ick stood on the dock and watched the line of boats bob in the water. Cranky waves rose and hit the shore as a harbinger of winter. The burnt orange sunset cut through the threatening dark and illuminated the archway of lights from the Newburgh Beacon Bridge. He stuck his hands in his Armani suit jacket and breathed in the fresh, clean air. Calmness seeped through his body as he stared at his beloved mountains, and once again, he knew this was where he belonged.

Ten years ago, the waterfront property had been infested with drug dealers and crack addicts. The beautiful lines of the river were steeped in garbage, the elegant brick buildings stood empty, their broken windows a cry for help. Eventually, investors saw the potential of the area and began to throw money into a dream of restoration.

Nick and his uncle watched the project carefully and bided their time. Somehow, they had both suspected the opportunity would finally come for Dreamscape to profit locally. The first daring person to open a bar in the area began to draw a new crowd who wanted to have a beer and some Buffalo wings while watching the seagulls. As the cops descended into the heart of the city, cleanup projects sprouted up from not-for-profit organizations. The last five years proved the project was worthy of investors’ attention. The restaurants and spa Nick wanted to build would change the Hudson Valley forever. And he knew he was the one meant to build it.

His mind flashed back to his meeting with Hyoshi Komo. Nick had finally closed the deal. There was only one man left who stood in the way of his dream.

Michael Conte.

Nick swore softly as he watched the sun begin to sink. Hyoshi had agreed to give Nick the contract only if Michael Conte backed him. If Nick couldn’t convince Conte he was the man for the job, Hyoshi would pick another architect and Dreamscape wouldn’t have a chance.

Nick couldn’t let that happen.

He was a man who had traveled widely in search of an education for architecture. He’d looked upon the glittering gold domes in Florence and the tall elegant towers in Paris. He’d seen pristine exotic islands, the majestic Swiss Alps, and the raw, carved rocks of the Grand Canyon.

Nothing in his sight or mind or heart came close to his mountains.

A mocking smile touched his lips as the corny thought caught and held.

He studied the view for a long time, as his mind sorted his problems with his wife and the contract and Conte and still came up empty. His cell phone rang and interrupted his thoughts.

He punched the button without checking caller ID. “Hello.”

“Nicky?”

He smothered a curse. “Gabriella. What do you want?”

She paused. “I need to see you. There’s something important to discuss and I can’t over the phone.”

“I’m down by the river. Why don’t you come to the office tomorrow?”

“By the marina?”

“Yes, but—”

“I’m on my way. Be there in ten.”

The phone clicked.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. He quickly went over the options and reminded himself he had every right to leave. Then the guilt pricked. Gabriella may still be upset he’d ended the relationship so abruptly. Maybe she needed to yell at him some more. He knew women believed in closure, and had a thing about competition. She was probably driving herself crazy that Alexa had “won” him.

So he decided to wait and listen to her ranting, then apologize and get on with his life. Fifteen minutes later, Gabriella showed up.

He watched her climb out of her silver Mercedes convertible. She walked over with a lazy confidence that invited men to look their fill. He neutrally admired the cropped black T-shirt that exposed her flat stomach and showed off her belly ring. Hip hugger jeans slung slow, cinched with a thin black belt. Low-heeled black boots crunched on the gravel until she stopped in front of him. Wine red lips pursed in a professional pout.

“Nick.” Her eyes burned but her tone was chilly. “It’s good to see you.”

He nodded. “What’s going on?”

“I need some advice. I got a contract offer for Lace Cosmetics.”

“That’s a huge account, Gabby. Congratulations. What’s the problem?”

She leaned in. The expensive scent of Chanel drifted in the air. “It’s a two-year deal but I’d need to relocate to California.” Emerald eyes widened with the perfect amount of innocence and desire. “This is my home. And I hate Baywatch mentality. I’ve always been a die-hard New Yorker. Like you.”

A warning bell clanged somewhere in his brain. “You need to decide this for yourself. It’s over between us. I’m married.”

“We had something real. I think you got spooked and jumped at the first female you could control.”

He shook his head with a twinge of sadness. “I’m sorry, that’s not true. I have to go.”

“Wait!” One moment she stood a few inches away, the next she was squished against his chest with her arms looped around his neck and her hips seriously grinding against his.

Jesus…

“I miss this,” she murmured. “You know how good we are together. Marriage or no marriage, I still want you. And you want me.”

“Gabriella—”

“I’ll prove it.” She dragged his head down to meet hers and he had a second to decide what the hell he’d do. Push her away and keep to the letter of the contract? Or take the opportunity to test the hold his wife had on him?

The thought of Alexa drifted past. He stiffened his shoulders and began to back away, but the taunting inner demon rose up and whispered its warning. His wife wasn’t real, just a fleeting image that would shatter into heartbreak and pain and remind him nothing lasted. Gabriella would make him forget. Gabriella would make him remember. Gabriella would force him to face the truth of his marriage.

The truth they had no real marriage.

So, he grabbed the opportunity and took her lips, plundering her mouth as he had in the past. Her taste invaded his mouth, and her hands frantically rubbed up and down his back in an invitation to drag her to the car and take her right there, and for a little while he’d be clear of his frustration and longing for someone else.

He almost bent to her will, but then another realization took hold.

He was on automatic. Once, he’d experienced arousal with this woman. Now, there was only a minor buzz, which paled to the earth-shattering reaction Alexa caused with just a touch. Gabby’s taste didn’t please him, and her breasts didn’t spill over into his hands, and her hips were too sharp and jabbed against his waist.

And he realized she wasn’t Alexa, would never be Alexa, and he didn’t want to settle.

Nick pulled away.

She took a while to accept his rejection. Sheer rage swept over her face before she managed to calm herself. He tried to stumble out an apology but she cut him off. “Something’s going on, Nick. All the pieces don’t add up.” Her spine straightened with a stiff dignity. Nick knew every action was calculated to cause the most dramatic effect. It was another element so different between her and Alexa. “Let me tell you my theory. You needed to get married fast for some business deal and she fit the bill.”

Gabriella laughed when she saw the surprised look on his face. “She’s playing you, Nick. You’ll never get out of this marriage without a baby or giving up a hell of a lot of money, no matter what she’s told you. Your worst nightmare will come true.” Her lips twisted in disgust. “Just mark my words when her little, ‘Ooops, I guess we made a mistake’ pops up.”

Gabriella walked away and stopped with her hand on the door handle. “Good luck. I’m going to take the job in California, but if you need me, call.”

She slid into the car and drove off. His spine tingled with icy foreboding. He’d bet his life Alexa could be trusted, and would never try to trap him for more money—who marries a billionaire and asks for only one hundred fifty grand? Gabriella was only pissed because she hadn’t been able to keep him.

Nick winced when he thought of the kiss. His first instinct was to ignore the whole episode. But he owed his wife honesty. He’d explain he and Gabriella met by the river in public, she had initiated the kiss, and would be moving to California. End of story. He’d be calm and rational. Alexa had no reason to be jealous. She may be a little annoyed, but a kiss was easily dismissed.

At least, that kiss was.

Some others were harder to forget.

With that thought, he walked to the car and drove home.

…

Alexa closed her eyes and fought a bone-weary despair.

She sat in her battered yellow Volkswagon with the windows rolled up and Prince blasting on her stereo. The bank parking lot emptied as five minutes turned into an hour and continued ticking. She stared out her windshield and tried to fight off the bitter taste of failure and disappointment that ate at her gut like acid.

No loan.

Again.

Yes, BookCrazy was doing well and she’d just turned a profit. But the bank was not thrilled with the idea of pouring more money into her business, when she barely broke even now, and had no collateral and no savings and nothing to back her up. She thought of her favorite Sex & the City episode and wondered how many pairs of shoes she had. Then realized she didn’t even have that many.

Of course, her Mr. Big was really her husband and with just a tiny addition on those loan papers she would have scored. She wondered if she’d been stupid and prideful not to use the connection, and almost got out of the car.

Almost.

She let out a long, sorrowful groan. A deal was a deal, and she’d already collected her money. Now she was back to square one, stuck with a husband for a year who didn’t like her—but who occasionally wanted to have sex until his mind cleared.

And she was dead broke.

Oh, yeah, she’d hit the jackpot.

Cursing, she started the engine and shoved the formal rejection letter into her glove compartment. Bottom line remained. She wouldn’t use Nick’s money to further her career when their relationship was only temporary. She needed to secure that loan on her own damn credentials. If she used Nick, the cafe wouldn’t truly belong to her. No, she’d wait another year, garner more profits, and try again. No need to turn suicidal and depressed because of a little setback.

Guilt gnawed at her stomach. The lies added up to an impressive pile. First to her parents. Then to Nick. How was she supposed to explain the lack of expansion when Nick had already handed over the check? And her parents thought she was now rolling in dough. They’d be questioning Nick about when he’d begin the architectural work for BookCrazy. After all, why wouldn’t her husband help his own wife with her business?

The elaborate tower of cards swayed and threatened to topple.

She drove home amidst the edges of gloom and pulled in next to Nick’s car. She hoped he had made dinner, then realized she couldn’t have anything but a salad because she cheated on her diet at lunch with a delicious, greasy cheeseburger deluxe and large fries.

Her mood turned blacker.

When she walked in, the house practically expanded with the scent of garlic and herbs and tomatoes. Alexa threw her purse on the couch, kicked off her shoes, and hiked up her skirt to rip off her pantyhose before entering the kitchen.

“What are you doing?”

He turned his head. “Making dinner.”

She gave him a scowl. “I just want a salad.”

“I already made it. In the refrigerator, chilling. How was your day?”

His nice tone ruffled her nerves. “Just ducky.”

“That good, hmmm?”

She ignored him and poured herself a large glass of water. Water and dry lettuce complemented each other nicely. “Did you feed the fish?”

He stirred a pot of sauce that bubbled over, and the smell made saliva pool in her mouth. How the hell he had learned to cook like an old Italian grandmother was beyond her, but the whole thing was getting annoying. What husband got home from work and cooked a gourmet meal for God’s sakes? He wasn’t normal.

He threw in the spaghetti. “Odd choice of a word, isn’t it? Fish is either singular, or plural. Imagine my surprise when I walked in the study and found not one fish in a tiny fish bowl, but an entire aquarium.”

She practically vibrated for the need to fight. “Otto was lonely and you were practicing animal cruelty. He was too isolated. Now, he has friends and a place to swim.”

“Yes, nice little tunnels and rocks and algae to play hide and seek with his buddies.”

“You’re being sarcastic.”

“And you’re cranky.”

She slammed her water glass down on the table. Liquid sloshed over the rim. With a defiant turn on her heel, she ditched the water, walked over to the liquor cabinet, and poured herself two fingers of Scotch. The liquid sizzled down her throat and calmed her nerves. She caught sight of his shoulders shaking a little but when she looked at him with suspicion, he didn’t seem to be laughing at her.

“I had a bad day.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No. And I’m not eating any spaghetti.”

“Okay.”

He left her in silence while she had another drink and started to settle. She sat in the cozy kitchen surrounded by the sounds of old-fashioned cooking and a heavenly silence. He wore an apron tonight over his faded jeans and T-shirt. Instead of softening his masculinity, the plain black apron emphasized lean hips, a broad chest, and a magnificent butt. His grace and ease in such a domestic environment made her breath hitch just a bit.

He set the table, dispersed his food and her salad, and began to eat. Her curiosity about his day piqued.

“How’s the waterfront contract going?”

He expertly rolled his spaghetti over his fork and popped it neatly into his mouth. “Had a drink with Hyoshi and he gave me his vote.”

A deep sense of pleasure cut through her fog. “Nick, that’s wonderful. That only leaves Michael.”

He frowned. “Yeah. Conte may cause a problem.”

“You can talk to him Saturday night.”

His frown deepened. “I’d rather not go to the party.”

“Oh. Okay, I’ll go alone.”

“Forget it, I’ll go.”

“We’ll have fun. It will give you another chance to pitch him in a relaxed environment.” She left her salad in front of her and stared hungrily at the bowl of spaghetti. Maybe she’d sneak in a forkful. After all, she had to try the sauce.

“If Conte nixes the deal, the whole thing is off.”

“He won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re the best.”

She concentrated on her pasta. When she finally looked up, it was to see a strange expression cross his face. He seemed unsettled. “How would you know?”

Alexa smiled. “I’ve seen your work. I used to watch when we were young, and you’d build things in the garage. I always thought you’d be a carpenter, but when I saw Mt. Vesuvius restaurant, I knew you found your true calling. The whole place pulled at me, Nick. From the trickling water, to the flowers and bamboo and the resemblance to an old Japanese hut in the mountains. You’re a brilliant architect.”

He looked positively awestruck at her comment. Didn’t he know she had always admired his talent, even when they’d ruthlessly teased each other? Even after the long years apart? “Why do you look so surprised?”

He seemed to shake off the spell. “I don’t know. I never had a woman interested in my career. No one really understands it.”

“Then they’re stupid. Can I finish this last portion or do you want some more?”

His lips twitched as he handed over the bowl. “Be my guest.” She fought a groan as the spicy tomato sauce danced on her tongue. “Alexa, what’s going on with your bookstore expansion?”

The strand of spaghetti caught in her throat and she choked. He flew up from the chair and began pounding on her back, but she shook him off and guzzled a few mouthfuls of water. The poem flashed in mocking horror past her vision. Oh, the tangled web we weave, when first we first practice to deceive…

“Are you okay?”

“Fine. Just went down the wrong pipe.” She changed the subject. “We have to go over my parents’ for Thanksgiving.”

“No, I hate holidays. You didn’t answer my question. You got the cash and I was under the impression you needed to start the cafe right away. I have some ideas I’d like to go over with you.”

Her heart beat so fast the blood roared in her head. This was bad. Very, very bad. “Umm, Nick, I don’t expect you to help me with the cafe. You have enough on your plate with the waterfront project and the board hounding your every step. Besides, I already sort of hired someone.”

“Who?”

Shit.

She waved her hand in the air in a dismissive gesture. “Forgot his name. A customer recommended him. He’s, um, drawing up the plans and we’ll start soon. I may wait until spring.”

He frowned. “No reason to wait. I don’t trust this guy already. Give me his number and I’ll talk to him.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you involved.” The words seemed to punch him like a surprise right hook. He winced, then quickly recovered. The misery of her lies festered, but she reminded herself to stick to business, even though she knew in some strange way she hurt him.

His face reflected disinterest. “Fine. If that’s what you prefer.”

Her voice gentled. “I’d just like to stick to business in our relationship. Getting you involved in my cafe project isn’t a good idea. Don’t you agree?”

“Sure. Whatever you want.”

The silence beat around them and verged on awkwardness. She cleared her throat. “Back to Thanksgiving. You have to go, there’s no choice.”

“Tell them I have to work.”

“You’re going. It’s important to my family. They’d suspect something’s up if we don’t attend.”

“I hate Thanksgiving.”

“I heard you the first time but I still don’t care.”

“Family holidays weren’t in the contract.”

“Sometimes we can’t follow the contract to the letter.”

His head popped up from his plate like she suddenly had his full attention. “You’re probably right. We have to allow for some flexibility and maybe some mistakes along the way.”

She nodded and forked off the last mouthful. “Exactly. So, you’ll come?”

“Sure.”

His total turnaround made her pause, but she ignored it. Her empty bowl mocked her. Damn, what had she done?

“Funny you mentioned the contract,” he said. “A little problem came up but it’s solved now.”

Maybe she’d do some extra work on the treadmill. And lift some weights. Maybe even go back to yoga class.

“I wasn’t going to say anything but I wanted to be honest. You probably won’t even care.”

She’d call Maggie tomorrow and go to kickboxing. The class burned more calories and was good for self-defense.

“Gabriella kissed me.”

Her head shot up. “What did you say?”

He shrugged. “She called and wanted to meet me. She said she’s moving to California. I didn’t initiate, so I guess it was her idea of a good-bye kiss. End of story.”

Her eyes narrowed. His seemingly casual attitude masked a deeper truth. She also knew the way to get it was to play the whole thing off.

“A good-bye kiss, huh? Well, that doesn’t sound too threatening.” She watched him practically slump in the chair with relief. She pretended to be engaged with the leftover leaves from her salad to take the pressure off. “Cheek or lips?”

“Lips. Quick, though.”

“Okay. So no tongue, right?”

The chair squeaked with his definite squirm. The son of a bitch was busted. “Not really.”

“Sure?”

“Maybe a little. Happened so fast I don’t remember.”

Even when they were kids, he’d sucked at lying. He got in trouble every time and Maggie escaped punishment because she was damn good. Nick’s nose practically grew and screamed the truth to the world.

“Okay. The main thing is you told me the truth. Where did this happen?”

“Down by the river.”

“After your meeting?”

“Yep.”

“She called on your cell phone.”

“I told her not to come but she said it was important so I waited for her. I told her I wanted nothing more to do with her.”

“Then she kissed you and you pushed her away.”

“Right.”

“Where were her hands?”

Confusion muddied his features. He seemed to think it over as if afraid it was a trick question. “What do you mean?”

“Her hands. Around your neck, waist, where?”

“Around my neck.”

“Where were your hands?”

“Before or after I pushed her away?”

Bingo.

“Before.”

“Around her waist.”

“Okay. So it sounds like it was a while before you finally pushed her away, and tongue was involved, and her body was plastered to yours for about how long?”

He looked at her empty Scotch glass with lust but answered the question. “Not long.”

“One minute? A second?”

“A couple of minutes. Then I pushed her away.”

“Yes, you said that already.”

She got up from the table and started clearing the dishes. He hesitated as if unsure what to do, but remained seated. An awkward silence descended. Alexa finished the task without speaking and let the tension build. She almost heard the visible snap as he broke.

“You have no reason to be upset.”

She stacked the dishes in the washer, turned the dial, then turned her attention back to the refrigerator. With methodical motions, she took out the ice cream, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and cherries.

“Why would I be upset? The kiss was nothing, even if you did break the contract.”

“We just said that sometimes the contract can’t be followed to the letter. What are you doing?”

“Making dessert. So, what did Gabriella do when you pushed her away?”

She continued creating the perfect sundae and let him dangle in discomfort. “She was upset because I rejected her.”

“Why’d you push her away, Nick?”

He looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Because we made some promises. Even if we’re not sleeping together, we agreed I wouldn’t cheat.”

“Very logical. I’m surprised you were able to think so clearly after such a kiss. With me, I understand. But Gabriella seems to inspire a more passionate response.”

His mouth dropped open. She swished the whipped cream and drizzled a few cherries on top, then stood back to admire her creation.

“You think I react more passionately to Gabriella?”

She lifted one shoulder. “It was obvious the night I met her you two tore up the sheets together. We don’t have that problem. The only times you’ve ever kissed me was when you were pissed off or bored.”

“Bored?” He rubbed his face with his hands and tore his fingers through his hair. A humorless laugh escaped his lips. “I don’t believe this. You have no idea how I was feeling when Gabriella kissed me.”

A sliver of ice pierced through her heart, as precise as a surgeon’s scalpel. This time there was no bleeding, just a numb acceptance the man she married would always lust after a supermodel, and not her. He’d always be weak enough to grab one last taste before his damn ethics took over. He was legally faithful, but mentally a cheater.

She was an afterthought and he’d never want her as completely as his ex. At least, not physically.

The anger took hold, fierce and satisfying, as she stared at her perfect chocolate sundae. Nicholas Ryan worshipped logic and reason and had carefully thought through her response. He used honesty because he was a fair man. What enraged her was his incapability of seeing her for a woman who had every right to be pissed off when she found out her husband kissed his ex-lover. He expected her to be calm, civil, politely forgive his indiscretion, and move on.

Screw him.

With one graceful motion, she lifted the heavy, dripping bowl, and dumped it on top of his head.

He let out a yelp and leaped up, knocking the chair over, his face registering pure disbelief as chocolate ice cream and syrup and cream dripped over his head, slid down his cheeks, and tunneled into his ears.

“What the hell?” His roar was filled with confusion and irritation and an honest emotion that made her feel immediately better.

With satisfaction, she wiped her sticky hands on the dishtowel and stepped back. She even managed a pleasant smile. “Being the clearheaded, reasonable man you’re supposed to be, I expected you to push Gabriella away and honor the contract. Instead, you made out with her in public, at the river, with your tongue in her mouth and your hands on her body. This is my clearheaded, reasonable response to your betrayal, you son of a bitch. Enjoy your dessert.”

She turned on her heel and walked up the stairs.

…

A week later, Nick watched his wife work the room and admitted he’d made a mistake.

Big time.

If he was a lesser man, he’d wish to be taken back in time and re-enact the scene with Gabriella and the kiss. He’d push her away, proudly tell his wife of his actions, and enjoy a different result. Since he despised such weak-hearted desires, there was only one recourse left.

Suffer.

Alexa walked amongst the guests like a glittering peacock, dressed in bold scarlet instead of the sophisticated black the elite crowd favored. Her hair was pinned up with loose curls left to fall free around her neck and shoulders. Though the weather turned toward winter and whipped the valley with an icy wind, she scorned Mother Nature by donning a silky, slippery material, with a low-cut neckline and spaghetti straps to hold the whole thing up. At least the length of her skirt fell to the floor and hid her legs. But as she walked, a glimmer of silver shone around her ankle, and revealed high strappy red heels that wouldn’t do well on icy sidewalks.

She practically dared him to say something when she appeared at the foot of the stairs, but this time he kept his mouth shut, commented politely on how nice she looked, and escorted her into the car. The whole episode was accompanied by the cold silence that had drifted into a full week.

Aggravation ripped through him. She’d been the one to dump a bowl of ice cream on him. Did she apologize? No. Just treated him with a neutral cordiality that made him nuts. She stayed out of his way, kept to her bedroom, and remained quiet at dinner.

Nick didn’t want to know why her distance made him want to grab her and force her to show some emotion. He didn’t want to analyze the loneliness eating at his insides, or why he missed their chess games or their fights or just hanging around with her in the evening. He missed the annoying calls at work regarding Otto or begging him to adopt a dog from her shelter.

Instead, he had what he’d wanted in the first place.

A wife in name only. A business partner who kept to herself and led her own life.

He hated it.

The memory of their last kiss flashed before his vision. But her words puzzled him. Didn’t she realize how much he ached for her?

He’d thought the night the police arrived had proved his interest. Instead, she’d thrown Gabriella out as proof he could never desire her in the same way. God help him, he’d never wanted Gabriella the way he wanted his wife. Never dreamed about Gabriella or ached to touch her or laugh with her. Never wanted to fight or play stupid games or have a life with Gabriella.

What was happening to him?

Nick drained his glass and moved across the room.

Maybe it was time to find out.

…

“Husband alert.”

Alexa looked up and saw Nick cut away from the crowd. She ignored him and focused her attention on Michael, and the amusement that glinted in his eyes. She wagged her finger at her new friend. “Behave.”

“Don’t I always, cara?”

“This is the second time tonight you’ve kept me from my husband.”

Their heels clicked on the polished wood floors as he led her toward the back study. His home was decorated in rich earth and burgundy tones, with touches of gilded mirrors, tapestries, and smooth marble sculptures to break up the flow of polished elegance that permeated the rooms. Opera played on the stereo system piped throughout the floors. Michael had decorated with an underlying sensuality Alexa appreciated.

“Then I am doing my job well, signora. He makes you sad tonight, I can tell.”

She paused and looked up at him. For the first time, she allowed the raw emotion of Nick’s confession to escape. It had been difficult pretending not to care this past week. “We had a fight.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“Men suck.”

He nodded with flourish. “Sometimes, yes. Sometimes when we wear our hearts on our sleeves, we are wonderful. But mostly we are scared of breaking open ourselves to another.”

“Some men never do.”

“Yes. Some never do. You must keep trying.”

She smiled at him. “I’m giving you my friend Maggie’s number. Promise me you’ll call her.”

He gave a long sigh. “If this will make you happy, I shall call her and invite her to dinner.”

“Grazie. I just can’t shake this odd instinct I have about you two.”

“Ah, you are a matchmaker at heart, cara.”

As the night wore on, she drank more champagne and spoke more boldly and danced with more partners, always careful to walk the edgy line between proper party conduct and having a good time. Soon, Nick gave up trying to engage her in private conversation. He just stood by the bar, drinking Scotch, and staring. His gaze burned into her from across the room, even when hiding behind the barriers of people. As if he laid claim to her, without a word or a touch. The thought made her shiver with pure anticipation. Then she realized she was actually fantasizing about Nick making a scene and dragging her off to seduce her. Like in one of her romance novels.

Sure. Mr. Logical himself. Might as well read science fiction and wait for the aliens to take over the world. That was much more likely.

…

He’d had enough.

Nick was sick and tired of watching her parade around with various men. Sure, she only danced with them. But she’d rarely left Conte’s side, falling into an almost easy banter and level of comfort that pissed Nick off.

Their marriage was supposed to look solid to outsiders. What if the gossip windmill flew regarding the Italian count and Alexa? The waterfront contract would be even stickier, because as he negotiated, he’d fantasize about breaking Mr. Smooth’s pretty boy face.

Oh, yes, he was being logical, all right.

As Nick finished his last drink and placed the glass on the bar, he noted the fiery alcohol heated his blood with a new resolve and stripped away the barriers to the truth.

He wanted to make love to his wife.

He wanted her for real, for just a little while.

And damn the consequences.

He cut off the rational man who screamed at him to back off, wait until morning, and finish up the next months in polite civility.

He crossed the room and tapped her shoulder.

She spun around. Nick deliberately gripped her hand. Surprise flashed across her face, then smoothed away.

“Are you ready?” she asked politely.

“Yes. I think I’m ready for a lot of things.”

She nibbled at her bottom lip, probably wondering if he was drunk. He took the matter under his control to separate Michael from her as quickly as possible.

“Michael, I wonder if you’d be kind enough to call us a cab? I don’t want to risk the drive. I’ll send someone tomorrow to pick up the car.”

The count nodded with graciousness. “Of course. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Nick kept his hand locked on Alexa’s and led her over to the coatroom, determined not to let her out of his sight. In a few hours, she’d be in the only place where she couldn’t get in any trouble. And it wasn’t over any rainbow.

It was in his bed.

She didn’t seem to notice anything had changed between them. Nick watched while she slipped on her coat and said good-bye to her new friends. He was amazed she didn’t suspect tonight was her official wedding night. The secret knowledge made him even more impatient to get out of Conte’s house, where he’d finally seduce her. He’d been crazy to wait this long. He should have known sex was the fastest way to ensure a relationship settled.

The cab arrived and they sped home. She remained silent at his side, stared out the window, and ignored him.

He paid the driver and followed her inside. She hung her coat neatly in the closet and headed up the stairs. “Good night.”

He knew anger was the quickest way to gain her full attention. “Alexa?”

“Yes?”

“Did you sleep with him?”

Her head spun halfway around, reminding him of the little girl from The Exorcist. Her mouth dropped open and a gasp rose to her lips. Fierce satisfaction ripped through him at her response, and the connection between them reignited and caught fire.

“What did you say?”

He took off his own jacket and threw it over the back of the couch. He stood in front of her, hands on hips, and gathered all his power to make her mad as hell. Because he knew through her anger he’d find honesty—the passionate woman she hid from him in her ridiculous belief he didn’t want her.

“You heard me the first time. I wondered if you had time to make it to the bedroom or did Conte just take you against the wall before dessert?”

She ripped in her breath and clenched her fingers into tight fists. “I don’t screw other men or kiss them in public because I have more respect for our marriage than you do. And so does Michael.”

Her immediate defense of Conte made a tight ball of rage twist in the pit of his stomach like a bunch of poisonous snakes. “You let him paw you in front of my business associates.”

“You’re nuts! He was a perfect gentleman. Besides, you were all over Gabriella in a public parking lot!”

“That was different. I pushed her away.”

“Sure, after you stuck your tongue in her mouth. I’m done here.”

His eyes narrowed into slits. “Not yet.”

She blinked and stepped back. Then looked straight in his eyes and cracked the final whip. “I’m going to bed. You may be able to control who I don’t sleep with, but you don’t have any power over my fantasies.”

Her icy tone contradicted the mocking words pulsing in the air between them.

He broke.

Nick walked toward her with a steady slowness that made her back away for every footstep forward. Her back slammed against the wall when he reached her. Slowly, he splayed his palms flat against the wall on either side of her head. His body caged hers. His wide stance trapped her between his legs.

He bent over and directed his words right against her lips. “If you want sex so bad, all you have to do is ask.”

Her entire body stiffened. “I’m not interested in you.” The wildly beating pulse at her neck contradicted her words.

“Try again.”

“Go play your head games with Gabriella.”

“You want me. Why don’t you finally admit it?”

Fury spat from her in waves. “I don’t want you. I just want your money.”

He realized her ploy had worked before, but tonight he didn’t care.

He closed the distance another tight inch. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and her nipples were hard little points stabbing out of the scarlet material, begging to be freed. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her perfume swamped his senses. He grew hard, and her eyes widened as his full length throbbed against her leg in demand.

“I’m calling your bluff, baby.”

Pure shock registered on her face as he removed one hand from the wall to casually unbutton his shirt, slide off his tie, then grasp her chin with a firm grip.

“Prove it.”

He stamped his mouth over hers, not giving her a chance to think or back off or push him away. He invaded her mouth, plunging his tongue inside the slick, silky cave, then closed his lips around the wet flesh and sucked hard.

She grabbed for his shoulders, and made a little moan deep in her throat.

Then she exploded.

…

Alexa reached up and tangled her fingers into his hair, holding his head as she kissed him back and met demand with demand. Her hips rose up to thrust against him, and his taste and smell invaded her like a drug.

Her skin burned as all the pent up desire she’d buried deep burst out of her body in a flood of heat. She was ravenous for his taste, for his hands to strip off her clothes and take her right there against the wall, and she reveled in his wild response that was so opposite his rigid control.

Control.

An alarm bell rang in her head and cut through the mist of sexual fog. He’d been drinking. If they were interrupted, he might calmly step away with a reasonable explanation to why sex would not be a good idea.

The knowledge he’d done it twice before skated along the edges of her mind, until she dragged her mouth from his and yanked the hair at the nape of his neck.

His head shot up. He blinked as if coming to from a long sleep, and she caught the question held in his eyes. Alexa made herself say the one thing she didn’t want to say.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

She held her breath and waited for him to step back, waited for the fog to clear from his mind, waited for him to agree. She got her second shock of the night when he smiled down at her—a dangerous, masculine smile that promised unspoken pleasures and raw, hungry sex.

“I don’t care.”

He easily tossed her over his shoulder as if she were a china doll instead of an Amazon. With an easy grace, he climbed the stairs and headed straight for her room. Her breasts bounced against his back and her belly was crushed against the hard bone of his shoulder, but she couldn’t dredge up any words to inform him this was ancient caveman behavior and no longer acceptable.

Because Alexa loved every moment.

He tossed her on the bed and finished his strip tease. Unbuttoned his shirt and threw it on the floor. Slid the belt buckle from the loops and lowered the zipper. Kicked off his pants in one swift motion. All of this was done as she sprawled in the center of the bed and stared at him as if he were her own private Chippendale dancer.

Nope, he was even better.

All lean sinewy muscle and gilded blond hair. Trim hips and hard thighs and an erection that stood proudly between his legs, hidden from view by a pair of black briefs. Her fingers curled into her palms as her fantasy joined her on the bed and settled against her.

“Your turn.” His voice scraped like sandpaper over her ears, one side rough, the other smooth. He reached behind her and slid the zipper down. Her muscles trembled as his hands settled over the spaghetti straps of her dress and stopped. Her breath hitched as seconds beat past, and the heavy weight of his palm pressed against the top of her breasts. Her heart pounded so loud she knew he heard it. Anticipation cranked hard between them until she battled a scream, and then he hooked his index finger underneath the strap and pulled it down.

Oh, God.

Cool air rushed over her skin, but his gaze scorched as he drank in the flesh revealed. Her nipples hardened into points as the silk caught briefly, then continued on its path. He gently maneuvered her arms out of the holes, then moved the fabric even lower, exposing her belly and hips. He stopped and studied every inch of her nakedness with a silent intensity that unnerved her, until she longed to say something but the words died in her throat.

His hands settled on her hips. He grasped the delicate fabric at both sides and began to work it down over her thighs, calves, then tore it away from her sandals and tossed the dress to the floor.

Their breath rose and fell together in an uneven, choppy rhythm. Liquid heat pulsed and pounded between her thighs, masked by the scrap of red panties she had pulled on with no one in mind but herself. But now Nick focused his attention in that direction, still saying nothing, studying the apex of her thighs, his thumb lightly brushing the line of her panties as she sucked in her breath and waited. As if he had all the time in the world, he began to play with the elastic band as if testing its strength. Alexa’s entire focus shrank to those five fingers and the slow torture they bestowed. He explored the crease at her thighs, then traced an invisible line down the center of her body. He watched every reaction in silence, as if she were his love slave and he was a king used to obedience.

She exploded with sheer frustration.

“Damn it, are you going to sit there and look at me all night or are you going to do something?”

He gave a low chuckle. That full lower lip twitched. He hooked one leg around hers and moved over her in one quick motion. Hip to hip, thigh to thigh. Every muscle pressed against hers. Each delicious inch of his arousal cradled between her legs. He worked the pins from her hair and combed through the strands so the waves tumbled over her shoulders. Then he dipped his mouth and nipped at her earlobe, teased the tip of his tongue against the delicate shell of her ear, then blew out a warm stream of breath.

She jumped.

He laughed and whispered against her temple. “I intend on doing something. I’ve thought about looking at you for so long, I figured I’d indulge. But it looks like you also have a temper in bed, so I’ll move it along.”

“Nick—”

“Not now, Alexa. I’m busy.”

He covered her mouth with his and plunged his tongue deep into her mouth. She arched like a bow as the lightning crack of energy ripped through her. Her fingers clung to him as she held on and kissed him back, drowning in the taste of Scotch and male heat. He parted her legs and tortured her with promises of his hands and his penis, until she became crazed with need, until there was no more pride or logic, just this ache to have him inside her.

His mouth moved on her breasts, sucked her nipples, and nipped with his teeth. His fingers stroked her belly and hips, and hooked under the lace to play, one long index finger moving underneath to test her heat, drenched with moisture as she cried out for more, always more.

He slid off her panties and plunged a finger deep inside, then added another, rubbing delicately over the hard nub hidden between curls, just giving her a taste of it until…

She cried out and her hips bucked as the climax took her hard. Her body shook with pleasure as he shed his briefs and covered himself with a condom. He slid back up her silken length, interlaced all ten fingers with hers, and pressed their joined hands deep into the pillows.

Alexa blinked up, dazed by the endless depths of his eyes, a deep, dark brown that held an array of secrets and a gleam of tenderness she’d never seen before.

He pressed against her, seeking entry. Liquid warmth rushed out to ease his welcome and she lifted her hips to take him. He pressed an inch, then another. Her body tightened around him and she panicked, knowing she’d finally belong to him, knowing he’d never want her in the way she needed.

He paused, almost as if he sensed her emotions. “Too fast? Talk to me.”

She shuddered with pure need as she felt him retreat one precious inch. “No, I just, I need—”

“Tell me.”

A fine sheen of tears filmed over, her emotions raw and easy for him to read. “I need you to want me. Only me. Not—”

“Oh, Jesus.” He closed his eyes. Alexa watched sheer agony ripple over his face. He stopped at her entrance and bent to kiss her.

He tenderly mated his tongue with hers, stroking, tracing the swollen flesh of her lips in an action that bespoke pure humbleness. And when he opened his eyes and looked into hers, she sucked in her breath as he finally let her in, let her see it all, and gave her what she needed.

The truth.

“It’s always been you. I don’t want anybody else, I don’t dream about anybody else. It’s only you.”

She cried out as he buried himself to the hilt inside of her. Her body opened and accepted his swollen length, hugged him deep and demanded more. His fingers gripped hers and pressed harder into the pillow as he began to move, slowly at first, joining her to the rhythm. She climbed again with him, and the twisting spiral path tensed her muscles, stopped her breath, and teased her with each inch as she moved closer to release.

It was a raw combining of needs, rough and primitive, and she reveled in the honesty of their lovemaking as sweat slid down his forehead and her nails dug deep into his back until she exploded. Pleasure broke over in waves, and she heard him cry out as he joined her, and in that moment they were one.

He slumped and rolled so she sprawled on top of him, her cheek against his slick muscled chest, her hair spilling over her face, her arms wrapped around his waist. No thoughts claimed her in this moment, and she treasured the deep peace as she let herself go, safe in his embrace. She slid toward sleep as he held her tightly.

…

Nick inched out of bed, careful not to wake his wife, and padded naked out of her room to search for some clothes. He threw on a Yankees T-shirt, remembered their deal, and exchanged it for a plain black tank with a pair of sweat pants. His lips curved as he remembered her glee when the Yanks failed in the playoffs. He went down the stairs and started the coffee, pausing to watch the sun struggle up over the mountains in the early morning light.

He considered this marriage officially consummated.

Nick rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and tried to think rationally. He sure hadn’t thought last night. Not that he had any regrets. Surprise flickered through him at the realization. He’d wanted Alexa for a long time, and last night proved why. Everything was different with her. The way her body fit his, the way her pleasure satisfied him. He loved the way she looked into his eyes and dragged her nails over his back and experienced multiple orgasms. He loved the way she screamed his name. They had reached for each other many times through the hours, their hunger insatiable. But it wasn’t just the physical that made the encounter so mind-blowing. It was the other connections, to her mind and soul. The way she let him see her vulnerability, the way she let him in when no promises had been made, no words spoken.

She scared the hell out of him.

He poured a mug of the steaming brew and took a moment in the kitchen to gather his thoughts. They needed to talk. Their relationship had reached a fork in the road, and after the last hours in her company, he didn’t know if he could turn back. His original intention to avoid sex had been about avoiding emotion.

Wasn’t possible anymore. He had feelings for Alexa: some desire, some friendship. Along with other elements he wasn’t able to name.

At the end of the year, he still intended to walk away. There was really no other option. A real marriage with kids wasn’t in his future. But for now, they could enjoy each other instead of fighting the attraction. He was positive Alexa would be able to handle it. She knew him, knew he wasn’t capable of making a true future commitment, but realized his emotions delved deeper than a casual roll in the hay.

He nodded to himself, pleased with the outcome. Yes, they’d explore this intense attraction for the upcoming months. Crazy for them not to grab the opportunity.

Satisfied with his logic, he poured his wife a cup of coffee and started up the stairs.

…

Alexa mushed her face deep into the pillow as the reality of the situation hit her like a freight train.

She’d slept with her husband.

Not once. Not twice. But at least three times. Too many to term it a crazy mistake. And too wildly intense to chalk it up to a one-nighter.

My God, she’d never be able to keep her hands off of him again.

She groaned and forced herself to look at the situation with some neutrality. Hard to do when her thighs ached and the scent of sex clung to the sheets. She still tasted him on her tongue, still felt the imprint of his fingers on her body. How could she possibly be expected to move on and pretend last night never mattered?

She couldn’t. Therefore, she needed a new plan.

Why not keep things the way they were?

She sighed deeply and tried to analyze her emotions with the coldness of a surgeon making the first cut. Yes, the pact clearly stated no sex, but that had been to protect both of them from turning to other partners. What if they just continued as is? Could she handle it?

They wanted each other. She believed his desire for her now; his body had clearly told her what her mind denied. Last night had been much more than sex, but a strange co-mingling of friendship and respect and need. And…

She slammed the barrier down on that scary thought and moved on.

Okay, so what if she suggested they continue to sleep together until the year ended? They’d maintain their friendship and put an end to the horrible sexual tension, while enjoying one another for the next few months. Yes, her deepening feelings for him terrified her. Yes, she may get her heart broken when he walked away. But she knew him, knew he was so hung up on his rotten upbringing, no woman would earn his trust.

She didn’t have false expectations.

Alexa ached to take a risk. She wanted him in her bed, wanted to take what she could for this short time and at least have the memories. She was safe because she had no illusions.

Her gut lurched at her last thought but she ignored the warning.

Then the door opened.

Nick hesitated, coffee mug in hand. A faint blush stained her cheeks at his intense stare, and she casually slid one naked leg under the barrier of the cover and rolled to her side.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” she repeated. An awkward silence beat around them in the typical morning after episode. Alexa motioned toward the coffee. “For me?”

“Oh, yeah.” He moved toward her and sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight, and he handed her the mug, watching as she took an appreciative sniff of the rich Columbian roast. She sighed with pleasure after a taste.

“Good?”

“Perfect. I hate wimpy coffee.”

His lower lip twitched. “I figured.” He didn’t say anything for a while as she drank. He seemed to wait for an opening, but Alexa figured he couldn’t ask her if she slept well since they had hardly closed their eyes.

His male scent rose to her nostrils like a mate seeking her own. He hadn’t showered. The thin black tank left his arms and upper chest exposed, and his pants hung low on the waist, giving her a glimpse of burnished skin and a tight stomach. A raw heat tingled between her thighs and she shifted slightly on the bed. Damn if she wasn’t becoming a nympho with this man. One more time and she’d need a cane to get into her bookstore, but her body didn’t seem to care.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

She blinked and tilted her head upward. A lock of blond hair slipped over his forehead, and his jaw was darkened with stubble. She noticed he kept his attention on her face rather than the slippery sheet that kept falling down and revealing her breasts. Usually shy, a twinge of mischief danced through her with the need to test his control. She stretched in front of him to place her mug on the side table. The sheet tightened, then surrendered as she loosened her grip. The air rushed over her naked breasts and teased her nipples into tight peaks. She pretended not to notice and answered his question.

“Fine. My muscles are a bit sore, though. I need a hot shower.”

“Yes, a shower.”

“Do you want some breakfast?”

“Breakfast?”

“I’ll cook something once I get dressed. You don’t have to go into the office today, do you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay. What do you want?”

“Want?”

“Yeah. For breakfast.”

She propped her head up with one hand and studied him. He swallowed hard and tightened his jaw, as if desperately trying to pay attention to her words instead of her half-naked body.

Alexa held back a laugh and upped the ante. Her leg snaked out from underneath the covers and she stretched. She flexed and wiggled her toes in the air. Then hooked her knee over the sheet and bent it at an angle.

Nick cleared his throat. “I’m not hungry. Have to go to work.”

“You said you’re not working.”

“Right.” Her skin practically tingled under his lustful gaze. Excitement pumped through her veins at the thought of him crawling back into bed to make love to her again, but didn’t have a clue as to how to do it.

She gathered her forces and went for the jugular. “So, are we going to talk about last night?”

He flinched, then nodded. When she remained quiet, he seemed forced to respond with something. “Last night was good.”

She propped herself up. The sheet did fall and stayed put around her waist. Bare breasted, she leaned on one elbow and tossed her hair over her shoulder and out of her eyes. She ignored the strange sound he made and continued the conversation. “Just good?”

“No, no, it was great.” He paused. “Really great.”

The man was definitely breaking. She pressed on. “I’m glad. I’ve been thinking about us and where we go from here. We can move on and decide not to sleep together again. Keep things less complicated, right?”

His head bobbed up and down as he glanced at her breasts. “Right.”

“Or we can continue.”

“Continue?”

“To have sex.”

“Mmmm.”

“What do you think?”

“About what?”

Alexa wondered if his mind had fizzled or if all the blood really did leave a man’s head to go somewhere else. One quick glance confirmed her suspicions. Her plan was definitely working. She just needed him to admit he wanted to keep sleeping with her and she was sure the rest would work out.

“Nick?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to answer the question?”

“What was the question?”

“Do we keep having sex until the marriage is over or do we go back to being just friends?”

“Alexa?”

“Yeah?”

“I vote for sex.”

One moment she was enjoying this slow torture, the next he’d pinned her down, climbed on top of her naked body, and dragged her up to meet his mouth.

The kiss was a hot morning welcome. His lips devoured hers, his tongue slid inside to tease and play, then drink hungrily. He rubbed his mouth back and forth and his jaw line scraped her tender flesh with his stubble. His hands pulled the sheet away from her body so he could stroke and arouse, building the heat with quick, efficient motions until a moan escaped her and she parted her thighs.

He reached for the bedside table, then paused when she stopped him.

“I’m on the pill,” she murmured. “To regulate my periods.”

That was all he needed. Nick yanked down his sweatpants, pressed his palms on the inside of her thighs, and surged.

She gasped. Dug her nails into his shoulders. And held on.

He punished her for teasing him, bringing her to the very edge, then backing off as she teetered on the edge of orgasm. He dipped his head and tasted her breasts, licked her nipples, then began the climb again, only to bring her right back down. She tossed her head back and forth on the pillow, reached out, and cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. His rough morning stubble scratched her skin.

“Now.”

He held on with an iron-fisted control she both admired and hated. A sexy grin tugged at his lips. “Say please.”

She gritted out a curse as she neared the edge again. Madness ripped through her and Alexa made a vow to never play power games with her husband again, for his retribution was too brutal. She arched her hips with fierce demand. “Please.”

He plunged forward and she rocketed into her climax. Her body clenched with convulsions, and she held onto him tight as he followed. Still inside of her, he slumped over and rested his head on the pillow beside her. Their choppy breathing filled the air.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment. The musky scent of sex and coffee mixed and rose to her nostrils. A tiny flare of fear stirred to life as she lay in his arms. After one night, her body welcomed him as her other half. Alexa wasn’t one to casually dive into sexual encounters. She was the type of who fell in love, fell hard, and dreamed of happily ever after.

But there were no fairy tale endings with Nick Ryan. He had made that clear from the first. She needed to remember his limitations every day, especially after sex. Separate the physical from the emotional. Keep her heart guarded in a tower so high and so strong, even Rapunzel would never have escaped. Enjoy her orgasms and a bit of friendship, then walk away.

Sure. No problem.

Her heart screamed LIAR but she ignored it.

“I guess this cements the deal,” she said.

He chuckled and threw his arm over her body. She snuggled closer. “I think we made a logical choice. Now we have something more interesting to do than chess or poker.”

She bit playfully at his shoulder. “You’re not getting out of our tournaments, buster. We’ll just spice things up a bit.”

“Such as?”

“Ever play strip poker?”

“You’re an amazing woman, Alexa.”

“I know.”