To Catch A Cheat Part 19

"Hey, I'm male, what do you expect?" he said, then added, "But okay, I'll join you in your tree watch." The water splashed loudly, as he moved across the tub. Then he was beside Marissa, his right arm grazing her left one, and his hot body edging next to hers.

She fought the urge to s.h.i.+ft away, or look at him. "What are you doing?" she asked, keeping her attention on one particular light that seemed to s.h.i.+ne a little brighter than the rest.

"I figured the view was better over here, and besides, we're simply talking about when we were kids, you know, as friends. Friends do sit beside each other."

"But friends don't ask to have s.e.x," she countered.

"I guess that depends on who the friends are," he said, his voice right next to her ear. "And for the record, you're right. This is a very nice view."

"You are looking at the trees, right?"

He laughed. "Yeah, but the other view was nice, too. You look good in red, Rissi."

She really liked the way he felt against her, but she wasn't about to let him know. No s.e.x with Trent, no s.e.x with Trent, no s.e.x with Trent . . . No s.e.x with Trent, no s.e.x with Trent, no s.e.x with Trent . . .

"You were talking about the grocery store," she said coolly.

"Yeah, I was. Okay, when you were little and had to go through the checkout line with your mother, what always happened?"

"I wanted candy." An easy answer, every kid wants candy in the checkout line.

"And what did she say?" Trent asked.

"Usually no, but every now and then . . ."

"Exactly. Most of the time you got a no, but every now and then, you'd get that coveted yes, and then there was that internal celebration, that I'm-getting-what-I-want high that only happened when you saw that candy hit the conveyor belt and start heading for the cas.h.i.+er."

Marissa giggled. "You may have grown up, but right now, you still remind me of the kid from back then."

"Give me time. The story isn't over yet, and it has a lot to do with the grown-up," he said, and unless she was mistaken, he inched closer.

She didn't care. She was having fun, enjoying this interesting conversation, and truthfully, enjoying Trent. "Okay, grown-up, keep going."

"So anyway, eventually you try to figure out if there is a way to improve your odds of getting what you want heading toward the cas.h.i.+er. I mean, that is the goal, right?"

Marissa smiled. "Even as a kid, you were a businessman in the making. No wonder you're doing well with Jackson Enterprises; you're always trying to beat the odds. So did you figure out a way to beat the odds of getting candy back then?"

"I think most kids figure it out, eventually. It goes like this. You ask for that huge, brick-shaped king Hershey bar, you know, the one that kind of rules the candy aisle?"

A hilarious way to describe it, but Marissa could see the monstrous bar, and remembered a few times when she had asked Mona Kincaid for the same thing. "Yeah, I remember asking for it."

"But then, more than likely, with the odds the way they are, what's your mother going to say?"

"No."

"Exactly. So, as a normal kid, you have two options. You can do the whole dying-c.o.c.kroach fit on the grocery floor . . ."

"The dying-c.o.c.kroach fit?" Marissa asked, turning her head to view Trent, smiling at her. "I thought you were looking at the trees."

"I was, then I decided to look at something prettier."

"Just tell me what a dying-c.o.c.kroach fit is," she said, then turned away from the good-looking guy with the intoxicating smile to study the trees. They were much safer than Trent Jackson dealing compliments.

"I'm sure you've seen the dying c.o.c.kroach. It's when the kid doesn't get his way and he throws himself on the ground at the grocery checkout, flinging arms and legs everywhere while screaming at the top of his lungs."

"You sound familiar with the technique," she said, trying not to laugh at the image of Trent Jackson performing his best dying-c.o.c.kroach routine as a kid.

"I perfected it," he said, "before I realized that the other option was much more effective."

"Okay, I'm game. What was the other option?"

"When she said no to the king Hershey, I'd pull out the smaller version, the flat one that you use for s'mores, and then add a little pitiful to my tone before asking if I could have the normal chocolate bar, since I couldn't have the big one."

"And?" Marissa asked.

"I got what I wanted, every time," he said with pride.

"Seriously? It worked?" she asked, s.h.i.+fting to look at him again, both because she wanted to look at him and because she wanted to feel the way her body slid against his in the water. She was playing with fire, and she knew it, but at the moment, she couldn't help it.

"Every time," he admitted with a wink. "You ask for the big prize, the one that you're fairly certain is out of your reach, and then when she says no, you go for what you really wanted in the first place. It worked back then, and it works now."

"What do you mean, it works now?" she asked.

His smile claimed his entire face, and he tilted his head to look directly into Marissa's eyes. The effect was breathtaking, or at least it took her breath away. "I asked for hot s.e.x, didn't I? But then I got a soak in the hot tub."

It took less than five seconds for Marissa to get what he said, and then less than one second for her to jerk away from him and splash him hard enough that the water sloshed over the side and soaked Petie. He barked solidly, then scampered inside, away from the battle in the tub.

And it was a battle.

Marissa continued tossing water his way. "You're terrible, Trent Jackson!" she yelled, while he pounced.

"Grab a breath, Rissi, you're going down!" he said, putting his weight on her shoulders and taking her under.

His strong hands held her there, beneath the surface, in the loud, bubbling water, long enough for her to realize that he was in full control, then his fingers moved gently down her arms to ease her to the surface.

She blinked the water from her eyes and, laughing, nudged his chest with her head. "You're awful," she said.

"You won't get any argument from me," he said, then his eyes fell to her mouth and stayed there. "Rissi, let me kiss you."

She shook her head, even though her entire body was screaming yes. "That wouldn't be smart."

"Maybe not," he said, "but it'd sure as h.e.l.l be fun."

Marissa laughed and pushed away from the hard chest to put some s.p.a.ce between the two of them, then she settled on the opposite ledge. She had to try to get them beyond what had just happened, or more important, what had almost just happened, since she'd sensed her resistance waning. She had to keep her mind on her goals, an ad campaign that would propel her business to the top, and a man who didn't cheat. Would she ever find a noncheater who was half as good-looking, or half as fun, as Trent? Probably not.

Pity.

But in any case, she still had to accomplish tonight's task. She had to get her answers for Coleman and Speedy's quiz session tomorrow morning. "Tell me your hopes and dreams," she ordered.

He splashed her. "After s.e.x."

She splashed him back. "No more bargains, Jackson. Not tonight, anyway."

"Ah, so maybe tomorrow night?" he asked, thumping water at her face as she prepared to argue and causing her to suck in a big gulp. She coughed it away and laughed.

"Do you ever give up?" she asked, while they continued their splash battle.

Finally, Trent caught her wrists, then moved closer to her in the tub. When his face was merely inches from hers, he stopped, eased closer, then kissed her forehead. "I never give up," he said, "but you'll figure that out before the week ends."

"Just tell me your hopes and dreams, and then we'll go to bed."

He c.o.c.ked a dark brow.

"Our separate beds," she corrected.

He released her wrists and backed away to sit on the opposite ledge. "Suit yourself, though one bed would be more fun."

"Your hopes and dreams?" she continued. "What is it that you want, Trent, more than anything?"

"Right now, or long term?" he asked, exuding s.e.x with every breath.

Marissa didn't have to wonder what he wanted right now. In fact, she'd felt the evidence of what he wanted when they tussled beneath the water. There was no sign of a "shrinkage factor" in Trent's shorts.

"Long term," she said.

"You blus.h.i.+ng, Rissi?" he asked.

She knew she was, but admitting it wasn't happening. "Just answer the question. What do you want, long term?"

"You realize that this conversation is about to take a turn away from the fun and into the serious. Is that what you're wanting?" he asked, and those fingers dipped into the water again.

Marissa nodded. True, a s.h.i.+ft in conversation might not have been what she wanted, but it sure enough was what she needed, if she was going to end the night with her bikini intact, as in, still on her body.

"Okay," he said, shrugging. "But really, my hopes and dreams are pretty much the same as any other guy's."

"Fine. Let me hear them. According to Coleman and Speedy, your fans want to know," she said, attempting to sound flippant.

He smiled at that. "Our fans, and by the way, after you ditched out early on this morning's interview, Coleman informed me that their ratings have never been higher. He even hinted that if the two of us did end up getting together, the station might swing for one of those reality weddings, something along the line of Trista and Ryan from fans, and by the way, after you ditched out early on this morning's interview, Coleman informed me that their ratings have never been higher. He even hinted that if the two of us did end up getting together, the station might swing for one of those reality weddings, something along the line of Trista and Ryan from The Bachelorette The Bachelorette, or that's the example they gave."

Marissa's mouth fell open. "They didn't."

"Yeah, they did. I didn't actually see that wedding, but from what they were saying, it was really something."

She visualized the wedding. She, Candi, Amy, and Mona watched the entire thing, start to finish, and didn't miss a minute of all the flowers, the ceremony, the cake, the dancing, the shades of pink. Every time Trista cried, they cried. Every time Ryan laughed, they laughed. When the couple kissed for the first time as husband and wife, they applauded and bawled. It was beautiful, magical, perfect.

"You saw it?" Trent asked.

Marissa nodded, rather dazzled by the night's conversations. It had started with s.e.x, then hot tubs, then dying-c.o.c.kroach fits, then Hershey's candy and now reality TV. Not her usual topics for dates-not that this was a date-but still . . .

Now, to top things off, she was sitting in a hot tub with Trent Jackson, a very s.e.xy Trent Jackson, and talking about weddings. She definitely needed to get this train back on track.

"Well, Coleman and Speedy are simply trying to keep boosting their ratings," she said.

"I guess so," Trent agreed, the tips of his fingers still grazing the water. "But they did say that a poll has been added on their site where people can vote on how long it'll be before we get hitched."

"You're kidding. We don't even like each other."

"Yeah, darling, keep telling yourself that. Seems like the whole listening audience can pick up on the fact that you and I've got some serious sparks flying, whether you choose to acknowledge it or not."

"I've acknowledged it," she said. "Well, to you, I have, but I've also acknowledged that I'm not about to act on it." When he merely smirked, she blew out an exasperated breath. This week was going to be tougher than she had thought, and it wasn't half over yet. "Would you just tell me your hopes and dreams and stop talking about polls and weddings?"

Trent's smirk slid into another heart-stopping smile, but Marissa did her best to act unaffected. "I'll tell you my hopes and dreams, but unfortunately, we'll still have to talk about a wedding."

His hopes and dreams involved a wedding? From any other guy, her heart would melt right now, like a king Hershey bar in the sun, but she wouldn't let it happen with Trent. She couldn't. No s.e.x with Trent, no s.e.x with Trent, no wedding with Trent . . . No s.e.x with Trent, no s.e.x with Trent, no wedding with Trent . . .

Where did that that come from? come from?

"Hopes and dreams," he said. "Okay. I want what my parents had, a marriage that begins with a best friend who will be my closest confidante throughout life, but I want to start earlier than they did. They got a late start, and then they died fairly young. Unfortunately, neither will ever see me with my kids or know how I fared in the business world. In January, if all goes well, DieHardAtlanta will hit the newsstands of Atlanta in print format. I'd always told my dad that I wanted to start a magazine someday, and now I'm doing it, but he won't see the finished product."

Marissa swallowed, her chest constricting with the emotions he was freely doling out in this intimate setting, completely secluded, the two of them, sitting in a hot tub on a patio beneath a canopy of twinkling stars. There was something very special about it all, and she was extremely moved by it. So much so that she didn't speak again, so he continued.

"More hopes and dreams," he said softly, while leaning back and pondering the lights above. "I want to be a young dad, and I guess I'm starting to push the envelope on that dream, but I haven't found that perfect woman yet, and I won't settle for less than a lady who can not only raise my children, but also be my best friend and exclusive lover. Basically, I want a woman who moves my soul, and I want children whom I can adore, simply because they breathe. I want to be a T-ball coach, and a business champion, and a loving, faithful husband." He brought his attention from the trees and focused on her face. "Those are my hopes and dreams."

Marissa didn't let herself think about her response to his words. She simply wanted to show him exactly how he touched her, so she slid off the ledge and moved across the rippling water, then placed her fingertips against his temple and eased them down the side of his face.

"Rissi?" His smoky eyes beckoned her on, and she wasn't about to stop now.

"One kiss," she whispered, then led a finger across his full lower lip. "Because I can't resist."

She softly pressed her mouth to his, then s.h.i.+vered at the warmth beneath her lips, at the realization that she was giving in to him, and that she wanted to, very much, at least enough for one perfect kiss. His mouth opened, and she eased her tongue through, eager to taste him, to connect with him more deeply. His hands tenderly touched her back, then pulled her body closer, until her b.r.e.a.s.t.s rubbed his chest and her very center was against his hardness. Rissi let desire take control, pressing against him, deepening the kiss, moaning her contentment with what was happening between them. She ran her fingers through his hair, soft and springy and damp. Exhilarating sensations fired furiously through every nerve, hot water slos.h.i.+ng around them, heated bodies moving against each other, intoxicating hungry kisses . . . so much that Rissi merely rode the desire that had his hands caressing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, then sliding the two triangles of fabric away. He broke away from the kiss and moved his mouth down her neck, while Rissi leaned back and enjoyed this wild abandon. His hand kneaded one breast, while his mouth kissed, licked, and devoured the other bare, sensitive nipple.

Her core clenched in direct response to the attention on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and she had no doubt an o.r.g.a.s.m was in the not-too-distant future. This fact alone caused her brain to join the party. She did not not need to go this far with Trent Jackson, and she certainly didn't intend to lead him on, which was what she'd be doing if this went any further. need to go this far with Trent Jackson, and she certainly didn't intend to lead him on, which was what she'd be doing if this went any further.

"Trent," she panted. "This is . . . too much."

His hips, previously pressing against her pelvis, stopped moving. In fact, he stopped everything. His hand, his mouth, his body. And those seductive eyes looked up at her, attempting to bring her body in a more upright position without pus.h.i.+ng her center even closer to . . . exactly where she wanted it to be.

He kissed her nipple once more, then moved the two pieces of fabric back into place. Then he slid his hands to her waist and gently s.h.i.+fted her body from direct contact with his pelvis, and turned her so she sat on his lap. "I know," he said, with a crooked, s.e.xy smile. "I'm sorry. I couldn't stop, and you didn't seem like you wanted me to, Rissi."

"I didn't, but I-we can't." With her current position, the entire top portion of her body above the water, the sudden exposure to air made her s.h.i.+ver.

"Here," he said, moving her to sit beside him on the ledge.

The hot water covered her, warming her instantly. "Thanks."

He looked at her and grinned. "I'm sorry I went too far, but you did did kiss me." kiss me."

"Yeah, but I never said anything about getting naked."