Make Me Believe: Unbelievable, Book 3 (2 page)

And forever wasn’t on Celia’s agenda. There was no such thing, at least not in her experience. So, she wasn’t going to pretend there was, and she didn’t want anything to do with a man who made her fantasize about it. That was just emotional suicide in the making, and she refused to go there. It wasn’t his fault, and she wished he’d taken no for an answer the first time he’d asked her out.

In the end, it didn’t matter if he was the marrying kind or if he just wanted to shag her brains out for a night. What mattered was that he made her
want
him to be the marrying kind, and that way lay disaster. She had the divorce papers to prove it. Two sets of them. She couldn’t risk letting him in, even for a night.

Most of the time, she’d just bang him and hope that got him out of her system, but the chemistry with Mason was way too explosive for that. Without even trying, he was dangerous. Nope. No way. No how. She wasn’t going there.

If there was one thing any idiot knew, it was that people who played with fire got burned.

“Price is the best brother anyone could ask for, and one of the best men I know. No one is more worthy of happiness than he is, and I couldn’t be happier for him.” For a moment, Mason almost looked like he was going to get choked up, but his hand tightened on his champagne flute and he flashed a brilliant smile. “And since Aubrey is as intelligent as she is gorgeous, she knows that even the best men appreciate what they have to work for, so she gave him a run for his money.” Anyone who had witnessed the couple’s tumultuous courtship knew that was the understatement of the century. Laughter rolled through the small gathering at the party, a few people letting out wolf whistles. “But in the end, I think they both got what they deserved. Each other. So, if you’ll all raise your glasses with me. To Price and Aubrey.”

“To Price and Aubrey,” the crowd echoed.

Even though marriage wasn’t Celia cup of tea, she couldn’t help the way her throat closed at the expression of open adoration on her best friend’s face. And Price looked no less besotted.

Jesus, she was going soft. She leaned her hip up against a nearby table, coughed and took a deep swig of the bubbly. The institution of marriage hadn’t done well by her, but for her friend’s sake, she hoped this one lasted. Then again, until Price, Aubrey had been as cynical about matrimony as Celia. A cheating ex tended to turn a girl bitter.

“Excuse me.” Mason appeared beside her and offered that same over-bright smile, but it couldn’t hide the shadows in his eyes. The grin crumbled after a moment, and he scooped up the champagne bottle from the table beside her to refill his flute. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Mrs. Chambers and Jerry know how to throw a great party.”

Her eyebrows drew together as she watched his closed expression. An unexpected dart of concern went through her. Mason was usually the more easygoing and cheerful of the Delacroix brothers, so his seriousness at such a joyous occasion was more that a little strange. “You okay?”

“Great. I’m…great.”

“Great. Can I get another word?”

He huffed out a laugh and downed half his booze. “I’ll be fine. I’m happy for my brother, but these kinds of events aren’t really my thing.”

“I hear you.” She tapped his glass with hers, empathy twisting inside her. Yeah, she could see how three broken engagements would make this sort of party salt on the wound for him. She could relate—and sympathy for Mason was the last thing she’d expected tonight, which just made the
Twilight Zone
experience of being at a wedding reception that much freakier. “I usually avoid them like the plague. But for Aubrey…”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “For Price.”

He shifted where he stood, his arm brushing hers. It was like touching a live wire. Tingles skipped from her shoulder down to her fingers and up again, spreading throughout her body. Fire flowed in the wake of the tingles. It was ridiculous, the way this man got to her. Too bad he was too dangerous to play with. Clearing her throat, she looked away and made herself focus on something else.

“Everyone besides us is loving this though.” She looked around at the bright lights, the laughing people, the happy couple. Music played and couples danced. It was loud and boisterous and exactly what a party like this should be. Good for Aubrey and Price, bad for those who had nothing but ugly memories associated with marriage.

“Of course, they are. I know how to entertain.” Mrs. Chambers’s tart voice preceded her as she bustled up to the table to survey the spread of tasty food. She peered inside the champagne bottle. “Though I become far less entertaining when there’s nothing to help the guests loosen up.”

“You mean loosen up their tongues so they start telling you all their dirty little secrets, don’t you, Tori?” Celia winked at the older woman, who had the good grace to blush.

She swatted Celia’s arm. “For that, young lady, you can go down to the basement and fetch more champagne.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Celia saluted her with her glass before she set it on the table. A few minutes away from the lovefest would be a bit of a relief.

Tori cast a severe glance at Mason. “And you’ll be a gentleman and help her.”

His dark brows rose, his eyes twinkling with sudden humor. He bowed gallantly. “Yes,
ma’am
.”

She snagged his champagne flute and flapped her free hand at him. “Go on, now. Don’t tease an innocent, harmless old lady.”

He laughed in her face, grabbed the hand she waved at him, and kissed the back of it. “I wouldn’t dream of it, ma’am.”

Sweeping an arm out in front of him, he motioned Celia forward. She rolled her eyes at their antics and spun toward the kitchen. “We’ll be back in a few minutes. Let Aubrey know if she wonders where I’ve disappeared to, would you?”

“I will.”

Mason fell into step behind her, close enough that she could feel his body heat against her back. They entered the kitchen, and he reached around her to open the cellar door. “You realize she’s trying to get us alone together.”

“Yeah, Mrs. C isn’t exactly subtle.” She glanced over her shoulder at him, the little grin on his lips making her heart trip. Desire twisted within her. She
wanted
those lips on hers, had wanted it for months. She shook herself, turned away and flipped on the switch to flood the basement with light. Hustling down the stairs, she looked around for the case of champagne. What looked like a beat up and discarded set of living room furniture was pushed up against one wall, a few tarnished silver dishes on the coffee table. Boxes and crates were piled haphazardly all over the place, one of them marked with the brand of bubbly Mrs. Chambers was serving. “I’ve resisted you for a year, Delacroix. I don’t think an old lady’s matchmaking is going to change that.”

His heavy tread echoed as he followed her down the steps. “I don’t encourage her. I only encouraged you.”

“You don’t discourage her, either.” She pointed him toward the wooden crate of champagne.

He snorted as he waved her aside and lifted the case by himself, the muscles in his arms bulging. “As if I could. She has her nose in everyone’s business, but she’s not hurting anyone. Some people are vicious with gossip—she just likes to know everything. Besides, it’s not like she can force you to do anything with me, right?”

“Right.” She sighed. “She’s pretty harmless, I know. It’s just a little annoying at times. I’m ready for her to stick her nose in someone else’s love life now. Is that too much to ask?”

The door above them slammed shut, a distinct click sounding as a lock engaged.

Mason’s jaw sagged open for a moment, and he set the champagne back down with a loud
thunk
. “Oh, no fucking way. She wouldn’t.”

“Shit!” Celia bolted up the stairs, twisting the doorknob, though she knew it was useless. She pounded her fist on the door, disbelief and desperation screaming through her. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. “Come
on
, Mrs. Chambers. This isn’t funny.”

“There’s no way out of there except through this door, so don’t bother trying to find one. You’re trapped until we say otherwise.” Jerry’s distinctive lisp came through the thick wood. “Take the opportunity to get to know each other. It’ll be fun!”

Chapter Two

“You are
fired
, Jerry.” She kicked the door with her combat boot for good measure, though she knew none of the guests would hear over the music, and her evil cupids wouldn’t care. She stomped down a few of the stairs before turning to shout even louder, just for the pleasure of venting her spleen. “The moment I get out of here, you’re getting booted from my salon, Jerry! Believe it. And
Tori
can get her hair done somewhere else!”

There was no response, of course, and all she could do was stare at the door in impotent rage, willing it to open and knowing it wouldn’t. She was stuck here. Trapped. She closed her eyes. “I don’t have my cell phone with me. It’s in my purse, which Jerry put away in a spare room when I got here.”

“My cell’s in my coat pocket, and Mrs. Chambers took that. All I have is my work pager.”

Frustration tangled with…fear in her chest. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with Mason. She’d done everything in her power in the last year to make sure that
never
happened. Her fingers balled into fists at her sides. Damn it. Damn
them
. And their meddling.

She turned and found him right behind her. Scrabbling backward to keep from touching him, the backs of her calves hit the next stair up, and she tripped and slammed into the railing sideways. Her arms flailed, her heart stopping in her chest, a short scream wrenching from her throat, and she would have gone over the rail if he hadn’t grabbed her. She hung there for a moment, staring at the long drop down to the hard cement floor. All the blood rushed out of her face so fast, it tingled with cold shock.

He hauled her up against his chest, lifted her and spun to press her against the wall. Which meant she ended up exactly where she hadn’t wanted to be. In his arms. “Are you all right?”

No, she wasn’t. It felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. She couldn’t even breathe, her heart slammed so hard against her sternum. The chill fled her limbs in a split-second, the fire that flooded her as shocking as her near tragedy.

Clenching her fingers in the front of his shirt, she shuddered, too many sensations bombarding her at once. Terror still made her shake, but God, she was plastered against him from breast to thigh and her nerve endings rioted. Every inch of her reacted to him. Her skin flushed, her nipples tightened to thrust against her bra and the folds of her sex went hot and slick.

Somehow, she had known it would be this intense. If standing next to him or cutting his hair could rev her up, being sandwiched between the hard wall and his hard body was enough to cause a nuclear meltdown.

“I’m fine, thanks. You can let me go now.” It took everything ounce of willpower she had to gasp those two short sentences.

His gaze locked on her lips as she spoke. “I can’t.”

“What do you mean, you
can’t?
” The words came out in a rush, almost tripping over each other.

He drew in a deep breath, which rubbed her breasts against his chest. God, she could feel every ripple of muscle in his body. He was even better built than she’d imagined. “I can’t let you go when you’re looking at me like that. I’ve been dying to taste you for months, and I have to know what it’s like. I’m sorry.”

Any response she might have made was smothered by his mouth. She tensed, waiting to be all but consumed, devoured, taken. It didn’t happen.

His kiss was a gentle savoring. The way his body pressed her into the wall, hard enough to compress her ribs, became an erotic contrast to the sweetness of his lips on hers. His tongue teased her lower lip, easing into her mouth. The flavor of him exploded over her taste buds, headier than the champagne they’d drunk. Any resistance fled under the onslaught of yearning. She moaned, twining her tongue with his, fighting with him for control of the kiss.

Straining against him, she writhed to get even closer. He groaned, releasing her mouth to string kisses down her jaw and throat. She let her head fall back against the wall, arching mindlessly when his teeth scored the sensitive tendon that connected neck to shoulder.

“Mason, please.” She cupped the back of his head, holding him to her. His short hair prickled her palms, and she dug her nails into his scalp, desperate for more. “
More
.”

Unfastening the side zipper on her dress, he slipped his hand inside to stroke her ribs. She shivered, her nipples pinching tight. She wanted his mouth on them, but she couldn’t make her mind and her tongue work together to form the demand.

Slipping down to bracket her hips with his palms, he gathered her dress one handful at a time. His fingertips brushed her skin, tracing the edge of her panties. Her flesh burned everywhere their bodies met, her pussy weeping juices. It was too much, and not enough, all at the same time. The more he touched her, the more she craved it. Him.

“I want you, Celia. Now.” His arms went around her again, pulling her off her feet. She wrapped her legs around his waist, mating her sex with his through their clothing. His palms curved under her ass, squeezing the soft globes and making her squirm against him. He groaned and staggered down the rest of the stairs. Each step rubbed his cock over her pussy, and her core contracted on an emptiness that needed to be filled.

The couch cushions were soft under her back as he laid her there. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the champagne bottle protruding out of one of the silver bowls. It was chilling on ice, and two glasses sat beside it. Turning her head, she saw strawberries in another dish and some of the
hors d'oeuvres
from the party piled in another. The final bowl was filled with a colorful array of condoms.

A note card propped against the strawberry container read:

Kick back and have all the fun you can manage. You might as well since we aren’t springing you until morning. Love, Your Guardian Angels
.

The handwriting was in Jerry’s distinctive scrawl. Celia snorted and rolled her eyes. “Guardian angels, my ass. Prison guards is more like it.”