Cal dropped his hand, but the look on his face told her that he didn’t believe her for a second. Lucy got the door closed and locked seconds before she heaved into the toilet. She reached over and turned on the tap to help disguise the noise. When she got herself under control, she flushed the toilet and rinsed her mouth out.
One look in the mirror and she knew there was no way Cal was going to let this go. He’d know for sure something was wrong. Her skin had gone white beneath the heavy makeup, and her hair had slipped out of some of its pins. She did her best to fix it, but without a brush and some hairspray her efforts did little to hide the fact that she wasn’t well.
What was she going to do? There wasn’t any kind of spin Charity could put on this that would make it palatable. Lucy could imagine the title of the magazine article—Local Businessman Buys a Wife. Once the story broke, it would be all over for them. Cal would be humiliated. Ruined. A laughingstock.
Did Cal really not believe that Poppy was his? He could pay for a thousand paternity tests, and they’d all come out the same. Poppy was as much Cal’s as she was Lucy’s. Why hadn’t he told her about his doubts? Had he already had the test done? Or was he only thinking about having it done? The one thing that hadn’t changed in the last week or so was Cal’s feelings toward Poppy. He’d been just as affectionate, just as smitten as ever, if not more so. Was he planning on telling her about the test? Or was he planning on having it done secretly and only mention it if the results came back that he wasn’t the father?
Cal took matters into his own hands and unlocked the door with the spare key. He slipped into the bathroom and found Lucy sitting on the toilet lid, her head in her hands.
He dropped to his knees in front of her, pried her fingers away, and tilted her chin up so he could get a good look at her. “Darlin’, what’s wrong? What happened?” She blinked up at him, her big blue eyes filled with tears, and it felt like someone had skewered him right through the chest with a hot poker. “Darlin’…” he breathed, hardly able to get the words out. “What is it?”
“She knows.”
“Who knows?”
“Priscilla Barnes.” A tear slipped through her lower lashes and slid down her cheek, and that hot poker twisted inside him. “She knows about our marriage. Our bargain. Do you really want to get a paternity test? Because you can get one. You can get a thousand of them if you want to. Poppy’s yours.” More tears streaked down her face. He swiped at them as fast as they fell. “I swear to God she’s yours, Cal.”
How in the hell had Priscilla Barnes found out about their bargain? He hadn’t told anyone, and he knew Lucy hadn’t either.
“Oh, darlin’. Is that all?” He tried to make light of it, but he knew as much as Lucy likely did that he was going to take a hard knock when that article hit the newsstands. He could kiss that deal with Gleason and Hadley Investments goodbye. All of his plans, his careful work…gone.
He held her face and put his forehead to hers. “I know she’s mine. I don’t need any test to tell me that. And even if she weren’t, I wouldn’t care. I’m so in love with that little girl you’d have a hell of a time separating me from her.”
“But what about that deal you’ve been working on? Marrying me was supposed to improve your reputation, not make it worse. All I’ve done since we got back together is make things worse for you. I can’t even have sex right,” she sobbed.
“Darlin’, we have the rightest sex that’s ever been attempted, let alone accomplished.”
“You know what I mean. I can’t do the things you want. I can’t be the way I was before. I’m broken, and now I’m breaking you.”
“The only way you could break me was if you left me.”
“We never should’ve gotten married.”
He sat back on his heels, the fury he carried around every day rising up inside him. He would destroy Priscilla Barnes for making Lucy feel this way, for making her cry. “Stay here. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
He left the bathroom and went down the hall to his office. Punching in the number for Phil Davies, the publisher of
Dallas Women Today
magazine, Cal tipped some whiskey into a tumbler and managed to get two swallows down before Phil picked up.
“Phil, Cal Sellers here.” He charged ahead without waiting for the man to respond to his greeting. “Priscilla Barnes is in my living room. She seems to be operating under the misconception that she’s writing for a grocery-store tabloid.”
“Sir?”
“Now I can handle the first part of my problem myself. I’m counting on you to handle the second.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I knew you were the right man for the job. Give your wife my best. Good night.”
“Good night, sir.”
Cal punched the End button on his cell phone and drained his glass. He didn’t throw his weight around often, preferring to let his employees handle their jobs, but every now and then it paid to remind his employees who signed their paychecks. Sellers Investments’ ownership of
Dallas Women Today
magazine wasn’t well known. He doubted Priscilla Barnes had any idea she’d walked into her employer’s house and insulted his wife in the most egregious way possible.
He set the tumbler on his desk and strode back out into the living room, where Priscilla stood a fair distance from her assistant. It took them a moment to realize he’d entered the room.
“I hope your wife is feeling all right,” she all but sneered. “Those sudden bouts of
illness
can be difficult.”
Cal took her by the elbow. “We’ve kept you too long. I’m sure you have a lot to do, so don’t let us take up any more of your time.” Behind him he could hear the photographer and the assistant quickly grabbing their things.
“But—” Priscilla began.
“Thank you again for coming,” Charity added, going along with what Cal wanted. She’d worked for him too long not to know when he’d had enough. “We look forward to reading your article.” She handed Priscilla her coat and opened the front door.
Priscilla appeared to be so startled by Cal rushing her out the door that she didn’t get another word out until she was standing in the driveway and Cal was closing the door on her and her crew. “Thank you, Mr. Sellers. And thank your wife—”
Cal slammed the door on the woman, then rounded on Charity. “I told you that Lucy was not to be alone with that bitch.”
“She wasn’t. I was in the room the whole… Oh shit. I had to take a call. I was only gone a couple minutes.”
“Oh shit, is right.” Cal reopened the door and gestured for her to leave. “You’re fired.”
“But Mr. Sellers…Cal…”
“Goodbye, Charity.”
On the porch, Charity turned around. “I’m sorry. I never thought…”
“And that’s why you’re fired.” He slammed the door hard enough to rattle the vase on the entryway table. Then he went in search of his wife.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Cal found Lucy in the last place he expected to find her—their bedroom closet. She was throwing clothes into a suitcase. The fury that had been simmering ever since he figured out what Priscilla had done to Lucy would’ve boiled over if not for the biting panic that kicked him in the chest.
“You’re not leaving me.” He hadn’t meant to blurt that out, but there it was—his worst fear.
“I think it’s best for everyone involved.”
She was so calm, and it was that calmness that scared him more than anything. He could handle the potent emotional brew that seemed to pour from her whether she was happy, sad, or mad. But this serene acceptance ate at his control. He caught a skirt she tried to toss into the suitcase in midair and threw it to the floor.
“I said…” he stalked toward her, backing her up against the clothes hanging in the closet, “…you’re not fucking leaving me.”
“Cal…”
A part of him registered her fear, but the other part of him—the part where anger had taken up residence and festered—overrode any instinct he might have had to pull back and rein in his emotions. “We have a deal. One year.”
She put a hand on his chest, twisting so her body was partially turned away. It was a defensive move meant to expose as little of her as possible, like a boxer would.
“You promised me one year, Lucy, and you’re going to give it to me.”
He was crowding her now. She leaned back into the clothes hanging behind her. He shoved the hangers aside, exposing more of her. She wasn’t going to hide from him, from this.
When he saw the look on her face, all the fight went out of him. He wasn’t that man. He wasn’t a bully. He damn sure wasn’t like her ex. “I’m sorry.” He gave her some room, backing away. “Please. Don’t leave me.”
She looked up at him from over her shoulder. “I was supposed to help your business reputation.” She tilted back a little more, her tone not as calm as before, but at least she didn’t sound frightened. “Not hurt it.
That
was the deal.”
“Yeah, that was the deal. But do you know what else was part of the deal?”
“What?”
“Keeping you and Poppy safe.”
She shifted her feet, turning so she faced him fully once more. “No, it wasn’t. I never asked for that.”
“It was in our vows.”
“Those weren’t real. They were just part of what we had to do to seal the deal.”
“Maybe they weren’t real for you, darlin’, but they were damn real for me.”
“I don’t know why you’d want me around for another week, let alone the rest of the year. I’ve ruined everything. Priscilla Barnes is probably right now typing up that article, and it’s going to ruin you.” She made air quotes. “The Great Cal Sellers Buys a Wife.”
He shook his head. He’d been so caught up in Lucy’s upset he hadn’t paid enough attention to what had happened downstairs. He held up a hand. “Wait a minute. What exactly did that bitch say about our deal?”
“What do you mean?
“Come out of there. I can’t have this conversation with you half buried in dresses.”
He helped her climb out of the clothes racks and sat next to her on the little sofa thing in the middle of the closet. How much did Priscilla Barnes know about their deal? Did she know that he’d been paying Lucy the whole time they’d been married? Had she somehow tricked Lucy into admitting it?
“What did she say?” he asked. “Exactly. I want to know the exact words she used.”
“Well…” She tilted her head to the side. “She kept using the words ‘I understand’—I understand this and I understand that. She called our marriage a business arrangement, a deal just like all the others you negotiate. And then she congratulated me on marrying you without a prenup. But you have to know I would never take your money or this house.”
“I do know that, darlin’. Although if you did ever leave me, you may as well take everything I have with you because without you I’d have nothing.”
“Jesus, Cal. How can you say stuff like that to me after everything I’ve put you through?”
“Because it’s true.”
She put a hand on his cheek, bringing his face closer to hers. “I don’t want to leave you. But I also don’t want to keep making things worse for you.” She dropped her hand in her lap on a sigh. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t stay and I can’t leave and I can’t fix what I messed up for you.”
“Priscilla Barnes’s threats have nothing to do with you. You didn’t cause what happened today, but I think I know who might have. What did she say about Poppy?”
“Just that she
understood
that you wanted a paternity test. And then she insinuated that all of my bedroom tricks wouldn’t be enough to hold on to all of the things I gained by marrying you, like your house and your money, if Poppy wasn’t yours.”
“She hasn’t experienced your bedroom tricks.”
She smacked him on the arm. “Be serious.”
“I am serious. There’s this one thing that you do—”
“I think you should get a paternity test.”
“Why in the hell would I do that?”
“Because it would put all of the rumors to rest once and for all about Poppy.”
“I haven’t gotten to where I am in business and in life by chasing down and quashing random rumors. And I’m not going to start now. No. No paternity test.”
“Fine. Then I’ll get one.”
“You can’t get one without a DNA sample from me.”
She tossed her hair over her shoulder and gave him that look that sent a shot of lust straight to his groin. “Oh, I can get a DNA sample from you, cowboy.”
“Well, damn, darlin’, is that a threat or a promise?”
“It’s a fact.” She climbed onto his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, her skirt sliding dangerously high up her thighs. He followed it with his hands. “I bet I could get more than one from you in the next hour if I really wanted to,” she bragged.
“Prove it.”
“Right here in the closet?”
“The closet, the floor, the bed. I don’t care where.”
She kissed him, and that last sliver of fear dissolved as he slid his hands all the way up her skirt to grab her ass and pull her closer. He didn’t know what he’d do if she’d gone through with it and left him. He didn’t care what that dried-up bitch thought of him or of Lucy, but he sure as hell cared that it bothered Lucy. She’d been through so goddamned much. The last thing she needed was to worry about what anyone outside this closet thought of them.
He worked a hand up her blouse and popped the hooks on her bra. The feel of her. The fullness that more than filled his hand. Those little sounds of pleasure she made when he did something she liked. He could spend all day every day lying naked with her and exploring her body. All of those uncharted spots. All of those abundant curves.
He’d been so caught up in her that he hadn’t noticed her hands had been busy too. She’d unbuttoned his shirt, and she now had her hand on his zipper…then on him. She stroked him slowly…so slowly. Groaning, he pushed up into her hand.
“Option number four,” she whispered next to his ear, then she went to her knees in front of him. She bent and licked his cock, sending a shudder through him.
“Yes. Okay. Sure. Whatever you want.”
Her smile… Jesus. She leaned forward and took him into her mouth. Deep. He dropped his head back and tried not to think about her full lips sliding up then down the length of him. It had been so long since she’d sucked him off— What the hell?
“What are you
doing
?” He moved back, causing his dick to slip out of her mouth. Her mouth…damn.
She ran her tongue along her lower then upper lip, like a cat licking cream. “It’s called giving head.”
“I know what it’s called. I thought you couldn’t do it.”
“I couldn’t until I knew I was cleared. Poppy’s and my final tests came in. Both negative. Now do you want to talk or—?”
Lucy found herself squeezed in the fiercest hug she’d ever had.
“Are you both really okay?” he asked, his voice muffled in the side of her neck.
“Yes. We’re both fine. This wasn’t exactly the way I wanted to tell you…”
He lifted his head and looked at her. “I don’t care. I’m just so damn glad you’re both all right.”
“We’re fine.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“In that case…”
In one swift move Cal changed their positions so that she was the one lying on the couch with him on top. He pushed her skirt up, grabbed a hold of her panties, and pulled them off, throwing them over his shoulder.
“If I recall, darlin’, option number four is a mutually beneficial option. I get to finally put my mouth here.” He slid a finger down her slickness. “Already wet.”
“And I get to put
my
mouth here.” She reached for him, enjoying the
ugh
her touch elicited. “This couch may not be the best place for this.”
“Wrong.” He bent and licked her. “You’re right where I want you.”
He set his mouth to her, slipping one then two fingers into her, stroking deep. She arched back, giving in to him. How could she do anything else? Within a matter of minutes she was so close to coming she thought she’d die if she didn’t. Her breath hitched as he slowed then stopped altogether.
“What are you
doing
?”
“Punishing you.”
“Punish… What for?”
“For threatening to leave me.”
“God, Cal, can we talk—?”
He rubbed her clit with his thumb in practiced strokes.
“Ohh, yesss,” she moaned.
He slipped his fingers inside of her again, curling his middle finger so it hit just the right spot… “Promise me.”
“Yes.”
“You won’t leave. Don’t even threaten to leave me. Say it.” He caught her nipple between his fingers. “Say it and I’ll make you come so hard you’ll think you’ve died.”
“No, Cal,” she panted. She was close.
So
close. “I won’t leave… I won’t leave you.”
He licked her clit, then sucked, increasing the pace of his hands. Her orgasm barreled toward her. She was all sensation. The prickling heat…that tense fingernail edge…the ecstasy of that half-second right before…and then it hit. She screamed, her body bowing under the onslaught. He cupped her, holding the sensations in and drawing them out. She distantly felt her body. It was below her somewhere, heavy and spent. Cal was saying something to her, kissing her neck, her breasts. And then he pressed into her little by little until he hit deep.
The pleasure built again, slower than before. She didn’t think she could sustain another orgasm. But the feel of him inside her, on top of her, around her, it was all too much. He mumbled something…endearments and naughty words. The dirtier he talked, the quicker she came back around until she was on the edge of orgasm, urging him on with her cries and her fingers gripping his bare ass. She came on a long, low moan, and he quickly followed, driving deep into her.
“Jesus, God, darlin’.”
She let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah.”
“Are we dead? Did we kill each other?”
“If this is death, then it beats life by miles.”
His chuckle vibrated through her. He traced a finger around her nipple, making the skin around it pucker. “Well, I did promise to make you come so hard you’d think you’d died.”
“And you nearly killed us both.”
He rose up on his elbow to look down at her. “You’re going to keep your promise to me.”
“Or what? Every time I try to leave you’ll get me naked and make me come so hard I can’t walk let alone walk out the door?”
“No.” He dropped his gaze to where his hand lay on her breast. “This started out as a business deal, but that’s not what it is anymore, is it?”
“Definitely not. Unless you make love to everyone you do business with.”
“Hell, no. Although if I did, more deals might go my way.”
“
All
the deals would go your way.” She fisted a hand in his hair and brought his head down for a slow-winding kiss that she hoped told him more than she could ever say with words. About how much he meant to her. How much she loved him, wanted him,
craved
him. And how grateful she was to have him in hers and Poppy’s lives.
When they parted, he gave her a look that she’d never seen on him before, and then it was gone and in its place was his usual wicked grin. “Keep kissing me like that and you’re going to get your second DNA sample.”
“I wasn’t kidding when I told you I think you should get that paternity test.”
“Darlin’, don’t talk about paternity tests while I’m still inside you. You’ll jinx us.” He shifted to lie next to her.
“You don’t want another baby?”
“Sure I do. I thought maybe you’d want to wait till Poppy’s a little older.”
She shrugged. “I’m on birth control, but if it happens, it happens. I actually would like to wait. Maybe until next year.”