No Romance Required (5 page)

More twitching. “Victoria, this isn’t a joke.”

“Who’s laughing?” She rolled up the mass of jingling bracelets on her wrist. “Call
it curiosity. We’ve been dancing around each other for so many years that maybe it’s
just the next step. Besides, you’re the one who keeps bringing up the sex thing. We
could pretend to be all kissy-face without screwing. That was
your
optional add-on.”

His teeth ground together in a way that wouldn’t please his dentist. “We certainly
could, as we’re not teenagers led around by our hormones.” His eyes glittered. “Despite
that unfortunate encounter in the gazebo.”

Vicky tried not to snarl. “
Unfortunate
, huh?”

As usual, he didn’t deign to give her a response. “But playing devil’s advocate, say
the worst were to happen due to spending time together or whatnot.”

“Or whatnot.” She rolled her eyes. ”Oh God, let me go wring out my panties.”

She’d even worn some today. She was a respectable businesswoman and all.

“We’re not talking about grabbing a pizza. We’re talking about you and I becoming
lovers. Do you understand the implications of that?”

His exasperation almost made her laugh as she looked down at herself. She wasn’t icily
gorgeous like Melly—not “perfect” by any stretch of the imagination—but was she really
that repugnant to him?

“Figures you’d clam up now.” He pulled on his perfectly knotted tie. If she didn’t
know better, she’d think she made him nervous. “How long has it been for you?”

For a moment, she didn’t get the question. She was too busy gauging if her stomach
poufed out more than it had the last time she’d checked. But then…

Whoa, he was getting personal. She fluttered her eyelashes. “I’d rather not say.”

A half smile crossed his perfectly shaven face. She’d kind of liked him scruffy and
rough-looking yesterday. “You opened this line of inquiry.”

“I’ll tell you if you’ll tell me.”

His pause was just long enough for her to think he’d say no. Then he shrugged. “Fine.
You go first.”

“I don’t keep a tally or anything, but around ten months. I think.”

He looked at her for an instant too long, then frowned. “You disappoint me.”

“Quit stalling. How long for you?”

A knock sounded at the door and Dillon craned his neck around the frame. “Hey, bro,
did you finish those reports for the Carlton store yet? If not, I can handle them.”
He glanced at Vicky and grinned, his blue eyes warming about fifty degrees hotter
than his brother’s ever did. “Hey Vickster.”

“I’ll e-mail you what I have so far. I had trouble getting the projections to line
up.” Cory didn’t sound pleased about that fact, but when did he ever sound happy?

“I’ll take care of it,” Dillon offered.

Cory shoved a thick folder at his brother. “We’ll go over the numbers later. I have
business with Victoria.”

“Gotcha.” Dillon shot her a grin. “Don’t strain his brain too much, kid.”

She grinned back and noted Cory’s sudden glacial chill. It was kinda hot how he could
turn it on at the drop of a dime. “I’ll be gentle with him, don’t worry.”

There was no missing Cory’s grim expression as Dillon shut the door behind him.

They spent the next ninety minutes going over photos from
Simply Home
’s interior layouts. Vicky helped design the basic page mock-ups, then the graphic
designer executed the plan. Cory usually provided input that pissed them both off.

Today, however, he seemed to be in a conciliatory mood. Shockingly, they quickly reached
a compromise and selected pictures from both Cory’s high-end design and her own country-chic
choice. The accompanying article would explain how the same room could be taken from
casual to sophisticated by using affordable materials and accessories found at Value
Hardware.

“So I had an idea.”

He pretended to shudder, though she glimpsed the amusement in his eyes. “And the earth
rejoiced.”

“The Helping Hands houses would be the perfect tie-in between the company and the
magazine. It’d be easier to stage them than an empty set and probably more cost-effective,
too.” She propped her sketch pad against her knee and waited for his objections. They
never came.

“That’s Dillon’s area. I don’t have much to do with the charity, other than supporting
it financially of course. There just aren’t enough hours.”

“So I’ll work with Dillon.”

His rapid head shake made her frown. “That won’t be necessary. I’m sure we can figure
something out.”

“Somehow I doubt it, since you hate all my ideas.” Vicky shoved the photos back into
her portfolio. “My favorite was the problem you had with the window treatments.”

“I preferred the bamboo blinds,” he said evenly.

“I don’t tell you how to do your job,” she returned. “Stop haranguing me on how to
do mine.”

He stroked his tie and her mind shot back to their conversation yesterday—when he’d
briefly stroked something else. “I have never harangued you.”

“Says you.”

“Fine. Have it your way.” He spread his hands, palms up. He was well-endowed hand-wise.
Even his wrist, outfitted with a gold Rolex, was thick enough that she’d wondered
for years what exactly he had going on downstairs. In this case, knowledge was definitely
not
power, because she wanted to leap across the desk and straddle his lap. “This is
your area of expertise. Do as you would like, though there is one detail you’ve neglected.
Since the winter issue releases before the holiday season, you might add a few festive
touches, at least on the cover. Assuming it doesn’t interfere with your vision.”

He was just baiting her, something he was superior at. But she wasn’t in the mood
to be toyed with. “You got a problem with my vision, Santangelo? Come over on to this
side of the desk and we can discuss it.”

He gave her a slow, smug smile. “Retract the claws, kitten.”

“Sorry, I forgot you don’t like physical displays. Of any sort. Minus ones under the
cover of darkness, of course.” Thoughtfully, she pursed her lips. “I have to admit,
I’m really starting to wonder why you can’t get a girlfriend without setting up arrangements.”

Back to the jaw ticking. “You know how busy I am.”

“I do. But perhaps there’s another issue. Maybe you couldn’t satisfy a woman if she
drew you a map. Maybe your idea of wax play is getting freaky with crayons.” She leaned
forward, making sure he got an eyeful of her cleavage in her scoop-neck top. “Come
on, Cory, you can tell me. Is the problem dead wood?”

She knew from the orgasm he’d given her the other night that it wasn’t, but taunting
Cory was too much fun to miss.

He stared at her for a long, pulsing moment, not smiling. Barely breathing. Then he
rose, unfolding his long frame one delicious inch at a time. “You go too far, Victoria.”
His voice was low. Hot.

She tilted her head and batted her lashes. “So pull me back in line. If you can.”

He reached out and for a second, she actually thought he was about to grab her hair
and yank her over the desk. For nefarious or sexual purposes, she couldn’t tell.

But she couldn’t wait to find out.

A knock sounded at the door. As Cory’s mother popped her head in, he clenched his
hand and dropped it to his side. And swore under his breath. Colorfully.

“Vicky! I thought I heard your voice.” Corinne hurried inside the office and swept
her into a hug.

Vicky eagerly returned it. She’d adored Cory’s mom ever since Corinne had come in
to assist during a few school events. She’d gravitated to her right away, probably
because she hadn’t had a mom around of her own. Melly was a couple years older and
seemed to take everything in stride, but Cory’s mom had helped fill the gaps for Vicky.

Then Vicky remembered the events that had transpired since the last time she’d seen
Cory’s mom. As in the bump ’n’ grind photo seen ’round the world—or at least ’round
Haven. A flush crept up her cheeks despite Mrs. Santangelo’s relaxed demeanor.

Maybe she was so relieved her son was finally getting some action, she didn’t care
where or when.

“I’ve seen some of the pictures—” oh God, here it came “—from the magazine and can’t
wait to see the finished product.” As Vicky sucked in a lungful of air, Corinne cupped
her cheek. “We’re so lucky to have you working with us on this project. No one’s a
better designer than my girl.”

Vicky’s throat swelled so fast she didn’t have time to stave off the surge of emotion.
It also helped distract her from her lingering embarrassment. Leave it to Corinne
to be able to get to her so easily. Must be a shared family skill. “Thanks. Not sure
Cory feels the same,” she said with a watery laugh.

Speaking of Cory, his eyes had gone to slits and his jawbone appeared ready to snap.
Because his mother liked her so much? Or because he wanted to strangle her with his
bare hands?

Corinne frowned. “Oh, I’m sure that’s not true. Is it, Cory?”

He didn’t answer, which really freaking pissed her off. He was the one who’d appeared
at her door last night with his supposed solution to the picture situation, though
she still wasn’t sure why he’d come up with that idea at all since he’d rebuffed her
attempts to help him with his little girlfriend problem.

Perhaps the time had come to nudge his hand.

Forcing a smile, Vicky walked around the desk to slip an arm around Cory’s waist.
He stiffened.

She hated to lie to the woman who’d been the closest thing to a mother she’d had after
her own mom had walked out on their family without warning. But if there was one thing
that superseded even her love of Corinne, it was driving her son crazy. This should
do it.

“He’s so quiet because he’s not sure how to tell you about us.” Vicky hip-checked
Cory hard enough to knock him off his stance. His glare didn’t exactly go miles to
add veracity to her statement, but whatever. “Right, darling?”

No response. Just a blank stare as if he scarcely recognized her, never mind claimed
her as his significant other.

They probably wouldn’t be winning any of those “best couple” radio contests anytime
soon.

“Is it true?” Corinne rushed the desk like a linebacker about to tackle. Cory somehow
managed to shove additional steel supports into his spine and braced even more. “I
saw the pictures in the paper, of course. Horrible paparazzi,” she added in a low
voice. “But I wasn’t sure that you two were…well, pictures sometimes can be deceiving.”
She paused in front of the wood monstrosity Cory called a desk. “Is that why you were
so resistant when we mentioned Melinda?”

Hurt quashed Vicky’s brief amusement. Just what she needed—the reminder that even
Corinne believed Mel was a better fit for him than
her
. Not that she necessarily wanted him for anything other than sex—a lot of sex—but
still.

And if that was the case, why did Corinne look downright giddy now? Was she that desperate
for her son to couple up with
anybody
?

Hello, ego blow number 10,000. She shook it off. It wasn’t relevant. She wasn’t going
to second-guess his mother’s motives or even Cory’s, for that matter. She’d agreed
to do this thing and she was going for it.

No fear
had become her motto years ago out of necessity. It applied now. She was more than
capable of facing whatever he threw at her and not only surviving, but thriving.

“He’s just being coy.” Vicky pinched his butt and he jolted so violently she nearly
pitched sideways. “He’s so shy about his romantic side. It can be difficult to be
so sensitive. Right, bumblebee?”

If Cory shot any more bullets at her with his eyes, she was going to be picking shrapnel
out of her hair for a lifetime. “Not sure sensitive is the word I’d use, muffin.”
To her shock, he cupped her ass. Hard. “But you definitely are. Or you will be, later.”

Huh. Was that part of “handling him”? He’d said it was, but she’d been sure he was
just trying to get her to back down.

Hot wax, spankings…so much for holding hands and strolling through the falling leaves.
Who needed hayrides and cups of cider? He obviously preferred autumn kinky-style.

Ah well. She’d suffer through.

“So you’re saying it’s true, Cory?” Cory’s mother looked between them, her smile still
firmly in place. Her perceptive gray eyes never wavered as she stared her son down.
“It’s real?”

If any word could’ve cooled her jets,
real
was it. She was all about helping the guy with his little family issue, but she wasn’t
looking to put her heart on the line. Well, any more than it already was, anyway.

Which was not at all.

When she would’ve slid away, Cory locked his arm around her waist. He wrapped his
other hand around her chin and tilted up her face, his gaze slamming against hers
for one frantic moment before his head swooped toward hers.

Oh, shit
.

In self-defense, Vicky braced a hand against his chest. Almost of their own volition,
her fingers curled into his lapel as his firm lips met hers. There was no mistaking
the command in his kiss, as relatively chaste as it was, and her heart surged against
the walls of her chest. In excitement or terror, she couldn’t quite tell.

Perhaps, just perhaps, she had underestimated him.

When he pulled back and began to speak, she could only watch his mouth move. Oh God,
that. Mouth.

“Oh, yes. She wanted me.” Wolfishly, he licked his lips. “Now she has me.”

Chapter Four

Night one with his pretend girlfriend and she’d already gone missing.

In under a week, he’d gone from a relatively content single businessman to a man with
a fake girlfriend, as evidenced by her disappearing act tonight.

Where the hell was she?

Cory glanced at his watch again. She’d called around dinnertime to say she was running
late for their agreed-upon discussion about the parameters of their pseudo-relationship.
He’d assumed she meant she was stuck with a client so he’d told her she could meet
him at his place afterward. That had been more than six hours ago.

After Monday’s debacle in his office with Victoria and his mother, he’d been sure
they would proceed with the ruse immediately. Victoria had been adamant about wanting
to pretend to be his significant other, so fine, he’d make the best of things. After
all, it had been his fault they’d gotten into the situation. If he hadn’t responded
to her on the gazebo—

Water. Bridge. Time to move on.

She’d been all over him when his mother was there and then she’d vanished. She’d barely
returned his calls all week, claiming she was busy with clients and
Jill
. Jill was a grown woman, surely she didn’t need to be attended to at all times? Apparently
such was the nature of female friendship.

He’d finally pinned Victoria down that afternoon at their Friday magazine meeting,
where she’d acted uncharacteristically reticent. She’d barely even teased him about
his starched pants or made snide comments about his too-tight tie. Instead she’d been
cool and distant. When he’d inquired about her availability that night, she’d said
yes with about as much enthusiasm as one did when faced with the prospect of wrangling
snakes.

Was
that
the problem? Did she fear he had wrangling of a much more personal nature in mind
for this evening? Had his warnings about the kind of sex he enjoyed finally sneaked
through and now she thought him some sort of deviant?

He stood on his balcony and stared at the clear night sky. The early-fall chill spread
goose bumps up and down his arms, but he didn’t reach for a shirt. He’d tugged on
sweatpants after his shower and that was as much as he intended to put on.

The breeze felt good on his skin. He’d just pushed himself through a workout in his
gym, courtesy of his rowing machine, and the frosty air offset the burn in his muscles—and
the hot shower he’d taken immediately after the session, masochist that he was.

Now he was scoping out the stars with his binoculars because he didn’t feel like dragging
out his telescope and feeling oddly like a chump who’d been stood up on a fake first
date.

He leaned on the rail and scowled. They were just pretending to date. She was just
goading him with that “next step” stuff. Because there was no way, just no way, she
really intended to sleep with him. Even Victoria wouldn’t take one-upmanship that
far.

What had happened at the gala had been an aberration. End of story.

Loath as he was to agree with his parents right now, he and Melinda fit. They had
similar aspirations. Even the ways they spent their precious little free time meshed.
Melinda enjoyed opera and visiting museums. Victoria’s idea of a fun night was hitting
up a noisy club, partying until dawn, and waking up just in time to go to work.

She did work hard, as proven by her successful business. No one could dispute her
intelligence and insatiable curiosity. He disagreed with her more often than he agreed,
but no one made him laugh more. He’d happily drown in her honey-colored eyes and never
think to ask for a life preserver.

He remembered the way she’d come apart beneath his hands, so hot and wet and beautiful
in her release. If he was honest with himself, he’d been thinking about that day more
often than not.

And that was exactly why they shouldn’t date, for real or otherwise.

Melinda was safe. Victoria was so very not. She wanted fun, at any cost. Just like
his damn father. His real one, not the man who’d given him his name when he was a
kid. Raymond Santangelo was a great guy, his recent directives regarding Cory’s love
life aside. Hardworking, steadfast. Not the type to get wasted and forget his responsibilities
like Tommy James.

Dillon still bore Tommy’s last name. Why, Cory had no idea. Tommy hadn’t been a father
to them, much as Victoria’s mother hadn’t been around for her. They had that in common.
The difference being that Raymond had come into their lives a couple years after Tommy
had walked out on Cory’s mom for the last time when he’d been eight, and Cory had
been told he could stop worrying quite so much about taking care of his mom and little
brother.

Though he never really had. As much as he hated admitting it, he’d expected Raymond
to choose wine, women, and song over his family someday just like Tommy had. So Cory
had stayed vigilant, ever ready to step back into the role of man of the house.

Even now that his parents were retiring, he still hadn’t stopped taking that role
seriously. He never wanted to cause his mom even an instant of grief, which was part
of why he’d come up with this inane fake girlfriend plan in the first place.

Without the photos that had pushed him into making a move, he might’ve balked at going
so far as faking a relationship. But he could trust Victoria to keep up her end of
the bargain. This arrangement could be beneficial to her, too, as far as business
contacts were concerned. That mutual benefit had swayed him, as had the fact that
he wouldn’t risk losing control of Value Hardware for any reason. Not after he’d sacrificed
so much of his life to make it a success.

He’d come up with the crazy idea that Victoria could help him, nicely forgetting that
she often inspired thoughts he had no business thinking. But it was too late. Victoria
had thrown down the gauntlet with his mother. He’d tried to do the responsible thing
and hold her at arm’s length.

Now she’d see what she’d unleashed.

He set aside the binoculars and yanked out his phone. No calls. No texts. Maybe she’d
decided to break her sexless streak. Ten months. Ha. Though he didn’t use slang as
a rule, he’d been tempted to
whatever
the hell out of her for that one.

“Add in six more months, sweetheart,” he muttered. “Then we’ll talk.”

He called and waited through three rings before someone answered who most certainly
wasn’t Victoria, unless she’d been smoking a lot of Camels.

“Yo. Vicky’s phone.”

A freaking guy had answered her cell, just as he’d feared. Not feared. Suspected.
Fear would indicate a level of trepidation at the possible outcomes. He was…indifferent.

“Who the hell are you?” Cory stalked back to the railing as if he could see into Victoria’s
house on the opposite side of town. “Where is Victoria?”

“Dude, she’s out with the dog. She’ll be back.”

The news that Victoria and her faceless he-man weren’t currently screwing like bunnies
calmed him somewhat, but what she was doing infuriated him all over again. “Why is
Victoria out with your dog when she’s late to see me?
Dude
?”

He heard a commotion in the background followed by a thud. “Vicks, come get your phone.
The dude keeps calling you Victoria.”

Her sigh gusted over the line amid the sounds of a scuffle. “Yeah?”

“
Yeah
? That’s how you respond to me after you’ve kept me waiting six hours?” Cory blew
out a breath. “Who is that guy?”

She laughed, and he knew, just knew, she was laughing at him. “That was Bryan, you
dolt. My brother. He’s home for an…uh, unscheduled visit.”

Relief shot through Cory with such speed he actually sagged against the railing. Thank
God she wasn’t there to witness his humiliation. “I saw his game against the Ravens.
Incredible.” He paused. “Well, until that sack in the fourth quarter. How’s he doing
now, by the way?”

“Fine. He’s just fine.” Her terse reply surprised him. “I’ll pass him your regards.”

“Thanks. And, uh, tell him I’m sorry for—”

“For being you?” she asked wryly.

Miraculously, a smile slid across his face. Amazing what just the sound of her voice
could do to him sometimes. “Something like that.”

“Will do.” She sighed again. “Give me a few and I’ll get there, okay?”

He was tempted to tell her to forget it. Meeting after midnight when both their…
tempers
were aroused was a recipe for disaster. Once she learned exactly how serious he’d
been about pushing her limits, she’d want no part of him.

Maybe a disaster was exactly what he needed.

“I’ll be waiting.” He clicked off and strode to his desk, snatched up his ledger,
and went back out to the balcony. At least the galaxy still made sense.

…

Frenemies helping frenemies. Right. Past midnight. In a swanky apartment, all alone.
As onboard as she’d been, actually kissing Cory on Monday had shown her that her good
deed might just cause her to lose more than her panties. Because clearly the passionate
encounter that had landed them both in the local gossip column—and started this whole
ruse to begin with—hadn’t been enough warning.

A crush on the guy was one thing. He was hot. Criminally so. But falling for him,
or even potentially putting herself in a position to make that easier…

She must be crazy.

Scratch that. She
was
crazy, for Cory and his mouth. If he’d use it on her again, she’d probably even be
willing to listen to more of what came out of it.

Which was why it didn’t make sense that she’d avoided him all week. Why should she
be afraid of where this might go? She was an experienced, sexually empowered woman.
Whatever happened between them would be of her choosing. And she would enjoy the hell
out of herself.

Kinky sex or not, she’d snapped on the Teflon guard around her heart and she was ready.
She definitely needed a distraction after the night she’d spent with Bry. Her big
brother was obviously suffering from his football injury more than he would admit
and she was on the verge of climbing the walls from nerves. Worry was
not
her color.

The fancy doorman let Vicky into Cory’s phallic-shaped building and the man himself
buzzed her upstairs. Really, she was barely nervous. Not even shaking or anything.
Those goose bumps on her arms were from the fall chill, not abject fear at what might
happen with Cory.

And what might not.

When Cory didn’t answer her knock, she tried the knob. The door swung open and she
had to fight the sensation that she was about to enter the lion’s plush den. Gripping
her hands together, she stepped inside.

Sconces high on the walls offered the only illumination, and the sounds of Beethoven
streamed through hidden speakers. Thick bloodred carpeting swallowed her boots as
she crept into his space. His pine-and-spice cologne lingered, teasing her nose. The
rest of her was already on high alert.

Her gaze darted around the opulent surroundings, landing on the various paintings
and sculptures and expensive, richly toned furniture before reaching the French doors
on the other side of the living room. Cory was leaning on the rail, wearing just a
pair of low-slung black pants. His feet were bare, as was his torso.

Damn, damn,
hot
damn.

What a back he had. All ropy muscles and sleek golden skin. Thanks to his half-Italian
heritage, he never seemed to grow pale. That bronzed body beckoned her forward, hastening
her toward him like she’d been summoned by the Pied Piper.

His back looked like a solid wall of muscle, and God, she wanted to trace each individual
coil with her fingers. With her tongue. While she drove her hands through all that
dense, dark hair, she’d drag her teeth down his spine, not stopping until he shuddered.
If he ever did. He had such unshakable control. What would break it?

He turned and the breath she’d been holding escaped. His corded abdomen and powerful
shoulders proved exactly how much he worked out—and how much he hid behind exquisitely
cut designer suits.

She didn’t mean to look down. Truly, she didn’t. But beneath the waistband of those
silky pants she glimpsed the outline of the rest of his assets. And her breath stuttered
all over again.

She’d suffered jolts of Cory Santangelo-inspired lust before. Now that she’d glimpsed—and
felt in intimate detail—what he had to work with, she was in serious trouble.

That
was the penis dreams were made of. Hers especially.

“See something you like?”

She didn’t realize he’d spoken at first. She was still staring and trying not to pant.
Failing miserably. Eventually his sexy half smile blazed through the cobwebs of desire
obscuring her thoughts. “Aren’t you cold?”

“No, but thanks for the concern.” She knew him so well that she could hear his amusement
even when he wasn’t speaking. “Are you worried parts of me may freeze? Certain crucial
parts?”

She didn’t flush, purely from sheer will. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“You flattered me plenty with your expression.”
His
darkened sensuously. “I’ll be riding that high for weeks.”

“Show me a little more and we’ll work on months.”

If he thought she’d be deterred by his sudden veer into sexual no-man’s-land, he was
mistaken. Shyness was not a word in her vocabulary. She’d be happy to yank down his
pants and show her appreciation for his fine body in ways he would never forget.

But what if she was misreading things? Maybe he hadn’t been kidding about his extreme
sexual requirements, which would’ve been dandy had they not had to work together on
the magazine. The project mattered to her, and she didn’t want to jeopardize it. Or
their weird quasi-friendship.

Before she could squelch her momentary indecision, she saw the notebook on the table
at his side. And the binoculars.

What. The. Fuck.