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  “I like them very much.” Smith remembered the exact evening he’d had her keep them on, along with her black lace garter belt and matching seamed stockings. Of course, that was all she had left on while they’d had sex on his granite-topped kitchen island. This was the perfect time to let her know they were having dinner with his family. “You can wear them tomorrow evening when we have dinner with my parents.”

  Smith apparently hadn’t thought through her extreme reaction to such a statement. After all, they’d just agreed to see this relationship past the point in which they merely used each other to scratch an itch. Did she truly believe that it wouldn’t eventually involve meeting his family?

  Laurel jolted straight up from the couch, giving him time to reach for the wineglass before the red contents spilled all over her cream carpet. He relieved her of the delicate stemmed glassware. She was shaking her head vigorously in response to his invitation.

  “Absolutely not.” Laurel began to shift her weight rapidly from side to side so that she could pull up her jeans. “I am not—”

  “I didn’t realize that you had some type of grudge against my parents.”

  “What?” Laurel managed to get the waist of her jeans back in place, but his theory prevented her from finishing the job. Lines of confusion appeared on her forehead as she began to protest. Good. That had been his intention all along. “I don’t—”

  “It’s fine. Truly. I’ll inform them that you don’t want to meet them and—”

  “You’re playing me, Smith,” Laurel said angrily, sweeping her hair to the side. He couldn’t help but smirk at her tell. “See. There. That smile. You can’t guilt me into having dinner with your mother and father.”

  “Why not? It’s just a meal. Is there a reason I can’t take the woman I’m serious about to a family function? Is there a waiting period or some kind of prerequisite I’m unaware of?”

  Smith leaned over her legs to set her wineglass next to his, doing his best not to show he’d gambled and underestimated her reaction. He’d made a left turn, when it would have been better to take a right. He’d allowed it to become too intimate too quickly. It was obvious she was still wary about where they were headed, so he rectified his error in judgement.

  “Like I said, it’s okay. I’ll let them know you’d rather not attend dinner tomorrow night. It’s a shame, though. I have no doubt my father has garnered more inside information regarding the investigation into Brad’s murder.” Smith took her foot into both hands, using his fingers to dig into her arch to try and relax her against the stress building in her shoulders while she contemplated meeting his parents as someone special in his life. “I might not appreciate the way he does business outside of the courtroom, but he is effective at using our surname to his advantage.”

  “I hate you right now.”

  “You love me.” Smith continued to concentrate on the light massage he was giving her, understanding full well the implications of his reply. He let the weight of his words settle over her before he made light of the situation. “But it’s all fine. I’ll go myself, ward off the questions that I’m sure will be asked about you and your motives, and then play in the den with my niece and nephew to avoid the inevitable repercussions.”

  “Hide in the den,” Laurel muttered with a shake of her head. She fell back against her pillow in defeat. “Only rich people say in the den. But fine. I’ll go. I’m not wearing those heels or the stockings, for that matter.”

  “Why not?” Smith wiggled his eyebrows, showing her that he did have a lighter side, despite what she may think. “Oh, you don’t want to think about the great sex we had while we’re—”

  Laurel cut off his words when she reared back up and straddled him. Her kiss prevented any more conversation about his family. It always astonished him how the air around them instantly electrified with a simple touch. She began unfastening his dress shirt and tugging the hem from his waistband.

  “You talk too much,” Laurel whispered seductively, her soft lips trailing over his jawline and down his neck. He leaned forward enough to remove his dress shirt and toss it to the floor. “Let’s see what I can do about that.”

  Smith wasn’t about to argue as she gradually removed herself from the couch, only to then carefully kneel on the carpet and position herself directly between his legs.

  His cock hardened at the thought of what was to come.

  “I want you naked when you suck me off,” Smith ordered with a heavy tone, unable to prevent his arousal from dripping off his words. He grabbed her wrist to stop her from reaching for his belt. “Get undressed, little minx.”

  In no time, both of them were naked and back in position. The smooth slide of her hands traveling up his thighs and toward his rock hard cock had him inhaling sharply. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft, slowly stroking him while she appeared mesmerized by the drop of pre-cum he’d emitted from the tip.

  “Laurel, you have five minutes before I turn you over the arm of this couch and fuck you until you’re screaming my name and begging for another just like the first.”

  The slow spread of her smile let him know just how much she liked that vision. One of her favorite positions was being taken from behind, and he had to say that there was definitely appeal in that particular arrangement. He was able to sink deeper into her, connecting them in an entirely different way.

  “Then I best get going on those five minutes,” Laurel said teasingly with another pump of her hand. She even drew her thumb over his tip, drawing out a low moan of satisfaction from his chest. “Three, two, one…”

  Laurel’s warm lips closed over his cock, but the warmth was nothing compared to the heat of her tongue. She stroked across his opening before taking more of him in her mouth. She pulled back, using the palm of her hand to smear what wetness she’d left behind. Again, she sucked him back in, but this time to the back of her throat.

  He wanted nothing more than to lean his head back against the cushion, but he wouldn’t miss the beautiful sight before him for all the money in the world.

  Her chestnut locks had fallen off her shoulders, fanning out over his thighs. A flush had settled over her cheekbones while her lashes rested against her skin as she savored his taste. There was nothing quite as arousing than the image of a woman pleasuring a man.

  Laurel’s tongue glided over the underside of his cock, but her hair had hidden her face when she’d tilted her head to the side. It gave him the perfect opportunity to tangle his fingers in her hair, pulling ever so slightly so that he could see her expression when he told her what he’d really like her to do with her free hand.

  “Spread your knees, Laurel. Spread them so that you can stroke your clit. I want you ready for when I bend you over.”

  Laurel’s green eyes darkened to almost black and her nostrils flared as she breathed in sharply. The stronger tug on his cock by the suction of her mouth told him she liked the idea, but it wasn’t until her eyes fluttered closed again at her own pleasure that he came very close to coming in her mouth.

  “That’s right,” Smith murmured, doing his best to restrain himself. He’d promised her five minutes, and he never went back on his word. “Rub yourself even harder. Are you completely drenched?”

  Another guttural groan vibrated his cock to the point where he involuntarily tightened his fingers in her hair. That only seemed to fuel her desire for more, because she tightened the fingers of her left hand at the bottom of his shaft. It both helped and hurt him in his attempt to prevent his release.

  Smith had no choice but to release his hold on her hair, quickly reaching inside one of the back pockets of his slacks to withdraw a condom from his wallet. Laurel didn’t even seem to notice as she continued to suck him while pleasuring herself simultaneously.

  “Don’t you come, little minx,” Smith warned, gritting his teeth against the inevitable orgasm. He refused to allow his body the pleasure until he was balls deep inside of her. He ripped open the foil with his teeth and removed the
small disc. “Stop.”

  Laurel tossed her hair back when she did as he directed, knowing full well that relief was minutes away.

  “Slide your middle finger inside of yourself,” Smith muttered, never taking his eyes off her face as he rolled the latex over his cock. Even his own touch was almost too much, but he finally secured the condom at the base of his shaft. He knew the exact moment she entered herself, for her lips parted and her eyes glazed over in pleasure. “Now it’s my turn.”

  Smith made quick the decision that the arm of the couch just wasn’t good enough. He had her positioned with her knees facing the back of the cushions, giving him just the right amount of leverage where he claimed her in one thrust.

  Laurel cried out his name before resting her cheek against her inner arm. Smith continued to drive himself into her the way they both relished, not giving time for either one of them to catch their breaths. It wasn’t until he was on the verge of that impending release that he reached around, taking up where she’d left off.

  She was so wet that he had no trouble gathering her juices and rubbing her clit until her fingers dug into the cushion.

  “That’s right, little minx,” Smith whispered the encouragement into her ear. “Come for me.”

  The tightness of his sac became even stronger as he exploded, his seed filling the condom until he had nothing more left to give. The contractions of her sheath were still pulsating as he slowly pulled out of her, drawing her down onto the couch with him so that he could hold her until they got their bearings.

  “You never disappoint, Harvard boy,” Laurel murmured somewhat breathlessly, her eyes already closed as she nestled deeper into his chest. The rest of her words came out in a mumble, but he was smiling by the end of her tirade. “Fine. I’ll go with you to your family dinner, but I’m not wearing those damned shoes.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “I called you in hopes that you could talk some sense into me,” Laurel said harshly into the phone while staring at herself in the mirror of Smith’s bathroom. “Grace, you need to call me back in five minutes and say you have an emergency you need my help with.”

  Laurel had gotten dressed at her apartment, though that was a bit of an understatement. It had taken her trying on five different outfits before settling on a pair of black dress pants and a cream silk blouse that had bell sleeves. She’d also worn black flats out of spite. She’d now changed her mind about this whole bleeding mess. She needed to hit the back door running.

  Her makeup was flawless, giving her the luxury of being stressed about the upcoming dinner without anyone the wiser. Lipstick and eyeliner were wonderful weapons. Makeup was better camouflage than the troops had in combat.

  Other than that?

  She was a complete mental wreck.

  What had she been thinking? Who the hell thought having dinner with Smith’s family had been a good idea? She’d given a little ground in the relationship department, but then the whole meeting the family thing flew up in her face. Wasn’t there supposed to be a timeline for these kinds of things? Didn’t that garner her some contractual amount of time to get used to being the eye candy on Smith Gallo’s arm?

  “You let him sleep over at your place, Laurel,” Grace said wryly, not telling Laurel something she didn’t already know. “Common sense went out the window last night, so you’re a little late on that front. Wait. You’re not pregnant, are you?”

  “No, I’m not with child. Jesus Christ! I’m going to hyperventilate now. I think my chest might explode.” Laurel bent at the waist, resting her forearms on the edge of the countertop. She tried to even out her breathing so she wouldn’t pass out. “His parents are going to hate me. They’ll think I’m after the money, his trust fund, or whatever those Ivy League bean counters call their ill-gotten fortunes.”

  “Why would they have an issue? You’re the one rushing to judgement. Do you think they hate every sweet, intelligent, and highly successful woman who their son brings to dinner? Hell, you were competing against their son for a partnership. That puts you on the same playing field as their bouncing baby boy,” Grace reasoned, suddenly breaking off to cover the mic on her phone.

  Laurel couldn’t make out any of the words.

  “Is that Cynthia? Put her on the line. Maybe she’ll be more helpful, because sweet isn’t how I would describe a woman whose first thought at seeing a dead body was how it was going to affect her employment prospects.” Laurel stood, wishing she’d taken her time in doing so. The blood rushed from her head, causing the room to spin round like a top. A glance in the mirror once the flashing lights dimmed told her that her makeup hadn’t been disturbed in the slightest. “Do you think they’ll ask where I went to college?”

  “What the hell is wrong with an accredited online college? Get over yourself, Laurel.” That was the thing with best friends. They didn’t mince words. They also didn’t let you get away with bullshit without calling you out on it. Laurel also realized that Grace hadn’t confirmed who she was with, which wasn’t like her. “You’re making things more complicated than they have to be, especially given that Sebastian Gallo was arrested for a brawl at First Ave. I don’t think the Gallos have room to talk about their son’s prospects.”

  Laurel had never thought to put things in perspective like that, but it did make it a little easier for her to breathe. She wondered how Grace had known about Sebastian, but she asked her own question instead.

  “Where are you, anyway?” Grace most likely wanted to know how Laurel could be talking like this without Smith overhearing her. “You sound like you’re in a tunnel. Did you lock yourself in the bathroom?”

  “We came back to Smith’s apartment. And yes, I’m in the bathroom. He’s in the bedroom getting dressed for the evening.” She tucked a loose strand behind her ear, having chosen to wear her hair up tonight. It kept her heavy mane off her neck. “He, uh, hadn’t planned on spending the night. He didn’t have a change of clothes at my place. By the way, Detective Nielsen and Detective Mancini stopped by my apartment last night. They asked about Gareth and Cynthia. I don’t know why, considering Gareth wasn’t even in town and Cynthia was at a business dinner the whole time.”

  “My hunch is that Marilyn caved under the pressure and spilled the beans regarding the argument Cynthia and Gareth had early last week in the office.”

  Grace once again pulled the phone away to speak with someone.

  “Who are you with?” Laurel tried to listen even more closely than before, but she couldn’t make out who the other party was, other than it was a man. “Grace, is there something you’re not telling me? I tell you everything.”

  “Yes.” The answer was given so suddenly that Laurel thought she’d only imagined the reply in her head. “There is, but I can’t tell you over the phone. Go and enjoy your dinner tonight with Smith’s family. We’ll talk tomorrow at the office when we get a minute.”

  And just like that, Grace disconnected the line without so much as a goodbye.

  Laurel was still staring at her cell phone when Smith opened the door and walked into the bathroom, wearing a pair of black dress pants and a sweater that had to have been tailored just for him. The gray and black woven material formed itself to his upper body in such a way that it left little to the imagination, yet the pattern lay perfect. She almost pulled the pin and suggested they skip dinner to spend the rest of the night in his bed, but he beat her to the punch and spoke first.

  “Everything okay in here?” Smith’s worried gaze dropped to the phone in her hand.

  “I don’t know,” Laurel answered honestly, wishing she could get Grace back on the line. Laurel had a strange feeling her friend wouldn’t answer, and that caused another round of concern for her friend. “I think she was with a man.”

  “And that’s unusual how?” Smith asked, his eyebrow cocked in amusement. “Grace is an attractive woman in her own right. Plus, someone mentioned to me the other day that she was having an intimate dinner with Rye Marshall.”

&nb
sp; “Rye Marshall? From Marshall Securities?” Laurel had truly thought her day couldn’t get much worse, but she should know better than to tempt fate. “He’s Manon Investments’ top competitor. Grace would never do that to the firm. She has principles.”

  “Just like our compliance officer at Manon Investments wouldn’t get involved with one of our top clients? Or that two of the analysts who were up for promotion wouldn’t ruin their chances at partnership on an intimate relationship? Oh, and don’t forget that one of those analysts is about to start up his own competing fund, splitting the two leaders on the board.”

  Laurel understood that the financial industry, as well as many others, was very cutthroat and bloodthirsty. Fortunately, it had never affected her personally.

  Now?

  She was screwed.

  She’d gotten herself into a mess. Somehow, she knew all of the players very well in this little melodrama. She’d worked with the deceased. And she was the one to discover Brad Manon’s dead body.

  “Oh, no. This is bad. Really bad.” Laurel pressed the home button on her phone, quickly reconnecting the call with Grace. “She’s going to be Detective Nielsen’s prime suspect if he finds out about this.”

  Smith stepped behind Laurel, attempting to massage the tension out of her shoulders. This position had both of them facing the mirror, but amazingly, she didn’t notice any differences other than a man comforting a woman. They even looked good together.

  “A candlelight dinner doesn’t necessarily mean that Grace is involved with Rye,” Smith said, attempting to smooth over her concern. “They could be close friends, for all we know. Or she could have been accepting a first-class meal in exchange for listening to his recruiting pitch. You know, that’s not out of the question.”

  It still didn’t look good in the grand scheme of things. Laurel closed her eyes as his magical fingers did their job, but it was short-lived. The endless ringing eventually went to Grace’s voicemail.