Hendrix drove himself to the building Rosalind Carpenter lived in on Fayetteville Street instead of taking a car. Arriving with fanfare before he’d gotten this done didn’t fit his idea of a good plan. After she said yes, of course there’d be lots of sanctioned pictures of the happy couple. And they’d be dressed.
His mother hadn’t properly appreciated just how hard her son had worked to get his abs to look so centerfold-worthy. It was a shame that such a great shot of what had been a truly spectacular night with the hottest woman he’d ever met had done so much damage to Ms. Harris’s family values campaign.
He charmed his way past the security desk because everyone liked him instantly, a fact of life he traded on frequently. Then he waited patiently until someone with the right access to Roz’s floor who was also willing to listen to his tale of woe got on the elevator. Within fifteen minutes, he knocked on Ms. Carpenter’s door.
To her credit, when she answered, she didn’t even blink.
He did.
Holy hell. How could he have forgotten what she did to him?
Her sensuality leaped from her like a tidal wave, crashing over him until he scarcely knew which way was up, but he didn’t care because surfacing was the last thing on his mind. He gasped for air in the wake of so much sensation as she tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear. She pursed those lush lips and surveyed him with cool amusement.
“You don’t follow instructions well,” she fairly purred, leaning on the door, kicking one foot to the side and drawing attention to the sexy slice of leg peeking out from her long flowy skirt.
“Your memory is faulty,” he returned easily, a smile sliding across his face in spite of the reason for his visit. “I recall being an instant slave to your instructions. ‘Faster, harder, take me from behind.’ I can’t think of a single thing you told me to do that I didn’t follow to the letter.”
One dark brow rose. “Other than the one where I said Vegas was a onetime thing?” she reminded him with a wry twist of her lips. “That there were reasons we shouldn’t hook up at home and you agreed.”
Hendrix waved that off with a grin. “Well, if you’re going to get into specifics. Sure. That was the only one, though.”
“Then I guess the only thing left to do is ask to what do I owe the pleasure?” That’s when she blinked. “Perhaps I should rephrase the question since I have the distinct impression this is not a social call.”
No point in dragging it out when they were both to blame for the scandal and they both had a vested interest in fixing the problem. But he did take a moment to appreciate how savvy she was. Contrary to what the majority of women in the Raleigh-Durham-Cary area would argue, Hendrix did notice when a woman had assets outside of the obvious ones.
Roz’s brain turned him on. She saw things—layers—that normal people took at face value. It was captivating. He still wasn’t sure why it had taken a trip to Vegas for them to hook up when they’d known each other peripherally for years.
“You saw the picture,” he said.
“Along with half of the eastern seaboard. But it’s been circulating for a week.” She slid a once-over down his body, lingering along the way like she’d found something worth noting. “Not sure why that would suddenly cause you to seek me out now.”
The region under her hot gaze woke up in a hurry, galvanized into action by the quick, sharp memories of this woman under his mouth as he’d kissed, licked and tasted his way over every inch of her luscious body.
“We’re definitely going to have to do something about your defective memory,” he growled as he returned her heat with a pointed glance of his own. “If you can look at that photograph and not want to immediately repeat the experience.”
She crossed her arms over her filmy top that did little to curb his appetite. “Nothing wrong with my memory and I have no problem admitting that your reputation is well-founded. What’s not going to happen is a repeat. Vegas was my last hurrah. I told you that.”
Yeah, she had. Repeatedly. While they’d been naked in her bed. And maybe once in the shower. It had been an all-night romp that had nearly caused him to miss his friend Jonas’s wedding the next morning. But Hendrix had left behind his delectable companion and made it to the chapel on time, assuming he’d never see her again, as instructed.
His mother, Helene Harris, presumptive future Governor of North Carolina, had reset his thinking. It had taken a week to work through the ramifications and about that long to get him on board with the idea of a wedding as the antidote. But he was all in at this point. And he needed Roz to be all in, too.
“Here’s the thing. The picture never should have happened. But it did. So we need to mitigate the damage. My mother’s people think that’s best accomplished by the two of us getting married. Just until the election. Then her people have agreed that we can get a quiet divorce.”
Roz laughed and the silky sound tightened all the places that she’d affected so easily by sheer virtue of standing there looking lush and gorgeous.
“Your mom’s people, Hendrix? That’s so precious.”
“Like your dad doesn’t have people?” Carpenter Furniture ranked as one of the top-grossing businesses in the world. Her father had been the CEO since its inception thirty years ago. He had people.
The mirth left her face in a snap. “My dad’s people aren’t spewing nonsense like a marriage to fix a nonexistent problem. This conversation is boring me and I have things to do, so if you’ll excuse me.”
“Not so fast.” Hendrix stuck a foot in the door before Roz could slam it in his face. Time to change tactics. “Let me buy you a drink so we can discuss this like rational adults.”
“Yeah. You and alcohol creates a rational atmosphere.”
Sarcasm dripped from her tone and it was so cute, he couldn’t help but grin.
“Aww. That was very nearly an admission of how crazy I can make you.”
“And I’m done with this.” She nearly took off his foot with the force of the door closing but he didn’t yank it free, despite the pinch in his arch.
“Wait, Roz.” He dropped his tone into the you can’t resist me even if you try realm. “Please give me five minutes. Then you can sever my toes all you want.”
“Is the word marriage going to come out of your mouth again?”
He hesitated. Without that, there was no reason for him to be here. But he needed her more than she needed him. The trick was to make sure she never realized that.
“Is it really so much of a stretch to contemplate a merger between our families that could benefit us all? Especially in light of the photograph.”
Her face didn’t relax, but he could tell he had her attention. Pushing on their mutual attraction wasn’t the ticket, then. Noted. So he went with logic.
“Can you honestly say you’ve had no fallout from our...liaison?” he asked. “Because I have or I wouldn’t be standing on your doorstep. I know we agreed no contact. I know the reasons why. Things changed.”
But not the reasons why. The reasons for no contact were for pure self-preservation.
He and Roz were like kindling dropped into a forest fire together. They’d gone up in flames and frankly, he’d done more dirty things in one night with Rosalind Carpenter than with the last ten women he’d dated. But by the time the sun rose, they were done. He had a strict one-time-only rule that he never broke and not just because of the pact he’d made his senior year at Duke. He’d vowed to never fall in love—because he’d been rejected enough in life and the best way to avoid all that noise was to avoid intimacy.
Sex he liked. Sex worked for him. But intimacy was off the table. He guaranteed it with no repeats.