Marry Me by Cheryl Holt

a great piece of ass," Dustin said, "because you screwed her a few times, and she's turned you into a complete idiot."
    "I know what I'm doing."
    "You don't have a clue," Dustin scoffed, "so I'll give you till Monday to have this resolved. I want her signature on an agreement to give us the money with no litigation and no press."
    "If I can't finish it by then?"
    "Then I will deal with her. Trust me, neither of you will like my methods."
    * * *
    "Bryce," Faith called, "we're late. Let's go."
    "I can't find my baseball cap."
    "It's on the hook behind your door."
    She was at the bottom of the stairs, with Gracie and Peanut, waiting for him to come down. His game began in an hour, and he couldn't miss the warm-ups.
    Ever since her glorious weekend with Lucas, her world had been too chaotic. It seemed as if, by running off and enjoying herself, she'd smashed her tranquil existence to pieces. She couldn't catch her breath. She couldn't see straight.
    Well, she'd learned her lesson. She'd developed an itch for him, and she'd scratched it. Then she'd arrived home, overwhelmed and madly in love— stupid, stupid , stupid to fall for him! —and she was paying the price.
    She was sad and miserable and ached for him so desperately that she'd scared herself. She hadn't realized that she could grow so attached so quickly.
    He'd been calling and calling, but she hadn't answered and she didn't plan to answer. He'd be irked by her ignoring him, and he'd get tired of chasing after her. Hopefully, he'd already left town. 
    A knock sounded on the front door, and she groaned. "Whoever it is, we don't have time to fuss with them."
    "We can't sneak out the garage," Gracie said. "They'll see us."
    "Let them. Bryce, come on!"
    His footsteps pounded down the stairs, and Faith smiled, liking how terrific he looked in his uniform, so she was distracted and didn't notice that Peanut had walked over and opened the door.
    "Hi mister," Peanut said.
    Faith spun, and Lucas's gaze locked on hers so forcefully that she felt as if she'd been punched. She had to grab the banister to keep her balance.
    "Hello, Faith"—he had a ferocious gleam in his eye—"long time, no see. How have you been?"
    "What are you doing here?" she snapped.
    "I thought we should talk."
    "If I'd wanted to talk, I'd have returned one of your phone calls."
    He strolled into the living room, instantly taking up all the space, and she nearly ran over and pushed him outside.
    She didn't want him in her home, didn't want him in her life. He had no honorable intentions toward her, and she wouldn't pretend that they could carry on with no consequences.
    "I'm Lucas." He nodded to Gracie, Peanut, and Bryce. "Faith refuses to introduce us, but I don't know why. We're such good friends ."
    Her small family all said hello , and Gracie was all aflutter. She sidled over, her hips swaying, and put an arm on his waist.
    "Lucas, honey," she drawled, "how nice of you to drop by."
    Faith glared at Lucas. "We were just leaving. If you'll excuse us?"
    He grinned at Bryce. "You have a game?"
    "Yes."
    "Is anybody going to invite me to tag along?"
    "No!" Faith declared, as Gracie replied, "Absolutely."
    Faith fumed at Gracie, "Would you take the kids out to the car? I'll be out in a minute."
    "Sure, darling."
    Gracie ushered Peanut and Bryce out to the porch.
    Lucas stood where he was until the door closed behind them, then he stomped over. He towered over her, and he was so furious and commanding that she could barely keep from falling to her knees and begging forgiveness, even though she had no idea what she should be forgiven for.
    "What is wrong with you?" he demanded.
    "Nothing."
    "Why didn't you call me?"
    "I didn't want to."
    "We had nonstop sex—for two straight days and nights."
    "Yes, we did."
    He appeared bewildered. "And that's supposed to be it? We screw like rabbits, then we never see each other again?"
    "Yes."
    "I don't think so."
    "Why are you angry? You sleep with women—once—all the