From Fake to Forever (12 page)

Besides, this was a relationship with an expiration date and they’d both agreed to that. For crying out loud, they were days away from signing divorce papers. What had gotten into her?

Clamping down on all the emotions, she smiled wickedly as he stared down at her, clearly at a loss about what she was asking for.

“But not like this,” she said and flexed one hip to roll him off her. Fortunately, he let her because there was no way she could have moved a man his size with her own strength alone. Then she slung a leg over his waist.

Astride his muscular frame now, she placed both palms on his chest, like she’d been fantasizing about for days. Years. “Much better.”

She began to move and flung her head back to keep him from seeing anything extra in her eyes that she didn’t want to reveal.

Pure pleasure. Nothing wrong with that.

And pleasure her he did. Jason reached up to cup her breasts as she found her rhythm, tweaking her nipples expertly. Losing herself in him wasn’t hard.

He groaned. “I love your body. It’s the hottest I’ve ever seen, even in airbrushed magazines.”

“And it’s all yours, for now,” she teased and pretended the catch in her throat was due to the physical pleasure instead of how sad “for now” had suddenly made her. What was
wrong
with her?

Hot. Dirty. Wild. Crazy. These were the things she should be focusing on. She threw herself into it, abandoning her thoughts to the heat Jason had created. His hips matched her thrusts, spiraling her into the heavens in another climax.

She slumped onto his chest, resting her cheek against his thundering heart. His arms held her tight and she shut her eyes. But she couldn’t go to sleep cradled by this man like she desperately wanted to. It meant something different now than it had in Vegas.

She’d made the monumentally earth-shattering discovery that when she’d dreamed of reconnecting with Jason Lynhurst, it hadn’t been about sex. Not solely. Maybe it hadn’t even been just sex in Vegas, but she’d never stopped to examine it.

Her heart hurt and not in a good way. Was all this why she’d gotten so teary over his simple romantic gestures earlier? Why she couldn’t forget him? All she’d wanted was a taste of his magic again, the feel of his body and the rush of a release only he seemed capable of giving her.

And he had. What else could she possibly ask for? Once she had the divorce, she could move on, go home and become a successful businesswoman. That’s what the Grown-Up Pact was about, what she wanted. Didn’t she? Frustrated, she bit her lip. This emotional muddle was not on the agenda.

After a few minutes of struggling to hold back the flood of confusion inside, she finally thought she could speak without tipping him off that she’d experienced a total freak-out. “You’ve still got the moves, sugar. Anytime you want wild and crazy, you let me know. I’m your girl.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He kissed her on the temple and spooned her against him. “Do you want me to stay?”

Of course she did. But coupled with the swirl of uncertainty and the fact that he’d actually asked made her blurt out, “You don’t have to.”

And then she hoped he’d see right through her words and insist that he wanted to stay. But he nodded and rolled away, taking his heat with him. “I do have an early meeting.”

She smiled and faked being okay with him jetting off in the middle of her crisis. After all, she’d given him permission to leave. This wasn’t a vacation where they could lounge around in bed for a whole weekend. He was busy. So was she. “See you later.”

Actually it was better if he went, for both of them. This is what adults did when having a short-term affair. It was what
she
did. Always.

She didn’t watch him get dressed and didn’t glance up when she heard him turn the doorknob to leave. It was cold in this icebox of a hotel room. She pulled the blanket up to cover herself.

Long after he left, she stared at the wall, wondering how in the world they’d managed to get naked and have cataclysmic orgasms and yet she hadn’t gotten what she wanted at all.

Eight

W
ith something akin to a herculean effort, Jason managed to hit the threshold of his office by eight o’clock. How, he had no idea. He’d tossed and turned all night, only to fall asleep at 5:00 a.m., thirty minutes before his alarm.

If only he could blame the inability to sleep on Avery’s thievery or the merger plans or the damaging press he had been combating. As bad as all that was, it couldn’t hold a candle to the vision of Meredith on permanent repeat in his head.

Oddly, the memory wasn’t of her naked—though she had the body of any breathing man’s wet dream. No, the image haunting him was of her in the car, when she’d mounted him with that little skirt hiked up and her breasts half spilling from her clothing.

The look on her face...rapturous. He couldn’t stop watching her as he pleasured her. Sure, he’d been touching her intimately while in public, which was the very definition of the kind of crazy she induced. He should have been appalled at himself. Instead, he’d felt alive, invigorated. Powerful in the knowledge that he could make her come as many times as he wanted and she’d cry out
his
name.

That’s why he hadn’t stayed. Because he’d liked reconnecting with her far too much.

He groaned and groped blindly for the fresh cup of coffee on his desk, gulping it in hopes of banishing his wicked vixen of a wife from his mind. The coffee scalded his tongue and he swore. Colorfully.

There was not enough coffee in all of Midtown Manhattan to caffeinate him well enough to face the day anyway. He dumped the whole cup in the trash. Might as well make his morning complete by calling Avery.

Anyone who would steal a company’s bread and butter deserved a special place in hell.

When Avery answered on the first ring, he knew something was up and the back of his neck tingled. “Hey. We need to talk.”

How to bring up the designs? If he dove right into an accusation, Avery would figure out how to weasel out of admitting anything. Maybe he’d get the lay of the land first and then work his way up to it.

“I agree,” she said smoothly. “I’ve been talking to Paul about the points made in the oh-so-clever article you released. By the way, nice job with that, little brother.”

The sarcasm was so thick, he grinned. Meredith’s strategy had worked. That article must have really pissed off Avery for her to be so nasty right out of the gate. “Marketing, plain and simple. Surely you of all people appreciate the value of truth in advertising.”

She paused long enough for Jason to wonder if the connection had been lost.

“I’m a fan of the truth, actually,” she returned cryptically. “So I mentioned to Paul that you weren’t off the mark. Hurst doesn’t have the heavy hitting haute couture reputation of Lyn. It’s not in our DNA, nor our strategy. If we want to run with the big dogs, we have to consider our weaknesses.”

Ah.
So that was the reason behind the stolen designs. She planned to use them to launch a line that would compete with Lyn. But surely she realized that at least twenty people could attest under oath that those designs had originated inside Lyn’s walls, not to mention the digital footprint of the saved files with date/time stamps. Hurst’s reputation wouldn’t be haute couture
or
prom dresses—it would become famous for being a company full of convicted felons.

The whole concept made him a little sick.

“What did Paul say?” Uttering his father’s name didn’t help the queasiness.

“This and that,” she hedged. “The important thing is that I laid the foundation for the merger. So in reality, our dueling media blitz only helped that cause.” And that would be the only admission he’d ever get that she’d orchestrated the sweatshop allegations. “In a few days, I’m going to mention the need for a new strategy. Then I’ll casually drop the hint—have you thought about the benefits of bringing the company back under one roof?”

God, she was good. If he hadn’t known about the stolen designs, he might have actually bought that song and dance. Avery didn’t have a problem playing both sides of the table, obviously. And neither did he.

Suddenly, he didn’t see the value in mentioning the designs. He’d rather wait to see how that played out. Though he’d still have to find a way to deal with the spy in his company.

“Fantastic. I’ll do the same with Bettina, though I’ll focus on revenue. She’s interested in launching a swimsuit line.” Normally, he wouldn’t mention detail, but with it on the table, Avery couldn’t steal it out from under Bettina now. “It would be a good time to talk financing and how expensive new lines are. Hurst’s numbers are better than they’ve ever been, according to what you’ve told me. That’s still true, right?”

“Of course.” She sniffed. “Hurst House is and always will be the cash cow of the Lynhurst empire.”

“This is great,” he said heartily. “It’s progress, which is sorely needed. Now we have to work on how to convince Paul and Bettina to relinquish their CEO roles to us.”

The hope was that they could figure out a way to make it seem attractive to retire or find other projects. Paul was going to be difficult as he’d been on the business side since the inception of Lynhurst Enterprises, whereas Bettina was a designer at heart. It might be possible to get her interested in stepping aside.

As always, Jason cared more about Bettina’s feelings than Paul’s. Honestly, if Jason and Avery ended up doing a hostile takeover of Hurst, it would be exactly what his father deserved.

After all, it was Paul’s fault the company had split. And Paul’s fault Hurst and Lyn weren’t doing as well separately as they’d done together. But a hostile takeover would be difficult and costly and would breed ill will. It would be better to avoid it if possible.

“It’s a problem,” Avery conceded. “We’ll have to brainstorm on how to solve it.”

Inspiration hit, brought on solely by the combination of Meredith calling him up to Hurst’s office and the night of passion following. “When you’re hinting around about the merger, mention to Paul that he might want to take a backseat role in order to spend more time with Caozinha.”

It was the first time he’d ever called his father’s wife by her name. Since he didn’t immediately feel like rinsing out his mouth with Jack Daniel’s, he’d call that a victory.

“That’ll work.” Faint praise, but from Avery, it was practically the same thing as a gold medal.

They talked a few more minutes about some of the merger’s legal details and when Jason hung up, he had to chalk it up to one of the more pleasant conversations he’d had with his sister in quite some time.

Either knowing about her secret plans had mellowed him or Meredith had. Maybe each had had an effect. And his wife was responsible for both. Who would have thought he’d gain such a valuable asset when he’d come to Meredith with the idea of not signing the divorce papers right away?

Mood vastly improved, Jason put the hammer down on his to-do list and, by eleven, managed to accomplish more than he’d have expected. Which was fortunate because two minutes later, Meredith texted him:
Meet me at the hotel for lunch. I have an idea.

Instantly, his mind filled in that blank. He had an idea, too. Several, in fact. Already happily anticipating another skipped meal, he texted her back:
I’m walking out the door.

He canceled his one o’clock meeting and caught himself humming by the time he hit the elevator. Looked as if he wasn’t against wild and crazy in the middle of the day, either.

Meredith was already in the room when he pushed the door open. God, she was exquisite, with silky hair halfway down her back. Her beautiful face—he could stare at it for hours.

“That was fast,” she commented over her shoulder as she bent over the desk scribbling something on the phone pad. “Give me a minute.”

“You take all the time you need.” Because she was precisely where he wanted her.

He came up behind her and put both hands at her waist, fitting that shapely rear against his already-aching groin. The filmy sundress she wore scarcely provided a barrier and he could feel the folds of her sex. Hard as steel, he rubbed her intimately, pleasuring them both.

She stilled and then shifted, deliberately sliding against his erection.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be?” she asked, her voice hitching.

“Uh-huh,” he murmured and gathered her hair in one hand, holding it away from her neck. He nibbled at the creamy flesh revealed, grinding into her deeper.

Oh, yeah. So sweet.

She reached back and yanked the hem of her dress up to her waist, then guided his free hand to one breast. “If you’re going to do it, do it right, honey.” She arched backward, thrusting her hips in powerful bursts.

He nearly came then, still fully clothed, but he fought it long enough to thumb down the neckline of her dress, spilling her breast into his palm. Groaning, he took the nipple between his fingertips and the hot flesh pebbled instantly.

“I want to be inside you,” he mouthed against her neck as he kissed it from behind.

“Condoms are in the bathroom. I’m not going anywhere.”

He peeled away from her with no small effort and dashed to grab the string of foil packets lying on the vanity.

When he returned to the main area, Meredith stood palms-down at the desk, skirt still flipped up over her back. But she’d kicked off her panties and spread her legs in invitation. She turned her head a fraction and peered up at him through a curtain of hair. Her expression said he better hurry because she was impatient.

It was the single most erotic thing he’d ever seen. Dark, wicked lust zigzagged through his midsection.

His fingers shook as he tore off his pants and rolled on a condom over the fiercest erection he’d ever experienced. In seconds, he was back in place against her, gripping her hips and sliding into her heat.

She closed around him and the exquisite pressure heightened the urgency. He needed her. He reached for her nub, cradling her against his torso as he fingered her, driving them together again and again until she cried out. Her release squeezed him so perfectly that he followed her instantly. Eyes closed and lips against her neck, he let the orgasm blast through him.