Текст книги "Resisting the Bad Boy"

Автор книги: Violet Duke

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CONNOR WALKED into his office, closed the door, and sat down before he let himself go quietly ape shit.

$7.3 billion.

That was the unexpectedly sudden, final closing agreement for the complex multi-corporation dual merger and acquisition case he’d devoted the last five months of his life to. Seven-point-three billion dollars.

Taking a deep breath, he stared out the window at the picturesque view that his equity partnership had bought him in the firm, even though he was way too keyed up and pumped full of adrenaline to see anything really.

Seven-point-three.

Billion.

Absently, he reached over and flicked the little stress reducing toy Abby had given him last week—a colorful little monster with wobbly arms, crazy troll hair, and a suction base that kept it secured to his desk for even the strongest stress-flicks to its googly-eyed head.

Talk about sticking out like a sore thumb. It didn’t go at all with his office décor and yet he found himself keeping it front and center next to his phone on his executive mahogany desk.

Because it was weird and funny in the cutest possible way, just like Abby.

And that’s why he loved it.

No woman he’d dated in the past would’ve gotten him anything like it. Nor would any of ‘em have gone to the trouble of looking up the 1971 Charger to learn all there was to know about the car’s history. But Abby had. In fact, she now knew more about his car’s engine stats than he did, something she’d excitedly displayed all throughout breakfast this morning.

It’d been adorable.

Then she’d gone and done the exact opposite of adorable by slipping him the tongue in what was supposed to be an innocent goodbye kiss. And he’d experienced an actual leave of his senses. He’d been ready to throw her up against the nearest table, floor, or wall and have all kinds of circus sex with her.

It was a near thing, too.

If the appointment alarm on her phone hadn’t sounded, there was a good chance he’d still be there right now going for round two…or twenty.

He flicked the stress monster again.

Before he fully realized he was doing it, his fingers were reaching for his phone and dialing her number.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” Okay, now what? Another flick. “So…we closed the deal for $7.3 billion today.”

The sound of books falling on the other end of the phone line had him sitting up taller. And grinning. She’d dropped her books for him.

“Oh my gosh, congratulations! Was it the carve-outs you renegotiated that sold them? I bet it was. Oh, but what about all those re-management concerns you had for the merger side? Did the spin-off push anything back at all? I know you were worried about the intellectual property on the acquisition end.” Somehow, all of that came out as one long sentence. But she wasn’t done yet. “$7.3 billion?! Holy crap, Connor! Were all the parties happy with the new deal? What am I saying? Of course they were. How are you not completely freaking out right now?!”

Connor laughed silently when Abby finally dragged in a gasping breath. Christ, she was priceless. “When I get home, I’ll be sure to give you the short version of everything that happened, sweetheart.”

“Screw the short version, I want to hear it all. It’s a good thing I made—”

Silence.

“Abby? Hello?”

“Sorry, yes, I’m still here.”

He frowned. “Are you okay? You got cut off there for a bit.”

“I dropped my phone.”

That sounded like a lie. “Okay…well, what were you saying? You mentioned making something.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I can save it for another night. I’m sure you have some big celebration planned with all your colleagues. So of course the short version, definitely. Even if I’m sleeping, come wake me up okay? I’m dying to know the details.”

For crying out loud, he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and kiss her senseless. She actually thought he was going to celebrate without her tonight. “Abby, I’ve seen way more than enough of my colleagues for the past five months. I want to spend my night with you, share everything that happened today with you. If you don’t want to cook whatever you had planned, we can go out. Anywhere you want.”

“Anywhere I want?” Her voice still had that heart-tugging hesitancy. “We should go where ever you want to go.”

That was a first. To his knowledge, the standard reply to that offer was usually the most expensive restaurant and/or the most exclusive club. At least in his experience with women.

He embraced the novelty. “Well, if you’re going to let me choose, I’d kind of like to stay in.”

“Really?” He could almost see her skeptical frown through the phone.

“Yes. But again, if you don’t want to cook, I will. Or we can do take-out.”

“You’re being ridiculous. Of course I’ll cook. This is your big night. But are you sure you don’t want to—”

“I’m coming home for dinner, Abby. Period. I’ll be there at eight.” Damn, that sounded light years away. Maybe he could cancel his next few meetings…

“If you’re absolutely—”

“Abby.” She was so freakin’ precious.

“Okay, okay. Yes, eight o’clock. But, if you make it nine, you can probably get in some celebratory drinks with your friends and that’ll give me extra time to make something way more elaborate and—”

“I’m hanging up now, sweetie,” he sang out. “See you tonight.”

All he caught after that were razor sharp snippets about pigheads and horse butt as he replaced the phone back in its cradle. Knowing Abby, she could’ve easily been talking about him or the menu she had planned.

Either way, this was already promising to be an interesting night.

* * * * *

AT EIGHT O’CLOCK on the dot, he walked in his house to the sight of Abby bursting out from the kitchen at full speed. She launched herself at him and peppered his face with kisses. “Congrats, congrats, congrats!”

Chuckling, he caught her face in his hands and gave her a long, slow kiss.

“You smell good.” He stopped and sniffed again. “In fact, this whole house smells good. What is that?” Definitely not pighead or horse’s butt.

She gave him a strange look. “Cookies.”

He looked over and sure enough there on the big granite island was a platter of freshly baked cookies. He grew still as a statue.

“What’s wrong?”

He was wondering the same thing as well.

And then it hit him. “No one’s ever made me cookies before.”

In no way was he prepared to see tears wash over Abby’s eyes. Though she covered it up well with a whole lot of blinking, he saw the pain there—pain for the boy whose mother had never made him cookies.

Pain for him.

“Well, that puts a bunch of pressure on me,” she said, audibly modulating her voice. “Hopefully, you have the same taste in cookies as your niece.”

Now that she mentioned it, he did recall Skylar raving about Abby’s world famous cookies. “How long have you been baking these for her?”

She shrugged. “Since Beth’s hands started failing her pretty early on, it was hard for her to do things in the kitchen so…I don’t know, maybe kindergarten?”

He picked up a cookie and felt a strange desire to crystallize the moment, savor his first bite of a cookie made just for him.

As his teeth closed on the warm, chewy treat, he looked over and caught Abby gnawing on a thumbnail nervously, waiting for his reaction.

He wanted to crystalize that moment as well.

“They’re delicious.” His voice was rougher, thicker than usual.

She averted her eyes again. “Oh, good. I’m glad you like them. I didn’t know how else to help you celebrate your big win. I tend to defer to baking for all things celebratory…which is why I keep an extra pair of jeans the next size up when any holidays come rolling around…” She was babbling adorably, seemingly unable to stop. “I’m sure you’re used to more lavish hooplas—”

He grabbed her and kissed her again.

As his male ego was pleased to note, that seemed to ground her. By the time he relinquished his hold on her lips, she was smiling again. “I made pot roast in the crockpot. Since you’re such a fan of good ole fashioned dishes and all, I called my mom for her recipe and wrote it out on an index card for you so you can add it to your collection.”

The gesture tugged at his chest. More and more, in unique little Abby ways, she was burrowing the most unlikely, but clear cut path to his heart.

He was going to miss her when she was gone.

It hit him then how different the house was going to be tomorrow after she left...after she went back to her own home. His gut clenched at the thought, rebelled against the notion of her calling anywhere else home since his only concept of the word for the past few weeks had existed around her.

Because of her.

And now he didn’t want to give that up, didn’t want her to go back to a home that he wasn’t in, didn’t want to think about the other inevitable reality he knew he’d have to face a few weeks after that.

The end of their month together.

Somewhere between his bedroom door and his closet, he was struck with the inane thought that there were thirty-one days in August.

One extra day in the month.

It stood to reason that his arrangement with Abby could be a thirty-one day month instead of thirty…never mind the fact that in the past few one-monthers he’d had, he’d been paring it down to four square weeks.

The lawyer in him told him it was a completely asinine argument to make, but some other unnamed voice inside him said it was genius, and that they were to present the discovery to her as soon as possible.

Because what it all boiled down to was the one thing he’d risk making a stupid argument for.

Another day with Abby.

“Okay, it’s ready!”

Blinking himself back to the present, he quickly changed out of his suit and headed back down to rejoin Abby. Halfway there, however, he got sidetracked by a little piece of paper sticking out from her bag on the couch.

The first bolded sentence of the email printout caught his attention before he could stop himself. Then the second sentence had him outright invading her privacy.

He smiled, picked up the paper and brought it with him into the dining room.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, coming up behind her and slipping his arms around her waist for a warm hug.

“About what?”

“About getting an article accepted for publication.”

She spun around and snatched the printout from his hand.

Even though she was remaining impassive, he could see her eyes practically dancing the conga.

“I was going to tell you tomorrow. Since it’s not exactly on par with a $7.3 billion dollar deal and all.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Where’s the woman who reamed my ass for downplaying her accomplishments just the other week?” he asked sternly. “You getting an article published in a journal is a very, very big deal. Completely on par with my news.”

Her lips curved up at the corners.

“So we should celebrate,” he suggested, nuzzling the side of her neck.

“We already are.”

“But this is your gift to me. I want to give you something you want. So tell me. How can we celebrate your amazing news? Name it and it’s yours.”

She gnawed on her lower lip and then asked shyly, “Before or after dinner?” The way she was now rubbing her sweet backside against him was a pretty good indication of which she’d prefer.

He grew hard in an instant. “Before.” Wow, he sounded almost primitive just then.

“Okay.” She pushed him down into one of the dining chairs. “We’ll do my celebration first and then we can have yours.” Tugging on his button fly, she teased, “I hope you’re not too hungry…because what I want isn’t going to be all that quick.”

That’s what she thinks. With her curious hands all over him, he was ready to go off like a rocket ship at T-minus counting.

But then she moved those hands off his jeans, and placed them on top of his. At his questioning look, she smiled. “Keep your hands on the sides of the chair.”

She couldn’t be serious.

“I’m serious.”

Damn.

“No touching.” She slid up his shirt and trailed tiny tortuous kisses across his chest…down his stomach…

Jesus.

Eyes half-lidded with lust, she murmured softly, “What I want for my celebration is to have full reign over your body…starting here.”

Holy hell.

Her hot little mouth was going to have him ‘celebrating’ in about thirty seconds if he didn’t get some control, fast. He steeled himself, gripped the edges of the cushion until his knuckles were strained white, almost painful.

But any marginal progress he’d made by that move was undone, however, when she kneaded her hands up his thighs and then along the base of his shaft, gripping him tight as she slid him deeper into her mouth.

His hips lifted sharply off the chair. Just once. He couldn’t help it. She was driving him crazy. Crazier still when she purred in pleasure at the hard, quick thrust.

He let out a tortured groan, a wordless warning to her that he’d come soon if she didn’t slow down or—heaven forbid—stop.

Another thrust, another purr and she was locking her eyes on his, holding his gaze as she slowly, slowly took him all the way to the back of her throat.

Fireworks exploded behind his eyelids.

He forgot all about her rule then and reached out to spear his hands through her hair, gently pulling her to her feet so he could pick her up and push her up against the wall.

His mouth crashed onto hers as he yanked a condom out of the pocket of his jeans and got it on in record time.

Pulling aside her panties, he poised himself at her entrance.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart. Let me see you.”

When she did, he plunged into her heat.

Nothing, absolutely nothing had ever felt so good, so perfect. So his.

For eighteen more days.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“WHY DON’T YOU STAY? The construction guys are still going to be coming in and out of your cottage, finishing up. It’ll be hell on your concentration,” reasoned Connor as he kept an unyielding hold on her last fully packed suitcase.

And for the umpteenth time that morning, Abby almost gave in.

But she didn’t.

Because the truth of the matter was that she wouldn’t be able to bear it when he carried her luggage into the guestroom instead of his own room.

Her firm headshake wasn’t enough to dissuade him, however. “C’mon, you have way more room here to spread out your research. Plus, you have a gourmet kitchen to help you tour the world in style, not to mention a very efficient dishwasher that’ll work for kisses and heavy petting.”

Abby chuckled and pasted an overbright smile on her face. “Tempting, but it’ll be better for me to be back home before school starts.”

It wasn’t lost on her that the word ‘home’ tasted weird and chalky in her mouth now...all because she and Connor would no longer be using the word to refer to the same place.

Yeah, it was definitely time for her to go.

She hugged him tightly. “I had such a great time, Connor. Thank you so much for letting me stay here.”

Why did that feel like goodbye?

He held onto her hand. “Have dinner with me tonight?”

She couldn’t. She couldn’t keep playing house with him. Couldn’t keep finding new and better reasons to fall for him even more, to lose even more of her heart to him. She had to be strong. Protect herself.

“Can we do it tomorrow night instead?”

Oh yeah, real strong, Abby.

His hand tightened around hers for a bit, and then slowly let go. “Of course. Tomorrow night it is.”

Remember, you can’t keep him. You have to give him up in two weeks. At least that reminder had the desired effect. Steeling herself, she asked casually, “Did you want to go out for a change?”

It was a simple question and yet it was taking all she had to keep the tears from showing.

He stared at her silently for a moment before nodding. “Why don’t we go to Le Mille Feuille?”

One of the most expensive restaurants in the area.

Her heart couldn’t take much more. “Sounds great. I’ll call you so we can plan a time.” She quickly took her last suitcase from him and shoved it in her ‘SUV’—even she was using the quotation marks now. She slammed the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow.”

* * * * *

ABBY FELT HER breathing go haywire when she heard the doorbell ring.

Aside from the one brief phone call they’d had to confirm what time he’d be picking her up tonight, they hadn’t spoken at all since she’d moved back to her cottage.

Twenty-four hours.

She’d spent nearly that entire time at the library—reading, writing, arranging her books by cover color instead of topic. Anything in her power not to think about Connor.

Now here he was.

And all the work she’d put into walling up her heart was soon going to be tested.

“Hi, Connor.”

Talk about failing with flying colors.

She was right back where she started weeks ago, losing herself in his intense blue gaze.

“You look gorgeous, Abby.”

“Thanks. So do you.” It occurred to her that in all their time together, they hadn’t once gone out on a date.

Now she saw why.

They stood there awkwardly for a moment before he reached out and dragged her into his arms. “God, I’ve missed you.”

The last bit of her ineffectual wall came crumbling down. “I’m sorry I moved our dinner to tonight,” she blurted out then as she slid her arms around his waist.

He leaned back and brushed a thumb against her cheekbone. “Feeling bad about that are we?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” His lips came down on hers swiftly. The kiss was frantic, hungry. Just this side of angry.

By the time he pulled back, the room was spinning. “Don’t ever shut me out like that again, Abby. Not unless you mean it.”

No. She wouldn’t push him away anymore. Couldn’t. “Do you want to cancel our dinner reservations and eat here instead?” she asked softly, hopefully.

He slid his hand through her hair. “Actually, I’m kind of looking forward to having a night out with you.”

“But—”

“Let’s go out tonight, Abby. Let me prove to you that we can do this.”

How was it that he knew exactly what she was worried about? “You sound so sure.”

“I am.” He put his arm around her and tugged her over to the driveway.

To his beautiful powder black car.

With the bench seats she loved so much.

She smiled up at him. “Is your Lexus in the shop?”

He grinned back. “Nope. I told you, I’m going to prove to you that we can do this. You and I can be together and be ourselves out there in the big bad world.”

“So you’re going to a fancy establishment where you’ll likely run into clients and colleagues?” With me. “In an old muscle car. Just to prove a point?”

“Abby, I’d pull up riding on the handlebars of Skylar’s pink bicycle...hell, I’d drive up in your car to prove this particular point.”

She burst out laughing.

“You don’t believe me?” He reached for her purse. “Hand over the keys.”

“No!” She giggled and ran the rest of the way to his car. “We can’t go to a five-star restaurant in my car!”

Connor pinned her against the passenger door, capturing her lips in a deep, soul-searing kiss.

It wasn’t until about five seconds after the kiss ended that she realized he’d gone and pickpocketed her purse.

A half hour later, Abby was still whacking him on the arm.

“That valet kid thought we were punking him.” Another whack. “I swear, he kept looking around like a bunch of TV cameras were going to come rushing out.”

“I know.” He chuckled. “Did you see his expression when I slipped him a twenty and told him to make sure to park it somewhere safe?”

“Stop.” Whack. “Making fun of.” Whack. “My car!”

“Yes, this is far less embarrassing. Quick, sucker punch me in the gut. I think I see a lawyer from a competing law firm I’m facing in court on Monday.”

She instantly dropped her hands back to her sides. “This isn’t over,” she hissed.

“Oh, I know. And I’m counting the minutes till we get home to see just what you’ll do next.”

Home.

She had no idea whose home he was referring to, but at least they’d be there together.

As the maître de led them to a corner table with a stunning view of the city, Abby couldn’t help but sigh with pleasure. Not because they were in the most elegant restaurant she could ever imagine.

But because she was starting to believe.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For proving your point.”

Connor smiled back. “I think I’d much prefer a ‘you were right.’”

She flicked open her menu. “I’ll keep that in mind if one day you ever are.”

His soft, tickled laughter died a quick death when a slick as silk voice rang out from the next table over.

“Why look Lynn, it’s Connor.”

They both turned to watch a tall, distinguished looking man stand up and come over with his ‘date’—Abby would’ve guessed daughter at first but seeing his hand on the woman/girl’s ass quickly dispelled that theory.

“Connor, did you get that paperwork I left on your desk today?”

So, a colleague, then. One that, from the looks of it, Connor didn’t like very much.

“Yes, I did. I’ll look over it in the morning,” he answered brusquely, his eyes as hard and cold as she’d ever seen them.

The stranger didn’t budge. “Well? Aren’t you going to introduce me to your beautiful date, Connor?”

Abby watched a muscle tick in Connor’s cheek as his entire posture turned rigid with anger.

Alarmed, and thoroughly lost, she stuck her hand out to the man to try and defuse the situation. “I’m Abby. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m delighted to meet you, Abby. I’m Marcus, and this is Lynn my personal assistant.”

Riiight.

“So, are you two here on a date?” inquired Marcus.

Abby could see why Connor didn’t like him.

Connor’s glare went from angry to furious.

“What?” asked Marcus innocently. “Can’t I be just a little curious about my son’s love life?”

Son. The rude man was Connor’s father.

“Lynn,” Connor shot a withering glance at the woman fidgeting beside Marcus, “I hope you remembered to order my mother’s anniversary flowers. You know how hard it is to get those lilies that she loves so much.”

Lynn blanched and mumbled, “No, I forgot.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow in a silent touché, before conceding, “Fine, keep your secrets, Connor. I guess I’ll just have to get to know Abby better on my own.” He turned to face her. “Perhaps at this weekend’s charity ball?”

Abby froze, and did her best to keep her smile plastered to her face.

“That’s enough!” barked Connor.

“People are starting to stare, Marcus,” whispered Lynn.

Marcus gave Connor a triumphant look and then took a step back. “Well, I see the two lovebirds just want to be alone. Have a good evening. Sorry to have interrupted your date.”

Abby kept her eyes glued to the menu until he was gone. Really? Did he have to put such a scornful emphasis on the word ‘date?’

“I’m sorry you got sucked into that.” Connor’s voice was literally vibrating with rage.

She dropped her menu. Connor shouldn’t be apologizing for his socially corrupt father. “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for.”

He covered her hands with his. “That charity ball he mentioned—”

Oh. Well, there was that. “You don’t need to explain.”

“It’s just an annual gala we all go to because the firm is one of the main sponsors. I forgot about it completely. Usually, I just take Victoria to these sort of things but if you want to go, I’d love to take you.” He turned a shade uncomfortable. “It’s a black tie affair. I, uh, could take you shopping for a gown. And I’d buy it for you, of course, since you’re doing me the honor of being my date.”

A little part of her died on the inside at the offer…and then rose from the dead out of sheer annoyance when she saw Marcus watching them with that same aggravating smile.

This was a vicious, vicious world Connor lived in. Surviving here took a whole skillset she lacked entirely.

“What night is this ball?”

“Saturday.”

“I actually have plans for that night,” she lied, giving him a wan smile. “So I guess I won’t get to have my Pretty Woman shopping moment with you.”

His hand closed tighter around hers. “I’ll stay home if you want.”

She shook her head vigorously. “No, don’t do that. You should go have a good time.” Wanting desperately to get some air, she stood up abruptly and looked around for a restroom.

He caught her by the elbow. “Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to say. I just can’t go. But I really, truly want you to have fun. Charities are important.” She patted his arm reassuringly. “And despite her kissing you and offering you a member massage in front of me, Victoria does seem kind of nice.”

“You’re not upset?”

“No,” she replied with complete honesty. “Just uncomfortable. Give me a few minutes to collect myself and I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll give you five.” He gazed at her worriedly. “If you’re not back by then, I’m coming after you and we’ll leave. We can go to that little Chinese restaurant you love so much.” A genuine smile lit his face then.

Alright, now she was upset. But not at him. At his world. At his father. At everything that kept Connor tethered to the toxic things that were poisoning his life.

She rushed off to the restroom, knowing Connor would make good on his offer to whisk her out of there if she showed him even a hint of the anger she was feeling. But she didn’t want to give his father the satisfaction. Even now, from where he sat across the room, Marcus Sullivan was visibly laughing at her discomfort in the most mocking, condescending way possible.

How a man like that managed to father two of the best men she’d ever known was a complete paradox.

Pulling open the ornate door to what was the most extravagant restroom she’d ever seen, Abby flipped on the water at the marble sink and stuck her wrists under the cold stream. Slowly, eventually, she felt some of her tension wash down the drain. She could do this. She wasn’t going to let Marcus win. She was going to go out there with her head high and have a great night.

And if she accidentally keyed his car enroute to her own, oh well.

She smiled wryly at her reflection, knowing she’d never in a million years ever do anything like that.

“You’re way too nice,” she accused her reflection.

Before her reflection had a chance to reply, the sound of small commotion outside had her scrambling to the door. Had her five minutes lapsed already?

“HEY!” she yelled, when she opened the door and saw that the racket out in the hall had nothing to do Connor at all, but rather, a very large man shoving around a very small woman.

The second she saw the man start to rear back his arm, Abby set off on a dead sprint.

“Leave her alone!” She rammed herself right into the man’s side, effectively budging him about two inches. He was a big man.

“What the hell?” The man swayed on his feet and glared at Abby. “Who the hell are you?”

She ignored him but kept one eye trained his way as she checked on the woman—good lord, she was tiny. The man could’ve snapped her like a twig. “Are you okay?”

The woman spewed out a long hysterical sentence.

In a foreign language.

Okay, that helped Abby not at all.

Sausage like fingers clamped onto her arm. “Hey, nosy bitch.” He spun her around like a top and Abby went flying against the wall. “Mind your own f—”

The loud crack of a fist connecting with his face stopped that f-bomb from landing.

Connor.

The man went down. But Connor wasn’t done. He laid in two more punches before Abby realized he was planning on beating the man to a pulp.

“Connor! Stop!”

He didn’t. And then all hell broke loose.

Two managerial types and a security guard came charging past to yank Connor off the man. Marcus swept in soon after spouting some legal jargon to a stricken restaurant employee while his ‘personal assistant’ started anxiously talking on two cell phones at the same time.

Nearby, the tiny woman was still screeching something in her own language and throwing her sleek stiletto heels at the sausage-fingered asshole, who’d begun puking all over his designer suit. And throughout it all, Abby saw that half the patrons in the dining area were still eating and carrying on like it was beneath them to even bother to look their way.

Abby shook her head. She so did not belong in this world.