by Lucy Monroe
“No big production?” he asked, sounding very satisfied.
“No, but I’d like my mom and Darren there, and Danette.”
“Done.” He kissed her again and this time they were both disheveled and missing some clothes when they came up for air.
She still had her bra on, but her shirt was gone and his was completely unbuttoned. His tie hung over the back of the couch and his suit jacket was in a crumpled pile on the floor.
He was looking at her like a starving man facing a five-course meal. “I want you.”
She rested against the hard warmth of his chest. “I want you, too.”
“But we’re waiting.”
“Until we’re married?” she asked, an unnamed emotion making her heart squeeze.
“Yes.”
It felt right and she smiled, glad that she’d agreed to marry quickly. She liked the idea he wanted to wait, but she didn’t think either of their self-control could stand up to a long engagement. “We’re going to have one heck of a wedding night.”
“Count on it.”
The buzzer for the front door sounded again.
“Are you expecting anyone else?”
“No.” But she got up.
“This time use the intercom.”
She pressed the gray button, thinking she should have done it before. Never mind it being some deranged criminal, what if Angelo had been a reporter? “Who is it?”
“Tara?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Danette. Can I come up?”
“Of course, hon.” She buzzed the entry lock and then dove for her shirt.
“Button up, Angelo. Danette’s on her way up.”
“Worried if she sees my manly chest she’ll swoon?”
“Maybe.” She winked. “But mostly I don’t want to advertise what we’ve been doing for the last half hour.”
“You’re a conservative little soul, all things considered.”
She shrugged, but bit her lip. “Does that bother you?”
“No. I was raised by a traditional Sicilian woman, you’ve got to remember. Before my father died, she defined the term conservative.”
“I wish I could have met her.”
His eyes clouded over. “Me, too.”
There was a knock on the door and Angelo answered it because he was closer.
Danette stared at him as if she was seeing a ghost. “Mr. Gordon?”
“Angelo. I’ve eaten meat from your barbecue. That puts us on a first name basis.”
At that, Danette’s eyes filled with tears and her fist flew to her mouth, but the sound of a sob escaped.
Tara rushed across the room and threw her arms around her friend. “It’s okay, hon. Truly. We know you didn’t have anything to do with it.”
She wasn’t totally sure about what Angelo believed, but he wasn’t acting all cold and accusatory, for which she was grateful.
“But Ray did.” And then the sobs escalated.
Tara held Danette until she calmed down and stepped away, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief Angelo handed her.
She took a deep breath and then let it out, her eyes wounded pools in her tear ravaged face. “He doesn’t understand why I’m so angry.”
“The idiot. I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. I broke up with him.” Her lip quivered, but she maintained control. “I can’t believe I let myself love that slimeball.”
“Aw, hon…”
Her gaze darted to Angelo. “I quit my job, too. Told Primo Tech what they could do with their management training program after I found out you’d been fired.”
“I’ll get you reinstated,” Angelo said without hesitation.
Danette shook her head. “Thank you, but I need to get away. I’ve lived here all my life and been protected for most of it.” She bit her lip and swallowed. “I want adventure. I thought Ray was it, but I was wrong.”
Tara’s heart broke for her friend.
“Maybe I could help find you something.” Angelo said.
A glimmer of hope sparked in Danette’s eyes. “Seriously? You mean it?”
“Yes.”
“Aren’t you mad at me?”
“You are not responsible for the malicious behavior of your former boyfriend.”
“I’ll never make another scrapbook page again.”
Tara gave her a hug around her shoulders. “Let’s not get hasty. One scheming photographer does not the death of a hobby make.”
Danette gave her a weak smile.
They talked her into staying for dinner. When Angelo discovered she spoke both Spanish and Italian, he said it would be a piece of cake to get her a job abroad if she’d like.
Danette left with a smile on her face, despite the sadness in her eyes.
Tara frowned at the closed door Danette had just walked through. “I’d like to punch Ray right in the nose.”
“I’ve done better than that. I’ve instigated proceedings against him for getting the photo under false pretenses.”
“I doubt the charges will stick.”
“Maybe not, but I’m doing my best to make sure they do and the experience of going to court and having to hire a lawyer to defend his actions definitely will.”
“True.”
“So, about this wedding.”
“Fly to Reno, get married and check into a swank suite for our wedding night?” she asked, more convinced than ever that waiting would be taxing her control on her feminine impulses.
He grinned, his expression more carefree than she’d ever seen it. “We are going to have a very good marriage, stellina. You fit me like a glove.”
Angelo looked around the exclusive wedding chapel with satisfaction. A big wedding was out of the question. Not only would it take too long to prepare, but he didn’t want the publicity that would accompany it to alert Baron Randall of Angelo’s plans to marry Tara.
When he’d seen the innuendo laden articles with pictures of him and Tara kissing, his first thought had been the money he’d paid to bribe Randall’s private detective not to mention his involvement with Tara had been wasted.
The whole flight back to Portland, he’d been worried he would only land to discover Randall had gotten to her first.
Randall hadn’t gotten to her and Angelo was determined he wouldn’t get the chance.
Hence the hasty wedding, but it didn’t have to be a shabby, hole-in-the-wall affair. And it wasn’t.
He’d offered his second in command a way to get back into his good graces…arrange a wedding fit for a princess in less than twenty-four hours. The wedding chapel was actually outside Reno, in the mountains toward the more affluent and less touristy Lake Tahoe.
The cathedral style chapel was decorated inside with dozen and dozens of white and yellow roses and purple irises. Lit with candlelight and recessed sconces that made the stained glass behind the altar glow, it was the perfect setting for his soon to be wife to walk down the aisle.
Tara’s mother and Danette were seated in front on one of the polished wooden pews. Angelo’s private investigator and long-time friend, Hawk, sat across the aisle from them.
The music of a pipe organ swelled, filling the space with the strains of the wedding march.
Angelo’s gaze snapped to the back of the church where the open double doors framed Tara, her head held high, her dark brown eyes pools of feminine mystery and her hand curled around her stepdad’s arm.
They started forward and a wave of something indefinable washed over Angelo.
Possessive desire was certainly part of it. Soon, this woman would be his to have, to hold and to make love to…over and over again.
Tara wasn’t wearing a traditional wedding gown, but the designer original filmy white concoction she had on clung to every single one of her curves. It dipped in the front to reveal the top swells of her creamy, smooth breasts. Sexy and feminine, the dress was the stuff masculine fantasies were made of.
Those fantasies vied for his attention with the minister as h
e went through the wedding service. Angelo managed to give all the right answers, however, and smiled in victory when Tara did the same thing.
Afterward, he took everyone out for a celebratory dinner at the five-star restaurant his assistant had made reservations at. All he really wanted to do was take Tara up to their suite and make her his completely.
The glow on her face made it worth it however. Her mom and Darren were important to her, which was something he needed to remember. It had been a long time since he’d had close family.
After his parents’ deaths, he’d pushed away his Sicilian family, only going home to visit infrequently.
“You know, when I gave you that information on Randall, I never would have guessed this is where it would lead you to,” Hawk said from beside Angelo.
Tara’s mother and her husband were dancing while Danette and Tara had gone to the ladies’ room.
Angelo turned, lifting a sardonic brow. “What better way to ensure he doesn’t get his hands on her again?”
His friend’s eyes narrowed. “I know you can be a cold and ruthless bastard, Angelo, but tell me that’s not the only reason you married her.”
“Do you think she would be better off having that egomaniac people user back in her life?”
“Tara doesn’t strike me as a woman stupid enough to make the same mistakes twice.”
“He can be damn convincing.”
“Not enough to get her to agree to be his mistress.”
“No, Tara would never agree to that kind of arrangement.” But once Randall was divorced, the rules would change.
He’d just taken steps to make sure the other man could never again enter the game.
“Do you feel anything for her besides the need to get the better of your enemy?” Hawk asked, sounding like a man with a stronger conscience than Angelo had ever suspected.
“I want her.”
“Is that all?”
“None of your damn business.”
“I’m your friend, Angelo.”
“But you aren’t my confessor.”
Hawk just stared at him, the look disconcerting, even for Angelo.
“I want her. I respect her. I like her. It’s enough.”
“I wonder.”
“I’m not going to hurt her.”
“Have you taken any time to consider how she’s going to react once she learns about Randall?”
“With any luck, she’ll never have to know about Randall. I’m sure as hell not going to tell her.”
“I’ve never been much of a believer in luck.”
Angelo wasn’t, either.
CHAPTER NINE
TARA was as nervous as a virgin when Angelo carried her into their honeymoon suite, his midnight gaze burning hotter than any blue flame. The sexual energy emanating off him had been growing all night until she fairly sizzled from the impact.
Despite the elegance of their surroundings, she felt like she was about to be devoured by a mountain lion. A very hungry, powerful lion with sharp teeth and claws that could tear through the barriers she had erected around her emotions.
That shouldn’t frighten her.
She’d married him, after all.
But it did.
He stopped on the other side of the threshold, kicked the door shut and then looked down at her, predatory intent and primitive satisfaction exuding from his every pore. “You are mine now, Mrs. Gordon.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.” Then he kissed her.
It was hot; it was carnal; it was a statement of intent to possess.
His hot mouth molded hers, letting her taste the essence of this man she’d married. Could determination have a flavor? Strength? Desire? Intelligence? Masculine dominance? She could taste all of that and the spiciness of his need in his kiss. They’d never shared a kiss like this and yet her soul responded to it on a level of recognition she could not begin to dismiss.
Swirling sensation spiraled to the core of her and then outward in radiating waves of delight until it was all she could do not to cry out.
He carried her to the bed and stood her on her feet at the end of it and then gave her a once-over that left her trembling. “You are incredibly beautiful, my wife.”
“Thank you. You clean up nice in a tux yourself.”
His smile slashed through her with heat, leaving her stomach quivering in a way she’d only ever experienced with him.
He reached around her, enveloping her in his warmth and teasing her with his nearness. He started tugging her zipper down. His fingertips played along her spine as each new inch of flesh was revealed.
“Angelo?” Was that hesitant, high-pitched voice hers?
“Yes?”
“Other than the other night, it’s been two years and then we didn’t…you know.”
“Make love?”
“Right.”
“You are telling me it has been a long time for you.”
“Yes.”
“I’m glad.”
“Um…that’s nice, but I wanted…”
How did she tell her new husband—a man who had married her for the sole purpose of bedding her, or close to it anyway—that she needed him to go slowly? It was so obvious that was not what he wanted to hear at that very moment.
“What did you want, cara, this?” He leaned down and kissed her shoulder, nibbling at the sensitive area above her collarbone, before lifting his head. “Or this?” His mouth closed over hers again while his hands slipped down inside her dress and cupped her backside with sensual mastery.
He caressed and squeezed her, his fingers dipping dangerously close to the warm, humid spot between her thighs. Memories surged through her from their time at the beach. Jolts of pleasure zinged through her sweetest spot and her entire woman’s flesh. He teased her with his touch, making her want more, making her arch her spine, pushing her bottom back, trying to increase the depth of his penetration between her thighs.
But his hand moved with her, stopping her from achieving the intimate caressing she craved. She moaned against his lips and tried a new tactic, widening her stance so she was open completely to him. He rewarded her with a risqué massage on the highly sensitive flesh of her inner thighs and outer perimeter of her delta.
She groaned at the throbbing pleasure that grew with every tiny caress.
Maybe slow wasn’t what she wanted after all. She broke her mouth away, letting her head fall back in abandon. “Angelo, please…touch me.”
“I am touching you.” His voice was laced with masculine amusement and dark gratification.
He liked driving her crazy. He started kissing her again, but this time, he touched everywhere, but her mouth with his talented lips.
How could she have wanted slow? She was ready to expire and she still had her panties on.
It took him forever to get her dress off, every bit of new flesh revealed had to be kissed, tasted and nibbled until the silky white fabric lay in a puddle around her feet and she stood shivering violently from her need. She wanted to be more active in their lovemaking, but she couldn’t make her body cooperate. She was too shaken by the feelings roiling through her with the surging power of an electric blast.
“Angelo, I want you.”
“Remember what I told you the other night?”
It was all she could do to remember her own name. She frantically tried to think of what he’d said the night they’d made each other climax.
“You want me to ask?”
“Yes.”
With another man, asking would have made her feel like she was begging, but she remembered what else he’d said. “You’ll give me whatever I ask for?”
“Yes.” The sexual promise in his voice was almost her undoing.
This game made her feel like he was ceding his control to her and when making love with a man like him, that was heady stuff.
“I want you to take your clothes off.”
He towered over her, his expression dangerously elemental. “You want to see m
e naked?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Then undress me.”
She swayed on her feet. “Is that a dare?”
“A request.”
One she couldn’t and didn’t want to deny.
She started with his tie, undoing the bow and pulling it gently from his neck. She flipped it on the bed, an idea for later forming in her mind.
Then she went to the studs on his shirt, carefully slipping each one from their hole before leaning over to set it on the dresser not far away. The entire time, she pressed into his lower body, swaying side to side every so often to caress the hard ridge against her. By the time she had the whole shirt undone, he was making animal sounds and a white ring of stress had formed around his lips.
“You have formidable self-control.’
“And you are a born seductress.”
She laughed, the sound throaty and sensual. “Perhaps…just for you.”
She peeled his shirt off, revealing bronzed skin over sculpted muscle that took her breath away.
“Do you work out?”
“Aikido.”
“Martial arts?”
“Yes.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed that of you.” He was such the quintessential businessman, but then it fit with the aura of dangerous male animal that always seemed to be hovering under the surface.
She never wanted to be this man’s enemy, but she had no fear of totally infuriating him as his lover—more proof of her innate trust of him on a very basic level.
“We have a lifetime to learn one another’s secrets.”
“True.” Her hand dropped to his trousers. “But even though this is one I’ve seen once before, I would very much like to explore it again.”
“Go for it.”
She laughed at the tension vibrating in each of the three short words. “I plan to and this time I want to feel it inside of me.”
“Good, because that’s exactly what is going to happen.” The potent promise in his voice sent warm moisture flooding through the core of her.
He’d ceded control, but not power. How much control would he let her have tonight?
He started to help her with his trousers, but she pushed his hands away. “I want to do it all.” She peeked up at him, her breathing coming in ragged gasps that matched his. “Okay?”
