Trouble in High Heels

Chapter Fifteen

Maria slammed the teapot down on the tray so hard Geoffrey was surprised it didn’t break. She looked at him with eyes so fiery he briefly wondered if she had some kind of superpower that would make his internal organs explode if he looked at her too long. Ridiculous, he thought, but he still looked away.

“How much sugar do you want?” she asked.

He glanced at her and, rising, shook his head. “Thank you. I can do it myself.”

“No,” she said, the spoon poised above a tiny sugar bowl.

Geoffrey assessed the situation, thankful there were no knives within Maria’s reach. “Two, thank you.”

She stabbed the spoon into the sugar and dumped two heaping spoonfuls into the cup. “Cream?”

“Please,” he said.

She dumped a generous amount of cream into the cup and banged the spoon in a circular motion. “Here,” she said, shoving the cup and saucer into his hands.

Geoffrey nearly spilled the liquid all over himself, but he managed to confine the splatter to the saucer. He cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

She crossed her arms over her generous breasts and stared at him. “Well?” she said expectantly.

He paused a half beat. “Well, what?”

“The tea,” she said, nodding toward the cup. “Did I make it right?”

He glanced down at the steaming cup. “I’m sure you did.”

“Taste it.”

It was still too hot, but heaven help him if he tried to tell her that. Gingerly lifting the cup to his lips, he took a small sip of the too-sweet, too-weak tea. “Perfect,” he lied with a smile. “Perfect.”

Her glare softened a smidgen, and she pushed a strand of her bangs behind her ear. “Good.” She glanced away, dropped one of her hands to her hip, then lifted her arms again to cross her chest. “I don’t suppose Lori has made tea for you.”

He blinked at the odd question and chuckled. “Not at all. I’m not sure she knows how.”

Maria lifted her chin, and her lips lifted the slightest bit into an almost smile. “She can’t cook, either.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she couldn’t,” he agreed. “After all, she has staff for that.”

Her face fell again. “I’m not wealthy,” she said. “So I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested in me.”

When she turned to walk away, he felt an overwhelming sense of panic. “You would be wrong,” he said, the words bubbling up from somewhere inside him. Somewhere that wouldn’t be denied.

She stopped, her hand on the doorknob, and he watched her shoulders rise and fall as she took a breath and released it. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he began, then broke off, utterly conflicted. “Please come back. Just for a few moments.” Setting down his cup of tea, he returned to the piano and began to play the melody that had burned its way into his brain and heart over the last couple of days. He hadn’t needed to write down the notes, because he couldn’t escape the song. It followed him everywhere all the time, even when he slept. The music brimmed with passion and hints of sadness, strength, and vulnerability.

He stopped when the notes and chords in his mind stopped, although he knew it wasn’t the end of the piece.

Silence clung to the air like humidity just before a summer rain. The only sound he could hear was his heart beating inside his head.

“Finish it,” Maria finally whispered, walking toward him. “It’s beautiful. Finish it. I want to hear the rest.”

“That’s all I know,” he said, meeting her gaze. “I know it’s not finished, but that’s all I know.”

“It’s so beautiful. Why didn’t you play it tonight for Virginia? And Lori.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, more in pain than any other emotion he could read.

“It’s not finished,” he said, then added, “And it’s a personal piece.”

She lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “Then why did you play it for me?”

His heart hammered in his chest. This was so right. Yet so wrong. But he couldn’t seem to stop any of it. “The name of the piece is ‘Maria.’”

She stared at him for a long moment, her gaze fixed on his, a dozen emotions flying through her dark eyes. Then she bit her lip and her eyes grew shiny. “You wrote it for me?”

“I wrote it because of you,” he said. Because her being had taunted and tormented him from their first meeting. “I wrote it about you.” He took a deep breath. “That was you in music. The reason it’s not finished is because that’s all I know.”

She sat beside him on the piano bench. “No one has ever written a song about me.” She lifted her hand to his face. “Why did you do it?” She shook her head. “Why didn’t you write one for Lori?”

“Lori is a lovely person,” he said, watching her gaze darken as he said the words. She started to pull her hand away from his face, but he caught it in his. “It’s true. She is lovely. But she is not the woman who has captivated me like no other woman has. I never dreamed a woman could affect me this much. Never.”

She lifted her chin, challenge and fire mixing in her gaze. “You are an odd man.”

He blinked at her response. It wasn’t exactly what he’d been hoping for, although if he got what he was hoping for, he’d be in a bloody vat of trouble. “I’m not sure what to-”

“Don’t say anything right now,” she told him. “You talk too much.”

Affronted, he opened his mouth to correct her.

She covered his lips with her index finger and leaned against him. Her gorgeous, delicious breasts, about which he’d fantasized, brushed his chest, rendering him mute. “But your British accent makes up for it,” she added with a smile. “So polite on the outside, but I can tell you’re lusting after me in your heart.”

His heart wasn’t the only organ she was affecting at the moment. Holding his breath, he shifted slightly, praying she wouldn’t move away from him.

She didn’t. Instead, she leaned closer, mashing her splendid breasts against his chest. She lifted her lips to his. “You are very odd,” she said against his lips. “But you are also cute. All those proper English manners. I wonder how bad you are underneath,” she said, then took his mouth in a scorching kiss.

Geoffrey felt as if a fire blazed straight through him. His heart raced, his mind thundered. Music poured through him. A new sound, a new movement. He couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t care. He never wanted her to move away.

Her tongue taunted and tasted his, daring him to go deeper. He took the plunge, delving into her silken, sexy mouth. She was everything voluptuous, sexual, wild, and free. So amazing he couldn’t have dreamed a woman like this.

Hungry, he devoured her mouth and slid his hands around her back, drawing her as close as he could. The soft catch of her breath and moan hit him like pure whiskey.

He lifted one of his hands to the side of her breast and she arched against him as if she wanted more. The movement made him hard as a rock. Pulling her onto his lap so that she straddled him, he slid his hand beneath her shirt and upward to cup her breast.

“Yes, yes,” she said in a husky, sexy whisper, arching again, wiggling against his crotch.

He wanted to feel her flesh, her bare nipple. Struggling with her bra, he searched for the fastening in the back.

“It’s in the front,” she said and ran her tongue over his lower lip, still wiggling her lush bottom over his crotch.

Sweating with arousal, he slid his hand between them and unhooked her bra. Her breasts sprang free against her shirt, and he immediately took one in his hand. Her nipple was already turgid, and the knowledge that she was so aroused sent him spiraling.

She suckled his tongue, making passionate noises of approval while he fondled her breasts. She continued to undulate against his erection, and suddenly it was too much. A roaring orgasm swept through him, and he went over the top.

Moaning and swearing, he clung to her. Bloody hell, he hadn’t done that since- Had he ever done that? He was amazed and embarrassed. What must she think?

“I don’t know what to say. I apol-”

“Oh, don’t you dare apologize,” she said, her eyes flashing with anger. “Unless you are ashamed of your feelings for me.”

“God, no,” he said. “But-”

She stood, leaning over him, her legs separated by his between hers. “If you think that was hot, my odd Englishman, you should know I was just getting started.”

He inhaled, drawing in her scent, feeling like a damn stallion scenting a mare in heat. She made him feel as if he was in rut. Permanently.

He slid his hand to her denim-covered thigh and then up to her rounded hip. “Is that an invitation to continue?”

She tossed her head back and laughed, brushing aside his hand as she stepped away. “Later,” she said and added, “if you please me. Work on my song. Play more for me next time, and we’ll see,” she said and sauntered out of the room.

Geoffrey stared after her, feeling as if he’d been whacked with a slab of stone that weighed a ton.

The following afternoon after Lori finished her regular cleaning chores, she found Virginia at the kitchen table, clearly mulling over her bank accounts. Lori rubbed Kenny’s soft fur and watched the older woman mutter as she scribbled, erased, then scribbled again. Virginia raked a hand through her gray hair and wrinkled her brows.

Lori’s heart twisted at the sight of the woman struggling. It wasn’t fair. Virginia was trying to do something good. She worked hard. She didn’t deserve to have to worry so much, especially after the loss of her husband.

Lori would be able to take care of that very soon. If everything went as planned, she and Jackson would be married by tonight, tomorrow at the latest, and Lori would gain more control of her inheritance. The first thing she was going to do was write Virginia a check. It was all she could do not to tell the woman, but she and Jackson had agreed not to tell anyone until the deed was done.

“ Virginia?” Lori said.

The woman looked up and immediately smiled, sliding the accounting book to the side. “Well, hello, girl. I didn’t expect to see you here so early. Are you already finished cleaning the cabins and the stalls?”

“Already done,” Lori said. “I’m getting a little faster, although I doubt I’ll ever get Maria’s approval.”

Virginia reached over to pat Lori’s hand. “You’re a big help. Don’t let Maria bother you. That chip on her shoulder is all self-defense. Her father always told her she wasn’t good enough. It’s a darn shame, but she’ll probably be fighting those words the rest of her life.”

“That is a shame,” Lori agreed. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Virginia shook her head. “Heavens, no. That would just make it worse. Let her work it out. She’ll come around.”

“Okay,” Lori said, not sure she agreed but not willing to push the matter. She cleared her throat. “Something has come up, and Jackson and I need to leave for a couple of days. It’s business,” she said and swallowed an ironic laugh, because she was telling the truth. She and Jackson were getting married for business purposes. “We won’t be gone long, but I was wondering if you would mind watching Kenny while I’m gone?”

“Of course I will,” Virginia said, reaching for Kenny, who willingly curled into the older woman’s arms and licked her chin. “Me and your little Pom are buddies. I won’t sneak him too many treats, but he’s so sweet it’s hard not to spoil him.”

“I know. It’s hard to believe something that weighs under five pounds can offer so much comfort.” It was silly, but Lori couldn’t help wishing she could take Kenny with her. Her little dog had always had a calming effect on her, and she was about to take a giant leap of faith. She just hoped this leap wouldn’t send her careening over a cliff.

“You should give the prenup agreement I asked my attorney to draw up to your own attorney before you sign it,” Jackson said.

“I trust you,” Lori said, her red-high-heel-clad foot vibrating in a staccato rhythm as she sat beside Jackson in the SUV. She wore designer jeans that molded to her every curve and some kind of red top with pink lace that showed just a hint of cleavage. Enough to keep him glancing at her every third second.

Jackson rolled his eyes at the same time his gut tightened. He was driving toward the nearest airport to catch the next flight to Vegas. Or to Insanityville. Or both. Once Jackson made up his mind, there was no going back. This time, however, even he’d had second, third, fourth, and fifth thoughts. Ultimately, he knew the agreement was more than fair, and some part of him was dead-ass certain he could help Lori. Unless he was just using that harebrained idea as some kind of crazy justification for marrying her.

“You shouldn’t trust anyone,” he told her. “Not with that amount of money.”

“I can always sue you if you do something dishonorable, because you’re still my accountant,” she said, her foot still pumping.

He had to restrain the urge to put his hand on her thigh for her to stop, but Jackson knew touching her thigh wouldn’t be enough. He knew he could get totally sidetracked thinking about her thighs and how good she would feel if he…

Focusing on the road, he shook his head and tried a softer approach, even though it went against the grain. “It will make me feel better if your attorney reviews this before. I already instructed my attorney to e-mail a copy to yours. You can call your attorney and tell him to review it during our flight.”

She sighed. “Okay, okay. I’ll call him.”

Jackson listened as she took a moment to go through the contact list on her cell phone, placed the call, and talked with her attorney.

After she finished, she turned to Jackson. “Happy now?”

“I’ll be happy when you’re more responsible with your inheritance.”

“Is that why you put that clause in there about consulting with you if I was planning to spend anything that hit six digits?”

Surprised she’d actually read the agreement, he shot a quick glance at her. “Partly,” he said.

“I noticed the agreement didn’t give you the power to veto my spending. I would have told you to take a flying leap if it had.”

His lips twitched at the heat in her voice. “I don’t want to stop you. I just want to help you… pause.”

“If I’m really determined, discussing anything with you won’t make a bit of a difference.”

“I know that,” he said. “And if you’re not really determined?”

A long silence followed. “Okay. I may not follow all my impulses.”

“Is that bad?”

Another silence followed. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll find out, won’t I?”

He felt her gaze on him. “You may find out after your attorney looks at the agreement and you sign it and we both make it to the justice of the peace,” he said. This was such a wild card that he still wasn’t counting on anything.

“Is that why you’re making us fly commercial?”

He nodded. “Until we’re married, you’re still broke.”

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and shook her head. “That’s an exaggeration. I’m not broke.”

“Unless you want to slash your budget, you’re broke,” he said bluntly. “If you want to give up your job as philanthropist to every imaginable cause on God’s green earth and get a real job, then you’re not broke.”

Her toe started to pump again, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Just drive, please,” she said.

Six hours later, Lori stood in front of the concierge at the Bellagio Hotel, feeling as if she were going to jump out of her skin. The flight had seemed interminable. As soon as the jet landed, she talked with her attorney, who began the conversation by telling her not to do anything rash. During the drive from the airport, she boiled down all his concerns about the premarital agreement to essentially none.

Luckily Tim, the concierge, was also a notary. He witnessed her and Jackson ’s signature on the agreement. “There you go,” he said. “I’m happy to be of service.”

“Can we get married now?” she asked him.

“I’ll have to check availability,” Tim said. “We’re usually booked. If we can’t accommodate you, I can help you find a chapel.”

“For tonight,” she said.

“I’ll try to find something,” he said and picked up the phone on his desk.

“You’re tapping again,” Jackson murmured into her ear.

She curled her toes inside her shoes. His closeness only made her feel more jittery, but she didn’t want him to know that. “I just want to get it done.”

“If you’re this nervous about doing it-”

“I’m not nervous about being married to you.” She bit her lip, trying to compartmentalize her thoughts and feelings. “I know you’ll keep your end of our agreement.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to get a dress or pick out some flowers? I thought women spent their whole lives dreaming of being dressed like a princess on their wedding day.”

“The princess thing is way overrated. I’ve been doing that most of my life.” Without invitation, a vision of what she had pictured for her wedding day slid through her mind. In her fantasy world, Harlan had walked her down a garden aisle, and her mother, visiting from the hereafter, sat in the first row of white chairs with her half brother. Lori’s two sisters would be bridesmaids.

Lori had always been so infatuated with the idea of having all her loved ones alive, in the same place, and not screaming at each other, that she hadn’t spent much time thinking about her Prince Charming.

This wasn’t a real marriage, she told herself. She couldn’t deny, however, that the notion of making lifelong promises with no intention of keeping them seemed creepy.

She couldn’t let sappy, emotional thoughts stop her. She needed to think like a man about this. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to meet his gaze. “What we’re about to do is business. I understand-”

Tim lifted a hand as he held the phone against his ear. “I can get you an Elvis wedding in thirty minutes. Will that work?”