CHAPTER
TWO
IT was a weird experience to be Charity. Harley felt naked, first of all, and she was well aware of the half-dozen pairs of male eyes that swung in her direction when they walked back into the tent, past the bar. She was also struggling a bit to achieve that confident strut her sister had mastered, but at the same time it was an awesome feeling to be able to be so brazenly sexual and yet no one knew it was her. With each step she took, she felt more comfortable in the heels that were a good two inches higher than her own, the short skirt allowing so much cool air up under the skirt that it automatically made her aware of her girl bits, which in turn made her want to display how sexual she was feeling. So her hips started to move more easily, and her chin came up.
She found herself making bold eye contact with the men who were checking her out, staring them down. Some quickly looked away, obviously embarrassed or ashamed, but two others acknowledged her, one giving her a grin and a wink, the other letting his eyes roam over her legs. He twirled his finger in a gesture for her to turn around, his lusty gaze appreciative. Harley raised an eyebrow at him and shook her head, not wanting to encourage him and his outrageous assumption.
But for once, she wanted to be thought of as sexy, not maternal. At work, she could be maternal. At a wedding she wanted to be a single woman, a sultry, sexy single woman who could make the driver she had fantasized about for years want her. Granted, it meant Cooper actually wanted her sister, not her, but if she was Harley with him when he wanted Charity, even though he thought she was Charity, she was still Harley, so didn’t he by default actually want her?
Yeah. Think that one through a few times and learn the definition of rationalization.
It was probably flawed logic, but then so was using hot wax to remove body hair and she did that every single month.
Funny how she was aware of Charity next to her but could tell that eyes were on her, not her sister. Male gazes were drawn to cleavage and short skirts, not sensible sweaters over conservative dresses. Which she knew, of course, since she was usually the one being ignored, but it was an odd perspective, both exciting and unpleasant. She didn’t like being objectified, and it annoyed her that Charity constantly was, but at the same time, she couldn’t deny there was something ego-boosting about the attention.
It was the ultimate paradox—how did you achieve interest without it becoming smarmy?
Harley had never had that problem. She was used to being indignant on her sister’s behalf, and she knew that Charity tolerated a lot of ego on a daily basis in her job as handler at the track, but Harley never experienced that attention herself. She had to admit she was willing to overlook a little macho swagger just once if it came from Cooper. Because it might be her only shot at a decent story to tell her grandkids someday. I flirted with Cooper Brickman at a wedding. Okay, it wasn’t much of a brag, but it was more than she had at the moment. Her arsenal of scandalous stories was nonexistent.
Maybe Charity was right and this was something of a social experiment.
She could be Cinderella tonight if she chose to be. The quiet and plain nanny who got to flirt with the prince of stock car racing.
It would be liberating, thrilling. If she could pull it off.
Her eyes landed on Cooper, sitting at the bar, his gaze fixed on her. She felt the heft of his lustful appreciation from across the room, and immediately her body responded to the intent in his eyes. But then he glanced behind her, at Charity being her, and his expression changed, became respectful. For a second it gave her pause, but then he was undressing her with his eyes again and her panties went damp and all rationale went out the door.
“Play it cool,” Charity said from behind her. “Let him come to you. And remember, I just blew him off on the dance floor over the garter thing, so if you’re being me, which you are, give him a dirty look.”
She wasn’t sure she even knew how to do that. Harley wrinkled her nose up and did a sharp turn to the right, breaking eye contact. Okay, that was the worst expression of disdain ever, but she was a novice. She’d been born with the people-pleaser gene. Blowing someone off was foreign to her.
“Oh, let’s get more desserts,” Charity said, pointing to the burgeoning dessert buffet. “They cleared your plate from before. Damn efficient waiters. I hate to think that those brownies went to waste.”
Harley blindly grabbed a plate and threw everything within reach on it. Her heart was racing and she felt odd, like her insides had been inflated. That look on Cooper’s face. Damn. If chocolate was a substitute for sex then she was going to have to stuff her face, because he had basically caused her ovaries to explode just from that one hot glance. If she didn’t find something to fill her, it was going to be ugly.
“I can’t do this,” she told Charity, panicking.
Her sister gave her a stern look. “Did you see that look he gave you? Girl, just have another vodka tonic and get your flirt on. I’m going to have an intellectual discussion with the bride’s mother about the modern art movement and enjoy being taken seriously.”
Harley tugged at the dress bodice. She was sure any second her breasts were going to spring forth and she would wind up online under “Embarrassing Wedding Photos: The Nipple Edition.”
“Stop touching your dress.”
“Stop pressuring me!” Harley shoved a tart in her mouth and wished some of its bite would rub off on her.
* * *
COOPER was losing his charm along with everything else this year.
The whole night was a disaster. First he’d stressed about his sister getting her period to Harley, then he’d groped Charity and she’d reprimanded him like he was a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. Which, he supposed he had been, in a sense.
Maybe it was time to scrape his manhood off the floor and head back to his room at the inn. But he got waylaid by Carl and some of the other guys and it was forty minutes before he broke free, though it did give him time to suck down a water and combat some of the effects of the whiskey. He made eye contact with Charity once, when she strolled past the bar looking like she owned it and every man sitting there. Which, if the appreciative gazes from the men left and right were any indication, she did.
It just made him feel even shittier.
At some point Cooper had torn his tie off, so he went wandering in search of it, planning to pack it in for the night. Harley was at the table with a plate of macaroons in front of her. His tie was lying next to her little purse. At least he thought it was Harley. His first gut instinct was that it was definitely her, but then he started to doubt that because she had the bouquet Imogen had thrown and Charity had caught, and she was wearing a dress that was pushing her assets up further than he remembered an hour ago. Her smile as he approached also seemed a little sassy to be Harley, but then again, would Charity smile at him at all?
He doubted it.
Plus, her eyes . . . something about the sincerity in them said Harley to him.
Damn, he was just altogether too drunk for the identical-twin thing. It was messing with his head.
“Harley, right?” he asked as he sat down next to her. “I’m ninety percent sure, but before I start talking and make a bigger ass out of myself than I already have tonight, I want confirmation.”
She leaned toward him and licked the cream off of a macaroon, the tip of her tongue sliding into the pink meringue in a way that made him shift uncomfortably in his chair. Jesus.
“You had a fifty-fifty chance of being right,” she told him. “But you’re wrong. I’m Charity.”
Hell.
This night had gone from bad to worse to naughty.
He should walk away. He really should.
He didn’t.
“I apologize again for taking it a little too far on the dance floor,” he said, tossing his hair out of his eyes. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
That pink tongue got a tiny dot of cream off her bottom lip, thoroughly distracting him. “I didn’t object to the direction your hand took, Cooper, just the setting we were in.”
Hello. Not at all the reaction he was expecting, given how annoyed she had looked. Maybe the night wasn’t such a bust after all. “Is that right?”
She nodded.
If you don’t ask . . .
“So. If we were in private, we could try that again? Or should I say, I could try that again, with more pleasurable results for both of us?”
“Possibly.”
It wasn’t a no.
Which meant he didn’t see himself going to bed anytime soon. At least not alone. He’d always liked a challenge, damn it. It was what drove him year to year in his career, what kept him in shape, what made life exciting. Sometimes made it a little dangerous.
It was a little dangerous to be flirting with Charity at McCordle’s wedding.
Not a huge risk, but potentially an entanglement he didn’t need right now.
But he’d feel her out, see if she was the kind who understood that a few hours of fun at a wedding didn’t translate into anything more the next day.
“Dance with me?” he asked, as a slow baby-making song came over the speakers.
“Is that a thinly veiled excuse to touch me inappropriately on the dance floor again?”
The words were teasing, but her expression wasn’t. If he wasn’t mistaken, that was lust written on her face, not as a seasoned flirt would show it, but as a raw, naked desire.
It punched him in the gut and had his dick going hard.
Cooper held his hand out to her, hoping she would say yes. Willing her to. “I wasn’t planning to put my hand up your skirt, no. Unless you’d like me to. Then I think we should arrange to do that somewhere in private.”
Suddenly his thought to just flirt with Charity, convince her he wasn’t a lecherous wedding guest, was overshadowed by his lecherous-wedding-guest thoughts. He was still buzzed and it had been a few months since he’d last shared his bed with a woman.
That suddenly felt like a very, very long time. An eternity. The stress of Mary Jane moving in, his disappointing year, his mother, it all had been weighing him down. But now he might have an opportunity to escape his crowded thoughts for the rest of the night.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she said. “Let’s just see how you move first.”
“Is this a test?” When she accepted his hand, he stroked the warm flesh of her palm with his thumb and led her onto the dance floor. “To see how much rhythm I have?”
“I don’t think swaying to R&B requires rhythm.” She gave him a rueful look, but she did let him pull her close against his body, her breasts brushing his chest.
“So you’re staying with your sister?” he asked, then immediately regretted it. He still felt odd about the mind freak of Harley and Charity looking nearly identical. He was attracted to both of them, clearly, and that made him uncomfortable. So he wanted to ignore that fact.
She nodded. “We get along well. So I guess you’re staying here at the inn?”
It was polite conversation, nothing more, and Cooper nodded, distracted by her eyes. She had the kind of eyes that hinted at hidden thoughts, unspoken words, a compassion that belied the sassy tilt of her head. A paradox. It was both appealing and confusing.
“Yes. I have a suite with a Jacuzzi tub and a mountain view.”
“A suite? Fancy.”
“Would you like to see it?” he asked, leaning down to murmur in her ear, his hands low on the small of her back. He found that he didn’t want to talk. He’d done enough of that earlier, boring Harley with his worries. He wanted to move his mouth over Charity’s and explore all the curves of her body until his mind was empty of everything but the feel of her beneath him.
Her hands came up to his chest and she scratched her nails lightly across his shirt. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”
“It’s almost midnight. Another couple of hours they’ll be shooing us out of here. I’m just trying to make sure an opportunity doesn’t pass me by.”
The song ended and transitioned into a fast-paced pop song. He hoped she didn’t expect him to dance to that, because he was drunk, but not that drunk. But she just gave him a smile and said, “I want another drink.”
“Your wish is my command.” Cooper took Charity to the bar and ordered her a drink, then took a seat on a stool. He patted his lap. “Sit down.” He wanted to feel her snuggled up against him, but mostly, he wanted to see if she would do it or not. If she did, he would wager that she was in, all in, for going back to his room with him. If she was like she had been earlier on the dance floor, annoyed and offended with his aggressiveness, then he would make sure she got safely back to her room with her sister and he would pass out alone.
Which might be the smarter thing to do.
“You want me to sit on your lap?” she asked, expression doubtful.
“Best seat in the house.” The wedding music was still pumping behind them, the bass low. The lighting was dim, and Cooper put his elbows back on the bar as he waited for her answer, watching her, his legs apart.
He could see the conflict on her face. She wanted to. She wanted him.
For a minute she didn’t move.
Then she stepped forward between his legs.
Oh yeah. Mistake or not, he was looking forward to seeing where this led.
* * *
SIT on his lap? He wanted her to sit on his lap.
Oh, Lord. That was both tempting and terrifying.
“Thanks.” Harley stepped between his legs and gingerly rested her ass on his thigh, her feet still on the ground, very aware of every inch of him. That was the most she could handle. She couldn’t just hop up on him in heels. But Cooper grabbed her around the waist and hauled her all the way up onto his lap, her legs suddenly airborne, Charity’s tiny dress sliding up.
Her natural reaction was to squawk, yank the skirt down, and plant her feet back on the ground, but she resisted the urge. Instead, she crossed one leg over the other and slid her fingers through Cooper’s belt loops to steady herself, heart racing in excitement.
“Comfy?” he asked.
“Horny” was a better description. Or stunned with the reality of what was actually happening. But this was her opportunity to let out her inner flirt, who was buried deep beneath a layer of sensible and shy. And he’d never know it was really her, so that took the pressure off entirely.
“Definitely.” She wiggled a little to readjust so she didn’t fall, but it had the added effect of arousing both of them. His nostrils flared. He didn’t sit up, the very picture of casual sexiness, and Harley took a second to be amazed that she was doing this, that she was sitting on Cooper frickin’ Brickman’s lap.
He was so hot Harley couldn’t believe she was actually being allowed to touch him, her hands intriguingly close to his abs. She found herself holding her breath, waiting for the moment to pass, for him to realize she was no Charity and gently remove her from his lap. But he didn’t. And she was going to carpe the goddamn diem out of the opportunity.
The plan had been to flirt, just flirt with Cooper.
She wasn’t supposed to sleep with him.
But really, why not? This was her fantasy. Why not really make it a night to remember?
Harley faked a wobble as an excuse to put her hands on his chest. She wanted to feel those rock-solid muscles she had been admiring from afar for three years in greater depth.
His eyebrows rose in question.
“I lost my balance,” she told him, her voice filled with a sultriness she hadn’t known she had possessed. She was so impressed with herself.
“I’m sure it was my fault,” he said. “Here, let me help.” As he shifted his elbows off the bar, the palm of his hand firmly cupped her ass and lifted her closer to him, so that her top half splayed completely against his chest.
Her mouth was inches from his, her breasts brushing against his chest. Harley’s breath caught and she swallowed hard, tongue suddenly thick with desire. His thigh was hard, warm. She was fairly certain she could feel the cusp of his erection, though the angle was just off enough that it might be her imagination. Or wishful thinking. But nonetheless, it was a whole lot of Cooper up close and personal and it felt as good as she had always imagined. Better, because it was real.
“Thanks,” she said, moistening her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. “That’s so sweet of you. I could kiss you, you’re so sweet.”
She couldn’t believe she’d had the balls to say that. It was amazing what not being herself did for her nerve.
“I wish you would.”
Mentally fortifying herself, Harley studied his face, her hand coming up to trace the sharp angle of his jaw. He was so rugged, so manly. Being this close, hiding behind her sister’s persona, she felt free to touch, to say exactly what she was thinking. It was an odd sensation, so real yet so utterly unbelievable that it was happening.
“What are you thinking?” he asked her.
“That I wish I weren’t wearing panties.” It was true. She was. But normally any sexy thoughts she had stayed just that—thoughts. Harley had never spoken dirty to a man, not even her former boyfriend of three years. It wasn’t that she didn’t think in those terms. She just couldn’t bring herself to say them with any confidence so she never said them.
Until now. It just came out. Easily.
Maybe it was the fact that she was sitting on Cooper Brickman’s lap. It was just so surreal that she was capable of behaving in a way she had always wanted to, without fear of repercussion.
“Holy hell,” was his opinion. His grip tightened. “Kiss me. Now.”
So she did. Gripping the front of his shirt, she reached up and touched her lips to his. The second she did, the desire she’d been carefully keeping under wraps for years exploded. This was what she had been fantasizing about, this was her chance to take what she wanted, and the kiss didn’t disappoint. He was smooth and hot and talented. He was a manly man, self-assured, and good at what he did, all of which made him the perfect package for one night of pure pleasure.
Forget just flirting. She wanted to ride this wave all the way to shore. Harley kissed him greedily, leaning against him, legs moving restlessly as she tried to climb higher on him, to give her lips better access. He tasted like whiskey and sexy male and she wanted to eat him alive.
“Damn,” he murmured when she pulled away, before kissing her again, harder this time, to match her frenzied pace. He thrust his tongue inside her mouth, teasing her with skill.
They were both fighting for domination. It was a new sensation for Harley, to be so aggressive, to take what she wanted, to spar with a man using her tongue. It was freeing and super, super sexy.
Finally, she broke away to breathe, putting a bit of space between them as she panted.
“Come to my room now,” he demanded. “Before I shock Imogen’s grandmother even further.”
Could she do this? Did she really have the nerve to go for it and enjoy a night of undoubtedly hot sex with Cooper Brickman?
Harley took a deep breath and felt his chest again. Oh, hell, yeah, she could. “Okay. Let me tell my sister.”
For some reason Cooper frowned. He glanced around her like he expected her twin to pop up. “Harley?” he asked, like he was unsure of her name.
Harley’s cheeks heated up, feeling more than a little insulted. “Yes.”
“Your sister’s really sweet,” he said. “We talked for quite a while.”
It was weird to sit there and hear him discussing her with him, not knowing it was her. For a split second she debated telling him the truth. He might be annoyed briefly, but he had an erection. How long was he going to argue with her about it?
“I’d like to hire her as a nanny for my sister.” But then he grinned, running his thumbs up her arms and giving her a cocky tilt of his head. “Now you, on the other hand, I have different plans for, all involving my bed and you in it.”
So maybe she wouldn’t tell him after all.
Determined not to second-guess what she was about to do, Harley leaned in, letting him kiss her again, wanting to absorb the sensation of being so up close and personal with Cooper. Wanting to have the courage to go for it, to take what she wanted. “Let’s go. I’ll just text my sister.” Charity wasn’t going to care where she was.
“She’s busy talking to Jeff Sterling anyway,” Cooper assured her. “Though I’m not sure why.”
Harley glanced in the direction he nodded. Charity was sitting at a table talking to Jeff, looking up at him from under her eyelashes in a shy manner that Harley had to admit looked exactly how she would if that were really her. It was very bizarre. Like seeing a clone of yourself. “Maybe she likes him,” she said simply, curious actually if that were the case. Charity had never mentioned it to her.
“Why? He’s like twenty years older than her.”
Harley laughed. Cooper sounded so certain no woman could ever find Jeff attractive, even though he was a fit and good-looking guy. “Stop talking, Brickman. Let’s go.” It was a very Charity response. Or maybe it was a Harley response that she just finally felt comfortable saying out loud.
“Done and done.” He drained his whiskey, then gently eased her off his lap and back onto the floor.
Another minute they were out of the tent, heading over the terrace toward the inn, Cooper’s hand firmly in hers. For a second, Harley paused, wanting to take in the night, the feel of the crisp air, the smell of encroaching winter. The vista was stunning and she felt so removed from her normal reality. She wanted to push the pause button and remember this moment forever, a little drunk, a lot aroused, here with Cooper with the entire estate spread out below them.
“What?” Cooper asked.
She realized that Charity would never stop to wax poetic about the trees and the mountains and she wondered for a brief moment if she really knew, understood who she was. She certainly didn’t sexually know herself all that well. She couldn’t define what she enjoyed or what described her type for men. Like much of her life, she had drifted along, letting it happen.
Sex had happened.
But she hadn’t been proactive in bed or really, in any aspect of her life.
She left that to her twin and let the current push her through life.
“It’s beautiful here.” It was what they had said to each other before, but that wasn’t why she said it. She wasn’t trying to jog his memory or have him guess she was really Harley.
What she wanted was far more immediate, far more bold. So she gave him a voracious look, wanting him to understand her intent without her having to spell it out. “I don’t want to wait until we get to the room.”
His eyes widened as he took in her meaning. Then he tugged her hand, veering right and off behind a hedge, pushing her up against the cool stone of the mansion. “Can’t wait, huh? How about I give you a little something to tide you over?”
Something about her back smacking into the mansion had both shocked and aroused Harley. She wanted Cooper to yank her dress down and suck her breasts, and lift her skirt and squeeze her thigh as he thrust into her hard.
She was breathing anxiously, her inner thighs moist, and he wasn’t even touching her yet.
Harley had an epiphany.
Yes, she was Cinderella, the quiet girl in the kitchen who watched others live their lives to the fullest.
But what she hadn’t realized was that when her Cinderella was let out to the ball, she became a kinky sex goddess.
Harley gripped the front of Cooper’s shirt and dragged him to her for a kiss, her free hand stroking his erection through his pants, all rational thought gone. “Yes,” she demanded. “Make me come. Now.”