Billionaire's Contract Engagement / Money Man's Fiancée Negotiation (9 page)

Celia snorted, covered her mouth and then dissolved into hoots of laughter.

He regarded her dubiously. “I do believe you're mocking me.”

“Mocking you?” She wheezed between words and tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. “Oh my, Evan. You do dream big, don't you?”

“Well, it was a good fantasy while it lasted,” he grumbled. “I looked around and there was Bettina. I didn't have time to figure out what my ideal woman was. I wanted my perfect life then and I didn't want to wait. So I asked her to marry me, she said yes, I gave her a ring and that was that.”

“And yet here you are. With me. The fake fiancée.”

He scowled ferociously at her only for her to dissolve into laughter again.

“Okay, so what happened? Other than Mitchell stepping in and being an overindulged twit.”

He liked this woman. She was good for his ego even when she was tearing it down.

“Bettina wanted to set an immediate date. She had a grand wedding planned. Even had the honeymoon destination picked out. She littered my office with brochures. Hell, she even had our children's names picked out.”

“I would have thought given your fantasy that you would have eaten that up with a spoon,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, so did I. Only I found myself backing off. I kept making excuses to extend the engagement. I was busy. This deal had to take priority. That deal needed immediate attention. Before I knew it, we had been engaged a year with a wedding scheduled another year beyond that. And moreover I was content with that.”

“Did you never love her?” Celia asked quietly.

“No. No, I didn't. Which is why I can't really blame her for wanting out. Our marriage would have been a disaster just as
soon as I figured out the reality didn't live up to the fantasy I'd created in my mind. I just didn't think she'd dump me for Mitchell or that Mitchell would have been poaching on my territory.”

Celia winced. “Yeah, I can understand that.”

“I found them in bed, you know. How clichéd is that? The sad thing is, when I found them together in my bed, I just laughed, because to me it was just the next step in an already farcical relationship. I tossed them out of my apartment and washed my hands of them both.”

Celia's expression grew thoughtful. “Hmm, so you don't necessarily object to the fact that she found someone else. Or that she cheated on you. Just who she indulged herself with.”

Evan nodded and rubbed the back of his neck to ease some of the tension and fatigue. Just talking about it raised his ire all over again.

“Yeah, it's stupid I know. I mean, she could have cheated on me with my business partner, or my vice president or, hell, even my driver. I wouldn't have cared. I might have even given the man a raise. But my brother. My spoiled, overindulged brother. No, that was the one thing I couldn't forgive.”

“Well, if their relationship is based on all you say, then I'd imagine they'll suffer enough in the long run without you wishing them ill.”

He regarded her for a long moment. “You're not going to lecture me about harboring childish grudges?”

She smiled, and those gorgeous green eyes cut right through him. She took his breath away until he was helpless to do anything but stare back.

“Nope. Not a word. Considering I have my own grudges and I don't plan on forgetting them in this lifetime, I could hardly chastise you for the same.”

“Oh, do tell. You sound so … vicious. I like it,” he teased.

Her expression grew serious. Pain flickered in her eyes, and she turned away, her mouth drawn into a tight line. He
was immediately sorry that the light mood had dissolved. As much as he wanted to know her secrets, he wanted to see her laughing and smiling even more.

To cover the sudden heaviness in the air, he got up to pour a glass of wine. Without a word, he offered one to her, and she took it, gratitude easing some of the tightness around her eyes.

He wanted to touch her so badly. Wanted to ease the strain and the unhappy tilt to her lips. He wanted to kiss her plump mouth until he owned her very breath.

He forced himself to return to his chair. The remains of their dinner was scattered across the coffee table. Some had fallen to the floor, but he wasn't inclined to clean it up. They sat there sipping their wine as evening fell all around them.

Finally he could remain silent no more.

He leaned forward to set his glass on the table. For a moment he looked down at his hands and imagined her flesh beneath his fingertips. Then he glanced back up to see her studying him with the same keen interest flashing in her eyes. She wasn't immune. He wasn't the only one who felt the magnetic pull between them.

“What are we going to do, Celia?” he murmured.

He saw her swallow nervously. She hadn't misunderstood, but neither did she respond.

“I want you so damn much I hurt. I've hurt for weeks. Every time I look at you, I get so many knots that I can't function. I've thought of all the ways I can explain to you that our business relationship has nothing to do with the desire I feel for you. But the simple truth is I don't give a damn. I want you in my bed, and I don't care what has to be done to make that happen.”

Her eyes went wide and frightened. He hated that. He didn't want her to be afraid of him.

“You feel it, too. Don't deny me that much.”

Slowly she nodded. Her fingers went to her forehead and she dug them into her hair. Still, he could see them shaking,
and she swallowed again, her slim neck working with the effort.

“Please,” she whispered. “I can't do this, Evan. It's the one thing I can't do. Don't ask it of me. If you want me to admit it, fine. I want you. More than I've ever wanted another man.”

Savage satisfaction gripped him. Didn't just grip him but lunged for him and wrapped a hand around his throat and his groin. His entire body reacted to that simple statement. She wanted him more than she'd ever wanted anyone else.

She turned on the couch until she faced forward and her feet met the floor. She looked in turns miserable and scared. Her eyes closed in what looked to him like self-condemnation. He swore, startling her with the force of his curses.

“Whatever you're thinking, I don't like it,” he said flatly. “I have no idea what the hell kind of blame you're placing on yourself, but I can guarantee that you didn't use your feminine wiles to seduce me into signing with your agency. I wanted you from the first moment I saw you. Want to know when that was, Celia? Go ahead, ask me.”

He stared at her in blatant challenge, waiting, wanting her to take it up.

Her eyes went wide with shock, and her face was pale and drawn. “W-when?”

“At the Sutherland's reception. You were there with one of your clients. Copeland, if I remember correctly. The grocery-store giant.”

Her mouth fell open. “But you were still with Rencom.”

He nodded. “Precisely. I looked across the room, and you took my breath away. Want to know another of my sins, Celia? I was still engaged to Bettina. It was a week before I found her in bed with Mitchell. I didn't care. I wanted you so much. Now tell me how big of a bastard that makes me. Try to tell me this has anything to do with your pitch.”

In the course of their conversation, he'd moved to the couch. He moved closer still, stalking her like prey. Her scent lured
him, and he inhaled the delicate, feminine smell that he'd come to associate with only her.

Her eyes were flush with awareness and caution. There was confusion in her deep green pools, but something else, too. Desire. Matching desire. She wanted him. Maybe as much as he wanted her. It didn't matter because he would have her.

“Want to know something else?” he murmured. “I almost didn't consider Maddox for the account. Want to know why? Because I didn't want it to interfere with my pursuit of you.”

He was close now. So close he could feel every little puff of breath that came from her lips. He could see the tiny little nervous swallows that worked her throat up and down. And her mouth. Her luscious, sweet mouth. He wanted to taste it, devour it like candy.

“W-what changed your mind?” she whispered.

“I'm perfectly capable of separating business from pleasure,” he said evenly.

“Evan, we can't.”

She put her hand on his chest. Big mistake. A current of electricity singed him. They both jumped, but before she could withdraw, he caught her fingers and trapped her hand between his and his chest.

“Just one kiss, Celia. Just one. I have to kiss you. It's all I'll demand for now. I can wait for more until we have this ac count settled.”

Without waiting her consent, he swept his mouth over hers. Finally. Her sweetness exploded onto his tongue the moment he licked over her lips. Her mouth parted in a gasp, and he took full advantage, delving deep into her moist heat.

She made the sweetest sounds. He swallowed them up as he devoured every inch of her mouth. He was transfixed by her full bottom lip. He nipped lightly at it, teasing it to fullness and then he sucked it between his teeth.

Her tongue stroked tentatively over his, just light brushes
with the tip and then she grew bolder, taking a more active part in the kiss.

His hands delved into her hair. He loved her hair. Long and glorious, the color like a russet sunset over the desert. The temptation was too great. He'd fantasized about it for too long.

He fumbled with the clip and released its hold on her hair. It tumbled down her back, over his hands like a wave. He gathered the strands between his fingers, mesmerized by their silky smoothness.

He drank deeply, not wanting the moment to end. He could spend hours kissing her, but he wanted more. He wanted to work his mouth down the curve of her jaw to her neck. He wanted to peel every layer of clothing from her body and then run his tongue over her soft skin.

He wondered what her breasts would feel like in his hands and what her nipples would taste like, how they'd feel as he sucked them into his mouth.

Oh, yes, he'd spent a lot of time wondering about her breasts. She never wore clothing that could be deemed too provocative. She was fashionable, yes, but he secretly wished she'd wear something a little more revealing. It was killing him not to get a hint of her full, ripe breasts.

Soon. Soon, he'd unwrap all of her. He'd possess her. She'd be his.

He needed air and he broke away only long enough to pull oxygen into his starving lungs. She gasped along with him, and then he started at the corner of her mouth and licked and kissed his way across to the other corner.

Her small hands slid up his chest. It was like a heating element sliding over his skin. She left a blazing trail of fierce need in her wake. His entire body came alive, and all she'd done was touch him. Innocently.

They wound up around his neck and then her fingertips just delved into the hair at his nape. He shuddered, and it was all he could do to retain his tight hold on his control.

His body screamed at him to haul her over his shoulder and drag her caveman-style to the bedroom. He'd rip off her clothes and spend the night taking her over and over until they both succumbed to exhaustion.

His mind yelled at him to be careful. To take it slow. Not to push her so far away that she never returned.

It was that fear of driving her away permanently that finally pulled him back from the brink of insanity.

With great reluctance, he pulled back. His hands were still tangled up in her hair, and he carefully extricated them from the heavy coil that lay over her shoulders.

Her eyes were cloudy, a gorgeous mix of confusion and desire that had him wanting to throw caution to the wind and continue his seduction.

“That,” he whispered, “is what I've been wanting to do ever since I saw you across a crowded room six months ago. Now you tell me this has anything to do with Maddox Communications and Reese Enterprises.”

Her hand fluttered to her mouth and she stared at him with shocked awareness.

“Oh, God, Evan. What are we going to do?”

He smiled gently and slowly pulled her hand away from her swollen lips.

“What we're going to do is get your pitch out of the way tomorrow morning. Whatever happens afterward, we take it as it comes.”

T
here was no need for Celia to set her alarm. She never went to sleep. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her senses completely shattered by something as simple as a kiss.

No. That kiss could never ever be called simple.

She'd thought to go over her pitch. Mentally replay everything she wanted to say until it flowed seamlessly through her mind. But all she'd been able to do was lay there and wonder how she was going to manage to keep things with Evan on a strictly professional level.

He kissed like a dream.

He'd make love like a dream.

And the sick thing was she'd never find out.

She rolled over and buried her face in her pillow.

Celia, Celia.

The admonishment burned like acid on her tongue. She was walking a very tight, very dangerous line. It was bad enough that she was here with Evan. Sharing a suite with Evan. Her groan was swallowed up by the pillow.

The least she could have done was insisted on a separate room, but that wouldn't have gone far in convincing his family that they were happily engaged.

Friendship. Okay, she could handle a friendship with Evan. She liked him. He asked her to consider this a personal favor. As a friend. And she'd forget the kiss. Forget that he had made his intention to make love to her abundantly clear.

All she had to do was get through her presentation, go to a rehearsal dinner, wedding and reception with Evan—as his fiancée—and then she could go home and put him firmly back in his neat, tidy little corner.

She struggled out of bed, knowing it would take her the better part of an hour to erase the look of someone who hadn't slept. Evan had ordered room service to be brought up at eight, and she wanted plenty of time to go over her notes again.