Entice Me (Stark Trilogy #3.11)(2)
And if that wasn’t enough, my father is now in the mix. I was a little dubious about his motives when he first stepped back into my life—and Damien was more so—but we’ve gotten to know each other over the last few months, and while I’m not sure I’ll ever truly think of Frank as my father, he’s definitely part of my family.
And of course we have our friends. Jamie and Ryan and Ollie and Evelyn and Blaine and Wyatt and Cass and Siobhan and Lisa and Preston and Rachel and on and on and on.
For a girl whose only family was once the mother she despised, I’ve grown into a woman surrounded by an extended, boisterous, loving family made up of relatives and friends—and I owe most of that to Damien.
So that’s what I want to celebrate on his birthday—the family we’ve made together.
“I can’t pull it off without your help,” I tell Rachel.
“I’m not sure you can pull it off with my help,” she counters. “His birthday is next Friday. In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s Thursday. That gives us just a little over a week to plan. That’s hardly any time at all.”
“No, this is good. Less time for him to see that we’re up to something.”
“I guess. . .”
“It’ll work,” I say firmly, as much to convince her as myself. “But I need you to keep his calendar clear and help me with some of the logistics.”
She scrunches up her nose. “I’ll do whatever you need, but honestly, Nikki, come on. We both know you’re never going to manage to pull it off.”
“Pull what off?” The surprising sound of Damien’s voice makes me jump, and I fight the urge to cringe as I meet Rachel’s apologetic eyes before I quickly turn around to face my husband.
He’s just a few feet away, his overnight bag slung over his shoulder. He’s dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved linen button down. It’s a simple, casual look, but so damn compelling. I want to reach out and touch him. I want to feel his arms around me, his lips brushing mine. I want to get lost with him—and I can’t help but wonder if there will ever be a time when I’ll no longer have such a deep, sensual, visceral reaction to nothing more than the sight of him.
Mentally, I shake myself, then hurry toward him. “I thought you were still in the apartment.” I slide my arms around his waist. “Is your car here already?”
“It is,” he says, nodding at Rachel. “Tell Edward I’ll be right down.”
“Of course, Mr. Stark.”
“I just want to hear what my wife is going to pull off before I go.” The corner of his mouth twitches as he speaks, and I narrow my eyes at him. Of course, I’d thought I’d distracted him. And, of course, he hadn’t been distracted at all.
“I was trying to convince Rachel to secretly reschedule your cocktails with Noah tomorrow for next week so that I could show up at the airport in your limo and, you know, take you out for an evening of dinner and debauchery.” I lift a shoulder and give him a seductive smile. “But there’s no point now that you know about it.”
“And I told her she’d never pull it off anyway,” Rachel adds. “Because first of all, if I rescheduled Noah, you might fire me, and that would totally suck. And second, surprising you takes a minor miracle.” She waves her hand, indicating Damien standing right there, then looks at me. “I rest my case.”
I sigh heavily. “Well, it was a worth a shot.” I point a finger at Damien. “Just remember when you’re having drinks with Noah what you could have been doing instead.” I press my mouth to his, kissing him long and hard and so deep, I feel it all the way down to my toes.
When I pull away, I’m breathless. And though he’s doing a damn good job of staying professional in front of Rachel, I see the banked heat in his eyes and the restraint in his body. He’s like a spring—and right now he’s held together by a single tight wire. Let it go, though, and he’ll have me pressed against a wall and naked before I even have time to take a breath.
The thought makes me shiver—and makes me anticipate his return home all the more.
“Until tomorrow, Mrs. Stark,” he says, clearly following my thoughts.
“I’ll be waiting,” I say, then watch as Rachel hands him an itinerary. He tucks it his briefcase, kisses me once more, then heads toward his private elevator.
I don’t exhale until the doors close behind him, then I sag with relief and watch as Rachel does the same.
“I take it back,” she says. “That was one hell of a good performance. You might just manage this after all.”
“Are you kidding?” Jamie says. “You’re never going to pull that off. Rachel’s insane. And frankly, I’m a little concerned about your mental health, too.”
“Very funny,” I say, as Lady Meow-Meow, Jamie’s fluffy white cat, kneads my skirt with her claws and purrs as loud as a lawn mower. “Yes,” I say, running my hand over her head, “I miss you, too.”
We’re in Jamie’s condo, which hasn’t changed that much since I used to live here with her. It’s still decorated in Early American Garage Sale, but she’s added more movie posters to the wall.
My old bedroom is now an office, although when I was in there earlier, I noticed that she’s stopped using the closet as a giant filing cabinet. Now, it holds a full wardrobe of men’s clothes.