The Marriage Ultimatum

Inc.

"What’re you doing creeping up on me

like that? Who are you?" Her gaze narrowed in on him even as she took a step back.

He stared right back, sinking into eyes so mercurially gray then green, then gray again, it was like he’d fallen into the turbulent depths of the Atlantic. With her wild eyes, untamed hair, and skintight clothes, she was a mermaid and absolutely the answer to this sailor’s prayers.

She shoved an unruly swath of hair back over her shoulder, all attitude. One hand was on her hip and the other fiddled with the hem of her sweater. His gaze tracked her every move.

Her chin angled up. Seen enough? You know what they say: Take a picture, it’ll last longer.

The Marriage Ultimatum

by

Charlotte O’Shay

City of Dreams Series

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

The Marriage Ultimatum

COPYRIGHT © 2016 by Evelyn P. McCabe

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

Cover Art by Kristian Norris

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Champagne Rose Edition, 2016

Print ISBN 978-1-5092-0814-2

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0815-9

City of Dreams Series

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

To DJM with love & to MSP with devotion

~*~

Thank you to all of my penguins

for your unwavering support

~*~

And to Melanie, editor extraordinaire, whose expertise and wisdom is exceeded only by her unfailing good cheer, a heartfelt thank you.

Chapter 1

Lust at First Sight

She cursed like a sailor.

But that wasn’t the first thing he noticed.

The first thing he saw was her skirt. Tight, black, and barely there, it sheathed such knockout curves that he stopped cold on his way past the break room.

She was ransacking the fridge, upending cans and bottles onto the counter, throwing down swear words right along with the Cokes and Pepsis.

Those curses had been practically the first English words he’d spoken. He’d learned the meanings of those cuss words long after he’d learned how to say them. That’s what happened when you lived on a tanker ship as an eight year old, looked like you were twelve, and tried to act like you were at least sixteen.

Jetlag forgotten, he leaned against the doorjamb to watch the show. He chuckled as one particularly nasty anatomically impossible series of words tumbled out.

She twisted round at the sound and hurled a can straight at him.

All instinct, he raised a muscled forearm fast and palmed the soda before it could make contact with his head.

He inclined his head, suppressing a smile. Good arm.

Casually, he set the offending can down on the counter and resumed his stance at the door, waiting to see what the livewire would do next.

"What’re you doing creeping up on me like that? Who are you?" Her gaze narrowed in on him even as she took a step back.

He stared right back, sinking into eyes so mercurially gray then green, then gray again. It was like he’d fallen into the turbulent depths of the Atlantic. With her wild eyes, untamed hair, and skintight clothes, she was a mermaid and absolutely the answer to this sailor’s prayers.

She shoved an unruly swath of hair back over her shoulder, all attitude. One hand was on her hip and the other fiddled with the hem of her sweater. His gaze tracked her every move.

Her chin angled up. Seen enough? You know what they say: Take a picture, it’ll last longer.

Her voice had a smoky edge—the kind that made him think of too much vodka and all-night sex.

He loosed a chuckle again. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been challenged on any level by a female. One thing was certain: he’d never been amused and aroused at the same time. And no, he had definitely not seen enough. He took in the ripped tights on legs that went into next week.

She gave him back the same bold look, her attention eventually settling on his lips.

They stood like that for a long heartbeat until, still holding his gaze, she swayed toward him just as he leaned forward to grasp her wrists.

He stroked his thumbs over the pulses there and smiled when he discovered that her blood raced as recklessly as his. And then, they were toe to toe and he was falling deep into those stormy eyes.

This close, her scent washed over him, a combination of something flowery and, was that baby powder? Whatever it was, it tugged him in, closer, until he held her right at the notch beneath his shoulder, above his heart.

Now. One more step and her breasts were pressed hard against his chest. Her head fell back and her eyes fluttered shut when his arm drew her in tight from the waist.

Now.

He lowered his head to those lush lips and…

The discipline of a lifetime reared up out of nowhere, stiffening his spine even as his cock remained rock hard against her belly.

What the hell? Really? At the office? Was he sixteen or thirty-two years old? Was he the guy who never, ever, had sex without protection, or not? Because somehow he knew that once he started with her, he wouldn’t be content till they were both satisfied.

He forced out a breath and stepped back, watching, as her eyes went from cloudy to confused back to combative.

Counting this trip, he’d been on the road for eight months, crisscrossing hemispheres, as always, avoiding his homeland, negotiating deals, and checking in on manufacturing sites. The non-stop schedule meant his personal life had taken a decided turn into monotonous.

It was a simple enough equation. She was sex on legs, and he’d been too long without a woman.

But that was all it was.

He shook his head at his own uncharacteristic weakness, released her wrists, and took another step back from her.

One question. He couldn’t look away from those vivid eyes.

She raised a delicate brow.

What the hell were you looking for in that fridge?

Her face flamed, that fast flash of crimson gingers despised. Her hands clenched and her eyes flashed lightning.

Somebody took my Red Bull. She gave him a once-over, like a cop about to ask his whereabouts at the time of the crime.

His hands went up in mock surrender. Definitely the wrong time to smile. He worked to keep a poker face

Wasn’t me.

Well, I don’t care if it was Vladimir freakin’ Grigory himself who took it. It’s late, I’m tired, it’s pouring out, and I’m nowhere near finished with my work.

He chuckled. It was the third time he’d laughed tonight. For him, it constituted a record for the year, and it was already September. He thought of all the creative ways he could keep her awake and felt his body harden in readiness again.

So, yeah, happy to entertain you. Lips pressed into an annoyed line, she grabbed a chocolate bar off the counter and stalked out of the room.

As he watched her stride down the corridor, he knew that even in her stocking feet, her walk could put a supermodel to shame.

****

At twelve thirty, Sabrina stepped onto the sidewalk, pulled up the hood of her jacket and peered through the driving rain up the avenue. The curtain of rain and the glare of oncoming headlights blinded her as she searched for the familiar black sedan. Yuck! Her feet were already clammy from the water seeping through the thin soles of her boots. Why was the car service always so late during a storm?

She’d finally finished the fifth and final version of the safety manual with visions of that gorgeous guy dancing in her head like the proverbial sugarplums.

It grieved her no end to realize she’d chanced to meet such a hot guy, no doubt called in on some emergency by one of the head honchos at VGI, while she was in the throes of a monumental meltdown. He must’ve thought he happened on a maniac, complete with tragic hair and bootless feet, when he saw her raving over her missing Red Bull. She was lucky he hadn’t called security.

But then again, he wouldn’t’ve had to. He had the physique of a boxer; he looked like a victorious veteran of countless skirmishes and capable of handling a room full of crazies. He was big, with ham-sized fists, and what had surely once been a broken nose. With short hair the color of blacktop and a stubbled jaw to match, he was so overwhelmingly male and so close to her ideal, Sabrina might have conjured him up out of a surfeit of loneliness and exhaustion.

When she heard his low laugh, something dangerous and sweet shivered down her spine. She looked at him, and the message in his eyes had been as primitive as ‘me Tarzan, you Sabrina’. And she thought, yes. Just for a second, she thought yes, finally, she was going to find out. At last, she would know what her girlfriends were talking about. It was about time anyway. She was twenty-three years old, for crying out loud. With her life and schedule, the odds of meeting a gorgeous guy were as improbable as nabbing a seat on the D train. Their five-minute encounter had left her so rattled, so hyped up; it was a good thing she hadn’t found her Red Bull, because she’d been bouncing off the walls of her small cubicle for the past hour anyhow.

Just her luck, he’d pulled back at the last second, and was that really so surprising? Guys like that didn’t go in for encounters, no matter how brief, with girls who lost it over a power drink. Besides, if he knew she had a child, he’d run faster than a scalded dog. It happened every time. Alex’s existence had turned out to be a foolproof way to gauge the interest of guys who were looking for one night of fun as opposed to anything more lasting.

He’d seen her let out the crazy and the moment ended before it began. Sabrina knew that if she were crazy, she had no one to blame but herself. From the date of that last rent increase, she’d morphed into the go-to overtime word processor in her department. She’d asked for that extra work and boy, she’d gotten it because at VGI, overtime assignments were as relentless as the traffic rumbling down Seventh Avenue.

Especially now, in late summer, when so many of the staff were off on vacation.

Not that Sabrina ever opted to take vacation. She always took the cash, along with a side helping of guilt because it meant more time away from Alex.

Take tonight. Lacey had just about convinced her to join them at Duffy’s for a long overdue birthday drink. Sabrina said definitely she’d try to meet them for an hour after work. Alex would be long asleep under Mrs. Egan’s watchful eye by that time. But in a depressing repetition of a now familiar routine, Sabrina texted Lacey the news: Diabolical as she was, Gert Bordon, must have sensed that tonight Sabrina wanted to get out of work on time. So, her supervisor sent Sabrina yet another revision of the latest safety manual for the liquefied natural gas carriers. And yeah, that stuff was so dull only a Red Bull could keep Sabrina’s eyes from shutting and her fingers tapping the keyboard as the clock ticked toward midnight. Anyway, who was kidding who? She was so exhausted right now, that even if she joined them at Duffy’s, she’d likely do a face-plant at the bar.

Between work and Alex’s teething, she hadn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in weeks. What she really needed was a month in Hawaii. But with a bank balance hovering near disaster, she wouldn’t dare take a day off, even with VGI’s generous vacation policy for low-level staff.

Where was that car service? Her feet were now officially soaked; the soles of her boots disintegrated like the cardboard fakes they were. Sabrina was seriously considering just peeling off the useless footwear and tossing the boots in the trash when a bulky shadow materialized out of the overhang of the building and moved toward her. Remembering too late she was on an empty street well after midnight, Sabrina’s hands flew out of her pockets to clutch the strap of her purse.

It was the guy. She wasn’t about to be mugged. She was about to be mortified. The hottest guy on the planet was about to see her impersonate a drowned rat. With a couple of long strides, he reached her side and opened a golf umbrella over both their heads.

I’m waiting for the company car service. Nerves made her blurt out the obvious.

As am I.

Something in his formal tone made her wonder if, in spite of his perfect diction, English was not his first language. The company car finally appeared, and Sabrina hurried forward, dodging the mushrooming puddles. She scooted into the backseat and turned to thank him for the shelter of his umbrella only to watch him settle in beside her and pull the door closed.

This is my car. No way was she standing out in the rain for another second.

Yours? He raised a skeptical black brow and tossed the umbrella onto the floor. We must have the same one.

No, that’s never happened; you must be mistaken, she said in her best Gert Bordon frosty supervisor tone.

His mouth quirked up, but he wasn’t making a move to get out and who knew how long it would be before another car would arrive? So Sabrina wasn’t going anywhere either. She slid further along the seat, but couldn’t resist taking another look at him. His eyes, crinkled in the corners with amusement and fatigue, made her damp places warm and her inner places damp. This was not good. She was seriously out of her comfort zone. Just the sight of him rolling his shirtsleeves over his brawny arms stole her oxygen and her concentration.

It’s VGI ride sharing, a green concept, don’t you think? His voice was grave, but amusement sparked silver in his eyes.

Sabrina let out a belly laugh at his serious tone. So the man had a sense of humor to go along with the stubble. Dangerous.

Only a concept, if you ask me. VGI owns practically half of Manhattan and no doubt the entire fleet of these cars. Green isn’t the first thing that comes to mind when I think VGI.

No doubt VGI is guilty of all of those capitalist crimes. He lifted his massive shoulders in an unconcerned shrug. I’m headed downtown, you?

She fidgeted with her humidity challenged hair, which flowed all over the leather back of the seat. Why hadn’t she bothered to re-braid it? Why hadn’t she taken Lacey up on her offer to trim the uncontrollable mass? She nodded, suddenly out of breath, all of her smart-alecky comebacks forgotten.

Brooklyn.

Feeling his scrutiny, she tugged at her skirt. This morning’s smallish tear in her fishnets had turned into a huge rip over the course of the day.

Jolted by the familiar rattle and whine of tires on the steel-girded surface of the Brooklyn Bridge, Sabrina looked out the window.

Woops, did we pass your block? We’re in Brooklyn.

I thought I’d see you home first.

His gaze drifted down again, settled on her lips.

One sizzling look and her lips were seared. As his knowing gaze roved over the rest of her, every sane thought evaporated. Something primal took over. Red-hot images of everything their lips could do for each other flashed through Sabrina’s mind. And then he was right there. With a speed belied by his size he was beside her, his hands cupped her jaw and his head lowered. Sabrina’s eyes slid closed and her body arched into him. As his tongue circled her lips, Sabrina knew this reality was so much better than anything she could imagine.

His tongue scorched where it touched and blood rushed to her lips. Naive though she was, she recognized she was being seduced by a pro. He was all power and hard muscle and yet she only sensed the strength, because no part of his big body touched any part of hers aside from his mouth and the light touch of big, calloused hands on her jaw. Then he raised his head to press small kisses to each of her cheekbones.

Without the touch of his lips, her mouth felt as bereft as a candle thrown into a puddle. She craved the warmth of his hands on her. She grasped the front of his shirt to shift him closer. Her hot fingers found his jaw, and slowed to savor his stubble. Bold as she’d never been before, she put a hand to his neck and pulled his head back down, silencing his chuckle as she set her mouth back on his.

After that, she lost all sense of place and time. His large hands slid down to cup her rear and he pulled her onto the hardened triangle of his thighs. Sabrina moaned into his mouth, splaying her legs wide around his hips, no thought but that she wanted this moment to go on and on. He pulled his mouth away to let them both grab some air and she protested.

Don’t stop.

But in that same instant, she realized the car wasn’t moving anymore. Through the fogged up windows she could see the outline of