Tamed by You (11 page)

"If you hooked up with Ethan, you'd accomplish both your goals. You'll have a match for a hard case. Mom will be thrilled, because you'll finally have a boyfriend, and she'll go home, her heart happy again. Then you'll get to have freaky sex with a hottie."

"What is it with you and Mom and the deviant sex?" She paused. "How do you know it'll be freaky?"

"Instinct. You want it to be freaky, don't you?" her sister asked smugly.

"What about the 'no fraternization' rules? Mom freaked out about it. I thought her heart was going to explode right then and there."

"If you're someone's perfect match, how can Mom argue with it?"

Gasping, Valentine sat up and put her feet solidly on the floor. "I'll use the app!"

"Uh, that's not what I meant. I don't think that's a good idea, V."

"Actually, it's brilliant. I'll run Ethan against my profile and show Mom the results."

"You need to show Mom the app separate from this. They're two different battles. You don't want to mix them up. She's not going to accept the app as readily as you think."

"I don't understand why not. Showing her that it matches me and Ethan will be proof that it works. If Ethan is
really
my match, she won't enforce Grandma's rule, right?"

There was silence on the other end. Isabella's doubt was palpable.

"Trust me," Valentine said, feeling sure for the first time in days. "It'll work out."

"Not the way you think it will," her sister said. "I have to go. If you're smart, you'll just tell her you think Ethan is your match and leave it at that."

"Okay," she agreed without conviction, because she could imagine her mother's surprised and delighted expression when she showed her the app.

Isabella sighed. "Fine, don't listen to me. It's your funeral, and Mom's. I have to go. Jaden found a pair of scissors."

"Go. Love you."

"Love you, too. When you get it on with Ethan, I want to hear every detail."

Flushing, Valentine hung up imagining her and Ethan getting it on on the uncomfortable couch in her office.

"You look pleased with yourself," a masculine voice said over her shoulder.

Ethan
. She whirled around to find him standing directly behind her, watching her with his predatory gaze. Except his hair was shorter from the haircut she'd made him get. He looked sexy still, just more tamed. She pursed his lips. She preferred him wild.

He arched his brow. "What have you been up to? Busy helping other people discover their true love for each other?"

"Not yet, but I'm close."

"Based on the fact that you haven't called me in several days, I'm suspecting it's not me."

He looked disappointed, she realized with a start. She touched her pearls in surprise. "I meant to call you."

"But you lost my number even though I left it in my messages?"

"No, I was confused." She looked around the cafe. "Can we go somewhere and talk? Somewhere private?"

He looked like he was going to say no, but he finally nodded. Without a word, he turned around.

She guessed she was supposed to follow. She took a last fortifying sip of her latte and hurried after him, out the front door and to the next doorway to the left.

"My apartment," he explained as he punched in a code.

"You're taking me into the lair." She whistled. "My friend Marley would tell me I'd need to take a weapon with me."

Frowning over his shoulder, obviously outraged, he said, "I'd never hurt a girl."

She patted his arm. "I know you're all bark and no bite."

He grumbled under his breath and pushed the door open. Happy for the first time in days, she stepped inside and waited for him to lead her upstairs.

When she walked into his apartment, she stopped in the entrance and gawked.

"Not what you expected?" He dropped his keys into a shallow bowl on a table.

"Not at all." She looked around. It was nothing like any of the bachelor pads she'd ever seen. "This is, um, soft."

"And I'm not soft?"

Soft
was never an adjective she thought of in conjunction with him. "It's not the first word that I'd think to use."

"No man would find fault with that." He walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. "I rented this apartment from the woman who owns the cafe below."

"Eve."

"Right." He pulled out a large Pellegrino and two glasses from a cupboard. "It came completely furnished."

She took the glass he held out to her. "The walls are pink."

"No, they're
cream puff
."

"I've never seen a pink cream puff," she said as she followed him into the living room.

"I hadn't either, until I moved in here." He gestured to the couch. "You won't get more private than this."

She plopped gracelessly on the couch. Now that she was here, she wasn't sure what to say.
Hi, I'd like to get it on like bunnies?
She lifted her glass to her lips before she realized there wasn't anything in it.

Ethan held out the sparkling water. "I've never seen you so nervous."

"It's because I'm in uncharted territory." She took a gulp of the fizzy water before setting it down on the coffee table in front of her.

Just as she was going to tell him she wanted him to give her sexual pleasure, she spotted a notepad with designs and chemical compounds scribbled on it. She picked it up.

He took it from her instantly. "That's nothing you'd be interested in."

"Sure it is." She tried to grab his arm to pull the notebook closer again. "That looks like a schema or something."

"Nothing interesting," he said as he tucked it behind a cushion.

"Are you inventing something?" She stared at the spot where he hid it.

"It's not interesting, Valentine."

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

He paused and gave her an all-over look that left her breathless.

"Not like that." She had to look down to make sure her clothes hadn't been singed off her body. "My app. Although I already told you about it, so you owe me."

"I don't owe you anything."

She stared at him. He was in his stubborn mode. He'd never show her what the schema was for, and she really wanted to know. So she lunged for the cushion.

He grabbed her the instant she moved, clasping her in his arms.

She struggled to get free for a few seconds before she shook her head and faced him. Why was she bothering? He wasn't even trying to hold her and he had her pinned. "How did you catch me so quickly?"

"You gave it away," he said, his voice low and raspy as his hands caressed her arms.

She glanced at his mouth. "How did I give it away?"

"Your eyes." He touched her cheek, just above the bone. "They telegraph everything you're thinking."

She swallowed thickly. Her thoughts right now, draped on his lap, were very private. "I hope that's not true."

He lifted a hand to cup her head. "Want me to prove I know what you're thinking?"

Before she could reply, he tipped her toward him and brought her lips close to his without touching. "Am I close?" he asked softly.

He was dead on. "Tell me about your notebook," she whispered back.

He caressed the corner of her mouth with his tongue. "I could make you forget about that if I kissed you."

"Yes." She wrapped her arms around his neck and cuddled close to him. "How about if we make a deal?"

"What sort of deal?"

"We kiss, and then sometime later you tell me about your notebook."

He gazed at her like he was trying to read inside her head. "You really want to know?"

"Yes."

He studied her silently. Then he said, "I get to kiss you for as long as I want."

A shiver went up her spine, and her womanly bits began to tingle in anticipation. "You drive a hard bargain."

"Sunshine, you haven't seen hard yet." He took her lips like he was parched and she was an oasis.

The world tilted. The last time he'd kissed her she'd felt cherished and protected. This time she felt devoured. Dizzy with the sensation, she speared her hand into what was left of his hair and held on.

One of his hands stole under her jacket, tugging her silk top out of the waistband of her skirt. His fingers skimmed her skin, testing, before sliding up her ribcage and anchoring her to him.

She moaned, wanting his hands all over. Unable to wait, she straddled him and yanked his T-shirt to feel him up.

"Valentine." He groaned her name, and it sent ripples of desire through her. He kissed her again and then nuzzled her neck. "How long will you let me kiss you?"

Forever. She cried out as his teeth scraped the sensitive spot at the base of her jaw. "Do you want to stop?"

"Hell no." His hands went to her hair. He worked at the pins until her hair tumbled. He fanned it all out. "Better."

She
kissed
him
this time. She wanted him to feel as desired as he made her feel. "I have to go," she said as she savored his lips.

"No you don't."

"I really do." She reluctantly untangled herself from him and pulled herself together. "I just needed to be sure before I spoke to my mom."

"Be sure about what?"

To answer his question, she held his face and kissed him again. Her app was right—ninety-three percent at the very least. Sighing against his mouth, she nodded. "Yep."

He watched her silently as she repinned her hair. She felt it, frowning. "Does it look okay?"

"No."

She paused as she tucked her top back into her skirt. "What?"

He stood up and lifted her chin. "It looks amazing."

He kissed her to prove it, and she melted against him.

He set her back. "Go to your mother. Maybe you'll come over again."

"Will you show me your notebook?"

"If that's what it'll take."

She shook her head, braced a hand on his shoulder, and brought his lips to hers. "I'd come back for you. I just want to know everything about you."

"To find me a better match?" he asked seriously.

She wasn't finding him anyone who wasn't in this room. "I need to talk to you about that. There's a change of plans."

"Does it involve more kissing?"

"And maybe more than that."

He touched her cheek. "Tomorrow? Here? Dinner?"

"Yes." She smiled at him, feeling buoyantly happy. She hugged him tight and then left before she got distracted and ended up staying.

Chapter Twelve

Sophie lay on Julie's counter, watching the florist whip up an enormous arrangement all in white. It looked funerary to her, but what did she know about flowers?

Honestly, she couldn’t care less about funerals, flowers, or even deadlines, which Julie had barked that she was under. She just wanted her friend to talk to. "I know you're giving me the silent treatment, but it won't work."

Julie didn't even blink, but she did shove another stalk into the bouquet with so much force that it snapped. Cursing under her breath, she grabbed another and shoved it in with more care.

"I heard your language," Sophie said. "You have a surprising potty mouth for someone who still dresses like a kid."

Her friend slammed a set of scissors on the worktable. "Why me?"

Sophie shrugged. "Because I like you. Because you like me. Because we have more in common than you'd think, but it's certainly not grooming, because I'd never do that to my hair."

Julie touched her ponytail. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing." It was so her and, therefore, it was perfect. Sophie pulled out two bottles of water from the refrigerator and handed one to Julie. "Drink."

"What is it with you and water?" But she took the bottle, savagely twisted the cap off, and guzzled half of it. "So what's your problem?"

"Pal Greenland hasn't called me
to say whether I got the part or not.
"

"So call him."

She had, but his assistant had just brushed her off. "That's not my biggest problem right now."

"I know, because I'm about to call
People
and tell them you're hiding out in my store."

"You talk a big game, but I know you'd never do that." Affection filled her heart, and she almost got up to hug Julie. "One day I'm going to take you out to be made over."

"Don't threaten me." Julie pulled a bucket out from under the table and sat down with a groan. "Okay, I'm paying attention. Tell me what's really bothering you."

She was going to deny that she had any problem other than Pal, but before she could stop herself, she said, "It's Tony."

"I knew it." Julie grinned crookedly. "What did he do this time? Ooze hotness in your general direction?"

"He made me dinner last night." Well, he'd ordered Thai food to be delivered, but that was as good as slaving over a hot stove in her estimation.

"Really?" Her friend's eyebrows shot up. "Willingly?"

"No, at gunpoint. Of course, willingly." She pursed her lips. "I've never had to force a man to spend time with me."

"So maybe this is a good thing." At her incredulous look, Julie shrugged. "You'll value him more if he makes you work for it."

That was the thing—she already valued him so much more than she had any other man. She just wasn't sure how she felt about her.

It was driving her crazy.

But it wasn't as infuriating as the crush she felt for him. She was Sophie Martineau. The world revered her, and here she was mooning over a man. She felt like Sarah Martin again, wanting the most popular boy, even though he was so much better than her.

She shook her head. "I don't want him. He's no good."

Julie rolled her eyes. "Why is he no good?"

"Because he's a pompous ass. He's cocky as hell."

"Which means he's confident. Would you rather have a guy who was insecure?"

Jeremy had been marginally insecure, always needing reassurance about his performances. There'd been nothing attractive about that. "He also has awful taste. You should come by the house and see it. Picture something designed for Julius Caesar, minus good taste."