by Judy Duarte
She had no idea what Miguel planned to do now, but she assumed he’d tell her that he no longer wanted to go along with the ruse. And at this point, she really didn’t blame him.
She’d known the marriage wouldn’t last, but she hadn’t realized it would end before it even started. And she wasn’t sure what she’d tell her parents when her scheme completely unraveled.
But that seemed to be the least of her worries now. Because she’d just set the scene for two of Red Rock’s most eligible bachelors to take off in a fancy Jaguar convertible, looking for action....
Chapter Eleven
Nicole never wore casual skirts and blouses to the corporate office, but she did today. She also arrived wearing a cute pair of flip-flops she’d purchased in Santa Inez.
But going home to change into something more professional hadn’t been an option. She’d been too eager to put some space between her and Miguel.
However, if she thought the atmosphere at home was going to be tense, it ended up being ten times worse at work—where she’d run to escape a confrontation with the man who’d turned her life on end, her new husband, only to find endless confrontations to avoid at Castleton Boots.
The tension started when Bradley came into her office carrying files, as if he intended to report on the goings on at Castleton Boots while she’d been away, but he’d plopped into the chair in front of her desk and wanted to know all about the resort and the amenities.
Apparently, he was planning a honeymoon of his own.
He’d no more than walked out of her office when her coworkers began to file in to congratulate her on her marriage.
It got to the point that she couldn’t get any work done at all. But then again, that might have still been the case if she’d been left alone. Her mind was so taken up by thoughts of Miguel that she wouldn’t have been able to get much done anyway.
Finally, at a quarter to four, she leaned over the paperwork on her desk, trying to focus on one of the reports Bradley had left with her, but not having much luck. It was next to impossible to be productive when her whole life was falling apart.
Maybe she ought to go home, although Miguel might have packed his bags by now. That is, if he and Sawyer weren’t out on the town.
She could have talked things over with him on the plane, but she hadn’t wanted Tanner to hear their conversation. And then, once they got into the car to head home...well, there was Sawyer to consider. And while he’d been sweet and charming, he’d reminded her so much of Miguel that his presence alone was enough to make her realize that she’d cast her ex-lover in a role that was completely out of character for a bachelor to fill.
“That’s it,” she uttered to herself, as she gathered the paperwork together into a single pile. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
Before she could scoot back her desk chair—or figure out just where she might go to escape this time—her father’s voice sounded in the doorway. “I see you’re back.”
Nicole glanced over her shoulder and offered him a smile, trying to put up a front and act like a blissful newlywed. “Yes, we flew in early this afternoon.”
Her dad studied her a moment, as though he was peeling away each and every lie she’d ever told him, removing the facade of her marriage.
Still, she’d try her best to put on a happy face, as well as a good show, in order to convince him that the honeymoon had been a romantic dream come true.
But what would happen if she went home, only to find Miguel and his belongings gone? She’d have to tell her father that his suspicions had been right all along, that she didn’t really know Miguel at all.
What had possessed her to come up with the marriage-for-hire plan anyway? Why hadn’t she taken Miguel’s advice in New York? Why hadn’t she just confronted her father and thrown down the gauntlet, telling him that she’d walk away from him, her mother and Castleton Boots before she’d allow him to force her into marriage?
Truthfully? Because she didn’t think a confrontation like that would work with a man like her dad.
But now look at her. If Miguel ended their agreement, she stood to lose it all anyway.
“Nice outfit,” her father said.
She glanced down at the summery skirt and blouse, then back at her dad. “Thank you.”
“It’s a little too casual for office wear.”
So fire me, she wanted to say.
Instead, she gave a little shrug and turned her attention back to her papers.
* * *
After her father went home for the night, Nicole finally grabbed her purse, locked up the office and headed for the elevator.
She arrived at her condo at a quarter to six, parked in the garage and let herself into the kitchen, only to see Miguel standing at her stove and to catch a whiff of tomatoes, oregano and basil.
“What are you doing?” she asked, stunned to find that her assumptions about his whereabouts had been wrong.
Miguel glanced over his shoulder and flashed her a boyish grin. “Marcos isn’t the only Mendoza brother who knows how to cook.”
She stood like that for a moment, taking in the sight of her tall, dark and sexy husband-in-name-only moving about her kitchen.
Clearly, if he was still annoyed with her after their encounter at the beach, he didn’t show it. On the contrary, he seemed happy to have her home.
“Listen,” she said. “I owe you an apology. I’m sorry for sending you mixed messages at the beach. It’s just that...well, the rum and the romantic setting were playing havoc with my better judgment. And I panicked.”
“There wasn’t anything ‘mixed’ about it. You wanted to make love as badly as I did. And just for the record, I still want to. But I won’t force myself on you. You’ll have to make the first move. And when you’re ready, you know where to find me.”
Where? she wondered. But she knew the answer to that. He’d made an agreement, a commitment, and he meant to keep it. He’d be here. With her until the end.
“By the way,” Miguel said, “your Realtor called. The escrow closed on the house. All you have to do is let the movers know when you want them to come. They’ll pack things up for you. You don’t have to lift a finger to do a thing unless you want to.”
Truthfully? Her heart wasn’t into moving anymore, no matter how cute the new house was, no matter how far she wanted to get away from her parents. In fact, she didn’t know what she wanted, other than the man standing in her kitchen.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” he said. “We can eat now or later.”
The choice was hers, it seemed.
When to eat. When to move.
Isn’t that what she’d wanted? To call the shots? To make all the decisions in her life?
But along with making those decisions came the responsibility for the consequences that followed.
“Just give me a minute to freshen up,” she told Miguel.
And to figure out what was holding her back from taking full control of her life—and full responsibility for the consequences of her actions.
* * *
After a quiet dinner, Miguel and Nicole watched television in her living room for a while, but she turned in early, saying she was tired.
That might have been true, but he figured she had a lot on her mind. But he did, too.
He’d been so frustrated that last night at Suenos del Sol that he’d taken a cold shower. When he returned to the living room, Nicole was already on the sofa. Her eyes had been closed, but he’d suspected she’d only been pretending to be asleep, avoiding him and the situation they’d put themselves in.
He wished he could say that he was angry at her, that he blamed her for turning him on, then cutting him loose.
But he’d thought about it after he went to bed that night—and all the next day, during their fli
ght back to Red Rock. In truth, he was angry at himself for agreeing to the crazy scheme of hers in the first place.
Like it or not, they both had some things to think about. As for him, he still had strong feelings for her, and he wanted to see if they could find some of what they’d once had.
But until she could stand up to her parents, particularly her father, he couldn’t see much hope for them as a couple—a real one.
So apparently, that’s where they were now.
Trouble was, he hadn’t been kidding when he had said that he still wanted to make love with her—and badly. And he wasn’t sure how much longer he could tolerate being so close to her without doing something about the attraction that only grew stronger each day and not waiting for her to make the first move.
As he turned over in bed, plumping and adjusting the pillow to make a comfortable spot for his head, a light rap sounded at the door, so light he questioned whether he’d actually heard it at all.
Then it happened again, louder this time.
“Come in,” he said.
The knob turned, the door opened and Nicole walked in. She wore a white, lightweight nightgown. “Did I wake you?”
“No. Come on in.” He sat up, the covers dropping to his lap. “What’s up?”
“I’m sorry. I know it’s late, but something’s bothering me, and I’ve got to get it off my chest. I’m afraid it’s driving me crazy, and it can’t wait until morning.”
He’d hoped that she was coming to tell him that she’d reconsidered, that she’d decided she wanted to make love after all, but she didn’t seem to be struggling with passion or desire right now.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
The light in the hall silhouetted her form as she moved toward the bed, and he felt himself stir at the sight of her, at the tips of her nipples and the realization that she was naked under that flimsy gown.
“I’m going to let you out of the deal we made,” she said, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. “You can keep the money, of course. But I can’t continue pretending that we’re married.”
His gut clenched in spite of the freedom and the no-strings-attached cash she offered. “Why?”
“Because I can’t continue living with you, pretending...”
An unexpected jolt of disappointment shook him to the core, because a part of him not only wanted the marriage to be real for the duration, but that he might even go so far as to admit that he liked the idea of it lasting...indefinitely.
So her unhappiness took him a moment to regroup. “You don’t like being around me?”
Her eyes widened, and her lips parted. “No, that’s not it at all. In fact, I like being around you way too much.”
The disappointment faded away, and a slow grin spread across his face. “I don’t see the problem in that.”
“There’s a huge problem in it, Miguel. I know all of this was my idea, but it was a bad one. I don’t know what I was thinking when I suggested it. Marriage isn’t a game.”
She was right—all the way around. “So what are you suggesting?”
“I don’t want to compound the mistakes I made in the past by enduring this crazy situation any longer. And quite frankly, I’m not sure why you don’t hate me.” Her gaze sought his, as if desperate to find an answer there. “You don’t hate me, do you?”
At that, he couldn’t help but chuckle. “You frustrate the hell out of me at times, but I don’t hate you.”
He supposed he could go on to admit that he still had feelings for her, but he also foresaw some bumps in the road ahead, and he wasn’t ready to go out on a limb like that. So he opted to take the conversation in another direction.
“What mistakes did you make?” he asked.
“I’m afraid there are too many to count. But the biggest one was letting you go in the first place.”
He’d been waiting ten years to hear her admit that, and he took a moment to savor the words—and more importantly, their meaning.
“If that’s the case,” he finally said, “then why are you doing it again?”
“Doing what?”
“Letting me go.”
“I...” She bit down on her bottom lip, as if perplexed by what he was saying. Or was she struggling with what she was feeling?
Maybe that was it, because he certainly was. Making love was no longer the only issue. They were both tiptoeing around the emotional aspects of their “marriage.”
When she finally looked up and caught his eye, their gazes met, then locked. Something powerful passed through them, then snaked around them, binding them fast and firm.
They remained like that for a moment, him sitting up under the sheets, her perched beside him on the edge of the bed.
Losing the battle to touch her—and unable to wait a moment longer—he reached under a silky skein of her hair and placed his hand at the nape of her neck. “Don’t let go, honey. Not yet.”
Then he drew her lips to his.
The kiss began sweetly, tenderly—like the first one they’d shared as innocent young lovers. Then it deepened, intensifying with the passion of maturity and the yearning of lost years, lost dreams.
Nicole skimmed her fingers across his chest, snagging a nipple with her nail and sending a ripple of heat through his veins.
Never in his life had Miguel wanted a woman the way he wanted Nicole. She did something to him when they were teens. And now, ten years later, nothing had changed, other than it had only gotten stronger.
He ran his hands along the curve of her back, rumpling the cotton of her gown. As he continued to caress, to explore her curves, to cup her breasts, she whimpered into his mouth, then arched forward, revealing her own need, her own arousal.
Miguel didn’t have to ask her if she wanted to climb under the sheets with him, if she wanted to lie beside him, as naked as he was. He could feel it in her kiss, hear it in her sighs.
As if reading his mind, she rose to her feet long enough to remove her nightgown, baring herself to him.
She’d been lovely before, long and lean. But she’d filled out in a womanly way.
“You’re more beautiful than I remembered, Nicole.”
“So are you.” She touched his shoulder, caressed it, then placed both hands on his chest and pushed him back down onto the mattress.
While he watched, she climbed up, leaning over him, her breasts almost within reach of his kiss.
Anticipation heightened his desire until he drew her down, feeling her breasts as they splayed upon his chest, her lips as they pressed against his.
He wasn’t sure how long he could wait to be inside her. But they had all night, and he planned to use every minute of it.
As they lay together, he loved her with his hands, with his mouth until they were both wound tight with need.
He rolled to the side, taking her with him. “I’ve been wanting you, wanting this since...”
“...since the last time,” she finished.
She was right.
He’d had sex before. More times than he could count. But it had never been like this.
As he entered her, she arched up, meeting him and beginning the dance they’d learned so many years ago. The beat and rhythm he’d never been able to repeat, other than in his memory.
With each thrust, her body responded to his. Time stood still, and nothing mattered but the two of them.
They reached a peak together, releasing in a cry and a shudder that had him seeing stars.
He had no idea what tomorrow would bring—a wallop of reality, no doubt—but right now, wrapped in Nicole’s arms, he could almost believe in words like love and forever.
* * *
In the morning, as dawn stretched across the guestroom, Nicole woke up nestled in Miguel’s arms.
But now, as she watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest, as she saw his eyes closed in slumber, she whispered the words she’d been wanting to say. “I love you.”
Maybe someday in the very near future, she’d be brave enough to say them to him out loud.
Still, she wondered what the future held for them. She’d promised him a divorce once she was named CEO of Castleton Boots. Would he hold her to it? Or had making love changed all of that?
For the next ten minutes or so, Nicole cuddled in Miguel’s arms. Then he began to stir.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Mmm.” He drew her closer, and nuzzled her neck.
She could get used to mornings like this, but nature called and she needed to run to the bathroom.
“How about some coffee?” she asked.
“Sounds good. But why don’t you have someone else make it? I’d rather you stayed here, with me.”
She laughed. “Maybe I should consider hiring a housekeeper to make coffee for us tomorrow.”
“Maybe so.”
Well, the implication was that there’d be more nights like the one they’d just spent. So that was good, wasn’t it?
She pressed a kiss on his cheek, then slipped out of bed and padded to the bathroom. After a quick shower, she went into her bedroom and dressed for the day. Then she headed to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee.
While it brewed, she pulled out a container of orange juice, a carton of eggs and a loaf of bread. Then she set about fixing breakfast.
Ten minutes later, Miguel joined her, his hair damp from the shower. He wore a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and she wondered if he planned to hang out at the house or if he was going to check on the building. She suspected he’d want to see how much work Roberto had gotten done this past week.
