couldn’t concentrate on work. He’d tried damn hard, holed up in his apartment all day yesterday. No woman had ever done that to him before. Great, a first!
It had to stop. Now. He’d tie things up with Heather and get straight to the office. By the number of missed calls, he was certain he was needed. Must g
et cell phone fixed first. Business came above all else in his life. She knew that. That was a plus in his book.
A niggling thought poked him. So why hadn’t he bothered to get his phone repaired or buy a new one, check his messages, and dive back in? Heather!
“Well, if it ain’t Drake the Rake!” The woman from the weekend wedding at the Westbrooke Museum with the clipboard cornered him. “Hey, pal,” she smacked him on the arm, “don’t tell me you’re getting hitched.”
“I won’t.” He grinned at her. “Peg, right?”
“Holy moly! Why, with all the women throwing themselves at you, who’d have thought you could remember names?”
“You’re funny.”
“I know.” The tall lady snickered. Pointing a thumb over her shoulder, she asked, “Which one is yours?”
Why not play along? The more people who thought this was a true relationship, the better for his business and getting Grant to sign on the dotted line. Thoughts of Heather rushed back. A sense of pride stole over him. “Upstairs.”
Peg stuck out her forefinger, her middle finger, and then her ring finger as if counting and muttering under her breath. “Lacey. Nope. Ashley. Nope. Heather. No—”
“That’s it. The last one.”
“HT? She got an O for a middle name, so then she’d be HOT? Get it?” She smacked him on the arm again. “Hey, but I guess you know that already. Son of a gun, you got a real girlfriend. Wonders never cease.”
“Should I thank you for that?” He chuckled. It stuck halfway.
“Word on the street is you’re a playboy. Charming—hey, get it—you’re at Charmings Wedding Boutique now. Anyway, I hear you’re a ladies’ man. Most guys like that been scorched, crispy critter style.”
He eyed her. It felt like she reached down and yanked out his demons.
“I’m off the market.” It wasn’t that difficult to say, even if it were a lie.
“Official? You sure about that?” With her pencil poised over a page on her clipboard, she searched his features.
“She’s mine. I’m hers.”
“Drake?” Heather’s voice caught. “Do you mean it?”
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