Fiancee for Hire (Front and Center) Page 8

  “It’s a game,” she said. “I’ll name two things, and you have to choose this or that. Ready?”

  “I’m not sure I understand the intent of the exercise—”

  “Mac or PC?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “For a computer. Does Mac use a Mac, or is Mac a stuffy PC guy?”

  That got a small smile out of him, and his hands curved tighter around hers. “Mac is most definitely a stuffy PC guy.”

  “Excellent. See? I’ve learned something about you already.”

  “I take it you’re a Mac guy?”

  “God, no. I don’t even own a computer. Okay, next question. Bacon or cupcakes?”

  “Cupcakes,” he said automatically.

  “Bacon for me,” she said, nodding. “You have a sweet tooth then?”

  “Definitely.” He’d skipped the sunglasses for once, and the molten quality in those dark brown eyes made her shiver.

  “But no peanut butter and chocolate—I remember that from our meeting with Anna.”

  “Right.”

  “Are you allergic?”

  “Something like that.”

  He didn’t elaborate, but the dark shadow that flashed in his eyes told her not to press it. Weird, but okay. She cleared her throat. “Automatic or manual transmission?”

  “Manual. I prefer the control.”

  “Of course.”

  “And you?” he asked.

  “Same.”

  “After your performance in the closet, it doesn’t surprise me you’re adept with a stick shift.”

  She grinned, ignoring the rush of heat to her cheeks. “Cats or dogs?”

  “Cats. They’re calm. Serene. Detached.”

  “Hmm, that one doesn’t surprise me.” Kelli crossed her legs under the table. “I like cats and dogs and hedgehogs and lizards and pretty much every animal under the sun. Except centipedes.”

  “I’ll have Hank cancel that shipment of one hundred centipedes I’d planned to give you for a wedding gift. So do I get to ask one?”

  “Be my guest,” she said.

  “Panties or no panties?”

  She laughed and glanced toward the closest table, where the scampi-eating couple had moved on to feeding each other bites of something that looked like roasted yam. She turned back to Mac and gave him her sweetest, most angelic smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  He stared at her for two breaths, unblinking. Then he reached out, grabbed the edge of her chair, and jerked her toward him. She squeaked in surprise, nearly toppling from the chair, but he caught her with one hand on her bare thigh. Her flesh tingled and her brain spun dizzily. Mac’s face was inches from hers now, and she felt her heart lodge in her throat.

  “Yes,” he murmured, his breath ruffling her hair. “I would.”

  He didn’t wait for her to respond. He slid one massive palm between her thighs, parting them just enough to move his fingers up. Kelli gasped as he grazed her most sensitive flesh. He was gentler than she expected, but still rough, still in control as the pads of his fingers made one slow, gentle circle, then another.

  She started to resist—to wrestle control back from him and keep the conversation moving in the direction she’d chosen. But his touch felt too damn good.

  She moaned and moved her thighs apart. Breeze from the ceiling fan brushed her bare skin as the ocean crashed in the distance and the scent of pineapple daiquiris wafted over from the bar. Mac circled her with his fingertip, barely moving, but shockwaves of pleasure rocketed though her core.

  He smiled. “And now I know.”

  She licked her lips. “Now you know,” she whispered, thankful he didn’t know the half of it. What was really going on in her head.

  “Tell me something,” he said, taking a sip of his wine as he looked away from her and surveyed the room with a look of perfect nonchalance. “Do you find eschewing panties keeps you in a constant state of arousal?”

  “What?” Kelli breathed, her brain too addled to grasp the question.

  Mac set his wineglass on the table and leaned back in his chair, fingers still working their magic under the table. “It’s either that, or you got wet the second I touched your thigh. Which is it, darling?”

  She pressed against his hand, ignoring his words and savoring his actions instead. His fingers moved between her legs with a certainty that surprised her. She gasped as he plunged into her, curling his finger in a come-hither motion.

  “My, my,” he said. He picked up his napkin, spreading it over his lap in a gesture the other patrons would probably mistake for politeness.

  But there was nothing polite about what he was doing under the table. She stifled a moan as his fingers glided expertly over her sensitive folds, teasing, stroking, caressing.

  Her breath was coming fast now, her hands clammy as she gripped the edge of the table. She could still take charge again. Get a grip on herself and the situation and keep things safe and flirty.

  Then Mac drove deeper into her while his thumb made languid strokes across her clit, and all of herself-control melted away like the ice in her water glass.

  Mac picked up his glass and took another sip of wine, his expression stoic as he surveyed the other patrons in the restaurant. A waiter whisked fajitas onto a plate at the next table, the bright red peppers sizzling and hissing. A woman at the bar took a bite of chocolate flan and moaned with pleasure. Kelli dug her nails into her palms and stifled a groan.

  Mac slid another finger into her.

  This time, she moaned aloud as his thumb caressed her again. She was growing dizzy, the heat building inside her as her brain throbbed and her thighs clenched and her toes curled in her shoes and—

  “Oh, God!”

  She brought her napkin to her lips, smothering her cries as he plunged into her. Small explosions seized her from the inside, pulsing out with the rhythm of his fingers. She knocked over her water glass and prayed the waiter didn’t rush over to mop it up. Another wave of pleasure hit her with more force than the last, throwing her back in her chair as his thumb stroked her.

  When the swells of sensation ebbed away, Kelli felt herself drifting back to earth. Mac drained the last of his wine, the faintest hint of a smile quirking his lips. She slammed her thighs together and pushed his hand away. His smugness should have brought her crashing back to earth, but it didn’t. Not entirely.

  She felt too damn good.

  She took a breath and righted her water glass, crossing her legs beneath the table. Her heart was throbbing in her ears, and she had to grip the napkin in her lap to keep her hands from shaking.

  “You’re all wet,” Mac said.

  “No kidding.”

  He smiled. “I mean your water glass. Let me get the waiter over here to clean it up.”

  “Just give me a minute,” she said, her voice high and shaky as she struggled to regain control of it. “The game. This or that?”

  Mac raised an eyebrow. “We’re still playing?”

  “Of course.” She grabbed his water glass and took a big gulp, then another. When she set it down, she noticed her hands had stopped shaking. She turned back to Mac, feeling duly fortified.

  “End world hunger, or create world peace?” She turned her face up toward the fan, wondering if her cheeks were as flushed as they felt.

  Mac studied her, his expression infuriatingly self-satisfied. “Dish it out, or take it?” He smiled. “Wait, I can answer that one for you. Certainly not the latter, hmm?”

  “What?”

  “The teasing. This wrestling for control. You can dish it out, but you can’t take it.”

  “Right. Um, well, I believe I asked my question first. World peace or—uh—something like that.”

  He smiled. “Very well. I’m inclined to suggest world peace and ending world hunger aren’t an either/or proposition. I know enough about politics and social economics to believe if you solved one, it would likely solve the other. Morning person or night owl?”

  “Nigh
t owl,” Kelli replied, using her napkin to blot at the water spill as her heart rate returned to normal. “You?”

  “Depends on what duty requires of me.”

  “But which comes more naturally to you?”

  “That is what comes naturally to me.”

  “Duty?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not pleasure?”

  “Sometimes, the two overlap.”

  Kelli nodded, understanding him better than she had all week. Maybe ever.

  She took another sip of water and recrossed her still-shaky legs.

  Chapter Seven

  Kelli spent the next morning lounging by the pool, alternately paging through Mac’s questionnaire and fretting about the night before.

  What the hell had she been thinking?

  First the groping in the car. Then the situation in the closet. Then, the orgasm in the restaurant.

  Was she crazy?

  You came here hoping to tease him, her subconscious reminded her. To have fun with the guy you’ve been crushing on for years, but never really knew. To make him lose his mind with lust.

  It seemed like Mac had other ideas. Who was really doing the teasing here? Was it a control thing for him, or something else?

  She remembered the way he’d touched her in the car, so confident and purposeful.

  She thought about the way he moaned and moved against her in the closet, the feel of his hot skin against her nipples, the ripple of muscle hard against her own softness.

  She remembered his fingers inside her, his thumb moving like he knew the location of every nerve in her body.

  Three of the hottest sexual encounters of your life, and you haven’t even slept with him.

  Sighing, Kelli set the paperwork aside and picked up her phone. She glanced around the pool, making sure none of the household staff was nearby. Maria had gone into town. Hank and Brian were holed up in the office, though they kept checking on her every few minutes. The two bodyguards Mac had assigned to watch her were out of earshot on opposite sides of the patio. She wasn’t entirely sure they spoke English anyway, so she punched in the number for Sheri and waited.

  “Hey, girl!” Sheri answered on the first ring. “How’s everything going with Operation Seduce My Jerk Brother?”

  Kelli crossed her legs on the chaise, grateful for the warmth in her friend’s voice. “For a military brat, you’re surprisingly terrible at coming up with names for covert operations.”

  “Give me a break. I’m the mother of two eight-month-old twins and the fiancée of the hottest guy on the planet. I slept three hours last night and my brain is like a shriveled raisin. So things are going well?”

  “Great,” Kelli said a little too brightly. “I’m sweet, demure, delicate, and classy.”

  “In other words, totally full of crap.”

  “Pretty much.” She smiled to herself, thinking demure probably didn’t describe her behavior in the closet last night, nor was her performance at the restaurant particularly classy. She cleared her throat and forced herself to stay with the conversation. “Mac saved me from a carjacker yesterday.”

  “What?”

  She glanced toward the bodyguards, hesitating for an instant. Mac had said the attack had nothing to do with Zapata, so it should be safe to talk about. She leaned back against the chaise and proceeded to share the story, wrapping up with a dramatic description of the cantaloupe-covered wedding gown and Mac crouched on the hood of the car looking like a fruit-wielding assassin.

  “Holy shit,” Sheri said. “You could have been killed.”

  “No I couldn’t. Mac was watching out for me.” She was taken aback by the certainty in her own voice. “He takes the protector thing pretty seriously.”

  “Too seriously, if you want my opinion.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “My brother has spent his whole life making himself an emotional iceberg so his feelings don’t get in the way of his ability to protect people. It’s kind of an art form with him.”

  “Beats the hell out of papier-mâché,” Kelli said, shifting a little in her lounge chair as she filed that insight away in her mental Rolodex. “Anyway, things are going well. Great, I mean. Really great. Mac is amazing.”

  God, she sounded like an idiot. On the other end of the line, Sheri was quiet.

  “You’re not falling in love with him, right?” she asked. “I mean, you’ve always had a thing for my brother, but I thought it was just lust, and—”

  “Don’t worry,” she said, licking her lips and infusing her voice with her normal, lighthearted perkiness. “I only do lust. Not love. That’s why I’m here, right?”

  “Right.” Sheri didn’t sound convinced, but she was a good enough friend to let it drop. “Mac called last night. He sounded a little rattled. You must’ve done something to shake up his image of you as sweet, demure, and wholesome?”

  Kelli laughed. “I jerked him off in his closet, then let him finger me in a restaurant.”

  “That’ll do it. All that within the first forty-eight hours?”

  “All that in a two-hour span. I’m nothing if not efficient.”

  “And this is why I love you. Well, and because you buy me sex toys for my birthday. So have you slept with him, or is he holding out on you with the full-meal deal?”

  “For now I’m stealing fries from his Happy Meal,” Kelli said. “I’m working my way up to demanding the super-sized combo.”

  “Atta girl. Just be careful, okay? I don’t want anyone getting hurt here.”

  “Please. If there were Olympic medals for avoiding emotional attachment, your brother and I would both be vying for gold.”

  “About that, Kel. I know your parents did a number on you, and I don’t blame you for having issues with abandonment, but—”

  “It’s okay, really,” Kelli interrupted, her voice so bright it hurt her ears. “Seriously, I’m fine. So, uh—is the temp vet taking good care of my clinic?”

  Sheri didn’t respond right away. Kelli fiddled with the tie on her bikini bottoms, hoping her friend would just let it drop.

  “The best,” Sheri said at last. “I checked on him yesterday, just like you asked. All is well.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem. I should probably get back to the boys. It was good hearing from you, Kel.”

  “You, too. I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too. Stay safe. And don’t fall for my idiot brother.”

  “Not a chance.” She hung up hoping like hell that was true.

  The last thing she needed was to get attached to someone whose entire existence revolved around avoiding emotional involvement. Wasn’t that a recipe for a broken heart? A woman terrified of abandonment falling for a guy hell-bent on never staying with anyone. Talk about ridiculous.

  She pushed all thoughts of emotional entanglement and abandonment out of her mind and spent the rest of the day reviewing Mac’s files. At five, she went upstairs to get changed. She chose an Emilio Pucci dress—strapless, of course, no bra—and a pair of Louboutin nude peep-toe heels that added an extra four inches to her frame. She spritzed on her favorite jasmine perfume, then studied the small stash of jewelry she’d brought with her.

  She had a few costume pieces, but none of them looked quite right. She hesitated over the pearl-drop necklace her mother had given her when she’d turned twelve. The necklace had belonged to her grandmother, but Kelli’s mom had added a tiny paw-print charm that left seven-year-old Kelli swooning with delight.

  Kelli’s mom had slurred her way through the wedding story as she presented the necklace to her daughter. “Love’s fine and shit, but don’t count on men to give you what you need,” she’d mumbled. “Men leave, you know. Can’t trust them to stick around and take care of you, so you’ve gotta get out there yourself and grab life by the balls.”

  “Okay, Mommy.”

  Considering much of Kelli’s career involved lopping off testicles, she hadn’t strayed too far from the advice. Kelli cons
idered that, touching the pearls and the tiny paw-print charm. She took a deep breath and turned from the mirror.

  She walked downstairs with her heart in her throat, hoping she was adequately prepared to bluff her way through a dinner party with a fake fiancé and a real arms dealer.

  “Wow,” Mac said as Kelli descended the stairs. His gaze traveled the length of her legs, the curve of her waist, the bare skin of her shoulders. He reached out to brush the silk hem of the dress.

  “Is that chartreuse or aubergine?”

  Kelli grinned and let him take her hand at the bottom of the steps, planting a chaste kiss across her knuckles.

  “It’s black, goofball,” she said. “I’m pretty sure it cost more than my condo. Thank you.”

  “You look incredible. Griz will have a conniption.”

  “Griz?”

  “Griselda. Zapata’s wife. The one I—uh—”

  “Screwed before you realized you also wanted to screw her husband in a different way?”

  “You do have a way with words sometimes.”

  “I’ll behave at dinner, I promise.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” He led her to the car and handed her inside, opening and closing her door before heading around to the driver’s side.

  Once inside, he turned to her. “I wasn’t sure these would go with whatever you chose to wear, but they seem to match your necklace.” He pulled a velvet box out of his jacket and opened it for her. Kelli gasped, reaching out to touch the pearl-drop earrings as her other hand stroked the necklace at her throat.

  “Mac, they’re beautiful! How did you—”

  “Lucky guess. I swear I didn’t snoop through your stuff. Not today, anyway.”

  “I can’t decide if that’s the creepiest or most romantic thing ever,” she said, taking the box from him and hooking the earrings in place.

  “Let’s go with romantically creepy,” Mac said, and started the car. “They look perfect with your necklace.”

  “Thank you.”

  Once they were on the road, Kelli cleared her throat. “So Zapata and his wife both speak English?”

  “Yes. All our conversations will be in English, so you don’t have to worry.”

  “I wasn’t worried.”