“I like how you think.” He chuckled, coming down on the bed beside her and unzipping her elegant slacks. “Close your eyes,” he murmured. “Relax. Let me give you pleasure.”
Her eyelids fluttered shut, even as the butterflies in her stomach increased tenfold. She wasn’t by nature a passive person, and ceding control didn’t come naturally. Some things a person never forgot.
Gareth’s hands were warm and slightly rough as he bared her legs, removing her lace panties in the process. She was still partially dressed from the waist up, but he seemed intent on exploration.
His breath tickled her thigh. Moments later she felt his lips and tongue at the heart of her, teasing her with an intimate caress that arched her back in shocked reaction. “Be still,” he commanded.
The words were stern, but his hands on her body were infinitely gentle. She gripped fistfuls of the sheet and cried out when he brought her close to the brink, only to change his course and kiss his way down to her ankle.
She trembled all over, her breathing choppy.
Again he issued an order. “Raise your arms.”
It never occurred to her to disobey. She felt him move up and over her, his weight straddling her thighs, but not crushing her. He took the camisole and slithered it up her arms and over her head, pausing to kiss her hard on the lips. Before she could respond, he was dealing with her bra, spiriting it away so easily she might have been perturbed if her brain had been working clearly.
She felt his hands on her waist, her rib cage, her breasts. Breathing became difficult, almost impossible. Every cell in her body was wondering…anticipating. Where would he go next?
A light brush of his thumbs on her nipples furled them tightly. The similar caress he bestowed on her collarbone made her move restlessly. With her eyes closed, every response intensified. She felt deliciously helpless, though he had not restrained her in any way.
“Open your mouth,” he whispered, tracing the curve of her ear with a fingertip. His lips moved over hers…teasing, seductive. He slipped his tongue inside to taste, to tangle with hers. She tried to hold him, but he pulled back. “No touching, no talking.” The silky insistence in his words made her shiver.
The life she couldn’t remember was hazy, unimportant. With Gareth on his mountaintop and Gracie in Savannah, all the light would disappear from her days. She didn’t need her memories to know that. Despite her body’s demands, the sexual mood faded. Tears stung her eyes, and she wanted to curl into the covers and sob out her frustration, her confusion…her premonition of dread.
Gareth was no fool. He sensed her emotional disengagement almost instantly. “What’s wrong?” he asked. The words were husky with alarm. “Tell me, Gracie. Whatever I did, I’m sorry.”
Her lashes lifted, and he saw such pain in her beautiful eyes it made his gut hurt. He smoothed a hand over her pale cheek. “I shouldn’t have assumed…and after I told you we could come here as friends. God, I’m a fool. Forgive me, Gracie.”
She shook her head, a single tear spilling over and marking a wet path to her chin. “It’s not that. I want you. I do…”
“But…?” He was a man who fixed things, who solved problems, and he hadn’t a clue what to do. He missed her smile desperately.
Her lower lip trembled badly, and he saw her bite down hard to stop the quiver. “I don’t think I’m the kind of woman who can do light and easy. I want to. I’ve tried. But I think I’m falling in love with you.”
The words hit him like a sledgehammer. The swift jolt of joy was immediately obscured by suspicion. He was vulnerable when it came to Gracie Darlington. And a vulnerable man was a weak man.
He rolled to his side and leaned on his elbow facing her, head propped on his hand. “That’s impossible. Your situation is making you—”
She stopped him with a hand on his lips. Even that was enough to harden his flagging erection. “Don’t discount what I feel,” she said, her eyes bleak. “This is my problem, not yours. I have no business getting close to you…to any man, until I regain my memory.”
The any man reference lit a fury in him that was as fierce as it was unexpected. “Your father told you there’s no husband or boyfriend. You don’t believe him?”
She pulled a corner of the comforter over her shoulder. “Yes, of course I believe him. But I have this gigantic void that scares me to death. I want to know, but I’m afraid of what I’ll find out.” Her gaze beseeched him to understand, but damned if he did.
“How is enjoying sex with me a threat?”
“You have everything, Gareth. Family, wealth, an ego the size of Texas. And all that adds up to your incredible confidence. Not a bad thing, but pretty intimidating for a woman who has nothing but a few phone messages from a man who will never deserve a father-of-the-year prize.”
“Intimidated?” That word jumped out at him. “Bullshit. You’ve held your own with me every step of the way. And I want to believe that you came to my mountain without any intent to do wrong. You’re a darling, Gracie. By nature and by name. Everything about you is sweet and innocent and untainted by greed.”
“You want to believe it, but you’re not willing to make that last step. Because maybe I’m a darned good actress. And you can’t bear the idea that I might play you for a fool and cause you to betray your family.”
“No one is that good an actor.”
She needed to believe he’d had a change of heart, he could tell. But the moment was lost. Gracie was smart enough to sense that his tiny slivers of doubt that still remained could prick the bubble of their happiness. And he needed to give her some space. With his body protesting every step of the way, he rolled out of bed and pulled on his pants. In the bathroom he found a thick terry robe and took it to her. “Here. Go settle in. Take a bath if you want to…or a nap. Order room service.”
She sat up, exchanging the comforter for the robe. With the collar turned up and her hair tousled, she looked far too young to be the object of his baser instincts. Her slim hands tugged the sash into a solid knot. “What will you do?” The words were husky.
He shrugged. “I have some phone calls to make. Email to check. If you feel up to it, we’ll leave about seven-fifteen. I’ve ordered a car. The senator’s home is in Maclean, Virginia.”
She scooted out of bed and bent to gather her things. As she knelt, the robe tightened across her bottom. Gareth swallowed and had to turn away. He was appalled to realize how close he was to an attempt to talk her back into bed.
He pretended to study a pamphlet about hotel room security while Gracie found each piece of the clothing Gareth had removed from her body. When she was done, she hovered in the doorway. “I’m sorry, Gareth.”
“Go,” he said, his throat tight. “We’ll talk later.”
As soon as he heard the door to her bedroom close, he jotted a quick note, placed it prominently on the table in the foyer and escaped. The walls were closing in on him, and this time he couldn’t disappear into his workshop to find peace.
He strode out the front door of the hotel, ignoring Chandra’s attempt to waylay him. Pressure built in his chest like a geyser. Somewhere deep inside him a fault line vibrated. I think I’m falling in love with you. Good God. What did a man say to that? She wasn’t thinking clearly…that’s all. Amnesia was a scary thing. Gracie was deluding herself.
He wasn’t the kind of man she needed for the long haul. He was selfish and cynical. No woman in her right mind would want a guy who still battled demons from the past. Gracie was soft…trusting. And she should have a partner to cherish her and make her the center of his world.
Gareth wanted her body. And he enjoyed her quick wit and her sharp tongue. But love? No. Not now. Maybe not ever. Especially not when he had yet to determine why she came to Wolff Mountain and what she wanted from him.
Once upon a time, he’d been a naive, horny young man. He’d fancied himself falling in love. Even after all that had happened to him as a child, he’d been willing to lay his heart on the line. To
open himself up to the possibility of a future.
The resultant debacle had ripped a jagged hole in his ability to trust. Intimacy. Love. Those two words were babble in a foreign tongue. He liked women. Liked Gracie even more. But if what he offered wasn’t enough for her, it was too damn bad.
He’d take her home as promised. Let her find her roots, her life. And then he’d return to his mountain and remind himself that he liked solitude and an empty bed at night.
He didn’t need Gracie Darlington to be happy. Not at all.
Twelve
Gracie ran water into the lovely Jacuzzi tub and added a handful of scented bath salts. The resulting aroma fogged up the gilt-edged mirrors that hung over matching marble sinks. She was glad to have her image obscured. Every time she looked at her reflection, the woman in the glass shook a disapproving head.
Coward. Tease. There weren’t enough pejorative adjectives to cover the way she felt about herself at this moment. She had told Gareth she was falling in love with him, and then had put on the brakes. Her behavior looked manipulative at best. She wanted to embrace the opportunity life had tossed in her lap. She wanted to embrace the big, hardheaded, fascinating Gareth Wolff.
But she was scared. She had a hunch that a broken heart was even harder to mend than a broken brain.
As she took off her robe and slipped into the deliciously warm water, she felt her face burn. Not from the temperature, but from the remembrance of Gareth’s slightly panicked expression when she mentioned the “L” word. Had she subconsciously been testing the waters? Hoping at some pathetic level that he would fall at her feet and proclaim his reciprocal pledge of adoration?
She snorted, blowing a clump of bubbles across the tub. Surely the real Gracie Darlington wasn’t so needy. Grabbing a razor, she extended one leg and started turning the skin into a smooth expanse ready for a lover’s questing touch.
It was possible that she had spooked him badly enough to make him be the one to back away. She’d heard the door to their suite close only moments after she fled his bedroom. No doubt, he was putting physical distance between them.
Commitment-phobic guys were famous for nipping relationships in the bud, rather than getting trapped into situations that made them uncomfortable. Judging from Gareth’s expression when she dropped her little bomb, he’d been very uncomfortable.
It hurt. No two ways about it. The physical intimacies they had shared in the last week seemed like so much more than sex. But even with a few synapses misfiring, she knew enough to realize that men were contrary animals. They saw the world through a different lens. And she’d be wise to remember that.
So, the question was: did she have enough guts to see this thing through to the end, when the truth about Gracie Darlington was revealed? And could she bear to see hatred in Gareth’s eyes if that truth was unpalatable or even worse, hurtful?
She had promised to spend the evening with him. Even in a crowd, the connection that sizzled between them would be difficult to ignore. It wasn’t fair to Gareth to send out mixed messages. Either she wanted him, or she didn’t. It was that simple.
Tonight, when they returned to the hotel, she had to advance or retreat. Once and for all.
When the water cooled, she jumped into the shower to wash her hair, then stepped out and dried off with a velvety towel. Annalise had provided more than one choice for the evening. All three gowns, with familiar names on the sewn-in labels, were sultry, vivid, and skin-baring. They ranged the gamut from red satin to emerald chiffon to a basic black jersey with a halter neck. Black seemed the safest choice. It looked like nothing on the hanger, but surprisingly, morphed drastically when Gracie slid it over her head.
She stared into the mirror, turning this way and that. It would be impossible to wear a bra. In fact, other than a thong panty, anything between her skin and the dress would show. The V-neckline plunged modestly in front, but the reverse side of the dress was nonexistent, nothing but a cowl fold at her lower back.
A smattering of sequins and bugle beads drew attention to her breasts. The expensive fabric clung to her waist and hips, flaring out only slightly as it made its way to the floor.
She thought about changing, but vanity won out. The woman in the mirror was beautiful…confident…sexy. Gracie wanted badly to be that woman.
Her hair was almost dry. She finger combed the loose curls into a deliberately tousled array, stepped into black stilettos, and pirouetted. Not bad for a woman who couldn’t remember if she’d ever worn a designer label.
Moments later she grimaced when her stomach growled on cue. She’d been nervous in the helicopter and hadn’t finished her sandwich. Dinner would be late. Though she didn’t want to cross paths with Gareth, at least not just yet, she dialed room service and ordered soup and crackers. The mini meal arrived with stunning swiftness, making her wonder if Gareth’s presence in the hotel was the equivalent of a red alert.
It wasn’t the smartest idea she’d ever had…getting dressed and then trying to eat soup. But she managed not to ruin anything. Afterward, she paced her beautiful room restlessly, torn between wanting to confront Gareth and get it over with and hiding out until the last possible second.
He took the decision out of her hands. The in-house phone on the bureau rang. It was him.
“Hello?”
“It’s time, Gracie.”
The ominous words sent her stomach into a free fall until she realized he was talking about the senator’s party. She smoothed a hand over her stomach. “I’ll be right there.”
When she opened the door into the living room, her heart stuttered and skipped a couple of beats. Gareth’s back was toward her, his wide shoulders straining the fabric of a crisp, obviously tailor-made tux. He’d gotten his hair trimmed while he was out. It still brushed his collar, full and wavy and dark, but she doubted he could put it into his customary stubby ponytail at the moment.
He turned around, and she saw his eyes widen. But she was too dumbstruck to give it much thought. He was magnificent. The white shirt drew attention to his sun-browned skin. Knife-pleated slacks molded to his powerful thighs, and the requisite bow tie and cummerbund almost made him appear civilized.
But she only had to look at his hawklike features and piercing eyes to see the predatory male animal he really was.
Her thighs tightened in instinctive, feminine reaction. Gripping her tiny evening bag, she forced herself to walk forward instead of beating a hasty retreat. “You look wonderful,” she said quietly. “I’m sure the senator will be impressed.”
Gareth found himself unable to speak for a full ten seconds. What had happened to his pretty, girl-next-door, memory-challenged Gracie? The woman in front of him was a goddess. Confident, sensual, serene in her infinite beauty.
He cleared his throat. “The senator is known as a womanizer. Perhaps taking you tonight is a bad idea. He probably gobbles up sweet young things like you for breakfast.”
“I read my driver’s license. Thirty doesn’t sound all that young.” She approached him, one long, toned, slender leg appearing briefly through the mile-high slit in her narrow skirt. “But it’s a good thing I have you to protect me.” As she slid an arm through his, he almost groaned. His erection was heavy…painful. Every muscle in his body clenched in helpless desire. Appearing at some fancy society dinner and being paraded around like a damned lapdog was so far down the list of things he wanted to do tonight, it was criminal. Reminding himself of the charitable payoff was the only way he could follow through with what promised to be torture…in more ways than one.
He clasped her fingers with his. “The car is waiting.” His conversation had been reduced to banalities. But damned if he could do better. All the blood in his body had rushed south. It was a miracle he could walk upright.
In the elevator her reflection in the mirror taunted him. Narrow white shoulders, shapely breasts, a flat belly and just the hint of a dip in the fabric that covered her most vulnerable femininity. Was she naked beneath that m
an-killer dress?
He noticed the omission of a wrap. “Won’t you be cold?” he asked hoarsely. Still no more than a four-word sentence.
“You can keep me warm.” Her smile was dauntingly close to making him come with no more than a look.
“You’re not playing fair, Gracie Darlington.”
She sobered. “You’re right. I’m not. My only excuse is extreme confusion. But things are clearer to me now than they were this afternoon.”
He resisted the urge to slide a finger inside his collar and loosen his tie. “How so?”
She leaned into him and slid her silly little purse into his pocket. Her slim arms encircled her neck. “I was scared.”
“And now?”
Her hips brushed his. He wondered if she felt his urgency.
Apparently so. Her eyes widened. She looked up at him. No artifice. No coquettish invitation. Nothing but unveiled, completely vulnerable feminine need. “Forget what I said about love,” she whispered. “To hell with who I am, who I was. All I want is to enjoy this thing between us for as long as we can. No looking forward. No looking back. No regrets.”
He cursed long and low. “You’re killing me, woman. Do you really expect me to walk around with a boner all night?”
Her lips caressed his chin. “Suffering builds character.”
“Then you might as well nominate me for sainthood,” he said gruffly. “Because if I make it through the evening without shoving you into a coat closet and taking you hard and fast, it will be a miracle.”
She didn’t have a chance to respond. The elevator slid to a halt in the lobby with a muffled ding, and the door slid open. For once, Chandra was not in sight. Gareth was glad.
The limo waited out front. Gareth gave the chauffeur the address, helped Gracie into the car and followed right behind her. He made no pretense at polite, socially acceptable behavior. With one quick flick of a button, he raised the privacy screen. Seconds later, he hauled Gracie into his lap and kissed her urgently. Tinted windows kept the world at bay.
Into His Private Domain Page 11
