Wicked & Willing: Bad Girls (12 page)

“Beautiful,” Mrs. Harris said with an approving nod. “Absolutely the perfect color on you.”

“I do love emerald,” she admitted, wondering how Troy had known her exact favorite shade of green.

“Of course, with your eyes, you would,” the housekeeper replied. “Just like Miss Violet.”

Venus raised a confused brow. “Who?”

“Mrs. Longotti.”

“Her first name…was Violet?”

“Yes, didn’t you know?”

No, she hadn’t known. Max had never said anything. Then again, he’d been going out of his way to avoid talking about his son, or their possible relationship. So, of course, he hadn’t talked about his wife either. “She died a long time ago?”

The woman nodded. “Yes, very long ago.”

Venus sat on the edge of her bed. “She had green eyes?”

Mrs. Harris’s expression conveyed her fondness for the woman. “Exactly the same shade as yours. And Max Jr.’s.”

Max Jr. The reason she was here.

Somehow, in the excitement of getting to know Max, and, of course, of becoming involved with Troy, she’d nearly forgotten why she’d come to Atlanta. Since Leo hadn’t been around for the past couple of days to remind her, she’d almost been able to convince herself this was simply a vacation. She hadn’t sat down to think about
what she was doing here—to determine if Max Longotti really could be her grandfather.

Somehow, though, as she considered the idea right now, in this home where she’d been so warmly welcomed and where she’d met two men who had become special to her, she couldn’t say she minded the idea as much. That didn’t mean she completely believed it. For the first time, however, she was willing to concede it might not be so awful. Yes, finding out it was true would mean giving up on her dream of someday finding her real father. But it would also mean that Max really was her family.

She honestly couldn’t say she preferred to hold on to a phantom father when it was possible she might have a very alive, very real, very lovable grandfather. Venus swallowed hard. “Thank you for offering, Mrs. Harris, but I think I’m covered.”

The woman began to walk out of the room, but paused to glance over her shoulder. “Would you like me to do your hair for you, Ms. Messina? I used to do Miss Violet’s, and I believe I can still remember a few tricks.”

Venus couldn’t remember the last time anyone had done her hair for her. Other than color jobs or cuts, it had been ages since she’d sat still while someone brushed and curled and put her hair up. She nibbled her lip. “To be honest, I’m pathetic when it comes to anything except a basic braid or big, puffy curls. I’d love to put it up and do something fancy with it.”

The broad smile on the other woman’s face told Venus she hadn’t been offering just to be polite. She really wanted to do this. She stared at Venus’s head, lifting a long strand of hair, and nodding her head. “Yes, up in the back, with long tendrils beside your face. Perfect with the neckline of that dress.”

“I should warn you, use a ton of spray on it,” she said as Mrs. Harris led her to the vanity table. “This southern humidity has been killing me and it’ll probably all be flat in no time.”

“Oh, you’ll get used to it,” Mrs. Harris replied as she began going through Venus’s hair supplies. “The best thing to do for the heat is to go for a late-night dip in the pool.”

Venus felt a blush rising in her cheeks, but saw no secret meaning in the other woman’s expression. “I’ll have to do that.”

If all her swims were as fabulous as the one the night before, she had a feeling she’d be doing a lot of swimming.

Over the next couple of hours, they joked and gossiped. As carefully as she could, Venus tried to draw the woman out about Max’s family. His wife. His son. The kind of life they’d shared. The kind of man Max Jr. had been.

Apparently, quite a wonderful one.

Hearing stories about Max Jr.’s childhood—the way he could set anyone at ease, make even the most reserved person laugh—she very much wished she’d had a chance to get to know him.

Venus found herself enjoying the housekeeper’s company. Mrs. Harris might have claimed not to have much experience with hair, but she knew a lot more than Venus did. She managed to create the kind of style Venus had never even attempted before—namely, simple, elegant and classy.

“Perfect,” the woman said when Venus emerged from the bathroom, dressed, made-up, curled and primped to within an inch of her life.

Venus turned to look at herself in the full-length mir
ror, and froze. She knew the face, knew the features, but felt like she was staring at a stranger. She’d started the day as a bartender, and ended it as a red-haired Grace Kelly. “Well, Fairy Godmother, I think you should call me Cinderella. Wow.”

The hairdo was a mass of swirls and curls, all tucked in at the back of her neck, with the exception of two long tendrils hanging over her shoulders. Her makeup was more subdued than she usually wore, but made her face look smoother, her lips fuller and her features more refined. The dress was a dream, as she’d known it would be, and it emphasized the green of her eyes.

“Wow, is right,” a man’s voice said. Glancing toward the door, Venus saw Troy standing there, watching from the hallway.

Surprised, she sucked in a breath. She hadn’t even known he was home yet. Judging by his damp hair and smoothly shaved skin, as well as the crisp, navy suit he wore, he’d been back and getting ready for a while.

He looked amazing. As a woman who’d usually avoided guys in ties and instead dated men in hard hats or leather jackets, Venus didn’t know that she’d ever fully appreciated how utterly perfect a man could look in a suit until she’d met Troy. He was a wicked Cary Grant, a modern Rhett Butler. A man who would look completely at home in a roomful of businessmen, but would secretly make every woman there want to slowly pull off that tie and undo the buttons of his white dress shirt with her teeth.

She was no exception.

Wondering if he was angry she’d opened the package, she gestured at the dress. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said as he strolled into the room. He walked around her, surveying her appearance
from head to toe. Then he looked into her eyes. “You look absolutely beautiful, Venus. I figured that color would be great on you.”

“You’re not mad at me for opening it?”

“I knew you would.”

She grinned. “I knew you knew I would.”

Their smiles faded as they stared at one another. This was the first time they’d been face-to-face since Troy had left her bed this morning. Venus understood why he’d gone, but had missed him when she’d awakened. She’d almost needed that awkward morning after to try to get a hint as to where they were going from here. Were they, as he claimed, really lovers? Or would they revert to the tentative friendship they’d begun to form before last night?

“I think I’ll go let Mr. Longotti know you two are ready,” Mrs. Harris replied. Before she left, she took Venus’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Have a wonderful time tonight.”

Venus thanked her yet again, then waited as the woman walked out, leaving her alone with Troy.

“Did Mrs. Harris help you with the makeup too?”

“Yes. Is it okay?” She cast a nervous glance at the mirror.

“Think you can put the lipstick back on by yourself?”

Knowing what he meant, she nodded and tilted her head back for his kiss. His lips touched hers gently, with tenderness she hadn’t expected and wasn’t quite prepared for. He cupped her cheek, then caressed her neck, all while tasting her lips like he’d never kissed her before.

Slipping her arms around his neck, she pressed against him, remembering the way his naked body had felt against hers. He obviously remembered too, and responded by deepening the kiss. Venus nearly whim
pered as their tongues met and danced in a lazy, intimate kiss that sent warmth shooting through her body. When they finally parted, she stared into his eyes and whispered, “Thank you again. Can I confess I’m really glad you’re going to be there with me tonight?”

Keeping his arms wrapped around her waist, he raised a brow. “You’re not nervous, are you?”

She shrugged. “Shouldn’t I be? I can’t dance very well, and obviously my food preferences are a little limited.”

“Just don’t spit anything into your napkin,” he said with a teasing laugh. “Besides, you don’t have to try anything you don’t think you’ll like. Plenty of women who go to these things are too worried about their dress or their figures to eat much, anyway.”

Venus cast a horrified glance down at her body encased in the outfit. “Okay, that cinches it—I’m not eating a bite.”

“Babe, you have absolutely nothing to worry about.” He gave her a look that could only be called a leer. “Your figure is perfect. After last night, I should know better than anyone.”

“You knew that better than anyone on Monday. Remember your bathroom? Speaking of which, I haven’t yet had a bath in that sunken tub of yours.”

“Maybe tonight? I can wash your back.” His eyes made it a promise, rather than an invitation. “Or would you rather meet me for another late-night swim?”

“Let’s not limit ourselves. Both sound good.” She pressed another quick kiss on his lips. “Now, I’d better fix my face.”

Troy stayed and watched, leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest as Venus reapplied her kissed-off lipstick. The scene felt surprisingly domestic, and it flustered her. She had to force her atten
tion off his reflection in order to focus on applying her makeup.

“Okay,” she said, squaring her shoulders and taking a deep breath. “The imposter is as ready as she’ll ever be.”

He tensed slightly. “Imposter?”

Suspecting he thought she’d been talking about her supposed relationship with Max, she clarified. “You know, the mouthy bartender dolled up as an elegant, sophisticated lady?”

“You’re not an imposter.”

“Yeah, I am. I’ll be a fish out of water tonight, in spite of the fact that I look all…nice. Classy.” She frowned. “Good.”

Stepping closer, until their bodies were just inches apart, he kissed her temple. “Aww, don’t worry honey. You’re not good. You’re just dressed that way.”

She laughed at his reference to her Jessica Rabbit T-shirt.

“So, which is it?” he murmured as he kissed her again, this time on her cheek, close to her hairline. His whisper sent shivers of anticipation through her body as his warm breath touched her skin. “Are you not good? Or are you not bad?”

Swallowing as her senses filled with his closeness, with the amazingly tender way he kissed her face, as if she were the most perfect woman he’d ever seen, she said, “Maybe I’m both?”

He nodded. “Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

He moved his lips to hers and kissed her lazily, ruining her lipstick again. Not that she cared. When he kissed her like that, so thoroughly and erotically, he was showing her the things he wanted to do with his mouth on other parts of her body.

Finally, she regained her senses and pulled away. “I’m
sure Max is waiting, and now I’m going to have to fix my makeup again. You might want to, uh, do some repair work yourself,” she said. Grabbing a tissue, she wiped the traces of mauve off his well-kissed mouth. He nibbled lightly on her fingertip before she could draw her hand away.

“Behave,” she scolded. “We’ve got to leave in a few minutes, and the last thing I need is for you to get me all hot and bothered before we go downstairs to meet Max.”

She should have known better than to offer him such an irresistible temptation to be bad. He took her hand and brought it back up to his lips, kissing her knuckles, then her palm. “As I recall, you owe me some serious foreplay.”

“Stop.” Even to her own ears her voice sounded completely soft and unconvincing.

“We never did do everything I wanted to do last night.”

Remembering some of the things
she’d
wanted to do, Venus wobbled on her high heels. To get him to stop seducing her with his words, not to mention his mouth, she tried to make a joke. “If I’d done some of the things I wanted to, I would probably have drowned.”

“We were only in the pool the first time,” he whispered as he pulled her hand up to encircle his neck, and leaned close to taste the skin just below her left ear.

“The first time. We…uh…”

He moved his hand to the small of her back, lightly stroking his fingers just above her backside. “Were frantic?”

“Uh-huh,” she managed to whisper.

His leg slipped between hers, given easy access by the slit that bared her thigh almost to the very top. “Insatiable?”

“That too.”

Before she realized what he was doing, he’d flattened his palm and run it down her body, pausing ever so briefly on her breast, before moving down to her stomach. Lower.

She shuddered.

“I needed to be inside you so much that first time, I didn’t get a chance to explore you. To taste you like I wanted to.”

Closing her eyes, she dropped her head back, picturing what he’d said. Moisture gathered between her legs. She leaned into him for support. “What about the other time?” she managed to ask.

“Wonderful,” he said before kissing the corner of her mouth and nibbling on her lip. “But quieter. Sweeter.”

Yes, it had been. Heartbreakingly tender, slow and delicious. “So,” she murmured as he kissed her jaw, “we’ve done fast and frantic. And sweet and tender. What next?”

He lifted his head to stare down at her, and his answering smile was wickedly anticipatory. “Intoxicating and erotic.”

A myriad of possibilities flooded her brain at that sultry promise. Troy was a sensory man, a deliberate man. A patient and confident man. He’d give his full attention to anything he attempted, in business…or in bed. The spark of heat in his eyes told her last night had merely been the beginning of something intense and mind-blowing. Another burst of lethargic desire spread through her body, warming her belly, loosening her limbs until she felt sure she couldn’t remain standing.

Before she could respond, however, she heard a sound outside the bedroom door. Troy obviously did, too. He smoothly stepped back, just as they heard a knock. Max
popped his head in and saw them together. “Almost ready?”