The Winner Takes It All (A Something New Novel) (12 page)

Why had Cecilia thought this was a good idea? She could be shopping at an outlet mall! She chewed her bottom lip and glanced nervously at the recipe card again. “Don’t you have any more non-baking stuff for me to do?”

“No, you cruised through all that like you were the Energizer Bunny.” Gracie scowled at her, but her cornflower-blue eyes sparkled. “Did anyone tell you that you’re annoyingly organized and efficient?”

Cecilia huffed. “Yes, but they’re normally more appreciative.”

The blond woman pointed to the mixer. “The pound cake.”

“I’m sure there’s something else. Do you need help with your books?”

Gracie laughed. “Maybe tomorrow, but today I need to make pound cakes. If you do that, I can focus on my cupcakes for little Lucy Tompkins’s birthday party. You don’t want her to go without treats, do you?”

“No. But Gracie, you don’t understand, my stove still has the sticker on.”

“You’ll be fine. I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”

“No, I’m not. I never cook. Like ever.”

“How do you eat?” Gracie asked, momentarily distracted from their argument.

“I live in Chicago. I can get takeout twenty-four hours a day,” Cecilia said.

Gracie wrinkled her nose. “That’s disgusting. I hate you.”

“What did I do now?”

“How can you be so thin and eat takeout all the time? I’d be six hundred pounds.”

Okay, that was the third time Gracie had made a comment about her weight. Something was going on here. Gracie was a confident woman and her body was drool-worthy, albeit more voluptuous than today’s standards. But still, the other woman had to know men practically fainted at the sight of her. So why was she having an issue? Cecilia said cautiously, “I have a high metabolism. And, well, between you and me, I’ve been having a rough time lately and it’s affected my appetite.”

She blinked. Now why had she gone and confessed that? She was notoriously tight-lipped. Back in Chicago she hadn’t admitted to anyone she was having a bad time. She didn’t trust any of them enough to tell them.

Wasn’t that sad? That the only people she called friends she didn’t trust? Last week she’d had lunch with Stephanie Williams, a woman she’d known since first grade, and she hadn’t hinted at her troubles. Worse, it hadn’t even occurred to her.

Shouldn’t she have one person in this world to call a true friend? One person she could confess her secrets to?

Her mom knew what she had to do in order to help secure her candidacy, but she didn’t approve. It would be nice if she had a girlfriend like Gracie who’d tell her she was crazy.

She squared her shoulders. What was happening to her? Why was she suddenly concerned with things she’d never cared about before? She didn’t care about confidants. Or how her mom liked Maddie better than her. Never thought about how she wasn’t close to her brother.

So why now?

Gracie tilted her head to the side. “Is that why you’re ignoring your phone?”

Her cell had rung numerous times over the course of the morning, and when Gracie asked if she needed to get the call she’d breezily said no and ignored it. There were only three types of calls she received: something needed to be fixed, her father wanted to hound her about her mother, or Miles Fletcher wanted to discuss strategy for their impending arrangement.

All of which she wanted to ignore. She contemplated diverting but instead decided to answer honestly. “Yeah, that’s why.”

The corners of Gracie’s mouth dipped. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Yes!
The word screamed through her but Cecilia stuffed it back down. Gracie might have been a dear childhood friend, but she was a virtual stranger now. She couldn’t pour out the truth, but she could lighten some of the burden she carried inside. Gracie was safe. “It’s just . . . I don’t know. Everything is messed up right now. I’m being pulled in a lot of directions and it’s like I can’t hear myself think.”

Gracie nodded. “I’m sorry.”

Now that the dam had broken, Cecilia couldn’t seem to shut up. She crossed her arms and hugged herself tight. “I got in a fight with my father. Which is silly, because I’m a grown woman, but”—she bit the inside of her cheek—“I care. I don’t want to, but I do. And there’s . . . other things . . .”

Pure panic zinged through her as she thought about the article that, thankfully, nobody in Revival had read. It was only a matter of time before someone found out.

Before Shane found out. And then there’d be hell to pay. He would hate her. That much was certain. She wasn’t ready for him to hate her again.

Even though she knew it was inevitable.

She should tell the truth. She was being selfish. And wrong. But still, she avoided it. If she didn’t speak of it she could pretend it wasn’t real. She needed to pretend.

She cleared her throat. “Things that would take all day to talk about and we have work to do.”

Gracie sighed, walked over to her and gave her a big hug.

The gesture startled her. It had been a long time since anyone had shown her any kind of affection. Well, if she didn’t count her entirely uncharacteristic behavior with Shane last night. But that hadn’t been affection. That had been sex. Chemistry and heat.

Her eyes teared and she squeezed the other woman back. “Thank you. I must have needed that.”

Gracie stood back and smiled. “You’re not the hard-ass you pretend to be, are you?”

“Today, I guess I’m not.”

Gracie checked the clock. “Are you going to make those pound cakes or not?”

Cecilia skimmed down the recipe card, more complicated than the original version that called for a pound of each ingredient. She’d graduated at the top of her class. She could do this. “Okay.”

Gracie beamed. “Fantastic! And tonight, after our fittings with the bride from hell, we’re going out.”

“We are?”

“Yep, we’re going to Big Red’s, home of the two-step and drinks the size of your head.” Gracie rubbed her palms together in glee. “You and I are going to get drunk.”

But she didn’t get drunk. She was the designated driver.

As quickly as the rejection materialized, she dismissed it. Why not? Didn’t she deserve a break? She grabbed a sack of flour. “Deal.”

Cecilia bounded through the back door, yanking Shane away from his last e-mail.

Wasn’t this his lucky day. She was the first one home.

They were alone. And damned if he wasn’t going to take full advantage.

Might as well, since he hadn’t gotten jack shit done.

He had a serious case of lust that would not quit.

About an hour ago, he’d moved from the office to the kitchen so she’d have less chance to evade him. He wanted another taste of her and wasn’t in the mood to be dissuaded.

“What are you doing here?” she asked with her customary demanding tone.

She looked considerably more rumpled than when she’d left. Her top and pants were dusted with flour. Caramel-colored strands had fallen from her neat ponytail to hang haphazardly around her face. Her cheeks were flushed and she’d lost that gaunt, haunted look she’d been sporting.

He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I figured you’d try to sneak in through the back way, so I set up shop here.”

“I was not sneaking!” She planted her hands on her hips. “Why are you waiting for me?”

One of the things he liked best about her was that he could tell her the flat-out truth. There was no sugarcoating with Cecilia. With most women he’d always been careful to not get too assertive or bossy. He didn’t have that problem with Cecilia. He could be as bold as he wanted and she just took it in stride. He gave her a slow once-over. “Because we’re in a houseful of people that’s getting fuller by the minute, and I have to take my opportunities to get you alone when I can.”

Her chin tilted with a hint of defiance, but he could swear he detected the tiniest hint of a smile on that lush mouth of hers. “Being alone is not a good idea.”

“I think it’s a very good idea.”

“Don’t you think this is getting a little out of control?”

“Hell yes,” he said, standing and eating up the floor to get to her.

Her eyes widened and she sucked in a breath. “Shane.”

He curled a hand around her neck. “I’m not in the mood to play.”

“Wait,” she said, putting her hands on his chest, but instead of pushing him away she curled her fingers into the cotton.

It was all the invitation he needed. He covered her mouth with his before she could say another word.

All the lust that had been pounding through him all day roared to the surface, making him more than a little demanding. More than a little possessive.

But for all Cecilia’s reserve, she didn’t seem to have any fear, and met the brutal press of his mouth with a fierceness that surprised him.

He gripped the curve of her hips, pulling her close.

She groaned into him, twining her hands around his neck and rising onto tiptoes to plaster herself against his body.

She was tall, at least five-eight to his six-four, and damned if she didn’t fit his body like she was made for him.

He slanted his mouth deeper, twining his tongue with hers. A low rumble vibrated in his throat as she pressed her breasts against him.

It was too damn fast.

Too damn much.

But hell if he cared. He just fucking wanted her.

He lifted her leg, hooking it around his waist, then rocked his hard cock between her thighs, sucking in a deep breath when her hips tilted to meet his.

She smelled delicious, like sugar and vanilla, and he wanted to devour her.

The kiss went on and on.

Wetter.

Hotter.

Wild.

Desire stampeded through his blood until he could think of nothing but stripping her naked and pounding into her.

Her nails dug into the back of his neck. Demanding more.

She was like him that way. Greedy.

He tore away and skimmed his lips down her delicate throat, loving how she moaned under his tongue. How her pulse was a furious beat against his mouth.

He had the unbearable urge to mark her. Stake his claim. The need to possess her drove him hard. Like a primal, demanding need. He bit her, sinking his teeth into her soft, pale flesh.

She cried out, tilting and twisting against his erection.

He palmed her breasts, rubbing his thumbs over her peaked nipples. Frustrated, he let out a growl. He wanted skin to skin. He slipped his hands under her T-shirt, skimming over her flat belly up to her satin-covered breasts. He whispered in her ear, “Upstairs. Now.”

She lifted her head, her eyes dazed. “Shane. We can’t—”

He met her gaze. “Yes, Cecilia.”

“But—”

He kissed her again and she melted into him until she practically climbed up him in an effort to get closer.

Breathless, he lifted his head. “I need to see you come. It’s all I can think about and it’s distracting as hell.”

Those big storm-blue eyes peered at him. “I’m distracting?”

“Fuck yes.” He gripped her chin. “It’s going to happen sooner or later, and it can be later if that’s what you need—but I have to make you come. Right now. And I’d prefer to be somewhere we’re not interrupted. Like my bed.”

She took a deep breath. “Why?”

Because he needed to mark her. Claim her. Make her orgasm so hard, every climax she had without him paled in comparison. A mad rush of illogical, irrational thoughts. He settled on the least confusing of the bunch. “I want to see you lose control. I want to know it was by my hands. I want to see what you look like.”

Her brow furrowed. “That’s a lot of pressure to perform.”

He kissed her. A hard brush of his mouth. “Trust me, you’re not going to be doing anything but begging.”

Her eyes flashed but he didn’t miss the quick intake of breath. “I never beg.”

He lowered his gaze to her lips then raised it to meet her direct gaze. “Challenge accepted.”

She blinked, the dazed expression clearing as rational thought prevailed.

All he needed to do was take her in his arms and all the raw chemistry between them would take over, but he didn’t want that. As much as he wanted her, she had to choose him. He stepped back. “So what’s it going to be, Cecilia? You coming with me or not? Yes or no.”

Her lips quirked and she tilted her head to the side. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re bossy and arrogant?”

“Yep,” he said, tone matter-of-fact. “Your call. Yes or no?”

He waited, honestly not sure what she’d say or do, and he liked that about her too.

She was a surprise.

“I shouldn’t,” she said, her tongue darting out to wet her lower lip.

“Why? We’re adults.”

“I have my reasons.” Her eyes flashed, like a storm cloud lit with lightning before she shifted her attention. “We should stop this.”

Something that resembled vague unease niggled in the corner of his brain, but he pushed it aside. He wasn’t in the mood to analyze. He was in the mood to act. And as far as he was concerned she hadn’t said no yet. “Yes or no?”

She assessed him, carefully looking him over. There was no flirt in her gaze, no seduction in her movement, just a slow, steady appraisal.

He never got his answer.

The door swung open and a gaggle of women flew in.