by Joan Hohl
“Ah, the famous Terrells’ Halloween masked ball, costumes required,” he said in a ridiculing drawl, “and bedrooms available for couples for…private conversation.”
That stopped Jen cold. “You’re kidding,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”
Marsh smiled in superiority. “No, innocent one, I assure you, I am not kidding.”
Jen wasn’t sure what she resented more—his haughty smile or him calling her “innocent one.” “But…”
“Have you been to the gala before?”
“Yes, I have, several times.” Jen raised her chin in defiance. “Why do you ask?”
His silver eyes suddenly looked dark and stormy. “I would have believed once would have been more than enough to turn you off the debauchery.”
Debauchery? At the Terrells’ party? She could believe it about the Terrells—she had seen them in action. Still, surely her old friends, who had also attended the gala for years, would have mentioned it. She was considering not attending the affair after all when Marsh decided the issue.
“I think you’d do better staying right here,” he said, not quite an order but close enough.
“Then you can think again,” she said, none too sweetly. “I’m going.”
And that’s when the cold front moved in.
They didn’t speak to each other for the rest of the night. The next morning, while clearing away the dishes after a silent breakfast, Jen felt as if she was about to scream. Why was he acting like this? What did he expect she would do over the weekend—have a mad, wild fling with some mysterious man at the party? Is that why he had felt compelled to inform her—no, warn her—about the availability of bedrooms at the Terrells’?
Jen was building up a head of angry steam merely thinking about his manner. Without a word, she started walking out of the kitchen toward her office.
“Jennifer.”
The snap in his tone stopped her cold. At the end of her patience, she whirled around to glare at him. “What?” Her tone had a decided bite.
“Go now,” he said. “If you work the day, you’ll have to drive to Dallas in the dark.”
As if she hadn’t known that, Jen thought. It was the end of October. Was he that eager to get her out of his sight? A pang zinged in her chest. Fine, she thought. I’ll give the man what he wants.
She changed course from her office to the stairway.
Marsh came after her, coming to a stop one step below her. “Jen, wait,” he said, his long fingers circling her wrist, his voice softening. “You are coming back, aren’t you?”
Slowly turning, she gave him an arch look. “Well, I was planning on doing so, but if you keep snarling at me, I’ll come back just to collect my stuff.”
“Was I snarling?” While Marsh spoke, he was gently tugging on her wrist, slowly drawing her closer to him. “I realize I might have been a bit brusque, but snarling?”
His distinctive scent, his sheer maleness sent shivers rushing up her spine. Her heart began to thump, her breathing catch in her throat.
“Marsh,” she managed to whisper when he raised her hand close to his face.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he murmured, lowering his head to touch his warm lips to her pounding pulse. “The last thing in this world I want to do is hurt you.”
Jen’s heartbeat seemed to stop altogether as his lips moved to the center of her palm. A warm sensation fluttered deep inside her. She had to get out of there, she thought, fighting an impulse to thread her fingers through his dark hair, lift his mouth to hers. If she didn’t go now, at once, she’d be melting all over him, curling her arms around him, begging him to take her to his bed.
No, no, no. The word rang through her mind as she backed up a step, pulling her hands away from the temptation of his mouth, his body.
“Marsh, I’m going.” Jen continued to back away, fighting her need for him every step of the way. To her relief—and also chagrin—he didn’t follow her. But his gaze, a blaze of silvery-blue desire, tracked her every move.
“Have a good visit with your parents and your friends, Jennifer.” His sensually soft voice stroked every nerve in her body. “And behave yourself.”
Behave herself? Jen was suddenly fuming again. The man could make her crazy in an instant—it was amazing. Fortunately she had reached the landing as she spun to glare down at him, her nerves jangling now for an altogether different reason.
“I am not a child, Mr. Grainger,” she said distinctly through gritted teeth. “And you will not speak to me as if I were. That is, if you would like me to come back.”
He offered not an apology, as she had expected, but a blatantly sexy smile. “Oh, you’ll come back, sweet Jen, because I know you want me as much as I want you.”
Oh, hell, Jen thought. She did want him, dammit, here, now, right on the stairs. Shocked by how weak she was, how weak and needy he could so easily make her, she spun around and strode down the hallway to her apartment.
“Yes, you may go,” he said, sounding more like a stern parent than an employer, never mind a lover.
“And you can go to hell, Marshall,” she called back at him, slamming the door shut behind her.
Jen grabbed the carry-on she had packed that morning and turned to take a quick look at herself in the mirror. She hardly recognized the person looking back at her, a woman whose face was flushed with anger, frustration and more desire than she knew what to do with.
It was a good thing she was leaving for the weekend.
Opening the door just enough to peek out, Jen sighed her relief that Marsh was gone and dashed down to the garage. Tossing her stuff into the trunk, she jumped into the driver’s seat and took off as though the devil himself was after her.
* * *
Why didn’t I even say goodbye to her?
The question nagged at Marsh long after Jen’s car had disappeared from view. Hell, it was less than an hour since she had driven away and already he was missing her. He was missing everything about her.
If he was honest with himself, Marsh knew damn well why he hadn’t carried her bag and walked her to her car like a gentleman. He was sulking like a spoiled kid because he hadn’t had his own way.
Still, he admired her for defying him. He admired her for everything she was—tough, unafraid and soft and sweet…at times.
This was the second time he’d managed to drive her away. What was he doing wrong? Marsh wasn’t used to getting things wrong with women. He was used to his words and actions always having the desired effect, and to getting exactly what he wanted. But with Jen, it was completely different. There was something about her, something about the way she saw him—she didn’t automatically do or say what he wanted. She thought for herself, and wasn’t instantly swayed by whatever charm he was laying on.
As annoying as that was, it was also hotter than hell.
The days they had spent together “courting” were some of the best of his entire life. Besides her ability to stand on her own two feet, what was it about her that had so captured his interest and imagination?
She intrigued him. She was more than any other woman he had ever met—he didn’t know how else to say it. And since Marsh couldn’t explain it to himself, he’d never consider even trying to explain his feelings to anyone else.
Especially not to her.
He wanted her, wanted her more than any other woman he had ever met. He wanted her until he ached with the wanting, ached in his body and mind. But it was about more than that. It wasn’t just the mind-blowing sex, it was…what?
It was nuts. That’s what it was. It was totally and completely nuts. But there it was. As badly as he wanted to be a father, to have an heir, he needed more. He wanted her—and only her—to be the mother of his children.
The realization shocked him. It wasn’t just that he wanted her to accept his business proposition so he could have what he wanted. It was that he wanted to build something with her, he wanted her by his side, he wanted her to be his partner i
n life.
He wanted…a life. With her. Period.
So what the hell was he supposed to do now?
* * *
At lunchtime, Jen stopped at a roadside pizza shop. Sitting in a booth at the window, she sipped iced tea as she glanced at the strip mall on the other side of the highway. Checking out the stores, her glance passed, then returned, to the second to last of them.
Holidays, Holidays, Holidays arched across the display window, which was decorated with everything Halloween.
Less than a half hour later, Jen parked the car in the lot close to the store. She was pleased to discover that the merchandise was of a much better quality than usually found in discount stores. After all, she couldn’t show up at the gala in a cheap costume—her mother wouldn’t hear of it.
“Need help?” a smiling woman asked from behind a cash register. “Or just browsing?”
Jen returned her smile. “I don’t think I need help, just directions to the costumes.”
The woman waved her arm. “They’re along the back wall. That’s what’s left of them.”
“Thanks,” Jen said. “I’ll have a look.”
The woman hadn’t been kidding—what was left on the wall was slim pickings. Still, one costume hanging near the end caught her eye at once.
“Perfect,” she murmured, coming to a halt in front of a gypsy-girl outfit. She touched the full black skirt shot through with golden thread. Velvet? Jen thought, surprised. Her hand moved from the skirt to the off-the-shoulder loose blouse. Silk? Amazing. The garment was a deep red, the neckline and long sleeves trimmed with a wide ruffle.
Carmen. The name jumped into her head along with an image of the outfit worn by the sultry soprano who had performed the role of the lusty Carmen when Jen had attended the opera at the Met the last time she had visited New York City.
She called out to the clerk to join her at the back.
“Find something, did you?” the woman asked, coming to a stop next to Jen, her gaze drifting to the costume. “Beautiful, isn’t it.”
Jen nodded. “Gorgeous.”
“A bit pricey,” the woman added, as if in warning.
“That’s all right,” Jen said. “I’m going to need a few accessories.”
“I’ve got it covered. Come with me.”
When Jen left the store, she was carrying a shopping bag in each hand, a small smile of satisfaction curving her lips. The skirt, blouse and accessories had cost her a bundle but she didn’t care. Since learning the truth about her parents’ indiscretions with the Terrells, she had decided this was the last Terrell Halloween bash she would ever attend. This was the last time she was ever going to appease her mother in this regard, so she might as well go all the way.
When she got home, she was struck by a strange sensation. After only a few weeks away, the word home didn’t seem to fit anymore. When, she wondered, had she begun thinking of Marsh’s place as home?
Jen realized she had started to consider his place her home after the incredible night they had spent together. The fact that the atmosphere around the house had felt strained since their argument didn’t matter—it still felt like home. And that fact alone was kind of scary.
After parking her car in the slot that had been hers ever since she got her driver’s license when she was seventeen, Jen entered the house by the kitchen door.
She had spent many hours in the kitchen while she was growing up, warmly welcomed there by Tony. She had learned her cooking skills from him in that kitchen…the skills Marsh so vocally appreciated.
Marsh.
Jen sighed. She had been gone less than a day and she was homesick. She scolded herself, heading for the elevator in the hallway right off the kitchen. The elevator rose to her apartment, which took up the entire second floor of the wing attached to the house. Her father had built the wing to house Jen’s grandmother when the elderly woman’s arthritis put her in a wheelchair.
Jen had adored her grandmother, who died while Jen was in her junior year of college. After graduation Jen had moved into the apartment, and even though she had replaced the Victorian-style furniture and decorations the older woman favored with more modern things, she still felt close to her grandmother there.
That was before she went to live in Marshall Grainger’s sprawling house. Stepping inside the living room Jen had once felt so comfortable in, she set her shopping bags on the floor and sighed as she dropped into her favorite chair.
The roomy place now seemed no more welcoming than an expensive hotel suite.
It wasn’t the house in the hill country she was missing, Jen reluctantly admitted to herself. It was the man living in it, waiting for her return.
Oh, Lord, I am in trouble, Jen thought. Willingly or not, I have fallen in love with Marshall Grainger.
The man who had not so much proposed to her as decided all on his own that they should get married.
For business reasons, essentially.
This was the man she’d decided to fall in love with?
She heaved a heavy sigh. If only he had indicated some genuine feelings for her. Oh, he enjoyed her company, liked teasing her, kissing her, touching her and pursuing more intimate, sensual, exciting endeavors. And while she reveled in his attention, and couldn’t believe the extreme pleasure he was able to give her over and over again, she still longed for him to confess deeper feelings for her. But he never did, and she feared he never would.
Arrogant jerk.
Calling him names in silent frustration didn’t help at all, she found.
She was still in love with him.
Sighing, Jen shook her head, as if shaking thoughts of Marsh from her mind—yeah, right—and rose to scoop up the bags to carry to her bedroom.
Before getting settled, she decided she had better let her mother know she was back. Lifting the phone from her nightstand, Jen hit the button for the interior of the house. Ida, the housekeeper for as long as Jen could remember, answered with the first buzz.
“Yes?”
“Hi, Ida,” Jen greeted the woman warmly. “It’s Jen. Is Mother there?”
“Hi, honey,” the older woman replied, still using the same endearment she had always used with Jen. “No, your mother had a dental appointment this afternoon. Are you hungry?”
Jen laughed. Those words had always been the first thing Ida had asked her whenever she walked into the house. “Well, come to think of it, I could eat a snack. I haven’t eaten since lunch and all I had was a slice of pizza. What are you offering?” Frowning she tacked on, “Where is Tony? I came in through the kitchen and it was empty.”
“He went grocery shopping,” Ida said, amusement in her voice. “He wanted some special goodies to serve you and your friends for lunch tomorrow.”
“Oh, I can hardly wait,” Jen said.
Ida laughed again. “Well, would you settle for a cold roast beef and cheese sandwich now?”
“Hmm, sounds good. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be down.”
“Take your time.”
It took only minutes to hang up the skirt and blouse Jen had purchased. Leaving the apartment, she strode to the end of the hallway and clattered down the back stairs.
“Jennifer’s home,” Ida said, laughing as Jen entered the room. “Do you ever walk down a flight of stairs, honey?”
“Only when I’m being a lady, which isn’t too often,” Jen answered, walking to the woman and right into her arms. “It’s good to see you, Ida.”
“Oh, Jennifer,” Ida said, “I miss you—your laughter, your bounding up and down stairs.”
“I miss you, too.” Stepping back, she sighed. “I had to go. I needed new…scenery.”
Ida nodded. “I understand.”
Jen suspected Ida knew and understood everything that ever happened in this house. “I know you do,” she replied, lowering her gaze.
“Now, then,” Ida said briskly. “Your sandwich is ready and I have a fresh pot of coffee brewing.”
“You know me so well.�
�� Crossing the room to the large solid wood table, Jen seated herself in front of the plated sandwich with a pickle slice next to it.
Tony came in the back door toting two canvas grocery bags just as she was finishing the sandwich. Without much coaxing, she soon had him and Ida at the table with her, the three of them drinking coffee and chatting away, catching up with one another.
Ida had left the kitchen to go finish up what she had been doing when Jen buzzed her, Tony was in the pantry and Jen was nursing her second cup of coffee when her mother swept into the room.
“There you are,” she said with a note of censure, as if Jen had no business in the kitchen.
“Yes, here I am,” Jen said, rising to accept the brief hug and air-kiss her mother brushed over her cheek. “How are you, Mother?”
“I’m fine now that the dentist has taken care of the tooth that was bothering me.” Her gaze touched on the cup on the table. “Is there any coffee left?”
“Yes, I’ll get some for you.” Scooping up her cup, Jen went to the cabinet, took out another cup, then filled both with the aromatic brew. Tony bought only the best.
Sitting close to her mother while they sipped their coffee was a novel experience for Jen—they had never done it before. Why now, after all this time? Jen wondered as she glanced at her mother, struck by how odd it was to sit with her in the kitchen.
“I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.” Her mother’s eyebrows rose in question.
“I left this morning. Mr. Grainger gave me the day off.”
Her mother nodded but didn’t say anything about Marsh, even though Jen had expected she would. “Did you get a costume or must you still go shopping?”
“I got one. I stopped for lunch and noticed a holiday shop in a strip mall across the highway. There wasn’t a large selection left but I found one.”
“Are you going to tell me what it is?” her mother asked.
Jen shrugged. “It’s only a gypsy outfit,” she answered. “But as I said, the selection was small.”
“I think a gypsy outfit will do fine.”
