A Merger by Marriage

by Cat Schield

  Sputtering, he shook his head to clear his eyes and took off after her with a growl. It wasn’t until he caught her at the edge of the pool and pinned her against the wall that he remembered she was naked. Her thighs tangled with his and she hooked one foot around his calf to anchor herself to him.

  “Kiss me,” she demanded, sliding her palms up the side of his neck and latching onto his hair. “Soft, slow, hard, deep. I don’t care. Just make me lose myself.”

  His lips captured hers in a relentless assault that definitively declared that this time there would be no backpedaling, no stopping, no mercy. She accepted every stroke of his tongue, every nip of his teeth and gave him back frenzied desire and impatience. Her nails bit into his skin, her moans heightened his already explosive hunger. She writhed against him, her hips moving rhythmically against his erection, driving him wild.

  He sucked the water from her neck, tasting chlorine and below that the sweetness of her skin. His breath caught as she threw her head back and offered him even more access. He wrapped his fingers around her delicate ribcage and lifted her until her perfect breasts bobbed above the water’s surface. She wrapped her thighs around his waist as he locked his mouth over one hard nipple. With her wet heat pressed tight to his abdomen, he sucked and nibbled first one breast, then the other until her breath came in short, tight pants.

  Her lithe body trembled in his arms as he grazed his fingertips down her spine and splayed his hands over the firm planes of her butt. She’d been working her hips in an ever-increasing rhythm. What she wanted, she wasn’t getting and she unhooked her ankles from around his waist and let her feet drift to the pool bottom.

  Once again he felt her tug on his trunks. This time she forced the fabric downward, freeing his erection. He hissed through his teeth as the pool water hit the sensitive head. The sound was followed a second later by his strangled moan as she closed her fingers around his hard length.

  He slammed his mouth down over hers, plunging his tongue inward, all technique lost in the savage need to claim her. She matched his kiss with sweet ferocity, using her tongue and teeth to drive him wild.

  “Give it all to me,” she murmured, stroking him in ever more tantalizing sweeps as he sucked on her neck.

  She parted her thighs and placed the tip of him at her entrance. He nudged firmly against her hot wet core, and almost cried out at the agony of holding back, but remained perfectly still.

  “Protection,” he garbled out the word, unsure how he was going let her go, walk all the way upstairs and fetch a condom from his nightstand.

  “I’m on the pill.” She arched her back and rocked her hips forward, embedding him inside her before her words fully registered.

  The tightness of her encased him and nothing JT had ever dreamed of matched the reality of Violet naked and in his arms. He put his hands on her hips and settled himself deeper still, hanging onto his control for dear life so he could make the moment into something they would both find satisfying.

  “You are amazing,” he murmured as they rocked together in the pool, stirring the water as they kissed and caressed.

  Time slowed. JT’s world narrowed to the rush of air through his lungs, the surge of heat in his groin and the warm silk of Violet’s skin caressing his.

  “This is so much better than I imagined it would be,” she whispered, her breath tickling his ear.

  “You thought about it?”

  He wandered his hands over her back and down her thighs as his lips drifted along her shoulder. She’d locked the soles of her feet against his calves to anchor herself in the weightlessness of the water. It gave her the leverage to add a little twisting motion to the rhythmic movements of her hips. The power of that move was close to blowing a hole in his willpower. He ground his teeth against a groan.

  “Night and day since you first started showing up at Baccarat.”

  Her confession prompted him to offer one of his own. “Losing Rick to you was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  “You don’t say.” Her chest vibrated with a sexy laugh, making her breasts shift tantalizingly against him. Her tight nipples were searing points of heat that quickened his breath.

  “Or it was,” he amended, unable to stave off the quickening of sensations any longer. “Until now.”

  He moved more strongly into her and felt her close tightly around him, forming a tight sheath. The friction was almost too intense to handle. But if her body brought him acute pleasure, her dreamy smile was a balm for his spirit.

  And then he felt her body tighten and her focus sharpen. Using all his willpower to hold off his own release, he watched her climb higher and higher. Her eyes flew open. Her sharp gasp was followed by a shudder. Only then did JT let himself go.

  His orgasm came with such speed and intensity he wondered how he’d held it off as long as he had. The pool, Violet’s face, all vanished behind a wave of black. He was cast into the heavens. A thousand pinpoints of lights guided his flight. They rushed at him, through him. Each one left a mark, a permanent reminder of this perfect moment.

  He came back to earth and realized that his chest hurt. The pain was caused by either his tortured lungs or the impossibly swift beat of his heart.

  “Best sex ever,” Violet murmured, framing his face with her hands and smiling at him. Equally winded, she seemed less shaken by their turbulent lovemaking. “I knew it would be great with you, but wow.”

  He couldn’t match her openness. What he felt for her was too immense, too raw.

  “Yes.” It wasn’t eloquent, but it was heartfelt. “Wow.”

  The corners of her eyes crinkled as her grin grew. “Am I still banned from skinny-dipping?”

  Captivated by her happiness, he shook his head. “In fact, I plan to burn every bathing suit in the place.”

  * * *

  “You’re smiling a lot this morning,” Harper commented, eyeing Violet over a glass of orange juice.

  It was Tuesday morning and the Fontaine sisters were meeting for their weekly breakfast, this morning in Scarlett’s office at Fontaine Richesse. Usually they met on Wednesdays, but Violet and JT were having their belated wedding reception at the ranch that evening and they all figured it would be a late night.

  “Am I?” Violet sipped her green tea and tried to look nonchalant.

  “Of course she’s smiling,” Scarlett put in. “She and JT have been shacked up for three days of postnuptial bliss.”

  “I don’t think it can be called ‘shacked up’ if we’re married,” Violet corrected her.

  Harper frowned in confusion. “You’re living together now?”

  “If you’d pay attention to something other than your hotel once in a while,” Scarlett began, “you’d know that Preston showed up here and threatened to sue JT and Violet for fraud if their marriage wasn’t real.”

  “He can’t possibly have a case,” Harper said.

  Scarlett smirked. “Not anymore.”

  “What I mean,” Harper continued, shooting Scarlett a look, “is there’s nothing in the corporate bylaws insisting the marriage must be real, just legal.”

  “We were concerned that by taking us to court, he could prevent me from voting my shares at the upcoming shareholder meeting and remain CEO.”

  A line formed between Harper’s brows. “I guess that’s possible. I just don’t know how likely.”

  “We didn’t want to take the chance.”

  “And because of that your relationship has become physical?”

  Violet resisted looking Scarlett’s way for fear that her sister’s expression would make her laugh. Harper was a little too literal and that often kept her from finding the humor in a situation.

  “Not exactly...”

  “He’s crazy about her and vice versa,” Scarlett explained. “Unlike you and Ashton where
you make each other crazy.”

  “I have every right to be crazy,” Harper insisted. “The restaurant is behind schedule because he hasn’t been here to make decisions. And when he does make decisions, it puts us even more behind schedule because he wants to change things.”

  Scarlett gave her sister a doubting look. “To say nothing of the fact that he’s gorgeous and sexy and your DVR is full of his television series.”

  Harper’s scowl would have been more intimidating if she’d been able to meet Scarlett’s gaze. “It seems to me that you and Logan were in that drive-each-other-crazy place less than a month ago.”

  Scarlett and her security-expert fiancé were so madly in love these days it was hard to remember just how much they used to antagonize each other

  “That was then. Now we just drive each other crazy with passion.”

  Harper’s response was a rude noise. Violet chuckled. She loved her sisters. To outsiders, it sometimes appeared as if the three of them didn’t get along, but in fact for three women who’d not known each other until their grandfather introduced them five years ago, they were as tight as siblings who’d grown up together. Maybe even tighter because there were no childhood battle scars.

  “Putting aside all the crazy talk for a second,” Violet said, turning to Scarlett, “you said you had something important you wanted to discuss with me.”

  After some meaningful eye contact with Harper, Scarlett went to her desk and brought back two files. She held one suspended in Violet’s direction and said, “I know I’ve told you a little about the files I inherited from Tiberius. This one is about Preston Rhodes.”

  Curious, Violet accepted the file and quickly scanned it. The contents included old newspaper clippings about a flash flood drowning in the desert near Las Vegas as well as a grainy group photo of seven rough-looking young men. Below that was a piece of paper with a woman’s name and contact information on it. Charity Rimes.

  “What am I looking at?” Violet asked.

  “Grady and I think the man we know as Preston Rhodes is actually a local Las Vegas kid who was supposed to have drowned during a flash flood back in 1970.”

  Violet glanced at Harper and saw in her sister’s expression the same skepticism she was feeling. “So, the newspaper report got it wrong? It wasn’t this George Barnes guy, but Preston Rhodes. How is that possible?”

  “I think JT’s father—whose real name I think is George Barnes—switched identities with Preston Rhodes after Preston was killed in the flash flood.”

  “That’s a pretty wild theory,” Harper interjected.

  “Why would he do that?” Violet wanted to know.

  “From what information Tiberius had gathered about George Barnes, he’d been a juvenile delinquent on his way to a bad end. Preston Rhodes had a bright future ahead of him. A rich kid with no family. He’d left California, where he’d grown up, to take a road trip to the East Coast where he would be attending college. Think of how easy it would have been for George to simply step into Preston’s shoes.”

  Violet skimmed the clippings, and realized that Scarlett’s explanation was sounding more reasonable by the second. And after meeting JT’s father, she had no trouble believing the man was ruthless and unscrupulous enough to steal another man’s identity and fortune. But what would this mean for JT? She imagined how devastating this revelation would be to him. Finding out your father had stolen someone’s identity was a far cry from merely worrying that he was making poor business decisions.

  With her stomach in knots, Violet set aside the file. “I don’t know what you want me to do with this.”

  “You should talk to Charity Rimes. Tiberius tracked her down for a reason.”

  “Who is she?” Harper asked.

  “She’s the writer doing a story on a series of killings in Los Angeles back in the sixties. I don’t know much about the story other than they never caught the guy. I let the whole matter drop when I realized it wasn’t any of my business. But things have changed. JT married you. That makes him family.” Scarlett extended a second file. “Which brings me to this. I don’t know if you want to read it or not, but since you’re now involved with JT, I thought I should at least give you the choice.”

  “Tiberius had a file on JT.” Violet wondered why he hadn’t kept it in his home office. “Have you read it?”

  “I was tempted to when I first suspected his dad of stealing Preston Rhodes’s identity, but then I decided it wasn’t my place to know his secrets.” She extended the file to Violet.

  The amount of paper contained in the manila folder took Violet by surprise. This wasn’t a simple summary of his unhappy childhood and adolescent acting out. Tiberius had spent time and energy researching his nephew. Probably in preparation for renewing their relationship.

  Reading the file would be a shortcut to learning most everything that had gone into developing JT’s character. No doubt she’d learn things about him he wouldn’t appreciate her knowing. But maybe talking about the most painful events would help him to heal. And if he healed, perhaps he could then open himself up to love.

  As soon as the thought occurred, Violet reined it in. Was she hoping that if she fixed him he’d be so grateful he’d never want their marriage to end? They’d been married less than two weeks and she was already figuring out ways to manipulate him. Better to let JT tell her what he wished her to know when he wanted her to know it.

  “I shouldn’t.” Violet tried to hand the folder back to Scarlett, but she put up her hands.

  “Keep it. Burn it. Give it to JT. I don’t care, but I don’t want it back in my possession.” Scarlett glanced at Harper who was glaring at her smartphone. “I’m already the keeper of more secrets than I’m comfortable knowing.”

  Violet knew Scarlett was referring to the file she’d found on Harper’s mother. The one with the potential to turn Harper’s life upside down. From her calm demeanor, Violet suspected that Scarlett hadn’t yet decided to share with her half sister what was in the file.

  “I have to go,” Harper said, getting to her feet. “I emailed Ashton another round of head chef candidates and he has fifteen minutes of free time to talk about them.”

  As soon as Harper left the room, Scarlett fetched another file from her desk. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m uncomfortable with the secrets I’m keeping.”

  “Are you planning to tell her what you discovered about her mother?”

  “I’m going to tell you what’s going on and I want you to help me decide.”

  “Very well.” When Violet had first found out about the file on Harper’s mother, she’d sympathized with Scarlett’s dilemma. Now she had a similar problem—what to do with the files on JT and his father. “What did Harper’s mother do?”

  “She had a brief affair during an extended period of time where her husband was away on business.”

  “Penelope?” Violet couldn’t believe Harper’s uptight mother could have done anything that rash. “It’s so unlike her.”

  Scarlett opened the file and displayed the black-and-white photos of a young Penelope Fontaine and a handsome man in a hot embrace.

  “Apparently being married to our father could push even the most conservative person into reckless behavior,” Scarlett remarked, sounding more tired than wry.

  “I’m sure Harper will be shocked and embarrassed by her mother’s actions, but it was a long time ago.” Violet wanted to reject what her eyes were seeing. “But I don’t understand why you think it will devastate her.”

  “Because she was born nine months later.”

  It took several seconds for Scarlett’s meaning to penetrate. “You mean...?”

  “Harper isn’t a Fontaine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” Scarlett closed her eyes. Pain raced across her features. “How ca
n I tell her that?”

  When Harper found out the truth about her parentage, she’d be destroyed.

  “I don’t think you should,” Violet said at last.

  Harper had the education and the business savvy to run Fontaine Resorts and Hotels, not to mention the ambition and a seemingly inexhaustible store of energy, and she’d spent her whole life preparing to run the family business. In the last five years Violet had learned enough about Harper’s character to guess she’d bow out of the contest to determine the next CEO.

  A year ago Violet would have been excited at the prospect of moving into the lead. She had Harper’s ambition and drive, but of late she’d been thinking less about her career and more about her personal life. The transition had been subtle, but she suspected it had begun around the time JT started showing up at Baccarat.

  As for Scarlett, the former child star had recently decided to return part-time to acting. Splitting her time and attention between L.A. and Las Vegas meant she’d already decided not to actively compete for the CEO position. Nor was Violet convinced Scarlett had ever truly given herself props for the work she’d done to make Fontaine Richesse the standout hotel it was.

  Scarlett nodded somberly and returned the photos to the file. “It’s what I think, too. No good will come of telling her.”

  With too many secrets weighing her down, Violet left Scarlett’s office and headed to her suite to find a dress to wear to her belated wedding reception. She’d been so preoccupied with the details for the party that she’d forgotten all about herself.

  In the back of her closet was a pale pink chiffon dress embellished with blush and silver sequins on the bodice. Three years ago, she’d bought it to wear to a charity event that at the last minute she’d been unable to attend. Despite having spent a fortune on the dress and the matching pink slingbacks, Violet couldn’t bring herself to return the ensemble. She knew eventually she’d be attending a party where she could wear it. Her wedding reception fit the bill.