Authors: Darah Lace
receiving end of it was another. It made him too
human, too...not like the other men in her life. Not
like her father.
But he was. All men were. She had to remind
herself of that, could never forget it.
Charlotte stopped beside her car, a little red
convertible—just one more detail of her well
cultivated façade—and dug in her purse for the keys.
“I thought we could go to dinner and discuss the
promotional part of our trip.”
She glanced up, only now realizing Marcus had
followed her. He had remained silent, keeping his
distance. Probably had some ulterior motive, though
she couldn’t begin to guess what. It didn’t matter. It
was there, and she refused to be taken in or let down
her guard. If he thought otherwise, he was sadly
mistaken.
Opening the car door, she forced him to stand
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aside, then slid behind the wheel. “Sorry, I can’t.
Sam’s waiting for me.”
Marcus moved between her and the door,
leaning forward, one arm on the roof. “Sam, huh? Is
he your latest plaything?”
She smiled, knowing by his frown she’d struck a
nerve. Might as well play it for all it was worth. “I
have to admit, he does like to play.”
“How does he feel about you coming on this trip
with me?”
“He really doesn’t have any say in what I do, but
to answer your question, he won’t like it.” Though
Sam hated it when she left him alone, he didn’t have
a jealous bone in his body. But then the over-
indulged feline thought he was the only male in her
life. “Of course, I’ll have to do my best to make it up
to him tonight.”
Charlotte almost laughed as Marcus’s frown
turned into a full-fledged scowl. She took advantage
of his shocked outrage and reached for the door
handle. He moved out of the way, and she quickly
shut the door. As she backed out of the parking
space, he didn’t say a thing, just stood there, feet
braced apart, arms folded over his chest. It was
rather exhilarating to think she’d shaken him up.
Of course, she’d seen that look on his face before
and knew it wasn’t jealousy. He, like most men,
simply didn’t like the idea of sharing a woman, even
if he didn’t want her.
Unable to resist, Charlotte lowered her window
halfway and gave him a grin and a wink. “Oh, don’t
let it concern you, Marcus. I’ll still have enough
energy to make this weekend one you’ll never
forget.”
And she would too. She would keep him so
rattled, he wouldn’t know what hit him. She would
tease and taunt, entice and enchant, lure him in
until he didn’t know which end was up. He’d be
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putty in her hands.
Same as you were in the elevator
.
Charlotte groaned. She had practically melted
under his touch. If she wanted to succeed in her
plans to seduce Marcus and leave him high and dry,
she needed to think of a way to fortify herself
against his charm.
****
door of Charlotte’s condo and rubbed a hand over his
face, not quite awake at such an early hour. He
glanced back at Spencer, busy rearranging luggage
at the rear of Melody’s white sedan. Melody looked
up from supervising Spencer and smiled, urging him
to try again. He sighed and knocked a second time,
trying not to think about what might be going on
inside that kept her from answering.
He’d been up half the night, fighting off images
of Charlotte, her hair and skin damp with sweat,
tangled in satin sheets with her lover, the unknown
Sam. Marcus had tossed and turned, his gut twisting
as helpless desperation seized him until he finally
jumped out of bed and grabbed his keys, ready to
race to her condo to interrupt their liaison. He’d
come to his senses, remembering she owed him
nothing and that the trip to Aspen was a
promotional gimmick, not a lover’s rendezvous.
Luckily, he’d recalled that fact before he reached
his front door and before Chad—or his latest bed
partner—caught him bare-assed naked in the middle
of the living room. He’d given up on sleep after that,
something he regretted now as he stifled another
yawn. He would need his wit and all the stamina he
could muster to deal with Charlotte Reese this early
in the morning.
Marcus raised his fist to knock a third time as
the door opened. Charlotte eyed him lazily. Her
blonde hair fell around her shoulders in a disheveled
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yet provocative mess. If not for the formfitting black
dress she wore, he could, without difficulty, picture
her reluctantly easing from her lover’s embrace to
answer the door.
He banished the image to the back of his mind,
since he couldn’t fully erase it, and forced a smile.
“Morning. You ready to go?”
She blinked her confusion. “Well, um, thanks,
but actually you should go on ahead. Melody is
picking me up.”
Marcus hooked a thumb over his shoulder,
pointing to Spencer and Melody. “I didn’t want to
leave my car at the airport, so Spencer offered me a
ride.”
“Oh.”
That single syllable, though barely audible, rang
with disappointment, its echo in his ears nearly
drowning out the clickety-clack of her high heels as
she started across the white marble foyer. Marcus
ground his teeth to keep from telling her he didn’t
like the situation any more than she did. That she
was the last woman he would spend time with if
given the choice. But he
didn’t
have a choice, and
arguing wasn’t the best way to start the weekend.
Without
waiting
for
an
invitation—he’d
probably see hell freeze over before he got one—he
moved through the door and closed it behind him.
With each step his irritation gave way to curiosity.
He’d often wondered what comforts a creature like
Charlotte surrounded herself with.
He paused at the doorway of a spacious living
area. At first glance he found the room as sleek and
lush as its owner, a setting obviously designed for
seduction. Velvet, the color of fine claret, draped the
windows to create a dark and secluded atmosphere.
Overstuffed chairs and a sofa upholstered in
burgundy and vanilla brocade, with huge throw
pillows, flanked a fireplace made from the same
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crème marble he stood on. Wine-red candles of
assorted widths and heights lined the mantle and
cluttered both the inner and outer hearth that
blended smoothly into carpet so thick and plush it
made him think of quicksand.
If he’d seen the room a week ago, he would have
wondered how many men had been sucked under.
He would have thought it mirrored the sultry
personality of the Charlotte Reese he’d known these
last five years. Now he questioned why the room
held none of the personality of the woman he’d
glimpsed yesterday at the hospital.
The tapping of Charlotte’s heels fell silent,
drawing his attention across the entryway where the
hard flooring ended and more of the soft, crème
carpeting began, a direct contrast to the clingy dark
fabric that curved across swaying hips. Stirred to
action and definitely interested in seeing the rest of
her home, he took the steps two at a time to catch
up.
He reached her side on the landing halfway up
the stairs. “You have a nice place.”
“Thanks,” she muttered absently.
“Doesn’t seem to really fit you though.”
She jerked to a stop and looked at him as if he
were a big hairy spider and she suffered from
arachnophobia.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to offend. It’s just—”
“What are you doing here?”
“I thought we’d already established I’m here
with Spencer and Melody to take you to the airport.”
She shook her head and pointed to the spot
where he stood. “No, what are you doing
here
? Why
aren’t you waiting outside?”
“I’m helping you with your suitcases.”
He placed a foot on the next step. She stayed
him with a hand on his arm. “Thank you, but you
don’t have to do that.”
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“It’s no problem.”
She darted a quick glance toward the room at
the top of the stairs, then climbed to the step above
him and placed a hand on his chest. “I can manage.
Really.”
For one who hid her feelings well, this show of
apprehension—surely
not
due
to
modesty—
surprised him. His curiosity spiked. She obviously
didn’t want him entering her bedroom. The question
was, why? He smiled at the possibility of underwear
on the floor, candy wrappers on the bedside table, an
unmade bed?
An unmade bed with red silk sheets.
And a gilded mirror on the ceiling.
He groaned inwardly, and his smile slipped.
Maybe it wasn’t a good idea for him to see where
Charlotte slept. Or sometimes didn’t sleep but rather
found her pleasure. He wasn’t certain he could
survive his already vivid imagination were it to
become more explicit in detail.
Yet her reluctance to admit him nudged his
curiosity to the forefront and self-preservation took a
backseat with common sense. “If you’ve packed as
much as most women, you’ll need my help. Even if
you are too stubborn to admit it.”
Marcus started around her, but she moved to
block his way and he crashed into her. She tumbled
backward, but he caught her quickly, yanking her
tightly against him. A silent moment passed as he
held her, and his body grew increasingly attentive to
her slender frame and how it fit so perfectly to his.
The angle of her head left her throat bare, inviting
his lips to explore its length. The deep neckline of
her dress stretched taut, revealing a fraction of a
black lace bra. Did she have one in every color?
Lust pooled low in his gut, and the semi-aroused
state he stayed in whenever he was around
Charlotte grew to full length. The shock in her
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almond-shaped eyes quickly faded to a questioning
awareness his body begged to answer. She licked her
lips, and he almost lost the battle his conscience
waged to keep his vow to honor her this weekend. To
show her she deserved to have a man treat her with
respect and not expect sex as payment for his
attention.
Granted, a kiss wasn’t sex, and Melody and
Spencer waited just outside to take them to the
airport, yet every kiss he’d shared with Charlotte
had taken on a life of its own. Up to now he had kept
a tight rein on his control, but after a night of
explicit imaginings and dreams, it wouldn’t take
much to sever his grip on reality. Especially when he
wanted so damn much to lay her down on the stairs
and slide deep inside her warmth.
Marcus released her, shoved his hands in his
pockets and cleared his throat. “I’ve seen my fair
share of women’s underwear, you know.”
She stopped smoothing her dress and gave him
a blank look.
“If that’s what you’re afraid of.” Though the
state he was in, he wasn’t at all sure he could handle
seeing Charlotte’s flimsy lingerie.
She smiled and placed her hands on her hips.
“Now, Marcus. Why would I be afraid for you to see
my panties? You’ve seen them before.”
His erection pressed painfully against the
button fly of his jeans, reminding him to steer the
conversation in another direction if he wanted any
relief. He should have known better than to engage
in sexual banter with Charlotte Reese.
He sighed and rubbed a hand over his jaw.
“Then is there a particular reason you don’t want me
in your bedroom?”
“Other than I didn’t invite you?”
The truth of her statement hit him like a sucker
punch to the stomach, and his desire waned as the
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