JENNIE LUCAS - Virgin - Undone by the Billionaire - The Innocent's Dark Seduction / Count Maxime's Virgin / Untamed Billionaire, Undressed Virgin

“And if I’d been your best man, I’d have convinced you not to get married. Stay free.”

“Believe me, when you find the right woman, freedom is the last thing you want.”

Roark snorted. “Right.”

“I’m serious.”

“You’re crazy. You’ve only known the girl for what, six months?”

“A year and a half, actually. And we’ve just had some news to make this truly the happiest day of our lives.” Nathan leaned over the table with a grin. “Emily’s pregnant.”

Roark stared at him. “Pregnant?”

Nathan laughed at his expression. “Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”

Pregnant. His old friend wasn’t just settling down with a wife, he was going to have a child. And it made Roark feel every one of his thirty-nine years. What the hell was wrong with him, anyway? He had the perfect life as a bachelor, the life he wanted!

“Congratulations,” Roark said dully.

“We’re looking for a place in Connecticut. I’ll commute to the city for work, but still have a nice house with a yard for the kids. Emily wants a garden….”

A garden. Roark had a sudden memory of an Italian garden full of roses. Blooms in red, yellow, pink, hidden from the world by a medieval stone wall seven feet high. The feel of the hot sun, the buzzing of honeybees and the wind rattling the trees. And the taste of her skin. Oh, God, the sweet taste of her …

“And to think I only met Emily because of that West Side land deal,” Nathan continued. “Do you remember it?”

Roark put down the half-empty glass and said evenly, “I remember that we lost it.”

The loss was still sharp for Roark. It was the only time he’d ever lost anything.

No. There’d been another time. When he was seven years old and his mother had dumped him in the snow in the middle of the night. Her face had been black with soot, streaked with terrified tears. She’d run back into the cabin for her husband and older son. Roark had waited, but they’d never come out….

“It was at the Black and White Charity Ball that I first met Emily.” Nathan nodded his thanks at the cocktail waitress who’d brought his drink. “She works for Countess Villani. You remember the countess, don’t you?” He whistled through his teeth. “That’s a woman no man can ever forget.”

“Yes, I remember her,” Roark said in a low voice. No matter how hard he tried to forget Lia, he remembered. He remembered the way she’d felt in his arms when he kissed her at the ball. Remembered the tremble of her virginal body when he took her in the garden. Remembered the explosive way he’d desired her.

The way she’d looked at him with wonder as they made love—then hatred when she learned his name.

All things he didn’t want to remember. Things he’d spent the past year and a half trying to forget.

He’d never seen a woman her equal. And he’d only had her once, taking her with frenetic, desperate passion. He’d wanted more. He’d wanted to take her again and again, to slow down, take his time, to enjoy her.

She was the only woman who’d ever denied him the chance to take his pleasure for as long as he desired.

Forget her? How could he, when Lia was the one woman every man wanted—and he was the only man who’d ever touched her?

At least, he had been the only one. He suddenly wondered how many men had taken Lia to bed in the last year and a half.

Roark’s hands tightened around the glass.

“Although the countess doesn’t hold a candle to my girl,” Nathan said. “Emily is so warm and loving. The countess is beautiful, definitely, but so cold!”

“Cold?” Roark muttered. “I don’t remember her that way.” She’d been nothing but fire and heat and warmth, from the passion of their first shared kiss to the fierce intensity of her hatred.

“She caught you in her web, didn’t she?”

Roark looked up, saw the amusement in Nathan’s eyes.

“Of course not,” he retorted. “She’s just the woman who put a park where my skyscrapers should have been. Other than that, she means nothing to me.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Nathan said gravely. “Because she’s obviously forgotten you. She’s been seeing the same man for months. Her engagement is expected any day.”

A cold shock burned through Roark’s body.

Lia … engaged?

“Who is he?”

“A wealthy lawyer from an established New York family.”

The cold turned to ice. “What’s his name?”

“Andrew Oppenheimer.”

Oppenheimer.

The white-haired, powerful man who’d known Roark’s grandfather.

Him? Lia’s husband?

And Roark knew this marriage wouldn’t be celibate as her first one had been. Oppenheimer wanted her … as all men did.

As Roark did.

He took a deep breath as the colors and sounds of the bar swirled around him. He realized that eighteen months of hard physical work hadn’t changed his desire for Lia Villani. Not at all.

He wasn’t done with her. Not by a long shot.

He still wanted her.

And even if Lia hated him … Roark would have her.

“YOU know I care for you, my dear.” Andrew’s arm tightened around her shoulder as they sat in the church pew. “When will you say yes?”

Lia looked up at him, biting her lip. “Andrew …”

“I love Christmas, don’t you?” he murmured, tactfully changing the subject. “The presents. The snow. Isn’t this place romantic with the candles and roses?”

The cathedral was indeed very romantic, decked out for Christmas with holly, fir boughs and red roses lit by a multitude of candles. The wedding was aglow with all the breathless magic of a winter’s night.

But it didn’t make Lia want a Christmas wedding of her own. It only made her yearn for her baby daughter, who was already tucked into her crib for the night beneath the watchful eye of her nanny.

And the red roses made Lia think of a black-haired, broad-shouldered man who had set her world on fire, then cut her to the heart.

“Marry me, Lia,” Andrew whispered. “I’ll be a good father to Ruby. I’ll take care of you both forever.”

She licked her lips. Andrew Oppenheimer was a kind man. He’d make a good husband and an even better father.

So why couldn’t she say yes? What was wrong with her?

“What do you say?”

Swallowing, she looked away. “I’m sorry, Andrew. My answer is still no.”

He watched her for a moment, then patted her hand gently. “It’s all right, Lia. I’ll wait for you. Wait and hope.”

Lia flushed guiltily. She liked Andrew. She kept hoping that she would fall for him, or be able to accept a marriage of friendship, like her first marriage had been.

But one night of passion with Roark had ruined her forever. Now she couldn’t imagine marrying a man without that fire.

She knew she was being stupid. Her daughter needed a father. And yet …

She looked away. The church pews were packed full of friends of both her friend and employee Emily Saunders, and the bridegroom, Nathan Carter. She heard a late arrival come into the pew behind her, passing by other guests to find a spot directly behind her.

“I’d like to take you someplace for New Year’s Eve,” Andrew continued, holding her hand. “The Caribbean. St. Lucia. Or skiing in Sun Valley. Anywhere you like …”

Andrew bent his head and kissed her hand.

She heard a low cough in the pew behind her. She glanced behind her. Then looked again as time suddenly froze.

Roark.

He was sitting behind her, looking straight at her. Wearing a black shirt, a black tie and black pants, he looked more handsome and alluring and wicked than the devil himself—the only man who’d ever made her feel hot and alive. The only man she hated with every fiber of her being!