by Day Leclaire
“I don’t understand.”
She stared at him, thoroughly disappointed. “I thought you were smart.”
“I’m very smart, my sweet. But you’re a wee bit drunk.” He shrugged. “Sometimes that makes communication a tad difficult.”
“Oh. Okay.” She captured one of his shirt buttons and gave it a twist. “You see, Henry got sick and didn’t have insurance to pay for his medical bills. If I hadn’t married him, the boys would have had to sell the farm to pay off his debts.”
“And instead he married you?”
“He didn’t want to.” Her mouth pulled down at the corners and she twisted his button some more. It came off in her hand and she peeped up at him to see if he’d noticed. Unfortunately, he had. “Oops,” she said with a weak grin.
“Never mind that. Just explain about Henry.”
She tossed the button over her head, grinning when it pinged off the wall and joined her watch on the floor. “He still loved his deceased wife, Marcy. But I told him it was the only way to protect the boys’ inheritance.” She tackled the next button. “And I did owe him, though I didn’t tell him that. Probably would have sunk the whole deal if I had.”
“You owed him?”
“Oh, dear. Wasn’t supposed to tell you that, either.” She let go of his button and pretended to zip her lips together. For some reason, they wouldn’t stay that way. The words kept tumbling out with far too much honesty and far too little control. “Maybe if he hadn’t been so sick, he’d have argued better. But I’m real logical. So he gave in.”
“Let me get this straight. You married Henry Tyler so you could pay his bills?”
She gave his button a sharp tug. “Be quiet! Someone might hear.” She looked around again, shooting the listening plant a warning glare. Satisfied, she whispered, “The boys wouldn’t take the money if they knew the truth. They have pride, you know. They’d sell the farm in order to pay me back.” The second button snapped off in her hand and she tossed that aside, too. “Don’t you get it? I’m real good at making money. They needed some. I had lots of extra sitting around doing nothing. Seems fair, right?”
“That was a sweet, generous thing to do.”
She grinned. “I’m full of secrets. Aren’t I?”
“Without question. Do you have any more you want to tell me about?”
“Maybe.” She gave him a calculating look. “Wanna feed me more chocolate so you can find out?”
“Do I have to?” He stopped her from attacking his next button, ignoring her pouting reprimand. “Why don’t you just tell me.”
She sighed. “You’re really good at this,” she complained. “Okay. I have lots of secrets.”
“Like what?”
“Like...” She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. “Like I like sitting on your lap. I’ve never sat on a man’s lap before.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to limit you to one man’s lap from now on,” he warned.
“Oh, I don’t mind. It’s a good lap.” She blew out her breath, thrusting her hair from her face. How the heck had it gotten there, anyway? She was always so careful to keep it tied back. “What else? You’re really cute, you know. Though I guess that’s no secret.”
“Still... It’s nice that you think so,” he offered judiciously.
“Want to guess what else?”
He shook his head. “Tell me.”
Her gaze fastened on his mouth. It was such a delicious mouth, full, broad and very, very clever. “I get all gushy inside when you kiss me. Bet I kept that a secret.”
“Right up until now,” he said with a grin. Truth be told, it was a sexy little grin that perfectly matched his delicious mouth, a grin that tempted her to cover it with her lips and claim it for her own. “If it makes you feel any better, I get...er...gushy, too.”
“Does it make you want to take off your clothes?” she asked curiously.
“Actually, it makes me want to take off your clothes.”
“Oh. I suppose you could go ahead and do that.” She began fumbling with the buttons of her dress. “Maybe I can help.”
“Here? In your office?” Just as she started making progress his hands covered hers, making it tough to work through the confusing length of buttons and holes. “Your stepsons are due any minute now.”
“That’s okay. They can wait until we’re done.”
“Tell me something, Hanna. Have you ever made love before?”
She began to giggle and slapped a hand over her mouth again. “You caught me,” she said, her voice muffled.
Gently, he pried her fingers free, his gaze unbelievably tender. “What did I catch you at?”
“I’ve never made love in my office before.”
“Or anywhere else?”
“Nope. Not there, either.”
“Well, a desk might not be the best place to start.”
She gave that serious consideration. “I know where there’s a sofa.”
The phone on her desk rang and she snatched up. “Hello?” she trilled gaily. Frowning, she shook the receiver. “Oh, pooh. It’s not working.”
“Try it this way, carissima.” He turned the receiver around.
“Hello?” she trilled again.
“Mrs. Tyler?”
“Used to be. How’s it hangin’, Pru?”
“Quite well, thank you. I just called to tell you it’s three o‘clock and your sons have arrived.”
“It’s three?”
There was a momentary silence. “Actually, it’s two fifty-eight. Remember? I called a few minutes ago to—”
“Whatever,” Hanna interrupted breezily. “Don’t think I’ve ever lost track of time before. Well, except when I got married.”
“You... You lost track of time? Again?”
There was a whispered conversation and she heard the boys starting to shout. Wincing, Hanna held the phone away from her ear. “What do you mean she lost track?” came clearly through the receiver.
Pru cleared her throat. “Also, I wanted to remind you that Mother and Father Henderson are expecting you to join them at six for dinner.”
“Got lots of mothers and fathers. Which ones are they?”
“I...I told you. The Hender—”
“Too bad. Cancel my appointments.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I always wanted to say that,” she confided to Marco, before returning her attention to the phone. “Cancel ’em. And cancel tomorrow’s, too.”
There was another whispered conversation, followed by a roar that could be heard right through her solid oak door.
“Uh-oh,” she said. Carefully, she hung the phone up. “Maybe they’ll think it was a bad connection.”
Marco reached past her, removed the receiver from the philodendron and returned it to the cradle. “I’m afraid they won’t.” He sighed. “I think that roar was our signal to go, sweet. Where shall we take the party?”
“You go out there—” she waved in the general direction of the door “—and take the steps up.” Her brow puckered. “Can’t quite remember where those darned stairs got to, but I’m pretty sure they’re around here someplace.”
“Hang on.” Before she had a chance to react, he stood, swinging her high against his chest. “Put your arms around my shoulders and hold on tight.”
“Okay.” She flung her arms around his neck with more enthusiasm than grace. He choked a bit and she eased her grip. Wouldn’t do to strangle her brand-new husband. She kind of liked having him around. “What now?”
“No matter what happens, don’t let go. Got it?”
“Got it.” She tried to wink, but her eyes didn’t seem to be working too well. First one shut, then the other. Finally, she gave up and left them that way. With a contented sigh, she dropped her head to his shoulder again. Perfect. Life was absolutely perfect.
Marco crossed the room with impressive speed, threw open the door and plunged into the crowd blocking her doorway.
“What the hell’s going on
?” Jeb shouted.
“What have you done to Hanna?”
“She forgot the time!”
“And look at her hair. He’s...he’s... Dammit all! He’s been in there seducing her.”
Hanna pried her eyes open. “Steps,” she announced, pointing. “I found them. Go thatta way. Hey! I just remembered. There’s a bed up there. And a sofa, too. We’ll have lots of choices.”
Josie disappeared into her office, reappearing a moment later with the box of candy in his hands. “Look what he gave her.”
“You fed her chocolate?” Jeb reeled around. “You bastard!”
“Pru, cancel the rest of Hanna’s appointments,” Marco ordered the secretary. “And clear the building. Brew a pot of coffee, if you would. Hot, strong and black. Bring it up as soon as it’s ready.”
“You can’t tell everyone what to do!” Janus protested.
“Watch me,” Marco snapped. “You have your instructions, Pru.”
“Yes, sir,” the woman replied. “I gather Mrs. Tyler isn’t feeling well?”
“She’s feeling great. Too great.” Marco hesitated at the foot of the steps leading to Hanna’s quarters. Swinging around he scrutinized the occupants of the reception area with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “And it’s Salvatore. Hanna Salvatore. You don’t want to forget again.”
“That’s right,” Hanna piped up. “Or he’ll do that Italian thing on you.” She tightened her arms around him “Come on. Let’s go upstairs so you can do that Italian thing on me.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE DOOR TO HANNA’S apartment wasn’t locked, which came as a relief to Marc, considering he had about five seconds before all hell broke loose. It took a moment to juggle his armful, open the door and get them both inside. But he managed, and before the oddball collection of “sons” gathered their wits sufficiently to interfere.
Stepping over the threshold, he slammed the door closed and threw the lock in the hope of ensuring their privacy, though he suspected the Dragonlady would prove a more successful barrier than the dead bolt. Once again, he carried his bride to the bedroom—a bride he had absolutely no intention of touching. It was enough to drive a newlywed husband insane. Ever so gently he deposited his precious—not to mention tipsy—armful in the center of her snow-white bed. She’d hung her swan princess mask from the post, he noticed with wry amusement. Was it a warning that she wouldn’t be easily plucked? Or could it be an invitation?
“Are you going to make love to me?” she asked curiously.
“Not tonight.”
“Oh.” She reached out and touched the mask, her breath catching when two white feathers came loose and drifted onto the mattress beside her. “Is it because I ate chocolate?”
He selected the larger of the two feathers and brushed it across her lips. “Something like that.”
“Oh,” she said again, shivering beneath the silky caress. She actually looked disappointed and he took it as an encouraging sign. “Perhaps if things had been different...?”
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “No perhaps about it.” He slid the feather from her mouth to her cheek and her eyes fluttered closed. Sleep wouldn’t be far behind.
“But not tonight,” she whispered.
“I’d be taking advantage of you.”
“And that’s wrong, right?”
“Very wrong.” He gritted his teeth, his self-control stretched painfully thin. Time to end this before it shredded beyond repair. “I know it’s early, but sleep is the best thing for you. I’ll tell Pru to cancel the coffee.”
She yawned. “I am tired.”
“You’d be more comfortable if you took off your dress, Hanna.”
“Okay.”
She made no move to take care of it and he swore beneath his breath. “Bella mia?”
“I’m too tired. Maybe if I had some more chocolate?” Her lashes lifted and she peeked up at him with a greedy expression. “Did you bring any up?”
“I’m afraid Jeb-Janus-Josie confiscated it.”
“No chocolate. Shoot.” Her brow puckered in a frown for a brief instant, before clearing. “Jeb-Janus-Josie? You’re not having trouble telling my sons apart, are you?”
“Stepsons.”
Setting the feather carefully on her nightstand, he crossed to her dresser and tugged open drawers at random. The interiors were as neat and tidy as everything else about his darling wife. They were also revealing. Just like the difference between her spartan apartment and sumptuous bedroom, her austere dresses concealed the most sensuous bits of silk and lace. He selected a nightgown, a long transparent slip of ivory that drifted through his fingers like wisps of fog.
“And yes, I’m having trouble telling them apart.” He approached, her nightgown floating in his hand. “Although, I’ve figured out the one with the big muscles and even bigger attitude is Jeb.”
“He’s not so bad once you get to know him.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He offered the nightgown. “Need help?”
She sat up with a grimace. “I can handle it.”
His mouth tilted upward. “Probably for the best.” Definitely for the best. She glanced at him again, words trembling on her lips. “What is it, sweetheart?” he prompted.
“Do you remember the room where we were married?”
“Sure.”
“It was pretty, wasn’t it?”
“Very pretty. Homey, I’d say.”
“It was like a home,” she agreed, tucking her legs beneath her. “It would be nice to have a place like that, don’t you think?”
Actually, it reminded him a bit of her bedroom. Didn’t she see that? “If that’s what you prefer, why live here?”
“Because it’s practical.”
“Practical.” He sighed. Naturally. He handed over the nightgown. “Sleep well, Hanna.”
She clutched the scrap of silk to her chest and all he could picture was rose-tipped ivory skin encased in that breath of nothing. Stifling a groan, he forced himself to cross the endless expanse of pale green carpeting. She stopped him before he could make good his escape. “Marco?”
He paused at her bedroom door. If he didn’t leave soon, he’d end up giving in to the less-than-honorable part of his nature. Hanna didn’t deserve that. Not after what he’d learned today. He leaned his forehead against the door, one hand gripping the knob so hard it was a wonder it didn’t crack off in his hand. “Yes, love?”
“It’s hard being practical all the time.”
“I can imagine. I’ll see if I can’t help you overcome that particular character flaw.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “But I’m afraid you might be too late.”
He opened the door. “Trust me, Hanna. I’m not too late. And it’ll be my pleasure to prove it to you. Just not tonight.” Quietly, he shut the door behind him. No, not tonight. But, soon. He’d prove it to her very soon. With a bit of luck, he’d even manage it before he went totally insane.
Or maybe with a whole lot of luck.
To Marc’s surprise, the “Dragonlady” helped with his next adventure.
“Kidnap her,” Pru repeated. “You want to kidnap your own wife? What the hell for?”
“She needs a little excitement in her life. She also needs to get away from her responsibilities for a day and discover there’s more to life than work. Now are you going to help me, or do I have to do this in spite of you?”
“Oh, I’ll help.” She pursed her lips. “In fact, you might even turn out to be good for her, despite your shortcomings.”
He didn’t bother asking what those shortcomings were. Knowing Pru, she’d be only too happy to catalogue them. “I don’t want anyone else interfering, which is where you come in.”
“Need me to run interference for you, huh? No surprise there.”
Marc stifled the urge to wring the old woman’s neck. “Can you keep the Tyler boys away from the office until after I’ve kidnapped Hanna?”
“They have been hanging arou
nd more than usual.” Pru’s smile took on a malicious tilt. “For some reason they don’t trust you. Why do you suppose that is, charm boy?”
“Obviously you’ve misjudged me,” he returned smoothly. “I guess I’m not as charming as you’d like to believe.”
She actually broke down and grinned. “Oh, well. Nobody’s perfect. Okay. I’ll make some calls and keep the boys tied up for the next hour or so. Think you can get yourself organized by then or do you need help with that, too?”
“It’ll be tough,” he said in a dry voice. “But I’ll manage.”
Pru checked her watch. “One hour, Salvatore. The clock’s ticking. After that, you’re on your own.”
No doubt she’d hold him to the minute, too. What was it with people and time around here? “An hour’s all I need.” He hoped.
Fortunately, he’d put the majority of the plan into motion before approaching Pru. He just had to finalize the details and pack. As it turned out, once he’d finished even those few chores, he had precisely ten minutes to spare. When he returned downstairs, Pru made a production of checking her watch. Satisfied, she gave him the once-over.
“Glad to see you know enough to wear black to a kidnapping.” She tossed the black scarf he’d used at the Cinderella Ball in his direction. “But if you’re going to snatch her, you ought to do it right.”
“Where the hell did you get this?” he demanded.
“You think I have this job because of my pretty face?”
He knew better than to respond to that. Without a word, he tied the scarf around his head and adjusted the eyeholes so he wouldn’t crash into a wall. No doubt he looked like a total idiot. It was one thing to wear the scarf at the Cinderella Ball. But here, in broad daylight... Somehow he suspected it lost a lot in the translation. “Satisfied?” he asked.
Pru’s amusement died and a wistful expression gleamed in her eyes. “Yeah, you’ll do. One more thing...” This time she offered a lightweight rope. “Like I said. If you’re gonna kidnap her—”
