Claiming His Nine-Month Consequence. Jennie Lucas
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Imagining things. There were plenty of other possible explanations.
But as she left the Atlas Club, he was waiting for her, as she knew he’d be.
The sidewalks had already grown quiet on the snowy street, as the last of the clubgoers and staff disappeared in the cold night to the nearby Settler, called the Sett for short, or other bars in the tiny mountain resort town.
Ares Kourakis was leaning against a streetlight, dressed in black, surrounded by snow. Butterflies filled her belly at seeing him.
“You did that, didn’t you?” she said accusingly.
Ares gave her a careless smile. “What if I did?”
She shook her head. “The club would have made a fortune tonight. How much did you pay Mr. Vence to close?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“And you made sure the staff had the night off. Paid. With tips and everything.”
“I knew it would kill your pleasure if they didn’t.”
Ruby’s voice croaked as she asked, “But why?”
“I told you.” He came closer beneath the street lamp, until their bodies were only inches apart. With his greater height, he towered over her. She squared her shoulders desperately beneath her vintage jacket, refusing to back an inch, but she couldn’t hide the rapid rise and fall of her breath. Reaching down, he tucked back a tendril of her long dark hair. “I want to be with you tonight.”
Be with her. Be with her? Looking up, she tried to glare at him. “Do you always get what you want?”
His dark gaze poured through her soul. “Yes.”
She swallowed. “But—but why?” she whispered. “Why me?”
“I told you. You’re incredibly beautiful.”
“Most of the girls in the club were way prettier than me.”
His expression changed. “You’re different.”
Ruby shook her head helplessly. “Different how?”
“You weren’t trying to get my attention.”
Ah. Now she understood. She felt suddenly, incomprehensively disappointed. She wasn’t special after all. Somehow he’d almost made her hope—
Cutting off the thought, she lifted her chin. “So you’re a spoiled child in a roomful of toys, throwing a tantrum over the one toy you can’t have.”
He drew closer, looking down at her.
“Your refusal only drew my attention,” he said huskily. “It wasn’t the only reason. Something about you...” His gaze fell to her lips, and for a second she thought he might kiss her, right then and there on Main Street. She shivered, holding her breath as he said, “Take me up on the mountain.”
Take me. Up on the mountain. She gulped.
“I can’t,” she breathed. “It’s...locals only...”
“You can.” His voice was so persuasive she felt like she couldn’t say no. In fact, she could barely remember what no meant.
Ruby took a deep breath. “Look, I’m sure you’re a great skier, but—”
“Actually I’m not. I suck at skiing.”
Her lips parted in astonishment, both at the assertion and that any arrogant man would admit to being bad at something. “Then why would you buy a house here?”
Ares looked at her. “There are other things I enjoy.”
His voice was low, making her shiver in the cold night. He wasn’t even touching her, but she felt electrified, half on fire. It had never felt like this with Braden, not once, not even when he’d kissed her. Even when he’d proposed to her, he’d never made her feel like this.
Run, her mother’s voice warned inside her. Run as far and fast as you can.
Instead, as Ruby looked up at Ares beneath the diamond-sparkled winter moonlight, she heard herself say, “Do you have ski clothes?”
His cruel, sensual lips curved. “Of course.”
She snorted. “But they’re probably some expensive designer, aren’t they? Brand new? In black?” When he didn’t deny it, Ruby shook her head. “I’ll find you something else.”
“What’s wrong with my clothes?”
“No one can know I’m bringing you up on the mountain. They’d be furious. Think you can keep your mouth in check and be inconspicuous and quiet?”
He looked insulted. “I can be inconspicuous when I choose. In fact, I’m amazing at it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Just do your best, okay? If anyone asks, you’re my cousin’s best friend from Coeur d’Alene. Come on.” Motioning him to follow, she led him to her old, beat-up SUV parked on a side street. She opened the passenger-side door with a squeal of rusted metal. She had to wrench the handle just right to get it open.
Ares looked at the truck dubiously.
“Not scared of a little worn upholstery, are you?” she challenged.
“That truck is older than I am.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-six.”
“You’re right. Get in.”
Going to the driver’s side, Ruby climbed in. He slid in beside her on the bench seat, then slammed the passenger door shut with a clang. It actually latched. She was impressed. Most people weren’t strong enough to close it unless they knew the trick. She looked at him.
Ares looked out of place sitting on the worn bench seat in his elegant black cashmere coat and well-cut white shirt and black trousers. She hid a smile. If he was bothered by her old truck, just wait till he saw what she planned for him to wear up on the mountain. Her smile spread to a grin.
“Ruby?”
Starting the engine with a low roar, she glanced at him. “Yeah?”
Ares caught her gaze beneath the moonlight. “Thank you.”
His dark eyes burned through her. Her grin faded. Looking away, she muttered, “It’s no big deal.” Glancing over her left shoulder, she twisted the steering wheel and pushed on the gas. “I’m just going to stop at my house and pick up some ski clothes for you.”
“Whose are they? Your brother’s? Your father’s?” He paused. “Your lover’s?”
“I don’t have any of those things,” she said, staring forward at the road. “My father deserted my mom before I was born. It’s just my mom, my little sister and me.”
“The same little sister who planned to seduce me?”
He sounded amused, but her cheeks burned. She could only imagine what he thought of Ivy. “Don’t judge her. She should be in college, having fun. Instead, she spends most of her time in a sickroom. Our mom’s been sick a long time. And Ivy doesn’t even remember her father. He died a long time ago.”
“You and your sister have different fathers?”
She looked at him fiercely. “So?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes I think fathers are overrated. My own was a piece of work.”
Slightly mollified, she changed the subject. “Did you grow up in Greece? You don’t really have an accent.”
“I was born in Greece. But most of my life I’ve lived elsewhere. New York, mostly.” For a moment, silence fell as she drove the truck down the thin sliver of highway going through the moonlit, snow-covered valley. Then he said, “In my experience, all fathers do well is pay the bills.”