Can't Buy Me Love

by Rin Daniels

  Adam tipped his head. “Okay. Noted.”

  She’d half expected him to argue with her. That he didn’t gave her pause. “Noted as in you heard me?” she asked. “Or as in you let me talk and now you don’t care?”

  He grinned. “Which would you prefer?”

  “To be heard.”

  “Then I heard you,” he replied without missing a beat. “I’ll refrain from ordering for you in the future.”

  That seemed suspiciously easy. “How did you even know what I wanted?” she asked, unfolding her napkin to lay over her lap. The air conditioner blew gently, ruffling Adam’s hair as he did the same.

  He didn’t look up as he said, “You said seafood Portofino was your favorite dish.”

  “No, I—” When his eyes met hers again, drilled down to a focus so fine it took her breath away, she remembered.

  Five years ago. MacKinnon’s wasn’t here, or she didn’t know about it. They’d preferred open air cafes to restaurants, and when they didn’t feel like going out, they stayed in at Adam’s apartment.

  It had taken place in his kitchen. He hadn’t known much about cooking, and what she knew then could be bottled down to easy pasta recipes and tacos. She’d been seated on his counter, bare legs swinging as he obediently chopped cilantro. They’d been talking about, oh, everything. Those early stages of a relationship so fragile, she’d all but held her breath through it.

  And when she had reached over to pluck a fleck of cilantro from his chin, he’d trapped her against the counter and made her forget about food. About her identity. About everything but him, and the questions he’d peppered against her skin. I want to know everything about you.

  Afraid the magic would end, she’d only given him the bits that wouldn’t blow her game.

  And for all that, even five years later, Adam had remembered an off-hand comment. A shuddered answer between the gasps his fingers coaxed from her.

  What else did he remember?

  Her heart fluttered in her chest.

  Stop it. He was a business man, an entrepreneur. She suspected he kept lists of everyone’s likes and dislikes. His secretary probably reminded him before every meeting.

  Or date.

  The thought of Adam seated across from other women, in other settings, twisted something mean and spiteful in her stomach.

  They’d be pretty and polished and from his world. They’d wear dresses that didn’t come from the clearance rack at a department store, and heels that anyone would recognize from a runway show.

  They wouldn’t be ex-felons.

  Kat reached for the wine their unobtrusive waitress delivered and took a healthy swallow.

  “What’s wrong?”

  By sheer habit, she gave him a breezy smile. “Nothing.”

  A smooth voice drifted from cleverly concealed speakers, crooning about a man who’d done wrong. Adam braced his elbows on the table. “What were you thinking about? Your mouth just did this little flirty downward line before you tried to razzle-dazzle me.”

  Kat huffed out a laugh. “Why is it you think a frown is flirty?”

  “I’m contrary.”

  “You’re totally backwards.”

  “That, too.” He leaned back to give the waitress a place to put the bread basket and pats of warmed, soft honey butter. Though he gave her a smile of thanks, his words—and his eyes—remained for Kat. “Were you sitting there thinking that you shouldn’t be here with me?”

  Yes. But probably not for the reasons he thought.

  But if she explained that, she’d be the one to open the door to the past, and she didn’t want to go there, either.

  She broke off a bit of bread and said hastily, “I was just thinking that this music is full of heartbreak and cheating.”

  His mouth tipped. His amusement, dry as it was, made him even more gorgeous. She didn’t have to look to know that other women had noticed that, too.

  She fought the urge to shrink into her chair.

  “You think it’s a sign?” he asked, mock-serious.

  “No.” A beat, and she shrugged a shoulder. The light caught on the beaded stripes. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” He sipped at his wine, cocking his head as if it’d help him hear better.

  Kat watched the way his throat worked as he swallowed. As he talked.

  “I hear heartbreak and nostalgia,” he said. “But you know what else I hear?”

  Would he taste the same as he did back then? Feel the same?

  “What?” she asked throatily.

  He lowered his stare to her face. Touched on her lips. “I hear sex. The kind that scorches the sheets and leaves both parties scarred forever, even after it ends.” His voice deepened. Roughened. “You know?”

  Oh, God, she knew. But acknowledging that meant acknowledging the betrayal she’d handed him five years ago, and she didn’t have a direction to steer this. Not without delving into her world, or his.

  Kat didn’t want him to think she was here because of his money. She wasn’t.

  But saying so would net her nothing but more suspicion.

  Sex? Sex was a good angle.

  Always, with the angles.

  She tore her gaze from his, peered into the pale contents of her glass. White wine for the seafood, she understood. She didn’t know a lot about these things, but she remembered something like that.

  “Kat, you know I—”

  “I thought about you a lot,” she blurted.

  He froze in his chair, shoulders locking. Very carefully, his hands came down to rest on the table’s surface. “You did.”

  Not phrased as a question, but she knew it was.

  She nodded, cheeks heating. The spike of awareness she felt simmered all the way to her belly. Even lower.

  She remembered a lot more than she wanted to. Or had wanted to, in the intervening years. Now she wondered how much about him had changed.

  “I mean,” she said, then had to clear her suddenly too-dry throat. “Sexually speaking.”

  His jaw hardened, an edge carved into his sudden stillness. “Sexually speaking.” A rasped echo.

  Kat almost laughed, except it wasn’t funny. The way he stared at her, fiery gaze pinned on her face, left her nowhere to hide. Or think.

  “You know, instead of—” Instead of his money? She let go of her glass to cover her face with one hand. “God. They make this look easier in the movies.”

  “Tell me.”

  Her hand jerked. Slipped over her mouth as she asked, wide-eyed, “Tell you what?”

  “Everything.” He leaned back in his chair, a stain of color on his cheekbones. That lazy curve that touched one side of his mouth did nothing to soften the things his husky demand did to her. “Did you go out with anyone else after me?”

  Her eyebrows rose, even as she took in a shaky breath. “Is this the part of a date where we drop all that courtesy crap?”

  “I dated women,” he said, as if she hadn’t ignored the question. “I imagined you did.”

  She blinked. “Date women?”

  Adam’s smile flitted through the heavy-lidded burn of his eyes. “Men, mostly, but you can tell me if you dated any women.” She wanted to laugh. She couldn’t get enough oxygen for it. “Five years didn’t change anything, Kat. Not where this is concerned. I want to know everything about you.”

  The words echoed with her memories, threw five years of emptiness between them. The blood drained from her head. She reached for her glass with a shaking hand.

  What should she say this time?

  She looked into the wine. “I dated men.”

  “Good.” He reached over, clinked his glass gently against hers. The wine in her hand sloshed. “I like experienced women.”

  Holy hell, she was going to drown in her drink. She took a deep swallow, in vague hopes she’d do just that.

  He watched her. “How much of what you told me was a lie, Kat?”

  “Now?”

  “Then,” he replied. “I’m tr
usting you, right now.”

  She swallowed with effort. “My name.” Kat breathed a shuddering laugh, cradling her glass against her chest before it tilted over. “Most of where I grew up, and my parents’ jobs.”

  “And me?”

  “I didn’t lie about you,” she said fiercely. “I liked you.” Still did, but she wasn’t ready to go there.

  His eyes drilled into hers, made her feel like he reached across the table and peeled back all her secrets. Exposed her for what she was.

  A scam artist afraid she wasn’t anything else.

  “Tell me what the end goal was,” he said quietly.

  “Money.” The word felt dirty on her lips. She looked away, caught herself and forced her gaze back to his. She owed him that much. “At first, my family thought it’d be great if I could make you like me. I mean, who doesn’t want a rich in-law?”

  Adam’s throat worked as he swallowed. “And that night in my car?”

  It took her a moment to realize what he asked. Kat flinched. “I was never expected to sleep with you for money. They never told me to do it. I just...” Her voice stalled, caught on a dry rasp.

  He set his napkin on the table. “Wanted me?”

  No use denying it now. He’d already seen how easily she responded to him. Kat nodded. “Pretty much from the moment I met you.”

  “You could have told me.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You could have told me everything about your parents.”

  She laughed. It strained on the verge of disbelief. “Seriously?”

  His gaze snapped. “I would have given them money without the lies.”

  Without the betrayal.

  Shame filled her. For her role in that, and for the secrets she still sat on. He could say all he wanted, the fact of the matter was, no amount would have satisfied Jack and Barbara Harris. She shook her head. “That’s sweet, but—”

  “Any amount,” he said quietly.

  The intensity shaping his taut expression went straight to her heart. Worse, to her sensitive bits. The same bits he’d put his mouth on.

  She downed the last half of her wine.

  His chuckle scraped across her skin. “So you thought about me. Tell me what about. What you remembered when you were alone in the dark.”

  She clamped her bare thighs together. “No way.”

  “Did you remember how we couldn’t keep our hands off each other?”

  “No,” she persisted, shaking her head. She propped her chin on her palm, using her fingers to mask the color she knew bloomed on her burning cheeks. “We’re in public.”

  His smile tugged wider. “That didn’t stop you before.”

  If she caught on fire, it would be his fault.

  He moved his wine to the side. “If we weren’t in public,” he asked, “would you tell me?”

  She shook her head, embarrassment throbbing through veins that now seemed too sluggish.

  Every part of her warmed.

  Challenge lit his features to a wicked glow. “Is that a dare?”

  Kat’s lips parted. “Maybe.” Her voice purred, a low sultry invite she didn’t remember giving herself permission to make. But now that it was out, laid out like a gauntlet between them, she didn’t want to take it back.

  His chin lifted, head tipped back like she’d surprised him. Then he grinned. Slow, deliberate.

  Hungry.

  “Here we go,” the waitress began, only to halt in confusion when Adam stood, digging into his pocket. Kat managed half a protest that he ignored, plucking a few bills free from a matte leather wallet.

  The waitress stared at the cash, eyebrows high as he laid it on her platter. Two plates of seafood Portofino steamed gently. “Wrap it up,” Adam said. He reached around the table, caught Kat by the wrist. “I’ll send someone to get it.”

  “Wait, but—!”

  “Adam,” Kat hissed, horrified as he pulled her firmly to the exit.

  More than a few eyes pinned on their wake.

  “I’ll make it up to you,” he said without looking back. An edge had entered his voice, a velvet rasp that made her shiver. “There’s no way in hell I’m letting this pass by me.”

  Kat was pretty sure she blushed all the way to her knees. The hostess didn’t try to hide her laughter as the door closed behind them.

  The wind had picked up, sweeping through the narrow alley with a sigh of rustled foliage. It did nothing for the heat boiling inside her.

  He didn’t pause until he’d guided her away from the restaurant lights. The cute little shopping center had been built with nostalgia in mind, relying on wrought iron fixtures and lots of trellises to take advantage of the usually warm weather. Flowers bloomed everywhere, gates between shops hung with honeysuckle vines and morning glory. The fragrance of the square was thick and heady, dulling Kat’s already fuzzy sense of right and wrong.

  On the one hand, she probably shouldn’t have let Adam walk them out of there before they ate. Or let him pay. That was part of the deal.

  On the other, he stopped in the middle of the path and captured her face in both hands. “Sorry,” he said tightly. His features remained shrouded in shadow, but his voice trembled. “Can’t wait.”

  “Wait?” she managed.

  “Kiss,” he replied. “You. I want to kiss you. Right now, Kat.”

  His breath touched her lips. She blinked. “Here?”

  “Here.”

  Kat’s fingers touched the material of his button-down. Soft, crisp. They tucked into the open collar.

  Skimmed over his throat.

  Warm.

  Her heart launched a rapid-fire beat she couldn’t breathe through.

  Oh, God. It had been too long.

  “Kat,” he whispered. Another question.

  How did she know that?

  Because she knew him. Only a little, but it was enough.

  “Okay,” she answered.

  With a hard groan, Adam cradled her head and drew her mouth to his. It wasn’t as deep as she’d expected right away, not as punishing as she felt she deserved.

  But it lingered.

  His lips brushed against hers, rubbed gently and hitched. She darted her tongue against his lower lip.

  The fingers in her hair tightened.

  A couple of girls hastened past them, giggling behind their hands.

  He drew back. “Yeah,” he breathed out. Her eyes had adjusted somewhat to the dim lighting illuminating MacKinnon’s secret path. His gaze reflected back the light in a wash of whiskey and gold. “Come with me, Kat.”

  Her head spun. “Where?”

  “There’s a hotel across the center.” He laced his fingers with hers. Like it was normal. Natural.

  Him, a wealthy entrepreneur, and the daughter of the con artist who’d tried to scam him.

  Kat stared at their joined hands.

  Her body demanded she agree. Go with him, jump his bones like she’d wanted to the second she saw him again in that dimly lit party and ride him all the way home to fantasy island.

  Her brain wondered if she’d had too much wine.

  A single glass? Not even close enough for a buzz. That was all him.

  “Maybe we should get out of here,” she whispered.

  “Jesus, yes,” he growled, and pulled her the wrong direction down the path.

  “Adam, wait, that’s not—” She caught at his arm, and he swore something she suspected was foul and impatient under his breath. It tickled her, even grabbed her in dangerously sensitive places, that he was so wound up.

  For her.

  He modified his stride. She had a long-legged pace naturally, but in the dark on four-inch heels, she wasn’t feeling all that confident.

  “Shortcut,” he said. An arm slipped around her waist.

  His large hand burned through the thin material of her dress.

  Her sex tightened, and he hadn’t even touched her yet.

  Anticipation coiled through her like a spring already wound too tight.

 
He navigated them through the back alleys she knew because she intended to work in this center. How did he know them?

  “Wait,” she whispered breathlessly.

  Adam halted immediately, letting go of her waist to curl a hand under her elbow instead. A gentlemanly gesture, for all it was way too late for gentlemen. “Are you okay?”

  No. She wasn’t. She was... out of her damn head.

  “Yeah. I just need to catch my breath,” she said, flattening a hand on her chest.

  The breeze felt good on her damp skin. It curled under her skirt, and it felt good there, too, where her body had already responded to her own eagerness. The wet heat trapped against the material of her underwear only made it all feel so much more...dangerous.

  Though frustration pulled his features tight, he let her go—paced three steps away, hands in his pockets like a little boy in trouble, and stared blankly at a wide brick wall with ivy clinging to it in lush green rivulets.

  The lamps the center studded near the single-story rooftops were old-fashioned, cage lights that turned everything into a golden glow. It gilded his hair, his shoulders.

  The side facing of her salon.

  Kat muffled a laugh.

  He turned. “What?” A curt sound, but one modified by the wry smile he gave her. “Don’t tell me how ridiculous this is. I know.”

  “Not even half,” she chuckled, pressing the backs of her fingers against her lips. She gestured to the wall behind him. “That’s mine.”

  “What is?”

  “That store. Salon, really,” she amended.

  His eyebrows climbed. “Yours?”

  She nodded. “I told you I’m going legit, Adam.”

  “But you’re a...” He hesitated. “Hair stylist?”

  “I got my license a year ago.”

  He stared at her, his face half-shadowed and his expression unreadable. Was he surprised? Skeptical?

  She wouldn’t blame him for either.

  She took a breath to ask, but the words died on her lips when another breeze rolled through the corridor. It swept up her legs, caught the filmy material of her skirt and tugged it high.

  She yelped, pushed the unruly material back down over her thighs. “I told you,” she laughed. The wind tugged hard.

  Adam played the role, but he wasn’t a gentleman. His gaze dropped to her legs.