by Karen Foley
“Is that what this is to you, then? A game of make-believe?” His voice was low, his accent more pronounced. “I hate to disappoint you, love, but I’m not Kip Corrigan.”
Unsure of his mood, Lara risked a glance at his face. He watched her intently, his eyes more green than blue. A muscle flexed in his jaw.
“I don’t want Kip Corrigan,” she finally said. “I want you, and I would never have had the nerve to come on to you in the elevator like that except that—”
She broke off abruptly as Graeme stepped closer. The sheet slipped from her nerveless fingers to crumple on the ground between them. Graeme’s eyes darkened as they drifted over her.
“Except that?” His voice was low, little more than a growl.
“Except that you looked at me like you wanted to devour me.” Her voice was oddly breathless. She reached out a hand and traced a finger over his abs. “Like you wanted me, right then and there. Like I could bring your fantasies to life, and maybe a few of my own, too.”
One tiny step brought her flush against him. Her breasts brushed his chest and beneath the rough fabric of his jeans she could feel the hot thrust of his erection. Lara thrilled at the knowledge that she could affect him that way. Leaning forward, she skated her lips over the strong line of his collarbone, and slid her hand lower on his abdomen, until her fingers brushed against the open fly of his pants.
His stomach muscles tightened beneath her touch, and Lara heard his breathing hitch. But before she could take advantage of his involuntary response, he grasped her wrist and halted her downward exploration.
“Stop.”
Lara swallowed the trepidation that rose in her throat, and nuzzled his strong neck, tasting him with small flicks of her tongue. “Do you really want me to stop? The night’s still young, and there’s so much I could still do for you…”
To her shock, he pushed her gently away from him. He scrubbed his hands over his face. Feeling utterly exposed, Lara retrieved the sheet from where she’d dropped it and dragged it around her nakedness, pushing down the apprehension that slithered through her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Graeme swiped a hand across his face and turned partially away from her with a disbelieving laugh, before swinging back around. “Jesus, how can you—I can’t keep doing this.”
Lara’s dread grew. “Doing what?”
He swore softly and then grabbed her by the upper arms and hauled her upward until she was standing almost on tiptoe, his face less than an inch from her own, and suddenly Lara knew that her mask wasn’t nearly enough to protect her.
“I know who you are, Lara,” he ground out, and released her so abruptly that she staggered.
She took two steps backward, still clutching the sheet against her breasts, until her thighs bumped against the mattress. Blood thudded hotly through her veins as she stared at him in mute horror, and yet she still tried to prolong the inevitable.
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He advanced on her then, his face taut and his eyes glittering with intent. Lara sat down abruptly on the bed and watched him approach. But it wasn’t until he loomed over her and his hands moved with unerring accuracy to the clasp at the back of her head that she was galvanized into action.
“No, don’t!” Dropping the sheet, her hands closed around his strong wrists, but it was too late. In the next instant, the mask was gone and there was nothing left for her to hide behind.
7
“LARA.”
She stared at him with those wide, sapphire eyes and a swift, fierce heat swept through his body. Graeme dropped the mask onto the floor, uncaring where it landed. He couldn’t drag his gaze away from Lara’s upturned face, registering the small changes that five years had accomplished. Where her body had blossomed and filled out, her face had lost the roundness of girlhood, her cheekbones were more pronounced than he remembered. A tiny scar marred the smoothness of her forehead.But her mouth hadn’t changed a bit.
Still overly full and lush, her lips completely distracted him. His fixation was broken when she reached down and dragged the sheet back up to cover her nakedness.
“How?” she croaked. “How did you know it was me?”
“Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize you?” He couldn’t keep the disbelief out of his voice. “That I wouldn’t immediately know who you were?”
Her breath hissed in. “You knew it was me? The whole time? Back in the elevator, you knew?”
“Even before then. I knew the instant I saw you in the ballroom.”
Twin patches of color bloomed on Lara’s cheeks. She tried to stand up, but Graeme kept her in place with one foot planted firmly on the trailing edge of the sheet, allowing her no slack. If she wanted to stand, she would have to release the bed linen.
“How could you?” Her voice was shaky with indignation and, Graeme suspected, embarrassment. “How could you let me go on like that? How could you go on pretending that you had no idea who I was?”
Graeme’s pulse thudded hard and hot through his veins, and the urge to drag Lara to her feet and shake her was almost irresistible. It was either that or kiss her. Unwilling to let her see how strongly she affected him, he took refuge instead in sarcasm.
“I’m a man, Lara. How could I not let you continue? Especially when you seemed to be enjoying yourself so much?”
Lara drew in a sharp breath, and beneath the protective barrier of the sheet, her chest rose and fell rapidly. Good. He hoped she felt insulted. He told himself that he wanted her to feel miserable.
“Well, then,” she said tartly, “based on your response, I’d say that makes two of us.”
Oh, yeah. He’d enjoyed every sensual second of their steamy encounter, but there was no way he’d admit it. Not to her. Not yet. Not until he’d figured out exactly what she was up to.
“Sweetheart, I make a living out of pretending. But you definitely missed your calling.” He couldn’t keep the derision from his voice. “If you ever decide to give acting a try, let me know and I’ll set you up with my agent. Hollywood is always looking for women who can fake it.”
Lara pushed at him until he stepped back, and she shot to her feet. Her eyes narrowed on him, but Graeme saw the telltale sheen of moisture in them and something in his chest shifted. He’d struck a chord. He told himself he didn’t care, but his hands fisted at his sides in an effort to keep from reaching for her.
He’d thought of being with her again so often, but he’d never imagined that she’d come to him in disguise, that she wouldn’t want him to know who she was. Worse, that she would want him to pretend that he was somebody other than himself.
For the first time since he’d taken on the role of bad boy Kip Corrigan, Graeme found himself resenting the fictional character. He strongly suspected that Lara was more enamored of Kip than she was of him.
“Is that what you think?” she demanded softly. “That I faked it?”
They stared at each other for a long moment. Her eyes were wide, the pupils hugely dilated, her breathing uneven.
“No,” Graeme finally bit out, searching her eyes. “I think your…performance was real enough. What I want to know is why? Why now, after all these years, are you suddenly interested in renewing our…relationship?”
He watched the expressions that briefly twisted her features; grief, anger and then something that looked suspiciously like regret. “Because what I said earlier was true.”
Graeme frowned. “Refresh my memory.”
She tipped her chin up and held his gaze, and for a moment Graeme thought she wouldn’t answer. Then she lowered her lashes, fixing her attention somewhere on his midriff, and hot color swept up from beneath the edge of the sheet, mottling her chest and neck.
“I said I’d fantasized about you,” she finally mumbled. “About being with you.”
Graeme snorted in disbelief. “Don’t you mean that you’ve fantasized about being with Kip Corrigan?”
He watched
as the color drained from her face. “Why would you say that?”
Graeme paused. He wanted to say more, to tell her that he knew damned well it was Kip and not himself that she wanted, but seeing her expression, he took pity on her. “Forget it. You were saying?”
Lara drew in a deep breath. “I didn’t come to the convention with the intention of doing…this. Not exactly, anyway.” She twisted her hands in the fabric of the sheet. “I thought I might have a chance to talk with you, because there’s something I need to tell you. But then I saw you on stage, and I realized it had been a mistake to come here, that I didn’t have the courage to face you. So I left the ballroom, but you followed me.” She made a helpless gesture with one hand. “Then you didn’t recognize me, and the costume shop sent me the wrong costume, but it didn’t matter because it made me feel—Made me feel—”
“Made you feel…what?”
She raised her gaze to his, and her eyes shimmered. “Made me feel like the sexiest woman in the world.”
Graeme’s pulse became a hot, insistent thudding in his veins. He wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them, drag the sheet from her body, and prove to her that she was, indeed, the sexiest woman in the world, at least in his eyes. But he’d already let her sidetrack him once, and he wasn’t about to lose control again without knowing her reasons for being there. “So if you didn’t set out to screw me blind—in a literal sense—then why did you come?”
He watched as Lara drew in a deep breath and the flush of color climbed into her face. She gave him a look that silently begged him not to do this. “I had to. There’s something you have to know…I’m sorry.” She laughed, but it had a bitter sound to it. “Believe it or not, this is one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to say. You’ll be angry.”
Anger did sweep through Graeme, fierce and swift. He was such a fool. He’d actually thought that maybe—just maybe—Lara had come back to him because she wanted him. Because she’d missed him, maybe even as much as he’d missed her. But seeing the resignation and regret in her eyes, he realized nothing could be further from the truth. His gut told him that what he’d suspected was true; she’d sought him out because she wanted a divorce.
“Just tell me why you came.” His voice was low and tight and her expression was miserable, but he didn’t care. He’d be damned if he’d make it easy for her.
“Because my father died a couple of weeks ago.”
Whatever he’d expected her to say, that wasn’t it. The news shocked him, but he couldn’t deny feeling a savage satisfaction upon hearing that Brent Whitfield was dead. The arrogant son of a bitch had single-handedly destroyed his life five years earlier. But then he looked at Lara’s face and saw the grief etched there.
“I’m sorry,” he said stiffly.
“Thank you.” She drew in a deep, hard breath. “He’d been sick for some time, but it wasn’t until after he’d…passed…that his lawyers gave me a letter he’d written to me.”
“Go on.”
Lara glanced at him, then quickly away. “I’m not sure…it doesn’t really even matter, because you’ve never expressed a desire to get married again.” Her gaze flicked to him again. “At least, not publicly. I mean, if you had, then I’m sure my father would have told you that we’re still—that is, we’re not—that our marriage was never—”
“What? Never annulled?”
“You know?” Her face expressed her utter shock. “That we’re still married?”
“Of course I know. I refused to sign your father’s damned annulment papers.” Graeme couldn’t keep the contempt out of his voice. “Whatever influence your father might have had in Washington did not extend to me. I told him then that if you wanted out of this marriage, you’d need to tell me so yourself. To my face.”
Lara had gone pale. “All these years, and you knew. Why—”
Graeme put up a hand to forestall her from speaking. “If you’re going to try and tell me that you didn’t know we were still legally married, then you’ve taken me for an even bigger fool than your father did.”
Lara made a soft gasping sound. “I didn’t know. I thought the marriage was annulled five years ago.” Her voice vibrated with indignation and dismay. “I was…estranged from my father for years before he died.”
Graeme snorted. “Sure. Pretty damned convenient that he’s dead and you’ve suddenly discovered we’re still married. Why don’t you just admit it? You were too much of a coward to stand up to him when he was alive, but now that he’s gone, you’re wondering if we can pick up where we left off, is that it? Well, I’m sorry to break it to you, love, but too much damned water has passed beneath that bridge.”
Lara shook her head, and if her bemusement wasn’t genuine, she did a pretty good job faking it. Graeme refused to let her appalled expression soften the edge of his anger.
“C’mon,” he jeered softly. “You’re here because now that your father’s dead, there isn’t anyone to prevent you from doing whatever you want. Maybe you thought it would be fun to screw with my head a little more, is that it? You could live out your private fantasy of sleeping with Kip Corrigan, and then go back to your exclusive, exalted lifestyle, and nobody would ever be the wiser, including me. Have I got it right?”
Lara blanched, and Graeme had a moment of doubt before he determinedly pushed it down. After all, he knew her secret.
“I would never try to—to use you that way.” Her tone sounded sincere enough, but her gaze slid away from his, making him wonder how close he’d come to the truth.
He arched an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
She flushed. “No. How could you even think that?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” His voice grew hard. “Maybe because you have a history of lying to me.”
“Oh, that’s unfair! I tried to explain to you why I lied about my age that summer in London. I was afraid you wouldn’t want me if you knew the truth!”
“And you’d have been right.” He all but snarled the words, even as he silently acknowledged that he’d have taken her on any terms. “But that wasn’t all you lied to me about, Lara. Our entire relationship was based on lies. Your age, your name, your background—it was all a big game to you, wasn’t it? You were nothing but a spoiled-rotten brat who would have said and done anything to get your way. Why should I think anything has changed?”
“That’s not how it was, and you know it.” Her voice broke, and she bent swiftly to scoop up the bits and pieces of her scattered costume, but not before Graeme saw the sheen of tears in her eyes. “I loved you.”
Loved him.
The past tense wasn’t lost on Graeme and he couldn’t keep the weary resignation out of his voice. “And yet, here you are again, trying to deceive me about who you really are.”
She snapped upright, and now twin flags of color rode high on her cheekbones and her eyes held a dangerous glitter. “If that’s really what you think, then we have nothing more to discuss.”
“Discuss?” he repeated. “I wasn’t aware you were interested in talking.”
“I’m not!” she snapped. “At least, not anymore.” She swept him with one angry glance. “I see some things haven’t changed. You’re still as proud as always. And still unwilling to recognize the truth, even when it’s right under your nose.”
“And what would that truth be?” He took a step toward her. His voice was low and fierce, and vibrated with an anger he couldn’t suppress. “Tell me right now that you don’t want something from me. Tell me that if I weren’t the face of Kip Corrigan, you’d still be here.”
Lara squared her shoulders and glared at him, clutching the ridiculous metal bikini against her breasts. “You know, I think fame and fortune have gone to your head, Graeme. I actually don’t know why I’m still here. But you’re right about one thing—I do want something from you.”
They were interrupted by the sudden, strident ringing of the telephone on the bedside table. For a moment, neither of them moved, then Graeme snatc
hed the receiver from the cradle.
“What?” he snapped.
“Where the hell are you?” Tony shouted. “Why haven’t you answered your cell phone? I’ve been trying to call you for over an hour. You do realize that you have obligations to this festival, don’t you? Don’t pull a vanishing act on me now, Graeme. You have two separate autograph signings tomorrow, and don’t forget that you have an interview on KXNT television in the morning.”
Graeme listened for a scant instant to the loud, angry voice on the other end, and then turned to Lara, holding up one finger to indicate they weren’t yet finished. “My publicist again,” he explained shortly. “Don’t move. We’re not through here.”
He turned away from Lara to speak quietly into the phone, but a movement from her made him turn around. Before he could realize her intent, she’d dragged the trailing end of the sheet around her, toga-style. With her head held high, unmindful of the chunky slave collar around her neck or her bare feet, she swept out of the bedroom.
“Lara!” he called, then swore and dropped the phone back into its cradle, abruptly silencing the furious voice on the other end. Graeme strode through the bedroom, but it wasn’t until he heard the outer hotel-room door slam that he realized she had left.
In disbelief, he raked both hands through his hair, then muttered a savage curse as he realized he’d done the one thing he’d sworn he would never do again; he’d let her go. But this time, she wouldn’t get away so easily.
8
THE DAMNED, arrogant, conceited man. If she had any sense, she’d book the first fight back to Chicago. Seeing Graeme again had been a huge mistake. She’d completely underestimated just how attractive she still found him. She couldn’t do this herself.
If she was smart, she’d call her attorney and have him take care of serving Graeme with the divorce papers. She’d never so much as look at him again. But when it came to Graeme, Lara had never had any sense.She couldn’t even think about what had happened in his hotel room without turning hot, and then icy-cold. Mortification swamped her each time she thought about what they’d done, which was approximately every millisecond since she’d left his room.
