No Romance Required (3 page)

“You tried to foist green furniture on me.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore his body pressed against her. Suggest one nontraditional
sectional couch to the guy and you never heard the end of it. “It wasn’t green. It
was olive.”

“Whatever, it was ugly,” he said, not so subtly backing her toward the railing and
the padded bench that ringed it. Her knees bumped the wood and she lost her balance,
throwing her hands back against the railing to catch herself. She was about to stand
up again when she caught the intensity of his expression and realized just how erotic
a picture she made. Bent backward, breasts thrust high, straining against her bodice.

Totally at his mercy.

“So is this how you’re going to exact your revenge?” She tilted her head sideways,
her hair slipping over one eye. “I may fight you.”

Finally he smiled, if a momentary curve of lips could be called that. “I wouldn’t
expect anything less.”

Rattlesnake-fast, he pushed up her dress, his big hands dwarfing her thighs. His palms
were so hot on her skin. Burning her up. He made a sound deep in his throat at the
sight of her barely-there lacy panties. And then he stepped forward into the vee of
her legs, shifting them apart so that he could kneel on the bench. With the difference
in their heights, he was at the perfect angle to surge up against her, one hard thrust
that took her completely by surprise. She gasped, not nearly satisfied with the contact
through their clothes. Her thong wasn’t much of a barrier, but his tux sure was. He
thrust again, making that same low, needful sound. Coaxing the same from her, louder
and keener.

She gripped the railing, arching into him, beseeching him without words to take her
harder, to at least give her this if he wouldn’t go any further. She was already wet,
the fabric chafing her at the press of his length. Oh God, was he thick, and harder
than the wood she held on to for dear life.

Still it wasn’t enough. How could it be? The friction of his strokes was fabulous,
but there was too much material between them. Not even the glittering intensity of
his gaze could erase that.

“Now who’s being a fucking tease,” she said hoarsely, biting her lip in frustration
at his parry and retreat.

Cory said nothing while he ramped up his siege between her legs. Grinding deep, saturating
the flimsy strip between them. He dragged her legs farther apart, then farther still,
arching up into her while his eyes locked on her face as if he were cataloging her
reactions to study later. She wouldn’t put it past him. She wished she could give
him a little something in return, but in this position she couldn’t do much. Other
than sliding up and down, which he seemed to enjoy. A lot.

He bore down, leaning so close to her that his sweet breath wafted over her parted
lips. She couldn’t take in enough air so now he offered her his. Her taxed lungs cramped
and she flung her head back, the lights above blurring as he hit the exact right spot
to stimulate her painfully swollen clit. Her nails scraped the wood, splinters slicing
her skin. She didn’t care. He was moving faster, and she was moving too, bowing up
so that if he lowered his mouth just a couple of inches he could take one of her achy
nipples between his lips.

And then he did, just one swipe of his teeth and tongue over the sensitive tip through
her dress.

The furor building inside her exploded, taking the last of her control with it. She
didn’t scream, didn’t cry out. Just dragged her focus from those now-wildly-twinkling
lights to fuse her gaze with his. All she could see were his pupils, so large and
deep that she could fall into them and never want to leave.

Cory Santangelo had made her come, mere feet away from where the party to celebrate
his family’s charity still raged on. Talk about insanity. The best kind.

She smiled. A kinda sucky, lonely night had turned around, after all.

The silence that descended between them was absolute except for the competition to
see which of them could breathe harder. She was about to reach down to repay the favor
when he jerked back, his jaw going to granite. He shook his head, brushing off her
touch as if she were a mosquito. “No. This is enough.”

Questions sprang to her tongue. Denials. Even pleas. She wasn’t ready for her escape
from reality to end, not after the day she’d had. Not when she remembered the long
night alone she faced. But she had pride. She’d already thrown herself at the guy,
encouraged by her fancy alcoholic enhancement, and that constituted enough humiliation
for one evening.

She let go of the railing and sagged to the padded bench. Her thighs were still quivering.
But her heart? That, thankfully, was already going cold, helped along by his indifference.
“So go.”

He’d taken two steps away when he seemed to realize what he was acting like—an actual
dick
. Not that such an unrefined word would ever leave his mouth. “We had a moment, now
it’s over.”

“Jeez, that’s beautiful. Should I cue my harp or do you want to grab your tiny one—”
she glanced at his crotch “—first?”

His jaw firmed. “Are you certain you’re all right?”

Wow, did he actually care? “I’m certain,” she said, mimicking his cool tone. If he
noticed, she couldn’t tell. “It’s all good. I got what I wanted, didn’t I?” She gave
him a fleeting smile she so didn’t feel and waved her fingers. “Have fun in the shower.”

And he would. He couldn’t have faked that steely erection, even if he’d managed to
make her believe for a few minutes that he could see her as a woman and not just a
thorn in his side.

He stared at her for a moment longer, then nodded in his typical king-of-the-universe
manner. “Very well. I’ll see you Monday.”

“Sure.” She couldn’t wait for their twice-weekly magazine strategy session. Tons o’
fun.

Still, he didn’t leave. He studied her, making her heated skin prickle uncomfortably.
The throbbing flesh between her thighs didn’t really help her decision to be cucumber-cool,
but she could adapt.

By getting the hell out of there.

She grabbed her purse and rose, stiffening at his retreating footsteps. She didn’t
turn until she was sure he was gone. Then she gathered her long hair in a messy topknot
with a band from her bag and took off before the night could get any worse.

…

Sunday found Cory in his office at Value Hardware, as was his routine. Normally he’d
also gotten some sleep the night before, but after the benefit that hadn’t happened.

Not even close.

Every time his mind veered to the events in the gazebo he redirected his thoughts
to the task at hand. Forcibly. He worked through breakfast, then halfway to lunch.
Occasionally he wandered into the store to pretend to be sociable, though he left
that to his brother and his parents as much as possible. But Dillon had yet to come
up for air after his romantic reconciliation, and his parents had gone shopping to
prepare for their imminent cross-country move.

That left him.

Despite feeling even more surly than usual at the prospect of being friendly, he walked
through and made idle chitchat about Joe Wilson’s bursitis, and Mac Connor’s new grandbaby.
He hand-sold a new leaf blower, despite that also being Dillon’s area of expertise,
and generally tried to act as if the burr up his ass wouldn’t do permanent damage
if he moved just so.

And that burr’s name was Victoria Violet Townsend.

In several short minutes, he’d nearly allowed her to cause him to do something he
never did. Namely, completely lose his mind.

Luckily seeing her orgasm—hell, feeling it through the fabric—had doused the raging
flames of his libido. His ego might’ve swelled, and his cock might’ve been harder
that night than the drill he’d just discussed with a customer, but his brain had reengaged
and saved them both from certain calamity.

Well, that and his lack of a condom. Something he hadn’t been about to admit to Victoria.
He’d been so caught up he hadn’t even realized he’d come to dig without a shovel.
It had turned out to be a fortuitous thing, since they hated each other. They also
worked together, which seemed to be a contradiction considering the fact that he’d
selected her from a field of more qualified candidates. In this economy, he had to
cut corners where he could, and she had one thing those other candidates didn’t. Or
so he’d so foolishly believed.

She would come cheap.

Last night had proved that wasn’t true twice over, because if there was a gold standard
for climaxes, she’d achieved it. He’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

He almost snorted as he waved good-bye to Doc Cranston and turned toward his office
at the back of the store. Cheap? Not bloody likely. She’d set a gouging fee for her
employment, and he paid it because he’d been the fool who hadn’t locked down the financial
terms of their agreement before signing on the dotted line. Moral of the story? Never
assume anything with Victoria, and get every damn thing in writing.

After a few more hours of work, he did another walk-through of the store since Dillon
still
hadn’t surfaced—lucky bastard—and he couldn’t help noticing how friendly everyone
seemed to be. Lots of smiles in his direction, even a few
atta boy
s he didn’t quite understand. He chalked it up to leftover positive feeling from the
benefit and returned to his office with his thoughts on the new Carlton store and
the talk about personnel issues he had to have that morning with the HR rep he’d hired.
He wasn’t looking forward to it. Peterson could be a hard-ass, and he had enough on
his mind without wading into fights between employees.

He glanced at his watch, then at the phone. Maybe he’d reschedule. He also had to
call that worthless no-show photographer and demand his deposit back. Christ, he didn’t
have time for all these petty interruptions.

The door swung open and banged the inside wall, making him raise an eyebrow. For a
man who’d probably left his new girlfriend in traction after their twelve-hour-plus
lovefest, Dillon didn’t look nearly as cheerful as he should.

“Seen the paper, bro?” Dillon asked, waving the object in question. “You really need
to take a look at it. Now.”

Dread curled in Cory’s stomach as he reached for his coffee. He normally drank decaf
but switched over to the high-octane version whenever he put in a lot of hours at
work. Which, lately, was always. “Let me guess, your girlfriend put in another fancy
ad. If Alexa feels her flower shop can afford splashy ads that blow ours out of the
water, that’s her decision. I don’t choose to spend our money that way.”

Dillon slapped the paper down on the blotter. Dread sank Cory’s stomach as he realized
that he was gracing the gossip column. And he was not alone. “Good thing you’ve been
saving your dimes, bro, since I think you’re going to need to ante up for damage control.”

Chapter Two

Cory gripped the arm of his chair and locked his jaw to keep from cursing. Loudly.
Neither he nor Dillon looked away from the startlingly clear black-and-white photos
happily situated dead center in Miss Haven’s “community” column, aka the gossip section.
Under an aptly stated, wince-worthy headline:
Helping hands? Oh yes, sir!

Guess he wouldn’t be getting his deposit back from the photographer after all. He’d
wanted to “get the gala in the papers,” hadn’t he? Perhaps he should’ve been more
specific.

He nearly tossed a response at Dillon, but he held his tongue. Nope, sorry, no cash
for damage control. He’d already spent money on photographers. Who obviously preferred
hanging in trees to take pictures of him dry-humping Victoria like a horny teenager,
instead of snapping pix of plaques and smiling benefactors.

At least the man didn’t know that Cory was the one who’d enlisted his services in
the first place. Nor did Dillon, who publicized the charity to spur donations and
community involvement, but put the annual benefit on a de facto news lockdown every
year to keep the focus on the charity and discourage showboating.

Or in this case, public lewdness.

“I notice you’re not yelling,” Dillon commented, bracing his hands on the edge of
the desk. “Did you know about these?”

“No, of course not.” Cory couldn’t take his eyes off the photos. His instant of outrage
at his privacy being violated had melted into something else entirely, and he didn’t
like it one bit. So what if one of the pictures showed Victoria with her head turned
toward the camera, her eyes slit and her plump lips open on a moan? Or that
his
lips were very clearly on a part of her below the neck, one that jutted into his
mouth as if it belonged there? Or that the other photo showed him looming over her
and her staring up at him as if they were communicating on another level—one facilitated
by the obvious bump of his pelvis into hers?

Irrelevant information.

“That’s Vicky, isn’t it? Sure looks like her, even though the photo’s a little blurry.
Did you spike her drink or something? Or maybe she spiked
your
drink. I suspected she had the hots for you, but this is fucking—”

Cory’s head snapped up, his eyes already aching to return to where they’d been fixed.
“Yes, thank you for that clarification. I think it’s obvious what Victoria and I were
doing.” As realization of the full scope of the situation dawned, he jerked back from
his desk as if the thing had suddenly caught on fire. “Oh, shit.”

This wasn’t just an inappropriate moment caught on camera. He and Victoria worked
together, and Value Hardware was a family business. He hadn’t ever had so much as
a whiff of scandal around him, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Despite having already started—without finishing. Goddammit.

Then there was Victoria’s reputation. She’d had to fight to gain respectability for
her fledgling design business in an old-fashioned town where small minds often prevailed,
followed by even smaller paychecks. This would hurt her rep, if nothing else. How
could she claim she’d gotten the magazine job on her own merits, though she had, while
he had his tongue on her nipple? She’d be labeled some unfair names by the town biddies,
and he would be labeled—

“Dude, you’re a frigging stud. People can’t stop talking about the two of you. Even
at the bank, for God’s sake. Everyone thought you were the guy no woman would ever
collar, and here you are, caught with your pants down with Vicky, your sworn enemy.”

“That’s overstating things a bit,” Cory said, his chest still a little too full at
the stud comment. Rare praise indeed for a man who hadn’t made time for anything approximating
a relationship or sex in an entire year.

Simulated versions notwithstanding.

“They’re hot pictures.” Dillon flipped the paper around to face him. “Seriously, Vicky
looks so—”

“Can it. You have a woman. Stop poaching on mine.” Hearing himself, Cory moved back
even farther. Twice in two days he’d said or done things that made no sense. She wasn’t
his, and he’d never had designs on her as such. Other than the occasional fantasy
when she wore thigh-high boots, which was to be expected. She rarely wore those now
but he remembered when she had. Vividly.

“Ah ha! I figured as much. You must have fucking Spidey sense, because the hammer
was about to come down on you.”

“Speak English. Please.”

Dillon shook his head as if he were daft. “Mom and Dad are serious about you finding
a balance between work and your personal life. They were even discussing delaying
their move to Arizona to help you find someone.”

Back to their supposed
mandate
, something else he’d had on his mind since the charity event. “Absolutely not.” Cory
lurched to his feet, taking the paper with him. He’d buy up every copy in the city
and put them in his safe. And maybe save one for the ceiling of his bedroom. “They
aren’t delaying anything. Dad needs to be in a different climate and everything is
just fine here.
I’m
fine.” No one had ever died from frustration. He didn’t think.

“They know that now. You dirty dog, you.” He shook his head, grinning, but Cory didn’t
miss the flare of admiration in his brother’s eyes. Dillon, the king of inappropriate
sexual encounters, was impressed with
him
, the same person he’d made fun of just days before at the bar for not getting laid
since the last president was in office. A slight exaggeration, but still. “Vicky’s
your secret, illicit girlfriend.”

For a moment Cory stared at his brother. Then he nodded slowly. “Yes. Victoria’s my
secret, illicit girlfriend.” At least until the excitement died down, and their cloaks
of respectability had been restored.

Now he just had to convince Victoria to go along with it.

…

Vicky squinted at the man standing on her stoop, his nearly black hair dotted with
rain. In the weak porch light he looked drained and harried—and sexy as hell.

Since high school, Cory had frayed her nerves on an ongoing basis. Even when he wasn’t
actively in her life, just the smallest interaction at some society event was enough
for him to set her off again. And Saturday night’s events had definitely set her off,
in every possible way. He was a distracting combination of megalomaniac and man candy,
covered in geektastic frosting that wreaked hell on her hormones. She’d be damned
if
he
knew she felt that way though.

Early on she’d seen the handwriting on the wall. Cory was too busy to be dating material.
Too crunched for time to spend more than a few minutes loving a woman. Absolutely
devoid of the emotional gene for anything deeper than a five-minute fuck.

With her, his five-minute fuck had even been through
clothes
.

Even when he did make time for a woman, it was a classy, polished one like her older
sister. He’d asked out Melinda more than once and she’d always rebuffed his advances.
Melly liked bad boys, and Cory definitely didn’t rank as one.

Though after their gazebo make-out session, Vicky was beginning to wonder if there
was a lot more to Cory than met the eye.

She made a show of looking at her watch. “Do you realize it’s almost 10:00 p.m.?”

“Yes, the timing is unfortunate but I had to talk to you tonight. I called you several
times this afternoon. And texted.” He cleared his throat. “I’m guessing you haven’t
seen the paper or else I would’ve heard from you earlier. You never miss an opportunity
to ream me out.”

She blinked. What was he on about? Something about
Simply Home
maybe? Did they have competition? Another magazine in the marketplace? “I haven’t
read the paper yet.”

“You haven’t been online?”

Okay, this was getting bizarre. “I had my phone off all day. I was visiting—” She
swallowed, not wanting to go there. Cory didn’t know about her mother’s situation,
and she had no desire to change that fact. “I visited family out of town.”

She’d just gotten back a short while ago. All she’d had time to do since was take
a shower. Luckily she’d pulled on an oversize football jersey and bikini panties before
she’d hurried to answer the door. Her first thought had been a crisis of some sort.
Not…this. Not
him
.

“Without your pants? Why doesn’t this surprise me?”

She glanced down and noted the amount of leg she was showing. Yeah, maybe she needed
to go grab her yoga leggings. “I had clothes on when I visited family, smart-ass.
These are my pajamas.”

More derision. The guy could’ve taught a senior-level course on it. If she hadn’t
noticed the way his gaze lingered below her waist, she might’ve even summoned her
usual annoyance. “Thanks for the clarification.”

She eyed him speculatively, noting that he wore khakis and a button-down shirt, his
idea of casual clothes. “What about you, CEO?”

“I’ve been working.” His jaw ticked. “While you’ve been—”

“Fucking a team of baseball players,” she supplied sweetly, hoping that would crack
the glaze of exhaustion in his eyes.

Bingo.

“So sorry to interrupt. Is the team waiting for you or did you sufficiently wear them
out?” His saccharine tone made her hackles rise, as per usual when talking to him.

“Jeez, just get in here already,” she muttered, holding the door wide. It was pouring
out and unseasonably chilly to boot. She wasn’t about to have a stodgy, hypothermic
CEO on her conscience. It was overloaded enough already.

He aimed right for her living room. “I assure you this won’t take long, assuming you’re
feeling cooperative.”

She took her time joining him on the couch. He’d been to her home plenty of times
to visit her in-house design studio, but it was still weird to see him in her space
so late at night. The shadows did attractive things to his granite jaw and silver-tinged
eyes. Gray was such a flat color to describe them, especially when they flared upon
glimpsing the thigh she accidentally-on-purpose flashed as she sat down. There was
no hiding her legs in this getup, but she couldn’t help shifting a bit to show them
off to maximum advantage.

“What I’m feeling right now is tired.” And maybe a little horny, a state not helped
by the interest on his face. “So if this is about the magazine—”

“It’s not.” He didn’t quite meet her eyes. No, his gaze drifted back to her thighs
and stayed there. They were good thighs, toned from years of yoga. Still, that didn’t
account for his sudden fixation. Maybe last night had affected him after all.

She snapped her fingers and his head whipped up. For an instant, he looked as surprised
as she felt. “Yoo-hoo, eyes up here. I was eye-fucked enough last night at the gala.”

“And otherwise, from your claims.”

Alas, she hadn’t screwed any baseball players, let alone a team of them. “As fascinating
as discussing my sex life is, CEO, maybe we can move on? I don’t want to shock you
too much.”

His lips twisted into a half smile. He didn’t look as if he could manage more. No
wonder, if he’d really been working all day. “You’d be surprised at what I’ve done.”

Flipping her loose curls over one shoulder, she gave him an easy smile. Keeping Cory
Santangelo off-kilter was one of her greatest joys in life, even when her brain wanted
to pound out of her skull via her ears. Spending time at the group home had a tendency
to give her a whopper of a headache, and today had been no exception. “I have to admit
I’m curious. What’s up with the urgency? And the stuff about the newspaper and online?”

Deciding to see what he’d had to say in her voice mail, she leaned over to grab her
phone off the side table, but he touched her knee and she grew still. For once, Cory
seemed ill at ease. He rubbed the back of his neck, further messing up his typically
perfect hair. She liked the messy look on him. With that little growth of dark stubble,
he might as well have just crawled out of bed.

Nope, not going there.

“I have a proposition for you, and it can’t wait.” Before she could tell him to get
on with it already, he popped the locks on the briefcase she hadn’t even noticed he
was carrying and withdrew the newspaper. He snapped it open, folded it, and held it
out to her. “Center column,” he said in a flat, clipped voice.

She grabbed the paper, scanned the page, and died. Metaphorically speaking.

Cory was kissing her. Touching her. Making her moan. And it was captured in black
and white for all the world to see.

“Why—what—” She tried to breathe. “What the hell is this? How did this happen?”

“Paparazzi,” he said simply, as if he were discussing the weather.

“Why aren’t you flipping out?” She fumbled for the starfish necklace around her neck.
Right then it felt like a choker, cutting off all her air. “Aren’t you embarrassed?”

“Of being spotted in a compromising position? Why, yes, it’s not ideal.”

The man was insane. Certifiable. “Not
ideal
? Every person in town thinks that you hate me. Now they all know that we—that we—”

“Relax,” he said in a patient tone that made her want to hurt him. “As unfortunate
as this is, the situation can be turned to our advantage.” He let out a dry laugh.
“Believe me, I had plenty of time to figure this out during all the hours I couldn’t
reach you today.”

His complacency was really starting to piss her off. Especially since she was beginning
to worry what it would mean for her. “Spill it, Santangelo. What’s your spin?”

“My parents are moving next month. To Arizona,” he added, as if she didn’t already
know this. They’d only discussed it half a dozen times. “Work’s been exceptionally
busy, which is part of why I hired you for
Simply Home
—”

“You hired me because I’m the best.”

“Be that as it may, we do have a consultant we work with at the store, and she could’ve
handled the staging for the magazine if necessary. I could’ve brought on a separate
layout designer to put together the photos and articles before we sent it to the printer.”