“Are you sure? The other night…”
“That was then. Now I’m ready and I don’t want to wait any longer.”
He was ready too, but first things first. With his eyes focused on hers, he slipped off his unknotted tie and shrugged out of his shirt. The belt, pants and everything else followed until the only stitch of clothing on the two of them were those pink panties. Stepping back between her thighs, he put a condom on the counter and let his hands glide up her outer thighs to her lace-covered hip. “Are these your favorite pair?” he asked.
Francesca shook her head. He was glad. He was at the point of not caring if they were. He’d order ten pair to replace them tomorrow. His fingers grasped the fabric and gave it a hard tug. There was a loud rip, and the panties gave way as scraps in his hands.
At last. Her beautiful nude body was on full display in front of him. This time there was no power restoration to interrupt them, no reason for them to hold back.
Liam placed one forearm across the small of her back and used the other to press down on her chest until she was lying across the breakfast bar. He leaned over her and his lips joined both hands as they made their way over her breasts and down her stomach. His mouth left a searing trail down her belly, pausing at her hip bone as one hand sought out the moist heat between her thighs.
Francesca gasped and squirmed against him. Her back arched off the counter, her hands clawing futilely at the cold stone beneath her. She was ready for him, and as much as he wanted to take his time, he had to have her now. They had all night to savor one another.
Slipping on the condom, Liam gripped her hips and entered her in one, quick movement. Sinking into her hot, welcoming body was a pleasure he’d rarely experienced before. A bolt of sensation, like lightning, shot down his spine and exploded down his arms and legs, making his fingertips tingle where he touched her. He gritted his teeth, balancing on the edge of control as he eased out, then buried deep inside her again.
Francesca pushed herself up, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. Pressing her bare breasts against his chest, she whispered, “Take me,” into his ear, flicking the lobe with her tongue.
Gripping at her back and pulling her so close to the edge she might fall without his hold, he did as he was told. He filled her again and again, losing himself in her until she cried out with pleasure and his legs began to shake. It was only then that he let go. Moving quickly, he gave in to the sensation of her body wrapped around his own and flowed into her with a deep growl of long-awaited satisfaction.
Seven
Francesca rolled over and snuggled into her blanket, opening her eyes only when a weight kept the covers from moving the way she wanted. The sunlight was streaming in through her bedroom window, illuminating the wide, bare back of Liam beside her.
What had she done?
She’d had a night of fantastic, passionate sex with her fake fiancé—that’s what she’d done. Giving up on the blanket, she moved slowly onto her back, hoping not to wake him. She wasn’t quite ready to face the morning after with the man she wasn’t going to marry.
She glanced under the sheet at her nude body and cursed that she didn’t think to slip into something once it was over. Bringing her hand up to her head, she swallowed a groan. This situation was complicated enough. Feigning an engagement wasn’t for the faint of heart. Had she really added sex to the mix? On her kitchen counter, of all places? It was a good thing she didn’t cook.
Now things were going to go from complicated to downright tricky. Liam was her boss. Her pretend fiancé. She had no business sleeping with either, much less both. And yet she was undeniably attracted to him. She couldn’t help it.
He was handsome, wealthy, powerful…. He had a wicked sense of humor and a boyish smile that made her heart melt a little when he looked at her. And most important, he cared about his employees. They’d gotten off on the wrong foot over the budget, but that issue aside, she respected him for what he was doing. She respected him even more for the lengths he was willing to go to protect the network.
Liam was just the kind of man she could fall for—and hard. The only problem was that he wasn’t the kind of man that would feel the same about her.
Francesca took relationships seriously. She wasn’t one for flings, despite losing her sense in the elevator, and she certainly didn’t make a habit of sleeping with men when she didn’t see any relationship potential.
She wanted a marriage like her parents had. Victor and Donatella Orr had been married thirty years. When she was growing up, they’d set a good example of what a relationship should be. They argued, but they compromised and never held grudges. They were affectionate and understanding. They allowed each other their space, yet were always certain to spend quality time together as a family and as a couple.
At twenty-seven, Francesca had yet to run across a man she could have that kind of relationship with. Some were too clingy; others were too self-absorbed. Some were quick-tempered or arrogant. Then there were the kind like Liam—work-focused dreamers who looked at marriage as something they’d do later. They indulged in a variety of women, never taking anything but their jobs seriously. They were the kind of men who would wake up at fifty and realize they had missed out on their chance for a family unless they could find a willing younger woman with a fondness for expensive gifts.
Despite being engaged to Liam, he was the last man on Earth she would marry. And that’s why she knew sleeping with him was a mistake. As a passionate woman, she put her heart in everything she did. But she couldn’t put her heart into this. She couldn’t look at her engagement ring and their portrait together and imagine it was anything more than a well-crafted fantasy.
Francesca turned to look at Liam as he grumbled in his sleep and rolled onto his back. The blankets fell across his torso, his hard, muscular chest exposed to the early-morning sunlight. She wanted to run her fingertip along the ridges of his muscles and bury her hands in the patch of dark hair across his chest. She wanted to reach under the covers and wake him up in the most pleasant way possible.
This sure didn’t feel like a business arrangement.
Turning away, she spied her robe hanging on the knob of her closet door. Easing silently out of bed, she snatched the silk wrap off the handle and slid into it. She gave another glance to Liam, still sleeping, and slipped out of the room.
Downstairs, she found she could breathe a little easier. At least until she saw the scraps of her pink underwear on the kitchen floor. She snatched them off the tile and dumped them in the trash, and then went around gathering other bits of their clothing. She tossed the pile onto her sofa and went to the front door to pick up the paper. Laying it onto the kitchen table, she decided to make coffee. The caffeine would help her think so she could sort all this out.
The last few drops were falling into the pot when she heard Liam’s shuffling footsteps across her hardwood floors. A moment later, he appeared in the kitchen wearing nothing but the suit pants she’d just gathered up.
“Morning,” she said, pouring a cup for both of them.
“You snuck out on me,” Liam complained, his voice still a touch low and rough with sleep. He ran his fingers through his messy hair and frowned at her with displeasure.
“I promised you coffee last night,” she explained. “I had to come down here and make it so it was ready when you woke up.” That sounded much better than saying she’d gotten weirded out and had to leave. “How do you take it?”
“One cream, one sugar,” he said, sitting at the small round table in her breakfast nook. He unfolded the paper and started scanning the articles, oblivious to the nerves that had driven her to the kitchen.
Francesca busied herself making their coffee and grabbed a box of pastries from the counter. She set the two mugs and the carton on the table and plucked two napkins from the container in the center of the table. “Breakfast is served.”
“Thank you,” he said, looking up from the paper. “Our party m
ade the society pages in the Sunday edition.” Liam slid the section with their photo across the table to her. “I should clip it out and send it to the Queen Bee.”
“I’m sure she hated missing it. My friends throw parties even she couldn’t find fault with. Oh—” Francesca said, pausing to take a sip of her hot drink. That had reminded her of the important information she hadn’t shared with Liam yet. “I forgot to tell you that Ariella said yes.”
Liam looked up from the paper. “Ariella said yes to what?”
“I got a chance to talk to her at the party about the televised reunion show. I can’t fathom why, but she’s agreed to do it if the president is willing.”
Liam’s eyes grew wide, and he folded the paper back up as he grinned. “That’s excellent. Wow. How could you forget to tell me something like that? We’ve been together since the party.”
Francesca looked at him over her cup with an arched eyebrow. “Yes. We were together all night. And highly occupied, if you recall.”
Liam grinned. “Indeed, we were. It’s just as well because there was nothing I could do about it last night.” He picked a pastry out of the box and set it on his napkin, sucking some icing from his thumb. “Well, now you’ll need to contact the White House press secretary to see if President Morrow will participate.”
“Me?”
“Yes. I told you that you would be in charge of the event. That means the ball is in your court.”
“The Youth in Crisis gala is Saturday night. I’ve got my hands full with that.”
“I have every confidence,” he said with a meaningful gaze, “that you can handle everything I’m giving you and more. It’s likely the ball won’t really get rolling on the show until after the gala, and you just need to get White House buy-in. By the time everything is in place, the show will probably air in June.”
Francesca could handle June. “I’ll call over there Monday morning,” she agreed. Part of her hoped the president and his staff would see what a bad idea this was. She knew it would mean good ratings, and maybe a boost in public opinion for ANS, but it felt wrong. If she had been adopted, she didn’t think she’d want those first reunion moments captured for the world to see.
“Sounds great.” Liam set aside the folded paper and reached his hand across the table to rest on hers. “Thank you for asking her. I know you felt uncomfortable about it.”
“It’s Ariella’s decision to make, not mine. If she thinks it’s the right choice, far be it for me to tell her no. It’s her life.”
“I think you’ll do a great job running the show. I know it isn’t something you’ve handled at the network before, but you’ll do a bang-up job. Everything has been so crazy since I started at ANS, but I really believe that we can bring this network back. If all goes well, I’ll get absolute control of the stock and we can end the fake engagement. The exclusive with the president and his daughter will earn us Brownie points and market share for our time slot. I know I can rebuild this network—with your help. So thank you for everything you’ve done so far.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” she said, fidgeting with her coffee mug. A lot of pieces had to click together for these miracle scenarios to work out. And deep in her heart, Francesca worried that eventually, things would start to go awry.
*
Monday morning, Francesca breezed into Liam’s office without Jessica’s usual announcement. He looked up from his computer as she entered and a wide grin broke out across his face. He should be smiling after the weekend they’d spent together. “I see you’re enjoying the new privileges of being the owner’s bride-to-be.”
“Exclusive access, anytime,” she said with a grin.
Liam was glad to see her relaxed and happy. At first, he wasn’t sure they could pull this off. Liam would never admit to that out loud; this had to work or he’d lose the network. And he knew Francesca had her own worries. She wore every emotion on her face. But after their time together this weekend, he was certain they both had sunnier outlooks on the arrangement. The lines of doubt were no longer wrinkling her brow, replaced with a contented smile that suited her much better.
Francesca set a to-go cup of coffee and a bag of Italian breakfast cookies in front of him. She was going to get him addicted to those things and he’d never be able to find them without her help.
“Grande drip with one cream, one sugar,” she announced.
“Just how I like it,” he said, turning in his chair to give her a hello kiss.
Francesca leaned into him but pulled away before his hands roamed too far. As much as it annoyed him to not be able to touch her when and where he wanted, he understood. Their relationship might be for the sake of the company, but public displays of affection at the office were a little much. She sat down in the guest chair with her own cup.
“Have you called the White House yet?” he asked.
“It’s nine in the morning and I just handed you a hot, fresh coffee from the bakery. No. I haven’t been to my office yet.”
“Okay, sorry,” he said, taking a sip. “You know I’m excited to move this plan forward.”
“I know. I’ll call once I get to my desk. Hopefully it won’t take very long. I have a million things to wrap up this week before the gala on Saturday.”
Liam nodded, but the details of the event didn’t really interest him. The gala was really just a blip on his radar. And they were only doing it because she had agreed to be his fiancée. He couldn’t have justified the expense given the state of the network. As it was, every mention of centerpieces and orchestras made dollar signs run through his mind.
“Now about the gala,” she continued. “I’ve got most everything in place. Ticket sales have gone well and our sponsorship will see to it that it’s the best year we’ve had yet. You’ll need to make sure your tuxedo goes to the cleaners.”
Liam made a note on his blotter so he wouldn’t forget to ask Jessica about that later. “Check.”
“And write a speech.”
“What’s that?” Liam looked up, his brow furrowed. He didn’t like public speaking. As a matter of fact, he hated it. Avoided it at all costs and had since prep school debate class. Not even his aunt’s declaration of mandatory matrimony made his stomach turn the way approaching a crowd of people with a microphone could do. There was a reason he preferred to be behind the camera instead of in front of it.
“As the major event sponsor, it’s your job to give the evening’s welcome speech and encourage everyone to donate well and often.”
“I don’t remember Graham ever doing that.” He tried to remember the times he’d gone. Maybe Graham did speak, but Liam was far too interested in his date for the evening to pay much attention. “Shouldn’t that be the responsibility of the Youth in Crisis people?”
Francesca’s red lips turned up with a touch of amusement. He must look like a damn deer in the headlights. “They do speak but not for long. Graham did it every year. And without bellyaching, I might add.”
Liam grumbled under his breath and made another note to write a speech. This wasn’t in their original agreement, but he could make concessions. Sleeping with him wasn’t in their agreement either, but that had worked out splendidly. He would get something out of this. “Fine. I’ll write a speech. But you’ll have to go out to dinner with me tonight then.”
“Why?”
Liam leaned across the desk, his most seductive gaze focused on her. “Because I’m going to ply you with sushi and expensive sake, and once you’re drunk, I’m going to…talk you into letting me off the hook or writing the speech for me.”
Francesca laughed. “I’m no speechwriter. But you do have several in your employ. I suggest you bribe them instead.”
That wasn’t a bad idea. Being a media mogul had its perks. If only he could get one of his news anchors to deliver the speech, too. He made another note on his blotter. “Does that mean you don’t want to have sushi with me tonight?”
“I do. And I will. But first I have a president to ca
jole and a charity ball to throw.” She got up from her chair and leaned down to give him a goodbye kiss.
This time, because they were alone, Liam wasn’t about to let her get away with just a peck. When she leaned down to him, he quickly reached for her and tugged her waist to him. She stumbled in her heels and fell into his lap. He clamped his arms around her so she couldn’t get away.
Before she could complain, his lips found hers. He really enjoyed kissing her. He enjoyed kissing women in general, but there was something about Francesca’s lips that beckoned him to return to them as soon as he could. Maybe it was the way she clung to him. Or the soft sighs and moans against his mouth. Maybe it was the taste of her—like a sweet, creamy sip of coffee. But he couldn’t get enough of her.
Francesca indulged him for as long as she could, then pulled away. “I’ve got to get to work,” she insisted, untangling herself from his arms. She straightened her skirt and rubbed her fingers along the edge of her lips to check for smeared lipstick.
“You look beautiful,” he assured her. And she did. Dressed up, not dressed at all, perfectly styled or fresh from bed. He liked it all.
Liam wanted to tug her into his lap again and maybe make better use of his desk than he had since he’d moved into this office. But Francesca wouldn’t hear of it—he could tell. As it was, that kiss guaranteed she would be on his mind all day. He probably wouldn’t be able to focus on anything until after dinner, when he could get his hands on her again. But it had been worth it.
“You can flatter me all you want, but you’re not getting out of this speech, Liam.” She pulled away and sauntered out of his office, closing his door behind her.
Liam sat in his chair for a moment after she left. If he breathed deeply, the scent of her rose perfume still lingered in his office. Was there anything about this woman he didn’t like?
He thought for a moment, then shook his head. Not yet. He’d been physically attracted to her the moment he laid eyes on her, but getting to know her had made the attraction that much stronger. She was beautiful. And smart. And thoughtful.
A Very Exclusive Engagement Page 8
