Crazy Love

by Nicola Marsh

  “Shut your goddamn mouth, you little punk.”

  George shot to his feet, neck muscles rigid, slamming his palms on the table and leaning forward until they were inches apart.

  “Punk?” Marc laughed, an empty, hollow sound filled with derision and little humor. “Sorry to disappoint yet again, but I’m not so little any more.”

  He snapped his fingers in George’s face, enjoying the flinch. “I forgot. You’d have to acknowledge I exist to notice I’m all grown up.”

  “You’re embarrassing yourself.” George snarled, his mouth twisted in the angry, bitter line Marc remembered all too well.

  “Actually, I think you’ve done enough of that for the both of us.”

  Straightening, Marc swiped his hands down the front of his trousers, as if being too close to George had dirtied them. “Why don’t you do us all a favor and leave?”

  His old man may be an asshole but he wasn’t dumb, and with the increasing twittering at a nearby table and the curious looks from patrons, he knew when he was beaten.

  George straightened his tie, phony smile in place as he took Sierra’s hand and bowed over it. “Nice to meet you, young lady.”

  A confused frown crinkled Sierra’s brow. “’Bye.”

  Typically, George snuck another long peek at Sierra’s cleavage before turning to him with a triumphant sneer. “See you round, Son.”

  Marc didn’t bother replying, hating that Sierra had witnessed their altercation, hating he’d let years of resentment bubble up like that, as he slid into the booth George had vacated and waved over a waitress.

  “Care to tell me what that was about?”

  “Not really. Drink?”

  “Perrier for me. With a twist of truth.”

  If the hostess had been Sarah Jessica’s double, the waitress could’ve been Paris Hilton’s twin. Both made him feel ancient, the average age of the staff and clientele in this place going a long way to explaining why his father had been here. Anything to help George forget his age and feel like a playboy.

  He placed his order for a Ristretto with Paris before gesturing at the bags gathered at Sierra’s feet.

  “Picked up a few things, huh?”

  He refrained from adding, “Including my father.” She tucked a tendril of copper behind her ear before fixing him with the stare only she did so well. He’d faced hostile boardrooms during takeovers, angry staff during employee reshuffles, but no one came close to the intimidation factor of a Sierra Kent glare.

  “Nice try. How about we leave the riveting topic of my purchases for the trip home and you tell me what gives between you and your dad?”

  Dad. For him, the word conjured up images of spontaneous hugs, shared bike rides and laughter over whose football team scored the most touchdowns. No prizes for guessing why he never called George that.

  “Let’s not get into happy families Fairley style for now.”

  “Your dad seemed sweet.”

  Did the woman have no taste? For someone he’d pegged as savvy she’d fallen for George’s act mighty fast.

  “Yeah, like a mother-in-law’s kiss.”

  She chuckled but didn’t drop the subject. “Okay, I’ll quit toying with you if you do me the same courtesy.”

  She held up her hand, the clear lacquer on her nails in stark contrast to everything else about her, bright, sparkling, full of color, and started counting off points on her fingers.

  “One, guys like George don’t fool me. They’re smooth, sophisticated and ready to schmooze up to the first woman silly enough to let them. Two, the only reason why I let him sit with me was to stop that rowdy group at the bar from making nuisances of themselves.”

  He cast a quick glance over her shoulder and sure enough, the crowd of ten or so young guys were ogling, wolf-whistling and hassling any female in the room.

  She wiggled her fingers in front of his face to recapture his attention.

  “And lastly, I was about to give the old codger his marching orders when I saw you come in, spot us and look ready to carve him up.”

  She swiped her hands together as if dusting them off. “So, there you go. Now, I’ve showed you mine, it’s time for you to show me yours.”

  He managed a wry grin. “I wish.”

  At that moment, Paris deposited his Ristretto in front of him, sloshed Sierra’s Perrier over half the table and winked at him before bounding away.

  Sierra swirled the slice of lemon in her glass with the straw and chuckled.

  “Looks like I’m not the only one making conquests today.”

  “Do you blame the women in LA if they know a prize catch when they see one?”

  “Where? Where? Show me.”

  She frantically searched the room as if looking for the Holy Grail, her antics making him forget the surprise encounter with his father. Almost.

  As if reading his mind—how the hell did she do that anyway?—her smile faded. “You could keep me in stitches for hours but what I really want to know is what the deal with you and daddy dearest is?”

  “Remember Pandora?”

  Though if his family vault of secrets ever opened, the ensuing chaos would make Pandora’s surprises tame in comparison.

  “I’m not the one who opens boxes he shouldn’t.”

  “Touché.”

  Remembering her quirky stash had him wondering for the hundredth time since he met this woman what made her tick. And hoping he’d get a look at her other collection, the dream catchers she mentioned in her bedroom. If he made it into that particular sanctuary his attention would be focused entirely on the sexy woman in front of him and not on a few feathers hanging from the ceiling.

  “I’m waiting.”

  She folded her arms, drummed her fingers against them, the simple action drawing his attention to the silky blue material stretched across her breasts. She had a great body, a fact that preoccupied his thoughts more and more.

  Resigned to the fact he’d have to give her some snippet of information regarding his dysfunctional family if she were to drop the subject, he said, “You seem pretty buddy-buddy with my mom. Did she mention anything about George?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t pry into my client’s lives. To find a suitable match, I get basic details—”

  “Like their sexual preferences.”

  She ignored his interruption. “—Input them into the software package I use and let Cupid work his magic.”

  “Cupid?”

  “My PC. He works better when I call him by his name.”

  “You’re one crazy lady.”

  “And you still haven’t told me anything about George.”

  He glanced at this watch. “Fine, I’ll give you the abbreviated version because we need to get going. My father only loves one person in this world and that’s himself. Mom and I were window dressing, props he showed off as part of his successful persona.” He wrinkled his nose. “You know the type. The consummate professional, every part of his life staged to be perfect.”

  Staring into his coffee cup, he wished for something stronger. Though nothing could disguise the truth about George or vanquish the bitterness that lingered whenever he thought about him.

  “It was a total crock. He treated mom like dirt and only paid me attention while I was young enough to obey him. Once I grew up, wised up, I couldn’t stand the bastard and the feeling was entirely mutual. George doesn’t have time for anyone with an opinion, especially if it’s different to his. I avoid him.”

  And made it his personal goal to beat him no matter what it took.

  “That little display you witnessed? He used to do that all the time. Bait mom. Try to get a reaction. Say anything to get a rise.”

  When Marc was young he’d hide at the top of the stairs, hands pressed against his ears, humming softly, desperate to block out the heartless jibes, the escalating voices.

  Little did he know how much scarier it would be when George’s taunts were met with silence as his mom retreated inward, eventually tur
ning to alcohol for peace, solitude and the desire to numb.

  “Mom eventually stopped reacting so George turned on me. But I never responded either. Then I grew up and left.”

  Sierra laid a hand on his, her touch soothing. “That’s sad.”

  He stared at her for a moment, so caught up in his lousy memories he’d almost forgotten she was there. Hell, he didn’t want her pity or her touch to soothe. The next time she touched him, he wanted her desperate to get him naked.

  “You asked for it. Can we go now?”

  She hesitated, as if about to ask something else. “Don’t worry. After that blubbering act you witnessed last night? My family makes yours look like the Waltons.”

  She squeezed his hand, stood and picked up her shopping bags. “Right now, I have a hankering for a whole lotta Love so let’s hit the road.”

  As he followed her out, admiring the white linen molding her butt, wondering if she wore underwear beneath the snug pants, he knew that was the best idea she’d had all day.

  However, as they left LA, his mood deteriorated. What the hell was he doing, spending time with her, wanting to get closer, when the Tech file was gaining momentum?

  Dropping by the office earlier had rammed the point home: he wanted Sierra, he wanted her company. Two mutually exclusive desires that would tear him in opposite directions if he didn’t sort out his priorities ASAP. Only problem was, A-Corp had been his first love for years and he had no intention of cheating.

  But what if things had progressed too far? What if he’d already become ensnared in this beautiful, smart woman’s web without realizing?

  He’d deliberately avoided talking about last night on their trip to LA, had focused on keeping the conversation light, wary of how close they’d grown while he’d comforted her. He didn’t want to see her vulnerable side, didn’t want to acknowledge the urge to soothe and protect her, didn’t want to feel anything but raging lust.

  What if it was too late?

  “Did you get things sorted at the office?”

  Damn, how did she do that? She read his thoughts like a clairvoyant and it annoyed him further.

  “Yeah.”

  “Must be rough leaving the company for a week?”

  “Yeah.”

  Maybe if he continued to give monosyllabic answers she’d back off and let him drive in peace. He needed time to think, time to analyze his feelings, time to find a workable solution to his dilemma.

  Business had always come first. He needed her company to grab the number one acquisition slot in California, needed to oust George, needed to do this for every vile put-down his mom had endured.

  What if he needed Sierra more?

  “I’d feel the same way leaving Love Byte for any length of time.”

  “Mm.”

  Hell, now she wanted to talk business. It wasn’t ethical but he had to keep up the conversation to avoid rousing suspicion, at least until he’d worked out a solution.

  “Bet you didn’t know dating agencies are big business these days. Seems like everyone’s looking for love on the Net.”

  He settled for a noncommittal grunt, hoping she’d change the subject.

  “I’ve won a few awards and the company ranks up there with California’s top dating sites.”

  Dammit, now he’d have to say something.

  “Impressive. Must be a lot of desperadoes out there.”

  Hopefully she’d bite, snap at him and he could steer the conversation clear of murky business waters. It didn’t sit well with him discussing her company, not now, not when he knew how this could end.

  She laughed, surprising him with her mellow streak. Maybe they were growing comfortable around each other? Jeez.

  “Yeah, the more desperadoes the better. Lucky for me, huh?”

  Lucky indeed.

  Sierra unlocked her front door, dropped her shopping bags inside and turned to face Marc.

  “Here we are.”

  “Mmm.”

  Another monosyllabic response and she resisted the urge to throttle him.

  As long as she lived she’d never figure out the male species. After enjoying her day in LA he’d turned into a taciturn grump on the way home and she had no idea why. They’d been getting along fine before the return journey and she’d genuinely enjoyed his company.

  “I didn’t need a toothbrush after all,” she said, hoping to lighten the moment.

  He’d made a teasing comment when he’d picked her up, something along the lines of ‘hope you packed a toothbrush’, implying they’d spend the night in LA and while she’d known it was a joke a small part of her couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Dumbass. Then again, had she been anything but since he’d walked into her office a few days ago?

  Not that she would’ve been comfortable staying at his place. It had nothing to do with his palatial home they’d briefly visited and everything to do with her blossoming crush.

  Sleeping with him would be stupid despite her raging hormones. Because she actually liked him. He constantly surprised her. Tough and fierce with George, loving and protective with Liv, teasing and passionate with her.

  As for how she’d felt last night in his arms, safe and secure…no, she wouldn’t acknowledge the emotion that was slowly creeping under her guard, wriggling its way into her protected heart with the stealth of a thief intent on stealing it.

  Marc wasn’t the only surprise; William had been another one. The refined Englishman appeared the epitome of a snobby butler but she’d seen the genuine affection in his eyes when he’d helped Marc load the car, the way he’d shook Marc’s hand more like a clasp than a shake.

  She hadn’t doubted for a second Marc would have hired help though William was obviously more than that. After seeing the way Marc related to George, he probably respected his butler more than his father, which was sad. Though who was she to judge? At least Marc had a father still around, more than she could say for runaround Bob.

  A quiver of remorse lodged in her conscience. It wasn’t good to think ill of the dead and while she may have cried enough tears to flood a gorge last night, she’d realized something in the wee small hours. She wasn’t mourning his death, she was mourning the lack of a father all these years.

  She’d shed tears of anger, of blame, of retribution, and once they dried she’d been cleansed. No point looking back, wishing things had been different, wishing Bob had been different.

  He was gone, she’d dealt with his absconding, she’d deal with his death.

  “You sound disappointed about the toothbrush.”

  At last, a glimmer of a smile played around his mouth, drawing her attention to exactly how much she wanted to feel his lips plastered against hers again.

  So much for not wanting to jump into bed too soon. Right now, with his dark eyes fixed on her, she could think of little else.

  “Nah, just figured you to be a man who’d push the boundaries.” She angled her head, gave him a once-over. “You surprise me.”

  The smile that had been tugging at the corners of his mouth finally won out, illuminating his face to heartbreakingly handsome in a second.

  “I can’t win with you. If we’d stayed in LA, you’d have branded me a sleaze. I bring you home and you look ready to drag me into your house and have your wicked way with me. What’s it to be?”

  If ever there was a golden opportunity, he was it, six-four, chocolate eyes and all.

  Yikes. She couldn’t compare any part of him to chocolate. Otherwise she’d be gobbling him up the same way, all in one go. Yum…greed is good.

  Before she could answer and make a complete fool of herself, he reached out and brushed the corner of her mouth with his thumb.

  “You were drooling.”

  She jerked away as if stung. “No way.”

  Heck, she hoped not. Thinking about her favorite food did that to a girl. Of course, it had nothing to do with the thought of City Boy wearing nothing but a thin layer of warmed Lindt milk chocolate smeared all over his…
>
  He grinned and she wondered if she’d imagined his bad mood. “There’s something about the look in your eyes—”

  “It’s fatigue. Time to call it a day.”

  “Going to love me and leave me, huh?”

  “Good night, Slick.”

  She stood on tiptoe and placed a quick kiss on his lips before running inside and bolting the door. Leaning against it, she slowly exhaled, squeezed her eyes shut, silently reciting her mantra “I don’t do love…I don’t do love…”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Cupid’s Dating Tips for the Enlightened Male

  Real men ask for directions…to find everything.

  Sierra had barely closed the door and slipped off her sling-backs when a lazy knock sounded.

  Damn, what did City Boy want now?

  She flung open the door and her heart ka-thumped, spiked and somersaulted with a double twist pike. Her reaction terrified: too fast, too intense, too much.

  Hoping her ridiculous yearning didn’t show on her face, she leaned against the door, aiming for casual.

  “What’s up? So enamored of my company you don’t want the day to end?”

  His slow, teasing grin set her pulse thumping alongside her traitorous heart.

  “Something like that. Why don’t we sweeten the odds of our bet by you giving me a personal guided tour of the town?”

  “Now?”

  He nodded, leaning within touching distance and her skin prickled at his proximity.

  This was a bad idea. A really bad idea. If spending all day with him had her on the verge of flinging herself naked into his arms, what would a few more hours do?

  His sexy grin widened. “You know you want to.”

  “Arrogant sod.”

  But her defiance fooled neither of them and when he took hold of her hand and tugged gently, she sighed in resignation as she slipped her shoes back on and pulled the door shut.

  “How’s this going to sweeten our bet?”

  He opened the car door and handed her in like a princess, another thing she liked about him. She may be a twenty-first century girl who’d burned her bras with the rest of the sisterhood but she could appreciate a chivalrous guy like the next gal.