“I’m going to take a shower,” she announced, slipping from Christian’s lap and running to the bathroom. Her drink went with her.
“Let me know if you need help washing your back, dear,” Sasha called out, his phone in his hands.
“Why are you still here?”
“To compliment you on your exquisite taste in wives.”
“Glad you approve,” Christian replied. “However, it’s wife in the singular sense and you keep your bloody compliments to yourself.”
An evil grin lit Sasha’s face. “Surely you can’t be thinking to keep her all to yourself?”
Christian glared at him, until he heard the shower running and the television blaring. Apparently, she had turned it to one of the five thousand music channels because in the next heartbeat, Zoe was singing along to some hideous pop song.
“Still want her?” Christian asked as Sasha’s expression became one of pain.
“Please tell me she doesn’t do that when you shag her.”
“I’m not telling you anything.”
“Less than twenty-four hours of being leg-shackled and you’re already boring.” Sasha tucked his phone back into his pocket.
“Where were you last night?” Christian asked, ignoring the smirk on his cousin’s face as they walked out of the bedroom.
“I was otherwise occupied.”
“You mean you were shagging some woman blind, then got pissed.”
“You say tomato and I say…We say it the exact same way. Anyway, after satisfying the very lovely Kianna and getting a text from you, I left her sleeping in bed while I performed my duties for you.” He gestured to the living room, where several packages were piled on the coffee table. “As you can see, you interrupted my night.”
“Yes, a virtual martyr you’ve become. Shall I look for marks of self-flagellation?”
A woman walked by, disappearing into his bedroom with what he assumed were Zoe’s belongings. Her purple laptop was plugged in and humming on a nearby desk. An enormous vase of sunflowers sat on the corner beside it.
His cousin sauntered over to a nearby table and gathered a packet. “I’ve got a whole list of details on your new wife, but I’m afraid she’s rather boring. No love child. Used to be a waitress. No drug history. Lives near her parents. Volunteers at the food bank, church and the local library.” He pulled a face. “Ugh, make it bloody boring. However, the bit about some legendary local springs and only true love finding them sound interesting. Marginally.”
“You can thank me later by actually paying me,” he added, waving the papers at Christian.
Christian grunted as he eyed him, taking note of the designer pants, slim-fitting button down and Italian handcrafted shoes. Sasha wasn’t hurting for anything. “Where in God’s name did you get all this information so quickly?”
“Imagine, if you will, a search engine that allows you to type in the object of your knowledge quest and presto,” Sasha snapped his fingers, “It’s laid down at your proverbial feet. Anyway, Zoe Martha Ambrose of Holland Springs, North Carolina, has four brothers and one sister who posts You Tube videos of herself singing. One of them you might know. His name is Dr. Luke Ambrose and he has a reality show on HBO.”
“I already know about her family. Well, the highlights.” Christian had heard rumblings of the supposed good looking doctor. “But isn’t he Latin or something?”
“He and his twin brother, Logan, were adopted by the Ambroses. Found them as children on a mission trip to South America. Can’t remember the country right off hand. Maybe Chile. ” Sasha shrugged. “You know the whole time I was doing this the theme from Mission: Impossible kept playing in my head.”
“At least something was there to keep your lone brain cell company.”
“At least I’m not sexually frustrated. I thought the curse of the wedding ring didn’t happen until at least a year into to it,” Sasha said.
Murder was illegal, Christian thought. Was it still considered murder if it was a crime of passion? Because right now, he felt like choking Sasha—passionately.
Christian grabbed an orange from the fruit basket and peeled it, popping a slice in his mouth. “Did you bring what I wanted?”
Two women entered the room, their uniforms identifying them as staff as they began to clean. The younger one kept giving them side glances and bending over at the waist to show off her Kim Kardashian asset. It was wasted on him, but not apparently on Sasha.
“Catch.” Sasha winked at the woman and threw a box from the table into Christian’s waiting hand. He set down the fruit and opened the package. Nestled inside was his grandmother’s wedding ring. It looked small enough to fit Zoe’s finger. Actually, it looked like it was made for her.
“Sebastian is going to kill you when he finds out.”
“I know.” Christian grinned big and shoved it in his pocket. “That’s why I had you get it.”
“He wanted that ring for his fiancé,” Sasha revealed.
“My brother’s engaged?”
“No.” Sasha hopped on the table and grabbed an apple, polishing it on his shirt before he took a bite. “He’s planning ahead. You know his saying.”
“‘Prior planning prevents piss-poor performance’,” they said in unison.
“Sebastian needs to try being in his twenties,” Christian said. “Then again, I might be the one forced to run for a position with the EU.”
“But just look at you now, old man. You’re going all respectable. Guess I’ll be forced to go at it alone from now on.” Sasha took another bite of the apple before setting it down beside him.
“You’ll survive, I’m sure.”
“Truer words have never been spoken.” A fierce light entered Sasha’s eyes, but as quickly as it came it left. “This wasn’t for good press was it?”
Christian shrugged his shoulders in answer and dipped his head slightly. “There’s something about her.”
“And that would be?”
The answer was clear, and he embraced it fully. “There are some things a man shares with his wife before he announces it to the world.”
Sasha half jumped off the table and thrust the stapled print-out to Christian. “Be as vague as you want, mate.”
“Thanks. Terribly brilliant of you to do this.” Christian read the first page. “You have her measurements, height and weight on here. And blood type?”
“Google wasn’t my only resource.”
“Nice to know the Romanov name is actually being used for good. So that’s what Bo’Jangles is. Hmm, they don’t have any around here.” He raised a brow and glanced at Sasha. “Imagine.”
“You want me to have something flown in?”
“No, she’s leaving tomorrow morning, but I plan on joining her.”
“You can’t,” Sasha said.
Christian jerked his head up. “Yes, I can and will.” Wherever Zoe went, he would follow. Eagerly.
Sasha pulled out his blackberry. “You’re to be in Burma by the twentieth. Filming starts the day after. It’s already been delayed once, Christian. Another push back and it’s killed.”
Christian cursed, knowing that Sasha was right and that he couldn’t do this to Khandiri. He’d made promises and invested in the Burma project. To not show up would be unthinkable, not to mention a personal insult.
But what would Zoe think and more importantly how would she feel? He wanted to punch a wall. He closed his eyes and mentally got himself together before striding in the direction of his bedroom. He turned and frisbeed the papers at Sasha. “Put this where I can find it later, and give her one about me.”
“Can I at least throw a party?” Sasha called out.
“Have at it.”
Chapter Nineteen
Christian strode inside just as Zoe walked out of the bathroom. She was wearing one of his robes and her hair was freshly washed. They met in the middle of the room, staring at one another until her cheeks flushed.
“Hi,” she said softly.
He c
leared his throat. “I can’t go home with you tomorrow.”
Her brow wrinkled, then smoothed. “You want me to come home with you instead, like before?”
“No.”
“Oh, okay… I understand.”
“No you don’t, love. I have a prior commitment to make a documentary. It’s in a country that’s not very hospitable to foreign women, especially American ones.”
“But it’s okay for you?” Concern shined in her eyes.
“Yes.” Taking her hand in his, he rubbed the makeshift wedding band on her finger. “Anyway, to show you how much I’d rather be with you and that I’m coming home after two weeks,” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a small box, “I want you to have this.”
Flicking it open with his thumb, he waited for her reaction, but there was none. Not one gasp or sigh or ‘Good Lord’ from her. Nothing.
An uncomfortable silence stretched between them.
Finally she said, “It’s beautiful.”
He wanted to ask her what was wrong. Instead he let go of her hand long enough to free the ring. “Take off that one.”
She shook her head. “No, this is the ring we got married with. I don’t need a fancier one.”
“But this will fit better and it’s a family heirloom—my grandmother’s, actually,” he said, thinking the reason for the silence must have been because she didn’t want to hurt his feelings by being excited. Zoe had such a soft heart, and he intended for her to stay that way. There was no way in hell he was exposing her to the Hollywood lifestyle. Or his family. The ocean between them wasn’t far enough away from his wife.
“Slide it on and the other will stay put,” she conceded.
“You are one stubborn woman, but I appreciate you not wanting to hurt my feelings.”
The rings flashed in the filtered sunlight and a memory bubbled to the surface, catching him off guard with its inconveniently timed clarity.
“How do I know you’ll actually show up?” Amber teased between good-bye kisses.
He slid the one of the two platinum rings he always wore off and onto her finger. “I’ll want this back tomorrow.” He glanced down. The ring seemed to glow. “Your hand looks lovely adorned like this. Or rather the ring is a lovely adornment for the hand. It’ll be the only way I’ll know it’s you without the mask.”
Dammit.
He had to get this ring off of Zoe’s finger. He wanted nothing of Amber tainting what he had with Zoe. He reached for her hand, but she forestalled him with a hug and leaned back in his embrace.
“Men—stroke your egos and y’all fall at our feet,” she said, winking at him.
He lowered his mouth to hers. “At the very least I should get a thank you kiss.”
“While I should get a wedding night.” She nibbled on his bottom lip.
Desire flared and he cupped her face to bring her closer. The memories of Amber fell away and so did all thoughts of confiscating his ring. “We keep getting interrupted, but tonight I don’t care if God Himself comes knocking.”
“Poor thing.” Her eyes darkened. She fisted the material of his shirt and pulled him closer.
“Why should we wait for tonight?”
“Brilliant plan.”
As if on cue, a knock sounded on their door.
“Dammit, Sasha, what the hell do you want now?” he growled as she let go of him.
“Baxter is here with his entourage to take pictures of the deliriously happy newlyweds.” Sasha opened the door. “Martha sent him. Said to remind the two of you that it’s in your contract. And for Zoe not to wear anything that plays music. Whatever that means.”
Christian looked at Zoe. She mouthed the word denied, then covered her mouth with her hand while her shoulders shook. Laugh at him would she? He’d teach her a lesson. “Send them in.”
Sasha’s forehead scrunched. “In here?”
Christian unbuttoned his shirt. “Over there, to be more precise.” He waved his hand in the general direction of the bed.
“Absolutely not.” She shook her head, wet strands of hair flying. “I’m not doing a nude photo shoot with you in bed. My parents could see it!”
Christian gave her an angelic smile. “That’s a fantastic idea. I’ll be sure to tell Baxter what you, I mean, we have in mind. Remember, it’s in our contract.”
***
If looks could kill, Christian would be six feet under as of twenty minutes ago. Zoe was still murdering him with her eyes as a team of make-up artists and hair stylists got them ready. She sat in a chair, a white sheet wrapped around her.
“It’s time for the lovebirds to get into their nest,” Baxter called out, completely into the exclusive bed shots of the semi-nude couple he would soon have stored on his memory stick.
Christian saw Zoe roll her eyes and he wanted to join her, but he decided to annoy her instead. “You heard him, sweet cheeks. Get into our cozy nest.”
“I’m going to make you pay for this,” she hissed, but he saw a twinkle in her eyes. She wasn’t entirely upset at the notion. She yanked the covers back and slid in, keeping the white fabric draped around her.
Christian stripped. Most of the world had seen him bare-assed at one time or another. He joined her, but she scooted as far away from him as possible without actually leaving the bed.
“Sweetheart, don’t be shy. Take off the sheet and hug your husband.”
“But you still have coffee and cigarette breath. The two smells that make me want to vomit the most,” she said sweetly.
Two could play at this game. Christian tugged the sheet away as she made a hasty grab for the comforter, revealing glimpses of her lush body. “The baby making you sick, love?”
Zoe’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. Her eyes slid over to the photographer and his entourage. “I am not pregnant.”
They nodded at her, then whispered to each other.
Christian took advantage of the distraction they provided as she once again tried to protest. He pulled her close and threw his leg over her thighs, effectively trapping her against him as he nuzzled her forehead. “Stop denying it, or they’ll think you’re bullshitting them.”
“But honey, you know what the doctor said about your impotence.” She smirked. “How’s that?”
Her smile evaporated as he kissed the side of her mouth. “Sweetheart, the video we made last night says otherwise. Shall I get my cell out to remind you?” He lowered his voice. “It’s not you in it, but since the woman’s face is never shown, I can claim otherwise.” Actually, he was bluffing and all other women had been permanently erased from his memory and hard drives since meeting Zoe. Except for one. His memories of Amber needed to be exorcised from his soul.
“I can’t believe you have that on your phone.”
“Maybe I do and maybe I don’t.” He prayed she’d backed down.
Her face turned pink and she buried it in his chest. “Fine.”
As it turned out, the afternoon of pictures resulted in pure torture for him. Every time they were repositioned, her breasts or bum would press against him and his body would respond in kind. He was going to have permanent blue balls from all the erections he’d had in the past week. His only consolation was that she wasn’t immune to him. Her nipples were hard, her panties were damp and her breaths were coming out in little pants.
He slid his hand down her back. She let out a little sigh, melting into him. If only the cameras weren’t here. He would peel away the flimsy barrier of clothes and wrap her legs around his waist. She would make those little sounds in the back of her throat that he loved to hear while she rocked against him, soaking him with her arousal.
Sweat broke out on his forehead as he grew rock hard. Concentrating on the top of Zoe’s head, he willed his erection away.
Baxter snapped picture after picture. “Much better. You two aren’t fighting each other anymore. Zoe, put your left hand on his jaw. Ian put your right hand on the back of her neck, cupping it softly and titling her face up to yours.�
��
She made the first move. He cupped her elegant neck, dark hair falling in silky waves and tickling his skin. Her eyes met his, pale jades, olives and deep greens infusing the irises. Plump lips barely parted as she pressed closer to him. Pearled nipples scraped his chest.
“Let’s take five while I get a new memory stick,” Baxter announced.
“Christian?”
“Yes, love,” he said as her lashes swept down. His heart swelled. In a million years, he never thought he’d find someone like Zoe.
“Please pull up the sheet. Baxter’s assistants keep tugging it down to my waist.”
“No one can actually see anything, and the pictures will photoshopped to show the ‘real us’.”
She turned so that her next breath highlighted his ear. “Please, I’ve never been nude in front of anyone. I mean, my doctor, my momma, Melanie and Eva have seen me, but that doesn’t count.”
He froze. “What about the guy who broke your heart.”
“Not exactly.”
How did she not exactly get nude to have sex—wait, there were tons of ways to do that. “What about your ex?”
Silky hair tickled his nose. “No.”
Her ex had never seen her sans clothing? “Why not?”
“Gabriel wanted to wait until after we were married, and I agreed with him.”
He waited for her to elaborate, then decided it wasn’t really any of his business. She hadn’t asked him to name all the women he’d slept with, and he was being a dick for doing it to her. But asking for a specific period of time wasn’t the same. At least that’s what he told himself before asking, “How long has it been?”
“Promise you won’t laugh?”
Laughing was nowhere near any of the reactions he was having at the moment. “You have my word.”
“Over four years,” came her answer, flooring him. Staring at the top of her head, he tried processing what she said. Tried to wrap his mind around someone consciously making the decision to abstain for so long.
“That’s a really long time.”
“I know,” she said. “Will you cover me up now?”
Feeling like an ass for making her play twenty questions, he pulled the sheet up to her shoulders. “Better?”
Twice Tempted (Holland Springs) Page 15
