Beguiling the Boss

by Joan Hohl

  Jen topped the outfit off with large gold hoop earrings, a four-strand gold jangle necklace and a shawl in blending shades of black, sand, dark green and a splash of magenta.

  Lifting her arms she swept the shawl in an arc and settled it over her shoulders.

  Now she was ready.

  Her parents were waiting for her in the foyer. “Oh, I’m sorry, am I late?” She hadn’t bothered to look at the clock.

  “Not at all, we just came down,” her father answered. “And may I say you look fantastic, Jennifer.” He always called her by her full name.

  “Yes, you do,” her mother agreed. “Very effective.”

  Jen gave them a brilliant smile, giving silent thanks for the candid explanation her mother had offered her concerning the situation with the Terrells. “Thank you,” she replied, shifting a glance from one to the other. “And you two look absolutely fantastic.”

  Her father opened the door to usher them out. “The car’s right out front. Off we go to the Halloween gala.”

  For the last time, Jen thought to herself. She was never going to the Terrells’ party again. It was time to make some changes in her life. She was going to figure out what she wanted to do about Marsh, about her living situation, about everything.

  After tonight, her life was going to be totally different. One way or another.

  Ten

  The dance, the last of more than she could recall, finally ended. Her breathing a bit heavy from the fast-paced number, Jen smiled at her surprisingly spry elderly partner as he thanked her before walking away.

  It was hot in the room. The place was jammed. Jen was sweaty and tired of the party. She was tired of dancing, too. It was time to get out of there.

  Lifting a corner of the shawl she had tied around her waist, she dabbed at perspiration dampening her neck. She was smoothing the shawl back into place when she felt a long-fingered hand curve around her waist.

  “You’ve danced with just about every man here tonight.”

  His voice was a rough whisper close to her ear. “I think this one is mine.”

  A chill chased the heat from her neck all the way down to the base of her spine.

  Marsh.

  “Not talking to me?” He nipped gently at her ear.

  Jen had to swallow. He was pressed against her back. Talk to him? She could barely breathe. “Why…why didn’t you tell me you were going to be here?”

  “It was a last-minute decision.” His arm moved, turning her to face him.

  He looked dangerous, and delicious. He had dressed as a gentleman of years past, out for a night at the opera or theater. He was wearing what she’d wager was his own hand-tailored tuxedo, black tie and pleated, blazing white shirt. He also had on a silk top hat, a long black cape with a stand-up collar, and held a silver-handled black walking stick.

  Breathtaking.

  He started moving against her sensuously, suggestively, enticing her to dance with him. She raised her gaze to his. His eyes glimmered with intent like sun-struck silver.

  “I watched you dancing.” He lowered his head to murmur against her ear. “You dance very well. Will you dance with me?”

  Dance? She could barely move. His hard body pressed against hers was sapping all the strength from her. She felt light-headed. She had to get out before she made a fool of herself by collapsing at his feet.

  “No, I don’t want to dance.” Jen hardly recognized her own voice it was so dry and shaky. “I want to get some air.”

  Marsh moved back a bit to look into her face. The smile he gave her was positively wicked. “With me?”

  “I just want to leave, please.”

  “I can’t resist a lady who says please.”

  Keeping his arm around her waist, Marsh turned and headed for the front entrance, sweeping her along with him as he strode toward the door.

  “Wait.” Jen halted abruptly as she came to her senses. “I must tell my parents I’m leaving.” She turned out of his embrace only to feel his arms slide around her waist as he turned with her.

  “I’ll come with you,” he said.

  “Marsh,” she began.

  He set his brows into an arrogant arch. “You’re ashamed to be seen with me?”

  “No, no.” Jen shook her head. She wasn’t ashamed, just terrified of what he might say to her parents. “I just, well, I believe they are having a conversation with friends.”

  He didn’t bother to respond as he piloted her toward the pair standing near the long buffet table.

  Jen braced herself as he came to a stop before her parents. “Mother,” she managed, pausing to wet her lips. “I’m leaving now.”

  “I see,” her mother responded, a suspicious gleam in her eyes. “Aren’t you going to introduce your friend?”

  “No need,” her father said, a friendly smile on his face. He extended his hand. “Marsh, I’d like you to meet my wife, Celia.”

  “A pleasure,” Marsh said.

  Celia arched a brow. “Are you escorting Jennifer, Mr. Grainger?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he responded in a tone of respect.

  “Mmm,” she murmured again, eyeing Marsh up and down.

  Jen’s stomach clenched in apprehension.

  Her father laughed. “Celia, I think you need a glass of champagne. Run along, Jennifer.” He turned a stern look on Marsh. “You will take care of her.” It was not even close to a question.

  “Yes, sir,” Marsh answered at once.

  Nodding, her father murmured good-night and, taking Celia’s hand, led her away.

  Marsh was chuckling as he took a stunned Jen to the door. “Do you have your car?”

  They were outside. Jen drew a deep breath. The air had turned cold. It hit her flushed skin like an Arctic blast chilling her exposed flesh. Loosening the filmy shawl from around her waist she drew it around her shoulders. “No, I came with my parents.”

  “Good.” Taking her hand, he led her to his car, a sleek black Lincoln parked right in front of the large house.

  “You left your car here?” Jen said, sliding into the passenger seat when he opened the door for her.

  He slid behind the wheel and slanted a look at her. “I wasn’t planning on staying.”

  “Then why bother to come at all?”

  “I came to collect you…and you know it.”

  The grin he flashed created a shudder in her lower regions. Now, even with the chill air, Jen felt hotter than she had in the house, and it had nothing to do with the thin shawl.

  “Where are we going?” she said, turning to look out the window. “My parents live in the other direction.”

  “I know where your parents live, Jen,” he said. “We’re going to my place here in town. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  “I didn’t know you had a place in town.” The thought that she and Marsh would be alone soon, at his place, a place that presumably had a bedroom, was almost more than Jen could bear. She simultaneously wanted to flee from him and tell him to drive faster.

  Jen glanced out the window. They were in the heart of the city, tall office buildings looming over the car. Marsh turned onto a ramp leading to the private underground parking lot of one of the tallest buildings. Inserting a card into a pad on the chain-link gate, the gate silently slid open, and silently closed again after he drove through.

  She knew at once where they were. This parking lot, the building towering overhead, contained the corporate headquarters of his business. Grainger Building in bold brass letters arched over the double front doors at the main entrance. She had passed it many times.

  “You live here?” she asked as he pulled the car into a spot marked Private.

  “No.” Marsh shook his head as he swung open his door. “I keep this place for when I have to be in town for business reasons.”

  Although he circled the car, Jen was out before he got to her. “Convenient.”

  “Come along,” he said, lifting the cape to swirl it around her shoulders. “You’re shivering.”


  Warmth from his body intensifying the shiver, Jen moved with him to the door. He inserted another computerized key card into a barely noticeable slot. Shiny brass elevator doors parted with a soft swish.

  Inside he pushed an unmarked button. The door swished shut and the car began to rise…quickly.

  The penthouse, Jen thought. The car came to a smooth stop and the doors again softly swished apart.

  Marsh’s arm still firmly around her waist, he took her with him when he stepped from the car.

  To Jen’s surprise they didn’t step directly into the penthouse but into a spacious lobby. Still moving her with him, he crossed the lobby to the only door visible. He drew out another card to open the door.

  Pushing the door open, Marsh swept out his arm, inviting her inside.

  “Step into my parlor,” Jen murmured, catching her breath as she entered. What she could see of the place was absolutely elegant.

  “You consider yourself the fly?” Marsh said in reference to her quote, amusement woven through his voice.

  “And you the spider,” Jen said, shrugging out from beneath his cloak and handing it to him.

  “Is that the way you think of me?” Although his voice was even, she caught the slight edge to it.

  Jen turned to meet his steely gaze.

  “No, not at all,” she answered without hesitation. “I was being a smart-mouth.”

  Some of the glitter faded from his eyes. “Are you afraid of me, Jen?”

  “Of course not.” She protested the very idea. “Why should…” She paused, holding his steady gaze, changing her tune. “Do I have reason to be afraid, Marsh?”

  Smiling, he shook his head. “No, Jennifer, you don’t. If you’ll recall, I asked you to marry me.”

  She glanced away. “I do remember.”

  “I’m still waiting for an answer.”

  Jen moved into the room, over to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The view of the city lights from the top of the building gave her an altogether different perception of it than from the street.

  “It’s beautiful,” she murmured, speaking more to herself than to him.

  “Yes.” He came up behind her, sliding one arm around her waist. “And I’m still waiting for an answer.”

  She closed her eyes. “Marsh, I just don’t know. I…I…”

  “Don’t,” he murmured. This time his lips brushed her ear, bringing a flutter to her chest and heat flooding to parts south. “I can wait for your answer, at least to that question. But I need to know if you’ll stay with me here tonight, Jennifer.” His voice was warm, rich, deep—she could feel it vibrating through her down to her toes.

  “Yes, Marsh,” she answered against her will. “I will stay with you tonight.”

  Applying light pressure to her waist, he drew her closer. “Now, for the price of one kiss—a scorcher, mind you—I’ll give you the guided tour of the apartment. Deal?” He grinned.

  “Deal,” she echoed, leaning into him and bringing her hands up to cradle his face, drawing him to her.

  His mouth gently touched hers. But Jen was having none of it. He had said a scorcher, and that was what he was going to get.

  She nipped at his bottom lip before taking his mouth with her own in a silent demand. Marsh was quick to comply, taking over the kiss with the expertise of experienced mastery.

  A low groan deep in her throat, Jen melted into him, returning his kiss with all the passion she’d been unable to express since she’d left Marsh a day ago. His tongue invaded. She met the attack with a thrust of her own. It was wonderful, exciting, nearly overwhelming.

  But it was not enough. She wanted more, much more, and from the sensation of him pressing against her belly, she had no doubt he felt the same.

  Finally, needing more air, she eased back a few inches to gaze into his eyes.

  “Can we put off the grand tour until tomorrow?” she asked between quickly drawn breaths. “I need to be naked and in bed with you.”

  “Now you’re talking.” Sweeping her up into his arms, Marsh strode from the living room into his bedroom. It was dimly lit by the lights in buildings outside. All Jen noticed was that the room was large…and his bed took up the majority of space.

  She began working on the buttons of his shirt. He already had her blouse on the floor. Within moments their clothing lay scattered around the bed, decorating the carpet. Marsh had his teeth clamped on the corner of a silver package he had removed from his trouser pocket before dropping his pants to the floor. She could see he wanted to be inside her as much as she wanted him there.

  Tossing back the bedcovers, and once again lifting her, he settled her in the center of the bed and stretched his long length beside her. His skin felt like warm silk over long tight muscles.

  Jen already felt hot and desperate with need for him. The feel of him moving over her, on top of her, shattered the last of her swiftly fading inhibitions. Moaning, she moved restlessly against him, parting her legs in invitation.

  His reaction was swift. Grasping her hips, he dragged her into full contact with his steel-hard erection.

  She shuddered in anticipation.

  Jen braced her hands on his chest but suddenly he was gone. She murmured a protest but swallowed it when she opened her eyes to see him applying the condom.

  “Let’s be smart this time,” he said.

  Jen was surprised but too desperate to have him inside her to say anything. Lifting her hips again, he moved into her, sheathing himself deeply within her heat.

  “Yes,” she whispered, closing her eyes again. Then, “Oh, yes,” as he began to rotate his hips, delving deeper, deeper into her body.

  Jen had never believed the stories told by women about crying out when reaching climax. She became a believer moments later, calling his name in a hoarse voice she barely recognized as her own as her body appeared to shatter into a million pieces.

  Marsh’s cry echoed her own. Head thrown back, tendons straining in his neck, he stiffened an instant before wrapping his arms around her. Jen was drawing shaky breaths into her depleted body when Marsh, still buried deep inside her, gently lowered his tension-taut body against hers, his indrawn breath as raw as her own.

  “Marsh?” Jen forced out his name between gulps for oxygen. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah,” he answered, his warm breath tickling her ear. “But for a moment there, I felt certain I had died.”

  “Yeah,” she echoed. “Me, too.”

  “Wanna try it again?”

  Jen expelled a breath in a burst of laughter. “Are you kidding? I can barely breathe.” She hesitated a mere instant before adding, “Give me a second.”

  “Okay,” he said, nipping at the soft skin beneath her chin.

  Jen slid from under him and made her way to the bathroom. Finding a light switch, she flipped it, stifling a gasp of appreciation at the opulence of the room. There was a lot of marble, swirls of dark chocolate and white, and a huge tub with all kinds of gadgets she was tempted to play with. A long wooden-slatted bench sat next to a walk-in shower stall along one wall. On the facing wall, an even longer vanity cabinet with two sinks and an array of interesting-looking bottles and jars and candles was set below a mirror in exact proportion to the cabinet.

  For a moment, Jen was sorely tempted to jump into the shower stall for a quick sluice over her sweaty skin. But she decided she’d much rather get back to Marsh as fast as she could.

  Her eyes widened as she came back to the bed and saw one of the most beautiful sights she’d ever seen in her life. Marsh, buck naked and rock hard…again.

  She took advantage of the moment to admire his fantastic body as he opened another package and put the condom on.

  Ready for him, Jen curled her arms around his neck, sighing with contentment as he settled himself in the cradle between her thighs.

  “How could you have…” She didn’t know how to finish asking how he had revived so quickly.

  Marsh just smiled at her and said, “Ma
ybe it has something to do with the fact that you are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, Jen.”

  Jen would have thought that the second time the pace would be slower, easier. And it might have been, if she had allowed Marsh to set the pace. But Jen shocked herself with her need, her hunger, touching him, tasting him everywhere. Within moments he was inside her again, taking, giving, demanding, pleading. It was too fast, too intense, too hot and over much too soon.

  Marsh barely grunted before collapsing on top of her, harsh breaths bathing the curve of her neck, sending delicious shivers up her spine. And though his voice was little more than a whisper, she heard what he said.

  “Jennifer, Jennifer…you are one amazing woman.”

  “I know,” she said in the best demure tone she could manage, a satisfied smile curving her well-kissed mouth.

  Lifting his body onto his forearms, Marsh threw back his head and roared with laughter. He was still laughing when his mouth came crashing down again on hers, his tongue diving deep, claiming her as his own.

  “I adore you,” he said, when he was forced to break away to breathe. “Marry me.”

  Jen ached at his words. She wanted to confess that she couldn’t marry him, because he adored her but didn’t love her. But something stopped her from telling Marsh the truth—she simply couldn’t do it. “I told you, Marsh. I must have more time to think about it.”

  He heaved a heavy sigh of frustration. “Dammit, Jen, what’s to think about? We’re compatible. We work well together. More importantly, we have fun together. And you wouldn’t dare tell me we’re not great together in bed.” A tiny shudder rippled through him. “I swear to you that never before in my life have I experienced anything even close to what I’ve just shared with you.”

  Jen opened her mouth to respond, to say it was more about sex than any deep, meaningful affection but he wasn’t finished.

  “And damned if I’m not getting hard again.”

  This time Jen bypassed demure and went straight for wanton. “So please shut up and do the same thing to me again.”

  Marsh did…again and again throughout the rest of the night and into the early morning hours.