The Best Man for the Job

FOUR


Just when Celia didn’t think she could take any more shocks to the system, bam, there was another one.

She was still trying to get her head around the fact that Marcus thought that what she’d achieved with her career was impressive. That she’d got quite a large part of him badly, badly wrong. That there’d never been a bet and the enormity of what that meant. That ever since that night her attitude towards him—and men in general—had been fuelled by one tiny misunderstanding and could have been so very different if teenage angst hadn’t got in the way.

So, on top of all that, the news that he wanted her was too much for her poor overloaded brain to take.

‘What?’ she said, rubbing her temple with her free hand as if that might somehow remove the ache that was now hammering at her skull.

‘I want you,’ he said, taking a step towards her and battering her senses with his proximity. ‘A lot. I think I always have.’

‘You have an odd way of showing it,’ she said, edging back a little and feeling the pressure inside her ease a fraction.

The look in his eyes, dark and glittering and entirely focused on her, made her stomach flip. ‘I don’t take rejection well,’ he said softly.

‘No, you don’t.’

‘And you haven’t exactly been encouraging.’

‘Why would I be?’

‘You wouldn’t. Yet despite that you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever met.’

Celia swallowed hard and tried to keep things rational because this was Marcus and he had the patter nailed, but it was hard to think straight when she wanted to be anything but rational. ‘Has it occurred to you that I might simply be the one that got away?’

‘Yes.’

‘And?’

‘Does it matter?’

Did it? She didn’t have a clue about anything right now except for the desire sweeping through her. ‘I guess that depends on what happens next.’

‘What do you want to happen next?’

‘I don’t know.’

But she did. Because if she was honest it was what she’d wanted for years now, even though she’d done her best to bury it. Hadn’t she been wishing that the animosity between them would abate? Hadn’t she been wondering what would remain if it did? Hadn’t she had hot, steamy dreams about it?

And now it seemed as if the ill will had gone, and she didn’t have to wonder what would remain any more because she could feel it. Right down to her marrow. Electricity. Excitement and want. Unfettered by the past. Unleashed by the present.

He took a step towards her, then reached out and ran his hand from her shoulder slowly, so slowly down her arm, watching as he did so.

‘You really don’t know?’ he murmured and she shivered.

‘Still working on it,’ she said, because what with the speed this was going, what with the whiplash one-eighty their relationship had undergone, some kind of caution here seemed prudent.

‘Did you know your sister-in-law thinks we have chemistry?’ he said softly, his fingers circling her wrist and resting over her thundering pulse.

‘I didn’t.’ But it didn’t surprise her because Zoe was perceptive like that.

‘She thinks there’s tension.’

‘There’s certainly been that.’

‘Apparently she also thinks we’re in denial.’

‘Right,’ she said weakly because she could barely breathe with the lust slamming through her, let alone speak.

‘Although I’m not any more.’

Celia swallowed and thought that, seeing as how Marcus was being brutally honest at the moment, what else could she do but return the courtesy? ‘I never have been,’ she murmured.

‘No?’

‘I’ve always been attracted to you. I haven’t wanted to be. It’s been driving me insane.’

His jaw tightened. His eyes darkened. He twined his fingers through hers and tugged her closer and her heart began to thump wildly.

‘So what do you suggest we do about it?’ he said softly, so close that he dazzled her. Scrambled her thoughts. Melted her brain. Rendered her all soft and mushy inside.

Nothing was one option. The sensible one probably and definitely the one that would cause her the least emotional upheaval.

But Celia had been sensible all her life and look where it had got her. She had a great career and pots of cash in the bank, but while her friends were tripping over themselves to rush up the aisle, as her father had so thoughtfully pointed out, she hadn’t had a boyfriend in years.

Which generally suited her fine. She didn’t want a serious relationship right now. With the prospect of partnership on the horizon she didn’t have the time or the energy needed to devote to one. Yet, this afternoon, for the first time in months, she’d been aware of how alone she was.

A medley of images now spun through the fog in her head: Dan and Zoe smiling adoringly at each other as they cut the cake; the look she’d caught Lily and Kit exchange during the speeches, a look that held love, acceptance, hope and such heat; all those couples swaying to the music.

And her. Standing alone moments before her father had sought her out, her chest squeezing with loneliness and envy.

The irony was that if it hadn’t been for Marcus’ stupid bravado her relationship history for the past fifteen years could have been very different. She might not have been so wary of men. She might not have been so suspicious of their motives. She might not have scared off anyone who showed more than a passing interest in her. She might even have eased up a bit on her career in order to have a relationship. A marriage. A family.

But what was the point of dwelling on that now? She couldn’t change the past. And she was happy with her life. Today’s stab of loneliness was nothing more than a blip. Tomorrow she’d be back in London, back at work, and she’d be fine.

She was glad she and Marcus had the opportunity to clear the air. It gave her some sort of closure. Maybe once the deal she was working on was out of the way she might be able to start a whole new chapter of her life romance-wise. Maybe she’d stop pushing men away. Maybe she’d find someone who was as driven as she was, who held the same values she did. Someone as sensible and level-headed as she was.

The problem was, right now, she wasn’t feeling in the slightest bit sensible or level-headed. She was feeling reckless. Wild. Weirdly out of control. Her body was behaving way beyond its remit. Emotions were churning through her and playing havoc with her common sense.

All because of Marcus, because she wanted him. God, she wanted him. Had for years, but had always thought it one-sided. Now, though, she knew it wasn’t, and she could feel the attraction burning between them, fierce, mutual and utterly irresistible.

It had been so long since she’d had sex. Even longer since she’d had good sex. And with the amount of practice he’d had he’d be very good at it, she was sure.

She was under no illusions about what he was. She might have been wrong about some things, but she knew he enjoyed playing the field. She knew he didn’t do commitment, didn’t do long-term, which suited her fine because she didn’t want either from him. She just wanted to explore this sizzling chemistry because for one thing it would undoubtedly give her proper closure and for another who was she to fight with such a force of nature?


Mind made up, Celia ignored the little voice inside her head telling her she was mad and dragged her gaze up from the expanse of his chest. She saw a muscle in his jaw begin to pound and his eyes darken, and desire flooded through her.

‘Well?’ he said, the tension radiating off him suggesting that he was finding it as hard to cling onto his self-control as she was.

‘You know those scruples of yours?’ she said, her voice weirdly low and husky.

‘What about them?’

‘Do they include anything concerning friends’ younger sisters now?’

‘Nope.’

‘Good,’ she said as fire licked through the blood in her veins and her heart thundered wildly. ‘Then how about we finish what we started?’

* * *

One quick tug was all it took and then Celia was flush against him, her eyes widening and her lips parting on a gasp, although what she thought she was surprised about Marcus had no idea.

What did she think would happen when she’d basically just told him she wanted to have sex with him? He might not have acknowledged it before but he’d been waiting for this for fifteen years. He wasn’t going to wait one more second. Couldn’t anyway, because the heat and want now flaring in the depths of her eyes, so different from the disdain and disapproval he was used to, were seducing him so completely that everything faded but her.

What did he care about the wisdom of this? The implications? The potential fallout? He couldn’t even think about any of that. Not when the soft, pliant feel of her against him and the thready sound of her breathing, altogether such a contrast to her usual smart-talking, insult-delivering toughness, were obliterating what remained of his self-control.

All he cared about right now was the fact that her dislike of him had been largely based on a misunderstanding, and despite all the odds against such a thing happening she was in his arms. Gazing up at him. Waiting for him to kiss her.

So he did. As anticipation thundered through him he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his. Tongues touched and at the bolt of electricity that shot the length of his body he nearly lost his mind.

As instinct took over and wiped his brain he disentangled his fingers from hers and slipped his hand to the small of her back. He slid his other hand up her arm to the nape of her neck and then buried it in her hair, holding her head steady as he increased the pressure, deepened the kiss.

Celia moaned and pressed herself closer, sort of sinking into him. He heard the thud of her shoes and her bag hitting the path, and then her arms were round his neck, threading through his hair, and her soft breasts pushed harder against his chest, as if she needed the pressure, was desperate for the friction.

When he drew back after what felt like hours but could only have been a minute or two, she looked dazed, her eyes all unfocused, her face flushed and her breathing ragged. Which pretty much mirrored the way he was feeling.

‘You pack quite a punch,’ he murmured, thinking with the one brain cell that was working that if he’d known they’d generate this much heat he’d have ignored the sarcasm and put her mouth to better use long ago.

‘So do you,’ she said shakily. ‘But if someone had told me this morning that I’d be kissing you now I’d have had them sectioned.’

‘It’s not exactly the outcome to the afternoon I’d have predicted either,’ he said, his heart racing and the blood pounding through his veins.

‘You mean this wasn’t what you meant by a ceasefire in hostilities?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘An interesting turn of events, then.’

And about to get even more interesting, if things went his way, which he intended them to because this kind of combustible compatibility shouldn’t be allowed to go to waste.

‘Very,’ he said, pulling her tighter and leaving her in no doubt of how much he desired her.

He felt her tremble and it sent a reciprocal tremble shuddering through him. ‘What exactly do you want, Marcus?’ she breathed.

‘You. Here.’

‘Now?’ She shivered in his arms, the idea clearly appealing if the way her pupils were dilating was anything to go by.

‘Now.’ There’d be time for finesse later. They had all night for long and slow. He just wanted her and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could last.

‘Flattering,’ she breathed with a faint smile.

‘At this point, desperate.’

‘Same here.’

‘So?’

The flush on her cheeks deepened, her breath caught in her throat and her eyes darkened. ‘Be careful of the dress,’ she murmured and he felt like punching the air in victory.

‘I will,’ he said instead and brought his mouth down on hers once again.

This time they didn’t stop to talk. Hands roamed everywhere, their bodies pressed together tightly; they only broke apart to take in great gulps of air before kissing again.

So hard and tightly wound he wasn’t sure he could stand it much longer, Marcus slid his hands over her hips, down, and then round, delving beneath her dress and finding warm, smooth skin. He swept his hand up her thigh, felt her tremble against him, and then he was cupping the hot centre of her through fine, silky lace.

Celia tore her mouth from his and dropped her head back, letting out a soft moan when he tilted her pelvis up and slid first one finger into her and then another. So hot and wet, so tight, instantly clamping around him as if she intended to never let him go.

He moved his fingers inside her. He stroked. Slid in and out. Found her *oris with his thumb and teased. And all the while trailing his mouth along her jaw, down her neck and over her collarbone.

She clutched his shoulders and arched against him, whimpering and panting. Her hips jerked and he could feel her tightening around him. And then she moved her hands to his head, yanking it up and pulling it forwards, planting her mouth on his to smother her moan as she came, shaking in his arms, convulsing around his fingers and making him burn with the need to be inside her.

Shudders racked her body and she kissed him wildly as she rode it out, and then she was tearing her mouth away, breathing hard as she grappled with the button of his trousers and unzipped his fly, slipping her hand inside.

The minute she touched him, Marcus lost it, the desperation to bury himself in her as deep as he could overwhelming all logical thought and reason. He reached behind him, searching for the tiny hidden pocket in the lining of one of the tails, in which he’d stashed a condom months ago, which took longer than usual because his hands were shaking so much.

Not least because Celia was thrusting her hands beneath the waistband of his shorts and pushing them and his trousers down. She wrapped her fingers around him and moaned faintly, and he gripped her wrist and yanked her hand away before he exploded. He tore open the packet with his teeth, shook away the foil and, dimly remembering her concern about her dress, whipped her round.

He swiftly rolled the condom on, grimacing with the effort to control himself, then he bent her forwards and positioned her hands wide apart on the back of the bench. He lifted the back of her dress, rolling it up to her waist in the vague, distant hope that that would stop it creasing. He put his hands on her waist, slid them down over her hips. Tore at one side of her knickers, then the other, and the fabric floated to the ground. He pushed one knee between her legs, parting them. And then, holding her steady, he drove into her.

She was hot and wet and tight and felt like velvet, and he felt his self-control unravel.


With a soft groan she arched her back and threw her head back. She pushed back, and ground against him, and Marcus lost his battle to keep this clean. Leaning over her and wrapping a hand in her hair, he brought her head up and lowered his so that his mouth was close to her ear, and he started telling her what he wanted to do to her, how she felt.

She moaned again and mumbled something that sounded a lot like ‘hurry’ and he began thrusting in and out of her, harder and faster, all animal instinct and primitive need, until he could hear her breathing turn ragged, could see her knuckles go white as she clung onto the bench, could feel her tightening around him, squeezing him and wiping his mind of everything but her and the yearning for release clawing at his insides.

The pressure within him built. The heat surged like wildfire. She spread her legs wider, rotated her hips faster and ground against him harder. Then he felt her tense, heard her take a breath, and somehow, despite the haze of desire in his head and the hammering of his heart and the roaring in his ears, he untangled his hand from her hair, whipped it round and clamped it over her mouth a second before she came.

Her harsh, muffled cry and the feel of her unravelling around him shot him over the edge, and, pulling her back, he drove into her hard and fierce, and with a scorching rush of heat and a surge of blinding white pleasure he lodged deep and emptied himself into her.

His heart was thundering so frantically and his head was spinning so fast he didn’t hear the ringing of a phone at first. But he did feel her jolt. Squirm. Shake her head free of his hand.

And it snapped him to. Enough, at least, to figure out the noise was coming from the tiny bag she’d dropped to the ground.

‘Leave it,’ he said gruffly, not wanting to let her go just yet and so strengthening his hold on her.

‘I can’t,’ she said, her voice hoarse as she tried to wriggle out of his grip. ‘It might be important.’

‘So’s this.’ Because for some reason he had the feeling he ought to apologise. Ask if he’d hurt her with his roughness.

‘This is finished,’ she muttered, pushing him back with her bottom and then jerking forwards and freeing herself from him.

Still reeling from the intensity of the experience and oddly weak-limbed, Marcus felt the loss of her heat immediately. But even though he’d like nothing more than to drag her to the ground and do that all over again, although this time face to face and to hell with her dress, what could he do but take his hands off her? Wherever it had been a minute or two ago, her mind was now clearly on the call coming in, and he swore softly because there went the opportunity to apologise.

While Celia hastily shoved her dress down in a way that undid all the care he’d taken with it earlier and then dived for her bag and delved inside for her phone, Marcus dealt with the condom, his mind blitzed. As she turned away and walked off, talking into her phone and clearly not happy about something, he had nothing left to do but think.

For the first time in his life he had no idea what he was going to say once she finished the call. He didn’t have a line. Didn’t have a protocol because he’d never had scorching sex with someone who only about an hour ago had loathed him.

So what happened now? he wondered, watching her frown then throw her hand in the air, frustrated by the conversation. Where did they go from here? Back to the insults? Back to the hostility? A new kind of awkwardness? Or was this the beginning of something different, something faintly intriguing?

Marcus frowned and stalked back, taking a moment to pick up Celia’s knickers, balling them up and shoving them in his pocket because the sight of those in the bin might give the gardener a bit of a fright come Monday morning.

Did he want something different? Something intriguing? He shouldn’t, but did he? Did she? Right now, with his heart still beating fast, his body still thrumming with the lingering effects of his climax and his head a mess, he didn’t have a clue. The only thing he did know was that, whatever Celia might think, this wasn’t finished. Not by a long shot.