Here Comes the Bride (9 page)

She took a step back and shook her head at him. “And I’m sure you pound your chest when the urge arises and make Tarzan jungle calls. By all means, don’t let my being here stop you from being yourself.” Amusement swirled inside her and for some reason she felt oh, so tempted to take matters into her own hands. “I’m here for one reason and one reason only,” she went on. “To get a story…your story. For some Godforsaken reason, America wants to know everything there is to know about Dominic DeMarco, including the fact he walks around his enormous house in his birthday suit. Just don’t think for a moment your nakedness is going to make me want you, because if that’s what you’re implying, you have a lot to learn about me.” She went to the mattress, sat down and tested it out. Dominic stood before her, a Greek god in the flesh. What was stopping her from learning everything about him?

Everything.

For the sake of the story, she should make love to him to see what all the hype was about.

She glanced at him again. Saw the Cheshire cat grin on his face. “You think I want you, don’t you?”

“Absolutely. Until our wedding night, I had never seen such a love-starved woman.”

“Go ahead,” she said. “Strip. Right now. Show me what you’ve got. Let’s see if you can make me lust for you like all those other women.”

He rubbed his chin in a thoughtful manner. “Nice try, but I don’t think so. I think I’ll wait until you come to me begging in earnest for me to take it all off.”

“I’m not love starved,” she said as she came to her feet. She swayed her hips seductively as she walked toward him; at least, that’s what she was going for. Stepping close enough to smell his musky cologne, she took a fistful of his shirt and pulled him close. His chest was hard, his shoulders broad. He was beyond gorgeous and he wasn’t the only one who could use a good romp in the hay.

Feeling bold, her heart racing, she ran her palm over his rough jaw. “I say let’s do this right here, right now.”

His dimples appeared when he smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“I haven’t been with a man in a very long time,” she told him. “I’m sober and I’m ripe for the taking, so make it good, DeMarco, because there might not be a next time.”

He didn’t look convinced.

Something potent and powerful rippled through her as she stripped his shirt from his body, admiring his well-worked biceps and bronzed chest. “You were right from the start. If we’re going to be sharing this room for a while, we might as well make the best of it.” She slid the palm of her hand over his chest.

“I’m glad you’ve finally seen the light.”

“No more playing games,” she purred into his ear.

He released a long, drawn-out groan, which told her the swaying hips and bold talk was working.

“I’m just hitting my sexual prime,” she said in the best husky voice she could muster.

“I can see that.”

Growing more comfortable with her brazen act, she said, “I’ve been deprived of a man’s touch for too damn long.”

“Hear, hear.”

On her tippy toes, with her breasts pressed against his rock-hard abs, she put her lips on his, angling her head just so, tasting him, enjoying the way his mouth felt on hers. Her insides fluttered out of control, leaving her breathless and wobbly.

She stepped away. Dizzy from one simple kiss. Shit. She hadn’t meant to take it so far. He was half naked now and about to take off his pants.

“Stop right there,” she said, sounding more like a cop and less like the seductress she’d been going for.

One brow shot up. “Oh, no, you don’t.”

“I was kidding.”

“Kidding?” He raked his hands through his hair. “What the hell was that all about?”

“I wanted to teach you a lesson.”

“What sort of crazy lesson could I learn from having you suck on my tongue and rub your body against mine?” He pointed a finger at her. “You’re a tease—exactly what I’ve been saying all along.”

She scrunched her nose. He was right. She was a tease. She’d gotten carried away. She’d thought she could give him a taste of his own medicine, but she’d gone too far. If they ever had sex, she wanted it to mean something.

***

Every muscle tense, Dominic stared her down. He wasn’t angry or frustrated as much as he was thoroughly disappointed. He truly couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted a woman like he wanted Sam. And that made no sense. She was a tiny thing with no hips or breasts to speak of. She was an innocent, a tease, a goddamned reporter who was willing to do almost anything to get the scoop.

She’d been warned, but damn it, he hadn’t been. In the blink of an eye, the little minx had taken full control. The sway of her hips had entranced, having her tongue dancing with his was beyond exhilarating, but having her pressed up against him, the pursuer, the huntress, the vixen, had awakened all of his senses and had been his ultimate undoing.

He’d wanted nothing more than to strip both their clothes off and then pick her up and carry her to his bed.

Damn it all. She was a tease—a beautiful tease.

Shaking his head, he turned and headed for the bathroom, where he spent the next five minutes taking a cold shower, brushing his teeth, and getting ready for bed. He came out wearing only his boxers, and didn’t spare her a glance before climbing under the sheets and turning off the lamp next to his side of the bed.

“I am sorry,” she told him, her voice barely audible.

Her smell still clung to him, teasing and tantalizing even now. Lying on his back, his hands under his head, eyes shut, he merely grunted.

“The truth is,” she continued, “I don’t want to be just another woman on your long list of sexual partners.”

“I’m sleeping, Sam. Look at my eyes. They’re closed.”

“If we ever do make love, I want it to mean something.”

He released a long ponderous breath. How long was she going to beat herself up over it and prevent them both from sleeping?

“Although I don’t know you very well,” she said, her voice cracking, “I think you’re a great guy.”

Enough.
He propped himself on his elbow. “Sam, don’t worry about your childish prank. I get it, okay? You don’t want to be a notch in my black book—”

“On your headboard,” she amended. “You have a black book?”

He rolled his eyes. “You want me. I want you. But I can’t make you any promises. Not now, not ever. Somehow, someway we’re going to get through this. We have no choice.” He rested his head back against the pillows and then patted her side of the mattress. “Like I said earlier, this is a big bed. I’m not going to take advantage, so no need to worry. I promise.”

Eyes closed again, he heard her release a sigh before the bathroom door clicked shut.

The truth was she’d gotten him hot and bothered. Big time. That notion did not compute since he didn’t get hot and bothered. It didn’t make sense. Big deal—she’d come on to him and then backed off. Get over it, he told himself, and then he turned over and went to sleep.

***

Hours later, Sam lay on the bed next to Dominic and watched the slight rise and fall of his chest as he slept. He’d been tossing and turning all night.

What the hell am I trying to prove?
She’d wanted to teach him a lesson for setting her up. He’d known all along that the two of them would be forced to share his bedroom
and
his bed, but he hadn’t told her until the very last moment. She figured she’d teach him a lesson, but the whole sex-kitten act had backfired.

Dominic often came across as secretive and aloof, but in that moment she’d had his full attention, she’d seen a hint of another man altogether. He was undoubtedly the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on. He was also flirtatious, funny, and sort of sweet. She wanted all of him. And that was something she was never going to get. Time to pull herself together and figure out how she was going to get through the next few months in one piece.

Unable to sleep, she slid quietly off the bed. She grabbed his shirt from the floor and put it on. She rolled up the big sleeves and buttoned it before leaving the room. Curious, she headed upstairs and made her way through another wide sweeping hallway. She passed by a room with a closed door, which she assumed was Maria’s room. The next door on the right was open. Another king-sized bed like the one in Dominic’s room filled half of the space. A large double-paned window covered one wall and an antique dresser and mirror sat against the opposite wall.

Out the window, she saw a large expanse of lush green grass and well-manicured shrubs lit up by dozens of outside lights. She narrowed her eyes, trying to see if anyone was still high in the trees, taking pictures, but all she could see were dark shadows. Turning away from the window, she wandered into a connecting bath that had all the amenities, including a telephone and an intercom.

Her reflection in the mirror over the sink stared back at her. The eyes said it all. She was already falling for Dominic DeMarco.
How could that be? Was I confusing lust with love?
She brought her hands to her face and moaned.

In a few months, she would walk out of this house with a broken heart. How many times could a heart be broken and then put back together again?

She was doomed.

Or was she?

Looking back at the woman in the mirror, she summoned all of the resolve and determination she’d built up inside before flying to New York. She’d attended the wedding because she’d wanted to make something of herself, hadn’t she? She’d married the man for a reason. She had purpose and drive and the only way she was going to get through this sham of a marriage was to stay focused and stick to the story.

The story.

The story was all that mattered.

Dominic DeMarco could never fall in love with a girl like her. This marriage was temporary. If she could stay strong, her life could literally be turned around. She could gain the respect she’d always craved, not only from her parents and siblings, but also from her friends and her workplace.

She exited the bathroom. Her feet sank into the plush carpet as she headed back downstairs to the kitchen to search for her journal in her purse. After finding everything she needed, she made her way to the family room, took a seat on the couch, and began to write.

Dominic had spent most of the plane ride with Ben and Tom, talking about possible movie deals and all the different functions they had scheduled over the next few months. She’d learned that Tom was not only Dominic’s agent, but a good friend, while Ben seemed to be a fast-talking manager with big ideas.

Sam kept a close eye on her husband during the ride home. He tended to rub his chin when he mulled things over. And when he didn’t agree with something Ben or Tom said, he rubbed his left temple.

“Walks around in the nude,” she added to the bottom of her list. “Extremely arrogant—think Gaston from
Beauty and the Beast
. Tends to close up and stay guarded much of the time, as if he’s hiding a million secrets. Despite his enigmatic personality, he’s by far the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

How was she going to sleep next to him night after night? She tapped her pen to her chin and found herself lost in thought at the idea of making love to him. What would it be like to make love to him? Pressed up close in the shower, or better yet, outside on the beach while the water crashed over their naked bodies…

Chapter Thirteen

Dominic awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of people talking in the other room. He reached an arm to Sam’s side of the bed, disappointed to find the space was no longer occupied. The woman was a tease, plain and simple, but she’d come around eventually. It was just a matter of time.

The clock on his nightstand read three in the morning. Judging by the sounds coming from the family room, Sam was having a party.

He climbed out of bed.

Despite the naked warning he’d given Sam earlier, he walked across the room to the high dresser and pulled on a T-shirt before trudging out the door. He stopped at the archway leading to the family room, where he spotted Sam on the couch.

On the television, a late-night host had the audience in tears.

Sam must have been having a difficult time falling asleep. If he hadn’t seen her sleeping in the limo yesterday, he might have thought she was dead the way her arm fell limp over the edge of the couch.

He shook his head at the way her mouth hung open. One arm rested across her forehead as if she’d fainted. His shirt clung to her body, revealing creamy thighs. His throat suddenly felt like sand.

He crossed the room, grabbed a blanket from a basket next to his favorite recliner, and placed it over her. She didn’t move. With the television screen shedding light over the length of her, his gaze took it all in, including, but not limited to, her delicate hands and short, unpainted fingernails.

He leaned over and brushed strands of silky hair out of her face. Her lips, rosy and full, were very kissable. He thought about carrying her back to bed, showing her what she was missing because of her sheer stubbornness. Instead, he turned off the TV and gave her one last fleeting look before heading back to his bedroom.

Temporary or not, he had a wife.

He should probably try harder to open up to her, tell her how all of those stories written about him were mostly lies. Hell, he was a decent guy with values and morals and dignity and pride, but a celebrity with morals didn’t sell magazines or movie tickets, for that matter. A no-good, womanizing celebrity is what the public wanted to read about and as long as tabloid reporters, like Sam Johnston, sold garbage to the public, nothing was going to change.

***

Sam awoke with a start.

She sat up and noticed the blanket keeping her warm. The television had been turned off, too. She combed her fingers through tangled hair as she made her way through the house. “Dominic?”

She went to his bedroom. The bed was made, everything neat and orderly, no sign that he’d slept in the room. She entered the walk-in closet. His clothes were all color-coordinated and in perfect order.