Bachelor Auction (27 page)

suspect that she yearned to the depths of her wary

soul for something more than a sexual encounter. He

just had to make her see she had nothing to fear. At

least not from him.

But first he would have to pass whatever trials

she put him through. The anger in her eyes, along

with the history of his experience with Charlotte,

assured him she would turn up the heat and there

would be many more tests like the one he’d endured

moments ago.

One he’d damned near failed.

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Fire crackled in the gas fireplace behind them,

casting a warm glow throughout the living area of

the suite. Steam rose from identical mugs of hot

cocoa. Yet neither came close to thawing the stiff-

backed woman seated beside Marcus on the bear

skin rug.

The camera whirred from several feet away then

stopped. Slick Rick motioned to him with one hand.

“Can you get a little closer?”

“If I get any closer, I’ll be in her lap.” Braced on

one hand, Marcus faced Charlotte, angled so that his

hip pressed against her jean-clad thigh. His bent

knee brushed the sleeve of her icy pink sweater

every time she sipped from her cup, dragging the

wide collar further over an evenly tanned shoulder.

“You’re supposed to be lovers on a romantic

rendezvous in a hotel room,” the photographer said.

“You should be close enough to whisper sweet

nothings in her ear.”

From somewhere behind the lights, Wylie said,

“Just pretend we’re not here.”

“I should be so lucky,” Marcus muttered, which

earned him a frown from Charlotte, her first real

response to him this morning.

He’d been right to worry about retaliation for

leaving her unfulfilled the night before. But he’d

been wrong about the tests she would put him

through. Instead of the increased sexual aggression

he had anticipated this morning, she met him with a

cold and indifferent stare. As if the previous day had

never

happened,

the

closeness

they

shared

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disappeared.

Him right along with it.

What dug at him most, like a burr wedged under

a saddle, was that while she ignored him, unless

forced otherwise, she flirted with Grant Wylie, hung

on his every word. Even Slick Rick, with his meaty

hands and leering eyes, was granted the warmth of

her smile and an occasional quip.

Rick cocked his head to one side. “Let’s lose the

cocoa. It’s distracting.”

“Good idea.” Wylie stepped forward to relieve

them of the mugs and winked at Charlotte. “She’s

enough distraction.”

“You didn’t used to mind.”

Before Charlotte and Wylie launched into

another nostalgic story, of which Marcus could

neither participate nor stomach, he placed a hand at

Charlotte’s waist and hauled her against him, hip to

hip. He tucked his legs behind her, one wedged

against her butt, the other drawn upright at her

back, and rested his free arm on his knee, essentially

trapping her.

Not that she tried to get away. She could have

been a statue; she sat so still. If he hadn’t felt the

muscles in her back go rigid when he touched her, he

would have really been worried.

“Good,” the irritating shutterbug said. “Now,

Ms. Reese, put your arm around his neck.”

She complied easily, but Marcus felt her tension.

“Okay, now put your other hand on his upper

arm.”

Her hand seared his bicep through the black

cashmere pullover he’d picked out for the shoot. Her

fingers tightened around his muscle then relaxed,

and all he could think about was how they’d flexed

around his shaft the night before.

“Good. Now Mr. Preston, move in just a bit

more.”

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Darah Lace

Marcus hesitated then eased forward. She might

have flinched when his chest grazed her breasts. He

couldn’t be sure. But she did turn her head away as

his face came within inches of hers. Close enough to

smell the chocolate on her breath, reminding him of

hot fudge, ice cream, of Charlotte enjoying both, her

pink tongue swirling...

The shutter on the camera snapped in rapid

succession. “Sweet nothings, remember?”

Marcus cleared his throat
and
his mind, casting

out the erotic visions that threatened to unman him.

He focused instead on cool blue eyes and the goal

he’d set last night. One she seemed hell bent on

refuting. “Why wouldn’t you have breakfast with me

this morning?”

“I don’t eat breakfast.” Her smile was at odds

with the chill in her voice.

He didn’t believe her for a moment but decided

not to press the issue. “Then how about lunch?”

“No, thank you.”

“You do eat lunch, don’t you?”

“When I’m hungry.”

Her tone said she wouldn’t be, and Marcus

sighed inwardly. She wasn’t going to make this easy.

Still, he had to keep trying. He wouldn’t let her

freeze him out. “Would you like to do something

special this afternoon? More shopping?”

“I’m done.” She shook her hair over her

shoulder.

It

tickled

his

fingers,

and

they

automatically

threaded

themselves

into

the

thickness at the back of her neck. Her eyes fluttered

shut, and he felt her quiver.

Something inside him—most likely the ego she’d

trampled all morning, hell, from the moment they’d

met—responded to the tremor. Before he could stop

himself, he touched his lips to the underside of her

jaw. Her fingers dug into his arm again. “We could

go for another ride.” He nuzzled the sensitive spot

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Bachelor Auction

below her ear. Her pulse raced against his mouth.

“You seem to enjoy that.”

She jerked her head back to look at him, and he

gave her what he hoped was an innocent smile.

“Riding horses, I mean.”

Ignoring his suggestion, she turned to the

cameraman. “Can we take a break?”

Rick released an exasperated sigh. “It was just

starting to work. Can’t you wait five minutes?”

“As much as I adore Marcus, you can hardly

expect me to be at my romantic best when I’m

hungry.” Bottom lip protruding, eyes pleading, her

gaze cut to him then back to Rick.

The photographer didn’t stand a chance. “All

right. Take five.”

“Thanks. I missed breakfast.”

“Why you little—”

Charlotte pushed out of his arms and, without a

backwards glance, headed to Wylie. Marcus let her

go. Short of causing a scene there was nothing else

he could do.

“I’ve got something for every craving,” Wylie

offered, guiding her to the assortment of fruits and

pastries laid out on the bar.

Marcus ground his teeth as he rose to follow

them. He knew he shouldn’t let their playful banter

get to him. For all her teasing, flirtatious or

otherwise, he suspected she only did it to make him

crazy. And while Wylie matched her sometimes

saucy repartee, nothing in his body language

indicated sexual interest.

Maybe that’s what bothered him. They had some

kind of connection beyond their physical past that he

couldn’t understand. Or share. He was the outsider

again. And still uncertain of their relationship, no

matter what either of them said.

Easing behind Charlotte, Marcus settled his

hands on her waist. She tried to squirm away under

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the pretense of making a selection, but he held tight

until she realized he wouldn’t be denied and finally

settled on a bite-sized pie with peach filling. She

popped the morsel in her mouth and moaned her

approval, probably as pay back, then devoured

another before reaching for a stem of grapes.

Wylie held out a bowl of cherries. “Want one?”

A knowing look, one that spoke of another

shared memory, passed between them, and irritation

knifed through Marcus. “She doesn’t like cherries.”

She twisted to look at him, her eyes wide with a

mixture of annoyance and confusion. “How did—?”

As she clamped her glossy red lips together into

a thin line, he wondered if she realized he’d been

watching her when she pushed the cherry in her

sundae to one side last night. Then again, maybe her

frown meant she recalled the things that had

happened—or rather hadn’t happened—much later.

She turned back to Wylie, all traces of anger

gone from her expression. “And you, my friend,” she

said, shaking her finger, “know very well why.”

Wylie dangled a cherry by its stem. “Can you

still do it?”

“Let’s see.” She bent forward, mouth open, and

guided the cherry Wylie held into her mouth, stem

and all, with her tongue.

To his credit, Wylie didn’t seem the least bit

aroused by the sensual act as he grinned at Marcus.

“The fraternity held a stem tying contest,” he

explained. “Charlotte came in second with forty-two

successful knots, cherries intact. It took her an

hour.”

Marcus was mesmerized as she worked the fruit

around in her mouth, cheeks sucking in and out,

tongue probing. His body tightened. He’d been in her

mouth the night before, but for only four minutes.

What heavens could he reach in an hour?

“Probably swallowed more than she tied.”

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Wylie’s voice filtered into his fantasy.

Swallowed? God, he’d never look at a cherry the

same way again.

Charlotte took Wylie’s hand and gave the fruit

one last suck before letting it slide from her moist

lips onto his palm, its stem in a knot. “I’ve still got

it.”

Wylie laughed and dabbed the red juice from her

chin with a paper napkin. “Remember how stained

your lips were?”

She made a face. “No, but I remember how sick I

was after.”

“I hope it taught you a lesson,” Marcus

grumbled.

The heated look she shot over her shoulder told

him he’d just stepped into something deep. “Yes, I

learned to save my talented tongue for other, much

more pleasurable moments.”

Wylie choked on one of the damned cherries, but

Marcus ignored him. Same as he did the slow burn

that started in his groin. He was far more interested

in the fact that she had slipped up. He’d gotten to

her, made her mad enough that she’d switched gears

and fallen back on the defensive pattern he knew so

well. One he could deal with. And take advantage of.

At least in public.

He grinned as he took the grapes from her and

slipped an arm around her. “Sounds like a promise

to me.”

If making her mad enough to speak without

measuring

every

word

was

the

ticket

to

understanding and eventually winning her, so be it.

And if it got her away from Wylie, even better. He

pressed his lips against her temple. “Come on. Let’s

get this shoot finished.”

“But I’m still hungry.”

Her pouting mouth belied the tension beneath

her soft curves. He sure as hell felt her fingernails

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digging into his flesh. And heaven help him, the

weight of her breasts on his forearm. “I’ll feed you,

darlin’.” He glanced at Wylie and winked. “How’s

that for romance?”

Wylie grinned and rubbed his hands together,

for a moment reminding Marcus of Chad. “I’ll break

out the bubbly for the hot tub shoot. It needs to

breathe.”

“Sounds heavenly,” Charlotte murmured.

“It’s too early for me.” Marcus had watched her

repeatedly pick up her wine glass during dinner the

night before only to swirl it in her hand then place it

back on the table. When she was actually thirsty,

she drank from her water glass. He’d added that to

the fact that she never actually consumed that

blasted drink at the bar and finally realized she’d

been telling the truth when she said she didn’t

drink.

It had also suddenly struck him that he might