Sweet on You (14 page)

She burst out laughing. "
Harlot
? Have you been reading Chaucer?"

"I'm glad you think it's funny." Anger made his features harsh. "You know Nonna is probably turning over in her grave over how you look."

"Nonna would be the first one to cheer me on." She would too. She'd have said
Brava, Daniela!
and told her to feed Nico
tiramisu
. Nonna thought
tiramisu
was a great aphrodisiac. "I know exactly what's going on here, and it's not going to work, so knock it off."

"Who's the guy?" her brother persisted.

"None of your business." She lifted her chin.

"It's absolutely my business. I'm your brother."

Daniela snorted.

"What does
that
mean?"

"If you don't know, why don't you have your secretary clue you in? Or maybe Marley, since you're using her as your mole these days." She strode to the door, yanked it open, and walked outside.

She was still flushed and fuming when her cab pulled up to the opera house. Not even seeing Nico leaning against the façade in front cooled her ire.

In fact, seeing him in his tux had the opposite effect on her, rising her temperature up even more. He looked dashing—the suit fit him perfectly—but there was still that air of danger that turned her on.

Sights set on him, she strutted up the steps, grabbed him by the lapel, and kissed him hard.

His hands gripped the back of her dress, holding her to him. When she lifted her head, he said, "Am I being punished for something? If I am, tell me what I did so I can do it again."

She wiped her lipstick from his lips. "You haven't been bad yet, but I'm hoping later."

"Then I can't wait for the opera," he murmured, hand on her back as he escorted her inside.

Daniela lay sweating, face down on Nico's bed, her feet dangling over the edge. The only things she still had on were those uncomfortable heels.

But they were
so
worth the pain. She smiled tiredly against the silky sheets.

Nico rolled onto his side, against her. He pushed her hair aside and kissed the nape of her neck. "You want to tell me what had you so angry earlier. I don't think it was me this time."

"Amazing, isn't it?" She sighed and turned to face him. "My brother Antonio decided to make a surprise visit."

"How long since you've seen him?"

"Three months."

"But you aren't happy."

"He's come here to manage me." She turned onto her back and stared at the ceiling. "He thinks I'm out of control."

"Are you?"

"Only around you," she joked. Then she sobered. "But maybe I'm supposed to be a little out of control. For the first time in forever, I feel like I'm being myself. Tony doesn't know who that is, and he doesn't care to find out."

"I like you the way you are." Nico nuzzled her.

She smiled and turned into him. "I like me that way too."

"Control is an illusion," he said. "Once you realize chaos is what runs the world, you can use it to your benefit."

"My grandmother always said love runs the world."

His face set into a grim mask. "Love doesn't cause catastrophes and death."

"No, those are just parts of living." She cupped his face. "Love dictates how we react to them though."

He stared at her. She wondered what he was thinking. She wondered what
she
thought—if she wanted him to love her.

The thought caused a hitch of excitement in her chest. "Can I stay tonight?" she asked impetuously.

"Are you sure?"

She could tell he was thinking how she never stayed. But she didn't want to go home and face Tony—not when she felt so happy and hopeful for the future. She wanted to stay and revel in it. "I'm positive," she said.

He gathered her closer. "I'd love you to stay."

"Good." She kissed his shoulder, hopeful. The building was hers—maybe Nico would be, too.

Chapter Nineteen

First base achieved, Brian ran his hand under her coat and top and worked on stealing second.

Marley hummed and arched herself into his touch. "I've never made out on the front stoop of my home before."

"Good," he said, kissing a spot he'd bared on her neck.

"We should do it more often."

"If I knew a nice dinner and oozing chocolate cake was all it took to soften you up, I'd have tried it a long time ago." He lifted his head and resumed kissing her.

She'd never been kissed like this before, like she was the center of his universe and nothing else existed. His hand trailed up her midriff to rest over her breast, fingers trailing delicious circles around the tip.

She loved second base—so much that she wondered about third. She even had a fleeting thought toward a home run, but she knew she wasn't ready to go all the way.

Her breath hitched as his fingers rubbed over the lace of her bra, and she felt a rush of warmth pooling in her center. She twined her fingers in his hair, holding him close, and pressed herself against him.

He luxuriously ended the kiss, whispering against her lips, "I should head home."

"Come inside."

He looked as surprised as she felt. But he recovered almost instantly with, "If I go inside with you, there won't be any funny business."

"Funny business?" she repeated.

"You better keep your hands to yourself." He stepped back and crossed his arms as though protecting himself. "I know your type. You'll get me alone, in your lair, and then grope me. I'm more than a plaything though. I've got feelings and emotions."

"Both feelings and emotions, huh?" she said, tugging her clothes back into place. Her lips felt swollen, and her belly throbbed with distracting need.

"Yeah. So be gentle with me."

"I'll try." She unlocked the door and held it open. "Are you going to brave it, or do you want to stay outside?"

"Step aside, lady." He entered, craning his neck to look around. Then he lowered his voice. "Take me through the hallowed grounds."

Shaking her head, she took his hand and led him down the hall.

She never knew that holding someone's hand could be such a pleasure. For an accountant, Brian had strong hands, not pale and limp like she'd expect. She liked his hands touching her.

Of course, so far all those touches had been PG. She wondered what a little R-rated action would feel like.

She cleared her throat. "My Batcave consists, basically, of my bedroom, a sitting room, an office, and another large room I use for the rest of my stuff."

"Your
Batcave
?"

"Wait till you see the Justice League." She led him past her bedroom toward her office.

"What's in here?" He stopped in the doorway of her studio and looked in. Before she could stop him, he flipped the light switch.

She wasn't in the habit of sharing her photography with people. Occasionally she gave friends photos she took, like the one she gave Valentine. She'd taken a fair number of them for Daniela over the years as well.

But she'd never had anyone go from frame to frame, judging.

"You took these," Brian said, a note of wonder in his voice. He walked around the room, studying the pictures on the walls before turning his attention to the prints all over the large table in the middle of the room.

She hovered nervously in the doorway, watching him pick up a photo and stare at it before setting it down and going on to the next one.

"You're biting your lip," he commented.

She stopped. Then she frowned. "How would you know? You aren't looking at me."

He glanced up with a smile. "You always bite your lip when you're agitated. It's like you're trying to stop yourself from saying something."

"Maybe."

He stepped up to her and kissed her gently. "Thank you for showing me your art."

She surprised herself by relaxing. "Am I that obvious?"

"Just to me. These are amazing." He shook his head as he moved to the table. "Really, truly amazing. Why aren't you a professional photographer?"

She flushed with pleasure and embarrassment, a creeping warmth that spread from her heart all the way up to the tip of her ears. "That wouldn't be practical. Most photographers don't make enough money to get by."

"Most don't, but most aren't as good as you." He held out a picture.

"That was a little girl at the park behind the house." She shrugged. "I got lucky with that shot."

"It's more than luck. You have a gift."

She shifted from foot to foot. "Want to see my office?"

Brian smiled kindly at her. "Okay, you're done hearing my praise. But that's not to say I won't tell you how great you are later. Can I have this?"

She looked at the print he had in his hand. It was of the one he'd taken of her, from their day on the Embarcadero. "I guess."

"Thanks." He carefully slipped it into his coat pocket. "You were going to show me your office."

"Yes." She turned the light off and led him to the next room.

"Holy Mother of God." He stood in the doorway and gaped at the full-length posters lining the walls. Finally he said, reverently, "It's the Justice League."

She grinned, pleased that he recognized what she'd done here. Daniela had looked at all the posters and asked why she wanted cartoon posters all over.

Brian turned to her, took her hand, and got on his knees. "Marry me. You're the perfect woman. Anything from this point forward, like if you paraded around in high-heeled boots and lacy things, would just be gravy. Just marry me."

Someone cleared his throat behind her.

She looked over her shoulder, her jaw dropping when she saw Tony standing in the doorway, glaring at Brian. She stepped back, pulling her hand free. "
Tony
."

"Who's this?" Brian asked, standing.

"That's a question I should be asking." Tony's voice was low and threatening in a way she'd never heard it. "Marley?"

She frowned. "This is Brian Benedict."

Tony gaze fell on Brian like an anvil—an angry anvil.

Clearing her throat, she stepped in front of Brian to divert Tony's wrath. "What are you doing here, Tony? Does Daniela know you're here?"

"Yes, and she was so thrilled she ran out." He turned his glare onto her. "What the hell is going on? I depended on you to keep everything under control and you're running around as wild as my sister."

His disappointment stabbed her right in the center of her chest. Her mind assured her he was completely off base, but in her heart she felt his disapproval and it was acute.

Behind her, Brian shifted. "Wait a—"

She gave him a quelling look over her shoulder before returning her attention to Tony. "It's after business hours, and I told you I was seeing someone."

"Yes. This is very"—Tony eyed Brian like he was imagining stringing him up—"cute."

Brian touched her back and then brushed her hair aside. "Is this him?"

She didn't pretend to misunderstand him. She swallowed, trying to figure out what to say. Before, if Tony had shown up like this, in her living space, she'd have rejoiced. Now she was just wanted him to leave. He was intruding.

It was confusing. She looked at Brian, not sure what she wanted anymore.

Dropping his hand, Brian gazed at her steadily. "It's a simple yes or no question, Marley."

Only it wasn't. "Yes. But—"

"And he has the right to come into your apartment?" Brian asked.

"
My
apartment," Tony corrected. "I rent this home."

"I see." Brian stepped away from her. He looked at her like he wanted her to do something.

Only she didn't know what to do. She looked at Tony and the way he glared at Brian, and she felt paralyzed. She'd always been so sure she wanted Antonio Rossi, but suddenly she wanted to hold Brian's hand and run off giggling with him.

What was happening to her?

"I'll leave then." Brian stood toe-to-toe with Tony, studying him. Then he shook his head, dropped something on her desk, and walked out.

She looked down. Yesterday's Marley grinned at her, a halo of happiness surrounding her in the photo, mocking the misery that was pooling in her chest now.

"Brian," she called after him, but it came out in the barest whisper.

Tony stared after Brian, as if making sure he actually left the house. "Don't worry, Marley. You can do better."

She stiffened, affronted on Brian Benedict's account, because he was pretty great. But before she could stand up for him, Tony walked away. "Meeting tomorrow morning, at nine o'clock," he said, as if he ruled her world.

She looked around. Maybe he did. She just wasn't sure she wanted him to any longer.

Chapter Twenty

Nico arrived home to the scent of sweetness and the sound of laughter, and it all came from the kitchen.

He eased out of his suit coat and took it to hang in the bedroom. He slipped off his tie, taking a deep breath as he loosened the top buttons of his shirt.

It'd been a long day of meetings and stubborn people. Now he was home. He'd pour himself a hefty shot of whiskey and spar with the stubborn person who'd been on his mind all day: Daniela.

That morning she'd asked if she could hang out in his suite, because she still didn't feel like going home. He'd pictured coming home to her waiting for him. He'd liked the image so much he'd called the concierge and asked him to get Daniela a few items she'd need for her stay. Minus underwear, of course.

He heard her laugh again, and then the low rumble of a male voice. Frowning, he strode out the bedroom and to the kitchen.

She leaned against a counter, a glass of red wine in her hands. She wore one of his shirts, knotted in the front, and a pair of tight jeans the hotel had acquired for her. No bra, which he'd planned but regretted now. Her feet were bare, her face was lit with pleasure, her cheeks flushed, and her lips rosy and moist looking.

Just the same way she looked after making love.