by Nan Comargue
Mallory started to frown. The purple lilacs—they meant first love. But surely Enid’s date from the previous night hadn't meant to send those, did he? Or more likely he simply didn’t know what the flowers meant.
With tender care, Enid perched the vase on the end of Mallory’s desk, off center and at a jaunty angle, just as her boss had taught her.
“They’re for you,” she told Mallory, plucking the card from amidst the green stems before the older woman could react. “I wonder who they’re from, you lucky girl.”
Mallory was still staring at the flowers. They were so many blossoms, not ones she normally saw together either. The arrangement suggested a careful hand and a deliberate mind behind them. And she was beginning to see the message in every perfect bloom.
But what were the drooping golden chains of flowers? She knew them. The name was on the tip of her tongue.
Enid was unashamedly reading the card. “Who is Jamie?”
Was it acacia? Those were yellow and grew on long chains. Acacia signified…what? Oh yes, secret love.
That fit.
“Give me that,” Mallory said sharply, pinching the card out from between the younger woman’s fingers. She wanted to tear it up but that would only make Enid ask more questions and she didn’t want to even answer her first one.
Who was Jamie to her?
The tiny card scored with dashing handwriting didn’t supply an answer. All it said were two words and a time. How incredibly high-handed!
When Mallory looked up, she saw her assistant staring at her with an odd smile on her face.
“It’s nothing,” she said quickly to quell the girl.
“Yeah right,” Enid scoffed. “That vase alone must have cost a thousand dollars. I think I saw it in a jewelry store. One of the really good shops.”
Mallory had already figured out that. Reaching out, she touched a finger to the deceptively simple lines of the vase, cut in precise angles that made for an expensive beauty. Just like the sender.
Ignoring her silence, Enid leaned a hip against the desk. “So you’re meeting him for dinner? Eight o’clock, the note said. What are you going to wear?”
A brief wave of panic flowed over her before she remembered that she wasn’t going, so it hardly mattered that her closet didn’t boast anything grand enough for the great James Reynolds.
“Okay, okay,” Enid finally said, putting her hands up in the air, “I get the picture. Private stuff. I’ll leave you alone then. But I expect some details tomorrow.”
Mallory had to smile as the girl left her office. Often these days, it was Enid’s relentless chatter and unsinkable attitude that kept her going during the long, dull days when they were waiting for work to come in.
She fingered the nearest yellow blossom. The delivery was likely to be the only bright spot in her week. Especially since she had no intention of repeating her mistakes of the previous night and taking Jamie up on his offer.
Or did she owe him that chance to punish her more?
It was hard to decide what she owed him.
Plucking off the yellow flower, Mallory examined it closely. She recognized it now. Not acacia but laburnum. Meaning forsaken.
* * * * *
It was the same scene as the previous night. The unexpected knock. The tall blond man filling the doorway. The sense of being crushed to dust by a single blue-eyed stare.
Except tonight she was stone-cold sober.
Mallory used her body as a barrier between the hallway and her apartment.
“What are you doing here, Jamie?”
Even in her heels she had to look way up to meet his gaze.
His lips quirked into a half-smile. “I’m playing the mountain tonight.”
She guessed that that made her Mohamet.
“Are you going to let me in?”
She didn’t want to yet she stepped aside and let him walk past, ogling the way his butt looked in those well-fitting jeans.
Last night he’d been formal in a suit but tonight he was very casual in jeans and a pullover that showed his strong, tanned throat. She could almost taste that warm smooth skin…
“Why don’t you change?” Jamie’s firm tone just barely turned the order into a suggestion.
Mallory was still wearing her work clothes. Perhaps already suspecting that he meant to turn up at her apartment—he hadn’t specified a venue for their dinner in his card—she’d opted to stay dressed. It was another—albeit futile—barrier between them.
“I prefer to wear this.”
He arched a blond brow at her. “Why?” In an instant, he caught hold of her elbow and steered her down the corridor toward her lonely bedroom. “I’ll find you something else.”
Mallory had never imagined that a dinner date would start with her companion flipping through hangers in her closet and picking his way through her dresser drawers in search of an appropriate outfit for her wear. Yet when Jamie was done throwing garments onto the bed where she now sat she couldn’t find fault with his taste.
The little suede skirt was a shade too youthful perhaps for someone her age. She hadn’t worn it in years. Paired with the simple sheer black blouse that was in style now, it looked cool without being overly trendy.
He’d even chosen underwear—a skimpy pair of black lace panties. But the rest of the set was missing.
“I’ll need a bra with that.”
Jamie’s head was still buried in her closet as he searched through her shoeboxes. “No you don’t.” He spoke absently over his shoulder. “We’re dining privately tonight.”
She looked again at the sheer blouse and knew what he was picturing in his mind. Her unencumbered breasts, barely draped by the transparent material, all but naked to him.
“Jamie—”
He turned with a pair of suede booties in his hand. They matched the skirt perfectly. Yet Mallory couldn’t even remember owning those particular shoes.
Jamie walked up close to her. “Don’t argue.” He handed her the booties. “Or I’ll have to dress you myself.”
What was that strange pang she felt when he left the bedroom? Regret? Did she want him to dress her? Or was she really looking forward to him undressing her?
Knowing that he would make good on his threat, Mallory quickly changed out of her suit and into the clothes he’d chosen.
Avoiding the mirror, she ran her fingers through her hair and smacked her lips together. She couldn’t stomach the thought of staring at herself in the see-through top, her breasts too small to tantalize anyone—especially a hot younger heartthrob like James Reynolds.
She almost changed back into her staid work clothes but then she remembered the challenge Jamie had given her—and the threat.
Don’t argue or I’ll dress you myself.
Her entire frame shuddered at the idea of his hands on her.
Jamie’s voice came suddenly from the other side of the bedroom door. “Come out of there or I’m coming in.”
Drawing a long breath, Mallory stepped out into the hallway.
No one was there.
Already he’d retreated back to the living room, where she found him standing before her smart glass bookcase. His back was to her.
She should say something. His name. How much she wanted him. Instead she couldn’t even manage a polite clearing of her throat to attract his attention.
He turned and saw her. Now it was his turn to suck in his breath.
He closed the distance between them in a couple of long-legged strides, coming to look down at her. Except for the tease of the sheer black material just grazing her nipples, her torso was completely bare to his eyes.
Mallory stopped breathing when she saw him lift his hand. But he didn’t touch her breasts as she’d expected. His hands halted at her waist, spanning the slender width with strong fingers.
He lowered his forehead to hers. “God, Mal!”
Her nipples were already puckered and hard, hungry for his touch. She lifted her face, unconsciously seeking his kiss. When he
responded with the hard pressure of his mouth against hers, all of the tension within her was released in a spiraling surge.
This was what she wanted. What she’d always wanted. This man’s hot lips crushing her softer ones. His powerful body pressed against hers.
She pushed her breasts up against his chest, savoring the delicious friction. With only the transparent black material covering them, her breasts were sensitive to the sweet abrasion of his knitted pullover. She wanted to rub her nipples against his naked pectorals. She wanted to feel him all over.
Jamie rocked his mouth over hers before thrusting his tongue deep inside. Mallory instinctively suckled the protrusion, feeling the tip of his tongue reach the back wall of her mouth.
Jamie groaned—she could feel the vibration all through her—and tightened his arms around her. Instead of hugging him back, Mallory slipped her hands under his sweater. His skin was hot. Everywhere she touched jerked beneath her caresses. He groaned again, this time a sound of implicit approval, as she traced his rib cage, the muscled span of his abdomen, the sharply defined curves of his pecs.
Where before he’d been smooth, his chest was now lightly furred beneath her fingertips. Reaching upward, she passed her nails over his nipples. He responded by pushing his hips against hers. She could feel his erection through his jeans. His cock wasn’t pulling away or saying “not yet”. It knew what it wanted.
So did she.
Pushing him back, he had no choice but to sit down hard on the couch. Mallory followed, climbing over his thighs to straddle him. When she sat down, pressing her mound against his covered shaft, she heard him groan again.
A short bit of grappling with the denim brought his cock springing forth, thick and hot and rigid with restraint. She fluttered her fingers around it before grasping it firmly in one hand. The visual contrast between his big dick and her small hand made her shudder.
She pulled up her already rucked-up skirt to mount him better. There was still far too much material between them.
“Not like this,” Jamie grated out, holding her hips as she started to grind against him.
Mallory wound her arms around his neck. “Yes,” she whispered, feeling her power over this man surge through her. “Just like this.”
The sight of her barely covered nipples seemed to finally be too much for Jamie and with a muttered curse he lowered his head to capture one in the wet heat of his mouth, drawing on it hungrily until Mallory cried out.
Freed from his restraining grasp, she rolled her pelvis over his staff. Soon she had a rhythm going, one that ground his hardness right against her aching clit. Dampness seeped into her flimsy panties. But still it wasn’t enough.
She wanted more. She wanted all of him.
Jamie switched to her other breast, giving the taut nipple the same care and attention. Every pull of his mouth seemed to go right through her body, straight to her clit, which was vibrating to his steady pulse.
She needed his dick.
Leaning forward, she whispered in his ear, “I want to ride your cock until you collapse.”
Every muscle in his body went suddenly rigid, as if turned to stone. And his eyes. His eyes were so cold, like black ice.
He moved his hand to his open fly and quickly refastened it.
When he spoke, it was from between clenched teeth. “I said, not like this.”
Then he tumbled her out of his lap and onto the couch before rising to his feet, brushing off his clothes as if she’d contaminated him.
Mallory blinked up at him. “Jamie—?”
He walked over to her front closet, returning a few seconds later with a slim-fitting black trench coat.
“Put this on.”
Silently, she obeyed, covering the provocative blouse with the more prosaic garment. Now only he knew how she looked beneath the coat. A secret shared between them.
Her fingers trembled so much while she tried to lock the front door that Jamie had to take the keys and perform the simple task for her.
His profile as he did was cold, clear and austere. She hungered to touch him, to trace that firm jaw with her fingertips, to brush the tumbled blond strands from his brow.
Instead she merely wrapped the coat tighter around her middle and followed him down the hallway, her heels clattering to make a deceptively cheerful noise.
She told herself that it didn’t matter that he hadn’t wanted to have sex. Twice. But it did. His rejection stung.
Maybe this was the way he’d chosen to punish her. To take her to the brink of wanting him and then reject her time and time again.
It was the most diabolically clever torture he could have devised. She wanted him more than she’d ever wanted any man. While his attention was focused on her, he made her feel like the most sexy and desirable woman on the planet. But when he turned away from her he made her want to die.
That wasn’t just lust. She’d known it ever since that first day he’d shown up at her apartment.
God help her, that was love.
Chapter Four
By private dining, Mallory had assumed Jamie meant a tiny room in an upscale restaurant. Instead, he drove her back to his home.
His house was set in a quiet oasis in the middle of the city, not far from where Mallory had once lived with Paul.
However, Jamie’s home was on a very different scale from her old one. The narrow, leafy street gave way to long, winding driveways and glimpses of grand structures tucked away behind superbly manicured lawns. His was one of the largest, a faux Grecian mansion locked away behind high, electronically controlled gates.
It was beautiful and awe-inspiring, just like its owner.
The foyer was big enough to fit Mallory’s entire apartment. The ceilings soared. The floors gleamed. And the staff were discreet.
A man dressed in formal clothes, who had opened the doors without a hesitation as soon as the car pulled up in front of it, now drifted forward to murmur, “May I take your coat, madam?”
Mallory sensed rather than saw the slight smile that hovered on Jamie’s hard lips.
“She’ll keep it on.” He answered for her. “That is until I say otherwise.”
The man nodded sagely, as if this was a perfectly normal statement. “Very good, sir.”
Jamie held out a hand to her. “Come this way.”
His hand was strong and capable. If she could hold it forever, she would be happy.
Lord, she had to get control of her thoughts. Forever wasn’t on the menu for tonight. Tonight was all about payback for the past. For her sins.
But she was paying already. For her sins she’d fallen in love with her victim.
She knew very well that he would never end up with a woman who was ten years his senior and a miserable failure on top of it.
Lost in her thoughts, she barely noticed the room they’d entered until Jamie drew to a stop.
It was a fairytale room. The floors were polished white marble and the walls were papered in gold and white. Even the curved wood furniture was painted or gilded, including the huge bed with its diaphanous draperies fluttering about it. None of the furnishings looked solid enough to hold a human form. A fairy perhaps.
But the most stunning of all was the view. The many large windows encircling three sides of the room looked out upon leafy treetops and distant glass towers, so beautifully lit beneath the darkening sky that they resembled another world altogether. The windows were screened by gauzy curtains that caught every passing breeze, making the draperies constantly flutter and dance and giving the room some necessary privacy.
In the middle of the floor, a small table had been set for two with tall candlesticks and silver plates.
Jamie stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. “Do you like it?”
It lacked all the style she would have put into a room she was hired to design yet it was beautiful and classic.
“It’s lovely!” Her appreciation must have been obvious in her enraptured tone.
He slipped t
he trench coat off her and it was only then that Mallory remembered her unusual outfit.
The cool, light breezes puckered her nipples. She must have truly stepped into another world because she didn’t even mind. She wanted to share her body with him—and only him. If it brought him pleasure to see her like this—well, it brought her pleasure too.
Jamie pulled the chair for her and as soon as she was seated began pouring out champagne.
She had to give him credit. When he sat down to the table opposite her, his eyes barely touched on her exposed breasts. They met hers instead and the hard glitter in them made her shudder strongly.
He lifted his glass and she followed suit.
“To us, Mal.” His mouth held an odd twist. “To doing everything that we never got to do before.”
The toast gave her a chill but she drank anyway. The bubbly liquid hit her nostrils with a sharp stinging sensation. Drinking deeply, she emptied the glass and held it out for a refill.
If she were to survive this new darker Jamie, she would need all the help she could get.
As she worked swiftly on her second glass, she heard a small ding. Jamie rose and went to a corner of the room, lifted a shuttered panel and extracted a silver tray.
As he walked back, Mallory could see that the tray was laden with gourmet delicacies she hadn’t tasted in years. Tender poached shrimp. Blinis dolloped with sour cream and generous spoonfuls of black caviar. Golden puffed vol-au-vent pastries.
After spending days with her stomach tied in knots, she was ravenously hungry and had demolished a good portion of the food before she realized that her companion hadn’t joined her.
She looked up. Jamie had leaned back in his chair, his champagne flute resting idly between his fingers, watching her.
Heat flushed her cheeks.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked.
“I will. Later.”
It was strange how he managed to infuse such a wealth of meaning into those three simple words.
Her appetite was satiated with what she’d already eaten, not that she could have swallowed another morsel under those watchful eyes.
“Would you like to see the view?”
Mallory thought she’d already done so but she silently accepted his invitation by putting her hand into the one he held out to her. Together they walked to the back of the room, where he pushed the curtain impatiently aside to reveal a shallow balcony.
