Bedding The Bad Boy (Dalton Brothers Novels) (19 page)

“You must be Grace,” he said.

She studied him: thick blond hair professionally styled, a button-up in light blue, and he appeared to be seated in an office of some kind. On the walls behind him were various framed certificates or diplomas. A businessman then, but not overly successful or ostentatious. Probably someone who’d be at every little league game or dance recital. Who’d play ball with his son after getting home from work, or be the carpool dad.

Not someone constantly playing the game. Always in the public eye and loving every minute of it.

Only it no longer seemed to her that Max loved every minute of his life. He’d seemed happier throwing a ball with Houdini and spending time with her than she’d ever seen him on stage.

Yet…

She would
not
think of Max.

This moment was about Robert. And Operation Baby Daddy.

“Hello, Robert. It’s so nice to meet your acquaintance.” They spoke for a few minutes, exchanging pleasantries—careers, where they lived, favorite movies.

A vibration from her phone indicated a new text. Thinking of Melina and how worried Rhys was about her, she surreptitiously checked her phone.

Want to get naked tonight?
It was Max.

She couldn’t help herself. She smiled even as she forced her gaze back to the computer screen, where Robert was elaborating on his days on a row team at Harvard.

Quickly, she texted back:
Sure.

Boring response. Text me something hot.

Robert was talking about his own childhood and Grace fought to pay attention.

“Would you agree consistency is important?” he asked.

Yes, she thought. Consistency would be great. She’d finally had an orgasm with a man’s fingers and tongue inside her last night. When she and Max got naked together tonight, she was hoping for the same result—only she wanted his cock involved. Staring at the computer screen, Grace said, “If you mean in a shared parentin’ arrangement, yes. I think a child should have equal time with both parents.”

Robert frowned. “I meant consistency as in going to bed on time every night, even on weekends. Eating the same well-balanced diet week to week. An exact form of punishment and consequences at each home.”

Eating the same diet every week? She’d go crazy if she had to do that. What fun would it be if you couldn’t have pancakes for dinner every once in a while? Or a burger for breakfast? And what was that about punishment?

Are you wearing lace panties again?

Her cheeks flushed and her breathing escalated. She relived the moment Max ripped her lace panties off the night before and went down on her. The fact that Robert was still frowning, studying her as if he could read her mind, made her wriggle in her seat to ease the ache steadily building between her thighs.

She couldn’t imagine Max, let alone the Max who’d played with Houdini and Chloe yesterday, talking about eating the same thing or planning out ways to consistently discipline his child. He was too fun. Too vibrant. Too spontaneous for that. Look what happened when she’d begged him to pull over and kiss her.

He’d acted.

He’d sensed she needed more than that.

And he’d given it to her.

Robert didn’t look like he could rip a pair of panties off anyone, no matter how turned on he was. But then again, that wasn’t the job he was interviewing for.

She needed to focus on Robert, not on Max’s naughty texts.

She texted Max back anyway.

Cotton underwear.

I don’t believe you.

He shouldn’t, she thought with a smile. She always wore lace panties
.

I’m in boring business attire.

Nothing about you could ever be boring, Dixie. Why business attire?

I’m Skyping with a potential candidate.

When he didn’t text back right away, she said to Robert, “I suppose we’d have to hone in on what each of us thinks is important. Make sure we’re in agreement with how to raise the child. There are parentin’ classes—”

“I’m not taking any parenting class,” Robert said. “I will be raising the child the way my parents raised me.”

Grace frowned. Was she supposed to know what that meant?

I thought that was scheduled for later?

He called early.

Is he everything you want?

No, she thought.

Not sure. He just said he’d raise the child the way his parents raised him. Which means a consistent diet and punishment. L

He’s an ass. Get rid of him. Now. If you don’t do as I say, I’ll punish you tonight.

She’d been thinking of getting rid of Robert-the-ass, too, but the moment Max mentioned punishment…

No, no. Stop thinking about Max tying you up and spanking you. Of making you feel so damn good it actually hurt. That wasn’t what a normal woman planning a family would want.

No matter how fabulous it was last night or is going to be tonight, she had to think of the future. You don’t have to love Robert, just make sure he’ll be a good father. She wasn’t going to make snap judgments.

She smiled sweetly at Robert. “I’d like to discuss what I consider important in raisin’ a child.”

Take off your panties. Finger your clit in a slow circle and imagine it’s my tongue.

A shiver ran through her, culminating at her core, which went from hot to incinerating.

Stop sexting me, you pig.

Take them off.

Will you leave me alone if I do?

He didn’t respond and she read both his silent dare and his refusal to agree to anything. It just ratcheted up her desire even more. But she’d already had one naked picture used against her and that had resulted in sexual misconduct charges at work. Did she really want to risk putting another picture out there?

Grace bit her lip. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Max exactly. She’d trusted him enough to give him a blow job in a moving car. To beg him to kiss her and fuck her at the side of the road.

Her phone vibrated again.

I won’t ever do anything to hurt you.

Grace trembled and her knees went a little weak. Her fingers hovered over her phone before she quickly punched out:
What if I want you to hurt me in a good way?

Almost a full minute went by before he responded.

Did writing that make you wet?

Not wet. Wetter. Soaking.

“Grace?” She heard the male voice, but because it didn’t belong to Max, she was momentarily confused. It took all her effort to direct her attention back to her computer.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m just havin’ trouble with how inflexible you seem.”

“Well, you’re a woman. Women follow the man’s lead. I mean—” Robert leaned forward into his computer camera, close enough that his face nearly filled her screen, bringing her attention back to him and away from Max’s texts.

“The agency said you were from the South,” Robert said. “I figured you’d act like a Southern woman.”

Her spine stiffened and she smacked her palms down on either side of the computer. Max had turned her on with his raunchy texts, but this man was eradicating her arousal with his sexist attitude.

“If by actin’ like a Southern woman you mean subservient to men,” she said, “you’re in the wrong century.”

“I disagree.”

He could disagree all he wanted. If he truly thought he was gettin’ a baby from her, he was dumber than a soup sandwich.

Grace tuned him out and instead looked at her phone. Quickly, she texted Max:
He thinks I should act like a subservient Southern woman.

Don’t hang up on him. Take off your panties while he’s still on the line, then text me a picture of your beautiful body.

Robert’s voice brought her attention back to the computer screen. “So I’ll make the decisions, then. We’re in agreement?”

They were in agreement if she was a complete idiot and wanted a male chauvinist pig straight from the sixties to help raise her child. If Robert was any indication, it wasn’t going to be easy finding her baby daddy.

Grace. Panties. Pussy. Now.

She normally hated it when a man used the “p” word, but with Max… he had a gift for knowing when to use dirty talk and when to use a more subtle hand. He had the same wonderful instincts when it came to using his body.

She couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop herself. She pushed the rolling office chair back from the desk. Keeping her eyes on Robert and trying to be as discreet as possible, she pulled her skirt up, wriggled her black lace panties off, spread her thighs and, holding her phone strategically under the desk, took a picture.

Then hit SEND.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Max’s Magic Rule #12:

Enjoy the applause while it lasts… because it always ends.

After the magic show ended and Max signed programs and tickets for his fans— although he politely refused to sign various body parts offered by several women—he headed straight for Grace’s hotel. He’d thought of her throughout the night—far too much. He’d never had a woman who could distract him when he was on stage, but he’d had to concentrate extra hard to keep focused tonight. That worried him.

He’d only been with Grace a few days and going to bed without her last night had been painful. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking of how she’d felt and tasted. How her expression had twisted and her body had shaken from the intensity of her climax. He wanted that. Even worse, he couldn’t foresee a time he didn’t want more of her. More time. More sex. More of whatever he could get. She was an intoxicating bundle of contradictions, a challenge but also fun, sexy, sweet. Most of all, being with her felt natural, as though the rest of his life was some kind of sham, and he could only let down his guard and be himself when he was with her. Like when they were in the car together. Or at his parents.

What the hell was up with that?

He was still contemplating the question when he pulled up in front of the hotel and handed his keys to the valet.

He could contemplate it all night. It wasn’t going to stop him from finally getting inside her.

In the elevator, he texted to let her know he was on his way. Still, he was surprised when she yanked the door open before he could knock.

He was even more surprised to see her eyes puffy and red, as if she’d been crying.

“Tonight isn’t the best time for us to continue this sex thing, Max,” she said, her voice shaking, her gaze fixed to the floor by his feet.

Instead of pushing past and entering her room, he placed one hand on the doorway and leaned close. Something was up, and it didn’t have anything to do with them. Did that guy on Skype something to upset her? Did he see what Grace was doing with her phone and give her a bad time about it?

Max told Grace before that they didn’t know each other yet—not well, at any rate—but he knew her well enough to know something hurt her, and badly. And whether she knew it about him or not, that was not something he was going to allow.

No one hurt his family. Or his friends. And as he’d already established in his own mind earlier that day, Grace was his friend.

“Let me in, Dixie,” he said quietly.

She shook her head and bit her lip.

“Grace. Invite me in.” He didn’t take a step forward, but leaned in close enough for her to breathe in his scent. When she didn’t back up, he lowered his head, touched his forehead to hers, and waited.

She didn’t push him away. Didn’t back up. Instead, she stood there for several moments, then whispered, “Come in.”

In less than two minutes, he entered, shot the deadbolt, and ordered a bottle of California old vine zinfandel, macaroni and cheese and chocolate ice cream—his comfort foods of choice. Then he guided Grace toward the bed. Sitting with his back against the headboard, he pulled her into his arms. Grace leaned into his embrace but still avoided looking at him.

“So,” he said, “we can sit here all night, and even fall asleep this way, with me holding you and you being silent, or you can tell me what’s going on. It’s up to you. This isn’t something I’m taking control over. This is up to you, baby. But just know—I’m a good listener.”

Grace snuffled and buried her head against his chest. “One more thing I didn’t know about you.”

He let out a light chuckle. “You’ve learned a lot about me in the past couple of days. What else are you referring to?”

“Your mom told me somethin’ I should have known about you already.”

“And that would be…”

She shook her head. “Nevah mind. I’ll tell you another time.”

“Wait a second,” Max said. “You can’t just—”

A knock sounded at the door. Gently, he disengaged himself and stood, but warned her, “We’ll get back to that.”

“Another time,” she said.

He opened the door to the bellman, who set up the food then accepted his tip with a grin and a “Love your show, dude.”

“Thanks,” Max said.

“Hmm. That’s weird.”

“That a bellman has seen my show?”

“That a
guy
complimented your show. In the time I’ve known you, you seem to attract only female fans. Beautiful female fans.”

“Are you a fan, Grace?” he asked quietly.

She looked startled and pressed her lips together. Finally, she said, “You’re a great magician, Max. A great lovah.” Before he could respond, she turned toward the food. “I’m famished. And thirsty.” He watched as she downed a glass of wine before diving into the food.

“How did you know?” she asked.

“What?”

She waved a fork at the tray. “What comfort foods I like.”

He shrugged. “I just ordered what I’d want if I was upset over something.”

“You get upset?”

The question pissed him off, especially given her telling statement that he was a great magician and lover but nothing else. She obviously thought he was shallow, hard-hearted and emotionally closed off.

But then he looked at her and saw only teasing on her face.