Full Throttle
Author: Erin McCarthy
Date: 2013-12-03 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Romance; Contemporary Romance; sports; Contemporary; Sports Romance; Erotica; Bdsm; Adult; Erotic Romance; Fiction
Description: Easing into the turns… As one of only two girls on the tween racing circuit, Shawn Hamby has always run with a fast crowd. But now at thirty-two, she doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone. And she definitely doesn’t need a man bossing her around off of the track… Putting the pedal to the metal… But after a silly girls’ night at a fetish club, Shawn can’t get Rhett Ford out of her mind. He’s younger than her, and he’s her best friend’s brother-in-law, which should be red flags. Rhett is looking for someone to lead in bed, but he can’t imagine that Shawn would ever submit to him. Boldly surre
Publisher: Penguin Group (USA)

PRAISE FOR THE FAST TRACK NOVELS

JACKED UP

“A fun tale . . . Fans will enjoy this trek around the Fast Track.”

—Midwest Book Review

“Sweet and sexy.”

—Yummy Men & Kick Ass Chicks

“There is a lot to like in this book . . . erotic love scenes that are spicy and inventive.”

—Dear Author

“A fun, thrilling read.”

—Romance Reviews Today

SLOW RIDE

“The dialogue sparkles while the chemistry titillates, making Slow Ride a long-lasting gem.”

—Fresh Fiction

“Classic Erin McCarthy—full of steamy scenes and intense dialogue, making you read well into the night.”

—TwoLips Reviews

“I enjoyed the realistic qualities of this story just as much as I enjoyed how down-and-dirty Erin McCarthy writes her love scenes. Slow Ride is romance gold!”

—A Romance Review

“Exciting.”

—Romance Reviews Today

THE CHASE

“Fun and sexy . . . Pick up The Chase.”

—Romance Reviews Today

“A definite scorcher.”

—A Romance Review

HOT FINISH

“Sizzling hot, jam-packed with snappy dialogue, emotional intensity, and racing fun.”

—Carly Phillips, New York Times bestselling author

“Hot and steamy.”

—Smexy Books

HARD AND FAST

“Hit me like a ton of bricks and didn’t let up until I finished the last word.”

—Romance Junkies

“This book had my heart racing.”

—A Romance Review

FLAT-OUT SEXY

“Readers won’t be able to resist McCarthy’s sweetly sexy and sentimental tale of true love at the track.”

—Booklist

“A steamy romance . . . Fast-paced and red-hot.”

—Publishers Weekly

PRAISE FOR ERIN MCCARTHY’S OTHER NOVELS

HEIRESS FOR HIRE

“Heiress for Hire is a must-read.”

—Romance Junkies

“Characters you will care about, a story that will make you laugh and cry, and a book you won’t soon forget.”

—The Romance Reader (5 hearts)

“An alluring tale.”

—A Romance Review (5 roses)

“An enjoyable story about finding love in unexpected places, don’t miss Heiress for Hire.”

—Romance Reviews Today

“Priceless!”

—RT Book Reviews (4½ stars, Top Pick)

A DATE WITH THE OTHER SIDE

“Do yourself a favor and make a date with the other side.”

—Rachel Gibson, New York Times bestselling author

“One of the romance-writing industry’s brightest stars . . . Ms. McCarthy spins a fascinating tale that deftly blends a paranormal story with a blistering romance . . . Funny, charming, and very entertaining.”

—Romance Reviews Today

“If you’re looking for a steamy read that will keep you laughing while you turn the pages as quickly as you can, A Date with the Other Side is for you.”

—Romance Junkies

“Just the right amount of humor interspersed with romance.”

—Love Romances

“Quite a few chuckles, some face-fanning moments, and one heck of a love story.”

—A Romance Review

Titles by Erin McCarthy

A DATE WITH THE OTHER SIDE

HEIRESS FOR HIRE

SEEING IS BELIEVING

The Fast Track Series

FLAT-OUT SEXY

HARD AND FAST

HOT FINISH

THE CHASE

SLOW RIDE

JACKED UP

FULL THROTTLE

The Vegas Vampires Series

HIGH STAKES

BIT THE JACKPOT

BLED DRY

SUCKER BET

The Deadly Sins Series

MY IMMORTAL

FALLEN

THE TAKING

Anthologies

THE NAKED TRUTH

(with Donna Kauffman, Beverly Brandt, and Alesia Holliday)

AN ENCHANTED SEASON

(with Maggie Shayne, Nalini Singh, and Jean Johnson)

THE POWER OF LOVE

(with Lori Foster, Toni Blake, Dianne Castell, Karen Kelley, Rosemary Laurey, Janice Maynard, LuAnn McLane, Lucy Monroe, Patricia Sargeant, Kay Stockham, and J. C. Wilder)

THE MAGICAL CHRISTMAS CAT

(with Lora Leigh, Nalini Singh, and Linda Winstead Jones)

FIRST BLOOD

(with Susan Sizemore, Chris Marie Green, and Meljean Brook)

OUT OF THE LIGHT, INTO THE SHADOWS

(with Lori Foster and L. L. Foster)

THE PROMISE OF LOVE

(with Lori Foster, Sylvia Day, Jamie Denton, Kate Douglas, and Kathy Love)

THE FANGOVER

(with Kathy Love)

HOT SUMMER NIGHTS

(with Jaci Burton, Jessica Clare, and Carly Phillips)

FANGS FOR NOTHING

(with Kathy Love)

THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

Published by the Penguin Group

Penguin Group (USA) LLC

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

USA • Canada • UK • Ireland • Australia • New Zealand • India • South Africa • China
penguin.com

A Penguin Random House Company

FULL THROTTLE

A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author

Copyright © 2013 by Erin McCarthy.
Excerpt from True by Erin McCarthy copyright © 2013 by Erin McCarthy.
Excerpt from Sweet by Erin McCarthy copyright © 2013 by Erin McCarthy.

Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

Berkley Sensation Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group.
BERKLEY SENSATION® is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.

The “B” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.

For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) LLC,

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

ISBN: 978-0-425-26174-3
eBook ISBN: 978-1-101-58978-6

PUBLISHING HISTORY

Berkley Sensation mass-market edition / December 2013

Cover photo of “Young attractive couple leaning on their car” © Kristian Sekulic/Getty Images.

Cover design by Rita Frangie.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Version_1

CONTENTS

Titles by Erin McCarthy

Title Page

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Excerpt from True

Excerpt from Sweet

CHAPTER

ONE

“I double-dog dare you.”

Shawn Hamby stared at Eve Monroe-Ford and remembered exactly why they had gotten in so much trouble together back in the day as the only two girls on the tween racing circuit. Eve had grown up with brothers and was a master at taunting manipulation. Shawn had grown up with an indifferent sibling and was eager for camaraderie, with an inability to keep a straight face. The combination had resulted in broken bones and many a grounding from their honked-off parents.

“I’m not falling for that,” Shawn told her now with a laugh. “I’m not going to talk to a random guy in a fetish club because you dared me to.” She wasn’t twelve anymore, and she didn’t need to prove anything to anyone.

Which didn’t explain why she was here in the first place.

Damn. Maybe she hadn’t changed all that much.

“Oh, come on,” Charity McLain said, lifting her cocktail to her mouth as she leaned against the bar. “We’re here because of you, so you might as well have the full experience.”

They were here because of her, in a roundabout sort of way, and as Shawn looked around at the dimly lit club, she fought the urge to giggle, which was her usual reaction to situations that made her uncomfortable. How a book club meeting had resulted in her and three friends being at a place called The Wet Spot—and no, they weren’t talking about spilled beverages—she couldn’t imagine.

“All I said was that people don’t really do what the chick in that book was doing. I didn’t say let’s go to a fetish club and see if it’s true or not.” It had just been a little hard for Shawn to believe that their fiction selection for the month had any basis in reality whatsoever, regardless of how enjoyable a read it had been. Average suburban women didn’t just up and go to a sex club after years of lame sex and let a total stranger blindfold them. She was sure of it. Not in Charlotte, North Carolina. Not in a day and age when true-crime shows about serial killers and date rape drugs were on TV every day, all day.

Not only did it seem dangerous but it also seemed kind of silly. She wasn’t so sure what would be hot about having a man boss her around. Hell, she had that every day at the track, and it just frustrated her. There was nothing sexy about it in the least. Not to her anyway. Hence, the curiosity.

Harley, Charity’s twin, tucked her blond hair behind her ear, glancing around nervously. “Let’s just leave then.”

“No!” Charity rebuked her. “Shawn needs to admit that this is real, that people go to clubs like this.”

“I admit it,” Shawn said easily. She wasn’t exactly sure what people were doing here, or what drew them to the club, whether it was curiosity like the four of them, or a genuine interest in BDSM or other fetishes, but she’d seen enough.

There were only so many adult men and women being pulled on dog leashes she could look at before she lost it and started laughing. It wasn’t like she found other people’s choices amusing. It was that it just looked . . . fake. Like a movie being filmed. Like a giant skit being played out for her benefit. None of it seemed real, from the girl on the red velvet sofa allowing two different men to swat at her backside with a paddle to the extremely thin man who was shirtless and wearing nipple clamps, SLAVE tattooed across his chest, a lollipop in his mouth.

“This isn’t really what I pictured,” Eve said, scrutinizing the room. “I guess I thought it was going to be more tawdry. Nobody is having sex or anything.”

“Do you want to see people having sex?” Shawn asked, because she didn’t. She didn’t even really get the appeal of mirrors in a bedroom. Sex was not a spectator sport. Not that she remembered what sex was like, given how long it had been since she’d had it. Eve, on the other hand, was married to a sexy jackman, so she had no business being curious in Shawn’s opinion.

“No, I do not. I don’t even want to be here. My husband’s going to start to think our book club is a front for checking off items on my Bad Girl Bucket List. Last month we got drunk on margaritas and took a pole-dancing class, which was a huge leap from reading Margaret Thatcher’s biography. The month before, you goaded me into waxing my cooter, though Nolan wanted to write you a thank-you note for that one.”

Eve had a point. Shawn wasn’t sure how this kept happening. She thought it had something to do with the prevalence of wine at their book club gatherings and the fact that she and Eve felt every one of the five years they had on the twins. Or maybe they were just repeating their childhood of stumbling into Bad Ideas together, though she had to primarily blame Charity for this particular outing. She was the one who had asked Siri on her iPhone where to find a fetish club in Charlotte, and suddenly here they were.

“We can go at any time,” Shawn said. “And I get to pick next month’s book selection. Plus it’s my birthday month, so you’d better have cake for me.” She was turning thirty-three, which, while not noteworthy, was fairly appalling. “Red velvet.”

“Fine. I’m going to the restroom first,” Eve said, setting down her beer and heading off.

Shawn wasn’t sure going alone was totally wise, but Eve could take care of herself. She was known around stock car racing as having a razor-sharp tongue and no hesitation whatsoever in using it to slice offenders to ribbons. It was a talent Shawn did not possess. She was the goofy girl, the one who cracked a joke at the wrong time, the one who nobody took seriously.

“I’m kind of disappointed,” Charity admitted. She and Harley were identical twins, but only in appearance. While Charity was outspoken and wore significant makeup and teased and highlighted her hair, Harley was quiet and completely natural-looking. When they stood next to each other, it was like seeing a before-and-after pageant shot of the little girls on Toddlers and Tiaras. “I was hoping for something more glamorous.”

“I think if you join one of those members-only clubs, you get glam. Otherwise you just get skimmers,” Harley said. “People dabbling in the scene. Not that I know anything about it, really. I’m just speculating.”

“None of these guys are even cute,” Charity complained.

Shawn would have to agree, except right at that moment, a guy came around the corner from the other room, and he wasn’t just cute. He was beyond cute. He was smoking hot. He was wet-panty-producing sexy.

“Hubba hubba,” she said, before she could stop herself. “Now there’s a fine male specimen.”

He was ripped, but not bulky, filling his button-up shirt and jeans to perfection. Just a perfectly hard, muscular lean man with a confident step and an intense stare that swept the room and landed on her.

“Oh, damn, he is hot,” Charity said.

“And he’s looking at us,” Harley breathed, sounding panicked.

He was.

And then he strode right over to them, his eyes locked on Shawn. On her. Yikes. She swallowed and tried not to fidget. She didn’t really want to do this. She wasn’t prepared to talk to a guy here. It was all just a dumb idea to even set foot in this place, and she certainly didn’t want to encourage any attention from a guy who would clearly be interested in areas outside her expertise and comfort level.

She would have to politely dissuade him.

Before he even spoke, his hand slid out and took hers, his thumb stroking across her palm, causing a shiver of arousal to take her totally by surprise.

“You should dance with me,” he said, already pulling her toward him.

“Okay.”

So much for turning him down flat. Why the hell had she just agreed to dance? Because he was hot. And there was something commanding about him that appealed to her. Which was annoying.

“I’m Rhett,” he told her.

Of course he was. Shawn squeezed her mouth shut so he wouldn’t see her desperately trying not to laugh. She imagined using a fake name was what you did in a place like this, but seriously? Rhett?

“Well, then I guess that makes me Scarlett,” she told him.

• • •

RHETT Ford saw the dark blonde the minute he came around the corner. She was smiling at her friends, and she looked relaxed, casual, dressed simply in jeans and a purple sweater that had fallen off one shoulder. Her friends were dressed similarly, and given that he’d never seen her at The Wet Spot before, he suspected she was someone just like him—curious and turned on by kink, but not sure where to start.

Aside from the fact that he was immediately attracted to her, she also didn’t appear to be the type that he’d always gone for, and which had always resulted in total disaster. He had a firm habit of choosing the shy, unassuming girls, like the blond twin currently standing next to the woman who had caught his eye, and invariably he scared the shit out of every single one of them. They all ran, terrified. Like his latest mess of a relationship with Lexi.

So this was a conscious choice, to be approaching a woman who looked confident and amused by her surroundings. He didn’t even mind that she thought he was giving her a fake name. Though God knew, if he had a choice of names, he never would have picked Rhett. It had been the bane of his existence almost since birth. If he went for an assumed identity, he probably would pick Bill or Dave. No one could poke fun at a Dave.

Leading the woman by the hand to the back bar where there was a dance floor, Rhett glanced back at her. She was checking out his ass. Now that was promising. He had never actually hooked up with anyone he had met here, since for the most part, he had just been observing and working out his own personal sexual interests, but he was definitely intrigued by this so-called Scarlett. When they got to the small dark room, where only half a dozen people were moving to the baby-making music, he pulled her into his arms and studied her face.

She met his gaze steadily, her hands snaking up to wrap around his neck. He was tall, but so was she, and while he had to bend down to make eye contact, it wasn’t significant. Her eyes were an amber color, and they were shining with amusement and, if he wasn’t mistaken, attraction. As they swayed, his hands lightly on her trim waist, he gave her a slow smile.

“So what brings you here?” he asked her.

Her response wasn’t flirtatious, nor was it cryptic. It was just matter-of-fact. “Information.”

“Are you a reporter? A blogger?”

“No. We’re four women who like to be right. This is my friends’ attempt to prove me wrong.”

Interesting. Bored housewives? He couldn’t check her ring finger to see if she was married, but then again, if she was looking for a good time, she would take her ring off anyway. If she was, he would be disappointed. Married women weren’t his thing. He was loyal and committed to a single woman at a time, and he had no desire to serve as an itch scratcher for a restless spouse.

“How so?”

“I didn’t think people came to places like this. Apparently they do.” She gave him a wry smile. “So why are you here?”

He had no problem being honest. Another lesson hard learned. He needed to be up-front about his desires. “I’m looking for the right woman for me. One who likes to be led in bed.”

She gave a little laugh. “Oh, really?”

“Really.”

“Uh-huh.”

Rhett wasn’t sure if he should be offended or not. He did know he was turned on. There was something very compelling about the way she never broke eye contact. What could be hotter than a woman submitting to his desires but doing so out of titillation, boldly? Nothing, as far as he was concerned. But he was getting ahead of himself. Which was evidenced by her dropping her arms to halt his creeping progress lower and lower on her back. He was at the curve of her ass when she reprimanded him, gripping his hand to stop it.

“Hey now, sport, watch the sticky fingers.”

Rhett grinned. “Don’t you mean wandering hands? I’m not trying to steal your wallet.”

“Whatever,” she said dismissively. “You know what I mean.”

“I do.” He kept his hands far above the erogenous zone, wanting to respect her limits. “So give me your number.” The song was almost over, and who knew what would be played next. She might use a booty-grinding song as an opportunity to leave the floor and return to her girlfriends. He didn’t want to waste time.

Her eyebrows shot up. “That’s a little presumptuous, don’t you think?”

“You never get what you want if you don’t ask.”

“How old are you?” she asked suddenly, putting more space between them as they swayed to the bass pumping R&B.

So that was it. She was older than him. “Old enough to know what I want.”

“You’re younger than me.” It wasn’t a question. She seemed certain of it.

“Frankly, Scarlett, I don’t give a damn.” Might as well make his stupid name work for him.

She gave a short laugh, smiling at him. “Nice. Corny, but effective. What’s your real name, by the way? I only give my number to Clark Kent, not Superman.”

He liked the sound of that. She was going to cough up her phone number, and he was suddenly glad she’d shifted away slightly because he was getting hard. There was something about her that he found seriously arousing, and she didn’t seem intimidated by what he’d told her, which further turned him on. “It really is Rhett.”

A flicker of annoyance crossed her face.

But before he could pull out his driver’s license and prove it, her friend approached them. “Shawn!” she said, urgently.

So her name was Shawn. It suited her. Unusual, unique. The tomboy who grew up to be a sexy woman. Or so he would guess, given the muscle tone of her waist and arms, and the perky lift of her backside. This girl liked sports, or at least the gym.

“Sorry to interrupt, but we need to leave. Emergency. Let’s go, now.”

Shawn stopped moving to the music entirely and dropped her hands to her sides. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. We just have to go. Come on.” The blonde wouldn’t look at him at all, and when there was a hesitation on Shawn’s part, she actually took her friend’s hand and pulled her away.

“Wait,” Rhett said. “I still want your number.”

But to his disappointment, Shawn just gave him an apologetic smile and a wave. “Nice to meet you,” she said, as she was dragged away.

Rhett was left standing on the dance floor having a whole hell of a lot of sympathy for Prince Charming when he’d been ditched. But unlike Cinderella, Shawn didn’t leave any clues behind.

• • •

“WHAT is going on?” Shawn asked Charity, fighting the urge to glance back at the hot hunk of man flesh she’d left on the dance floor. Despite ticking her off a little with his refusal to give a real name, she had to admit, her interest was peaked. Along with her nipples.

“We have to go because of that guy you were talking to.”

“What? Why? And where are Eve and Harley? And stop yanking on me. You’re going to pull my arm out of the socket.” Shawn followed Charity out the front door, the cold February air hitting her with a smack as she pulled on her coat that Charity shoved at her.

Eve was pacing to the left of the door, looking anxious. She darted her eyes behind Shawn. “He didn’t follow you, did he?”

“No. Why would he follow me? And what is the big deal about that guy?” Had Eve seen him on America’s Most Wanted? Was he a Gone with the Wind–inspired serial killer? First he dressed you in drapes, then he threw you down the stairs?

As they started walking toward the car, Eve said, “That was my brother-in-law. When I came back from the restroom, I saw you with him. There was no way I could let him see me there. And there was no way I wanted him to know I saw him there.”

“Your brother-in-law? You mean, like, Nolan’s brother?” She could see how that would be more than a little awkward for Eve. It wasn’t just the corner pub they’d been in.

“Yes.” Eve beeped open her SUV and they all climbed in. She turned toward Shawn in the backseat and gave a snort of laughter. “Nolan’s little brother, Rhett.”

“That guy’s name is really Rhett?” she asked in amazement. Now she felt like a jerk for doubting it. “I thought he was making that up!”

“No, it’s really his name. He’s twenty-five years old and he’s in a sex club. Oh, my God, how am I going to look him in the face?”

“Twenty-five?” Shawn squawked, horrified. “Good Lord, he’s a fetus!” Who she had been contemplating pursuing so she could get a serious look at him naked. Her cheeks burned. “He looked older than twenty-five. He looked too hot to be that young. And I thought Nolan’s little brother was well, little. It never, ever occurred to me that the fake Rhett could be the real Rhett. You always talk about him like he’s seventeen.”

“To me, he might as well be. He’s Nolan’s little brother! What the hell was he doing there?” Eve asked, pulling out of the parking lot.

Oh, Shawn had a funny feeling she knew exactly what he was looking for. She might not be particularly knowledgeable about the lifestyle, but she could pick up on a clue or two. “I think he was a Dom looking for a submissive,” she said, not at all sure how she felt about any of this.

“What?” Eve said, moaning. “Oh, shit, I’m going to die. I do not want to picture that. God!”

“I should have let you give him your number,” Charity said ruefully from the front passenger seat. “But I panicked.”

Still stunned, Shawn murmured, “I told him my name was Scarlett. I thought he was giving me a code name.”

As Eve cruised to a stop at a red light, they all looked at one another and burst out laughing.

“So what are we reading next month?” Harley asked.

Shawn figured it could only be a letdown after this selection. She settled back into her seat, shivering, and tried not to think about a certain guy who was too young for her, with the most intense green eyes she’d ever seen in her life.

It worked for about three whole seconds.

CHAPTER

TWO

RHETT swiped a handful of nuts from the crystal bowl on the coffee table as he stepped over three of his nieces coloring on the floor, the smell of his mother’s enormous Sunday dinner cooking in her kitchen. Frowning, he searched the crowded room for his sister-in-law, Eve, wanting to discuss the plans they had going for the upcoming racing season.

But he had the distinct feeling that she was avoiding him today for some reason. Every time he got close to her, she disappeared, and other than a quick wave and a half smile, she hadn’t made eye contact with him once. It was weird.

A wail sounded from the carpet, and he realized that he had stepped on Georgia’s yellow crayon and snapped it in two. His niece was only three, and frequently at the mercy of her older siblings. Being the youngest of nine kids himself, Rhett sympathized with her.

Immediately, her older sister Jessa started mocking her. “Stop being a baby. Baby, baby, cry baby.”

“I’m not a baby!” Georgia’s face was red, her eyes and nose leaking fluid. Rhett bent down and scooped her up under his arm, slinging her back and forth.

“Sorry, G. My fault. I’m sure there is another Macaroni and Cheese crayon in this house somewhere.”

Tears trickled off into giggles.

He gave Jessa a look of reprimand. “Be nice. You don’t like your stuff getting broken either.”

Hearing his niece’s laughter usually made him smile, but he felt off today. Having a hell of a time falling asleep last night after going to The Wet Spot, he had woken up with a start and a giant boner that morning. He had dreamed of the woman from the club, Scarlett, aka Shawn. It was likely she’d never show up there again, and while her first name was unusual, without a last name or any information about her at all, he had no way to locate her. It was a huge downer because there was something about her that had gotten under his skin. Or at the very least, in his pants. He wanted her, and knowing he would never get her made him grumpy.

His brother had already picked up on it. “So what’s your problem today?” Nolan asked him as he let another niece, Asher, climb on his back.

“Your face,” he told him lightly, because that’s what you said to your brother. “Where the hell is Eve, by the way? I wanted to ask her if she’s talked to Evan about when we’re getting the car.”

“She’s around here somewhere. Probably in the kitchen. She loves Mom’s cheese balls.”

“I think she’s avoiding me,” Rhett said as he pulled Georgia up to rest on his hip. It made him concerned there was a problem with their plan. Last fall, Eve had quit her job as a PR rep for her brothers, both highly successful stock car drivers, Elec and Evan Monroe, to pursue her own career as a driver. She had chosen to try to tackle the truck series and was already a few weeks into her inaugural season. Rhett had left Evan’s pit crew to join Eve’s, knowing it would afford him more free time to pursue his own passion—dirt track racing.

If all this went south, he was going to be less than thrilled. Not to mention out of a job.

He didn’t really know his new sister-in-law all that well, since they had only fleetingly crossed paths over the past couple of years. It was just since she’d married Nolan a few months earlier that he had started to spend more time with her, but they weren’t particularly close. Maybe he was reading her wrong.

“You sound like a middle school girl,” Nolan said. “No one is avoiding you.”

If he hadn’t been holding Georgia, he would have called his brother a dick, but he was, so he had to settle for punching Nolan on the arm.

“Dinner! Find a chair,” their mother called from the kitchen.

They were easily twenty for dinner that night, which was still only half the family, but in a small ranch house, it made for tight quarters. Rhett tried to maneuver himself near Eve, but she hightailed it to the very end of the long folding table, which came out on Sundays to accommodate their large numbers. With six kids and Nolan between them, there was no way Rhett was going to get a seat anywhere near her.

He was not imagining that her behavior was off.

It did not improve his mood.

Nor did his mother’s decision to ask him about his love life.

“So I was hoping we’d see Lexi here tonight,” his mother said to him across the table, ruining his appetite entirely.

“We broke up,” he reminded her. “It’s been six weeks, Mom. Let it go.”

To change the subject, he turned to his sister Danny. “Give me the mashed potatoes.”

His sister made a face at him, and he realized that sounded way ruder than he had intended.

“So bossy, for crying out loud,” his mother said. “I hope you weren’t bossy like that with Lexi.”

If only his mother knew just how bossy he had been. The thought amused him.

Down the table, Eve started choking on her wine.

His nephew Simon whomped her on the back.

“Good Lord, are you okay?” his father asked her.

“Fine, fine,” she said, holding her hand up.

But then she made eye contact with Rhett and started, glancing away quickly.

What the hell?

“I just think,” his mother said, circling right back around to his failed relationship, “that maybe you’re not nice enough to your girlfriends. Nolan was the opposite, always falling in love in a minute, showering the girls with gifts, but you don’t smile enough. It makes the girls feel so insecure.”

“So I should smile more and I’ll nab an unsuspecting female? Okay, thanks, Mom.” He wanted to roll his eyes, but there was really no point. She meant well.

“You showered the girls with gifts?” Eve asked Nolan, her eyebrows raised, the corner of her mouth turned up in a teasing smile. “I don’t seem to recall that happening with me.”

“Oh, I meant when he was young,” their mother hastened to amend. “You know, cheap things, like teddy bears and chocolates.”

“I bought you leopard-print underwear and that crap wasn’t cheap,” Nolan told Eve.

“Nolan!” That was their mother, horrified.

Rhett grinned. He did enjoy a good Sunday dinner.

“Why are you so eager to marry Rhett off anyway?” Nolan asked their mother. “With me, you were always telling me not to rush into anything.”

“Because you were always impulsive, and you wear your heart on your sleeve. Rhett doesn’t attach very easily. It worries me.”

“Rhett is in the room,” he said, annoyed all over again. It wasn’t that he didn’t attach easily, nor was he opposed to marriage. The truth was, he was often guarded with women because he did attach. He was intense. Once he was in, he was all in, and he’d yet to find a woman capable of handling that facet of his personality and needs. They all eventually became frightened by his passion.

He was starting to conclude that he was just a whole lot of too much for the average twenty-three-year-old woman.

“It’s just because you’re the last one,” his sister Jeannie said. “Nine kids and eight are married. Mom wants to close the folder on her parenting.”

Yet another one of the joys of being the youngest.

Though most of the time, he didn’t mind it. His childhood had been happy, and his sisters had all doted on him, carrying him way past the age when he needed to be carried, and slipping him treats. He’d been their mascot of sorts and had satisfied their desire to role-play as mommies. But there was no question his parents had been a bit worn out by the time he’d been coming up, and he had never quite gotten over his resentment about his name. It had given him countless bloody lips and bruised knuckles on the playground when he’d been forced to defend himself against bullying.

Maybe he could let the whole thing go if just once his mother admitted that perhaps it had been a poor choice, but she didn’t. She still thought his name was the shit.

“She can do that whether or not I’m married. I have my own apartment. I have a job. A social life. It’s all good.” He glanced at Eve again, but she was cramming a dinner roll in her mouth.

“Speaking of social lives, or lack thereof. Eve, do you still have your book club?” Danny asked. “Can I join it? I would love to do something like that and get out of the house a little.”

Nolan laughed. “Eve’s book club is a front for getting together with her friends and drinking wine. She had it last night and they wound up in a bar.”

“I’m in,” Danny stated emphatically. “I need one night to be an adult. Who else is in the group?”

“It’s not a front,” Eve protested. “We read all the books and we do discuss them. It’s just, why not discuss them with wine, right?”

Nolan scoffed. “That still doesn’t account for the bar. And don’t tell me that was Harley’s or Shawn’s idea, because I seriously doubt either one of them would suggest it.”

Shawn? Rhett set his fork down and looked down the table at his sister-in-law. How many women named Shawn could there be in this town? Who had been in a bar the night before? With female friends?

“Are you suggesting it was me?” Eve asked hotly. “Nolan Ford, you are going to pay for making me sound like an alcoholic in front of your mother. It was actually Charity’s idea, because Shawn said that a place like that doesn’t exist.”

Rhett went still. The Shawn in the club had said virtually the same thing.

“Bars don’t exist?” Jeannie asked.

Shawn. Four girlfriends. Skepticism about a fetish bar.

Holy shit, Eve had been in the club the night before with the woman he had danced with.

Eve suddenly seemed to realize what she had revealed. “Oh, sh–, I mean, shoot. I mean, like a specialty bar. Never mind.” When she glanced at him, her cheeks were burning red, confirming that Rhett was one-hundred-percent right.

Whattya know. Rhett grinned at Eve.

While his initial reaction was one of mortification that his sister-in-law had seen him out at a fetish club, it paled in comparison to the rush of excitement and satisfaction he felt knowing that he now had a way to find out who Shawn was and where he might be able to see her again.

Rhett took the platter of sliced pork tenderloin his brother-in-law passed him and served himself a hearty helping. His appetite had suddenly returned, full force.

• • •

EVE couldn’t look at Rhett without picturing him paddling a simpering female. It was pissing her off. She liked her brother-in-law, damn it. They worked together and were just starting to get to know each other. They were essentially starting a new business venture together, and she did not want to know about his sex life. It was like walking in on your parents having sex. Or seeing your husband’s father naked in the shower. She didn’t care what Rhett did in his private life, she just didn’t want images of it popping up in her head every time someone used the word “bossy.” Or “dominate.” Or “whip.”

There had to be some sort of mental trick she could use to disassociate Rhett from sex. Like every time she started to conjure up inappropriate imagery, she could think of dead rabbits or something. That might work.

As long as he never knew that she knew, they would be cool.

Speak of the devil, when she opened the door to the kitchen from the garage, having gone out there to snag a beer from the overflow fridge, he was standing there, smiling at her. He gestured for her to go back into the garage and then he pulled the door firmly shut behind him.

“So Eve, how did you like The Wet Spot?” he asked.

Crap on a cracker, how did he know? Never one to back down from what she’d done or a challenge, Eve just shrugged nonchalantly. “It was alright. A little underwhelming, to be honest. I take it you saw me there?”

“Nope. But I put two and two together, given that the woman I danced with was named Shawn, and she was with three friends out strictly to satisfy their curiosity, not pick anyone up.” He leaned against the door and crossed his arms over his chest. “But you saw me.”

“Yes, I did. And we don’t have to discuss it in any way. Ever.” It was cold in the garage, given that it was the beginning of February, so she gestured for him to move. “Now let me in the damn house, I’m freezing.”

“Who is your friend Shawn? That I danced with.”

Uh-oh. Eve recognized that look on Rhett’s face. She saw it on Nolan every night when he climbed into bed with her. Lust, plain and simple.

“I don’t think so,” she told Rhett. “You are not pumping me for information, because I have no idea if Shawn would be okay with that or not.” Though the truth of the matter was he was going to figure out who Shawn was soon enough, given that he was set to start racing at her track come spring.

Nonetheless, how and when Shawn wanted to encounter Rhett was up to her, not Eve. She would warn her, then Shawn could proceed however she chose.

“Oh, come on.” Rhett’s nostrils flared. “I could just go and ask Nolan, you know. He’d tell me before he’d even know why he should or shouldn’t.”

“That’s low, Rhett,” Eve told him with disapproval.

“I’m legitimately interested in her,” he said. “Please?”

Pleading sounded about as sincere on him as it did on her—which meant not at all. Eve snorted. “You met her for like sixty seconds.”

“So? How long were you dating Nolan before you married him?”

Ouch. The kid was good. She’d give him that. “Don’t be an asshole. Look, I’ll talk to Shawn and see if she’s interested in hearing from you, okay?”

His tense posture relaxed slightly. “That’s fair. Did she mention me at all?”

Eve grinned. Rhett had a crush. It was actually kind of adorable, except that the object of his alpha affection was one of her oldest friends. “Yes. Then she wrote your initials in a heart on her notebook.”

“Fuck you.”

Nolan opened the garage door in time to hear this last annoyed remark from his brother. “Excuse me? Did you just tell my wife ‘fuck you’? I think you need to apologize or you’ll be eating my fist for dessert.”

Rhett was taller than Nolan, but her husband had bigger biceps. They glared at each other, chests puffed out. Good Lord. Eve rolled her eyes. Though she couldn’t really pull off the pious act since most of her childhood she and Evan had fought like a couple of rabid dogs. The fact that she was a female hadn’t factored in at all. There had been fists involved often, much to her mother’s dismay.

“It’s fine, babe. I deserved it. I was giving your brother a hard time. I know you find that difficult to believe, given how generally sweet and passive I am.”

Nolan raised his eyebrows and took a step back from his brother. “About what?”

“It turns out Rhett was in the same bar as us last night and he’s taken a shine to Shawn. He wanted to know how to contact her.”

“Really?” Nolan eyed his brother. “She’s too old for you.”

For some reason, that annoyed Eve. Shawn was actually a year younger than her. And while she one hundred percent agreed that she wouldn’t want to date a guy Rhett’s age if she wasn’t married, she didn’t want a man dismissing her or her friend as too old. It got her back up.

“That’s not the issue here,” she told her husband. “Men date younger women all the time, and no one says a damn word about it.”

“Sure they do,” Nolan protested. “Everyone says she’s a gold digger.”

“So they call younger women dating older men gold diggers and older women dating younger men cougars. Yet no one says anything about the men at all. That pisses me off.”

“I never called Shawn a cougar,” Nolan told her easily. “Frankly, my point was she’s too mature for Rhett. I don’t think he can keep up.”

“Hey.” Rhett frowned. “How exactly am I so immature? God, you and mom both. I have a job, an apartment.”

“That was my apartment,” Nolan pointed out. “I let you take over the lease when I got married and moved in with Eve. And I’m not saying you’re immature, just not as mature as a woman who runs a dirt track almost entirely on her own.”

Ah, shit. There was no way Rhett wasn’t going to be able to figure out who Shawn was now.

Eve gave her husband an annoyed look and pushed him into the house. “I’m freezing. Plus, I want pie for dessert.”

The garage door swung down slowly on automatic hinges and Rhett leaped inside before it shut. “Wait a minute,” he said, the wheels clearly turning. “That was Shawn Hamby, wasn’t it?”

Eve didn’t answer, and she put her hand on her husband’s mouth before he could further blow it. But it was too late.

Rhett broke into a grin. “It is. There can’t be two women you know named Shawn who run a dirt track. Damn. Who knew the owner of Hamby Speedway was so freaking hot?”

“She’s too old for you,” Nolan said again.

Eve didn’t say anything at all. She just pulled her phone out of her pocket. She needed to warn Shawn she was about to be stalked by a horny member of her pit crew.

• • •

“YOU cannot be serious,” Shawn said, staring at her grandfather’s lawyer, Clinton Oiler, across the desk of her office at the track. “There is no way that is even legal.”

“Oh, I can assure you it is. Your grandfather owned this track, and he had the right to do whatever he wanted with it.”

Shawn fell back against her chair, sending it rolling a foot to the left and colliding with a box of leftover programs from the previous season on the floor. Her office was a contender for putting her on an episode of Hoarders, but she wasn’t detail-oriented. She was a big picture person, and she loved this dirt track, had loved helping her grandfather run it until his death three months earlier.

Losing Pops had been rough for her. She had known it was coming. He’d battled cancer for two years before losing the fight, but he had always managed to seem like he would beat it. Until the very end, he had still been at work, and she had deluded herself into thinking he would never be gone. Then in the blink of an eye, he’d taken a turn for the worse and he was gone. But what had comforted her after he died was that she had been entrusted with his legacy, this track. It was her home, her heart, her passion.

But apparently her grandfather had thought her passion was slightly misguided.

“Are you sure it wasn’t a joke? Pops had a sense of humor.”

“No, it’s no joke. You don’t inherit the track unless you’re married. Plain and simple.”

Married. Good God. Her grandfather was blackmailing her into marriage. Unbelievable. Shawn stared at Clinton, suddenly speechless. This was the most insane thing she’d ever heard.

The lawyer pulled off his wire-frame glasses and rubbed the sagging skin under his eyes. He and her grandfather had been friends for sixty years, and he probably knew him better than anyone. “We had several conversations about it, Shawn, and I have to tell you that I told Jameson I didn’t approve of this, but he was adamant. He thought that you spent too much time at this place and that you needed more balance in your life. He wanted you to be settled and have a family, like your brother does.”

Shawn blinked. “So forcing me to marry some dude off the street is going to give me balance? That makes no sense whatsoever.”

“I imagine he had Sam in mind, not some stranger off the street.” Clinton steepled his fingers and pressed them to his lips. “Everyone always thought you and Sam would get hitched.”

“Well, we didn’t,” Shawn said, pointing out the obvious. “And there was a very good reason for that. Sam cheated on me. Three times. Now I may be the forgiving sort, but even I know that three times is not the charm when it comes to infidelity.” She realized her hand was shaking and she was starting to think she might get sick. She sat on her hand to stop its tremors and regain some control. “I would rather stab myself in the eyes than marry Sam.”

“Oh, dear,” Clinton said. “I don’t think Jameson knew about the cheating.”

“I never told anyone. It’s a bit personal.” And humiliating. And so two years ago. She was completely over it, and frankly, was completely happy on her own, aside from the lack of sex. Rhett Ford popped into her head and she resolutely shoved his image aside. That was the last thing she needed to think about right now.

She had been embarrassed to realize that she was pleased and more than a little turned on when Eve had texted her that Rhett was asking about her and wanted permission to contact her. Shawn had said she would think about it, but truth be told, she had wanted him to do it anyway. She didn’t want to be the one who called the shots, because agreeing to it made her responsible. But if he pursued her and she happened to flirt back, well, then it wasn’t her seeking out dating a twenty-five-year-old. It was accidental cougar-ing. In her mind, anyway.

But she hadn’t heard from him, so all the mental gymnastics had been for nothing.

“Your grandfather figured Sam would be the perfect partner to help you out with the running of this place,” Clinton told her.

Sam couldn’t manage having an affair in secret so he certainly couldn’t keep on top of running a business venture. “That’s misogynistic and insulting. Why is it that no one can accept that women can run a business just as effectively as a man? God, racing is something I love, yet how many female drivers and team owners are there? A handful. It’s incredible.” Shawn freed her hand and shoved her hair back off her forehead.

“No one is saying that. But even a small dirt track like this is a lot to handle, and while enthusiastic, you’re not the most organized woman on the planet.” Clinton looked around pointedly at the chaotic state of her office. “The season opens in two months, and if it isn’t successful financially, all of this will be a moot point anyway. Hamby Speedway will go bankrupt, and you’ll have to shut it down or sell.”

Shawn swallowed hard. She knew they weren’t rolling in profits. She had worried about it constantly for the last two seasons, and she was aware of every dime that went in and out the door at the track, but hearing it said out loud by Clinton forced her to admit the truth to herself, which was damn difficult. “I know it’s bad, Clinton, but I also know what I’m doing when it comes to this business, messy office or not.”

“The bottom line is the business is failing.”

Shawn winced. Hearing it put so boldly, all her fears, was hard to swallow. “So you’re telling me if I don’t get married, I’ll lose the track, and if I do get married, I could still lose the track?”

Clinton nodded.

“Why aren’t you just a ray of sunshine today?” she said ruefully.

“Sorry, sweetie. But if you pull in some bigger names, you’ll do alright. You’ll make it through this year.”

“Only if I have a husband.” The thought made her more than uneasy. There was no man of her current acquaintance that she was willing to enter into a legitimate marriage with, and no man who would be insane enough to do it in a business-type arrangement. It wasn’t like she had much to offer financially, and she was not about to have sex with a man she wasn’t in an actual relationship with or was not attracted to. Besides, what man would agree to marriage just for some nookie? There were plenty of women giving the milk away for free because getting milked was a good time. So if a man was buying the cow it was because he really liked the cow, right? Not to increase his milk intake.

Great. She was thinking in farm metaphors. Which were just as sexist as what her grandfather was attempting to do to her.

Panicking again, she looked at Clinton. “I could just hire an actor, you know.” Not that she had that kind of money, but maybe struggling actors worked for cheap. Or she could pay him after she secured her inheritance.

“Why don’t I tell you the stipulations and requirements?” Clinton pulled out his electronic tablet and adjusted his glasses, amusing Shawn. The man was seventy, and he was using technology that made Shawn want to break out in hives. Tablets had everything organized and that scared her. She begrudgingly used spreadsheets, but most of her daily tasks where catalogued in her head, not anywhere else.

“Okay. Hit me. It can’t get any worse.” Basically, she was facing losing everything she loved unless she complied with her grandfather’s clearly nutty last wish. There had to be a loophole, a way around this whole mess. Because marriage wasn’t something you just jumped into.

At least she didn’t.

“You have to be married by the start of the season, April fifteenth.”

“That’s two months from now!”

“However, if you marry immediately, prior to February fifteenth, you will receive additional funds from the estate to hire a marketing director for the season.”

“That’s two weeks from now.” Shawn picked at the front of her sweater, suddenly uncomfortably hot. The idea of a marketing director was extremely appealing, she did have to say. But two weeks? It wasn’t possible. “By the way, why is this just coming to my attention now?”

“Your grandfather didn’t want to upset you in the immediate weeks after his passing.”

“How thoughtful,” she said weakly. It still didn’t change that she felt like she was eight years old again and was being punished for tormenting her little brother with wet willies.

“The marriage must be legal in the state of North Carolina, and it must last a minimum of one year. You must reside in the same house as your husband for at least the first six months.”

Gross. Even if she hired someone as her fake husband, she wasn’t sure she could deal with someone living in her space.

Feeling like her loopholes were rapidly disappearing, Shawn didn’t say anything. A sense of defeat settled over her. She was going to lose the track and then what?

This couldn’t be what her grandfather truly wanted for her. Unemployment and misery.

“Your husband must pass a criminal background check conducted by myself prior to the marriage, and he must be employed. He cannot be an actor or a stripper.”

That almost made her giggle. Almost. She really couldn’t picture her grandfather and Clinton discussing her blackmail marriage in such detail. The old buzzards were thorough, she’d give them that.

After that, she started to tune Clinton out as he passed a copy of the will across the desk to her, outlining the monies and insurance policies she would receive upon her marriage. She was numb. Stunned.

Even when the lawyer left with an apology and a look of concern, she just sat behind her desk, not sure what to do. What to think. Hell, there was really nothing she could do, was there?

There was no man she could or would marry.

A knock on her door had her jerking out of her stupor. “Yes?”

The door opened and a head popped in. Holy shit, it was Rhett Ford. Looking sexy as sin.

“Well, hey there, Scarlett.” He gave her a slow, naughty smile. “Do you have a minute?”

No, she really didn’t have a minute. Her whole life was basically crashing down around her, and she wanted to either scream or curl into a ball and cry. “Sure. Come on in.”

God, why did she do that with him? The last thing in the world she needed at the moment was to deal with a virtual infant hitting on her.

And yet, she’d invited him in, just like that.

He came in. Shutting the door firmly behind him.

Her heart started to pound unnaturally fast.

Lord, she was in trouble.

CHAPTER

THREE

RHETT leaned against the closed door of Shawn’s office and drank in the sight of her. She had the same impact she’d had on him Saturday night. There was something just inherently sexy about her. It was the way she tilted her head slightly when she spoke. It was in the careless tumbled look of her soft, shiny hair, currently pulled atop her head in one of those weird twist buns that women did when they didn’t want to deal with it. Tendrils curled over her graceful neck, and her face was free of makeup, her lush lips naturally a deep pink. She didn’t seem aware of her looks. She didn’t carry herself with that in-your-face sexuality that some cleavage-baring, fake-eyelash-wearing women did. Nor was she sweet and shy and demure, unable to meet a man’s eye.

Maybe it was that she seemed to know exactly who she was and was completely comfortable in her own skin, which he found very hot. Even now, coming face-to-face with a man she had briefly met in a fetish club, she didn’t look particularly uneasy. She stood up and stuck her hand out, clearly in her element in her own office.

“Maybe we should formally meet, even though you clearly know who I am.”

He moved forward and took the offered hand, keeping it longer than was strictly appropriate. “Rhett Ford.”

“Shawn Hamby. Sorry I didn’t believe your name was Rhett. I thought you were being coy.”

“I’m not cheesy by intention. Just cheesy by birth.” He finally let her hand go when she gave it a pointed look. “My mom was living out some fantasy, and I pay the price every day.”

“I bet it makes you lucky with the ladies.”

Oh, that was just too good of an opening. “Not yet today. But there’s still time.”

She rolled her eyes. “So is it true? You’re driving a Monroe car in the Modifieds this season?”

“Yes. I believe I am on your schedule here at Hamby Speedway.” Rhett gestured for her to sit down, himself taking the seat in front of her desk. “Ironic, isn’t it? That we would meet where we did.”

“I suppose it is.” She tightened the bun on top of her head, making it lopsided. “I am looking forward to the season. I’m planning a big media blitz, and if you’re interested, I’d love for you to play a big part in that. I think your story will get a fair amount of attention.”

“My story?” He wasn’t aware that he had a story, nor did he really want to talk about one. He was there to ask her out, not talk racing.

“Yes. Your decision to leave one Monroe crew to join another, and to start racing yourself. That’s all a bit nuts in the world of racing, you know.”

He knew that. He’d heard it from just about everyone he knew in the business. “Yeah, well, I don’t see any point in staying somewhere I’m not completely happy. Guys compete for those pit crew positions and it wasn’t fair for me to be taking it.”

“You didn’t like it? Yet you’re not leaving being on a crew.”

Rhett noted the way she moved constantly, fidgeting in her seat, her hands always fluttering, running over papers on her desk, up to her necklace, on to her hair. The more still he was in his chair, the more she seemed to move. “I guess I like things a little more down and dirty, a little more real. Without the big money and the engineers.”

It was true. He liked the grit of dirt track racing. The money sucked, which was why he was still running a crew for Eve Monroe. But it wasn’t about the money, it was about besting himself out there. The pure competitiveness. It was like fencing versus ultimate fighting. Both required major skill, but he preferred it raw.

No shocker there.

“I wouldn’t mind a little money either,” she said, laughing nervously. “But I get what you mean. I like the passion of dirt track myself. You have to love it to be in it.” Then she tilted her head. “I mean, of course, those in the cup series love it, too, I don’t mean that. And I don’t mean that they, or me, are moneygrubbing or anything. It’s just that money is necessary when you’re dealing with such expensive tracks and cars and marketing. But it’s not like they don’t deserve it. Or that dirt track drivers and owners don’t deserve it, too. It’s just a different thing, but both have their place and no one is better than the other.”

Rhett let her babble on, waiting until she petered out. She was cute when she was trying not to offend. “You don’t need to be politically correct with me, Shawn. There’s enough of that bullshit in this world. I knew what you meant.”

“Oh.” She cleared her throat. Her cheeks bloomed with color. “So, uh, how can I help you?”

He gave her a slow smile, enjoying more and more the reaction she was giving him. He made her nervous, not because he thought she was an anxious person, but because she was attracted to him the way he was to her. It gave him clear encouragement to tell her exactly why he was there.

“I came to ask you out. Dinner or a drink, or both, your call. Eve said you didn’t say yes, but you didn’t say no, so I figured the door was open enough for me to wedge a boot into it and plead my case.”

“I don’t think I should,” she said immediately. “I mean, you’re Eve’s brother-in-law, and I own the track, which is potentially a conflict of interest, and you’re younger than me. It’s just not a good idea. At all. It’s a very bad idea, actually.”

“Then we won’t call it a date. We’ll just call it two people having a drink. Come on, let’s go.” Rhett stood up.

“What, like right now?” she asked in astonishment. “But . . .”

“But what? It’s almost seven o’clock. You can’t still be working. If you are, you shouldn’t be.” He liked that she looked confused and disarmed. It would work to his advantage. She wouldn’t be able to formulate an excuse fast enough.

“I’ve had a really terrible day,” she said, hand going up to pat the back of her bun nervously.

“Even more reason to get out of here.” Rhett came around the desk, amused when she backed her rolling chair up so quickly it hit the wall. He reached out and took her hand into his. “Beer or wine?”

“Beer,” she said without hesitation.

It didn’t surprise him. And it pleased him. Both that she had understood what he was asking, and that she was the kind of woman who preferred a bottle to a glass.

“I probably shouldn’t, but you know what? I don’t give a shit,” Shawn said, standing up. “Today was like ass on an ass cracker, and I deserve a drink.”

He wasn’t really sure what an ass cracker was, but it didn’t sound like anything he wanted to be served.

“That’s the spirit.” Whereas Shawn would have dropped his hand immediately, Rhett held it firmly in his so she couldn’t break contact. “I’m sorry you had a lousy day. Care to talk about it?”

“Not yet. Maybe after a few beers.” Shawn shook her head at him and smiled. “You may find yourself sorry you asked me that question. In fact, you may be sorry you walked in this door.”

She gave another tug on her hand as she grabbed her coat and they moved out of her office into the cold dark hall. But when Rhett refused to relinquish his grip, she seemed to accept it. He had to admit, it turned him on. He liked that she had opinions, that she protested, but then gave in to him. It made the moment of capitulation all that more intriguing to him, all that much more arousing. He didn’t know her well enough to guess how any of this would translate to the bedroom, but he was definitely interested in finding out. His gut told him he had met the woman who could keep up with him and give him exactly what he wanted.

“I sincerely doubt I’ll be sorry,” he told her, studying her lips, wishing his mouth was on hers right now, teeth sinking into her tender flesh.

As they pushed through the doors and into the parking lot, Shawn stopping to lock the building behind them, she yanked her hand away from his and shook her head as she inserted the key into the lock on the glass door. “Let’s get one thing clear, Rhett. I may have been in the club the other night, but I am not submissive. It’s just not my nature.” She straightened and turned to face him, eyes slightly narrowed. “I am used to being a girl in a man’s world, and if anything, I’m aggressive, not the other way around. So don’t think that I’m the type of chick to lick your boots, because I won’t do it.”

“Who said anything about bootlicking? There is humiliation and then there is submission. They’re two different things.” Rhett actually suspected a woman like Shawn might enjoy not having to be a woman in a man’s world for a change. But he didn’t know that any more than she did, apparently. What he did know was that he was curious enough to explore the possibility, and clearly she was, too, or she wouldn’t have bothered to mention it. She would have just turned him down flat and had herself a beer at home, solo. “But I thought we were just grabbing a beer and venting about a bad day.”

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and anger. “Oh, really? So that’s all you want? To just sit on a bar stool next to me for an hour and have a Bud? Okay, we can do that.”

“That’s not all I want,” he told her, hands in his front pockets as he watched her tugging the two sides of her coat closed over her chest. “But I don’t want to scare you.” The dark thoughts that were crowding his mind—of tying her up in his bed and cracking the palm of his hand on her bottom until it reddened—were not something you mentioned on a first date. Or a first not-even-date yet.

“I don’t scare easily.” She brushed the tendril of hair the wind had whipped across her face out of the way. “Especially not when it comes to men young enough to be my . . . younger brother.”

Rhett couldn’t help it. He laughed. She looked so indignant and fiery. “I’m sure you don’t scare easily. But if I told you the thoughts I’m having, they might not scare you, but they would definitely sound rude considering the short length of our acquaintance. So let’s just leave it at that for now, okay?”

“Fine. But you’re a terrible flirt,” she told him, brushing past him.

“I can’t disagree with that.” He was. His mother had even picked up on it. He didn’t have the easy charm of his brother Nolan. His thoughts were too intense, his expressions too serious, his manner too straightforward. It unnerved women, and while he wished it didn’t, he had given up on trying to change himself. Forcing himself to smile and joke when he didn’t feel it, just made him look weird, like an escapee from a state psychiatric ward. Like he could potentially kill his dates and eat their organs, and really, that wasn’t the vibe a guy looking to get laid wants to give off. So he’d decided while him in his natural state wasn’t exactly going to charm the ladies, it was better than creeping them the hell out, which was what faking it did.

It was what it was.

She could either take it or leave it.

It seemed Shawn was going to take it. She gave him a brief smile. “Well, I appreciate your honesty.”

“It’s my best asset,” he assured her. It was. Along with something else he wasn’t going to mention.

Shawn’s smile spread into a grin. “Well, an honest man would certainly be a first, but it’s too freezing cold out here to discuss that any further. And because I’m feeling generous, I’ll let you drive. We can go to Milt’s place across the road. Beer is cheaper than water there.”

She was putting a power struggle into play. He wasn’t sure if she was aware exactly of what she was doing, if she knew she was baiting him. But either way, it was making him hard.

Shawn let Rhett take her hand again and lead her to his truck. What the hell was she doing? She was engaging in some kind of verbal sparring with a man she absolutely could not date. Not only was he way too young, he was a driver, her friend’s brother-in-law, and he was the type of guy she didn’t even understand. She had always gone for the big talkers, the loud, friendly, work-a-crowd guys who never met a stranger and could work any angle, whether it was in a boardroom or on the golf course.

Rhett was . . . intense. He didn’t say a lot, and he smiled infrequently, yet somehow she felt like when she was with him, she was his only focus. That his stare could set her on fire, which was frankly annoying. Unnerving. She felt off-kilter with him and that was the last thing in the world she needed to be feeling given that she was about to lose everything.

But maybe that was why it was so easy to let Rhett steal her attention—if she was distracted by him, she didn’t have to contemplate life after Hamby Speedway. Because that reality was something she didn’t even want to consider, yet she had no choice.

Unless she got married.

It was insane.

So really, the last way she should be spending her evening was with a man who made her nervous, yet here she was.

“Sounds like a plan,” he told her, pulling his keys out of his pocket. “This is my truck here.”

Of course he drove a truck. He was essentially comprised of testosterone, so nothing else would be acceptable. But he was also a gentleman. He opened the door for her and helped her into the truck, which while not necessary was certainly helpful, because while she was no shorty, there was some serious air between the ground and the seat.

“At the risk of sounding like your father,” Rhett said as he got in and started up his truck, “you know you really shouldn’t be hanging out in the track offices by yourself in the dark at night. I just walked right in, and if I could do it, anyone could.”

Shawn wasn’t offended by his concern. He had a valid point, and most of the time she was more careful. “I’m not usually there alone. I have a couple of employees who leave at the same time as I do. If I am there alone, I try to keep the door locked, but today my lawyer had just been in to see me so the door was open.”

“Hence the bad day?”

“Oh, yeah.” She fiddled with her seat belt and debated how much she could or should tell Rhett Ford. She was dying to blurt it out to someone—to have them sympathize with how appalling the whole situation was, and maybe let her bounce some ideas off them on how to increase her profits this season. Yet at the same time, she really didn’t think it was a good idea to have more than a couple of people know the reality of the situation. One, because she didn’t want anyone to think less of her grandfather. Two, because she didn’t want anyone to think they could swoop in and try to buy the track from her at a rock-bottom price. Three, because if she decided to fake a marriage, the less who knew the truth, the better.

Not that she was planning to fake a marriage, because how would she do that? But it seemed best to proceed with caution. She may not know what the hell she was doing when it came to men, but she knew her way around the business world, thank you very much, despite what, apparently, her grandfather thought.

That, she had to admit, was at the crux of her dismay and shell shock. She’d thought her grandfather trusted her with the business—to find out he didn’t was salt in the wound of her grief.

“How was your day?” she asked Rhett inanely, suddenly realizing she didn’t want to talk about Clinton’s visit, because then she would have to say out loud that she was going to lose the track because her grandfather hadn’t trusted her.

“It was a day like any other,” he said, shifting gears and gunning it across the four-lane road to the opposite parking lot. He handled his truck like a driver, and she was attracted to that, to the way his hand rested lightly on the gearshift, fully in control, forcing the truck to bend to his will. “Running some trials on Eve’s car. It’s running loose, but she has a great mechanic in Sheppard. He’ll tighten it up, no problem.”

It was an addiction, this sport, this career, this lifestyle. She knew that, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

She couldn’t walk away without trying. She just couldn’t. There was no way. It was in her blood.

A crazy idea popped into her head. A very insane, she couldn’t be serious, idea. Yet she couldn’t help but follow the thought through.

She quickly calculated some figures based on the insurance information Clinton had given her. Rhett Ford was hard up for money, he had told her that. He also understood the love of racing. He was attracted to her, he was single, he was clearly a man who did what he wanted, with no regard for anyone’s opinion about it. He was a risk taker.

But was he desperate enough for cash to marry her?

And could she go through with it?

It was ludicrous, the very concept.

But once the idea had taken hold, Shawn couldn’t shake it. She could save her livelihood, the last connection to her grandfather, a sport that she loved. If Hamby Speedway closed, there wouldn’t be a regional dirt track in the area, and that would be a crying shame.

To do that, she needed to get married.

Why not Rhett?

As he parked and came around and opened her car door, then the door to Milt’s, when he pulled out her bar stool, and took her coat from her and hung it on the back of her chair, she debated with herself, her heart pounding at twice its normal rate as she contemplated blurting out such a bizarre business proposition to him.

“What kind of beer would you like?” he asked her.

“I’ll take a Guinness.”

“That’ll grow hair on your chest. I’m impressed,” he said with a close-lipped smile, his eyes assessing her.

She laughed, a sound of pure relief that she hadn’t screamed out a marriage proposal. Yet. “That hasn’t been the result for me, thank God. I like dark ales. When I’m feeling really sassy, I like a good Irish Car Bomb. Jameson dropped into Guinness is a taste like no other.”

“Now I’m really impressed.” Rhett put his keys on the scratched-up bar top and said, “I’ll do one if you do.”

Uh-oh. “Are you daring me?” How could he have figured out already that was her weakness?

“I’m definitely daring you. In fact, I double-dog dare you.”

Damn it. He was either psychic or Eve had been telling tales.

Shawn slapped her purse on the bar and said, “I’m in.” No matter that she hadn’t eaten dinner and, on an empty stomach, was very likely to get snookered from whiskey at the end of such a stressful day. She could not turn down a dare.

Rhett grinned and flagged down the bartender. “How competitive are you? Think you can drink it faster than me?”

“Oh, I know I can.” Hell, she had paid half her living expenses in college from bets on how fast she could shoot a beer. “It’s all about opening up the throat to take it all down,” she told him confidently.

His eyebrows shot up. “Now that’s a mighty fine talent to have.”

Oops. That did sound a little sexual. Shawn felt her cheeks heat. “Don’t be rude.”

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it.”

“Thinking what?”

Damn it. He was good at this. He wasn’t going to say it, that they were both thinking about her giving him a blow job. Neither was she going to say it. “Just take your drink.”

He gave her a slow grin as the bartender set the glasses with the Guinness down on the bar in front of them, three-quarters full. A shot of Jameson was next to each glass, waiting for them to drop the shot glass down inside the Guinness. “On the count of three.”

Shawn picked up her shot of whiskey and let it hover over the Guinness, which she held in her right hand. From experience she knew to throw back with her dominant hand. Her coordination was better. She eyed Rhett as he counted, making sure he wasn’t going to cheat.

“One,” he said, and for some reason she shivered.

There was something about the way he stared at her. It was like he could give her an orgasm with the sheer force of his will, just from the intensity of his gaze. She shifted uncomfortably.

“Two.”

Shawn licked her lips, her hand shaking slightly. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. She was trapped by his eyes, which were such a deep green they were almost emerald. He was . . . arresting. That was the word for him. It threw her off her game and she felt her wrist slacken a little, her girl insides warming in arousal.

“Three.”

Shit. He had gained an advantage by being sexy. Shawn dropped, lifted, drank, the sting of the whiskey masked by the smooth maltiness of the ale. She opened the back of the throat, let it all flow down, and slapped her empty glass back on the table while she finished swallowing.

Rhett was a few seconds behind her.

“Ha! I was first!” Not that she was one to gloat or anything. Much.

“Wow,” was the bartender’s opinion. “I’ve never seen a woman drink a car bomb that fast.” The bartender was big and brawny, covered in tattoos, his beard enveloping the bottom half of his face in bushy salt-and-pepper hair. Shawn took it as a serious compliment.

“Thanks.” She beamed a little.

“That was impressive,” Rhett agreed.

“Well, you were no slouch yourself,” she said, wanting to soothe his ego a little. “But I might have forgotten to mention that I supplemented my income in college from bets over how fast I could down a car bomb.”

Rhett’s eyebrows rose. The bartender laughed.

“You’ve got to appreciate a woman who can shoot whiskey.”

“Well, my grandfather’s name was Jameson. It seems disrespectful not to be able to handle his namesake, you know what I mean?” Shawn suddenly felt melancholy. God, she missed Pops.

The bartender fist-bumped Rhett. “You’re a lucky man, brother.”

“Not yet, but I’m hoping,” Rhett told him.

“Ah. Well, good luck.” The bartender winked at Shawn. “Make him work for it, hon.”

Except the truth was, she needed Rhett Ford more than he needed her, so she wasn’t going to be forcing him to dance on a string. If anything, it was about to be the other way around. Or more like her crawling on the floor for him with a gag ball in her mouth.

Oh, God. There were going to have to be some ground rules on this fake marriage thing. Which she really needed to discuss with him. Her palms started to sweat, the liquor heating up her extremities. In her mind, one way or another, it was already a foregone conclusion. That’s how she was. She made a decision, and everyone else needed to fall in with it. Somehow she didn’t think Rhett Ford was the falling-in type.

Not having any idea how to reply to the bartender, she cleared her throat, wishing she were like Eve, who was never at a shortage for words.

“Where did you go to college?” Rhett asked her as the bartender moved on to other customers.

Not that Milt’s was jumping. There were only a couple of guys in their fifties at the end of the bar. Good. Fewer witnesses when she asked Rhett to marry her and he started laughing.

“I went to the University of South Carolina.” Then, because it would be expected, and because she already had a slight buzz from the whiskey she added, “Go Cocks.”

She expected Rhett to laugh or make a crack in return. It’s what people did whenever she referenced USC’s mascot, the gamecocks. It was funny. Juvenile humor, yes, but funny. It was the only legitimate way to say “Go Cocks” in a conversation in public ever.

But Rhett didn’t laugh. In fact, his eyes darkened. “Say that again,” he told her. It wasn’t a request, it was a demand.

Shawn felt her face and chest burn, from the alcohol, from desire. “What?” she asked him, bewildered. “What do you mean?”

“Say ‘cock.’ I want to hear you say it.”

It could have been a creepy request. But somehow it wasn’t. It was just a complete and total turn-on. It was the oddest thing to her, that all Rhett had to do was look at her, his gaze trained on her and only her, and he commanded her full attention. Commanded her.

“Cock,” she whispered, licking her lips nervously.

“Louder.”

“Cock,” she said more confidently, aware of how he subtly shifted toward her, his body firm and masculine, his knee brushing hers.

He made a sound, in the back of his throat, that told her what she’d just said was as effective as if she’d gripped his cock itself with her hand. Her nipples beaded, and she realized that he might be younger than her by more than a couple of years, but he was fully mature and in control of himself and his desires. Possibly more so than she was.

It was so sexy, so hot, that she did exactly what she had been hoping she wouldn’t. She blurted. Instead of approaching him with a business proposition, the words just spilled out of her mouth like ice water on a flame.

“Will you marry me?”

CHAPTER

FOUR

RHETT blinked at Shawn. All the blood had gone south to his cock just watching the dirty word roll off Shawn’s plump lip, so maybe he was at less-than-full mental capacity, because he could have sworn she had just asked him to marry her. Which could not be what she had said. Hell, he’d had to talk her into a beer.

“What?” he asked, wanting to shake his head and rattle it into a reset like they did in old-school cartoons. “What did you say?”

Shawn blushed. She looked down at the bar, fiddling with her empty Guinness glass. “See, here’s the thing. I need a husband. I’m offering money. Are you interested? A business deal, pure and simple.”

He was not following her at all. “Why the hell would you need a husband?” This wasn’t the fifties. If she was knocked up, no one was going to think anything of it. It couldn’t be for any sort of tax advantage. God knew, she was better off being single if she wanted a break from the IRS, so he didn’t understand.

Her eyes finally met his, and she looked emboldened, determined. The shift was dramatic, and it had his body responding again. There was something so damn sexy about her, vulnerable yet strong at the same time.

“Let’s just say that if I don’t get married, I’m going to lose something that means a lot to me. It’s ridiculous, but there it is. I’ll give you a hundred grand if you stay married to me for a year.”

Rhett actually felt his jaw drop open. A hundred thousand dollars? Was she serious? That was more money than he could ever hope to see at once. While he had made a decent living on Evan’s pit crew, he’d taken a pay cut to switch to Eve’s crew, and he’d be lucky if he made five grand off his dirt track racing this year. There just wasn’t a lot of cash at this level, and he wasn’t expecting to win right out of the gate. He was aiming more for breaking even on his car and expenses. A hundred grand. Damn. That was a lot of cheddar.

But he shook his head. “I need more details. That’s a lot of money, and this doesn’t seem above board to me, Shawn. I don’t want to get involved in something illegal. Or be some sort of pawn to make a boyfriend jealous.”

Now it was her turn to look surprised. “I would never involve you in something like that! Either of those things! I wouldn’t ever do anything illegal. Hell, I don’t even jaywalk. And I am not the kind of woman to play games in relationships.”

She looked so indignant that Rhett instantly trusted what she was proposing was something that, while not exactly typical, wasn’t sketchy either. “So then tell me what it really is.”

Shawn sighed. “I guess I can’t expect you not to have questions. I shouldn’t have just blurted it out like that. But the thing is, I’m desperate. I’m not sure if you heard, but my grandfather died in November.”

She paused, jaw working, he suspected both from grief and from struggling to find the words for what she needed to say.

“I’m really sorry, Shawn. That must be very difficult.” His own grandparents were all still miraculously alive, and he knew he was fortunate in that regard.

“Thanks.” She ran her finger around the rim of the glass, slowly, methodically, her nails painted a rich, ruby red that surprised him.

He would have expected something more natural, clear polish or a pale pink. The image of those red nails on her pale flesh popped into his head. He wanted to see them splayed over her breasts, trailing down her belly to bury inside her hot, moist inner thighs. Rhett cleared his throat and shifted on his stool. He needed another drink. Preferably with ice he could pour down his jeans to cool him down.

“Pops owned the track and ran it for forty years. I’ve been working there since my midtwenties. It’s my . . . life.” She looked pleadingly at him, as if she were begging him to understand.

He did understand the love of racing, but he still didn’t understand what she was getting at. “You love racing. I get that, Shawn. It’s my life, too.”

She nodded. “I assumed the track was left to me. Or at least a portion of it, so that I would continue to run it as operating manager. My father hasn’t been around since I was a kid, and my mother hates everything about racing. My brother is an optometrist, go figure, and he was never big on being a Hamby anyway. So it was always me and my grandfather, playing in the dirt, as he called it. But it turns out he didn’t leave me the track free and clear. His lawyer read his will to me today, and it seems the only way I can inherit is if I’m married.” The grimace on her face showed him exactly what she thought of that.

“Are you serious?” Rhett could see why she was having a bad day. “Why would he do that?”

She gave a bitter laugh. “I guess he thought I was devoting too much time to the track and racing. He wanted me to settle down and breed, like a good girl.”

Oh, yeah. That was bitterness. He couldn’t exactly blame her. “Jesus. And I thought my mother was bad, always dropping hints about how I should get married sooner than later.”

“She does? But you’re only twenty-five.”

“I know. But she thinks that I should be married and have a baby by now, like she did. You have to start early to rack up nine kids, you know. She’s always on my case about it, giving me advice in front of my whole family.”

“What kind of advice?”

“She thinks I should smile more,” Rhett told Shawn. “She says I scare women.” It was true and he knew it. But somehow he didn’t think he scared Shawn much.

In fact, Shawn laughed. “Now that’s funny.”

“Clearly, I don’t scare you.”

“Only a little,” she admitted. “But that’s more because I can’t figure out why I’m attracted to you.”

“I mean, who would be?” he asked ruefully.

Shawn smacked his arm. “That’s not what I mean! It’s just bad timing, you know? But then I thought, well, maybe it’s not bad timing. If I have to be married to save the track, maybe you’d be a good candidate. But now it just sounds crazy and rude and creepy. I don’t know what I was thinking. If anyone should be frightened here, it should be you.” She fussed with her bun, which was sliding south. “You must think I’m a total freak, popping the question to a guy I just met.”

“I’m flattered.” He actually was. Yes, it was crazy. It was crazy that her grandfather would expect her to jump into a marriage. It was a plan bound to fail. But he respected that Shawn was willing to do whatever it took to save her property, to save what was meaningful to her. He would probably consider doing the same thing, though he wasn’t exactly one to like being told what to do. But he admired her guts and her businesslike approach to the problem. Instead of crying, she’d sought a solution. “And I’m not saying no straight out. I just need to hear what would be expected of me.”

“You’re not saying no?” she asked, eyebrows shooting up as she froze with her arms above her head, tightening her hair thing.

“No, I’m not saying no.” He wasn’t. Insane or not, she had just dangled a hundred grand in front of him. Not to mention, he’d been looking for a good excuse to get to know her better, both with clothes on and off, and what could be a better excuse for that than marriage?

Was marriage a huge commitment that he shouldn’t take lightly? Yes. But this wasn’t a real marriage. He didn’t think. “What does this marriage mean exactly? Is it paper only? We would never see each other?” He wasn’t down with that. He couldn’t walk around and be secretly married, shagging other women and taking money for something he hadn’t really done. It all just seemed too dishonest to him. He liked his cards out on the table. If he was going to be fucking anyone, it was going to be Shawn.

His wife.

Oh, damn. He should walk away. This was dicey.

Yet, he wasn’t. He flagged down the bartender and said, “Can we get two more shots of Jameson? Skip the Guinness this time.” This was a straight-up liquor conversation.

Shawn took a huge breath. “The deal is this. We have to be married for a year, but we have to live together at least for the first six months. So you would have to move in with me. I have a guest room that you can use, and I suppose the positive is, you’ll be saving on rent for six months.”

That was an attractive thought, he had to admit. He’d only been in Nolan’s old apartment for five months, and while he loved the freedom, the rent was kicking his ass. “Guest room, huh?” So he wouldn’t lose his own space, exactly. But he wouldn’t get the ultimate benefit of marriage—having a warm woman in his bed every night.

“Yes. If we get married before February fifteenth, the will states I get the funds to hire a full-time marketing director for the upcoming season, which would really be helpful, so that would be my preference. To get married before then, I mean.”

Rhett watched her face carefully. She seemed to have shifted into efficiency mode.

“I can have my lawyer draw up a contract outlining what I just described and that you’ll receive payment upon completion of the year. I will pay for the divorce. I will pay for the initial marriage license fees and all of that. So there is no risk, no hidden cost to you. We both enter and leave the marriage with what we came with, save the hundred grand fee.”

No hidden cost?

Just a year of his life.

Could he commit a whole year to a woman who didn’t really want to be involved with him, even for money? Or did she?

Those were the real questions on his mind.

“I’m not the tidiest person, I’ll admit, so if you’re a neat freak, that is something to consider,” she added.

That wasn’t a factor he cared about it. He had more important concerns.

“I wouldn’t want it to be a secret,” he told her. “I can’t live like that.”

“It has to be a secret,” she said. “No one can know about the money. My grandfather’s lawyer said I can’t marry an actor, a stripper, or a criminal, and he’ll be doing a background check. We can’t let anyone know we’re faking it, that it’s not a real marriage, or it’s null and void.”

“A background check? I don’t have anything to hide.” Rhett took the whiskey from the bartender with a murmured thanks, and threw the shot back. It burned going down, and he welcomed the distraction. “I meant, I can’t keep the marriage a secret. I wouldn’t be able to date and tell women I’m free and available when I’m not, regardless of the circumstances.”

“Oh.” Shawn lifted her own shot glass and bit her bottom lip. “I guess I just assumed we wouldn’t . . . see other people. But now that you say that, I realize that’s a lot to ask. I suppose if you’re discreet . . . I mean, it’s not a real marriage and you have . . . needs.”

Hell, no. Rhett shook his head. “That’s not how I roll, Shawn. Real or not, I’m not interested in any woman who would sleep with a man she thinks is married.”

“Celibacy is a lot to ask. Even for a hundred grand.”

Rhett gave a low laugh, sliding his hand over to rest on her thigh. She jerked slightly. “Who said anything about being celibate?”

“Me?” she asked, suddenly sounding unsure of the whole thing.

He shook his head slowly. “No. If we do this, sex will be a part of the equation.”

“But . . .” She took a sip of her whiskey. “I would feel like I was paying you to sleep with me.”

Now that was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard in his entire life. Hell, he would pay her for sex, not the other way around. “You wouldn’t. It would be entirely voluntary on my part.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

Was she serious? Or did she just want him to work for it? Spell it out. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. But we both know you want me to.”

Her eyes widened. “That’s really ballsy.”

“It’s true.” Rhett moved his hand higher, stroking through the denim of her jeans, feeling the heat at the juncture of her thighs, his thumb rubbing over the seam. “I give it two weeks, tops, before we’re fucking.”

“What makes you so confident?” she asked, her expression annoyed.

Yet she didn’t push his hand away. Nor did she deny it.

“Because you want me as much as I want you. I can practically smell how wet you are for me.”

Without hesitation, she tossed her shot of whiskey into his face.

It missed his eyes, fortunately, because that shit would have stung. It didn’t particularly surprise him, nor did it piss him off. He just slid his hand over his face, pulling the random drips of liquid off his nose and cheek. He licked his lips.

“You’re an asshole,” she told him.

But she still didn’t push his hand away. In fact, she had spread her legs a little, her hips moving forward so his light touch was more intimate, the pressure greater.

Oh, yeah. She was exactly the kind of woman he needed. She was going to fight it, yet she could more than handle his proclivities. She was going to enjoy them. And he was going to enjoy teaching her how much she could take pleasure from submission.

“I accept your offer,” he told her. “And I’m changing my estimate to one week.”

• • •

SHIT fire, Shawn was in trouble. She was breathing a little too raggedly from both agitation and arousal. It was entirely possible that she was in way over her head with Rhett. Because her impulsively tossing a drink in his face didn’t seem to anger him one bit. If anything, he seemed even more confident, more pleased with her. His movements were slow and methodical, and he was still resting a hand between her legs and she was letting him.

But he knew precisely how to push her buttons—all of them, good and bad.

“Is that a challenge? A bet?” God, she needed to work on her inability to back down from a dare. It was going to land her in a marital bed with Rhett Ford, her ankles over her head.

Though maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, now that she considered her vagina. Nope. Not such a bad thing.

The corner of his mouth tilted up in a slow smile. “Yes. I’ll marry you, and we’re going to have sex within the first seven days, because you want to.”

“I can resist you,” she bluffed. “One week is nothing.” Then because she couldn’t look him in the eye when she was so blatantly lying, she turned and flagged down the bartender. “Could we have more napkins? My whiskey seems to have spilled on my friend’s face.”

The bartender nodded. “I saw that. We’re not going to repeat that, are we? Or I might have to ask you to leave.”

She was going to get kicked out of Milt’s, a dive if ever there was one? The thought almost made her laugh. “No, there will not be a repeat. I was just making a point.”

“We’ll take another round,” Rhett told him. “We just decided to get married.”

The bartender looked more than a little skeptical as he handed a napkin to Rhett, who swiped it over his damp face. “Huh. Well, good luck with that. Methinks you’re going to need it.”

Rhett laughed. “Probably. But she’s worth it.”

He was almost convincing. Shawn was suddenly amused at the absurdity of the whole situation. If she had to do something so insane, she might as well enjoy what she could get out of it.

“I won’t have sex with him until we’re married,” Shawn said. “And then not for seven more days. Isn’t he devoted?” She shared a grin with Rhett, thinking that the truth was way more ridiculous than the story she was spinning.

And she was definitely going to have sex with him and reap the benefits of this odd arrangement. After seven days. There was no way she was losing this bet. But after that? All bets were off and all beds were on.

“Very devoted. To her physical and mental well-being.” Rhett leaned closer to her, violating her personal space in a way that was territorial. “Sometimes I know what she needs even before she does.”

He was talking about sex again, clearly, and her nipples knew it. Damn it, how did he manage to do that so easily? She moistened her lips and tried not to pant in anticipation. They needed to get married soon because the seven-day grace period was going to be hell on her. So the sooner they got to it, the sooner she could be feeling his touch everywhere.

Which was the most ass-backwards logic she’d ever used in her entire life, but there it was.

“If you don’t mind my saying, I think y’all are fucked up,” the bartender said. “Relationships don’t work when you’re playing games.” Then he promptly walked away, clearly wanting out of their conversation.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Rhett told her, nudging her knee with his. “I’ve always enjoyed Follow the Leader. That usually works for me. If I’m the leader.”

“You’re a very dirty boy, Rhett Ford. But didn’t your mother teach you that you can’t always get what you want? I think I’m the leader in this case.” They were playing games, definitely. But what difference did it make? It wasn’t going to be a real marriage, and they might as well enjoy the sexual tension strung out between them.

She was going to save the track and get some action.

After seven days.

If they were really doing this. Were they really doing this?

Her cheeks felt hot at the very idea.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to make threats or demands,” he told her. “You are, in essence, the damsel in distress, and I’m rescuing you. You can’t be nagging me about my dragon-slaying techniques.”

That doused her libido quite effectively. “You’re no hero. You’re a hired mercenary, remember? I’m not in your debt, emotional or otherwise, when I’m paying you a hundred grand.”

His hand fell off her leg, and he sat back so quickly the air around her actually cooled. Despite her annoyance, she found herself regretting his retreat. Which meant it really was a good thing he had distanced himself. She couldn’t afford to want anything other than to save the track from being sold, and she needed to remember that.

“Let’s get one thing straight, or I’m not doing this,” he said, words slow and determined. “When we’re in public, I play the role of your legitimate husband, and yes, then I’m your mercenary. Your hired hand. But when we’re alone in your place, what happens between us has nothing to do with money and nothing to do with any of the legalities or any contract I signed. It’s strictly about what you and I both want. If you can’t keep the money out of the bedroom, then there’s no deal.”

Shawn sat stunned by his vehemence. She hadn’t meant that she would be tossing the payoff in his face every time he hit on her. In fact, that was the opposite of what she wanted. It would be profoundly awkward to be thinking about how much money she was paying him while he was between her thighs.

“I don’t want that either,” she assured him. “I agree entirely that if anything happens between us, we keep it totally separate from our business arrangement.” If she stopped to think about it, she would have to admit that doing that would be damn near impossible, but she just refused to think about it. There was too much at stake to worry too much about the finer points.

He gave a slow smile that made her wish his hand were still between her thighs. “Then we have a deal. Get over here and seal it with a kiss.”

Shawn gave a nervous laugh. Because she was going to do this. And because she wanted to do this. It was a smart business decision. It was a monstrously stupid personal one. But that basically summed up her life over the last decade—she could run a business, but she had no clue how to handle men.

Maybe that’s why Rhett was so damn appealing. She didn’t have to handle him. He wanted to handle her, and he gave step-by-step instructions on how to do it.

So she shifted her butt on her stool, inching forward, maneuvering between his open legs, her right hand gripping the bar top. Her lips parted in anticipation and she watched him as she leaned, watched the way he watched her, his stare never wavering, his eye contact so complete, so intense, it was instinctive to look away. But she didn’t. She forced herself to continue, even when she wanted to drop her gaze to her lap in confusion, view him under the demure protection of her eyelashes and a tilted head.

When she was close enough for him to reach for her without stretching, he did, putting the palm of his hand firmly on the back of her head and drawing her to him, with a commanding, but not harsh, pressure.

Then they were kissing. It wasn’t a kiss. It was kissing. It wasn’t tentative, or curious. The minute their mouths met, it was like they’d been there before many times, and both wanted more. Shawn had thought kissing was pleasant before, that it was a nice gesture of affection, or a precursor to the passion of sex. But never had she known that it could be this—a hot, wet explosion, an all-consuming tangle of tongues and desires, her breath ragged and desperate, his hand digging into the remains of her bun, yanking her hair harder with each passing second.

Just when she was reaching for him, wanting to slip her arms around his neck, wanting to snuggle in closer to brush her body against his, he seemed to sense her need and let her go so quickly she almost fell off her stool. Rhett stared at her, panting, his eyes hooded, expression unreadable. She stared back, unsure what to say, wanting to regain the upper hand, but feeling too confused, too aroused, to form a coherent sentence. She knew if she tried to speak, she wouldn’t be able to achieve the casual nonchalance she wanted to project. He would hear her nervousness.

Because he had made her nervous. Afraid that she might lose the bet. Afraid that she might lose even more than that before the six months of living with him was out.

What she really wanted to do was say something funny that would break the intimate spell between them, but she couldn’t think of a damn thing to say, which further confused her.

She settled on, “What date are you free to get married?” It was businesslike, efficient, and her voice only wobbled a little on the last word. The M word. Her stomach flipped like a pancake. She had not been a girl who had fantasized much about her wedding, but she had assumed that she would at least want to get married, not be terrified.

But hearing herself ask him the question like she was an employer asking when a new employee could start work, she felt significantly better. She could handle this.

“We’ll get married this Friday, which gives your lawyer time to draw up the papers. Then we’ll have a party to celebrate on Valentine’s Day,” he told her. “It will make it seem like a romantic elopement, totally legit. And you can wear sexy red lingerie on our wedding night. I prefer garters and corsets.”

He never ceased to amaze her with his arrogance. Or the fact that he was right about the dates. Both made total sense. But if she agreed, she was feeding his ego. “Oh, really? I agree with the elopement nonsense. But you can forget the corset. I’m not trussing myself up like a Victoria’s Secret model for you, because I won’t be having sex with you.”

Rhett reached out and ran his thumb along her bottom lip. Shawn wanted to jerk away, but she didn’t want to look petulant. Besides, it was causing her to shiver in places she hadn’t even known she could shiver.

“We already placed that bet—you don’t need to reiterate it.” He shrugged. “I’ll buy you the lingerie and we’ll see who wins.”

Shawn calculated four days until the wedding and seven after it to be the victor. Holy hell. It was going to be the longest eleven days of her life.

She was screwed. Quite literally.

CHAPTER

FIVE

“ARE you sure you want to do this?” Shawn’s lawyer asked him point blank in his stuffy office loaded down with mahogany furniture. Rhett didn’t like rooms like this—it was dark and oppressive and formal. It made him long for the acreage of his parents’ property, or the freedom of being behind the wheel on the track.

Clinton seemed like a nice enough sort of guy, and he was clearly concerned about Shawn’s well-being. It was obvious he wasn’t buying their sudden desire for marriage, when four days earlier Shawn had told him she wasn’t dating anyone.

“I’m sure,” Rhett told him confidently, just wanting to sign the paperwork and get the hell out of there.

He’d thought of virtually nothing else for the last seventy-two hours, and he hadn’t changed his mind. He needed the money, otherwise he was going to have to give up driving a car after this season. He knew that. He also knew that he and Shawn collectively could generate attention and media and create a buzz for the track this year, guaranteeing greater success for her and him both. At the end of the year they would both walk away with their dreams secured. It was win-win. Plus, he would have potentially months to explore a sexual relationship with Shawn. After that kiss the other night, there was no way he was going to deny himself that pleasure.

Clinton sighed. “Alright. I guess I can’t gainsay Shawn at this point. She’s technically doing exactly what her grandfather wanted her to do. I swear if he wasn’t dead, I’d kill him myself for doing this to her.”

It was nice to see that Shawn inspired such protectiveness. Rhett understood the feeling, and he’d spent very little time with her so far. They had only spoken briefly since her unexpected proposal the other night, and it had only been about managerial details, like when they would tell their families and when he would move in to her apartment. And where she actually lived so he knew where to move to.

“I think Shawn is going to be just fine. You don’t need to worry about a woman as savvy and strong as she is,” he told Clinton. He meant it. Any woman who was willing to go through with a fake marriage to keep her business was tenacious as hell.

“Just don’t run around on her and embarrass her,” Clinton said, giving Rhett the stink eye.

“I have no intention of running around on her.” He didn’t. If he was working up an appetite at home, he fully intended to eat there as well.

“Guess there’s nothing to do then but sign on the dotted line.” Clinton pointed to the bottom line of the contract Rhett had already skimmed and handed him a pen.

Rhett signed his name with a flourish. Rhett B. Ford. Done.

He shook Clinton’s hand and left the office, feeling pretty damn pleased with himself.

Then he called his brother Nolan. “Hey, bro.”

“Hey, what’s up?”

“You busy on Monday?” It was their day off from racing, usually their only one.

“Not particularly, though I was planning to sleep in. Why?”

“I need you to help me move.” Rhett crossed the parking lot and beeped his truck open, unable to prevent a grin. He enjoyed shocking his brother. There was just something really damn fun about it.

“What? Where the hell are you moving to? You just took that place over from me. God, are you moving back in with Mom and Dad? That’s lame.”

“No. I’m moving in with Shawn.” He was going to save the whole marriage thing until after the deed was done, but he did need to get the muscle lined up for moving day, or he was going to be trying to carry a couch by himself.

There was dead silence on the other end. Followed by, “What the fuck are you talking about? You just met Shawn like five minutes ago!”

“We met on Saturday, technically,” he said cheerfully.

“You’re kidding me right?”

“No. There’s just something about her. She blew me away.” She had. That wasn’t a lie.

“But you’re not impulsive. You don’t attach easily.”

“That’s just Mom’s opinion. I actually attach extremely easily.” Which might concern him if he stopped to think about it. He chose not to. “Just save your opinions and psychological analysis and show up on Monday, okay?”

“Does Mom know?”

“Not yet. Don’t worry, I’ll tell her before Monday.”

“Jesus Christ, Rhett. She’s going to flip her fucking wig.”

“She can handle it. She handled nine kids. I’ll talk to you later. I have plans with Shawn in twenty minutes.” To get married.

Shawn was pacing in the courthouse hallway when he arrived, a gift bag in his hand, a ring box tucked in his coat pocket.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” she blurted, then seemed to be annoyed with herself for admitting that. “Anyway, how did it go with Clinton? He e-mailed me last night that everything was in order with your background check.”

“Yep. We’re good to go.” He pulled the ring box out of his pocket. “For you.”

Her eyes widened. “You bought a ring? Holy crap, you didn’t have to do that! I figured we’d just get cheap bands from Walmart.”

“So I can look like a tightwad? Screw that.” If everyone thought it was legit, he didn’t want to look like an ass. Besides, when he had walked into that jewelry store, he had wanted to buy something delicate and beautiful for Shawn, something that went with the elegant grace of her long fingers and her fair skin.

There was something about Shawn’s features that intrigued him endlessly. She was strong and athletic clearly, yet parts of her, like her fingers, her lips, her tiny nose, were so profoundly feminine that he couldn’t look away when he was with her. It may be a fake marriage, but she should be wearing a beautiful ring to match her delicateness.

Yeah. This was him not attaching. Fuck.

But when she opened the box and let out a gasp, it was worth it.

“Oh, my God, this is stunning. It’s so pretty, Rhett.”

It was vintage-inspired, white gold, and narrow, the band crusted in diamonds, meant for the elegant hand of an elegant woman. The fact that Shawn was that and a former driver and current track owner and racing enthusiast, made her just about the perfect package.

Too bad none of it was real and he was essentially a warm body she’d hired.

“Let’s do this thing,” he told her, because he found himself doubting the intelligence of this move. He was starting to feel a brooding mood coming on, and that wasn’t going to look good in the wedding picture.

“I like your wedding jeans,” Shawn told him with a smile as her eyes swept over him, the ring box closed again in her hand.

“Thanks. I even washed them before I put them on.” He owned exactly one suit, and he felt like a gigantic ass wearing it, so he’d opted out. He had put on a button-up shirt, though truth be told, it was wrinkled. Hey. It was Friday and two in the afternoon. Who was there to give a shit?

“How thoughtful.”

“You look pretty,” he told her truthfully, though the minute he said it, he hated how lukewarm it sounded. So he added, “But I wouldn’t have objected to some cleavage.”

She was wearing a narrow skirt, tights, and boots, with a red sweater. It was kind of officelike, but it was February and a fake wedding, so he hadn’t expected her to pull out all the stops either. But it wasn’t exactly screaming “We’re in love, I’m so excited.”

Rolling her eyes, Shawn told him, “You should be looking at the doughnut, not the hole.”

Say what? Rhett got an erection instantly just thinking about her hole. “Do not say things like that in public. Seriously. I mean it.”

Her expression took on a mulish quality. “You can’t tell me what to say. It’s a free country.”

“It’s also illegal to have sex in a hallway, so unless you want me to shove you into the restroom and fuck you against the stall wall, I suggest you not talk about your hole or your creamy edges.” A man could only take so much. Surely she could understand that.

Her eyes widened. “Why do you have to be so gross about it?”

That made the tension in his shoulders ease just a little. Shawn was clearly deluding herself if she actually believed she thought it was crude. The truth was, she liked it when he was honest and straightforward about his lust. It was there in her body language, the way she leaned in toward him, the way her breath caught. The tightness of her nipples beneath her sweater.

“Your disgust isn’t even remotely convincing,” he told her. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to be done with the ceremony and back at her place. He was convinced he could get her to let him inside her with just a little coaxing.

Her knuckles were white on the ring box. “Are we sure we want to do this?”

No. He really wasn’t.

Marrying Shawn might be akin to opening Pandora’s box. It might let out feelings, sexual and otherwise, that he wouldn’t be able to contain again.

“Are you getting cold feet?” he asked, because it bothered him more than he cared to admit that she might bail. “Runaway bride does make for an interesting end to our short-lived relationship. Met me to left me, all in one week.”

Her response was as predicted. Shawn bristled. “Of course I’m not bailing! The track means everything to me. Everything.”

“Then let’s go.” He took her hand firmly in his. “Repeat after me: I do. That’s all we need.”

Shawn looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear. “I do. Don’t I?”

It almost made him laugh. He led her down the hallway and through the glass doors to the reception area to let the clerk know they were there. “Do you have the marriage license?” he asked her.

“Yes.”

Five minutes later they were married. It was easier than renewing his driver’s license. Easier even than getting a flu shot, and for the most part, less painful.

Rhett looked down at Shawn, gauging her mood as he leaned down to kiss her. She looked like she’d hit the wall at Talladega at one hundred and forty miles an hour. Stunned. But when he brushed his lips over hers, she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him like a wet kitten.

It was a convincing embrace.

“You okay?” he murmured to her.

That snapped her out of her terrified fog. She said defiantly, “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? This was my idea.”

“Excellent.” Rhett turned to the clerk. “Can you take our picture with my phone?” He wasn’t sure why it seemed important. It just seemed like someone would ask at some point if they had proof of the ceremony. Or maybe he just wanted a picture of them. He handed her his phone from his pocket and showed her the button to push.

“Sure. Say ‘wedding night!’”

Shawn dutifully repeated it as they smiled at the camera. But Rhett just held her hand, his finger brushing over the ring he’d slipped on her, and tried to smile. It wasn’t his strong suit. Repeating a cheesy phrase was definitely beyond him.

It was possibly the worst wedding picture ever. He was grimacing and Shawn looked like she was being held prisoner by a madman and forced to pretend otherwise.

Shawn gave a nervous laugh as she peered down at the screen on his phone. “Wow. I don’t think that will be our Christmas card next year.”

“Probably not.”

Shawn suddenly seemed to realize how far away Christmas was and that they would in fact be married nine months from now if she wanted to keep her business. Her entire face leached of color. For a horrifying second, he thought she might hit the floor. But she rallied. She thanked the clerk and tugged him by the hand, hard, into the hallway.

“So, you’re moving in on Monday?” she asked as they headed for the parking lot. “I’ll make sure I clear some space for you.” She dropped his hand like he was a disease carrier. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”

Even though he had known she was going to try to ditch him, he hadn’t expected her to look quite so eager to get rid of him. But while he understood her desire for space, it wasn’t going to prevent him from angling for her time, and body. They were both feeling unnerved by what they had just done—hell, they’d gotten married—but what better way was there to ease that tension than by spending the rest of the afternoon in bed together?

“I want to see you tonight. Say ‘wedding night,’” he said as they came to a stop next to her car, giving her a genuine smile.

“I was planning on meeting Eve and my other girlfriends for a drink, to tell them our wonderful news.”

Sarcasm wasn’t a good look for her. It suited Eve more so than Shawn.

“Oh, yeah? Where at?”

“That Mexican place on 150.” Then she got suspicious. “Why?”

“Just being polite, and trying not to be jealous of your friends,” he told her, striving for casual. She didn’t need to know that he was just as tenacious as she was. She didn’t know that he had no intention of letting her walk away that easily. He dropped the gift bag in her lap. “For you.”

Then he leaned forward and kissed her lightly. “My ring looks good on your finger,” he told her, then opened her car door for her. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

Shawn frowned. Her mouth worked, like she was going to say something, but then stopped herself. “Okay. Have a good night.”

“I intend to.”

• • •

SHAWN let Rhett slam her door shut as she turned the ignition to her car. Then he waved and walked away. Her husband. He walked away. Which was what she had wanted him to do, but now that he did, she suddenly felt discontent.

They had gone through with it. They’d gotten married, and she had a whole year to save the track from financial decay. A whole year to be married to Rhett Ford and have his green eyes boring into her on a daily basis.

She had to be totally and completely insane.

The ring on her finger felt foreign and monumental, a total Frodo moment, like it might change her forever. It wasn’t an epic Lord of the Rings journey, but it felt damn close enough to her. It was marriage and she had just defiled the institution by marrying for all the wrong reasons. The right reasons to her, but the wrong reasons in general.

She peeled back the tissue paper stuffed in the gift bag and promptly jammed it back in once she saw what was under it. Red lace. It was underwear of some kind, though she was choosing not to look too closely at the moment.

Her head hurt and she wanted a drink as big as her kitchen sink.

Instead, she took an Advil PM and took a nap before she had to face the book club girls at seven. Probably not how most women would spend the afternoon after tying the knot, but it worked for her.

By the time she arrived and ordered her first margarita, she felt more calm and in control. Capable of faking it.

“So what is this big news you texted us about?” Charity asked immediately as she peeled off her coat and plunked down in the seat next to Eve, across from Shawn. “I’m dying of curiosity.”

“Thank God, you two are finally here,” Eve said. “She wouldn’t tell me until you got here.”

Shawn sipped her margarita and wished she could tell them the truth about the situation. But Eve had a mouth the size of Texas and Rhett was her brother-in-law. She wasn’t going to approve of their motives for marriage, nor was she going to be able to keep it a secret. Her tirade would be heard in three counties. Charity was a gossiper, and she couldn’t be trusted either. Harley could keep a secret, but she would worry and end up with an ulcer tearing through her stomach lining. Shawn couldn’t do that to her.

This was her secret. Hers and Rhett’s.

So she had to be convincing.

“Obviously, you know that Rhett Ford is the guy we saw at the bar last weekend and that he asked Eve about me?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Eve said dryly. “Did you give him the go-ahead to call you or whatever?”

“Not exactly. He showed up at the track on Monday.”

“What?” Eve pushed her caramel hair back off her forehead and reached for a chip to dip in guacamole. “What a little shit! I told him it was your call. But he is kind of aggressive that way.”

“Oh, he’s definitely aggressive,” Shawn said, her cheeks heating up as she thought about what she could be doing tonight if she had just agreed to see him. But there was a principle at stake here. He wasn’t the boss of her. How mature did that sound? She mentally eye-rolled herself. “We’ve been, uh, spending a lot of time together.”

Not true, but it was the only way to explain what she was about to say next. Which she had purposely chosen to announce in public so that Eve couldn’t swear at the top of her lungs.

Eve’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t think I want to hear this.”

“I do,” Charity stated emphatically, leaning forward on the table.

Harley, seated next to Shawn turned and gave her a concerned look. “What is it you’re trying to tell us, Shawn? Did he hurt you in some way?”

“What? No, of course not.” Not yet anyway.

No. Never. She was not going to get hurt. If she got hurt, it was her own damn fault, not Rhett’s. She was the one who had coerced him into this ridiculous farce. Actually, if she got hurt it was her grandfather’s fault for setting up this bullshit game of emotions in the first place.

“We got married today. Isn’t that awesome?” Ba-dum-bum. She felt like a bad comic.

Three faces stared at her in complete silence and shock. The busy restaurant bustled around them, and they looked like they had been frozen in place by a witch’s spell. A tortilla chip was actually dangling from Charity’s lip, her mouth gaping open.

Any second now, Shawn would be hearing crickets.

“Isn’t anyone going to say anything?” she asked, when it became apparent they were not.

Eve exploded. “What? You cannot be serious! You just met him! Are you insane?”

Oh, yeah, she was, but Eve had no room to talk. Shawn had an ace up her sleeve, and Eve had dealt it to her. “How long were you dating Nolan before you got hitched in Vegas?”

That really had been insane, because Eve and Nolan had gotten married spontaneously without a legal contract, unlike her current situation. So who was the crazy lady here, huh? It made Shawn feel a whole lot better.

“That is not the same thing,” Eve said indignantly. “I knew Nolan for two years before we started dating.”

Shawn snorted. “You probably said hello to him in passing once a week. You did not know him at all. You just happened to know who he was.”

“What . . . how . . . ?” Harley sputtered and reached for her wineglass. “What prompted you to go get married today, a Friday, in the afternoon? I mean, are you in love with him? You must be, right?”

Love? Hardly. Shawn didn’t even believe in love at first sight. Her triumph at besting Eve’s argument was short-lived.

Charity answered before she could. “Of course not! There’s no way. It’s lust, pure and simple. He must be hung like an ox.”

Well, now that was slightly insulting. The assumption that she would get married based purely on the size of a man’s penis made her seem profoundly shallow. She might get married for business reasons, but not for penile size. Sheesh. Give a girl some credit.

“We are in love. Desperate, maddening, cannot-be-explained love. I mean, seriously, ladies, he is seven years younger than me and not my type at all, but sometimes, you just get swept up off your feet.” And hand her a fucking Oscar, thank you very much.

“Yeah, and onto your back,” Charity insisted.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” was Eve’s opinion. “My mother-in-law is going to shart herself. Both her precious sons eloping in the same year. I hope like hell you and Rhett know what you’re doing.”

Not a clue. But fake it till you make it. “I’m not going to worry about it. None of it. People’s opinions don’t matter when you’re happy.” She almost choked on her own cheesiness, but she forced it out.

“And when it all goes south, you just get divorced. No biggie,” Charity said cheerfully.

Her thought exactly, which suddenly made her sad. Was she cynical about relationships? She hadn’t thought so, but maybe she was. Her own father was a douchebag, and her flaky mother had run through a string of lousy boyfriends over the years, so maybe Shawn had gotten used to looking at relationships with expiration dates on them. Was it so impossible to think that marriage could last? Eve and Nolan had started off with an impulsive and improbable beginning, and they seemed quite happy.

“Don’t be a Debbie Downer,” Harley told her twin.

Eve looked torn. “I want to be supportive. I do. I mean, damn it, you’re right. Was it really that different with me and Nolan? But . . . you and Rhett? For real? He’s such a demanding brat.” She leaned forward on her elbows, studying Shawn carefully. “Are you happy?”

“Yes,” she said truthfully, because she was. She was scared. Nervous. But she was happy. Hamby Speedway was still hers and she was going to make a success out of it. That was all she had ever wanted. She was also going to have an orgasm, or multiple ones, in a week or so. Rhett looked like he could put some air in her tires, and she was looking forward to that. So, yeah. She was actually good, now that she thought about it, even as fears and moral implications stewed in the back of her brain. “And I don’t think he’s a brat at all.” Demanding, perhaps. But he was always very honest and straightforward, and she respected that.

“Rhett looks pretty damn happy, too,” Charity said, pointing to the doorway. “Here he comes with Nolan.”

What? Shawn twisted toward where Charity was gesturing. Yep. That was Rhett, looking sexy as hell in his wedding jeans, which cupped his buns quite nicely, she might add. Nolan, whose nostrils were flaring in agitation, walked in behind him. What the hell were they doing there?

“I would say ‘smug’ is a better word for it,” Eve said. “Rhett does smug well.”

That he did. Shawn felt the now-familiar rapid heartbeat and hardening of the nipples she experienced whenever Rhett was around her. It was something about that expression he wore . . . not just the confidence he exhibited, but the way he made her feel, that he was looking at her, and only her, that made smug sexy.

But what he was doing strolling into La Ranchita was a mystery. She should have known he had a reason for asking specifically where she was going.

It made her uneasy.

Yet he was giving her a smile. He raised his hand in greeting and peeled off his coat as he approached their table. He leaned over and kissed her possessively on the mouth. Without missing a beat, he turned and asked the table at large, “Did Shawn tell y’all the news?”

Nolan was shaking his head as he gestured for the hostess to bring them two more chairs. “I would say so, given the looks on their faces.”

“Did you seriously marry my oldest friend in the middle of a Friday afternoon six days after meeting her?” Eve asked. “Because I just want to be clear about what I’m hearing.”

“I did.” With a smile for her, Rhett took the chair the hostess brought over. “Thank you, ma’am, appreciate it.” He nudged it in alongside Shawn, so that when he sat down, his leg was nice and snug against hers. “And there wasn’t even any alcohol involved.”

Just a legal contract and serious greenbacks. But never mind that. Shawn took another swallow of her margarita, then instantly regretted it, remembering the saying about tequila and clothes falling off. She didn’t need to lose her drawers and the bet tonight. It was a situation she had very little control over, this whole business with the track. So the bottom line was, she wanted to delude herself into thinking she had some kind of control over Rhett. By proving she could hold out on sex.

Yeah. This was all just brilliant.

“For the first time in her life, my wife is speechless,” Nolan said wryly as he sat down next to Eve on her free side. “But I guess congratulations are in order, Shawn. I have to say I’m more than a little surprised, but who am I to stand in the way of true love?”

There might be more than a little sarcasm in his voice, but Shawn chose to ignore it. If Charity or Harley had strolled in and announced they were married to a man they had just met, she was sure her reaction would be similar to the ones they were being given.

“Thanks, bro,” Rhett said. “Now I think you should buy me a drink.”

“I can do that. Anyone else?” Nolan asked. “This round is on me.”

“That’s it?” Eve asked. “That’s all you’re going to say? Your brother marries a total stranger, and you offer to buy him a drink?”

“I’m a total stranger?” Shawn asked, indignant at Eve’s choice of words.

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. It’s not like you don’t know I’m a decent person. What do you need to protect Rhett from, exactly?”

“Yeah, it’s not like she’s a gold digger,” Nolan joked. “Rhett doesn’t have a pot to piss in.”

Next to her, she felt Rhett shift uncomfortably. “Way to sell me, Nolan, thanks.”

“What? You’re already married. You were smart enough to lock her in before she figures out all your faults.”

Eve laughed. Her husband grinned at her.

Shawn wasn’t particularly amused. Rhett didn’t look like he was enjoying the stand-up comedy routine either. He was frowning, and when the waitress asked him if he would like a drink, he ordered a double shot of tequila. Holy firewater, amigo. Shawn looked at him in amazement.

“Maybe you shouldn’t order that,” Eve told him. “You don’t want whiskey dick on your wedding night. Or technically, tequila dick. But that just doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

She and Nolan both laughed again, enjoying their little shared humor at Shawn’s husband’s expense. She had to say, she did not care for that one bit. “That’s not a problem for my husband,” she said, and damned if she didn’t sound like one pissed-off wife, legit.

Everyone else must have agreed because Eve’s laughter cut off and Charity was staring at her wide-eyed.

“It was a joke,” Eve told her. “Truth be told, I don’t give any thought to your husband’s dick.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Nolan said.

“Are we having fun yet?” Charity asked, holding up the basket. “Chip, anyone?”

“I’ll take some,” Shawn said, reaching in and grabbing a massive fistful. She suddenly felt the urge to stuff her face before she said something that was rude and uncalled for to her friends.

Rhett’s hand squeezed the top of her thigh. He leaned in close to her and murmured, “Thanks for defending my prowess, babe. I appreciate it.”

She made the mistake of turning to look at him. He was closer than she realized, his mouth inches from hers. “Well, I can’t have people talking smack about my husband.”

Then she jammed a chip into her mouth to combat the salivating desire to kiss him in La Ranchita.

His hand came up and cupped her cheek. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he told her earnestly.

A warm wet pool of desire formed deep inside her. Did he have to be so sexy?

Harley coughed next to her. When Shawn looked up, she saw four faces staring at them, with varying expressions, ranging from horror (Eve) to envy (Charity).

“Is that your wedding ring?” Harley asked as Shawn reached for her margarita. The diamond band was glaringly obvious in the multicolored lights of the fiesta décor.

“Yes, it is. Isn’t it beautiful?” That wasn’t an exaggeration. It was a stunning ring, delicate and vintage-inspired. Oddly enough, she didn’t think she would have chosen it for herself, yet it fit her perfectly. She liked that it wasn’t showy or attention-demanding. It was something her grandmother would have worn, which made her feel a little melancholy. Her grandmother had died when Shawn was twenty, and she and Pops had enjoyed a fifty-year marriage.

The thought of their love and commitment had her reaching for her margarita again.

“It’s gorgeous,” Harley agreed. “Rhett, did you pick that out?”

“Yes. It just looked like it would suit Shawn.”

“Are you going to have a reception or anything?” Charity asked.

“We’re having a party, not a full-blown reception. On Valentine’s Day,” Rhett told her.

As he spoke, his hand covered hers, his finger stroking over the wedding band with a clear display of possessiveness that made her uncomfortable. What was he doing here, by the way?

“If you need any help, let us know,” Nolan said mildly, like it was perfectly natural for any of this to be happening. “We have the race on Sunday, obviously, but V-Day is Wednesday this year, so I can help you out on Monday and Tuesday.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.” Rhett looked genuinely touched by his brother’s support.

Shawn pictured this evening times ten at a wedding reception on Valentine’s Day, of all days, paper hearts and doilies barfed all over her house, congratulations, curious stares, and the knowledge that she was a massive fraud, and she just wanted to get drunk.

But when she reached for her margarita, Rhett actually moved it out of her reach. “What are you doing?” She stretched further, and he put his hand over hers to stop her progress.

“I just did a double shot of tequila. I think you should drive us home, not me.”

Was he fucking kidding her? “I didn’t tell you to take a shot!” And what was this about going home anyway? Whose home? She had fully intended to spend tonight alone with her rabbit. The vibrating kind, not the furry kind.

“But I did. So would you mind driving us home?”

His tone was even, but his eyes said something she didn’t understand. Shawn felt confused, miserable, and in desperate need of an orgasm. If she said yes, she did mind, she would just sound petulant. Besides, she probably shouldn’t argue with her fake husband on her wedding-night outing with friends. It would look a little sketchy.

“Of course I don’t mind.” Big. Fat. Lie. “Though I guess we should discuss these things right off the bat, shouldn’t we?”

“Communication is key to a successful marriage,” Charity said confidently.

“How the hell would you know?” Eve asked. “You’re not married.”

“So?”

They started to argue, and Shawn sat back, glad the spotlight was off her. An hour later, she was more than ready to leave and massage her cheeks out of their lockjaw from fake smiling.

But of course, that presented a different set of issues. Rhett held her coat out for her, and when she slipped her arms into it, he said, “Just let me get my bag out of Nolan’s truck, then we can go.”

He really was coming with her, and she couldn’t ask him what the hell he thought he was doing in front of everyone else. That it was manipulative and rude.

After hugging her friends and smiling and waving in the parking lot, she climbed into her car and wished for death. It would be preferable to this bullshit. Why had she thought she could do this?

This was the stupidest, most ill-conceived plan ever on the face of the planet, and she was going to be struck by lightning and die for lying to her closest friends. Either that or end up in prison after murdering Rhett. A girl was entitled to her cocktail, thank you very much, and if he valued his junk, in the future he would not do that. It was patronizing and it pissed her off.

She was going to have to establish some ground rules.

He got in the passenger seat and smiled at her. “That went well.”

Why did his smile disarm her anger? Maybe because he didn’t really smile all that often. When he did, she felt . . . special. Gag. The tension was causing her to lose it. “Not really.”

“I’m not really sure it could have gone any differently. All things considered, everyone reacted pretty calmly.”

Whatever. “Why did you show up there? And why are you in my car? You could at least give me a little warning, you know.” So she could have been somewhere else.

Rhett just gave her a very calm, very matter-of-fact shrug. “Because you would have tried to talk me out of it. Or you would have gotten way too nervous waiting for me to show up. And the truth is, no one was going to believe this marriage is real if we didn’t go home together tonight. What bride and groom don’t want to be together on their wedding night?”

He had a point.

Shawn threw her car into reverse. “You’re pretty damn good at this, you know that? Have you been fake married before?”

“No. This is my one and only time. So I plan to make it count.”

A shiver tripped up her spine, and it wasn’t from the winter temperatures. It was from anticipation.

CHAPTER

SIX

RHETT knew that Shawn was stressed out. He also knew that she was expecting him to hit on her and that if he did, she would resist. So he was going to sneak around and try to enter from the back door. Not literally. That would keep for a while. He’d give her a week at least on that one. No, he meant he was not going to approach the subject of sex head-on. He was going to come at it from an unexpected direction by trying to get to know her.

It wasn’t game playing. He was curious about her. But he knew she wasn’t expecting it, and it would help her let her guard down.

“So you said you have one brother,” he said as they pulled out of the parking lot. He probably could have driven—the tequila hadn’t really affected him at all—but better safe than sorry, and he had wanted to establish that they were a couple now in everyone’s eyes. They needed to communicate and act the part. “What’s his name?”

Shawn glanced at him, clearly startled. “Will. He’s an optometrist and he’s married. His wife is Kate. And they were married before the Prince of England and Kate Middleton, so it’s just a coincidence.”

“I never would have thought about the prince, trust me. I’m not one to follow royal gossip.” Any gossip for that matter. He couldn’t tell you who was dating who in Hollywood, and he didn’t give a rat’s ass. “Is he older or younger?”

“Younger. By two years. My mom and grandparents raised us. My father lit out when I was four.”

Her fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly in the ten and two positions, but it was clear she was comfortable with her car. She drove a stick, which was the only way to drive as far as he was concerned. “I’m sorry. That sucks. I have no respect for a man who can knock a woman up, but not stick around.”

“Me either,” she said wryly. “But I don’t remember him, so no big deal. My grandfather was a good role model. The only mistake he ever made was putting this dumb marriage deal in his will.”

“I guess we’ll just have to make the best of it.” He fully intended to. At the end of six months, he wanted to look back and say that he’d fully explored Shawn and their relationship, no matter what the end result was. If they had to act married, why not attempt to be married, in a manner of speaking?

“I guess so.” She glanced over at him at the red light. “Rhett, I should say thank you. I mean, I know I’m paying you, but this isn’t easy. It’s a big deal to tell people we’re married. To move in with me. I appreciate you keeping it together and handling the details. I’m a big-picture type of girl, and this is all a little overwhelming for me.”

“No problem.” It pleased him that she recognized he had been trying to pave the way for her. He wasn’t someone who got much credit for being thoughtful, because he didn’t smile and laugh and flirt all the time. Serious seemed to equal selfish to a lot of people, when the opposite was true. If he cared about someone, he was loyal, and he busted his ass to make her happy. He couldn’t crack jokes like Nolan, but he’d change your oil, wash the dishes, and make you come five times, all in the same night, and he thought that was nothing to sneeze at.

Shawn was already someone he knew he could care about. She was by far the least irrational woman he had encountered, and when she got angry, it blew over faster than a summer storm. The fury seemed to come and go in under five minutes. She didn’t whine, she didn’t cry, as far as he could tell, and she was honest, which was maybe his number-one requirement for a healthy relationship.

“Where are we going?” he asked suddenly when he realized they were heading out of Mooresville, not that far from his parents’ house.

“To my house,” she said, sounding bewildered. “Isn’t that what you wanted to do?”

“For some reason, I thought you had an apartment in town. I’m not sure why.” He had pictured her in a modern new-build apartment, with a perky little balcony in a complex called Symme’s Landing or some other similarly vague name. But he could see he had been way off base when she turned off down a dirt road.

“No. I live in my grandparents’ old house. I like not having the neighbors too close. Is that a problem?”

“Hell, no.” He was actually relieved. “I prefer this. I like having some space myself.” Aside from the fresh air, and the room to tinker on cars, it meant no one would hear Shawn when he made her scream in pleasure. It was perfect.

“The house isn’t exactly up-to-date, and it’s only two bedrooms, but it’s cozy. I like it.”

“My parents raised nine kids in a three-bedroom ranch. If the plumbing works, that’s the only amenity I need.”

“It does. The toilet may be powder blue a la 1950, but it works just fine.”

“Perfect. It sounds manly.”

“So what was growing up with eight siblings like?”

“Noisy.” Rhett craned his neck to see the house as they pulled up to it. It was a brick ranch with an aluminum awning, surrounded by trees. The garage was set back and had a dilapidated basketball hoop. It was a hell of a lot like the house he’d grown up in. “But I have no complaints. Being the baby, my sisters, well, babied me. I didn’t have to walk unless I really wanted to until I was about five, because there was always someone to carry me.”

She laughed. “I have a hard time picturing that.”

“Every picture of me under the age of three is on a sister’s hip, with a sippy cup or a pacifier or a lollipop in my mouth. It was a tough life.” Though until he was at least four, he’d thought his name was actually Rhettie-poo. His reality was bad, but at least not that bad.

“Apparently.” Shawn parked her car alongside the house and turned to him. “Maybe that’s why you grew up getting what you want. You’re used to it.”

“Maybe.” But he didn’t tend to think about the psychology of how he was raised. He liked to be in charge in the bedroom and that’s just the way he was. It didn’t require diagnosis. “Since you weren’t expecting me until Monday, I’m sure my room isn’t ready. I can sleep on the couch.”

That seemed to throw her. “Okay,” she said, but she looked troubled.

Exactly as he intended. He wanted her to invite him into her bed.

Rhett opened the car door and pulled out his bag. They walked the few feet to the side of the house, Shawn pulling back the squeaky storm door and propping it with her shoulder. He took the weight of it, holding it for her.

“Thanks,” she murmured as she shoved the wood door open and flicked on the hall light.

It was a typical ranch, with the side entrance opening onto a tiny landing with two steps up to the kitchen, and a narrow steep staircase straight in front leading to the basement.

Before she could step inside, Rhett dropped his bag on the gravel and dirt drive, and kicked the metal bar on the bottom of the screen door with his foot so it would hold the door on its own.

“What are you doing?” she asked, looking down at the propped door.

“Carrying you over the threshold,” he told her, no smile, just all serious intention. It may be a fake marriage, but that didn’t mean a girl didn’t deserve to have a little romance. He wanted her to feel comfortable around him, comfortable with her decision to have him in her home, her life, for six months bare minimum. He wanted her to like him enough to open her body to him and let him inside so they could both gain as much pleasure as possible from their arrangement.

“Oh, God, please don’t,” she said, her cheeks turning pink. “It seems so fake. Forced.”

“I don’t believe I asked you for permission,” he told her, reaching over and gripping her under her backside and lifting her into his arms.

She was light, but she shrieked and instantly squirmed and flailed. “Put me down!”

“I intend to. In your bed,” he promised. And that’s where he was going to leave her. Alone, aroused, wishing for his hard cock.

• • •

SHAWN really didn’t want to be in Rhett’s arms being carried over the threshold like a blushing and happy bride. But neither did she want him to drop her down the basement stairs, so she realized it would behoove her to quit jerking around. Given his spot on Evan Monroe’s pit crew as a gasman, he had killer biceps and excellent strength, but he probably didn’t work out by wrangling giraffelike women with thrashing limbs, so if she valued her skull, it seemed best to at least get into the kitchen before putting up a fight. Because she had to put up a fight to get out of his embrace or she was going to find herself in bed with him on top of her, and then how the hell was she supposed to say no to nekkid fun?

He wouldn’t ask. He would just start stripping her, and it was so damn hard to say no to him. It was like she was looking at a shaman or something, the way he stared at her so intently, like he was digging into her sexual soul. Saying no would feel bad, but she would have to, and really she just wanted to avoid the whole situation. But she could allow herself one tiny moment to relax and feel very feminine and very womanly captured in his rock-solid embrace. He was doing it—watching her, while his grip on her was firm. He smelled good, like skin and heat and nothing more.

When they got up the two steps to the kitchen, she didn’t bother to fight. It felt kind of good, actually, and why deny herself? “Do I get a sippy cup next?” she asked. Then realized immediately there was all sort of naughty directions he could take that question, regarding other things she could put in her mouth.

But he didn’t, surprisingly enough. He just said, “No.” But then he did add, “It’s bedtime, young lady.”

Oh, God, that shouldn’t have turned her on, but it did. She heard herself giggle nervously, and was appalled. She was a giggler, she had to admit, but Rhett wasn’t the guy you giggled with. He wasn’t going to laugh back.

Nope. He definitely didn’t. He just kept walking, in the dark, through the kitchen and past the living room and down the hall, like he knew the house. “Don’t you want to turn a light on?” she asked. “I don’t want you to trip.”

“I’m fine.”

“My room is the . . .” Room he was already going into. “How do you know your way around my house?” she tittered. Now she was tittering. Good God. Next she’d be simpering.

“Common sense.”

Of course. It wasn’t like all ranches didn’t have about the same basic floor plan. Shawn said, “Just set me down next to the bed, thanks.”

But he didn’t. He deposited her on her bed, brushing her hair back off her cheek as he bent over her, his hip close to hers, warm breath rushing over her face. Shawn waited, teeth clenched and shoulders tense.

“Can I use the bathroom first? I just need five minutes,” he said.

Now that wasn’t what she was expecting him to say, but it made sense. He probably wanted to brush his teeth. Not that he had bad breath, because he didn’t. But he probably wanted to before bed, and he wanted to dig a condom out of his bag, sure he was going to get some. Which he wasn’t. She put a stop to her pointless panicky thoughts and managed a casual, “Sure.”

“I can find it myself.” He stood up, the air around her suddenly empty.

He went into the hallway, partially closing her door on the way out, which was courteous. Shawn lay on her bed, forcibly letting her body relax, one muscle group at a time.

He was coming back, wasn’t he?

An hour later, it was evident he was not. She’d heard the toilet flush and the sink run, then there had been silence. Nothing but silence.

She had kicked off her shoes and gotten under the covers, but she was still wide awake, waiting for him to creep into her room and hit on her, so she could tell him no. Which she now realized wasn’t going to happen. So eventually she found herself doing the creeping, climbing out of bed and down the hall to the living room to confirm what she knew—that he wasn’t coming into her room. There he was, fast asleep on the couch, in his jeans and no shirt, on his side, hands tucked under his cheek in a way that was pretty damn cute. The bare chest wasn’t cute, it was smoking hot. She cursed the fact that he’d left the light on by the back door, because otherwise she wouldn’t have seen what she was missing.

And Lordy be, wasn’t he cold? It was February after all.

Shawn took the USC afghan off the easy chair and slowly, carefully draped it over Rhett.

“Thanks,” he murmured, eyes closed.

She jumped. Shit, he was awake. Sort of. His breathing was even and steady, like he was already sliding back into sleep. Shawn stood there for a minute, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did, so she went back to bed. Alone. And cursed herself to the ends of the earth for falling for another double-dog dare.

It was cold and lonely and very unsatisfying in her queen-size bed solo.

• • •

IT didn’t help when Rhett came in at seven in the morning, fully dressed, and gently shook her awake. “Shawn.”

“What?” she asked crossly, running on about zero sleep, her dreams plagued with erotic images of Rhett stroking her to orgasm, over and over.

“I have to go to work. I just called a cab. Are you going to be home later when I get back, or can you leave the door unlocked for me?”

Oh, my God. Details. More effing details. They were killing her. “I’ll be home.” Masturbating, apparently, since she was even hornier now than when she’d gone to bed. “And I can drive you to your car if you want. You’re going to need it, obviously.” Even though she would rather walk through a fire anthill naked, she would get up and drive him. Right after she pried her eyes open. They felt slightly glued together, but she managed to focus more clearly on him.

He looked wide-awake and sexy. Bastard.

“Don’t worry about it, babe. I’ll have Nolan take me to my car. You sleep in.”

She tried to find something asshole-ish in any of that, but there wasn’t anything. Geez. He was making this so difficult. “Are you sure?”

He smiled. “Yes, I’m sure. See you later. And I’d love steak for dinner if you were wondering what to fix.”

That had her eyes popping back open. “Excuse me?”

Rhett actually laughed. “I’m kidding. God, the look on your face was great.”

“You’re not allowed to joke,” she told him, completely serious. “It’s out of character.”

That just made him grin even wider. “Go back to sleep, Shawn.”

He leaned down and kissed her, which made her squawk in alarm. She had saliva in the corner of her mouth, damn it.

Not that it mattered. It was a very brotherly sort of kiss. Or grandson to grandmother on her birthday. Coupled with his complete lack of interest in nailing her the night before, she suddenly felt very grumpy as he left her alone in her bed. What the hell was going on? Yes, she was fully intending to reject him, or more accurately fend him off for the next six days in order to prove her point, but the thing was, he was supposed to be making it necessary to fend him off. There was no need to fend, because he wasn’t trying anything. What was up with that?

Was she just no longer attractive to him? Did he see this as a purely business deal after all? The idea of being forced into celibacy for the next year was more than a little horrifying. Never mind that it had been a year since she’d had sex anyway, at least then she’d had the option of sex. But if Rhett didn’t want to diddle her, then she was going to be diddle-less.

That was not going to fly. Shawn shoved the covers back and decided she was going to brew some coffee, and then she was going to make Rhett Ford want her more than any woman he’d ever met in his entire life.

• • •

RHETT pulled up to Shawn’s house at six, exhausted and admittedly a little bit irritated. It had been a long day at work, juggling his usual responsibilities with having to repeat explanations over and over that yes, he had gotten married. No, he wasn’t an idiot. Yes, his new wife was older than him, and why did that matter? It had been harder than he had expected because he wasn’t really the kind of guy to share his feelings with anyone, least of all his coworkers.

What he would really like to do to turn his mood around was walk inside that house and bend his wife over the kitchen table and bury his frustration inside her wet and willing thighs. Only she was acting skittish and like she regretted this fake marriage, even though it had been her idea. It both insulted and hurt him, which just further increased his bitter mood.

There would be no easy conversation, no cuddling, no ball-draining endless nights in her bed. At least not yet. It was going to require patience and finesse he wasn’t entirely sure he had to coax Shawn into understanding this would all go a whole lot faster if they spent some of it in bed.

It had him wound tight, and he shoved the side door open harder than he intended.

What he saw in the kitchen was very possibly the only thing on earth that could have improved his mood.

Shawn was bent over the oven in a short dress and heels, pulling a couple of T-bone steaks out of the broiler. As he kicked off his muddy boots on the doormat, she turned. The front view was even better than the back. Her dress plunged in a V, and her breasts had been pushed up and together, like a couple of perky grapefruits in the grocery, on display perfectly. Just for him.

She smiled. “Oh, good, you’re just in time for dinner.”

Hello. “Well, then good thing I’m hungry.”

Fanning herself with the oven mitt, she said, “Whew, the broiler made me so hot. I think I need a cool drink.” She tugged her dress down lower, exposing enough cleavage to have his cock standing up to take notice as he went up the steps to the kitchen.

“Can I get you anything? A beer?” She picked up a cherry that had been used to garnish a pie—a fucking pie—and sucked the syrupy sauce off it, the plump fruit between her lips, a sassy glint in her eye.

Seriously? What alien had abducted Shawn and replaced her with this little flirt?

He wanted to ask her if she had hit her head, but the truth was, he didn’t really want the answer to that question. Whatever her game was—and it was clearly a game—he didn’t want to prevent her from playing. In fact, she sparked his competitive nature. If there was a game going on, he was bound and determined to win it. That was why he liked to be behind the wheel racing instead of on a crew. He liked to control the situation.

So he went over to her, still wearing his coat, and immediately gripped the back of her head with his hand, pulling her to him for a kiss, a hot, wet, tongue-plunging kiss that transferred the cherry from her lips to his mouth, where he bit it, then shared the sweet tangy juice with her.

Then he broke away and told her, “I stole your cherry.” He swiped the remnants of the juice that were clinging to her swollen lip and sucked it off his finger. “Mmm.”

“You didn’t even ask,” she said, her voice husky with desire. Her nipples jutted out prominently in her stretchy black dress, and her hair was loose around her shoulders. If he wasn’t mistaken, she was wearing more makeup than usual, her eyes carefully outlined in a charcoal gray.

Someone was trying to mess with him.

“You didn’t stop me,” he told her. “By the way, I like this dress. What’s the occasion?” He fiddled with the neckline, following the trail as it descended to her rib cage, his flesh brushing against the creamy exposed hills of her breasts.

“Just trying to get off on the right foot,” she said, leaning back on the counter. “We have to live together for a while. It would be better to do it in harmony.”

“It would be better to do it naked,” he told her, slipping a finger inside the dress to stroke lazily across her swollen nipple. “Pull your dress down, Shawn. Show me your breasts.”

“What? No!” Her cheeks pinkened from more than the blush she’d put on them.

Like he believed her indignation. “Why not? You clearly want me to notice them, otherwise you wouldn’t have put this dress on, and this bra that so nicely thrusts them out in my direction. So pull down the neck and let me really see them.”

“No. Does being so bossy work for you?” she asked, even as her hand fluttered up to her chest, her fingers playing with the fabric of the neckline, which was really more of a navel line, the plunge was so pronounced. “Because you’re very good at it.”

“Not really,” he told her truthfully, shifting his leg in between her ankles. “I haven’t met a woman strong enough to handle me yet.”

“Strong enough? Don’t you mean passive enough?”

He shook his head. “No. That’s been my mistake. I only scare those women. What I need is a woman strong enough to trust me, confident enough to enjoy obedience. I don’t want you to pull your dress down at my command and feel ashamed to do it. I want you to do it and be turned on by it, aroused by my demands. It’s a big difference.” His lust was dark and swirling inside him, a hot desire on his tongue, and he wanted her with an urgency that had him clenching his fists by his sides, his cock thick and throbbing in his jeans.

Her breathing had grown deeper, her eyes wide. “Oh. I guess I get that. But I’m not having sex with you tonight.”

“No,” he agreed. “You’re not having sex with me until I say so.”

She wouldn’t like that. At all. But it was true.

Then she did exactly what he had known she would. She peeled down her dress, taking her bra with it, so that her breasts sprang out, her nipples just barely in view. “Is this what you wanted to see?”

What she didn’t realize was that in her attempt to thwart him, to exert control, she had in fact submitted to him. It was immensely sexy.

She was also wearing the red lace bra he had given her, if he was not mistaken, which was deeply satisfying.

“Yes, that’s what I wanted to see.” Rhett just drank in the sight of her, color high in her cheeks, head held tall and proud, ripe breasts gloriously bare, a mere foot in front of him. If he leaned over, he could suck the taut bud up into his mouth and sink his teeth down on it, turning them both on with the sharp tang of her pain before he soothed her with his tongue. But he didn’t.

Instead, he kissed her mouth, a soft, gentle, worshipping kiss, but not of the fervor of their earlier tongue tangle. Her hands were trapped behind them, her breasts pushed against his chest between them. “Thank you,” he told her as casually as he could manage. “Now let’s eat this dinner you were so sweet to make before it gets cold. Where are your plates?”

He moved out of her personal space and opened a cupboard to look for plates, knowing she would be baffled by his withdrawal. Just like he wanted.

CHAPTER

SEVEN

SHAWN wasn’t sure exactly what had just happened, but it definitely wasn’t what she had intended. Yes, she had purposely dressed in an outfit that would get his attention, and she had made dinner to throw him off-kilter. The only one in this damn kitchen who was off-kilter was her. Somehow, he had effectively turned the entire situation to his advantage.

Now she was just sopping wet and aching to be taken by him.

She had proved to herself that he was interested in her, and wow, wasn’t that a satisfying victory? Not. He seemed to want her, alright. Wanted to torture her.

It wasn’t every day she flashed a guy. It seemed like it should be a little more noteworthy than “Where are the dinner plates?” But maybe that was just her.

“In the cupboard next to the fridge.” Shawn bent over again to retrieve the twice-baked potatoes out of the oven, hoping that Rhett was looking so he would see that she had logged a lot of time at Zumba and yoga classes to get these legs.

He hadn’t even noticed that she was wearing the bra he had gifted her with the day before. She was also wearing the matching thong, not that he was going to see it.

“I hope you like twice-baked potatoes and asparagus,” she said, using tongs to pull the broiled vegetables off the pan and onto the two plates Rhett brought over to her.

“I do.” He stood next to her, facing her, while she was facing the counter, which brought him in close and intimately. “Thank you again. I appreciate this.” And he tucked her hair back behind her ear, a personal gesture that made her want to step away, retreat.

But she held her ground, and she transferred potatoes to plates. “You’re welcome. So does everyone know we’re married? Did you tell your parents?”

He nodded. “They were more than a little surprised. And we’re the subject of gossip at the track. Most people seem to be of the opinion that you’re pregnant.”

“What?” Shawn carried the two plates over to her kitchen table and set them down. “I guess I’m not surprised, though nothing could be further from the truth.” According to seventh grade health class she couldn’t get knocked up from a toilet seat, and it wasn’t going to happen any other way, so she was safe.

“Good to know. I’d hate to think I was your cover for having an illegitimate child. I don’t really want to end up on the Maury Povich show. Rhett Ford, you are not the father.”

Shawn laughed. “Yeah, me either. Do you want some wine?”

“What I want is something that’s not on the menu,” he told her, even as he glanced down at his steak. “Though this looks very tasty.”

She shouldn’t ask. She knew what he meant. It wasn’t exactly subtle. But for whatever perverse reason that meant she probably needed therapy, she wanted to hear him say it out loud. “What is it that you want?” she asked, ignoring her own plate of food as she walked across the kitchen, her heels clicking on the linoleum floor as she went for a bottle of merlot.

Any other man she’d ever dated would have said, “You” or “Isn’t it obvious?” or something generically similar. She knew that wouldn’t be Rhett’s answer. He would give specifics, and they would make her wish she hadn’t asked at the same time they would turn her on. A lot.

She was right, and she did like being right.

He said, “I want you, Shawn. I want you out of that dress, strewn across this table with your legs spread for me so I can lick your pussy until you scream. Until you beg me for my cock. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Shawn froze in front of the wine rack she had mounted on the wall next to the fridge. It was a rhetorical question, she supposed, and she knew what her answer was, but if she said it, well, would that mean she’d lost?

Then again, what would she lose? A bet that had no stakes, really? Or her dignity? No. He wasn’t trying to strip her of that.

More likely she would lose control, that’s what she was afraid of.

It was going to be a very long six months if she was terrified the entire time.

So she turned around and very slowly, she nodded. “I probably would like that.”

He smiled. Then said, “Sit down, babe. I can get the wine for you.”

“I’m fine. I have it.” Turning away, Shawn used her automatic bottle opener to uncork the wine and poured herself a healthy glass of red. This was nuts. How was she going to do this for half a year? “So I suppose I need to make a key for you. And you are free to come and go as you please, you know. No need to feel like you have to check in with me. I don’t want to . . . interrupt your life.”

Rhett pushed his chair back and stood up, and when he came toward her, Shawn shivered in anticipation. She had a feeling he was going to pull her dress down and suck her nipple, which was really a perfect way to kick off any dinner, wasn’t it? But he actually walked right past her and stared at her, expression curious, as he yanked open the fridge and rooted around, before emerging with a beer.

“Is that what you would like? For us to be roommates, accidentally sharing the same space?” He shook the beer. “Should we have separate shelves for our food and take turns supplying the toilet paper?”

When he said it like that, it wasn’t particularly attractive-sounding. “I’m trying to be accommodating.”

“Let’s not make rules. Let’s not stress out. Let’s just feel our way through it.” He popped open the beer with his bare hand, no bottle opener needed, apparently. “Now come sit down and enjoy the dinner you were so wonderful to make.”

What the hell was she supposed to say to that? He really left her very few options. She was just going to have to relax and behave like they were friends. It was maddening. Confusing. Because now she really had no idea whatsoever what it was she wanted. Did she want to sleep with him? Did she want him to go away? Did she want to sleep with him, then have him go away?

Good question.

She had no choice but to sit down and eat her meat. The answers would come later or never. Much like her.

The interesting thing was that Rhett was an easy conversationalist. She wouldn’t have expected that. She wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like the guy could smolder 24/7. At some point he had to make conversation. Presumably.

Which again made her feel at some sort of disadvantage. So he could toss out sexual comments and invade her personal space and then switch gears and talk casually about the weather and tell anecdotes about his family. It left her no way in which to gain the upper hand.

Though he almost never laughed. Maybe instead of trying to play a sexual cat-and-mouse game by wearing a sexy dress—a game she would most definitely lose—she could disarm him by making him laugh.

Shawn mentally eye-rolled herself. What was she going to do, dress like a clown? Do stand-up? So a priest, a driver, and a parrot all went into a bar. He’d think she was a freak.

She was starting to worry she was.

She was also full. Pushing her plate back, she said, “When I was a kid I always wanted a huge family. I felt sort of ripped off that it was just my mom, Will, and me. At the very least I wanted a sister.” Truthfully, what Shawn had wanted was some attention, any attention. Her mom had checked out emotionally the day her dad had left physically.

“You can borrow one of mine if you like. Seven sisters is a bit excessive.” Rhett had eaten everything on his plate, including the potato skin.

“They’re going to hate me, aren’t they? For ‘eloping’ with you?” Not that it mattered, since it wasn’t a real marriage, but hey, Shawn liked to be liked.

“I doubt my sisters will care. They just want me happy. Frankly, they’ll appreciate not having their kids dragged into a wedding as flower girls and ring bearers and whatever.”

“How many nieces and nephews do you have?”

“Fourteen. No, fifteen.” Rhett frowned. “Wait. Then Owen was born. Sixteen?” He started murmuring names and counting on his fingers. Finally he said, “Hell if I know. You’d have to ask my mom.”

Shawn couldn’t even imagine having a family that big. “I’m surprised someone doesn’t go missing on a regular basis. That’s a lot of kids to keep track of.”

“Once when I was five, my parents left me home by accident. They took two cars to go to my grandma’s house, and both thought the other one had me in their car. I was in my room getting my Power Ranger to take with me, and when I came out, the house was empty.” He gave a wry look. “It was my Home Alone moment. Thank God they just went down the road, not to France.”

“Were you upset? Did you cry?”

“No. I watched TV and ate chips, grateful for the silence. When the phone rang, I answered ‘Ford Residence,’ feeling pretty badass about the whole thing. It was my mom, and she burst into tears and told me to lock the front door, that they were on their way home.”

“Aw, your poor mom. I can only imagine how worried she was.”

It wasn’t hard to picture Rhett as a solemn, curious child, watching everyone, not reacting with any fear. In total control of his emotions.

Shawn had never been in control of her emotions. It was why she was so willing to dive into stupid situations.

“I bet you were a sassy little girl,” Rhett said, draining his second beer.

“I was the kind of kid who got into a lot of scrapes. Climbing trees, crawling in drainpipes, trapping snakes. Yeah, that was me. Eve and I were a force to be reckoned with on the junior racing circuit.” The memory made her smile. “Picture two dusty little tomboys talking smack, and that was us.”

“I have no problem picturing that. But Eve is more the smack talker than you. I bet you got your way with your charm.”

She snorted. “What charm? Though after I heard Eve had kissed Junior Spaulding behind the grandstand at the county fair the summer we were thirteen, I decided my life wouldn’t be complete until I got Ty McCordle to do the same with me. So I carefully laid the foundation with clumsy flirting all week at the track.” She shook her head, remembering all the hair flipping and lip gloss that had gone into that summer. She had walked around looking like she’d dipped her lips in the fry oil.

“So what happened? He kiss you?”

“Of course,” she told him. Hey, she may be thirty-two, but she wasn’t above a little bragging still. “Though it didn’t go off without a hitch. He was chewing gum and it ended up in my hair. I had to use peanut butter to get it out, and for days I smelled like a peanut butter cup.”

Rhett laughed. “Smooth, McCordle. I wish I knew him better so I could give him shit about that.”

“Well, the peanut butter seemed to make me instantly desirable. Boys were crawling out of the woodwork the rest of the summer because I smelled like a candy bar.”

“Or maybe because you were the thirteen-year-old version of hot.”

“Or because they heard I was up for tonsil tango.” Shawn grinned at the thought of that summer. She had been skinny, flat as a board, and sporting braces. Probably not every teenage boy’s fantasy. Then again, she hadn’t looked much different from the other girls. “I was taller than most of the boys my age that year. They needed serious motivation to overcome the embarrassment of coming up to my chin.”

“I bet. That’s a scary thing for a guy.” He gave her a look, the one that usually meant she was about to be sorry she had taken that bet. “Did you wear cowboy boots? I always had a thing for girls who wore cowboy boots.”

“I might have.” She’d had three pairs that she had rotated on a regular basis. She’d been particularly fond of a red pair, but he didn’t need to know all her secrets. “I bet you were a father’s nightmare in high school when you came sniffing around his daughter.”

He didn’t deny it. “I was harmless. For the most part. Like now.”

Harmless as a rattlesnake. If you didn’t get too close you wouldn’t get bit. Otherwise, you were dead. “Uh-huh,” she said noncommittally.

Rhett stood up. “Can I get you more wine?” He collected her plate and took it with his to the sink, where he rinsed them and loaded them into the dishwasher. For a second, Shawn thought she might have an orgasm just watching that. A man who cleaned up without being told? Without bitching about it?

“No, I’m fine, thanks.” Shawn stood up quickly, wanting to do . . . something. The truth was, she wanted to be near him. How utterly lame was that? His presence was so powerful that when he moved away, the air seemed colder.

And she was clearly drunk.

But that didn’t change the fact that the dishes still needed to be washed. She’d left the detritus of the broiler pans on the oven and several mixing bowls in the sink. Edging him aside with her hip, she rapidly pumped soap onto a sponge. And actually, she wasn’t drunk at all, she was just acting like she was. She only wished she could legit use it as an excuse.

She started scrubbing like a madwoman, wanting the heinous chore over and done with. This was the downside of cooking a decent meal. It also didn’t help that Rhett was still next to her and he had suddenly decided it made sense to run his tongue along her bare shoulder. His tongue. On her shoulder.

“What are you doing?” she asked shrilly.

He didn’t bother to answer.

Of course he didn’t answer. He didn’t seem to think being polite was necessary when it came to sexual advances. Yet he cleaned up plates, opened her car door, and treated her with respect. How in the hell was a woman supposed to respond to that?

Well, Shawn’s response was to let out a little involuntary moan. She didn’t mean to. But that licking was so suggestive, so intimate, as his tongue traced the path of her clavicle bone up to her neck where he nuzzled into her flesh. How could she stay immune to that? Only a robot could remain unaffected, and hell, even a robot might short-circuit it was that hot.

Then he stepped back. “Here, I’ll rinse, and then we can watch a movie.”

On. Off. On. Off. He was killing her.

“Sure. Great idea.” Mr. Suckity-Suck. He was doing this on purpose, she was convinced. He would rev her engine, then stay in park. He wanted her to cave, to beg him to have sex with her. That was not going to happen, no matter what her lady parts had to say about it.

So she held strong as they sat on her sofa together, perilously close, his hand stroking across her thigh. He chose a thriller to watch, but it also had several steamy sex scenes in it, with lots of moaning and dewy skin, and arching backs as the hero of the movie pumped hard into his love interest. The woman was clearly enjoying it, given her pronounced moans and bouncing breasts, but Shawn wasn’t feeling it.

Or rather, she was feeling it too much.

It was almost impossible to sit still next to Rhett, where she could hear him breathing, could feel his thigh touching hers, and watch a couple having way more fun than she was. Shawn bounced her foot rapidly. Bit her nails. Cleared her throat. And finally jumped up.

“I need a glass of water. Can I get you anything?”

His smile was slow and suggestive, and while he didn’t say anything, his expression told her exactly what he was thinking.

“No,” she told him sourly.

He laughed.

He didn’t protest, but when she sat back down, his hand started at her knee and ended up under her dress dangerously close to the end zone.

Shawn pushed it back down as something exploded on the TV screen. Or maybe that was her resolve going up in flames.

He switched tactics. He shifted sideways and pulled her against his chest, so that she was resting between his legs, her butt nestled on his crotch. Yeah, that wasn’t helping. Because he either had a hair spray can down his jeans or he was happy to see her.

By the time the movie ended, she was a hot, aching mess, and he looked as calm as usual.

“I’m going to bed,” she announced, flipping the TV off. “I made up the guest room for you. See you in the morning.” Just in case there was any doubt that she was not letting him into her room, her bed, or her vagina. Tonight anyway.

He didn’t respond. He just watched her as she retreated to her room and closed the door with a sigh. Then she went straight to her nightstand drawer where she kept her vibrator. This was an emergency situation.

• • •

RHETT knew that Shawn was well aware of how much he wanted her. She was choosing to ignore that and her own desire. He was willing to let her. For now. Because it was obvious that she was an impulsive person, and all it would take was the right moment, a certain look, the perfectly placed touch, and she would forget about her irrational need to win a no-stakes bet, and she would open herself up to him. He could be patient for a little longer.

The payoff of having her come to him desperate and ready would be worth it.

He might be in a bit of blue-ball hell in the meantime, but he could handle that.

What he could not handle, though, was the realization that Shawn was in her room touching herself. He knew she was because when he walked past her room to the bathroom he heard the very faint sound of something battery-operated and her anxious breathing. Damn it, those walls were thin, and now he had an image he just couldn’t shake. Pausing, he listened for another second, which confirmed his suspicions, his mouth growing hot, cock thickening with need.

She hadn’t even waited five minutes.

There was something immensely satisfying in that. Not however, as satisfying as pounding her would feel.

Rhett knocked on her door. She gave a tiny squawk from her room, then called out in a shaky voice, “Yes?”

Peeling his shirt off, he dropped it on the hallway carpet before shucking his jeans as well. “I want to take a shower and I can’t find a towel.”

“They’re in the hall closet,” she said.

“What? I can’t hear you,” he lied, and he opened the door. It was a dirty trick, but then again, he’d never claimed to be a Boy Scout, and they were married after all.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked. “You can’t come in here!”

“I couldn’t hear you.” He moved closer to her bed, hiding his amusement over the fact that she was clutching her covers to her chin. But there was still the faint sound of her vibrator humming away under the blanket.

“Hall. Closet.” Her teeth were clenched, and her hair was looking a little wild.

Had she been rolling around under there, rocking herself onto her vibe? Rhett pulled his fingers into fists at the notion.

“What’s buzzing?” he asked her.

The hall light was strong enough to illuminate the horrified expression on her face. “What do you mean?”

“I hear buzzing. What is that?”

“I don’t hear anything,” she said, voice high, grip tightening on the comforter. Her gaze dropped down to his lower half. “Oh! You’re not dressed.”

“I was going to the shower. Are you dressed?”

“I’m wearing a T-shirt.”

Somehow that was even sexier than if she were totally naked. It meant she was secretly pleasuring herself in the dark from under the hem of her shirt.

It also meant he could flip that comforter back.

“Seriously, what is that? It sounds like . . .” And Rhett peeled the side of her comforter back, not exposing her, but exposing her little friend. Who was not so little. It was a healthy-size purple sparkly vibrator, with rabbit clitoral stimulation. Fuck yeah. “A vibrator.”

Shawn screamed, “Rhett! Get the hell out of my bedroom!” She tried to flip the comforter back over the sex toy, only he had a firm grip on it, and they engaged in a brief tug of war over the fabric before she gave up and changed tactics, grabbing the vibrator and stuffing it under her pillow. “Go. Away.”

He would, if he could walk. But he was afraid he might injure himself if he tried to move. “Shawn. I’m going to ask you a very serious question. Why are you getting yourself off with a vibrator when I could do that for you? We are married, you know. Married people have sex.”

She finally let her death grip go on her comforter. She wasn’t lying about the T-shirt. It was a ginormous hot pink number, with a pocket over her breast. It said, “I love Mr. Darcy.” Who the fuck was Mr. Darcy and did he need to be jealous of him?

“It’s the principle,” she told him. “I don’t want you to think I’m easy.”

Rhett raised his eyebrows. “With all due respect, sweetheart, I’m not sure how your date with the purple pussy eater is making you look disinterested in sex.”

“Uh!” Color rose in her cheeks, and she picked up her pillow and smacked him with it. “I thought you were decent enough to respect my privacy and not enter a room with a closed door! And didn’t your mother tell you not to mention to a lady that she is using a vibrator? It’s rude!”

That made him laugh. “That is not a conversation I’ve had with my mother, no. Generally speaking, we steer clear of politics and battery-operated sex toys in our chats.”

She hit him again, harder this time, the pillow making a nice thumping sound in the quiet room.

Rhett ripped the pillow out of her hand. “Knock it off.”

“Fuck you.”

“I wish you would.”

Shawn grabbed another pillow and hit him with it, right across his face this time.

“You’re really pushing it,” he told her, wanting to give her fair warning that he wasn’t above a pillow fight with a girl if she started it. She packed a serious punch to her swings.

“So are you.” Her eyes were snapping with anger and lust. She swung again, nailing him in the chin. The pillow exploded, a cascade of feathers raining over his chest and down onto the bed. Shawn’s expression changed to one of amusement, her mouth twitching as she started to laugh.

So she was going to laugh at him? Rhett grabbed the pillow she had hidden her sex toy under and hit her in the chest with it.

“Hey!” she said, but she was giggling now.

It was a look he liked on her. He enjoyed the way she couldn’t hold on to anger, the way she was so easily amused. The pillow fight wasn’t having quite the same effect on him. He was just getting more and more aroused.

She hit him again, grinning, more feathers escaping the hole in the seam of the pillow, coming up on her knees to get more leverage and put more bite into her swing. Rhett whacked her on her ass with his pillow. He could see her thighs but not her panties, the T-shirt still covering them, but it was enough skin, enough to know that there was very little between him and her sex, that her breasts were bare under the shirt, to stir his desire even more.

“You can’t hit me there,” she said, breathless, whacking his arm and sounding more aroused than indignant.

“You hit me in the face.” And so he hit her right between her thighs.

“Rhett! You can’t do that.”

He wasn’t sure how the rules went if she was allowed to do whatever she wanted and hit him anywhere, but he had restrictions.

When she raised her arms again for another assault, he pulled the pillow out of her hands and tossed it on the floor. “Now what?” he asked with a smile.

She went for a backup pillow behind her, but he tore that out of her hands, too. So laughing, breathless, she tried to strip him of the one he was holding.

“I don’t think so, little girl.” He kept a tight grip on it.

“Little girl?” she asked with a snort. “I’m eight years older than you.”

For which he was definitely grateful. She was hanging in way better with him than the younger women he’d dated.

“You’re right. You’re a woman. But you still can’t take this pillow away from me, no matter how hard you try.” He knew she would. He’d already pegged that aspect of her personality, and he found her tenacity admirable. And he had to admit, he enjoyed baiting her.

“Oh, yeah?” She lunged for him, and she was faster than he expected.

He almost lost the pillow to her nimble fingers, but he clamped down harder on it and raised it high above his head so that she had to stretch for it.

“Oh!” She glared at him in frustration, but there was a definite twinkle in her eye.

Then she did something he never in a million years would have predicted. Nor was he at all prepared for it.

She reached out with her left hand and stroked right across the front of his boxers, down the length of his cock. He was so shocked that he loosened his grip on the pillow. Which she snagged and then scooted backward on the bed, laughing, removing her hand from his erection.

Rhett was stunned. And turned on. And filled with a new respect for her quick thinking.

“Oh, so that’s how you want to play it, huh?” he asked, nudging his knee between her legs and pushing on the pillow so that she fell backward onto the bed on her back. He dropped his forearm onto the pillow, pinning her.

She squirmed, trying to push him off her, but he wasn’t budging. They were going to finish this to both their mutual satisfaction. Rhett leaned down and kissed her, but she turned her head to avoid it, so he ended up kissing her cheek. Frowning, he pulled back to gauge her mood. She was still giggling, a nervous reaction that she seemed unable to control.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“It just popped into my head that you’re about to go Dom on me, and it makes me laugh.”

“Why?” He didn’t bother to correct her that he wasn’t a Dom. Not technically.

“Because it’s funny. Sex is funny.” She looked up at him innocently, like she genuinely believed her words. “It’s so dorky when you think about it.”

“Not the way I do it,” he assured her most sincerely. He had never once thought of sex as dorky. Or funny. “Who the hell have you been having sex with that just the thought of me fucking you makes you giggle?”

Shawn’s eyes were a dark amber, but now they seemed lighter, almost glassy as she looked up at him, her chest heaving beneath the pillow. “I don’t know. I guess mostly I have buddy-buddy relationships with men. I don’t think I’m their sexual fantasy any more than they’re mine.”

He had to admit, that surprised him. No wonder she always looked at him a little nervously, yet determined. She must instinctively know that it would be different with him. Which it was going to be. He was going to show her exactly how she’d been let down by the men she had dated. Then again, maybe it wasn’t entirely their fault. Attraction was a mysterious thing.

“You’re my sexual fantasy. When I’m here, with you, in bed and naked, you can trust that you’re the only woman I’m thinking about, that you’re the only woman I’m interested in.” Something deep and intimate and territorial rose up in him.

She stared up at him, her smile smoothing out into something thoughtful, curious. “I want to believe you. But I also still want to giggle.”

It was a start. “Go ahead and giggle if you want, and get it out of your system. But trust me.”

That was, after all, the key to a healthy and satisfying relationship, particularly given his tendencies. She needed to trust him to pleasure her, to let him steer the ship. Rhett eased up on the pillow and watched Shawn, waiting for her answer. If she resisted, he would leave her bed tonight. He wanted her all in. He wanted her acquiescence, her eventual surrender.

He knew he would get it.

The question was just if it would be tonight or not.

CHAPTER

EIGHT

SHAWN looked at Rhett, unnerved by his calm, by the way he was doing it again—staring steadily at her, making her the entire focus of his attention. She’d never really experienced that kind of intensity. She had been telling the truth in that most of the men she’d dated had likely been picturing supermodels when they’d been in bed with her. Obviously Sam had, given his wandering eye. She had never been in love with a man, had never emotionally connected on that level with someone. She’d had laughs and good times and respectable sex. But never all-consuming, earth-shattering pleasure.

Never had she looked up and felt like a man wanted to consume her, to eek every last drop of desire out of her body and swallow.

Until now.

Did she trust him?

She did, though there wasn’t necessarily any logic to it.

He was borderline rude, definitely bossy, and determined to get his own way.

But he was also honest, straightforward, fair. And most important, he never pushed her.

So yes, she did trust him. And even if it meant she was going to lose a little face by caving five days early, a mere forty-eight hours into their marriage, she knew beyond a doubt that his goal was to make it worth it for her.

“Okay,” she whispered, well aware that she was giving in to a course of action that would change the way they interacted over the next six months. But she wanted this. She wanted him. Inside her.

Then he smiled and it was so beautiful, she sucked in her breath, her heart beating almost as loudly as the vibrator that was still buzzing a few feet away from her right ear.

The least she could do was try not to laugh.

So when he bent over to kiss her again, his arm pressing into the pillows, she tried, she honestly tried not to think about the fact that her arms were contained beneath white linens, like a mummy. Or that if she wiggled her hands, they would pop out the bottom of the pillow like T-Rex arms. She twitched, a snort coming out as she tried to contain her nervous laughter.

Rhett paused. “Really?”

“I can’t help it!” She took a couple of deep breaths. “Okay, I’m good. Sorry. I’m fine now.”

But she really wasn’t, because when he stroked his thumb across her bottom lip, she squirmed from need. Not sexual need, but the hysterical urge to reach out and snap at him with her teeth. Suppressed laughter made her nostrils flare and she knew she was about to totally lose it.

She was in no shape for sex clearly.

Rhett sat back, giving her a dark look. When he retreated off the bed, she was disappointed and annoyed with herself. Why couldn’t she be normal and artfully pose and come on to him? Why did she have to act like a ginormous goofball and ruin her chances of actually having an orgasm?

Sighing, she rolled over and turned off her vibrator. No sense in wasting the batteries, and she didn’t think she could go back to it with the right attitude once he was gone. But Rhett didn’t leave her room like she thought he was going to. Instead, he yanked open her dresser drawer and started rooting around. Hello. Her panties and bras were in there.

“What are you doing?”

He turned back to her, a pair of her tights in his hand.

Wait a minute.

He wasn’t going to . . .

Oh, but he was. Rhett crawled on the bed and lifted her head so he could put the tights behind her and around her jaw. For a second, she felt a flash of anxiety, but before he gagged her, he kissed her softly. “Trust me.”

Unable to speak, her mouth thick with saliva, she nodded. She’d never been gagged before, but it had certainly robbed her of the obnoxious need to snort with laughter.

Rhett wasted no time in tying off the tights so that she couldn’t open her mouth. It was a strange sensation, not nearly as vulnerable as she would have thought. It was actually sort of . . . freeing. She didn’t have to say anything. She could focus on the pressure of the spandex pushing against her lips and breathing through her nose. It calmed her down, and when Rhett slid his hand up her thigh and under her T-shirt, his lips caressing her neck with soft, seductive kisses, she had no desire to laugh. Instead, she sighed, relaxing back against her mattress.

Rhett brushed over her thighs, her belly, the underside of her breast, his other hand pulling stray hairs gently free that had been caught under the tights. His callused thumb moved across her cheek, tracing her mouth under the tights, his eyes on her facial features, like he was studying each inch of her.

There was something almost worshipful about the way he touched her, like she was fragile. Or beautiful.

She suddenly remembered that legally he was her husband.

It was a very, very strange thought.

The pillow had fallen off her chest and he hovered over her, his bare chest tantalizingly close. He was muscular, like any man on a pit crew should be, free of tattoos and covered in a light dusting of caramel chest hair. Shawn wanted to touch him, both to explore that hard plane, and to keep a slight barrier between them. To hold on to control.

But he clearly sensed that because when her hands came up, he shook his head, cupping them to push them back down. “No. Lie still.”

The question was, did she do as he told her, or did she do what she wanted? Given that she would still be chortling like a donkey if he hadn’t taken charge of the situation, she realized that while it went totally against her every instinct as a competitor and an independent businesswoman, there might be some value in doing as he said. At least this once, to see if it brought her a different experience, if it allowed her to experience pleasure from a new perspective.

So she left her hands at her sides where he had placed them and waited further instruction. The very idea of that actually brought a rush of warm desire to her inner thighs, the heat pooling deep in her womb. His hard masculinity trapped her beneath him, and though she couldn’t feel it, she knew his erection was mere inches from her. Part of her expected him to shove her shirt up and push into her hard, claiming her before she changed her mind.

But that wasn’t what he did. Instead he ran his hand up her thighs, slowly and steadily, slipped under her shirt to brush over her breast, then descended again. He caressed her inner thigh, but never moved over the front of her panties, and after three passes up and down the length of her body, Shawn no longer felt the urge to laugh. His feathery touch was pulling goose bumps from her skin, and she quieted down, her body relaxing as he coaxed a simple awareness of her body from her. She wanted him to touch her more intimately, to push her panties back and bury his finger deep inside her wet body. That was what she expected, an aggressive dominant approach of going straight for the gold. He would use his finger, then his cock to get her off, and it would be over and done in a hot burst of ten minutes of passion.

That wasn’t what he was doing, clearly.

He was taking his time.

And it was driving her nuts.

She couldn’t even complain because her mouth was covered.

“Your skin is very soft,” he told her, eyes trained on her.

It didn’t require an answer, though under usual circumstances, Shawn would have said something in response. She would have most likely made a crack about having a boyish figure or how winter brought on alligator-skin syndrome, both of which would have however unintentionally and however minutely altered the mood, never allowing either of them to fully surrender to pleasure.

It was an interesting realization. As she was forced to lie still, which was not her most coveted or easy position, there was no running commentary of words from her mouth to distract her. There was nothing but her skin and an awareness of her rising desire that she had never experienced before. She could feel the prickle of each goose bump rising on her flesh, hear the soft rush of her breathing out of her nostrils, smell his masculine scent as he lay over her, his knee wedged between her thighs. Rhett played a little with her nipple, just teasing his thumb and forefinger over its hardness, his lips brushing across the delicate flesh under her ear.

When he pinched her nipple, unexpectedly, Shawn was stunned at the sharp kick of desire that she felt acutely in her stillness, her body quiet, able to process in its entirety the sensation of pleasure through the sting. She had never kept her hands at her sides, had never understood that if she did, she would feel the distinct ache in her womb, feel the slow trickle of hot desire easing out of her to soak the front of her panties. Her breathing grew more anxious, and she reveled in the new experience at the same time she started to panic. Involuntarily, her hand came up to push against his chest, to pull off her tights.

Rhett pushed it back down. “Shh. Not yet. Just give me a few more minutes. But if you really want me to stop, I will. I won’t hold your hands down.”

Did she want him to stop? Given that his thumb was now stroking against the skin at the apex of her thighs, so tantalizingly close to her clitoris, she decided she could keep it together for at least a few minutes. If he didn’t tie off her hands, she could also escape. She did trust him.

As long as he didn’t demand she crawl across the floor, she was okay with what they were doing. In fact, she was more than okay with it, and that’s where the fear sprang from. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been quite this aroused from so little actual contact.

“Are you okay with this? I need your permission. Nod your head.”

So she nodded her head.

“Good girl.”

Rhett kissed her on the lips, the nylon tights between them. It was an odd sensation, one that made her yearn to feel his taste, his tongue inside her. She moaned a little, the sound muffled, her nostrils flaring. Then his thumb slipped under the satin of her panties and slid up and down in her slickness and she arched her head back, closing her hands into tight fists so she didn’t move them, reach for him. It felt so odd, to be a non-participant, but more involved and attuned than she had ever been. She wasn’t sure how that was possible, but as Rhett massaged up and down her swollen lips with his thumbs, his tongue teasing into her ear, she marveled at that reality. She was agonizingly turned on, and she could already feel an orgasm building, and from what? A few finger strokes? She usually required the launch-to-orbit setting on her vibrator or a man who knew how to use his tongue for extended periods of time.

She didn’t come from a single finger, nowhere near her clitoris.

Without realizing she was doing it, she started to squirm, wiggling her hips.

“No moving,” he told her, pinching her swollen labia, his stroking ceasing. “Or you won’t get my tongue.”

Oh, God. Shawn’s chest heaved, her breathing anxious and frantic sounding to her own ears as she desperately tried to quiet her body, the thought of his tongue motivating her to follow his directives. If his finger could do this, what could his tongue, his lips, his teeth do down there? The thought prompted a rush of liquid desire, soaking over his thumb, trapped by the barrier of her panties. She knew if she looked down, she would see the satin stained with her arousal, and he knew it, too. He was looking at it. He had bent over to study her, pausing to wait for her compliance.

It almost killed her, but she relaxed, letting her legs drop apart, keeping her head back on the bed.

Her reward was him removing his hand entirely. Aghast, she tried to cry out in protest, but the words were lost behind the tights.

But he shook his head in disapproval. “Trust me. Or I’ll leave you here like this, wet and aching.”

Shawn wasn’t sure she could do this. She didn’t know how.

But neither did she want to be left alone feeling like she was on the cusp of something, like she was about to be treated to intense satisfaction, only to have it denied to her because she couldn’t relinquish control.

It was an ironic paradox and she fought with her emotions, while Rhett startled her by pulling up her T-shirt and gently lifting each of her inert arms through the holes, then lifting it up and over her head, leaving her gloriously free and bare to his gaze.

“See?” he told her. “That’s what I was going to do. I wasn’t trying to torture you.”

Oops. Hey, how was she supposed to know? Shawn felt the cool air of her bedroom on her naked skin, her nipples pert, her breasts rising and falling rapidly with the urgency of her breathing. There was nothing between her and Rhett’s gaze, his touch, but the wet scrap of her thong that he had bought and she had worn to torment him. Funny how the tables had been turned.

He peeled the tights back long enough to surprise her with a hot kiss and a plunge of his tongue, before he was gone again, his mouth descending on her breast. She gasped, her eyes fluttering shut, her heels digging in to the bed, her hips squirming again before she realized she wasn’t allowed to do that. Knowing he would stop if she did, she immediately stilled her actions, sliding her hands under her ass so she wouldn’t be tempted to reach out and claw at his briefs to free his penis.

This time her reward was him reaching down and with both hands, snapping the strap on the side of the thong so that the satin front panel fell away, exposing her entirely to him. That was definitely worth sitting on her hands. The move was so hot she felt her mouth fill with saliva, excitement rushing through her like a shot of whiskey on a cold night.

It was just the beginning. When he bent down, he traced the inside of each of her thighs with his tongue, a teasing caress so close to the core of her desire.

“This is how this works,” he murmured against her skin. “You only come once I give you permission. If you’re getting too close, you can move your hand to tap my head to let me know you don’t have control over yourself and need a pause. But I will give permission, and you will come when I think you’re ready, so don’t worry about that . . . I don’t get off on leaving you unsatisfied. I want the opposite.”

Shawn wanted to protest that his rules weren’t particularly fair, but she didn’t want him to withdraw his touch, nor did she want to waste time worrying about particulars when he was essentially promising to bring her to orgasm.

“Nod your head.”

So she did, and the minute she did, she knew it was a delicious decision. His tongue shifted to her pussy, his fingers gently tugging her lips apart so he could lick her deeply and thoroughly.

Shawn almost came, but she remembered the rules and managed to tap him on the shoulder, frantic and disappointed all at once. She didn’t want to fail. She didn’t want to have to move. She wanted to play by his rules and win the game.

Rhett stopped, his eyebrows raised as he stared at her over her pubis. “So soon? Really? Damn, Shawn.”

Her cheeks flushed with the heat of her embarrassment. She didn’t like to disappoint. So she slowed her breathing, pulling her knees in closer so that the arousal wasn’t quite so intense, and relaxed her head back. When she had control, she returned her hand to behind her backside so he would know she could again accept his plunging tongue without careening into an unallowable orgasm.

It was then, as he first began to use two thumbs to massage her lips up and down that she wondered what the punishment would be if she did accidentally orgasm. And then she wondered at her sheer excitement at the thought of him taking his palm to her bottom and spanking her in retribution. Oh, God. Shawn fought to stay in control, fought to keep her body relaxed. Even if the punishment was sweet, she couldn’t unless it was purely an accident. She had to obey.

She had to obey.

It was the dirtiest, sexiest, hottest thought she’d ever had.

One that almost made her come.

But she wrangled herself back from the edge by biting her bottom lip behind the tights so hard that she felt the wet trickle of blood. The sting distracted her enough to prevent her from rushing over the edge too soon.

It was a wise choice, because in the next second, Rhett gripped her thighs and split her legs apart, his tongue flickering over her clitoris for the first time.

“Mmm,” he said. “So pretty. So swollen. You’re doing so well, Shawn. I’m very, very pleased.”

That shouldn’t sound nearly as exciting as it did.

But when he licked her clitoris again, before dipping his tongue inside her, she didn’t care about whether it made sense or not. She was too busy yanking her hand out to smack wildly at him so he would stop.

It was too late. His tongue was lazily lapping at her, and by the time he started to lift his head, she was screaming behind the nylon, and gripping his head with both hands so he wouldn’t stop. She came hard and fast, cramming his tongue into her with a ferocity that startled her. It was a tight, unsatisfying orgasm, a wild desperate constriction of her tight inner muscles, a single ice cube on a blistering summer day. It momentarily cooled her, but then simply left her wanting much, much more.

Plus, she had broken his rules and she knew it.

Instantly, as her body shuddered to its final completion, her pussy still aching and wet, she let go of his head and fell back, afraid. Not afraid of him hurting her, but that the punishment might be that he would deny her his erection plunging into her. Because she knew that she really, really needed that. That she would actually possibly beg if it was required.

This night could not end until he had filled her to capacity.

• • •

RHETT wasn’t surprised that Shawn had come. Exactly what he had wanted had happened—she had let go entirely. She had let go through allowing him to control the situation, and it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. He had a steel grip on his own desire, but his cock was throbbing and the taste of her was on his tongue. He wanted her, but her wanting him was even better.

But if he wanted to continue the way they’d begun, which he definitely did, he couldn’t just sink inside her and stroke them both to satisfaction. He had to follow through.

Knowing she needed some fresh air, he pulled the tights down around her neck. She gulped in air and before he could say anything, she was speaking an achingly sweet apology, her eyes wide in the dimly light room.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to . . . it’s just I haven’t had sex in a while, and it just came over me and by the time I realized it, it was too late and I already was, and then I didn’t want to ruin it, so I grabbed—”

Rhett covered her mouth again. “Shh. I know.” He brushed her damp hair back off her forehead. She was flushed, eyes darkened still with her desire. “But you do need to be punished. Do you agree with me? Do you need to be punished?”

She knew what he was asking. If she said yes, he would continue the way he had started. If she said no, he wouldn’t. Even if she said no, he would still make love to her, but in a more traditional sense. He wasn’t a masochist, nor did he want to leave her unsatisfied. But he would prefer it if she said yes. He would prefer it deep down into the very depths of his soul, and as the seconds ticked by, the agony of the wait gripped him in the balls and his throbbing cock, still trapped behind the cotton of his briefs. He hadn’t realized how much he had wanted this, wanted Shawn, until it all rested on what happened next.

Wanting to hear her speak her desire, Rhett fully undid the gag hanging around her neck, tugging it until it fell to the mattress beside her ear.

“Do you? Answer me.”

If she said yes, then he was certain Shawn was absolutely the perfect woman for him.

“Yes,” she whispered, her chest heaving, the sweet scent of her desire rising between them. She swallowed hard. “Yes, I need to be punished.”

Rhett felt a massive swell of satisfaction and desire, intermingling with each other. Fuck, yeah. She was on board, and he was going to make her damn glad she was.

Then she added, with a boldness he wouldn’t have expected of her at this point, “I promise I won’t come again.”

That was possibly the best news he’d ever gotten. He kissed her, a deep, worshipful kiss, his palm cupping her cheek, the feel of her mouth opening for him, tugging at him in a deep, intrinsic way.

“That’s perfect,” he told her. “Exactly what I wanted to hear.” He skimmed a hand down low, over the strip of dusky blond hair covering her soft folds. She sighed.

“You’re so beautiful, Shawn.”

She was. He liked her like this, flushed and dewy, color rising above her breasts, her lips parted on a sigh. He also liked her laughing, that saucy spark in her eye, that devilish glint. And he was going to like her on her knees.

So he pulled his hand away. “On your knees, facing the wall. Hold on to the headboard.”

Her eyes widened as the reality of his words sank in and she felt the loss of his touch. He thought she had the courage to go through with it, but he wasn’t sure. He was asking her to take a total leap of faith, to trust him. A man she admittedly didn’t know that well.

But he was her husband.

Though he wasn’t going to use that title now. He knew how far to push, and bringing that up would cause her to bristle. She was still an independent and feisty woman who ran a business. She would have a point where she would balk, and likely that would be it.

While she pressed her lips together and slowly rolled over onto her stomach, her gaze darting back at him over her shoulder, Rhett came up on his knees, debating whether stripping his briefs off would reassure her or scare her. He didn’t want her to think in any way that he would actually hurt her. So he left them in place for now and leaned over her shoulder and murmured, “I really won’t hurt you, Shawn. I’ll never hurt you. And you can always say stop at any time.”

Just to show her he was serious, that he would always be respectful, he skimmed her hair off her shoulders onto her back and trailed his fingers down the bumps of her spine, skimming her hips, and the perfect curve of her ass. Then he gave her a light smack. She jumped a little, but before he could get a second swat in, she was dragging herself up into the position he had demanded—on her knees, hands gripping the headboard.

Thick saliva filled his mouth and for a second, his vision actually went black as the enormity of her submission hit him. Then he smacked her perfect, tight ass, harder this time.

A tiny gasp flew out of her mouth, and her knuckles whitened as she gripped the bed more thoroughly. With his left hand on the small of her back, Rhett moved one knee in front of her, the other behind, so he could get the perfect motion. With each smack, he took it a little harder, the slap of his palm on her skin a loud crack of satisfaction in the quiet night. With each spank she let out a little cry and jerked forward from the momentum of his swing. But she always tilted her ass back up for him ever so slightly, whether she was even aware she was doing it or not. She took it, and came back for more, until her backside was a stinging red, and he couldn’t go much harder without leaving her with more than a lingering soreness.

Caressing the apple-smooth ass cheeks, he leaned forward and whispered gruffly, “Is that enough punishment, or do you deserve more?”

Shawn rested her head on her arm against the wall and gazed back at him with eyes limpid with desire, her breathing hitched, words a strangled whisper. “That’s for you to decide, not me.”

And with that, he knew that she was absolute perfection, and everything he could have ever asked for in a woman.

CHAPTER

NINE

SHAWN stared back at Rhett, her excitement and confusion and shock at her own response all swirling together and leaving her waiting in breathless anticipation for his next move. She didn’t understand why she was allowing his dominance, why she was so titillated at the idea of him allowing her pleasure, as opposed to her taking it freely, but she was. Rhett ran his thumb over her bottom lip, over the laceration her teeth had left when she’d torn into the flesh to prevent her orgasm.

“You’re right. It is up to me whether you need more punishment. But I think that shows I can stop here for now.” Teasing his hand over her bottom he slipped between her cheeks and stroked into her soft heat. “But stay in this position.”

It wasn’t an order, exactly, it was more of the way it was. He was in charge, and holy shit, she liked it. She did. She had of course in the past wanted the men she’d been with to take pleasure in sex with her, but she had never wanted to please them, exactly. The difference was subtle, but profound. She wanted to please Rhett, give him the greatest satisfaction possible.

The feelings were scary and intense, but the overlying pleasure was so great, her aching body so desperate for the feel of him, that she thought she might agree to do just about anything. The palm of his hand on her ass had stung, the pain a little more acute with each strike, but she had enjoyed it, no question. It had made her more aware of her skin, her body, the bounce of her breasts and the tightness of her clitoris. Everything he did made her feel as if she were discovering nerve endings and depths of her body that she had never known existed before.

Clinging to the top of the bed, she moaned as he skillfully used his fingers to stimulate her even more, two fingers going deep inside before dragging down between her legs, soaking her with her own desire, before one of the two fingers slipped inside her backside. The unexpected invasion caused her to jerk slightly, but she bit her lip again to cut off the protest. She wasn’t allowed to protest or she would be punished again. Only if he was hurting her.

Which he wasn’t.

It felt . . . decadent. The tightness of the passage gave his strokes greater impact and she relaxed into the touch, a small moan escaping her mouth. Just when she got used to the feeling, he was gone, back up to tweak her clitoris with his other hand, before pushing into her pussy again, then slipping down and back into her ass. Shawn closed her eyes, her head lolling onto her arm. “Oh, God,” she murmured. “You’re . . . ah.”

The incomplete thought wasn’t worth finishing. She just panted through the intense pleasure, her inner muscles starting to quiver from all his attentions. She wanted to come, but didn’t, knowing it would be better if she waited until his cock was in her. Which would surely be soon. He had to be as turned on as she was. But she could still feel the brush of his briefs on her thigh, indicating he was still dressed and had control that she couldn’t even comprehend. She started to claw at the headboard, arching her back and thrusting her hips back to take his finger deeper.

This time he didn’t correct her. He let her go at it. “You’re fucking my fingers, aren’t you?”

She nodded, beyond embarrassment.

“Would you like my cock instead?” His voice was gruff, and he was already tearing the remains of her panties down her thigh where they’d gotten trapped by her bent knees.

She nodded again. Did she ever. It was probably the stupidest question she’d ever heard.

He removed his touch and she could hear him removing his underwear, his legs brushing against her bare backside. Anticipation had her limp, resting on her hands.

“Let me hear you say it,” he ordered.

“Yes. I want your cock.” The words made her flush, but she didn’t hesitate to say them. She had to if she wanted him inside her. She knew that.

The reward was feeling the press of his heat, the smooth tip of his penis at the entrance to her vagina, a teasingly light touch.

“Are you on birth control or do I need a condom?”

Oh, right, protection. “I’m on the pill,” she murmured, swallowing hard.

“Good. I want to feel all of you.” Suddenly her head was jerked back as he yanked on her hair. “Sit up. I don’t like your face hidden.”

Tears rose in her eyes from the pain of having the roots of her hair pulled, and she didn’t see how sitting up meant he could see her any better since she was facing the wall and not him. But she didn’t protest.

Because there was something undeniably sexy about what was happening between them. It was like she’d been having sex in the dark her entire adult life and now the lights had been turned on. It was sex in high def.

His hand twisted into her hair, keeping a tight grip on it, her shoulders arching back toward him as he pushed into her with one single thrust. Shawn groaned, the unexpected invasion an arousing agony that almost brought her to climax.

“Oh, shit,” she whispered because it was overwhelming.

His left hand covered hers on the headboard, his right in firm command of her head, but not hurting her, his hips aligned with hers as he rested deep inside her. She could feel his throbbing heat, could smell the saltiness of his sweat, hear the sharp strain of his labored breathing. He was maintaining his control, and to prove she could as well, she kept herself still, the only movement the involuntary flexing of her vaginal muscles onto his cock.

His mouth was close to her ear and when he spoke, she shivered. It didn’t seem like a time for conversation, but then again, nothing with Rhett was what she was used to.

“Just so we understand, when we’re not in bed, you’re the one in charge, Shawn. You tell me what you want, where you want me to be, how you want me to act. I’ll wash dishes, take out the trash, be the perfect husband in public, give you your space in private, whatever you decide. You call the shots. But here, in bed, I’m in charge. You have no say. You get to ask no questions and you have to obey, but I promise you, you’ll never go to sleep unsatisfied. Do you understand?”

A shiver rushed up her spine and she swallowed hard, his words sinking as deeply as his cock into her and she nodded. “Yes,” she whispered, because she couldn’t say no. If she said no, he would pull out of her and leave her with the most profound sense of emptiness she’d ever experienced.

When he began to stroke inside her, she knew it was the right answer to give. She couldn’t imagine not having this, him, pumping into her with a perfect rhythm, his hands dropping to her hips so he could pull her back against him with each thrust, the slap of their bodies ringing in the room. Each push came so fast that she barely had time to breathe, none to moan, her eyes rolling back in her head as she struggled to keep her body from shattering.

Rhett leaned forward and skimmed her hair back from her ear and cheek with callused fingers, his rhythm never breaking. “You can come now,” he told her, and his voice was softer than she expected, almost worshipful, like she had pleased him.

“Thank you,” she said most sincerely, because she couldn’t contain it any longer. She let go, and immediately burst into the most intense orgasm she’d ever experienced. “Oh, God!”

It was all-consuming, and Shawn cried out again and again as the waves of satisfaction rolled over her, her awareness of her own body, her own pleasure, the most acute it had ever been. This wasn’t just an orgasm, this was something else, something she didn’t understand, and she felt like Rhett was ripping something raw and elemental and powerful from her. As the climax quieted, she blinked, and felt the tear roll down her cheek as she sucked in deep, ragged breaths.

Oh, God was right.

• • •

RHETT had never enjoyed a woman’s orgasm as much as he had Shawn’s. The fact that she had waited until he gave permission, then literally came thirty seconds after he granted it was the hottest thing he’d ever experienced. She was exactly what he wanted—strong and able to control herself, her willingness to submit more arousing because she wasn’t normally passive.

He had introduced her to the game, and so far, she seemed to find it to her liking.

Her tight pussy gripped his cock, massaging him through the throes of her orgasm, wet heat surrounding him. It was harder to maintain his own control with her, because she felt so amazing, but he had already discovered that the harder he had to work to maintain control, the more electric his whole body felt.

When she shuddered to the end of her climax, he tilted her chin slightly so he could see her, and he was shocked to see that her eyes were wet with tears, a single streak sliding over the flushed skin of her cheek. Her lip was swollen, the dried blood in stark contrast to her normally silken perfection.

The last thing he wanted to do was actually hurt her. Worried, he asked quickly, “Are you okay?”

She shook her head slightly. “What just happened?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Then he understood. He hadn’t hurt her. She had just felt what he had, that something had shifted between them. That their connection was strong, elemental, intimate.

He didn’t give her an answer. He just started to move again, watching her face to see how quickly the needs of her body would crowd out her confused thoughts. It didn’t take long. Within a minute or two, she was sighing in renewed pleasure, her shoulders relaxing. Rhett took a slow, languorous pace, closing his eyes and allowing himself to experience the full feeling of her body open for him, for him only.

When he felt her responding, wetness soaking him, her inner passage tightening, he didn’t want her to fight it. “Yeah, that’s it, baby, come for me again. I love to feel you come.”

Her orgasm was quieter this time, soft sighs and loose hips, and Rhett allowed himself to indulge in the satisfaction of having gotten her off three times, her second time so intense it had brought tears to her eyes. Because of him. He had pleasured her that thoroughly. He thrust harder. She moaned a little in ecstasy. She was his to command in this bed, yet the thing he wanted more than anything was for her to be satisfied, and that she was, and so relatively easily, had him pounding harder into her willing flesh.

This was only the start of the pleasure he could give her.

Still maintaining a tight grip on his own desire, because he never allowed himself full loss of control, Rhett exploded in her with a hot pulsing orgasm, gripping her hips tightly.

Hell, yeah.

He stopped moving, letting his heart rate slow down. When he gradually withdrew, he ground his teeth together in both satisfaction and the need for more. But it was enough for now. Shawn wasn’t ready for more.

Still on his knees, he leaned over her and ran his hands down her arms to where she was still gripping the bed. Rhett pulled her up, massaging her hands, pressing his chest to her back so they were perfectly aligned, flesh to flesh, his lips on the nape of her neck. Bringing their entwined hands together in front of her stomach, he breathed in the scent of her, holding her close, enjoying the feeling of sexual satisfaction, the knowledge that he had been granted an unexpected and extraordinary gift.

The next six months were going to be amazing.

“You tired?” he asked her.

“Yes.”

He kissed her cheek. “Then let’s get some sleep.”

He released her so she could settle down onto the bed. Her hands were shaking as she pulled the bedding they had destroyed into some semblance of order.

Handing her the T-shirt he had torn off her earlier, Rhett knew she was feeling vulnerable, so he stood up and went to get her a new pair of panties. He found a pair that looked like simple everyday-use cotton and handed them to her. She met his gaze, her cheeks pink, but then she looked away, already in her sleep shirt. He wanted to sleep naked, but he didn’t think she was in the right place for that, and he wanted to respect her feelings.

“Can I get you a drink or anything? I’m running to the bathroom.”

“Water would be great.” Shawn lifted her knees and her bottom to slide on the new panties, and Rhett caught a visual reminder of his orgasm, a wet trail down her inner thigh.

She clearly wasn’t intending to go clean it off, and he felt a hot punch of possessiveness. He liked to see his come rolling down her leg. It made her his. His wife.

Unnerved himself, Rhett moved out of the room abruptly.

In the bathroom, he cleaned himself off and stared at himself in the mirror, the harsh fluorescent lighting forcing him to squint. He was going too far. He already knew it. He was attaching.

He frowned at his reflection, hands on the smooth marble countertop, the cold a sweet relief to the heat of the bedroom. This should be a warning. He should dial back on the sex with Shawn, take a more vanilla route with her.

Instead, all he wanted to do was go back in the bedroom and start on her all over again until she was quivering with want and coming at his command.

But when he returned with a glass of water for her, she was already asleep.

He tried to tell himself it was for the best, but he didn’t believe it.

CHAPTER

TEN

SHAWN woke up with a start, hot under the covers and desperate for a drink. She’d been dreaming about being chased by a tiger, who had backed her into a corner and bared his teeth at her. Heart racing, she rolled onto her side and realized why it was so unusually warm. Her body was being heated by Rhett’s, who was sleeping a mere two inches away. She could feel the warmth radiating off him like a toaster oven. The sun was starting to come up, a sliver of light spreading across the carpet of the bedroom floor.

Swallowing the thick lump that was in her throat, she pushed her hair off her face and studied him. She didn’t know if he was naked below the waist, but he was on top, his arms both out from under the comforter, his head turned toward her. She felt a tender urge to reach out and stroke his cheek, his jaw, but she squashed it, her feelings too muddled. Last night she had done things, said things, allowed things that she didn’t understand and she felt vulnerable, stripped bare.

When he shifted a little, she quickly looked away, afraid he would wake up. There was a glass of water on her nightstand, clearly brought to her by Rhett. She didn’t remember falling asleep, just that when he’d left the room, she’d been relieved. Relieved to be back in protective cotton, the covers over her, her cheeks itchy from crying, her inner thighs hot and sticky. She hadn’t been able to get up, afraid her legs wouldn’t work, afraid she might actually start crying in earnest.

A week ago, she had woken up alone, happy, healthy, content for the most part, heir apparent to the speedway, a single, confident businesswoman.

Now she was . . . what? A wife? A submissive? Terrified? Exhilarated? More sexually satisfied than she had ever been?

She didn’t know. All she knew was that last night she had surrendered to him and enjoyed it.

“Morning,” he murmured from behind her, his hand coming up to rest on her shoulder, caressing down her arm.

Shawn fought the urge to jerk away. Or worse, to give in and turn to him and beg him to take her again the way he had the night before.

“Morning,” she managed back, staring at the wall before reaching for the glass. The movement forced his hand to fall away from her. “Thanks for the water.”

“You’re welcome.”

The second she settled back on the bed, he was touching her again. Acutely aware of every inch of her body, Shawn’s heart started to race, and not in a good way.

Rhett kissed the side of her head. “Damn it, I have to go to work.”

Thank God. “That sucks,” she lied as she glanced back at him. “Do you want some coffee and eggs or anything?”

“I can fix myself some coffee. You stay in bed, beautiful.”

The bed creaked as he sat up and she struggled to find fault with him. He was considerate. And naked. Very, very naked. With an incredibly tight set of buns. He turned. And a very erect, above average penis. No wonder she was sore this morning. Not that any lingering awareness prevented her from wanting him to pound her again.

She forced her gaze upward again, aware he was speaking and she had no idea what he was saying. “What?”

The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. “Distracted you, didn’t it? Don’t worry, there’s plenty of time for you to check it out when I get home.”

Home. Ugh.

He seemed to realize what he’d said because he added, “Unless you have other plans tonight.”

She shook her head. At the moment, she wasn’t sure if that were a good thing or not.

“Good.” He came back to the bed—still naked, hello—and leaned over her to kiss her fully on the mouth. “Want me to bring home Chinese food? I’ll be back around seven.”

“Sure. Thanks. Have a good day at work.” Could she be any more inane? Could this be any more bizarre?

“Thanks.” He ran his finger across her bottom lip, where she had torn into the flesh the night before, and then gave her a soft kiss. “Last night was very sexy. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

She nodded. Apparently she had not only given complete sexual control over to him, she’d become mute.

“Alright, I’m outta here. See you tonight, Scarlett.”

And that made everything just all that much worse.

Shawn lay in bed for fifteen long minutes, afraid to move, afraid he might come back into the bedroom, until she finally heard him go out the side door, the screen slamming behind him.

She heaved a sigh of relief and jumped out of bed and virtually ran for the shower, locking the door behind her, something she never did in her own house. Turning on the water, she didn’t even wait for it to heat before she jumped in, intent on washing the scent and feel of him off her skin. Using a loofah, she scrubbed every nook and cranny on her body, cheeks burning as she remembered the night before, wondering how she could have let him do those things to her.

Wondering how she could survive if she didn’t let him do it again.

When she got out she was toweling up and feeling more calm. Coffee would help even more.

Then she heard a knock on her front door. That better be a Jehovah’s Witness leaving a pamphlet or she was going to scream. The knocking continued as she pulled on her yoga pants and a sweatshirt. Rushing through the living room, she saw it was Charity and Harley standing on her front step.

Let the fun continue.

“Where the hell have you been?” Charity asked. “It’s colder than tea bagging in ice water out here.”

Shawn blinked, both at that image and at the uncertainty as to why her friend was pushing past her into the living room on a Sunday morning. Charity wasn’t exactly known as a morning person.

“We were at the side door, but for some reason the doorknob is locked, so we couldn’t get in. You never lock your door.”

“Rhett must have locked it,” she said, running her hands through her damp hair. “He left for work and he doesn’t have a key yet.”

Talk about it like it was normal. Make it normal.

Charity grinned. “Dude, you’re insane, do you know that? I never thought you had it in you.”

Harley looked more worried than anything else as she closed the front door behind them, the blustery February wind cutting through Shawn. She wanted coffee and a pair of socks. “So what brings you two by today? Do you want some coffee?”

“We’re here to help you plan your wedding party, remember? We made plans yesterday.”

“Oh, shit, that’s right.” She had totally forgotten about Harley’s offer to help with her fake Valentine’s Day love-fest celebration. Gag. “My brain is fried.”

“You’re probably running on no sleep. I’m surprised you can actually walk after two nights of Mr. Wet Spot.” Charity flopped on her sofa.

Shawn tried not to blush, but it was an epic failure. “So how do we plan a wedding party? Not that I really want a wedding party, but I’m sure Rhett’s mother already hates me, so I don’t want to make it worse. He said she’ll be hurt if we don’t have a party.”

“You have to have a party of some sort,” Charity told her. “Come on. How many times do you get married? Twice, maybe three times tops. The very first one at least should warrant a little boogying down.”

“I think this is it for me,” Shawn said truthfully. There was no way she wanted to do this again once she and Rhett got their divorce a year from now. Then again, when would this bizarre set of circumstances ever present themselves again? “I’m putting some coffee on.”

“The whole house smells like coffee already,” Harley said, following her into the kitchen. “Do you have an automatic coffeemaker?”

“No.” But she had a husband. Who in addition to giving her three orgasms, left hot coffee in two thermoses on the kitchen counter, a note next to them.

“Hot coffee for you. XO R”

XO? Hugs and kisses? Shawn studied the scrawl of his handwriting and tried to interpret the meaning behind it. He hadn’t known there would be anyone there to witness the note, so why would he write that?

Her head hurt. Her chest hurt. Her cooter hurt.

If this was marriage, it blew donkey balls.

“Ah, that’s so sweet,” was Harley’s opinion.

Donkey balls were sweet?

Oh, she meant the note. “Yes. Yes, it is.” Because that’s what she was supposed to say. And it was sweet. How could she argue that it wasn’t?

“Do you ever wonder if Rhett has an ulterior motive?” Charity asked, joining them in the small kitchen.

“Charity!” Her twin squawked, clearly appalled. “It’s a love-at-first-sight thing! It happens!”

Probably not, but the truth was a lot less shiny.

“What kind of ulterior motive could he possibly have?” Shawn asked Charity, actually feeling a little insulted. How nice to hear that her friend thought no guy would fall head over ass for her.

“Maybe he thinks the track is worth more than it is. Maybe he’s after money and sponsorships.” Charity shrugged. “I’m not trying to be a dick, but you have to admit, this is just cray-cray. Totally out of left field for you.”

“He signed a prenup before we got married on Friday. He can’t touch the track. He doesn’t get anything.” Except the hundred grand she’d promised him. “Don’t be so cynical. Maybe I was just ready.”

“Ready for what? To marry the first guy who asked you?”

“Charity . . .” Harley said in a soft voice, the warning clear.

Shawn felt herself bristling, but she beat it back. The truth was, if either of the twins had done what she just had, she would be concerned herself. However, she suspected she would be a bit more tactful than suggesting a man had married her for money. Or that she was so desperate she’d grab the first male to show interest and get hitched.

“Seriously, Charity, I’m going to pretend that what you just said wasn’t nearly as rude as it sounded. I think it is possible that I’m smart enough not to just marry any man who asks me. If I wasn’t, I would have eloped at fourteen with Bryan Johnson when he told me he’d marry me if I blew him.”

“Was that what Rhett offered?” Harley said, in a rare comedic moment for her.

Shawn laughed. “Something like that.”

“Wait, you blew Bryan Johnson?”

“No! That is not what I meant!” Shawn went into the cupboard for a mug. She clearly needed her coffee. Now. “I wasn’t blowing anyone at fourteen.” In fact, she wasn’t blowing anyone now. That had not entered into their bed sport the night before, which Shawn found curious. In her experience, men were forever trying to wave their pecker in her face, and yet Rhett hadn’t at all. He had spent the majority of the night focusing on her.

Hmm. That was interesting.

“So how many people are coming to the party?” Harley asked, leaning on the counter as Shawn unscrewed one of the thermoses.

Good question. “Well, Rhett has seven sisters and a brother, plus all their spouses.” Though, truthfully, she had no idea if they all lived in the Charlotte area or not. “Plus sixteen nieces and nephews. His parents. My mom and my brother and his wife. You two. Debbie, Linda, and John, who have all been working at the track for years. Rhett’s fellow crew members. How many is that?”

“I think we’re at forty-seven,” Harley said.

“Holy crap.” Shawn poured coffee into a mug that read “If only Mondays were as easy as I am.” The mug had been funnier a week ago, she had to admit. “That’s a lot of people for a small party.”

“You always wanted a big family,” Charity said. “It looks like you have one now.”

Except it wasn’t real. Shawn bit her lip and took a sip. She realized that someone was knocking on the side door. “Okay, now who is that? Eve is at the track today, so it can’t be her.”

“I’ll get it,” Harley offered. The minute she opened the door, a gust of wind and an older woman rushed in.

Arms instantly enveloped Harley. “Honey, it’s so good to meet you. I’m your momma-in-law.”

Oh, God.

Harley automatically hugged her back as Rhett’s mother continued, “Now I can’t say I’m thrilled that you got married so suddenlike and at the courthouse, but you know what? I say who cares when what really matters is that my youngest has found the right woman for him.” She pulled back. “Let me look at you, Shawn. Oh, you’re just too cute. Exactly Rhett’s type.”

Shawn coughed, not sure whether to be amused or offended. Harley sputtered a little, her head shaking.

“Oh, I’m not Shawn.”

“I am,” Shawn volunteered, raising her hand a little and really wishing she were wearing a bra. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Ford.”

“Oh.” Rhett’s mother swung her view from Harley to her. “You’re Shawn?” she asked, incredulous. “Oh, goodness, well, of course. It’s just you’re not Rhett’s usual type.” Then she laughed. “Of course, he didn’t marry any of those girls, did he?”

Shawn laughed weakly. Except that he hadn’t intended to marry her either until she’d offered him money. So girls like Harley were normally his type, huh? Petite, blond, natural-looking. Clearly sweet, clearly passive. Unlike her. She was tall, her figure more athletic than traditionally feminine, her hair a low-maintenance, tousled shoulder-length mess. She couldn’t be bothered to flat-iron it or curl it. Or really even cut it all that often. Nor was she particularly passive. At least, not generally speaking.

The memory of Rhett spanking her popped into her head and she shoved it aside. So she’d been passive in bed. What of it?

She was not going to feel inadequate because she was independent and something of an adult tomboy. Hadn’t she come to terms with that self-esteem crap twenty years ago?

So she moved away from the counter and toward Rhett’s mother. “Come in, come in. Let me take your coat.”

“Oh, thanks, hon.”

Shawn found herself enveloped in a hug before being handed a basket. “I brought you some muffins. I know, it’s not much, but I didn’t have a lot of notice.” She wagged her finger at Shawn and gave her a rueful look.

“Thank you, Mrs. Ford.” Shawn took the basket and set it on the counter.

“Oh, Lord, call me Sandy. Technically, we’re both Mrs. Ford now.”

Oh, God, she was, wasn’t she? Wait. She didn’t have to change her name. That would be stupid, because then she’d just have to change it back in a year. She was still Shawn Hamby and always would be. Feeling a profound sense of relief, she gestured to her friends. “This is Harley and Charity. They’re here to help with planning the wedding party.”

“Nice to meet you girls. Perfect timing then!” She peeled off her coat and handed it to Shawn. “Unless you don’t want your mother-in-law’s opinion.”

“No, of course, I would love it. I have no idea what I’m doing.” That was the truth, without a doubt. “Would you like some coffee?”

“I’d love some.”

Shawn poured coffee for everyone, then took out the muffins and plated them, and they all retreated into the living room. Sinking into an easy chair, she marveled at the sheer oddity of the circumstance. She was sitting here planning her wedding reception with a woman she’d never met. Her husband’s mother. If only Pops could see her now, he’d realize what a foolish idea his will had been. They were making a sheer mockery out of the institution of marriage.

“Rhett’s father and I have been married for thirty-six years,” she started.

Oh, and that made her feel better. Not.

“Congratulations, that’s wonderful.”

“The house is a little empty these days, but it’s good to know all my kids are married themselves and happy and healthy. I wasn’t sure about Rhett, you know. He’s always been so serious.”

“He’s no stand-up comedian,” Shawn agreed. “But the good thing is he always knows what he wants.”

Charity coughed into her hand.

Shawn shot her a sideways glare. She knew exactly what Charity was envisioning, and damn it, she was right.

“That is true. So where were you thinking of having the party? And when?”

“Valentine’s Day. Rhett thought it was . . . romantic.” She almost choked on her tongue, but she forced the words out. Fortunately, her blush could be taken as that of a new bride, and not the lying poseur that she was. “I have no idea where to have it. I think it’s going to be about fifty people, and given it’s winter, we can’t exactly have an outdoor barbecue in the yard.”

“What about a hall or a restaurant?” Charity asked.

“That sounds expensive to rent.” She was already shelling out a hundred grand to be Rhett’s wife, she wasn’t going to drop twenty K on a wedding reception on top of it. The point was to be financially solvent in the end, not bankrupt after going through all of this. “I was thinking wherever it is, people can bring potluck instead of wedding gifts. I want it to be casual, fun.” Cheap. Over.

“What about the track?” Rhett’s mother asked. “Hamby Speedway has plenty of room indoors, right? It wouldn’t be glamorous, but it’s free and it seems fitting.”

She had a point. Plus the publicity would be phenomenal. “Hm. That’s a great idea. I think it could work.”

“It’s so . . . dirty,” Charity said, in horror. “It’s a dirt track.”

“We’re not talking about throwing a party on the track itself,” Shawn protested. “We have a party room for corporate and media events.” It could work.

“I think it’s a great idea,” Harley reassured her.

Charity looked skeptical, but then again she always did.

But once her twin pulled out a notebook and started making a to-do list, Charity seemed to realize this was happening with or without her opinion, so she might as well add it. Which was good, because ultimately Shawn found she had no opinion herself. It was more overwhelming than anything else.

Frankly, she’d never been the little girl who fantasized about her wedding, and she was no great party planner either. She was more of a show-up-with-a-bottle-of-wine-and-hope-someone-did-all-the-work kind of person. Given that this wasn’t even real, and she was already feeling guilty for essentially duping her friends and family, she really didn’t care whether they used peonies versus roses.

“So I’ll call the catering company for linens, Charity is handling the flowers, and Mrs. Ford is going to organize the food. Shawn, what is your mom going to want to do?”

“Drink.” Shawn shrugged. “No, seriously, I don’t think she will want to be involved in any way, but I’ll ask her.”

“She’s not going to want to be involved?” Mrs. Ford looked horrified. “Why ever not? You’re her only daughter.”

“Mom is kind of a free spirit. Mostly my grandparents raised me. She’s happy for me.” Which wasn’t even true. When Shawn had called her to give her the news, her mother had told her she was an idiot to get married and tie herself emotionally and legally to a man who would most likely screw her over in the end. It hadn’t been a helpful chat. “She doesn’t like details,” she added.

“Neither do you,” Harley pointed out. “It’s like pulling teeth to get you to offer an opinion on cake flavors or a décor theme color.”

“Which is why I can’t fault her for it.” Hey, she could admit that she was missing a craft gene. She had no interest in hand-cutting decorative paper signs for the milk-and-cookies bar Harley had thought would be supercute. She agreed. The concept was supercute. But that didn’t mean she wanted to cut shit.

Nor did she think Rhett was really the milk-and-cookies type. He seemed more like whiskey and caramel sauce. But then again, what the hell did she know?

“Don’t worry about it. You’re the bride. We’ll handle everything,” Rhett’s mother assured her. “I have six daughters living here in Charlotte. We’ll knock this out in a few hours, and with Charity and Harley’s help, you won’t need to worry about a thing.”

Shawn would think that was marvelous if it wasn’t for the fact that she felt guilty as hell. “Thank you. Y’all don’t know how much I appreciate this, seriously. I couldn’t do this without your help.”

“Should we do a slide show? You know, like pictures of you both growing up, then pictures of you together?”

Shawn gave Charity a look that hopefully conveyed how totally freaking stupid that was. “That’s going to be a short slide show. To my knowledge, there is only one photo of Rhett and me together, and it’s not one I would ever show anyone.”

“Oh.” Charity made a purring sound, tossing her blond hair over her shoulder. “Naughty, naughty.”

Really? Harley was about to find out what life as a single birth was like because Shawn was going to kill Charity. “I don’t mean that! Gawd. My mother-in-law is here.” It may not be real, but it still held all the trauma of the title for her. “I just meant it’s the shot from the courthouse when we got married and the lighting sucks. I look translucent and Rhett is scowling at the photographer.”

“That’s just the way he is,” Mrs. Ford said, waving her hand. “But you make a good point. We need to have a photo shoot done with the two of you.”

Shawn sat up straighter. “Oh no! That’s not what I meant. We don’t need to do that. It’s fine. I’m not very photogenic.”

“Oh, good grief. Of course, we’re doing it. I’ll call a friend of a friend and we’ll have it set up for this week.”

Well, if Shawn got her lack of organization from her mother, it was safe to say that Rhett got his heavy-handedness from his mother.

“Now what can I get the two of you for a wedding gift?”

“Oh, nothing, really . . . I mean, you’re giving me all this help with the party. That’s honestly enough. We don’t need . . . anything,” she finished lamely. Why the hell did Rhett have to work today? She couldn’t believe that she was being forced to deal with this on her own.

Of course, this whole farce was her idea, so technically, she should be the one dealing with it. Damn it.

And this morning, she had wanted him to leave because she’d been feeling vulnerable after last night.

“Dishes? Towels? Maybe some new bedding?”

Well, new bedding wouldn’t hurt. Her comforter was the same one she had used as a teenager, and according to the calendar, that was a long-ass time ago. “Bedding would be lovely, but don’t feel you have to.” Get anything for the greedy whore.

Oh, this was dicey moral ground.

“What size is your bed? A queen?”

“I’m not sure. It might be a double.”

“Well, let’s go take a look.” Sandy was up on her feet before Shawn could protest. “Which room is yours?”

“First door on the right.” Shawn scrambled to follow her.

She was already in the doorway, assessing. “That’s only a double, honey. Good grief, talk about close quarters. Young love is certainly cozy.”

“It doesn’t seem to be a problem.” It hadn’t. Yes, she had woken up with a body temperature of a thousand degrees from Radiator Rhett, but she would just use a thinner blanket. If he even intended to sleep in her bed again. Which he might not want to. Or she might not want him to.

“Regardless, you do look like you could use a little refresh in here. I’m happy to see that you’re practical and don’t waste your money on things you don’t need, but sweetheart, let me buy you some new sheets.”

Shawn glanced into her room over Sandy’s shoulder. It was a tired-looking bedroom she had to admit, with worn beige carpet and equally worn beige walls. She’d hung a picture of a sunset on the wall about a decade ago, and it was now crooked. The bed was even tilted at an odd angle from the wall, like they had shifted it last night during sex, and the sheets were destroyed. There was also a purple vibrator on the nightstand where she had tossed it after Rhett had gone to use the bathroom.

Oh. My. God.

With any luck, Sandy hadn’t noticed.

Then she turned, with pursed lips, and Shawn knew she most definitely had noticed.

Shawn wanted to die. She wanted to peel back the dingy carpet and bury herself under it.

Not that Sandy would say anything. But just knowing that she knew was horrifying enough.

Except she did say something.

Which meant that Shawn’s plunge into awkward hell was one hundred percent complete.

“Shawn, is Rhett not . . . satisfying you?” she asked in a low voice.

Yep. Hell. Certainly her face was on fire. “Of course he does,” she managed, wondering if she could pretend this was about a reference to say, something like his ability to meet her emotional needs. Not about why she needed to use a vibrator two days after her marriage.

“Because I know that Rhett can be selfish. He’s been spoiled, I admit, and that’s my fault. He was my youngest, my baby, and I knew we weren’t having any more, so I definitely cut him more slack than I should have.” Sandy put her hand on her chest. “His last girlfriend told me that he’s rude and demanding, and it breaks my heart to hear that.”

It was breaking Shawn’s that they were having this discussion. And who was the bitch who had run to Rhett’s mother and whined? Geez. Deal with your shit, honey, don’t go running to your boyfriend’s mother.

Feeling defensive on Rhett’s behalf, she told Sandy quite honestly, “Rhett is actually very thoughtful. He opens the door for me, he washes dishes, he makes coffee. I don’t find anything rude about him at all.” She was not discussing their sex life. In any way, shape, or form. And she was going to resolutely pretend there was no vibrator anywhere near them while they were discussing anything other than her sex life.

His mother looked pleased. “I’m glad to hear that. He has a good heart. He’s very loyal. But he doesn’t smile enough, and sometimes people misinterpret that as having ill intentions.”

A strange feeling settled over Shawn, one that she didn’t understand. She felt something in her chest that was unrecognizable, a tight grip. “He’s a wonderful man, Sandy,” she said, and she meant it. “You should be proud of him.”

Sandy squeezed her hand. “You should see him with the kids and his siblings. That’s when he relaxes.”

“So you really don’t mind that we eloped?” It was a stupid, masochistic question to ask, but she found herself seeking approval from Rhett’s mother. Maybe it was because her own mother had been so casual and flaky when she’d been growing up. Maybe it was because she missed her grandparents, who for all practical purposes had been the heart of her family. Maybe it was also because Eve had indicated that Mrs. Ford had been very unhappy with her own unexpected marriage to Nolan.

“I honestly don’t mind. Now with Nolan, it worried me a little because Nolan fell in love more times than I can count. But in the end, once I saw him with Eve, I knew this was different, something special. She’s the right woman for him. With Rhett, I trust that if he chose to marry you, you’re the woman he wants to spend his life with. He holds his emotions back, so when he opens up, it’s honest.”

Yeah, she shouldn’t have asked. Because now she felt like complete and total crap. Honest? Hardly. Neither one of them were being honest, and she felt lousy about deceiving Sandy, who clearly had her son’s best interests at heart.

Shawn also felt something that was suspiciously similar to jealousy. She envied the woman who would capture Rhett’s heart someday, who would have all that intense loyalty, that straightforward, never-wavering devotion.

She didn’t know what to say, afraid that if she did speak, she would either confess the truth or admit that she was suddenly wishing she were Rhett’s type. Fortunately, she didn’t have to respond, because Charity called to them from the living room.

“You have got to see this dress, Shawn! I think you should wear this to the party.”

Relieved and horrified all at the same time, she gave Mrs. Ford a sheepish smile. “I hadn’t even thought about a dress.”

The truth was, there were a lot of things she hadn’t thought about before she had gone and asked Rhett to marry her.

• • •

EVE watched her brother-in-law moving around the garage and frowned. She had known Rhett for years, but only in the last three months had she really spent any time with him. Initially, she had thought that he was arrogant, a charmer, who didn’t show you who he really was. She still thought he kept himself private and remote, but she knew now he wasn’t arrogant, and, frankly, he wasn’t particularly charming. He didn’t play games with women or his coworkers, and he really only spoke if he had something to say that was relevant.

Whereas Eve’s own husband could work a crowd, laughed easily, and was almost never angry, Shawn’s new husband simmered quietly beneath the surface with something Eve had never quite understood.

Even more so, now she wondered what really went on in his head.

Nolan, who had a rare weekend off from working on her brother’s pit crew, had come to the track with her to see her new engine. She had placed fifteenth the day before, and they were all pretty excited at the possibilities. Her truck was running well, and she was getting the attention she had wanted on the circuit. Her two-year plan was to break into the cup circuit and garner a major sponsorship, and so far, so good.

Even better, her husband appreciated her new engine.

But now she was worried about Rhett and Shawn, because well, she was a worrier. “I don’t know about this,” she told Nolan for about the twentieth time in the past three days.

“Eve.” Nolan put his hands on her shoulders and rubbed her through her sweatshirt. “Rhett is a grown man. Shawn is a grown woman. They know what they’re doing.”

All she could do was shake her head. “Something is fishy here, Nolan. It’s not like Rhett to just dive into a wedding on a minute’s notice with a woman he just met.”

“He is pretty intense, you know that.”

As Rhett came toward them, Eve stepped slightly away from Nolan, rocking in her sneakers as she pondered what was really going on. Shawn was impulsive, sure, but Shawn didn’t fall head over ass for men. Her starts tended to be more about racing and drinking, not about relationships. While she was perfectly willing to get a tattoo with Eve, she had never even let a guy live with her. But now she had eloped with a virtual stranger? It didn’t add up.

“Hey, can I knock off early today?” Rhett asked as he came up to them. “I just got a text from Jeannie that Mom went over to Shawn’s, and I would like to head over there and save her from being endlessly grilled.”

“Sure, no problem.” Eve felt a pang of sympathy for Shawn. “Your mom must be pissed off. I don’t envy Shawn right now. Sandy was suspicious of me for a good three months. She thought I had ulterior motives.” Fortunately, now she and her mother-in-law had come to a mutual respect and admiration for each other, but at first it had not been easy.

“She thought you were nuts for marrying beneath you,” Nolan said with a grin.

Eve snorted. “Hardly. But I’m sure the prenup didn’t help her opinion of me.” She still regretted bringing that stupid document to Nolan to sign.

He groaned. “Oh, God, let’s not bring that up again. It almost destroyed our marriage before it barely started.”

“I still don’t get why you cared,” Rhett said. “I signed one and it’s not a big deal to me. Shawn has the right to protect her assets.”

Eve felt her jaw drop. “You signed a prenup? When the hell did you have time to do that?”

“On Friday, before we got married.”

He looked like he thought it was completely normal. Inconsequential. “See you tomorrow at the apartment, right?” he asked Nolan.

Her husband nodded, then Rhett was gone with a wave.

“What the frickety-frack?” Eve asked, the second he was out of earshot. “Who the hell elopes after knowing each other for five minutes, which would indicate massive amounts of passion and insanity, yet still has enough time and a business head on their shoulders to whip together a prenup? No one. That’s who.”

“No one but Shawn and Rhett.” Nolan shrugged, but he looked puzzled, too, staring off at his brother’s retreating back.

“This is not right. Something is off. I feel like Rhett and Shawn are lying to us about something.” None of this added up.

“What the hell would they be lying about?” Nolan rolled his eyes at her. “She can’t be pregnant. There hasn’t been time.”

“Or has there?” Eve narrowed her eyes at her husband. Was Shawn pregnant with someone else’s baby? No, that didn’t add up. She would have told Eve, and she hadn’t been dating anyone for quite some time. But there was definitely something off. “What is really going on here? Because I feel like they’re pissing on my leg and telling me it’s raining.”

“Mind your own business, Eve.”

“When have I ever done that?” she asked him, incredulous.

Nolan smiled. “You got me there, babe. Now can we go home? I need you to hold me before the shit hits the fan tomorrow.”

Eve laughed. “Oh, yeah? So I need to comfort you with sex?”

“Now that you mention it . . .” He gave her a cute, pleading look.

“You’re ridiculous.” But he was her kind of ridiculous.

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

RHETT had driven to Shawn’s faster than was strictly legal.

He wasn’t afraid of a lot in life—not snakes or spiders or confrontation—but his mother still scared the shit out of him on occasion.

This would be one of them.

God only knew what she was saying to Shawn. Or worse, what she was asking her.

He had promised Shawn Chinese food but he was way earlier than expected, and he’d take her out to dinner as an apology for being subjected to a sneak attack from Sandy Ford.

Damn it. His mother’s car was still in the driveway. Not good.

He was covered in motor oil from being jostled by Travis, an eighteen-year-old kid who was nervous and still learning his way around a pit crew. But he was not going to disappear into the shower until he had a good measure of Shawn’s misery and he could politely send his mother home.

When he entered through the side door, kicking off his dirty boots on the rag rug, he heard something unexpected. Shawn and his mother were laughing. He had expected cold tension, his mother voicing all her objections to their impulsive marriage, while Shawn pursed her lips in stoic silence. But no, they were yucking it up in the living room. What the hell could be so damn funny?

Coming around the corner, they both looked up at him in surprise.

“Oh! You’re back early,” Shawn said. She didn’t look like it mattered one way or the other to her.

“Rhett,” his mother said, her expression . . . guilty? Her reading glasses were perched on her nose. “I stopped by with some muffins for Shawn, and we’ve been making wedding-party plans. Her girlfriends just left.”

And that was funny?

Feeling suspicious, he skirted the coffee table and kissed his mother on the cheek. “Thanks for stopping by, Momma.” When he wasn’t there. And when she had never met Shawn before.

His mother wrinkled her nose. “Good Lord, you smell bad enough to gag a maggot. Go change your clothes, and then we can show you what we’ve been up to.”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

But he did have the urge to kiss Shawn. To show her and his mother both that he was relevant here.

So he came around to her side of the couch and gave her a smile that she could interpret however she liked. “I got off work early because I missed you.”

Her eyes widened in surprise but before she could respond, he kissed her. Not a brief kiss of greeting, but a firm, drawn-out kiss that put a pink tinge to her cheeks. “I’m sorry I stink,” he told her as he straightened up and out of her space.

“I don’t mind,” she said. “You smell like gas and rubber. I associate those scents with speed. Winning.”

It was the kind of answer that made him wish his mother were nowhere near them. If she weren’t, Rhett would have eased Shawn back onto that couch and peeled down those yoga pants to show her what winning really felt like.

But his mother most definitely was three feet away and Rhett nodded, turning abruptly so neither woman saw his growing erection. Screw dinner. He wanted Shawn more than lo mein noodles.

In the bedroom, he stripped off his smelly clothes and pulled on a clean T-shirt and jeans. The dirty ones bunched in his hand, he came back down the hall and asked, “Where is the washing machine, Shawn? I’ll throw these in.”

“Oh, here, I’ll show you. Excuse us for a second,” she told his mother. “It’s in the basement.”

She led him through the kitchen and down the steep stairs to the cold and poorly lit basement laundry room. “Sorry, it’s gross down here.”

He could care less. He flipped the lid on the washing machine and dropped the clothes in. “Listen, I’m sorry about my mom. I had no idea she’d just show up here. I hope she didn’t give you too much of a hard time.”

Shawn shook her head. “She’s being really nice, which is almost worse. She’s happy for us, and I feel like a jerk.”

“She’s happy?” That was something of a head-scratcher. His mother had nearly had a heart attack when Nolan had eloped with Eve. She had ranted and raved for days.

“Yeah. She says she wants you happy and that since you’re not impulsive, she trusts that you know what you’re doing.”

That was interesting. His mother trusted him to choose his life partner wisely. Maybe she knew him better than he had realized.

Though she clearly didn’t know what was really going on here.

“I feel like shit, Rhett, honestly.” Shawn poured some laundry detergent in the machine on top of his clothes, looking flustered. “I didn’t know how bad I would feel about lying. I didn’t think about it at all, frankly.”

Rhett moved in behind her and brushed her hair off her shoulder so he could kiss her neck. He didn’t like to see her so stressed. He didn’t particularly like lying to his mother either. But his interest in Shawn wasn’t feigned, and he intended to focus on that. “This isn’t a purely business transaction, you know. We are having a relationship.” His erection grew as he pressed her against the machine, her pert backside a soft cushion for his thighs.

She shivered. “Rhett . . .”

“Yes?”

“It’s not the same thing,” she protested, even as her ass angled to give him a better position, his cock resting between her cheeks.

“No, it’s not.” He nibbled on her ear, loving the delicate skin there. “I don’t want you unhappy, Shawn. If you want, we can pull the plug on all of this. Right here, right now. We can say it was a mistake, and walk away.”

While he waited for his words to sink in, he ran his hands down her sides, letting one reach around to stroke down between her legs, the cotton pants giving him access to every curve of her body. He bit her ear gently, then soothed it with his tongue.

“We can?” she asked, growing breathless, her hips starting to rock back and forth, teasing her clitoris against his hand, and brushing her ass into his erection.

“Of course we can. We can do whatever you want.” He actually would be disappointed if she said she wanted to annul their marriage and forget this whole thing had ever happened. He tried to tell himself it was because then he wouldn’t have access to her in bed every night, but there was more to it. He and Shawn hadn’t finished exploring each other, physically and emotionally. There was something there between them, besides sex, and he wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but he was curious to find out.

“I’ll lose the track,” she murmured.

“Yes, you will. And you’ll lose my cock,” he added, before slipping his tongue into her ear.

She gave a small gasp. “I will?”

“Yes. If we end this marriage, then it wouldn’t make sense for us to see each other again. I’m not designed that way. I’m either all in or all out.”

“It’s a lot to lose.”

He could only hope that longing was at least in some small way for him along with her family business.

“It is. But it’s your choice.”

“I started this. I need to finish this. It’s not fair to you otherwise.”

Rhett turned her around so he could see her. He laced his fingers through hers. “Shawn. This is about what you want. Don’t do this out of fairness or concern for me. Do what you want, what’s right for you.” He meant that. He wasn’t worried about anyone’s opinion, and he saw no sense in doing something you already knew you would regret. Life was too short.

She stared at him for a second then gave a short nod. “You’re right. I’m already in. I want to stay in.”

The relief he felt surprised him. So he buried his hand in the back of her hair and tugged her to him. “The passion between us is real. That’s all we have to show people.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“Very real.” He kissed her, a deep, plunging mating of their mouths, a demand and a promise all at once. He wanted to bury his cock in her the same way, a wet tangle of desperation. As soon as he felt her give in, her arms snaking around his neck, he broke off the embrace. Establish control. Choices outside of the bedroom were hers, but sex was his arena.

She gave a moan of disappointment.

“We need to go back upstairs,” he told her with a swat on her backside. “Come on.”

Her eyes darkened at his touch, and he knew she was remembering exactly what he was thinking about—his palm slapping against her bare flesh, her bottom raised for his pleasure, for her punishment.

They were so not finished with what they had started.

Last night had only been the beginning of what he could make her feel.

As he took her hand and pulled her up the steps, he felt the hot, thick taste of anticipation in his mouth and something else he couldn’t define.

• • •

SHAWN let Rhett hold her hand as they walked up the basement steps, more confused than ever. What had she just agreed to?

To continue this sham of a marriage, deceiving everyone important in their lives. For what? The track? Was it really that important to her?

Weren’t the people in her life more important than a business?

But the truth was, they were all intertwined in her life. Business was pleasure and the track was the people she had grown up with, driven with, worked with now. Racing was her life, and it was to the majority of the people she considered the important friendships and influence on her life.

She also didn’t want to lose Rhett. Not yet. Not when she was experiencing something she never had before, not when she was realizing that there was a world of pleasure she had never even tapped into. Not when she was curious as to what was happening between them, wondering how far it could go, wanting to see what made Rhett tick as a man.

Plus, she also had to admit, that just for a little while, she wanted to borrow Rhett’s family. She wanted to belong, to fit into a large, boisterous family who cared so deeply about one another. She missed her grandparents, and her brother and mother were no cure for the void. In fact, her mother was quite the opposite. Being married to Rhett, Shawn got to voyeuristically fill up her familial well, and while that was no doubt wrong of her, she couldn’t help but enjoy it now that she was in it.

Even if it meant wedding-party planning.

Rhett’s mother was on the couch, scrolling through her cell phone. She gave them a look that indicated she knew precisely what they had been doing. “Did you get lost?”

“Shawn was just showing me how to use the washer.”

Sandy snorted. “You know how to do laundry. You’ve been doing it since you were six. But I understand, you’re newlyweds. I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Oh, you don’t have to leave, Sandy,” Shawn protested, embarrassed by how long they’d been gone and remembering that she had seen her vibrator earlier. One afternoon and her mother-in-law knew more about her sex life than she cared to contemplate.

But Sandy waved her words off. “It’s time for me to go home and cook for Senior. He gets cranky if dinner is late.”

“What were you two laughing about anyway?” Rhett wanted to know. “I’m a little scared to find out.”

“We were looking at designer tuxes from these bridal magazines the twins brought,” his mother said. “They’re ridiculous. I don’t know a man in Charlotte who would wear a skinny tux in red.”

Shawn grinned at Rhett’s expression. He looked like someone had suggested removing his testicles.

“Neither do I,” he said emphatically.

“And I showed Shawn a baby picture of you we might use for a slide show.”

“Oh, Lord,” was his opinion. It was accompanied by a wince.

“We scheduled a photo shoot for you on Thursday out at our house,” Sandy continued.

Now Rhett looked like he had indigestion. “A photo shoot? For what?”

“For your wedding announcement.”

“Jesus,” he muttered. Then louder, he added, “I’m not photogenic, you know. Do we really need to do this?”

Shawn grinned, feeling a whole lot better now that he was aware of what she’d been subjected to all afternoon. “You’d take better pictures if you smiled.”

He glared at her.

Sandy nodded in agreement. “That’s what I always tell him!”

“I can’t smile when someone is shoving a camera in my face. It’s so fake.”

“Well, buck up,” was his mother’s final opinion. “You’re doing it. What are you going to tell your kids someday if there isn’t a single picture of the two of you together?”

That knocked the grin off Shawn’s face. Kids? Good God. The unexpected image of a couple of toddlers bouncing on their bed popped into her head. For a split second, she could have sworn she actually felt a fluttering in her womb, like it was yawning awake after a lifetime of slumber, shaken to awareness by the idea of procreation with Rhett. Holy crap. Not good.

“I don’t have an answer for that, honestly,” Rhett told his mother.

“You are going to have kids, right? And sooner rather than later. I understand that Shawn is already in her thirties.”

Huh. The fluttering stopped. In fact, her uterus might have cringed in horror at that reminder.

“Mom!” Rhett gave his mother a stern look. “I’m not discussing our procreation plans with you two days after our wedding. In fact, I’m not discussing our procreation plans with you ever.”

Because there would be no procreation plans.

She should feel relieved.

Instead, she just felt unsettled. She was only thirty-three, or would be in two weeks anyways. That was young still. She had a decade before the factory would shut down. Or at least seven years. Four, if she really wanted to have the best shot at a quick conception. Two, if she didn’t want to be considered high risk.

Holy shit.

When had this happened? When had she even cared about having children? Now she was suddenly realizing that by the time this marriage with Rhett was over, she would have to start over dating, as a divorcée, and then who knew when she could even contemplate starting a family?

“That doesn’t change the facts. Shawn, you want children, right?” Sandy asked her.

Unable to speak, she simply nodded, her stomach in knots.

“Then it’s silly to wait five years. Rhett wants kids, too.”

She cleared her throat and managed to choke out, “Rhett is only twenty-five. Maybe he’s not ready.”

“Then he shouldn’t have married a woman almost ten years older than him. Your fertility is dropping like a stone as we speak.”

Now she was officially speechless. Sandy made her sound like her eggs were petrifying, ovaries deflating like a fallen soufflé. She had never felt quite so old or quite so past her expiration date.

“Mom.” Rhett used a tone that brooked no arguments. “That is way out of line. You’ve hurt Shawn’s feelings.”

Sandy did look contrite, but Shawn still felt stung, with no clue what to say.

“I’m sorry, dear, that didn’t really sound right, did it? It’s just that children are such a blessing.”

“We’re not having nine, I can guarantee that,” Rhett told her.

Hell, no. Because even if this were a real marriage, which it wasn’t, Shawn was clearly too old to have nine kids unless they were three sets of triplets. God, she had a headache again. The aspirin from the morning had clearly worn off.

“And you already have enough grandkids to bankrupt you at Christmas, so just chill out. Let’s just focus on being married for a while, and getting to know each other and each other’s families.” Rhett gave a rueful look. “If Shawn is still interested in getting to know the Fords after that introduction.”

“Shawn knows I just have your best interests at heart, don’t you, dear?”

She nodded, even if she had no idea what Sandy’s intentions really were. “Of course,” she managed to say.

Rhett still looked put out. “Momma, if and when we get pregnant, you’ll be the first to know. Otherwise, I’m telling you with all the love in my heart to butt out.”

“Your brother would never talk to me like that,” she sniffed. But to Shawn, her expression looked like she wasn’t genuinely put out. If anything, her love for her youngest son shone through. She admired him for standing up for his wife, it was obvious.

“No,” Rhett agreed. “But he wouldn’t let you make Eve feel bad either. He would just say it in a more charming way.” Rhett turned to Shawn. “And now you’ve witnessed the Ford family dynamic. I’m sorry to say you did not get the charming brother.”

Something stirred in Shawn that she did not want to examine too closely. “No, I got the loyal one.” Leaning over, she kissed his cheek before she could stop herself.

She had the satisfaction of seeing that she had actually caught Rhett off guard. That wasn’t easy to do, yet he looked downright sheepish. His mother was beaming.

“And on that note, I’ll leave you two to your dinner and newlywed shenanigans.” Sandy gave each of them a hug.

Shawn hugged her back and tried to forcibly shove the phrase if and when we get pregnant out of her head. This wasn’t what she had signed on for, but what was more disturbing than anything was her confusion and reaction to marriage, babies, family. She must be missing Pops more than she realized. Or the sex had gone to her head.

As Rhett walked his mother to her car, Shawn busied herself shoving the bridal magazines into a pile and cramming them into the desk in the corner of the living room. Then she carried dirty coffee mugs to the kitchen and filled the sink with soapy water.

“You’re always doing dishes,” Rhett said when he came back in. “Why don’t you use the dishwasher?”

“It’s broken. I don’t have the money to replace it.” It was a hated chore, but then again, weren’t all chores hated by most people?

“What’s wrong with it? Did it actually die, or it’s just not getting dishes clean?”

“It’s not getting the dishes clean. There’s dried old food on them after an hour of water spritzing them. It makes no sense.” Though she wasn’t sure why they were talking about this.

“The jets are probably clogged.”

Before she realized what was going on, Rhett was on the floor, dishwasher door open, parts being inspected. “Where are your tools? I need a screwdriver.”

Was he for real? Shawn swished her hand to make the suds inflate. “You don’t have to fix my dishwasher.”

“It’s no big deal. It’ll take me ten minutes.” He smiled up at her. “Besides, if you’re washing dishes ten times a day, it’s going to cut into our sexy time.”

Oh, geez. She should have known. “I’m not planning to be horizontal the majority of my day. I don’t think doing the dishes is going to ruin our sex life.”

“Just a little insurance.” He stood up and kissed the back of her head. “Where is the screwdriver? And a drill would be helpful.”

“In the basement. Next to the washer and dryer.” She should have left it at that. But she wasn’t wired that way—she was a button pusher. So she added, “And who says I have any intention of having sex with you again? Just because you fix my dishwasher doesn’t mean I will lie down for you any time. I may need some convincing, you know.”

He stopped on his way across the kitchen and studied her. “You like to play this game, don’t you? You want me to get aggressive and throw you down on the floor and prove you like my attention.”

Maybe. “No, of course not. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Hell, the truth was, she did want him to throw her down and make her forget that they were married. Which was messed up, she had to admit.

“Liar.” He laughed softly. “But the answer is no. Because I don’t dance on a puppet string. If you want me to fuck you, just ask and I’ll decide if I want to give it to you or not.”

Shawn felt her jaw drop. “You’ll decide? Oh, you’ll decide? Screw that!” Any sort of tender feelings she’d been having toward him disappeared pronto. She was sorry she’d let him gag her. Shawn Hamby was not to be gagged. She had things to say, damn it. Opinions that mattered. “I am not the kind of woman who is going to beg you for sex.”

“Who said anything about begging? I meant I think you’re strong enough to ask for what you want without dancing around in passive-aggressive style. Don’t hint, then expect me to do all the work. It doesn’t suit you.” With that, he went down the basement steps.

Shawn was tempted to throw a coffee mug at the back of his head. “Asshole,” she muttered in frustration, and it felt good. She didn’t understand him. At all.

Wouldn’t he want her to be sly about sex? Wasn’t that the point of a man who wanted to dominate? She was supposed to be coy and shy, and he was supposed to grab her and do her? He was right, she was willing to play that game. But this one? She didn’t even know what game they were playing, let alone what the rules were.

Which pissed her off. She didn’t like to lose. She was a born competitor.

So when he came back upstairs with tools in hand, knelt down, and leaned into the dishwasher, she couldn’t let it go. “I thought you wanted to do the work. I thought that was the whole freaking point. So what am I supposed to do, Rhett? What am I allowed to do? Not that I ever agreed to be your submissive, but what does a submissive do exactly if it’s not flirt, beg, hint, or demand?”

His head popped out of her dishwasher. “You’re supposed to trust me. You’re supposed to trust me enough to be honest and direct with me.”

It wasn’t an answer that was going to satisfy her. Ever. “How is this for direct? You can sleep in the guest room tonight.”

Rhett didn’t say anything, which further annoyed her. He just fiddled and unscrewed and pulled something that looked like a dead mouse—holy shit, was that a mouse?—out of her dishwasher. Shawn waited until he had dropped the pile of yuck he was holding, expecting him to answer her. But he didn’t.

“Aren’t you going to answer me?”

“I wasn’t aware that was a question,” he replied.

She threw her soapy sponge at him. “Don’t be a smart-ass.”

The sponge bounced off his knee, leaving a trail of suds down his shin. He didn’t even look up. “You told me I’m sleeping in the guest room. I told you that this is your house, and I’ll do whatever you say. So I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight.”

That was a deflating response to her anger.

No. She definitely did not understand Rhett Ford.

“What happened to ordering Chinese food?” It was an emotional hook to hold on to her anger, she knew that. Was fully aware of how juvenile it was. Yet couldn’t stop herself from seeking some sin to lay at his feet.

“I came home early. But I can order it now if you’d like. I can go and pick it up.”

Said the man very respectfully as he fixed her dishwasher. She was stymied. “We can just get it delivered.”

Finishing the dishes, Shawn dried her hands off and reached for her cell phone. While Rhett worked, she found herself dialing for delivery, asking him what he wanted.

By the time the food arrived, he had finished with the dishwasher and was washing his hands. “We can test it with the Chinese food dishes,” he told her. “But it should run just fine now.”

“Thanks.” Because she was grateful and sheepish and uncomfortable. What was happening between them? It was something. It was nothing. It was nothing she’d ever encountered and nothing she understood.

She wanted to trust him, but to what end? She didn’t know. And she wasn’t quite there yet.

While eating, they talked about the track schedule and about Rhett’s car and who to hire as a marketing director. His advice was sound, his tone respectful. After watching the cup series race on TV, Shawn went to bed.

Alone. Rhett just said good night and gave her a yawn, still on the couch.

It should have felt like a victory.

Instead it just felt unsatisfying. Like diet ice cream.

In her PJ bottoms and a USC T-shirt, she poked her head out of her room and called down the hallway, “Do you need help moving tomorrow? I can come to your apartment and help you pack, or clean the apartment, or whatever.”

“No, that’s okay,” he called back. “I’m sure Nolan and I can handle it.”

That wasn’t satisfying either. “No, really, I can help.” She wasn’t a total bitch. She was helpful, a hard worker, a good friend. She just didn’t like being told what to do. But she could offer. “You want the apartment clean or you won’t get your deposit back.”

“Yeah, Nolan would probably appreciate that since it’s his.” Rhett was just in her line of view, even though he was twenty feet away. She couldn’t read his expression. “Thanks, Shawn.”

“You’re welcome. And thanks again for fixing the dishwasher.”

“My pleasure.”

She hovered in the doorway, feeling like an idiot. Then she said, “Good night,” yet again and retreated, closing her door behind her.

When she climbed into bed, she swore she could smell him on her sheets.

The vibrator stared at her in the dark from the nightstand, mocking her, while her vagina berated her for being so stubborn.

Maybe her pillow would like to insult her while they were at it. Shawn punched it so it wouldn’t get any ideas, and threw her head down, feeling bitter, determined not to think about Rhett.

So far marriage was a dress that didn’t fit her.

She’d much rather be naked.

With Rhett. Naked, him thrusting into her again, her cries trapped by the tight fabric over her mouth . . .

Uh-oh. If this was her not thinking about it, this was going to be a long night.

Because she knew from experience that he would not come into her room.

And she was right. He didn’t.

CHAPTER

TWELVE

RHETT threw the last of his clothes in one of the boxes Nolan had brought with him and surveyed his empty bedroom. He wasn’t sorry to be leaving this small and dark apartment, though he was sorry he’d been relegated to Shawn’s guest bedroom. But it was for the best, for now. He wasn’t going to live with that passive-aggressive shit, where she poked at him and circled around what was bothering her and jabbed with sly, underhanded comments. So he would stay in the guest room and hope she would learn to trust him, learn that she could say whatever she was thinking, feeling, and he would respect that.

He wanted to make her happy. It was that simple.

But he wasn’t going to be put in a position where he never knew if a sponge, or worse, was going to come at him.

Was he demanding and intense? Yes, he was. He couldn’t change that, and he was honest about it, had been from the first minute he met her. But he was also fair, helpful, polite. So he liked to think. So why was Shawn fighting him so hard at every turn? It was like she was determined to wrest power from him.

“You okay?” Nolan asked him, appearing in the doorway. “You look like you could chew glass and like it.”

Rhett shrugged. “I don’t know, man. Why didn’t you warn me that marriage was complicated?”

Nolan’s eyebrows shot up. “Because I didn’t know you were going to elope about three minutes after meeting Shawn. If I had, I might have suggested you wait a month or twelve and get to know her before getting hitched. But you did, so you’re in it now. What’s going on?”

“I feel like Shawn is trying really hard to hold on to her independence and prove that she can’t be controlled. But I don’t want to control her. I just want to be partners, and when you’re partners, sometimes one is the leader and sometimes the other is, depending on the situation. It’s natural.” That was what he had seen with his parents’ and his siblings’ marriages, and he wanted that for himself. He wanted to lead their intimate sexual relationship and let her lead the rest. Why was that so difficult? Hell, he’d think a woman would jump at that.

“You’re right, it is. But maybe because this is a brand-new relationship, you’re going to need time to sort that out. Moving in together is a big step, let alone getting married, so cut Shawn some slack.”

Nolan was right. Especially considering they weren’t really even married. What the hell did Rhett really expect from her? “You’re right. And I am figuring her out, that’s for sure. She’ll be here in a few minutes because she feels guilty about getting short with me last night. She’s the kind of woman who throws something out there in anger and impulse, then immediately does something thoughtful that’s totally unrelated because she feels bad.”

“I think she and Eve are friends for a reason. They’re similar personality types. But I don’t get the sense Shawn worries as much as Eve does.”

“Oh, I think she worries plenty.” Rhett dropped the box on the floor and lifted the mattress from his bed off of the box spring so he could start to disassemble the bed frame. “Funny, neither of us married a woman like our mother. Momma never worries. She has total confidence the world will bend to her will.”

“Ha, that’s true. But I’m not surprised you didn’t. You’re basically Mom, you know. I’m more like Dad. But I have a need to mediate, calm things down. I think Eve and I are a good fit that way.”

Rhett realized that marriage had already changed his relationship with his brother. They were talking man-to-man, friend to friend, instead of big brother to little brother, or adult to child. As of yet, they’d barely even made fun of each other in the last hour. It was nice to be able to share with Nolan, yet there was a limit to how long they could talk about their feelings without a drop in testosterone.

“I am not my mother. That’s disturbing.” He shoved the mattress against the wall. “Now are you going to stand there and scratch your nuts, or are you going to help me?”

Nolan grinned. “Definitely nut-scratching.”

His sister Jeannie and her husband, Mark, were in the living room, picking through the remains of Nolan’s old furniture that Rhett had inherited and no longer needed. They were trying to furnish their finished basement on a budget. Rhett figured when he and Shawn divorced and he moved out of her house, he would just start fresh with new stuff. It would be a small reward to himself for surviving the six months intact.

The doorbell rang. “Come in!” Rhett yelled as loud as he could, already wresting the box spring up.

They could hear Jeannie greeting someone and Nolan took the box of clothes and went out into the living room, leaving Rhett alone with the box spring, which, while not heavy, was awkward for one person to maneuver. “Thanks, dick!” he called at his brother’s retreating back.

Nolan’s response was his middle finger thrown over his shoulder.

Yep. They were back to being brothers.

A second later, Shawn’s head popped into the bedroom. “Hi,” she said, sounding breathless, her dark blond hair tousled from the wind.

Rhett smiled at her because, the truth was, he was glad to see her. He liked the companionship between them, despite the speed bump of the night before. He wanted their relationship to work. He didn’t know what he meant by that exactly, but he did. He wanted to be with her, in some legitimate capacity, for whatever time they had together.

“Hey, beautiful, how was your day?” He slammed the box spring against the mattress propped against the wall, and bent down to get his wrench out of his toolbox.

“It was good.” She sounded surprised by that fact. “Eve had some great suggestions for PR, and I posted the job listing for a marketing rep. I cleared more stuff with the lawyer, and I signed vendor contracts for the season. How about you?”

“I slept in. It was awesome. Then I worked out. And now here I am, breaking down a bed I don’t need.”

“What are we going to do with that and the furniture in the living room?”

“Oh, my sister is taking the couches and my other sister is taking the bed. And yet another sister is taking the kitchen table. All I have is my clothes and some sports equipment. Once I put out the word that I had free stuff up for grabs, the Fords descended faster than a hot knife through butter. It’s one of the pluses of a big family.”

“Oh, okay.” Shawn was worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, her arms across her breasts. “Aren’t you going to, uh, wish you had that stuff later?”

He liked the jeans she was wearing. They were snug, and her hip was jutting out to the right as she leaned on the door frame. Her breasts were pert beneath her fuzzy gray sweater, and she was wearing shiny lip gloss on her full lips. Abandoning his Allen wrench, Rhett decided he needed to kiss her. She just looked too juicy and irresistible. As he stood and moved toward her, he shook his head.

“It’s old and it was Nolan’s. I’m not particularly worried about it.”

For a second she looked like she wanted to bolt, obviously aware of his intent. But when he put his hand on the back of her head and gently massaged her scalp, urging her to him, she gave in with a sigh. The kiss had his eyes drifting closed, his body leaning in to Shawn. God, she tasted good. Felt good.

He didn’t want to argue with Shawn. He wanted her to smile at him, with that special smile she had where her mouth was wide and her eyes crinkled in amusement. He wanted to settle down into their relationship and just enjoy each other. So maybe he was like his mother in that regard, because he wanted what he wanted and he assumed he was going to get it.

“Thanks for coming to help,” he said, brushing his lips over her jaw. “Did you meet Jeannie and Mark?”

“Yes,” she said, her neck tilting back. “They’re very nice.”

“Jeannie wants to talk to you about the wedding party, or reception, or whatever we’re calling it.”

“Oh, Lord,” was Shawn’s opinion. “I’m sorry this has spun so out of control.”

“I don’t mind.” He didn’t. Because if he were honest with himself, and he always was, he wanted it to be real. He knew that he could be happy with Shawn, and he wanted this to be real. Wanted to work toward ensuring that it was. “But I understand how you’re feeling. It’s a lot to take in. Just let my sisters and mom handle the whole thing.”

“Oh, I intend to. I may be a control freak in some regards, but planning a party is not one of them. I don’t know squat about girly stuff like decorating and cakes, as you can tell from the state of my house.”

“I like your house. It’s comfortable, cozy.” Rhett lazily stroked her backside, nuzzled in her hair. He could touch her for hours and never get tired of the feel of her skin, her body.

“Are you moving or making out?” Eve asked from the hallway. “Get the lead out, Rhett, I want to go home before midnight.”

Rhett smiled and took a step back from Shawn. “And with that, Eve shatters the mood.” He glanced over Shawn’s shoulder at his sister-in-law. “Carry this mattress set out to the truck, Eve, and we’re all set. Show us your muscle.”

“You think I can’t?” Eve rolled her eyes. “I’ve got this.”

Rhett stepped aside, pulling Shawn with him, as Eve and Nolan came in and hauled the mattress back out, Eve swearing but not looking like she was overly strained.

“You did that on purpose,” Shawn said to him, clearly amused as she lifted one of the boxes off the floor. “You played Eve.”

“We’re all competitive. It’s not hard.” Rhett picked up the other box and grinned at Shawn. “We both know all I need to do is dare you to do something, and you fall for it every time.”

She laughed. “I can’t deny it. All I can do is hope you don’t abuse your power.”

“I’ll never dare you to do anything that matters, I promise.” He grew serious, wanting her to understand. “I’ll never dare you in bed, I hope you know that. That wouldn’t be fair.”

Her smile disappeared. “This is that trust thing again, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I want to sleep in your bed tonight. Not to have sex, but just to be near you, to hold you. Do you trust me not to initiate sex?”

She stood, bulky box in her arms, and moistened her lips, her brown eyes darker than usual. “What if I want you to initiate sex?”

He felt a sharp kick of lust. “Do you?”

“Yes. I do.”

That was what he wanted to hear. He wanted her to be straightforward, honest with him. No game playing. “It would be my pleasure, then.”

Even with the dual boxes between them, he leaned over and kissed her. “I’m going to make you come harder than you’ve ever come,” he promised her, voice low, his desire intense.

“You’d better,” she told him. “I’m trusting you.”

That right there turned him on. It meant everything to him that she trusted him. “You’ve put your trust in the right man, Shawn.”

Shawn hoped so. She did trust Rhett, though she still had a niggling concern in the back of her mind that she was going to regret this marriage, their relationship, the sex. That when all was said and done, she was going to get hurt. But she couldn’t stop it. There was no way she could live in the same house with him, pretending to be his wife in public, and not want as much as she could have. His green eyes were so intense, so serious, so committed, that she knew she couldn’t spend night after night with him down the hall in the guest room while she yearned for another immersion into the pleasure he had shown her.

It wasn’t logical. Nor was it smart. But it was what she wanted.

“I know,” she told him, and it was true. She had asked him to enter into a marriage of convenience with her days after they had met. She could have found herself in a disastrous situation with a guy who would manipulate and use her need for secrecy to his advantage. She could have wound up with a slob or a mooch who expected her to be his housekeeper. She could have found herself having to ditch the whole insane idea, losing the track, and facing public humiliation.

So yes, she trusted Rhett.

It seemed stupidly obvious now to her.

Her fear of regrets didn’t stem from concern that he would in some way make things difficult for her, it was that he wouldn’t. Her fear was that she would fall for him, and that in the end, it would hurt to let him go. That if she allowed him to be a part of her life, it would be lonely when he left.

But it was too late to worry about any of that. She was in and, much like him, once in, she was all in.

Nolan and Eve reappeared for the box spring. “Seriously?” Eve complained. “You two are doing nothing but making moony eyes at each other. I’m starting to get pissed.”

“My wife is very romantic,” Nolan told them.

“Sorry,” Shawn muttered. “We were just making some plans.”

“That don’t include the two of you,” Rhett said. “So we would like to thank you very much for helping out, but I know you’re both busy, so you can head home now.”

Well, that was a little obvious. Shawn followed Rhett down the hallway, wondering if he was going to give that same speech to his sister and her husband. Though truth be told, there wasn’t really anything left in the apartment, aside from a lonely vacuum, which Jeannie was using on the worn carpet, and a random floor lamp.

“I should be offended, but I’m just grateful,” Eve said. “I want to get a run in before I collapse for the night.” But then she added, “Shawn, can I talk to you for a second before I leave?”

“Sure.” Shawn looked at her expectantly, no idea what Eve would want to say, but suspecting it wasn’t anything particularly positive.

“Alone,” Eve said bluntly.

Wonderful. “Sure,” she said, less enthusiastic. She turned and went down the hallway, figuring they could use the now-empty bedroom.

Once inside, she rounded on Eve, arms crossed, unable to prevent her defensiveness.

“Whoa, tiger, pull back your claws. I come in peace.” Eve held up her hands. “I just want to ask you if, you know, everything is okay. If you’re happy.” Then without waiting for a response, she winced. “God, that sounded so asinine. Sorry. I just want you to know that if you regret your impulsive decision to marry Rhett, we can get you out of it. This isn’t like the tattoos we had done when we were trying to best each other with our obnoxiousness. We don’t need laser removal, a physician, and a few grand to get you out of this. A hundred bucks on the Internet and we can have you divorced.”

Shawn almost laughed. Almost. Because she was still annoyed about the tattoo ten years after the fact, she didn’t. “It’s your fault we have such bad ink, you know. I’m never going to admit otherwise.”

“It’s your fault, too!” Eve protested. “You started it by egging me on about coming in last at the fair when I entered a shooting contest and slipped on a discarded onion ring and shot the light out.”

“Yeah, then you told me that the only way I was going to get a guy between my thighs was if I tattooed one there. And that Stoney White, who you know I had a massive crush on, had called me lanky and had mimicked a pelican walking. That was bullshit.”

“I did you a favor. Stoney White was a loser. His name was Stoney, for Chrissake. Plus I didn’t make you take that car bomb. Or the second. You were bound and determined to prove to Stoney that you could do a shot of whiskey in thirty seconds.”

Huh. Perhaps she hadn’t matured as much as she thought in the last decade. It seemed her seduction techniques had not improved. “Well, I could. It wasn’t just bragging. I still can, you know.”

“And I still have a tattoo on my inner thigh that says ‘Open 24 hours.’ ”

Shawn grinned. “That was a beautiful night, wasn’t it? We were such idiots, but damn, we always had fun.” She wondered why Rhett hadn’t said anything about her tattoo. He had certainly been down between her thighs, so he had to have seen it. Most men burst out laughing the first time they got a glimpse of it.

Eve laughed. “Maybe a little too much fun.”

“Nah. Truth is, we let too much fun slip away from us. We grew up and both became workaholics.”

“I’ve been working on a better balance myself. Nolan helps. How about you? Seriously, not to sound like your mother—or rather like anyone’s mother but yours—how is it going? You still haven’t answered that question.”

“It’s intense,” she admitted, much preferring to be as honest as she could without having to lie to her best friend. “It’s hot, it’s sexy, it’s new, it’s an adjustment. But it’s good. For real. No worrying about me.” She would worry about herself a shit ton, so no need for someone else to get in on the action and stress themselves out.

Eve studied her for a minute. “Okay. Cool. I won’t get in your business anymore. You know you can talk to me about anything, and it won’t matter that Rhett is Nolan’s brother. I’m a steel trap.”

“Unless we’re going head-to-head. Then you’ll spill every secret I have if it will throw me off my game.”

“That is not true,” Eve protested. Then she grinned. “Much. But you know I’ll only tell embarrassing secrets, not painful ones.”

“Thanks for the distinction. But I can’t exactly bitch you out, because I’m the same way. It’s ultimately why we get along.”

“Alright, let’s go get laid.” Eve fist-bumped her. “To the power of the V. And whiskey. And shitty tattoos.”

“To finishing first. And friendship. To the Brothers Ford.”

“Amen, sister.”

That was as warm and fuzzy as she and Eve were ever going to get. They were essentially guys with vaginas. But they had both come to terms with who they were years ago.

“I think this was our middle school fantasy, you know, to marry brothers,” Eve said with a laugh as she headed back down the hall.

Unfortunately, it was still a fantasy.

Shawn fought the urge to sigh.

“So I have to ask . . . is he kinky?” Eve said, looking both super curious and super horrified. “Does he have . . . contraptions?”

“I am not talking to you about that other than to say there are no contraptions.” Good Lord. She didn’t even want to consider what Eve was envisioning.

“So he’s kinky.” Her eyes sparkled and she gave a choking laugh. “Shawn, if only Stoney White had known you have a penchant for kink, he could have been all yours. In all his idiotic meathead glory.”

“Shut up, Eve,” was her opinion on that.

Eve just laughed harder.

• • •

“I can keep my clothes and stuff in the guest room,” Rhett said as he surveyed the space, or lack thereof, in Shawn’s bedroom. She wasn’t a housekeeper to his mother’s standards, that was for sure, and she had odd things propped in the corners of her bedroom, like a large stuffed gorilla and a hunting rifle, which didn’t contain bullets. He’d checked when she was in the bathroom.

“No, it’s okay. I can clear some space in the closet for you,” she said. Which she promptly did by shoving her clothes to the right until hangers were jammed out at awkward angles and her sweaters looked like they were choking one another. Then she ripped a black-and-white dress off the hanger and balled it up and tossed it on the floor of the closet. “I hate that dress. It makes my ass look big.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” he said wryly as he pulled clothes out of his box and hung them up in the three point five inches of space she’d given him. He was no neat freak himself, so he couldn’t say the chaos of her closet and bedroom bothered him. He just wasn’t sure he was ever going to find a clean shirt again.

“So I have a question for you.” It was something he hadn’t wanted to ask in the intimacy of bed, because he had a feeling it was going to embarrass her or make her laugh.

“Yeah? What?”

“Why do you have the face of a little boy with curly hair tattooed on your inner thigh?” He had to admit, it had given him a start the other night, but he had managed to ignore it. Now it was generating a lot of curiosity. He couldn’t figure out what crazy story was behind it, and he knew there had to be one.

Shawn made a face. “It’s not a little boy! It’s Justin Timberlake, back in the day when his hair looked like a chia pet.”

“Really? Okay, so why would you tattoo a portrait of him diving into your vagina? Any particular reason?”

“It was a bet, and no, I’m not going to tell you the full story. Let’s just say that Eve didn’t fare any better than I did.”

Rhett raised his eyebrows. He didn’t even want to consider what was between his sister-in-law’s thighs.

“I’ve thought about getting it removed but it’s expensive, time-consuming, and painful.”

“You could cover it with another tattoo. The right artist could make JT disappear.”

“Yeah.” She gave a noncommittal shrug. “It is kind of fun to see the reaction of the gyno when I get my Pap test, but I have gotten some negative reactions from former boyfriends. That’s probably why I keep it.”

Rhett laughed. “Why does that not surprise me?”

“Now that I think about it, you’re the first guy ever who didn’t stop and ask me about it.” She looked over at him, curious. “But you obviously saw it.”

It was his turn to shrug, pleased that she had made the distinction. It had been a conscious choice to ignore that silly tattoo in the heat of the moment. “It wasn’t worthy of my attention right then. The only thing worthy of my attention was you.”

“Oh.” She cleared her throat.

Rhett put his baseball bat and glove in the corner. He didn’t play much these days, but back in high school he’d loved cracking that bat against a ball. He didn’t want to part with the option that he could play a ball game for fun.

“What’s with the gorilla?” he asked, because as he studied it, he realized he and Shawn had gotten busy the other night with the big lug watching them. He wasn’t sure how he had missed it in the first place, but now that he’d noticed, he didn’t like it. The gorilla had a creepy smile, and Rhett had seen enough horror movies to dislike it.

“I won it for selling a crapload of Girl Scout cookies. I had to win it, you know, once I saw him in the prize brochure. He was calling my name.” Shawn bent over the dresser, yanking open a drawer and pulling out socks, which she dumped on the bed. “His name is Coconut.”

“He has a name?”

“Of course.”

“Can we, uh, turn him to the wall while we sleep? I don’t like the way he’s looking at me.” Rhett decided he didn’t want his baseball bat next to Coconut. He moved it next to the bed, where he could easily access it.

“Are you serious?” Shawn blew her hair out of her eyes as she finished emptying the drawer and closing it again. She then opened the one below it, stuffing the socks back into it, ignoring the fact that there wasn’t really any room for them. “Does the gorilla actually bother you?”

“Yes.” He wasn’t going to lie about it. “He’s fucking creepy. I don’t need him staring at me while I sleep.”

“He’s not real,” Shawn said with a grin, trying to shove the overstuffed drawer closed. It only made it halfway. “He’s a stuffed animal.”

“I know. That’s why he’s creepy. Why does anyone need to make something so realistic-looking as a stuffed toy? I don’t like it.” It was like some of the dolls his sisters had played with as kids. They were freakish in their attempt to look like real babies. It had disturbed him then, and it disturbed him now.

Shawn laughed. “Okay, then. I never would have guessed you had a secret fear of stuffed animals.”

“It’s not fear.” Why was she failing to see the distinction here? “It’s like seeing someone have their fingernails pulled out. It’s disturbing.”

“How would you know what it looks like to see someone’s fingernails pulled out? Do you have a secret past as a terrorist interrogator?”

She was lucky he found her so cute. “Yes. So don’t piss me off.”

“Did you just make a joke?” Her eyes lit up in delight, and she laughed. “I love it. And don’t threaten me, Ford. I’ll sic my monkey on you.”

He walked toward her and was amused to see her back up against the dresser, darting her gaze around for an escape route. “Gorillas aren’t monkeys, and who is threatening who?”

All he had to do was reach his arm out for her, and she shrieked and tried to rush past him. Laughing, he didn’t find it a particular challenge to halt her progress. Despite her athletic strength, he was happy to say she was no match for him. “Where are you going?”

“I have to, uh, put the grounds in the coffeemaker for tomorrow morning.” She wiggled in his hold. “Let me go, you oaf.”

“Oaf? Okay, Gran, I’ll let you go.” Rhett was amused by Shawn, by their banter, by how comfortable he felt around her. He was also aroused by the way she was willing to tease him, the way she didn’t cower and back down, the way other women had with him.

“Gran?” she asked indignantly. “Is that a cougar slur?”

“No.” He grinned at her, pulling her tight against his chest so she would quit squirming. “I actually forgot you’re a cougar. Though I’m not sure you qualify since I initially approached you.”

“Well, I did ask you to marry me in exchange for money, so I think that makes me a model cougar.” Her expression was wry, but she did stop struggling.

“For totally different reasons. Not because you couldn’t score me all on your own. Because you could have. I would have been eager and willing.” He leaned forward and bit her bottom lip, just to hear her expression of shock and the follow-up sigh of pleasure.

“Really?”

“Really. And I’m eager and willing right now to make you scream with pleasure.” Rhett rested his hand on her waist and pulled her hard against his erection. “Now you have four minutes to deal with the coffeemaker and get back here.”

Her eyes darkened and her voice was husky. “Oh, yeah? What happens if I don’t?”

“I’ll come into the kitchen and I’ll punish you for making me wait.” His heart started to pump quicker at the thought of what he could do to Shawn, at how amazing it would feel to bury his cock inside her wet and willing pussy. His blood thickened, and saliva filled his mouth.

“You’ll spank me again?” she asked, and she sounded titillated by the idea.

Rhett shook his head, because it was important to keep her guessing, to maintain the control. “Probably not. You’ll never know what your punishment is until I hand it out. It could be anything.”

Her response was a low sound in the back of her throat. But then she disarmed him by kissing him sweetly and saying, “My time starts when you let me go.”

Holy shit, she was so hot it made his body ache in ways he hadn’t known were possible. Rhett released her and stepped back. “Go.”

She moved quickly to the door, not pausing to look back. Rhett checked the time on his phone. He wasn’t sure if he would actually hold her to the four minutes or not. But he didn’t think he would have to make that decision because Shawn was too competitive to miss the mark.

Waiting for her, he stripped off his sweatshirt and the tee beneath it and tossed them over Coconut’s face. He took his watch off and set it on the nightstand. He knew a lot of guys had quit wearing watches, but he liked the feel of it on his wrist. But not when he was going to be sliding his hands over every inch of Shawn’s body. He was cracking his neck, taking his chin in both hands and twisting it left, then right, when Shawn returned.

“Are you limbering up?” she asked, with a small smile. She was slightly out of breath from her efficiency.

Rhett glanced at his phone. “Three minutes. Impressive.” He didn’t answer her question, because he didn’t need to. “Good job.”

“Thanks.” Her gaze raked over his chest, his abs. “Do I get a reward?”

He should have known she would take it to that conclusion. It was her personality. Shaking his head, he told her, “No. Your reward is not being punished.”

Her lips parted, her eyes flashing with something close to irritation, and he waited for her to protest. It would be logical for her to protest, given Shawn’s need for control.

But she didn’t, and that was by far the sexiest response she could ever give him. “So what should I do?” Her hands were fiddling with the bottom of her sweater, like she wanted to strip it off and dive onto him. It was there in her expression. She wanted to take charge, shove him back on the bed, and climb on and ride him to a fast orgasm.

Efficient.

Get off and get on with it.

That’s the sex life Shawn had experienced before him. But Rhett wanted more than that. He wanted submersion, loss of control, total capitulation to the pleasure between them . . . the kind of pleasure where she forgot her name, what day of the week it was, or where she was.

So the erotic dance had to start where it had the night they’d met, with his hand taking hers and guiding her onto the dance floor. “You dance with me.”

“There’s no music.”

He scrolled through his phone and hit play, taking a guess that babymaking R&B music could cause her to giggle. He went classic rock, and as The Doors filled the room, her eyebrows went up in surprise, and pleasure. He held out his hand and she took it, her head tilting in a way that almost read as shy as he pulled her into his arms. He suspected not a single man had ever truly taken the time to seduce Shawn, and he intended to make up for that.

As they swayed to the music, he nuzzled her ear and told her, “I’m very, very glad I saw you that night at The Wet Spot.”

Fingertips lightly on his shoulders, she whispered, “I am, too.”

Hooking his index finger on the collar of her sweater, he dragged it down so that her chest was partially exposed. He had the long, lean lines of her clavicle and the rise of her breasts to explore with his tongue while they moved to the music. Her grip on him tightened as he lazily explored her jawline, her neck, her breasts. She started to move her hands down his shoulders to his biceps, her fingers trembling, tentative, like she expected to be stopped any second. Or maybe because she’d never allowed herself the indulgence of touching a lover in curiosity. He didn’t know. But he did like it, did want her to express herself, take tactile pleasure for herself.

She seemed particularly fascinated by his abdominal muscles, brushing back and forth over them in a way that was causing him to count backward in his head to hold on to his control. She was inches above his waistband. And he was well aware of the fact that she hadn’t touched his cock yet. But he wasn’t going to allow it now.

He set her away from him. “Take off your sweater.”

Without hesitation, Shawn complied, though she looked disappointed to have her exploration interrupted. “Put your hands in your pockets,” he told her, wanting to heighten her arousal, to tease her.

Color rose in her cheeks and she looked on the verge of protesting, but instead, she dropped her sweater on the floor and slowly pushed her hands into the front pockets of her jeans, her tongue moistening her bottom lip. She seemed to recognize that sometimes initial denial created greater satisfaction in the end. That it felt good to play his game.

He wanted to heighten her anticipation until she was beside herself with want, until nothing would ever satisfy her until he pounded his cock inside her.

So he kissed her, a teasing slow kiss that he took his time with, his hand in her hair, his tongue stroking a response out of her. He liked the way their hips rested near each other, but not entirely touching. Likewise with her chest on his. Her bent elbows prevented them from coming completely in contact with each other.

“You’re such a good kisser,” he murmured, because she was. So many women wanted to press, then pull back, press, then pull back. They didn’t want to dig in to the kiss, to commit to it, to find that the tangle of tongues and breath and desire has its own appeal. Shawn opened herself to his kiss, and he appreciated that.

“Thank you,” she said, her lips shiny, eyes slumberous. “I don’t think anyone has ever told me that.”

“That’s because they were idiots. You make a man want to kiss you all night and then start again in the morning.” He did. He wanted to disappear inside her kiss, lose himself in her warmth, her taste, her willingness.

“Whatever you want,” she told him, the sincerity almost bringing him to his knees.

Shawn got what he craved. She understood it. That he didn’t want a woman to kowtow to him, to do what he wanted out of fear, that he wanted her to do it out of trust, out of the understanding that her surrender would bring them both more pleasure than they’d thought possible.

“There’s something really very perfect about you, Shawn.” He rubbed both her nipples to tight peaks with his thumbs, enjoying the dilation of her eyes and the lazy backward tilt of her head, her hips reaching for his. “I want you to know that there is nowhere I’d rather be than right here, right now.”

“I feel the same way. I didn’t expect to, but I do.”

“Good.” Rhett kissed her neck, the curve of her breast. He sucked at her nipples through the satin of her bra, first one, then the other. He trailed his tongue down her belly, dipping into the depression of her belly button, enjoying the little jerk she gave. Moving lower, he scraped his teeth on the fabric of her jeans, knowing she would want to grab his head, guide him to the perfect location. That she would want to thrust herself onto him.

The whimper she gave was evidence he was right. “Would you like to touch me?” he asked her, murmuring against her clitoris, his breath hot on her jeans.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“No,” he told her, pulling the zipper down and flicking his tongue inside.

This moan was more pronounced and she shifted on her feet.

She was wearing cotton panties, already damp with her arousal, and it was easy to soak the fabric with his tongue and wiggle his way to the swollen button. He popped the snap on her jeans so the waistband would slide farther apart, giving him more depth to his invasion, but still containing her hands in the pockets. Spurred on by the sounds she was making, which were growing increasingly desperate, Rhett peeled her panties down from the top and sucked on her clit.

Shawn let out a cry of ecstasy, which turned to despair as he snapped the panties back in place and stood back up. He took her hands out of her pockets. She watched him with hooded eyes, her breathing labored, cheeks and chest flushed pink. Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he undid the catch, then jerked her bra down her arms before moving behind her and tugging her wrists back toward him. He tied her hands together with the bra and let them rest on the curve of her ass.

When he shifted in front of her again, he asked in a tight voice, “Okay?” He didn’t want her to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with.

She nodded, swallowing hard. Her breasts were pert and tempting, her hair tumbling into her eyes, her lips slightly parted. Her jeans were sliding a little on her hips, giving him a tantalizing view of her stomach and hip bones. There was something demure, coy, about the tilt of her head, her gaze meeting his from under her lashes. Goose bumps raced across her arms.

He suddenly wanted to devour her. He wanted to eat and bite and lick every inch of her. He wanted to lose control and consume her with his lust, to take and tear them both apart with frantic passion. Knowing he couldn’t unleash the full force of his sexual need, he settled for biting her earlobe, his teeth sinking in deep enough that he heard her gasp in pain. He didn’t want to hurt her. It brought him back under control, just as he had known it would. He soothed his actions with soft kisses and murmured words of nothing, his fingers teasing into her panties, enjoying the warm, wet welcome he received when he drove two fingers deep inside her.

“Shh,” he said when she gave a whimper, her hands jerking instinctively against the restraints.

He swallowed any further protests with a kiss as he coaxed and teased pleasure from her, seeking her G-spot. When he found it, sliding across the sensitive spongy spot, she jerked again, her mouth breaking away from his, her forehead resting on his shoulder as she fought against an orgasm. He could feel her muscles straining, feel the tightness of her nipples against his chest, hear her ragged breathing. She had remembered to wait, and that gave him immense satisfaction.

“Do you need to come?” he murmured in her ear, enjoying the brush of her lips on his shoulder.

“No,” she whispered.

“Do you want to come?”

“Yes. And no.”

Holding the back of her head, he slowed down his stroking, not wanting her to tumble into an orgasm. “Which is it?”

“Of course I want to. But I also know it will feel good to be driven crazy.”

That was his girl. “Then we’ll go with door number two. Because Shawn, you’re right. It will feel good when I drive you crazy. You’re going to scream my name before we’re finished.”

And when she did, he had a feeling that for the first time ever, he wouldn’t despise the name he’d been given.

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

SHAWN nodded, no longer able to speak. She was concentrating too hard on not losing control and coming on Rhett’s finger. It was too soon. She wanted to draw out the anticipation, but he was so good at setting her on fire, stroking her into hot ecstasy that here she was, struggling to hold on.

It wasn’t just his touch, though he had found her G-spot in about thirty seconds. It was having her hands behind her back. It made her breasts jut out in a way she wouldn’t naturally do. It made her exposed, unable to fold forward, to embrace, to touch. It made it all about her. That was the most shocking and sensual realization of all. She never would have thought that making herself vulnerable would make her powerful, yet it did.

Sensation was heightened, intensified.

Rhett had slowed his movements to a steady hypnotic glide, moving away from her sensitive spot, but intuitively understanding that if he just jerked away from her entirely, it would catapult her into an extremely unsatisfying orgasm. Breathing deeply in and out, she calmed herself down, regained control of her body, and managed to pick her forehead off his shoulder so she could see his face, gauge his expression.

His green eyes had darkened, and he was watching her with an expression she didn’t understand. It looked . . . tender. Unnerved, she tried to pull away but his hand was still in her pants, his finger still inside her, other hand cupping the back of her head. Holding her firm, he shook his head, just a slight shake of disapproval and she felt a flush of . . . what? Disappointment in herself for disappointing him?

Oh, hell, no.

Now she was really freaked out. She started to rear away from him, full-blown panic rushing over her. Given that her feet were entangled with his and her hands were tied and he was holding her, she ended up stumbling backward and would have fallen if he hadn’t prevented her from going down. Which made it worse. She realized that without her hands to brace her fall, she would have landed hard on her ass, or worse, on her face.

“Shawn.” He gripped her steadily, bent his head to make eye contact, but she couldn’t look at him. “Shawn, look at me.”

She stared at the wall, breathing hard, overwhelmed and confused. If she looked at him, he would see that she was suddenly terrified. Of how he could make her feel. Of how she could easily come to depend on him.

That wasn’t her. She didn’t depend on anyone. Because they would let you down. Leave. Like her father, and in ways so much more hurtful, her grandfather checking out and putting conditions on her inheritance.

Oh, God. Tears rose in her eyes, and one leaked, inching down her cheek, and she couldn’t even wipe it away. She was mortified.

“Baby, talk to me. What’s going on?” Rhett gently lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. When he saw the tear, he wiped it with the pad of his thumb and then sucked the droplet off his finger.

That disarmed her. “Why did you just lick my tear?” she asked, yanked out of her maelstrom of emotion. Sometimes Rhett was just freaking weird.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I just wanted to taste it.”

She gave a desperate sort of laugh. “You’re really bizarre.”

“I know. I’ve never tried to hide who I am.”

No, he hadn’t.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her waist, but loosely, like he knew she would bolt if his grip was too tight.

Which she would.

“I don’t understand what you want from me.”

He studied her for a long, uncomfortable moment. Awkward to her anyway. His stare was intense, as it always was. It stripped her bare, made her long to look away again, to hide from him.

“I don’t want to take anything from you. You don’t need to give me anything. I just want to be with you. Does that make sense?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “It’s just . . . you looked at me and I didn’t get it. It was like you . . .”

Shawn stopped herself. She couldn’t say it out loud. She would feel like an idiot. A presumptuous idiot.

“Like I what?” he urged.

When she still didn’t answer, he frowned, the smooth skin between his eyes forming a deep trench that told her his expression was frequently one of concentration. Which she knew.

“I don’t know what I look like,” he told her. “But I know what I’m thinking. And what I’ve been thinking as I kiss you and touch you, is that you’re an amazing woman and I want to give you pleasure, make you happy. And you know what that means?”

She shook her head. Sometimes it was really hard to believe that Rhett was so much younger than her. He had an easy confidence in who he was, what he said, that she envied. Yet at the same time, he made her feel very feminine, very cherished, something she’d never experienced before.

“It means I care about you. It means that if you believe in fate, it guided us both to that bar that night because we’re supposed to be here, together, doing this. This is right, Shawn, me and you. And you can’t tell me otherwise, because I won’t believe you.”

Oh, God. She had never been particularly romantic, or gushy, or emotionally exposed. But she could have sworn that everything in her just heaved, like her soul sighed in pure bliss. She even heard the exhalation of air from her mouth, a soft rush that proved she did in fact believe him. She trusted him.

That’s what was so scary.

He kissed the corner of her mouth, first right, then left. “Say something, baby.”

She shook her head. “No. Because if I do I might ruin this moment.” It didn’t have to be forever. It just had to be now.

So she kissed him. She reached out and poured her overflowing feelings into a kiss, which he accepted and deepened. As their tongues teased over each other, their moans eager and increasingly desperate, Rhett undid the bra locking her wrists together behind her back.

“I want you to touch me,” he murmured, his voice rough and gravelly.

She wasn’t going to argue with that. Greedily, she ran her hands over the hard plane of his abdomen, over his chest, his biceps. He was so hard, so solid. Like the man himself. There was nothing soft about Rhett, physically or otherwise. Indulging herself, she felt up his ass through his jeans. Equally solid.

When she shifted her touch to the front of his jeans, finding his erection with ease, she was feeling down the length of it, awed by its steely quality, when he broke off their kiss and covered her hand with his.

“Not yet, baby. Let me make you come first. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

With any other man she would have given a flippant response. A casually tossed “Duh” or the equivalent. But she wasn’t even tempted to be snarky with Rhett. It would be, well, disrespectful. So she said simply, “Yes.”

He kissed her neck and it caused goose bumps to rise all over her arms. She was lost to him, and she knew it. When he guided her back to the bed, she let him lay her out and she waited, in a sort of warm and squishy state of anticipation as he stripped her jeans off, followed by her panties. There was no rush on his part, no rough jerking of clothes, just a steady progress, the drive on his face clear. He was a man who focused on one thing at a time, she had learned. He didn’t start something and not finish it. He didn’t talk to her while scrolling through his cell phone checking e-mail and social networking sites. He didn’t watch TV and jump up at every commercial to do a chore the way she did.

One thing at a time, that was Rhett. He focused on a task until it was completed, and right now, his goal was to pleasure her.

He was achieving it. Shawn moaned in abandonment when he pulled her thighs apart with a firm grip and went at her with his tongue. She wasn’t sure what he was doing, but it was something about the steady rhythmic, yet erratic, movements that kept her guessing, unsure of where his flickering heat would land, that had her gripping the sheet, terrified that he would stop. She had always enjoyed oral sex, had never been particularly shy about receiving it, but with Rhett, it was more than simple enjoyment. It was clawing, agonizing and desperate. It was base, primal. Wet.

But then he pulled back and wiped his mouth, breathing almost as hard as she was as he paused to stare at her sex, a finger absently trailing over her inner moisture.

It was on her lips to ask what the hell he was doing, her thighs quivering from the tension she was putting on them, when she remembered the rules. She wasn’t supposed to ask questions. If she did, he wouldn’t finish this. He wouldn’t let her orgasm.

That, too, turned her on. The thought that he understood her body, her needs, better than she did. If it were up to her, she would come in the first five minutes, let him pump her for another three, then hit the showers, the edge taken off. But that really denied herself the intensity of pleasure that came from extended foreplay, that came from Rhett teasing and denying her.

It almost brought greater intimacy between them. She had engaged in sex by rote with Sam, a familiar choreography of clothes off, kisses, a few hot touches on each other’s erogenous zones, then in and out. Sleepwalking sex.

This was so much more, it wasn’t even on the same plane of existence.

She wanted to beg Rhett.

She wanted to grab his head and bury him in her.

She wanted to cry out that she was empty and she wanted him. She needed him.

But instead, she reached over and grabbed the pillow and buried her face in it so she wouldn’t be tempted to cry out.

He didn’t allow it. He tore the pillow from her and threw it against the wall. “Say what you need to say. It’s okay. I want to hear it.”

“Please,” she whimpered, and her voice sounded ragged and strange to her ears. “Don’t stop, please. Oh, please, don’t stop.”

“Put your ankles over my shoulders,” he told her.

She did, without question, assuming he was going to plow into her with his cock. She welcomed the thought, wanted something to ease the deep ache. But that wasn’t his plan. Instead, he slid his hands under her ass and lifted her clear off the bed, right up to his mouth.

“Oh, God!” she cried out when he made hot contact with his tongue on her clitoris.

The assault continued until she was twisting her head back and forth, fingers numb from her frantic grip on the sheet, skin crawling with goose bumps. “Rhett,” she whispered, all the blood rushing to her head, her leg and butt muscles tensed from the position, her agonized ecstasy rendering her incoherent. She had something to say, only she didn’t know what it was.

He lifted his mouth and looked down at her, his head framed by her thighs. “Say my name again,” he told her urgently. “Scream it.”

“Rhett,” she said, struggling to keep her eyes open. “Oh!” she said involuntarily, when he plunged his tongue into her again.

His movements stopped and she whimpered.

“Louder.”

“Rhett!” she called out, the name half plea, half question. It sounded electric to her, ringing in the quiet room, an embarrassing burst of her succumbing to him, to the needs of her body.

But it clearly wasn’t that loud, because he lifted his mouth again and used one finger to pinch her ass cheek. “Say it like you mean it. Don’t be ashamed, Shawn. Scream for me.”

So she did. She let go of everything inside her and screamed over and over while he worked her. She came with his name on her lips, echoing in the room around them, her throat going hoarse, her pleasure transcending her body, dragging everything out of her.

And when he levered her legs down onto the bed, still tasting her, as the last strains of tight fulfillment were wrung from her, Shawn blinked, her eyes, her mouth, her heart all open to him, frozen in the profound moment of pure abandonment.

Rhett undid his jeans, watching her with a predatory expression as he voiced his approval. “That was perfect. You’re perfect.”

She was stunned, tremors still rippling through her.

• • •

STANDING up so he could shove his jeans and briefs off, Rhett stared down at Shawn, her breasts heaving, her cheeks pink, skin dewy from exertion. Her fingers were fluttering upward, reaching for him, but on the bed, like she wasn’t even aware of what she was doing. She looked like she was in shock.

He felt a little that way himself. Something had happened to him when he had listened to Shawn scream his name, with the tangy taste of her on his tongue, legs wrapped around him. Something had shifted, and he didn’t know what it was. He only knew that he had never wanted a woman as much as he wanted her, that he had never known the kind of satisfaction he had felt when she had opened her throat and cried out her need, her pleasure.

His tongue was thick, his cock hard to the point of painful, his control hanging on by the merest of threads.

If she touched him, if he felt the feathery, soft touch of her fingers on his back, if her milky thighs wrapped around him, he wasn’t going to be able to contain himself. He was going to lose it in her, and he needed a second.

So as he divested himself of the remains of his clothes, he told her, “Hands above your head. Legs spread. No touching.”

Her eyelashes fluttered in confusion, but after a second, she did as she was told. The eroticism of her obedience humbled him, stoked his arousal to a fever pitch, and he moved between her thighs. Her body was displayed to pure perfection, arms above her head, neck long and graceful, breasts rising up, her legs spread wide for him, her blond curls dark and damp. When he sank into her, she cried out, then looked up to him for approval. For instruction.

He paused, the agony of the thick, pulsing desire, the primal pleasure from her surrender, almost unbearable. He shook his head, indicating no speaking, because he couldn’t speak himself. He wanted to experience his invasion of her body in silence, her screams of his name still echoing in his ears. She understood without any words from him, and her teeth sank into her bottom lip to hold back the moans as he began to move inside her.

Never had he felt this kind of connection, this deep of an intimacy with a woman, and he bent over to kiss her, wanting her to taste the lingering scent of her own body on his tongue. “Say it again,” he murmured softly against her mouth, his gaze locked with hers.

She knew what he meant. “Rhett,” she whispered, and the sweetness of his name on her lips broke his control.

He thrust deep and just said, “Shawn,” hoping she would understand that this was something different, something important happening between them. “Touch me.”

As he pushed in and out of her warmth, he expected her to lock her ankles behind his ass, to dig her nails into his back.

But she didn’t. Her legs stayed spread wide for him.

While her fingers reached up and stroked his cheeks.

It disarmed him entirely, that soft caress, her smooth hands cupping his face, while she mouthed his name in silence, the sentiment hitting him harder than when it had been torn from her on a shout.

Turning his head, he kissed her fingers, dragging one into his mouth, biting the tip before pulling it down onto the bed and intertwining her fingers with his. When the rush came, when he exploded inside her, their eyes never left each other, and Rhett knew that they had just crossed a line that couldn’t be taken back.

He didn’t want to take it back.

He wanted to stay there forever, bodies meshed together, emotions real and honest.

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

“SO what is this, Take Your Hot Husband We Didn’t Know You Had to Work Day?” Linda asked Shawn Monday morning after she had introduced Rhett.

“Ha ha. I’m so glad my staff has such a sense of humor.”

Linda shrugged, looking remarkably not contrite. “Friday you left at noon single, or so I thought. You been hiding him in your bedroom?” She eyed Rhett over her reading glasses. “I know I would.”

Shawn was surprised that more than annoyance, what she was actually feeling was a prickling of pride that her accounts receivable employee thought her husband was hot stuff. Because the truth was, he was hot stuff. He was gorgeous, built, he focused on her in bed, and he made coffee.

He was a keeper.

And she had gone from being entirely freaked out to wondering if, in fact, this relationship could be something more than a matter of saving her track and getting some booty at the same time.

Maybe it was the afterglow, but she was feeling just fine, thank you very much. Nothing Linda said was going to irritate her. “Maybe I have,” she said airily.

Rhett gave her a sly smile, and she knew he was remembering exactly what she was—last night and this morning’s repeat performance. Her body still ached in places she didn’t know she could ache.

Linda snorted, and dropped her reading glasses down onto her ample chest. She was a feisty woman in her late fifties, and she favored cheetah prints and cherry-red hair dye. She had been working at Hamby as long as Shawn could remember. In fact, when Shawn was little, she had been in awe of Linda, who had seemed like an exotic bird, with her eighties shoulder pads and jumbo hair, lips shiny and red, eyes painted with glittery shadow. Now she was settled into her desk chair behind her computer, eyeballing Shawn with no small amount of curiosity. “So I never pegged you for being able to keep a secret, girl, but apparently you’ve been mum about your dating life. How did you meet?”

“Through Eve Monroe, my sister-in-law,” Rhett told her.

That was a bit of a stretch, but it could be true. Frankly, it would have only been a matter of time before they had crossed paths. The only reason they hadn’t was because Eve had been married to Nolan just a few months and she had been busy changing careers, and Shawn had been dealing with her grandfather’s illness. They hadn’t seen each other much lately, other than at book club, and never with Nolan’s family around.

“Hmm. Well, congratulations then,” Linda said, and that seemed to be the end of it. “So are you actually working today, or did you bring your man candy just for show and now you’re bugging?”

“I’m working, thank you very much. And his name is Rhett. Show a little respect,” she told Linda, but since she was grinning, the admonishment wasn’t going to have much impact. But she couldn’t help it. She was feeling, well, like a new bride. It was embarrassing, but she couldn’t stop it.

Linda rolled her eyes. “Sure thing, hon. I’m on it.”

“We’re having a party on Valentine’s Day, and you’re invited.”

“Open bar?” Linda asked.

“Cash bar.” There was no way in hell Shawn was paying for her friends and family to get liquored up and line dance to Cotton-Eyed Joe.

“What?” Linda was appalled.

“Maybe we can work something out,” Rhett said. “We’ll see how long the guest list is.”

They left Linda sputtering at her desk about the nerve of some people, and they went into Shawn’s office. Rhett closed the door firmly behind him and said, “Give me a kiss.”

“Another one?” she teased, though she was more than willing to comply. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him deeply. “Mmm. Wakes me up better than coffee.”

“I thought it was my cock pounding you that woke you up this morning.”

“That, too.” Her nipples hardened at the memory of how he had awakened her with kisses and a teasing hand over her breasts, her sex, dragging her out of sleep and into languid pleasure before entering her with a decisive thrust. “I don’t usually like Monday mornings, but then again, they’ve never started like that.”

He patted her backside with a familiarity that came from having seen and touched every inch of her, and Shawn felt perfectly comfortable in his arms. It was odd to think that she was more intimate, more connected, with a man she had known ten days than with a man she’d spent three years dating.

“We have a new tradition, then.”

Neither one of them mentioned that this was supposed to be temporary. They were clearly both determined to just enjoy it, and Shawn was willing to reside in Delusionville for a while longer. “Thanks for coming in with me on your day off.”

“I’m glad to. I want to see what you do, see the behind-the-scenes here at the track.”

She kissed him again, because she couldn’t seem to get enough of his lips. “Hm. Then I guess we’d better open this door back up and behave ourselves, or the only work that will get done today will be of a more personal nature.”

He sighed. “Alright, let’s get cracking.” He nudged her forward and opened the door back up. “But later we’ll pick back up where we left off.”

“I don’t doubt it for a minute,” she told him most sincerely. Then aware that several of her employees were craning their necks to gawk into her office, she went around her desk and sat down, indicating he take a seat himself. “So this is my cave, where I spend the majority of my time. Glamorous, isn’t it?”

“About as much so as the inside of a stock car.” Rhett settled into his chair and glanced around at her many stacks of papers, the old promo posters that had been tacked to the wall and were now faded. “So how is business?”

That was the crux of all her problems. “Business is slow. We’re two-bit in a crowded field. I hate to admit that, but it’s true. We run a variety of races, from vintage to moto to modifieds, but they’re local and regional. They don’t draw the big crowds, so we don’t get the big vendors or the big sponsors. No big dollars coming in from corporate, and ticket sales alone can’t turn a profit, nor can entry fees for drivers.” Shawn settled back in her chair, letting it swivel a little. “It’s hard for me to talk about this—it feels disloyal to Pops—but the truth is, racing has changed. This isn’t the seventies, when it was good ole boys throwing down on the track for shits and grins. This is about money. Survival.”

Rhett nodded. “I understand that, and I appreciate that you’re willing to discuss it with me. Family businesses are more than dollar signs or bricks and mortar. It’s a way of life. It’s about heart, not money.”

“Exactly.” She felt relief that he got it. Got her. “But heart won’t pay the electric bill, and I’m concerned that we’re losing ground every year. We won’t make it if I don’t make some changes.”

“You need to go national.” Rhett steepled his fingers in front of his chin and leaned toward her desk. “You need sanctioning from the big dogs.”

Shawn nodded. “With their stamp of approval, and the possibility of earning national points here, as well as a track title, we’ll pull bigger drivers, bigger sponsorships, bigger vendors. But I don’t even know where to begin with that. I’m not a wheeler and dealer. I’m not a public relations expert. I’ve basically been the events coordinator. Our staff is small. I don’t know where to start.”

“I don’t either. But I can guarantee Eve does. Didn’t you say she offered some recommendations for new hires?”

“Yes. I have to contact them and do some interviews. I feel like I’m in over my head, I’m not going to lie. We need a new website. New promo photos. Social media networking. We need to be modern if we want to succeed, while still holding on to the idea that Hamby is a family track, run by a family, for families to enjoy together.”

Rhett smiled. “I totally agree. And what better way to kick off the new season and a media blitz than with our wedding here at the track? Pit crew member marries track owner in a wedding attended by some of the hottest names in professional racing. The new Hamby Speedway dynasty. We’ll spin the shit out of it.”

Shawn started to get excited and nervous all at the same time. “But the hottest names in racing won’t be at our wedding, that I’m aware of. We said family and closest friends only.”

“I say we broaden the circle a bit. You grew up with Evan and Elec Monroe, and Evan was my boss. Eve will be there. I’ll invite Evan’s crew chief, since he and I worked together for two years, and he’s a fan favorite. Doesn’t your friend Harley work for Cooper Brickman? She can bring him as a date.”

The thought of Harley inviting her boss, one of the most notorious playboys on the driving circuit, as her date, made her laugh. “I think Harley would curl up like a pill bug if we suggested that. She does not like the spotlight.”

“But you get the idea.”

“We’re going to turn our wedding into a media blitz?” It made total sense, but somehow it offended her. It was a wedding, not a business opportunity. Except it wasn’t a real wedding, so she was clearly being ridiculous.

“Yes.” Rhett had a calculating look on his face that she recognized. It meant he was focused on the idea and was going to devote his energy to making it successful. “We’ll do this, Shawn. We make the track a success and your Pops will be proud, toasting you with a glass of whiskey up there in the racetrack in the sky.”

Her heart melted like ice cream in August. “Thanks, Rhett. I appreciate you helping me. You don’t have to, you know.”

“I don’t have to. I want to.” He smiled at her. “We’re in this together. You and me. I care about you.”

“I care about you, too,” she said.

Which was probably the greatest risk of all, but she was willing to take it.

• • •

RHETT sat across the table from Shawn at a steak house, watching her cut her beef into bite-size pieces and eat them, her eyes sparkling, expression animated. He loved a woman who wasn’t afraid to eat some meat and potatoes. He loved the way she smiled at him, like he was the only person in the room. Except for when she would occasionally glance up at the TV to check the score on the Gamecocks basketball game playing over the bar.

He felt as if their landing in this situation, married, falling for each other, made about as much sense as a trapdoor in a canoe, but he wasn’t going to question it. He was just going to enjoy this time with her.

With his wife.

She gave a cheer as the Cocks got a three-point shot. “Did you go to college?” she asked.

“No. Some of my sisters did. But they paid for it themselves, and I didn’t have that much ambition, or more accurately, I didn’t care that much about school. I was already in vocational school by tenth grade, working on engines. I knew that’s what I wanted to do.” He had never regretted that choice. “I’m not cut out to sit behind a desk or work with people. I’m not really a people person.”

She laughed. “You act like you’re an ogre, which you most definitely are not. But it’s good that you understood yourself.”

“I did. I still do.” Rhett took a long swallow of his beer. “Did you ever want to do anything, like be a nurse or a flight attendant or something?” The image of her serving drinks to restless passengers was hard to conjure.

“Nah. I grew up at the track. It was a part of me. There was nothing else I wanted to do, even once I stopped racing.”

“Why did you stop racing?”

“I stopped winning.” Shawn grinned. “I may have had a bit of a problem with being too impulsive. You have to be more disciplined than I am.”

Rhett grinned right back at her. “Well, isn’t that what we’ve been working on? Your discipline?”

She blushed, like he knew she would, her eyes fluttering down briefly before meeting his again. She was the perfect mix of feminine and demure, yet strong and independent. She would hesitate, she would blush, but she always rose to the challenge. He found her to be the sexiest woman he’d ever met.

“Not the same thing, Ford.” She stuck her fork out at him. “And you shouldn’t speak to your elders that way.”

That cracked him up. “That’s not precisely how I think of you. In fact, it’s not even close.”

The waving fork came over to his plate and swiped some of his mashed potatoes. “Hey. Eat your own food.” Though he didn’t mind at all.

“Us old ladies need our food smashed up.”

“Why, do you have dentures?”

That had her hastening to say, “No, of course not.”

He laughed. “I know that, you dork.”

She made a face. “Okay, just verifying. I liked teasing you until it came to that. Then I realized I don’t actually want you to think of me as old, so why the hell am I bringing it up? Maybe I should bite some corn on the cob to prove it.”

“That’s going to prove you’re still young?” Her thought processes boggled his mind.

“No! It will prove I don’t have dentures.”

“Shawn, I’ve kissed you. I’ve slept beside you. I look at you a good portion of every day. I know you don’t have dentures. And even if you did, I would still think you’re hot as hell. Now, why are we talking about this?”

She didn’t answer that question. Instead, she said, “Hey, how come you’ve never had me give you a blow job?”

Rhett almost choked on his T-bone. She was killing him tonight. “Is this really the place to talk about it?”

She shrugged. “The acoustics suck in here. It’s louder than fight night at the honky-tonk. No one can hear us.”

“First of all, does it really bother you that you’re older than me? Do you feel like I’m not mature enough for you?” He was curious about that, given how frequently she’d brought up their age difference.

But she shook her head. “No, I think you’re actually very mature. In some ways, you have it together more than me because you never second-guess yourself. I guess it just seems like society cares about women being older. Maybe I’m bracing myself for the reactions I’m going to get. Maybe I need reassurance that you don’t care.”

“Why would I care? I don’t. Trust me. In fact, I like that you’re a woman in her thirties. You know yourself. Who gives a shit what other people think? They’re just jealous that you snagged a younger guy.” He winked at her.

She laughed. “Well, there is probably truth to that. I thought Linda was going to leap over her desk and lick you.”

Oh, God, there was a terrifying image. That had been a lot of cheetah print and bold accessories. He wasn’t sure he could handle that kind of bling coming at him. “Please save me if that ever happens. I’m not sure I would know what to do in that circumstance.”

She went back into his mashed potatoes. He turned his plate so she would have easier access.

“You can handle yourself just fine. So what about my question?”

Tenacious, she was. It was going to serve her well as they took the track in a new direction. But she didn’t want to talk about the track. She wanted to know why she hadn’t been asked to suck his cock. The thought had him shifting on his seat, an erection springing to life. “Because when you’re having sex the way we’ve been having it, when I’m asking you to give complete control over to me, for me personally, I feel like having you suck me borders on the line of degradation. I want a woman to suck me because she wants to, not because I ordered her.”

“Even if I say I want to?”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Because the whole point is, you’ve agreed to agree, so you have to say you want to. Plus you can’t initiate it. So it doesn’t work for me. I don’t get off on that.”

She seemed to mull that over. “Oh, I think I understand. It’s complicated, huh?”

“I’ve given a lot of thought to what I want, very precisely.” Maybe too much thought, but it was his sex life. Why waste time being unsatisfied or choosing the wrong partners?

“Have you, um, done this with lots of other women?” Then immediately she looked angry at herself for asking.

Rhett wanted to reassure her. He wasn’t offended by the question. It was natural to want to know, and he wasn’t going to tease her in such a vulnerable moment, the way he imagined a lot of guys would. Shawn had had enough of that in her dating, she needed a man who would respect her needs and questions. “No. Not lots of women. And never like this. Never the way it is with you. Never this amazing.”

Shawn nodded, thoughtful. “Okay.”

He waited, but that was all she said. “Okay? That’s it?” Not to be an emotional pussy, but he was kind of hoping she’d throw him a compliment back. Hell, he needed to hear that he was pleasing her, too, even if he knew it when they were in bed. Which only proved that he was falling hard for her if he needed to hear it in words.

“What? Oh, I’ve never done this with anyone before.”

He knew that. “That’s not what I meant.” He turned and glanced at the TV, wondering if the game was distracting her, but it was a commercial break. He wanted to hear her say that it was different with him, that she thought it was amazing as well.

Looking back, he realized she was watching him.

“I can’t say it yet. I want to, but I can’t.” She smiled sweetly. “But I will say this—I owe the Bitches Book Club a huge thank-you.”

He smiled back. It was enough for now. “You call yourselves the Bitches Book Club?”

“Yes. To distinguish ourselves from soccer moms.”

That had him laughing. “I would say that would do it. That and the post-meeting stop off at a fetish club.”

“Well, you know, if you’re going to discuss a book, you might as well really dig into it. We coordinate food around the book themes, too.”

Why did that not surprise him? “What did you eat that night? Oysters and hot sauce?”

“Cupcakes with whips and cuffs on them. The fondant work was pretty stellar.”

And this was his wife. The sweet and sexy, all mixed together. Rhett raised his beer to her. “Well played, Shawn. Well played.”

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

SHAWN figured it was a toss-up who was more miserable—her, Rhett, or the photographer, who literally winced every time she glanced down at her screen to check the shots.

What could she say? Getting engagement shots taken for what was essentially a wedding for marketing purposes was not high on her list of fun things to do. She felt completely ridiculous, and it was clear that Rhett felt the same way because he was stiff beside her, his hand clammy as he clasped hers per the photographer’s instructions.

Sandy was watching them with a look of pure horror. “Oh, hell, no. This is not going to work.”

“What?” Rhett asked in annoyance.

“You look like you have gas!” was his mother’s opinion.

That made Shawn crack the first smile in the past thirty minutes.

“Momma,” Rhett growled, “I’m trying. But I’m getting blue balls out here. Can’t we do this in the house?”

“So people can see our shabby living room suite that your father has been promising to replace for me and never does? Absolutely not. It’s beautiful out here with the barn in the backdrop.”

“It’s February. We’re standing in mud with bare trees behind us. This is not nature at its finest.”

“Do we have a shot we can use?” Sandy asked the photographer, whose name was Erika. The poor woman probably wanted to give back the deposit and go home.

“Not really,” Erika said, scrolling through the digital shots. “I’m not getting any genuine emotion out of them.”

“The only genuine emotion I’m feeling right now is irritation,” Rhett said.

“It shows.”

Shawn snorted. She was glad he was as uncomfortable as she was. First she’d had to debate what to wear, then had settled on casual, then Erika had insisted they take their coats off, so she was freezing. A thin sweater was no match for forty degrees.

Jeannie was over with her kids for dinner—the door opened and the kids came tumbling out to play in the yard. “How’s it going?” Jeannie asked.

“It isn’t,” her mother told her. She turned to Erika. “You know what? Let’s give Shawn and Rhett a few minutes to regroup. Why don’t you snag some shots of the kids playing?”

“Thank God,” was Rhett’s opinion as he relaxed beside her. “My face hurts from forced smiling.”

Shawn turned and reached out to massage his cheeks. “Our lives are so hard, aren’t they?”

“They really are.” He grabbed her hand again, this time with a smirk on his face. “Come around the corner and make out with me.”

Laughing, Shawn let him drag her a few feet away. “You’re naughty.”

“That’s the rumor on the street.”

“Were you a bad little boy?” she asked him, smiling, curious as to what Rhett had been like as a child.

“I don’t think so. Though I was good at silent maneuvering when I did want something, or was where I wasn’t supposed to be. When you’re quiet, you can get away with murder.”

“Shoot, that’s what I did wrong.” Shawn figured he had a point. “I was always about as subtle as tie-dye. Fortunately for me, my mother didn’t believe in discipline.”

“What do you mean? How can you not believe in discipline? Is that even possible?”

“When your mom is a self-proclaimed hippie, it’s very possible. She didn’t want to stifle our moral growth with preconceived notions of right and wrong.” It sounded as cracked to her now at thirty-two as it had at ten. “I say she’s lucky we didn’t grow up to be hard-core criminals.”

“I guess you proved her theory, though. She probably takes credit, doesn’t she?” Rhett looked amused.

“She does. And it’s annoying. I’m sorry, every kid needs boundaries. There’s a big difference between enforcing a bedtime so they’re not nuts in school as compared to corporal punishment. My mom lumps them all together. But my grandparents saved us. They taught us not to burp in public and that bathing has its merits.”

“I’m very grateful for that. The bathing part, that is. You can burp all you want.” Rhett took both of her hands in his and rubbed them gently. “Damn, it’s cold out here. I bet all the other kids envied your freedom. When I think of all the hours I could have wasted watching Power Rangers if my parents hadn’t limited my TV time. I could be a superhero today.”

Shawn laughed. “What a tragedy. But while I didn’t have a curfew, TV was a no-no, and processed foods were not allowed in the house. Everyone else had a snack cake in their lunch, and I had raisins. It’s just not the same, trust me.”

The horrified look on his face confirmed this.

“So which Power Ranger did you want to be?” she asked him.

There was no hesitation whatsoever. “Red.”

Then he did something she wouldn’t have ever in a million years pictured him doing. He threw out his arms and went into a karate stance. “Go, go, Power Rangers!”

Shawn loved it. “Okay, that is the most awesome thing you’ve ever done.”

His eyebrows went up and down. “Ever?”

She laughed. “Okay, maybe not ever because you do rock my socks in bed. But that’s pretty awesome.”

Rhett stood back up and pulled her close against his chest. “Thanks. You cold?”

“Freezing.”

“Let me warm you up.” He pulled her even tighter into his arms and kissed her.

“Better than hot chocolate,” he said.

It was.

• • •

SANDY Ford watched her grandkids playing and jammed her hands into her coat pockets.

“Were they that bad?” Jeannie asked.

“Oh, they were worse,” Sandy assured her. “I know Rhett hates having his picture made, but good Lord. He looked like he did when he had the stomach flu.”

Jeannie laughed. “Maybe you should just let it go. You can’t force him into anything, you know that.”

Did she ever. He was by far the most stubborn of her kids. “I hate to accept defeat, but I may have to.”

“So what do you think of Shawn?” Jeannie asked.

“I like her.” Not that she knew her particularly well, but it was clear Rhett was happy with her, and that made Sandy happy. Glancing over at her son, she nudged Jeannie and murmured, “Look at him.”

He was doing some kind of role-playing thing, flinging his arms around and going into a crouch, while Shawn’s laughter rang in the yard.

“What the . . .” Jeannie sounded as stunned as Sandy felt. Given that Jeannie had been well into her teens when Rhett was born, she was more than aware that her brother was not the most animated Ford offspring.

Quick, before the moment was lost, Sandy reached out and snagged Erika, who had been taking shots of the kids. In a low voice, she murmured, so Rhett and Shawn wouldn’t hear her, “Five o’clock. Take the shot.”

It sounded like she was in a Jason Bourne movie, but hell, whatever it took. She wanted one decent picture of her son clearly in love.

Fortunately, Erika was a good enough photographer to understand this could be her one and only crack at going home with something for her portfolio, because she immediately swung around and started shooting. Rhett pulled Shawn into his arms and kissed her with a tenderness that brought a tear to a mother’s eye. Sandy was even willing to ignore the fact that Shawn was in her thirties if this was how her baby boy felt about her.

Erika gave a sound of triumph as she clicked through the pictures on her screen. “Look at this.”

It was a great shot. They were gazing into each other’s eyes. “I love it.”

“That’s beautiful,” Jeannie agreed.

“Rhett, come over here and see this,” Sandy called to her son. She was ready to go back in the house and drink some coffee to warm up. Mission accomplished.

• • •

RHETT had forgotten his mother was anywhere near them. He pulled back from Shawn and made a face, realizing they were still stuck doing the photo shoot. They wouldn’t be allowed to go back inside until his mother deemed a picture romantic enough. He was starting to think he’d go down on a knee in the damn mud if it got this business over with. He wanted to take his wife home and snuggle on the couch for a couple of hours until he could strip her naked and have his way with her. It was the way the last three days had gone, and he was digging it, he had to say. This marriage business was damn convenient.

The whole getting-to-know-you thing was sped up by them living in the same house. The majority of the time, when Rhett wasn’t at work or the gym, he was with Shawn, and already their days had taken on a predictable pattern of dinner, a little TV or a beer at the bar up the road, maybe some darts or pool, then a few delicious hours in bed together before they fell asleep. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he could ask for anything more perfect.

And the more time he spent with Shawn, the more he realized that his initial attraction to her was growing into something more, deeper, truer.

Hell, he was falling in love with her.

When his mother called him over, and he and Shawn saw the image Erika had captured with her camera, it was there for him to clearly see. Oh, yeah. He was falling in love with her.

Given the way she gazed up at him with limpid eyes in the photo, Rhett was inclined to think he wasn’t the only one suffering from the affliction. Shawn looked . . . soft. Gushy. Wide-eyed. It made his heart swell all over again.

“What do you think?” his mother asked. “Isn’t this a great shot?”

“That was devious, Momma,” he told her, his throat tight. He didn’t trust himself to agree with her assessment, or he might get overly emotional.

“It’s candid, honest,” his mother protested. “This is way better than anything we could have gotten with you posing.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Shawn said.

Rhett glanced down at her. Her face was pale, nose red from the cold, and she looked thoughtful, teeth digging into her bottom lip.

“Well, let’s go in the house, then, before we lose our fingers.”

His mother was all smiles, promising coffee and cookies. Jeannie grinned at him. “You’ve made her day.”

“That was my goal,” he told her sarcastically. “What is she going to do with these pictures anyways?”

“Hang them on the wall with the pictures of the rest of us from our engagement shoots. And I have to tell you, I’m jealous. Photography is so artistic now. When I married Mark, we had those horrible canned shots with his hand on my shoulder, and we’re wearing matching sweaters. I mean, seriously?”

Rhett laughed. He had spent some time as a child studying his mother’s hall of marital fame photos marching along the beige wall to the bedrooms, and he had to admit he’d been entertained by some of the fashions. “Sammy’s picture was worse than yours. Bill’s holding the cat, for Chrissake. Shawn, you have to see these pictures, seriously. It’s like an alley of awful.”

“Hush,” his mother yelled back to him.

But that only made him laugh more, glad the mood had lifted. Shawn was smiling as they went into the house and kicked off their shoes. He led her over to the hall that started with his oldest sister Sammy and descended on down to Nolan, the last Ford to get married.

“I don’t think I realized how big your family really is until just now,” Shawn marveled as they strolled down the hall, checking out his sister Rachel’s underwater scuba engagement shot, to Dawn and her husband sitting on a horse fence holding hands.

Nolan was smiling in his picture, Eve tucked up against his chest. She wasn’t smiling, which was typical Eve, but the way she clasped his hands tightly against her rib cage spoke volumes if you knew her. There was an empty spot next to them on the wall, and suddenly it wasn’t so funny anymore. Rhett knew that his picture with Shawn would be printed out, framed, and hung to fill the final spot in the Ford family puzzle. Only it wasn’t real. And in six months, he would be the first Ford to get divorced and break his mother’s heart.

Not to mention his.

Suddenly, the full impact of what he had done, agreed to, hit him hard, and he squeezed Shawn’s hand.

Most people didn’t fall in love in two weeks.

But he wasn’t most people.

He couldn’t expect her to feel the same way anytime soon. But he could give her reasons to eventually feel that way. He could be the best damn husband anyone could ever ask for, in bed and out.

Shawn looked up at him, puzzled. “What are you thinking?”

“You don’t want to know,” he told her. They were thoughts that would probably scare the living shit out of her. Thoughts of forever and love and family.

“I can’t believe we have this wedding party in eight days.”

“Yeah. Me either.”

If the party didn’t scare her senseless, Rhett had five months to convince her to consider that their relationship might be real. He was confident he could do it.

He wasn’t letting Shawn go, now that he had found the woman for him. End of story.

• • •

SHAWN knew Rhett was right—she probably didn’t want to know what he was thinking. It was probably something along the lines of being horrified that he had agreed to this fake marriage and how guilty he felt over duping his family. Shawn didn’t really want to hear that said out loud, because then she would feel even more guilty than she already did.

Every day she spent with Rhett, she grew more and more confused. If this was a business arrangement only, then it was a shitty thing to be doing to the people in their lives, loss of Hamby Speedway or not. But if it wasn’t just a business arrangement—which most of the time it sure didn’t feel like that—then what the heck was it?

Rhett, despite his reputation as being serious and intense, was the easiest man to be around she had ever encountered. All her previous relationships had felt like she was jockeying for position, a teasing game of one-upmanship, communication centered around taking jabs at each other under the guise of joking. Like two guys in a locker room, not a man and woman who claimed to care about each other. It wasn’t like that at all with Rhett. He was kind and considerate, he asked her opinions, and he listened to her woes and worries. He offered useful advice, and he got excited over her successes.

Then in bed, well, there were no words to describe how absolutely sexy he made her feel, and how totally absorbed by pleasure she was when he was of a mind to have sex with her.

So what did it all mean? She had no clue. All she knew was that the last week had been one of the best of her life. She was pumped about the opportunities she and Rhett were planning for the track, she was pleased to have a partner to even discuss them with, and while she’d never been lonely in her house before, Rhett fit into her home perfectly.

But here at his parents’ house, the images of his siblings and their spouses blending on one long wall of happiness and expectation, Shawn felt torn between wanting this to be real and horror with herself for violating something so clearly sacred. The Fords weren’t her family. They respected marriage. Shawn found that she herself did, more than she had ever realized before all of this.

“What did we get ourselves into?” she asked with a laugh that was intended to sound casual, jovial, but sounded shaky instead. She meant regarding the party, but the truth was, it could be said for the entirety of what they had been, and were, doing.

But Rhett just shrugged, still looking at the pictures, not her. “The party will be fun.”

She wanted to scream that that wasn’t what she meant. She wanted to very pathetically ask him how he really felt about her. She wanted to say that she was grateful to him.

Instead, she copped out and joked, “At least we can get drunk. We’re practically obligated to drink champagne, so we might as well take advantage.”

Rhett finally looked at her. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “Good point. It will loosen you up.” He leaned closer to her, his breath caressing her cheek and causing her to shiver. “Then I can take you up the ass like I’ve been wanting to.”

Hello. Shawn had never engaged in that particular activity, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. “We’ll see.” If he wanted to kick up the kink, honestly, she’d prefer they dust off her vibrator. The back door had never been a fantasy for her.

But he just gave a slow, seductive laugh that had her hoo-hah heating up. “Since when do you call the shots? We do what I want, and you’ll like it.”

The fact was, she probably would. He hadn’t been wrong yet.

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

“OH, no. No. Absolutely not. As in hell no,” Shawn said, in case there was any doubt in anyone’s mind. She was not going to ride the mechanical bull. “This isn’t a real bachelorette party because I’m already married, so I do not need to act like an idiot.”

She was perfectly content to sit at the sticky table in the country western–themed bar and drink her beer while she moved her feet to some Tim McGraw tunes. Simple. Worked for her.

Charity had other ideas. She was dressed in nothing but a denim vest with fringe dangling at her ta-tas, a tiny denim skirt, and hot pink cowboy boots. “Don’t be a spoilsport!” she said, wetting her lips with yet more lip gloss and fluffing her blond hair. “Cut loose a little.”

“I think you’re being loose enough for all of us,” Eve told her with a grin.

“Bitch.” Though Charity didn’t look particularly hurt. “I want to dance! You old ladies can sit here like a bunch of lame-os, but I’m going to dust off my two-step. Harley, you coming?”

Her twin shook her head rapidly. “No.” She looked like she would prefer to paint her naked body with honey and go strolling through a bear’s den than dance on the floor with a multitude of skimpily dressed women and one drunk fifty-year-old man who was aiming too high with his flirtations.

Shawn was with Harley on this one.

Eve shook her head when Charity asked her. “I can’t dance. I look like I’m being electrocuted.” She sipped her beer and glanced around. “Man, I do not miss being single. This is a meat market, and not the freshest cuts, I have to say.”

“Thanks,” Harley said with a frown, pumping her straw furiously up and down in her fruity drink. “That’s very helpful to those of us who are single.”

Oops. “You don’t want anyone here anyways,” Shawn protested. “There isn’t a guy here worthy of you.”

“That argument gets stale when you haven’t been on a date in a year.”

“I can sympathize with that,” Shawn said. “Before Rhett I was on a dry spell that had the trees begging the dogs to lift a leg. When you least expect it, you’ll meet someone.”

“I doubt it,” Harley said. Then she smiled, “But this is your night anyway. Though I have to admit, I’m having trouble keeping track of Rhett and Nolan’s sisters. There’s just so many of them, and their names all seem to end in ‘y.’”

“Tell me about it,” Shawn agreed. Five of Rhett’s sisters had come and were at the bar ordering drinks. “They all look similar, too, and the only one with a stand-out name, Rachel, is the one who lives in California. The rebel.”

Eve snorted. “Yeah, she’s so rebellious that she works as a CPA.”

“You know, to people like Sandy and Nolan Senior, and my grandparents, and your parents, leaving the Carolinas is akin to seceding from the South. Unless you move to Georgia.”

“Then they just think you’re being stubborn.” Eve grinned.

Danny, Sammy, Andy, Melissa, and Dawn, the Ford sisters, came back to the table, various drinks in hand.

“It’s too bad Jeannie couldn’t make it,” Andy said. “But Asher was projectile vomiting.” Given the way she was swaying her hips to the music and grinning, the sympathy seemed more like relief that it wasn’t her stuck at home with a sweaty kid.

“So tell us gossip about Rhett as a kid,” Eve said. “So we can shame him tomorrow.”

Danny laughed. “He was spoiled, I can tell you that. Dad wanted another son, which is why half of us girls have male nicknames. I don’t think Mom cared one way or the other, but there is no question he was her baby. And ours. We used to put him in our old dresses.”

The image of Rhett dolled up made Shawn snort. “That must have been a sight to behold. He’s so . . . masculine.” Immediately, she felt the heat in her cheeks. That didn’t sound right. It sounded very smitten and girly. Yikes.

Melissa rolled her eyes, lifting her drink, which looked an awful lot like straight bourbon. “He wasn’t born six two with rock-solid biceps, you know. He was a scrawny enough little kid. With a freakish ability to never blink. For a while we were sure he was Damian from The Omen reincarnated. Mom was a little pissed about that when we started calling him JB, for Jackal Baby.”

Eve laughed. “That sounds like something I would have done. I love it.”

“Would have done?” Shawn asked. “Hell, you still would.”

“True.”

Danny set down her drink and stripped off her hoodie. “Okay, I never get out of the house. Ever. I am going to dance. I may be too old for this shit, and I may be happily married, but sometimes a woman still needs to shake what the good Lord gave her.”

“Charity is already out there. She’s the one surrounded by a cloud of White Diamonds. She thinks wearing an Elizabeth Taylor scent will attract older men with money.”

All the sisters went out to the dance floor. They didn’t try to drag Eve, obviously knowing their sister-in-law well enough to realize she couldn’t be dragged anywhere, not even out of a burning fire if she had decided she wanted to stay and get a tan. Harley was no match for them, though. One tug, and they had her. Shawn bailed by saying she wanted to talk to Eve. Which she did, so it wasn’t a total lie.

“Do you really want to talk to me?” Eve asked, shifting her chair closer to Shawn’s to be heard over the music. “Or were you just trying to get out of dancing?”

“I wanted to ask you something.” It was a weird thing to ask, but hell, Shawn was curious. She’d never been married before. “How often do you and Nolan have sex?”

Eve spit out the beer she’d been sipping and choked. “Goddammit, Shawn! Will you fucking warn me if you’re going to ask something like that? I almost drowned from my Heineken.”

“Sorry. But I am serious. Like, what is normal when you’re married?”

“Well.” Eve wiped her mouth with a cocktail napkin and then rubbed it down the front of her tight shirt. “I would say on average, it’s three times a week. It would probably be more like four or five if our schedules didn’t keep us apart. Why? Is Rhett falling asleep watching TV instead of banging you? He’s only twenty-five, for crying out loud.”

Shawn coughed. “No. Um, it’s kind of the opposite. We’ve had sex every day for the last ten days. I was just wondering if, you know, that’s normal. And if, maybe at some point, it’s going to slow down.”

Eve’s jaw dropped. “Ten days in a row? Are you serious?”

Shawn nodded.

“Are they quickies, or are they like actual sexual events?”

Oh, they were not quickies. “Actual events. Usually at least an hour, most closer to two.” And every day had been a little more freeing, a little more arousing, a little more all-encompassing. She’d never been so in tune with her body, never had so many orgasms in such a short span of time. It was amazing and wonderful and, frankly, scary as hell.

“Holy crap. I think I need to have a word with my husband.” Eve laughed. “Though, honestly, at some point I think that would just be overkill for me. Nolan and I have a rocking sex life and that would just cut into my sleep schedule. So, how do you feel about it? Is it boring or something? Is that why you’re asking?”

That most definitely was not the problem. “No, it’s not boring at all. I love it. It makes all the sex I’ve had before look like child’s play. I was just wondering if at some point we’re going to have a sexual crash, and then it will be nothing. Or if I might be doing harm, you know, like wrecking my vagina or something. I would think it needs a break at some point.”

“It’s not a Walmart worker. It doesn’t need an hour for lunch.” Eve made a face at her.

“I know.” Shawn laughed. “It just seems like it can’t be good for it.”

“Well, ask it. Like ‘Hey, vag, how are you feeling today?’ If it feels beat up, tell Rhett to give it a rest for twenty-four. Otherwise, I think you’re good. I mean, isn’t that what it was designed for?”

“True.” Sucking down her Guinness, she shook her head. “Who would have thought I would be worried about getting laid too frequently? Sam and I had sex once every two weeks.”

“That’s because he was banging random chicks the other thirteen days.”

“Thanks for the reminder. See? This is why I question Rhett’s behavior. It’s out of my realm of experience.”

Eve laughed. “I think you just need to enjoy the fact that your husband is so into you. Though now when I look at him I’m going to be watching to see if he’s popping Viagra or something. Two hours? What the hell?”

“He’s twenty-five,” Shawn reminded her. “He is erect or semi-erect on average eighteen hours a day.”

“I’m going to puke,” was Eve’s opinion.

Harley came rushing back to the table and dropped into a chair, her eyes wide.

“What’s wrong?” Shawn asked her.

“Cooper’s here.”

Uh-oh. “Your boss?”

“Yes. He’s dancing.”

Cooper Brickman was a man-whore driver who Harley had just started working for as a nanny/prison guard for his obnoxious twelve-year-old niece. It was safe to say Harley had a King Kong–size crush on him, though he seemed like the last person on earth she would be interested in. But there was no accounting for attraction. Shawn was just worried she was doomed to unrequited lust.

“So dance with him,” was Eve’s suggestion.

“He’s my boss!” Harley looked aghast and downed half her rum runner in one gulp. “I can’t dance with him! Besides, he’s dancing with Charity. I need another drink.”

“You might want to sip the next one,” Shawn suggested. “And tell Charity you have a thing for him so she isn’t horning in. You shouldn’t have to sit here and watch them dancing together.” She could see them out there on the crowded dance floor. Charity was engulfed in Cooper’s octopus grip, his hands lower on her back than was strictly appropriate.

“You’re identical twins and he’s hitting on Charity. Don’t you think that means he’s actually interested in you?” Eve asked.

“No! There is nothing identical about Charity and me.” And she crossed her arms over her chest in a clear signal that she wanted to pout about it, not talk about it.

Danny and Sammy came back over, tossing back their hair and laughing. “Come on, we’re riding the mechanical bull! Who’s in?”

“I’ll do it,” Eve said, tossing a smirk her way. “And I dare Shawn to do it.”

Damn it. One of these days she was going to pass on a dare. She was going to be mature enough to realize it didn’t matter in the slightest if she didn’t rise to the bait. That her worth as a human being was not based on how many challenges she could accept and accomplish.

That day was not today.

This was her bachelorette party and she was not going to be shown up. So she shrugged in total nonchalance. “I’ll do it. It looks easy.”

Eve laughed. “Talking smack, huh? Twenty bucks says you can’t stay on for forty-five seconds.”

Shawn tried to remember her previous experiences watching other women ride the bull at various bars around town. Usually they took it easy on them, preferring the setting that bounced the bull up and down, creating a crowd-pleasing breast jiggle. Once she’d had the misfortune to see a woman get tossed off in a miniskirt, flashing the whole bar her girl bits. Shawn was wearing jeans, and she had enough strength in her thighs from playing volleyball and doing yoga that she was confident she could hang for forty-five seconds.

“No problem.” She turned to her sisters-in-law. “Who wants to lay down their money? Me or Eve, who can stay on the bull longer?”

“Oh, Lord,” Harley mumbled.

Purses were flung open and money was waved around.

Shawn eyed the bull from across the room and sized up her competition. Eve had the advantage of wearing jeans with some spandex in them. Otherwise, it was a level field.

She cracked her knuckles and strode over to sign the waiver.

• • •

RHETT watched his brother-in-law going for some kind of basketball shooting record and decided he was bored out of his mind. He didn’t want a bachelor party with strippers or to wind up puking in the backseat of Jared’s car, but hell, he wanted something a little more exciting than an adult-oriented arcade. His sister’s husbands all had kids and didn’t get a night to themselves very often, so they were all pumped to be drinking beer and playing Skee-Ball, but Rhett was feeling understimulated. Nolan didn’t look to be having that great of a time either, though he had managed to score a boatload of tickets off the water pistol game.

“What do you think the girls are doing?” he asked Nolan, when his brother came strolling over to him, tickets dangling out of his back pocket like paper sausages.

“I think they’re getting drunk at the bar and egging each other on to see who can dance the most like a stripper.”

“I wish we were there to see that.” He did. Most sincerely. He missed Shawn. He didn’t want to deny her the fun of a girl’s night, but he thought they would both have more fun if they were together. “We should crash their party.”

“Are you crazy? Do you want to lose your nuts the day before you get married? Or celebrate being married, since you are already married?” Nolan shook his head. “You’ll just piss Shawn off, you know.”

“I don’t think so.” He didn’t. “She’ll think it’s funny. The guys did it in Mamma Mia and every woman in existence loves that movie.”

“Mamma Mia?”

“The musical. The dudes crash the bachelorette party.”

Nolan gave him a long sidelong glance. “I’ve never seen it. And it scares me that you have.”

“That’s because you’re like a hundred years older than me. When I was a kid, I had a pack of sisters who wanted to see every chick flick in existence. I saw Bridget Jones’s Diary at ten years old. Pretty Woman at five. Five years old.” He held one hand up to make his point. “That ain’t right. And they conned me into A League of Their Own by telling me it was a baseball movie.”

Nolan snorted. “Well, why did you go?”

“Because I didn’t have a choice. The girls were babysitting me.”

“Where was I? I feel kind of bad, little brother. I should have tried to save you from time to time.”

“You were always at the track or chasing tail.”

Nolan grunted in acknowledgment of the truth behind that. “Where was Mom?”

“I don’t know. Nailing Dad?” They looked at each other and cracked up. “That was their Saturday afternoon thing, you know.”

“Oh, I know.” Nolan watched Mark throw his arms up in triumph. “And I wouldn’t call me old around your wife, you know. She and I were born the same year. You’ll have your ass handed to you on a platter if you’re not careful.”

“Good point. But come on, let’s go to the bar they’re at. You want to see Eve drunk, don’t you?”

“I’ve seen it. It’s highly entertaining.”

“I can’t say as I’ve seen Shawn drunk.”

Nolan glanced at his cell phone. “By now, they’re probably challenging each other to a drinking contest or who can deep throat the penis straw. You know how they are.”

“And you don’t want to see that? Because I do.” Rhett was hard just thinking about it. He loved the competitive side of Shawn. And deep throating a penis straw? He was in.

“You make a solid case.” Nolan finished his beer. “You okay with it if Shawn gets mad at you?”

“Yeah.” Rhett gave him a smug look. “I know how to handle her.”

“Oh, big words, little man. We’ll see.” Nolan clapped him on the back. “Hey, guys!” he called to the rest of the group. “Let’s roll!”

There was resistance from the others, who were envisioning very pissed off wives waiting for them, but in the end, since Rhett was the new groom, he made the decision.

Which is how he wound up walking into the Silver Buckle just in time to see his wife throw one leg over the mechanical bull and hoist her sexy ass up onto it.

His sisters were hooting and hollering, and Eve was standing on the edge of the pen, arms crossed.

“Uh-oh,” Nolan said, coming up beside him. “Eve has her psyche-out-the-opponent look on her face. Twenty bucks says the girls have a bet going already.”

“You want me to bet you that they’re in the middle of a bet? That’s stupid.” All Rhett wanted to do was grab a seat and watch the action unfold for a while, unnoticed by the women. “Hold back for a minute. Let’s not let them know we’re here yet.”

Considering there were six of them, it wasn’t going to be easy to stay incognito, but they could manage five minutes.

“I hope to God my wife isn’t planning on riding that bull,” Dave said. “I can see it now—she’ll throw out her back, and that will be the end of life as I know it for the next two weeks.” He shook his head, glum.

Rhett nudged him. “Come on. She’s not that stupid. She knows her limits. Unlike my wife.”

“Your wife is riding like she was born with a bull between her legs.”

“Excuse me?” Rhett glared at him before swiveling his gaze quickly to see Shawn, her slim thighs straddling the bull as it slowly reared up and then back down. Her posture was loose, her body fluid, moving in harmony with the mechanism. She looked relaxed and hot as hell.

“Sorry, that didn’t sound right.”

“No, it sure in the hell didn’t.” Rhett unzipped his athletic jacket and put his hands in his front pockets. “You can go get me a beer to make up for it.” He was too busy watching his wife to hit the bar himself.

The bar employee had turned up the bull, much to everyone’s delight, and Shawn was working harder now to stay on, her thighs clamping in a way that made his tongue thick, her breasts bouncing with a vigor that got his blood pumping.

“Fine,” Dave grumbled.

“Dawn. Straight ahead,” Nolan told him.

Their middle sister had spotted them, and she was picking her way through the crowd. “What the hell are you guys doing here?” She glared at her husband. “You guys can’t crash a bachelorette party!”

Rhett didn’t respond, mesmerized by Shawn as she held on but then lost control and sailed off the bull in a graceful dismount, landing on her perfect bottom. She bounced up immediately, and there seemed to be some haggling going on between her, Eve, and Charity.

“It’s a free country,” Nolan told her. “Hey, what are they doing, besides the obvious? Do they have a bet going on? Eve has her serious face on.”

“How can you tell the difference?” Rhett asked.

Nolan punched him in the arm.

“They have a bet to see who can stay on the bull longer. Best combined total time out of three runs.”

“Seriously? Leave it to them to not be satisfied with just a sudden-death one-shot ride.” Nolan grinned. “God, I love my wife.”

Rhett had to say he loved his as well.

He started. He loved her?

God, he did. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, maybe gradually, one laugh, one orgasm at a time, but over the last ten days, he had fallen hard for her. He admired her gumption, her strength, her sweetness. He took immense pleasure in giving her pleasure night after night, in making her more and more his.

“Shawn will win, I can guarantee it,” Rhett told his brother.

Nolan’s eyebrow shot up. “What makes you so certain? Eve is as stubborn as they come. If anyone can make a mechanical bull her bitch, it’s her.”

“Oh, good grief,” Dawn snapped. “You’re going to turn their competition into a secondary competition? You’re worse than my kids, I swear.”

Eve was up on the bull now, and she pulled an impressive ride, one that was arguably the same length, if not longer than Shawn’s. When she fell off, she leaned over and mimicked “Call me” to the bull with her thumb and pinky up to her ear.

Nolan let out a laugh. “That’s my girl.”

“This is Shawn’s last run,” Dawn said.

While Rhett’s cock grew harder and harder with each bounce and jolt of Shawn on the bull, her thighs clamped on like she was riding him the way he had instructed her to the night before, hands behind her back. Damn. He loved his sexy wife.

“You look feral,” Nolan told him. “Ease up, brother.”

“What? Shawn is hot, I can’t help it.”

She lost control and flew off the bull. There was haggling and an intense discussion to the side, with Sammy clearly the timekeeper. She raised Shawn’s arm, declaring her the winner, as Shawn whooped in triumph. Eve didn’t look pissed. She was grinning.

“Should we announce our illustrious presence?” Nolan asked him.

It appeared Dawn already had. She’d rejoined the girls, and there was finger-pointing in their direction. Eight sets of female eyes swung their way.

“We’re in for a world of hurt,” was Jared’s opinion.

“If this were a musical, this would signal the start of a dance number,” Rhett said, amused by the thought. “Angry girls sexy dance in unison around the bull pen. Men stride up and grab a partner to a choreographed tango.”

Nolan held his hand out. “Give me your man card. You have never sounded more like a girl than right now.”

“Screw you,” Rhett told him. “It’s a joke. It’s funny. Now you bitches can stand here quaking in your boots about what your women might do to you. I’m going to get my woman.”

He started to walk, moving toward his wife.

He heard Jared ask Nolan, “How does he get that caveman shit to work for him? I would get my balls ripped off and stuffed in my mouth if I pulled what he does.”

“Beats the hell out of me.”

Rhett smiled. He knew exactly how he got away with it.

Shawn knew he respected her above all things. Shawn trusted him.

And it was time to tell her that he had fallen in love with her and wanted their temporary marriage to become a very real one.

CHAPTER

SEVENTEEN

SHAWN was glowing in the triumph of beating Eve by exactly two seconds. Eve was taking it well, joking that she had thrown it so that Shawn could win at her own bachelorette party.

“It was the only kind thing to do,” Eve told her. “And by the way, I have a feeling my thighs are going to be killing me tomorrow. Good thing it’s Sunday. I have a few days to recover.”

Shawn grinned at her. “Yeah, it’s harder than it looks, I’m not going to lie.”

“Look behind you,” Dawn said, pointing. “It looks like our party has been crashed. I swear, what were they thinking?”

Shawn and Eve turned and there were Rhett and Nolan and the other guys, watching them from across the room. “How long have they been here?” she asked, her heart starting to race. Just the sight of her husband got her blood pumping.

“Long enough that they caught both your final rides. Voyeurs.” She sounded disgusted.

Shawn wondered if she was a disgrace to wives that she actually wanted her husband to be there. And that it actually turned her on that he had seen her ride a bull. “I wonder whose idea it was to come here?”

“It had to be Rhett or Nolan. The other guys, one, know better. Two, they don’t really want to see us. Y’all are still in the honeymoon phase, but never fear, the need to see each other all the time will wear off.”

Somehow Shawn didn’t think she would be like that. Given that her adult relationships had never been particularly all-encompassing, romantic, or devotional, she found that with Rhett, it was totally different. She both loved and was terrified by her need, her want, to be with him.

“Maybe I don’t want it to wear off,” she murmured as Rhett started toward her, his stride confident, Nolan immediately falling in step behind him.

“It’s not practical,” Dawn stated.

Something about her tone had Shawn wondering if Dawn and her husband were not quite okay. But she wasn’t about to ask her here, not now.

“If Shawn doesn’t care that the guys are here, then I don’t suppose you should,” Eve told her. “It’s her bachelorette party.”

“I don’t mind,” Shawn said.

In fact, when Rhett came over and smiled at her, immediately pulling her into his arms, she didn’t want to do anything other than kiss the stuffing out of him. So she did.

“Mm. That was an awesome greeting,” he murmured in her ear, stroking his hands down her back. “Nice bull riding.”

“I have strong thighs.”

“Something I’ve always admired about you.”

“So what are you doing here?” she asked him.

“I was bored. I missed you. I thought if we’re already married, why shouldn’t we spend the night partying together, instead of separately?”

“Sound logic,” she told him. “Though you may have pissed your sisters off.”

But he just shrugged. “It’s not their night. It’s ours. And I found myself wanting to dance with my wife.”

Oh, damn, he was just so . . . much. It wasn’t charm, it wasn’t being smooth, it was something else. Something . . . more. He looked at her like that, and she melted. She gave in, she opened to him, she forgot who she was, and wanted nothing more than to be with him, to please him. It was exhilarating. Awful.

“Are you asking?” she said, to remind him that outside of their bedroom, she called the shots, so to speak. Not that she did, really. Rhett was by nature a dominating personality, and even when he was being polite and thoughtful and offering to cook dinner or change her oil or take her to the movies, he tended to initiate the order of their days. She didn’t mind, not really, because if she said no to anything, he would change gears without question. If she wanted pasta instead of steak, he would go to the grocery store and get pasta, so she didn’t care that he had a strong personality.

But she worried that she should.

“Yes. Will you dance with me, Shawn, my beautiful wife?”

“I would love to.” The ease with which he used the word wife made her feel warm inside. It made her wonder if he was wondering what she was wondering—that maybe they shouldn’t automatically dismiss their relationship as temporary, as fake. That maybe it could be, should be, something real.

As they swayed to the music with more feeling than any particular skill, Shawn smiled up at him. “Are we going to survive this party tomorrow?”

“It will be fun.”

“I’ve never seen you in a suit.”

“I’ve never seen you in a wedding dress. I’m not sure my blood pressure will be able to handle it.”

His hands were warm on her waist, and he was inching farther south than was really appropriate for a public place, but she let him for now. Once he reached her ass, she would stop him, but for now she was enjoying his touch. “I don’t think you’re that delicate. You’ll be fine.”

“There is delicate, then there is vulnerable. You have no idea how vulnerable I am with you,” he said, his voice low and near her ear.

Shawn shivered, the pulsing beat of the country ballad reverberating through her feet, her breasts, her inner thighs. Or maybe that was just him. But the room was warm, the lighting low, their bodies close and intimate, and she was barely aware that anyone else existed.

“I don’t see how I can make you vulnerable,” she whispered, inching her fingers up to stroke the back of his neck. He smelled like cologne and beer. He didn’t usually wear cologne and she found it appealing, like he had kicked his own manly scent up a notch. “I think it’s the other way around and sometimes it pisses me off.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

She hadn’t really meant to say that, or to get into a discussion about their relationship on the sticky dance floor, but her doubts were getting the best of her. She wanted so much to be with Rhett in a way that was real, yet at the same time it freaked her out. Shouldn’t she want to be independent? Shouldn’t she be ticked like his sisters that he had crashed her girl’s night?

“I don’t know,” was her cop-out response.

But Rhett shook his head. “Don’t pull that. You know you can trust me. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

Shit. How did she explain her jumbled thoughts and feelings?

“It’s just that . . . well, I think about you every day, Rhett. I want to please you, I want to be with you all the time . . . I feel like I’m being absorbed by you. It scares the shit out of me.”

Just hearing her own words had her heart rate increasing. It sounded crazy. She was crazy for him.

He didn’t look particularly alarmed. His nostrils flared and if anything, he looked aroused. “That’s funny, because I feel the same way, yet my understanding was that this is how falling in love works, Shawn.”

“Falling in love?” she asked dumbly. Was he saying he loved her?

“Yes. Falling in love. Which is what I’m doing.” He softly brushed her hair off her cheek. “Do you think that is what you’re doing?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “Maybe. Yes.” Way to commit. She mentally kicked herself. Then she took a deep breath and added, “Yes. I am falling in love with you.”

She’d never said those words to anyone. Not even to her high school boyfriend, who she had been sure she would spend the rest of her life with. She’d never told a man she loved him. While this was still one step away from that, it was pretty damn close. Her cheeks burned with the overwhelming realization of what was happening. This was it. This was major.

He smiled at her. “So what do we do now?”

Hell if she knew. “I guess we dance. And we live together. And tomorrow we have a wedding reception.”

Rhett’s thumb rubbed over her bottom lip. “So pragmatic. Where’s the romance, darlin’?”

That made her grin back at him, relieved that he knew her so well already that he was lightening the mood. That he was allowing her to steer this conversation. “Read a novel,” she told him. “You’re barking up the wrong tree if you want a gushy girl.”

“Oh, I think I can get you to gush a little . . . you get more romantic in bed than you realize.”

“I wasn’t aware that begging was romantic,” she said wryly.

But Rhett shook his head. “That’s not what I was referring to. I was thinking more about the way your eyes darken and your skin flushes and the way your fingers trace my face like you can’t quite believe I’m real.”

It was true. She did all that. And she blushed anew to realize that he was so aware of her and her reactions. “Sometimes I wonder if you are real,” she whispered. “Sometimes I think that I’m going to wake up with the clock rewound and find none of the last two weeks has happened.”

“How would that make you feel?”

“Heartbroken,” she told him truthfully.

“Me, too.” His green eyes were shiny with sincerity.

A tap on her arm made Shawn jump. She glanced over and saw Eve and Nolan watching them in amusement.

“You do know you’re slow dancing to nothing, don’t you? The music stopped sixty seconds ago.”

Oh, Lord, she was right. The dance floor was completely empty except for them.

“But the rhythm of my heart is beating like a drum,” Rhett said, deadpan.

Shawn lost it, laughter spilling out. That was such a Rhett comeback, and she loved it.

Nolan shook his head. “Bro, my hat is off to you. You managed to find the one woman in the world who doesn’t think you’re a freak.”

• • •

RHETT opened the back door of Harley’s car for Shawn and eyed his wife’s backside as she climbed in.

“I saw that,” Eve told him, sliding past him to follow Shawn into the car.

“I don’t care,” he told her with an unrepentant grin. “And why aren’t you going with Nolan? Not that I don’t enjoy your presence thoroughly, but I would think you’d want to go home with your husband.”

“He has to drive Jared home. He’s shit-faced. I’m dead on my feet, so I’ll get back faster this way.”

“So Harley’s dropping you first, then us?”

“Yes. It’s on the way,” she said defensively.

It was a toss-up whether it was or not, but Rhett didn’t care to argue. He was damn happy. Happy as a dead pig in the sunshine. So he just smiled at her and got in the car. “Switch seats with me, Eve. I want to sit next to Shawn.”

“Kiss my butt,” was her reply. “You can fondle her later. I’m not climbing over the top of you so you can sit next to her. God, so high school.”

“You are tired,” he commented. That was a bit sharp even for Eve.

“I’m exhausted. I drank just enough to dance like a fool, but not enough to not feel the crash. So don’t piss me off or I’ll cream your corn.”

“I’m not afraid of you, big talker.” Rhett leaned around her to talk to Shawn, intentionally getting his elbow in Eve’s face. “Baby, I hope we don’t need to be anywhere first thing tomorrow because I’m not ready for sleeping yet. I’ve got at least two hours in me.”

“Gross,” was Charity’s opinion from the front passenger seat.

He just laughed. Shawn smiled at him, bundled up in her coat. Eve pinched his arm.

“Move it,” she said.

Settling back, he found himself feeling very conversational. “So Harley, you’re quiet up there. Did you have fun?”

“It was fine,” was Harley’s clipped reply from the front seat.

Charity snorted.

“Wrong question, hon,” Shawn told him in a warning voice.

Was it wrong that he was more interested in the fact that Shawn had called him “hon” than whatever was bothering Harley?

The thought guilted him into saying, “I’m sorry, Harley. Didn’t mean to poke a sore spot.”

“I didn’t know you were crushing on him,” Charity exploded at her sister. “If you would actually share something with me once in a while, I wouldn’t have kissed him. You know, it’s really very hurtful that you won’t let me in, Harley. I tell you everything.”

“Wait, so this is my fault?” Harley asked in shock, taking a turn a little hard and running them over the curb.

“Maybe I should drive,” Rhett suggested. “Were you drinking, Harley?”

“No. I cut myself off three hours ago because that’s what I do,” Harley said. “I am the driver and the wallflower while Charity gets drunk and dances half-naked with the guy she totally knew I was into!”

“I’m out,” Rhett said, turning to Eve. “I can’t do the girl-fight thing.”

“Don’t look at me,” Eve said, shrugging. “My suggestion to arm wrestle it out isn’t really practical at the moment.”

But Shawn had it under control. She was already leaning forward, murmuring to the twins, reassuring Harley that Charity had not known about the guy and suggesting to Charity that if she wanted her sister to confide in her, she should consider allowing her a word in edgewise on occasion.

Rhett leaned against the window and watched her sort the whole mess out in a matter of minutes. After they pulled into Eve’s apartment complex and Harley parked the car, there were tears and hugs and apologies, and then suddenly all was okay. It was, in his eyes, as miraculous as Moses parting the Nile.

“That’s why I leave this stuff to her,” Eve told him. “See you tomorrow with my happy face on.” She gave him a smile and got out of the car after he opened the door and stood up to let her pass.

“Thanks. Shawn is pretty amazing, isn’t she?”

“I’m glad to see you realize it,” she told him. Then with a wave to her girlfriends, Eve went into the apartment building she and Nolan had recently moved into after the sale of her condo, and Rhett waited to make sure the door firmly closed behind her.

“Eve’s in. We can roll.” And with his sister-in-law safely home, he could cuddle with his wife. His wife. That’s right.

She came willingly when he urged her to tuck in up against his side.

“I’m freezing still,” she said. “It must be thirty degrees out tonight. I know I can always count on you to warm me up.”

He moved his eyebrows up and down.

She laughed. “Well, yeah, there’s that, but what I really meant was that you radiate heat all the time. Your body temperature must be ten degrees higher than most people.”

“I think I would be dead if that were the case.”

Shawn rolled her eyes. “Smart-ass.”

He really enjoyed that Shawn was perfectly comfortable giving him shit. It was one of the things he loved about her.

Love. Funny how that very small, unexpected word could change everything. Rhett bent over and murmured in her ear, “I love you.”

Shawn started and gazed up at him. Her eyes were wide in the dark backseat of Harley’s car, but they were open and honest. “I love you, too.”

What more could a man ask for? Nothing, as far as Rhett was concerned.

When they went inside and kicked off their shoes and hung up their jackets, Rhett loved the way Shawn waited for him at the top of the kitchen landing, her hand out for his.

There was no question in her eyes.

She knew he was going to make love to her. She knew that whatever he did to her, he would put her pleasure first, that she would be satisfied. The way she let him lead her down the hallway, the way she waited in the doorway for him to undress her, the way she kissed him with a deep fervor and abandonment, satisfied Rhett in return. He had never known that he could be this happy, that the restless agitation that had burned inside him would be eased by Shawn’s open affection and perfect willingness to submit to his aggressive desires.

He urged her back down onto the bed, reaching back to flick on the light so he could see her body. She blinked as the harsh overhead light hit her eyes, but she didn’t complain. She knew he wouldn’t go down on her if she did, and that made his mouth hot, his cock throb. Stripping off his own clothes, Rhett took his time, touching her everywhere with teasing, light touches, skirting her clitoris until he felt her quivering, goose bumps on her skin, her need growing more and more urgent.

“Put your ankles on my shoulders,” he told her. He suddenly needed to be inside her.

She did so without question and Rhett entered her, and even without stimulating her with his fingers or tongue, he found her wet and welcoming. Knowing that she got aroused just from his fingers brushing over her bare skin, that she knew her pleasure was a guarantee, was almost as arousing to him as the tight fist her pussy made around his erection.

Breathing hard as he gripped her shins and pumped them both to desperation, Shawn sought his permission with her eyes.

“Yes?” he asked, willing to grant any request she might have at that moment, his body tight and alive, his heart swollen with the knowledge that she loved him.

“Can I come? I really, really need to come.” Her lips were wet, her eyes glassy, her hand lifting off the mattress, then fluttering back down as she remembered she could not do whatever she had been planning to.

Rhett wondered if she’d been intending to bite one of her fingers, to suck it, or if her plan had been to twist and tweak her own nipple with the pads of her fingers.

“Not for another minute,” he told her. “I want to come with you. You’ll know when.”

“Oh,” she panted in agony, her head turned to the side, her legs trembling from the position.

“Suck on your finger,” he told her. “It will help.”

She did without hesitation, though the widening of her eyes and the clasping of her body onto his cock told him that it hadn’t made it any easier for her to hold back. It had made it worse, which was his intention, he had to admit. Watching her struggle to hold off her orgasm, her lips frantically wrapped around her finger, sucking it in and out like she was substituting it for his cock, heightened his own frantic desire.

When he squeezed her legs tight and let himself go, pumping his hot ejaculation into her, Shawn was immediately there with him. Her orgasm blended with his, her cries of anguished ecstasy ringing in his ears, as he held her and gave in to his body, gave in to her. She owned him, there was no question about it. Shawn had his heart and his body, and hell, even his soul, and he felt the most profound satisfaction and sense of triumph that he’d ever felt in his twenty-five years of life.

As he fell onto the bed next to her and pulled her into his arms, their bodies warm and sticky, her fingertips fluttering over his chest, he was inclined to believe there was such a thing as destiny. “Scarlett, you’re one hell of a woman,” he told her.

Her response was to kiss his shoulder. But a moment later, she asked, “What’s your middle name?”

He was so content, he didn’t even get annoyed with his least-favorite subject. “I’m sure you can guess.”

“Your mother seriously named you Rhett Butler Ford?”

“Yep.”

She didn’t laugh. “I’m named after my father, who took off and left my mother and two little kids living in an RV.”

“I guess it doesn’t really matter where a name comes from, it’s whether you live up to its original intention.” Rhett yawned and reached down to drag the blanket up over their bodies.

“True. Which is why I was wondering how you’d feel about me being Shawn Hamby Ford.”

Rhett looked at her in astonishment, his heart squeezing. “I would be honored.”

This was real. And they both knew it.

“Now are you going to turn the light off?” she asked.

He grinned. “I was hoping you would.”

“I didn’t turn it on,” she pointed out.

He couldn’t argue with that. As he sighed and lumbered out of bed and across the cold room to flick the switch, he said, “Next week, I install the Clapper.”

She giggled. “I dare you.”

“Done.” Then he was back in bed, and she was in his arms, and the world was a perfect place.

CHAPTER

EIGHTEEN

SHAWN looked at herself in the mirror, Eve and the twins hovering around her, fussing with the long, flowing skirt of her white dress that Charity and Sandy had chosen off the rack at a retail store. She looked like a real bride.

And she promptly burst into tears.

“What’s wrong?” Harley asked, reaching out and taking her cold hand in hers.

“You’ll mess up your makeup!” Charity shrieked, horrified.

“I’m sorry.” Shawn managed to stop the tears almost as soon as they started, sniffling and widening her eyes to keep herself under control. “I can’t help it. I miss my grandparents.”

It was the truth. But she also was realizing that not only did she look the part, she felt like a true bride. She was in love with her groom. She wanted to spend her life with him, regardless of the reasons they had come together in the first place.

How nuts was that?

Rhett had told her he loved her the night before, and she believed him. For the first time ever in her life, she had looked into the eyes of a man and seen that she was cherished by him. It was wonderful. It was wacky. It was overwhelming. She wasn’t sure how a woman was ever supposed to be prepared to fall in love, but she hadn’t been. Instead of enjoying their mutual emotions, she was still a ball of anxiety, because who was to say what was going to happen when six months had passed? It was too soon to ask Rhett for a real commitment, regardless of their legal marital status. Pressuring him or even asking could smother the spark of their newfound love. It had merely been the post-sex relaxation that had allowed her to say something about taking his last name, and while he had agreed, it could have been purely because he knew his family would expect it.

Despite everything he had told her, he still hadn’t said what was going to happen when he had a hundred grand in hand.

It was a lot to have swirling in her head when she was staring at herself in the mirror, looking every inch the part of a woman pledging her love and her life to her new husband.

“I’m going to puke,” she said, her stomach suddenly clenching in a violent spasm, bile clawing up her throat.

“Holy shit!” was Eve’s opinion as they all glanced frantically around the lounge area of the restroom of the Hamby Speedway banquet room for some kind of receptacle.

Sandy had come into the room in time to hear Shawn’s last words, and as Shawn covered her mouth and desperately breathed through her nose, Sandy cut through the girls and took charge. “Give her some space!”

Taking her firmly in hand, Sandy pushed her down into the deep sofa opposite the vanity area, and she sank down gratefully.

“Head between your knees,” Sandy said gently, pushing her shoulders forward and kneeling down to lay the back of her hand on Shawn’s clammy forehead. “You’re okay, you’re going to be fine. Just try not to swallow so much.”

Shawn started to calm down at the soothing tones of her mother-in-law.

“What’s wrong?” Harley asked. “You’re already married, no need to be nervous.”

“She’s not nervous,” Sandy said, running her hand down Shawn’s cheek in a way that made her realize in thirty-two years she’d never gotten that kind of touch from her own mother. It made her miss her grandmother even more. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you, sweetie?”

Shawn sat up straight at those words. “What? No! I mean, I don’t think so . . .” Was she? She supposed it was possible. She and Rhett had been having sex like it was going out of style. She was on the pill, but she tended to take it at various times of the day, which was a bit of an instructional violation. But still, what were the odds? Rhett would have to have supersperm.

Given he had eight siblings, and six of them had produced sixteen children, maybe that wasn’t so out of the question. Fertility was a Ford virtue.

“Well, we’ll know in a week or two. But for now, I think you should skip the champagne tonight and stick to ginger ale to settle your stomach.”

“Yeah, okay.” Truthfully, the thought of alcohol did make her want to gag. Oh, Lord. What if she was pregnant?

“Whoa,” was Eve’s opinion on the matter.

Sandy hugged her and Shawn melted into the warmth of that embrace. “Welcome to the family.”

“Thank you.” She meant that most sincerely. She had deceived Rhett’s family, and they were showing her nothing but love. She was truly grateful for that.

Especially given that her own mother chose that moment to come into the room. “What’s going on, Shawn? Why are you serving so many beef products?” she said by way of greeting.

Raising her head, Shawn swallowed hard. “Mom, please. Everyone was nice enough to help me with this party, I don’t want to hear any criticism.”

“I’m just saying.” Her mother pouted, her long hair loose from its usual braid, gray streaked throughout since she didn’t believe in using chemicals to dye it. Her dress was more of a wrap-and-sari combination in a vivid purple, which Shawn knew was not a color that could be achieved with natural dye. So, as usual, her mother selectively chose her moments to be environmental.

Still feeling a little weak, she took a deep breath and was standing up, holding on to Sandy’s arm, when Rhett came into the room, with a pointless knock on the door as he was already entering.

“This is the ladies’ room,” Charity told him.

“I’m coming to see what’s taking so long. Everyone is here, and they’re devouring the appetizers.”

He looked very handsome in his suit, his tie straight, a jaunty red for the Valentine’s Day theme, and Shawn willed him to meet her eye. She needed him to look at her, to reassure her. He did, giving her that sexy smile that she had first noticed in The Wet Spot, her insides turning to liquid.

“Hey, beautiful. You ready to do this thing?”

She nodded, immediately feeling better, then immediately after that freaking out that she needed him to make her feel better.

He held his hand out for her.

She took it.

• • •

SHAWN looked a little green, but Rhett knew she was nervous about being the center of attention. He found it interesting that for a woman who ran a business and had spent all those years on the youth racing circuit, she wasn’t comfortable with entertaining. Parties and anything that could be classified as an event seemed to generate nerves. Yet in his mind, every weekend at Hamby Speedway during the season was an “event.”

Maybe it was just that she didn’t really like wearing dresses, which was a damn shame, because she was a knockout in them. Especially this one. It looked every inch what he would imagine a bridal gown to be, from the strapless fitted top, to the flowing skirt that looked a little like soft-serve ice cream to him. He wanted to lick her.

“You hungry?” he asked her, as they moved down the hall, her friends and their mothers following them. “There is enough food in there to feed the fans at the Daytona 500.”

It was an inane thing to say, but he wanted her to relax. He squeezed her hand a little and she squeezed back.

“I actually have an upset stomach,” she said. “I think I’m having stage fright.”

“It’s just our friends and family. And the hard part is over. If you didn’t faint in that courthouse,” he murmured to her, “I think you’ll be fine. I mean, let’s face it, it takes a strong woman to agree to put up with me for even six months.”

She gave a brittle laugh, but the tension lines in her forehead smoothed. “True. You are a whole lot of something, Rhett Butler Ford.”

He winced. “Don’t trot out the middle name unless you’re pissed off at me. Or I may not contain my spankings to the bedroom.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

She smiled up at him, and he was glad to see she was genuinely amused and looking less sallow. “Don’t try me,” he teased. Then he pushed open the doorway to the banquet room that his sisters had spent the last two days decorating.

“A big Charlotte welcome to the brand new Mr. and Mrs. Rhett and Shawn Ford!” his brother-in-law Mark boomed as they stepped into the room.

Mark had gotten a microphone from God knows where, and he appeared to have nominated himself for MC/DJ, an iPod and speakers set up behind him.

Even Rhett wasn’t quite prepared for the loud pronouncement of them as man and wife and the thundering applause and hoots and hollers that followed. For a second he just blinked.

Shawn murmured, “Good Lord, it looks like Cupid shart in here.”

Rhett choked back a laugh and managed to smile and raise their clasped hands together in a victory shake. Then he fought the urge to drag Shawn through the crowd and the explosion of pink and red hearts, and took a nice, steady pace instead. He wasn’t exactly sure where they were supposed to go, so he took the opportunity to just stop every few feet and greet guests and receive hugs from ancient great-aunts and his grandmother.

Suddenly he wasn’t sure this party had been such a fabulous idea after all, because while he knew for certain he loved Shawn and she loved him, they had gone about this all ass backwards. Instead of taking their vows in a church with family present, meaning each of those words they’d spoken, they had stood before a judge and lied through their teeth. It left the stain of dishonesty on this party, and that pissed him off. He didn’t want there to be any whiff of falsity to the night, and while he was used to being hugged and cosseted from female family members, the truth was, he didn’t have his brother’s easy charm. Playing host wasn’t any easier for him than it was for Shawn to tackle the hostess role.

So as soon as they had reached the head table, crowded with giant vases of red flowers, he deposited Shawn in a chair and went for some liquid fortification. Shawn shook her head when he asked if she wanted a drink, already turning away as her mother swooped down on her like a purple dragon. He’d barely exchanged five words with her, and he had to say quite honestly, he despised her mother. From her made-up first name of Mati, stolen no doubt from the legendary spy, to her insistence that marriage was for the weak-minded, she grated on his nerves.

Rhett had kind of always thought marriage was for the monogamous, but go figure. He ordered a shot of whiskey from the bartender.

“Eight dollars,” the bartender told him.

He didn’t even have his wallet on him. “I’m the groom.”

“I’m sorry, sir, that doesn’t matter.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Rhett turned to go find someone to bum a ten off of, when he almost ran into his father.

“Let me buy you a drink, son.”

“Thanks, Dad,” he said, more relieved than he cared to admit. He wasn’t usually one to crave alcohol, but neither did he usually have this much emotion churning inside him like a cement mixer.

“Whatever he wants,” his father told the bartender. He handed the bartender a hundred dollar bill. “For the rest of the night so we don’t have to keep doing this every time he or his bride need to wet their whistle.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Rhett was touched.

His father smiled at him and held his hand out. They shook. “Congrats. I hope you and Shawn will be as happy as your mother and I have been.”

Yeah, that was a lump the size of a baby’s fist in his throat. “Me, too,” he said. He meant it with every bone in his body.

“My youngest married.” Nolan Senior shook his head. “Damn, I must be old.”

“Nah.” Rhett clamped him on the shoulder. “You still have a lot of Saturday afternoon delights with Mom ahead of you.”

“Don’t be smart, boy.” But his father did laugh, even if the tips of his ears were a little pink.

Rhett grinned and raised his glass. “Cheers.” He drank the shot of whiskey and felt the slow burn down his throat, knocking through that lump in there like Drano. That was better.

Somehow as various brothers-in-law and uncles and cousins came up for a drink, Rhett found himself trapped at the bar for over an hour. During which he might have done another three shots. Feeling pleasantly buzzed, he finally made his way over to the buffet of food and attempted to load himself up a plate. After he dropped the slotted spoon in the green beans three times, his Aunt Trudy took his plate from him and not only spooned up his beans for him, but went down the whole line, loading him up with eats.

“Don’t trip on your way to your table,” she told him with a wink. “And lay off the whiskey if you want to make your bride happy tonight.”

Ha. As if that was ever an issue. His chest inflated with more than a little manly pride. “How do you know I’ve been drinking?”

“I married your Uncle Georgie, didn’t I? That man has pickled his liver.”

Rhett couldn’t really argue with that. Georgie was a pretty hard-core drinker. He’d been known to fall asleep with his forehead on the bar top in his local watering hole, then rousing long enough to order another one before passing out again.

“I smell it on you.”

“Oh.” That was his stellar whiskey-stunted brainiac reply. “Good party, huh?” he asked, feeling satisfied with the way it was turning out. Sure, there was an excess of pink and Ford relatives, but everyone was happy and having a good time. Mark was spinning tunes, or more accurately, had hit play on the playlist, and there was some early dancing starting up, still a little timid and demure at this point. Another hour, the jackets and the ladies’ shoes would come off, and the hip shaking would begin in earnest. Just like a real wedding. It felt like a real wedding.

Which reminded him. He hadn’t seen Shawn in quite a while.

“Excuse me, Aunt Trudy. I need to find my beautiful wife.”

“Where the hell have you been?” Shawn snapped at him when he returned to the table, balancing his plate with one hand while swiping a deviled egg off the pile with the other.

“I went for a drink.” He pointed to his plate. “And food. Do you want me to get you some?”

“I want you to not abandon me again like that. God, I just met a thousand relatives all on my own. Eve brought me a plate.” Shawn was sitting down, and her dinner was really just a pile of shredded biscuits with some uneaten ham next to it.

“Do you want something else?” he asked. “I can go back up for you.” He sat next to her and kissed the side of her head. “Sorry. I got waylaid by congratulations.”

“Are you drunk?” she asked him, sounding very suspicious.

“No. I am buzzed. There is a big difference.” He shoveled pasta into his mouth. He was suddenly very hungry now that his nerves had worn off.

“Oh, Lord,” was her opinion.

“Aren’t you drinking?” he asked her. “You didn’t drink much last night either. Just a couple of beers.”

“I have a headache and my stomach is queasy. Plus I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of your family, so no, I’m not drinking.”

“I doubt you would do that. You’re the king of the car bomb, remember? You can hold your liquor. Have a drink if you want one.” It might do her some good.

“I’m fine.”

“Okay.” See how good he was at being a husband? He was already agreeing to everything she said.

There was a violent clanking of forks on glasses throughout, and Rhett grinned at Shawn. “They want us to kiss.”

She leaned forward and gave him the most chaste kiss they had ever shared, then waved in acknowledgment to the crowd.

“What kind of a kiss was that?” he complained. “Next time, I think you should slip me some tongue. Show me you mean it.”

“Rhett, don’t piss me off right now, seriously.”

“What?” he asked in bewilderment. “I’m sorry, babe, are you really feeling that awful?”

She nodded, her eyes suddenly welling up with tears.

Seeing her expression, he felt horrible, and he reached over and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Did you take any aspirin?”

“No. I didn’t bring my purse.”

“Honey, there are thirty females in this room. We could medicate a small hospital once they open their purses. I’ll get you something.”

“Thanks.”

“And as pretty as your hair looks, maybe you should loosen that knot thing it’s in. That can’t be helping.”

She nodded, and he went off in search of pain relievers. Within five minutes he had them and had brought them to Shawn. But then he was called over to the bar by his father, who was telling a story to a group of cousins involving Rhett’s first dirt bike and a certain accident involving his jeans.

“Dad, this is not a roast. It’s my wedding. You can’t be telling about every stupid thing I did as a kid.”

“The hell I can’t. It’s a father’s privilege once his son is grown. Someday you’ll understand that yourself. Let’s do a shot.”

It was that suggestion, paired with the idea of fatherhood, that had Rhett willingly reaching out his hand.

Which might explain how by the time he got back to Shawn, he was well and truly on his way to being drunk.

• • •

SHAWN could not believe that Rhett was wasted. In all the time she’d known him, which admittedly was not that long, she’d never seen him drunk. She’d seen him drink wine, beer, whiskey, and never even get a buzz. But here, at their wedding party on freaking Valentine’s Day, where she had a headache and was paralyzed by fear that she might be carrying his child, he chose to get bombed.

So annoying.

Another night she might have found his whistling, his wolfish drunken smile, his loosened tie, and his uninhibited dancing quite entertaining. But while her nausea had disappeared, she was still not in any position to enjoy the ridiculousness.

It seemed everyone but her was freely imbibing. The dance floor was packed with the young and the old and one brother-in-law was swinging his jacket around over his head. The kids were drunk on sugar and excitement, which was in evidence when Danny’s son Simon stuck his entire face in the chocolate fountain, earning hoots of laughter from the adults. When he pulled back and shook like a dog, chocolate flew in all directions, scattering on the floor, the table, and three girls in front of him. Still no one yelled at him, which spoke volumes at the amount of alcohol consumed, in Shawn’s opinion.

She had floated from table to table, always seeking a chair. She was tired. Clinton, her grandfather’s attorney, sank into the seat beside her, and all it took was a very slurred greeting and a glimpse of his glassy eyes to realize he was just as drunk as the rest of the room.

“Hey, Clinton,” she answered, giving him a wan smile.

He leaned forward and clasped her hand in his large, warm one. “You look beautiful, my girl, just beautiful. Jameson would have been so proud to see you as a bride.”

That almost did her in. “I miss him, Clinton.”

“Me, too.” He squeezed her hand. “Shawn, are you happy? Is this marriage really what you want?”

Puzzled, she studied him. “All things considered, it’s the best solution, yes.” He knew she had paid off Rhett to marry her. He was the only person alive who did.

Clinton shook his head. “This was wrong, all of it. I shouldn’t have been any part of it, and I should have told you the truth, Jameson’s wishes be damned.”

Shawn stiffened. “The truth about what?”

He leaned even closer, almost falling into her lap. “You didn’t have to get married. You could have contested the restrictions placed on that will, and I don’t doubt for a minute you would have won. You might have had to split ownership with your brother as dual heirs, but you would have won.”

The heat of the room suddenly felt stifling. For a very brief moment, she actually thought she might faint, but she was made of sterner stuff than that. “So you’re saying I didn’t need to get married?”

“No, probably not. I mean, it would have taken a few months and thousands in lawyer’s fees to contest the will.”

Thousands? Not a hundred thousand, which is what she owed Rhett when all was said and done. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She absolutely could not believe it. Save a few months of paper pushing and probably ten grand in legal fees, she could have achieved her goal of ownership free and clear? She wouldn’t have given a damn about sharing ownership with her brother. He wasn’t interested in the track. He wasn’t even particularly interested in her. He had sent his apologies for not attending this very wedding party, because he had claimed he’d been unable to get a sitter for the baby. When she had suggested he bring the baby, he had said she was afraid of crowds.

Shawn could have taken the hundred grand she was giving Rhett and could have bought out her brother. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he would have jumped at the chance to have the cash.

“You really think I would have won?”

“I’m certain it would have all shook out in your favor. You’re the obvious heir, and the will stated you were to inherit, just under stipulations that most judges would deem inappropriate.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” she asked, finally freeing her hand from his hot and sweaty grip. God, when she thought about the anxiety she had felt, the panic, the fear that she was going to lose the last connection to her grandfather, Hamby Speedway, she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs.

“I was trying to respect Jameson’s intentions. I kind of figured you would marry Sam after all, but then when you didn’t and you were all set to get hitched with the younger Ford brother, I started to think that you might be making a huge mistake. I should have come to you, but I thought, well, hell, I’m an old man and what do I know about your dating life? Maybe you’re happy with Rhett and this just sped things up. You’re happy, right? I’ll never forgive myself if you’re not.”

Though she was mad as hell, Shawn couldn’t help but feel bad for Clinton. None of this ridiculousness had been his idea, and he had just been trying to respect his best friend’s dying wish. But he clearly felt guilty and he looked genuinely worried about her. She’d let him off the hook, but she wasn’t the least bit happy about his information.

“I’m happy,” she told him simply to ease his guilt, though she wasn’t sure she was, exactly. She was head over ass for Rhett, but she wasn’t precisely sure she was happy. It was exhilarating, but it certainly wasn’t peaceful. But maybe that’s how love went. She didn’t know, because she’d never been in love before.

Part of her questioned if she was even in love. How did one recognize that it was legitimately that elevated emotion? For all she knew, she was making that classic mistake of confusing lust with love. It wasn’t like this was a long-standing relationship. In the course of an average lifetime, she would spend more time renewing her driver’s license than the time she had been married to Rhett. What did she really know about love?

This felt like love.

Didn’t it?

She sought out Rhett across the room, but she didn’t see him.

“I’m glad to hear it, girl, glad to hear it.”

“Thanks, Clinton.” Feeling distracted, Shawn was actually hugely relieved when someone called out that the car service had arrived to safely shuttle home the bride and groom and anyone else who had been drinking.

Rhett appeared. “You ready to go?” he asked, holding on to the back of her chair like the room was swaying a little.

“Yes. Beyond ready.” Shawn stood up and braced herself for the round of good-byes that were about to commence when suddenly Rhett tried to pick her up. “Ack!” She swatted at him and scurried out of his reach.

“What? I want to carry you to the car.”

“Hell, no. You’re drunk, and I don’t want to be dropped on my ass.”

“I could carry you in my sleep,” he retorted.

That statement was so stupid Shawn didn’t even bother to reply. She just wanted to go home and go to bed. And not to have sex, to close her eyes and sleep.

But Grabby Hands was already trying to knead her ass cheeks like he was baking bread as they paused to speak to his parents. She smacked at him, irritated. He seemed to have forgotten their small wedding party had grown to seventy-five people, and most of them were watching them leave.

Sandy was handing her a large silver box.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“It’s filled with the cards everyone brought.”

“Oh.” Shawn blinked. “Oh, thank you . . . I didn’t think . . . I didn’t realize.” People had given them cards and probably some included money. Could she feel any worse? Not that she wanted to test the theory, because she felt pretty much like a huge asshole right now.

Sandy hugged her. “We’ll talk soon.” She rolled her eyes at her son when his hands slid across her backside again. “Rhett, wait three more minutes, for crying out loud. You’re embarrassing your wife.”

He didn’t look particularly concerned, and when they walked outside into the cold night air, Shawn’s jacket just draped over her shoulders, he opened the car door for her.

Murmuring, he said, “You’d better give your heart to Jesus, because your ass is mine tonight.”

What irritated her more than anything else was the fact that despite her annoyance, his words still aroused her.

And she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

CHAPTER

NINETEEN

RHETT wasn’t as drunk as everyone seemed to think he was. He could still walk a straight line and get an erection. That was all that really mattered. In fact, he already had an erection as the driver took them home, his hand making inroads into Shawn’s inner thighs through the soft fabric of her dress. Or rather, not making inroads. He kept getting caught in folds of slippery whiteness.

“Damn it,” he complained. “This dress is multiplying.”

“It’s drunk-groom-proof,” she said, and her tone was not particularly lighthearted.

Rhett was starting to get the impression that Shawn was not best pleased with him. “Honey, I am not drunk. I’m relaxed. Relaxed Rhett. Everyone always tells me I’m too serious, so here I am, letting my hair down.”

“I’ve never said that,” she said, though the corner of her mouth did turn up slightly.

“How is your head?” he asked, suddenly remembering she’d complained about it hurting.

“It’s a little better, but I just feel exhausted.”

“Let me massage your head.” Because there was no way he was letting her go to bed without a wedding bang.

Shawn shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”

But she did undo the bun and let her hair down. It fanned around her face in some weird hair-sprayed clamshell effect. Rhett was suddenly glad he hadn’t come of age in the eighties. That hair was terrifying.

“If you’re tired, lay down.” He urged her down onto his lap and was surprised when she didn’t protest. “Just don’t fall asleep.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have a thing or two I’d like to say with my tongue before you sleep.” He waggled his tongue down at her so she could get the rather obvious hint.

Shawn rolled her eyes. “This may be the first night in our relationship that I’m immune to your heavy-handed charms.”

Uh. No. He didn’t think so. It was their wedding night, or their second wedding night. Which didn’t sound right. But the point was, he was not going to waste a good buzz and a hard-on tonight of all nights. “Heavy-handed? Is that what we’re calling it? I’ll give you heavy-handed.”

“Shh,” she whispered, her finger over her lips, and her head tilted to gesture to the driver.

“I think he probably has a good guess what we’re going to do. I don’t think you need to worry about being seen as tawdry. It’s our wedding night.” Rhett was starting to lose his buzz. Something was off with Shawn, and he didn’t like it.

It was obvious when she didn’t even wait for him to pay the driver, instead letting herself into the house and actually shutting the door behind her while he was still in the driveway. The driver shot him a look of sympathy, and Rhett felt his irritation spike.

When he went in the side door, Shawn had tossed her coat on a hook in the entry and was holding on to the kitchen counter, peeling her shoes off with a sigh.

“Is there a reason you just shut the door in my face?” he asked her, striving for an even tone.

“I wasn’t sure how long you’d be and it’s cold out there.”

That was clearly an excuse. She was bordering on petulant, and he didn’t understand why.

“Let me help you.” He shucked his suit jacket and tossed it over a kitchen chair. Bending over, he undid the buckle on her other shoe and pulled it off. He pressed his lips to her ankle, sliding his tongue up the firm calf. “You have amazing legs.”

Normally she went liquid under his touch, but she remained stiff. Rhett rose again, pulling the fabric of her dress with him so that her legs were exposed from the thigh down. “What kind of panties do you have on?” he asked curiously. He was picturing a white scrap of lace.

Which contributed to his total astonishment when he reached under the silky folds of her dress and discovered some sort of one-piece bodysuit that was clinging to her skin like a wet suit. “What the fuck are you wearing?” He immediately retreated. He didn’t want to touch that. It was like stroking a seal.

“A body shaper. So there are no lumps under my dress.”

“There aren’t any lumps anywhere on you. Except for this.” He cupped her breasts. “First order of business is getting you out of that contraption.”

But when he reached for the zipper on the side of her dress, she wiggled out of his reach. “No, I’m not going to have you take this off. Getting out of a body shaper is almost as difficult as getting into it. There’s a lot of tugging and . . . flopping.”

He held up his arms, palms out in surrender. “Okay, hands off.”

“You can’t watch either.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” This seduction was not unfolding at all the way he had intended.

“No.”

Rhett tore his tie off and dropped it on the counter. “Do you think this counts as disobedience?”

For the first time all night, he saw her breath hitch with desire. But she shook her head. “No. You said that you would never force me to degrade myself. Shoving this off my body while you watch constitutes degradation.”

Rhett laughed. “I can respect that.” He ran his finger over her lip. “Thank you for being honest with me. Thank you for being you.”

But for some reason, his words didn’t have the effect he had assumed they would. She pulled a face.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

Studying her expression, he couldn’t read her. She wasn’t even meeting his eye. “Then go take your dress off.”

There it was again, another face. “I suck at these parties. I was awful tonight. I’m sure your family is wondering what you see in me.”

It wasn’t like Shawn to dive into a pool of self-pity, and he was taken aback. “I’m sure they’ll love you like I do.”

Then she totally threw him when she suddenly reached out and started to undo the buttons on his dress shirt, with a sort of manic fervor. He had no idea what this was about, but he wanted no part of it. Something was going on, and they were going to talk about it, not bury those feelings behind sex.

He took her hands firmly and pulled them down by her hips, pinning them in place. “No.”

• • •

SHAWN wasn’t even sure what she was doing. She had just suddenly been overcome with the need to prove herself, to be independent, to be in charge of something because it felt like her whole life had suddenly skittered out of her control. Why did everyone else get to determine her future? Hell, her orgasms.

Feeling mutinous, she pulled a pout, ready to protest.

But Rhett shook his head and gave her a very unexpected crack on her backside. “No pouting, Shawn. You’re better than that. Pouting is for three-year-olds wanting a cookie.”

Maybe he had a point about the pouting. But she was not in the mood for submissive sex play. “You’re not my father.”

“No. I’m your husband. And I’m just trying to get you to see that you’re really much more amazing than you give yourself credit for being. If something is bothering you, tell me. None of this avoidance crap.”

This just wasn’t the way she had operated most of her adult life. She was used to wheedling with the men she dated and using a circular back-door approach to get what she wanted. Rhett despised that.

Which she could understand. But there was direct, then there was just being a dick. She didn’t feel like playing the game tonight, and he should know to back down.

“What I’m feeling is that my husband is an asshole,” she said. The night had been too much. Clinton’s confession. Rhett’s lack of attentiveness. Her own guilt for frauding everyone and their mother. It was all just too much and she wanted, needed to lash out, irrational or not. “Stop treating me like a student whose behavior you need to correct.”

He studied her in that careful way he had. “If I say no or you say no, then the other one should respect that, right?”

She was not in the mood to have him speak carefully to her. She wanted to scream out her emotions, all these unexplained feelings, all this fear, and she wanted him to crack, to break down, and lose it like her. “Of course. But this is about you telling me I’m doing something wrong and I’m tired of it.”

“It’s called communication. When I left a wet towel on the floor, you made it pretty damn clear to me that I was in the wrong, and if I did it again there would be consequences. How is this any different?”

He had a point, but she wasn’t going to admit it. “Because I was pointing out something that is easy to fix and it’s not personal. You were correcting something about me.”

“Tomato, tomato. It’s all the same thing. It’s a matter of letting each other know how we feel so the other can respect it.”

“Well, I don’t feel like being told what to do tonight.” With that, Shawn picked up her swirly bridal gown and stomped off in the direction of the bedroom, tears in her eyes.

She was breaking down. She couldn’t do this. She didn’t want to feel inadequate.

“Where are you going?”

“To Paris to see the Eiffel Tower. Where do you think I’m going? To take my dress off.”

“Come back to the kitchen when you’re changed.”

“No!” she hurled over her shoulder. “I am not having sex with you tonight, so stick that in your libido and smoke it.” She wasn’t sure what that even meant, but it felt good to say it.

Going into her bedroom, she slammed the door shut behind her and locked it. It was a challenge to get the zipper down solo, but Shawn wrestled her way out of the dress while Rhett rattled the doorknob and said, in a very calm voice, “Open the door. Now.”

“No.”

“You’re being childish.”

“I am well aware of that, thank you very much! But I don’t give a shit.” Huffing and puffing, she yanked and shoved and peeled the body shaper until it finally gave way and her entire body let out a huge sigh of relief. All her hills sprang forth like an army of flesh unleashed on the enemy. Instantly her stomach felt less queasy.

Balling the torture chamber of spandex up, she threw it into the corner, where it landed in Coconut’s lap.

Naked, she was stepping into a pair of panties when the door flew open, wood splintering as Rhett broke the lock and shoved his way in with his shoulder. She jumped about three feet and almost fell over, given that she was one foot in, one foot out.

“Are you fucking crazy?” she shrieked at him. “You just broke the door!”

“I’m well aware of that,” he said, echoing her words. “But I refuse to be shut out until we discuss what is bothering you.”

Hurriedly pulling her panties up and into place, she tried to figure out what the hell to do now. She felt vulnerable, her literal nakedness exemplifying her emotions. “I can’t do this,” she admitted. “I don’t want to do this.”

“What this are you referring to? This discussion or something more than that?”

“I don’t know. I think all of it. I feel like everything is spiraling out of my control, that everyone else is dictating what happens in my life. First my father by leaving, then my mother by being a flake, then my grandfather for the stipulations in his will, now you. I need to be the one calling the shots for a change.”

“If you wanted to go straight to bed tonight, you could have just said that. I would never force you to have sex if you’re not in the mood. It was a long day.”

Was he deliberately misunderstanding her? Shawn crossed her arms over her breasts and watched him unbutton his dress shirt and peel if off his shoulders. What the hell was he doing? “What are you doing?”

“Going to Paris to see the Eiffel Tower. Or undressing to go to bed.”

Okay, that had asshole written all over it. And he called her passive-aggressive? “Why are you so afraid to let me have some control, Rhett? Why is it so important to you?”

He paused with his fingers on the zipper of his dress pants. “It’s just a sexual preference, Shawn. Don’t psychoanalyze me.”

“You called me a three-year-old.” Shawn turned her back on him to get herself a T-shirt out of the dresser.

He came up behind her and kissed the side of her neck. “I am not trying to control you. I told you I would be a model husband outside of bed, and I meant it. Just tell me what you need from me.”

Shawn shuddered, the agony of her emotions overwhelming her. “Maybe I need to slow down. Maybe I need you to give me some space.”

He stiffened, then his hands fell away from her arms. “Do you want me to sleep on the couch tonight?”

She nodded. “I would appreciate that.”

“I’m only agreeing to this because I know you’re tired. We’re not done with this discussion,” he warned her.

That was the problem. Her anger spiked all over again. “We’re done with it if I say we’re done with it!”

He didn’t even respond to her. He just zipped his pants again, then started toward the door.

“My lawyer says I don’t need to be married,” she hurled after him, because the secret was weighing on her like ten thousand tons of concrete.

He stopped walking, but he didn’t turn around. “Is that true?”

“Yes. He said that I could contest the will and would most definitely win.”

When he turned around, his expression actually froze her in fear that she had just done something irrevocable. “Is that what you want?” he asked, and his voice was cold, even, devoid of any emotion.

“Maybe.” She was so deep in shit now, she didn’t know where to walk to get out of it.

Rhett slowly shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way. You’re either in all the way, or you’re out all the way.”

She swallowed hard, not sure what to say, not sure what she felt.

“I don’t believe in hedging my bets, or taking it slow, or living separate lives that we invite each other into on occasion. If you love someone, ‘me’ becomes ‘we.’ That’s it. One car, two drivers.”

Could she do that? She didn’t know. She honestly didn’t know. “I can’t . . .” She wasn’t even sure what she was going to say, but Rhett sighed.

“Yeah, I guess I know you can’t. But the truth is, I can’t do this if you can’t commit to me. I love with everything, Shawn, not in bite-size portions. And I do love you.”

Anxiety crawled up her throat. Shawn opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She just stood there in her underwear and made nothing but a tiny nonsensical sound.

Rhett nodded. “I’ll sleep on the couch. Tomorrow I can move out.”

That startled her into speech. “Move out? What do you mean?”

“Well, what do you think we’re going to do? Float along, not totally committed to each other, playing house, each wondering when the other one is going to bail? I can’t do that.”

“But . . .”

“We had an agreement, right? Yeah, we did. But that was before I fell in love with you.”

“But . . .” Shawn didn’t know how to deal with this. She didn’t want him to move out. She would miss him. But she knew it was unreasonable to expect him to stay when she had no clue what she was doing or how she really felt.

“I don’t want you to submit to me. I want you to submit to love.” With that, he went out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

Shawn was left standing in the middle of the old carpet, wondering how to fix something when she wasn’t even sure what was broken.

• • •

RHETT woke up, his head pounding and his heart aching. He was slightly hungover and he had a crick in his neck from sleeping on the couch, but more painful than either of those was knowing that Shawn didn’t really want to be married to him. It had been on her face the night before at the party, in her panicked eyes, and the stiffness of her body. He had thought it was just nerves, but it wasn’t.

The truth was, she had learned to give in to her desire, to jump off the cliff and trust him, but she couldn’t trust his love, their marriage.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stay there day after day wanting something more from her, trying to drag it out of her, until she withdrew and he resented that his needs weren’t being met.

Sitting up with a muffled groan, Rhett pulled on his dress pants and pushed off the blanket. Trying not to make any noise, he went down the hall and crept into the bedroom to find a shirt to wear. Shawn was sleeping soundly, her mouth open on a slight snore, her hands tucked under her cheek. He loved her with everything in him, and for that very reason, he knew he had to let her go. He would emotionally bleed her dry. She didn’t feel the same intensity of emotion that he did, and he couldn’t make her feel it.

Without opening the closet, he wasn’t going to be able to find any shirt other than the dress shirt from the night before, and he didn’t want to risk waking her up, given how rough the day before had been for her. So with a sigh, he pulled on the crumpled-up shirt and by the side door shoved his feet into his work boots. He would call Shawn later.

He left the house, but his heart stayed behind, tucked up beside the only woman he knew he could ever love.

• • •

NOLAN was in the kitchen, eyeballing the coffeemaker through bloodshot eyes, wondering how it was possible he was even awake when there was a knock on the apartment door.

“Eve?” he called. “Can you tell whoever that is to go the hell away?” It was his wife’s specialty, telling people off. Besides, she was closer, curled up on the couch, still where they had landed after the party, ripping each other’s clothes off and making pro wrestling look like a low-contact sport. They had never made it to the bedroom.

“My pleasure,” she mumbled.

As Nolan poured grounds into the filter, he heard the door open. Then Eve yelled back to him. “Uh, Nolan, it’s your brother. You might want to come in here.”

“What?” Nolan abandoned what he was doing and went into the living room in his underwear. Rhett was in the doorway wearing his rumpled wedding clothes, the shirt not even buttoned, his feet in boots, his hair standing on end, his face weary. “What the hell are you doing here? Did you get arrested last night or something?”

It was the only explanation his brain could produce for why his brother was dressed like that and at his apartment at eight in the morning the day after his wedding reception.

“Where’s Shawn?” Eve asked, wearing nothing but Nolan’s own dress shirt from the night before.

They were quite the trio of post-party fashion Don’ts.

“She’s sleeping still.” Rhett came in and shut the door, then fell into a chair, his hands going into his hair. “We broke up.”

Oh, Lord. Nolan was going to need coffee for this. “What are you talking about? You got married two weeks ago. Last night you were celebrating.” Though now that he thought about it, Shawn hadn’t exactly been a beaming bride. She had mostly sat and looked like she was mildly nauseated.

“She doesn’t want to be with me,” Rhett said, sounding hungover and miserable.

“I’m going to put pants on, then I want to know what the hell you’re talking about,” Eve said. “That girl is crazy about you.”

“Eve’s right,” Nolan said as his wife went down the hallway. “Whatever you said last night when you were drunk doesn’t matter today. Talk it out, bro.”

Rhett shook his head. “It’s over. Can I stay here for a few weeks?”

Hell, no. Nolan sat down on the couch, his head pounding a little bit. He started to worry that this was more serious than Rhett and Shawn having a drunken fight. “Look, I’m going to give you the same advice you gave me when Eve and I had a disagreement about a minute after we got married—go home and deal with your wife. You can’t stay here.”

“You’re a dick.” Rhett scowled at him.

“You were right, you know. Eve and I talked, and look at where we are. You need to talk to Shawn, sort this out with emotions calmed down.”

Eve came back out of the bedroom in yoga pants. “I agree. I’ve never seen Shawn fall for someone this hard.”

“Except it’s all bullshit,” Rhett said. “We only got married because if she wasn’t married by next month, she wouldn’t inherit the track.”

Nolan blinked. “Excuse me?” God, he really needed that coffee. He hadn’t even put the water in and turned it on, yet he clearly needed it because his brain didn’t seem to be firing at full capacity.

“I mean it was a set-up. She offered me money to marry her, and I agreed because I know how important the speedway is to her. And I wanted an in to her bed, I admit it.”

“What?” Eve exploded. “Are you both insane? Marriage is not something you play around with!”

Nolan recovered from his initial shock to second that opinion. “Holy shit, Rhett.”

“You two have no business judging us. You got married impulsively.”

“Impulse is one thing—for money or sex is another.” Nolan couldn’t even believe what he hearing. “Oh, my God, Mom is going to die. She thinks the two of you are in love.”

“You can’t tell anyone for fuck’s sake. It still has to be a secret, for Shawn’s dignity. And the truth is, we do love each other. We fell in love, which in a way, was my plan all along. But that doesn’t mean every plan works out in the end.”

“I don’t even know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“I knew something was fishy,” Eve said, pacing back and forth, her hands on her hips. “I told you, Nolan. I said Shawn didn’t do shit like this, and I said the whole prenup thing was a red flag.”

“You did.” Nolan should have trusted her suspicions. Then they could have all been spared a wedding reception that was based on a complete lie. “So you’re telling me that even after starting a marriage based on something as mercenary as cash and sex, you do want to be with Shawn.”

“Yes.” Rhett said this like it was obvious.

“If there was no money, would you still want to be with Shawn?”

Now his brother looked downright offended. “Of course.”

It was a legit question. This whole thing was crazy. “Then tell her that.”

“I did. She just stood there and stared at me. I can’t do this, man. I can’t be in love with her and have her unsure if she wants to really be with me.”

“So you snuck out of the house in your wedding clothes while she was sleeping? Bro, seriously. Go talk to her.”

“I told her how I felt. The ball is in her court.”

Oh, God. “I need some coffee.”

“Can I sleep on your couch for a few hours?”

“Yes. We had sex on it last night, though, just full disclosure.”

Rhett made a face. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Fine.”

“I’m going for a run,” Eve announced. “I need to clear my head.”

If Nolan knew his wife, she was going over to Shawn’s.

Which was confirmed when she went and got her keys. Last time he checked she didn’t need her car to jog. Hopefully, Eve would have more luck talking sense into Shawn than he had with Rhett.

Total disaster.

He scratched the tattoo of his wife’s name on his chest as he stumbled back to the coffeepot. The path of true love never ran smooth. More likely you ran out of gas, blew a tire, and hit the wall before you crossed the finish line.

But you were always glad you entered the race.

CHAPTER

TWENTY

SHAWN wasn’t even sure how she had managed to fall asleep, because after Rhett had closed the door, she had spent the first few hours lying in bed staring at the wall. She had debated going out into the living room and talking to him about a hundred times. Every single time she had chickened out.

Of course, when she had gotten up, he was nowhere to be found.

Now she was exhausted, miserable, and confused as hell as she sat on the couch, picking through the box of cards from all their friends and family. Every single one, with its well wishes and words of congratulations, were a new knife in her heart. There was a lot of money. Thousands of dollars, and as she calculated in her head, her guilt and disgust with herself grew. Marriage was a serious covenant, not something you jumped into without zero thought and for practical purposes.

So she might have lost the track, which would have been horrible. It hadn’t been worth the damage she had done to her own conscience and how the people she cared about would feel when her split became known. If there had been no marriage, she might have dated Rhett and they might have gotten to the same destination in the end. But there was no way of knowing that, and no way to go back. Second-guessing was painful and futile.

The truth was, they might have managed to create a relationship together despite the odd origin, if she had been able to unlock her lips the night before and tell him she loved him.

But then again, she did have a legitimate point—once in a while she wanted to feel in charge.

Though on the other hand, when had he ever really truly been bossy out of the bedroom?

She clutched the box to her chest and cried silent tears.

Which is how Eve found her.

When she heard the side door open she thought it was Rhett, and she felt her hope soar, only to realize it was her best friend.

“Okay, start explaining,” Eve said by way of greeting. “Rhett is at my apartment saying that the two of you got married so you wouldn’t lose the track.”

The blood drained from her face. “What?”

“Don’t worry. I know it’s a secret. It’s crazy, but I won’t tell anyone. But tell me what this is all about.” She sank into the chair opposite Shawn.

So she told Eve everything, starting with the will and how she had impulsively chosen Rhett because she was attracted to him and because she figured he could use the money. “Then the thing is, we did fall for each other for real. We really did. I am in love with him.”

“Okay, so I’m just going to let all the ridiculousness of how you ended up married go for now and focus on the immediate issue. So if the love is mutual, what the hell is the problem?”

“I’m worried about losing my independence.”

Eve blinked. “Why would that happen? I married Nolan and I’m the same person I was before. I didn’t suddenly start wearing pearls and an apron.”

“Rhett is different than Nolan.” Shawn bit her lip. “He’s . . . intense.”

“I’m not going to talk about your sex life, or at least I’m going to try not to. Are you saying he wants you to be like a submissive all the time? Like an actual lifestyle choice? Because I can understand you might object to being led on a leash or whatever.”

“No! Not at all.” Shawn set the box down on the couch next to her and leaned forward. “I’m afraid to be too much in love.”

“You’re afraid to be your mother,” Eve said shrewdly.

Shawn winced. “There is probably truth to that. She never recovered from my dad leaving. I’m afraid to give my heart like that.”

“But in trying to avoid being hurt like your mother, you have become the post-divorce version of your mother—apathetic. She can’t bring herself to care more than superficially about anyone, including her own kids.”

That was definitely true. But the realization that she could wind up like that punched Shawn in the gut. “Oh, God, I do not want to be my mother. She’s miserable, and she makes everyone else around her miserable, too.”

“Let me ask you this very simple question. Would you rather be alone or with Rhett when you go to bed every night? And when you wake up in the morning and you’re having your coffee, would you rather be alone? Or would you like him there?”

Shawn didn’t even hesitate. “I’d rather be with him.”

“Then stop treating every little speed bump like the end of the relationship. Marriage is a learning curve. But you can’t learn anything if you both just bail the second that it gets tough. Give it a shot, work on being together, then in six months, get married for real, with vows you actually mean when you speak them.”

“You think so?”

“Girl, I’m Eve Monroe Ford. I know so.”

Shawn laughed, suddenly hopeful. They could work on their relationship. So Rhett was all or nothing. But maybe he would understand that when you skipped a step or five, you were all in, you just weren’t at the end goal yet. “What should I do?”

“Go to my apartment and surprise him. I’ll text Nolan and tell him to make up an excuse to leave Rhett alone. Just tell him how you feel. You’ve got nothing to lose. I went after Nolan, and look at how that turned out.” Eve sat back, smug. “We’ve basically cornered the market on awesome marriages.”

“And modesty, too.”

“Yeah, well, you’re one to talk. Now get dressed and go talk to Rhett, or I’m going to post on Stoney White’s Facebook wall that you have never gotten over him.”

She rolled her eyes and stood up. “You aren’t even friends with Stoney White.”

“How do you know?”

Shawn ignored the question and asked one of her own. “How can something that’s so amazing be so scary? I never thought of myself as chickenshit, but this loving someone—it’s terrifying.”

“Tell me about it. But I combat the fear by drag racing with Nolan. It takes the tension out.”

That wasn’t going to work in her case, since Shawn hadn’t driven in years and Rhett would leave her in the dust. But she had a better idea. “Good call, Eve.” She went to get dressed and go lay her cards on the table. She had taken a huge leap of faith in asking Rhett to marry her. Now it was time to make another one.

• • •

RHETT was dozing in and out of sleep on the floor, his head on a throw pillow from the armchair, his headache between his eyes and misery pronounced. The door to the apartment opened and he sighed, guessing it was Eve back from her jog, or Nolan back from the doughnut shop. He’d said he had a post-drinking hankering for fried dough. Hopefully, whoever it was, they wouldn’t speak to him. He wanted to be left the hell alone.

But his eyes flew open when he realized whoever it was had stopped next to him and was dropping onto their knees. It was Shawn, and in another second, she was on the floor, aligned next to him.

“Hi,” she said, with a soft smile.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, even as a seed of hope began to sprout. He rolled onto his side so he was facing her. He wanted to touch her, but he restrained himself.

“I came to apologize for my behavior last night. You wanted to know what was wrong—the truth is, I’m not entirely sure. But the closest I can figure is that I’m afraid. I’m afraid of these feelings, Rhett. I’ve never been in love before, and I’m afraid of losing Shawn in our relationship.”

Her eyes were glassy with new tears and her voice was quiet, words spoken with conviction. “But I’m willing to risk it. I’m all in if you are.”

The words were everything to him. Her sincerity was clear, and he was willing to work on whatever they needed to make this work. He gave in to his urge and ran his finger across her bottom lip. “I’m all in. I love you.”

It was that simple.

“I love you, too.” Her hand started to wander across the front of his dress pants.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a smile as he kissed her chin, the corner of her mouth, her ear.

“Something I’ve been wanting to do for a while.” She unzipped his pants and reached in with eager strokes and freed his cock.

Rhett gritted his teeth. “What if Eve or Nolan come home?”

“Eve texted Nolan and told him to leave and not come back until further notice. She came over to my house to bitch me out. They won’t be back until we give the word.”

Rhett grinned. “Smooth, Hamby. I like your style.” He stilled her hand. “But you know my stance on oral sex.”

“I can appreciate your opinion. But this is what I want, and sometimes, Rhett Butler Ford, you’re just going to have to do it my way.” Her mouth descended and wrapped around his erection.

“Damn it, that feels good,” he said, laying back and closing his eyes for a second and enjoying the hot stroke of her mouth over him. “But I’m not going to stop being dominating in bed, I hope you understand that. I can’t turn it off.”

Shawn looked up at him over the length of his cock, her lips clearing with a slick popping sound. “I understand, and believe me, I enjoy it, too. I had no idea how very much I would enjoy it. But on occasion, I’m asking you to let me have my way with you.”

It was a fair compromise, especially given that a second ago she had been sucking him, and now they were merely talking. “I can live with that. Now get up here and ride me.”

“Uh-uh. Give me a minute.”

Shawn’s mouth covered him again and he groaned, letting her have her way with him. He had to admit, it was a sensation that drove him crazy, and the view was amazing. He let her go at it, both enjoying it, until his control was threatened. But for once, he didn’t mind. He wanted to lose control with her, he wanted to be swept away on a wave of emotion with Shawn. His wife.

He gripped her arms and hauled her up the length of him. “Come here.” A second later he had her pants down and her astride him. He didn’t bother to tell her what she should do. He let her sit up and start a slow, eager rhythm.

“Rhett?” she asked, eyes dilated with desire, hips pumping.

“Yes, Scarlett?”

“As God is my witness, I will never go horny again.”

If he weren’t so turned on, he would have laughed. “And that is one of the many reasons I love you.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-ONE

“IT’S very irregular,” the clerk said. “I can’t believe the minister agreed to do this.”

It was because Rhett had paid him two hundred bucks, but he just shrugged. “He didn’t see what the harm was.”

He and Shawn were in a wedding chapel, renewing their vows, with true emotion in their hearts this time. They had been legally married for five weeks, and every day their union solidified a little more. It was an education, that was for certain, and they were learning how to communicate, but the amazing moments overshadowed and outnumbered any brief flashes of confusion and misunderstanding. They had been working together on new ideas for Hamby Speedway, and Shawn had started the ball rolling to get national affiliation. It was going to be a great year for racing, and they were definitely working together as a team.

Getting married again had been his idea, and she had readily agreed. They hadn’t told anyone, and it was just meant to be the two of them speaking their commitment to each other out loud.

Shawn was beaming, a beautiful bride, part two, in the dress she had worn to their wedding reception.

“I do,” she said clearly, her eyes shining, lips parted in a wide smile.

“I do,” Rhett said when it was his turn, and he meant that to the depth of his soul. He held both her hands in his and looked deep into her eyes.

When it was time to seal it with a kiss, Shawn threw her arms around him and opened her mouth to him. Rhett picked her up and gave her a spin, grinning. This was it for him—he couldn’t imagine being any happier or that any other woman could make him feel so amazing.

As they walked back down the aisle of the slightly shabby chapel, Shawn told him, “I have a gift for you.” She handed a box to him that looked like a bracelet would fit in it.

“What’s this?” Puzzled, he lifted the silver lid. For a second, he had no idea what he was looking at. Then he realized it was a pregnancy test. A positive pregnancy test. His vision actually went black momentarily, then his hand started to shake. “Is this what I think it is?”

She nodded with a smile. “You have supersperm, there’s no other explanation for it. I’m actually very excited, now that the shock has worn off. I never thought much about being a mother, but I can’t wait. I hope it’s okay with you.”

“Are you kidding?” He grinned. “This is amazing!” He pulled her close against him and decided that he was probably the luckiest man on the freaking planet. “God, I love you.”

Shawn snuggled against her husband and watched in astonishment as her super serious, alpha male husband got a little watery-eyed as the reality of his impending fatherhood sunk in.

Just one more reason she loved him.

“If it’s a boy, I think we should name him Jameson after your grandfather,” Rhett said, holding her tight. “He brought us together, after all.”

Oh, yeah. She loved this man. Now she was blinking back tears, too. “And if it’s a girl, Margaret.”

“Margaret?” he asked, clearly puzzled.

“After Margaret Mitchell.”

He let out a laugh. “We can discuss that one.” He took her hand and they started out of the chapel. “You want to have everyone over for dinner this week and we can tell them?”

“I would love to. Any day but Friday. That’s book club night.”

“Oh, God,” was his opinion. “You hitting up The Wet Spot again?”

“Of course not!” Shawn let him put her coat over her shoulders and accepted the sweet kiss he gave her.

“Damn. I was hoping to go separately and hit on you like I was a total stranger. It would be fun in a place like that to start making out.” He made a sound in the back of his throat. “I’m getting hot just thinking about it.”

So was she. “It doesn’t have to be book club to do that. How about tonight?”

“I love the way you think. Among other things.”

The feeling was mutual.

Turn the page for a special look at

True
and

Sweet

Two new adult contemporary romances by Erin McCarthy, available digitally from InterMix.

TRUE

GETTING drunk was not in my plans for Friday night.

Neither was admitting to my roommates, Jessica and Kylie, that I was a virgin.

But they left me alone with Grant.

I knew what Jessica and Tyler, Kylie and Nathan were going to do in the guys’ respective bedrooms. Well, it’s not like I actually knew from personal experience what they were doing—but I hoped their sex fest wouldn’t take that long. I had studying to do for an inorganic chemistry exam on Monday. Plus, I had to read six chapters of Hemingway about boozy, washed-up writers and their cheating wives, which was always a challenge for me, since I preferred the facts of math and science. Puzzling out literature and the social dynamics of characters struck me as a waste of time, especially given their activities.

Alcohol and sex. Ironic, really.

But Jessica was my ride. It was too far to walk back to the dorms, and it was the kind of off-campus neighborhood that had my dad raising his eyebrows and suggesting I go to college in some cow town like Bowling Green, where there were no dirty couches on sagging front porches and no residents smoking crack in full view of the street.

So walking back was not happening, because I didn’t smoke crack and I was no risk-taker. At all. Yet sitting there alone with Grant while my roommates were off having a good time almost seemed riskier than strolling through the ghetto. It was sort of like perching over a public toilet seat without actually touching anything. It was difficult. Awkward.

Plus, it was very, very quiet. He didn’t speak, and I didn’t either, so there was a lot of sitting and a lot of awkwardness and a lot of trying to be entirely motionless so I wouldn’t be moving more than him. Since he was barely breathing, this was a hard thing to do.

I actually felt sorry for Grant, which was just crazy because I wasn’t exactly the Girl Everyone Wants to Be. But Grant was cute, with long hair that dropped into his eyes, long cheekbones, and thick, girlish eyelashes. He was too thin, his black T-shirts always tight and wrinkled, with various rude expressions like BITE ME and WHAT THE F ARE YOU LOOKING AT? His dirty jeans hung off nonexistent hips that rivaled Mary Kate Olsen’s, and not because he was looking to be fashionable. I don’t think he ate enough, honestly. Nathan had told me Grant’s father was a drunk, and his mother was a freak who stabbed her coworker at Taco Bell with a pen and was in some psych ward downtown. No one was shopping for vegetables at Kroger in Grant’s house.

So I had kind of an awkward girl crush on Grant because the situation smelled of possibility. Like, it was not totally out of the realm of possibility that he could actually want to be with me, in some sort of male-female capacity.

“Smoke?” Grant asked, holding his pack of Marlboro Reds out to me, gaze shooting around to avoid the connection with mine, as we sat in the main room of Nathan’s apartment.

“No, thanks.” It was the eyes that made me understand that here was someone I didn’t have to be afraid of, didn’t have to feel threatened or intimidated by. Because even though his eyes never met mine, Grant had haunted eyes. Aching, vulnerable, gray eyes.

I wanted him to kiss me. Even as I took a huge swig out of the beer he had given me five minutes before, I was thinking that if only he would recognize what I saw, everything would be awesome. We were absolutely perfect for each other. Two totally sensitive, pale, quiet people. I’d never shove him around the way Tyler did, under the guise of bro wrestling. I’d never embarrass him or set his clothes on fire for fun like his alleged best friend, Nathan, did.

His hand shook a little as he flicked his Bic on to light the cigarette he’d stuffed in his mouth. There was an oak end table between us, each of us perched in a plaid easy chair, a movie playing on the TV screen in front of us. Some sort of bad Tom Cruise drama. I’ve never liked Tom Cruise. He always reminded me of someone’s creepy cousin who smiles too big before he touches your butt and whispers something gross in your ear with hot whiskey breath.

Grant was studying the TV, though, very seriously, his smoke floating out into nice, sexy ovals. He could make smoke rings.

I thought my only talent was converting oxygen to carbon dioxide, though to give myself credit, I did really well in school—I always have. I was in the honors scholar program, and I was on track for magna cum laude, which made my rooming with Jessica and Kylie even more ironic than me reading Hemingway. They were social superstars, while if there were a subject called Casual Conversation and Flirting 101, I would have been flunking it.

I’d never had a boyfriend. No sweaty, hand-holding, note-passing, middle-school boyfriend. No guy in high school who had me wear his football jersey to pep rallies. No TA in college who suddenly recognized the value of a quality brain and spent coffee-shop nights studying with me. None of the above.

I wasn’t exactly sure why, because I didn’t consider myself ugly with a capital “U.” Maybe slightly plain, definitely quiet, but not repulsive in any way. No body odor, bad breath, or strange growths in obvious places, no bald spots or facial tics. I did have a few guys who wanted to make out and attempt to shove their hands down my pants, but no one wanted to date me.

Which is why I knew I should make a move on Grant somehow. Because here was my chance to score a boyfriend. To have make-out sessions and share popcorn at the movies, to text each other on a minute-by-minute basis using sickly sweet nicknames. Just to see what it was like, a relationship, to try it on for size like a great pair of sexy heels.

Maybe it would even result in having my name tattooed on Grant’s bicep. It was a short name, Rory, so it would fit on his skinny arm. Something permanent that said that someone else in this world thought enough of me to ink me into infinity.

In reality, Grant and I had remained completely silent for fifteen, twenty minutes. He’d even stopped asking me if I wanted another beer. He had the uncanny ability to sense when I’d drained one without even looking over at me, and he immediately offered another by just holding out the can. I didn’t really want this many, but I couldn’t bring myself to say no. His silent offer was the only thing connecting us at all, besides the fact that we were both human and happened to be sitting in the same room.

I was starting to feel a serious buzz from the three back-to-back beers I’d had, and I was wondering how much longer until my supposedly large brain managed to put forth a flirtatious comment for me to sling at Grant with an artful hair flip. A lot of girls I knew talked more as they drank, but so far, my tongue still seemed to be stuck to the roof of my mouth, and my ears were ringing.

“Do you think . . . ?” Grant started to say, his whole body suddenly turning to me.

Startled, I choked a little, beer going up my nose. I didn’t know he was going to look at me. Not prepared. No coy smile in place. I blinked at him, hoping that just maybe he’d say something that could lead to something, and I would have a turn at this strange mating game we all seemed to want to play.

“Do you think Tyler and Jessica are serious about each other or are they just hooking up? Or could I, you know . . .”

I sank back into the burgundy plaid. My turn was not today. I was stupid to think it ever would be.

“No,” I managed to say. “They’re definitely serious.” Even though I knew it wasn’t true, that Jessica wasn’t serious about anything right now. But I was feeling mean and a little sick, and drunk in a not-so-good way. It was rare for me to get angry, but I suddenly felt just that.

Because even Grant, who was like a terrified grasshopper clinging to the windshield of a speeding car, was too good for me.

I lifted my beer to my mouth and sucked hard, eyes focusing on Tom on the TV and his cheesy grin.

“She says she adores him,” I added, to emphasize my point, driven to speak by an itchy humiliation that prickled over my skin. It wasn’t a lie—she had said that. But Jessica adored her Hello Kitty slippers, and her iPhone, and Greek yogurt. It was her catchall word for anything that was pleasing her at that very moment. Tyler had been pleasing her half an hour ago. Whether he still was now was anyone’s guess.

Grant looked down the hallway, toward the bedroom. He didn’t say anything, but I could see it. That pathetic, hopeless wanting. The desire for what you want but can’t have. The need for someone to like you.

I recognized it because I saw it in my own face every day.

So I drained my fourth beer completely, my teeth starting to numb, my breath sounding loud and labored to my ears. I knew I should slow down, drink water, stand up, but it was easier to feel sorry for myself, hidden behind a beer can, deep in the recesses of the plaid chair, my new best friend.

When Grant leaned over and suddenly covered my mouth with his, I was so shocked I made a startled yelp and dropped the nearly empty can in my lap, dribbles of cold beer spilling onto my jeans. Grant had eaten up the distance between the two chairs and was leaning on the oak table with one hand, grabbing the back of my head with the other. Confused, I sat there unresponsive for a second, my beer brain chugging along slowly, processing. Grant was kissing me.

I kissed back. Because, well, this is what I wanted, right? Grant to kiss me.

But then I remembered Grant wasn’t really interested in me. He was into Jessica. I knew that. And his mouth was hard, his tongue thrusting and swollen. I started to pull back, desperate for air. He tasted like stale cigarettes, and he smelled like he did laps in a swimming pool of Axe body spray.

“Pass that on to Jessica,” he said, panting hard, tossing his hair out of his eyes.

I blinked. I may have been the awkward girl, but I didn’t want to be second-best. A sexual stand-in for my hot roommate. Humiliation flooded over me, drenching my skin in heat from head to toe as I flushed with embarrassment and anger. When he started to move in again for another kiss, I put my hand on his chest to stop him.

“Tell her yourself,” I spat out, standing up, the beer can tumbling to the dirty carpet. I wasn’t sure where I was going, but away from him.

Only Grant grabbed me by the arm as I walked past and pulled me down onto his lap. Before I could react, he had his arms completely around me, his warm lips on my neck, the hard nudge of what I figured had to be his erection at the back of my thighs. Fear flooded my mouth. He didn’t look this strong. He didn’t look strong at all, yet his grip on me was tight, his sloppy, wet kisses trailing lower down my chest, under my T-shirt.

When I tried to stand, his hands held my arms so tightly it felt like my wristbones were being snapped, and I was too out of it from the beer to have great coordination. Trying to back up, I ended up sliding down his lap, between his legs and to the floor.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” he said, loosening his hold on me to take down his zipper. “Good girl.”

When he pulled out his erection, a mere foot from my face, I couldn’t believe what I was looking at, all smooth skin and dark hair, just out there, all casual. Right in front of my face. I realized he thought I was going to give him a blow job. That I was actually offering to give him oral sex, for no reason, with no conversation or lead-in, just a few shitty kisses when he referenced my roommate. That somehow he was insane enough to think that I would willingly go down on him. Nauseated, I turned my head, so I didn’t have to look at his junk.

The beer was going to come back up. I drank it too fast and it was sloshing around in my gut, ready to rush up my throat in a Bud Light tsunami, crashing out over my teeth onto his lap if I didn’t get some fresh air, didn’t get away from him.

“Let me go,” I said, trying to get my feet on the floor so I could stand.

But he had my hair at the back of my head, and I realized the only way out was to go low, not try to stand. But if I fell to the floor completely, then he could fall on me, which meant that if I didn’t get out of this in the next sixty seconds, I might wind up having sex on the hard, filthy carpet of this crappy rental apartment. I’d rather give oral sex than lose my virginity to this douchebag, who I had thought was nice, who I had thought would never victimize anyone because he’d been the victim.

Neither was a good choice.

But if I faked oral, I could bite him instead. Sink my teeth down into his most sensitive spot and get away. Call a cab. I was just panicked enough that I figured I could actually do it, get away or at least go down fighting.

So I tried to stand instead of falling down, and he yanked my hair so hard tears came to my eyes. I had long, dark-red hair, which made it easy for him to entwine his fingers to control my head and my neck, holding me so I couldn’t move.

“Stop! I’m serious.” I braced my knee on the bottom of the chair, my hand on his chest to keep my head as far from him as possible. “I’m going to be sick,” I added, because it was true, and I figured no guy wanted to be puked on.

But he ignored me and said, “Open your mouth.”

So I punched his wrist, trying to break his hold, desperate, panicked, my vision blurred from tears and too many beers, my stomach churning violently. “No! Please, don’t!”

“Let her go, Grant. Now.”

He did, and I fell to the ground, gasping, scrambling backward, my floral rain boots giving me traction to butt-scoot out of his reach. Tyler was standing in the hallway, not wearing a shirt, a beer in his hand. He had clearly been to the kitchen, clearly seen what had been happening, clearly planned to stop it.

Relief had my hands shaking and I zipped up my hoodie, wanting my T-shirt covered, wanting all of me covered, gone.

“Mind your own fucking business,” Grant said.

“No. I won’t. She said no.” Tyler was tall, broad-shouldered, his chest and biceps covered in tattoos. He looked at me, and I shrank back a little. His eyes looked angry in the fluorescent glow of the stove light. “Did you say no, Rory?”

“Yes. I said no,” I added, wanting to clarify.

Grant’s foot came out, and he kicked my arm, hard. “You did not, you dick tease.”

He kicked me. I couldn’t believe that he just kicked me. I yelped, and before I could respond, Tyler was between me and Grant, pulling him to his feet.

“I heard her say no. Now get the hell out of here. Go home. What is wrong with you? You don’t treat a chick like that.”

They scuffled a little, Grant shoving Tyler’s arms off him as he made his way to the door. “Man, I was doing her a favor. No one else wants her.”

Tyler’s response to that was to punch Grant in the face, knocking him into the wall. “Shut the fuck up, or I’ll beat your ass into tomorrow.”

Grant peeled himself off the wall, shot me a look of hatred, then left, the door slamming hard behind him. The tears were rolling down my face, whether I liked it or not. The realization that I was almost raped settled over me, and his hateful words lay on top of that, a final insult. He was right. No one wanted me. But that didn’t mean I could be treated like shit. It didn’t mean I wasn’t a person, that I should toss over my dignity and accept whatever attention I got, no matter how selfish and crude it was.

“You okay?” Tyler asked, popping open his beer and holding it in front of me.

I shook my head. Because I didn’t want the beer. And because I wasn’t okay.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know he would do something like that. I feel really bad.” He set his beer down on the end table. “Do you want me to give you a ride home? Jessica’s asleep.”

Great. All I wanted to do was retreat to our dorm and cry in my bed, but Jessica was taking a post-coital nap. It was bold for me, but I decided to accept his offer, even though I knew I was putting him out. “Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure, no problem. Just let me get my keys.” He made a face. “And a shirt. It’s cold out there for October.”

He went back into the bedroom and when he came out, Jessica was actually with him. “Rory, are you okay?” She rushed over to me, blond hair flying behind her, dressed in men’s pajama pants and a huge sweatshirt. “Tyler told me what happened.”

Her arms wrapped around me and I let her hug me, grateful for the contact and her concern.

“What an asshole. If I see him, I’m going to cut his dick off and shove it down his throat. Let’s see how he likes cock crammed in his mouth.”

Her vehemence made me feel better. “I should have . . .” I started—but then stopped myself. I should have what? I shouldn’t have done anything differently. I was just sitting in my chair and he made a world of assumptions and I said no, and that was the truth of it. I wasn’t going to blame myself that he’d taken a fist to the face.

“No, screw that,” Jessica said. “You didn’t do anything wrong. And I’m sorry I left you alone with that prick.”

“I’ll be right back,” Tyler said, his phone buzzing in his hand. He retreated into the bedroom as Kylie came out, her hair a hot mess, makeup streaked.

“What’s going on?”

“Grant tried to rape Rory,” Jessica said in such a loud, matter-of-fact voice I couldn’t help but wince.

“What? Are you effing kidding me?” Kylie could have been Jessica’s twin. They were both tall, blond, tan, toned. They were getting vague degrees in Gen Ed and would probably wind up as wedding planners and golf wives, while I was intending to go to med school to be a coroner. I was more comfortable with dead people than living ones. But for whatever reason, they liked me. And I liked them. Their reaction cemented that feeling. They both looked like if they had had a baseball bat and five minutes alone with Grant, he’d wish he’d never been born.

I didn’t want to fight Grant. I just wanted to forget it had ever happened. “I did kiss him,” I said, because I felt guilty for that. That was leading him on, a little.

“So? A kiss is not a promise of pussy,” Kylie said.

She was right. “I know,” I said, miserable, confused, stomach upset. I sat down on the end table, looking at my boots. “But I mean, it’s not like I haven’t thought about being with Grant. I have. But he was so . . . and I don’t want it, my first time, to be like this . . . and I should have done . . . something.”

So much for telling myself I wasn’t going to do that. There I was, worried, feeling like I’d had some part in what had happened.

“Your first time? Wait a minute, are you saying you’re a virgin?” Jessica was staring at me blankly. “For real?”

Oops. I hadn’t really meant to share that. It wasn’t exactly a deep, dark secret, and it really couldn’t have been that much of a shock to her, but it wasn’t necessarily something I wanted to go around talking about. “Um. Yes. I just haven’t . . .”

Had the opportunity.

“There hasn’t been anyone . . .” I reached for the beer Tyler had abandoned and took a sip. I was drunk, but not nearly enough to not suddenly feel completely and totally middle-school mortified.

“Oh.” Kylie looked bewildered. “Well, that’s cool. Lots of girls make that choice.”

“It hasn’t been a choice. Not exactly. I mean, if I could, I think I would.” I did. I was twenty, and I had all the same physical feelings as other people. Just no one to explore them with. In a way that wasn’t a quickie on the stained carpet.

“Well, why can’t you?” Jessica asked.

“Because no one is offering. I guess technically Grant offered, but I don’t want it like that.” I was sorry I’d brought it up at all. It wasn’t a discussion I wanted to have with Tyler and Nathan a few feet away.

“So you want, like, romance?”

Was that what we called it? “I guess.”

Tyler came back into the room, pushing his cell phone into his front pocket. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” I found my cross-body bag on the floor and put it over my head.

“Tyler, Rory wants romance,” Jessica told him. “What do you think of that?”

My face burned with embarrassment. I didn’t want to be the subject of discussion. I didn’t want Tyler to stare at me the way he was, dark eyes scrutinizing mine. He was the typical bad-boy type—which was why Jessica liked him—and I was the kind of girl he would never notice. And he hadn’t ever noticed me, not really. I was the quiet friend of Jessica and Kylie whose presence he tolerated. But now his eyes were sweeping over me, assessing, and I couldn’t read his expression.

“I think she should have whatever she wants.” He reached out and took the beer can from my hand, his fingers brushing mine. “But nothing says romance like a six-pack. I need to pick up more beer.”

I shivered from his touch and from the inscrutable look he was giving me.

“I’m staying here,” Jessica stated. “It’s too cold outside to go home. See you tomorrow, Rory.”

Kylie was already curled up on the couch, in a praying position, half-asleep as she gave a weak wave. “Bye, sweetie.”

“Okay, bye,” I said, shoving my hands in the front pockets of my jeans, wishing I had worn a thicker coat. I was cold and I wanted a hot shower to wash away the beer and the fear and the feel of Grant’s wet lips on me. But first I had to sit in the car alone with Tyler. A perfect ending to a crap night. Awkward small talk with my roommate’s Friend with Benefits, who had punched his own friend on my behalf.

As I followed Tyler down the metal stairs, the smell of fried foods strong in the hallway, I thought that was the end of any talk about my virginity.

I didn’t know it was just the beginning.

SWEET

I couldn’t go home for the summer. I just couldn’t.

Going home would mean endless worried looks from my mother, and reminders about following curfew and the dangers of alcohol and pre-marital sex. My father would force me to volunteer—which was such an oxymoron—to teach Sunday school at his church, and threaten to throw out all my revealing clothes. Like shorts. Because wearing shorts in summer was so scandalous.

I couldn’t deal with it, a whole summer ruined with their good intentions and their high moral standards that only a saint could live up to. And I’m no saint.

So I lied and told them I was spending the summer in Appalachia building homes for the poor with a Christian mission group when I was actually staying in Cincinnati and working at a steak house. I know. That was kind of a shitty lie.

But it was the only one that would have worked, so I had gone with it and there was no turning back now. Maintaining my freedom was worth a little guilt that I wasn’t actually helping people in need, though I suppose I could argue I was at least fueling the economy by serving beef. So the only thing still unresolved was where I was going to stay for a week in the gap between when I had to leave my dorm and when I could take over a sublet on an apartment June first.

I had a plan. Turning the doorknob, I stepped inside and assessed the situation. My roommate Kylie, snuggled with her boyfriend, Nathan, who lived in the apartment. Tyler and my other roommate, Rory, also cuddling. The sap-factor in the living room was huge, with Kylie on Nathan’s lap, their fingers entwined, while Tyler did that weird thing he was constantly doing where he played with Rory’s hair and made me want to smack his hand away on her behalf. She always seemed okay with it, though, go figure.

“Hey, Jessica!” Kylie said brightly. “Cute top.”

“Thanks.” I had put the tight red tank on absently, then had wondered if more cleavage would be better for what I had in mind, then had been disgusted with myself for even thinking such a thought. So then I had decided no cleavage was necessary to my self-respect and pulled a Union Jack shirt on over the tank. Appearance was such a process. “What are you guys up to?”

“I’m watching Inglorious Basterds,” came a voice from the kitchen. “Everyone else is engaged in foreplay.”

Ugh. Trying not to sigh, I turned and saw Riley Mann, Tyler’s older brother, popping the top of a beer can. He was not who I wanted to see.

“Jealous?” I asked him lightly, forcing a sardonic smile. Everything about Riley annoyed me, from his sarcasm to his inability to ever be serious, to the fact that he was hot as hell and so clearly knew it. I didn’t see him very often since he worked full-time in construction, which was perfectly fine with me. It was easier to breathe without his testosterone choking the room.

He shook his head. “No. Sex is not worth the headache of a relationship. And my hand doesn’t expect me to text it twenty times the next day.”

There was mental imagery I did not need, though I couldn’t argue with his opinion that relationships were a crapload of work. I made a face. “You’re always so charming. Is Bill here?”

“He’s studying in his room,” Nathan told me. “He has a physics final tomorrow. God, I’m so glad I’m done with my exams.”

I was done, too, which was why housing was becoming something of an issue because I only had two days until I had to vacate the dorms. “Okay, thanks.” I started down the hall to Bill’s room.

“You’re going in there?” Nathan called after me. “I’m warning you, he’s in a mood.”

“I’m sure it’s fine. I just want to say hi.” Bill had been crushing on me for six months, ever since his girlfriend from high school had dumped him for a basketball player at Ohio State. We had hooked up a few times, but I had been totally clear about not wanting to date. I was not in the market for a relationship at all.

Without knocking, I went in to Bill’s room. He was at his desk, and with the exception of the books and papers spread out in front of him, his room was neat as usual, bed made, no sign of finals stress. Until you got to his hair. Then the tension was evident in the floppy curls sticking out in various directions, looking like he hadn’t made nice with a hairbrush in days. His glasses were sliding down his nose when he looked up, and he was a very cute, modern interpretation of the absent-minded genius.

“Hey,” he said, looking vacantly at me.

“Hey. How’s studying going?” I propped a hip on the corner of his desk and smiled.

“Not bad, but I still have a lot to go through. Did you need something or did you just want to hang out? Because I can’t until tomorrow.”

“I wanted to know if I can stay here with you, in your room, for a couple of days.” Okay, so it was more like eight days, but who was counting?

“What?” He frowned. “What do you mean?” He tapped his pen on his lips and blinked up at me.

“I need a place to crash until I can get in the apartment I subletted. There’s no way I’m sleeping on that couch in the living room. It’s like chain mail. But I can sleep in your bed with you, right?” I smiled and used the tip of my finger to push his glasses up. “I promise I won’t kick you in my sleep like I did last time.”

For a second, he didn’t say anything. Then he shook his head. “No.”

That was definitely not the answer I was expecting. “What? Why not? Okay, so I know I can’t promise to have control over my limbs when I’m sleeping, but you can always kick me back. I don’t mind.” He couldn’t be seriously telling me no. My heart rate started to increase, anxiety creeping up over the back of my neck.

“I don’t care if you kick me, it’s not that.” Bill sighed. “Look, Jess, we both know it’s no secret I like you, and you’ve been totally straight up with me about not returning the sentiment, and I appreciate that. Maybe it’s insane of me to say no, because sometimes I do manage to talk you into hooking up when you take pity on me, but I can’t share a bed with you every night for a week and not feel like shit about it. I just can’t.”

My jaw dropped and I felt a hot flood of shame in my mouth, which made me angry. I hadn’t done anything to feel bad about, despite what my dad’s opinion about it would have been. “You make it sound so sketch. We’re friends. We’ve hooked up when we both felt like it, not because I was desperate and you were my only option, or because I felt sorry for you. I’m not that nice of a person that I’ll blow you out of pity. I just like you as a friend and I think you’re cute. We have fun. Apparently, I was totally wrong in thinking you felt the same way.”

“I do feel the same way,” he insisted. “The problem is, I feel more than that, and I’m just not into torturing myself. I want you to be my ‘girlfriend.’” He made air quotes. “Pathetic, I know.”

The thought of being anyone’s girlfriend made me want to throw up in my mouth a little. There was no way I wanted to give a guy that much control over my emotions and my time. I had finally gotten away from that for the first time in my life.

“I’m sorry. It’s not pathetic, it’s just . . .”

“It’s you, not me.” He rolled his eyes. “I know. You can save the let-him-down-gently speech for another dude, I get it.”

I had to admit, that was kind of a relief. “This is awkward,” I told him.

“Probably more for me than for you,” he said with a nervous laugh. “Look, you can stay on the couch.”

“Except now it will be weird.” It already was.

“No, it won’t. I won’t be needy or anything. I just need to have some self-preservation.”

“Okay, I understand.” I did. But it made it different. I couldn’t casually touch him anymore. I couldn’t flirt without feeling like I was leading him on, and I would have to be careful around him. I fought the urge to sigh. Why did everything have to be so complicated between guys and girls? Curse hormones. “Good luck on your final.”

“Thanks.” He gave me a smile, then he returned his attention to his book.

I left, feeling deflated and oddly sad knowing Bill and I couldn’t quite be friends in the same way we had been. But then again, maybe we’d never really been just friends, because I had always known he liked me. And why did that suddenly make me feel so guilty?

“That was fast,” Riley said the second I came into the living room, his feet up on the coffee table, expression bored. “I guess that’s why they call it a quickie.”

“Shut up,” I said with more vehemence than I intended. I was feeling bad and I couldn’t precisely figure out why Bill’s rejection had bothered me so much. I didn’t need Riley judging me.

“What’s wrong?” Rory asked, peeling herself off Tyler’s chest where she was splayed like plastic wrap.

“I just don’t have anywhere to stay for the next couple of weeks, that’s all.” I didn’t want to say in front of Riley that Bill had turned me down. It would be like handing him the material for a ten-minute stand-up routine at my expense. No, thanks.

“You can stay here,” Nathan said.

“Thanks, but I don’t think that’s going to work.”

“Why not?” Kylie asked.

I shot her a look, hoping she’d get the hint.

“Did you and the nerd have a fight?” Riley asked. “Is he not putting out enough for you?”

It really wasn’t fair that such a beautiful face was on such an asshole of a guy. Riley was a little shorter than Tyler, just as muscular, but whereas Tyler had a certain hardness to his face, Riley had been gifted with adorable dimples and large eyes. It was almost tragic he was such a jerk-off. I ignored him, but it wasn’t easy, because he seemed to take great pleasure in pissing me off. I really wanted to throw something at him. Like my fist. Right into his cocky face.

“You can stay at my house,” Tyler offered. “The boys and I are going to Rory’s dad’s for a week, remember, so you’d have a bed to sleep on.”

There was a thought, though it was an intimidating one. “Is it safe?” I asked, before I thought about how rude that actually sounded. Tyler and Riley lived with their two younger brothers in a lower-income neighborhood in a house the bank was in the process of foreclosing on since their mother had died. Riley had lived in a basement before that, but once his mom had overdosed, he had moved back in. I’d never been there, but I was picturing a crime-infested neighborhood with drive-by shootings and prostitutes on every corner. My parents lived in a mini-mansion in a small town, so I didn’t exactly have street cred. My experience with poverty was limited to movies and episodes of COPS on my laptop. It was like a bear walking through the desert, I had no previous exposure.

“I mean, won’t the neighbors think I’m breaking and entering?” I added, as a very lame cover to my initial question.

“Princess, I don’t think anyone is going to think you’ve broken into our shithole and are squatting,” Riley said, rolling his eyes. “If anything, they’ll just think you’ve come over to score drugs.”

“Rory stays with me all the time,” Tyler added. “No one will even notice. People keep to themselves in our neighborhood.”

“I never feel unsafe there,” Rory said. “But then again, I’m never sleeping there alone. Tyler is always with me.”

“I’ve never lived alone,” I said. Even for a week, the thought had a certain appeal. No one’s opinion but my own. No rules. No guilt. No feeling bad that I could never live up to anyone’s expectations. It sounded awesome, and scary. I wanted to try it, just to see what it would be like. “That sounds great, Ty, thanks for offering.”

“Have both of you forgotten something?” Riley asked, picking up his beer.

“What?” I said, wary. I just knew I wasn’t going to like whatever he was going to say.

“I’m not going to Rory’s dad’s to swim for a week like a kid at summer camp. I’ll be here, working. Living in my house.”

Oh, God. I couldn’t help it. I made a face.

The corner of Riley’s mouth turned up. “That’s exactly how I feel about it, Princess.”

“I think it will be good for you guys,” Kylie said, an eternal optimist. Or suffering from massive delusions. “You can become better friends this way.”

“Maybe we don’t want to become friends,” Riley told her. “Maybe we like not liking each other.”

I almost laughed. There was a certain truth to that. I basically felt like I’d seen all I needed to see to know I didn’t need to see more. But if I said that, Kylie’s head would explode. She was a very honest and kind person, and she didn’t always get my point of view. Or anything involving math.

“How much will you even see each other? You both work and it has three bedrooms,” Tyler said. “It seems stupid to sleep on a floor somewhere when there’s plenty of room at the house.”

“It’s up to Riley,” I said, because that only seemed fair. It was his house. “Maybe he wants some alone time with all of you gone.”

I didn’t mean that to sound quite as weird as it did.

He laughed. “Does that come right after Me Time and Circle Time?” He stood up and moved further into my space than was strictly appropriate.

It was a game of chicken and I lost by instantly backing up. Damn it. He smirked in triumph.

“I’ll be fine. I can handle it if you can.”

I was playing right into him and I knew it, but I couldn’t stop myself. “Of course I can handle it. What’s there to handle?”

He stared at me, his eyebrows raised, a challenge in his deep brown eyes. The stubble on his chin was visible and I could smell the subtle scent of soap and a splash of cologne. He looked and smelled very, very masculine, and I was suddenly aware of my body in a way that made me seriously annoyed.

“Bring some beer.”

“I’m not twenty-one.” Not that it had ever stopped me from drinking, but I wasn’t going to give Riley anything I didn’t have to. I did not want to feel like I owed him. It was Tyler who had made the offer of a place to crash, so if anyone deserved thanks, it was him, not his arrogant brother.

For a second, Riley’s eyes roamed over my chest, like he could gauge my age by my boobs. Such a tool.

But then he just said, “You can borrow my ID.”

And I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Because we’re practically twins.”

He nodded. “Though I am slightly better-looking.”

I snorted. “I have better hair.”

“I can drink more whiskey than you.”

“I’m smarter.”

“I’m stronger. We should mud wrestle so I can prove it.”

I bit my lip so I wouldn’t throw a scathing response back at him, or worse, laugh. He didn’t deserve the attention, or knowing he’d gotten under my skin, which was what he wanted.

But for a split second I wondered if I should sleep on Nathan and Bill’s couch after all. Because Riley seemed to be the one person who could get an emotional response out of me, even if it was just anger.

And emotion was dangerous.

It led to being trapped, like my mother, in the pretty prison of my father’s house.

I was never going to let that happen.

“I call dibs on the bathroom for the mornings,” I told Riley.

Then to let him know that he did not intimidate me, and that I was always in control, I turned and walked away.