He shrugged, not giving into her accusations. “I know how you hate everything cheesecake, so I’ll be your hero and eat it for you. I’d hate for you to suffer.”
“Shut it. You know I love cheesecake. I’m starving, and the sooner we get to dinner, the sooner we can be done and I can go to bed.”
An image of falling into bed with her, naked, ripped through his mind, shooting fire through his veins. Cheesecake seemed excessive at the thought of having Daisy for dessert. He could already taste her sweet skin on his tongue, feel her silky hair tangling between his fingers, feel her warm heat surrounding him as he plunged deep. He crushed the thought as quickly as he could, but not before the ache in his groin pulsed with need.
Not happening. Think of something else.
“Alone,” she added as an afterthought, or possibly a warning, as she wandered off toward to bank of elevators.
She doesn’t want me anyway. I’ll take a long, cold shower after dinner and either get over it or take care of business myself. Taking matters into my own hands is all the action I’m getting for the foreseeable future.
They rode the elevator in silence up to the top floor of the hotel to the restaurant and bar. When the elevator doors opened, he pressed his hand to her lower back, signaling for her to go ahead of him. A feeling of familiarity washed over him at the gesture. It was something he’d done so many times it felt completely natural. Yet he was supposed to be keeping a reasonable distance. The only thing touching her succeeded in doing was making him want to touch her more.
He relaxed slightly when she chose seats at the bar instead of heading into the very darkly lit restaurant, with its cozy, high-backed, intimate-looking booths. The last thing he needed was to be tucked away in a dark corner alone with her. Add in a little alcohol, and he’d be sure to make a few moves tonight that he might regret tomorrow. The bar definitely offered more safety.
“This okay?” she asked.
“Perfect.” He slid onto the bar stool and waved at the bartender. “Still drinking margaritas?”
“Is there any other kind of alcohol?” she asked.
“Yes, actually. There are a lot of nongirlie drinks available for the rest of us.” He ordered her drink and a rum and Coke for himself, then glanced at the menu.
She took a sip of her strawberry margarita when it arrived and sighed happily. He had to admit, it did look delicious. He recalled the many occasions he’d tasted tequila and strawberry on her tongue. He chanced a peek at her lips while she took another sip. They were rosy and plump and still had a hint of shine on them from her lip gloss. Her tongue darted out quickly, licking the extra slush from her lips. A spike of desire shot through him again.
The way his body reacted to Daisy after only a few weeks annoyed him. What would he be like after a few months? A walking erection?
She held her glass out toward him. “Want a sip? You’re looking at it like someone dying of thirst. It’s okay to like a girlie drink.”
He didn’t like her girlie drink. He liked the girl holding the drink.
Damn it.
She wasn’t even flirting with him, or acting like she wanted him. She was dressed very conservatively in black pants and a pink top. Even her hair was tucked back into a knot at the nape of her neck.
And yet he couldn’t stop staring at her like she was naked and flirting as if her life depended on it. What was she doing to him? Why the hell was he so goddamn attracted to her lately? Just the fact that she wore a ring on her finger representing his commitment should be enough to leave him limp for all eternity. But here he was, fighting a semi every time she so much as smiled at him.
“I won’t hold it against you if you admit to liking it.” She laughed and set her glass down on the bar.
He could think of a few things he might like her to hold against him right now, and an icy drink wasn’t one of them.
He took another big gulp of his drink. The rum settled in his empty stomach, calming the nerves he felt building. Dinner and drinks were supposed to relax him, but they appeared to be having the opposite effect. And he could only think of one reason for that.
Daisy.
He sighed.
“You okay?” she asked, turning on her bar stool so she faced him directly. She put her hand on his shoulder and massaged her fingers into his tight muscle. “You seem tense.”
“I’m fine.” He resisted the urge to shrug off her hand. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her touching him. It was that he did want her touching him. Everywhere. He wanted her to undress him one button at time. He wanted her hands on his chest, his thighs…on the rod of heat growing bigger with every stroke of her fingers on his shoulder.
And that was bad. Bad for the desire he felt building in his gut and bad for the promise he made to her to keep his dick in his pants.
Stupid promise.
He knew better than to make promises he wasn’t sure he could keep, but it had been the only way to keep her onboard with their plan. And after the success of today, he knew this discomfort he felt right now was worth it.
“Doesn’t seem like the drinks are helping you relax. Maybe we need another.” She motioned for the bartender to bring them each another. If he didn’t slow down, he wouldn’t be able to think clearly soon, and being cloudy-headed around her was probably a terrible idea.
“I guess I’m a little more worn-out from the day than I realized.”
“It was a long day. Luckily tomorrow will be shorter, since it’s only a few hours in the afternoon and not all day.” Daisy traded her empty glass for a new margarita and took a sip. “It was a really fun day. I can’t believe how much interest there was in my dresses.”
He smiled at her enthusiasm. It felt good to be on the receiving end of her attention and excitement for a change. “You were amazing today. I hate to admit it, but I never really got your job before. But I loved seeing you so inspired and excited by these brides. I can only guess what it’s like to see you working on an actual gown, constructing it, bringing your design to life.”
“Thank you.” She beamed. “You were pretty awesome yourself. I can’t believe how many people walked away from your booth with magazines in their hand. I always knew you’d make the magazine a success.”
The bartender set plates down in front of them, and she turned to eat. Cole couldn’t tear his gaze from her. His chest warmed, and the nervousness and tension he’d been feeling finally melted away. It had nothing to do with the liquor in his stomach and everything to do with the woman at his side—the woman who’d said she’d always believed in him.
The head of the Benton empire can’t have a wife taking away his focus, Cole—and you really can’t afford the distractions. Didn’t you learn anything from me?
His father’s words played through his head, and then his mom’s image flashed through his mind. Disappointment, resignation, and hurt played out on her face in an expression of raw emotion, always at something his father did or said. He’d learned a lot from her, too—success for one marital partner came with the sacrifice of the other. He’d never make someone sacrifice her needs like she had.
You’ll never make the magazine a success if you can’t keep your head in the game and your heart out of the boardroom. Maybe I should have chosen your screw-up brother after all.
No one ever believed in him.
But Daisy did.
And now that he knew, he couldn’t stop from wanting to be with her more. It wasn’t simply lust. The ache in his chest was something else. Something deeper.
As he watched, Daisy took a bite of her Alfredo pasta, the sauce splattering onto her lips and chin. Before she could grab her napkin to wipe it away, he swiped his thumb across her skin and licked the creamy sauce from his finger. She froze, eyes unblinking, mouth parted slightly, her tongue hiding just beyond his view.
Tonight, promise or no promise, he would show her how much that one comment meant to him.
Chapter Ten
Daisy wasn’t sure what caus
ed Cole to get that puppy-dog look in his eyes, or why he’d taken it upon himself to be her personal napkin. She did know that his touch on her lips had only lasted a fraction of a second, but it had been enough to set her insides blazing. When he licked his thumb, she’d almost fainted at the idea of him licking her directly. He’d always been good with his tongue. The thought sent her squirming in her seat.
He smiled—seductively if she wasn’t mistaken—then turned to his burger, taking a big bite as if he hadn’t just acted in a completely suggestive manner. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe his smile was simply friendly, and he’d been trying to be helpful when she’d made a mess of herself.
She should have stopped at one margarita tonight.
“Need another?” he asked, motioning to her still-half-full drink around a mouthful of burger.
“This will be plenty for me.”
He laughed. “I forgot you were such a lightweight.”
Something about the devious twinkle in his eyes made her question his innocence. “Are you sure you’re not waiting for me to get loopy so you can try to seduce me again?”
“Don’t be silly. I could seduce you without alcohol.”
“So you admit it’s your goal in all of this. And here I fell for your Mr. Nice Guy act, thinking you wanted to have dinner with me.”
“I did want to have dinner with you.” He smiled and dug into his burger again, conveniently ignoring her other comment about his goal of seducing her tonight. Guilt by omission maybe? Or wishful thinking on her part?
Truth be told, it wouldn’t take alcohol for her to want to end up in his arms again. Hell, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about his strong arms, or hard chest, or flat stomach since she’d seen him sitting in that boardroom with Mason when this whole thing started. When he’d kissed her, her thoughts had only gotten dirtier.
Nope. Can’t happen.
Kissing Cole again would lead to nothing but heartache, and she wasn’t going to do that again. Nope. Not even when he looked at her with that sexy as sin glint in his eyes. Not even when he complimented her work. Definitely not when he wiped sauce off her lips. She wasn’t going to give into temptation.
This was a temporary arrangement, and no amount of tequila would let her forget that.
By the time dessert arrived, her margarita was no more than a drop of pink in the bottom of her glass, and her head felt like she was riding a Tilt-a-Whirl. She really was a lightweight when it came to alcohol. She licked chocolate sauce off the handle of her fork from where it had dripped down the metal. The cheesecake they shared was delicious, but the chocolate sauce on top was to die for.
She glanced up at the sound of a hard breath. Cole’s eyes were intense and unwavering as his breath came out in a long sigh just shy of a groan.
“Don’t do that, Daisy,” he said, his voice deep and strained.
“Do what?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. She hadn’t done anything wrong. And then she realized. “I’m sorry. I’ve almost eaten the whole slice, and we were supposed to share. You have the rest.” She pushed the plate toward him, but he stopped her by putting his hand on hers.
“That’s not what I was talking about. Eat the damn cheesecake; just don’t lick your fork while you do it.” He set down his own fork and gripped his glass instead. His knuckles turned white. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, do you?”
She shrugged and tried unsuccessfully to hold in a giggle. Something about the way he seemed so high-strung and frustrated struck her as hilarious. She could count the number of times she’d seen him lose his calm, cool demeanor on one hand. It didn’t happen. Nothing rattled him. That was what made him such a good businessman.
“I guess I don’t,” she said, unable to keep the laughter from her voice. It felt so good to finally relax around him again. Until right now, she hadn’t realized how much tension she’d been holding in every time she was near him. Tequila took the tension away, and she liked it.
“Crap,” he swore under his breath, but she still heard him. “Now she’s giggly. Great.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“You’re drunk. That’s what.” He signaled for the check. “I swear I didn’t bring you here to get you sloppy drunk.”
“I’m not sloppy. And I’m not drunk,” she said, slapping him on the arm. His biceps swelled under her touch as he moved to sign the bill. She’d forgotten how large his arms were. Or maybe they were even bigger now than when they’d dated. The man did enjoy working out.
She traced the ridge of his biceps down his arm to the elbow, then back up again, pausing to give it a gentle squeeze along the way. Yep. He’d absolutely been working out harder since they’d dated. “Where do you find the time?”
“Where’d I find the time for what?” he asked, sliding off his stool and gripping her arm to guide her off hers.
“Working out. Building all these muscles.” She grabbed his arm again as she swayed on her feet. Apparently the bar made strong drinks. She’d only had two.
He shook his head. “Damn it.”
“What’s up with you?” Sure she was tipsy, but definitely not drunk. And that wasn’t really a reason to get grouchy with her. “I’m tired, these heels are killing me, and my head is slightly spinning, so if you’re grouchy about something, you’re going to have to spell it out for me, because I’m not standing around long enough to guess.
She might not be in the right mind-set to figure out his issues, but she didn’t have any trouble focusing on Cole. All six feet of him, if she remembered correctly. And that’s how she knew she wasn’t completely drunk—she remembered a lot about him right now. Delicious things. Tempting things.
“Nothing’s up with me,” he muttered. “Would be easier to keep it that way if you’d stop touching me.”
If she hadn’t been standing right in front of him, looking at his lips, she would have missed the comment. Daisy stood straight and took her hand back from his arm. If he didn’t want her touching him, she wouldn’t. Swallowing her annoyance at his words, she strode with confidence to the elevator and pushed the button. She rocked back and forth from heel to toe, waiting for the elevator.
“See. I’m perfectly fine,” she said, leveling him with her most confident stare.
“If you say so.”
She stepped into the elevator and leaned back against the wall while he punched the number for their floor. She already felt more clearheaded after walking around. She eyed him as the elevator started its descent. All day she’d tried to ignore how good he looked. Too bad she couldn’t indulge in more than dessert and drinks with him tonight. Of course, that would involve touching, and he sounded pretty set against that idea.
“Don’t look at me like that.” He leaned his head back and looked up at the ceiling, sighing loudly.
“Like what?” she asked, genuinely confused. He was full of demands tonight. He could be pretty demanding in bed, too. Lava pooled deep inside her at the thought. Her head spun again, but not from the alcohol this time.
“Like you’re thinking about us together.” His voice was edged with tension.
She laughed, heat rushing to her cheeks. She hadn’t meant to look at him like that, but his accusation was correct. “We are together…in this elevator.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” he said. He met her gaze. She saw fire in his eyes. But not from anger or annoyance. Fire from passion she hadn’t seen in a year. Fire that had always preceded their best nights together.
Uh-oh.
She bit her lower lip.
“Bite your lip like that again, and I’ll bite it for you.” He crossed the short distance between them, his gaze never leaving hers. He didn’t touch her, but his eyes made her feel as if his hands were on her in a thousand spots at once.
Seeing that passion in him again sparked something deep and primal inside of her. It didn’t matter that they didn’t want the same things in the future when he looked at her with that expression. I
t didn’t matter that their fake relationship came with an expiration date. The only thing that mattered right now was the way Cole made her feel—alive.
She hadn’t realized she’d been missing something since they’d broken up. But right here, right now, with Cole, she felt it again. She felt whole. And she wanted to hold on to that feeling for as long as she could, regardless of the price she’d have to pay later.
Tonight, she didn’t want to think about her future, or lack of future, with Cole. Tonight she only wanted to feel his arms around her, his lips on her body, his tongue tasting her.
She licked her lips, then pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down gently, never taking her eyes off him. He leaned toward her, bracing one hand against the elevator wall.
“Now’s not a good time to push the limits with me.” He nudged her chin up with his free hand. “We made a deal. You made me promise. And now you’re deliberately teasing me. That’s not very nice.” His lips hovered above hers but stopped short of kissing her.
Behind him, the elevator chimed, and the door slid open, breaking the spell between them. He walked out into the hallway without a glance back. She sagged against the wall for a second, gasping for a breath. He had taken hers the instant he’d closed the distance between them.
Just as the doors started sliding closed again, she darted out after him, falling into step at his side. In her peripheral vision, his face looked brooding and determined. Not at all the sexy bedroom face she’d been hoping for. She readied herself for the rejection she knew was coming.
Should she say something? What could she say? Breaking the rules wasn’t her usual style, but if she was ever going to start, this felt like the time to do it.
They moved down the hallway in silence. Once his arm brushed against hers, and she had to resist the urge to reach out and touch him again. He obviously wasn’t interested, and she shouldn’t be, either.
“I’m sorry about that…in the elevator… I don’t know what got into me, but I won’t let it happen again. Just stop giving me the silent treatment.”
The Wedding Hoax Page 9
