by Leanne Banks
Michael relaxed in a way he couldn’t recall, feeling himself melt into the mattress. He drifted off….
Later, he awakened to the sound of the CD she’d played while she’d massaged his body. A light sheet covered him. Lifting his head, he glanced around and felt a tug of disappointment that she was gone. A bottle of water caught his eye. Sighing, he rose and grabbed it, spotting a note next to it.
Gone to check on Charlotte. Drink lots of water. Jacuzzi would be a good follow-up to the massage. Be back later.
More orders, he thought, lifting his eyebrows. Few women had tried to give him orders. Those who had hadn’t lasted long. At the moment, though, he couldn’t help feeling indulgent. Bella had taken him to a new level of relaxation. He would take them both to a new level of sexual pleasure.
He decided to follow her suggestion for a dip in the Jacuzzi. But first he should check his BlackBerry for messages. He picked up his phone from the nightstand, noting that she’d turned it off. Only he controlled his phone. He would warn her later.
Turning it on, he saw a text message from his private investigator and immediately called him.
“Sam Carson,” the man said his name. “Is this Mr. Medici?”
“Yes. You have news.”
“Yes, but you aren’t going to like it.”
Michael’s gut twisted. “What is it? Did you find his body?”
Carson sighed. “That would have been easier than what I have to tell you.”
Eight
M ichael’s house was dark when Bella let herself in just before nine o’clock. Normally she would have expected one of his staff to greet her, but this time all she heard was silence. Was he still asleep from the massage she’d given him?
Turning on a light, she walked through the hallway to the kitchen and glimpsed a flicker of light coming from the den. The gas fireplace provided the only light in the room. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust. She saw him sitting in a chair holding a squat glass half-full of liquid. Probably some kind of liquor that cost a hundred dollars an ounce.
She met his gaze and glimpsed a turbulence in his gaze. Something had happened since she’d left. “What’s wrong?” she asked, moving toward him.
“Nothing I want to discuss,” he said and took a sip of his drink. “Do you want anything to drink?”
She lifted her bottle of water. “I’m good.”
“Yes, you are,” he said, seduction glinting in his eyes.
Uncertain of his mood, she stopped a few steps before him. “Are you okay?”
“I am,” he said, but his words belied her instincts.
“You really should still be drinking water,” she said. “Did you get into the Jacuzzi?”
“No more orders today, Bella. And no, I didn’t get into the hot tub. Come here.”
She moved closer, still hesitant. He extended his hand and she accepted it. He pulled her into his lap, his gaze pinning hers. “Don’t ever, ever turn off my Blackberry without my permission.”
She blinked. “You missed an important call,” she said. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Kinda,” she added. “Kinda not. You needed to relax.”
“That’s not your decision to make.”
“Okay. I don’t suppose you want to tell me about the call,” she ventured.
“You supposed correctly.”
“But I can tell you’ve got something on your mind. Something is bothering you,” she said.
He set his glass on the table beside him and pulled her mouth to his. “Give me something else to think about.”
His mouth devoured hers while his hands slid over her, immediately making her hot. She sensed a dark desperation beneath the surface, but she wasn’t sure what it was. He distracted her from dwelling on it with the speed and intensity of his lovemaking. Before she knew it, her clothes had been discarded and so had his.
On the floor in front of the fireplace, he took her entire body with his hands and his mouth. His gaze holding hers with the firelight dancing over his skin, he thrust inside her.
Bella gasped at the feeling of possession. With each stroke, she felt utterly and completely consumed, falling under some kind of spell he cast over her. It couldn’t be love, she told herself. Love was gentle and sweet and this was nothing like that. This was compelling and powerful, but complicated. And temporary.
Temporary, she repeated to herself like a mantra. Temporary. But it was hard to convince herself of that when she’d never had a man make love to her with such power as Michael. Their arrangement had been about sex, but something else was happening between them.
The next morning, Bella awakened in Michael’s bed. As usual, he was gone. Exercising, she guessed and crept out of bed. She pulled on a robe from his closet and walked down the hallway to his small, well-equipped gym. The door was open and she spotted him on the elliptical, moving at a fast pace, his arms gleaming with perspiration. His gaze fixed forward, he looked as if he were racing against the devil. It occurred to her for all Michael’s ability to make ruthless business decisions and his tendency to avoid emotional interaction, he had his demons. The strangest, craziest desire to rid him of those demons sprang inside her.
Insane, she thought. As if she had the power to help him. As if he would even want her help.
Bella didn’t have time to dwell on her conflicted feelings for Michael. Her aunt’s spa opened, and she and her aunt were busy accommodating the surge of customers.
“You have to hire more people,” Bella said to Charlotte after the first week. “It’s part of your agreement with Michael.”
“I know, I know,” Charlotte said as she sank into a chair. “I just didn’t dream we’d get this kind of response. Michael was right about creating miniservices that give people a taste of luxury without spending too much.”
“And we’ve sold several discount packages for pedicures and massages,” Bella added, and gave Charlotte a glass of iced green tea. “So, when are you going to hire new staff?”
“I’ll talk to Michael to confirm. I don’t want to mess up this time,” she said. “I don’t want to overhire either.”
“But you also don’t want to overtire,” Bella said.
“Hear, hear,” a male voice said from the doorway. Fred, a man in his fifties who worked at the computer store down the street, popped in daily for a visit.
Charlotte perked up. “I thought the sign on the door said closed,” she teased.
“Not for your best customer,” Fred said with a twinkle in his eye.
“Customer,” Charlotte said. “You haven’t spent a dime on any services here. You just show up after work and drink my coffee and waste my time.”
Bella smiled at the dynamics between them. Charlotte might not admit it, but she clearly enjoyed Fred’s attention.
“Then how about if I change that?” he asked. “Can I take an overworked owner manager to dinner tonight in Buckhead?”
Charlotte blinked, clearly speechless. “Uh, well.” She cleared her throat. “That’s very nice of you, but I still have a lot of work to do. Go over the day’s bookkeeping and supplies.”
“I can do that,” Bella offered.
Charlotte glared at her. “Don’t you have plans with Michael?”
“No. He’s actually out of town,” she said. Michael had been out of town most of the week. She’d spent her nights feeling alternately full of relief and missing him. The latter had surprised her. After all, wasn’t their relationship just supposed to be physical?
“Well, I don’t know,” Charlotte said, still reluctant.
“I did have a question about a couple of the products we’re using. They’re in the supply closet,” Bella said then glanced at Fred. “Could you excuse us for a moment? We’ll be right back.”
Bella took her aunt’s hand and led her to the walk-in supply closet and closed the door. “Why won’t you go to dinner with him? It’s obvious that he likes you,” she whispered.
“I have too much work to do,” Charlotte protested. “
Plus, he didn’t give me any notice. Just wandered in here and assumed I’d be willing to go.” She ran her fingers through her hair nervously. Although her hair was still short, her aunt looked stylish and attractive. “It’s probably just a pity request.”
“Pity request,” Bella said with a snort. “Is that why he stops in here every afternoon and sometimes at lunch?”
“Maybe he just likes the free coffee and cookies,” Charlotte said.
“That’s why he wants to take you some place really nice,” Bella said, rolling her eyes. “Because he wants to pay you back for coffee and cookies.”
“Why are you pushing me?”
“Because I think you like him and maybe he would be good to you. You deserve to have someone who is good to you.”
Charlotte sighed. “I just don’t know. I’d given up on anything with a man.”
“Maybe you gave up too soon,” Bella said.
Charlotte tapped her fingernails on a shelf. “You really think I should go?”
“Yes!”
She frowned, studying Bella for a long moment. “How are you and Michael doing? You don’t say very much about him.”
“There’s not much to say. We’re getting to know each other.”
“Are you starting to get over Stephen?”
Bella felt her stomach clench and turned away. “I don’t—” She broke off. “It’s a different kind of relationship with Michael.”
“In what way?” her aunt said, digging for information.
Bella shrugged. “Michael is just for fun,” she said, nearly choking on the words as she said them. “Stephen and I were in love.”
“You’ve been the kettle calling the pot black,” her aunt said. “You’re telling me to open the door and give Fred a chance. When are you going to give Michael a chance?”
Never, she thought. Instead, she smiled and wagged her finger at her aunt. “We’re not going to turn this conversation on me. You need to freshen up and tell that man out there you’ll join him for dinner.”
Sitting in a penthouse suite in Chicago, Michael glanced at the invitation for the Valentine wine tasting at the exclusive historical Essex House and debated attending. It was mostly a social event, where Atlanta’s elite would try to show each other up. He didn’t give a damn about that, but The Essex House had recently courted him. He suspected they wanted him to invest and lend his name because their bottom line was sagging. The trouble was that he wouldn’t have complete control, he would only have a vote in the management of the House, and that didn’t appeal to him at all.
Still, turning The Essex House into a financial success was seductive, another challenge.
The word challenge brought Bella to mind. In fact, she’d been on his mind more often than ever lately. Yes, she knew how to burn up his bed, but she got under his skin in other ways. Those violet eyes of hers seemed to see right through him at times. He knew such a thing wasn’t possible, but that didn’t stop him from wondering….
He glanced at the invitation again and made a decision. He picked up his cell and dialed Bella.
“Hi. How’s the Windy City?” she asked, clearly reading her caller ID.
“Windy and cold,” he said. “What are you doing?”
“Some work for my aunt. She’s out to dinner with a man,” she said, the shocked delight in her voice making him smile.
“You sound surprised,” he said.
“She’s always been such a workaholic. She was married and divorced for a while before she took me in. She dated every now and then, but nothing serious and nothing in the last few years. A man who works down the street wanted to take her to Buckhead and she almost refused. I had to prod her to go out.” Bella laughed. “So she’s eating a gourmet meal and I’m eating gourmet jelly beans.”
“You could call my chef and have him bring you something,” he offered.
“That’s okay. I really don’t mind. How’s your work going?”
“Good,” he said. “I’ll be back in town tomorrow morning and need to attend an event tomorrow night. I’d like you to join me,” he said.
“What is it?”
The wariness in her voice irritated him. “The Valentine wine tasting at The Essex House.”
Silence followed.
“Bella,” he prompted.
“The Essex House? Isn’t the wine tasting one of those events that’s featured on television and in the newspaper?”
“Yes, and national magazines. It begins at seven. You can either get ready at my house earlier—”
“Whoa, I didn’t say I could go. For one thing, that’s making our relationship way too public. I told you I didn’t want that.”
“Why are you so concerned about that?”
“Because I don’t want to have to explain things after we’re finished,” she said.
His irritation tightened further. “It’s not that big a deal.”
“Maybe not to you. What am I supposed to say? That you and I had a sexual arrangement and now it’s over?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Our arrangement is for an affair. An affair includes other activities. If you’re that worried about what to say after we’re finished, just tell people you dumped me.”
Bella gave a short laugh. “Right,” she said. “As if anyone would believe that.”
“Why not?”
“Because women don’t usually dump handsome, rich bachelors.”
“You can be the exception,” he said. “If you’re not at my house by six, I’ll pick you up at your apartment at six-thirty. Enjoy your jelly—”
“Wait!”
“What?”
“I don’t have anything to wear,” she confessed in a low voice.
“Pick something out tomorrow. I’ll pay for it. I’ll send my driver over with my credit card.”
“I have to work tomorrow. Saturday is our busiest day.”
“Make good use of your lunch break then,” he said without budging an inch.
She gave a sigh. “You are so bossy. It would serve you right if I maxed out your card.”
He laughed. “Sweetheart, give it a try. You couldn’t do that in a year, let alone one day.”
After a busy morning at the spa, Bella headed straight for the shopping district. She was uncomfortable using Michael’s money for her clothing, but there was no way around it. She visited several high-end shops, but nothing felt right. Accepting his money to purchase her clothing just seemed to remind her how much she wished she could help her aunt on her own. On a whim, she went into a vintage shop and found a black, beaded, chiffon flapper-style dress she could pair with black boots and a silk scarf. The style was more funky luxe than strictly luxurious, but it suited her and didn’t cost the earth.
If Michael didn’t like it, then perhaps he wouldn’t take her out in public again, she thought deviously. She worked the rest of the afternoon and scooted out an hour early to get ready. She would never admit to the surge of excitement and anticipation sizzling inside her.
Ridiculous, she thought as she lined her eyes and applied red lipstick. The event would just be a group of stuffy society types. Her doorbell rang and her heart lurched. Michael’s driver. Grab scarf, purse and coat, she reminded herself. “Just a minute,” she called.
Collecting her things, she opened the door to Michael, drop-dead gorgeous in a tux. Her breath whooshed out of her lungs. “Oh, I didn’t expect you.”
He lifted his eyebrow. “Who, then?”
“The driver,” she said, feeling his gaze travel over her from head to toe.
“You—” He hesitated a second and his mouth lifted in a half grin. “Sparkle.”
Pleasure rushed through her. “Thank you. I didn’t do too much damage to your card.”
“I told you I wasn’t worried about it.” He glanced beyond her to her apartment. “This is where you live?”
“Yes,” she said, trying not to feel self-conscious. Her apartment probably could serve as a closet in the home. “It’s small, but cozy.”
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“It’s not the safest neighborhood,” he said.
“Neighbors here watch out for each other. I’m okay with it,” she said stiffly and stepped into the hallway.
“I wasn’t criticizing,” he said.
“Your house is much more luxurious, but I’m happy to have a little space of my own.”
“You say that as if you think I’ve always lived like I do now,” he chided, closing the space between them. “You know where I came from.”
“Looking at you in that tux, it’s easy to forget,” she said.
“Don’t,” he said. “One of the things I like about you is that you’re not overly impressed by my wealth.”
“So you like me disagreeable?” she asked. “Does this mean I should tell you I’ve decided not to attend the wine tasting?”
He took her hand in his. “Not a chance. Besides, I can tell you want to go.”
She gave a mock sniff. “I read about it in the newspaper. They are supposed to serve some good desserts, so that should make it worthwhile.”
Michael ushered her to his limo and the driver whisked them to The Essex House. The carefully tended mansion buzzed with activity. Crystal chandeliers lit the gleaming marble floors and antique furniture. The sound of a piano playing romantic standards in another room wafted through the house. With her fingers linked in Michael’s, she almost felt like this was a real date.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“It’s beautiful. It reminds me of a high-class woman from the 1800s. The place seems to have a personality of its own.”
“Excellent description,” he said. “Maintaining a high-class woman is expensive.”
Bella couldn’t help wondering if he felt the same way about his relationship with her. The notion threatened to sour her pleasure, so she quickly brushed it aside. “Good thing they continue to make enough money to do the job.”
