Kat Cantrell - Matched To Mr Right

He didn’t move.

“What’s the matter?” she taunted, glancing at him sideways. “It’s just sex. Surely you’ve had just sex before. No brain required. I have no doubt a man with your obvious, um...talent can make me come in no time at all. In fact, I’m looking forward to it. I’m hot for you, Leo. Don’t make me wait a second longer.”

“That’s not funny. Stop being ridiculous.” Translation: he didn’t like being thoroughly trounced at his own game.

She widened her eyes. “Did you think I was joking? I’m not. We’re married. We’re consenting adults. Both of us have demonstrated a healthy interest in getting the other naked. We’ll eventually go all the way. It’s your choice what sort of experience that will be.”

This had never been about withholding sex. She’d be naked in a heartbeat as soon as he made a move. All the power was in his hands and when that move came, it would be monumental. And he’d be so very, very aware of exactly what it meant.

He shoved both hands through his hair. “Why is it my choice?”

Poor, poor man. If he was too clueless to know she didn’t have a choice, far be it from her to fill him in. This was something he had to figure out on his own. Besides, he was the one with the crisis of conscience that prevented him from making love to her until something he probably couldn’t even articulate happened.

But she knew exactly what he needed—to let himself go. She’d exploit this situation gladly in order to get the marriage she desperately wanted and help him find the affection and affinity he so clearly yearned for.

She smiled. “Because. I’m—” Already emotionally invested. “—generous that way.”

She was going to drag Leo off the sidelines kicking and screaming if that’s what it took to have the love match she sensed in her soul Elise had actually orchestrated.

Eight

By nine o’clock, the party hummed along in full swing, a success by anyone’s account. Except perhaps Leo’s. In the past hour, he’d said no more than two words to Dannie.

She tried not to let it bother her as she flitted from group to group, ensuring everyone had a full glass of champagne and plenty to talk about. The final guest list had topped out at twenty-five and no one sent their regrets. Chinese box kites hung from the ceiling, artfully strung by the crew she’d hired. Their interesting geometric shapes and whimsical tails provided a splash of color in the otherwise severe living room. A papier-mâché dragon lounged on the buffet table, breathing fire under the fondue pot in carefully timed intervals.

Tommy’s admin had mentioned his love of the Orient and the decorations sprang easily from that. More than one guest had commented how unusual and eye-catching the theme was, but Tommy’s signature on the dotted line was the only praise she needed.

Well, she’d have taken a “You look nice” from Leo. The ankle-length black sequined dress had taken three shopping trips to find and a white-knuckle twenty-four hours to alter. She’d only gotten it back this morning and it looked great on her.

Not that anyone else had noticed.

She threw her shoulders back and smiled at the knot of guests surrounding her, determined to be the hostess Leo expected.

Hyperawareness burned her back on more than one occasion, and she always turned to see Leo’s piercing blue eyes on her and his expression laced with something dangerous.

The bedroom-sharing plan was a disaster. He hated it. That had to be his problem—not that she’d know for sure, because he’d clammed up. Was he waiting until the party was over to give her her walking papers?

Turning her back on Leo and the cryptic bug up his butt, she came face-to-face with Leo’s friend Dax Wakefield. “Enjoying the party?” she asked him brightly.

Not one person in this room was going to guess she had a mess of uncertainty swirling in her stomach.

“Yes, thank you.” Unfailingly polite, Dax nodded, but his tone carried a hint of frost. “The buffet is wonderful.”

Her radar blipped as she took note of the distinct lack of a female on Dax’s arm. A good-looking guy like Dax—if you liked your men slick and polished—was obviously alone by choice. Was he no longer dating Jenna? Or had Leo asked him not to bring her in some misguided protective notion?

“I’m so glad.” She curved her lips graciously and got nothing in response. Maybe he was aloof with everyone. “Congratulations again on the distinguished alumni award. Leo assures me it was well deserved.”

“Thank you.” Not one hair on his perfectly coiffed head moved when he granted her a small nod. “Took me a little longer to achieve than Leo. But our industries are so different.”

What did that mean? There was an undercurrent here she couldn’t put her finger on, but Dax definitely wasn’t warming up to her. Problem alert. Dax and Leo were old friends and a wife was a second-class citizen next to that. Was Dax the genesis of Leo’s silent treatment?

“Well, your media empire is impressive nonetheless. We watch your news channel regularly.” It wasn’t a total lie—Leo had scrutinized stock prices as they scrolled across the bottom of the screen last night as she pretended to sleep after the spelling lesson.

Dax smiled and a chill rocked her shoulders. If Leo wanted people to believe he was a ruthless, cold-blooded businessman, he should take lessons from his friend. That guy exuded take no prisoners.

One of the servers discreetly signaled to get her attention and she pounced on the opportunity to escape. “Will you excuse me? Duty calls.”

“Of course.” Dax immediately turned to one of Leo’s new partners, Miles Bennett, and launched into an impassioned speech about the Cowboys roster and whether they could make it to the Super Bowl this time around.

The server detailed a problem in the kitchen with several broken champagne bottles, which Dannie solved by pulling out Leo’s reserve stash of Meunier & Cie. It was a rosé, but very good and would have to do in a pinch. Most of the guests were men and such a girly drink had definite potential to go over like a lead balloon.

Mental note—next time, buy extra champagne in case of nervous, butterfingered staff.

She poured two glasses of the pink champagne and sought out Tommy Garrett. Something told her he’d take to both an out-of-the-norm drink and being roped into a coconspiracy.

Maybe because of the purple canvas high-tops he’d worn with his tuxedo.

“Tommy.” Grateful she’d caught him alone by the stairs, she handed him a champagne flute. When Leo had introduced them earlier, they’d chatted for a while and she’d immediately seen why her husband liked him. “You look thirsty. Humor me and drink this. Pretend it’s beer.”

A brewery in the Czech Republic exported Tommy’s vice of choice, which she’d gleaned from his admin. But he’d already had two pints and hopefully wouldn’t balk at her plea.

The young man flipped chin-length hair, bleached almost white by the sun, out of his face. “You read my mind. Talking to all these suits has parched me fiercely.”

Half the champagne disappeared into Tommy’s mouth in one round and he didn’t gag. A glance around the room showed her that others weren’t tossing the rosé into the potted plants. Crisis averted.

“Thanks, Mrs. Reynolds.” She shot him a withering glare and he winked. “I mean Dannie. Sorry, I forgot. Beautiful women get me all tongue-tied.”

She laughed. “Does that geek approach actually work?”

“More often than I would have ever imagined. Yet I find myself devoid of promising action this evening.” Tommy sighed dramatically and waggled his brows, leaning in to murmur in her ear. “Wanna see my set of protractors sometime?”