Irresistible?

by Stephanie Bond

  “Ellie.”

  “I don’t know. A courier delivered the painting.”

  “Oh.” Mark tried to keep the dejection out of his voice, but he knew he failed miserably. “Leave it, please.”

  Monica leaned it against his desk and made a hasty exit. Mark turned back to the work spread across his desk and forced himself to concentrate. After a few minutes, he gave up, tossed the pen straight up in the air, then watched it bounce off a corner of his desk, disappearing over the edge.

  He turned to look at the package. Even after all that work, she didn’t want to hand-deliver it. She didn’t want to see him. Not that he blamed her. He’d made it coldly clear on the phone when he returned from Chicago that he didn’t want to see her anymore. What an ass he’d been. Mark slammed his fist on his desk, but it only brought Monica back to the door.

  “Mark? Are you okay?” she asked, concern written on her face.

  “Fine,” he said through clenched teeth. When she retreated, he massaged his throbbing hand, then reached for the painting. He fingered the wrapping for several seconds as sadness welled in him. He didn’t want to see the portrait right now. He didn’t want another painful reminder of Ellie and his foolish behavior.

  He pushed a button on his phone. “Monica, please have maintenance come to pick up the painting and hang it.” Within minutes, she entered his office again and retrieved the picture. Then Mark heard her give explicit directions to the man as to where it was to be hung.

  Walking the length of his office, Mark rubbed his temples. He wished a headache would erupt, because then he’d at least have a reason for feeling lousy. This gnawing in his stomach and this heaviness in his chest were becoming unbearable. Damn! He never thought he’d let a woman get to him. Maybe he needed a vacation. That’s it, he decided. I’ll go to some paradise for a couple of weeks and get Ellie out of my system. After all, she’s just a woman.

  The Piedmont Park painting beckoned to him and he smiled. The picture never failed to lift his spirits. He walked over to it and absorbed the artist’s impression of a day in the sun and wind. The colors, the movement, everything about it made him feel the way he did when his father took him to the park as a child. He could almost feel the grass between his toes and see his dad doing card tricks for a crowd of kids. They’d eat a cheese-sandwich picnic and fly kites, then roll up their pants and wade in the kiddie-pool. Back then, the days seemed to last forever, and every hour brought new and wonderful pleasures. He’d loved his father fiercely. He loved him still.

  I really should contact the artist someday and tell him how much I enjoy this painting. He’d never before thought about the artist, and for the first time, his eyes searched the bottomright corner for a name. There it was, in white, but very small and not quite clear. “E. Sutherland,” he muttered slowly, then froze. Could it be? He double-checked the signature. A dim memory surfaced of the first day she’d walked into his office. Nice picture, she’d said.

  “Ellie,” he murmured. A wondrous feeling began in his chest and slowly radiated to his extremities. “I might have known it was yours.” Then he threw back his head and laughed. She had brought joy into his life even before he’d known her. Mark laughed until he had to lean against the wall for support.

  Another knock sounded, and Monica stuck her head in warily. “Mark? Are you okay? I’m worried about you.”

  But Mark just grinned and chuckled, waving away her concern. “Never better, Monica.” She exited with a reluctant expression, then Mark slid down the wall to sit on the floor as he dissolved in laughter once again. When he’d finally regained control, he shook his head at his own stupidity. He loved Ellie, he had from the beginning. But would she give him another chance?

  “I’m not letting her go without a fight,” he said, pulling himself to his feet and crossing to his desk. He hadn’t felt this good in days. Mark punched in Ellie’s number and waited nervously to hear her voice.

  “Hi, this is Ellie and Manny’s place. You know the drill.” Then a beep sounded.

  He frowned, but began to speak. “Ellie, it’s Mark. If you’re there, please pick up, I need to talk to you right away.” He hesitated a few seconds then said, “I l-l-lo—” He stuttered over the words, then tried again. “I l-l-lo—” Darnit, it was harder to say than he’d imagined. Mark took a deep breath. “I l-l-love you, Ellie. Please call me.” He hung up slowly.

  “I love you, too,” Ellie said.

  Mark spun around and his heart vaulted at the sight of her standing in his doorway with a package, a beaming Monica pushing her inside, closing the door.

  Ellie swallowed tears that welled in her throat. He did love her.

  He leaped to his feet and rushed toward her. Ellie leaned the wrapped painting against the wall, then met his embrace. He kissed her, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around. “Where did you come from?” he asked, grinning.

  “Iowa,” Ellie said, laughing through her tears.

  “You were born in Iowa?”

  Ellie nodded. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

  Mark reached behind her to lock the door, then stepped to his desk and cleared the top with one sweep of his arm. He grinned. “We can start right here.” Papers swirled to the ground at their feet.

  Ellie’s heart swelled as she allowed him to pull her to his desk. How she loved this man.

  He lowered his head to hers and drew her into a deep kiss, his hands cupping her rear, pulling her against his arousal. They grabbed at each other’s clothing, Ellie’s skirt ending up around her waist, her panties on the ceiling fan. Mark’s pants sagged around his ankles. Buttons from his shirt missiled against the wall as she yanked the front open.

  “I don’t have any protection,” he whispered.

  “I’d like to start a family as soon as possible,” she replied throatily, positioning herself for his entry.

  “Lots of kids?” he asked, sounding pleased.

  “Five or so.”

  He plunged into her and Ellie stiffened with overwhelming desire.

  “I feel like I could plant at least that many right now,” he warned, moving inside her. They rocked together for a few seconds, then Ellie felt her ecstasy ballooning. “Mark,” she whispered urgently. “Oh, Mark.” He covered her mouth with his to absorb her scream of release. She heard, rather than felt, his shirt rip as she clawed his back. Suddenly he tensed and moaned low into her mouth, his body jerking in relief.

  “I’ve missed you,” he breathed.

  After a few seconds, her pulse slowed. “I missed you, and so has Esmerelda.”

  Mark’s eyes rolled heavenward. “I guess this means I’ll have to paint my bedroom blue if we’re ever going to have any privacy.”

  A loud commotion outside caught their attention. Mark frowned, pulled away, and started righting his clothes. “What’s going on? It sounds like it’s coming from down the hall.”

  Beads of perspiration popped out on Ellie’s upper lip. “Mark,” she said. “Do you really love me?”

  His face softened. “I really do.” Pulling a chair over to the fan, he retrieved her lace panties and handed them to her.

  Ellie began to dress, biting her lower lip. “Do you really, really love me?”

  Mark’s smile widened even as he surveyed his shredded shirt in the mirror. “You know I do. Remind me to buy you a pair of gloves right away.”

  The commotion was getting louder, the sound of many voices raised. Mark pulled on his jacket, straightened his tie and walked toward the door. “Something’s going on.”

  “Mark!” Ellie grabbed his hand and fought to keep the desperation out of her voice. “Please tell me there’s nothing I could do to make you stop loving me.”

  He turned toward her again, taking her face in his hands. “Sweetheart, there’s nothing you could do to make me stop loving you.” He lowered his mouth to hers for a quick, loving kiss.

  A knock sounded at the door. “Mark?” Monica asked from the other side, her voice urge
nt.

  “Promise?” Ellie asked, gripping his hands.

  “Yes, I promise, Ellie.” He turned to open the door, then noticed the wrapped portrait Ellie had brought. “What’s that?”

  Ellie just shrugged her shoulders, smiling wide.

  “The last time I saw that look, Esmerelda had gone fishing.”

  “Mark?” Monica’s voice was insistent, her knocking louder.

  He opened the door. “What’s all the noise, Monica?”

  His secretary wore an unreadable expression, her eyes wide. “You’re needed in the boardroom. Right away.”

  “Is something wrong?” he asked, concern written on his face.

  Monica glanced at Ellie, and Ellie saw raw admiration on the woman’s face. “Not everyone would think so.”

  Mark walked out the door and strode down the hall toward the boardroom. Ellie hesitated, but Monica grabbed her arm and pulled her along. Ellie’s mind raced. How was she going to explain this one?

  She stepped into the crowded room a split second behind Mark, in time to see his eyes land on the nearly life-size sprawling nude. A roomful of suited men and women roared, Ray and Patrick both bent double, tears streaming down their faces.

  Mark’s jaw fell, and his mouth worked up and down, but no sound came out. He turned his head slowly to look at Ellie, and she winced, taking a half step back. This was going to be an interesting relationship.

  His eyes were round in disbelief, his hands clenched in fists at his sides. “Ellie,” he said, his voice ominously low. “What the hell is that?”

  All eyes turned to Ellie and the room quieted, poised for her answer. Swallowing, Ellie tried to gather her courage. She lifted her chin and smiled nervously at her glowering husband-to-be.

  “That, as everyone can see,” she said brightly, sweeping her arm in a grand gesture, “is one well-hung portrait.”

  ISBN : 978-1-4592-7424-2

  IRRESISTIBLE?

  Copyright © 1997 by Stephanie Hauck

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  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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