One Summer In New York. Trish Wylie
deck’s railing. The glistening city behind her.
Her breath sputtered. “In order to be convincing...”
Ethan arched down and brushed his mouth ever so slightly against hers. A wisp of his breath warmed her lips when he asked, “So, for example, you need to practice doing that?”
“Uh-huh,” she squeaked out.
Why did he have to be so attractive? This would be much easier if she had become the fake fiancée of an unappealing man who didn’t ignite her inside.
Clearly practice was all that was needed. Practice would make perfect. Eventually she’d become numb to him. Kissing would be a choreographed action they’d perform like trained seals.
She was sure of it.
“What about this?” he taunted, and more strength applied a firmer kiss to her lips.
A jolt shot up her back. Her hips rocked forward uncontrollably.
“I... I...” She struggled to take in a complete breath. “I think I need to work on that one.”
She tilted her head back for mercy.
Giving her none, he took both sides of her face in his two hands and drew her to him. He kissed her yet again. Harder. Longer.
“Do we need to rehearse this?”
Now he’d opened his mouth. And he didn’t stop there. The tip of his tongue parted her lips. Forced her tongue to meet his. Drove her to take. Give. Insist on more.
A dark moan rumbled from low in his gut.
A group of tourists strode past, ignoring them and pointing out landmarks in spirited voices. Holly couldn’t see them. Ethan was all she could see.
His hands slid from the sides of her face slowly down her arms to the tips of her fingers. His lips traced across her jaw and then he murmured into her neck, “Do you think an engaged couple might need to kiss like that on occasion?”
“I do,” she whispered.
He took hold of her hips and crushed himself into her. Pinned her back against the railing. She stretched her arms up around his neck, going pliant and yielding against the steel of his body.
With New York as her witness, he kissed her again and again and again. Until they had only one heartbeat. Until there could be no doubt in anyone’s mind that this was a couple who were deeply in love.
FLOATING ON A CLOUD. Ethan had heard that saying before but this was the first time he’d experienced what it meant. Yes, his physical body lay on the uncomfortable leather sofa that was too small to stretch out on. But his heart and soul wafted above him in a silken, curvy vision he never wanted to wake from.
Of course, real sleep eluded him. It seemed an utter waste of time when Holly Motta was in the world. Sleep would just be hours and minutes spent away from thinking about her. What if, during sleep, his subconscious drifted away from the cocoon of her embrace? No, sleep was not time well spent. Not when instead he could linger in this half-daze, filled with the memory of her velvety lips on his and her long arms wrapped around him.
Though reality nagged at him.
After that mind-bending interlude of kissing at the Empire State Building they both knew that something unintentional, inappropriate and very dangerous had passed between them. Something they were going to need to backtrack from. To run from. And to return themselves to the “strictly business” contract they had made.
During the car ride afterward they’d chit-chatted about the architecture of a couple of noteworthy buildings along the way. Once they’d got home Holly hadn’t been able to get away from him fast enough. She’d emerged from the bathroom in a tee shirt and pajama shorts, poured herself a glass of water, voiced a quick good-night and then rapped the bedroom door closed with her foot.
Ethan hoped that she was in his bed, resting in peaceful sleep. At least one of them ought to be. If he was being honest, he also hoped that she was having sweet dreams about him. Just as he was drifting in his trance about her.
As the endless night wore on Ethan’s elation turned to irritation. This was not what he’d signed up for. Lying awake thinking about a woman? No deal!
He couldn’t afford to have that kind of preoccupation in his life. None of his plans included a woman.
Sure, he could enjoy the company of the exotic and enticing females that his travels put him in contact with. That was a game he could play indefinitely. He wanted something from them that they’d readily give in exchange for a taste of his affluence and the limelight. Then they would want more and he would move on. He knew the routine well.
For all his aunt’s prodding, Ethan hadn’t ever truly acknowledged the possibility of really devoting himself to someone and building an inner circle with them. A private life together. Not after what he’d seen of the world. Not after his mother.
Blasted Holly! She’d exploded into his life and detonated every stronghold he held.
Worse still, to all intents and purposes he had reached the point of no return with her. He’d already introduced her to Aunt Louise. The gala was in three days. It would be a huge setback to back out now.
There was no choice but to see this through. However, once his aunt had stepped down and was securely ensconced in the warm Barbados sand, Ethan might have to cut the Holly engagement short. He couldn’t take much more of this.
Uncle Mel had taught him that admitting and analyzing his mistakes was the crucial first step toward moving forward. Ethan had made a grave error in misjudging his own ability to keep this a purely business transaction.
Or perhaps it was just Holly. He’d chosen the wrong person for the job.
Holly was testimony that his aunt and uncle might be right—that an authentic love might be out there in the world for him. A love that was worth bowing to and sacrificing for. That defined his future and ordered everything else to work around it.
Which was not at all where Ethan was headed.
Argh! The road not taken... If only he had stuck to his original plan to hire an actress. She’d have been a consummate professional who knew exactly how to separate reality from performance. Her expertise would have shown him the way.
Just for torture, he flicked on a lamp and snatched his tablet from the coffee table. He clicked onto the website of the talent agency where he had located his original choice. The—unfortunately for him—pregnant Penelope Perkins. The website featured headshot photos of the talent they represented. Tap on the photo and a short bio appeared.
Ethan leaned back on the couch and studied Sienna Freeman. A willowy redhead with a daisy in her hair. An inquiring click told him that she had performed at regional theatres throughout the country, portraying the ingénue in famous American musicals. She looked as if she could have easily been groomed to play the fiancée in Ethan’s little domestic drama. A sweet-faced young woman.
Trouble was, she wasn’t Holly.
Gabrielle Rivera was a temptress with dark hair and crimson lips. A substantial list of her appearances in television comedies and commercials proved she was capable of working in a wide range of situations. Gabrielle would probably handle herself beautifully at important occasions. A fine choice.
Her fatal flaw? She wasn’t Holly.
Glamazon Zara Reed was picture-perfect for a socialite wife. With her blond tresses swept into an up-do, Zara looked born to hang on a wealthy man’s arm. Add in her master’s degree in psychology and small roles in quirky films, and you had one convincing package. A jaw-dropper.
But—poor Zara. She simply wasn’t Holly.
Enough! Ethan put the tablet down, turned off the