by Casey Hagen
Just once she wanted to throw caution to the wind. She wanted to not worry about her dad, her business, her brother, and just do what felt good. Right now, Lathan fit the bill. The sadness in him called to her. She wanted to ease his pain. She wanted to be the person who made him forget what tormented him. She wanted to be the fun part of his day.
He pulled back, and those stormy blue eyes of his searched her face. She had a good idea what he must be seeing there. No matter how she tried to calm the storm of attraction thundering through her, it was there.
Brewing…
“Lathan,” she whispered, rubbing her thumb over his bottom lip. He nipped her thumb, the sting making her squirm. “You may need to move some heavy furniture in front of your door, too.”
“I like to live dangerously,” he replied.
“Dangerous often leads to trouble.”
“Jack, you have trouble written all over you and have since the minute you kicked open the door of your tow truck and gave me stink eye.”
“I didn’t give you the stink eye.”
“Yeah, you did. I was just another rich guy with a ridiculously expensive toy.”
The things he said about himself, reducing himself to something ordinary, grated on her nerves. One thing was for sure: when she walked away in a year, Lathan would know his true worth.
She slid her palm over the hand that cupped her neck. Strong hands, capable, and hers for the next year. “You could never be just another rich guy. You’re in a class all your own.”
If the look on his face was any indication, it might just take the next year to make him believe it.
With the guests finally all gone, they congregated in the kitchen before taking off for the night.
Annette leaned on the marble kitchen island, sipping a glass of wine. “What do you have planned for tomorrow, Jack?”
“I planned to head home.”
“You must have so much to do to prepare for the wedding. I mean, there’s just over two weeks left.”
Jack felt the blood drain from her face. She had to plan a wedding? She never had any intention of planning a wedding, let alone the kind they would expect. She figured if she got married one day, it would be at a courthouse. No muss, no fuss, a few cold beers after.
“Ummm…” Jack hedged.
Annette straightened and smiled. “If you want help, just say the word. I would be happy to guide you.”
Jack rubbed her forehead with her thumb and forefinger. A throbbing had just started in the front of her skull at the thought of dresses, flowers, food, jewelry, hairdos, and, Jesus, a bridal party. “I think I’m going to need more than guidance.”
Annette clapped her hands together. “Really? I would love that! You just tell me what you need, and I’ll take care of everything.”
Lathan stepped up behind Jack and circled his arms around her waist. “Mom, easy; I want Jack to have a wedding on her terms.”
Annette pulled a pad of paper and pen out of the drawer next to the stainless-steel refrigerator. “Of course! She is the bride, after all. As a matter of fact, let’s do this…tomorrow, spa day, just the girls. My treat!”
A spa day. A freaking spa day. Jack didn’t do spa days. She needed an ally. Her eyes darted about the room, avoiding Annette, and landed on Corrine. “Do you mind if I bring someone?” Jack asked.
“Of course not.” Annette said while she scribbled down items on her list.
Jack nodded to Corrine. “Everett and Lathan have work to do tomorrow, so how about it?”
Corrine winked. No doubt she knew Jack was scrambling for a lifeline. “I’d love to. I’d be crazy to turn down a spa day.”
Annette beamed and pointed her pen at Jack. “Wonderful! Okay, so before you go…what’s your favorite color?”
“Maroon. Burgundy. A wine color I guess.”
“Very nice! Okay, hair up or down?”
“Either.”
“Makeup…dramatic or natural?”
“Natural.”
“Favorite flower?”
“Don’t have one.”
“Anything you’ve ever dreamed of having for your wedding?”
“Never dreamed I would have a real wedding.” Jack laughed, but her laughter died at the looks aimed her way by Annette and Corrine.
“You never dreamed of your wedding?” Corrine asked, linking an arm with Jack’s.
“No, I mean, my mom wasn’t around, and my dad wasn’t big on those things. I never really thought about it.”
Annette smoothed a hand over Jack’s hair. Jack swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat at the gesture. “Well, it’s time you start. Don’t worry about the details, dear. I’ll take care of them. You have one thing to do tonight when you lay down to sleep: Dream of your perfect wedding, and I’ll make sure you have it.”
Jack's mouth fell open at the 360-degree views through the floor-to-ceiling windows throughout Lathan’s house. Light from the landscaping and the pool glowed through the wall of back windows, illuminating intricate pathways, two outdoor seating areas, and lush plants spilling from massive planters.
When Jack followed Lathan up the stairs, her focus shifted to the way his charcoal gray pants pulled against his tight cheeks with every step. His family had knocked her off-balance and had her considering all kinds of crazy things.
She walked into the party ready to charm the rich in order to do what Lathan needed, to get what her dad needed. She hadn’t prepared to like them.
They worried about appearances, yes, but most people did. She couldn’t hold that against them. They also cared about others… they cared about her. Jack found the caring irresistible. Which made what she was about to do dangerous as hell.
Lathan pushed open the door. “This is your room.”
Jack stepped in and spun in a slow circle. Lamps cast a golden glow on the pale-gray walls. Lights in the distance winked through the wall of windows, a stunning sight, but it was the king-sized bed covered with fluffy white bedding and a mountain of pillows that drew her attention.
The bed begged for a warm body to slide between the sheets. And she would do that. But first, she would take Lathan with her and see just what kind of year they would have together.
Without falling in love.
“I love the room,” she said.
He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and avoided looking at her. “Good. That’s good. So, uh, use the lock, and it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to slide the dresser in front of the door.”
She kicked off her flats, dug her toes into the plush carpet, and headed right for him. “Or, you can tuck me into bed.”
Wide eyes met hers, and he froze. Well, that was okay; she was feeling forward enough for the both of them. “What’s the matter, Lathan? You scared of li’l ol’ five-foot-almost-nothing me?” She laughed, the sound low in her throat as she pulled her shirt up over her head and tossed it away.
His eyes darkened, his gaze roaming over her exposed skin. She reached over his shoulder and gave the door a shove before planting the flat of her hand against his broad chest and pushing him back against it.
“Scared?” she asked.
“Something tells me I should be, but no, I’m not scared. Bring it.” That sly grin split his face, and he dragged a finger down the center of her chest and over her stomach.
Her skin burned where he touched. She couldn’t let him turn the tables on her. She could do this, but she had to be in control. She had to call the shots. She couldn’t handle any surprises, and Lathan had surprises written all over him.
She reached behind her for the clasp of her bra.
He tried to intercept. “Let me.”
“No can do, Casanova. You want me, we do this my way.”
“So you’re going to give me a show?”
Jack let her bra slide from her shoulders and tossed it away. Rising up on her toes, she pressed her lips to the underside of his jaw. His Adam’s apple jumped under her lips. “I’m going to lay you o
ut on that bed and have my way with you. All you have to do is lie back and enjoy it.”
“Do I get a say in any of this?”
“You’re either in, or out. If you’re in, then no.”
He cupped her chin. She wanted to pull way, to resist. She didn’t want romance, loving looks, or gentle caresses. She wanted heart-pounding and fast.
“What are you up to, Jack?”
“If you’re in, you’ll find out.”
“I’m in,” he growled and swooped in, giving her a rough kiss. The clash of tongues, lips, and teeth fueled a burning attraction that had ignited the night she dropped out of her truck and landed on that dark road. His hands wrapped her and lay flat against her spine, holding her to him.
Pulling back, she tore open his shirt, satisfied at the sound of buttons tearing from the fabric.
“That was my favorite shirt.”
“Buy another one,” she suggested as she dropped to her knees and pulled his belt free Impatient and burning for him, she popped the button but took care in lowering his zipper. The back of her hand brushed against his boxer briefs. He hissed, and she smiled, relishing the little victory.
His pants fell to the floor, but she made no move to help him step out of them. This was better. He stood there at her mercy, unable to move. The hardness straining against his underwear called to her, and she did something she had never done before. She opened her mouth on him, biting down gently on his length.
“Son of a —”
Her sultry laugh sounded foreign to her ears. “Take off the rest and get on the bed.”
He scrambled to do as he was told and took a seat on the edge, giving the mattress beside him a pat. “Come here.”
“No.” She stopped and flicked the button on her pants. Keeping her eyes on his, she dragged the cotton over her hips nice and slow. “Lie down, Lathan.”
“I’m not sure I like this side of you.”
“In the bedroom, it’s the only side you get.”
He tilted his head. “Really?”
She nodded to the nightstand next to the bed. “Yeah. You have condoms in that drawer?”
“Sure do. Help yourself.”
With every stitch of clothing stripped, she climbed up over him, tore the condom wrapper open with her teeth, and rolled it on. His teeth clenched, and he let out a rough growl.
Jack smiled with satisfaction.
Poised over him, holding herself there, she let the tip of him graze her wet heat. Sharp pleasure surged through her, almost stealing her breath, but not yet. She wouldn’t let her body take control yet. She took his large hands in her much smaller ones, raised them over his head, and wrapped his fingers around the posts of the headboard.
“Hands stay just like that. Trust me… I know what I’m doing.”
And there it was again, the smile, those dimples. His gaze flickered to the nipple that hovered within inches of his mouth. “It seems I’ve heard that before. You’re a repetitive one.”
“I prefer ‘consistent.’”
“You would.” He thrust his hips up, bumping her forward where he sucked that tight peak into his mouth.
Jack closed her eyes, a low moan vibrating in her throat. She pulled back and took him deep in a long, slow slide. She opened her eyes to find him studying her. When he thrust up again, hitting her in all the right spots, she bit her lip to keep from crying out.
“Show me what you’ve got, Jack.” Letting her eyes slide shut again to block out the way he looked at her—looked into her—she began to move. She executed a slow, torturous roll, sending spine-tingling pleasure shooting through every part of her.
Memories from the day shuffled through her mind: his friends who’d welcomed her, his aunt who’d declared her part of the family, his parents who’d accepted her as Lathan’s choice for wife and cared about giving her a wedding she would love, and Lathan himself, who’d treated her as a capable and irresistible woman.
Something she had never had.
She railed against the feelings tangling inside with every slide. The caring. The affection. All emotions that would suck her in as surely as they did her father with her unreliable mother.
Jack’s heart was her own, would always be hers and hers alone. She’d do anything possible to keep it that way.
When her orgasm screamed through her, she opened her eyes and locked on his hazy ones. His fingers had gone white where they clenched the rails. A sheen of sweat rose on his skin. His eyes became narrow slits when she sank her nails into his chest.
She threw her head back, thrusting harder, her muscles squeezing tighter and tighter. Everything inside her went off, everything so sensitive, she froze and cried out with the power of it.
While locked against him, her back arched, Lathan grasped her hips and thrust harder and harder. The pinch of his fingers on her hips stung, exciting her, sending her soaring into another lung-seizing release.
He sat straight up, a shout on his lips, as he buried his face in her neck and rode out the spasms moving through him.
She held on while he lost himself in her.
She prayed to God that, despite her best intentions, she hadn’t just lost herself in him.
CHAPTER SIX
What Are You Trying to Prove Anyway?
LATHAN ROSE EARLY, UNABLE TO sleep. He had nodded off with Jack’s warm body tucked against his but woke up in the middle of the night to her sneaking out on him.
He let her go and spent the next couple hours feeling pissed off and cheated.
She didn’t give him a damn inch and made sure she didn’t give one single piece of herself to him during their time in bed. He wouldn’t say they’d made love. Hell, he would barely call it sex. After all, didn’t sex involve two people?
Well, last night was ninety percent Jack, and ten percent him. Even though he got off, he definitely wasn’t satisfied.
Jack had some explaining to do.
So instead of tossing and turning, he showered, dressed, and got the coffee going.
He shouldn’t have been surprised when Jack joined him just moments later, also showered and dressed for the day.
Jack wouldn’t hide. She didn’t have it in her. She would take him on, head held high in the air.
He sipped his coffee and told himself he would not throttle her. “Good morning, Jack.”
She smiled and headed right for the coffee pot. “Lathan.”
He allowed her one sip before he slipped the mug from her fingers and set it on the counter. He clasped her legging-clad hip and, snaking his other hand around to her lower back, his fingers brushed the warm skin he discovered under her sweater.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked with an arched brow.
He hadn’t missed the way her hands curled over his shoulders. Her mouth questioned his actions, but her body spoke a whole other language. Maybe she wasn’t as capable of keeping him at arm’s length as she thought. Maybe he should try a different tactic.
“Just saying good morning to my beautiful fiancée before my family whisks her away and tries to turn her into someone else entirely.”
She cupped his cheeks in her hands and pulled him in for a kiss, just the briefest touch. “It’s a spa day. It’s not like they’re going to change who I am as a person.”
He swatted her behind and handed her back her coffee. “Why did you agree to this? Spas don’t seem like they would be your thing.”
She shrugged. “They aren’t. I don’t do my nails, hardly ever wear makeup, and I certainly don’t check in at a hair salon every six weeks, but this is important to your mother, and she’s trying.”
He scoffed. “You call this trying?”
“When I first arrived, she was almost stern, definitely unsure, but she warmed up. Then, she was sweet. Clearly, she doesn’t know what to do with me, but she’s trying, and I appreciate that.”
“Well, you’re more understanding than I expected.”
“What’s there to be understanding of? They’re
just being who they are. They don’t have to be like me; I don’t have to be like them, but I can play in their world and appreciate the effort they’re making. Maybe it’s time you cut them a little slack and gave them credit.”
“I don’t know if I would go that far.”
“Lathan, you brought home a tow truck driver named Jack, and within hours they treated me as family.”
“At least they treat one of us that way.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.
“Lathan—”
The pealing of the doorbell startled them both. “We’ll talk about it later. That’s probably my mother, which means you’d better suck down that cup of coffee because she’s going to be ready to roll.”
For once, he was grateful for his mother’s arrival. She whisked Jack away, and he headed for his office.
Everett joined him within the hour, and they got down to business. Lathan tried to focus on the contracts he had to review, but every grunt, shuffling of papers, and glare out of Everett had him wondering what the hell he had missed.
Everett dropped his glasses to the desk and scrubbed at his eyes. “You have a major problem on your hands, Lathan.”
“Hit me with it.”
“About six months before your brother passed, I told him about an investment opportunity in a chain of resort communities Markham Properties planned for along the East Coast. He jumped on it and has made a solid profit ever since. You’re missing money because Davis Conroy, your chief financial officer, authorized the sale of your brother’s percentage in the company.”
Lathan shot out of his chair. “What the hell gave him the idea he could get away with that?”
“Conroy wasn’t on board with the decision to invest. He’s old school, or maybe just old. Anyway, Conroy worked with your dad. He’s a smart man, but he doesn’t like anyone younger coming in and telling him how to do things. He was used to Bradford following his guidance. Liam followed his guidance, too, until the Markham project. Conroy didn’t like my recommendation. He flat out didn’t trust me at all. Liam disregarded his advice and took mine. Made some serious money when he did, which, now, you’re losing.”
