Manhattan Holiday Read online

  Definitely news to me.

  Ugh, women.

  He grabbed a pair of boxer briefs, pulling them on as he tried to refocus. This marriage condition had only been a minor flaw in his building plans when he was dealing with Justine. Now with April Sutton, things were much more complicated. Like screwed-up complicated. It scared the hell out of him. Man, what was I thinking? His stomach pitched and rolled again.

  He pushed the edgy feeling away and rummaged through his closet, grabbing a shirt and jeans, shaking his head in disbelief over what had happened between him and his lawyer’s assistant. Even in the law office, with her prim outfits and pulled-back hair, he’d felt a strong attraction—one he’d fought for six long months. But tonight, he hadn’t stood a chance after she walked in. She’d blown him away with her skimpy, figure-hugging red dress that showed off her rack in a seriously good way. Along with the way her hair was all tousled and loose in a tease-me manner. Like a total moron he’d stood there, feeling weak in the knees, getting totally hard, while a tight lump had formed in his throat. At the same time, he’d managed to acquire a big empty space where his brain should be.

  He couldn’t explain it, even if he tried. A cold chill ran down his spine, and he had the feeling that his life was never going to be the same.

  Which was absolutely crazy. The plan was simple. The woman was agreeing to sign a business contract. It was purely business.

  Business?

  Good luck with that plan.

  Second-guessing himself, he sighed heavily with frustration and pulled on his jeans. Obviously he’d underestimated April Sutton. She wasn’t anything like what he had her pegged for. Tonight, standing in his apartment, he found her intriguing, definitely a little more than exciting, besides smoking hot.

  No doubt about it. There was much more to April Sutton than an awesome ass in a gray tweed skirt.

  ****

  April sank her derriere thankfully and wearily onto the couch as a warm fire crackled in the modern hearth. She felt as if she had made a deal with the devil. She touched a shaky hand to her lips. They were tingling and hot. As was the rest of her body—scorching red hot. Besides that, her head was spinning like she’d had one-too-many Dirty martinis. Kissing Roman Vasquez on its own was more than enough for a female to handle. The prospect of marrying him was out of this world and bordered on bizarre. It was beyond the realm of what she could process on a normal day.

  She took a deep, uneven breath and tried to go over the pros and cons in her head.

  Pro: it’s a noble cause, the man is being totally selfless by helping others, and if a girl has to do a shotgun wedding, it doesn’t hurt if the guy has an awesome set of abs and killer smile that makes me want to get naked 24/7 with him.

  Con: he’s a total jerk.

  It was useless how many times she went over the lists. The outcome was always in favor of doing what was right. Even if it didn’t make sense.

  Was Roman Vasquez a sinner or saint? She couldn’t decide.

  What he was proposing was over the top. Even for him. But the results would be worthwhile. Still, she couldn’t help wondering why he would do such a selfless thing. Could a man like him actually have no further agenda than to do some good for others? Intrigued, she considered the concept, thinking maybe she’d misjudged him. What she did know for sure was the more she got to know Roman Vasquez, the more he confused her. From the brief time she’d spent with him at the office, she’d thought of him as having a rather dark personality—a hidden determination to get whatever he wanted out of life without a second thought to anyone else. But the minute she stepped foot in his apartment, everything changed; her preconceived ideas about him thrown out the window. Now she didn’t know what to make of him.

  So where did that leave her?

  Right back to asking if she could stand to be married to him in exchange for knowing sick children and their families would have the kind of care and state-of-the-art facilities they needed. Before she could make a decision, there were questions she needed answered. Her legal background kicked into high gear as she deliberated the situation. First of all, they’d have to lay down some ground rules, and secondly, if she accepted his crazy last-minute proposal, she would have to make sure everything was on the up and up before signing her single status away.

  “You look like you could use a drink,” Roman announced, interrupting her thoughts.

  She bolted upward and perched on the edge of the sofa. Feeling like she was strung tighter than a rope, she watched him cross the room and fought a sudden rush of anticipation in response to his presence. He’d dressed in a black button-down shirt and left it pulled out over faded jeans. The rumpled shirt emphasized his broad shoulders, and the dark jeans showcased his long muscled legs. His damp hair looked as if he’d only run a quick hand through it to tousle the short-cut style. Messy, un-ironed shirt aside, he still looked handsome and definitely dangerous.

  “A drink would be great,” she replied. “An explanation of this evening would be better.”

  He laughed out loud at her sarcasm and walked over to a cabinet to pour two whiskeys. “That’s one thing l like about you, Miss Sutton. You never fail to throw a punch when you have the chance.”

  Swiveling on the couch, she leaned over the back to face him directly. “What in the world does that mean?”

  He walked toward her and handed her a tumbler of amber liquid. “Over the past few months I’ve noticed your hidden humor whenever I’ve had the…uh…the pleasure of being in your company.” A mysterious smile lurked at the corners of his mouth.

  “Lucky you,” she bantered back. “Now can you please tell me exactly what I’m getting myself into if I do marry you? Keep it brief and to the point. You know—the good, the bad, and the ugly.”

  He quirked a brow in response and took a seat next to her on the sofa, downing half his whisky before answering. “Would you like to look over the contract I had Henry draw up for Justine and myself?”

  “It would be a start.”

  He leaned over and grabbed the package from the coffee table, handing it to her. With unsteady hands she opened the envelope and slid the packet of papers out. As always she scanned through the legal jargon quickly, cutting to the important aspects of the contract: a marriage of convenience, payment, and a date of termination.

  “Do you think you can agree to this?” he asked, watching her closely as she scanned the document.

  Tonight he was so close she could smell his scent, which was a simple mix of woodsy soap and sexy-hot male. She frowned, and told herself to grow up. “Isn’t there some other woman you can talk into doing this? Perhaps a coworker or maybe a former girlfriend? Even a nice, available female stalker? Anybody?”

  “Sorry. They’re all busy for the holidays.”

  She frowned again in frustration and went back to the contract.

  “Something wrong?”

  She finished reading the last section of the document and shrugged her shoulders. “No, it’s just all very cold and unfeeling. But I guess the end result is what’s important.” She thought how absolutely ironic it was that instead of planning a real wedding with Todd, she was considering signing a contract with Roman Vasquez for a fake marriage with a termination date.

  “If you don’t like something in the contract I can have it changed,” he offered quickly.

  She sighed with resignation. “No, everything is in order. Except the payment. You can delete that and my name will have to be inserted,” she instructed, willing herself not to cry in front of him.

  “Then will you marry me?”

  April looked up from the papers, directly into his dark eyes. His proposal of marriage hung in the air between them as she debated her answer.

  “Yes…I’ll marry you,” she whispered, her voice soft and a little unsure.

  Oddly enough, he didn’t look much better. In fact, Roman Vasquez looked as if he was suddenly a little green around the gills. “Uh, yeah…good…good choice,” was all he
replied, his husky voice sounding like he was now the unsure one.

  “Positive about that?” she questioned.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the look of fear in your eyes.”

  “Very funny. I have absolutely no doubts.”

  “Good for you, because I have tons of them.”

  As luck would have it, someone knocked on the door, giving him the excuse to momentarily leave her. “That would be the notary I scheduled to witness the signing,” he told her.

  April watched him walk away to answer the door. Are you crazy??? Yes? You said yes? Had she really agreed? So much for her questions being answered before she made a decision. Or for laying ground rules and seeing if there was some other way to work out this deal. Her only excuse was for some totally insane reason, she trusted him completely on this matter. Roman Vasquez may be a player and fast-track mogul in New York City, but she saw the sincerity in his eyes when he talked about the hospital wing. She would just need a little faith that everything was going to work out for the best.

  Even if it didn’t make a lick of sense.

  She rose and wandered over to the wall of windows, glancing out at the twinkling nightscape of Manhattan. An hour ago she was in her apartment, bemoaning her single status and plotting to find some hunk to spend the holidays with. Be careful what you wish for, since it may come true. Her mom used to tell her that all the time when she was growing up. Tonight she could easily see her mother’s point of view. Lost in thought, she watched the snow flitter by the window and tried to find some reason for what was happening. Maybe it was simply fate. Or maybe destiny had intervened and was responsible for her life being turned upside down.

  …or maybe it was just very bad luck.

  “April?” Roman requested, motioning for her to join him and the other gentleman standing next to him.

  She crossed the room, conscious of her host’s compelling gaze. “Hello,” she offered, moving to shake the other man’s hand as Roman made introductions.

  “April Sutton, this is John Mitchell, the notary who will witness and document our contract,” he explained.

  April nodded and smiled uneasily to the well-dressed businessman. With nothing left to do, Roman spread the contract papers out before them on the glass dining table. Deleting the payment and Justine’s name, Roman then inserted hers, while the notary watched and then initialed the changes. He observed as first April signed the modified contract, and then Roman. Taking his official notary stamp, the man emblazoned the papers with his seal and then congratulated them both before closing his briefcase and bidding them goodnight.

  The apartment door closed with a thud as April jumped nervously, turning to watch Roman walk back to her from the entry hall. He looked extremely satisfied, self-assured, and very pleased with himself.

  “Well, I guess its official…you’re mine.”

  Chapter Four

  April felt her body go hot and then cold at his words. “I hate to tell you this—but you’re not my type.”

  Instead of looking mad, the man had the nerve to appear amused by her statement. He stopped in front of her. “And what type are you attracted to?” he demanded, his warm brown eyes traveling over her from head to toe.

  Annoyed at the mischievous grin that lurked on his mouth, she wished she had enough willpower to leave. Instead she stood glued to the floor, almost melting from the seductive, teasing tone of his voice. “My type?” she repeated, thinking about what she wanted and never got from Todd. “That’s easy: a man who is always a gentleman, who can be faithful, loving, and one who definitely wants children.”

  He frowned on cue. “Yep. You’re right. I am not your type.”

  She laughed outright at his admission, loving the look of pure horror that crossed his face. “Now that you know my perfect man, you can rest assured that I’ll uphold my end of the contract—the part in section eight: sexual relations may be abstained from.”

  He looked anything but pleased at her declaration. “Of course. The contract.”

  “You don’t look happy?” she taunted. “Didn’t you read section eight?”

  “Yeah, I read section eight,” he announced gruffly.

  “Fine. Good. Then this deal should work out very nicely. You go your way and I go mine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a dinner date.”

  April made it two feet before he grabbed her arm, pulling her around to face him. “You’re joking, right?” he declared, not letting go as she tried to pull away. “You just signed a contract for our impending marriage. Now you’re going out on a date?”

  She sighed heavily. “Oh please! It’s not like we’re really getting married and in love. You can call me tomorrow and let me know the when and where. I promise to be on time, say my I do’s, and then we can go our separate ways until the hospital wing is completed. Did I miss something?” she inquired.

  He frowned at her with a stormy expression. “You missed a lot.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like picking out a wedding dress, rings, flowers, license. Not to mention telling our families we’re getting married.”

  Incredulously, she stared back at him, her eyes widening with each item. “You can’t be serious!”

  “I’m very serious,” he whispered, his eyes narrowing as he moved closer. “Like I said before—you’re mine now.”

  She resisted the urge to stomp on his bare foot with one of her stiletto heels. “But you weren’t going to do all these things with that Justine woman. Why bother with all the rituals of a real wedding with me, for goodness’ sake?”

  “Because our situation is different. Justine was going to live abroad during our contract. You’re here in New York. So we have to work things differently. Make them a little more convincing.”

  She stamped her foot in anger for real now, barely missing his toes, and glared back at him. “You can’t just take over my life!”

  “I already have,” he announced, releasing her arm as he walked back to the coffee table to pick up his drink.

  “Oh, please,” she moaned, rolling her eyes with added drama.

  He downed his whiskey in one swallow before continuing to issue orders. “Why don’t you call your date and explain you can’t make it. We need time to talk about what will happen in the next few days. If you want, I can cook you dinner here, and we can work out the details.”

  Cook? He got her attention with that one. She quirked a well-arched brow. “You can cook?”

  Grinning slyly, he nodded. “Pasta with my own special marinara sauce or grilled steak with Portobello mushrooms in a red wine glaze. Take your pick.”

  The guy really knows how to charm his way around a woman. And it was working. April felt all the anger ease out of her as he stood there with that too perfect grin, which was surely his plan all along. She knew she was easily being duped into staying at his apartment. But she couldn’t help herself. There was just something so appealing about having a handsome Latin man cook dinner. Very tempting. Almost like hot-sweaty-sex tempting.

  “Pasta. If you don’t mind,” she stated quickly before she could talk herself out of it, watching as his grin turned into a full-out smile of satisfaction.

  “Good. Then maybe you should call your date and cancel for tonight while I get started on dinner,” he instructed smoothly.

  “Yes, I should…oh, I have Henry’s car and driver downstairs waiting for me,” she stammered, not sure what to do.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll call Thomas downstairs at the door and have him send the car away for the evening.”

  While Roman used the building intercom, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Emily. She picked up immediately, sounding oddly inquisitive as to why April wouldn’t be meeting her and her husband Jake and a few others for dinner. I should have texted. She also cross-examined April on her plans for the holiday weekend with relentless fortitude, while April made a mental note to clue her BFF into the fact she needed to turn off the lawyer mode after
work hours. April quickly blamed both the missed dinner and the canceled trip to Florida on a heavy work schedule and ended the call.

  Truthfully, work really had caused her problems tonight. In more ways than one.

  She tossed her phone back into her handbag and walked over to the kitchen. Built galley style, the sleek stainless steel and all-black kitchen was a cook’s dream, outfitted with top-of-the-line everything. Taking a seat at the slate-topped island that divided the kitchen from the rest of the penthouse, she watched while he opened a bottle of red wine and poured a single glass.

  She knit her brows together. “Not joining me?”

  He reached inside his refrigerator and extracted a bottle of beer. “Nah, I’m not really big on wine.”

  She was still perplexed. “If you don’t drink wine, then why the dramatic wall of bottles?”

  He glanced over to the artsy looking cubes of wine and shrugged with indifference. “My sister had the interior designer put that in. She gets pissed if I don’t have a bottle handy when she visits. Of course I didn’t know about this until it was already installed and stocked.”

  She hid a smile at his disgruntled tone while accepting the glass of red he offered. She took a sip and let the velvety tones of the classic drink filter down as she observed him closely. He pulled out two pots from a cabinet and filled one with water. As he cooked, she took another long sip of her wine, marveling again at how incredibly hot the guy was. Granted his body was toned and muscled and very appealing to any female, but it was his face she found so fascinating. He was boldly handsome, but in a rough, almost rugged sort of way. His intimidating brow was strong and heavy over liquid brown eyes laced with tawny gold. The typical bedroom eyes, she thought to herself. His nose was equally strong and broad. His lips sculptured and firm, and when he frowned lines drove across his forehead and the sides of his mouth, making him even more sexy and tempting.