The Marriage Merger mtab-4

by Jennifer Probst

  “you never want more?” she asked. “A place to call yours?”

  She immediately regretted the impulsive words. Heat flared and crackled with amber flames, hotter than the one-hundred-proof whiskey Papa used to sneak in when he thought Mama wasn’t looking. Sawyer’s lips twisted in a sensual sneer. “overrated. I’ve learned to appreciate the present in all aspects. Taste, texture, sight, smell. I revel in everything given to me, because there’s no guarantee it’ll be there tomorrow. My home is my current location— nothing more, nothing less.” raw passion flicked from across the table and singed her like droplets of burning water.

  “except Purity. It’s the one thing I want to say is a constant.

  everything else eventually withers.”

  “even love?”

  The words flew from her lips, and she almost gasped in horror. Her cheeks heated. Dio mio, what had she done?

  She must be having some kind of midlife crisis. Her normal temperament and control slipped around this man in a way that terrified her. She waited for his fury at such an intimate question, but his fork paused midair, as if he was just as shocked as she was. “What did you say?”

  Julietta forced a half laugh. “I’m sorry—please disregard that question. I don’t know what came over me.”

  “I think I do.” His gaze stripped, probed, tore. It took all her strength not to buckle from the intensity. “I appreciate a woman who asks whatever is on her mind. There is more strength in honesty than in pretty words that never scratch the surface of what’s real.”

  “There’s no need to—”

  “But I will. No, Julietta, I do not believe in love. Never have. I believe in passion and lust, honesty and loyalty. I believe in hard work and sacrifice. I believe in enjoying the gifts of this world. But I do not believe in love.”

  Her fingers trembled. She reached out and drained her glass, trying not to show him how his words affected her.

  Had she ever met another man with such a powerful presence? As if no topic was off-limits, and he was willing to explore every dark hidden corner of her body and soul with a fierce pleasure? yet he calmly shared one of his secrets like a gift.

  He did not believe in love.

  Julietta waited for the rush of relief but only experienced an odd uneasiness. Why did his confession bother her? An answering grief rose in her gut to mourn for a man she did not know, a man who asserted he experienced no gentler emotions. She ached to know more, but the longing could only end badly. He watched her, unblinking, from across the table. And she made her decision.

  Their relationship must be held strictly to business.

  Nothing more.

  It was time she laid out the ground rules.

  She pushed her plate away and snapped back to attention. “Thank you for sharing, but my question was uncalled for, and I apologize. I think moving forward we should keep the topics of conversation to work.”

  His lip quirked and just like that, his emotions shifted back to distant amusement. Damn him for confusing her.

  Damn him for making her act like a fool. “Such politeness.

  I’m sure I made you uncomfortable talking about things that are . . . messy.”

  She managed not to flinch, but her temper rose. “This will be a long journey, and we need to work closely together. Distractions from either of us would be unwelcome at this point.”

  “Such as sex?”

  This time, she jerked. Her glass tipped, but she grabbed it in time and righted it. Naked humor carved out the lines of his face. “Do you like to shock women, Sawyer?” she mocked. “you won’t find me that easy to manage. I’ve been harassed, propositioned, and insulted, and I’ve dealt with an array of masculine temper tantrums. I’ve seen it all and can handle it. I prefer to keep our relationship mutually beneficial for all involved, but if you want to play hardball, that’s fine, too. Capisce?”

  …

  Sawyer studied the woman across the table. Her gorgeous brown eyes snapped with leashed anger and a banked sensuality she kept ruthlessly in check. It was official.

  He was nuts about her.

  Her mind alone brought him to ecstatic heights he’d missed. The thrust and parry of conversation engaged his intellect, while his body hummed with pleasure from her physical presence. She was his feminine equal in all forms except her refusal to admit she wanted him.

  But she did.

  every hitched breath she tried to mask played like Mozart to his ears. Her control was fierce, but he spotted breaks in her armor in ways she hadn’t counted on. The quick flare of interest in her eyes at the mention of the word sex. The slight tremble in her fingers as she gripped the fork.

  Didn’t she know her proper white bra against a silk white blouse was a man’s private fantasy? The barest shadow of her nipples pushed against her bra and begged for freedom.

  She had a delicious habit of running her tongue over her bottom lip that forced a man to imagine what she’d taste like. And that damn red scarf? He’d put it to much more practical uses then entwining it around her delicate neck for fashion purposes. Namely making sure she couldn’t move while he stripped her of that very proper blouse and bra and pleasured her breasts. Slowly. on his terms.

  of course, the most intriguing part was her refusal to acknowledge any of it.

  Her body was in lockdown. How sweet to imagine breaking her out of that prison and being the one who reaped the benefit? He wondered what asshole convinced her to ignore her physical need. Why else would a vibrant, sophisticated woman hide behind work?

  He’d pushed during dinner because he needed a full analysis. She was right, though. He’d never risk the contract to scratch an itch, and he bet she dealt with a lot of men who treated her like crap. Perhaps it was time to tell her a bit more of his truth so she clearly knew his motivations.

  For now, she deserved an answer.

  “I never meant to offend you, Julietta.” Her name melted over his tongue like a Godiva truffle. Sweet and dark and rich. “Let’s get something straight. I have no need to threaten or bully a woman into bed. I enjoy sex and giving pleasure. I find you fascinating, complex, and hot as hell.

  I also think you may be the only woman I’ve met in the past few years who made me crave to break a few rules just to put my hands on her. In her. over her. But if you go screaming foul play and harassment, I’ll politely back away and leave you alone. Capisce? Now breathe.”

  At his command, the air let loose from her lungs in a rush. She sat frozen in her chair, eyes wide with a combination of shock, confusion, and a touch of fear. The fear mixed with a flash of pure longing. yes, she wanted him, too. Interesting. Why wouldn’t she act on it? Why did a man showing interest freak her out so much?

  The waiter glided by, cleared their plates, and asked if they wanted dessert.

  “No,” she said firmly.

  “Tiramisu, please,” he countered. “Two espressos with sambuca.”

  She tossed him a dirty look, and he struggled with the instinct to kiss it right off her. How could a woman who used no lipstick have such a succulent mouth? All pouty and pale pink. “I hope this isn’t going to be a precursor of your need to run things,” she said. “Though I appreciate your forthrightness regarding the initial attraction to me, I assure you it will fade. I have no time to engage in affairs.”

  Her prim tone made a surge of lust hit his gut and spread. He shifted in his chair and adjusted the napkin.

  “Why do you think it will fade?”

  Her gaze shifted. She threw back her shoulders, but he caught the tension in each fine bone of her body. “It always does.”

  “Do you want me?”

  This time, she couldn’t hold back a gasp. “We just met yesterday. I don’t go jumping into bed with strange men or make decisions regarding my attraction after one dinner.”

  “Sometimes that’s the best time to trust your instincts.

  The moment we rationalize chemistry, we risk losing it for-ever.”

  His wo
rds seemed to strike a chord. regret dimmed the light in her eyes. Protectiveness surged through him and rattled his calm. He ached to pull her into his arms and hold her, rock her, soothe the sadness lurking beneath the cool surface. But she didn’t belong to him, so he had no rights.

  yet.

  Dessert arrived, and she chose to keep her silence. They nibbled on the cocoa biscuit and savored the rich cream of soaked ladyfingers and cinnamon. The sting of liquor in the dark espresso brew hit Sawyer’s belly hard and heated his veins. He watched as Julietta’s thoughts scrambled, evident in the slight frown marring her brow and the concentration stamped on her face. The bill came and he paid, sparing her a quick warning glance when she opened her mouth to protest. When the dessert plate was scraped clean and the cups emptied, she patted her lips with the napkin and met his gaze.

  “I think we’re going to make a great team,” she said slowly. “But I’m not interested in bringing this into the bedroom. I have my reasons, and I appreciate your can-dor. you’re an attractive man, and in other circumstances, I would jump at the chance to engage in a hot affair. Please respect my decision, and don’t push me any further. Just . . .

  don’t.”

  Her voice broke slightly on the last word. His heart squeezed with a need he didn’t recognize, but he knew the rules. Created the rules. Both parties must be willing in order to move forward. An element of trust proved key to keeping the relationship burning at a high flame without blazing. The alpha wolf in him howled with lust and challenge to change her mind and make her beg for torturing him. Sawyer waited for the mess of emotions to finish rac-ing through him before he wrested control and blanked out his thoughts.

  A smile curved his lips. “As you wish,” he murmured.

  Her body loosened. Her tongue flicked across her lower lip again, and she smiled. “Grazie.”

  He nodded, and she rose. Shrugged on her jacket.

  Grabbed her purse. Sawyer guided her out of the restaurant with a hand at her elbow and tried to calm the rush of adrenaline tightening his muscles and strangling his breath.

  His last thought flashed like a mantra over and over again.

  Let the challenge begin.

  Chapter Four

  Julietta picked her head up and stretched the kinks from her neck. The stack of files was only half cleared, and her cup of cappuccino had long grown cold. A dull throb behind her eyes warned her time was almost up. Mio Dio, how long had she been working? A quick glance at her watch confirmed four steady hours with no break. A sigh broke from her lips and surprised her. Usually she enjoyed her Saturday mornings in her apartment, taking care of all the loose ends she had no time to close during the week.

  Coffee, paper, her laptop, a little music, and she was content. except . . .

  She stared out her window. The gleam of sun rarely seen in the moody month of February strained from the thick clouds in a screw-you gesture. Julietta unfurled her legs from her chair and strode over to the window, peering at the scene below her. The roar of motorcycles and mo-peds echoed from the streets in an attempt to squeeze in as much riding as possible on a nice day.

  She pressed her palm to the cool pane and pondered the idea. Funny: Since her last encounter with Sawyer, the rare edge of wildness nipped at her usual logical self, daring her to break routine and echo the sentiment of the current weather.

  Screw it. Work could wait.

  She made the decision and didn’t look back. She was going riding for the rest of the afternoon. Her fingers itched to grab the bars of her bike and stop thinking for a little while. With her consistent workaholic tendencies and slight oCD, she tipped the scales of exhaustion too many times.

  At least she’d found an acceptable outlet other than ther-apy.

  Motorcycles.

  She paused to fix the slight tilt of the three photos on the mantel and headed to the bedroom. She changed in re-cord time, donning supple Prada pants, boots, and a simple cashmere sweater. She shrugged on her leather jacket, took her helmet down from the top of the closet, stuffed her phone in her hobo bag, and left.

  She walked the necessary blocks until she came to the small storage garage where she kept her bike. The wind was frisky, but she’d layered enough to stay decently warm for the trip. Mentally calculating the miles she wanted to ac-complish, she decided on an easy route toward Navigli.

  Julietta stepped in front of her secret obsession and her skin tingled as if she gazed at a lover.

  Perfection.

  Naked twisted metal and sleek black made up the machine, which was in a class by itself. The brand-new Moto Morini Corsaro had all the elements she admired and demanded in a bike. Speed. Lightweight. Agility. And raw, sexy, growling hp.

  Her tummy dipped, and she tugged on her leather gloves. Her hidden obsession with fast bikes came straight from her brother, Michael, but her sisters just didn’t understand it. especially because she was the straitlaced one in the family. How many times had she picked Michael’s brain about his racecars and tried to steal his motorcycles for a ride? She’d dreamed of having the bike of all bikes on her own terms, and finally she’d achieved her goal.

  She lifted her leg to slide over the seat, and her cell rang.

  Porca vacca. She almost ignored it, but too many years of habit took over, so she had to at least glance at the ID.

  She reached in her bag and pulled the phone out. After looking, she let her finger hesitate on the button only a second before pushing it.

  “yes?”

  “Ciao bella. Why don’t you sound happier to hear from me?”

  She tamped down on her impatience and reminded herself this was the deal of the century. Politeness was key.

  “I’m sorry, Sawyer, I was just getting ready to go out for a bit. How can I help you?”

  “oh, good. I need to go over something in the contract.

  Why don’t you stop by my place and we’ll finish it up?”

  Julietta scowled at the phone. “It’s not a good time right now. Perhaps tomorrow?”

  Silence hummed. An irritated masculine silence. “I’m not one to invade a business partner’s personal life, but this is a huge undertaking for Purity. I need to know you’re on board in this delicate time. one hundred percent.”

  She practically spit into the receiver. “I’ve just spent the bulk of my Saturday at the computer. I’m completely on board, so to speak. Can we settle it over the phone?”

  “No. Where are you going? Can I meet you?”

  She stared at her bike with a lustful need that shook her bones. “I’m going riding for the next few hours. How about I stop by afterward and we’ll settle the items up for negotiation?”

  “riding what? A bicycle?”

  She couldn’t help the automatic scoff that came from her mouth. “No: motorcycle.”

  He paused for a beat. “Perfect. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll meet you at the Duomo.”

  Julietta gaped. “What? No—no, you can’t go with me.

  I’m going motorcycle riding.”

  “I heard you the first time. I promise not to bully you with my bike. See you soon.”

  The phone clicked.

  She blinked and tried desperately to keep her sanity.

  This was not happening. Her peaceful, stress-blowing bike ride was turning into a business trip with a man she needed to avoid at all costs. She analyzed the options of not showing or calling back to cancel, but she already sensed the domineering man wouldn’t answer. And if she didn’t show up for their impromptu meeting, he could decide to pull the contract.

  Julietta blew out a breath of disgust and climbed on the bike. The low thrum of the engine kicked into gear, and she took off toward the center of town, weaving expertly through traffic and keeping her speed down until she hit open turf and let it rip.

  She gave him credit. Her watch just hit the fifteen mark when she saw him pull up. Julietta tried hard not to show any surprise at his choice of ride. She’d expected a brash American Harley, but damn him,
he’d managed to up his game without even trying.

  She flipped up her visor and flicked him a cool glance.

  “Nice bike. Where’s your Harley?”

  The total hotness of male perfection on the MV Agusta F4CC was criminal. In faded, tight jeans, a leather bomber jacket, and vintage riding boots, he cut a bad-boy-meets-surfer figure that almost killed her. Almost. He slowly un-buckled his helmet and slid it off his head to cradle in the crook of his arm. Then shook out his shaggy blond hair. His quick grin flashed that crooked front tooth. “you’re not cutting up on the American phenomenon of the Harley, are you darlin’? That could get you shot in the U.S.”

  She gave a delicate shrug. He never needed to know she secretly loved the American classic. “Good thing I’m not there. How’d you get one of those? There were only one hundred made.”

  He dropped his voice to a dirty whisper. “I know people. They owe me favors.”

  Her spine tingled with anticipation. The hungry look as his gaze roved over her body caught her hard, but she ral-lied. “What do we need to discuss?”

  He laughed low. “Nothing at the moment. Where are we going?”

  She drew her brows together and tried to be firm.

  “Nowhere. We’ll discuss business, and then I’m going riding.”

  “Where?”

  She shrugged. “Wherever I feel like.”

  “Sounds like a plan. We’ll stop for a break and talk business later. you lead.”

  Julietta squirmed with the need to wipe the smug look off his face. “I’m trying to be polite here, but you’re making it difficult. I don’t feel like making social conversation today.”

  “Who said anything about conversation?”

  Her spit dried up and she held back an actual pant.

  Those full lips quirked as if he knew her body’s reaction.

  “If you can’t keep up, I’m not waiting for you. This is my time,” she said.

  His slow grin taunted and pushed all the right buttons.

  or the wrong ones. “I’ll admit my surprise at your choice of The Pirate. But can you handle her, little girl? Perhaps I’ll be the one waiting for you to catch up.”