Diana jumped from the bed. “That is none of your business!”
“Ah, the good old double standard.” Marcel smirked. “Maybe I should be the one worried about being alone with you.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she huffed, tossing the compress on the nightstand and then storming toward the door.
“Come on. Give me a hint. Ten, fifteen, twenty?”
“Give me a break,” she said, rolling her eyes.
Marcel blocked her exit. “Twenty-two? And I mean all forms of sex.”
She stabbed him with an angry glare. “It’s none of your business!”
“Twenty-five?”
“You’re crazy.”
“Thirty-five?”
“One,” she yelled, her face burning with indignation.
Marcel flashed her a wide victorious grin. “See, now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Chapter 13
Marcel’s lazy gaze drifted down Diana’s reddening face to that cute figure she kept trying to hide. “Just one, eh?”
Diana stormed around Marcel.
“Wait. Where are you going?” Marcel asked, chasing behind her.
“Home.” She stomped down the stairs.
“Oh, come on. Surely you’re not mad because you told me how many men you’ve been with?”
She didn’t respond.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
Diana stopped in the middle of the staircase, causing Marcel to nearly collide into her.
“Who said anything about being ashamed?”
He blinked. “No one. By the way you’re reacting, I thought—”
“Well, you thought wrong,” she declared. “I chose the right person to lose my virginity to. He was sweet, kind, giving.” Her gaze narrowed on him. “…And monogamous.”
Marcel lifted his chin after the verbal blow. “Yeah? So where did you meet this clown?”
Diana smiled. “Georgia State University. We were college sweethearts.”
“Is that right?” Marcel crossed his arms, disliking the image of Diana and some nameless guy flashing in his head. “Well, here’s a news flash: no man is monogamous during college. I don’t even think it’s genetically possible.”
Diana rolled her eyes and continued to descend the stairs. “I’m sure that all the college jocks you hung out with got off on trying to see how many women they could score, but take my word for it, there’s another breed of men who actually believe in the one man, one woman theory.”
“This might surprise you, Ms. Guy, but I also believe in the theory,” he said and enjoyed wiping the superior smirk off her face.
He took the lead down the staircase. “Now, I might have had my fun in the past, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to settle down and raise a family. On the contrary.”
A disbelieving Diana followed him to a spacious entertainment room, complete with pool table, old pinball machines, jukebox and stocked bar. “When did this miracle take place?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I’ve always believed it. Want a drink?”
“I don’t believe you. No thanks to the drink.”
“Come on. After the day you had, you deserve one.” He waltzed behind the bar.
“Ain’t that the truth?” She slumped onto a bar stool and caught her reflection in the mirror behind him. “Oh, my God. I look horrible.” She immediately tried to smooth down her hair.
Marcel smiled as he set two glasses down on the counter. “Actually, I like it. It has that fresh-out-of-bed look I love so much.”
She rolled her eyes. “You would say something like that.”
Marcel laughed. “You know, Di. I’m starting to believe you don’t like me.”
She glanced away and shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that…exactly.”
Marcel’s brows rose with amusement. “Not exactly? You sure do know how to hurt a man.”
“I’m not trying to hurt you. It’s just that after two years of ordering morning-after flowers, tons of Godiva chocolates and mailing little trinkets for just about everyone in your little black book, I’m sort of skeptical about all of this.”
Marcel shrugged. “I see your point.” He gave each glass a few cubes of ice. “How about rum and Coke?”
“Fine.”
“My whole point is that there comes a time in every man’s life when he has to make a few decisions. And I think that time has finally come for me.”
Diana’s dubious gaze remained glued on him.
He smiled and pushed her glass toward her. “You’re worse than Solomon when I told him.”
“Well, if you’re serious, then I applaud you.” She sipped her drink.
Marcel leaned across the bar with his own drink in hand. “If you don’t mind my asking, whatever happened to your college lover boy?”
She studied him as if weighing whether she should answer. “Personality conflict.”
“That is just about as vague as irreconcilable differences. It doesn’t tell me anything.”
She smiled. “Ian was what you might call a control freak. Not only in business but in our private lives, as well. My own sense of independence couldn’t deal with that.”
Marcel frowned. “You dated someone named Ian?” He gulped down a third of his drink before adding, “That might have been your first mistake.”
“What’s wrong with his name?”
Marcel shrugged. “It’s not exactly a manly name, is it?”
“And Marcel is? Sounds like you should have your own fashion line or something. What about the women you date? Last year you actually dated a black woman named Buffy. Buffy!”
“Actually, it was her stage name,” he said.
“Oh? She was a singer?”
“Close. A stripper.”
Diana shook her head. “Should’ve known.”
Marcel’s grin slid wider. “What did this Ian do for a living?”
“He’s in politics. Last I heard he’s a senator from Rhode Island.”
“A monogamous politician? Sounds like an oxymoron to me.”
“Everyone’s a cynic.”
They laughed.
Diana didn’t know whether it was the company or the much-needed drink that relaxed her, but she did know that she was beginning to enjoy this rather candid and intimate discussion with her boss.
“Now you tell me something about one of your relationships. Not a one-night stand, but an actual relationship. Why didn’t it work out?”
Marcel sucked in a deep breath and rolled his eyes back as if he had to dust off a very old memory chip. “All right, my last real relationship was almost three years ago. Her name was Kelly. She was forty-two—”
“An older woman?”
“Yeah, but she had the body of a twenty-five-year-old.”
Why did I ask? “Continue.”
“Well, we met at a ski resort in Aspen, had a ball for about a month and then it ended.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Turned out that she was still married to some big-shot banker. She decided she wanted to give her marriage another shot and left me in the cold.”
“She dumped you?” she asked, dumbfounded.
“What? I’ve had a broken heart before. A few times actually.”
Just like that, Marcel Taylor transformed from a business mogul with a wild and infamous reputation to a real human being with a history of pain and heartache.
“I guess I had you figured wrong,” Diana said, finishing her drink. “I thought you were just a ‘love ’em and leave ’em’ kind of guy.”
He fixed them another drink. “I’m not completely innocent of those charges.”
Diana held up her hand. “I was just starting to like you. Don’t ruin it.”
“You got it.” He held up his glass and clinked it against Diana’s.
Their talk moved away from the bar and into the living room. To Diana’s amazement and dismay, Marcel broke out photo albums of dogs. The way he carried on, one would have thought he was boasting
about real children. Diana knew the alcohol was kicking in when she started thinking the dogs were actually cute.
“I’m probably overcompensating for the fact I was never allowed to have animals when I was growing up. My father’s edict was if it couldn’t make a sandwich or wipe its own butt, it couldn’t live in his house.”
Diana laughed, having no trouble imagining Donald Taylor saying just that. “I owned a goldfish once,” she admitted, closing the photo album.
“Oh?” Marcel asked, sipping from his fourth drink.
“Yeah.” She thought back and laughed. “You should have seen me. I was eight years old and tickled pink that I had something of my very own to take care of. I named him Henry. Every morning I’d wake up and feed him, when I came home from school I fed him, and again just before I went to sleep at night.”
“You fed him three times a day?”
Diana bobbed her head. “At least. On the weekends more than that.”
“I’m almost afraid to hear what happened.”
“I woke up the morning of show-and-tell at school and found him floating on his side.”
“Were you devastated?”
“No.” She lowered her gaze and chuckled again. “I was actually excited that after swimming for so long, Henry was finally taking a nap. Nana was cool. She went along with it and told me that I should take Henry to school on a day when he wasn’t so tired. When I came home, Henry was up from his nap. And every three weeks Henry took another nap. I didn’t know any better until I was ten.”
“You’re kidding me.” Marcel laughed.
“Nope. Nana had to tell me the truth because after thirty-seven goldfish, the pet store owner refused to sell her another one.” Diana doubled over laughing.
“That’s horrible. Why didn’t she just tell you to stop feeding Henry so much? Or should I say Henries?”
Diana caught her breath. “She did, but I didn’t want him starving to death. I ate three meals a day so I thought he should, too.”
As the early hours crept closer to dawn, Marcel and Diana continued to laugh and swap stories as though they were old friends at a high school reunion.
With the exception of his childhood friend Ophelia, Marcel hadn’t ever felt this comfortable around a woman. Several times he would stop and smile at Diana’s fresh-out-of-bed look and could feel himself drawn to her quiet beauty—her cuteness.
The few times she’d caught him staring, he would quickly drop his gaze.
“What is it?” she finally asked. “Do I look that bad?”
“No, no. You look fine,” he assured her, but suddenly grew quite fascinated with her mouth. Her lips were still tinted with a fading shade of red and they tempted him with their provocative shape.
Though Diana shared plenty of stories of her childhood, Marcel was aware that there were quite a few gaps. Like, what did her mother pass away from? Why didn’t her parents ever marry? And where was her father now?
Diana sighed and smiled at him. “Enough about me. Let’s talk about you again.”
“Ah, my favorite subject.”
She shook her head. “Why do you say things like that? It makes you sound arrogant.”
He smiled. “Please, don’t hold back. Tell me what you think.”
“Sorry,” she said, her eyes glossy from the alcohol. “But I think you’re a big fake.”
“Is that right?”
She nodded and then frowned as if the act hurt her head. “One minute you pretend to be this insatiable playboy who has to be seen at every party in town, and then at work you’re this driven workaholic who’s a little stingy when it comes to raises. And now I’m learning that you’re also this strange homebody whose best girl is a four-year-old Doberman pinscher.”
“Stingy when it comes to raises?” Marcel laughed at the realization that his secretary was indeed drunk.
“I want to know,” she said, leaning toward him. “Which person is the real Marcel Taylor?”
“All of them,” he answered. “Just like you’re more than my no-nonsense secretary. You’re a woman who has loved and lost, and as a result you avoid the reckless emotion like the plague.”
Diana straightened.
“You take on too much and ask for very little. You’re scared of dogs and should be arrested if you’re ever within fifty feet of a goldfish.” He softened the mood by laughing again. “All in all, you’re an intriguing woman.”
She gave an unladylike snort. “First time I ever heard that.”
His hand glided over hers. Its warmth was a welcome comfort.
“You’ve always intrigued me.”
Diana slid her hand from beneath his and frowned at the empty glass in her hand. “I’ve had too much to drink.”
“That’s a possibility.”
“Is this how you snare women in your web?”
“I don’t have to get a woman drunk to spend the night, if that’s what you’re referring to. Most find me charming. Don’t you?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
She laughed. “Maybe.”
“You’re still lying.”
Releasing a boisterous laugh, Diana eased back against the sofa. “Then I plead the Fifth.”
“Smart woman,” he said, his laughter blending with hers.
“Okay, I have a serious question,” she said.
“Shoot.”
“Now, I’ve read the official press release on how you and Solomon started T&B Entertainment by borrowing the funds from your father and all. But I want to know why. You two were jocks for the most part.”
“That’s easy. For the women.”
“Be serious.”
“I am. Women like jocks and musicians. Since we’re neither, we figured out a way to be the next best thing. Simple as that.”
Diana gave up and rolled her eyes. “Pig.”
“Sex is a wonderful thing, Di. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.” He just laughed as she slapped his arm.
They continued swapping stories and pouring drinks long after dawn’s early light filled the house. Despite having seventeen bedrooms, both fell asleep on the large sofa, too drunk to really give a damn.
The wild dreams filtering in and out of Diana’s head had her feeling good. Damn good in fact.
It had been a long time since her body tingled this way. She felt sexy, desirable and wanton all at the same time. Did she have Marcel Taylor to thank for that?
She sighed when an image of him flitted into her dreams. He was a beautiful man. Cocky—sure. Arrogant—definitely. But the man had a body for sex, eyes for seduction and a smile that could steal her soul.
“Mmm. You smell so good,” Marcel whispered before he pressed a kiss against the lobe of her ear.
She giggled and curled away from him.
“Where are you going?” He chuckled and pulled her back. He placed another kiss against the column of her neck and evoked a series of giggles.
His kisses grew persistent and a tidal wave of sensations wiped her out. By the time his hot mouth covered hers, she was writhing beneath him with aching abandonment.
Heaven on earth was all she could think. His lips were like heaven on earth. She took her time and savored every inch of his glorious mouth. Despite the barrier of clothing, Marcel’s rock-hard erection rubbed against her feminine entrance.
Diana’s legs widened so she could cradle him between them. His hands slid beneath her blouse and took their time during their journey toward her breasts. They were the perfect fit in the palms of his hands and when he gave them a gentle squeeze, he swallowed her resultant whimper.
Something was ringing off in the distance, but nothing was going to disturb this groove, these glorious emotions, this sweet, sweet dream. However, the ringing wouldn’t go away.
Diana pried her lips away from Marcel’s to yell, “Will someone please get that?”
“What the hell?” a voice thundered above her.
Diana’s eyes jerked open. At the sight of a startle
d Marcel, she screamed, pushed, kicked and shoved.
Marcel toppled over and crashed onto the wooden coffee table. His howl of pain succeeded in shutting her up, but when she looked down to see her breasts spilling out of her blouse another wave of panic consumed her.
“Oh, my God. Oh, my God,” she screamed.
He stood rubbing his head. “Calm down, and for goodness’ sake, please stop hollering like that.”
“Do you know what we were doing? What almost happened? Oh, my God. I have to get out of here.”
The doorbell rang and Diana recognized what had just saved her from being another notch on Casanova Brown’s bedpost.
She buttoned her blouse and looked around the room. “Where are my shoes?”
He searched around. “I don’t know. What time is it?”
Diana glanced at her watch but was surprised as she read, “Twelve o’clock.”
“P.M.?” he asked.
“Apparently.” Diana suddenly felt as if Lake Michigan were pressing against her kidneys. “Where is the nearest bathroom?”
Marcel plopped back onto the sofa. “Down the hall on your right.”
The doorbell rang again and Marcel picked up some type of gadget from the end table and spoke into it. “Yeah, who’s out there?”
Heading toward the bathroom, Diana stopped in her tracks when a syrupy-sweet feminine voice answered through a house speaker.
“Hey, you’re home. It’s me, Nora.”
Chapter 14
Mornings were usually hard for Louisa. Most of the time, it took all of her strength just to climb out of bed. Today, however, she was excited to find out what time Diana actually made it home. Since she hadn’t retired until 2:00 a.m. waiting for Diana, Louisa hoped that maybe, just maybe, something wonderful might have transpired.
It was a long shot that anything happened between her guarded granddaughter and the handsome bachelor, but Louisa had always been a sucker for romance and a fool for great sex. And her instincts told her that her grandbaby just might have gotten herself a little action with that gorgeous boss of hers.
She slipped into her slippers, donned her housecoat and hustled out of her bedroom. When she approached Diana’s bedroom, she was downright giddy.
“Diana?” She knocked on her door and waited only a second before twisting the knob. “It’s me, Diana.” She poked her head through the door and glanced over at the bed. “Empty.”
Unforgettable (Arabesque) Page 9
