Indiscretions

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Indiscretions Page 7

by Lori Borrill


  She rose from her seat. “Of course. I’ll go let Rachel know we’ve spoken.”

  “Let me,” Marc said.

  “You want to talk to Rachel yourself?”

  No. No, he didn’t. He’d spent a week working hard to keep his mind off her and his nose to the grindstone. Tracking her down and having a heart-to-heart wouldn’t help. But this silliness had gone on long enough, and obviously, distance wasn’t keeping either of them out of trouble. It was time they cleared the air and made a genuine effort to come to a truce.

  And he needed to do it all without either killing or kissing her.

  Taking the magazine in his hand, he rose from his desk. “This is something I need to handle.”

  RACHEL HAD JUST CHANGED into a comfortable pair of sweats when she heard the knock at the door. Assuming it was the room service she’d called for earlier, she opened it without hesitation, seeing only too late that it wasn’t dinner but Marc Strauss.

  Great. When would she learn to check before opening her door?

  “You aren’t room service,” she said in an effort to buy time while she calculated the best way to brush him off. She’d had a long and humiliating day today. Ending it in the presence of this man wasn’t tops on her list.

  “No, they haven’t demoted me yet,” he said.

  He grinned and she had to stifle a sigh. Oh, he was gorgeous when he smiled, something he didn’t do nearly enough. It was probably a good thing, since when he did, those silvery blue eyes and pearly white teeth made her forget all kinds of things—namely that he was an ass and she wasn’t supposed to want him.

  “Well, if you aren’t bringing me dinner, what do you want?”

  He held up the magazine in his hand. “I’d like to talk.”

  “Huh, I would have pegged you as more of a Newsweek kinda guy.”

  He laughed jovially and she noticed for the first time that he had a dimple on his left cheek. She was a sucker for dimples, especially on a face like Marc’s where that stubborn chin and straight brow brightened up with the playful touch. In fact, given the lethal effect of that stunning smile, she wondered why he didn’t use it more often as the ace in the hole it was. There wasn’t a woman on the planet that could turn down a request when delivered with that one-two punch.

  “Yes, I suppose I am.” His chuckle eased as his gaze slipped down to her breasts, the ones barely covered by her flimsy T-shirt and now shamelessly revealing the effects of that smile. And going by the glint in his eyes, he hadn’t missed it.

  He cleared his throat. “May I come in?”

  Every part of her screamed no, but nonetheless, she found herself backing up and offering him access. Damned one-two punch.

  He stepped into the room and held up the tabloid as she closed the door. “I wanted to apologize for this.”

  She looked down at the photo, sickness welling all over again even though she’d thought she was over it. It would help if she weren’t so attracted to the man holding it. When one of the maintenance engineers showed up with it today, she’d been embarrassed to say the least. But seeing Marc with the photo, when that pesky side of her still desperately wanted to impress him, added an extra dose of shame.

  She reverted to her old defenses. “Forget about it. If I let the tabloids get to me I would have been in a straitjacket years ago.” She waved a dismissive hand and moved to the bar where she’d left the glass of wine she’d started earlier. “Everyone around here is making a big deal out of nothing. It’s just a stupid picture.”

  It was a good effort. One of her best, really. But when she turned and caught Marc’s eye, she knew he hadn’t bought it. She never had been able to act.

  “It’s a big deal to us,” he said. “We were supposed to protect you from the press and we let you down. I’m sorry for that.”

  Noting the word we in that sentence, she said, “I already made it clear to Jolie this wasn’t Anita’s fault. If you’re here to place blame—”

  He held up a hand. “This is my fault.”

  He took a long breath and tossed the magazine on the bar. “Look, Rachel, I haven’t been fair to you since the day you set foot here. I’ve treated you badly then ignored my responsibilities where you’re concerned. That’s not anyone’s fault but mine, and I need you to know how much I regret it.”

  Her cynical mood began to falter when she caught the sincerity in his eyes. He looked as if he really meant it, even though a voice in her head told her to hold her guard. This day had taken its toll and her defenses were down, the tabloid smear hurting more than she’d like to admit.

  Over the week she’d been here, she’d genuinely grown fond of all the people she’d met. Though it seemed crazy, she even liked the work, loved being a part of a team. And then the photo hit the stands, reminding her and everyone else that while they’d welcomed her warmly, she’d never be the normal person she wanted to be. Reality had hit like a slap in the face, singling her out and separating her from the people she’d begun to consider friends.

  Though she’d held her chin up, inside she hadn’t taken it well. And now that the day was over, the energy it had taken left her drained and vulnerable, her hopeful side searching hard for a silver lining to cling to. Wouldn’t a heartfelt apology and acceptance by Marc Strauss be just the ticket to salvage her day?

  Marc casually leaned against the bar. “I’ve heard from a number of people that you’ve been very kind.”

  “People have been kind to me.”

  “And you’ve been working hard.”

  There was that smile again, packed with enough warmth and sincerity to unravel the last of the bitter grudge she’d been harboring for a week. Maybe this meeting would end her night on an upswing after all.

  “I judged you unfairly.” He pointed to the tabloid. “I’ve been no better than the people who believe crap like that.”

  She shrugged. “Don’t judge them. Most of what they’ve printed about me is true.”

  She didn’t know where the confession came from. They were on a roll here and she needed to leave as many balls in her court as possible. But seeing this sweet, friendly side of him tripped her up and made her feel as though they could be honest with each other.

  “You didn’t deserve this,” he said. “And I’m sorry you got slammed with it. Brett and I, we promised your father we’d keep the press from your heels. I’m sure he’ll be angry that we didn’t do our job.”

  She blinked and stared. “What did you say?”

  “I said, I’m expecting your father will be pretty irate when he sees this.”

  Her bubble of hope burst and all she could do was gape. Her father. Of course. How could she not have suspected the real motive behind all this candy-eyed remorse?

  She huffed and shook her head. “I can’t believe this. For a minute, you really had me going.”

  Tears threatened and her throat swelled, the culmination of the day bearing down on her and pushing her over the edge with this one final clap on the back. When would she learn?

  “Excuse me?” he asked.

  “You aren’t sorry for any of this. You’re only worried what my father will do. You’re afraid he’ll pull whatever deal he cut with you when he finds out you didn’t keep up your end of the bargain.”

  God, how many times did she have to be used by men before she got it through her head? I’ve treated you badly, he’d said, delivered with such a solemn, regretful tone that she’d actually bought it.

  “That’s not true,” he said, but she caught the tinge of fear and desperation in his voice. He probably hadn’t figured her smart enough to catch on at all, let alone so quickly. “We don’t have any deal with your father.”

  He stepped toward her and reached out a hand, but she pushed away and rounded into the kitchen, putting the wide marble-topped bar between them. “Get out.”

  He had the gall to look astonished. “I’m serious. There’s no deal with Richard. I’m here because of you.”

  “Don’t insult my intell
igence. I’m a lot more practiced at this game than you are.”

  “I’m not playing any games. Look, I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression by mentioning Richard. I’m not here because of him. I’m trying to make peace with you.”

  “Why? To stay on good terms with my father?”

  He held up his hands and spoke to the ceiling. “No. I just said this wasn’t about your father. You’re the most exasperating woman I’ve ever met!”

  “Get out.” She felt a tear roll down her cheek. Brilliant. “Just get out.”

  His expression was aghast as he started for the door, but before he took a second step, he stopped and balled his fists. “No. I’m not going anywhere.” He turned and faced her. “You’re going to listen to me and I’m not leaving until we’ve straightened this out. This idiocy is going to end.”

  She choked back a sob. “Oh, now I’m an idiot.”

  He took two strides and cornered her against the counter. “I didn’t call you an idiot.”

  “No, but that’s what you presumed when you set this deal up.”

  “I didn’t set anything up, Brett did. And I told you there’s no deal.” A slow tide of redness began to creep from his collar up his neck. “And as far as presumptions, I had plenty. I thought you were spoiled, manipulative and lazy and I was wrong. I’ve owned up to that. I’m sorry. Jeez, how many times do I have to say it?”

  She tried to squirm away but he only stepped closer. “Just go. I don’t want you here.”

  “I’m not leaving us like this. You’ve got three more weeks here and I’m done tiptoeing around my own resort trying to avoid you. If we have to kill each other trying, we’re going to find a way to get along.”

  She shoved against his chest, but it was like trying to topple Stonehenge. The man was hovering over her, cloaking her thoughts with the sound of his breath and that fresh springlike scent of turf and lemons and sweat. It was enough to drive her crazy.

  “I’m sure there’s a couple of knives around here somewhere.”

  The redness above his collar crept higher, nearly reaching his chin. “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “Oh, first I’m an idiot, now I’m ridiculous.”

  He cursed under his breath. “I didn’t say that.”

  “Get out.” She shoved against his immovable form. “I’m done dealing with jerks like you. You come in and play all sweet and nice with that one-two-punch smile, but what’s underneath is always the same. The only thing you really want from me—”

  “Oh, for—” He grabbed her by the arms and covered her mouth with his, swallowing the rest of her sentence and swiping all thoughts from her head.

  She had a passing whim to attempt a struggle, but lost it as soon as his hard, sexy body trapped her against the counter. The demanding clasp of his mouth, the possessive grip of his hands, the warm mass of his chest, it was all too good to turn away.

  With the force of a brute, he parted his lips and shoved his tongue toward hers, and in all the defense of milquetoast, she opened her mouth to accept it. The taste of him caressed her senses, a hint of peppermint against that outdoorsy scent that seemed to seep from his pores. She stole a breath and drank it in, taking it like a stiff shot of whiskey to soothe the ache of her horrible day.

  Talented hands went to work holding her close and seducing her will. The light brush of a thumb across her cheek, the tight squeeze of a hand against her waist, they slipped around her body in tender exploration, pouring heat through her veins where it circled around and pooled between her legs.

  “That’s better,” he whispered before claiming her mouth again.

  Through the mist her head kept screaming at her to slap him silly and push him off, but her body wouldn’t obey, taking instead what it desperately needed. Not apologies. Not arguments and accusations. Only this commanding, sexy man holding her safe while those barraging lips plundered the hurt from her chest.

  She sank against him, taking part in the sensual feast by sliding her hands under his suit jacket and up his back. A long, luxurious moan hummed up his throat, hitting a chord she felt all the way to the tips of her fingers. Her body grew heavy with desire, blood rushing to all her sensitive places and thrumming a beat in her ears. It was like stepping into a warm soothing spa, the heat of his embrace washing over her, smoothing the rough edges and draining away the stress of the day.

  In his arms, she lost her grip on time and space. Memories of what they’d been fighting about slipped out of sight, taking a backseat to the glory of those lips and the steamy caress of those hands.

  And just as she settled in to enjoy a long and sumptuous soak, a sharp rap at the door halted the momentum. “Room service.”

  7

  “DON’T ANSWER THAT,” Rachel urged. She pulled Marc’s mouth back to hers and resumed the only good thing that had happened to her all day. Longer, if she stopped to think about it.

  “I have to. He won’t go away,” Marc said, though he stayed for another kiss nonetheless.

  He caressed his hands up her waist, stealing her breath and pushing her blood from a low simmer into a hot sizzling boil. She couldn’t remember a time when a simple kiss brought so much pleasure. It left her aching to find out what he could do if given full reign over her body.

  She clutched her hands to his jacket and held on tight, fearing she might never find out if he stepped away and tended to the man at the door.

  “Let it go. He’ll leave,” she urged, pressing her lips along his jaw to remind him how much fun they were having, just the two of them. She made her way along the rough peppering of his day-long beard, stopping when she reached his ear to whisper exactly what awaited him if he’d forget about the door and go to her bedroom instead.

  His knees buckled and he groaned.

  “Come on,” she said. “I’m just beginning to like you. Don’t ruin it all now.”

  He smiled and playfully kissed the tip of her nose. “I don’t intend to, but he’s not going away. Trust me. I’m the one who made the rules.”

  Marc left her and her body mourned, chilled from the loss of warmth. She gripped the counter for support while he straightened his tie and checked himself over.

  “I’ll get rid of him,” he said, stepping quickly to the door where he flung it open and greeted the server with a bright smile.

  “Mr. Strauss,” the man said in obvious surprise.

  “Armand, good to see you.” Marc stood aside and let Armand roll the cart into the suite, and it was only then that Rachel realized she should stand straight and stop looking like a woman who’d just been ravaged by a dark and steely sex god.

  “It seems as if I’ve come at a bad time,” Marc said to Rachel, pasting a casual smile on his face. “I don’t want to spoil your dinner. We can go over this paperwork another time, if you’d like.”

  He winked covertly and she tried hard not to swoon. If the man wasn’t enticing enough when ravaging her body, he was even more delicious when lying through his teeth to protect their privacy.

  “It’s just a salad. It’ll keep,” she said. She pulled the covered plate from the cart and took it to the refrigerator. “I’d just as soon get it taken care of.”

  Marc pulled out his wallet and handed Armand a tip.

  “Oh, that’s not necessary, sir,” Armand said, but Marc shoved it in his hand.

  “Don’t be silly. I’m keeping Ms. Winston from her dinner. The least I can do is cover her tip.”

  Armand nodded and smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

  And with quick strides, Marc led him out. Finally alone again, he leaned against the door and let out a long sigh. Rachel quickly rounded the bar toward him, intent on getting back to where they’d left off, but before she could, she caught him swallowing hard and running a shaky hand through his hair.

  She stopped in her tracks and shook her head. “Oh, no, you’re not going to do this to me.”

  He looked up. “Do what?”

  “Don’t even think about having second th
oughts. I know that look on your face and I’ll tell you right now, don’t even try it. I’m not in the mood to hear what a mistake that kiss was and how wrong this is and all your regrets and apologies.” She clenched her fists and braced herself for what was surely the next blow. Hope followed by rejection—the story of her life. Happiness torn apart by her situation, who her parents were, and all the stupid mistakes she’d made. She was sick of it, officially at the end of one long and knotted rope.

  But instead of apologies, Marc reached out and pulled her into his arms.

  He cupped her face in his hands. “This is wrong,” he admitted.

  She opened her mouth but he shut it with a quick kiss. “Given the circumstances,” he went on, “this is a very bad idea and not entirely ethical.” He kissed her again, longer, slower this time. And when he was done, he circled his arms around her. “Which only goes to show how badly I want you.”

  He slipped his hands down to her ass and squeezed, enveloping her once again in that warm heavenly embrace she’d wanted so badly. “What do you say we take this to the bedroom,” he suggested, a sultry look of promise darkening those steel-gray eyes. Rachel didn’t argue. If ever a day needed to end on a high note, this was it. And she couldn’t think of a higher note than a big satisfying orgasm thanks to this hot and handsome stud.

  “Let’s go.”

  MARC PULLED OFF HIS TIE and unbuttoned his cuffs as he followed Rachel into the bedroom, his eyes never leaving the tight, sexy ass he’d just had his hands on.

  He knew this would happen if he let himself get too close. He knew that dousing the fire of bitterness between them would only ignite a hotter one of desire. He also knew this could land both of them in a load of trouble if word of an affair leaked to the press, and worse, to the court.

  A conflict of interest was obvious, threatening to negate all the work Rachel had done and put the resort under a mountain of speculation. But the tension between them had become too hot to ignore. The moment he’d placed his mouth on hers he knew he’d never be satisfied until he’d taken the whole package.

 

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