Two Years Later Read online

  DIRTY RICH ONE NIGHT STAND: TWO YEARS LATER

  BY LISA RENEE JONES

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  A SEXY EXCERPT FROM THE BASTARD

  ALSO BY LISA RENEE JONES

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the supplier and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at lisareneejones.com/contact

  All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination. www.lisareneejones.com.

  Dear Readers:

  We left Cat and Reese in Dirty Rich One Night celebrating wedded bliss, and as we meet back up with them, a lot has changed. But what has stayed the same is Cat and Reese and their love and dedication to one another. Please join me in the continuation of their story as their lives get a whole lot more exciting!

  Please note: you must read Dirty Rich One Night Stand before delving into Two Years Later.

  I hope you enjoy Cat and Reese’s second book!

  xoxo,

  Lisa Renee Jones

  CHAPTER ONE

  Cat

  Day one: The day before the second biggest trial of the century

  No matter how many times I wake in my husband’s arms as I do now, it never gets old. Reese is mine. Yeah. Never gets old. Today though there will be no lingering and making love as we do so many mornings. He’s starting what could be the second biggest trial of his career, on edge, and overworked, and the minute the alarm goes off, I expect him to jump out of bed. He doesn’t. He wraps his arm around me right along with all those sinewy muscles, and his lips press to my ear. “How about a morning fuck for luck?” he murmurs, his hands sliding over my belly, cupping my breast, and teasing my nipple.

  “Your luck or mine?” I murmur, covering his hand where it’s pressed to my breast. “Because it feels like mine.”

  He slips his cock along my now slick sex and presses inside me. “Mine,” he says. “The luck and you.”

  I bite my lip at that possessive, sexy comment that I would have pushed back on long ago, but not now. Now I am his and I like it. He presses into me again and I arch against his hand squeezing my breast, and the hard length of him buried inside me. There is this raw burn between us, his raw need, that edge in him he gets right before a case, and even before it happens, I know it’s coming. I’m flat on my stomach and he’s driving into me, hard and fast, intense. He’s intense. It consumes me. He consumes me and I lose myself in every drive, pump, and touch. I don’t know where he begins and I end, and somehow we’re in that shuddering, over the edge, sweet spot together, his low guttural moan so hot, I’m clenching tighter. He stills on top of me and then rolls to his side, taking me with him.

  “I will never start a trial without doing that, ever again,” he murmurs near my ear.

  “Today is not your trial day.”

  “Today is practice for tomorrow.” He kisses my neck. “I love the hell out of you, woman. You know that, right?” He doesn’t give me time to respond. He moves and in a blink he’s carrying me to the shower with him.

  ***

  Half an hour later, Reese is dressed in a gray suit with a blue pinstripe and a blue shirt to match, looking all tall, dark, and handsome, while my hair is still wet and I’m just finishing my make up. He approaches from behind and I turn to face him. “I hate to tell you this,” I say, “but you’re living up to the Mr. Hotness blogs right now.”

  He groans and pulls me to him. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just taunt me with that. Every fucking time I go to trial it starts again.”

  “It’s the burden of being so hot.”

  “Stop, woman, or I will find a way to punish you.”

  I laugh, but he’s moved on, focused on his case. I see it in his eyes even before his jaw clenches and his fingers flex on my hips. “Come to the office today. I need you to work with me on my opening statement.”

  “It’s brilliant. You know that.”

  “It’ll be better with practice. Write your ‘Cat Does Crime’ column and come to the office when you’re done.”

  My hand settles on his chest. “I will,” I promise. “Of course I will, but not because you really need practice. My column is going to take a while though. Everyone will be watching it for shades of you and this trial. A young, beautiful woman accused of killing her wealthy father to inherit his money plays like a movie and you’re the leading man.”

  “And my client is the innocent victim made out to be a villain. Are you going to go for it and write about her?”

  “Yes. I am. Though I can’t tell you what will end up on the paper. I’m just going to wing it.”

  “That makes for some of your most compelling work.” His cellphone rings and he snakes it from his pocket, and answers it, without letting go of me completely.

  “Yeah Royce,” he says, Royce being the owner of the security firm he uses often for his cases and for the firm’s activities. “Right. Thanks for the head’s up.” He disconnects and sticks his phone back in his pocket. “Picketers at the office and I don’t want you to have to deal with that mess. I’ll bring the team here to you late this afternoon.”

  “I don’t mind. You know that.”

  “I know, but I want to be home.” He kisses me. “I’m going to take off. I’ll see you back here as soon as possible.” He heads for the door, all loose-legged swagger and perfection and I sigh. He’s mine. “I’m going to keep you!” I call out.

  He leans back inside the doorway. “Did you just decide this now, or almost two years ago when you married me?”

  “Just re-affirming my vows.”

  “Well then, I’m going to keep you, too, and naked as often as possible” He winks and disappears.

  I’m still smiling when I’ve finished dressing in dark jeans and a pink sweater worthy of the later October season. I head downstairs to the kitchen, power my computer up on the island where it sits, and start a
cup of coffee brewing. As usual, I grab a bottle of water and open the drawer by the coffee pot to pull out my birth control pill. That’s when I realize that I’m on day three of the blank sugar pills and I haven’t started my period. And my breasts are sore. I grab the cabinet. Oh God. The flu. I had the flu and nothing stayed down for days and yet Reese and I managed to have sex the morning I got sick and on the heels of me getting better, because well, he’s Reese, and sex with him, always feels good.

  I’m pregnant. This isn’t like when my friend Lori thought she was pregnant. I am. I feel it. Thinking back to the last few days, I felt different. I feel different. I inhale and let it out. This is okay. We have talked about this. We want kids. We said next year, but now is fine. I just don’t want to freak Reese out during this trial. I’m not going to do that to him. Pregnant. A baby. Reese’s baby. Our baby. I feel so many things that I don’t even know how to name those emotions. I want to take a test. I press my hand to my head. I have to write my column first in case Reese shows up earlier than expected and needs help prepping for his case.

  I grab my coffee, doctor it up and sit down at the island. I can do this. I’ll get the test afterward. I pull up a blank document and start typing. Two hours later, I’m finally at the end and I read my conclusion: Tomorrow Dana Warren’s trial will begin, but as you follow it on the television and in the news, I ask you to play a game with me. Pretend you are a juror like I do with every case I cover. Wipe the slate clean and assume Dana’s innocence the way you would want to be assumed innocent. Then pull out a pad of paper or your computer and take notes right along with me. In the end, the prosecution must prove guilt without reasonable doubt. At the end of the trial when the jury deliberates, write down on a sheet of paper what your verdict is. I’ll share mine, even if it’s not the one my husband wants to hear. I’m calling this the Honest Jury Challenge. So—challenge on. Who’s taking it with me? I’ll be in court tomorrow, and back here every day to share my views. You can email me with yours, and I plan to share random tidbits from my readers. Until tomorrow, Cat.

  Happy with the final product, I email it to my editor and rush upstairs. I grab my purse and I’m out of the door and headed to the store in about three minutes. Fifteen minutes later, I’m in the bathroom, peeing on a stick which I sit on a towel on the sink and watch. And watch for what feels forever but is really only about two minutes. I suck in air at the results. I’m right. I have to sit down on the tub to process the words and then say them in my mind. I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant right before Reese’s trial. I don’t know if he can hear this now.

  I need to go to the doctor. I need confirmation first and what if I miscarry in the middle of his trial? My God. Why am I thinking about miscarriages? I’m not going to miscarry. I just don’t want to worry or rattle Reese during his trial and he has a responsibility to his client as well. I pull up the address book on my phone. I’ll talk to the doctor and decide when to tell Reese. I make the appointment and I’m dying. I want to call Reese. We tell each other everything and this is huge. I want to tell him that we’re having a baby, but this isn’t like other times. I can’t be selfish. I can’t do this now. Not the night before his opening statements. Doctor first. Reese later.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Cat

  My doctor appointment is not for a week. The more I think about my doctor putting me off that long, the more uneasy I am. I call the office back and beg for an earlier appointment but it appears my doctor is on vacation. The nurse, however, can do a test. I schedule that appointment for two days from now but keep my doctor’s appointment with the real doctor, too.

  Next, I call my close friend Lauren, who’s the mother of a toddler, and the wife of Royce Walker, who heads Walker Security. I choose Lauren because she’s a trial attorney like Reese and a good friend. Also because Royce doesn’t just do a lot of investigative work for Reese’s firm, he’s ex-FBI and his team is compiled of FBI, CIA, SEALs, Special Forces and more, meaning they have stressful jobs. They have been on and continue to take dangerous missions. It’s not the same as a court case, but it’s high pressure. Lauren will know how those men deal with baby news in the middle of something big.

  I get her voicemail. “Lauren, I have a crisis. Or not a crisis. But I need someone to talk to. Call me.” I hang up and text her the same message.

  My cellphone rings and when it’s Reese’s number nerves overcome me. Why am I nervous? This is my husband. This is my soul mate. This is the man who is the father of my child. I answer the call. “Hey,” I say.

  “Hey, sweetheart. How’s your column coming?”

  “Done. Already sent to my editor. How are things there?”

  “We’re going to head to the apartment around three. Does that work for you?”

  “Works great. How are you feeling about everything?”

  “Like hell.”

  “You always say that right before trial and it’s never hell.”

  “Keep reminding me,” he says. “I need to hear it right now. I’ll see you soon.”

  We disconnect and I press my hand to my belly. Is there a baby growing in my belly? Reese’s baby. I walk back into the bathroom and check the stick and then read the box just to make sure I’m not confused. The test still reads pregnant. I bag up the test and stuff it at the bottom of the trash. Lauren still hasn’t called me back so I just decide to go to her office which is in the same building where she lives. I need advice. I need to tell someone I trust. I need to tell my husband but no matter what, before his opening statement is not the time. But when is?

  ***

  Thirty minutes later, I find Lauren’s office dark but Walker Security, just next door is open. After being told by the receptionist that Lauren is having lunch in the conference room, I invite myself to go on back. I poke my head in the door to be suffocated by testosterone, as not one but six men, all about as big and intimidating as Royce—who is a bear of a man—sit around the pretty, petite brunette Lauren.

  “Cat,” she says, her eyes going wide. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve been calling and texting you. I need you.”

  “Oh God. Sorry. The little one dropped my phone in the toilet this morning.” She stands up and I step into the hallway.

  She joins me, pulling on a suit jacket over her pale pink dress, and motioning me to an open office door. We step inside and I whirl around to face her. “I think I’m pregnant.”

  Her eyes light and then she holds up her hands. “Okay I know you two want kids but I sense panic in you so before I respond, tell me what you’re feeling.”

  “We talked about next year.”

  “It’s a little early but is that a big deal?” Lauren asks.

  “He’s starting a massive trial tomorrow, Lauren. You know that. This is big news. It’s life-changing news. It’s not the kind of news you give someone before a trial.”

  “I admit that the timing is delicate so let’s take a step back. Are you certain you’re pregnant?”

  “The test says I am and I feel different but, I’m not sick. I googled that on my way to the subway. They say when you’re sick it’s a sign of a healthy baby. Those who miscarry often aren’t sick.”

  “Wow.” She holds up her hands. “Wait. Why are we going there? You’re not going to miscarry.”

  “You did.”

  “I know,” she says grimly. “So I guess we know why you’re going there. You lived that with me.”

  “And Royce. I saw what it did to you both. I’m a calm, rational person, Lauren. You know that. I’m thinking about all the ways this could affect Reese. I’m worried about my husband.”

  The door opens behind Lauren and Royce steps inside. He towers above us and consumes the room. “Is there a problem?” he asks.

  “I need to ask you something,” I answer.

  “I’m listening,” he says, folding his arms over his broad chest.

  “If you were leaving for a dangerous job, you couldn’t change
, would you want to hear Lauren was pregnant before you left?”

  Lauren holds up her hands again. “I’m not pregnant.”

  He looks at me again. “I’d want to know,” he says.

  “But would you be better off knowing? Reese starts a trial tomorrow. He has someone’s future in his hands. He’s a protector. He’ll worry about me. He’ll worry about the baby. If you were on that big job, and Lauren miscarried during it, how would it affect you?”

  His lips thin. “I wouldn’t know if Lauren was pregnant in the scenario you’re suggesting. I’d be on radio silence.”

  “But Reese won’t be. He’ll worry about a miscarriage just like me. A trial could take months or he could do his magic, corner someone into a confession, and end the trial.” Royce opens his mouth to speak. “Wait, please. Before you say anything else. There are already picketers, and it could get worse—”

  “It will with this case,” he interjects. “Reese hired us to handle that for him.”

  “See,” I say. “And if he’s worried that they are stressing me and the baby so he rushes something with the trial, even if it’s not conscious, what if he makes a mistake?” I look at Lauren. “You know the pressure. You’re a criminal attorney just like him.”

  “It’s extreme pressure,” she agrees. “Your client’s depending on you.”

  “But he’s also the father,” Royce says. “And your husband. He wants and needs to protect you.” He scrubs his jaw. “But I concede that you make good points.”

  “But we’re best friends, too,” I say. “We tell each other everything and this is special.” I press the back of my hand to my forehead. “I don’t want to keep this from him. I feel like I’m selfish to keep it a secret and selfish not to have the willpower to wait and tell him.”

  “When do you go to the doctor?” Lauren asks.

  “I see the nurse in two days. My doctor is out until next week.”

  “My suggestion,” she says, “is for you to let Reese get past his opening statement. See the nurse. Confirm the pregnancy. Think. Breathe. Then decide what to do.”