by Lori Foster
She should let him off the hook right now. before things got out of control.
R.J. tugged her slightly closer. “About last night…”
With a short laugh meant to hide her nervousness, Dana twisted away from him. “Last night was a mistake.”
“What?”
“A total failure.” The only place to go was to the other side of the small kitchen table, so she did, moving behind a chair and holding on to the back of it. R.J. tracked her every movement with his eyes, as if?waiting for her to bolt, or to attack. She realized that for once, he had no idea what she was doing or thinking.
He turned to the coffeepot and poured her a cup, then reached across the table to place it close to her. A tray with sugar and cream was already there, but she couldn’t quite deal with it.
He retrieved his own cup and sipped, and she could tell by his expression he was carefully gauging his next words, judging them for effect. Once again he took up his casual pose. “I’ll admit last night didn’t go quite as I’d planned—”
“I take full blame.”
Both of his brows shot up at her blurted interruption, as if she’d said the unexpected. He watched her a moment, but when she only chewed on her bottom lip, he asked, “You do?”
“Absolutely. It was my idea, after all.”
That caused one side of his mouth to twitch, and she knew if he laughed at her she’d throw the coffee at his head. But of course he didn’t laugh. He was more calculating than that.
“What I recall,” he said, his gaze probing, “is that you were a virgin, so any planning beyond the very basics seems pretty far-fetched.”
She hadn’t been R.J. Maitland’s secretary all this time without learning a tactic or two of her own. She had no intention of discussing her virginity with him—there was no way to explain it, anyway—so she skipped it entirely. To give herself something to do, she began dumping sugar in her coffee.
“R.J., I was the one who thought up the ridiculous plan of… sleeping together in the first place.”
“Ridiculous?”
“Absolutely.” She gave a resolute nod and stirred her coffee so quickly some sloshed out. She snatched up a napkin and dabbed at it. “I thought I might enjoy a casual…fling.” She nearly choked and picked up her coffee to take a sip. It tasted like syrup! “But last night,” she continued, looking him in the eye, “proved me wrong. I think we should go back to your original plan.”
“My original plan?”
She frowned at him. It wasn’t like R.J. to parrot words or stand there looking dumbstruck. The man generally had something to say on everything. “Yes. During the day, I’ll be the best wife to you that I can be. I have several plans that might shore up your reputation—though I’m still not convinced it’s necessary—and I’m more than ready and willing to implement them. But at night…”
“Lovemaking isn’t limited to the evening, you know.”
His harsh statement took her by surprise. He looked annoyed, maybe even bordering on anger. Why? She was offering him what he’d wanted all along. Heaven knew he’d fought hard enough for it before giving in.
“I beg your pardon?”
Very slowly, he rounded the table. “Married people have sex whenever they want, or are you too much the puritan to realize it?”
Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“In fact,” he continued, coming closer still, “I’d intended to make love with you right here, right now, on the kitchen table.”
“R.J.!”
“It’s sturdy enough. That’s not exactly why I chose the style in the first place, but as I was making the coffee, it occurred to me it was strong enough to support us, and it’s just about the right height for all kinds of interesting things.”
He was too close to her now, and she could see the dangerous glint in his hazel gaze. Curiously, she eyed the small table. It was heavy oak with a slab top. And… it did look sturdy.
“R.J., you’re being ridiculous.” But she felt flushed and anxious—and very hurt. She didn’t want to be a mere body to him. She’d thought she could, but she’d been so wrong.
“Don’t you want to know what those interesting things are, Dana?”
“No.” More interesting than what he’d already done? She didn’t think she could stand it.
“I want to tell you, anyway.” He reached for her, and she ducked away.
“Well, I’d like that tour of the yard you promised. It’s a beautiful day for it.” She stopped and faced him when she was again on the opposite side of the table from him.
R. J. gave her a speculative glance, his long fingers rubbing his chin. She saw the exact moment he came up with a plan.
“All right, Dana. Why don’t we get some breakfast together and eat out on the patio? I can show you all the plant specimens I’ve brought in.”
Relief flooded her. “That’d be wonderful.”
“I knew you’d think so.”
Was he laughing at her? Had her relief been so obvious? She frowned as she asked, “What would you like for breakfast?”
“Are you offering to cook for me? Is that one of those wifely duties you don’t mind fulfilling?”
She’d spoiled him, she decided. He felt free to bait her because she’d always allowed him to as her boss. She’d waited on him, been the best secretary she could, because she loved him and wanted to make herself indispensable to him. But if they were going to get along during the duration of their bogus marriage, there would need to be some new ground rules.
Explaining things to R.J. wouldn’t work. He’d instinctively balk at having rules laid out for him. So instead she’d have to show him by example. She went to the refrigerator and opened the door. “I’ll do breakfast,” she said casually “but then you have to do lunch. There’s fresh fruit in here, and bagels. We can have that for breakfast.”
R.J. was again watching her when she pulled the cantaloupe and fat strawberries from the fridge. He eyed her loaded hands and nodded. “I can toast the bagels. Do you like cream cheese on yours?”
He stepped close, then reached past her into the refrigerator and retrieved the bagels and cream cheese. His arm brushed her breasts, and his broad chest was teasingly close. Dana held her breath, wanting to move away but unable to get her feet to cooperate.
As he started to step past her, he dropped a hard, quick smooch on her open mouth and grinned. Dana stared up him.
“Dana?”
“Hmm?”
“Cream cheese?”
As if coming out of a daze, she shook her head and glared at him. “Yes, please.”
R.J. chuckled and sauntered away. He thought he had it all figured out, she knew. And she’d just made it embarrassingly easy for him. Well, no more. She wouldn’t get that close to him again.
This evening she’d start a campaign for improving his public image. That ought to keep them both busy enough to forget about last night.
Or at least to pretend to forget.
* * *
“I’m supposedly an excellent lover, you know.”
Dana choked on her melon, nearly spitting it out on the table. It took her several gasping breaths and?two sips of tepid coffee to clear her throat.
Damn him, he’d taken her completely off guard.
They were out on the enclosed patio, the beautiful sunshine reaching in through the open windows, the?hot tub bubbling warmly at the far end. Birds flew around the yard, providing entertainment, while the?flowers within the room itself continually drew her attention. They’d spent the past hour chatting about?those flowers, and a dozen other innocuous topics. She’d started to relax, to let down her guard. But then he’d made that outrageous comment.
R.J. didn’t smile at her shocked reaction. He simply continued to watch her as she wiped her mouth with a napkin and glowered at him.
When she made no reply, he pressed her. “You do know that, don’t you, Dana?”
He wasn’t going to let it go, so she shrugged, pretending an in
difference she was far from feeling. “I’ll take your word for it.”
His eyes narrowed the tiniest bit.
She decided she needed to change the subject again, and quickly.
“Shouldn’t you be getting dressed, R.J.?” No sooner had she spoken the words than she inwardly groaned. She couldn’t have picked a worse thing to comment on. But then, his half-naked body was all she could really focus on. She’d made appropriate enough responses as he’d enthused over his flowers, telling her which ones did best indoors, which needed shade and which needed sunlight.
And she truly was interested—but not when R.J. Maitland was within touching distance and wearing only a pair of faded worn jeans that fit his lean body like a second skin.
She wasn’t used to such close proximity to any man; breakfast after a night together was an aberration. But for that man to be R.J. was enough to keep her totally flustered.
R.J. leaned back in his wrought-iron chair and stretched. “Why should I pile on the clothes? There’s only me and my wife present. And it’s a weekend. After suffering suits all week, I prefer to relax on the weekend.” He leaned forward, and in a conspiratorial tone admitted, ”I actually hate suits. I prefer jeans any day.”
Trying to maintain her dignity, Dana smiled. “No one would ever know. You wear your suits well.”
“As well as I wear my jeans?”
The thought of throwing the rest of her coffee at him appealed to her greatly. However, she considered herself above such childish acts. “Actually, the jeans suit you better.”
He settled back in his chair and tilted his head, his gaze thoughtful. “How so?”
Dana shrugged. If he insisted on playing this game, she’d do her damnedest to match him. But then, it had always been that way. R.J. would roar and stomp, and she simply kept pace with him. That was one of the reasons she had succeeded as his employee when others had failed. “You’re a barbarian at heart, R.J. That much is obvious. The suits may hide it from some people, but not from me.”
To her surprise, his mouth tightened. “Last night was no example of my character.”
Her eyes widened. She hadn’t been thinking of last night! Good grief, did he really think she’d deliberately bring it up? “As far as I’m concerned, last night is best forgotten.”
That didn’t appear to appease him at all, so she tried again. “I was referring to your controlling ways—at the office, with your family. You like to sit back and observe people, then force them to do your bidding without them even knowing it.”
His face went blank with surprise. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You think I haven’t noticed?”
“I think you’re damn well imagining things!”
“R.J.” She made a tsking sound. “You do it all the time. You manipulate. Not in a mean-spirited way, because you’re not a mean or petty man. You’re just a man who likes things his own way. And you have very set ideas on what’s best, for yourself and for everyone else. So you control things. You keep yourself apart from others so you can maintain that control.”
His eyes were diamond hard, his jaw set. “I don’t seem to have a hell of a lot of control over you.”
“I have the advantage of being wise to your ways.” A variety of expressions flickered through his hazel eyes, but mostly disgruntled resentment. He didn’t like it that she had pegged him so neatly. Still, there was also a touch of admiration, and she basked in it. R.J. had told her many times that he greatly respected her intelligence. She’d valued the compliment each time he’d given it.
He chewed his upper lip a moment, deep in thought, then he smiled. It wasn’t a smile to put her at ease. Just the opposite.
“So tell me, smarty-pants. If you’re so attuned to me, what am I thinking right now?”
“Probably about some way to get the upper hand.”
He slowly shook his head. “Wrong. But I’ll tell you anyway.”
She started to stand, using the excuse of carrying in their dishes. She didn’t trust the iron determination in his voice and thought a strategic retreat was in order.
Before she could get completely out of her seat, though, he’d taken her arm and held her in place. “I’m thinking about how different you look in these clothes. Do you know I can see the shape of your behind? Well, almost. The top is too long and loose for me to get a good look, but it beats the hell out of those tailored suits you wear that reveal all the feminine curves of an army tank.”
Appalled, Dana again tried to pull free. R.J. let her, but then stood to block her way. He wasn’t being subtle in his domination, but then R.J. seldom used subtlety once he was set on his course. He walked his own path, and people generally got out of his way.
Dana stiffened her spine.
He stood very close to her, watching her intently, and she managed a smile, refusing to let him see how awkward she felt. “My behind is hardly worthy of all this discussion.”
The tender touch of his hand on her cheek was shattering. “You forget,” he whispered, “I may not have seen all of you last night, thanks to the darkness, but I sure as hell touched on all the important parts.” He tipped up her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I’m going crazy now wondering if you look as good as you feel. And let me tell you, your backside felt damn near perfect. Soft, round, just right for a man to hold on to.”
If her face got any hotter she’d go up in a puff of smoke. “R.J….” His name was spoken as a soft plea, barely heard—and R.J. answered by tilting his head and pressing his mouth to hers.
This isn ‘t what you want, her mind screamed, but minds were easy things to ignore when the pleasure was so sharp. She’d been exceedingly preoccupied with R.J.’s chest and was now acutely aware of being pressed to it, of the steady, comforting thump of his heart, the silky-smooth hardness of his shoulders. Her hands crept over his biceps, thrilling at the thickness of iron muscle, before giving in and moving over his chest, exploring him as she’d so often thought of doing.
R. J. gave a deep groan of encouragement, his own hands idly coasting up and down her back, stopping just before cupping her bottom. Dana felt the crisp-ness of his chest hair, the heat of his skin beneath. And the scents—R.J.’s scent was indescribably potent. She opened her mouth, wanting more of him, and his hot tongue slowly licked inside.
Oh…this was so different from last night. Now, with the sunshine bright in the cozy room, he could clearly see her. And though he didn’t seem bothered by her unmistakable plainness, neither did he seem?as carried away. He was moving too slowly, too… methodically.
Dana jerked away with a low gasp, knowing her eyes were round with distress. “We can’t do this,” she croaked.
He kept his arms around her, and she saw the fire in his eyes, the denial. “The hell we can’t. We’re married, remember?”
“No.” She shook her head, and when she pushed against him, his arms fell to his sides. “You’re doing it again—carefully figuring out how to get the upper hand. Doing whatever you need to do to keep it.”
“That’s what you think this is about?” His shoulder muscles were rigid, and his fierce frown carved deep grooves over his brow. “Control?”
Moving too fast for her to avoid him, he snatched her wrist, holding her tightly but with careful restraint. His gaze locked on hers, he carried her hand to his groin and pressed it there. Beneath the denim she felt every masculine inch of him.
Her breath caught and held. Shock rushed through her, making her knees shaky, her chest tight. She’d never touched a man this way, and she couldn’t help but react to it. Her palm tingled, her skin heated and her heart began to race.
R.J.’s chest lifted and fell with a deep, shuddering breath, and for a single moment, his eyes closed. Then he pulled her hand away. Rather than let her go, he slid his hand from her wrist and laced their fingers together.
His voice was little more than a rasping rumble, his eyes narrowed dangerously, when he explained, “Just so you know.”
/>
She blinked at him as he turned, then tugged her toward the house. Like a sleepwalker, she followed his lead. Their hands were pressed together, trapping the male heat of him against her palm.
He didn’t look at her as they walked. “You may not know a hell of a lot about men, honey, but you’ve got to know enough to understand an erection. I want you, plain and simple. Remember that the next time you accuse me of something.”
“I’m… I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else she could say. She was still reeling from the realization that he’d wanted her and that he’d given up—at least for the moment.
R.J. groaned, then his muscles relaxed. He flashed her a crooked grin over his shoulder. “Don’t be. Your first assumption was right, too. I do want control, and by God, I’ll have it.”
Bewitched
CHAPTER TWENTY
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They fought all day long.
R.J. couldn’t remember a time when he’d had this much trouble making someone—especially a woman—see things his way. Everyone tended to agree with him. Eventually. He had been raised, and was accepted, as the oldest son of the Maitland family. He was the president of Maitland Maternity, a world-renowned center. He was sought after by debutantes from miles around. Clout was his middle name, and he used it without thought whenever he deemed it necessary.
But Dana had spent the day defying him on even the simplest requests, which marked a complete turnaround for her.
She was usually so obliging with him, handling even the most monumental tasks with extra care just to please him. It was what he was used to from her. It was what he expected. Now she seemed to have developed an uncommon use of the word no. And it didn’t matter what he did, she held firm.
Between wanting her and being flatly denied, and having everything he offered thrown back in his face, his normally healthy ego was badly battered. Women seldom told him no, and he couldn’t recall the last time he’d had a gift refused.
