by Elle Kennedy
“But you still held the show?”
“Because of Lorenzo.” The sense of relief from being able to share finally was worth the frustration. “He was one of the first friends I made in Italy, and he was always around. He used to visit me at school a lot. He’d take me to lunch, or let me bounce ideas off him. And because he was a model, I was able to test my designs on him when I was taking a class on menswear. He was a really good friend to me.”
Dean shook his head. “That doesn’t sound like the Lorenzo you’ve talked about.”
“Maybe he’s changed.” She snorted at the irony. “God, maybe the problem is that he’s never changed. Maybe he always had his own interests at heart, and I just didn’t see it. But he was so endearing and so charming, especially to the most influential people. And when the buyer hinted he might give the showcase to another student, Enzo was the first person I called. He let me cry on his shoulders for hours.”
“What did he do?” Dean asked with a sigh.
“He came up with a plan to save it all. Without telling me,” she said flatly. “After wiping away my tears he went to the buyer and fabricated the most elaborate lie I’ve ever heard. It was so unbelievable and implausible there’s no way anyone should’ve listened to him, but the buyer totally bought it. Enzo told him the designs were his. That I had some talent, but it was his inspiration that put the work on the level it was. And that if we went ahead with the show, with my work in the showcase, he would reveal himself as the true mastermind of the designs.”
“Oh, come on,” Dean said in disbelief. “That’s all it took? He went to the buyer and said it was his work? How is that possible? Didn’t everyone know what your designs looked like? You’d been in the program all year.”
“But that’s it. The designs weren’t like what I’d done all year. The work was daring and new, and I knew it was good even though it made me uncomfortable to claim it. So no, if anything my change of style worked in our favor.” Emma braced herself. “And finally, Lorenzo used the likeness between me and the soon-to-be ex-wife. He said that just like her, I was an ice princess, so cold and frigid that all I cared about was getting the job done. And that the best way for the buyer to get revenge on his wife was to go ahead with the show. To make sure it was as big and glitzy as possible so that she would be sure to see it, and the eye candy he’d have on his arm all night.”
Dean’s grip on her fingers tightened. “You’re not cold, Em. You’ve never been cold.”
“But I’ve never liked the spotlight, either. You know about my anxiety—just the thought of standing in front of huge groups of people makes me want to throw up. And at that moment, faced with seeing everything I’d worked for vanish, or getting to hide in the background while still doing the work I loved—it didn’t seem like a terrible choice.”
“So you’re partners? Does Lorenzo own part of the company?”
“No. After things exploded I insisted we use lawyers, and put together an official contract. Lorenzo’s position on the papers says CEO, but he doesn’t have control of the company. He does get a healthy portion of the profits, and at the time I didn’t care. I just didn’t care—all I wanted to do was design, and not have to deal with the crowds, or publicity, or any of the things that Enzo used to do so well. It was a business arrangement, and it worked. It worked for years.”
“But what about now?”
Now it got complicated. “I have to talk to my lawyers, but I think it’s less that I can fire him and more that if I no longer want him to be able to do what he’s doing, I have to dissolve the company.”
“End Fire and Ice?” Dean looked upset on her behalf. “You’ve worked so hard to make it a success.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what the answer is, and I have to look into all these things, but right now I feel as if I’ve made a huge mistake and it’s going to haunt me forever.” Emma dropped her head into her hands. “He’s so out of control, Dean. I’m a failure.”
He threaded his fingers through her hair and tugged her head up. “You’re not a failure, baby. You’re talented and successful, and screw Lorenzo. If you have to dissolve the company, then fine. You’ll start an even more successful one.”
His conviction floored her. “Do you really believe that?”
“Of course I do.” No hesitation. “I always knew you were destined for big things, Em. Hell, I told your father the same thing when he—” Dean suddenly stopped, panic lighting his eyes.
Emma’s entire body grew cold. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing,” he said lightly. “I was just talking crazy.”
“When did you talk to my father?” She studied his face, but his expression was completely shielded. Impenetrable.
It didn’t make sense. Dean and her father had never been chummy. In fact, her parents had done everything in their power to keep her away from the town bad boy. Except they hadn’t known Dean. Hadn’t known there was nothing bad about him, only good.
But his family’s reputation was all her parents had needed to reach a verdict about Dean. The trailer park he’d lived in. His father’s drunken rampages around town. His brothers’ reckless violence and petty crimes.
Yet when he’d left so suddenly, breaking his promises and breaking her heart, her parents had been nothing but supportive. Her father had steadfastly refused to talk about Dean. At the time she’d thought it had been their way of helping her cope, but maybe there was more to the story…
This time Emma shifted position toward him, cupping his face in her hands so she could stare into his eyes. “Dean? No more secrets—not anymore. No more secrets between us,” she whispered.
He nodded briskly. “It’s over and done, and it’s nothing that affects us here and now, but yeah, your dad and I had a run-in. He tracked me down after work one day, said he wanted a man-to-man talk.”
That icy cold core that Lorenzo had accused her of having was back, her heart squeezing tight with fear. “What did he say to you?”
“Nothing that wasn’t true. He said if I really loved you, I would make sure I didn’t hold you back. That I would do the right thing and let you succeed.” Dean laid his fingers over her cold knuckles, the warmth of his palm soothing her. “But Em, I figured us being in love would make the difference. That we could have each other and you could set the world on fire with your designs. We’d find a way, and I told your father that.”
She wasn’t sure what to say. “But you still left.”
He let out a long breath, then nodded slowly. “That was the same day I went home and my dad laid into me. I was fighting the demons of doubt already, and I wanted nothing but the best for you. And the best wasn’t a man controlled by rage.”
She expected to feel anger, but there was nothing but regret. Regret and shared pain for the mental anguish he’d gone through. “That wasn’t right of my father.”
“Oh hell, yes it was.” Dean contradicted her instantly. “Fuck, he didn’t go nearly far enough, and he never demanded that I leave you alone. It was just the one-two punch that sent me over the edge. Wanting the best for you, and knowing that bringing you anywhere near my family was the furthest thing from the best. That kind of life wasn’t what I wanted for you, babe.”
Then he pulled her into his arms and held her tight, squeezing as if he were trying to mesh them into one. Emma hugged him back fiercely, burying her face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his masculine scent. Letting it soothe her rattled nerves.
She struggled for the right words to say. I forgive you was wrong. There was nothing left that she needed to forgive him for. I’m sorry for my father’s stupidity—she’d already made that clear. Dean was right. As terrible and hurtful as it had been, this entire situation was in their past.
What she was searching for now was a way into the future.
Dean tilted his head and his cheek brushed hers, the scruff of his five o’clock shadow sending a shiver over her skin. “I love you, Em.”
She stop
ped mid-breath, interrupted by the static in her brain as it attempted to register what he’d said.
He released her from the hug, opening the space between them so he could stroke a hand over her cheek, burying his fingers in her hair, rubbing his thumb gently over her skin. “I love you,” he repeated. “I’ve loved you since I was sixteen years old, and I’ve never stopped loving you.”
Somehow she managed to draw in enough air to speak. “Oh, Dean.”
“You’re in my heart, babe. You’re under my skin, and in my soul. All my memories, all the really good memories I’ve got way down deep in here—” He thumped a fist against his chest. “Every one of them is of you.”
The truth of it shone on his face, and in his eyes. Expressed in the way he caressed her, cradling her carefully as if he were afraid she would vanish.
No way was he getting rid of her that easily, never again.
While the love in his eyes was unmistakable, so was the fear. Emma leaned in and pressed her lips to his, putting as much emotion into the kiss as she could. “I’ve always loved you,” she whispered against his mouth, the words soft but clear in the silence of the suite.
The breath that escaped him shattered the quiet. Pure relief. “God, Em, I’ve been so scared I’d never hear you say that again.”
She moved into position over him, straddling his hips as he pulled their bodies into contact. Burning her up with his gaze as she threaded her fingers into his hair. “I love you. I love you. Do you want me to keep saying it?”
“For the rest of our lives.”
Then they were kissing, and all her confusion and fears about the future had nowhere to stay. It didn’t matter that there were enormous questions still to answer. There was no way she could ignore what she had. Who she had.
With Dean looking out for her every step of the way, caring for her? She’d be crazy to not take this gift and grab on tight with both hands.
He slid his hands to her waist and rose to his feet all in one motion. Emma wrapped her legs around him, kissing him madly. Not caring where they were going except it seemed to be taking far too long.
“I want you. Right now,” she demanded, the craving to make her confession of love a physical reality driving her hard. She jerked at his shirt and pulled it halfway off his body as he laughed.
Her back hit the wall, his long, hard body pinning her in place as he offered her a dirty grin. “I want to make love to you, bad girl.”
“Doesn’t matter where we are,” Emma insisted. “I don’t need a bed, I need you inside me. I need to know how much you want me.”
Fire flashed in his eyes. As if by magic she found herself stripped naked from the waist up, her dress abandoned behind him, their hips still tight to the wall. His rock-solid erection pressed intimately to her sex.
“How much do I want you?” Dean growled. “I crave you. You’re an addiction I never want cured.”
He rocked them together, teasing her clit through the few layers separating them. He planted a row of kisses along her jaw, stopping to suck on the tender spot under her ear, and her entire body shuddered with desire.
She scrambled to reach between them, rubbing her palm over his hard length. “Now,” she begged.
Buttons opened, zipper lowered, and she’d barely pushed his pants from his trim hips when he raised her higher and took hold of a nipple with his mouth. Pulsing his lips around the tip, licking and teasing as he stripped away the final layer between them, her panties falling to the floor.
His talented fingers slipped between her folds. He caressed her clit in small circles with the perfect pressure to make her push her hips forward urgently. “Dean…”
He pulled back just far enough their eyes met, and as they stared at each other he lined them up intimately, the heavy head of his cock nestled inside her folds. “I love you,” he repeated.
She echoed his words, moaning with pleasure as he joined them, the thick heat of his shaft rubbing perfectly as he buried himself deep.
Connected. One.
His breathing rattled out rapidly and unsteadily. “Fuck, I can’t go slow,” he warned.
“Me neither,” she confessed, squeezing as tightly as she could and drawing the perfect response from him.
She didn’t want control. She didn’t want flowery phrases or gentle love. She wanted consuming fire and desperate need, and that’s what he gave her.
Dean pulled back slowly one time before powering his hips forward, driving the air from her lungs as he fucked her hard. His hands carefully positioned between her and the wall to protect her as he thrust again and again, their bodies shaking as they gave in and took exactly what they needed from each other.
Everything.
“Give it to me,” he demanded. “Let me hear you scream my name. I. Fucking. Love. You. Emma.”
Every word was punctuated by another desperate drive. Emma dug her fingernails into his shoulders, gasps escaping her lips every time he moved. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, his teeth rasped along her neck.
She closed her eyes and let pleasure overwhelm her. “Oh God, I can’t stop—”
As her orgasm hit, Dean slammed forward one final time and held himself deep, his muscular body shaking as her body pulsed around him. A layer of sweat slicked their skin, their chests heaving as they fought for breath.
When the room finally stopped spinning, Emma opened her eyes to find Dean inches away, a wide grin brightening his face. She found herself smiling hard in response, delight dancing inside her.
“Hey, Em?”
“Yeah, Dean?”
He held her in place with his body, stroking his knuckles over her cheek then down the side of her neck. “Will you be my girl?”
She couldn’t stop a giggle from escaping. They were in the most intimate, dirty position, bodies slick from frantic sex and he had to go and be all sweet. But then again, that was Dean.
That was her Dean…
“Do I get to wear your class ring?” she teased. “Because I want everyone to know that we’re going steady.”
Sheer joy covered his face. “You can even have my letter jacket, babe. So everyone knows we’re really serious.”
So much happiness—Emma buzzed with it. “I love you, Dean Colter, and don’t you ever forget it.”
“Never going to leave you,” he promised. “You can tell me every single day so I don’t forget.”
The ice inside was gone. Nothing but fire remained.
Chapter Seventeen
Dean didn’t walk into the office the next morning—he strutted. Yup, he John Travolta’d his way into the building, because goddamn, there was nothing else for a man to do when he was riding the biggest high of his life.
Love.
He was filling a cup with coffee when he finally clued in to the dead silence. He glanced over his shoulder to discover his partners leaning against the wall in identical positions, legs crossed, arms crossed. Identical shit-eating grins on their faces.
“I swear your feet didn’t touch the ground once, Colter.” Parker poked Jack in the side. “I wonder what’s got him grinning like a Cheshire cat?”
“Fuck off,” Dean offered lightly.
“Dean Colter!”
Shit. He hadn’t noticed Didi sitting at the staff table. Man, he was off his game this morning…and he didn’t care one fucking iota.
He was in love.
“Sorry, Didi.”
“Apology not accepted.” She eyed him sternly. “Go put a quarter in the swear jar.”
“We have a swear jar?” He shot a blank look at his partners, which got him a rueful nod from Jack.
“I’ve already financed a small country.” Jack pulled a rude face. “Didi caught me talking to one of the caterers who screwed up and kept score for the entire twenty minutes I reamed them out.”
“You two have the manners of sewer rats,” Parker taunted. “Didi’s right. We have a certain decorum to maintain around here.”
“Suck it up a little h
arder, bro,” Jack muttered, clipping Parker with his shoulder as he led Dean down the hall toward the offices. “You’re lucky the woman’s never heard you ordering Lynn around during sex.”
“You’ve never heard me order Lynn around during sex,” Parker blasted back. “And you’re never going to.”
“Don’t be so sure.” Jack ducked Parker’s halfhearted swing. “That road trip we took? We need to stay in hotels with thicker walls, that’s all I’m saying.”
Dean expected to be interrogated further, but both the guys vanished into their offices without another word.
Go figure—the day he was ready to spill them all the details the minute they pressed, they were too busy to rag on him.
Asses.
His phone rang as he strode into his office, and as if on cue, his heart did a silly little flip that made him want to rag on himself. Jeez. This love thing was getting out of control.
But a glance at the screen showed not Emma’s number, but Suz’s.
“Hey, Jonesy,” he drawled into the phone. “How are you doing this fine day?”
“Dean! Dean! Oh my God, you—wait, no. I mean, I’m great. Awesome. Fan-tabulous. How about you?”
He wrinkled his brow. “How much coffee have you downed so far today, Jones?”
“Four cups, but that’s beside the point.” Her breathing kicked up a notch on the other end of the line. “So…um…not to be a drama queen or anything—”
He snorted.
“But we have a little situation.” She paused. “Okay, maybe not so little. It’s kind of big. Or maybe colossal is the right word. Have you talked to Emma?”
Whoa, that was an unexpected tangent. “Not since a couple hours ago. Why?” His concern increased rapidly as he remembered an important detail. “Wait—weren’t you supposed to have breakfast with her this morning?”
“I did. I left the diner twenty minutes ago. Emma got a phone call right as we were paying the bill, and dude, it sounded serious.”
