by Maya Banks
Theron took a deep breath. “I don’t think what he was doing could be classified as paying attention to you. Theos! He was making love to you for all to see.”
She raised her eyebrows and a slow smile formed on her lips. “Is that what they call kissing these days?” she taunted.
His nostrils flared at the reminder of the kisses they’d shared. He was well and truly caught in a trap of his own making.
“His actions were inappropriate,” he gritted out. “You are under my protection. You’ll heed my instructions.”
She turned cheekily to Sophia and Alannis. “I suppose he’ll mark that one off the list of potential husbands now.” Then she sighed dramatically and dropped her hands helplessly to her side. “I didn’t even get to dance again.”
“Theron will dance with you,” Alannis urged. “He’s a marvelous dancer as I’m sure you determined earlier.”
“Yes, do go on,” Sophia said. “I’ll make sure there is food when you return.”
Theron’s mouth went dry. He wouldn’t survive another dance with her lush body molded to his. One torture session was enough for the night.
But then the alternative was letting her dance with the circling pack of men. Men he’d hand-selected.
Over his dead body.
Without another word, he snared Isabella’s hand and dragged her toward the dance floor.
“You’re hell on these shoes,” she murmured as he pulled her into his arms.
For the first time since Marcus had arrived, Theron relaxed as Isabella’s soft body molded so sweetly to his. There was an innate sense of rightness. He loved touching her. It was difficult to keep his hands from roaming up and down her soft curves.
“You feel it, too,” she said softly as she gazed up at him. “You don’t want to. You fight it, but you feel it every bit as much as I do. It’s why you’ve kissed me.” She laughed softly. “You can’t help but kiss me, just as I’m unable to resist. I don’t want to resist.”
He shook his head even as his body hummed agreement.
She smiled and put a finger over his lips as they swayed with the music. Then turning, so that his back was to Alannis, she let her hands run down his chest. Her eyes narrowed to half slits, and she parted her lips in a hungry gesture.
He groaned. “We mustn’t, Bella. You make me so crazy. You have to stop with the teasing.”
“Who says I’m teasing,” she asked as she arched one eyebrow.
He took her hands and pulled them away from his body before turning her around again so that they were sideways to Alannis.
“You see her? Alannis. I’m going to ask her to marry me, Isabella.”
She greeted his announcement with calm. No visible reaction. Had she already known?
“This must stop between us,” he pressed on. “We’re going to marry different people.”
“And yet you keep kissing me,” she said with a slight smile.
“I won’t do so again,” he vowed.
Instead of deterring her, a sparkle lit her eyes. “If I have anything to say about it you will.”
Before he could respond, she pulled away. “I’m starving.” Then suddenly she leaned close and murmured so only he could hear. “You say you don’t want me, yet you don’t want another man to have me. Pretty strange wouldn’t you say?”
She turned and walked away, her hips swaying gently as she navigated her way back to where Sophia waited with a plate of food.
Chapter Ten
“He still plans to propose tonight?” Isabella asked in dismay. She held the phone tightly to her ear as she listened to Madeline.
Somehow she’d hoped that after last night Theron would have realized he felt something for her. Maybe not love. Not yet, but she’d thought he’d wake up to the attraction between them.
Okay, maybe he wasn’t completely unaware, but he certainly seemed determined to ignore it.
She closed her eyes as she listened to Madeline confirm that according to Theron, the proposal was still on.
“Thanks, Madeline,” she said slowly.
She hung up the phone and sunk lower into the bed. Theron with Alannis. She just couldn’t imagine it. Theron needed…someone to shake him up, someone who wouldn’t let him get too serious and organized.
He needed someone like her.
Alannis wouldn’t challenge him. There was no spark of chemistry between them. Alannis may as well be his daughter for all the attraction that existed.
Maybe Theron wanted a comfortable, dull marriage.
She shook her head. No, she wouldn’t believe that, because if she did, then she’d have to give up, and she wasn’t ready to do that yet.
Reaching for the phone again, she dialed the number that Marcus had given her the night before.
“Marcus, hi, it’s Isabella,” she said when he answered.
“Isabella, how are you?” he greeted.
She sighed. “Word is the proposal is still on.”
“Sorry to hear that. I was certain he was ready to beat me into a pulp after our little act last night.”
“He frustrates me,” she said glumly. “I can’t figure the man out. He’s so controlled in all things except when he’s alone with me.”
Marcus laughed. “I can’t say I blame the man. I have a feeling you’d try the patience of a saint and the vows of a priest.”
“I don’t suppose you could get tickets to the opera tonight? I hate to ask, but I’m desperate. He and Alannis are going to the opera and then to an after-party at the hotel where he plans to pop the question.”
“I’m sure I could arrange it, but how do you plan to stop him from proposing?”
Isabella sucked in a deep breath. “I’m not sure,” she said softly. “But I’ll think of something.”
“I don’t suppose now would be a good time to admit that I hate the opera,” Marcus said with a laugh.
She smiled faintly. “I’m not much of a fan myself, but apparently, it’s Alannis’s favorite performance.”
“Then might I suggest an alternative?”
Her brow puckered, and she sat up in bed, the covers gathering at her waist. “What did you have in mind?”
“How about a date? You inform that security team of yours of your plans for the evening, that you’ll be out with me. I have no doubt that they report to Theron regularly.” Amusement threaded through Marcus’s voice. “It’ll drive him crazy that he’s stuck at the opera with Alannis, and he’ll have no idea what we’re up to, whereas if we’re both at the opera, he’ll be able to see us.”
“But what about the party and his plans to propose?”
“I’ll have you to the party before Theron arrives. Maybe by then you’ll have come up with a plan.”
“I don’t know,” she said slowly.
“Come on,” he cajoled. “We’ll have a nice dinner. It’ll drive Theron crazy. Then you show up at the party. He’ll be putty in your hands.”
“All right,” she conceded.
“Great. I’ll pick you up at seven then. I’ll call right before I arrive so you can come down.”
They rang off, and Isabella swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Once again, she was in need of the perfect dress. Something gorgeous. She wasn’t sure they sold dresses for the occasion of preventing a marriage proposal.
She had a sudden, alarming thought. Did this make her the other woman? Was she a femme fatale breaking up a relationship? The thought was an uncomfortable one, and it didn’t give her a good feeling. But on the other hand, she knew that she and Theron were right for each other. Even if he didn’t know it yet.
Besides, nothing was settled yet. Alannis wasn’t wearing a ring, and no commitment had been made. Until that happened, all was fair in love and war.
She almost groaned at the cheesy cliché. Clearly she needed to come up with something more worthy.
Pushing herself up, she headed for the shower. She only had until tonight to figure out how she was going to prevent Theron from making a huge
mistake. And to prevent her own heartbreak.
Theron picked up the phone as Madeline called back to say that Reynolds was on the phone to give his daily report. He listened as Isabella’s head of security listed the morning’s activities which consisted of shopping and lunch alone at the hotel.
His hand tightened around the receiver when Reynolds got to her plans for the evening. An outing with Marcus Atwater.
He swore in Greek and then quickly recovered. What was she thinking? Surely she couldn’t be attracted to a man such as Marcus. He was smooth, too smooth, and he’d been all over her at the party.
Not to mention he had a different woman on his arm every week.
“You are to keep a close watch on her,” Theron ordered. “I don’t trust this man she’s going out with. Under no circumstances are they to be left alone.”
“Yes, sir,” Reynolds replied.
Theron hung up the phone, his lips compressed into a tight line. Was she just trying to drive him insane? She had to know he wouldn’t approve of her spending time with Marcus after what had happened the previous night.
And maybe she could care less what he approved of. She hadn’t exactly paid him any heed in any other area.
He leaned back in his chair and opened his desk drawer, reaching for the small black box that nestled in the corner. His fingers touched it, and then he picked it up and opened it.
The diamond ring sparkled in the light as he studied it. Tonight he’d put it on Alannis’s finger. So why wasn’t he more enthused? Why wasn’t he looking forward to his future?
This time next year he could even have a child, a family. He’d be settled. And yet he felt decidedly unsettled about her—about everything.
His intercom buzzed again, and Madeline announced that he had another important call. She cut the connection before he could ask who. Shaking his head, he picked up the phone.
“Have you lost your damn mind?” Piers’s demand made Theron frown.
“Give him a chance,” Chrysander said dryly. “Then we’ll ascertain whether he’s lost his sanity.”
“You told Madeline not to tell me it was you two calling, didn’t you?” Theron accused.
“Damn right,” Piers said. “You wouldn’t have answered if you’d known. Coward.”
“There’s nothing to say I won’t hang up,” Theron said idly.
“Your sister-in-law wants to know why you didn’t tell her you were thinking of getting married,” Chrysander said.
Theron winced. “It’s not fair of you to use Marley to make me feel guilty, and you know it.”
“What are you doing?” Piers asked impatiently, cutting through the banter. “What could you possibly be thinking?”
“What our brother is trying to say is that we were caught by surprise, and we’d like to offer you our congratulations, just as soon as we understand why we’re only just now finding out,” Chrysander said diplomatically.
Piers made a rude noise. “Not me. If he tells me he’s really doing this, I can only offer my condolences.”
“What’s wrong with me getting married?” Theron asked, surprised by Piers’s reaction.
“Besides the fact that I think anyone willingly entering the institution of matrimony has a few screws loose, there is the fact that you’re marrying Alannis Gianopolous. She’s so wrong for you,” Piers said bluntly.
Theron frowned. “Alannis is a perfectly acceptable choice.”
There was a long silence, and then Chrysander cleared his throat. “Acceptable choice? That’s an odd way of putting it.”
“I’m more interested as to why you believe she’s so wrong for me,” Theron said, ignoring Chrysander’s remark.
“Hell, Theron, apart from the fact that her father has been angling for her to marry one of us for years, she’s…she’s…”
“She’s what?” Theron cut in.
“Just tell us why the sudden urge to get married,” Chrysander said calmly. “And why you felt the need to include such momentous news in an e-mail.”
“Probably because of the reaction I’m getting now,” Theron said pointedly.
“Since when did you become so worried about what we thought?” Piers asked.
“Does anyone find it ironic that not so long ago, it was me and Piers having this talk with Chrysander about Marley? We were wrong about her, and you two are wrong about Alannis.”
Chrysander sighed, and Theron knew he had him. What could he say when it was the truth? Theron and Piers had been quite vocal in their opposition of Marley. They’d also been dead wrong.
“Just be sure this is what you want,” Chrysander said in resignation. “And keep us apprised of your plans. Marley will want to make it for the wedding.”
Piers wasn’t quite so ready to throw in the towel. “Think about what you’re doing, Theron. This is the rest of your life you’re talking about here.”
“I appreciate your concern,” Theron said dryly. “I am capable of making my own decisions.”
“Tell me how things are going with Isabella,” Chrysander broke in, an obvious attempt to change the subject. “Did you get her off to Europe?”
Again, there was a long silence. Theron wiped a hand through his hair wishing he’d pressed Madeline harder about who was on the phone.
“She didn’t go to Europe,” he said.
“Who is Isabella?” Piers demanded. “Are we talking about little Isabella Caplan?”
“I’ll fill you in later,” Chrysander said. “Why didn’t she go to Europe? Where is she then?”
“She’s here. She’s decided to stay in New York,” Theron said. “And she’s not so little anymore,” he added, though he was unsure why he felt the need to make that point.
Chrysander chuckled. “Poor Theron. Saddled with women on all sides. I imagine you’re cursing me about now.”
If he only knew.
“I’ve seen to Isabella’s needs, and gotten her settled in. Everything is fine. I’m fine. You two can get off my back now.”
“He sounds a little defensive, does he not?” Piers said smugly. “I smell something here. Something rotten. I only wish I was in New York to see for myself.”
“You just stay the hell where you are,” Theron muttered. “You have a hotel to build.”
Piers’s laughter flooded the line.
“I’m hanging up now,” Theron said before lowering the receiver.
Now he knew how Chrysander had felt when he and Piers had given him such a hard time about Marley. Well-meaning relatives were always the worst.
Chapter Eleven
“Have any idea what you’re going to say yet?” Marcus asked Isabella as he picked up his wineglass and brought it to his lips.
Reluctantly she shook her head and stared down at her barely eaten entrée. “I don’t want to make an ass of myself, but at the same time I have to make him see that I’m not teasing. I’m not playing some silly game nor is he a passing infatuation.”
When she looked up, she saw sympathy in Marcus’s dark eyes.
“Put yourself in his shoes,” she murmured. “You’re about to ask a woman to marry you. You’ve kissed another woman twice, and you’re fighting the attraction hard. What could this other woman say to you to convince you not to marry someone else?”
Marcus set his glass down, leaned back and blew out his breath. “Boy, you don’t ask the hard ones, do you? I guess it would depend on whether I truly loved the woman I was about to marry, but then I wouldn’t propose unless I was certain of that. And if I was certain, and I intended to propose, then nothing would sway me.”
“I was afraid you’d say that,” Isabella muttered.
“All you can do is try,” he said gently. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained, and all that jazz.”
A smile cracked through her lips. “Between you and me, we have all the trite clichés wrapped up.”
He reached over and took her hand. “Are you sure this is what you truly want, Bella? I hate to see you hurt or disappointed.”
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br /> “You’re sweet,” she began.
“Lord, but a man hates to hear those words from a woman’s lips,” he said with a groan. “It’s as bad as hearing you’re just like a brother to me.”
She laughed and relaxed her shoulders. Tension had crept into her muscles until her entire body had gone stiff with it. Marcus was right about one thing. All she could do was try. Whatever happened afterward was out of her control.
“You look fantastic tonight,” he said as he relinquished her hands.
“Thank you. You really are too sweet.”
She glanced down at the royal blue evening gown she’d chosen on her whirlwind shopping trip she’d dragged her bodyguards on earlier that day. She was dressed to kill, or to do battle at the very least. Without false modesty, she knew she looked her best.
High-class, posh, a far cry from her preferred jeans and flip-flops and brightly polished toes. Tonight, she fit into Theron’s world. Her world too, for that matter, just one that she’d never fully embraced. She had the money and pedigree, just not the desire to fit in.
“What time should we leave?” she asked anxiously.
She couldn’t help the surge in her pulse when she imagined making it to the party too late. It made her want to break into a cold sweat that she’d arrive only to see the happy couple already engaged.
Marcus smiled reassuringly. “The opera has only just begun. We have quite awhile yet. Not to worry, I’ll have you there in plenty of time. Try to relax and enjoy your dinner. It would be a terrible thing if you got to the party and promptly fainted at Theron’s feet from hunger.”
“Then again, it might be just the thing to stop the show,” she said mischievously.
He chuckled and shook his head. “I’m almost sorry I agreed to help you, Bella. I would have rather pursued you myself.”
“And if my heart weren’t already lost to Theron, I would most gladly lead you on a very merry chase,” she said with a grin.
“Then let me say this, and I won’t broach the subject again,” he said. “Should things not go the way you’d like…I ask only that you remember me.”
