Chapter Four
Amy stared down at the ring on her hand. He’d bought her a diamond wedding band. A platinum one. It was too much. The truck hit a pothole in the road and jarred her out of her reverie. They’d been on the highway for twenty minutes, and he’d just taken an exit. She was married and heading to her reception, a party where she wouldn’t know anyone. But he’d invited some of his family, so the pretending would begin.
I’m not ready. It was one thing for it to be the two of them, quite another to do this in front of other people.
Even though she was a veteran performer, it had taken everything she had to get through the ceremony. The judge, a friend of Hawke’s, had to repeat part of the vows twice. Hawke had frowned at her the whole time. Not like he was angry, but like he was trying to figure something out.
And she was so focused on whatever he might be thinking that she kept missing her cues. Very unlike her. One thing she was known for in the dance world was her intensity and focus.
But this day was just too weird for words.
The “beautiful” comment had very nearly been her undoing. But it was also what had helped her get through the ceremony. He thought she was pretty. She thought he was hot. At least they were attracted to one another. When she’d mentioned the crazy monkey sex, he’d been shocked. That much had been evident before his cool-dude mask had slipped back into place. She had a feeling it took a lot for that to happen. The shock. Guys like him had probably seen it all and done it all.
But she’d been in his kitchen, and he was so strong and masculine. Her mind had gone into overdrive imagining how skilled a lover he might be. And those tattoos… She wondered where else he had them. More than anything, she’d just wanted to run her fingers up and down his arms.
She sighed.
What was I thinking? She knew he was expecting her to ask for more money. And she wanted to shock him. I want crazy monkey sex. It had just fallen out of her mouth as if her wildest desire could possibly come true. And she did want it. Really, really bad. At first, he’d scrunched up his face like the idea was almost repulsive. That had not done great things for her ego. But when he’d turned to get his beer, she noticed the bulge in his pants was even bigger. She’d seen that as a sign to go for what she wanted.
And now she was going to have sex—with him. Fire shot through her body as she gave him the side-eye, grateful he was focused on the road. But when? Would he want to get to know her better before they did it? Should she make the first move? However much experience he might have, she had close to none. There was no doubt this guy was way out of her league, but he’d agreed to her crazy condition, so at least there was that.
“We’re here.” It was the first thing he’d said since he’d helped her into the truck, which honestly was more like some kind of luxurious living room than a car.
When they’d left the house, though, he’d led her out to the big red truck and then helped her up.
He was full of surprises today.
He pulled his tie off over his head and unbuttoned his shirt.
She took her eyes off him to see where they were.
Bikes were neatly lined up in front of a log cabin sporting the giant neon sign.
Rudy’s Roadhouse.
Her reception was at a biker-bar-slash-dump. Well, she’d just said she wanted a reception, she hadn’t said where.
What else were you expecting? He lived in a super nice house, but he’d never claimed to be anything but a tough biker dude. Tough. Hot. Biker. Dude. With tats she wanted to run her tongue across.
Was he messing with her?
Chancing a glance, she saw him smirking. Nope. This was it.
She had a feeling he was doing this on purpose to throw her off.
Whatever. Wasn’t the first time she’d had to deal with a jerk. And here she’d been seeing hearts and flowers and, well, sex. She should have known a marriage contract would mean crap to him. Just a piece a paper that protected his business somehow. He couldn’t care less about her feelings.
And shame on me for having them. This wasn’t about anything other than getting what they wanted. Both of them.
Well, she’d been in the dance world for a very long time. She could play the game with the best of them. He didn’t stand a chance against prima ballerinas who would do whatever necessary, even play psychological games, to get that next role. Amy might be tiny, but she was tough. She’d had to be. Since she was fourteen, she’d been on her own, living in dorms with hundreds of other young dancers, most of whom lived for the drama.
Still, it was better than watching her mother kill herself with alcohol.
Once she’d gone to ballet school she’d been able to forget about what was happening at home. No booze. No men. Only dancing. It was the one place she could lose herself, and she did every time she walked on a stage or into a studio. It was the times in between, when real life intervened, that she had difficulty dealing.
Her mom was better now. At least, that was what she’d heard through the grapevine. Birthdays and holidays were the only time she talked with her mom anymore. It was just better that way.
Amy was used to pretending everything was okay.
Tonight, she’d put on the mask. Happy girl. She’d faked that one for more years than she could count. No way she’d let him get to her.
You got this.
He opened the door for her and held out his hand.
“Hey, can I meet you in there? I just need a minute. Nerves. You know. I promise, when I get inside, I’ll play the part of the happy new wife. I just need a few seconds.”
She forced a smile.
His eyes narrowed. “This isn’t the kind of place where a woman walks around alone, ballerina girl.”
Then why the hell are we here?
Because he’s trying to put you in your place. Remind her this wasn’t about hearts and flowers. Slam down any hint that he cared about anything.
“The door’s right there. You can wait for me, right? I mean, I just need to freshen up for a second.” She forced another smile. “I want to look my best before I meet your family and friends.”
“Fine.” He slammed the door and stomped off. She didn’t waste any time. She grabbed her makeup bag. In less than a minute, she’d given her eyes a smoky appearance and put on more red lipstick. She took the pins out of her bun but left her red curls in a long ponytail. Before sliding out of the SUV, she took care of her wardrobe dilemma.
She shut the door and stepped carefully in her platforms through the dirt parking lot. Most of the time, she tried to think the best of people. But she wasn’t a doormat. This might be a temporary situation, but he would treat her with respect.
He’d waited for her by the door, and when she stepped around the truck blocking her from his view, victory soared through her blood.
“What the fuck?” His eyes widened with surprise.
That’s right, asshole. Two can play this game.
…
She’d lost half her dress. The skirt hit her mid-thigh, and she’d done something with her makeup. Sultrier, sexier. He didn’t like it. He preferred her with no makeup.
This was not the place for a beautiful ballerina.
Amy was hot. Fuck. He couldn’t take her in Rudy’s. He’d need a baseball bat to beat off the men, and most of them were his friends. Those legs. All he could think about was having them wrapped around his waist. But that was a bad idea. Sure, sex was part of the deal in her mind, but he was going to do his best to convince her otherwise. His cock had totally different ideas on the subject. His brain, however, wanted to make a clean break in two months.
Right. He just had to convince the tight bulge in his pants of that fact.
Then again, he might fuck her once and be over it. That was usually how he rolled. Made him an asshole, but there it was.
“I hope you remembered the cake.” She strutted past him and opened the door.
The club had been hopping until she stepped inside. The music still played, but everyone went quiet.
Hell. He had to claim her fast before some idiot tried to feel her up and he had to kill him. He stepped behind her and wrapped an arm around her dainty shoulders. “Gang, this my new wife. Ballerina, this is the gang.” He couldn’t imagine what she was thinking. He’d figured she’d take one glance at the outside of the bar and ask to go home.
But she’d told him to get lost and then shown up with her hot little bod stuffed in a mini-skirt and bodice he wanted to rip off her.
His friends, most of whom he’d known for years, stood there with jaws hanging. Yep. They wanted to do the same thing to her.
Fuck.
It was like a tennis match. They looked at her, and then they looked at him, and then back at her again.
He’d told them he was getting married, but they’d probably thought it was a joke.
There were whistles and catcalls. Amy did a curtsy and a little bow. “Yep, I’m the one who took him down.” She did a fist-pump. “That’s right, ladies, Mr. Tough Guy is all mine.” She reached back and grabbed the front of his shirt without looking.
Everyone started laughing. Then she turned around and winked at him.
She never stopped surprising him. He’d nearly shot his load when she’d walked out with that formfitting dress. He was still hard as a rock. The entire bar followed her movements across the dance floor.
Shit. This was definitely not going according to plan.
“Next round is on me,” he said. Everyone cheered and then went back to their business, except for Gray, who was coming their way. He was the only one, other than Amy and Hawke, who knew the truth, since he’d drawn up the prenup.
“Hello, Mrs. Vance.” Gray took her hand in his. Hawke didn’t care for the way his best friend’s eyes were roving over her body. “You are beautiful.”
She leaned in and kissed Gray’s cheek. “You look so handsome out of your suit,” she said.
Was she flirting?
He didn’t like that at all. Shouldn’t matter. Wasn’t like this was real, except she was married to him.
“You’re going to make me blush,” Gray said. “That’s Cannon.” He pointed to the door where Hawke’s brother had just come in.
“Crap. Are they all the size of the Hulk?”
“Pretty much. He’s got five or six, a lot of siblings, and they’re all pretty big. Except for this beauty,” he reached behind him. “This is Hawke’s stepsister, Sherilynn.”
“Oh, it’s nice to meet you. And you,” she said to Cannon as he walked up to the little group.
“Wow. She is hot. You didn’t lie, Hawke,” Cannon said.
“Cannon,” Hawke and Sherilynn said at the same time.
His brother shrugged. His family wasn’t exactly known for keeping their mouths shut. It led to a lot of fights, but they got over things quickly. While his brothers and sisters added a great deal of responsibility to his life, they’d also been there through the hard times. As they’d grown older, they’d become friends as well. And he was kind of glad Sherilynn and Cannon were here to share the night—even if was a sham.
Weirdest fucking day of his life. The wedding had been surreal, as in, even now he couldn’t remember it. She’d kept forgetting her lines, and he couldn’t blame her. The whole time he’d been trying to figure out what happened to the ugly pink dress he thought she’d picked. When she’d walked out, she was like a princess. His princess, his brain had said.
He’d turned and almost run away, but then he’d thought of his family. This was for them.
Now, she was sex on legs in that tight white dress. He couldn’t figure her out.
“I know all of this is kind of rushed, but we wanted as much time together as we could get before I have to leave for my job,” she said. “Gosh, I don’t even want to think about what it’s going to be like to have to live without this one while I’m on tour.” She gave them all a sweet smile. Not the forced one she’d used on him earlier. Then she waved a hand in front of her eyes. “Makes me teary just thinking about it. So silly of me.” She sniffed.
Damn. He didn’t know what kind of dancer she was, but she was a hell of an actress. Maybe Oscar-worthy. Hell, he almost believed she might miss him.
What the fuck is wrong with you? He forced a smile. She was acting.
His best friend, brother, and sister were all smiling at her. They believed her shit. And fucking Gray knew the truth. Though, he’d been sworn to secrecy. This was a gullible bunch. As if a woman like her could get him to marry her.
Except she had. And she was hot. And because of that dress, his mind was going places it really shouldn’t.
This wasn’t going at all like he’d planned.
She took his hand in hers and squeezed. The skin where their palms touched tingled. “Baby, you promised me cake. I see no cake. Just beer. We talked about this.”
“Oh.” Sherilynn clapped her hands. “We do have cake and champagne.”
“I knew I liked you the minute I met you,” the ballerina said to his sister. They followed her to the back room.
“Dovey put up a special table for us. She runs the place. You’ll love her. She’s scary as hell, but a teddy bear as long as you don’t fight in the bar,” said Gray.
He threw Hawke a look.
She frowned. “I thought you said you weren’t violent.”
“Oh, he’s not. But we Vances like to finish what other people start,” Cannon said.
“I never throw the first punch,” Hawke added. For some reason, it was important she didn’t think he’d hurt her. Something about the way she’d looked at him that first day they’d met. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why it mattered, but it did.
After a few glasses of champagne, she tried to drag him out to the dance floor. “I don’t dance, ballerina.”
She frowned and pulled on his arm. “Not even on our wedding day? Come on, baby, dance with me.”
“Not gonna happen. I don’t dance,” he repeated. He’d been sucking on the same beer since they arrived. Not only did he have to drive them home, but he was also worried someone might start something in the bar, and he needed his wits about him.
She pursed her lips. “A dancer married to a guy who doesn’t dance. Hmmm. Oh the irony,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Well, if you won’t play, I’ll find someone who will.”
Then she turned around and pointed to Gray. “How about you? Are you going to tell me no?”
“Uh, I love to dance,” Gray, the traitor, said as he took her outstretched hand. “And no way I’m going to say no to a gorgeous woman.” Best friend, my ass. Then he leaned in and whispered, “Better me than some other asshole here.”
Well, there is that.
“Shouldn’t you be resting that ankle of yours?” He tried to tell himself it was part of his act, but he didn’t like the idea of her out there dancing in front of everyone. With those legs, and that dress, she could incite a riot.
“Don’t worry about it, honey.” She patted his chest with her hand. “I’ll be careful. Come on, Hottie Gray.” She reached out to take his friend’s hand, and something churned in his gut.
Hottie Gray?
Gray busted out a laugh as he followed her to the dance floor. The music changed to a soulful beat, and she started swinging her hips around, undulating to music. She might be a ballerina, but she’d give the strippers at Baby Doll’s a run for their money. That skirt rode up on her thighs. Her hair had fallen into a sexy mess, and she was nothing short of fuckable.
His cock shouted, “Amen.” Hot fucking woman.
No. You’re not doing this. Complicated. He made it a mantra so he wouldn’t forget.
Then she threw her hands up and swiveled her hips toward Gray. He put his hands on her shoulders and rocked with her. His friend needed to lay off the touching. But soon, even Hawke was lost in the sway of those hips and her graceful arms moving to the beat.
She was one hell of a dancer, he’d give her that.
The beat vibrated through the bar, and Hawke glanced up. All around, the men, and even a few women, had turned to watch her. She was absolutely mesmerizing. He’d thought she’d be stiff, like a ballet dancer. Uptight.
But that was a hellcat right there.
Fucking trouble in a five-foot-five gorgeous frame.
The appreciative looks on the men circling the dance floor said it all.
Fuck this shit.
“Party’s over,” he said to his brother and sister.
“But it just started,” Sherilynn said. “It’s not even ten yet.”
“Yep. Time to start the honeymoon.”
He stalked across the room, picked up the woman he’d married earlier that afternoon, and tossed her over his shoulder.