by Kat Cantrell
“I can’t say the same.”
Good. Okay. She could talk. She could breathe.
If she slammed the door in his face, would he break it down? She had to think. Distract him. Call someone.
“I’ve been waiting for you to come back,” he said. “We have unfinished business.”
That put her back up. What was unfinished? He’d stripped her of everything, and only because she’d wanted her confidence back had she gone in search of it. Warren had given her that and so much more. He’d given her purpose. Meaning. The freedom to be herself.
Actually, Bryan was right. They did have unfinished business. “So, you’ve come to apologize?”
He blinked. “I’m here to collect what’s mine.”
“A black eye? That’s the only thing that you’ll leave here with.”
Had that really just come out of her mouth? A quiet sense of pride joined the sick fuzzies in her stomach, nearly settling it at the same time.
Confidence. She knew what it felt like now and this was it. Bryan wasn’t stealing it from her again.
“Are you threatening me?” Bryan asked as if he couldn’t quite believe it. “If you so much as touch me, I’ll have you arrested. You know I can make your life miserable.”
She crossed her arms and leaned on the doorjamb, letting a small smile play about her mouth. “So, you’re saying you’d be willing to testify in a court of law that a woman half your size clocked you?”
That sounded like fun. She might even do it just to see if he’d actually follow through with calling his buddies to do his dirty work.
He blinked again. “No. That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Too bad. I’d love to see the looks on the faces of the guys on your squad when you tell them you let a girl punch you and wouldn’t they please run over to arrest her.”
Bryan took a step back and it was every bit a retreat, whether he realized it or not. “You wouldn’t punch me.”
“Won’t I?” She swept him with a scorn-filled glance, seeing him for the coward he was. The power of it roared through her, sweeping away cobwebs she’d long grown accustomed to. “I’ve been in America, as I’m sure your sources informed you. I learned a lot of things about how to protect myself. I wouldn’t be too sure what I would and wouldn’t do, if I were you.”
And it wasn’t even a total lie. She had learned a lot about how to pick up her pieces. No matter what, Warren had renewed her faith in herself. And given her the ability to talk down to her former abuser, apparently.
It was not her fault he’d hit her. Not her fault he’d been jealous and possessive.
And she was not taking his crap ever again.
“This is not over,” he warned as he stepped back once again. “We’re not over. You’re mine and—”
She slammed the door and locked it. Sure, he could probably bust through the wood frame easily, but she didn’t think he would. She’d stood up to him with stellar results, the likes of which even she couldn’t believe.
Warren had given her back her life in more ways than one.
“Tilda,” Bryan called through the door. “I—”
“Go away, you piece of garbage. I have my phone in my hand and I will call the authorities to have you picked up for trespassing.” It wasn’t an idle threat. Surely there would be someone on the Victoria police force who wasn’t in Bryan’s pocket and would be willing to uphold the law. She’d keep dialing until she found that person.
It went quiet outside and she peeked through the curtain to see Bryan slinking back to the gutter he’d come from. The victory was a little hollow but it was still a victory.
She ate dinner with her mum and didn’t think about Bryan at all. Until the next day, when he knocked on the door again while her mother was getting her hair done.
Marching to the entrance, she flung open the door.
“You can’t be here.” As she met the gaze of the man on her mother’s doorstep, her knees went weak.
Warren. Not Bryan. So not Bryan she couldn’t even process it.
“I know.” Warren held up his beautiful hands as if to ward her off, and why wouldn’t he? She’d practically attacked him before even getting the door open. “I should have called. I’m sorry.”
“No. It’s fine. I thought you were...someone else.” But on that note...she slid a once-over all the way down his body, drinking in his wrinkled slacks and the shirtsleeves rolled to the elbows. “Why are you here? You’re really here, right? This is not a figment of my overactive imagination?”
The caution eased from his face as he smiled. “Really here. I flew all night on Roz’s father’s private jet.”
Her mouth might have been hanging open. “Why?”
“Because that was the fastest way to get to Australia. And you,” he said simply, and everything else in the world melted away as she stared at him.
Her heart threw itself out of her chest and latched onto him greedily, lapping up every bit of his nearness.
“You told me to get on a plane,” she reminded him and pushed back the sudden desire to jump into his arms. Their horrible parting still sat in her stomach like a rock. “Only for you to follow me? You’re not making any sense.”
Clearly flustered, he ran his fingers through his hair, and that’s when she noticed he didn’t have his cell phone in either hand. Her well-trained eye didn’t locate it in either of his front pockets, either, which meant it must be charging in the long limo behind him. That or the apocalypse were the only two things she could think of that would pry his phone out of his hand.
“Only because I’m exhausted and all I can think about is how much I want to kiss you,” he said, and his small smile shouldn’t have warmed her as much as it did.
“Oh, I get it,” she said before he could say some more things that would make her forget how hopeless it was to think they could be together. “You came to Melbourne for a few days to micromanage the project. The idea of me handling all of it here at ground zero without you in the middle must have really freaked you out. Nice that you can combine your first love with a little side action, courtesy of your project manager.”
“Please, Tilda.” Warren shook his head, his eyes warm with some emotion she couldn’t fathom. “Listen to me. I shouldn’t have started with kissing. I haven’t slept because I spent the entire flight working out the details for Thomas to take over as CEO.”
“You...what?” Her brain was having trouble processing, obviously. “Does CEO stand for something other than what I think it does? Chief Energy Officer?”
He rubbed at his temple as if she was giving him a headache. “It means I gave him the reins. I walked away from Flying Squirrel. There’s no Down Under Thunder project anymore. Well, I mean, I guess Thomas can pick it up if he wants—”
Her lungs seized, and she tried to inhale and exhale at the same time, then choked on it. Coughing, she held up a finger to Warren who had a tinge of panic coloring his expression.
“Hold on,” she wheezed. “I swear it sounded like you just said you walked away from your company.”
“That is what I said. Tilda...” Warren held up a hand, fingers spread, and then dropped it. “I forget that I don’t have the right to touch you anymore. It’s automatic now to broadcast every move I make when I’m around you, but my muscles didn’t get the message that I screwed up and let you go.”
She felt his words in her bones. “I don’t understand anything you’re telling me right now. You gave Thomas the company and got on a plane to Australia to manage a project that doesn’t exist anymore?”
“I got on a plane to follow the woman I love.”
And that simple phrase changed everything, including the will to stay so far away from him.
“I think you better come in.” She opened the door wider, but as he crossed the threshold, she planted herself in his path so n
eatly that he almost bowled her over. The only way to keep them both off the ground was for him to throw his arms around her, which—not so coincidentally—was what she’d been going for.
“Price of admission,” she told him, and his grip tightened, hefting her closer until she fit into the grooves of his body like a second skin. Perfect.
God, he felt so good. Solid, warm, everything she’d been missing, and here he was, in her arms. She shouldn’t be so free with her affections, not when he’d ended everything so easily with scarcely a goodbye wave. But he’d followed her, and that counted for a lot.
“I had a whole apology planned out,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “But I’m having a hard time remembering it.”
“This is pretty good as apologies go.”
That’s when he pulled back to catch her gaze in his and she nearly growled in frustration as his heat left her.
“No. It’s not. I was stupid to let you go. I should have told you that I was falling in love with you the moment I realized it.”
That was even better than an apology. “Say it again.”
“I love you, Tilda Garinger. Assuming you’re okay with taking my name and making this a real marriage. I know we have so many things to work through. I haven’t been as understanding about your triggers as I could be. If you’ll forgive me, I’ll spend the rest of my life standing by your side as we work through whatever we need to. I won’t abandon you to deal with this alone. I promise.”
“You didn’t,” she protested weakly, still stuck back on a real marriage. “You were always patient with me. More than I deserved.”
She hadn’t wanted to burden him with her problems. But only by coming home could she have dealt with the last remnants of her nightmares. And she had. The blackness inside had lifted, leaving her wide open to accept the things he was telling her.
“You deserve whatever you need to get to a place where we can be together,” he told her fiercely. “I’m all in. We can live wherever you feel the most comfortable. Greece, Italy, Canada. You pick. I’m at your complete mercy.”
It dawned on her that, once again, he was giving her complete control over their future, and that broke the last of her barriers. “I don’t care. As long as I’m with you, we’ll make it work.”
That’s when he kissed her. Fiercely. Possessively. And she loved the idea of being claimed by a man like Warren.
Happily-ever-after was in her reach this time.
Epilogue
In the end, Tilda couldn’t pick just one place to live. When Warren handed her the world, she took it. And he had never been happier that he’d gotten on that plane in search of a permanent do-over.
For two people who couldn’t have properly spelled vacation a month ago, Tilda and Warren were making up for lost time. The word work was never uttered. By either of them. He’d sent Roz’s father’s plane back to Raleigh and bought his own so they’d never run out of options for travel as they tried to figure out what country they wanted as their permanent residence. Since he’d left his cell phone on the nightstand at his empty house in the States, there was nothing to distract him from doing the thing he’d come to enjoy the most: buying his wife clothes.
The city of Milan as a whole appreciated Warren’s money. He’d spent more of it on custom-made Italian lingerie, dresses and shoes for Tilda than he had on the entire Down Under Thunder campaign. Which was fitting, in his mind. She was worth far more than any success Flying Squirrel had to offer.
As they had dinner on the private terrace of the four-story villa Warren had rented in the center of Piazza Giulio Cesare, an exclusive area of Milan, he couldn’t help but take a moment to drink in the sight of her beautiful face. Tilda had twisted her hair up into one of her loose chignons, which she only did with the express intent of having him undo it later.
He always undid it later. And sometimes he couldn’t wait. Like tonight. He needed to touch all that hair. Dinner would still be there after.
Automatically, he fanned his fingers to be sure she saw him reaching for her, then pulled the clip free. She shook her head with a smile, letting hair rain down her back.
“It’s one of those nights, is it?” she asked—rhetorically, as she’d already slid out of her chair on her way to his.
Boldly, she climbed into his lap, dinner apparently forgotten on both sides. She settled into her favorite position—on top—and framed his face with her hands to hold him still while she kissed him. He let her. There was nothing that turned him on more than when his wife took control of her pleasure.
The house phone rang, enough of a rarity that it distracted him from the warm, sexy woman burrowing through his clothes to get their skins touching as fast as possible. Normally, he’d ignore everything but Tilda, but he’d been expecting a call.
Standing easily with Tilda in his arms, he carried her into the house to set her on the back of the couch, her legs still wrapped around his waist as he answered the phone that was sitting on the end table. As he’d hoped, it was his private detective calling, and he listened to the man with half an ear as Tilda got very intrigued by this new position he’d unwittingly found for her.
Warren barely had two brain cells left to rub together when she started unbuckling his pants, stroking him through his underwear. Finally, he got the chatty detective off the phone and let his wife’s busy hands finish the job she’d started, namely to drive him insane.
Quickly, she got him good and primed, and within moments, they were both moaning their way through a spectacular finish against the back of the couch. As he crested in a glorious climax, he pulled her into his arms and held on. She returned the favor, keeping him on earth with her solid, amazing presence alone.
“Let me take you to bed,” he told her hoarsely, and she nodded, but once he got her there, all he could do was look at her, touching her face reverently as he worshipped her with his gaze. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she returned sweetly. “Sorry I made you get off the phone.”
“You should be. I barely got the information I needed in order to give you the good news.”
“I like good news. Tell me.”
“McDermott is in jail.” Finally. All of his efforts to get the case against her ex buttoned up had worked. Warren could give her closure to that nightmare, once and for all.
Her brows shot up. “I hope he finds a very nice boyfriend in prison. One who treats him as well as he treated me. And I’ll thank you to never mention that filth to me again.”
He smiled. His wife’s strength was amazing, and her confidence was one of her sexiest qualities. “Done. Now that you’re free from that terror, what would you like to do next?”
“Sweetheart, I was already free.” Tilda kissed him gently and she poured so much emotion into it that the backs of his eyelids pricked. “I wouldn’t have agreed to a real marriage with that still hanging over us. I never want the past to overshadow the present. Or our future.”
And that was the best endorsement of love with a capital L that Warren had ever heard.
* * * * *
Don’t miss the first two IN NAME ONLY books,
Jonas’s story:
BEST FRIEND BRIDE
and Hendrix’s story:
ONE NIGHT STAND BRIDE
And for more of Kat Cantrell’s sexy, emotional style, pick up these other titles!
THE THINGS SHE SAYS
MARRIAGE WITH BENEFITS
PREGNANT BY MORNING
Available now from Harlequin Desire!
***
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Pregnant by the CEO
by HelenKay Dimon
One
The DC Insider: Rumor has it Washington, DC’s most eligible and notoriously difficult bachelor—the man named the Insider’s Hottest Ticket in Town for three years running—might finally be off the market. All that talk about bad security and bad management? Could be a disgruntled baby brother getting even with his sister’s new beau. When asked about a supposed secret girlfriend and her meddlesome brother, hotshot businessman Derrick Jameson would only say, “Ellie Gold is lovely.” Sounds like an admission to us. Stay tuned.
