Indecent Arrangements: Tabloid Affair, Secretly Pregnant!
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What a mess.
She needed his friendship. Was desperate for it. But the pull of this attraction between them was playing with her body and mind, and it hadn’t died off in the slightest.
To go on as friends after a single night together was one thing, but if that single night turned into a string of nights, a week, a month—something finite, because she knew without question Nate wasn’t interested in forever—what would she be left with when it was done?
The press having a field day splashing her face across the rags. Speculating on why she couldn’t hold a man like him. Comparing her to whatever bit of glitz he picked up next. Dredging up Clint and then demanding to know what she’d been thinking.
Who was she kidding?
That was exactly what she’d signed on for the moment she’d given into Nate’s kiss, agreeing to go along with the pretense of this affair. Only in the original scenario, she’d have known in her heart it was all a farce. And as it stood now, she was looking at certain heartbreak…If she gave in.
Her eyes closed as the weight of the moment settled around her.
Nate wanted her. She wanted friendship.
She didn’t stand a chance. Because deep in her heart she wanted way more than that.
Blinking open, she found the tilt to Nate’s lips evened, the brilliant blue of his stare gone flat and focused behind her. Her stomach tensed—
“What the hell’s going on, Payton?” The question came quiet and accusing from the one person she hadn’t considered through all of this.
“Clint.” She spun to face him, heat prickling her cheeks as she faced the man she’d nearly married. Tall, with a lean but healthy build, Clint was typically a well-ordered man. Tucked in. Buttoned down. Only this evening, all of that perfection seemed to have slipped the slightest degree. “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight. I thought—”
He cut her off with the wave of a hand. “We finished in New York early so I’m back in town.” Through with the pleasantries, he glared down at her. “Do you know what people are saying?”
She bristled at his tone of affront and the disapproving glint in his eyes. He had no right. They’d ended the relationship six months before and she knew for a fact he hadn’t been sitting home alone that whole time. “People are always saying something. It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me, Payton. What they say about you definitely matters to me.”
More to the point, it reflected on him. That was what this was about. What everything was about.
His hands went to his jacket, where he adjusted the hang, checked the button. All the while, his gaze tracked over her head, scanning the room behind her. “What are you even doing with Nate Evans?”
Her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass. “Nate and I are friends.”
Clint’s eyes narrowed. The lines at his mouth pulling down. “No, you aren’t. Brandt hates him, and in the years we’ve been together I can’t remember you exchanging more than a passing hello.”
She opted to let the answer sit. The seconds ticked past as each waited for the other to back down. It wouldn’t be her.
His chin jerked back, his brow furrowed and he reached for her arm. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m sorry. I should have called you so you didn’t find out this way.”
“What are you trying to prove, Payton?” Anger flashed in his eyes as the grip at her elbow tightened; she winced, trying to pull free. “He’s a player. A predator. The last thing you are to Nate Evans is his friend. Mark my words,” he hissed, “you’re nothing more than a f—”
Tension snapped through the air and a wall of solid muscle closed in behind her. “That’s enough, Clint,” Nate cut in, his voice deadly low and serious.
Clint’s hand released her, his eyes widening as she rubbed her arm then seeking hers apologetically for the unrecognized force of his hold. Taking a step back, he smoothed his jacket as a flush of pink tinged his cheekbones.
“Evans, this is a matter I need to settle with Payton. I’d appreciate it if you gave us a few minutes.”
Nate leveled him with an unyielding stare, pulling Payton into his side. “No.”
Clint seemed to gauge the moment, notice the growing attention surrounding them, and shook his head. “Payton, this is a mistake.”
If she gave in, he would be right. Her heart would pay for her body’s wants. But regardless of her personal indecision, publicly she was committed. “It’s my mistake to make.”
He held her stare a moment. His features hardening as he acknowledged with a terse nod.
And then he was gone. Retreating through the crowd, offering arm claps and boisterous laughter by way of damage control as he went. Stopping for only one furtive glance back.
“You okay?” Nate asked, a single vein throbbing in his neck as he ran his big hands gently over the place where Clint had bruised her.
Payton placed her palm at the center of his chest, felt the violent punch of his heart beneath. The tight rein on his fury as he fought for control. “I’m fine. Clint wouldn’t hurt me.”
She took a deep breath as Nate’s arm crossed her back, his hand settling possessively at the flare of her hip. It was obvious and so good and not at all what they’d discussed. “I thought the plan was to keep some distance. Play hard to get with the press?”
Nate peered down at her tucked beneath his arm. Wide brown eyes met his and he felt the pull of them straight through the center of his body. A little too far north of his belt for his comfort, truth be told, but it was there nonetheless. “The plan changed.”
Yeah, like the second that jerk touched her. But in all honesty, things were pretty shaky before that. “Clint just gave us the perfect opportunity to bring this to a head…Tell me to get the hell away from you.”
She jerked out of his hold. “You’re pretend breaking up with me?”
As furious as Clint had made him, he couldn’t help but smile at the indignation in her expression and tone. “No, princess. I’m not pretend breaking up with you. To the contrary, we’re going to have our first public spat. And then I’m hauling you out of here to pretend make up with you.”
The corner of her mouth twitched with the amusement overtaking the tension of a moment ago. “What exactly is involved in pretending to make up?”
He leaned that much closer, absorbing the rising heat from her skin. “Tell me to walk away and you’ll find out.” Her eyes widened, pooling dark at his proximity. Giving into the pull of her so close, Nate brushed his knuckles across her shoulder, over the tiny strap of her black dress. “Tell me to keep my hands to myself before someone realizes what’s going on.”
Her arms crossed as she gave him her shoulder and spoke toward the crowd using one of those hushed tones that sounded convincing but still managed to carry. “You need to stop. Walk away, Nate.”
“Do I?” He let out a gruff laugh followed by a deep sigh, close enough to her ear to stir the fine hairs around it. “Why?”
She shivered. “Someone will notice.”
It was exactly what was happening. More eyes turned their way with every passing second. “Mmm, notice how close I’m standing? How long we’ve been talking? The rapid rise and fall of your chest? Your heightened color suggesting an escalated pulse? Are they going to notice that I want you…or that you want me?”
She spun back to him, face flushed, lips parted with a frustrated plea that flickered between hostility and desire. “Nate…”
He caught her chin in his palm, lowering his face to within an inch of hers. “Let them see. I’m done playing games.”
Turning her cheek into his hand, she peered up at him and countered, “You never stop playing games.”
Chapter Eleven
WRAPPED in Nate’s dinner jacket, Payton stood before the vast expanse of glass staring out at the light bright cityscape surrounding the penthouse apartment. Waiting.
They’d left the event together, fingers twined, allowing a photographer the opportunity to snap a picture as they darted for the car, knowing a counterpart would be staked out at Nate’s building as well. Her heart had been racing, her stomach in tumult as she’d waited for him to make his move. But as the scenery blurred past the windows, Nate kept his distance, content to discuss the success of the night. He was confident there’d be a stack of messages from reporters the next morning looking for the scoop on the relationship with Payton Liss. She’d nodded and agreed, all the while contemplating the two roads before her. One smart. One reckless. One right. One wrong. There shouldn’t have been any question at all. Only as she’d watched Nate fall into that wide-legged, masculine sprawl, one arm draped across the leather seatback, all she could think was how tempting it would be to climb into his lap. Run her lips across the faint scrub of his jaw. His neck. His mouth…
Now they were back at his apartment, Nate stepped into the reflection in the dark glass as his hands settled over the slope of her shoulders. “What are you thinking?”
That she was crazy and he was dangerous, and if she wasn’t very careful she’d end up exactly where she wanted to be. “That your secret’s safe.”
“I think it is. In large part thanks to Clint.”
She stiffened. Looked past his image into the night where streetlights illuminated spots of scenery and the red streaks of taillights disappeared around the corner two blocks down. “I should have thought about how he’d react. Warned him. But I didn’t think of him at all.”
He squeezed gently over her muscles, drawing the tension out with slow strokes. “He’s jealous.” Not a question. “Wants you back.”
“Maybe. Yes.” At least he thought he did. Clint wanted the woman she’d pretended to be.
“Not quite the idiot I thought, then. But you don’t want him, do you?”
She shook her head. “No. I really don’t.”
“Good.” His breath came close to her ear. “Then that’s out of the way.”
A warning skittered over her skin and she turned out of his hold. Stepped back. Swallowed. “I should go. Tomorrow’s a school day. We both have to work.”
Nate dismissed her protest with a flick of his hand.
Nonsense. Inconsequential.
“I wouldn’t stop you if marrying Clint was what you wanted.” His gaze drifted to her mouth, to where she’d anxiously set her teeth into her lip. “Or maybe I would.”
He was flirting, playing as he always did.
Yeah, sure he was.
A nervous laugh escaped her and he took a step forward, one golden brow arched in question. “You think I wouldn’t?”
Okay, this was it. Her chance to talk sense. She shook her head and took another step back. Slowly. She wouldn’t stand a chance if this turned into a game of chase. “You might be cutthroat and relentless and everything else they say about you, but you’re also honest and honorable. You’ve been that way your whole life—it’s just not quite as obvious the way the papers paint you now.”
“You’re a Pollyanna,” he countered with that mischievous glint in his eyes. “But I like it. Did I mention I had a bridge to sell you?”
“No way, Nate,” she scoffed, her confidence returning with their banter. “You do the right thing. I trust you. It’s why you—your friendship means so much to me.” One of the reasons anyway.
He took another step forward. “I’m glad to hear honesty is important to you, because about that friendship thing—”
“Stop.” Before it was too late and she ended up losing everything because she couldn’t resist the sound of his voice and lure of his words. “Let’s think about this for a minute.”
“I’ve already thought about it,” he answered flatly.
“Listen,” she pleaded. “Imagine we have two roads before us. Friendship is like an interstate highway.”
Nate’s chin pulled back, amusement battling with distaste. “Remind me not to hire you for any marketing jobs.”
Ignoring the little boy who didn’t want anyone to make the rules but him, she went on. “The highway is long and constant. Scenic. Pleasant. We could travel it for years.”
Arms crossed, he nodded once. “Right.”
“Sex is like a blind path through a lush jungle.” At his slow-spreading grin, she cleared her throat and stared at her shoes. “Sure, it’s hot and wet and exciting—”
“You’re trying to talk me out of this?”
“—right up to where the ground falls away in a sheer drop and all the fun is over.” And her heart lay a hundred feet below, battered and crushed on some rocky riverbank.
“So what you’re saying is…you’ve got some kind of Tarzan fantasy you want to act out.”
The corners of her mouth twitched even as she tried to glower at him. “Nate!”
Unrepentant, he went on. “Because I’ve got one of those rainforest shower things in my bathroom. You could wear a ratty bikini with a few strategically placed rips. I’ll wear a shredded shirt and cargo shorts.”
She scrunched her eyes, trying hard not to let her imagination follow where his dirty mouth led…
“I’ll invite you back to my room. Show off my vine.”
She burst out laughing, the tension that threatened to overwhelm her dissipating under Nate’s juvenile antics.
He was joking. Well over the line of ridiculous—so why was she suddenly burning with the need to touch him? Tear the sleeves off his shirt and make him beat his chest and roar.
Darn it! He was working around her defenses. But she had more to fight for than a good time. She needed him. In the few days since they’d reconnected she’d discovered how incredible it was to have someone who really saw her. Let her laugh and joke. Have an opinion that didn’t follow everyday convention. Someone to talk with. She didn’t want to give it up. Couldn’t go back to the lonely isolation that had been so much a part of her life for too many years now. It didn’t matter the number of people surrounding her, there was only one who actually saw her.
“Nate, this is serious.” Her lips pressed together in a firm line as she sought for a means to make him understand. “I don’t have a lot of friends—”
“I do. I’ll share. And if they aren’t enough, we’ll start trolling the social clubs together.”
“You’re making jokes,” she shot back. “But the idea of risking something this important isn’t funny to me. You pick up pretty, shiny playthings at every turn, have your fun and toss them aside without a backward glance once you’ve lost interest. I don’t want to be another discarded toy in your wake.”
A muscle in Nate’s jaw ticked, his posture taking a subtle shift. “It wouldn’t be like that.”
“No? Why not? Is the press really so far off in what they say about you?”
“I don’t know, Payton, how accurate are they about you? Could they have predicted it would be like this between us?” He broke off and shoved a hand through his hair. Blew out a harsh breath and then seemed to pull inward for a count. And then he was back in control. Cool. Steady. Reasonable.
“It’s not that I don’t want to be friends, Payton. It’s that I don’t think we can be. Not with what’s between us…I know you feel it, too.”
She bowed her head with a stubborn shake, hiding the conflict warring in her eyes. Unwilling to reveal the power of his effect on her. How right he was.
She felt it. The connection that messed with her head and threw off her equilibrium, made her dizzy and hot and wanting to justify all kinds of things she knew she shouldn’t. Made her want a man more controlling than all the other men in her life put together. Insanity.
“You’re going to deny it?” he drawled, low and rough, ominously seductive. The change in tone and tack alerting her to the coming danger.
Clint had been right. Nate was a predator. And she was prey.
She swallowed hard and, shaking her fuddled head, answered, “Yes.”
“Hmm. You seem confused. Conflicted.” He leaned closer so the heat of him scorched her skin. “I can help with that.”
Panic burst to life. Her eyes bulged at her body’s betrayal and her own stupidity. He overwhelmed her. Dominated her senses in the realm of desire.
Get it together!
“No.” Some rebuke, all breathy and weak.
“Convincing,” he taunted, eyes gleaming. “So which is it, Payton? Yes. No. Do you even know yourself?”
“This isn’t fair, Nate.”
He leveled her with his gaze. “I think it is.” Then after a moment that cocky grin broke out across his lips. Trouble. “Here, how’s this for fair? We’ll put it to a test. I’ll kiss you.”
Her chin tucked, but he waved off her concern. “Don’t worry, in the interest of accuracy, I’ll give it my all. And when I’m done, you tell me if you still think we can be friends.”
This time her mouth and body worked in unison, her steps carrying her back in quick repetition as her hands flew up to ward him off. “No. That’s a very bad idea. You said the attraction would die off. It’s only Tuesday. A few days! We haven’t given it enough time.”
He closed in on her again, confident and sure. Overwhelming in ways beyond his powerful build. “Has it? Only been a few days for you?”
God, that look in his eyes. He knew. A few days plus thirteen years.
This was a disaster. “Nate, we’re talking about more than just this next moment—”
“Damn straight we are. I thought I’d proved I could last more than a minute Saturday night.”
Suddenly the wall rose up behind her, ending her retreat. Heat burst out over her chest, neck and cheeks. “You know what I mean. I want us to be friends.”
His gaze turned serious and for an instant she thought he might walk away, but then he shook his head in response to the hope lighting her eyes. “I do, too, Payton. But it’s not going to happen if we can’t handle the attraction. Put it in its place.”
“We can!” She flicked her hands out in a frantic motion to sweep him away. “We start by putting some distance between us, that’s all, and we’ll handle this fine.”
But instead of stepping back, Nate braced one hand at the wall above her head and caught her wrist in the other. “You seem so sure. But what happens if we touch…accidentally?”
There was nothing accidental about the stroke of his thumb across the sensitive skin of her wrist or the way he leaned close enough that the air around her went thick and a current of need coursed through her.
His grip was loose, the barricade of his powerful arm limited to one side. She could have pulled away, should have fled, but even when he released his hold to draw the tip of one finger down the length of her neck, the only escape she could manage was to shut her eyes.
“Are you going to go up in flames at the DVD store? Melt all the ice cream in the frozen-food aisle when we hit the market some night?” His breath at her ear sent a jolt through her nervous system, accelerating her pulse and pushing heat to lick at the surface of her skin.
“You know I want you,” she whispered on a shaky breath. “But I want something else more.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” The single word hitched free, begging for something more than what she claimed.
He was so close she could almost feel the light rasp of his jaw, the strength of his body against her, the too-confident smile at his lips. “Then put your money where your mouth is and show me.”
“What’s a kiss going to prove?” she asked, wanting to kick herself for the husky quality of her question. Only if she dared move her leg an inch, she had no doubt she’d find it wrapped around Nate’s hip and all her resistance would be for naught.
Nate straightened, taking the warmth and promise of his body away. “Simple. If we can stop, then we’ve got a shot at being friends.”
It was all too easy to let herself believe the kiss was inevitable. That Nate had decided this was the way to handle the dilemma of their attraction…and so it would be done. But she knew it wasn’t true. Somewhere along his line of reasoning the pure masculine scent of him had slipped beneath her skin, making her ache and want. Wonder. Was he right? Was it even possible to have the friendship knowing the fuel of desire burned so hot between them?
Her body trembled. Maybe she had to know, too.
She searched his eyes for understanding, for mercy. “And if we can’t stop?”
Nate’s features pulled taut, his nostrils flaring with a forced intake of breath. The arm he’d braced against the wall gave at the elbow, slowly bringing him into her space. “Then we don’t.”
It was one kiss. And all she had to do was stop there. Her gaze fixed on his mouth as memories of what he’d done with it only a few nights before bombarded her.
Her vision hazed. Lips parted.
Simple. As he said. Just stop after one. “Okay. A test.”
Bowing his head close, he brushed his lips against her ear so she shivered with delicious chills. “You know what used to drive your brother absolutely insane?”
Brandt? The fog of rising lust thinned as she wondered what in the world—and then her breath caught at the memory of a long-ago afternoon. Her brother storming through the door bellowing about his exam—and how Nate Evans always blew the curve.
Her eyes flew wide as Nate murmured his final warning. “I test very well.”
Chapter Twelve
HE COULDN’T just kiss her. Not Nate. No. He had to make a point as he did it. Eyes locked with Payton’s—forcing her to watch as he whittled the distance between them, covered her mouth with his and sank into his task with a slow, deliberate pressure. She couldn’t close her eyes or look away. But even as panic licked amongst the flames engulfing her, she held strong. Stoically taking what he gave her, she told herself to enjoy it—that it would be the last. If she could maintain her control here, then she’d have had her cake and eaten it, too—one night with Nate and a lifetime of friendship to follow.
She watched him, watching her.
Gentle suction pulled at her restraint. The back and forth rub of firm masculine lips wore at her resolve. God, he was good. Patient and skilled and, if memory served, just getting started. Her pulse skittered faster, a needy ache throbbed low in her belly. Twisting tight.
Be strong.
Even if holding back nearly killed her, no one actually died from denial.
She could do it. She could outlast this one pleasured assault and walk away from the temptation of more. Secure the friendship she didn’t want to let go.
Keep Nate forever…
And never again feel the stroke of his tongue skimming the tight seam of her lips, pushing her molten core past containment, spilling liquid fire through her veins.
Oh, God, she couldn’t—shouldn’t.
His fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of her neck, wound and pulled with a tension so deliciously forbidden there was nothing to do but open on a trembling gasp. And then he was sliding into her mouth—hot and wet—in a slow, measured thrust and retreat that wiped her mind of anything beyond more. Having as much of this kiss as she could for as long as he gave it.
His mouth angled, taking them deeper. Taking more. Taking everything.
She could still stop. Still have the security. Have what they’d had all those years before. Memories rose to fight each decadent thrust of his tongue: Nate with his arm around her as they watched TV on the couch; raking the yard with her; leaning over her shoulder to help with her homework; laughing, with his head back and eyes shut over some dumb joke.
Friendly memories. Warm.
Only there was a constant through each and every one she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge until now. As she’d laughed alongside him or taken his assistance with a grateful smile, through it all she’d been fantasizing about—aching for—a moment like the one she resisted now. Where Nate wanted more.
And in that instant she realized if she did the “right thing”, took the safe path, she’d be doing exactly what she’d sworn she wouldn’t. Living a lie. Pretending to be a friend when she wanted to be a lover. Forcing herself into a mold that didn’t fit.