Laws of Attraction (7 page)

A tremor shivered down her spine. The man was starving, and she was a four-course banquet. With dessert.

And she wanted him to eat her up.

Her heart leapt into her throat, its pounding beat threatening to choke her.

Dallas quickly banked the fire in his eyes. “What’s going on?”

She-who-was-never-at-loss-for-words couldn’t utter one coherent syllable. Mia stood paralyzed, Bambi caught in the hunter’s sights.

“Earth to Mia.” A lazy, seductive grin slid across his mouth. “Why are you standing around in your—not Bugs Bunny this time—skivvies?”

“Um. Wedding gown. Get.
Out
!”

“Wedding gown?
Shit
.” Scowling, Dallas retreated into the hall and swung the door shut.

Mia blinked.
Holy crap, what just happened here
?

Soledad stepped out of the closet brandishing a white silk slip. “Was that
Señor
Dallas? What did he want?”

Me
.

Trembling, tingling all over, Mia strove for a steady tone. “To discuss Cartoon Network’s current line-up.” Soledad gave her a puzzled stare and Mia shrugged. “Never mind.”

She tried on the dress, which, while not a perfect fit, still looked amazing. She re-dressed while Soledad zipped the gown into a garment bag. “Soledad, may I borrow a phone?”

“Of course.” Soledad pointed to a teak desk in the corner and left Mia alone.

Mia called the cannery to request a sick day, which her new senior supervisor grudgingly granted—provided she worked tomorrow’s night shift. she hung up the receiver with shaky hands.

Looked like she was getting married.

* * *

A little over an hour later, Mia scooted out of Esteban’s chauffeured limo at the Portland airport, then climbed the steps to his private jet.

Dallas entered behind her. He silently waved her into one of the plush ivory sofas parallel to the body of the aircraft, then sat beside her. He hadn’t said a word to her during their trip to the airport and spoken only to Esteban when directly addressed.

Anyone who didn’t look closely would believe he was calm … yet she knew better. Although his low drawl was measured, a tempest raged in his eyes. He probably thought she’d back out before it went this far.

But she had everything to gain, and nothing left to lose.

Why hadn’t
he
backed out? What did
he
have to lose? Out of the corner of her eye, she studied Dallas McQuade’s hooded gaze, implacable profile, and the stubborn square of his chin. Obviously, he could compartmentalize his anger, bank his emotions.

Would he unleash his wrath on her later, when they were alone?

Mia set down her purse, burying trepidation before it could swell into fear. She’d weathered angry gales before. Physical blows could damage her body, but her spirit had always triumphed.

She glanced again at her soon-to-be-husband. Not an iota of cruelty lurked anywhere in his ruggedly beautiful face. During all their previous encounters, he’d been a perfect gentleman, even when she’d kneed him in the balls. And he seemed hell-bent on protecting her.

Mia prayed her assessment was correct.

Soledad chose the other sofa facing them, as did Esteban’s two bodyguards who had responded to the alarm. Esteban introduced Mia to Carlos Diaz, the big, dangerous-looking Costa Rican, first. Then the enigmatic American, Zane Wolfe, whose watchful chocolate eyes and lean, dark power personified his surname. Even armed with a black belt, she wouldn’t want to tangle with either of them.

Esteban excused himself, then took a seat at the built-in desktop in the back and extracted a sheaf of documents from a cordovan leather briefcase.

She’d sell her soul to see those papers. Maybe later she could head for the restroom and cop a peek as she passed.

The back of her neck prickled. She glanced up, and her gaze collided with Dallas’s intent stare. As if he’d read her mind, he gave a head-shake and captured her hand in his.

She tried to tug free, but he refused to let go.

From across the aisle, Soledad observed the subtle tug-of-war, her forehead crinkled.

Heaving a silent sigh, Mia surrendered and let her fingers rest in the big, capable hand now cradling hers.

The jet taxied to take-off position, hurtled down the runway, and lifted, quickly reaching cruising altitude. Mia’s ears clogged and she yawned to equalize the pressure. A second jaw-cracking yawn sneaked out.

Last night’s lack of sleep ambushed her, her eyelids drifting closed. She leaned into the cushions, listening to the engines hum.

As Dallas’s thumb circled her palm in a soothing caress, a flock of butterflies looped aerial maneuvers inside her stomach. Weird. She’d flown hundreds of times and never experienced a flutter.

She sucked in a shaky gulp of air. Pressed so close to Dallas’s solid heat, his evocative scent enveloped her. She breathed in the woodsy aroma, willing herself to relax. Not more than ten breaths later, she surrendered to exhaustion.

* * *

“Mia, wake up.” Dallas McQuade’s deep drawl rumbled in her ear, tugging her from slumber.

“Go ‘way,” she mumbled, swatting at him. She was so tired.

“Do you need a kiss, Sleeping Beauty? I’d be happy to oblige.”

Ripped from her stupor, she snapped awake. She lay in Dallas’s embrace, draped across him like a kudzu vine. His arm was around her waist, cradling her body, which had snuggled close to his in slumber. Her head rested on his chest, her hand rode intimately high on his thigh. She’d have to be blind to miss the enormous erection inches from her fingertips.

“Almost there, sweetheart,” he said.

When Mia’s horrified glance flew to his, he arched a cocky brow. “Vegas. We’re almost to Vegas.”

She jerked upright and blurted out the first thing that popped into her head. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“There’s something about a soft, warm woman trustingly asleep in your arms that tugs at your heartstrings, darlin’.” He leaned closer and nuzzled her ear to whisper. “Don’t forget, we have an audience.”

His husky voice vibrated in her ear, sizzled along her nerve endings. As her nipples tightened and a quiver wracked her, she quickly scooted away.

Then Soledad’s polite cough caught Mia’s attention. The other woman sat on the opposite sofa studying them with evident interest.

So that’s why Dallas had let her wallow all over him.

Why on earth had she dropped her guard enough to do such a thing?

Disguising humiliation with a nonchalant head toss, she snatched a compact from her purse and finger-combed her tousled hair. “How long have I been asleep?”

“You’ve been sawing logs for close to two hours, sugar.”

“I do
not
snore!”

“How would you know? I’m the one you were sleeping on.”

The unwelcome image of Dallas’s hot, hard-muscled body in bed beside her invaded her thoughts. Mia’s heart stuttered, and languid heat flooded her limbs.

She snapped her compact shut so hard it cracked. She was
immune
, dammit.
Immune
. And would stay that way.

Another stretch limo waited as they deplaned. One brief stop at the courthouse and sixty-dollars later, Dallas James McQuade and Mia Elaine Linden possessed a license to marry. Each for reasons they were keeping from the other.

Mia stepped out of the desert heat back into the air-conditioned limo. To outsiders, their marriage would look just as real as the sphinx guarding the Luxor hotel. But it would be just as phony. All flash, no substance.

Esteban instructed the driver to tune the radio to an oldies station as the limo cruised down the strip. He smiled at Mia. “Where would you like the ceremony to take place,
Señorita
?”

She stared out the window while they passed chapel after chapel. During her drama phase, she’d portrayed Juliet, Queen Elizabeth, and the mischievous Puck, among others. But this was her most important role. At all costs, she needed to give the appearance of a devoted bride.

A pang of longing pierced her. She and Val had done everything together since first grade. Her best friend should be here for her wedding. Mia sighed. But the marriage wasn’t real, so it didn’t matter.

She gestured. “Too many choices. I can’t decide.”

The song on the radio ended, and a new one began. Sam Cooke’s soulful voice sang out, “
Cupid
…” At that moment, they drove past Cupid’s Wedding Chapel.

“Stop!” Esteban commanded, and the driver obeyed. “The hand of fate directs that you shall be married here.”

They exited the car. Mia groaned at the giant red heart with a neon arrow blazing from the top of the white building. “Cupid, keep your meddlesome little fingers out of my life,” she muttered. “Or risk getting them broken.”

“I beg your pardon,
Señorita
?” Esteban inquired.

“I said this is the most exciting moment of my life. I can’t wait to go in.”

Dallas lasered her with a cobalt glare before leading the group along a curving sidewalk between a row of feathery palm trees.

Inside the front office, Esteban offered to cover the ceremonial expenses as a gift, but Dallas insisted on paying the five-hundred dollar tab.

His serious sapphire eyes thoughtfully studied rows of rings glittering on black velvet before he finally pointed to matching platinum bands subtly engraved with intertwined vines. “Those all right with you, darlin’?”

She bit her lip. The rings were exactly the same ones she would have chosen. “I like them. Very much.”

The chapel owner smiled, his pride obvious. “It’s one of the last pair my grandfather hand-crafted before he passed away last year. One of a kind. You won’t find these anywhere else in the world.”

“We’ll take them,” Dallas said, reaching for his wallet again.

Mia swallowed the lump lodged in her throat. Why was Dallas being so considerate to a make-believe bride?

After Mia chose her flowers, she left Dallas to finalize the remaining details.

She and Soledad slipped into the bride’s dressing room to change. Wearing
Señora
Montoya’s gown, Mia examined her reflection. The scalloped V-neck and empire waist flattered her small bust. Over the tailored slip, a closely-fitted sheer lace layer skimmed her hips to overlap a second layer at her knees, which then flared out toward the floor-length hem. Simple and unfussy, but gracefully feminine.

She grinned at her pink argyle Chucks peeking beneath the frothy hem. None of Soledad’s shoes had fit, but somehow Mia’s own familiar sneakers seemed exactly right.

Soledad had donned an elegant, understated chocolate brown sheath. Mia’s impromptu maid-of-honor swept back the right side of Mia’s hair and fastened it with a silver comb wired with dainty deep pink rosebuds. Then Soledad handed her a fragrant bouquet of deep pink and pale pink roses, stems tightly bound with crisscrossed pink satin ribbon.

Suddenly, she looked like a bride.

Mia started to tremble. In a few minutes, she would be married … to a stranger.

“That dress was made for you,
Señorita
. Please keep it as my wedding gift.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly—”

“
Sí
, you must accept. You are
muy hermosa
. Your groom will wish to make love to you all night long.”

Very beautiful
. Mia gripped her bouquet so tightly it was a wonder the stems didn’t snap. If her groom knew what was good for him, he’d keep his hands to himself, and his pants firmly zipped.

And if he didn’t … ?

There’s still time to stop this demented charade
.

She squared her shoulders. She’d hit a dead end, and this was the only viable option. Besides, she could manage tall, dark and Texan. “We’d better get out there.”

Mia swung open the door, and strode out to face her future.

As the recorded music began, she stumbled. Why had Dallas chosen Beyonce’s romantic, poignant “Halo” to serenade her walk down the aisle? More false affection for Esteban’s sake?

Blinking away the unexpected pang of sentiment, she followed Soledad along the muted teal carpet. She looked around at brocaded white walls, white pews adorned with sheer white bows, and lacy baskets brimming with roses the color of rich claret. She’d expected tacky Vegas kitsch, but the little chapel was charming.

Lit white tapers flickered on either side of the altar. After a wry glance at the whimsical gold candlesticks of winged Cupids, she finally looked at Dallas. Nerves slammed into her, snatched away her breath.

He’d changed into a black suit jacket and slacks and a white shirt, accented by a navy silk tie that turned his irises into sparkling jewels. Straight and tall, her groom stood in front of a pastel stained glass window with his arms locked at the small of his back, long legs braced wide in an imposing masculine stance. His strong, sculpted features were impassive, his chiseled lips set. Diffused light misted through the luminous tinted glass and glowed around him.

A magnificent pagan warrior awaiting his mate.

Mia shivered, as wracked by chills as if she’d just stepped naked into an ice storm.

What reckless delusion had made her think she could control this man?

Fighting the overwhelming, alien urge to run, she joined him at the altar, barely noticing when Soledad slipped into the pew behind her to sit with Esteban and the bodyguards.

Her groom bent lovingly to purr in her ear. “Second thoughts, sugar? You can put an end to this debacle anytime.”

The soft taunt firmed her resolve. “You wish, McQuade,” she whispered back. “You’re stuck with me.”

His big, warm hand clasped her bloodless fingers. “We’ll see.”

Was that a threat? She didn’t know. Didn’t know much of anything about him.

She raised her chin. She wasn’t about to turn coward now. Wasn’t about to slave away at menial jobs the rest of her days with an ugly black mark staining her reputation. Refused to let ruthless criminals steal her lifelong dream.

This was the only route she had left…other than prison.

From far away, she heard the minister begin, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”