Ignited (Most Wanted #3)(51)
Author: J. Kenner

“Now,” he demanded, when he broke the kiss, then landed another sweet spank to my ass, making my body arch up in a way that not only teased my clit, but forced his cock deeper inside me. “Come for me now, Catalina.”

And then, because I was his and knew that I always would be, I gave myself over to him, let myself go, and shattered in the arms of this man who had claimed me.

eighteen

“I don’t have to tell you how much I appreciate you squeezing us in today,” Cole said to the positively gorgeous man who sat across the table from us, his stunning wife at his side.

Of course I’d recognized both of them the moment the waiter had led us through the cozy Malibu restaurant to the patio dining area. Not only was Damien Stark a former tennis star turned billionaire entrepreneur, but he’d also been all over the news not that long ago. Sex, scandal, murder. The kind of stuff that the tabloids ate up—especially when you were as photogenic as Stark and his now-wife, Nikki Fairchild Stark.

I’d gotten over my awe quickly enough, though. Damien was casual and friendly and completely down to earth in a plain T-shirt and black jeans. And when Nikki insisted she and I share an order of cheese fries—which is so not the usual fare for model-beautiful LA women, I’d developed a little bit of a girl crush.

“Today’s no trouble at all,” Nikki said in response to Cole’s comment. “Our flight’s not scheduled until much later tonight, so this is the perfect pre-trip dinner.”

“And the gallery’s right next door,” Damien added. “We can swing by there after we’re done.”

“I’d like that,” Cole said. “This trip isn’t about checking up on any of the Knight Holdings properties, but if we can squeeze in a quick run-through, that would be great.”

“An art gallery?” I asked, confused. Cole had yet to explain to me how this trip to LA was supposed to help my dad, and I was doubly confused now that we were dining with Damien Stark. If an art gallery was now involved, I was starting to get a little nervous. Not that I didn’t trust Cole, but this was beginning to feel like he was setting up a long con in order to get out from under a short one.

Cole squeezed my hand. “Nothing to do with the casino property,” he said, apparently reading my mind. His words also told me that whatever he was planning here in LA centered around the land at the heart of Daddy’s problem. And that it wasn’t a secret—or at least not much of one. Otherwise, he’d be keeping quiet about the land around Damien.

“I never did learn how you two know each other,” I asked.

“I’ve known Cole for years,” Damien said. “We met through one of his business partners, Evan Black, and then got to know each other better in the last year or so.”

“Evan bought a few galleries from Damien about a year ago,” Cole added. “He transferred them to Knight Holdings, and I’ve been overseeing their operation for the last six months.”

Our meal arrived, and the conversation shifted to the kind of random tidbits that people talk about on a beautiful spring evening. Plans for the next day, for the summer. Movies, cars, the absolutely incredible cheeseburger the waitress had put in front of me.

I’d finished off my dinner and was debating between apple pie or the slightly more sane bowl of berries, when a messenger arrived at our table. He delivered a package to Damien, who took a quick look at it, then passed it to Cole. “I think you were expecting this.”

The envelope was thin, with the exception of some bulk in the middle. He reached inside, pulled out a smaller padded envelope and tucked that into the leather backpack he’d brought with him. Then he pulled out a sheaf of papers. “For you,” he said, then handed them to me.

I glanced down, confused at first, then a little giddy when I saw what they were. “My closing documents?”

“I arranged to have them scanned and sent to Damien’s office.”

“And I’ll get them returned tonight by courier so that you’ll have access to your house tomorrow,” Damien said. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Oh my god,” I said, looking between the two men. “Thank you.”

Cole squeezed my hand. “It’s your first house. It’s important.”

“Your first?” Nikki repeated, and I nodded, foolishly teary-eyed, and not even caring. “Then we need to make a toast,” she said, then lifted her half-empty glass of wine. “To your new home. May it always be filled with love and happiness.”

“Thank you,” I said, as we all clinked glasses.

There was some more general discussion about the house, and I probably bored Nikki to death with my musings about where I was going to put my furniture. She was, however, polite enough to look interested. And considering she made a few suggestions, maybe she genuinely was.

“Now that Katrina’s signed her papers,” Damien said, turning toward Cole, “I should tell you that all of the documents you’ll need to sign will be ready in the morning. I’m sorry I’ll be out of town, but Charles will meet you at my office, and he’ll push everything through. And then Nikki and I will see you in Chicago for the wedding.”

“Looking forward to it,” Cole said. “And I appreciate you going out on a limb like this.”

“I’m not,” Damien said. “It’s a good investment, albeit a bit tricky in the details.”

Nikki rolled her eyes. “Next he’s going to say that’s what makes it fun.”

Damien shrugged. “Well, it is.” He stroked his fingers over her shoulder, but spoke to Cole. “I’ll check in from Tokyo. But if you need anything, Charles will take care of it,” he added, referring again to his attorney.

“Tokyo?” I said. “Business?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, but not mine.”

“It’s my first international trade show for my software development company,” Nikki said. “Thank goodness Damien’s going to be there to hold my hand.”

They had, I noticed, been holding hands or otherwise touching throughout the evening.

It had made me happy to see it. For that matter, it had made me want that, too. But even as I was wishing for that very thing, I realized that Cole had held my hand most of the afternoon. And now, his fingertips were resting on my thigh. During the meal, he’d brushed his thumb over my lip to catch a bit of mustard. And more than once he’d fed me a bite of dessert off his fork.