Damage Control (17 page)

For six years, a shield of lies has protected Anna. But in beginning a new life, she must break away from those lies. Be prepared to face Zach's fury. And his passion…

Warning, this title contains the following: more sexual tension than you can shake a stick at…

 

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Past Lies:

 

His gaze slid over her and his mouth compressed. “You'll have to do.”

The familiar jolt of anger gripped her. “Do?”

“I will see you again in a week,” Carl said. The older man stood and moved out from behind his desk. Anna found him holding her hand. The concern softening his face made her bite at her lip. “Good luck,” he murmured. “I wish Gregory hadn't put you in this position.”

Anna did too. But then she did what she did best; she put on the mask, made herself smile. “I could hardly deny Gregory his last laugh.”

“No. Indeed.” He shook Zach's hand, short, hard. “Until next week.”

Zach opened the door, let her precede him.

His voice was no more than a whisper. “He's worried about you.”

Anna tried to ignore the brush of his breath over her ear, her temple. Tried and failed. She walked faster.

Zach matched her pace easily. “And he has a right to be.”

“I'm not listening to your threats, Zach.”

Her finger stabbed at the lift button and she stared up at the floor indicator. Get back to her room, throw stuff in a case. Get out before she had to face Sofia. Her sister was out at lunch and that lasted hours. Anna cringed away from what Sofia would say.

“Not threats. A promise.”

“Zach…”

The lift pinged.

She rushed forward.

Anna watched the doors close, catching her distorted reflection in the mirrored steel. And Zach, leaning against the metal rail. Calm. Relaxed. But his gaze drilled her. She had to look away and inwardly groaned. The skirt really was minute.

With a judder, the lift started to descend.

“You will behave yourself this week, Anna.”

Her eyes clashed with his in the mirrored doors. “I'm not twelve.”

“No.”

His stare slid all too slowly down her body. Awareness prickled over her skin and she fought down the rush in her blood. Anger. It was anger. How dare he look—

“I've watched you wage war with this body.”

The murmur of his words licked over her skin. The power that simply his voice could command was embarrassing. No, it wasn't anger, but something much more destructive. Anna shut her eyes, desperate to deny it, and caught his scent, breathed him in. Deep. Her heart skittered.

The brush of his suit as he moved around her, the soft rhythm of his breathing, flickered fire over her skin, skin sensitive to his slightest stir. Totally, achingly aware of him.

This was why she was never alone with Zach.

He wove his charm, caught her, spun her mind with needs and stupid wants.

He leaned in close. “Conquering idiotic, weak-willed men.”

Yes. He teased her. Enjoyed it. She could hear the satisfied smile in his voice.

His finger traced the outer edge of her lip and she gasped. Her eyes shot open, met Zach's darkened gaze. Her mouth was dry. And she ached to taste him.

“But not this week, Anna. This week, you're mine. Do you understand?”

His.

Blood pounded.

But then sense pulled her back.

She would never be his toy. Something to be played with and put back on the shelf when he was bored. After last time, did he think she was completely stupid? “I don't belong to you.” She stepped back, found her spine up against the cold steel of the rail. “This is Gregory's last joke.” A sharp smile twisted her mouth. “And you have more to lose. My sister will own a huge chunk of your precious company.”

Something changed in his face. It settled into hard, pitiless lines, his jaw tight.

“Don't threaten me, Anna.” Her heart missed a beat at the sudden cold spike to his voice. “You will see out this week. You will behave as I pay my women to behave.”

Heat bled into her face and her insides shrivelled.

“I am
not
your woman.”

One of the silent, perfect women photographed on his arm. Dutiful. Empty. Yes. His admission was a slip. However much he denied it, money always formed the basis of his dealings with women.

“No. You're not.” His attention shifted to her mouth. “Not yet.”

Damn the man. She willed her voice to be strong. “Not ever, Zach.”

“So your game plan has changed?”

He gripped the rail, blocking her with his body. He was too close. Anna focused on the knot of his tie, letting her gaze sink into the deep, dark red silk…because if she didn't… If she looked up—

No. She let out a controlled breath. “Sorry. You're confusing me with someone who finds you attractive.”

The low rumble of his laughter surrounded her. Despite her best efforts, the edges of her mouth quirked up.

“Women have thrown themselves at me since I reached puberty, Anna. You…” his thumb lifted her chin, making her look at him, “…have proven to be no exception.”

He was beautiful. Anna could never deny that. Something about him called to her, a dizzying rush of need making her forget almost everything else. But she had resisted and she would continue to resist.

Zach was cold, cruel, heartless.

She knew his ex-wife, Isabelle. Their divorce hadn't burned through the tabloids. Zach's lawyers must have seen to that. But Isabelle had dropped hints, too many to ignore. Then there was Anna's own, more personal experience.

“No.” Anna ducked under his arm, escaped to another corner of the wide lift. She straightened her jacket. Stopped herself from tugging at her skirt. “This isn't the deal, Zach.” She willed her heart into an even rhythm. “Before…in Carl's office.” She felt herself flush and cursed silently. “I was stupid.
It
was stupid.”

He stared at the floor indicator before focusing on her. “You know I can never trust you.” His voice was matter-of-fact and something about that stung Anna. “Never will, again.”

“Fine.”

“But you will not humiliate me—”

“Your precious ego,” Anna muttered. “Heaven forbid a woman should even
look
at anyone else—”

Zach punched the emergency stop.

The lift juddered.

“You did more than look, Anna.”

“I—”

Fury burned through him. She could see it in the tightness of his jaw, the balled fists. And his eyes, sparking silver fire. His ice façade had fallen away…and for a brief, brief moment, she saw his passion, his power.

The drone of the emergency alarm warning faded.

Everything faded.

There was only the thrum of her blood.

Anna wanted him.

Now.

Rachel Storm is a woman who has it all. A great job, an amazing apartment, a decent paycheck…and overbearing mother hell-bent on seeing her married before the next millennium.

 

Reality Check

© 2006 Elisa Adams

Available now at Samhain Publishing

 

Rachel doesn't want to get married. She likes her life the way it is, but her mother won't let it rest.

When her sister announces her wedding, the little white lie Rachel told her family about her “fiancé” blows up in her face. Now she has to find a fiancé by the weekend or face the wrath of the wedding nazi.

Doug, the impossibly good-looking gay guy from the office, seems like the obvious choice.

There's just one little problem with her plan—Doug isn't gay. And he plans to spend the entire weekend trying to get Rachel into his bed.

 

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Reality Check:

 

“I like my women a little rounded. Those skinny model types don't do anything for me.”

Her stomach bottomed out. Lord, the man had a way with words. But there was one slight flaw with his supposed confession. Women as a whole didn't do anything for him. “Um, okay. If you say so.”

She tossed him another glance and gulped at the blatant sensuality in his gaze. Uh, oh. A few more minutes of that and she'd be putty in his hands. Putty he wouldn't have a clue how to use.

She turned her focus back to her driving. It wouldn't be much longer and they'd be there. Good thing, too, since she'd nearly run them off the road just from being close to him.

“Oh, I do say so, Rachel.” In the next second, his hand was on her, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I like your hair down. It's sexy this way. So much better than those old lady buns you wear at work. I didn't realize it was so long. Hair like this, it's fantasy-inspiring. Do you know what a guy thinks about when he sees hair like this on a beautiful woman?”

Ohmigod. She needed to pull the car over—now—before she got them both killed. Time for a new rule. “You can't touch me.”

Doug chuckled. The sound did amazing things to her insides. His fingertip trailed down the side of her neck, leaving a line of goose bumps in its wake. “Why not? We're supposed to be engaged, right? Isn't your family going to get suspicious if I don't touch you once in a while?”

When his finger flicked across her collarbone, she jumped. And gasped. And involuntarily jerked the wheel.

The car swerved into the breakdown lane, coming an inch from hitting the guardrail before she got control and pulled the little sedan back onto the road. Her heart thumped in her throat and she couldn't quite catch her breath. The guy should come with a warning label like the ones on prescription drugs. Do not take while driving. Or better still, do not take if you're sensitive to large amounts of testosterone in a very small space.

He yanked his hand away as if he'd caught fire. “Okay, okay. Point taken. I can't touch you. At least not when we're in a car.”

She imagined he'd have the same effect on her ability to walk. Not wanting to spend the weekend in the emergency room, she shook her head. “I told you before. My mom knows I'm not into public displays. All you have to do is stand there and nod every once in a while.”

And look really, really sexy.

And smell great.

And smile that smile that makes me—

“Is it getting hot in here?” She flipped on the air conditioning, twisting the dial to full blast. Maybe that would cool her suddenly out-of-control hormones.

The only thing it did was make her nipples bead. Completely embarrassing.

Damn, damn, damn. They were so not off to a good start.

She kept her gaze trained on the darkening road, but Doug's stare burned into her all the same. “Are you attracted to me, Rachel?”

Oh, yeah, like she'd really admit that to him. That would give him too much power over her. The last thing Doug needed was a power trip. Or more ammunition to pick on her than he already had. “No. Of course not. Why would I be attracted to you? That's the craziest idea I've ever heard.”

“Even crazier than asking me to fake being your fiancé for the weekend?”

Well, hell. “Um, no, not really. But still, I would never be attracted to you. Never. Not in a million—”

“Rachel?”

Just the way he said her name had her insides melting into a puddle of lust. She just hoped she'd be able to get the stains out of her seat. “Huh?”

“You're lying through your teeth.”

 

 

 

Torture. That's what this car ride was. Doug turned it over and over in his mind, but couldn't come up with a more apt description. She was so close. So damned close and he couldn't touch her.

Could her car be any smaller? He'd had ride-on toys bigger than this as a child.

His left leg had fallen asleep an hour ago, and his right one had just woken up, cramping and tingling in protest. He needed to get out and stretch before he found himself with a permanent incapacitation.

“Are we nearly there?” He had to force himself not to look at her. If he looked, he'd want to touch. If he touched, she'd run them off the road. He'd prefer to live, and touch her later when they weren't in a vehicle traveling sixty-five miles per hour down a dark stretch of highway with metal guardrails on each side.

“About five more minutes.”

The soft anxiety in her voice made him break his vow and look at her. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye—something he'd caught her doing an awful lot of tonight. At least a lot for a woman who denied having any attraction to him.

He shook his head and shifted in the uncomfortable seat. If she had asked—and he'd been a little disappointed that she hadn't—he wouldn't have denied
his
attraction to
her
. She had to know. He'd done nothing to keep it a secret.

He couldn't wait to get her alone.

First they had to suffer through some kind of family party, but after that Rachel would be all his. Assuming they were even allowed to sleep in the same room. The thought of being kept away from her all night left him cold—and defeated his purpose for even coming on this little excursion.

“What are the sleeping arrangements this weekend?”

She slowed the car and turned down an exit ramp. “We'll have my old room. Don't worry, though, it has twin beds.”

Twin beds? Didn't that just suck. At least they'd be in the same room. He'd just have to work with what he had. And twin beds could be very…cozy, given the right situation. “It must be nice to get to sleep in your old room.”

She snorted. “It's like coming home again—but not in that sappy Hallmark way. More like wandering onto the set of the Jerry Springer show.”

He laughed. She had to be exaggerating. No one's family could be that bad.

He hoped.

“My mother kept all our old bedrooms the way they were,” she continued. “That way we'd have a place to sleep when we came home to visit. Except for Amanda's, since she's spent most of her adult life with various husbands. Amanda's room became the sewing room. My mother is a sewing freak. She used to make all our clothes.”