The Marriage Trap

Didn’t he?

Her thoughts whirled and she rolled to her side and groaned. Why was she beginning to doubt herself? Her initial decision to sleep with him and wring him out of her system backfired. One night and she already cared way too much. What if she got attached? What if she got some ridiculous ideas about love and permanence? Sure, he’d give her multiple orgasms and physically she’d be satisfied. But what about her heart? Could her heart handle such a blow?

Nope. Call her a coward, but when Michael returned, she’d be getting on the next plane back home. She’d say her mother got sick. Or come up with a death in the family—some long-lost uncle. Anything to get her far, far away.

A knock sounded on the door. She sat up in immediate dread. “Who is it?”

“Carina. Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

The younger girl bounced in and sat next to her on the bed. Maggie smiled at the happy look on her face. For a little while, she had bucked her moodiness and seemed lighthearted. Her makeup was applied with a more subtle hand, and her clothes showed off a bit of her figure, unlike the baggy jeans and T-shirts the girl usually sported. At least Maggie had helped Carina in some way. One item she managed not to screw up.

“How was your evening out?” Maggie asked. “And before you answer, it better be good. I dealt with your cousins last night and I’m still recovering.”

Carina laughed and crossed her legs. Her eyes lit with excitement. “Maggie, it was so awesome. I loooooved Sierra; she was supercool. And gorgeous. And the guys were really nice and polite. It was a big group so I never felt uncomfortable and guess what? They said I’d make a great model!”

Maggie smiled. “You would, but I don’t know if that’s something you’d want to pursue, Carina. Personally, I think you’d do better off with a college education and your art. You’re talented.”

A blush tinted her cheeks. “Thanks. Yeah, Michael and Mama would probably freak. But it was cool they actually thought I’d be good enough to model. They invited me to their next shoot, and now I have their cell numbers and we’re texting back and forth.”

“I’m glad you made some new friends.”

“Me, too. Can I ask for a favor?”

“As long as it doesn’t entail babysitting.”

“Can I borrow one of your scarves? Do you have anything ice blue? I want to try on a new outfit and I need a nice accessory.” She wrinkled her nose. “Venezia throws a fit when I borrow from her, and Julietta only owns business clothes.”

“Sure. I brought some extra in my travel bag. It’s in the closet—help yourself.”

Carina chattered about the details of her night, and Maggie leaned back on the headboard, relaxing under the ritual of clothes borrowing and girl talk. Carina oohed and aahed over a bunch of her scarves, took two, then paused. “What’s this?”

Maggie looked up. Her heart stopped.

Carina held a small fabric-covered book with a bright purple cover. The girl stared at it curiously, then flipped it open.

“No!” Maggie scrambled to the side in an effort to grab it.

“What’s the matter? Is this a love spell? Oh, my God, it is. How cool.”

Oh. My. God.

The memory of her drunken night slammed into her brain and gave her an instant headache. Yes, she’d supported Alexa when her friend had cast the spell for a man. Yes, Alexa ended up marrying Maggie’s brother, and they were happy. But there was no way it had to do with the spell. In fact, Nick was the complete opposite of everything Alexa had originally asked for, but when she pointed that out, Alexa just laughed and said Earth Mother had been right all along.

Alexa forced her to take the book of spells and use it. Maggie had refused at first, but eventually threw it in her bag and forgot about it.

Until that night. When she realized she might never find the right man to marry, never have children, and be alone for the rest of her life. Then she drank too many margaritas, watched a sappy movie, and dug out that violet book. Then proceeded to make a fire in her living room and create the dreaded list.

The qualities she demanded made her squeeze her eyes closed to shut out the memory. Stupid and juvenile. Of course, love spells didn’t work, but slipping the paper under the bed seemed like the least she could do after making a frickin’ fire and burning the list. She’d never told Alexa, one of the first things she had ever hidden from her best friend. Better to keep the secret in case the news spread.

Anyway, there wasn’t a man in the world who contained the qualities she sought. She may as well look up hero in the dictionary and wish for Superman to appear outside her condo window.

She totally forgot she’d thrown the book in her travel case in an effort to forget what she had done. Now, the truth of her lunacy mocked her in neon violet. “Carina, it’s nothing, really, I forgot it was in there.” She laughed, but even to her own ears it sounded fake. “My girlfriend gave it to me as a joke.”

Carina skimmed the pages. “Did you do it? The love spell? Is that how you and Michael met?”

Humiliation dragged her down like the sucking tide of an undertow. “No, of course, not. It’s just a joke and I forgot to get rid of it.”

Carina’s eyes widened. “Can I have it?”

Maggie fisted her hands and stared at the book in horror. “What? No, no, it’s a silly thing. That stuff doesn’t work and your brother will kill me if he sees you with a witchcraft book.”

“Not witchcraft. This says you have to list all the qualities you want and need in a mate. Follow the spell and he comes to you.” She flipped through the pages while Maggie fought sheer panic. “Wow, it says you have to make a fire to honor Earth Mother. Oh, Maggie, please? I swear I won’t tell a soul, it’s just supercool.”

Maggie’s mouth hung open like a guppy. Why hadn’t she thrown it out when she had the chance? It was like a bad penny that kept showing up. She was going to kill Alexa for forcing her to take it. Absolutely kill her.

“Maggie? Please?”

With growing anticipation, she stared at the book, as if waiting to see if it would disappear in a cloud of smoke. No such luck. What a rotten day, beginning with a crazy cat. She closed her eyes and hoped this wasn’t going to be the biggest mistake of her life. “Okay, fine. But don’t tell anyone. You know it’s just a joke, right? Tell me you’re not thinking of taking this seriously, Carina, or I’ll throw it away now.”

Carina shook her head and held up her hand. “Promise. I just think it’s fun. When I’m done looking at it, I’ll get rid of it. Thanks, Maggie!” She bounded out of the room and shut the door behind her.

Maggie rolled over and smashed her face into the pillow.

Enough. She despised pity parties, especially her own. She’d start packing her bags, line up a plane ticket, and get out of here.

A knock sounded on the door.

She groaned into the pillow. “Go away!”

“Maggie, I’m coming in.”

Michael.

She shot up. Maybe this was for the best. Get the confrontation over with. He’d scream at her for messing up his family life, she’d tell him she was out of here, and they’d come to some type of arrangement so they can both get what they want. She smoothed her hair down and took a deep breath. “Come in.”

He entered and shut the door behind him. Her mouth dried and her stomach fluttered. His presence filled up the room and crowded out every spare inch with a masculinity that was a natural part of who he was. Maggie had a crazy vision of stripping off his clothes and surrendering to him right here. Right now.

Before she left.

She fought the impulse and remained calm. His dark eyes seared into hers as if waiting for her to speak. “I suppose you’re here to yell.”

His lip quirked. “Not this time.”

The silence pulsed with an undercurrent of danger. The sizzling sexual tension lit between them, causing her to scooch back one inch away from him. Just an inch. “Oh. Well, good, because I’m not the in the mood. I’ve had a crappy day.”

“Me, too. I’m about to change that.”

She heard a thump and realized he’d toed off his shoes. The elegant fabric of his shirt barely contained his broad chest and muscled arms. Maggie curled her fingers to curb the urge to explore each hard angle of his body. She barreled on. “Michael, we have to talk. I want to go home.”

One brow lifted but he remained silent. He slowly unraveled his navy-blue tie from the knot, slid it around his neck, and let it drop. “Why?”

Her mouth fell open. “Um, let me think about this. Because this whole trip has been a disaster. Because I’m miserable, and you’re miserable, and we’re making a mess out of your family. Because I hate lying, and I can’t spend one more day pretending to be your loving, dutiful wife. I’ll come up with an excuse. Say someone died. A long-lost cousin or uncle so I won’t feel guilty. I think we made our intentions known to be married by a priest, and I’m sure we can keep up the ruse until Venezia’s wedding.”

Michael cocked his head as if listening, then slowly slid the hair tie from his hair. The strands shimmered around his face and fell to his shoulders. The gesture made her thighs clench in agony as wet heat rushed to her center and throbbed. She itched to photograph him—a powerful, dangerous male contained in a civilized suit. God, he was beautiful.

She chattered on with a mad effort to reign in the red-hot want that speared her. “In fact, if you really want me to, I’ll come to Venezia’s wedding. I gave you my word, and I intend to keep my side of the bargain.”

She stared helplessly up at him, certain some type of game was being played but she was not a party to the rules.

A slow smile curved his lips. “Running scared, la mia tigrotta?” he drawled. “I’m disappointed. One night together and you already can’t handle it?”

She gasped. “You’re the one who can’t handle the truth, Count. I’m tired of pussyfooting around you like the rest of your family. It’s time you wake up and face the way you view your sisters and admit you love control so much you’ll do anything to keep it.”

“You are correct.” His fingers flicked open the first few buttons of his shirt.

She blinked. A swirl of black hair. Deep olive skin. Flat nipples on a mass of muscle. “Huh? What did you say?”

“I said you are correct. I spoke with my sisters and begged for their apology. I agree with everything you said today in the conference room.”

Stunned, she just stared as the buttons kept opening. A washboard stomach. An intriguing dark line that disappeared beneath the buckle of his pants. Her mouth watered and her brain fogged. He untucked the shirt from his pants so it fell completely open.

“What—what the hell are you doing?” she squeaked.

“Taking you to bed.” The shirt hit the floor. His hands worked on the belt buckle, then slid it through the loops. Then he undid his zipper.

Her gaze roved greedily over the male perfection before her. He put his hands on his hips. “Come here, Maggie.”