The Inheritance Test, page 14
But this was Declan. Keeping secrets from him felt wrong. She weighed silence against sharing, and knew that she couldn’t keep this from him, not if they were going to have any kind of a real relationship. She had to trust him with everything, including the not-so-pretty parts of her life.
“We have a budget problem,” she admitted. “I mean, there’s never enough money when you’re a nonprofit, right? That prize money would have been... Well. Let’s just say this Cinderella is going to have a lot of work to do when she gets home from the ball. Because—”
She stared at him, willing the words to come out of her mouth. To tell him the entire truth. Because my ex-fiancé stole everything. Because I trusted when I should have been asking questions. I’m so, so sorry. And—
And she had no idea what to do next.
“Charlotte?” He ran his fingers along her jaw. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”
It so wasn’t, but apparently she was going to chicken out. “Let’s not talk about it, okay? Not tonight. It was just a race and a crazy idea of mine.” Like the crazy idea of us. But he’d said he loved her.
He squeezed her hand gently. “Isn’t that what Prince Charming is for? Fixing all of his ladylove’s problems?”
“News flash. You’re not a prince, Hollywood.” She brushed a kiss over his mouth. “Can we leave?”
“Sure.” He let out a low laugh. “I think we’ve done enough in the name of good sportsmanship.”
She laughed, but then he was dancing them out, right across the ballroom floor in a sweeping, ridiculously romantic not-quite-a-waltz. She knew exactly how Cinderella felt, dancing on borrowed time.
The valet brought Declan’s car around and she slid gratefully inside, leaning her head back against the buttery leather. A moment later, he joined her and got them on the road.
His right hand brushed her cheek briefly. “Come back with me?”
Her insides clenched. Her driver was one dead sexy man.
“Let’s do my place,” she said, needing the comfort of home and the familiar.
Tonight there were fewer paparazzi waiting out front, some of the furor over their dramatic capsizing and rescue having waned. They slipped past the photographers and Declan exchanged a few low words with Ryan before joining her inside her cottage. He looked large and very male in the small space.
Before she could forget, she pulled off the earrings and held them out to him. “You’d better take these back before I lose them, too.”
He gave her a look. “They deserve a good home.” He curled her fingers around the fistful of diamonds and rubies. “You keep them.”
She groaned. She had no idea how much vintage Edwardian jewelry cost, but these earrings weren’t roses or even a half dozen of Gitty’s muffins. “I can’t.”
She set them carefully on the coffee table. Then she kicked off her gorgeous sandals, groaning. “How can something so beautiful hurt so bad?”
“Absolutely no idea.” His small half smile said that maybe he did know.
She hated to see him sad.
“We need a do-over on this week,” she said, holding out her hands to him. “Dance with me.”
He raised an eyebrow but he took her hands, mock-dancing her around the room while she hummed her favorite waltz. And if it might, just possibly, have starred a yellow dress and the prince of beasts, sue her. Everyone deserved a fantasy. Which reminded her...
She wound her arms around Declan’s neck, tugging his face down to hers so she could breathe him in, then pressed her mouth to his where he tasted of champagne and something sweeter, wilder and all Declan. It turned out she had a serious Declan addiction.
“Are we still dancing?” he asked, but he wrapped his arms around her and swung her in one last, crazy slow circle. She tightened her grip on him but he set her on her feet, his hands sliding up her back and then down. He pulled her closer until she could feel the heat and strength of him through the tuxedo.
Which was bone-meltingly lovely, but not enough. She fisted the front of his dress shirt, dragging him nearer still. Her nipples tightened from the contact. “That’s a no on the waltzing, but I have another idea, Hollywood.”
“Found a use for Prince Charming after all?” he asked, voice hoarse, when they finally broke apart after another kiss.
“You bet. Think he takes orders?”
“He’s willing to try. Always.” He leaned into her, his lips finding hers again. “But he can be a screwup.”
She rocked her hips against him, making him groan. “I hope there’s a dirty pun in there.”
He smiled. “I’m all yours.”
“For right now.”
His smile deepened. “It will always be right now.”
“Good plan,” she said breathlessly. “The absolute best of plans.”
He nodded. “You want me to bring you your binder so you can immortalize it?”
“Declan.” She ran her fingers along his jaw. “I’m pretty sure we sank that binder. Along with our boat.”
The Cupcake had washed up on shore, so maybe someone had salvaged the binder, but she wasn’t thinking straight, at least not about itemized plans and next steps. She blamed Declan for that. The heated look in his eyes didn’t make her want to plan, or think about what would happen tomorrow or next. All she cared about was right now—and Declan.
“We’ll figure it out,” he promised hoarsely.
“Promise?”
And as if he’d read her mind, he made a very male sound and picked her up. Her cottage was so small that a few strides had them in her even tinier bedroom, a room that seemed a thousand times smaller now that it was full of Declan, or maybe that was just the too-big feelings squeezing her chest, her ribs, her heart...
“Yeah,” he said. “Promise.”
* * *
“So beautiful,” Declan whispered, making short work of Charlotte’s clothes and his own. This was his favorite side of her, the one that was bare and open, trusting him to make her feel good. And then when she made that cute little snort of disbelief that she made far too often, he gently placed his palm over her mouth. “The clothes and the fancy makeup are pretty, but they’re like a picture frame for what I really want to look at. You don’t need them, Char.” His voice was whiskey-rough and strained as he rolled her on top of him, stroking her body with his hands as he drew sensual patterns over her skin.
“Don’t lie to me,” she said fiercely, straddling him. “Don’t ever lie to me, not about this, not about us.”
“Won’t,” he gritted out, running his hands up her soft thighs, tracing each curve with clever fingers. She was such a giver, so warm and open, her body heating for him where they touched, the rounded globes of her breasts meriting more kisses, the tight tips demanding his attention, and then his mouth explored the sun-kissed slopes and the paler skin that had been hidden beneath her swimsuit tops. She gasped out his name, her body welcoming him, moving restlessly as she gripped his shoulders and held on. It was...everything.
He lost himself in her, forgetting the race and where they were, the world camped outside this small, private place for the two of them. The brush of her skin on his sent pleasure shooting through him, her hands stroking him, her mouth pressing kisses against his throat, his shoulder. He loved that she trusted him to give her this, heat and desire racing through his body as she touched him and he loved each part of her that he could.
“Charlotte.”
She stared down at him, dazed. “We really don’t need to have a conversation right now.”
“Is this okay?”
He gripped her hips gently, his thumbs stroking over the sensitive skin and moving down to where she was slick and wet.
“Don’t you dare stop,” she whispered. And then, “Please, Declan.”
She leaned down into him and he kissed her, his fingers never stopping until the rhythm of her breathing changed, her body tensing. He found a condom and then he was inside her, guiding her hips in a new, harder rhythm that made them both groan, half words and rough pleas falling from their mouths.
Their next kiss wasn’t as sweet as their last kiss had been. It was hungry and open, things Declan usually didn’t share with anyone because he hated being vulnerable. But Charlotte cupped his face with her hands, her breath coming in short gasps as she kissed him back, her hips rocking on him, and if she could do it, he wanted to as well. She was trusting and open, sweet and so goddamned giving that he just knew. No matter what happened with Masterson Entertainment, with his father and the work projects he’d thought mattered so much, he’d already won when this woman chose him to make love to her—to be her partner in every sense of the word.
Her face pressed against his throat even as she let out a few of the sexiest whimpers he’d ever heard. “Can you finish this, please?” she asked, sounding desperate. “Now, Declan. Right now. Please.”
So he did, giving her what they both needed because he was hers right now and, quite possibly, forever.
Seventeen
The day was shaping up to be a Martha’s Vineyard classic, full of sunshine and bright blue sky. The weather had been picture-perfect in the two weeks since the race, as if to make things up to her. Unfortunately, even if Charlotte had had a free minute to step outside and enjoy it, paparazzi had parked across the street from Martha’s Kids. Earlier today, when she’d stepped outside with her PB&J, hoping to eat down by the water, they’d pounced. Ryan had convinced them to back off, but lesson learned. Free time now meant inside time. Preferably in-bed time.
With Declan.
She loved the time they spent in bed. A lot. Declan was always in motion, running, racing, putting his body through its paces because the man loved challenges. And even though the Vineyard got its share of famous visitors, the summer tourists stared when they were out and about, asking to take selfies with him or for an autograph. Public Declan was charming, but the private man was hers alone. He laughed easily, his eyes full of warmth as he sprawled like the king of the cats, listening to her talk. Nothing threw him. He was calm, sure of the next step to take but careful not to force his opinions on her. And the way he was always touching her... She loved that, too. He’d sling an arm around her, give her shoulder a gentle squeeze when he came back into a room where she was and stroke her hair. She’d never been a touchy-feely person but she loved how he touched her. Her face flushed as she remembered just how much she loved it. They’d kept each other up far too late last night.
Five minutes ago, she’d been looking forward to the end of a long day trying to make their nonexistent budget work when she’d got a phone call from the district attorney’s office. Never, she reminded herself, make the mistake of thinking a day couldn’t get worse.
Because it could.
The district attorney’s office had what they needed to press charges against George Moore even if they hadn’t yet found the bastard. It had been a lengthy process. She’d turned over copies of the foundation’s bookkeeping records and then had made herself available to answer their questions. Finally, the DA had sufficient evidence to take to a grand jury. She’d known for months, of course, that George was a lying, stealing weasel, but now it would officially be public knowledge. She no longer needed to keep silent and there would be an epic PR storm when the news broke.
She wasn’t sure what to do next, which was a first. She always had a plan and finishing the letter of resignation that she’d drafted when she’d first realized what George had done seemed like it should be number one on her to-do list. It was just that she’d stupidly thought she’d have more time, that she could find a solution to the damage. Instead, she’d failed. She suspected that failure was about to make it onto national television thanks to her not-so-fake-now relationship with Declan.
A tap on her office door had her looking up. Declan stood there, sun-bronzed and relaxed. Her heart skipped a beat.
After the crazy finish to their race, they’d done round after round of media interviews. There had been photographs and invitations to appear on several television programs, all of which she’d begged off. He’d done them, though, and she’d watched, marveling at his ease in front of the cameras. And at that thought, she winced a little. Despite his makeover lessons and the designer clothes, she was still Charlotte. She didn’t fit into his Hollywood lifestyle and couldn’t imagine life lived in that fishbowl. And she’d tried—because this thing between her and Declan wasn’t just sex or even the friendship that she’d come to value so highly. It was both of those things, as well as the fact that her heart had gotten involved as well and the end of the summer was coming closer and closer.
Today was the first time since the winners’ banquet that Declan hadn’t had a scheduled appearance and she’d planned to catch up on work before heading out to watch the fireworks at Oak Bluffs with him. It had been his idea that they go out tonight and she didn’t have the heart to tell him that she would have preferred to spend it alone with him rather than in a crowd. She didn’t know when he had to head back to Hollywood and his film studio, but she doubted they had much more time together and she didn’t want to waste it in public. Her heart seized at the relaxed smile playing around the corners of his mouth.
“Are you okay?”
“A bad phone call,” she said. “But nothing unexpected.”
He leaned down, capturing her mouth in a kiss. Because she’d driven to work, he followed her back to her place in his car. And then, when he followed her inside and she tried to get changed because she wasn’t watching fireworks in business casual, thank you very much, one thing led to another and it was close to sunset before they got out of bed and on the road.
The fireworks at Oak Bluffs were legendary and the night was clear and perfect. Visitors and year-round residents crowded the grassy expanse, picnicking around a white bandstand lit up and decorated in bunting. A brass band cranked out Sousa tunes. Declan grabbed their supplies from his car and then threaded his fingers through hers, drawing her through the crowd and to the bandstand.
Proving he got her more than anyone else ever had, he’d stocked their picnic basket with lobster rolls and root beer in glass bottles. And true to form, they’d started their picnic with dessert first: cupcakes from Gitty’s bakery truck. Afterward, he tugged her onto his lap. Fortunately it was growing dark, although she spotted at least one cell phone turned their way. Maybe she’d get lucky and a former president or a rap star would show up.
As the band wrapped up their next-to-last number, he shifted her off his lap. “I need you to do something for me.” He smiled at her. “Think you can do that?”
She had some very pleasurable memories of the last time he’d ask that particular question. “Does it involve my holding very, very still while you have your wicked way with me? Because there are far too many people here for that to work. Only one of us is comfortable with performing in public.”
He groaned. “You’re killing me. And no. Not yet. Give me five minutes more here and remember that I love you.”
She still got a fizzing sensation when he said those three words to her. It was surreal. More than once over the past year she’d wondered, mostly when she’d been hiding in her bed, what was so wrong with her that no one stuck around. Her father hadn’t noticed when she disappeared. The man she thought she’d loved and had promised to marry had seen her as a means to money. No one had wanted her for her. No one had wanted to stay. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t whine and that she’d get on with her life—and then Declan had crashed into it.
“I love you right back,” she said.
He dropped a quick kiss on her mouth and then stood, tugging her up with him. “That’s a promise. Don’t forget.”
The music stopped and then the band started again, but it wasn’t the usual 1812 Overture that always ended the fireworks show. Train’s “Marry Me” filled the air as Declan dropped to one knee in front of her, smiling up into her eyes. “Will you?”
She had no idea what script he was reading from or what her line was. There was a roaring sound in her ears, a foggy sensation creeping over her. Her face flushed as everyone around them turned to watch them.
“What?”
“Marry me.” He wrapped his fingers around hers. “Charlotte, will you marry me?”
She smiled back automatically. This was... Yes, her heart screamed. Her brain thought... Well, it had derailed because the last month had been amazing, maybe the best of her life. Declan was a great guy who believed in her and who’d stuck with her through some hard moments. She was working, trying to make a difference for her foster kids, and for the first time in what felt like forever she was one-hundred-percent in charge of her own life...except for those late-night visits with Declan, because the man was deliciously bossy in bed and made the best suggestions about how he could please her.
That was amazing.
It was love.
A game changer.
She didn’t know what this was, although it sure seemed like the game had changed. Again.
People around them were whispering, a sea of cell phones capturing their moment. Did she say yes yet? Did he get down on one knee? Can you see the ring?
She stared back at them, suddenly wishing she was anywhere else, and realized her teammates from Martha’s Kids were in the crowd. None of them had mentioned that they were planning on attending tonight’s fireworks. And there was...her father? Now that she looked, the entire Vineyard seemed to have packed itself onto the lawn—and none of them were watching the sky for fireworks.
They were all staring at Charlotte and Declan.
Declan, who was holding out a small, open velvet box with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around hers.
