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  “Something blue,” he said at last.

  His mother sipped her tea while his brothers started guessing, and smiling. Landon shook and shook his head. And Beth was…there were no words to describe her. That form-fitting dress looked delicious on her. He wanted to use his lips to pry it off, his teeth…

  Inch by inch, the blood seemed to leave her face as he approached her, a sudden clatter of claps and cheers goading him forward. His heartbeat vibrated like thunder in his body. She inched back, buried in the sofa cushions, as he advanced.

  Bending down, Landon seized her delicate chin and forced her to meet his smoldering stare. She’d been averting her gaze. Now he knew why—her eyes were welling with it. She feared this, them, the hunger between them.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she murmured as he reached out to seize a handful of soft, honeyed hair. The tendrils slid like silk as they sifted between his fingers. God, he wanted to learn everything about this woman, wanted her to look at him like his mother had looked at his father before he’d died, with love and knowledge and unity.

  She caught her breath when he ducked his head and, as he spoke, grazed the curved top of one ear. “My wife’s eyes are blue, aren’t they?”

  Gently, he palmed the back of her head and dragged his mouth to cover hers. With a slight pressure of his lips, she opened, and something inside him snapped when her taste flooded him. Warm, sweet. His body went crazy for more, so he tightened his hold and let his tongue take a deep foray into her mouth. Cheers erupted around them. He had to stop, damn, he really did, but she’d just put her arms around his neck and slanted her head a bit, and, Jesus, if they’d been alone he would be tearing at her clothes, he wanted this so much.

  Prolonging the moment, he deepened the kiss for just a couple of seconds longer, wanting to see if he could taste her sweet anger, hatred, passion and need inside of her. Maybe she could taste it inside of him. He tasted it all, tasted more than that. Dreams, martinis, cranberries, desire.

  “I want you, Bethany,” he said as he tore away and growled into her ear. “As much as I want to nail Halifax to the ground, that’s how hard I want you.”

  He eased back, and Beth blinked up at him like she’d been ravaged without her will, and as if he’d been the bastard who’d done it. A burning need to touch her, kiss every part of her, swam through his veins. Her hair tumbled past her shoulders, her eyes were heavy and sleepy and brimming with need.

  She hadn’t pushed him away, and that alone knifed him with satisfaction and the need for more.

  The cheers morphed into comments from his brothers, but Landon’s sole attention was focused on Beth.

  She seemed troubled, battling the sparks, what had been building between them. Her hands shook as she pushed herself to a stand. “I think I’m going to bed.”

  Landon didn’t plan to remain here, being baited by his brothers, questioned by the mothers, or ribbed by Kate. He swept her up in his arms. “Good idea.”

  “Landon Gage, you did not just do that.”

  Because there was no brown bag she could cover her face with, Beth had to pretend she had hallucinated the stupefied stares of their family members as Landon carried her up the stairs. Like freaking Rhett Butler!

  His steps were purposeful as he reached the landing, his jaw determined. “I think I did.”

  The dogs trailed close at his heels. She squirmed, worried that her poor grasp on reality was slipping. His kisses just got better and better and her breasts tingled like her lips did. “Landon, put me down.”

  “You’re drunk, Beth.”

  “And?”

  “And I’m going to take disgusting advantage of that.” He kicked the door shut behind him and set her on her feet. Her legs felt wobbly, the room spun a little. “You have one minute to get in that bed, Bethany Gage. I’m going to kiss you senseless.”

  “Ha!” was all she could say. Her hands trembled as she got busy plucking at her earrings, slipping off her shoes, stealing covert glances at him as he removed his jacket, whipped off his belt. Their movements were rushed, even her awkward ones. Rushed.

  “I can’t imagine what they’re all thinking!” she burst out, reaching to her side to unzip her dress. “They’re going to imagine we’re upstairs, doing…that.”

  The dogs whined out in the hall.

  Landon kicked off his shoes and quickly unzipped. Bethany blinked as he pulled off his pants. He had long, hair-dusted, muscular legs and thick thighs and calves and… He was a dream. A little girl’s fantasy of a prince and a little girl’s fantasy of the villain, all in one man.

  She couldn’t do this, couldn’t bear to see him. He was dreaming if he was going to kiss her senseless again. He already had, and she already feared she was losing herself in her daily fantasies of this man.

  Storming into the bathroom and closet, she washed her face, slipped into the T-shirt she used as pajamas that someone—probably Martha—had brought from her room, and then she jumped on the bed, quickly sliding under the covers.

  She would not look at him, and for a few seconds, she actually succeeded. She had to cool down her jets, get herself calm and in control.

  But she felt strange, a little wicked, like she had stolen a moment with her husband and that fact alone made her naughty. She turned just as he shrugged off his shirt. His chest held her mesmerized, made her lungs stop working. She’d never thought a man could be so beautiful and so virile at the same time.

  She swallowed at the sight of all that bronzed flesh, the rippling muscles as he yanked the shirt off his wrists.

  “I don’t feel married,” she blurted. “Do you?” This felt more like having an affair with the sexy town bad boy who also happened to have millions.

  “Like I said, you’re drunk, Beth.”

  She rolled to her side, giving him her back, forcing herself to stop staring at his body. “The first time I married, I cried on my wedding night,” she said, because she figured talking would distract her. She didn’t feel like crying now, though, she actually felt…kind of tingly and very weird.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She swallowed. “I guess it was the moment I realized all those little romantic ideas in my head—that’s all they were. Ideas, not reality.”

  She heard the drapes snap shut with a yank. “The first time I was married I got stone drunk.”

  She whipped around to face him at that. “Why?”

  “Perhaps I felt cornered.”

  He climbed into bed in his boxers. The mattress squeaked. Her heart did something else entirely; it seemed to vault. He was practically naked under the covers, and within inches of her.

  His scent wafted to her nostrils, and the butterflies in her stomach jumped and twisted as her lungs fought for air. “Cornered twice into marriage,” she said, flipping around once again, hating the pulsing sensation between her legs. “I left a light on in the bathroom—it’s the only way I can sleep.”

  He edged closer. The heat of his body singed her backside. He set a big calloused hand on her waist, and her breasts felt suddenly painful and heavy. “What are you afraid of?” he urged. “Hector.” You. “I slept alone most of my married life. I would lie in bed and pray he wouldn’t come in, even though I felt so lonely sometimes.”

  His hand on her waist squeezed gently, almost possessively, and she was shocked that other parts of her body were jealous for his touch. “You don’t have to sleep alone tonight.”

  “I love David.” She shut her eyes tightly, fighting the magnetic force that seemed to be urging her to turn around and run her tongue all over his silken skin. “I think I wanted to love his father, but he makes it so difficult.” And I don’t want to love you.

  His thighs brushed the back of hers as he began spooning her. “Beth, you don’t have to sleep alone tonight…”

  She bolted upright and wiggled to the edge of the bed. But all her muddled brain could seem to wrap itself securely around was the mind-numbing, exquisite fact of sharing a bed with t
he one man in the world who could make her feel like a wanton. “Please tell me you’re wearing something more decent to bed,” she said, more like a plea. Why was he not odious? Why was he actually…likable? And sexy?

  Sitting up, he glanced down at his mouthwatering chest and then frowned. “I don’t feel like wearing anything.” He met her gaze, then engulfed her shoulders in his hands and urged her closer. “Beth, I can feel how lonely you are, maybe that is why I want you. Will you understand what it’s been like for me?”

  She couldn’t do this, open herself up like a present, then have his male expectations get a big bad whack of disappointment. She couldn’t tear off the bandage, open the scars left by her past, no matter how sexy her husband. Hector had said she was frigid, and she feared, because he’d had a lover and had loved another woman, that he was probably right. “Landon, thank you…for helping me, but I don’t think…”

  He pulled a wad of his hair and groaned in frustration. “Bethany, I swear to God if you say thank you one more time…”

  The dogs scratched the door.

  “Aww, hell.”

  He stormed across to let the dogs inside and Beth heard them plop down on the carpet while Landon swiftly locked the door.

  An excited, head-tingling sensation swept through her at the thought of being “trapped” with him.

  Beth feigned sleep so Landon would stay on his side of the bed, and lying still in her pajamas while tucked in his sweet-smelling bed, she cursed herself for being ten times a fool when the mattress creaked and he slid in behind her. Of course nothing would stop this man from getting what he wanted. He grasped her waist and dragged her to him, and it took all her effort not to whimper.

  She should have demanded another room, she knew, but there were guests in the house, and all would be occupied except one that belonged to his memories.

  “Beth,” he murmured, an erotic, decadent rasp in her eager little ear. He nibbled her earlobe, the full length of his granite-hard front pressing against her back. Her blood warmed like lava, melting her down to her bones. He was all flesh and muscle against her backside, except for those cotton trunks. Something hot and hard pressed between her buttocks, while his bare thighs grazed against hers as he slid his hand up her hip, under her shirt. She mewed softly.

  A dog whined.

  “Shut up, Mask.” His hand slid up her abdomen, and Beth felt something unfurl inside her like a ribbon. Longing. Wanting. “Bethany,” he roughly pleaded.

  The sheet slid down her body as he slowly pried it down to her ankles. Beth had an urge to grab it back to her chest but then he’d know she was awake. She lay utterly still, felt his eyes caress her where his hand slid the T-shirt higher and higher. He cupped her buttock in his other hand, over her silken panties. She almost jolted when he groaned as though he were in terrible pain.

  The dog whined again.

  “Ah, hell.” He left her, flung the door open. “Out, guys.”

  She heard them pad outside, then waited in anticipation, cold without the sheet and his body.

  He came back to the bed and spooned her again, tighter this time. He devoured her shoulder with his hungry mouth, again cupped her buttocks in his hand. “I can hear you breathe, Bethany. You’re not asleep, you’re nowhere even near asleep.”

  She fought to control her breathing but felt drunk with his scent, with the wanting spreading through her. This was such a bad idea…sleeping together…after days wondering and thinking about him and wanting to stay away….

  He stroked the edge of her panties and tugged. “Can I take these off, hmm, can I take these off, Beth? I’ll kiss you and touch you…that’s all I’ll do tonight, only what you want me to.”

  She closed her eyes tighter. His hunger made her feel so special, that she had to remind herself he had been in mourning, was known to be a solitary man, maybe felt lonely. He probably wanted to take something from Hector. It wasn’t her he wanted—he just wanted sex.

  But tonight’s unexpected kiss came back vivid in her mind, and when he slid his hand to cup one aching breast, a sound escaped her.

  “Ahaaaa—” he drew out the sound, lacing it with pleasure “—you want me?”

  She made a sleepy sound, murmured, “Sooo tired,” and rolled onto her stomach. He came with her, his mouth a moist flame ravaging her nape. “It’s been a long time for me, Beth. I won’t pretend I don’t want this. You.”

  He didn’t stop touching her. He seemed to be memorizing her curves, seemed to have gone wild, like an animal, a caveman, as his hands traced her sides up and down, his hips rocking seductively against hers. “Turn around and kiss me again, Beth.”

  His body heat singed her back, and she could barely keep from moaning when he ground harder against her, tightening his hold on her hips, dragging his tongue up her neck. Her toes curled, and her sex rippled with wanting.

  “Landon,” she breathed. She forced herself to lay stiff as a board, but what he was doing felt entirely too good. She went lax, grabbed the pillow in front of her and moaned as he burrowed a hand under her body and pinched one nipple. “Oh.” She arched back instinctively, and then nearly screamed in delight when he circled it with his thumb.

  “Kiss me, Beth.”

  “I…” She turned around to face him, breathing hard. “I can’t feel my tongue.”

  “God, you’re so sexy all uninhibited like this, give it to me.” Sweeping down, he closed his mouth over hers and gently suckled her tongue into his warm mouth. She felt that, goodness, she did. He tasted of champagne and her dizzied senses swam like frantic fishes in all kinds of directions as she let herself get even more drunk on her husband’s intoxicating flavor.

  She twisted her tongue around him and trailed her fingers over his chest before she remembered why this couldn’t be. “Oh, no, we shouldn’t—Landon, don’t.” Bolting upright and pushing him away, she smoothed her T-shirt with awkward, trembling hands. “I’m sorry. I can’t. Not after the papers I signed.”

  He looked at her for a moment, then gave a long exhale. “I’m not losing another child. If you get pregnant, I want it.”

  Regret thickened her voice as she attempted to recover the sheets, needing something to clutch instead of the gorgeous man before her. “I’m not giving away a baby of mine, not even to you—I won’t risk it. Excuse me but you’re sitting on the sheets.”

  He cursed and drew her so close, embraced her so tight her breasts were crushed against his chest and her hands had to release the sheets she’d been trying to hang on to for sanity.

  “Stop thinking so much and just feel for a minute,” he growled, then smoothed his hands along her hair, and murmured, “It’s all right, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to pleasure you, Bethany, I’m going to make you forget every man in your life but me.”

  Her insides disintegrated at that passionate vow. The need to kiss him, be with him, became so acute, she wanted to weep and scream in frustration. She wanted to say, to hell with it! and give her husband a wedding present no husband in his right mind ever forgets.

  But he wasn’t truly her husband, and she couldn’t bear to repeat her mistakes, set herself up for heartache again. She’d been an innocent when she’d married Hector, but now she knew better.

  She wiggled free of his hold and succeeded in pulling a part of the covers back over herself, as though they were the Berlin Wall itself—probably barely enough to keep a man like him away. Her voice, though she tried to keep it steady, broke in the end. “The black book is in the top nightstand drawer. I’m sure that’s what you want to read tonight, being that you married me for it.”

  For a long, wretched minute, he didn’t speak or breathe or move. Then her heart wept when he grabbed the book from the nightstand, carried it outside and shut the door behind him.

  Nine

  He’d gone through the headache thing with his first wife. Landon knew a willing woman when he saw one, and unfortunately, Bethany wasn’t it.

  Grim-faced behind his massive o
ffice desk, he waved the black book he was showing to his brothers. “The key to my success.”

  He handed it over, every single word he’d read in it seared into his mind.

  Leaning back in his chair, he watched them sift through the pages, first Garrett with a thoughtful frown, then Julian John with raised eyebrows.

  “One would think your disposition would change after last night,” Garrett mulled out loud.

  “I spent my wedding night reading that little gem there, not with my wife.”

  There was a bleak silence as Garrett digested this.

  “Now why on earth would you do something so stupid?”

  “She doesn’t want me, Garrett.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “This is not something to joke about.”

  “She doesn’t…desire you?” The words hung in the air, and they were so painful to hear, Landon found himself gritting his teeth. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Believe it.”

  Julian glanced up from the book, raising both eyebrows. “Every woman wants you. You had girlfriends before you even had your first bike.”

  “Why wouldn’t Beth want you?” Garrett demanded.

  That was the worst question of them all. Landon remembered last night. How her nipples had pricked under his fingers. How her body had molded against his. He’d planned to give her no choice, make her beg for it.

  He couldn’t.

  He didn’t want her like this.

  He wanted Beth willing—he wanted her to give him everything.

  “Two names.” He stuck out two fingers, pushing Beth from his thoughts. “Macy Jennings and Joseph Kennar. They’re bought.”

  “No way.”

  “Yes way.” He glared. “Apparently, Halifax sends them ten thousand dollar deposits every couple of months to ensure good press coverage on his ‘miracle’ treatments. We need to find a way to monitor their calls and hopefully get some solid evidence of their involvement. Plus it will help us determine what Hector is up to.”