Blackmailed Into a Fake Engagement / Tempted Into the Tycoon's Trap: Blackmailed Into a Fake Engagement

Nice of him to remind her that she’d fallen asleep so soundly that she hadn’t remembered his carrying her to bed. “I’m not as exhausted tonight.”

“You don’t really plan to stay up all night, do you?”

“No, but—”

“We can play in your office. It’ll make the time pass more quickly.”

He made a good point and Gwen liked card games. She had since she was a child. “Okay, but my clothes are staying on.”

“Does that mean you want me to take mine off?”

The mix of humor and sensuality slipped past her defenses and sent a shimmer of awareness all the way through her body. “No,” she said, although an image of Luc, naked, immediately shot through her mind, making her feel singed. “I’ll get the cards.”

“I’ll bring the wine.”

“I’ll fix some coffee,” she countered, thinking the combination of wine and Luc Hudson could be dangerous. She grabbed the cards and led the way into the small office. She looked at the monitor and saw the mare moving around the stall.

“She’s getting stronger,” Luc said from behind her.

“Yes. That means we’ll probably have to let her out into the paddock soon.” Gwen shuffled the cards and dealt them.

Distracted by the sight of his hands cradling his hand of cards and his long legs stretched out across from hers, she tried to concentrate on her own cards.

“Maximum bet is twenty-five cents. Maximum raise fifty cents. I bet fifteen cents. What’s your favorite color?” he asked, drawing a card from the pile.

“Um, periwinkle. Why do you ask?” She looked at her cards and tried not to reveal her disappointment. “I’ll see your fifteen cents.”

“Because the media showing up tomorrow have decided it would be cute to give each of us a quiz about the other.”

Gwen glanced away from her cards. “Media tomorrow? We just did that today. I thought the other interviews would be over the phone.”

He shook his head, discarded two cards and drew two from the pile. “I need to know everything about you, and you need to know everything about me. I’ll bet twenty-five cents.”

She sighed in frustration. “Okay, so blue is your favorite color,” she began.

“What makes you say that?”

“When asked to name his favorite color, almost every man on the planet will say blue.”

“Mine is green,” he said.

“You’re just being contrary,” she said.

“Romantic,” he countered. “Your eyes are green.”

“Borderline sappy,” she said, discarding and drawing.

“Where do you want to honeymoon?” he asked.

The question jolted her. “Honeymoon?”

“Tahiti or Bali?” he said, discarding and drawing.

“Somewhere more private,” she mused. “Peter took me to Hawaii. I found out later that he leaked our plans to the press so they would show up to take photos.”

Luc met her gaze. “Really?” he said in disbelief.

“Yeah,” she said. “All about the PR.”

“Not on your honeymoon,” he said.

“You can’t tell me that you’ve never exploited the honeymoon angle,” she said, discarding three of her sorry cards and drawing three more sorry cards. “Check.”

“Maybe, but the couples who are really in love just tell me to take a flying—” He broke off, suddenly reaching the conclusion that Gwen had reached for herself.

Silence fell between them.

“You have my sympathy,” he said.

Her pride stung, she raised her chin. “Don’t you dare pity me for what Peter—”

“Because you’re going to lose this hand,” he interjected, laying his full house on the table.

She stared at his cards then hers. One card shy of a full house, she scowled at him. “Beginner’s luck,” she said. “I’ll get you in the next game.”

He laughed. “In your dreams,” he said and scooped up the cards and shuffled them. “Now you owe me.”

“Owe you what?” she asked. “We were only playing for pennies.”

“Pennies translate into favors,” he said, shuffling again. “You wouldn’t play for clothing, so it’ll have to be favors.”

“Favors,” she echoed. “What do you call this fake engagement? Oh, wait, my mistake. That’s blackmail.”

“Exactly,” he said, presenting the deck for her to cut it. “So we’re playing for favors.”

“What if I win the same number of times you do? Doesn’t that just negate the winnings?”

“That won’t happen,” he said. “But if it did, you would get the same number of favors from me.”

“What if I don’t want any favors from you?”

“You will,” he said, meeting her gaze for a long moment that took her breath away.

“Deal,” she said, determined to teach him a lesson.

For the next two hours, they traded victories and secrets. She learned his favorite music, food, beer and pastimes, and he learned hers. It occurred to her that Luc would know more about her preferences after two days than her husband had known after three years.

“First crush?” she asked, preparing to rack up another win for herself.

“Sara Jameson, fourth grade,” he said.

Gwen stared at him in surprise. “You remember her name? I would have thought you’d have dated so many women that their names would run together.”

He shook his head. “If I’m the master of spin, then don’t you think I know how to create it for myself?”

“Are you telling me the playboy image isn’t real?”

“I create my image, then do what I want,” he said.

“You didn’t really answer my question,” she told him.

“I told you the name of my first crush. We didn’t break up until she moved away, freshman year in high school.”

“Wow, that’s longevity.”

“What about you?”

“I was shy, too tall. It took me a while.”

“You had to grow into those legs,” he said, his gaze sliding over her denim-clad figure.

“Tucker Martin,” she said with a sigh. “He had dimples and blue eyes. He was smart and funny.”

“How long did that last?”

“Oh, it never got off the ground. He didn’t notice me,” she said.

He gave a bark of laughter. “Poor sap. Bet he’s kicking himself down the street these days.” He placed his cards on the table. “Full house, again.”

She mentally swore. “You’re impossible.”

“I work at it,” he said. “You owe me another favor.”

She sighed and glanced at the monitor again. The horse had settled down. “I’ll think about that tomorrow,” she said quoting Scarlett O’Hara. “Time for me to go to bed.” She rose and he did too, standing mere inches from her. “Thanks for the amusement.”

“My pleasure. You need to give me one of my favors now,” he said.

A warning instinct flashed through her. “Why?”

“It’s something I need to know for the interview,” he said, moving closer to her.

She should step away from him, but for just a moment, his closeness felt good. “What?”

He lowered his head closer and closer, taking her breath with each corresponding invasion of her space. “I need to know how you taste.”

He gave her three agonizing seconds to protest or refuse, three seconds to turn back or pull away. But Gwen did none of those sensible things, because she wanted to know how he tasted, too.

Five

“You’ve already kissed me,” she said against his lips, distracted by the texture of his mouth, the sensation of his chest beneath her palm.

“That didn’t count,” he muttered.

Her mind scrambled like electrical circuits gone haywire as he rubbed his mouth over hers. Her body instantly heated and she craved more. She couldn’t remember when she’d felt this way before. Had she ever?

“You taste like honey,” he said in a low voice and slid his tongue over her lips.

Instinctively opening for him, she moved closer so that her breasts pressed against his hard chest. She couldn’t withhold a soft moan.

He slid his powerful thigh between hers, and she felt a shocking spike of need. Distantly, she felt him move her against the wall. It was cool against her back, but he was so warm, so strong, so male. And somehow she knew he could take care of her sexually, maybe in every way. Was that possible?

Her emotions ran from one end of the spectrum to the other. Should she stop? Should she go further?

Luc slid his hand underneath her sweater and wrapped his hand around her waist. The sensation of his hand on her bare skin sent her equilibrium in to a tailspin.

She slipped her hands up to his head, giving in to the urge to plunge her fingers through his hair. His groan was gratifying, and he brushed his hard masculinity against her. Sucking his tongue deeper into her mouth, she savored his taste, savored the sensation of him.

Luc slid one of his hands down to her bottom, guiding her against his hardness while he skimmed his other hand up her rib cage to just below her breasts.

She held her breath, dying for his touch. Her nipples strained against her bra. She fought the forbidden urge to pull off her sweater and feel her naked breasts against his bare chest. Her heart pounded against her ribs.

She felt his hand slide to her back and felt the catch of her bra release. One. Two. Three seconds later, she felt his palm cupping her breast.

Gwen sighed against his mouth.

His thumb brushed her nipple and she gasped.

“You feel so good. So good,” he said, French kissing her again.

He rocked inside the cradle of her thighs, sending a shower of sensations firing through her bloodstream. She was shocked by the carnal need he drew out of her. Images of their bodies, naked and hot, writhing together, singed her mind. She could taste his wanting, his need.

His hand slid underneath her jeans and panties, grasping her naked bottom at the same time she felt him caressing her breast.

“Oh, my—” He broke off and thrust his tongue into her mouth.

His heat pumped up her heat. She gave in to the urge to slide her hands beneath his sweater and feel his smooth, sleek skin.

“You make me so hot,” he said against her mouth and swore. “I haven’t gotten this worked up since I was a teenager.”

She rippled against him, desperately seeking more.

He slid one of his hands between them. Seconds passed and he guided her hand down to touch him intimately. He was large and hard. She stroked him, driven by his desire, by her desire to please him.

His breath caught, and she loved that he was just as affected as she was.

“Are you sure you want this?”

His voice whispered over her like a warm California breeze. Did she want this? Should she? How crazy was this?

“Too fast,” she said breathlessly when a drop of rational thinking trickled into her brain. She pushed away from him and shook her head. “Too crazy. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

He covered her mouth with his hand. “No apologies, ” he said, and she was compelled to look at him. She felt the searing connection with him again, and fought it, again.

“We’ll be lovers,” he said with a confidence that should have sounded arrogant but instead was just rock-hard certain. “It’s just a matter of time.” He lowered his head and brushed his lips over her cheek. “Sweet dreams, Gwen,” he said and walked away.

Gwen stood there for several breathless seconds. “Oh, wow,” she whispered and slid her fingers through her hair, clutching her head and closing her eyes. She racked her brain for when she’d felt this way before, but her brain would produce nothing.

She and Luc were from different worlds now. She should not give in to temptation, but she didn’t know if she could let him pass by. The combination of his honor and his pragmatic understanding of Hollywood that meshed with the masculinity and power he emanated fascinated her. Gwen had the feeling that once she gave herself to him, she would never be the same, and she wasn’t sure what her world would look like after she made love with him. Should she resist? Could she?

The next morning, Luc joined Gwen as she cared for the horses. She spent extra time with the expectant mare, now known as Pyrrha.

Pyrrha pricked up her ears when Luc stood at the door to her stall, and she walked toward him. “Hello, beautiful,” he said to her, holding out his palm.

Pyrrha whinnied and allowed him to stroke her. Feeling Gwen’s gaze on him, Luc looked at her. Irritation furrowed her lovely face. “Problem?” he asked.

“I can’t believe it,” she said.

“What?”

“Even the horse recognizes that whole alpha thing in you,” she said.

“Smart horse,” he said and grinned.

She met his gaze and clearly tried, very hard, not to smile. Her lips twitched and she began to laugh. “You’re terrible.”

“I can show you terrible,” he said, ready to show her.

She inhaled quickly and glanced away, looking at Pyrrha. “She’s looking much better. The vet says the baby’s heartbeat is strong. I just hope we can keep her happy during her confinement.”

“I’m sure you’ll have to name that foal, so you may as well start planning.”

Gwen sighed and met his gaze. “You make it seem possible.”

She made him want to make her believe in a lot of things. Himself. Herself. Luc wondered if his knight instinct was kicking in. It didn’t matter. He wanted her and was determined to have her.

Three hours later, a crew from Entertainment TV showed up with cameras and a reporter. The reporter, a brunette named Trina with big breasts and hair extensions, appeared torn between her awe of Gwen and her hopes of making an impression on Luc for career purposes.

After a few general questions, Trina gave a huge smile. “I’ve saved the best for last. I want to ask Gwen some questions about you and ask you some questions about Gwen. We’ll see who wins,” Trina said. “Mr. Hudson, go amuse yourself while I ask Gwen some questions.”

“What do you mean?” Gwen asked.

“I don’t want Mr. Hudson to hear your answers until he has answered the same questions. You can go out on the front porch,” Trina said. “This shouldn’t take long.”

Considering the temperature was hovering at nine degrees that day, he hoped it wouldn’t. For a second, he wondered if Gwen would be able to keep up their charade without his presence as a reminder.

She reached out to take his hand and pulled him toward her. Kissing his cheek, she smiled into his eyes as if she really meant it. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t reveal too many of your terrible secrets.”

His gut tightened at her playful, seductive expression, and he forced himself to remember that he was staring into the face of an Academy Award–nominated actress. Luc had learned that actress was another word for liar. Gwen would be fine with Trina.

Throwing on a jacket, hat and gloves, Luc wandered outside to brave the elements. Despite the cold temperature, the sun shone brightly. He walked down the steps of the porch into the yard. Snow crunched beneath his boots.

He inhaled a deep breath and felt the chilly air sweep throughout him. Although the temperature left a lot to be desired, the sound of complete quiet soothed him. No traffic, no office sounds, no senseless chatter. Just quiet and peace.

Gwen made a good point. This place offered something more rare than diamonds. He stood there for several moments and just soaked it in.

“Mr. Hudson?” one of the cameramen called from the doorway. “Trina is ready for you now.”

Struck by the contrast of the purity of Gwen’s surroundings and the lies they were fashioning inside her home, he felt a twist of the same resentment Gwen had expressed when he’d told her the press would be invading her house.

Returning to the house, he sat down and answered Trina’s mostly inane questions. Then the entertainment reporter ambushed him. “What made you fall in love with Gwen?”

He paused a half beat, since he hadn’t formed a prepared response for this question. Then he went with his gut. “You can look at her and see how beautiful she is. That’s obvious. But that’s attraction, not love. She has amazing depth and humility. At the same time she can make me laugh. When I’m with her, the world is better than I thought it could be.”

Complete silence followed for a full moment. Luc glanced at Gwen, standing just a few feet away. He caught an unguarded expression of surprise and longing on her face. He felt the same emotions echo inside him.

Trina put her hand to her chest and gave a big sigh. “How romantic,” she said, snapping him out of his weird emotional state.

He shook his head at himself. This was insane. Sex was one thing, but these other feelings were crazy. The desolation of his environment must be getting to him. Gwen joined him by his side, sliding her hand over his shoulder.

Luc stood, ready for the reporter and cameramen to leave. “Thank you for coming,” he said. “Let me know when it airs.”

Trina also stood and raised crossed fingers. “Tomorrow night if everything goes okay and we can’t scrounge up any emergency scandals.” She shot Luc a coy look. “There will be a little surprise for you, too,” she said.

“Really,” he said, cautious. Luc had learned not to like surprises when it came to the press.

Gwen squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry. She’s just teasing you.”

When Trina and the cameramen left, Gwen closed the door behind them and turned to meet Luc’s gaze. “I thought you said you weren’t much of an actor. You did pretty well with that last question Trina pulled on you.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice thinking on my feet,” he said. “I just answered the question as if I were a man who believed in real love for myself. As if I were a man who had fallen in love with you.”

She gave a wry smile and walked toward him. “Sounds like acting to me.”

“It wasn’t that difficult,” he said, unable to take his eyes off her.

She visibly inhaled. “For some reason, it’s getting easier for me to pretend that I’m attracted to you.”

He chuckled. “That’s because you’re not pretending,” he said. “You are attracted to me just as I’m attracted to you. There’s something between us. I didn’t expect it, and I’m betting you didn’t either, but it doesn’t erase the fact that it’s there.”

“Lust, sex,” she said.

He gave in to the urge to pull her against him. “We’ll figure it out.”

The following day a delivery truck arrived while Luc was on the phone, arranging for publicity for another Hudson movie. He walked to the door and noticed Gwen returning from the barn to the house. She stared at the truck, then at him.

“Just a few things since I’m going to be here for another week and a half,” he said. The driver began to unload several large boxes.

Gwen scooted past the driver and looked at the boxes suspiciously. “What things?” she asked.

“While I’m beginning to appreciate the peacefulness of your surroundings, your technology is archaic,” he said. “That television is at least ten years old, and your Internet is too slow.” No sooner had the driver finished bringing in the boxes when Luc spotted a van turning into the long driveway.

“Roberts Satellite and Television Setup.” Gwen read the words on the side of the van, staring at him in disbelief. “Have you lost your mind? We already have satellite TV.”

“This is better, more powerful, more stations.”

“I don’t need more stations,” she said.

“I do. Football, basketball,” he said.

“Oh, this is ridiculous. I’m afraid to ask the size of the dishes. You just need to remember to take all this stuff with you when you leave.”

“No problem,” he said. “But I bet you’ll want to keep them. Once you get used to having something good, you don’t want to give it up. Speaking of something good, two of those boxes contain food. Do you mind unpacking them while I deal with the satellite guy?”

“Food,” she said, her eyes rounding. She opened her mouth in protest and seemed to think better of it. She bit her lip. “Are you saying you don’t want peanut butter sandwiches and soup every night?”

“Do you?”

“Okay, okay,” she grumbled, and began to open the food boxes.

Hours later, with the new widescreen TV ready for action, Luc turned on the set just before Entertainment TV was scheduled. He would study the interview to see what adjustments he and Gwen would need to make for future appearances.

He glanced around for Gwen but didn’t see her. “Gwen,” he called. “We need to watch the interview.”

“I’m watching Pyrrha,” she called from her office. “She seems a little restless.”

Frowning, he walked to her office doorway. “Take a break from it. We need to study the interview to remember what’s been said and to plan for the next one.”

“I remember what I said,” she replied, her eyes glued to her computer screen.

“Yes, but you need to remember what I said, too,” he said, moving closer and glancing over her shoulder. “Pyrrha is eating. She looks fine.”

Kicking her foot in what looked like a case of nerves, she met his gaze. “I don’t like to watch my performances.”

He’d heard this before, but he wondered what the nerves were about. “This is different. It’s an interview.”

“Still a performance,” she said.

He spun her chair around and looped his hand around her wrist and dragged her out of the chair. “It won’t last that long.”

“I really don’t—”

An uneasy suspicion grew in Luc’s gut as he tugged her down on the couch in front of the television. “What exactly did you tell that reporter?”

She shrugged but evaded his gaze. “I just did my part to add a little kick to the proceedings.”

His suspicion roared. “What the hell—”

“She may not even use it,” Gwen said.

“Gwen?” he said in a quiet voice that he reserved as an unmistakable warning of his displeasure.

She bit her lip but shook her head. “If you’re going to make me sit here and watch it, then you’re just going to have to wait and see it for yourself.”

“I don’t like surprises,” he said.

“We’re even. I don’t like watching myself on the screen. Any screen.”

A photo of Luc and Gwen flashed across the screen, interrupting their discussion. “Stay tuned. Our very own Trina Troy braved the cold Montana mountains to get the hot lowdown on movie star turned horse rescuer Gwen McCord and Hudson Pictures’ hottest bachelor of the moment, Luc Hudson,” said the cheery host of Entertainment TV.

“Do you think Trina Troy is a real name?” Gwen asked.

“No chance,” he muttered and brooded for a long moment.

Both rose almost in unison.

“I’m getting a be—”

“I’m getting a glass of wine.”

They both spoke at once.

Gwen shot a quick, uneasy smile and squeezed past him to the refrigerator. He followed her to the fridge, and she pulled out a beer and thrust it into his hand. “Here.”

“You seem a little jumpy,” he said.

She grabbed a bottle of wine and poured a glass. “I’d forgotten how intense the paparazzi can be. Or maybe I just chose to forget.” She took a sip and licked her lips. “I’m also not used to having someone around the house all the time.”

Luc found his attention snagged by the sight of her pink tongue sliding over her lips. He pushed back a stray strand of her hair just because he wanted to touch her. “Am I bothering you?”

She took another quick sip. “Bother.” She rolled the word around her mouth as if to test it. “Yes,” she said. “And you should stop it right away.”

He chuckled. “Can’t do that. In fact, I plan to bother you more.”

She shot him a dark, sexy look that almost distracted him from the shrill voice of the Entertainment TV reporter.

“We’re back now with Trina Troy, who is going to tell us how Luc Hudson is keeping Gwen McCord hot under the covers during those cold Montana nights.”

Luc shot a quick glance at the screen, then looked at Gwen. “Hot under the covers?” he echoed, catching her hand and tugging her toward the sofa.

“Not my words,” she said.

“Entertainment TV paid a visit to Luc Hudson and Gwen McCord at her Montana ranch. The two lovebirds were willing to play a little game of favorite things with me.”