“Maybe.” She bit down on her bottom lip but refused to back down. After all, he was a proven serial dater, and yes, they’d shared some fantastic sex, but that didn’t mean he’d changed his tune to include commitment. “Yes.”
Anger radiated off him. “You know what, Marianne? You’re right. I’m not the Prius guy who wants to run out to the Hamptons to meet the mom. I’m the guy who likes a weekend commitment. Not a month or a year or a lifetime. But we made a deal, and I intend to stick to it, because I am not the kind of guy who bails. But don’t think I’m all that thrilled about driving out to meet your family as your fiancé, a role that requires me to look like a man in love, rather than a man just along for the ride.”
A small stab of pain shot through her. “A man along for the ride?” she repeated, stabbing at her glasses. After the last few nights, she’d actually started to imagine a happily-ever-after, but she should have known better. “That’s dating to you, isn’t it? Going along for the ride.”
His eyes narrowed on her face, but he said nothing.
Her chin angled up a centimeter in a kind of dare. “Oh, I know all about your rules. No sleepovers, no back-to-back dates, some crazy stipulation about football—”
“Hey, now you’re getting personal.”
“But don’t forget, Nick, you came to me looking for a fiancée and your sister spilled the beans to my family.” Her fists formed into tight balls at her sides. “So don’t blame me for the fact that you need to step up and act like a man capable of more than going along for the ride.”
A charged silence grew between them, and Marianne wondered if she’d crossed the line. Not like she wasn’t guilty. She hadn’t filled him in on her ex or her dad or the dominatrix. For all he knew she could be planning a shotgun wedding. His. But she needed him with her, tomorrow at five. God, please don’t let this fall apart.
“You’re right.”
Marianne blinked at him. “I am?”
Nick ran a hand through his impossibly mussed hair. “Totally right and, while I can’t believe I’m saying this, we are engaged—temporarily. I need to step up, drive out to the Hamptons, and act the part. You’re right. I’m sorry.”
She nodded and bit down on her bottom lip. “Do you think we can pull it off?”
Nick smiled at her, and the temperature of the air around them seemed to warm. “Absolutely, and we kind of have to at this point, right?” He reached out to undo a couple of buttons at the top of the shirt she was wearing. “Besides, we’ve got the main thing down already.”
“The main thing?”
“We’ve got chemistry.” He bent his head to drop a soft kiss on her lips before letting his mouth cruise along her jawline, and she shivered in response. “See? We can sell the lie and nobody will be the wiser.”
“But what if…”
“Marianne, you need to relax.” He sank his hands into the hair at the base of her neck and let it fall through his fingers.
“What if I can’t relax?”
“Then you need to stop talking.”
Before she could respond, his lips covered hers, warm and gentle and heart-stoppingly sexy. A sigh parted her lips at the delicious sensation of his early morning stubble against her cheek. His tongue traced the line of her lips, so intimate and deep, and she tasted the bitterness of his morning coffee mixed with something else that was wonderfully masculine. God, she wanted to kiss him like this forever, not only for another thirty-six days. He pulled away slowly, lifting the collar of his shirt to frame her face before drawing her lips into one last kiss. Forehead pressed against hers, he said, “I’m hitting the shower.”
Before he could get away she grabbed at the hem of his T-shirt. “Tell me what she said when you claimed to be my fiancé.”
Nick slipped his shirt over his head. “I look forward to meeting you.”
He walked toward the bathroom, and she padded after him. “That’s all she said? I look forward to meeting you?” She stepped into the bathroom and caught Nick’s image in the mirror.
And—wow.
Full frontal.
Her breath caught in her throat and all thoughts of expectations and plans hightailed it over to catch the jitney. How could she think about anything when Nick Wright stood in front of her totally naked? Wow. Just wow. Last night she’d tested her sexy flirtation steps and been rewarded with the best sex of her life and a night spent in his arms. Those incredible, unbelievable, sink-your-teeth-into-those-perfectly-sculpted-biceps arms. Nothing in her seduction hypothesis had prepared her for the male beauty standing in front of her. Michelangelo’s David had nothing on the man. Her mouth went dry. She stared, her gaze raking over his lean, muscular body until she reached his midnight blues.
“I definitely cannot relax,” she whispered.
He took a step toward her, a wicked grin creasing his impossibly gorgeous face. “Then you definitely need to stop talking.”
Without warning, he scooped her into his arms and carried her into the shower. “Nick, what are you—put me down!”
The warm water from the showerhead fell against the bare skin of her thighs, drenching her wrinkled, slept-in shirt. Nick wasted no time explaining his intentions. He pressed her body up against the cool tile of the shower as his mouth claimed hers in a soul shattering kiss. She clung to his shoulders as the water sluiced between them, running down her hair, her neck and shoulders, soaking his black cotton shirt. A moan escaped her as his mouth pulled away from her lips.
Dipping farther, his tongue ran across her collarbone, the heat of his kiss mixing with the water creating an effect so sensual and erotic, Marianne thought she’d die from the pleasure.
Nick turned his back to the water raining down on them, sheltering her from the direct blast. His hands slipped under the sides of her panties to cup her backside. She felt the solid muscle of his thighs, his erection against her hips. He pushed aside the wet collar of his shirt with his stubbled chin, and his mouth fell on her tightening nipples, warming them with his lips and tongue. Her eyes drifted shut behind her now steamy glasses, reveling in the feel of his mouth on her wet, naked breasts.
A small nip of his teeth sent a zing racing straight through her. God, simply kissing him made her body tremble and her heart soar, but seeing him this way, completely nude and wanting her: more than she could imagine.
“I know how to make you relax.” God, that voice. His deep-toned, sexy words were enough to make her come right there without a single touch of his fingers.
His hands at her hips whirled her around until she pressed against the cool tiles. His hands slipped under the wet shirt, feeling her up from behind. The movement drew her closer, and she felt his erection press against her backside. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined the mad rush of need unraveling inside her. She wanted to turn around and give him the erotic pleasure he showered down on her, but she didn’t know what to do. She’d never wanted a man this way. Never knew it was possible to be so filled with desperate desire.
Marianne felt him smile against the nape of her neck as his fingers slipped inside her panties to find her damp. Her body moved against his playing fingers, eager to find release. His thumb circled, easing in and out of her in time with the seductive thrusts of his hips from behind. His mouth moved against her neck and jaw, tracing a hot, wet line to her earlobe as his hands continued their dual assault on her breasts and her clit. A whimper fell from her lips. If abandoning expectations meant feeling this sexy and wild, Marianne surrendered. She didn’t want to be good, because being bad made her feel so damned incredible.
His fingers drifted away briefly, moving to her hips to flip her back around and press her into the corner of the tiled shower. His mouth moved to her lips, his nose bumping up against her glasses as he kissed her deeply and fully, in a way that exceeded even her most passionate dreams. She pulled off the horn-rims and shoved them blindly onto the nearby shelf. Her heart pounded against her chest as he dragged the wet panties down and slipped his fing
ers deeper inside, sending tiny bolts of lightning flashing through her.
“Come for me, Marianne.”
Her whispered name on his lips sent her body into overdrive. Her breathing grew ragged, and she bit down hard on her bottom lip, whimpering softly, desperately close to climax. A pleading sound erupted from her throat as she felt the pleasure rush through her body, his strong fingers touching her, guiding her through a series of tremors fueled by raw, unmitigated desire. Her body spent, she curled against him, the water running down the shirt to caress her still-tingling skin.
“You are such a naughty girl.” He pulled away just enough to look into her face, his wicked blue eyes shining through the water raining down around them. “So much I might have to be late for work.”
“That naughty?” she whispered.
Nick dropped another slow kiss on her mouth before whispering against her parted lips. “Statistically speaking, much, much naughtier.”
She smiled up at him, feeling the blush steal across her cheeks. “Is there another level of statistical naughtiness I might explore?” Her fingertips traced the line of hair that led down his abs to his throbbing erection. “Show me.”
Nick let go a low curse, but took her hand and guided it to his rock-solid cock. A moan of pleasure ripped from his throat. She loved the feel of him in her hands, so hard and yet so vulnerable to her touch. He showed her how to coax his pleasure with her hand and she felt him harden further in her grasp.
“Oh, honey, yes.” His deep, male groan echoed through the shower. “Yes.”
She brought his mouth crashing down on her and kissed him with all the need he’d ignited inside her body and soul. Never had she felt so feminine and powerful. She’d moved way past siren. She was the exotic cake girl, and this morning she was not about to run away.
Instinctively she quickened the pace of her strokes until he went rigid in her hand, raw pleasure etched across his face as he came hard and fast.
Lost in the feel of him, she’d taken a wild chance and trusted him not to make her feel anything less than incredibly sexy. And he hadn’t failed her. If anything, after this morning’s shower, Marianne wanted to redefine sexy to include all kinds of hot new ideas. The best part was they still had five weeks left to experiment.
One hand on the tile behind her, Nick tilted forward to kiss her, and she returned his kiss wholeheartedly, turned on all over again by his charged reaction to their shower escapade. With his lips still a breath away, he wrapped his other arm around her waist, and together they slid to the floor of the shower, a tangled mess of limbs and wet clothes and spent desire.
The steam formed a heated cloud around them and he grinned over at her. “Definitely going to be late for work.”
Chapter Twelve
“Develop a code to live by.”
—mantelligence.com
Nick scrubbed his face with both hands. After wedging enough feminine gear into the trunk to wardrobe all of New York City’s Fashion Week, he was more than ready to hit the road. “Marianne, please get in the car.”
“That’s a sports car.” She eyed him over the rim of her sunglasses.
“No, Marianne, it’s not just a sports car, it’s a 1969 Alfa Romeo.” Nick let go a sigh of frustration. She looked super-hot in those Hepburn-style Bans, but right now, super-hot was beside the point. Getting her ass in the car was the point.
“Do you know how much fuel that car uses? How many pollutants it disperses into the air?” She folded her arms across her chest in clear protest. “I can’t go anywhere in that car.”
He shrugged. “Well, then, you will be short one fiancé, because I am not driving out to the Hamptons in a freaking Prius.” The fact that she looked completely adorable in a knee-length skirt, white T-shirt, and tennis shoes did not change his bottom line.
“My Prius gets the best EPA-rated gas mileage of any hybrid—over fifty miles per—”
“But how fast can she rev from zero to ninety?” He slid an arm around her waist and tugged her close, enjoying the feel of her in his arms.
She looked up at him, serious and sincere. “Environmentally sustainable materials are of much greater value than acceleration capabilities.”
Nick smiled. His fiancée was a strictly by-the-speed-limit type of girl, a fact that only jacked up his seductive bent. Made him want to rock her world. He leaned close enough to whisper in her ear. “But how much fun is driving your Prius on the open road?”
Marianne swallowed hard and gave the sunglasses a quick stab with her index finger. “We had a deal.”
“Yes, we did. I agreed to play fiancé for your family all weekend.” Nick slammed the trunk shut, a clear indication that negotiations were over. “I did not agree to emasculate myself.”
With a nod to the Alfa Romeo, she said, “That car is not your manhood.”
“Maybe not, but it’s damn close.” He gave her a kiss hot enough to start his engine, and walked over to the passenger side and opened the door. “Please get in.”
As he guided her into the front seat, she made a small sound in the back of her throat that reminded him of other sweet, sexy sounds. Maybe he’d pull off along the side of the road somewhere and school her in the benefits of a hot, sexy car.
He climbed in next and pressed a button on the console. The sleek black roof rumbled up and folded into the back of the car
“Hells bells, it’s a convertible.”
Nick smiled at her prim curse and revved up the engine. “Not just any convertible, honey, a 1969 Alfa Romeo Duetto Spider. Best ragtop in town.”
“1969?” Marianne said, in an unexpectedly mischievous tone. “Think it’ll make it?”
“Honey, this baby’s got one hundred twelve horsepower, twin cam engine; it will not let you down.” He pulled away from the curb. “And if you’re really nice to me, I’ll let you have your way with me in the backseat later.”
She gave him a sidelong glance that promised all kinds of possibilities. “Keep driving.”
…
Two hours later, as they approached East Hampton, the puzzle that was Marianne McBride started to come together. Or come apart, depending on your perspective. His fiancée was definitely coming unglued.
“Everything will be fine.” Nick gripped the wheel and tried to play it cool.
Hell, a few days ago he lived by rules about back-to-back dates, and today he was playing Meet the Parents. One of them had to stay calm or this whole engagement fiasco was going to blow up like a bomb at the end of its timer.
“My parents never do anything small, so expect a lot of people—friends, neighbors—basically anyone who lives within a twelve mile radius,” Marianne said, her voice so tense it sounded like she’d been hitting up a helium tank. “My dad’s a sweetheart, but he’s been through a lot, so try not to look directly at his ankle monitor,” she continued at full speed. “Mom’s an artist, and there’s one of her paintings on every wall in the house. Compliment the artwork, but avoid any mention of Picasso, even his name…”
One hand on the wheel, he waved her words to a stop with the other. “Whoa, hang on just a minute. Your father’s ankle bracelet?”
Marianne bit down on her bottom lip. “Yes…”
Nick drew in a breath and collected his thoughts. Minor offenses didn’t normally require ankle monitors. “Start at the beginning.”
In an obvious stall tactic, she adjusted her sunglasses against the bridge of her nose. “Until about a year ago, my dad owned a brokerage firm in Manhattan—upscale, extremely successful, high-profile clients.”
Nick shifted in the leather seat, not liking where this story was going.
Hands clasped together and set primly on her lap, Marianne drew in a long breath and continued, “There was a rumor of securities fraud and my dad was arrested for insider trading.”
Both hands white-knuckled the wheel. He was a financial attorney, for Christ’s sake. A string of swear words bounced around in his head, Brooklyn-style curses, none of them
nice, all more suited for a locker room than a trip to the Hamptons. He fought the urge to bang his palms against the steering wheel.
Marianne’s brows pulled together. “Insider trading wasn’t my dad’s style. He worked by the book, but when the SEC filed charges, he refused to offer a defense and cut a deal, which still makes no sense to me.” Looking away, she continued, “He did a six-month stint at a federal prison camp in Pensacola, minimum security, but … His firm still manages his investments, so it’s not like he’s banned from making profits, but the assets are monitored by the Feds.”
“You should have told me.” Her father’s criminal history fell into the potential roadblock category where his career was concerned.
Marianne pulled her gaze from the road. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. The party wasn’t supposed to be for another two weeks, so I thought I’d have a chance, and given that our agreement was only for six weeks, I didn’t think it was an issue.”
“Well, it’s an issue.” Her card-counting secret paled in comparison to the unexpected news that her father had a permanent record. “Nothing I can’t handle.” But he wondered what else she kept hidden inside that proper exterior. “If he did his time, why the monitor?”
She bit down on her bottom lip. “Early release program, and now that he’s out and his assets are partially unfrozen, my parents think it’s time to celebrate.”
Nick nodded, but kept his eyes on the road. “So this is why you’re no longer a broker?”
An almost bitter laugh broke out of her. “Wall Street’s a small world, so my dad’s conviction cost me my career. Like father, like daughter rumors. None of them true, of course.”
“Do you miss it? Wall Street, the action of the trading floor?”
She gave him the sweetest, saddest smile, and a dull ache formed in the middle of his chest. Not at all straightforward or uncomplicated. “Do you know the only other person to ask me that is your sister? The only person in Manhattan who’d give me a chance. I owe her.”
Nick nodded. “Explains the cake.”
A blush colored her cheeks, but she waved away his remark, sexier in a ponytail than any woman who’d ever taken a ride in his backseat. Still, now that he’d discovered another of her secrets, he’d be smart to slow down. And not just his driving.
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