Kitabı oku: «A Baby For The Boss»
About the Author
MAUREEN CHILD is the author of more than 130 romance novels and novellas that routinely appear on bestseller lists and have won numerous awards, including the National Reader’s Choice Award. A seven-time nominee for the prestigous RITA® award from Romance Writers of America, one of her books was made into a CBS-TV movie called The Soul Collecter. Maureen recently moved from California to the mountains of Utah and is trying to get used to snow.
A Baby for the Boss
Maureen Child
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN: 978-1-474-03835-5
A BABY FOR THE BOSS
© 2016 Maureen Child
Published in Great Britain 2020
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk
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Contents
Cover
About the Author
Title Page
Copyright
Note to Readers
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Epilogue
About the Publisher
To Sarah and Dan—
Ten years is something to celebrate
As we celebrate the two of you every day
We love you
One
“I don’t trust her.” Mike Ryan drummed his fingertips on his desktop and glared at his younger brother.
“Yeah,” Sean said on a laugh. “You’ve made that clear for months. What isn’t clear is why. She’s a terrific artist, meets her deadlines, is easy to get along with and a hell of a baker—she’s always bringing goodies in for everyone. So how about you tell me what Jenny Marshall ever did that you’re so against her.”
Scowling, Mike gritted his teeth and shifted his gaze to the view out his office window. Even in Southern California, January gardens looked a little grim. The backyard of the Victorian mansion that served as Celtic Knot Gaming’s office boasted dry, brown grass, leafless trees and empty flower beds. The sky was studded with gray clouds and a cold wind swept in off the ocean to rattle those bare tree limbs.
Still, looking at that dismal view was better than drawing up a mental image of Jenny Marshall. As unwilling as he was, though, that picture of her flashed across his brain. She was a damn munchkin, only standing about five foot two, but that tiny body was really packed well. She had curves that made Mike’s mouth water every time he saw her—especially since he already knew just what those curves looked like naked. One more reason he tried to avoid running into her.
Her short blond hair was a mass of curls that ended at her jawline, stirring up a grown man’s idle daydreams into fantasies of hot, sweaty nights. Instantly, he forced his mind away from the images of naked Jenny and instead thought of her eyes. As blue as the sky, bright with lies—and once, glazed with passion—for him.
Okay, that’s enough of that, he told himself firmly.
“I’ve got my reasons,” he muttered, not bothering to look at his brother again.
Sean had no clue that Mike and Jenny had met long before she was hired at Celtic Knot and there was no reason for that to change.
“Fine.” Sean blew out a breath. “Always were a hardhead. Anyway, doesn’t matter what the reasons are. You, me and Brady already decided this.”
“Brady’s in Ireland.”
“Yep,” Sean said, then added, “ain’t technology great? You do remember the meeting we had over webcam? The one where we all decided who would do which hotel?”
“I remember.”
“Good. Because Jenny’s in her office right now, working on the designs for the River Haunt hotel.” Sean met his brother’s gaze. “She’s already coming up with some great stuff. If we switch designers at this stage, it’s going to slow down everything. Besides, Jenny’s good. She earned this.”
Mike scowled and bit back any further argument because it just wouldn’t do any good. Sean was right: the plans had been made. He couldn’t change them now. All of the artists for the company had already been assigned their work schedules. Most of them were finishing up the graphics for the next game to be released in the coming summer. So Jenny was the only logical choice.
Didn’t mean he had to like it.
But there were deadlines to meet and no one knew that better than Mike. He, his brother and their friend Brady Finn had begun this gaming company when they were still in college. Their first game had been short on art and long on mystery and action. It had taken off faster than any of them had hoped and by the time they graduated from college, they were all millionaires.
They’d plowed their money back into the company they called Celtic Knot and within six months had released a bigger, more sophisticated game. They built a reputation for action games based on ancient Irish legends and superstitions, and their fan base swelled.
They’d bought this old Victorian in Long Beach, California, as their home base and hired the very best computer programmers, and digital and graphic artists.
They’d won awards and had legions of fans waiting for the release of their next game. And now, they were growing in another direction.
They were buying three hotels and revamping them into perfect role-playing venues for guests. Each hotel would be modeled after one of their top-selling games. The first, Fate Castle, was in Ireland. The modifications had just recently been completed and the hotel would be open and welcoming guests in March. The second, River Haunt, was in Nevada on the Colorado River and was just waiting for Mike to step up and get the renovations moving forward.
But how the hell could he do that while working one-on-one with Jenny Marshall? Answer: he couldn’t. But he wasn’t prepared to go into all of the reasons why with Sean. Instead, he’d simply go to Jenny. Convince her to back off this project. She was probably in no more hurry to work with him than he was with her. If she went to Sean herself and asked to be replaced, there wouldn’t be a problem. Mike would offer her a raise. Or a bonus. A woman like her would jump at a chance for that—and he’d be able to get on with the hotel transformation.
“Meantime,” Sean said, loudly enough to snap Mike’s attention back to the moment, “I’m still talking to the toy company about the line of collectibles they’re proposing based on our gaming characters.”
“What do the lawyers say?” Mike asked.
“Plenty,” Sean admitted. “And most of it I can’t understand. I swear they teach these people to speak in tongues when they’re in law school.”
“Agreed. How much did you get out of it?”
Sean crossed his legs, ankle on knee. “Enough to know that if they up their offer on the licensing fee, this could be a really good thing for us.”
“I don’t know… Toys?”
“Not toys. Collectibles,” Sean corrected. “I called Brady this morning and he’s on board. So think about this, Mike. At the next gaming convention we not only have the games to push, but the collectibles. We can spin that off to board games even, for people not interested in video games.”
Mike laughed shortly and leaned back in his chair. “There aren’t many people uninterested in games.”
“Okay, true. But we’re pushing into the hotel industry, giving people a chance to live their favorite games. We could take that another step,” Sean said, slapping one hand down on Mike’s desk. “We can sponsor our own conventions.”
“What?” Surprised, Mike just stared at him.
Sean grinned. “Think about it. Hell, Comic-Con started out small and look at them now. We could hold Celtic Knot Con—an entire convention centered around our games and products. We can host tournaments, offer prizes. Costume contests. Hell, we could run a contest offering a contract to whoever comes up with the best new beast to use in one of our games.”
“Did you go surfing this morning?”
Sean stopped. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“That water’s cold, probably froze a few brain cells.”
“Funny.”
“Don’t you think we’ve got enough going on right now? The latest game came out in December, and the sequel to ‘Fate Castle’ hits this summer, not to mention the hotel business.”
“Okay, we’re busy,” Sean allowed. “We want to stay busy, we have to keep thinking, expanding. Our business is based on the fans. On the way they feel connected to the scenarios we create. If we give them more, offer them other ways to connect, to feel a part of the world they love, that can only benefit us.”
Mike thought about it for a minute. He could see the enthusiasm on his brother’s face and knew that Sean was at least partly right. Continuing to build their brand would only solidify their position in the marketplace. The castle hotel in Ireland already had a waiting list six months long and they hadn’t even opened yet. That told Mike there was a huge market for just what Sean was describing. And little brother was right about something else, too.
“We’ll talk to Brady about your convention idea—that may be a good way to go.”
“Whoa.” Sean grinned. “This is a moment. Maybe I should hunt up a photographer.”
Mike laughed. “Okay, fine. I think you’re onto something. On the collectibles, I’m on board. Tell the lawyers to work up the company’s licensing offer and then we’ll sign.”
“Already did,” Sean said.
“Sure of yourself, weren’t you?”
“Damn right.”
Amused, Mike said, “Okay, well, you’re right about the other stuff, too. The role-playing, the contests. Ireland’s too hard for a lot of people to get to. The grounds on the hotel in Nevada aren’t big enough for us to hold tournaments on any kind of real scale. So the hotel in Wyoming will have to be the base for that kind of growth.”
“Just what I was thinking,” Sean said. “It’s on a hundred and fifty acres, with lakes and forests. It’s perfect for the kind of thing I’m talking about.”
“Then it’s handy you’re in charge of that one, isn’t it?”
“Also what I was thinking,” Sean said with a quick, smug smile.
It was the smug part that had Mike suggesting, “You should go to Wyoming. Check it out in person.”
Sean snorted. “Sure. That’ll happen. It’s January, Mike. It’s snowing there. Like crazy cold snowing.” He shivered. “No, thank you. Look, we bought the property in Ireland by checking it out online and that worked great.”
“Yeah, but—”
“I’ve talked to the Realtor, had her make videos of everything. The inn itself needs a lot of work, but the property is perfect and that’s more important, right?”
“Yeah, but—”
“You take care of yours and I’ll take care of mine. No worries, I’ll go look around in a few months, before we start the design stage.” Sean stood up and looked down at Mike. “Right now, though, I’m dealing with the big Game Con in Chicago next month. And I’ve got the art on ‘Banshee Screams’ to oversee. I’ll get to Wyoming,” he said. “But it can wait until summer…” Shaking his head, he laughed and headed for the door. “A surfer. In the snow. Yeah. That’ll work.”
Mike frowned after him. Brady was happy as hell, working and living in Ireland with his wife and new baby son. Sean was busy making plans to be a happy, surfing megalomaniac. So, it was only Mike staring at nothing but trouble. It would take at least six months to refit the Nevada hotel. And since he couldn’t find a way to get her off the project, that meant a hell of a lot of time spent with Jenny Marshall.
A woman who had already lied to him once.
Yeah. This was gonna be great.
Jenny Marshall poured herself a glass of white wine and sat down in an overstuffed chair, ordering herself to relax. But she didn’t take orders well, not even from herself. Curling her feet up under her, Jenny looked out the window at the neighbor kids playing basketball in the driveway across the street.
The duplex she rented was old and small. Built in the 1940s, it sat on a narrow street a few blocks from the beach. The rent was too high, but the place itself was cozy, close to work and less generic than some cramped apartment. Here, she could garden and go to block parties and buy Girl Scout cookies and football pizzas from the kids who lived on the street. Here, Jenny felt that she was…connected. A part of things. And for a woman alone, that feeling was priceless.
She took a sip of her wine and shifted her gaze to the front yard, where bare trees clattered in the wind. Twilight fell over the neighborhood in a soft lavender glow and lamplight began blooming in her neighbors’ windows. Relaxation still eluded her, but with everything she had on her mind that really wasn’t a surprise.
Between her work on the upcoming game from Celtic Knot and the designs she was working on for the River Haunt hotel, there was plenty to think about. She did love her job and was grateful for it. Especially since one of her bosses would like nothing better than to fire her—or to see her drop into a black hole and simply disappear.
She frowned into her glass and tried to ignore the pain of regret that clutched at her heart. It hadn’t been easy, working with Mike Ryan for the past several months. Every time they were in the same room together, she felt hostility coming off him in waves so thick it nearly choked her. The man was hard-hearted, stubborn, unreasonable and…still the one man who made her insides quiver.
She lifted her glass of wine in a toast to her own stupidity.
Seriously, hadn’t she learned her lesson more than a year ago? When they met that night in Phoenix, it had been magic, pure and simple. And, like any good fairy tale, the magic had lasted exactly one night. Then Prince Charming had turned into an ogre and Jenny’s proverbial glass slippers were flip-flops again.
It had all started out so well, too. The night before a big gaming convention in Phoenix, Jenny had met a tall, gorgeous man with a wicked smile and eyes as blue as a summer sky. They had a drink together in the bar, then had dinner, then took a walk and finally had ended up in her room at the convention hotel. She’d never done that before—gone to bed with a man she barely knew. But that night, everything had been…different. From the moment she met Mike, she’d felt as if she had somehow only been waiting for him to walk into her life. Which, she could admit now, was absolutely ridiculous. But that night… Jenny had allowed her heart to rule her head. She’d given in to the rush of attraction, that zing of something special that she’d only ever felt for him. And by morning, Jenny knew she’d made a huge mistake.
Sighing, she laid her head against the back of the chair, closed her eyes and drifted back to the moment when the floor had opened up beneath her feet. The morning after the best night of her life.
Mike pulled her close and Jenny laid her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Her body was loose and languid from a long night of loving. Dawn streaked the morning sky with pale rose and gold and she was nowhere near wanting to get out of bed.
This was so unlike her, she thought, smiling to herself. She didn’t do one-night stands and never with a veritable stranger. But she couldn’t regret any of it. From the moment she’d met Mike, she’d felt as if she’d known him forever. She didn’t even know his last name, yet she felt closer to him at that moment than she had to anyone else.
“Really hate to move from this spot,” Mike said, “but I’ve got to get down to the convention floor early.”
“I know. Me, too.” Jenny cuddled in closer. “My uncle needs me to set up his booth. He can’t get here until tomorrow, so…”
Mike ran one hand up and down her back and his fingertips felt like tiny sparks of heat against her skin.
“Yeah?” Mike asked, his voice low and slow and lazy. “Who’s your uncle?”
“Hmm?” She was nearly hypnotized by the slide of his fingers and the deep rumble of his voice. “Oh. Hank Snyder,” she whispered. “He owns Snyder Arts.”
Mike suddenly went still. His hand dropped from her back and she felt a hard shift in the lovely little glow they’d been sharing. Then there was a physical shift as Mike pushed to a sitting position and rolled Jenny right off his chest.
She plopped onto the bed and stared up at him. “What?”
“Hank Snyder?” Mike jumped out of bed and stood staring down at her with a wild, dark gleam in his eyes, sharp as a knife blade. With the morning light streaming in through the window behind him, he looked like a naked avenging angel.
The haze in her mind was clearing and a cold, sinking sensation opened in the pit of her stomach. Slowly, she sat up and tugged the blankets over her breasts. Pushing one hand through her hair, she shoved blond curls out of her eyes and met his hard gaze with a look of confusion. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Do you know my uncle?”
He snorted. “Wow. That’s really good. The little hint of innocence in your voice? Nice touch.”
Completely confused now, she shook her head. People should not be expected to be coherent in the morning before several cups of coffee. “Innocence? What?”
“Oh, drop it,” Mike snapped and stalked across the room to snatch up his clothes. He dragged them on as he talked, flicking her quick, icy glances. “Gotta say, you were good.”
“What are you talking about?” The sheet where he’d been lying only a moment ago was rapidly cooling and she shivered in response. “Good at what? You’re not making sense.”
“Sure. You’re confused.” Mike nodded. “You know, I bought the whole act last night, but trying to keep it up now, when I know who you are, is only pissing me off.”
She didn’t have the first clue what he was so angry about, but her own temper was beginning to boil in self-defense. How could they have gone from lovemaking, to snuggling, to spitting ice at each other all in the blink of an eye?
“Will you just tell me what’s going on?”
“What I don’t get is how you knew I’d be in the bar last night.” He pulled his long-sleeved white shirt on and buttoned it with an almost eerie calm that belied the fury in his voice and eyes.
“I didn’t know—heck, I didn’t even know I was going to be in the bar last night until just before I went in.”
“Sure. Your uncle,” Mike said, nodding. “He had to have planned all this for you anyway.”
“What does Uncle Hank have to do with us?”
He laughed but there was no charm or humor in it. “Everything, sweetheart, and we both know it. Snyder Arts has been trying to get us to incorporate their programs into our games for the past year and a half.” His gaze dropped to her chest, then lifted to her eyes again. “Looks like Ol’ Hank finally decided to pull out the big guns.”
Every word Mike said echoed weirdly in her mind until at last, Jenny understood what he meant. What he was accusing her of. Anger leaped into a full boil in the pit of her stomach. Her heart pounded crazily and she felt as if she couldn’t catch her breath. Her mind racing, Jenny practically leaped out of bed, preferring to meet her accuser on her feet. She held the blanket up in front of her like a shield that could somehow protect her from the ice in his eyes.
“You think my uncle sent me here to have sex with you?” God, she could barely force the words past her tight throat. “So I could convince you to use his arts program?”
“That about sums it up,” Mike said flatly.
Jenny’s brain burned. She was torn between insult, fury and complete humiliation. Instantly, images of the night before streamed through her mind like a movie on fast-forward. She saw him, over her, staring into her eyes as his body claimed hers. She saw herself, straddling him, taking him deep inside her. And she felt in that flash of heat the pleasure, the sense of completion his every touch caused. Then the mind movie ended abruptly, and she was here, in this sunlit room, staring at a stranger who now knew her body intimately, but her heart and soul not at all.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” she asked, voice trembling.
“Mike Ryan.”
She staggered at the name. Mike Ryan. One of the owners of Celtic Knot. Jenny knew their work, knew the art and graphic design that went into every one of their games. She’d admired them for years, had hoped to one day work for them—which wouldn’t happen now. Not only did he clearly think she was a spy—and oh yes, a whore—but she couldn’t imagine herself working for a man who made snap decisions with zero thought behind them.
“Uh-huh,” he said, nodding as if he’d just had every one of his suspicions verified. “So you do know me.”
“Now,” she said. “I didn’t last night. Not when I met you. Not when we…” She pushed one hand through her hair and kept clutching the blanket with the other. Best not to think about everything they’d done because she’d do something completely stupid like blush, for heaven’s sake. With her fair skin, the moment she was embarrassed, her cheeks lit up like a red light at an intersection.
“And I’m supposed to take your word for that,” he said.
Her gaze sharpened and narrowed on him. “It seems you don’t need anything but your own suspicions to make up your mind. You’ve already decided who and what I am, why should I argue with you over it?”
“You know, playing the outraged innocent isn’t nearly as convincing as the seductress I met last night.”
She sucked in a gulp of air and fed the flames burning in her belly. “You arrogant, conceited, smug bastard.”
One dark eyebrow winged up and a look of pure male amusement tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Doing better now. The outrage almost looks real.”
Her heart pounded so hard in her chest it was a wonder he couldn’t hear it. She half expected her heart to crash right through her rib cage. “This isn’t an act, you jackass. Think about it. I didn’t seduce you. You approached me in the bar. And nobody forced you into my bed. As I remember it you came willingly enough.”
“Several times,” he said, playing on her words just to irritate her further.
It worked.
“That’s it. I don’t have to listen to any more of your paranoid ramblings. Get out of my room.” She swung one hand toward the door and stabbed the air with her index finger.
He grabbed his black jacket off a nearby chair and shrugged it on. “Oh, I’m going. No worries there. I wouldn’t stay if you begged me to.”
“That’s not gonna happen.”
He snorted again, a particularly annoying, insulting sound. Striding across the room to the door, he stopped before he opened it and looked back over his shoulder at her. “Tell your uncle I said nice try, but no cigar. Celtic Knot won’t be doing a deal with him no matter how many attractive nieces he tosses into my bed.”
Jenny picked up a wineglass from the room service tray they’d shared the night before and hurled it at him. He was through the door and out before the glass shattered against the wood to lie in splinters on the floor.
Jenny sighed and took another sip of her wine. She hadn’t thought to even see Mike Ryan again, but then six months later, his brother, Sean, had offered her a job that was simply too good to pass up. The chance to work on the kind of art she loved was worth the risk of being around Mike every day. And frankly, by being on-site every day, she was silently telling Mike Ryan that what he’d done hadn’t hurt her. Hadn’t crushed her. Of course that was a big, fat lie, but he didn’t have to know that. Working at Celtic Knot was a dream that only occasionally became a nightmare when she was forced to deal with Mike.
Of course now, the nightmare would be a 24/7 thing for the next few months. Yes, she was excited about being the artist to design the murals for the River Haunt hotel. But having to work one-on-one with Mike was going to make it all so much more grueling than it should have been. Still, she wouldn’t back off. Oh, Jenny knew that Mike wanted her off the project, but this was too big an opportunity for her to turn tail and run. Especially, she reminded herself, since she’d done nothing wrong.
He was the one who had plenty to apologize for. He was the one who’d insulted her, humiliated her and then stomped off without so much as listening to her side of the story.
So why should she be the one to pay a price?
The knock on her door interrupted her thoughts and she told herself, if it was a salesman, she’d buy whatever he was selling out of simple gratitude.
She opened the door and stared up into Mike Ryan’s blazing blue eyes. Without waiting to be invited in, he pushed his way past her and marched into her apartment with all the determination of Grant taking Richmond.
With little else to do but accept the inevitable, Jenny closed the door. “Well, do come in,” she said, every word dripping with sarcasm. “Make yourself at home.”
Features grim, eyes the color of a lake frozen over, he said, “We need to talk.”
Two
Mike stopped in the middle of the room, turned and just looked at her. She wore a pale green T-shirt and faded, curve-hugging jeans with a hole at the knee. Her small, narrow feet were bare but for the pale pink nail polish. Her hair was a rumpled mass of tumbling blond curls and her wide blue eyes were fixed on him warily. She looked good. Too damned good, and that was part of the problem.
Stuffing both hands into his pockets, just to keep from reaching for her, Mike deliberately looked away from Jenny and glanced around the small living room. His gaze picked out the details even as his brain reminded him not to let her distract him. Great body, beautiful eyes and kissable lips notwithstanding, he had come here for a reason and he had to keep his focus.
The duplex was old, probably one of the original beach cottages built in the late 1930s. Jenny’s home was well kept, casual and welcoming. There were overstuffed chairs covered in a flowery fabric and a love seat boasting yellow and blue stripes. Several small tables and standing brass lamps were scattered about the room, shining puddles of golden light onto the scarred but polished wood floors and the few rugs that broke up the space. The walls were painted a soft green that reminded him of spring. There were framed paintings and photographs clustered together in no discernible pattern and on one wall, there was a mural.
His gaze caught it and held. Obviously, Jenny had painted it herself and Mike had to admit that whatever else she was, the woman was also immensely talented. The mural was a scene straight out of a fairy tale—or an Irish legend. A forest, just waking up to daylight. Fog drifted across the landscape in thin gray wisps, sunlight speared through the trees to lie in a dappled pattern on the leaf-strewn ground. There was a hint of a flower-laden meadow in the distance and in the towering trees were fairies, delicate wings looking as if they would flutter any minute.
Damn it. He hated that she was this good.
“Why are you here, Mike?” Her voice was soft, but the glint in her eye was anything but.
Good question. Mike knew he probably shouldn’t have come here—they hadn’t been alone together since that night in Phoenix—but he had run out of options. He couldn’t tell Sean why working with Jenny was a mistake—because damned if he’d let his little brother know that he’d once been taken for a ride. In more ways than one.
But Jenny knew why this wouldn’t work. All he had to do was get her to tell Sean she didn’t want the job of designing the art for the new hotel. And if Jenny herself requested that she be let out of the project, Sean wouldn’t object.
Time to get to the point so Mike could get the hell out of this too-small house where her scent seemed to hover in the air for the express purpose of tormenting him. “I want you to back out of the hotel job.”
She didn’t even blink. “Interesting. Well, I want to be three inches taller and have smaller boobs. Looks like we’re both doomed to disappointment.”
Why the hell she would want smaller breasts was beyond him, but not the point. “We both know that working together for months is a bad idea.”
“Agreed.” She crossed her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts higher. “Maybe you’re the one who should quit. Switch hotels with Sean. I like Sean.”
“Leave Sean alone,” Mike ground out.
Her oh-so-casual pose evaporated and she threw her hands high in frustration. “Please. Now you’re afraid I’m going to be paid to seduce Sean?”
“I didn’t say that.” Thought it, maybe. Said it, no. All right, he admitted silently, he hadn’t even thought it. Not really.
“What exactly are you saying, Mike?” She plopped both hands on her hips and the movement tightened the fabric of her shirt against the aforementioned breasts. Distractions, Mike told himself. Pay no attention.
“I’m saying leave Sean out of this,” he said. “It’s between you and me.”
“Fine. Then you tell Sean he should take over the River Haunt and you do the Wyoming place.”
“No.” He wasn’t ready to admit defeat yet. He could still find a way to convince Jenny that this was an impossible situation and that it was up to her to back off.
She shrugged again, and walked past him slowly enough that the scent of her vanilla perfume flavored the breath he took and held as she made for the chair by the wide window.
“So, since neither one of us is willing to drop out of this project, I guess we’re done here,” she said, plopping into the chair and lifting her wineglass for a sip.
“We are far from done.” Through the window behind her, he saw the street was dark, with the dim glow of lamplight shining through a neighbor’s drapes.
January nights at the beach could be cold, but here in this tiny duplex, Mike felt only the heat of being near her again. Her hair shone, her eyes glittered and her mouth curved up at one corner when she spoke. She was enjoying this, he thought, and a part of him liked that about her.
Jenny Marshall didn’t back down for anyone. He’d seen her go head-to-head with older, more experienced artists, defending her designs and techniques. She held her own in meetings and wasn’t afraid to fight for her vision of things. But as much as he admired those traits, he wished she wasn’t currently turning her admirable qualities on him.
“Mike, you don’t want to work with me and I don’t want to work with you. But we’re stuck with each other.” She lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “We’ll have to make the best of it.”
“Unacceptable.” Shaking his head, he looked away from her because the damn lamplight made her hair shine like burnished gold. He never should have come here. It had been a bad idea and if he were smart, he’d leave right now since their argument was getting them exactly nowhere.
As he sifted through dozens of pretty much useless thoughts, his gaze fixed on the magical forest mural. It was dark, mysterious, but with the fairies in the limbs of the trees, there was a sense of playfulness amid the darkness and the longer he looked at it, the more fairies he spotted. Hiding behind leaves, beside rocks, in the water of a fast-moving stream. It was hypnotic, mystical.
He shifted to look at her. “Damn good work,” he blurted, before he could stop himself.
“Thanks.” Surprise flitted across her face, then vanished. “But if you’re wondering, I didn’t steal that scene from any of Celtic Knot’s games.”
He fired a look at her that had been known to make stone-hearted business rivals quake. Jenny wasn’t fazed. “I didn’t say you stole it.”
“Not yet,” she told him, pausing for another sip of wine. “I’m sure you’ll get to it. I know very well what you think of me.”
“Do you blame me?” he countered. Mike pushed one hand through his hair, then scrubbed that hand across the back of his neck. Ever since he met her, this woman had had the ability to tangle him up into knots. Even knowing she was a damn liar hadn’t taken away the rush he’d felt every time he thought of her.
At work, he kept his distance, knowing it was best for everyone. Coming here, into her place, being alone with her in the lamp-lit dark was dangerous. He knew it, and still he didn’t leave. Instead, he took a single step toward her and stopped because her scent clouded his mind and he couldn’t afford to addle his brain any more than it already was.
“That’s not a fair question,” she answered. “You made up your mind about me in an instant and never once listened to any side but your own.”
“What other side was there?” he countered. “Hell, your uncle is still running Snyder Arts.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” she snapped, setting her wineglass onto the table with a harsh click.
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
“How can I? He does own Snyder Arts. He doesn’t own me.”
“He’s family.” Mike shrugged.
“Yeah, and he thinks enough of me that he’s never asked me to do what you continue to imply I’ve already done.” She sucked in air, then blew it out. “Sean’s never questioned my integrity.”
“Sean’s more trusting than I am.”
“News flash,” she muttered, then asked, “Would you lie and cheat for your family?”
“No, I wouldn’t.” Mike had grown up knowing exactly what kind of damage lies could do. As a kid, he’d promised himself he’d avoid lies and the people who told them. That’s why he couldn’t trust Jenny. First time he met her, she’d lied. No going back from that.
Her eyes flashed. “But you assume I would.”
“Don’t have to assume a damn thing,” he reminded her.
“My God, you have a thick head.” She huffed out a breath. “At least come up with a new crime to accuse me of. I didn’t use you then. I’m not using you now.”
“I’m pretty sure every thief claims innocence.”
She pushed out of her chair, stalked toward him and was forced to tip her head back to meet his eyes. “Name me one thing I’ve stolen. Give me one reason you have the right to call me a thief.”
“Fine,” he said, staring into her eyes until he could actually see her anger churning and burning. “You haven’t stolen anything that I know of. Yet. You’re a prethief.”
“Then why haven’t you fired me or told Sean to?”
“I do my own firing,” he said. “And if I ever have proof that you’ve betrayed us, then I will fire you so fast your head will spin. Suspicion isn’t proof.”
She laughed shortly and shook her head. Then she took a long step back, and folded her arms beneath those magnificent breasts. “Boy, you’re really reaching. Being a prethief is like being prepregnant. Or prepublished. All that means is you’re not something. Like I’m not a thief, so I’d appreciate it if you’d quit throwing accusations around that you can’t back up.”
Damn, the angrier she was, the hotter she got. Bright spots of color dotted her cheeks and her blue eyes were flashing dangerously. What did it say about him that her temper only fueled the need inside him?
Most of the women in his life agreed with him, smiled coyly, flirted outrageously and in general made sure they were pleasant company. Jenny didn’t give a damn about any of that. She had an opinion and wasn’t afraid to share it and that was just as sexy as the way her eyes glittered.
And sexy wasn’t the point.
“We both know what’s going on here, Jenny,” he argued. “You might not want to admit it—and who could blame you—but the fact is, your uncle owns a company that would like nothing better than to have a contract with Celtic Knot. You meet me ‘accidentally,’ go to bed with me and try to convince me you’re not colluding with your uncle?” She opened her mouth to argue, but he rushed on before she could. “Then months later, you come to work for us, grab a job as head designer.”
“I didn’t ‘grab’ anything,” she snapped. “Sean came to me and offered me the job.”
He’d never told Sean about his time with Jenny. Maybe if he had, his younger brother wouldn’t have hired her in the first place. Which, Mike was forced to admit, would have been a damn shame. As much as she managed to irritate him, she was a hell of an artist.
“Sean asked, but you took it.” He tipped his head to one side and studied her. “So the question is, why? You miss me? Or are you some kind of corporate spy now?”
“Now I’m a spy? Wow,” she said, slowly shaking her head. “Paranoia reaches new heights.”
He snorted. “I’m not paranoid if you really are a spy.”
“You’re amazing.”
“So it’s been said.”
She threw her hands up. “There’s no talking to you. So think whatever you want,” she told him, voice as icy as her eyes were hot. “You have from the beginning.”
“Right. When we met at the gaming con in Phoenix. Another coincidence?” His eyebrow lifted. “You just happened to be at my hotel?”
“Or,” she countered, “you arrogant jackass, you happened to be at my hotel.”
Surprise almost had him laughing. Almost. But she was too furious and he was too sure he was right. There was nothing funny about being cheated. Lied to. Old memories of his mother crying, his father shamefaced, rose up in his mind, and Mike deliberately quashed them. Not the time or the place for memories, other than the ones he and Jenny had created the first time she’d lied to him.
“Right. I went looking for you that night.”
“You’re the one who approached me in the bar,” she reminded him. “Not the other way around.”
“You were beautiful. And alone.” And somehow she had looked insulated, cut off, as if she’d been alone so long that she hadn’t expected anything else from her life. Intrigued, Mike had watched her sip a single glass of wine for nearly an hour, as bar patrons came and went. As the bartender flirted with her and she ignored him, apparently oblivious to her own allure.
Mike wasn’t unaware, though. She was tiny, making a man want to step up and be her protector. She was beautiful, making a man want to see her smile to know what that smile would do to her eyes. And she had so many curves in all the right places, any man would have wanted to get her out of the short red dress and high, needle-thin heels she had worn.
How the hell could he have resisted her?
She flushed at the unexpected compliment and he watched, fascinated, as a stain of deep rose filled her cheeks. She looked away from him then as if hoping to regain her sense of balance. He knew how that felt because damned if he didn’t feel off his game every time he was around her.
“Look,” she said, her voice cool and even, “the past is done. All we have now is the present and the future.” Lifting her gaze to his, she said, “I’m not walking away from the hotel project. Not only is it my job, but it’s going to be fun.”
“Not how it looks from where I’m standing,” he muttered.
“Well that’s how I’m looking at it. So you can either deal or switch hotels with Sean.”
“You don’t make the calls in my business,” he pointed out, irritated that she could try and order him off his own damn project.
“Sean put me in charge of the art design,” she argued. “Not you. If you have a problem with that, talk to him.”
“I did.” He pushed one hand through his hair and started pacing, more to get away from the scent of her than because he needed to move. “But he doesn’t know what happened in Phoenix so he doesn’t get it.”
“So tell him,” she shot back. “If you’re so sure I’m a thief and untrustworthy, tell him and let him fire me.”
“I’m not telling him that I let myself get used by a woman who looks more like one of the fairies she paints than she does a damn spy.”
“Wow. Thief and spy,” she mused. “I’m really notorious, aren’t I?”
“Why the hell else would you come and work for my company if it wasn’t to be a spy for your uncle? You had to know that we’d be thrown together and clearly that thought didn’t bother you. The only answer I can come up with is you’re still trying to use me—now us,for your uncle’s sake.” That one question had been simmering inside his brain for months. Ever since the day he’d walked into the graphic design room and seen the woman he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about sitting at one of the computers.
Damn it, he wanted her to convince him he was wrong, that his thoughts were baseless. He wanted to know that she really was the woman she’d seemed to be when he first met her.
“Listen up, you unbelievably suspicious…man. I took that job in spite of you, not because of you. Sean offered me a great position doing something I’m damn good at and I should have turned it down because I might see you?”
“I don’t buy it. I think I’m the reason you took the job,” Mike said, his gaze spearing into hers from across the narrow room. “You were hoping to get me into bed again.”
Her head jerked back as if she’d been slapped. Gulping a deep breath, she muttered, “You pompous, arrogant… You know, sex with you wasn’t that good.”
He laughed shortly. “Now I know you’re lying. It’s amazing what a talent you have for it.”
“Get out,” she said flatly, holding up both hands toward him as if warding him off. “Just get out of my house and go away. Far, far away.”
Mike shook his head.
“That night we had was incredible,” he said. “And I know you felt the same way.”
“Please.”
His body churning, his brain racing, Mike stalked back to her, grabbed her and pulled her in close. “Since you asked so nicely…”
He kissed her, drowning in the taste and scent and feel of her. Not since that hot, amazing night in Phoenix had Mike felt so completely right about anything. She squirmed halfheartedly against him for a second or two, as if she might actually try to deny what was happening between them as thoroughly as she’d lied about their past.
But then the moment was gone, hesitation evaporated and she wrapped herself around him, arms locked about his neck, her short, shapely legs hooked around his waist. His hands dropped to the curve of her behind and held her there, tight against the erection straining and pulsing with the need to be buried inside her.
Had he known what would happen when he’d decided to come here tonight? Had he guessed that he wouldn’t be able to deny himself—as he had for months—the sheer glory of her body? Didn’t matter, he told himself as his tongue swept into the heat of her mouth. Nothing mattered but the now. The feel of her surrounding him, pulling him deeper.
No other woman had ever affected him like this. It was as if his brain and his body weren’t even linked. He knew this was a bad idea, but his body just didn’t give a damn. All it wanted…needed was her. One more night of being in her, on her, under her.
He tore his mouth free of hers, then shifted to taste her at the pulse beat in her throat. Her heart hammered in time with his own.
“Mike…” She sucked in a gulp of air and shivered in his arms when he nibbled at her skin. “We really shouldn’t do this—”
“Yeah, I know,” he whispered against her neck. “Do you care?”
“No.”
“Good.” His grip on her tightened and she ground her hips against him, her heels digging into the small of his back. He groaned and hissed in a breath. “You’re killin’ me here.”
She lifted her gaze to his and a slow, sensual smile curved her mouth. “Killing you, not really the plan.”
“There’s a plan?”
That smile widened as she leaned in and kissed him. “Oh, yeah.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know why…”
“Why what?” she murmured, then gasped as his hands kneaded her behind.
“Why it’s you who does this to me,” he said on another groan as his mind shut down and his body simply took the lead.
“Ditto,” she whispered, then kissed the side of his neck, trailing her lips and the edges of her teeth along his skin.
“Oh, yeah.” He held her tighter to his groin. “Bedroom. Where?”
“Down the hall,” she whispered, her breath blowing hot against the dampness of his skin. “Hurry.”
“On that.” Thankfully, her place was so small, it didn’t take him long to carry her into the bedroom. Like the rest of the apartment, the room was tiny. A double bed, covered by a brightly colored quilt, stood against one wall. Pale yellow curtains were parted over a window that opened onto the backyard where a soft, violet glow heralded twilight.
A narrow cushioned chair sat alongside the bed, and the dresser on the opposite wall boasted a wide mirror that reflected the two of them as Mike dropped her onto the mattress.
He stretched out over her, braced himself on his hands at either side of her head and bent to kiss her. Jenny’s hands scraped up and down his arms as her mouth fused to his. God, she tasted good. Almost as good as she felt.
Quickly, he pulled her shirt up and off, then sent it sailing to a corner of the room. With just her lacy white bra standing between him and what he most wanted, Mike couldn’t wait. He flicked the clasp open, then slid the straps down her arms. His gaze locked on the feast that was Jenny Marshall. He groaned and bent his head to take first one hardened nipple and then the other into his mouth.
Her hands fisted in his hair, holding him to her as his teeth and tongue lavished attention on those full, beautiful breasts. She came up off the bed when he suckled her and the groan that shot from her throat seemed to roll around them, echoing off the walls and ceiling.
Not enough, his brain screamed at him. More. Take more.
He dropped his hands to the snap and zipper of her jeans and undid them quickly. With her help as she wriggled eagerly beneath him, he scraped the worn denim down her legs, taking the flimsy scrap of lace panties with them. Then she was there before him, naked, willing, as desperately hungry for this as he was, and Mike couldn’t wait another second to claim her.
“Too many clothes,” she muttered as she ran her hands over his chest in frantic strokes, unbuttoning his shirt as she went, tearing at the tiny white buttons, muttering, “I hate buttons, why are there so many buttons?”
“No more buttons,” he said tightly as he shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it over his shoulder. “I’ll make a note.”
“Good, good.” Her fingers stroked his skin then and each tiny stroke of her nails felt like fire dragged over flesh, burning, branding.
He took a breath and held it, calling on every ounce of control he’d ever possessed, knowing it wouldn’t be enough. If he didn’t have her soon, the top of his head would explode. But Mike dragged it out. It had been too long since he’d had his hands on her and he wanted to savor the moment.
He ran his hands down her body, breast to the heat of her and back up to her breast again. He explored every curve, every line, and with each caress he gave her, she reached for him, fingers grabbing at his shoulders, trying to pull him in closer, tighter. Her hips arched and rocked when he dipped one hand to the heart of her and cupped her heat.
“Mike!” Her head dug back into the mattress as she lifted her hips into his touch. “If you don’t get out of those slacks and come to me soon, I—” She broke off, dragged in air and whimpered when he drove first one finger and then two into her damp heat. “Mike, please!”
He worked her, driving himself and her to the edge of control and beyond. It took everything he had to keep from giving her just what she wanted. Just what he wanted. But first, he would torment them both. It had been a long year and a half.
His thumb brushed over that one tiny bud of sensation and the deliberate caress had her shout his name. Again and again, he touched her, deeply, outside, inside, across that sensitive piece of flesh until she groaned and whispered broken pleas for a release that he kept just out of reach. Her eyes glazed over, her body continued to twist and writhe, chasing a climax he refused to give her too early.
Then he couldn’t bear it anymore. Pulling away from her, he stood, stripped out of the rest of his clothes and kept his gaze locked with hers as he did. She licked her lips, rocked her hips again in silent invitation and held up her arms to welcome him.
“Almost,” he murmured and she groaned again, frustrated. Until he knelt on the floor and dragged her body toward him. When she was close enough, he covered her heat with his mouth and felt the crash of the climax that slammed into her. She reached down, held him to her as her body convulsed. His tongue flicked over her, into her and he tasted her as she exploded, crying out his name over and over like a mantra designed to prolong the pleasure rocking her.
When she was limp and her gasping breaths were shuddering in and out of her lungs, he joined her on the bed and she rolled into his arms. One leg tossed across his hip, she brushed the tip of him against her heat and Mike almost lost it. Then she slid her hand down and her fingers wrapped around his hard length, working his flesh as expertly as he had hers.
He hissed in a breath, squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and then opened them again to look down into hers. “Tell me you’ve got condoms.”
“Yeah, oh, yeah. Bedside drawer.” She wiggled her hips, grinding her body against his. “Hurry.”
“Right.” Mike didn’t think about why she had condoms. About the other men she must have invited into her bed. None of that mattered now. All that was important was this moment. He grabbed a condom, tore it open and sheathed himself, then looked back to the woman waiting for him.
She was like a damned nymph, straight out of one of the fantasy games his company designed. Like one of her drawings—blond curls rumpled, blue eyes heated and languid all at once, curvy body lush and waiting for him.
“Now, Mike. I need you inside me, now.”
“Yes, now.” He pushed deep into her heat with one long stroke. Her body bowed beneath him, her legs hooked around his waist, pulling him tighter, deeper. He stared into her eyes, eyes that held what seemed to him the mysteries of the universe, and watching her, took what she offered. He rocked his body into hers, over and over, setting a breathtaking rhythm that she raced to meet.
Again and again, they parted and came together, each of them driving the other higher, faster. He heard her ragged breathing, felt the frantic slide and scratch of her nails at his back. The race for completion was all. They looked into each other’s eyes, fierce now, impatient for what they knew was coming.
“Mike,” she cried, gasping. “Oh, Mike!”
She grabbed his shoulders and held on as wave after wave of sensation crashed through her body, making her tremble and shudder violently in his arms.
He watched her eyes flash with satisfaction only seconds before his own body splintered and jolted into a wild pleasure that left him feeling jagged and shaken. Locked together, the two of them slid over the edge, riding the thunder and crash of completion. And willingly, Mike tumbled into the dark, locked in the arms of the one woman he couldn’t have.
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