The Shy Bride

by Lucy Monroe

  “Maybe I’m not rational, but then I live alone with no personal obligation to anyone. I can insist on keeping my home as it is for no other reason than because I want to.”

  “Are you going to offer me coffee?” It was a clear tactic to change the subject, but she was not fooled.

  Neo wasn’t convinced. Not by a long shot. The man didn’t know what it meant to give up. His nature wouldn’t allow it.

  Foreboding skittered along her nerves as she spun on her heel without a word. He could follow her to the kitchen, or not. His choice.

  He followed. The sound of his confident tread behind her further emphasized her certainty that he expected to get his way.

  She poured two mugs of coffee from the pot that she had set up on the timer the night before. “Cream or sugar?” she asked.

  “No.”

  She handed him his mug and then doctored her own with a liberal dollop of half-and-half and two teaspoons of sugar.

  He was frowning at her when she looked up.

  “What? I have no need to prove my masculinity by drinking black coffee.”

  “That is good, since you are entirely feminine.” His frown deepened. “Do you often answer the door wearing nothing but a silky robe that clings to your every curve?”

  She stared at him in shock for a full minute before gathering her thoughts enough to answer. “One, I am wearing pajamas under my robe.”

  He snorted.

  “I am,” she insisted. And then undid the robe that had reminded her of the beautiful blue-green depths of the ocean off Hawaii’s shores to prove it. “See?”

  She’d bought the pajama-and-robe set when she’d realized she probably would never see the warm waters in person again. Who would she go with? She didn’t like traveling alone. And she was no longer traveling for her music.

  His green eyes narrowed dangerously as she revealed the matching camisole and shorts she slept in. She didn’t know what that was all about, but she was on a roll and not about to stop now.

  She recinched the robe and glared up at him. “Two, I don’t have enough curves to speak of to worry about such a thing.” That at least should be obvious to him. “Three, I only answered the door after looking out the window upstairs and recognizing your car in the drive.”

  “News flash, Cassandra, I am a man.”

  “That’s hardly a secret.” She didn’t know what was bugging him, but honestly right now, she couldn’t expend the energy or brainpower to figure it out. She was too busy trying to hide her reaction to his presence…“The point is, I never answer the door to strangers, in my robe or otherwise.”

  “Do you answer your door to your manager in your robe?”

  Where were these questions coming from? “Of course not. Bob always warns me ahead of coming over and I am therefore not caught unawares before my caffeine or morning ablutions.”

  “Good.”

  She barely suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. “I’m glad you approve. Now drink your coffee quietly for a few minutes and let me wake up sufficiently to argue with you.”

  “Are we going to argue?”

  “Are you going to insist on changing my home?”

  “Yes.”

  At least he was honest.

  She headed for the door. “As you are obviously not going to let me drink my coffee in peace. I’m going upstairs to shower and change. I will be back down when I feel more able to deal with you.”

  “Get there fast. We leave for my office in less than thirty minutes.”

  “You can leave whenever you like, but I have no intention of rushing my shower, or any other part of my morning regimen.”

  “I am not sitting down here and cooling my jets for three hours while you make yourself presentable.”

  “Do the women in your life really take that long to get ready in the morning?” No wonder the man got a little cranky. She’d be annoyed by that kind of time-wasting, too.

  “Are you saying you do not?”

  “I own exactly two types of makeup, mascara and tinted lip balms, what do you think?” She liked stylish clothing, but it didn’t take any longer to put on than jeans and a T-shirt. And if she was in a hurry, she pulled her hair back in a French plait, even if it was still wet.

  “I think you now have five minutes less than you did to get ready.”

  “I’m not going to your office, Neo.” That was so not going to happen.

  “The installers will be here at eight-thirty. You can stay and supervise them, or you can come with me.”

  She stomped up to where he leaned negligently against her countertop and poked him in the chest, looking way too edible for a man she wanted to strangle. Only figuratively speaking, of course…mostly.

  “Contractors are not tearing my house apart, Neo. It is not going to happen. If one of them so much as tries to trim the lilac bushes, I will call the police.” And then her manager and fire him for getting her into this mess.

  After he came over and got rid of the strangers from her home. She was never giving piano lessons away to the charity auction again.

  She might have muttered that under her breath because Neo gave her an amused, if increasingly exasperated, look.

  “We are going to discuss this rationally.” Neo caught her hand with his, sending the rational thought he was so sure she wasn’t capable of right out the window. “After.”

  “After what?”

  “After you shower and dress.” He should be angry. She was.

  But he looked perfectly calm, even somewhat tolerant, and more than a little amused.

  She should be berating him for his assumption, but her throat had gone dry and her mouth didn’t want to form words. It wanted kisses. His kisses. The thought caught her up short. What was the matter with her?

  Asking herself didn’t miraculously present her with answers or renew her fading grasp on reality. She really wanted to be kissed by him and that was so astonishing, she wasn’t sure how to handle it. She didn’t know where the urge came from, but it was there. And it was strong.

  He was so close. She wanted him closer. Mere inches separated their lips. How many?

  “Ten inches,” she guessed aloud.

  “What?”

  “How far,” she said before she thought and would have bitten her own tongue in reprimand, but she was too busy simply trying to keep it still.

  “How far what?” he asked, looking both confused and yet like he might have a glimmer what she was thinking.

  “Never mind.” She wanted to look away, but couldn’t make herself do so.

  She’d lamented the fact of her loneliness, the fact she would probably never have a family of her own. But never having been plagued with desires to kiss or touch another man, she’d also come to terms with her lack of sensuality.

  Now she had to wonder, if she simply had never met the right man. She had never met Neo.

  “What is ten inches?” he asked in silky demand.

  And somehow she could not help telling him. “The distance between our mouths.”

  He didn’t ask why that mattered, or laugh, or look at her like she was deranged. He didn’t do any of those things. He simply lowered his head, closing those ten inches in slow-motion intensity, and then his lips were covering hers.

  Shock coursed through Cass, seizing her to immobility. Neo Stamos was kissing her. And it was wonderful. More than wonderful, it was amazing, fabulous, stupendous.

  Her first kiss.

  Pure, unadulterated pleasure washed over her in one tropical warm wave after another. Neo’s lips were firm and all male as they moved confidently against her own.

  She could smell his aftershave, an expensive musk that made her knees turn to water. Or was that the feel of his tongue teasing at the seam of her lips, requesting, maybe even demanding entrance?

  She moaned, loving the alien feeling of his tongue on her lips. The sound of his jacket rasping against his shirt as he put his arms around her sent a shiver of alien need shimmering through her

. It was not a sound she had heard very often in her life, never in this context, and certainly she had not expected to hear it with him. It brought home the reality of their circumstance as his lips on hers did not.

  They were too delicious. Too tingle-producing. Too amazing. Too outside her realm of catalogued experiences.

  But the sound of the fabrics moving against each other was more mundane, easier to comprehend and proof positive she was indeed being held by him. Neo Stamos. The most utterly gorgeous man she had ever met, or seen even. The feel of his suit trousers against her silk-covered legs was something else altogether.

  His hands roamed over her, caressing her back and hips through the thin, slippery fabric of her robe. When his large, strong hands cupped her backside, she whimpered against his mouth, her lips finally parting of their own volition to let him inside.

  He deepened the kiss immediately, his mouth laying claim to hers with both the skill and strength of a seasoned campaigner. If this was how he kissed all his women, no wonder he had a different one on his arm each night.

  Even the thought of the revolving door in his bedroom could not dampen her ardor. She’d never known anything like the passion escalating inside her. She wanted to devour him. She wanted to be devoured by him. She wanted everything she had never had and so much she had never even thought about before.

  What she got was a skilled mouth taking her to heights of pleasure while sure, steady hands kneaded her backside, dipping between her legs to barely caress the apex of her thighs. She cried out into his mouth at the slight touch. Naked. Yes. Naked would be good.

  Only she couldn’t make herself break the kiss long enough to say so. And the tiny, still-functioning part of her brain was grateful.

  No part of her was happy when he tore his lips from hers though.

  “No. Don’t stop,” she pleaded.

  He set her away from him, his expression so intense, she shivered from it.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  HE FROWNED, not appearing in the least bit happy. “I should not have done that.”

  “Why?” She’d liked it, but maybe he hadn’t? No, he’d been enjoying himself, or doing a wonderful job of faking it.

  From everything she’d read, that wasn’t the man’s job. To fake it. Of course, women weren’t supposed to do that, either, but some did. She wouldn’t have to. If they made love. She was certain of it, regardless of the fact that she’d never actually had any practical experience in that regard.

  She recognized a master when she met one and this man was a master at the art of touch. And kissing.

  He blew out a long breath. “We are friends.”

  “Friends don’t kiss?” she asked, not entirely conscious of the words coming out of her mouth, but truly confused nonetheless.

  “I do not know. I have never had a female friend.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “You have never had another woman as a friend?” His tone said he didn’t think she was telling the truth.

  “I’ve never had a billionaire tycoon friend. We are even.” Well, maybe not entirely.

  Female friends, or not, the man knew a lot more about women than she knew about men and what made them tick, billionaire tycoons or otherwise.

  “So, friends can’t kiss?” she asked again, going back to the part of the conversation that most interested her.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Women I have sex with rarely last more than a night, a few at the most, in my life. I would like our friendship to be more long-standing.” He actually managed to sound almost vulnerable.

  “We were kissing, not having sex. Weren’t we?” Maybe she hadn’t recognized foreplay when she felt it? She certainly wouldn’t have said no if he’d asked for more and she had wanted them naked, hadn’t she?

  Oh, goodness, gracious, she had wanted them naked.

  “You are so innocent.”

  “And you aren’t. That sounds like a good combination to me.”

  “Only in your ingenious mind.”

  “Now you’re just being condescending.”

  “I am being realistic.”

  “I think I might like you spontaneous better.”

  “Good.” The look in his eyes said anything but.

  “Good?”

  “What could be more spontaneous than spending the day together?”

  “We’re back to that, are we?”

  His smile said they were indeed. “You need to take a shower. I will prepare your breakfast while you dress.”

  “You can cook?”

  “I did not start out life a rich man.”

  “Granted.” But she hadn’t considered what that might mean practicality-wise about how he lived earlier in his life.

  “Do you prefer a hot or cold breakfast?” he asked, managing not to sound like a waiter taking an order so much as a superconfident Greek man trying to sound like one.

  “A toasted bagel with peanut butter would be fine.” She’d grab an apple on the way out the door and round out the meal nicely.

  Which meant she was considering leaving with him. More than considering it, resigned to it. Maybe not even resigned, but actually looking forward to it. After a single kiss. She was in so much trouble.

  Maybe his no-kissing rule for them was a good idea, after all.

  “If they cut so much as a leaf off of my bushes, I will never forgive you,” she said as she walked out of the room and hoped he realized she was very serious about that one.

  Neo felt like someone had kicked him in the chest.

  Kissing Cassandra had been better than anything he had felt in a long time. Maybe ever. He had not wanted to stop, had felt helpless to do so. That shocking realization, more than anything—more than the knowledge that Geary’s team would be arriving soon, more than Neo’s own pressing schedule—had given him the impetus he needed to break the kiss.

  Neo was never helpless. Had not once in his entire life considered that word applicable to himself. And he was not about to begin now. Almost as alarming, he could not remember the last time he had lost control sexually or any other way, much less so quickly.

  When he’d touched her lips, he’d been close to climaxing and that had never happened, not even in his youth. From a kiss. He hadn’t even touched Cassandra’s small but tempting breasts, or gotten to naked skin at all. But he’d wanted to. More than he’d wanted to be on time for his morning meeting. Damn it.

  She hadn’t touched him, either, except to respond to his kiss with her lips. That response had been untutored—innocently sensual, but incredibly, sweetly passionate. If his instincts were right, and they usually were, she was a virgin.

  Which was one very good reason to steer clear of sexual intimacy with her. It had nothing to do with the fact she engendered such a surprising reaction in him. Neo was not afraid of anything, but he only slept with women who understood the expectations going in, experienced women who would not mistake physical desire for more ephemeral emotions.

  His sex partners usually shared his jaded view of sex, but not much more. Women he would never consider spending an entire day with, not even in bed. Damn, he sounded like a chauvinist, even in his own mind.

  But he could not help that he had never developed friendships with the fairer sex. He didn’t usually make friends at all. As Zephyr had pointed out with such relish.

  Neo couldn’t say what drew him to Cassandra. All he knew was that the last few weeks, he had looked forward to his piano lessons and seeing her more than he ever would have expected. There was no denying he liked her as a person. With all her quirks, she was charming.

  He liked how she seemed to identify with him on a level only Zephyr ever had before. She knew what it was to have a childhood in name only. She understood loss and fear and hunger, even if it had been for love rather than food.

  Her friendship was all too important. He wasn’t about to jeopardize it for something as fleeting as sexual attraction. No matter how overwhelming.