by Nikki Duncan
She’d misunderstood his intentions about the wedding, but the misunderstanding had led her here. Into his arms with fire flashing inside and igniting her spirit. Damn if he’d let her go.
When the tension in her petite curves finally uncoiled and she relaxed into him, when she allowed herself to enjoy his touch, when she began to kiss him in return, he straightened. Only an inch or two separated their mouths, a space easily conquered again, yet it felt more like miles.
Not sure he could trust her to resist wailing on him some more, he retained his grip on her arms. At some point she’d rested her hands on his hips, just above the towel. Though she probably gave the contact no thought, his body noticed and responded with racing tingles radiating from beneath her hands.
“I’m not a player, Lori.”
“Bull.”
“Yes, I asked you to plan my wedding.”
“No shit.”
He rolled over her. “But Randy is only an employee.”
“One you’re very friendly with.”
“I’m friendly with all my employees, but I’ve never been friendly with any of them.” Definitely not as friendly as he’d been with her. Or wanted to be. Friendly enough to be rewarded with her smile, her laugh, the humor she shared with few. Friendly enough to be granted mornings, nights and stolen afternoons to pleasure her and make the birthmark on her hip dance with her quivering skin.
She leaned her torso away to see him better. Suspicion glared up at him. “Then who are you marrying? I’ll have to meet her before we go much farther in the plans.”
Here it was. The risk-it-all-though-the-house-didn’t-hold-the-strongest-cards moment. The moment he’d thought he’d be dressed for. Now, his vulnerability was huge. If she ran he couldn’t give chase. If she refused him with any finality in her tone… He’d have to honor her wishes. He loved her too much to not, even if it meant shredding his heart. Both scenarios sucked.
“You, Lori. I intend to marry you.”
Chapter Five
You, Lori. I intend to marry you.
Trevor’s words, spoken as plainly as when he’d agreed to back her business looped in her buzzing brain. Around and around and around they flipped and flopped, zipped and zagged through her head mixed with the cacophony of her slamming pulse.
Lori locked her eyes on the indentation at the base of Trevor’s neck.
You, Lori.
She needed to clear her mind.
I intend to marry you.
The words wouldn’t leave her and she couldn’t think of a response. He had to want a response. A specific, agreeable response.
His throat rippled where she still stared. He was going to speak, add something to what he’d just said. He had to stop. Her head swam with possibilities of what may come next. She quaked, every tissue deep inside, with the need to escape.
She tugged against his hold, tried to move away. He wasn’t a giant man with seriously sculpted muscles, but he had a solid six inches and fifty pound advantage. And he was strong. Freedom would only come when he allowed it.
“I love you, Lori.”
Stop talking please. The unspoken plea drew out like a desperate whine, but remained unspoken because she knew on some level she liked what he was saying. She liked his confidence and his plan, even if acceptance was impossible.
“You have a lot going now.” His thumbs rubbed tiny circles on the insides of her arm. “You may not be ready to hear me out, and I understand.”
You just think you do. Her chest was becoming increasingly tight and uncomfortable. She wanted to rub it. Her eyes were beginning to sting with the pricks of tears. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow him to see.
“Lori. I respect you too much to force anything on you.” He kissed the corner of one twitching eye. “But I’m not going to make it easy for you to deny me.” He kissed the other eye.
With renewed desperation for escape washing through her, she pulled again at her arms.
His grip broke. He caught the towel at his waist just before it fell. Just before it revealed his arousal in three-dimensional naked glory.
I’m not going to make it easy for you to deny me. She stumbled back. I intend to marry you.
Shaking her head, unable to form a word of denial or rebuttal, she backed to the door, cautiously guiding her way with a hand outstretched behind her.
“I’m going to woo you, Lori.”
Oh hell. Men didn’t talk like that any more, and damn but it turned her on.
She edged through the sitting area with escape in her mind and hunger clawing through her belly. She wanted what he offered, craved everything it entailed, had dreamt of it during captivity and months in hiding. Trevor was one wish she’d marked off her list though.
I love you.
Acceptance of his claim as a truth, a reality, existed beyond her realm of possibilities. Especially since he didn’t know her like he thought he did. She twisted the doorknob, seconds from freedom.
I’ll win your heart again, Lori. I’ll make you want me again. Trevor, thank God, hadn’t moved to follow. Only his haunting words pursued.
If only those were her issues. She needed to figure out who she was without her operative job to define her and somehow she had to come to terms with the wrongs she’d committed in the name of work. Wrongs like getting an innocent man killed and Trevor hurt. She turned and fled, choosing the stairs over waiting for the elevator. Gina said something, but her questioning sympathy went unheard beneath the tearful tirade seeking release.
Lori held them back by a force of will until she’d run down the nine flights and sequestered herself in the privacy of her office. Sinking to the newly carpeted floor behind her locked door she broke.
I intend to marry you.
Weeks of not seeing Trevor, of thinking he’d hired her to plan a wedding to another woman had pressed in on her slowly and consistently. Each day her imagination tormented her with images of fitting Randy for a gown, of guiding her and Trevor through the other aspects of their wedding. Worst had been the moments when she’d allowed herself to recall his caresses or reflect on the security she’d only ever found in his arms. His caresses and security were sensations she’d never know again.
Yet, now he was offering her those things and she’d run away. Scared. Hurt. Confused. She saw where she’d gotten the impression he was engaged to Randy. She’d allowed his vagueness to lead her down the path of misunderstanding because she simply wasn’t ready for any other truth.
The kiss in his office…the feel of his body against hers…the promise of his claims… She wanted them all. She could have none.
I love you.
Her first relationship with Trevor had been built around a lie. Her whole life had been. Regardless, he only thought he knew her and where she came from. He knew only what her cover had allowed, very little of which was true. Revealing the truths would mean divulging all her secrets.
He could never know all that she’d been and done.
Programming, office politics and security issues commanded Trevor’s attention for the next few days. The security issues had him longing for an applicant worthy of a management position, but everyone he’d tried failed to share his vision and respect his decisions. Still he sought excuses to head downstairs in hopes of seeing Lori or stealing a few moments with her. He called hoping to hear her voice, never knowing what he’d say.
Each attempt ended in failure.
She was either off-site or in a meeting with the privacy drapes pulled over her office windows. He’d had lunch or dinner delivered to her every day with a thornless, sterling rose with a note ending in “Yours”. She never responded. She was denying him the chance to woo her. Pity for her, he’d just broken out a new play.
In the event she’d won over someone in the building to warn her of his movements, he took the elevator from his private apartment—the one no one could monitor—and approached her space from the back of the building with a gift he was certain would bring a smile to Lori’
s lips and position him one space closer to her private world.
He peeked around each corner, looking and pulling back fast before looking again for potential interruptions or barriers to getting Lori alone. At the second turn he laughed at himself.
I feel like a teenager sneaking past a girlfriend’s parents to reach her bedroom. Damn if the excitement didn’t quicken his blood and make him feel as alive as he had during those horny teen moments.
Lori.
Lori made him feel alive in a way nothing and no one had before loving her or after she’d disappeared. She made it feel natural to sneak though his building carrying a large basket of surprises. Whatever had her holding back, he wasn’t going to lose.
At her open front doors, he found the space empty. Empty of people anyway.
The furniture had been pushed away from one wall of the newly carpeted room while a fresh coat of paint—a cheerful shade of pale lavender that contrasted the ivory tint on the other walls—dried. He’d heard through the building grapevine that the previous shade had come out several shades too dark, and Lori had an eye for the details.
Walking through the space, boxes neatly labeled with identifiers such as vases, paper stock, veils, etc. were piled along the glass wall of each private meeting suite, waiting for their time to be unpacked. Lori’s office, the kitchen area, and the dress stock room were each found in a similar state. The space felt…anxious for its anticipated opening.
Somewhere in the sequined sea of satin, lace, and who knew what other fabrics, faint carols and muttering reached him. The warehouse had been transformed and filled with dresses covered in clear hanging bags. Weaving through row after row of ivory and white bridal dresses, as well as bridesmaids dresses of unlimited colors, ranging from size zero to who knew how big, he finally found Lori in a row of eights checking things off on her clipboard.
Her normally tidy hair had been pinned up with a giant clip that didn’t quite control it. Thick chunks fell loose to brush her neck and face and her makeup was a little smudged, but otherwise she looked crisp in a satiny top, pleated slacks and strappy heels. Studious. Sexy.
He moved the gift behind his back bracing the handle in both hands. “This is a bride’s orgy in the making.”
She spun on her heel and tilted precariously off balance before regaining her composure and glaring at him. “Not a good time, Trevor.”
“You work too hard.”
“Says the man who lives primarily in an apartment attached to his office and travels weeks at a time.”
“But I’m forming new habits. Taking more time off. More breaks.”
“Congratulations.” Unconcerned with his presence, she shrugged and turned back to her list.
“Thanks.” He stepped closer, close enough to inhale her lavender and mint scent. The base of his back tingled as his body responded to hers. Leaning in, he positioned his mouth at her ear, careful not to touch her despite his body’s urging. “You should take a break too.”
She jumped sideways and pivoted toward him again. “Not now.” Shoving a hand through her mussed up hair, he noticed the dark circles marring her eyes beneath the makeup. “I have to figure out just how many ways they’ve screwed up this shipment. As if they think every bride is going to be a ten or less, or that a complete order isn’t necessary.”
“How long have you been in here?”
“Since this morning?”
Her absentminded uncertainty reminded him of the rush he’d thrived on in the beginning of his company. Some of the exhilaration had returned after his hospitalization. “Food?”
“No time. I’m alone and need to get this order correction in today.” The stress in her tone rose with each frustrated word. Her eyes flashed a little wildly. “Or I won’t have the samples I need in time for the planned opening.”
“Let me help.” Shifting the gift he carried to one hand, he pulled the free hand from behind his back and took her clipboard.
“I don’t have time to teach an old-monied rich boy the complexities of taking inventory.” When she grabbed for what was clearly her lifeline of the moment he held it out of her reach.
“How hard can it be? Each dress has a tag.” He glanced at the pages on the board. “You match the tags to the shipping invoice and then to your original order.”
“How do you know about inventory?”
“I haven’t always owned a company.”
“But your parents are rich.” Genuine confusion colored her words, as if the idea that anyone born into money wouldn’t know how to work. She’d never divulged her story, yet he suddenly understood that even before she’d gone through her career-ending trauma she hadn’t had an easy life. Though he hadn’t seen it before, the effects of a less-than-privileged life were all over her.
In her pride, her work ethic, her hesitancy to accept his proposal. She wanted to prove herself to herself.
“I wanted a car and spending money. My parents wanted me to understand the value of earning my own things.”
“Hmm.”
“Take a break and get something in your stomach before you faint. Even if it’s only this.” He revealed the gift and was rewarded by the smile he’d hoped to see. Wide. Lots of teeth. Beautiful.
“You’re kidding.”
“Not even a little.”
“You have to stop doing this.” A small chuckle and the glint in her gaze showed her surprise as she reached for the pale purple basket filled with Dr. Pepper and Baby Ruth candy bars. Another rose was tied with a darker purple bow shot through with gold to the twisted handle. Christmas cheer and caffeine.
He winked. “I’m wooing you.”
“How did you remember—?”
“Your favorite junk foods?”
“Yeah.”
“I remember everything about you, as a man should of the woman he’s going to marry.”
“Trevor.”
“Think of it as an early Christmas gift. Go take your break.” He cut off her warning before she could argue. “I don’t need a date to know I’ll have you in a dress and heading down an aisle before long.”
With that, he turned and took up the task he’d watched her grumbling over. She was gone less than ten minutes but she returned with a drink for both of them. She’d also taken the time to straighten her hair and freshen her makeup—neither of which would she have bothered with if she wasn’t interested in him.
“How badly have you messed up my lists?” She traded him a drink for the clipboard and frowned as she flipped pages.
“What’s the verdict, Boss? Do I pass as an inventory taker?”
“Passably,” she admitted with a pleased smile.
“Good.” He took the clipboard back. “Why don’t you get another board? We’ll finish in no time.”
“Don’t you have a company to run?”
“It could be argued that’s what I’m doing here.” He smiled, already having called Gina to clear his afternoon unless something was an emergency.
“Except you’re a silent partner.”
“I’m offering free labor, not opinions. Though if you want an opinion, I will say I love what you’ve done down here.”
With an exaggerated sigh she moved to a table near the door for another clipboard. “Don’t fool yourself into thinking this is winning you any points.”
“Of course not.” Handing her half the pages still needing to be checked, he suppressed another smile.
She may not like it, but she was softening. Maybe it was the sugar and caffeine. Maybe it was the assistance on a stressed afternoon. He couldn’t claim to care what had her softening, as long as he made progress.
Chapter Six
Lori sent off the re-order form and received confirmation just before her supplier closed for the day. Leaning back in her chair with a huge sigh of relief, she looked around and realized Trevor had slipped out. On the edge of the desk near the vase she’d been collecting his flowers in was a note.
I hope you’ll come up for dinner when you�
��re done. Yours.
He’d anticipated her need and filled it without hesitation or complaint. He’d helped until the task had been finished and then left the business dealing to her. He didn’t remind her that he was funding her. Instead, he remained true to his word and made the perfect silent partner.
More surprising was how comfortably they’d worked together. The easier he made things the harder they became. He couldn’t have planned a better way to mess with her mind or erode her defenses. Assuming that was his intention.
Rubbing the headache pressing against her temples she went to the elevators. How was she not supposed to love a man who filled a basket with her favorite vices and then rolled up the sleeves of his two-hundred dollar shirt to help her check inventory?
Loving him, how was she going to resist whatever else he had up his sleeve? He wouldn’t stop at candy bars.
Mitchell waved from his post at the main desk in the lobby. Sometime during the day Randy’s team had transformed the lobby into a quaint Christmas scene complete with a giant tree and a Santa throne chair. Blue Chip people worked fast, and their work reminded her she needed to get her shopping done.
Lori ignored his knowing smile and waved as she stepped into the elevator. Joining Trevor for dinner would likely nip her in the nether regions—it would certainly bring memories back just as every visit to his office had, especially the last one where he’d worn only a towel.
Please let him be dressed.
The elevator dinged its announcement of her arrival. She closed her eyes and begged any higher power tuned into her. “Please let him be dressed. Please.”
In the darkened waiting area that had been transformed into a Christmas wonderland, Gina’s computer hummed quietly while blue computer chips danced across the monitor in random dance moves—hip hop, ballroom, street, ballet. Each female chip wore a skirt made of the company name—Blue Chip Technologies.
