No Romance Required(15)

That part at least was true. He ached to do things to her she’d never go for. A control freak like Victoria, consenting to a power exchange in bed? Never. That was even more unlikely than their coming through this insane plan he’d hatched in desperation unscathed. Better to make it clear—crystal—that they were mismatched in every possible way.

And before he had any other genius ideas, he’d get some damn sleep.

She wet her lips and dragged her eyes from his hand to meet his gaze. The intent in hers was clear. “Somehow I doubt that, CEO.” She pursed her mouth and tilted her head. “Besides, it’s not as if you want to tie me up and drip hot wax all over me, right?”

The laugh she let out was breathy and sexy. And just a little nervous. That he could still unnerve her after all the years they’d known each other added another stack of kindling to his already blazing fire.

That she’d inadvertently guessed exactly what he wanted to do to her was even better.

The fingers in his lap flexed, an unmistakable tell he couldn’t hide. He held her gaze for a moment. Two. Awareness built between them, throbbing like a heart.

Finally she whispered, “Oh.” She swallowed hard and he watched her throat move, drawn to the jerk of her flesh like that damn moth that didn’t know any better than to get burned. “Okay,” she whispered.

There were objections right there on his tongue. He tasted them, as bitter as dandelion wine, and closed his eyes before they could spill out. This could be so simple. He could handle the problem of the photos, his parents, and his errant, unquenchable libido in one fell swoop—

He gripped the edge of the couch cushion as she leaned forward, feeling trapped in the honey glow of her eyes. He couldn’t breathe through the wanting of her, couldn’t turn away from what had been rising between them all these years. Didn’t want to.

Easy. For once he just wanted something to be easy.

Damn his parents for putting him in this position. It was all their fault he’d gone outside last night to begin with. If he’d been a few minutes later he wouldn’t have met up with Victoria and all this photo drama would’ve been avoided. He should just say to hell with it and see what happened. She’d be his fake girlfriend—though who would believe the two of them fit as a couple?—and maybe his real lover, and then once his parents left, he could get back to his regular life. And his work. All of this would just become a distant, not-so-fond memory.

But it’s Victoria.

The girl he’d first seen in pigtails outside the library, stapling leaves onto the bulletin board. The young woman dancing in the middle of the gym by herself, just because she could. The gorgeous, alluring woman who looked as sexy in a football jersey as she had the night before in her gold barely-a-dress.

At the last second, he lurched to his feet. He glanced at his watch and tried to see the numbers through the blur of his need. “I have to make some calls,” he managed.

“This late? It’s practically bedtime.”

“Not for an insomniac,” he said in undertone, crossing the room.

“Cory, take some damn downtime for once,” Vicky called after him, sounding surprisingly worried. “If you want, you can crash here—”

He was already on his way out the door.

…

Monday morning, Vicky approached Cory’s closed office door with her usual full-on swagger. Well, almost. That she wore ice-pick boots and carried a special surprise for her pseudo-boyfriend only slowed her down slightly. Her nerves slowed her down more.

She’d worked so hard to shed her rep as the town bad girl, and now with just a few pictures she was right back in the thick of it. Partially by choice.

That morning she’d awakened to a phone call from Jill, even before their scheduled breakfast meeting to discuss that week’s design consultations. Her BFF had wanted to clue Vicky in about the photos just in case she still hadn’t heard the gossip column chatter. No chance of that. Shortly after Cory left last night, her sister Melly had called from her location-scouting trip upstate to ask her what the hell she was doing. It was an excellent question.

Why was she doing this again?

It wasn’t just about the photos. Oh sure, reputation preservation always counted as a valid reason, but that wasn’t the only one. Cory needed help. He needed her. The guy was running on fumes and his showing up late looking like death’s dark-headed stepchild had driven that point home. They were friends, right? Sort of. In a manner of speaking. And not-exactly-friends assisted each other.

Heck, maybe she’d even bring some fun into his staid existence. While doing so, she would also avail herself of all potential sexual opportunities in his direction, just to cross another item off her bucket list. Doing an uptight smerd—smexy nerd—check!