His Four Poster Bed (Bedroom Secrets Series Book 2)

Table of Contents

Title Page

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

One Year Later

What Now?

Sneak Peek - His Three Piece Suit

About the Author

Copyright

It was New Year’s Eve and I wished I could trade in my party dress for a pair of comfy pajamas and a big glass of wine. Instead, I was dressed to the nines wearing a floor length black gown and silver slippers that would have made any other girl feel like Cinderella.

“Act like you’re having fun Odessa and you might enjoy one of these eligible bachelors,” my best friend, Shea leaned in and whispered in my ear as we weaved through a sea of tuxedos and ball gowns at the Silver City Fundraiser. The event raised a ridiculous amount of money for Children’s Hospital in Seattle where I worked. Unfortunately, so did my ex-boyfriend, Dr. Mike. He was another reason I wanted to stay home.

Shea glittered. Her strawberry blonde hair piled on top of her head, she wore an adorable silver sequined dress and hot red pumps. With lips painted to match her shoes, she looked gorgeous.

Heads turned as we walked through the crowd.

In the center of the ballroom a five-piece band rocked the room from a raised stage. Skinny young men in black tuxedos with their hair slicked back, lots of brass, people dancing and swaying in rhythm with the music as the lead singer crooned out an old Sinatra tune.

It was all very classy, very dignified until a fight broke out on stage.

I saw the first punch.

An extremely hot guy in a tuxedo shouted and popped a short bald man right in the jaw knocking him onto the floor.

Part of the crowd gasped but it happened so quickly I doubted many people had noticed. Then the hot guy stepped right into the spotlight massaging his hand and swinging a bit to the music as a wicked grin crossed his gorgeous face.

I could not tear my eyes away. Tall and wild eyed with closely cropped black hair, the man looked skyward and I noticed the line of a tattoo reaching above the crisp white collar of his shirt. In a flash I found myself wondering what it would be like to run my fingers down the swirl of that tattoo . . .

The singer stuttered on-stage as if he had momentarily forgotten the words to the song, but then the music kicked in again and everything returned to normal, well almost normal.

A swarm of suits surrounded the tuxedo clad perpetrator. He raised his hands in surrender turning in a slow circle still swinging in time with the music. I noticed nobody touched him as he backed off the stage and disappeared into the crowd.

It was the most interesting thing that happened at this totally appropriate and boring fundraiser and it was over in a minute.

“Did you see that?” I nudged Shea searching for the handsome instigator. He had disappeared into a sea of black and white. In spite of my better judgment, I was extremely disappointed.

“See what?”

“Never mind,” I said,

Shea slipped a sky blue cocktail into my hand. “So Sven, that cutie bartender, calls it a sapphire blue,” she said, eyebrows dancing. The guy behind the bar looked a bit like a Norse God, flowing long blonde hair and broad shouldered.

We clinked glasses and I took a sip of the sweet blue drink. “Let’s toast the perfect midnight kiss,” Shea said smiling.

“Let’s not,” I smiled. “These lips aren’t touching anyone tonight, but I’ll toast to you.” I needed to remind myself that I’d just gotten out of a relationship, searching for or kissing gorgeous troublemakers was not a part of my New Year’s plan.

Soon Shea and Sven were engrossed in conversation. From the way he smiled at her, I figured she had found her dance partner for the night. This was my cue to disappear.

“I’m going to go check out the silent auction,” I said, deciding that three was a crowd.

“No, stay,” she turned and whispered. “Sven wants to introduce you to his friend Tordall. He is off in about fifteen minutes.”

I laughed. “Tell Sven and Tordall to have a happy New Year. I’ll be fine. I’ll meet you in the lobby at midnight.”

“You sure?” She looked a little pained but her eyes darted back to her blonde Viking.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” I said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I intend to do many things you wouldn’t do,” she laughed. “Please try to have fun.”

I made my way across the dance floor. According to the oversized clock above the band, I officially had one hour to kill before I could turn into a pumpkin.

The silent auction was mercifully quiet. The bidding closed soon and most people were in line at the buffet or dancing by now. I browsed past mini posters describing ski vacations, winery tours, and cruise ships to Alaska, the Caribbean, and Mexico. Finally, I reached the last table filled with artwork ranging from quilting projects to oil paintings.

One display caught my eye. Under a single spotlight on a velvet black pillar stood a collection of three golden bird cages each containing a unique sculpture of a bird. There was a silver canary with painted yellow wings and glittering eyes. A bejeweled parrot that looked as if it was about to take flight and a shimmering silver white dove.

“Beauty Caged” by Theo Manhattan (Donated by M. Amador)

The starting bid was $5,000.

Pricey, I thought, recognizing the donor name. The Amador family sponsored the Silver City event and a lot of other philanthropic events in the city. I was pretty sure they owned this hotel and half the waterfront downtown.

“Aren’t they gorgeous?” a voice beside me interrupted my thoughts. “Though it seems wrong to cage such beauty.”

A tall good looking man stood beside me wearing a custom made tuxedo that hugged his body in all the right places. He raised his eyebrows and smiled at me, eyes crinkling in the corners. My legs went weak. I took a breath realizing I was staring into the deep brown eyes of the man who had thrown the first punch.

“Do you like art?” he asked, taking a sip of his cocktail.

“Uh yes,” I said, struggling for words. “Do you like fighting in public?”

He pursed his lips and nodded to me. “You saw my little show.”

“Is that what you call it?” I asked managing to turn away from his gaze. This man’s body screamed sex, I felt my cheeks flush wondering what it would be like to lock lips with him at midnight.

“I call it a disagreement,” he shrugged.

“You punched a man.”

“No, first I told him to mind his own fucking business and then I punched him,” he winked. “I’m Marco.” He held out his hand and I stared at it, uncertain if I wanted to make contact. He dropped his hand when I didn’t shake it. “I have a confession,” he said. Unfazed he picked up the bid sheet and scrawled something on the paper. “I’ve been watching you tonight.”

“You’ve been watching me,” I repeated, his words flattering and alarming me all at the same time. “That’s a bit creepy.”

“Too creepy?” he said, smiling an adorable, sexy smile. “Or just a tiny bit flattering?”

“Maybe a smidge,” I said, a smile escaping me. Damn. It was hard to stay cold next to the heat of his body.

“May I offer you another cocktail?”

“Do I look like a woman you can ply with a simple cocktail?”

“Absolutely not,” he said, his brown eyes glittering with mischief. “You look infinitely more difficult.”

A white-coated waiter walked by and the man tapped him on the shoulder. “Thank you John, I’ll take this,” the man said. He took the waiter’s whole tray.

The waiter looked a bit flustered, eyes darting from the man to me. “Yes, sir, thank you sir, of course,” he said, disappearing into the sea of people.

“Who are you?” I asked, watching the waiter walk away.

“Marco,” he said, shrugging and handing me a cocktail before setting the tray beside the birdcages.

“Marco who?” I asked, wheels turning in my mind. He looked familiar but I assumed that was because he’d been on stage. Even so, I felt as though I knew him somehow.

“My name is Marco Amador,” he said the last name slowly. “I thought you knew.”

My stomach dropped. I knew the Amador family was the host of the night’s event, but I’d never met the hot-headed heir to the family fortune. I’d heard some whispers about the family since they were one of the hospital’s biggest donors. The fact Marco looked like a movie star was something the rumor mill had failed to share. I had always imagined a sullen, skinny young man hiding from the press, and here was this beautiful specimen that made me want to chuck my New Year’s resolution and do more than kiss at midnight.

“You are Marco Amador,” I repeated, gesturing to the room. “Why are you punching people at your own party?”

“It’s my father’s party,” he said, looking sheepish. The expression did not suit him entirely. “And the guy had it coming, he’s an asshole and needed to understand that I don’t take orders from anyone.”

“I see,” I said.

“That sounded rather dramatic didn’t it,” he said.

This man had a strength that made it hard for me to focus. In spite of my better efforts, I found my eyes continually drifting to the cut of his jacket, the way his biceps strained his suit in just the right places. I was suddenly grateful that Shea had talked me into wearing my favorite black dress. It was floor length with a plunging neckline that revealed my cleavage. I wore one of my mother’s necklaces, a long pendant my father had given her long ago before their split. The chain glittered between my breasts and I noticed how Marco’s eyes drifted to my skin.

“The truth is, I hate parties,” he said.

“You don’t like the crowds?”

“I don’t like meaningless conversation.”

“Well, this is a rather meaningless conversation.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he said, his brown eyes locking on mine.

My heart pounded. I felt as though we were dancing some verbal tango. Each phrase pulling me one step closer to this gorgeous man. I tried to remind myself that I was not here to meet anyone, to make out with anyone, to fall into bed with anyone.