Stepping through, she trekked up to the foot of the grand curved front steps. A portico flanked by four twenty-foot-tall white stone columns protected and gave presence to a pair of stately arched, rich mahogany French doors with artfully designed iron grill inlays, set in rectangular, double-pane glass.
Bailey stared up at the massive white-brick structure and then looked around, admiring the three-tier fountain in the center of the circular driveway, to the immaculate landscape beyond. She would’ve expected him to be a penthouse in the sky kind of guy. “Why would one man need this much house?” she muttered as she climbed the ten stairs to the landing and pressed the doorbell that sang out a lengthy chime. It’s none of my business. After a second attempt, receiving no answer, she pulled out the key from her bag and took a deep breath. “Bailey, you can do this.” Turning the lock, she stepped inside.
The entryway floor was an ecru marble. A simple, yet artful, round floor medallion greeted those entering the home. A wrought iron chandelier dropped down a good thirty feet from the second-floor ceiling. Four Doric columns in an ecru shade, two on either side, balanced the opulent foyer.
Dark chocolate Brazilian hardwood stairs, with off-white stair risers and black iron rails, curved upward to the second floor on both the left and the right.
She scribbled in her notepad and marked up the specs as she moved about the house.
“Oh my!” Entering an enormous sunken great room, aside from the sparse furnishings in such a large space, a wall of glass with three sets of glass French doors greeted her, letting in an abundance of natural light. Outside, beyond the covered stone terrace, was an enormous swimming pool surrounded by strategically placed greenery and colorful flowerbeds. She went over and stepped outside to get a better view of the beautiful showcase.
A rock waterfall flowed into the deep end. A hot tub bubbled invitingly within its own botanical garden at the shallow end, casting a circled pool of blue luminous light.
To the right, beyond a large bed of rose bushes, was a fenced-in tennis court.
Off in the distance, mature evergreens and thick brush surrounded the property on all sides, offering privacy and tranquility.
Breathtaking. It was the only way to describe the exquisitely designed and impeccably landscaped grounds.
As she made notes to replace the outdoor low-end furnishings, she inspected the pool house across the way, then headed back inside the main dwelling.
Looking around, there was little that needed altering—the changes were primarily cosmetic.
It was interesting peering into Lucas Marx’s life on such an intimate level, Bailey thought. In a way, she was getting to know him through his home. Not that she cared to get to know the man at all after what she’d witnessed this afternoon between him and Sandra.
He was handsome, she’d admit. She was shamefully attracted to him. She’d admit that, too. But she now knew that he was a womanizer, and dating her boss, which made keeping their involvement strictly professional very easy.
Getting back to her job, she noted that his color scheme suggested that he liked earth tones. An abstract piece Sienna painted long ago came to mind. It would work perfectly over the fireplace. Jotting a note to speak with Sienna about her artwork, she headed to the kitchen.
“Dear lord!” There wasn’t a kitchen. The room lacked cabinetry and appliances, except for a small refrigerator stationed within a large wall niche. A center island that looked to have been under construction by the previous designer was merely a large, wooden square box. The stairs leading to the second level from the kitchen were bare wood planks.
Bailey hastily whipped out her measuring tape and went to work laying out a design plan. Soon she had a vision of the finished result in her head.
After a thorough review of seven spacious bedrooms, each with its own bathroom en suite, finding them all in order, she made her way to bedroom eight—the master suite at the end of the hall.
It was a surprise to see how well appointed it was and how warm and invited she felt in it. She’d expected ... well, she wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but she surely didn’t think she’d find an elegantly understated decor.
She could fall hard for a man who knew how to piece together a room such as this. Quickly erasing the thought from her head, she went over to the French doors/glass wall to take in the view of the pool below and looked out over the beautiful secluded acres. Then she gave the bedroom and connecting bathroom a full inspection. Both were nicely decorated in varying hues of dark brown, off-white, and camel.
Nothing for me to do here.
On her way out, she realized she hadn’t checked the closet. Crossing the space to the double doors, she entered to find an area the size of Sienna’s and her apartment.
“My goodness!”
Behind glass enclosures, suits—close to thirty or so, some with tags still attached—and shirts hung in pristine order by color, light to dark. Light sensors activated on as she moved past the glass. That element gave her an idea for the kitchen design.
Her eyes zeroed in on the neatly arranged racks of shoes. The tips of her fingers lightly brushed across several pairs of expensive, well-polished leather before picking up one shoe.
“Size fourteen.” Big feet, big hands, big ... Bailey, don’t go there. She placed the shoe back on the shelf, gave another quick look around, and decided that the closet was fine. On her way out, she noticed a sneaker haphazardly lying halfway underneath the black leather dressing chair. Looking around for its mate, she got down on her knees and found it wedged far beneath the shelf.
“Almost got it.” The tips of her fingers brushed the heel. She dropped to her stomach and got under a bit farther. The darn sneaker was stuck tight under there. “I’ll get you,” she grunted.
“Brian was right, you’re very thorough.”
“Oh God!” Bailey gasped. That familiar male voice had her quickly rolling over to her back, feeling as though she’d have a heart attack right there on the floor. The organ was slamming against her ribs like a jackhammer as she lay sprawled out with Lucas Marx staring down at her.
“It ... I ...” Unable to speak articulately between shallow clips of air, she held up the left sneaker clutched in her hand.
“Good evening, Miss Walters.”
Bailey tried to catch her breath, which was sawing in and out as though she’d just run a marathon.
His eyes dipped down and lingered on her skirt raised high up her thighs. She tugged it down and shot him a hard frown.
“May I?” He reached out his hand to help her up and then retrieved the stuck sneaker from underneath the shelf, placing the pair on the bottom shoe rack.
“So you tidy up and design,” he said as he rested back against his dressing island with arms folded across his suited frame.
“I happened to notice the one under your chair. The other one was wedged tight.” When he said nothing, not so much as a flicker in those blue-grays, Bailey cleared the knot in her throat and picked up her notepad from the chair. “I’ve just about completed my inventory of your home.” Needing to escape his stare, she quickly left the closet. “This area is in perfect order. I find the furnishings and decor to be favorable, well-balanced for the space. I wouldn’t change a thing in here.”
Looking over at the custom size bed, Sandra popped into her head. He came up behind her, so close she could feel his body heat radiating against her back, and with it, his scent—a fresh, subtle woodsy and citrus mix. Man, he smells good. Bailey inhaled his scent into her lungs before turning to face him.
Towering over her, he had to be about six feet, three or four inches—and she thought of her shoes in her bag downstairs, wishing she was wearing her heels instead of her sneakers. Those extra inches would prevent her from having to crane her neck to look at him.
His eyes were staring uncomfortably deep into hers, causing her stomach to flutter. Needing to put some space between them, she walked over to the French doors and looked out over the landsc
ape. “Your kitchen, I have some ideas I’d like to share with you on the type and style of cabinetry. Of course, top grade appliances and—” Hearing the bed lightly squeak, she paused, and turned around. He was seated at the foot of the bed. When did he remove his suit coat and tie?
“Come here,” he said.
There was that bossy tone again. Annoyed, Bailey folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Come here?” She tried not to, but her eyes kept slipping downward to the broad expanse of his chest, on down to the sinewy outline of his thick thighs in his perfectly fitted slacks. This is madness, Bailey, stop it. “Come here? What do I look like to you, a Chihuahua?”
“You look like a woman I’ve wanted to kiss from the moment we met.”
Her eyes popped wide and sprung up from admiring his exceptional build to see his gaze locked on her mouth. Good gracious. She inwardly groaned, hating that she was so attracted to him, loathing how just a look from the man once again heated the crotch of her panties. Keep it professional. It was becoming more difficult than she’d expected. He was incredibly sexy and gorgeous. He’s seeing your boss. Recalling his interaction with Sandra earlier helped immensely.
Squaring her shoulders, she said pointedly, “Look, Mr. Marx, do you wish to go over my notes or not?”
“It’s Lucas.” He rested back on his forearms, the wondrous bulk of his frame spread out in an enticing invitation. “Come here, please.”
Bailey walked over and stood directly in front of him to show he didn’t intimidate her. Liar.
“Shoot, I’m all ears.”
As he moistened his lips, his gaze traveled slowly up and down the length of her body and settled on her breasts. He was looking at her like a hungry lion ready to pounce.
Swallowing to remove the lump in her throat once more, she began. “Uh, okay. Well, as I said, I have some ideas for the kitchen, and the uh, the ... the ...” She shook her head and waved a hand out over his casual comportment. “I can’t do this with you like that.” Looking all lush and sexy. Her attention dropped to the lines on her notepad.
He sat up, which brought her between his legs. “Is this better?” His grin was sinfully wicked.
She glared at the maddening levity of his expression and didn’t move when he inched to the very edge, coming face level with her breasts. His eyes were laser fixed there, not at all being subtle at his ogling of her body.
With a wave of a hand between them to make her point, she said sternly, “Let’s get something straight, buster. This isn’t gonna happen.”
“Buster?” He chuckled. “Your southern roots are showing, love. I like it.” He laughed more at seeing her scowl. “I find it very sexy.”
That deepened her frown. “I’m not going to be your—”
“Fuck buddy?” he put in and smirked with a playful wiggle of his brows.
“I’m not going to be your anything. Your girlfriend, who happens to be my boss, gave me strict instructions to not ‘screw this up,’” she stressed with air quotes. “I need my job, and I’m not about to jeopardize it for a quick lay.”
“I hadn’t planned on it being quick.” He winked, maintaining his devilish grin, continuing to taunt her.
Bailey smirked, unable to hold it in. “You’re impossible. It’s not happening, Mr. Marx.”
“Sandra is not my girlfriend,” he stated with a hard-set countenance. “Our time together was brief. She wanted more. I didn’t. End of story.”
“Well, she clearly intends to revive whatever it was you two had, and I’m not getting caught in the middle.” She held his stare, refusing to back down. “I have an engagement later. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get started with my review.”
“Where might that be, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“In Georgetown. I’m meeting friends at a club there where one of them plays in a band.” She would’ve sworn his right eye twitched in reaction.
“Would that be Kevin?”
She blinked, surprised. “How do you know his name?”
“Your friend Sienna mentioned him last night. Is Kevin your boyfriend?”
“What?”
“Or is he your fuck buddy?” A slow smile lit the cool pools of his eyes.
Bailey bit the inside of her cheek to avoid smiling at that. He was throwing her words back at her.
“So, which one is it, Bailey?” He leaned forward, his nose coming within a hair of her cleavage, and inhaled deep. “Hmm, you smell good.”
She took a half step back. “Kevin is a good friend. We dated briefly. It didn’t work out. End of story.”
He rose to his feet and took a step forward, coming into her personal space. “So, I’m not seeing anyone, and you’re not seeing anyone.”
Holding her ground, Bailey took a quiet breath, allowing the sudden sputter of her pulse to settle. Then her eyes locked with his steady stare. “Mr. Marx, we have work to do. Enough of this.” Her firm command lacked conviction even in her own ears.
He responded with a light stroke of his fingers along her left cheek as he slowly leaned in, the right angle of his jaw but a scant inch from hers, and whispered in her ear, “I want you.”
Warm breath feathered against the side of her neck. A wet tongue followed the curve of her ear. Sweet mercy! Her pussy throbbed. The notepad and pen slipped from her hand.
“Mr.—” Her weak protest faltered as soft lips skated along the contours of her chin to her mouth. With his right hand secured at her nape, he tasted her unhurriedly, jockeying the rapid rise and fall of her sputtering heartbeat. The tip of his tongue teased her lips, licking the top, then the bottom before delving into the deep cavern of her mouth. Hungrily at first, then incredibly gentle. The act was so overwhelmingly sensual, she found herself encircling her arms around his neck and leaning into his hard planes, wanting to wrap herself around his magnificent strength. He freed one button on her blouse, then another, and slipped his hand inside, capturing her right breast through her bra. His thumb teased and fingers pinched the overly sensitive nipple with excruciating thoroughness. A powerful arm circled her waist; his fierce erection pressed against her stomach. They kissed, licked, nipped, tongues mating as their bodies rocked into the ever-rising sensations.
Feeling his splayed palm scorch a path up her inner thigh beneath her skirt and graze his fingers along her feminine lips through her panties, she stiffened, catapulting out of her passion haze. She managed to break away from his starving kisses and stepped back to dislodge his hands from her body. “We-we have to stop,” she breathed heavily. His chest heaved out deep breaths, as his eyes smoldered with raw, unadulterated desire. There was no denying what she saw in his gaze, and what she’d felt rubbing against her lower belly. She’d let things get out of hand. This was wrong on so many levels. “We shouldn’t do this. I’m sorry.” It came out in a hoarse whisper as she quickly buttoned up, then picked up her pen and pad from the floor. “I should finish up the review.”
His stare at her unblinking, he adjusted his erection in his slacks, forcing her to take note of the sexual frustration she’d provoked as he said, “All right, Miss Walters, you wish to discuss the renovations?” He inclined his head at the notepad in her hand.
“Yes, I would.” There was a coldness now conveyed in his gaze. If she was being truthful with herself, she wanted to press him back on that thick comforter, straddle those muscular thighs of his, and fuck his brains out. Her throat was suddenly dry, her nipples ached, and there was a renewed warm pool of moisture between her legs.
“Bailey?”
“Yes?” Bailey blinked, her thoughts of him naked derailed, thankfully. “Yes ... I mean, let’s get started.” She began flipping through her notepad.
“No.”
“No?” Her gaze followed him to the door.
“You’re going to take me through each area that needs attention and explain how you intend to fix it.”
She regarded his rigid demeanor. Gone was the playful teasing and bright white smile, having been replace
d by the heavy-handed, all-business side of him, of which she was becoming quite familiar. It was as though what had taken place only a minute ago between them had never happened.
“Okay. If that’s what you would prefer.”
“That’s what I prefer.” Without another word, he left the room.
She ran to catch up to him.
• • •
Bailey came home to an empty apartment. It was expected. Sienna and Faith were at the club with Kevin and Diego. She felt bad that she hadn’t met up with them as promised and would get an earful from Sienna, and even double that from Kevin. She simply was both physically and mentally exhausted.
Following their groping and kissing session that left her body humming like a simmering tea kettle long after, Lucas had her go through every room in his home, and he asked a thousand questions in each. She even appraised his game room, home theater, fully functioning gym, full-size racquetball court and large sauna, and the garage where his silver Ferrari was parked alongside a silver Bentley Continental GT, a metallic black Porsche Cayman S, and a Buell racing bike that was perched up high on a wide ledge. What does it matter whether the garage is painted dark gray or light gray? I mean really? They stood in the space for nearly thirty minutes contemplating that ridiculous decision.
She started to think he was intentionally trying to keep her there. As the night wore on, she made mention again of her engagement, to which Lucas casually stated that Sienna would understand. She then spoke of Faith, Kevin, and Diego. At that, Lucas made it a point to remind her of her priorities. Through it all, he kept their interaction strictly business—not a tease, flirt, chuckle, or compliment came her way from him. His stare when their eyes met was ever deep and all consuming, yet his tone remained dry the entire evening. His behavior messed with her head.
The digital clock on the nightstand read 10:46 P.M. She didn’t waste time peeling out of her clothes, sent a quick text to Sienna to say she wouldn’t make it to the club, and then crawled into bed, easily dozing off with a picture of Lucas Marx and the sweet taste of his kiss front and center in her brain.
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