No Romance Required (6 page)

“Are you spying on people?” she demanded. “Is that why you wanted a penthouse? Well,
besides the flash and cash aspects.”

“You think I’m up here watching people?”

“Not people. Women.” She prowled to the rail. There was a ritzy building just across
the street. Lots of windows to peep through, if one had a pair of high-powered specs
and the inclination.

His laughter struck her chilled skin like a physical blow. “You found me out. See
this notebook?” He shook it near her nose. “It’s full of my illicit thoughts about
my kinky tendencies.”

Frowning, she narrowed her gaze on the notebook. Cory’s potential kinky tendencies
made her tingle and tighten in ways that did not indicate displeasure. In fact, the
more she considered the idea, the more she wanted to put him to work as her own personal
piece of gym equipment. “Don’t be an ass.”

“
I’m
an ass?” He laughed again, tossing back his head so that the cords of his neck were
outlined in moonlight. The glow spread over his toned shoulders, backlighting each
well-defined muscle. “God, Vic, you’re too much.”

She snatched the notebook, mainly to keep from smiling that he’d called her something
other than Victoria. She’d never been anything else to him but her given name, and
it really stuck in her craw.

He didn’t say a word while she flipped pages. There were notes all right, but not
on erotic leanings. There were also numbers, which she soon realized were coordinates.
Sky
coordinates. “You’re into astronomy?”

“I’m fascinated by the subject. If that qualifies as ‘into it’ in your mind, then
yes.” His tone was cool.

Grinning, she covered her face with the notebook. Here she’d accused him of voyeurism
and he was spending his time charting constellations. “Too bad you don’t have a high-powered
telescope.” She pointed at the sky. “You’d be able to see Neptune.”

His lips parted as if she’d sucker punched him. “I have a superior telescope, thank
you very much. Some nights I just make do with binoculars. And you know that Neptune’s
at opposition?”

“Of course I do. Science geek, remember? I made a homemade telescope senior year.
It was pretty good, but obviously not good enough to see Neptune. I still have it,
actually.”

“You did not.” He slid his tongue along the inside of his lower lip, and she fervently
wished that tongue would delve into parts of her that dampened at the prospect. “Did
you?”

“I’ll show you sometime.”

“I bet you can’t point out Orion,” he challenged.

She had to laugh. As if she’d fall for such a trick question. Orion wouldn’t be visible
until dawn this time of year. “You’re such a hot dork, Santangelo.”

He crossed his arms over his impressive chest. “If you think I’m going to ignore that
dork comment because you stuck hot in front of it, you’re mistaken. I should take
you over my knee.”

Pretty please.
She lowered the notebook and widened her eyes dramatically. “Oh, no. I won’t call
you names anymore, Sir Cory.”

“I like that. It sounds regal.” He skimmed his hand along the railing until her heart
kicked up in her chest. While her guard was down, he grabbed the notebook back and
flashed a victorious smile. “Mind’s fast. Reflexes aren’t. You should work on that.”

“I’ll add it to my to-do list.” Suddenly way too warm, she fumbled open the button
on her light sweater. His gaze dropped. She wasn’t wearing anything special, just
jeans and a cardigan, but he couldn’t seem to stop staring. “You okay?”

“I was waiting to see if you’d reveal Victoria’s Secret.”

The giggle that escaped was part nerves and part excitement. Cory wasn’t acting like
himself. He was almost being flirty. “I don’t show my secrets on strange men’s balconies.”

That single brow winged up as he set the notebook aside. “Since when am I a strange
man?”

“You’ve always been strange. Part of your appeal.”

“I’m also the man you’re dating, in case you’ve forgotten.” He moved closer, studying
her far more intently than he usually did. “Not sure what game you’ve got going, Ms.
Townsend, but I’ll play. And I’ll win.”

“This is a game we can both win.” She laid a hand on his chest. Warm, smooth skin
stretched under her palm as he sharply exhaled. “Want to move things inside?”

He didn’t shoot her down or laugh at her, two minor miracles. His eyebrows climbed
toward his hairline. “Looking to break that ten-month streak?”

She couldn’t stop staring at the swell of his Adam’s apple, and the way it jumped
when he was nervous. Like right this second. This magnetically sexy, commanding, intelligent
man was nervous because of
her
.

He might as well have injected an aphrodisiac directly into her veins.

“You never said how long yours was,” she said, letting her voice linger on the double
entendre. She raised her gaze to his slowly and savored the flare of heat cracking
through the ice in his gorgeous eyes.

“Don’t you know?” He followed the vee of her sweater down to where it ended just above
her breasts. Her nipples hardened, pressing through the cashmere. Shamelessly begging
for more than just his glance. “You took your sweet time looking. And feeling, as
I recall.”

Vicky wet her lips. She hadn’t pushed him quite like this before, but he’d never given
her the slightest signal he would respond before Saturday night. But that was then,
and this was now. He was interested. And he wasn’t hiding it, either.

In more ways than one, she realized as his length brushed her belly. Holy shit, he
was turned on. Over
her
. Hard enough to fuel a thousand fantasies.

“Sometimes your imagination can overemphasize things, in retrospect. And the eyes
can play tricks on you.” She sounded breathless, as if he’d already made her come
and she was heading for round two.

“Especially when they’re like yours. Eyes like yours could convince a man of anything.”
He rubbed against her so lightly she wondered if she’d imagined it. Until he did it
again. “I almost believe you want me, Victoria.”

She couldn’t look away from his eyes. All that passion, that heat, for her. She wanted
to harness it, own it. Make sure he never forgot that she’d been the one to make him
feel that way.

“What’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours?” He trailed his fingertip along
her collarbone and she nearly whimpered. “Some women might want to rope me into this
arrangement to try to make it real. But my money isn’t what’s making your breath quicken
right now.”

She tried to find the words to convince him to take her to bed, but she couldn’t speak
past the swamping need fanning out from her belly. If he slipped his hand between
her legs, he’d discover the throb inside her, that primal drumbeat that sounded for
him alone.

As much as she wished she could deny it, some part of her had craved him since she
was a girl. She’d fought it, ignored it, but that growing part of her clamored for
her attention now.

“You pushed me even after I’d told you we couldn’t do this.” His voice thickened.
“Not us.”

“Yes, us.” In some way, it had always been them, moving to this moment. And she wasn’t
about to let him go without making sure he knew it.

Holding his gaze, she licked his throat, one long swipe against his stubbled skin.
His groan ruffled her hair and sent a powerful bolt of arousal through her system.
She curled her fingers into his chest, digging in with her nails, and licked again,
adding a scrape of teeth over his Adam’s apple.

She moaned when he clenched her waist and slammed their bodies together. His rigid
length wedged against her stomach, spurring her on. Slowly, she dragged her lips down
his neck. She picked up the fresh scent of his soap, and images of him in the shower
scrolled through her mind. Except she was there with him. Sipping the water droplets
from his shoulders. Dropping to her knees to take him deep in her mouth. Swallowing
more when he begged her not to stop—

“Victoria.” His guttural use of her name caused her to still. “This will change everything.”

Then his mouth crushed down on hers.

Its weight was a brand, forever stamping her with the memory of this night. Of stars
in an inky black sky. Of his heart racing against hers.

Of wanting him more than she cared about the consequences.

His tongue snaked through her parted lips and he pushed his hand under her sweater.
Just the sweep of cold flesh against warm had her moaning. He swallowed the sound,
pulling her up on her tiptoes as he devoured her with kisses so desperate and hot
she couldn’t do much more than try to keep up.

His touch didn’t travel upward as she’d expected. He never did anything she could
anticipate. One cool finger stroked her belly ring and his lips curved against hers
as she trembled. Oh, he liked that he could make her quiver.

As easily as he aroused her anger, he could inspire her lust. Now he exploited both,
teasing her to the point of madness with his talented tongue sucking on hers and that
single finger reminding her how close she was to begging.

He caressed her thin leather belt as he lowered his mouth to her jaw. With one pull
of his lips on her pulse point, she had to grab his shoulders to keep from falling
off the edge of the world.

“Do you know how long it’s been for me?” He used her belt to yank her closer. His
cock was so hard she could feel its imprint on her flesh as if they were both naked.
“Long enough that I don’t want to hide what I need.
How
I need.”

She offered him her throat, holding on while he took full advantage. There would be
marks from his teeth, his lips, and she’d happily resign herself to turtleneck sweaters
for eternity if only he’d just keep going.

“This.” He yanked on her belt, his mouth almost vicious in its blazing sweep down
the column of her neck. “I want you in this. Around your wrists. At my mercy.”

His words finally reached her in that blissful cocoon of longing she’d retreated into,
and she snapped back with enough force to lose her balance. She scrabbled to hold
on to him as he pulled her fully upright, his gray eyes locked on hers as if his life
depended on her answer.

He’d been serious. This wasn’t just fun and games or a way for him to push her away.
What he wanted from her was a lot more extreme than her body.

He was asking—demanding—her trust. Even without truly earning it, he’d settle for
nothing less.

After a humming moment, he stepped back. “Exactly what I thought.”

Shivering in the cool air, she risked a look at him. He’d already shoved his longing
behind those thick icy walls he summoned so effortlessly, causing her to wonder if
she’d ever seen it naked and aching on his face at all.

Maybe it had simply been the reflection of her own.

She flung a glance at the sky until her hazy vision cleared. Once it had, she chanced
another look at his face. Taut jaw, hooded eyes. All locked up tight. Whatever she
said now, the moment between them was gone.

Did it really matter? If he expected her to bare all with giving nothing in return,
he was asking for too damn much.

She’d never let herself look too closely at her interest in him for a number of reasons,
the biggest that she’d feared he would laugh in her face. Hot on its heels was that
Cory wasn’t the kind of man who would share himself with more than one mistress. He
was completely and totally owned by his work.

In his world, she would rank right around the level of a goldfish he forgot to feed
until he discovered it floating belly-up three months after it had died.

Sex with Cory was one thing. What he was asking for—a trust that went way beyond an
on-and-off snarktastic friendship—didn’t slot neatly into that category. Giving him
more without a guarantee of the same would be a mistake she wouldn’t make.

After her mother had left years ago, she’d spent too long using things outside herself
to quell her fear at being left again by those who mattered most. She’d found other
coping strategies, such as yoga and even feng shui, and had learned how to quiet her
mind during times of stress. Inviting Cory to play games with her emotions would be
akin to summoning a deadly tornado and then stepping back while he wreaked devastation.
Not going to happen.

“Better hold on to your notebook, Santangelo. You’re going to be out here a while
waiting for Orion to show up in the night sky at this time. Like a few months.” She
jerked a thumb over her shoulder before marching inside.

He’d never know the stars had blurred from her tears.

Chapter Five

She could do this.

After Friday night’s disaster, walking into their usual Monday magazine meeting with
her head held high took balls, but Vicky had them to spare. If her life had taught
her anything, it was that she could handle whatever was thrown her way.

So what if she suffered from recurrent bouts of lust for a man who not only was emotionally
unavailable, but was in a whole other league sexually as well? So what if she still
had to lean over his desk and pore over photos of daybeds and antique armoires while
she tried to breathe through her mouth so she couldn’t smell his sex-potion cologne?

She wasn’t fazed. In fact, she was so unfazed she could turn to face him while he
stood at her side and playfully toyed with her starfish necklace as if she didn’t
have a single care.

His gaze dropped to her throat—mostly unblemished, though he’d certainly tried to
leave his mark—then rose to her eyes. “Arrangements have been made at the Helping
Hands donor house on Seeley Drive for a week from Friday. The living room is close
enough to what I had in mind for the cover, but there are no Christmas accents yet.”

“Jill, Lorelie, and I will handle decorations.”

“From the store, please.” He tapped his fingers on the side of his desk as he sifted
through the photos from their last shoot. “We have an expanded Christmas section from
last year.”

“I saw some of the stuff in the storeroom. Thank God the store hasn’t begun decorating
for the holidays yet. It gets earlier every year.” She shuddered. “Though that Santa’s
toolbox display is adorable.”

He glanced up, a smile playing around his mouth. “That was my idea.”

“Here I thought you were just a pretty face.” She ran her nail under her necklace.
“Once you select the bedroom shots you want, we can focus on the cover. I think carrying
the country-chic theme through works best, especially with Christmas, but that’s up
to you.”

“I told you I’d give you room to work.” His voice was even, though his eyes burned.
She didn’t get why until she realized her nervous fingers had strayed to the neckline
of her V-neck shirt. Rather than move her hand, as was her inclination, she slid her
fingers just that much lower. His nostrils flared. “Stage the cover as you’d like.
All I ask is that I’d like you to leave the decorations after the shoot so the house
will be decorated for the new owner. Her deployment ends right before the holiday,
and I think that’d be nice for her to come home to.”

She swallowed as his words sank in. “Sure.” Surprised at how weak her voice sounded,
she cleared her throat.

“We need to wrap up the magazine and put it to bed week after next if we want to meet
our deadline. The printer’s already booked tight and if we miss our window, we’re
out of luck until December and that’s too late for a holiday issue.”

“We’ll make it. Don’t worry.”

“There’s still outstanding editorial. Some of it yours.”

“On it,” she said cheerfully, glancing down at her watch. “Gotta book soon. I need
to go look at paint swatches for the Taylor job.”

When he didn’t reply, she looked up to see him staring fixedly at a photo of an old-fashioned
slatted bed with a gauzy red canopy. “I knew you’d never go for that shot, but I had
to take it. That bed screams homemade carpentry.” Something about those carved bedposts
made a girl think very bad thoughts. Maybe of a broad hand gripping them for support
while he moved harder, faster. Driving her into the cloud-like mattress, pounding
into her until the red canopy fluttered from the force of his thrusts.

He traced the slatted headboard with his wide thumb and she swore she felt her panties
disintegrate. “Interesting design. Lovely craftsmanship.”

“It is.” She sounded entirely too breathy. “I’d put candles in those grooves in the
headboard. With the canopy, and all those pillows—” and that hard, toned body fucking
her into oblivion “—the scene would be set for romance.”

He slanted her a look. “Or extremely hot sex.”

“My, my,” she murmured. “Someone’s mind is in the gutter.”

“Potato, potahto. You call it one thing. I call it something else.” He shrugged and
flipped the photo over. Slipping it into the
keep
pile, rather than the discards.

She suppressed a sigh. If he kept this up, she’d bind her wrists for him herself.

Then he delivered the kill shot just before she left.

“Sunday night my parents have a thing.”

She blinked innocently. “Well now, that sounds thrilling.”

A smile played around his mouth. “Do you have plans?”

“Unless hanging out with Jill counts, no.” She gripped the doorknob at her back, suddenly
realizing she should’ve lied. “This is…a date?”

He leaned a hip against his desk and gave her a hard stare. Eyebrow lifted, of course.
“You’re my girlfriend, are you not? You campaigned for the role with all the zeal
of a missionary.”

“The only missionary ever mentioned in conjunction with me is sex.”

“No wonder you ran from my balcony.” Though his tone was teasing, his eyes were dark
and broody. “Never would’ve pegged you for a strict traditionalist.”

“I’m not
that
traditional,” she muttered.
Slippery slope, Townsend.
“And I did not run.”

“Not all running involves your feet moving, sweetness.” While she went goggle-eyed
at the nickname, he folded his arms over his chest. “You’ll be eating with us. I’ll
pick you up at six.”

“Is six-thirty okay? I started teaching an hourlong yoga class at four thirty on Tuesdays,
Thursdays, Saturdays, and Sundays at Wyland’s gym.”

He let out a long-suffering sigh. “Six fifteen. Haul your cute little ass home faster.”
She started to argue, but he held up a hand. “Invoking boyfriend privilege. Now go
pick out your paint chips and let your man do some damn work.”

Not smiling would’ve been a Herculean task. At least she waited until she was alone
in the hallway outside his office.

It was the little victories that counted the most.

Their meeting lingered in the back of her head all day and into the next, popping
up again the following afternoon when she was getting ready for her Tuesday hot yoga
class. Last night she’d learned from Dillon that Cory hadn’t only come up with the
Santa’s toolbox display at the hardware store, he’d also set up the donation program
to collect tools and supplies for needy families so they could repair their homes
after the big coastal storm last fall. Haven hadn’t been affected nearly as badly
as many other places, but there were still downed trees and damaged homes. With all
the budget cuts, supplies were badly needed, and her fake boyfriend-slash-corporate
raider wanted to get them into people’s hands.

He had no business being sweet. How was she supposed to resign herself to never drizzling
caramel sauce on his naked body when he could be so damn nice?

She exhaled and bent at the waist to stretch. As if she didn’t have enough to worry
about convincing the world at large she and Cory were a couple, dinner with Cory’s
family promised to be interesting.

In the plus column, at least Bryan had visited for only one day to consult with his
local physician about a recurring knee injury, then flown back with his dog, Bingo,
to rejoin his team, the Maryland Mariners, the next morning. If he’d stuck around
longer, she would’ve had a situation on her hands once he heard about the pictures.
Since high school, Bryan had thought Cory was a stuck-up prick. The phone call last
week hadn’t exactly convinced him otherwise. She’d have to face the music with her
big bro soon enough, but one problem at a time.

Like spending Sunday night acting all lovey-dovey with Cory in front of witnesses.
She should probably start drinking now.

Thank God for yoga. It always helped her find her Zen. She’d discovered it when she’d
been desperate to find something to quiet her mind a few years ago. Eventually she’d
ended up getting certified in Bikram yoga and led four beginner’s sessions a week.
Usually she had energy to burn afterward. The high lasted hours.

As the first student slipped into the studio, she smiled and handed out a wireless
headset. Though they all heard the same instructions, the headphones helped contribute
to the impression of becoming one with the movements.

Class went by quickly. As usual, the rhythm of the poses along with the cooperative
environment lessened her agitation. It was hard to carry stress into a yoga studio.
She watched her breathing and made sure to keep her spine straight. Her mind emptied
as her skin heated to the room’s standard 105-degree temperature, and the sweat that
left her pores helped clean all the junk out of her head.

As she glanced at her flushed face in one of the mirrored walls, she noted her smile.
That
resilient woman was who she was now. She no longer allowed fear to rule her, and
she refused to worry about what might happen with Cory. After all, she’d helped set
things in motion. He couldn’t hurt her if she didn’t hand him the knife.

After the final savasana, she maintained her corpse pose on the floor while the students
filed out. She didn’t have to fake her sense of calm. The benefits of yoga aside,
it was hard staying stressed out in this room. The owner of the gym had temporarily
relocated classes there while the usual yoga area upstairs was renovated, so it wasn’t
the more traditional glass-walled studio. High-polished hardwood floors and colorful
panels of stained glass contributed to the soothing experience. The dimmed lights
and utter silence also helped lull the class members into a state of total relaxation,
and she didn’t want to jar anyone by getting up too soon.

Typically she stood once the last student left, but today she let her boneless arms
sink into her cushioned mat. She was in no hurry to leave. She had a late meeting
with a new client, but she always made sure to build room in her schedule to ease
back into her routine after class so she didn’t have to rush just yet. Still, she
could definitely use a shower.

Sighing, she sat up and opened her eyes. And locked gazes with the object of way too
many of her thoughts.

Her heartbeat didn’t accelerate immediately, demonstrating her newfound tranquility.
Cory in a navy suit and French cuffs, and with his dark hair cut shorter than usual
was definitely a sight worthy of a racing pulse, especially since he was reflected
in triplicate in the mirrors that surrounded the studio.

As the moment stretched out, she fought to maintain her stance. Arms resting on her
thighs, hands upturned, spine erect. Area between her thighs, throbbing.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, feigning calm.

“I was in the neighborhood.”

“You don’t work out at this gym.”

He worked out alone, as he did so much else. Including working late into the night,
day after day. She was sure his candle had to be crispy at both ends.

“No, but after what I just saw, I may give yoga a try.”

She snorted, unable to help it. “These are private classes. You’re not supposed to
observe the students.”

“I wasn’t observing them. My eyes were only for you.”

Oh. Okay then. “Still.”

“You’re beautiful, Victoria.” While his words echoed through her, he crossed the room.
She just stared as he extended his hand.

“I’m all sweaty,” she mumbled, rubbing her palm against her yoga shorts. Her exceedingly
minuscule shorts, to go with her revealing, one-shouldered top. She needed to dress
lightly for class—all the students did—but under his gaze she felt overexposed. And
more sexy than she ever had in her life, droopy hair and all.

Thank you, yoga.

“I’m sweaty, too.” He reached up to tug at his tie. “What is it in here? A thousand
degrees?”

She smiled. “One hundred and five. The ideal temperature to release toxins and achieve
maximum well-being.”

He let his gaze wander over her unabashedly, and her nipples stiffened to get their
share of his attention. He didn’t disappoint.

Yep, Cory Santangelo definitely preferred the
T
part of the T&A equation.

“It certainly works for you. You take my breath away.”

“Is the heat getting to you?” She cast a glance toward the door he must’ve shut on
his way in. Quiet as a feline, he was. But a dangerous one, the kind that lured a
victim with its graceful beauty and then went for the throat.

“Get up, Victoria.”

He was bossy, too. Though judging from the need swelling between her legs, she didn’t
mind.

Vicky accepted his hand and stood, her breath catching at the desire in his eyes.
He didn’t even try to mask it. Yesterday he’d been business as usual, but now he was
back to the Cory he’d been on his balcony. And she was back to being as horny as a
cat in heat.

She looked down to where he still held her hand, his finger circling the trigger point
just beneath her thumb. “Why are you here?”

“I came to see you. You told me when your classes were, remember?”

“How did you find me? This isn’t even the usual yoga studio I teach in—”

“Yet I found you just the same. I must be a genius.” His mercurial smile didn’t slow
down her racing heartbeat. “Why didn’t you tell me that you’d contributed to the toolbox
fund?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that you’d come up with the donation program, not just the
design?” she shot back, surprised when his grip only tightened on hers. “Besides,
I thought donations were private.”

“They normally are, except my brother thinks you’re a goddamn saint and couldn’t stop
talking about you last night. He said you offered up an entire decorating package
to two families, which is above and beyond.”

The distaste in his tone made her frown, until his eyes flashed. “You’re jealous that
Dillon likes me.”

“I’m never jealous.” He gave her an impervious look. “And in case you’ve forgotten,
you’re mine for the duration. As you chose.”