The Playboy & Plain Jane

by Leanne Banks

  She closed her eyes at her thoughts. She needed to get herself under control. Nicholas wouldn’t like the direction of her thoughts at all.

  She took a careful, shallow breath and knew what she had to do. Nicholas always left her in the middle of the night. Even though every fiber of her being rebelled against it, Gail knew she would have to do the same.

  Opening her eyes, she leaned toward him and brushed the barest of a kiss over his brow. Then she bit her lip and with agonizing care, slid out of Nicholas’s bed and left for her own room.

  The following evening after Molly was down for the night, Gail and Nicholas shared a dinner by firelight in his bedroom. Gail wore an apricot-colored chemise and coordinating silk robe and had fixed her hair and makeup as if she was going on a date. She was learning that one of the secrets to feeling like a goddess was dressing the part. She wasn’t sure what was responsible for the warmth suffusing her—the fire or the fact that Nicholas hadn’t taken his eyes off her since she’d joined him in his room.

  “You’re staring,” she said, taking the next-to-last bite of honey-glazed salmon. The pink delicacy nearly melted in her mouth. “This is delicious. Ana is amazing.” Still feeling his gaze on her, she felt her pulse race. “You’re still staring.”

  “I’m trying to decide which look I like best,” he said, encircling her ankle with his hand like a sensual chain. “The jock at the gym…”

  Gail wrinkled her nose.

  “You looked sexy.”

  “Yeah, right,” she said in utter disbelief.

  “Or the nanny…”

  She rolled her eyes. “Now that’s gonna knock ’em dead.”

  He squeezed her ankle. “You look warm.”

  “As opposed to hot?” she asked.

  He grinned, sliding closer to her. “You want to look hot?”

  Gail felt her cheeks heat. “I realize it’s a stretch.”

  He shook his head. “Not a stretch at all. When you first put on a short skirt and too much makeup, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  “Too much makeup,” she said in consternation.

  He took her fork from her hand and served her the last bite of salmon. “Well, you have to admit it was more than you usually wore.”

  Gail swallowed the bite. “Anything was more than I usually wore.”

  “It made you look different.”

  “That was the idea. How did it make me look?”

  He paused, looking as if he was editing his word choice. “Like a woman who could drive a man crazy. Like a bad girl.”

  An illicit thrill raced through her. “Really?”

  He chuckled. “I can’t believe you’re that pleased.”

  She sat tall. “Hey, for someone who has been one of the guys forever, this is monumental.”

  “They don’t know what they’re missing. If I have anything to do with it, they won’t find out,” he said, his gaze possessive as he lifted the glass of wine to her lips.

  Gail swallowed a gulp of wine. That possessiveness made her heart trip. It gave her hope, hope she tried to stamp out like stray sparks from a fire. “So do I look like a bad girl tonight?”

  He cocked his head to one side, studying her. “Yes and no.”

  “Does that mean I’ve gotten better with makeup application?”

  He chuckled again and shook his head. “You look like a woman who could drive a man crazy,” he said, then his gaze turned serious. “But you also look like a woman a man could trust.” He tugged her onto his lap. “I should take you out to dinner, but I’m selfish as hell about you. I don’t want to share. When I come home, it’s like we have our own little island, and I don’t want it polluted by the outside world.”

  “Polluted how?” she asked, touched that he would confide in her.

  “Questions from the media, questions from my family, stupid speculation. I want to keep this between you and me as long as we can,” he said, lifting his hand to her cheek.

  And then what? she wondered, but swallowed the question. The look in his eyes was so powerful it overshadowed everything else. She could almost believe he might somehow, some way, grow to— No! She had to stop the thought.

  Loosening the belt of her robe, Nicholas pushed it from her shoulders and lowered his mouth to hers. “Being with you is habit-forming.”

  Gail pressed her mouth to his, boldly sliding her tongue inside, hoping she was a habit he would never break. She unfastened his shirt and slid her hands over his chest.

  He skimmed a lazy finger down her throat and breast just inside her chemise to her tight nipple. She let out a little sigh.

  “Damn,” he muttered. “You’ve already got me hard. Do you have any idea how sexy it is knowing all I have to do is touch you and you’re mine? I bet you’re already wet,” he said, and slid his hand between her thighs to find the tell-tale dampness.

  He rubbed his thumb over her hot spot and French-kissed her. Groaning, he pulled back slightly. “I’m going to take this slow if it kills me.”

  “What if taking it slow kills me, too?” she asked.

  He shook his head and raked his fingers through his hair. “You’re not making this easy.”

  “I didn’t know that was my job,” she murmured, sliding her hand down to his crotch.

  Swearing under his breath again, he stilled her hand, his gaze full of promise. “We’re taking this slow. You’ll like it,” he said, and lifted her to his bed.

  And much to her delight and impatience, he did indeed take his time. He kissed her nipples until they were stiff peaks against his tongue, then he drew them deep into his mouth. He pressed openmouthed kisses down her rib cage to her belly. Lower still, he searched her secrets with his magic tongue.

  Gail was so aroused her body glistened with sweat. She arched against him, seeking more and more of him. He took her with his mouth with shocking carnal intimacy and left her trembling but determined to drive him just as far as he’d driven her.

  When he slid up her body, she held his head between her hands and kissed him deeply. She sank her fingers into the crisp waves of his hair and luxuriated in the sensation of his hard chest against her breasts. Overwhelmed with her feelings for him, she tried to convey herself with her mouth and body.

  His body moved restlessly against hers, and she flowed down the front of him and took him into her mouth. He began to mutter in Italian, and the sound was like the most sensual music. She tasted the honey of his arousal, and he tightened his hands on her shoulders, signaling her to stop.

  She looked up at him. “What are you saying? Tell me.”

  “Angel, witch,” he muttered, his gaze dark with unspent passion. “You’re both.” He pulled her up his naked body and positioned her just over his hardness. His velvet gaze holding her more effectively than a locked cell, he thrust inside her. “Ride me,” he told her in a low voice that ran through her blood like an explosive.

  He guided her over him, his body straining, hers taking him in. The sensation of feminine power rocked through her. She wanted nothing more than to be as close to him as possible. The rhythm of his sensual invasion made her pulse pound in all her secret places. With each thrust, he rubbed where she was most sensitive.

  Panting, she felt her vision grow hazy and she clung to his shoulders. Her climax whipped through her, taking her like a hurricane. She cried out his name. She felt him take one last thrust inside her, his powerful body arching into hers. She came in fits and starts, trembling with pleasure until she was so weak she sank onto his chest.

  Rocked to her soul, she tried to catch her breath, tried to catch a remnant of sanity, but there was only Nicholas, and she wanted only to be his.

  “I love you,” she whispered, the words bursting from her heart of their own volition. “I love you.” The secret wouldn’t be stifled anymore.

  Her heart was still racing so fast she wasn’t sure if she’d said the words aloud. Had she? Nicholas lay perfectly still. He still held her in his arms, but she sensed something diffe
rent in his body.

  Her stomach knotted. Had she told him she loved him?

  Gail looked into his eyes and immediately had her answer. He held her, but his gaze had never been more remote. It didn’t seem possible. They’d been so incredibly close just moments before.

  She lifted her hand to his jaw, and though he didn’t move, he looked away from her. Gail knew she’d made a terrible mistake.

  Ten

  Gail held her breath when she heard Nicholas climb the stairs the next night. He’d stayed late at work, and when his footsteps slowed outside her door, she hoped with all her heart that he would knock. She waited, but there was no knock. She heard him check on Molly, but he never came into her room.

  His silence cut like a knife. Nicholas Barone wanted warm smiles, acceptance and hot nights, but not her love. She closed her eyes against the pain.

  I don’t believe it, she thought as she got out of bed. It wasn’t just the sex. Heaven knew, Nicholas could get that from any woman. He might not realize it, but the reason he’d wanted her was that she loved him. It might make him uncomfortable, and he might deny it until there was another tea party in the Boston Harbor, but what Nicholas Barone wanted and needed was the love of a good woman. And Gail was that woman.

  She paced the plush carpet of her bedroom floor. She had half a mind to barge into his room, turn on the lights and shout that she loved him and wasn’t ashamed of it. No more furtively biting her lip to keep from saying it in the darkness and hoping he wouldn’t read it in her eyes. The cat was out of the bag, and part of her was relieved.

  Part of her was terrified.

  He hadn’t verbally told her to leave his room last night, but he’d wanted space. After the closeness they’d shared, that had hurt. She understood he needed some time to think, to digest what their bodies had said to each other. He needed to recalibrate his distrustful attitude toward women, and that wasn’t going to be accomplished in moments. She understood that.

  If she gave him time to think this over, he would come around, she told herself. It was the only possible thing he could do. It was obvious that she loved him and he wanted her love, and if he didn’t love her this second, he would grow to love her. The bond between them was too powerful, too compelling. He would come back to her.

  At least, she hoped he would.

  “Nick, didn’t you hear me?” his sister Gina asked, a furrow between her brows. “Is something wrong? I’ve felt like I’ve had to repeat everything I’ve said.”

  He shook his head and raked his hand through his hair. He stood, unable to sit for another moment. “Everything’s fine. I just didn’t get enough sleep tonight.”

  Gina raised an eyebrow. “Out with Corinne again?”

  “No,” he said immediately, dismayed at his sharp tone.

  Her eyes widened. “Oh. Somebody new?”

  “It doesn’t have to be anybody. A man can have lots of things on his mind.”

  She frowned. “Is there something at work I should know about?”

  He sighed. His sister was incredibly intuitive and persistent. She’d needed both qualities to succeed in the family company, where he knew he and his father had sometimes underestimated her. “The company’s great. You should know that more than anyone.”

  “Then if it’s not Molly, it’s got to be a woman,” she said, half sitting on his desk.

  “Maybe this is none of your business.”

  “Maybe I could help,” she returned without batting an eye. “You’ve dated so many women since Danielle I couldn’t begin to name them, but you haven’t seemed happy until the last few weeks. If you’ve found something worth keeping, don’t let it go.”

  Nicholas stared silently at his sister, and she seemed to get the message. She lifted her hands. “Okay, sorry to intrude. Here are the dates for the upcoming national promotions. If you need anything further, you know my extension,” she said, leaving a file on his desk and exiting his office.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked down on Huntington Avenue. If his little sister could tell what was going on, then he had gone a damn sight farther than he’d intended.

  He was ready to jump out of his skin. He’d let Gail get too close and now he was paying for it. He’d told himself he would never again get so involved with a woman that she affected his concentration.

  Nicholas had always prided himself on his ability to compartmentalize his life, especially where women were concerned. Too, he was known for his ability to maintain control and keep his personal life private. The knowledge that his sister could tell that something was going on bothered the hell out of him.

  Gail wasn’t the first woman to profess her love to him in the heat of passion. She was just the first woman he believed actually did love him. The others had wanted something. Gail did, too, but she wasn’t angling for marriage. She didn’t consider herself attractive enough for him to consider marriage to her. No, she wanted something more dangerous than marriage or money. She wanted to be his friend and lover. She would hand him her heart on a platter, but she wanted his in return.

  And the mere thought of that scared the hell out of him.

  For the next two nights Nicholas stayed late at work, and after checking on Molly, he passed by Gail’s room. Knowing she was so close struck him with such a strong feeling of longing that his chest hurt with it. Troubled, he went to his room and tried to sleep, but visions of Gail interfered. In his half dreams, her laughter drifted over him like a caress, her kisses stirred him, and he awoke hard with wanting.

  Following the same procedure the next night, he carefully closed Molly’s door. Inhaling, he caught a whiff of a familiar alluring scent. He turned and saw Gail standing in front of him. His heart caught.

  “How are you?” she asked quietly, her eyes full of emotions that beckoned and pushed him away at the same time. It would have been so easy, so natural, to walk into her arms, but he didn’t.

  “Okay,” he said. “Just busy.”

  “I’ve missed you,” she whispered, moving toward him. “You look tired. Can I get you a glass of wine?” she asked, lifting her hand to his jaw.

  Her presence soothed a multitude of rough places inside him. She shouldn’t have that kind of power over him, he told himself. “No. I just need to hit the sack.”

  He tried to look away from her gaze, part-siren, part-friend, but he couldn’t. When she stood on tiptoe and brushed his lips with hers, he couldn’t back away.

  “Have you talked yourself into believing you don’t want to be with me anymore?”

  He wanted to taste her so much it hurt. He ached to slide his hands around her and carry her to his room. He ached to lose himself in her. “Don’t make more of what’s between you and me than it is,” he said as much to himself as to her.

  He heard her sharp intake of breath and saw by the look in her eyes that he had hurt her. Necessary pain, he told himself, even though he felt as if someone had slipped a knife in his side. She had gotten too close.

  By the end of the week Nicholas was running on empty. It was Friday and although he knew Gail would be at the house, he couldn’t find the energy to stay in the office any longer.

  As he put the key in the front door, he noticed a light flickering in the den. The television must be on. His stomach dipped. Gail was up, probably waiting for him. In no mood to confront or resist, he pushed open the door, fully expecting her to call out his name.

  Instead, he heard a male voice coming from the den. Curious, he glanced around the corner and saw Gail’s friend Jonathan with his hand on her hair. He heard Jonathan murmur something, then lower his head and pull Gail into his arms.

  Something inside him turned to ice. He stood there, watching Gail in Jonathan’s arms for a full five seconds. Flickers of the betrayal he’d felt with Danielle assaulted him.

  Gail pulled back, and her face was visible to Nicholas. Her gaze met his for a heartbeat. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but Nicholas didn’t stick around to hear. He turn
ed away and strode up the stairs. Cold fury raced through him as he shut his bedroom door behind him. Realizing he was still wearing his overcoat, he ripped it off and jerked his tie loose.

  He unfastened his shirt with such force two buttons bounced on the floor. He shouldn’t give a damn whom she held or who held her. He shouldn’t care. That was the point of this entire week, to make him not care so much.

  He heard a knock on the door and ignored it. His pulse was pounding in his ears. He pulled off his shirt and went to a mini-bar to pour a glass of scotch. He couldn’t trust a woman. When would he learn?

  A knock sounded again, but he again ignored it. The same way he should have ignored the itch Gail had generated inside him. He knocked back the scotch and relished the burn down his throat.

  His door flung open. “We need to talk,” Gail said, her eyes lit with purpose.

  “No, we don’t,” he said. “Leave.”

  She shook her head and closed the door behind her. “Ever since I told you I love you, you’ve acted like a jerk.”

  “I thought you had decided we were more serious than we really are. You cleared that up tonight.”

  “You saw Jonathan comforting me. Yes, I was crying.”

  “You don’t owe me any explanations,” he said, pouring himself another drink. “Our relationship was no strings.” He shrugged. “You can go do anything you want with Jonathan.”

  She froze. “It would be okay with you if he and I became lovers?” she asked, her face turning pale.

  “You can do whatever you want. It’s no concern of mine.”

  Her eyes turned shiny with unshed tears. “I can’t believe you’re saying that to me. I don’t want Jonathan. I want you.”

  The image of Gail in Jonathan’s arms replayed in his mind over and over again. He was stunned and horrified at the depth of his pain. “It doesn’t matter. If you want to stay with me, we can have a good time. We always have before.”

  She gasped at his callous remarks. She could bear a lot, but he intuitively knew she couldn’t stand for him to belittle what they’d shared. He saw the moment she began to close herself off to him. A shield came over her eyes. She looked away from him and wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m going to have to think about what to do,” she finally said in a quiet voice.