by Leanne Banks
He shook his head. “My housekeeper took care of it. You act as if you’ve never seen my house before.”
She bit her lip and gave a half smile. “I guess I was a little distracted the last time I was here.”
Her grudging confession sent a sharp twist of challenge through him. She had been honey in his hands and he would seduce her to the same softness again. But she was still tense, so he would need to take it slow. “You mentioned something about a hot fudge sundae. Would you like a steak first?”
Her eyes widened and she sniffed the air. “I thought I smelled something cooking. How did you manage that so quickly?”
He shrugged. “Just like I said: A simple call to my housekeeper. Would you like to dine by the fire?”
“That would be lovely,” she said.
He nodded. “Let me take your coat.”
She met his gaze and slowly removed her coat, her eyes full of reservation over the loss of even one article of clothing. She glanced away and brushed her hands together as she moved toward the fire.
“I’ll change clothes and be back down in a minute. Make yourself comfortable.”
Two glasses of champagne, filet and baked potato later, Bella felt herself loosen up slightly. She was still tense, still wondered how their arrangement was going to work.
“So, tell me your life story,” he said with a slight upturn of his mouth that was incredibly seductive.
“You know my aunt’s situation,” she said, taking a sip of water.
“What about your parents?”
“Never knew my father, although I’m told he and my mother were briefly married after a Vegas wedding,” she said. “My mother left me with Aunt Charlotte when I was two.” Rationally, she knew she was lucky she’d been given to Charlotte. Deep inside though, every once in a while, she wondered why she hadn’t been enough for her mother to want to keep her and for her father to at least want to know her.
“So your aunt raised you,” he said. “That’s why you’re so devoted to her. You glossed over that the night we were together.”
She nodded. “It requires an extended explanation. My Aunt Charlotte has always been there for me whenever I needed her. My mother wasn’t cut out for mothering. She moved out to California and sent money to Charlotte every now and then. She came to visit me twice—once when I was six and the last time when I was twelve.”
“Do you talk to her now?”
“She died a couple years ago.”
“We have that in common,” he said. “My father was killed when my brothers and I were very young.”
“You told me that. I think that was part of what made me feel at ease with you. You mentioned something about one of your brothers dying with him, but you didn’t say who had raised the rest of you.”
“Foster care for all of us. Separate homes.”
She winced. “That had to have been difficult.”
“It could have been worse,” he said with a shrug. “Each of us turned out successfully. In my case, I spent my teenage years in a group home and was lucky enough to have a mentor.”
“Do you see your brothers now?”
“Sometimes. Not on a regular basis. We’re all busy.”
“Hmm. You need a tradition.”
“Why is that?”
“A tradition forces you to get together. My aunt does this with my cousins and relatives at least twice a year. Once at Christmas, then during the summer for barbecue and games weekend.”
“Does shooting pool count?”
“It can. Good food helps.”
“Oh yeah? Junk food works for us. Buffalo wings, pizza. Maybe with both my brothers married, the women will try to civilize us.”
“Maybe so,” she said. “I hear marriage can do that sometimes with men.”
“I guess I’ll always be uncivilized, then because I don’t plan to ever get married.”
His flat statement comforted her in a bizarre way. After her breakup with Stephen, she couldn’t imagine giving another man her heart, if she even had a heart to give. She lifted her glass and met his gaze. “That makes two of us.”
Four
M ichael held her gaze for a long moment then pulled her toward him. “I’ve been watching your mouth all night,” he said and lowered his lips to hers.
An unexpected sigh eased out of her. His mouth was warm, firm yet soft and addictive. She wanted to taste him, taste all of him. He fascinated her with his confidence, power and intuitiveness.
She lifted her hands to run her fingers through his wavy hair. A half breath later, he pulled her into his lap and devoured her mouth. The chemistry between them was taut and combustible. Every time he slid his tongue over hers, she felt something inside her twist tighter.
He slid his hands to her shoulders then lower to her breasts. Her nipples stood against her shirt, taut and needy. He rubbed them with his thumbs, drawing them into tight orbs. She felt a corresponding twist in her nether regions.
“You feel so good,” he muttered against her mouth. “I have to have you again.”
His voice rumbled through her, making her heart pound. He slanted his mouth against hers, taking her more fully. She craved the sensation of his mouth and tongue. His need salved a hollow place deep inside her.
She felt his hands move to the center of her white shirt. A tugging sensation followed and cool air flowed over her bare chest. His lips still holding hers, he dipped his thumbs into the cups of her bra, touching her nipples.
She gasped at the sensation.
“Good?” he murmured. “Do you want more? I can give it to you.”
She felt herself grow liquid beneath his caresses. Each stroke of his thumb made her more restless. He skimmed one of his hands down the side of her waist then to the front of her skirt.
“It’s a damn shame you’re wearing tights,” he said.
A shiver raced through her at his sexy complaint.
“I think it’s time for us to go to my room,” he said.
Suddenly, as if the room turned upside down, it hit her that this would be the beginning of the deal. She froze. He stood and pulled her to her feet.
She stared at him, struck with the awful feeling of being at his mercy. Unable to keep herself from breathing hard, she closed her eyes and told herself it would be okay. It was just sex. Since she’d lost the man she really loved, it would only ever be…sex.
“Bella,” he said, his hand cupping her chin. “Look at me.”
She swallowed hard over her conflicting emotions and opened her eyes, catching his gaze for several heart-twisting beats.
He gave a sigh and a grimace then slid his hand down to capture hers. “You’ve had a busy day, haven’t you?”
“Yes, I have.”
He nodded. “You should get some rest,” he said and led her out of the den.
“Where—”
“I have a room for you,” he said. “Let the housekeeper know if you need anything. Her name is Trena.”
“But I thought,” she said, confused by the change of plans.
He stopped in front of a door and looked down at her. “I’ve never had to force a woman. I’m not about to start now.”
She bit her upper lip with her bottom teeth. “This is new for me. I haven’t done anything like this before.”
“Neither have I,” he said and lifted his eyebrow in a combination of amusement and irony. “Don’t count on me being patient for long. No one has ever accused me of letting the grass grow under my feet. I’ll send Trena in to check on you in a few minutes. Good night.”
Bella put her face in her hands after he closed the door. Shocked, she shook her head and glanced around the bedroom. Furnished in sea-blues and greens, the soft tones of the room immediately took her anxiety down several notches. Flanked by windows covered with airy curtains, a large comfortable-looking bed beckoned from the opposite wall. A large painting of an ocean scene hung above the bed, making her wonder if Michael enjoyed the sea as much as she did.
Th
e bed stand held a collection of books, a small seashell lamp and a tray for a late-night snack. A long cherry bureau with a small padded chair occupied another. The room had clearly been furnished with comfort in mind.
She walked into the connecting bath and almost drooled. Marble double sinks, a large Jacuzzi tub, shower that would easily accommodate two and flowering plants. Much nicer than her one-bedroom apartment.
Don’t get used to it, she warned herself.
A knock sounded on the door and Bella opened it to a competent-looking woman dressed in black slacks and a white shirt. “Miss St. Clair. I’m Trena, one of Mr. Medici’s staff. Welcome. Please tell me what I can do to make your stay more comfortable.”
Bella glanced around. “I can’t think of anything. The room is wonderful.”
Trena nodded. “Good. There’s water, wine, beer and soda in the mini bar along with some snacks. There’s a fresh bathrobe hanging in the closet and toiletries in the bathroom.”
“Thank you. Oh, I just realized I don’t have pajamas,” Bella said. She hadn’t been sure whether she would be staying the night or not. “Perhaps a T-shirt?”
“No problem.”
“Again, thank you. I’ll just go get my change of clothing from my car.”
“If you’ll give me the keys, I can do that for you,” Trena offered.
“Oh, no,” she protested. “I can do that myself.”
Trena looked offended. “Please allow me. Mr. Medici emphasized that he wants you to relax. It’s my job and I take pride in doing a good job.”
She blinked at the woman’s firm tone. “Okay, thank you.”
“My pleasure. I’ll be back in just a moment.”
Wow, Bella thought. The woman brought service to a new level. She shouldn’t be surprised. Michael Medici would employ only the best and probably paid very well. Stifling a nervous chuckle, she envisioned Trena shaking her finger at her and saying, “You must relax.”
Just moments later, Trena returned with Bella’s tote bag of clothes she always kept in the back of her car in case she wanted to change before or after work at the restaurant. She also brought her a soft extra-large T-shirt. Staring at a painting of a pink shell on the wall, she wondered about Michael.
What kind of man would make a deal to bail out her aunt in exchange for an affair with her?
Who was she to cast stones? After all, what kind of woman would accept his offer?
She thought it would take forever to fall asleep so she picked up a book on the nightstand, a thriller. Seven hours later, she awakened to the smell of fresh-brewed coffee with the thriller on her chest.
Shaking her head, she quickly realized she wasn’t in her own bed. Her sheets weren’t this soft, her mattress not so…perfect. Scrambling out of bed, she pulled on her clothes and splashed water on her face and brushed her teeth and hair. And added lip gloss.
Calm, calm, she told herself and walked into the kitchen.
A bald, black man standing next to the coffeemaker looked up at her. “Miss St. Clair?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
His mouth stretched into a wide grin of reassurance. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Sam. Mr. Medici instructed me to fix your breakfast. Would you like a cappuccino?”
“It’s nice to meet you, too, Sam. There’s no need for you to fix my breakfast.”
Sam’s smile fell. “My instructions are to feed you a good breakfast. I wish to do as he instructed.”
Geez, Michael sure had his staff trained. “I’m not really hungry….”
“But a cappuccino? Latte?”
She sighed, not entirely comfortable with others serving her to such a degree. “Latte, thank you. Where is Mr. Medici?”
Sam chuckled. “Long gone. That man rises before the sun. Very rarely does he sleep late. He left a note for you,” he said and held out an envelope. “Would you like oatmeal pancakes? I make very good pancakes.”
She smiled at his gentle, persuasive tone. “Sold.” She opened the envelope and read the handwritten three-line note. Bring your aunt to my office at 9:00 a.m. for a planning meeting tomorrow morning. Enjoy Sam’s pancakes. Looking forward to our next night together. Michael.
Her heart rose to her throat. He was sticking to his part. She would need to meet her end of the deal, too. Pancakes? How could she possibly?
“I have pure maple syrup, too,” Sam said.
Bella took a deep breath and sighed. What the hell. “Why not.”
One day later, she took her aunt to meet Michael. Still bracing herself for the possibility that Michael would back out, she just told Charlotte that they were meeting someone for a special business consultation. Although Charlotte pounded her with questions, Bella remained vague.
“I wish you would tell me what this is about,” Charlotte said, adjusting her vivid pink suit as the elevator climbed to the floor of MM, Inc.
“You’ll know soon enough,” Bella said, adjusting her own black jacket. The elevator dinged their arrival and Bella led the way to Michael’s office.
“How do you know this man?”
“I met him through my job,” Bella said.
“At a bar?” Charlotte asked.
“He’s the owner,” Bella explained then pushed open the door to the office. She lifted her lips into a smile for Michael’s assistant. “Hi. Bella St. Clair and Charlotte Ambrose to see Mr. Medici.”
His assistant nodded. “He’s expecting you.” She announced their arrival and waved toward his office door. “Please, go ahead in.”
Charlotte cast Bella a suspicious glance. “What have you gotten me into?”
“It’s good,” Bella promised as they walked toward the door and she pushed it open. “But I think it would be better for Mr. Medici to talk about it.”
Michael rose to meet them. “Bella,” he said. “Ms. Ambrose. It’s good to meet you,” he said to Charlotte. “Bella has told me so much about you, but she didn’t tell me what a lovely woman you are.”
Charlotte accepted his handshake and slid a sideways glance at Bella. “Thank you. I wish I could say the same about her telling me about you.”
Michael gave a chuckle. “I’m sure she was just trying to protect you. Let’s sit down and talk about the business plan for your spa.”
Charlotte stopped cold. “Excuse me? I lost my spa business to the bank.”
Michael glanced at Bella and made a tsk-ing sound. “You really did keep her in the dark, didn’t you?”
Charlotte frowned. “I would appreciate an explanation.”
“The bank took over your business and I bought it. After discussions with Bella, I’ve made the decision to finance and codirect a relaunch of one Charlotte’s Signature Spa.”
Charlotte stared at him in amazement. “Codirect?” she echoed. “Relaunch?”
He nodded. “Yes. Let me show you the plan.”
Over the next hour, Bella watched her aunt’s demeanor change from doubt to hope and excitement. By the end of the meeting, Bella knew she had made the right choice in helping her. The illness and loss of her business had robbed Charlotte of her natural drive and optimism.
“I can’t tell you how grateful I am for this opportunity. Your backing means—” Charlotte glanced back and forth between Michael and Bella, her eyes filling with tears. “Oh, no. I’m going to embarrass myself. Please excuse me for a moment,” she said, standing. “Could you tell me where the powder room is?”
Concerned, Bella followed her aunt to her feet. “Charlotte?”
Michael also rose and Charlotte waved her hand. “No. You stay here. I just need a moment to compose myself.”
“The restroom is in the outer office,” Michael said and Charlotte left his office. “Is she okay?” he asked Bella.
Full of her own overwhelming emotion, Bella wrapped her arms around her waist and nodded. “She’s stunned. She’d lost all hope of rebuilding her business. I probably should have at least given her a hint, but I didn’t want her to be disappointed if—” She paused, me
eting his intent gaze. “If things didn’t work out.”
“Why wouldn’t they? I gave you my word, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did,” she said, and felt something inside her twist and knot at his expression. He would have her again. She felt it and knew it, just as he did.
“I’ll meet you at my house tonight,” he said, his voice low.
Awareness and anticipation rippled through Bella. “It will be late,” she said. “I have to work.”
Michael frowned in impatience. The door to his office burst open and Charlotte strode inside with a smile on her face and a new sparkle in her eye. “When do we start?”
Michael laughed. “Bella told me you were a fireball. She also indicated that you already have a job, so as soon as you give notice we can move ahead.”
“I don’t need to wait,” Charlotte argued. “I can work when my job is done for the day.”
He shook his head firmly. “I don’t want you to overdo.”
“But—”
“It’s not just bad for your health. It’s bad for business,” Michael said. “What we want to create is an environment of success that won’t put too much stress on Bella or you. We want to move at a reasonable pace, not lightning.”
“He’s right,” Bella said, admiring Michael’s approach with both her aunt and the business. “And since I’ll be working with you for at least this first year, I’ll be able to tell if you’re doing too much.”
Charlotte shook her head. “You worry too much about me. You’re young. You should be pursuing your own career goals. I’m fine.”
“I’m more than happy to do this with you,” Bella said. “It will be an adventure.”
“Yes,” Michael said. “An excellent way of looking at it. An adventure.”
By the expression in his eyes, however, Bella suspected he wasn’t talking about the spa.
That night after work, Bella tamped down her feelings of apprehension and got into her car to drive to Michael’s house. Using the rhythm of the windshield wipers as a cadence, she talked herself into calm confidence. Succeeding until the coughs and sputters of her ordinarily reliable Volkswagen jarred her out of it. “No, no, no,” she murmured. She pressed on the gas and her car stalled.
