Under His Touch Read online

  “If he hurts you in any way...” She stops and makes scissor motions with her hands. “I will give him an up close view of his farm parts.”

  “Farm parts?” I laugh and shake my head. Not hard to tell she grew up in Texas’s cattle country.

  “That’s right. Otherwise known as gonads around these parts,” she says in her best Texas accent.

  I laugh and shake my head. “He can’t hurt me if I feel nothing for him. I guess his farm parts are safe.”

  “Good.” She gestures with a nod to the phone in my hand. My God, I’m gripping it so hard my knuckles are turning white. “Now, are you going to answer him, or what?” she asks.

  I lift the phone and text back.

  Megan: Just finished working out. I’ll hit the shower and come over.

  Alec: What’s your address? I’ll send a car.

  Am I really doing this? Am I giving the man my address, so he can send a car to drive me to his place, where we’ll be all alone? My stomach jumps like I’ve just eaten a handful of Mexican jumping beans. I give him my address and shove my phone into my bag as we make our way inside. We take the stairs to the second floor, and I give Amanda a hug.

  “Movie and popcorn tomorrow night?” I ask.

  “You bet, and I want all the details from tonight.” She exits the stairwell and I climb to the next floor and enter the apartment right above hers. Amanda moved into this building in Hell’s Kitchen a couple years ago, and now is walking distance to her work. When the apartment above hers became available, I jumped on it, and moved my business to one of the spare offices in her warehouse. It’s nice to have my best friend close. We’re there for each other at a moment’s notice, plus she cooks for me all the time. A good thing, considering I’m pretty lousy at it, and she’s an amazing chef who is always experimenting and in need of a guinea pig.

  I step into my apartment, lean against the door. I probably shouldn’t be going to Alec’s place, and should have insisted we meet on neutral ground, but I don’t want him to think he affects me in any way at all. This is a business relationship, and I plan to keep it that way. My bag rolls off my shoulder when I lean forward, bracing myself.

  You got this, girl. All you’re doing is finding a wife for the man you once loved. Easy peasy.

  On that note, I pull myself up to my full height, and head to the bathroom for a hot shower, even though I should probably take a cold one. Since I have no idea how long his car will take, I soap up quickly and wash my hair. Once done, I give it a fast blow-dry, and pin it to the top of my head in an unflattering mess. I’m not out to impress the man. I’m out to get him married, so I can get my business off the ground.

  As I make my way through my small apartment to my bedroom, I can’t help but wonder why James Carson insisted I was the only girl for the job. His words not mine. I hadn’t seen the elderly gentleman in years, and really, how did he even know I was an event planner? He sold me on the job based on the fact that it would get my name out in the right circles, and while this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, there is a part of this whole thing that just doesn’t sit right with me.

  I plan numerous weddings, and honest to God, I can tell within five minutes if the couple will make it past the first year. It kind of guts me when I know they won’t. Yeah, it’s true, I’m a romantic at heart. I want people to find love and live happily ever after. I honestly think there’s someone for everyone.

  I might not like Alec, but I hate that he doesn’t believe in happily-ever-after and has no problem with a loveless marriage. What the hell happened to him over the years? Back in the day he was the sweetest guy, captain of the football team, and always the big brother to all the guys on the team and everyone in our social circle. I never once thought of him as a brother, though. Not even for a second. Which is why during prom in St. Moritz, compliments of a very generous James Carson, I showed up at Alec’s hotel room door with nothing but a sexy silk nightie on under my coat. We were friends, close as two people could get, and not once had he tried anything sexual with me. I’d decided to make the first move. Heck, maybe he slept with me out of pity, or had too much to drink. All I know is in the morning, he barely spoke to me, and that summer he made himself invisible before he left for Harvard. Maybe all the blame isn’t on him, though. I’m the one who read the situation all wrong. Clearly an intimate relationship wasn’t what he wanted, and my stupid actions ended up ruining a good friendship.

  But my God, the way he touched me that night, the heated kisses, hungry caresses and a soft touch to soothe the pain that turned to pleasure as he took my virginity. For a brief second I think about running to my room to use my vibrator, but my doorbell chimes.

  Dammit.

  I tug on a pair of yoga pants and a comfy Taylor Swift T-shirt, then swipe a streak of pink across my lips. I give myself a once-over in the mirror, grab my purse and laptop bag, and head for my door. I retrace my steps down the stairwell and find a tall man dressed in a suit at the security door, both hands clasped behind his back as he rocks back and forth.

  “Megan Williams?” he asks when I step outside.

  “Yes, that’s me,” I say, and he holds his hand out and gestures to the sleek, black limousine with its back door open.

  “Right this way, Miss Williams,” he says with a smile that instantly puts me at ease. The man has a warm, fatherly presence about him, which suddenly has me missing my own. I was fortunate that my aunt Jeannie—my mom’s sister—and Uncle Dave took me in after my folks died in the car accident. And while I grew close to my cousin Sara, we’re like sisters today, it was never the same as having my own family. I miss that. I want that. Unfortunately, I’ve been working harder, and dating less. I’m not sure there are any decent guys left in Manhattan.

  “Call me Megan.” I make my way down the stairs and take in the shiny vehicle that costs more than I make in a year. Yeah, Alec and I really do come from different worlds. But he isn’t so different from my adopted family. Uncle Dave is a very successful stockbroker and his family lived a completely different lifestyle than mine. I slide into the backseat. Alec was so kind and caring back then, and there were nights when I was incredibly sad, and Alec and I would text for hours. There was even that one time when he snuck in through my window, held me in my bed while I cried for the loss of my folks.

  I swallow down the memories and stare at traffic as the driver takes me to Alec’s home. Close to thirty minutes later, we’re in New York’s Upper East Side. The car slows in front of a luxury Manhattan apartment. Staring out the window, I crane my neck but can’t see the top of the building.

  The driver takes me to the front entrance, and before I can reach for the handle to let myself out, he’s right there, opening the door for me. It feels a little odd to a girl who’s used to taking care of herself.

  “Thank you,” I say. Wait, do I tip him? Cripes, I’m a little out of my element here. I reach for my purse, but he gives me a nod and waves his hand toward the doorman, who seems to be waiting for me.

  “The concierge will take you from here,” he says.

  “Thank you. I didn’t get your name?”

  His head rears back, just slightly, like my interest in him has taken him by a surprise. Perhaps the women Alec normally has chauffeured to his apartment don’t bother chitchatting with the help.

  “Phillip Andrews,” he says.

  “It was nice to meet you, Phillip,” I say.

  He takes my hand in his and closes both of his palms over it. “The pleasure was all mine, Megan.”

  He lets me go, and I walk up the marble stairs leading to the massive front entrance. “Hi, I’m Megan Williams,” I say when I reach the middle-aged man, with a big toothy smile. I hold my hand out, and he shakes it. “I’m here to see Alec Carson, and Phillip said you’d be taking me from here.”

  “That’s right, Miss Williams, please come in.”

 
“Call me Megan, and you are?”

  “I’m Derek,” he says, and pulls open the big glass door.

  “Nice to meet you, Derek.”

  “You, too,” he says with a nod. “Alec has been expecting you. I trust your drive was pleasant.”

  “Very,” I say, and follow him into the spacious lobby tastefully decorated with glass and chrome that gives the place a welcoming, airy feel. We step onto the waiting elevator, and he puts a key in, and presses the top floor.

  “Beautiful night,” I say to Derek.

  “Spring is here,” he says, tugging at the lapels on his black jacket. “My favorite time of year.”

  “I’m a fall girl,” I say. “Sweaters, lattes, falling leaves.”

  “Tourists,” he laments, and we both laugh as the elevator opens on the top floor. “Here we are.” He waves his hand and I glance out to find Alec outside his suite waiting for me.

  Leaning against the doorjamb, feet crossed at the ankle, he’s dressed in a pair of jeans and a comfy-looking blue T-shirt that brings out the color of his eyes. A dressed-up Alec is one thing, but this comfortable, laid-back version has my stupid ovaries doing the macarena. He has the sex appeal of a hot fudge brownie delight with a cherry on top, and here I am wishing I had a big spoon.

  “Megan,” he says, his deep octave throbbing through me and settling at the needy juncture between my legs. “No problems getting here?”

  “None whatsoever. Phillip was very nice, and so was Derek.”

  I turn to see Derek off and give him a little finger wave. He nods before the doors ping shut, locking the world out, and Alec and me in.

  “Phillip and Derek,” he says. “You know their names?”

  I face Alec, and once again I’m blasted with a bolt of lust I wish I didn’t feel. “Yes,” I mumble.

  He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, his gaze leaving my face, to take in my T-shirt and yoga pants. In turn, I examine him. “You’re not in a suit.”

  He arches one dark brow, and that’s when I notice his hair has been cut. Long or short, he’s as handsome as ever. “And you’re very observant.”

  “Did I catch you showering, sleeping or having sex?” I ask.

  His grin is so goddamn sexy I reach out and place my hand on the wall to maintain a vertical position. “Well, we might as well be comfortable while going through the forms. I dressed for comfort,” I say, and wave my hand over my clothes.

  He glances the length of me again and makes a sound. For a brief second I think it might be a moan, but I have to be mistaken. Right? I stash that thought to examine it later as he pushes off the frame and waves his hand to the open door behind him. “Are we doing this in the hall, or do you want to come in?”

  Doing this in the hall.

  Get it together, Megan. He is not talking about sex.

  He turns to his side, and I slide past him, trying to ignore his enticing scent and the heat of his body as I step into his beautiful penthouse suite. I resist the urge to give a low, slow whistle. The door closes and as the lock clicks into place behind me, a warm shudder moves through my body.

  “Cold?” Alec asks, mistaking my reaction. “I can turn on the fire.”

  My gaze goes to the propane fireplace that separates the living room from the kitchen, glass on both sides. “I’m okay, thanks.” I scan his place, and take in the amazing view of the Hudson River, the mosaic of stars suspended over the New Jersey skyline. His place looks like it’s been professionally decorated in cool grays, and the only homey touches are a picture frame on one of his side tables with a plant beside it. His mother had a lot of plants in the house when he was growing up, but Alec doesn’t strike me as the type of guy who could keep one alive. Maybe the designer insisted on it, and his housekeeper waters it or something.

  I step up to the table, pick up the frame and smile as I take in a young Alec in his Harvard graduation robe, his arm thrown over his younger brother, Will. Alec has a smile on his face, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and for some reason that just doesn’t sit right with me. Does he ever laugh anymore, like we used to do when we were teens? God, the times we laughed until we cried. My heart pinches, missing those times.

  “How is Will?” I ask, a stupid hitch in my voice as I turn to face Alec. Last I remember was seeing a picture of him in the tabloids in bed with a woman who wasn’t his fiancée.

  He stares at me a long time before answering. “He’s well.”

  “And your mom? How is she?” I miss his mom. She was always so kind to me, welcoming me into their home, treating me like the daughter she always wanted and never had.

  He scrubs his chin. “Mom is well. She stays busy with her charity work. How is Sara, and your aunt and uncle?” he asks.

  “Good,” I say. “When was the last time you saw Sara?” I ask. They both went to Harvard and maintained their friendship there. I was sure Sara had a thing for him, and there was a time I thought they’d become a couple. Who knows, maybe they did hook up on campus. Then again, Sara is an oversharer about such things and would likely have told me. I never did tell her about what happened on prom night. I was too mortified.

  “A few months back. Is she still with Edward and Smith Law Firm?”

  “She is. Working hard to make partner,” I say, and I’m about to switch the conversation back to him and ask about his dad, but I’m not sure if I should. He left when Alec and Will were young. The guys maintained a relationship with him, but it was strained. How could it not be? He left for a much younger woman. I take in the tension in Alec’s body, and sense he wants to get down to business. Ending my trip down memory lane, I turn and place the picture back down.

  “Where should we set up?” I ask, and spin back around to find Alec standing right there, so close all I’d have to do is go up on my toes if I wanted to kiss him. Which I don’t. At all.

  “Why not right here,” he says, his voice hoarse, an octave lower as he points to the sofa facing the hearth.

  “Okay.” I step around him, and plop down on the comfy gray sofa. I set my purse on the floor and tug my laptop from the bag. “These questions are going to take forever, so you might as well make yourself comfortable. We could be here all night.” I tuck my legs underneath myself and glance up at Alec. The intensity in his eyes as they roam over my body sends a spark of need rocketing through me. What the hell is going on here? If I didn’t know better, I’d think he likes what he sees. But I do know better.

  He clears his throat. “I’m going to need a drink.” He disappears into the other room, comes back with two glasses. One with white wine, and one with brandy. He swirls the amber liquid in the crystal, and I chuckle softly.

  “Something funny?”

  “You’re so much like your grandfather. You have a lot of the same mannerisms. He swirls his brandy like that and you both have a habit of smoothing down your tie. I noticed you doing that at the café last week.”

  “Tate does it, too. So does Will. Granddad’s clearly rubbed off on all of us.” He smiles. “But you always were a people person. Not much gets by you. I’m sure that’s what makes you an amazing event planner.”

  I beam at the compliment. “I am an amazing event planner. It helps when you love what you do.”

  He hands me the glass of wine. “I like that you own your successes and don’t apologize. No point in being modest.”

  “You own your successes, too,” I say, as I recall an article in Forbes. He’s a financier who restructures businesses and makes no apologies. “Do you like what you do?” I ask.

  He eyes me for a moment. “Do you think I’m the big bad wolf, Megan?”

  “I never said that.”

  “You didn’t have to, and if you do, you’d be right. I’m not a nice guy.”

  He might make deals that destroy businesses and people’s lives, but I’m not here to insult the man. I’m her
e to get him married. Changing topics, I sip the wine and the tart flavor bursts on my tongue. “This is delicious.”

  “Dry, the way you like.”

  My pulse leaps in my throat. “You remember that?”

  “I remember everything,” he says, and as he lowers himself beside me, I can’t help but think his thoughts have gone to the same place mine have. To the night I seduced him.

  I take another sip of wine, stalling before I have to speak, since I’m sure my voice is about to fail me again. “Mmm,” I say. I turn on my computer and pull up the profile I began last week. “If we want to match you with the right woman, you have to answer honestly.”

  “I always try to be honest, and I’m not looking for the right woman,” he says, those blue eyes roaming my face, and for the briefest of seconds I wish I were her. Wish I were the right woman for Alec Carson. I practically snort as that stupid thought goes through my head. “I’m looking for a suitable woman, remember?”

  “You won’t at least try?” I say as I shift to face him, legs tucked securely underneath me. “I think everyone has a match, and true love really does exist. You just have to be open to it.”

  The muscles in his neck bunch as he rolls his shoulders, like the strain of the week is sitting heavily on top of them.

  “I’m not open to it,” he says, his voice so firm and adamant, it instantly shuts down my rebuttal. “Let’s get at this.”

  Disappointment courses through me but I shove it down. This is Alec’s life not mine and if he’s against love and marriage, who am I to try to change things. “Okay.”

  Beside me, he shifts and his leg rubs against my knee as he stretches out and crosses his ankles. He swirls the brandy and takes another drink. The liquid settles on his bottom lip and all I can think about is licking it off. Except he does it for me, and I want to tangle our tongues, taste the brandy from his mouth. A bolt of heat moves through me and I tear my gaze away, try to read the words before me as my stupid libido kicks into high gear.