Unmasking the Maverick Prince Read online

  When she’d ended the song, the minister began the simple ceremony. Stella’s voice trembled as she repeated her vows, yet she said them without hesitation. Bobby sounded a little shaken up, but he didn’t waver with the “I dos” either. Tori didn’t dare venture another glance in Mitch’s direction when Bobby engaged Stella in a rather lengthy kiss. But she couldn’t avoid him when the service ended and he joined her for the trek back down the aisle behind the happy couple.

  Gosh, he smelled great, Tori thought as she rested her hand in the bend of his arm. He murmured something but she couldn’t quite hear him due to the resounding applause. As it turned out, Mitch’s words would remain a mystery, since the wedding party was quickly ushered into separate limousines brought all the way from Oklahoma City for the reception—the bridesmaids in one car, the groomsmen in the other. Bobby and Stella climbed into Bobby’s truck, now sporting a lengthy string of beer cans, inflated condoms tied to the antennae and She Got Him Today, He’ll Get Her Tonight emblazoned in white letters across the closed tailgate.

  “Classy,” Tori muttered as they traveled the mile to Sadler’s that had been reserved for the private reception. “I’ve never understood why men get such a kick out of writing dirty sayings on the wedding vehicle.”

  Janie sighed. “I’ve never understood why Stella chose Bobby, but she’s stuck with him now.”

  “She’s in love,” Brianne said. “And we’re all just jealous.”

  Tori remained silent even though she secretly acknowledged that in some ways Brianne was right. Human nature dictated a need to be loved. She was no different.

  After they arrived, Tori trailed her friends into the club, her heart doing a jig when she considered Mitch was probably already inside. Her assumptions were confirmed when she glimpsed him standing near the beer keg talking to a leggy blonde with a neat upsweep and a neck as slender as a swan’s. Her strapless dress revealed abundant breasts that looked as if they might launch from the bodice if she raised her arms even a tad. Her lips were unnaturally full and her diamond-encrusted hand kept landing on Mitch’s arm. It wasn’t until she glanced her way that Tori recognized the woman—Mary Alice Marshall.

  Stung by an utterly ridiculous prick of jealousy, Tori wandered away from the disconcerting sight to stand in line with the guests waiting to congratulate the bride and groom, while Clint kept Janie and Brianne entertained near the bar with Lord only knew what kind of stories. But she couldn’t keep her eyes off the harlot and Mitch still involved in a conversation. And by the way, wasn’t Miss Mary Alice engaged? Tori wondered exactly where the fiancé might be. Maybe he hadn’t been invited. She seriously doubted that. She did not doubt that Mary A. still had designs on Mitch, apparent by the way the woman kept moving closer to him, touching him with a familiarity shared by longtime lovers. Lovers who were still lovers.

  Tori experienced a sense of satisfaction when Mitch began tugging at his bow tie and glancing around the room. After he frowned and pointed toward Stella and Bobby, Mary Alice left his side with a flip of her wrist and swayed away, tossing a suggestive look and steamy smile over one shoulder.

  In order not to look too interested in Mitch’s whereabouts, Tori studied the groom’s cake as she waited for the crowd surrounding the honored couple to dissipate. Leave it to Bobby to request a plastic pickup truck and toy horses as decoration. But then, Mitch might prefer something similar at his wedding. Boy, wouldn’t he make a terrific-looking groom? And she wouldn’t mind being his bride.

  Heavens, where did that thought come from? She needed to quit thinking about him on those terms. After all, they’d spent only one night together in the bed of a truck. Pure and simple lust, spontaneous sex. That’s all it had been, and she didn’t plan on an encore. She had to start considering how she would ask him for the interview, now that she gathered he was still speaking to her. But how long would that hold true once he learned she was a member of the hated media?

  She’d give it her best shot at explaining why she hadn’t told him sooner, ask for the story and, if not successful, return home tomorrow and forget everything that had happened between them…in a year or two.

  The tap on her shoulder startled her, stealing her breath when she considered that maybe Mitch was standing behind her. Even though her heart was running at sprinter speed, she retained enough composure to turn slowly instead of spinning around like a frenzied top. Disappointment, then surprise, overtook her when she realized Mary Alice Marshall, not Mitch, had taken her place in the dwindling receiving line.

  “Do I know you?” she asked, her tone just a little too sweet for Tori’s taste.

  “I graduated from Quail Run High three years after you.”

  Mary Alice tapped a perfect pink nail against her chin. “Oh, that’s right. You’re that really smart poor girl.”

  And you were that stuck-up, cheerleader hussy. “True, I was valedictorian.”

  “How nice. Why are you back?”

  Sheesh. Wasn’t that obvious? Tori decided Miss Mary Alice probably didn’t make it into the top seventy-five percent of her class of twenty-five. “I’m Stella’s maid of honor.”

  The light came on in Mary Alice’s expression. Dim, but still on. “Oh, of course.” She made a sweeping gesture toward Tori’s gown. “That’s the reason for the, um, dress. You know, velvet would not have been my choice.”

  Tori graciously chose to ignore the dig at Stella’s taste. “I didn’t see you at the wedding.”

  “That’s because Brady and I didn’t go to the wedding. We had a prior commitment.”

  Probably engaged in riveting conversation about the new hardware store the bank had financed, Tori decided. “Ah, yes. Brady, your fiancé.”

  Mary Alice wrinkled her nose. “How did you know about him?”

  She pointed at the comet-sized diamond on Mary Alice’s left hand. “Well, that’s a dead giveaway. And people are fairly free with the latest gossip.”

  “True. The news of mine and Brady’s engagement has been the talk of the town.”

  A prime example of a definite lack of excitement in Dullsville. “So when’s the big day, Mary Alice?”

  “Oh, not until next summer. Brady’s building us a new house. Four-thousand square feet on Hunter’s Hill.” She nodded toward two men conversing in the corner. “That’s my sweetie over there, talking to Daddy. He’s absolutely wonderful. He will do anything I ask of him.”

  Anything that involved money, no doubt, because Tori couldn’t imagine, or didn’t want to imagine, Mary Alice having randy sex with Brady Stevens.

  Tori smiled and raked her brain to try and think of something complimentary to say about the town’s banker. That was a tough one considering he was at least two inches shorter than Mary Alice, suffered from the beginnings of male pattern baldness and wore the most ill-fitting green suit Tori had ever seen. She found it hard to believe that Mary Alice Marshall had traded in Mitch for a milquetoast. Or maybe Mitch had traded her in. She couldn’t imagine what Mitch had seen in her. Actually, she could imagine. It probably involved her bra size, not her brain.

  Enough with the nastiness, Victoria.

  She gave Mary Alice a benevolent smile. “I’m sure he’s great.” And rich.

  “He is. He’s going to make a fine husband.” Mary Alice presented an artificial grin. If she were any more transparent, she’d be invisible. “How long will you be staying? Maybe we could do lunch.”

  Oh, yeah. Down at the local barbecue joint gnawing on messy ribs with the local debutante. What a nice way to spend a day. “That depends. I could be leaving tomorrow or hanging around for a week or so.”

  “And what will determine that?”

  Tori didn’t dare go there, although it was tempting to tell Miss Mary Alice she might be spending her days with the former boyfriend. “If Stella and Bobby need my help settling in, I’ll be here a little longer.”

  “Then you’d be staying out at the Independence Ranch?”

  Tori simply couldn’t resi
st getting a rise out of the woman. “I haven’t talked to Mitch about it yet, but I’m sure I’d be more than welcome there.”

  The smile dropped from Mary Alice’s overly painted lips. “You’ve met Mitch?”

  “We met last night at Sadler’s. He’s been very accommodating.” If Mary Alice knew exactly how accommodating, she’d probably fall over in her fake designer heels. “He’s a very nice man.”

  “Yes, he is, if you like that cowboy sort. Frankly, I prefer someone more refined.”

  As Tori suspected, Mitch had dumped the deb. “Like Brady?”

  “Yes, and that reminds me. I should join him now. I’m sure he’s wondering where I am.”

  Tori glanced to her right to find Brady chatting with a roving waitress, not looking at all concerned. She hid her smile when she turned her attention to Mary Alice. “Aren’t you going to congratulate the bride and groom?”

  “Actually, no. I don’t know Stella all that well and I’ve never cared much for Bobby. I just think it’s so sad they had to get married.”

  Tori saw red, and it wasn’t the beer sign in the corner. “Bobby and Stella love each other very much.”

  Mary Alice flipped her ring-bedecked hand in a dismissive gesture. “I’m sure they do. They’re perfect for each other. Down home without a pot to pee in. I hear they can’t even afford a real honeymoon.”

  Tori had the sudden urge to kick off her heels, hike up her dress and take Mary Alice down to the ground for a good hair-pulling cat fight. She’d never done that before, but then she’d never done what she’d done last night, either. Neither would qualify as classy, so she chose to verbally sink in her claws. “Stella and Bobby chose not to go on their honeymoon right away because Mitch needs him on the ranch for now. And speaking of Mitch, I think I’ll go find him and ask him if he has room for me. You have a nice night with Brady.”

  Mary Alice’s eyes narrowed into a menacing glare. “Oh, I’m sure Mitch has room for you out in the bunkhouse. He’s always kind to the common folk.”

  With that, she pivoted and headed away, leaving Tori clamoring for some scathing comeback. But wasting energy on the likes of Mary Alice Marshall was futile. She had learned that at a very early age.

  Finally, Bobby and Stella were alone, holding each other in a death grip and acting as if no one else existed. Tori hated to interrupt, but she wanted to congratulate them one more time before she grabbed some champagne to bolster her courage before she sought out the senator’s son.

  When she approached, Stella held out her hand and they hugged each other for a long time. Tori pulled away first and said, “Guess you’re an old married woman now.”

  Stella held up her left hand that now sported a plain white gold band. “Yep, and one of these days, I expect to serve as your maid of honor, as long as you don’t make me sing.”

  Bobby sent Tori a comical grin. “That would clear a room real fast.”

  Stella smacked him on the arm. “We’ve been married less than hour, and already you’re in trouble.” She turned back to Tori. “Speaking of singing, you did a beautiful job.”

  “She looked damn beautiful doing it, too.”

  Tori went into freeze mode at the sound of the voice behind her. A deep, provocative voice that generated enough heat to thaw her quickly.

  She faced Mitch and murmured, “Thank you.”

  “So here we are again,” he said when Stella and Bobby turned their attentions back to each other.

  Obviously, the feline Tori had momentarily become in Mary Alice’s presence had its claws in her tongue. Or maybe it was Mitch’s smile, his face, his hair, his tuxedo or any myriad aspect of the man that kept her momentarily mute.

  “You look nice tonight,” she finally managed. “Very debonair. And your lip is barely swollen.”

  “And you look great in that dress. I told you that when we were walking down the aisle.”

  Mystery solved. “I guess I didn’t hear you. But thanks again.”

  “I’m also wondering what you have on underneath it.”

  Tori had definitely heard that, loud and clear. But that was the last thing she heard, because the hired band picked that moment to begin a lively number, making normal conversation impossible, which became evident when Mitch said something else that Tori couldn’t begin to understand. “What?” she practically shouted.

  He leaned closer to her ear, his warm breath trailing over her jaw. “We need to talk. Alone.”

  Exactly what Tori had been thinking all night. “Okay. I have something I need to ask you, too. After Stella and Bobby cut the cake. “

  Mitch nodded toward the dance floor now containing the bride and groom melded together, cheek to cheek. “That could be a while. I suggest we talk in the meantime.”

  Tori looked around. “Where?”

  “Outside. In the truck.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  He gave her a knock-me-out grin. “Inside the truck this time.”

  This time. A vision of another bout of lovemaking in the cab of Mitch’s truck attacked her.

  No! No! No!

  She could not go there again, even if she dearly wanted to take that trip. This encounter would be about business, and she hoped that after she made her proposal, he wouldn’t boot her out of the truck onto her behind. “Okay. But I need to be back soon.”

  “No problem.”

  Mitch gestured toward the door and on the way out, picked up two champagne glasses, stuck one in each pocket, and then grabbed an open bottle of bubbly from the startled bartender.

  Tori followed Mitch out the door, thinking his charisma mixed with cheap champagne could prove to be a fatal combination. She would only have a small glass, just enough to give her a little bravado.

  Once they were settled in the truck—Mitch behind the wheel and Tori crouched in the corner of the cab—he turned on the ignition.

  “Are we going somewhere?” she asked.

  “No. I just want to turn on the heat before you freeze to death.”

  Although the temperature was somewhat milder tonight, Tori still shivered when a draft of air from the blower hit her full force.

  “It should warm up in a minute,” Mitch said as he poured the champagne.

  Tori was already heating up from his presence alone. Just watching his hands in action turned her on. Ignoring him would be a lost cause.

  After he was finished, he situated the bottle between his thighs, drawing Tori’s gaze to the male terrain much more obscure in dress slacks than in jeans. But she remembered how those thighs had felt against hers, the tickle of masculine hair, the tensile muscles, the absolute power.

  “Tori, do you want some of this?”

  Oh, yeah.

  Mortified, Tori tore her gaze from his lap and focused on his chin. Darn him, he didn’t even try to hide the fact that he knew what she’d been thinking. That knowledge was etched all over his gorgeous face, sparkling in his eyes, present in his smile that sent the mercury rising in her body despite the chilly interior.

  She took the glass he offered and a quick drink of champagne. The bubbles tickled her tongue, but not as strongly as Mitch Warner tickled her feminine fancy.

  He held up his glass and said, “To the happy couple. Thank God they actually went through with it.”

  Tori tipped her glass to his. “Amen.”

  They sipped in silence until Mitch grimaced and said, “You know, I’ve hated this stuff since my first glass at sixteen. I’ve only had it once more in the past ten years.”

  “Another celebration?”

  “The day I graduated from Harvard.”

  A reminder of exactly who he was and why Tori needed to tell him who she was. First, she would concentrate on congenial conversation. “I would have taken you for a beer drinker.”

  “I am. But the Warner household didn’t serve something as lowly as beer, unless it was a high-dollar import.”

  The venom in his tone took Tori aback. Obviously he did have s
omewhat of a temper. She gulped another quick drink, keeping her distance in order to thwart the temptation to smooth the tightness from his clean-shaven jaw.

  “I guess I should say I’m sorry about last night,” he said after a bout of silence. “But I’m not sorry it happened.”

  Neither was Tori. “I really can’t believe we did it in the bed of a truck.”

  “All things considered, it was still great.”

  “Was it?”

  His gaze zipped to hers. “You didn’t think so?”

  She chewed her bottom lip. “I guess on a scale from one to ten, I’d give it an eight.” In reality, she’d give it a twenty.

  He set his champagne on the dash, tipped his head back against the seat and streaked both hands through his hair. “Only an eight?”

  “Well, considering it was rather frigid—”

  “I don’t think anyone qualified as frigid.”

  “You know what I mean. We didn’t really get undressed, understandably so.”

  “I thought we did pretty well improvising.”

  “You could say that.”

  He lifted his head and aimed his intense blue eyes on her. “I could also say that I didn’t notice the cold at all because, lady, you were pretty damned hot last night.”

  Oh, Lordy. Hot behavior was not normally her forte. But then, Mitch Warner was pretty darned hot himself. She’d spent her life learning to compose words to fit the situation, describe the mood, in this case, the man. “Powerful,” came to mind. A sensual, magnetic field. A lean, mean love machine. Not enough adjectives of praise existed to do him justice.

  Tori stared at her glass instead of him. “If you say so.”

  He reached over and tipped her chin up with his thumb, forcing her to look at him again. “I definitely say so.” He ran one fingertip over her jaw then down her neck. “And I want to apologize again for being so careless.”

  “We really don’t have to go there, Mitch.”

  His toxic blue eyes melted her from the inside out. “I want to go there again, Tori. With you. All night.”

  Before Tori had a chance to prepare, he leaned over and slid his tongue across the seam of her lips. “Champagne tastes pretty damn good on you.”