Charles plowed through the water, pushing himself harder, stroking longer, kicking faster. He couldn’t get the damn woman out of his mind and she wouldn’t agree to marry him! He was so angry, he could barely think straight. He’d stayed at work until eight o’clock today, but he still wasn’t getting things done. And after taking the past two days off in order to make love to Fiona, he was behind and berating himself for being so undisciplined.
He heard the phone ring when he came up for air and glared at the phone. He thought about ignoring it, but in the end, he swung himself out of the pool. Grabbing his towel, he dried off while answering the call at the same time.
“Hello?”
There was silence for a long moment but Charles instantly knew that it was Fiona. “Fi? What’s wrong?”
He heard her slight intake of breath and started to worry. “Honey, whatever it is, I’ll fix it. Just talk to me.”
“Nothing is wrong,” she said quickly and Charles could hear the smile in her voice. His shoulders relaxed again and he rubbed the towel over his chest. Then again, her voice was soft and sexy. He tossed the towel back onto one of the pool chairs, intending to get right back in as soon as he figured out what was wrong. He’d need to work off the need she inspired just by talking to him through the phone.
“Good. So what can I do for you?”
Another long silence and he could picture her, biting that full, lower lip. Just like he wanted to do. “Fi?” he prompted again.
He heard her take in a deep breath. “Here’s the thing,” she said and he pictured her again, wishing she were standing right in front of him. “Okay, so I’m just going to spill this out and I’m going to pretend like I’m not embarrassed.”
Charles chuckled, enjoying the conversation. “Sounds like a good plan. Why don’t you come over here and pretend like you’re not embarrassed.”
He could “hear” her thinking about it. “No. Because you’ll just propose to me again and I’ll have to say no and then you’ll get mad at me and I really need your help.”
He stiffened at her words, ignoring the “propose to me again” and the “you’ll get mad at me” part of the statement and focusing only on the fact that she needed help. “What’s wrong Fi? I promise to help you with whatever you need.”
“Good,” she sighed. “I need help with a scene.”
Instantly, his body hardened and he was glad that the neighbors couldn’t see him through the thick row of trees that secluded his back yard. “Help with a scene,” he repeated, liking the idea.
“Yes. You see…well, the other day, you pointed out that my scene was wrong. And well, I wanted to…um…I was hoping you could read something else and…”
“Bring it over here and I’ll take a look at it,” he interrupted her.
“You will?” she asked, so relieved she almost felt light headed. Or maybe it was just the thought of seeing Charles again.
“Yes. Of course. Be here in,” he looked at his watch, “thirty minutes and I’ll make you something for dinner.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
He grunted, thinking she’d probably made popcorn for dinner. “What have you eaten today?” he asked.
Fiona didn’t answer for a long pause. “Exactly,” he stated firmly. “So bring your cute butt over here and I’ll cook. And we’ll talk.”
“Talk?” she asked in almost a whisper.
He smiled, knowing exactly what she wanted. “We’ll see,” he promised with a low laugh.
“See you soon,” she replied, all smiles now.
Charles disconnected the phone and dove right back into the pool. Unfortunately, the cool water didn’t help cool down his body. The idea of Fiona on the way over here with a scene she wanted him to read had his body going into overdrive.
Back and forth, he swam as hard as he could. When he heard the doorbell ring, he stopped and smiled. It was almost feral as he pulled himself out of the pool once more.
He grabbed the towel again, drying off as he walked through the house to the front door. When he opened the door, he looked down into a very nervous, very beautiful Fiona who was clutching papers to her chest and, yes, still biting that full, lower lip that he loved so much.
“Come on in,” he told her, grabbing her hand when she stood there in his doorway. He closed the door behind her and led her into the kitchen. Tossing his towel onto one of the stools, he started pulling ingredients out of his fridge. “Okay, so read the scene to me,” he told her. He grabbed a bottle of wine, uncorked it and poured two glasses. All the while, Fiona just stood in the middle of his kitchen, still clutching those pages.
“Fi?” he asked, trying to get her to relax.
Fiona jumped, her eyes tearing away from all those delicious muscles that she so desperately wanted to touch. “Yes!” she snapped, coming out of her trance. “Yes,” she said again, looking down, trying not to think about all the things she wanted to do to that chest. And his arms. And his legs. And….
“Right. Why don’t you read it silently instead of me…?”
“Because I want to hear it in your voice,” he told her, putting out some olives, popping one in his mouth before he put the bowl on the counter right next to the glass of wine he’d poured for her.
“Come sit down and read it to me while I make you pasta.”
Oh, goodness, she loved pasta. It was one of the best comfort foods in the world. Well, besides potato chips. Which she never bought because she would eat the whole bag, making herself sick.
“What kind of sauce?” she asked, moving forward tentatively, still clutching the papers to her chest nervously. She’d never done something so outrageous as this before. Her imagination had always been good enough but after two nights in Charles’ arms, she knew she write so much better.
And there was also the need to be with him, to see him and, yes, hopefully make love with him again. After two nights, she was addicted to his touch.
He chuckled at her hopeful and embarrassed expression. He could see that she was still nervous about coming over and basically asking him to have sex with her but he loved it. He was relishing tonight, enjoying her soft body that was already practically trembling for his touch. Anticipation was a good thing, he thought. “Sit down and read. You’re going to have to be surprised about the rest of the meal.”
She sat down and took a long sip of wine, trying to relax. But relaxing was almost impossible around Charles. He was just too….hot! And virile and oh so sexy! She’d never thought of a man to be those words, thinking they only happened in her imagination. But seeing him, his chest bare, his broad, muscular shoulders and arms, cooking up a storm, she knew now that he was the ultimate male.
She looked down at the printout of her scene and started to read, then stopped. Looking up, she saw Charles just standing there, knife in one hand, red bell pepper in the other. Waiting.
Looking at his eyes, she noticed the heat. The interest. That sign gave her courage and a slight smile lit up her face. “Okay. Reading now,” she told him.
She read a few lines, tentatively at first, glancing up at him to see his reaction. When he only started slicing the pepper, she relaxed and read with a bit more confidence.
After a few more paragraphs, she stopped but only because he said, “Wrong!”
Her eyes lifted to his and he slid the peppers into the pan of oil and garlic.
“What do you mean? That isn’t even the part that I thought…”
“It’s wrong. And I would show you,” he stopped and leaned against the countertop, “but you have to agree to marry me before I’ll show you anything else.”
Fiona swallowed. “What?” she asked, but she was pretty sure she understood what he meant.
“You heard me correctly. You won’t listen to reason so I’m resorting to other methods to get you into my bed and my house permanently.”
She stared back at him with wide eyes, ignoring the warm heat that was seeping into her body. “So you would use blackmail in order to get me to the altar?”
He chuckled. “Actually, this is more along the lines of extortion than blackmail. But if it works, yes. I’m at the point where I’m willing to do anything to get you, Fiona. Make no mistake, you’re going to become my wife.” He stirred the peppers and added in some mushrooms.
“That’s crazy!” she cried, wiggling on the chair. He added pasta to a pot of now-boiling water, thinking that he had the most incredible hands. And she knew from experience how good those hands could make her feel. “Why would you do this?”
“Because I want you. Forever. And if it takes bribery or extortion, then I will use any method available. You’re just being stubborn and scared. There’s no reasonable justification for why we shouldn’t be married.”
“Except that I’m not a suitable wife for you!” she exclaimed. “And I won’t even try to become a suitable wife.” She slapped the manuscript down onto the counter, angry and hurt. And panicking. Yes, a big part of this was panic. Not that she was going to admit that to him.
He stopped cooking and looked across the counter at her. “I’m not your grandfather, Fi. I want you exactly how you are. I want all the wild, crazy parts of your personality. In fact, I am encouraging that side of you because I find it so sexy and lovable.” He pointed to her manuscript with the knife. “Now keep reading. I’ll tell you how many places in the story are wrong.”
She glared back at him, wanting to argue but…really, she needed his expertise.
Fiona looked down at her papers, resentment and fear almost choking her. “I thought you were a nice man,” she grumbled.
“I’m nice to you.”
She harrumphed and started reading again. It only took a few moments before she heard his chuckle. Looking up, she found him shaking his head. “What’s wrong with that?” she demanded angrily.
“It just doesn’t work that way. And you’re missing a lot of other things that could go into that scene to make it better.”
Her lips pursed in frustration, both physical and intellectual. “You’re a very obnoxious man,” she stated. “I should just get up and leave.”
He chuckled again. “You won’t.”
She pursed her lips, wishing she really could just stand up and walk away from him. “How do you know I won’t?” she demanded.
He turned off the heat under the vegetables, then lifted the pot of boiling water and pasta, draining out the water. “Because you’re hungry for food and hungry for my body and all I can teach you,” he came right back. When he looked her in the eye, he said, “And not necessarily in that order.”
“I won’t marry you,” she told him forcefully.
He laughed again. “Yes you will.”
“No. I won’t.”
In answer, he walked over to wear his suit jacket was resting on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He pulled something out of a pocket before turning back to her. She gasped when she saw the beautiful diamond ring in his hand. “Yes. You will. Hold out your hand,” he told her, stopping only inches from her knees.
Fiona hid her hands behind her back. “No. I’m not ‘Charles Henson the Third’ wife material.”
He chuckled, thinking she was adorable. “Actually, you’re perfect wife material. But that’s not the issue. You’re in love with me and we’re going to live happily ever after.”
“I’m not!” she gasped, sitting up straighter on the stool. “I don’t love you.”
He couldn’t believe how adorable she looked. “Yes. You do. You never would have had sex with me if you weren’t crazy in love with me.”
She glared back at him. “I’m not that pathetic!”
His determined gaze softened with her exclamation. “You think you’re pathetic because you had sex with me?” He shook his head. “No. I think you’re lovely and inspiring and amazing, Fiona. Don’t ever doubt that.”
Her chin started trembling and, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle seeing her in tears, he softened his stance. “How about this,” he started out. Taking her hand, he pulled it from behind her back. “You wear this ring and I’ll give you a hint as to what is wrong with your scene.” And he slid the ring onto her finger, seeing that it not only fit perfectly on her slender finger, but also that the diamond he’d selected looked beautiful. Of course, it would be hard to pick a bad diamond. Just about everything he’d seen would look good on her finger. As long as it meant she was going to marry him.
He held her hand as he said, “And if you set a date for the wedding, I’ll give you more clues.”
Fiona stared down at the amazing diamond, her heart quivering along with her whole body. Looking up at him, something twisted, changed inside of her. “No date.”
He bent down and kissed her tenderly. “Three weeks from this Saturday,” he told her softly. He figured he could hire someone to organize a wedding quickly.
“Next July,” she countered, lifting her head to deepen the kiss.
Charles pulled back as he looked down into her pretty, brown eyes. “There’s no way I’m waiting a year to make you my wife.”
She leaned forward again. “You said I only had to set a date!”
He chuckled, taking her hands in his and placing them against his bare chest. “Okay, so I’m changing the rules. Three weeks from now. And you don’t have to do anything except move in here with me until the wedding.”
She spread her fingers, wanting so desperately to touch him, to feel his body and all those muscles. But she also wanted to see his eyes close with passion as she touched him, as she slid her fingers along his heated skin. Goodness, she loved making him lose control. He was always so calm and confident but when he made love to her, when she touched him, running her fingers wherever her heart desired, she could feel his body losing control, sensed it in every part of her and she reveled in how powerful she felt.
Of course, the same thing happened to her. But there was no way she was going to tell him that. Nope, that was her little secret.
Her eyes moved up to his face, searching for answers. She wasn’t sure what to do, but as soon as her eyes collided with his, she knew something that she wanted to banish from her mind. He knew! He knew exactly how he affected her!
“No!” she gasped and pulled back but he already anticipated her move and grabbed her hands, holding them against him.
“Yes. Fiona, you do this to me, just as I do it to you. I can’t stop it. I fought it. Believe me, I fought my attraction to you for years.”
Her eyes softened and she looked up at him. Her breathing was still erratic but something about the soothing way he spoke got through to her panicked brain. “For years?” she whispered.
“Years,” he confirmed. He smiled slightly as he said, “I think I fell in love with you at your grandfather’s funeral.” He sighed and picked her up, carrying her over to one of the chairs in the kitchen. He sat down, arranging her on his lap.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, shifting slightly until she heard him groan and then she froze. “Sorry,” she told him.
“It’s okay,” he soothed. “You feel incredibly good right where you are.”
She laughed, feeling self-conscious. “Your bathing suit is still wet,” she told him.
He raised one of those black eyebrows in the same way that used to really bother her. “Want me to take it off?” he suggested.
Fiona’s breath caught in her throat. She thought about it, considered being so brazen and wondered what he would do. Her grandfather would…
Her grandfather wasn’t here, she reminded herself. Her grandfather needed to get out of her mind to make room for this man. “Are you serious?” she asked, holding her breath as she waited for his answer.
“Completely, unequivocally and absolutely serious,” he told her with a very firm voice. “Now tell me what I want to hear.”
She licked her lips, turning so she was facing him more completely. “Yes, I’ll marry you,” she told him and only a little blip of worry made her heart thud. The rest of her heart beats were all excitement.
He bent lower, kissing the sensitive skin beside her ear, laughing when she shivered and moved closer to him. “And?”
She moved her head back slightly, giving him better access as her eyes closed with the ecstasy his mouth created within her. “And what?” she asked, whisper soft and very confused.
“And tell me that you love me,” he said as he moved his mouth to the other side of her neck.
Fiona smiled. “I love you,” she finally replied.
“Good. Then there’s no reason we can’t be married next week instead of in three weeks.”
Her smile widened with those words, well, and the fact that his hands had slipped up underneath her sweater and was wreaking havoc with her common sense once again. “Nope. I won’t be able to make outfits for Henry and Mack by this weekend.”
The lips on the side of her neck stopped nibbling. In fact, Charles didn’t move a muscle. A second later, he lifted his head, his eyes searching her face. “You’re kidding, right?” he asked warily. But her expression didn’t change.
“Kidding about what?” she asked, hiding her smile as best she could.
Charles realized that she may or may not be teasing him, or challenging him or whatever. But he didn’t care. At this point, he was counting her agreement as a victory. She was going to be his. That’s all that mattered.
“Whatever,” he told her and stood up, carrying her in his arms. “I have a lot to teach you, my dear.”
Fiona looked over his shoulder, remembering the dinner that he’d been cooking several moments ago. “What about dinner?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Later.”
Fiona didn’t really care. It might smell delicious, but she’d already eaten a bag of popcorn before she’d worked up the courage to call him. Not that she’d tell him that, she thought. He might just stop this lesson and make her eat an apple.