Risk & Reward (3 page)

His resolve hardened, strengthened by fear. He would choose right, this time. Another decade with a barren personal life while he scraped and slaved to build a second or third fortune? No thanks.

His lips quirked as the car slowed, and he tucked his wallet back into his pocket. God knew she wouldn’t take his money. She didn’t need his connections. The nostalgia factor could only go so far. All that was left was him. Adult Wyatt needed to be enough for Adult Tatiana.

He hoped he was.

Chapter Three

Red was for courage.

Tatiana leaned in close to the mirror and slicked the lipstick on over her lower lip, her mouth forming an O. When she was finished, she pressed her lips together and examined her appearance critically.

The bright red of her lips was reflected on her nails and dress. It was too much, perhaps, especially in contrast to her fair skin and honey-colored hair, but she liked the shock and awe of it all.

It helped overcome the nervousness that had grown with every minute of the day.

She smoothed her hand over her stomach. Grasshoppers were ricocheting around in her belly.

Wyatt was going to kill her. She should have told him last night, the second she’d gotten off the phone with her parents, even if it had been late. Hell, she should have told him when he’d grasped her arm at the airport today.

What was wrong with her? He was going to be so freaking angry. And she couldn’t blame him.

As if she’d conjured him, the front door opened and closed. Those grasshoppers did another tap dance. “Tatiana,” came Wyatt’s faint voice.

“In here.”

The bedroom door opened, and Wyatt stepped in. “Sorry I’m late. I won’t change, we can—” His gaze met hers in the mirror, and his words dried up. She was gratified by the insta-lust that filled his gaze as his eyes dipped down over the front of her body. “Well,” he murmured. “Don’t you look nice?”

She smoothed a hand over the dress she’d spent a solid five hours shopping for on the strip earlier today. A futile effort at distraction from her mounting anxiety. “I spent a fortune on it. So shut up about me being cheap.”

His eyes tracked her hand and where it settled on her hip. “Worth every penny. You know red’s my favorite color.”

“Yeah, yeah, you shark you,” she joked, trying to stay normal. “All that blood in the water turns you on.”

“Nah.” He walked closer until he was nestled in behind her, his hands replacing hers on her hips. His cock was semierect beneath his trousers, and he ground it against her ass. “It reminds me of you.”

“How’s that?”

“The color your nipples get when they’re all hard and aching. The color of your clit when you’re almost ready to come. The color of your ass when I spank it.”

The tension in her body transferred from nervousness to a sexual need. “No wonder you like it so much,” she managed.

“Mmm.” He slid his hands inside her bodice and massaged her breasts, watching in the mirror as he pushed them up to plump over the neckline. “God, I almost forgot what these look like.”

“You saw them a few hours ago.” She gasped when he pinched her nipples rougher than usual.

“I barely got to touch them.” He shoved the neckline down, and she thanked God she had splurged for an expensive label. Cheaper fabric may not have held up to his rough treatment. He pulled her breasts out and let them rest on the shelf of her bodice. “Look at how much these babies missed me.”

She shook her head even as she tried to keep from gasping when he tweaked each nipple. “Wyatt.”

“You know…” he licked her ear, “…if you lived closer, I could do…this…whenever I needed it. Whenever you needed it.”

She froze. He wasn’t suggesting they move in together, was he?

They hadn’t talked about a more permanent arrangement, not really. In her deepest heart, she couldn’t imagine anything better than waking up with Wyatt every morning and going to bed with him at night. She’d done it before. When she’d gone to college in a neighboring city, he had an apartment near her. Though they hadn’t lived together in truth—Tatiana hadn’t wanted to break her parents’ hearts—they’d spent enough time sleeping over with each other that she had a fairly good idea of what the experience would be like.

And, she feared, she knew how it would end. With
their
end.

The arguments. She couldn’t remember what each fight had been about. They all blended together in her mind, an amalgam of jealousy, anger and bitterness, the causes probably not even that important.

They were careful this time around. They didn’t fight, not at all. What was there to fight about? Everything was smooth and hunky-dory.

Or it had been, until tonight.

He bit her ear and laved the spot. “What are you thinking?”

She opened her mouth, her fears and distrust and worries dying to come spewing out. But then she glanced at her watch. Yikes. One battle at a time. “We’ll be late for dinner.”

“So hungry? The food’s not going anywhere.” He cupped the back of her neck in a warm hand. “You know, when I had them move this table in here, all I could think about was you bent over it. All your bottles and things knocking together as I fucked you.” He exerted a familiar pressure.

She gripped the edge of the vanity. Small and delicately carved, it was a marked contrast to the dark and heavy furniture in the rest of the room. “Is there anything you don’t imagine fucking me over?”

He gave that consideration. “No.”

Her smile was real. “Wyatt.”

He paused at the finality in her voice, attuned as ever to her cues. “What? You’re serious? You’d rather go eat?”

She turned to face him, and his hand dropped away. After adjusting her dress so her breasts were covered again, she linked her fingers together in front of her in an effort to stop them from nervously fidgeting. “We need to talk.”

“You’re worrying me.” The words were light, but she knew the sentiment was real. “Hey. What’s up?”

She couldn’t bear his concern. Not when she was about to royally piss him off. “My parents are in town.”

She might as well have told him her father was in the bedroom with them. Wyatt backpedaled, creating a giant space between them. Not just physical space, but emotional too. A cold, remote filter descended over his face.

She hadn’t seen that mask in a while. A part of her heart mourned its return.

“What?” he asked, low and harsh.

“My mom. And my dad.”

“I understand the definition of
parents
. What do you mean they’re in town?”

The cold snap in his voice was also expected. Still, it made her heart seize in dread. “They’re staying at the Wynn for a couple of days.”

His sneer for his rival was automatic, though he remained on topic. “Oh really? How funny that they showed up today and surprised you. What a coincidence.”

The cutting sarcasm in his tone made it very clear he didn’t believe in coincidences.

“How long have you known they would be in town, Tatiana?”

Her tongue snuck out to lick her lips. “My mom called me yesterday. Late. It was unplanned. My dad was invited to speak at this conference when the scheduled guy canceled, so they decided to make a trip out of it. They were going to come see me in San Fran after, but since I’m here…”

“And you couldn’t tell me this yesterday? Or this morning…” He straightened, and Tatiana could see the gears in his brain working. “When you asked if we could go out tonight.”

Too smart, this guy. “Wyatt…”

“Tatiana. Are you serious right now?” His voice was deadly quiet. “Are you fucking serious? You didn’t tell me they would be here, and now you’re blindsiding me with them at dinner?”

Be calm. He has a right to be mad.
“They know we’re seeing each other again. When they found out I would be here too, visiting you, of course they invited us both.”

Wyatt pointed his finger at her. “This is fucking manipulative, even for you.”

Her mouth dropped open. “I wasn’t trying to be manipulative.”

“Then what do you call it?”

“I was scared!”

The words lay between them. He shook his head in disbelief. “Scared of what?”

She faltered. “I don’t know. Scared you wouldn’t come.”
Scared you’ll never want to come.

“Well, I don’t have that choice now, do I? You took that away from me.” He jerked at his tie and spun away.

“Wyatt, wait, let’s talk…”

“We don’t have time to talk.” The
thanks to you
was left unsaid, but message received.

“You don’t have to come,” she said quietly. “I’ll tell them you had to work. Or an emergency cropped up. They’ll understand, since it was short notice. They’re in town for a couple of days. You can see them some other night.”
Or not at all.

He paused, as if he was thinking that over, contemplating the out she was offering. Her heart pounded, ticking away the seconds of the clock.

Finally, Wyatt gave a shake of his head. “No. That would be rude.”

The rebel she’d known in high school wouldn’t have given two fucks about being rude, but the gloss Wyatt had acquired over the years had made him sensitive to proper social etiquette. When he was out with her, Tatiana noticed that he even spoke with more proper diction. Hell, he usually knew better than her what fork to use. Another illusion for the world.

Wyatt threw his jacket and tie on the bed and started unbuttoning his shirt. There was nothing she liked more than watching him undress. But the rough, furious motions he was displaying right now had everything to do with barely suppressed anger and nothing to do with passion. He tossed his shirt, followed quickly by his pants and boxer briefs. His round, tight buttocks flexed as he stalked away.

She locked her fingers together. “Are you changing?”

“Showering. If we were just going to eat, I wouldn’t bother, but since I fucked you in these clothes earlier, I’m a little wary of meeting your father like this.”

She took a tentative step forward. “Wyatt. I don’t want you to go if you’re this mad.”

The glance he gave her was filled with annoyed comprehension. “I’m not about to tell them that their daughter tricked me into coming. They already hate me, so that would hardly endear me to them, yeah?”

“Hate you? My mother is eager to see you again.” Maybe eager was reading too much into her mother’s emotions, but the other woman was the one who had suggested the chance to get reacquainted with Wyatt.

He slashed his hand through the air. “Leave me alone, Tatiana.”

She bit her lip. Not cowed, not exactly. But…cautious. She’d seen Wyatt angry, furious even, filled with this controlled and cold-burning temper. But not since they’d reunited. Not at her.

She swallowed down the nauseous dread rising up inside her throat. Her makeup was already on, her hair done, tasks that rarely took her long anyway. She should have waited. It would have given her something to do, instead of gingerly sitting on the edge of Wyatt’s bed, feeling like an interloper as he showered in record speed. He barely glanced at her when he came out, a large white towel wrapped around his lean hips. His hair was dripping water onto his shoulders, the rivulets streaming down his chest.

Any other time, she would have slinked her way over, traced that water with her tongue. Any other time, she would have been certain he wouldn’t shove her away.

Instead, she fiddled with the silver chain of her necklace. After ten minutes passed without a peep from the closet, Tatiana nervously glanced at her watch. If they didn’t leave soon, they would run the risk of being late.

Since her parents were her parents, they were used to her getting caught up in one of her projects or getting lost in traffic and losing track of time. But Wyatt liked punctuality. The fact that they were running behind would only key him up more. As evidenced by the loud curse that erupted from the closet.

Despite his order to leave him alone, Tatiana couldn’t take it anymore. She walked to the large closet and stood inside the doorway. It was rather ridiculous to call this a closet, since it was more like a small room. Had she lived here, it would have been bulging with all her clothes and possessions. Wyatt, though he probably had more suits than most men, barely took up a third of it. The clothes she’d brought with her, along with the handful she’d left behind on past visits, were neatly arranged on the empty half.

Standing only in boxer briefs, Wyatt dumped a pair of trousers on the floor. They lay crumpled along with a handful of once-pristine clothes. “Wyatt?”

The look he gave her was a little wild. “Esme ordered my latest suits. All the pants are cut too slim. If I look like a fucking hipster, your father will never let me hear the end of it.”

He was…worried about his outfit?

Guilt wracked her. And why not? If she wanted to make a good impression on someone, she agonized over her clothing choices. Why should he be any different because he was a man?

She cast an eye over the rack and pulled down a gray suit she’d seen him wear multiple times, as well as a nice white shirt. “What about this one?”

“It’s older.”

“It still looks fine,” she said brightly, and thrust it at him.

He set his teeth and snatched the suit. “Great. Not like I have time.”

She winced, not missing the emphasis on time. He dressed quickly, grabbed a tie at random and draped it around his neck, knotting it with rough jerks. It sat a hair crooked, and her fingers itched to correct it.

“Wyatt, I am so, so sorry.”

He ran his hands through his drying hair and sighed. “Whatever. Let’s get this nightmare over with.”

Nightmare.
The word pounded into her brain as they descended to the ground floor. The limo was waiting for them, an expressionless Sal holding the door open.

She climbed in, and he entered after, sitting next to her, both of them staring ahead at the divider that had allowed them to explore each other’s bodies not more than a few hours ago. Had he chosen the limo so they could engage in a little backseat shenanigans on the way to what he thought was their date?

“Your tie’s crooked,” she tried again, and reached out to tidy it.